Bound by Decency (22 page)
“So as long as they interact with one another for the purpose of duty, there is no trouble?”
“Aye. An’ they avoid one another below decks.” He paused for a moment, looking back to the pair. “I suppose, a bit of the sayin’ keep your enemy closer, might apply as well. There can be no surprise attack if they stand side-by-side.”
That she could certainly understand. If she’d attended the merger meetings with her father instead of depending on Richard to act in her interests, North Atlantic Freight wouldn’t be transporting slaves. Then again, at the time, she hadn’t known Richard was her enemy.
“Lesson two, princess—never trust a pirate.”
Drake’s sudden declaration was such a contrast to the idea of speaking plain to one another,
India
’s features scrunched together in confusion. What difference did it make if one man voiced his hatred, if his word couldn’t be trusted?
As if Drake had heard the question inside her head, he added, “True, there’s some degree of trust afforded. But in general, realize there’s always a way to twist words so the meanin’ fits an opposite purpose.”
Like Slater had done to her. At once her humiliation returned. Ashamed, she dropped her gaze to her feet. If she’d listened, really listened, to what Slater said, she’d have realized his intent long before Drake arrived to rescue her.
“Don’t be deceived by appearances. While Hatchet and Two-Toes look content enough, were you to stand closer, you would see their eyes do not follow their own hands, but the other’s. Watching for a slip. A turn of a wrist. A knife to slide a bit too far out of place.”
The way Cain had watched Slater. He’d calculated opportunity. Anticipated Slater’s strikes. It had seemed such a natural part of battle, she hadn’t really paid it much attention. But now Cain’s victory took on new meaning.
As did the look in Drake’s eyes. He studied her so intently
that
she suspected he was waiting for her to grasp some unspoken part of his speech. Under the heavy weight of his stare, she stepped through the details of their short conversation. It began when she tried to fish for information about…
Cain
. Drake was telling her something important about Cain. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to piece his lecture into place. The idea of speaking what was on her mind to a mere acquaintance held appeal, but the habit was unacceptable. Still, she wanted answers, and of all the people she knew, Drake was least likely to lead her around by the nose. Hesitantly, she took a chance and asked, “Is Cain angry with me still?”
A smile crinkled the corners of Drake’s eyes. “Am I the one you should ask?”
She shook her head, catching on to his leading method of questioning. “No. You’d only have presumptions. If I wish to know the truth, then I should ask Cain.”
With a cock-sure smirk, Drake patted her on the head. “You have potential, princess.”
India
rolled her eyes, then gasped at her bold display of disrespect. But when Drake burst into laughter, her mortification fled, and she caught his good humor. Despite herself, she grinned.
“Allow me to give you a parcel of advice. But come this way, if I remember correctly, idle hands don’t suit you.” Drake straightened and caught her by the wrist. He led her toward the center of the ship. As he walked, he talked. “The gentleman cannot curb the pirate.” He pushed a thick line out of their way and held it over his head as she passed under. “The pirate cannot rid himself of the gentleman.”
A more accurate description of Cain, she couldn’t imagine.
India
nodded.
Drake steered her around the mizzenmast, across the short distance to the foremast. There, he stopped, a handful of paces away from a man who scrubbed the decks with a hard bristled brush. White froth gathered on the planks to gradually assume a shade of dirt-stained grey.
Drake set his hands on her shoulders and gave her a meaningful stare. “Forget the pirate and the gentleman. Appease the
man
.”
He pulled her forward until her feet were mere inches from the working sailor’s head. “Redhand, Miss Prescott wishes to learn deck maintenance. I trust you can see to her tutorin’?”
The blond man reared back on his haunches, his expression grim. “Aye.”
“Good then. Should you abuse her, I know a bosun who yearns to use his cat.” Drake turned to leave.
India
caught his elbow. “Wait. What did you mean?”
