Chapter Twenty-Seven
Oppressive heat bore into the dark blue fabric of Christian’s uniform jacket, his shirt clinging to his back as sweat dripped down his forehead. Funny how the sun seemed to know when a hanging was scheduled. It was determined to make everyone suffer, guilty and innocent alike.
Isaac stood next to him, blonde hair plastered to his neck. “A real scorcher today, isn’t it?”
Christian merely grunted.
The noose hanging at the center of the square held every bit of his attention. It hung still, without even a breeze to set it swaying. A large crowd packed the area with people from every class milling together. He wouldn’t have expected any less.
The infamous Captain Thorne, reaping his just reward.
Ladies beat brightly colored fans in an eerie rhythm, the hurried movement playing with the corners of his vision.
Some families had spread blankets and brought along baskets of refreshments.
Children weaved among the onlookers, brandishing wooden swords.
“Lieutenant.” A throaty voice brought his gaze down to a curvaceous brunette. Her dress had been laced so tight the mountainous globes of her breasts threatened to spill out. “We are in your debt because of your bravery. However can I repay you?”
Her eyes slanted and she ran them down to his feet and back up, pausing for a long moment below his waist. The insinuation couldn’t have been more clear.
He clenched his teeth. “Being able to serve the wonderful citizens of Georgia is repayment enough.”
She reached out and touched his forearm—a bold move indeed—and leaned in along with an overpowering wave of floral perfume. “I would be more than happy to serve you.”
A cough lodged in his throat. While beautiful, she stirred nothing inside him.
Not even a twitch. Because all week, someone else had dominated his thoughts.
Someone who turned his blood hot as fire in the middle of the night when he lay awake in bed.
Someone whose phantom lemon scent plagued him every day.
Someone off limits.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a flash of red hair glimmered across the square. He bowed to the lady still clinging to his arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some final preparations to oversee.”
Isaac followed him as he patrolled the edge of the square. He climbed the steps to the courthouse and scanned the crowd.
There.
She stood next to her uncle, dressed in a stunning blue day dress.
Her hair twisted in a loose bun at her nape with curls cascading down one side.
Unlike the other women, she held no fan, keeping her fists clenched at her side as she stared at the platform.
Beneath her bonnet, the sun reflected off pale skin.
Too pale. Her lips twisted and she rose two slender fingers to press against her temple.
She looked miserable.
“What are you going to do about her?”
He jerked his gaze to Isaac, who stared straight at Miss Warstein. “Nothing.”
His friend snorted and turned to him. “Come now, you don’t truly expect me to believe that?”
“Yes. I do. There can be nothing between us.”
“You know I’m not sentimental, or even inclined toward believing in love, but I can’t help but point out that there’s something there. Besides, why not? Last I heard, she went clean.”
Christian’s throat grew thick. Something there. It was something he’d reflected on all week. Something he began to believe. Until he remembered what his father had done to her parents. Remembered her tears under the Florida sun. That he’d made her sacrifice her dreams.
He scowled. Never mind her dreams were the kind that would get her killed. She was far better off now. Safe. So he would take solace in her certain hatred, in knowing she was no longer risking her neck. It was the best he could hope for, even if it meant not being part of her life anymore.
The pressure in his throat increased and he coughed. He’d come to look forward to each time their paths crossed. The mere sight of her sent his pulse racing. Braver than half the men he knew, a damn good sailor, and more passion than he’d ever seen before. She was the perfect woman.
Almost.
A puffy cloud slid across the sun and he peered between two buildings, where the glimmer of the river caught his eye.
This weekend, he would set sail once more.
His fingers brushed the soft fabric of his badge of merit.
Being back on the sea would set him back to rights.
He had a job to do and needed to focus solely on it.
Bringing pirates to justice.
A bitter taste rose into his mouth. After spending days among Red’s well-honed crew, after fighting at their side against Thorne’s men, justice suddenly didn’t seem so black and white.
On the island, he’d heard fond stories of wives and children, sung along with them as they tried to keep spirits high in the face of uncertainty, witnessed the camaraderie between men so similar to those of his own crew.
If he met those sailors out at sea, could he really put them behind bars? Sentence them to the noose?
