Chapter Four Before #2
Cat opened her mouth to reply, wavering between another ill-advised snap and the shrinking apologies of a good Meridian lady.
Neither won out, her senses too overwhelmed by the man in front of her.
Another pearl flash of teeth curled, his blue-green eyes catching the rare bend of light belowdecks.
He threw off heat like a lit fire, and she could not help but wonder how such a man could bear the boiling temperatures of the Lyrian Sea.
Worse still, he smelled of tobacco and gunpowder, and salt water, of course.
Cat expected the nauseating scent of blood from a fight, but his scarred hands were clean, whatever wounds he carried far older than today.
If there was blood to be spilled, it had not spilled yet.
She settled for twisting away from his hand and scurrying ahead, intent on getting to the main deck as quickly as possible.
Other pirates roved through the ship, passing amongst the hammocks of the crew quarters. Cat did not stop, clambering up on deck for a gasp of fresh air before she choked on the pirate.
But he dogged her heels, dutiful in his efforts to herd her out with the rest of the Credence. Captain Meedy, his crew, and the passengers stood assembled to one side of the main deck, with their cargo strewn down the center.
Pirate rabble picked through the crates and cases, sorting what valuables they could find.
All were armed with knives, pistols, swords, or all three.
Unlike the Meridian navy, they wore no uniforms, but there was no mistaking which men were pirates and which were simple sailors.
The former had the look of honed blades, their edges raw and sharp.
They smiled more than sailors too, jeering amongst each other, joking even as they pillaged.
If not for her own terror, Cat might have thought them a happy sort, like jovial dockworkers or merchants in the market.
As if raiding a ship were simply another day of work.
It probably is, Cat thought, her mouth dry.
The pirate escorting her seemed sharpest of all, his eyes even more startling in broad daylight.
Cat fought the urge to study him in the sun.
She felt his hand once more. He was not gentle this time, shoving her forwards.
The lightning of his touch bled again, crackling a line across her collarbone, so sharp and insistent Cat wondered if it might leave a scar.
Then cold, clammy hands closed around her, holding her steady, and the lightning disappeared, a slate wiped clean.
Lord Rose looked down on her, his pale face white with fear, his grip limp as a deboned fish. Cat broke his hold with an easy twist, whirling to face her pirate.
But the nameless man was already moving through his crew, the smile gone from his tanned face.
She didn’t miss the way the other pirates gave way to him, a school of fish parting to let a shark pass.
He took his place at the right hand of a shorter but just as intimidating man with a violent black beard, a plumed hat, and a fine, green coat.
Cat guessed it to be velvet, judging by the shine.
It looked shockingly out of place among the dirty, sweating crew.
“Captain Morovant,” Meedy said, inclining his head to the man in the green coat. They shared a familiar, almost teasing, look.
“Captain Meedy.” Morovant removed his hat with a hand, showing off a lacy cuff and a fine bracelet of raw emeralds.
After so long at sea, Cat could barely comprehend the spring-green jewels.
Then he grinned, a tooth gleaming silver to match the rings in his ears.
“I expected to find you off Great Edrin.”
A central island of the Lyrian, between the Furies and the Stills, Cat thought reflexively. It was easier to consider a map of the sea than their looming fate.
Captain Meedy pulled a face and scratched his patchy beard. “I aimed to avoid your hunting grounds.”
“And how did that work for you?” Morovant answered, smirking.
“As well as can be expected.” Meedy sighed like a man defeated. “Well, take your fill.”
“Always a pleasure doing business with you,” the pirate captain replied, bending at the waist to give a mocking bow.
Indeed, the pirates continued their pillaging.
Cat could not help but flinch when one of her own trunks burst open.
Her clothes spewed out, everything from traveling garments to her few remaining gowns.
One pirate grinned, burying his face in pink silk.
Another held out a length of white Anticlean lace, and Cat gasped, her face going hot.
At her side, Lord Rose stared resolutely at the deck, their servants huddled next to him at the rail. Cat glared at him sidelong, willing her husband to stop these men from pawing through her underclothes. Do something, she thought, her fury bubbling beneath her skin.
“Ryman,” she could not help but mutter, her voice hissing through gritted teeth.
“Silence,” he shot back, refusing to meet her eye.
A gunfire laugh cracked across the deck.