One thick eyebrow rose, and his mouth twitched with unspent laughter. “Princess, in case it escapes you, you’re a woman.” His gaze fell pointedly on her breasts. “There’s only one language man and woman speak where they both hear the same meanin’.”
As a little thrill of shameful excitement skittered down her spine,
India
averted her gaze to hide her unexpected reaction. She should be embarrassed. Horrified a man would make such a direct reference to intimate relations. Not excited by the prospect.
Drake’s laughter enveloped her. “Spare me your modesty. You’ll not convince me you’re a fragile flower.” He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her head up to look her in the eyes. “If you are, you’ll never satisfy a pirate. Even if he’s only half.”
351
Bound By Decency
21
I
ndia
’s back ached from the effort of scrubbing the planks. The burn had set into her arms shortly after she joined Redhand on her knees and slowly spread into her shoulders. At the passing of an hour—around the time Redhand claimed a need to relieve himself at the head—every muscle of her body screamed. Including her knees, which were as bruised as if she’d crawled across a mile of sharp rocks.
She rocked back on her heels and wiped the perspiration from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Her gaze traveled the path Redhand had taken. He’d bamboozled her, as surely as Reggie had. She should have seen his desertion coming, given the way he complained about the labor. With Drake’s recent lecture, Redhand’s belly-aching should have set her senses on alert.
But the truth of the matter was, Drake’s last words preoccupied her mind.
You’ll not satisfy a pirate.
Like a gauntlet thrown at her feet, he challenged her pride. If she hadn’t wanted Cain before, that little taunt would have pushed her into full-bore pursuit.
She did want Cain and all the incredible pleasure her memory knew but her body had forgotten. Yet Drake planted a seed of doubt. Appease the man—she’d tried and failed miserably. Just what was she supposed to do now? Track Cain down, corner him in the cabin, and strip him bare? Throw herself at him so he could reject her again?
Hardly.
While she wasn’t opposed to a bit of honest conversation, the notion of opening herself to Cain’s humiliation a second time made her stomach churn. She’d rather jump overboard amidst a pack of Great Whites.
She scanned the decks for a glimpse of her tardy captain. When she failed to discover him amongst the men, her shoulders sagged. One shift change had passed. The men now on deck held their positions for a good two hours, gauging by the alignment of the sun. Most likely Cain sought to avoid her.
On the quarterdeck, she caught sight of Drake. He leaned on the rail that overlooked the deck, his eyes on her. The same self-satisfied smirk she’d come to associate with him danced on his mouth.
Sweet Mary, he knew! She couldn’t explain how or why, but that damnable grin broadcasted his knowledge of Redhand’s swindling. Annoyed beyond all measure, she dropped her brush into the pail of dingy water and pursed her lips. The rat. She should have known better than to trust
him
, for he was the one who arranged this back-breaking work. Perhaps he’d even convinced Redhand to abandon her.
As she watched, Drake descended the ladder and struck a path straight for her. She folded her arms over her chest, intent on giving him a good piece of her mind. If he protested, she’d remind him about his speech on plain talk.
His bare feet stopped at her knees. “Have you come up with a scheme?”
She frowned, uncertain she’d heard him correctly. “Pardon?”
Silent laughter shook his shoulders. “For conquering Cain, princess.” He tipped his head, drawing her attention to the golden loop on his ear that reflected the bright sunlight. “Or did you decide you don’t have it in you to take on a rover?”
Drake’s eyes danced with mischief, and in the amused twist of his sensual mouth, she read what she’d missed before. He
had
thrown the gauntlet at her feet. Was doing so now. Why? What did he gain from goading her into pursuing Cain?
No matter the reason,
India
’s pride revolted at the insinuation she was less than suitable for Cain. They’d been lovers during her sickness—clearly she satisfied him in some measure. She lifted her chin and met Drake’s gaze with stubborn determination. “I assure you, I have it in me.”
To prove her point, she glanced around the decks. A young seaman lazed against a stack of tarred and sealed crates, indulging in a horn of some unidentifiable drink. She pulled her bandanna off her head, and using it as a signal flag, called him over. “You, sir. You there!”