He glanced at the jail, where his father would soon be led out. A monster. One born of grief and hatred. One he had no desire to become.
“Are you alright?”
Isaac’s soft words punctured Christian’s thoughts, and he turned back to him.
“You don’t have to stay for the hanging, you know.”
But he did. “If I leave, people will ask questions.”
Questions that could lose him his job. He trusted his crew to keep quiet about Thorne’s true identity, but showing weakness during the hanging of his greatest catch could make for some uncomfortable conversations. Ones he wasn’t ready to have.
“Fine. But you’re joining me at the tavern tonight for a well-deserved pint or three.”
God knew, if he went home, he’d down a whole bottle. Perhaps more. A ghost of a smile played across his lips.
“Deal.”
“And if you need to talk about your father—when you need to—you know I’m here.”
His father. He ground his teeth together and pulled his hat off. Twisted it in his hands. And put it back on. Today, he’d lose his father for the second time. This time, for good.
Monster. He repeated the word in his head.
“Lieutenant, a word, if you please.” Henry Warstein stood feet away and the hairs on Christian’s neck lifted.
The very pirate he’d been tasked with hunting down. He would have never guessed. But all the signs were there. Wealthy. Warehouses full of goods. Never losing a ship to pirates. His gaze slid up the man’s impeccable outfit. A true gentleman pirate.
It made one wonder how many more were hiding in plain sight.
Isaac raised a brow and shot Christian a look. But he waved his friend away. “I’ll meet you near the platform in a few minutes.”
Warstein—Remington—leaned against the white stone of the railing. “I’m glad you caught him.”
Christian narrowed his eyes. “Did you know who he was?”
The man stared out over the crowd. “Fine day for a hanging, isn’t it?”
“It’s never a fine day for a hanging.” He snapped his mouth shut as a grey eyebrow lifted. “Answer my question, Remington.”
“Thorne surprised us all. Thompson is a common name. I did not put his identity and you together until Samantha told me.”
The mention of her name sent Christian’s gaze on a quick hunt for her. Not by the platform anymore. The crowd pushed together even tighter as latecomers arrived. No blue dress in sight, however.
“I owe you my gratitude. If I had lost her . . .” The merchant cleared his throat. “She means the world to me.”
Christian turned to him. “Will you truly stop? She gave me her word.”
Warstein let out a sigh. “I suppose times are changing. If not you, there will always be another ambitious navy man or pirate with lofty goals keen to take me down. I’m getting old, and truth be told, all the action has begun to wear me out.
I’m thinking of heading to New Orleans. Plenty of opportunities to be had there. ”
He pulled his hat off and fanned himself, running his free hand through grey hair. “Reckon we will have to arrange a meeting before then. Remington will fall to the mighty Lieutenant Thompson in a skirmish. Of course, his body will never be recovered.”
Christian tugged one sleeve of his jacket. The thing about dishonesty was it had a habit of circling back, ready to strike when least expected.
“Too many witnesses. Too risky. Better for Remington to disappear without a trace.”
“I suppose so. But everything in life carries risk, wouldn’t you agree, Lieutenant?”
Warstein gave him a knowing look before turning to face the gallows.
“You know, I wasn’t always a pirate. My younger brother became a privateer during the war.
When it finished and the privateering dried up, he couldn’t resist the thrill.
There was always something to chase. Spanish ships with their gold.
British merchantmen laden with goods. He tried to get me to join him, but I was too busy building my shipping empire. He became the famed Remington.”
Replacing his hat, he dropped his gaze.
“When he was killed, I started on the side, here and there, as a way to honor his memory. I inherited his crews, trained my own. One thing led to another, and . . .” He swept his hands out toward the water and shrugged. “Remington was resurrected.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I made a mistake with Samantha.”
Christian blinked.
“I gave her too much freedom. Told her she could choose her path in life. I shouldn’t have taught her to sail. She’s headstrong, just like her mother. I would have done her better by keeping her ashore and marrying her off.”
A flash of heat prickled over Christian’s skin as he tried to imagine her locked up at home. Wedded and bedded to some man who didn’t deserve her spirit, who would probably try to snuff it out. “She doesn’t seem the type to take well to that.”
Never mind he’d practically thought the same thing minutes before, that keeping her off the sea would keep her safe.