To Cat’s dismay, it was the pirate captain who crowed, her thin undergarments dangling from his hand. Morovant gave another spin of his jeweled wrist and shook the white lace like a flag.
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” he said, and a chortle went through his crew. “I suppose fashions have changed on the Continent.”
With a few quick strides, Captain Morovant stood nose to nose with the sniveling Lord Rose. Across the deck, the pirates howled their amusement. All but the one with tempest eyes. His focus was on the cargo, inspecting a crate of books.
Chuckling, Morovant draped the undergarments across her husband’s shoulders like a frilly cape.
“It is not often we meet a noble lord of the Meridian Empire, is it, mates?” Morovant said, throwing an arm around Ryman in an all-too-familiar manner. He took a step, forcing His Lordship to stumble along with him.
Then Morovant’s smile dropped, his grip tightening.
“Search him,” he clipped, shoving Lord Rose to the deck.
Ryman immediately turned out his pockets, shuddering under the white lace. It was a pitiful sight, and the pirates took to him half-heartedly, patting him all over. Even they could not stand the sight of the whimpering lord, pathetic as he was.
Cat watched it all with an impassive face, one hand in her skirts. She palmed the broken prayer bead, pouring what little faith she had into the last stone, asking for what no god would give.
Kill him. Let them kill him.
Then a pirate grabbed for Sara, taking the servant roughly by the arm, and her prayers fell away.
“She is a maid. She carries nothing,” Cat said, firmly planting herself between them without a second thought.
Only to find the burly pirate from her cabin leering back at her with angry eyes and a bruising nose. Whatever burst of bravery she felt sputtered, a candle in rain.
“And what do you carry, Tiger?” he hissed, a sweaty hand reaching for her neck.
Cat shuddered, bracing herself for a blow.
“Easy, Horace. You only have one nose,” said a low voice, a tall figure stepping between pirate and lady. It was enough to make the former recoil instantly, hands raised as he stepped away.
Navy or not, the pirates obeyed orders as well as any man of the fleet. Cat could not help but be impressed, if not utterly shocked.
“Aye, Kane,” Horace replied, returning to the material spoils without so much as a backwards glance.
Kane.
Cat glanced up to study the pirate standing over her, an amused look on his face, the storm still in his gaze. In the sunlight, his eyes looked lighter, closer to the color of the waves around the ship. And just as unfathomable, hiding untold depths.
“Your father seems to have wet himself,” he said, angling his chin at Lord Rose now drawn up in ball. Indeed, there was a telltale dark stain at the front of his breeches.
Cat frowned, her voice dull.
“He is not my father.”
At that, Kane’s face darkened, and he shook his head. A ring of gold flashed in one ear, matching the chain around his wrist.
“My apologies,” he murmured. “My apologies indeed.”
Cat blushed as she eyed her husband, his shirt now hanging open to show a pale, soft belly.
His was the only male body she had ever known.
It cut a sickly contrast against the hardened pirates, especially Kane, who was still standing too close for comfort.
Cat could not help but drift between the two, her eyes tracing the white swell of her husband’s gut just to dart back to the tanned and muscled forearms of the pirate.
And the swath of bare chest on full display between the folds of his half-buttoned shirt.
Her jaw tightened and she looked back at Ryman, forcing herself to watch his misery.
He still groveled, silver pocket watch dangled from another pirate’s hand, the gleaming face cracked in the scuffle. It swung like a pendulum, in time with the gentle waves buffeting the ship.
She could feel Kane’s eyes as she stared, the storm of him trained on her face. It was not hard to guess what he thought. She assumed the rest of the deck felt similarly, sympathetic to the useless wife of an even more useless man.
Her teeth clenched.
“I do not want the pity of a pirate,” she bit out.
Her boldness seemed to both shock and delight him. He blinked once, the corner of his mouth rising.
“The only one I pity is Horace, who now has to explain how a fine Meridian lady battered his face,” he shot back, eyeing her sidelong. Before Cat could feel some sort of pride, his gaze turned harsh. “I don’t pity the likes of you.”
Heat flooded down her face and neck, until even the tops of her breasts felt warm.
Cat fought the urge to scream, or worse, cry.
Even so, hot tears of frustration pricked at her eyes.
She glared across the deck of the ship, towards the islands in the distance.
A long stretch of sea separated the Credence from Goldcoast, the waves whitecapping in the rising wind.
It did not look so far.