The man glanced over his left shoulder, then his right, before he pointed at himself, his eyebrows
lifted
in surprise.
“Yes, you.”
He cast a wary glance Drake’s way. When Drake answered with an approving nod, the man approached. “Yessir—er, miss?”
India
summoned the sweetest smile she could muster. With a dip of her chin, she batted her eyelashes the way her maid had instructed her to do when dealing with a man she wanted something from. She’d never employed the farce before, feeling it was too coy, too obvious to ever be worth her time. Now, however, she didn’t intend to lose this unspoken wager. “If you please, I need to request a favor, good sir.”
****
C
ain’s quest to locate Drake and drag him into the belly of the ship to aid with the logs came to an abrupt halt at the sound of India’s sugary voice. He stared at the sailor kneeling before Drake and blinked. Not a sailor.
India
. He’d been blind not to notice her dark pigtail dangling down her back. What in the seven hells was she up to now? He cocked his head, squinting at the pair.
She lowered her voice, and with a slender finger beckoned William Cooper closer. Her words were just loud enough to reach Cain’s ears. “I need to attend to some personal business at the head. Do you think you could mind my duties? It seems Drake is of no mind to grant me a reprieve.” She fanned her hand in front of her face, and her hushed voice took on a touch of shock. “The brute says if I’m to work, I must finish my watch, or I may take myself to the side of the rail.”
Drake! Cain’s scowl shifted to his quartermaster.
India
was no common layman, no slave to force at a task. If she wished to quit, the decks would survive without her washing. Damnation, for that matter
,
she shouldn’t be on her knees scrubbing planks at all.
He took a step forward, determined to put an end to the disgraceful matter. But when Drake’s head snapped Cain’s way, and he observed the way Drake’s teeth bit into his lower lip to temper laughter, Cain paused.
Cooper’s features reddened. He shot Drake a disapproving look, then offered
India
his hand and helped her to her feet. “S-sure thing, Miss Prescott.”
“Oh, you are a dear,” she cooed as she ran her hand across Cooper’s forearm. “I shan’t forget your kindness. I promise I won’t be but a few minutes.”
In his mind, Cain knew the flirtation was false. She would no more employ the beguiling habits of virginal lasses than she would slice her own wrists. She spoke plain, held no regard for the ploys debutantes used on rich noblemen. But knowing
India
meant none of the richly exaggerated words, and convincing himself of the matter, were two entirely different things. Jealousy sparked. She had no business standing so close to another man’s side that her breasts brushed against his bicep. No business making promises with her eyes and cooing intimate words, whatever their nature. He curled one hand into a fist and ground his teeth together.
Cooper dropped to his knees and fished the brush out of the bucket. He bent over the planks, his wide smile as embarrassing as a love-sick school boy’s. Cain rolled his eyes. Pathetic. Did the man really have no idea he was being played a fool?
As
India
turned around, Cain ducked behind the stack of crates. She was up to something, no doubt, and Drake, his loyal friend and current needle in his side, was in on it as well. Something that couldn’t bode well, no matter what the objective. Drake was as apt to encourage
India
to climb the rigging as she
was
to ask if she could.
“Well played, princess,” Drake murmured as he took her elbow. “Well played indeed.”
India
laughed softly. “At least my back will no longer protest. Though I wonder when he will catch on.”
“About ten minutes from now, when you fail to return from the head.”
Despite himself, at the sound of India’s giggle, Cain smiled. So rarely did he hear her amusement that he bathed in the light, enveloping melody.
So she’d done it on purpose, extracted her own means of revenge for Reggie’s bamboozling yesterday, and what appeared to be a second go-round today. Cain gave in to a broad grin. Saints’ toes, the woman was truly a breath of fresh air. Such spirit. Such boldness. Such a stark contrast from the whining complaints and incessant demands his mother had placed upon his father.
India
asked for little, save only to be useful. His mother would still be in the cabin, moaning about her capture. Insisting someone return her to
England
this instant.
Not so
India
. No, she’d embraced her conditions with zest and determination that he had yet to find in any woman of gentility.
He stepped from behind the crates and crossed in front of their path. Pretending ignorance, he hailed his quartermaster. “Drake! You hide when you’re needed.”
“Needed?” Drake scoffed. “I’m attendin’ to important matters. Methinks Miss Prescott shouldn’t be forced to sulk in your cabin all day.”
Cain lowered his gaze to
India
’s sunburned face. As her turquoise eyes locked with his, his heart swelled to painful limits. Visions of the night spent in each others’ arms flashed in his memory, and his breath caught. He’d thought for certain she understood. Had come so close to embracing everything she offered and forgetting Richard, his betrayal, and all the damning reasons he should stay far away from her.
She tore her gaze away and affixed a smile that waivered at the corner of her mouth. “It’s all right, Drake. I’m certain Cain had more important matters to attend to.”
Like bloody hell, and she knew it too. The uncertainty that trembled on her lips evidenced the fact she offered excuses for his behavior. Yet she was too polite, and damn it,
decent
, to scorn him on the deck.
Chagrined, he murmured, “I have shares to calculate and divide.”
“From yesterday’s raid?” Her eyes lighted with keen interest.
“Aye. As quartermaster Drake is to aid me.”
Never one to miss an opportunity to make Cain’s life abject misery, Drake placed
India
’s hand on Cain’s arm. “I give my duties over to the lady.”
Before Cain could protest, Drake ducked beneath a sagging line and jogged toward the quarterdeck. Cain swallowed with effort. Alone with
India
. Though he longed for nothing more, it was an idea of the worst kind. He’d planned to spend the day apart, making delivering her to Old Bess tonight that much easier. But if he objected to her aid, she’d know it was only an attempt at evasion. He needed assistance as well. Without it, he’d never have the men’s shares ready by the time they dropped anchor off the coast.
He inhaled a deep, fortifying breath. “Well then. Shall we?”
She took two steps forward, leading him toward the main hatch. He caught up in an easy stride and helped her onto the descending ladder. Her palm was warm against his. Her grip confident and secure. He held her fingers a heartbeat longer than necessary, enchanted by the light, casual contact that seemed so natural, and somehow so very intimate.
When
India
stepped onto the deck below, Cain climbed down the ladder. He swept his arm to the left, indicating another smaller ladder a few feet away. Overhead, a lantern illuminated the top rungs, while deep within the hole, the lamps he’d left burning near the haul the crew brought in gave the interior of the hold a warm orange glow.
India
descended with purpose, never hesitating as she set bare toes on roughshod rungs. Cain couldn’t begin to explain why, but her agility fascinated him. She’d make an excellent topman.
He dismissed the misplaced thought with a perturbed shake of his head. Good match or not, he’d lock her in the hold before he ever let her climb the ropes. Too much danger came with the duty. The risk she’d plummet to her death, too great.
At the bottom, she grinned up at him. “Are you coming?”
“Aye,” he murmured absently.
As he climbed down, she disappeared amongst the cargo. The rattle of a heavy chain told him she inspected the markings on the crates. What would she say when she calculated the pounds and discovered in one single raid
that
they’d accumulated what one honest shipment to the Colonies would bring in profits?
He didn’t have to wait long for his answer.
“Good heavens, Cain! There’s a fortune down here!”
“Indeed there is.” He rounded the corner to find her bent over the table he’d furnished by turning an empty leaguer on its end. His chair comprised two crates stacked atop each other. He pulled another pair beside his and gestured for her to sit.
She settled onto the aged wooden slats, wriggled around until she made herself comfortable. Then, to his surprise, she pulled his ledger in front of her, picked up his quill, and dipped it into the small bottle of ink. “You dictate. I’ll record.”
