Eden's Pass (17 page)

Chapter Nineteen

After Mateo was removed from the mast and Iñigo disappeared below deck, Finn crossed over to the where the others stood, talking and laughing and enjoying their free time. Ennis smiled down at her. “Ah, Finn, we were just talkin’ about g’tting' up a game of
Aluette
. Feelin’ game?”

She was about to say no, wanting only to go back below deck, but then Honoria came topside. What the devil was she doing, moving about the ship as though a member of their crew, as if she had no care at all?

Before Finn could take a step toward her, Honoria continued across the deck, toward the stairs leading down to the captain’s cabin. She descended from sight and a sickly sweet taste filled Finn's mouth.

Javier elbowed her sharply, chuckling, “I suppose he’ll not want to be disturbed.”

She ignored his raucously laugh as she turned to Ennis and nodded. “I most certainly am. Come along, Ennis, and prepare to empty your purse.”

It was well into the evening, yet Finn hardly took note of the passing time. Rather, she quite enjoyed herself, indulged in fine rum and even smoked a cigar. Ennis laughed the loudest as she accidentally inhaled the smoke and choked until she was almost purple. Still, even as she fought to breathe, she cared not, for the rum made it possible to
not
think about Iñigo Sebastiano. To not think about how he was most likely wrinkling his sheets with Honoria. The more rum she had, the fainter her anger became at the same notion. True, she lost almost all of her winnings from her previous gaming, but it hardly mattered as she laughed and joked and behaved as one of the men. For a brief while,
she
was the one without care.

She sobered up quickly enough, though, when Diego braved the smoke-choked room to fetch her. His smile was smugly knowing as he clapped a hand onto her shoulder. “You will come with me now, Finn.”

“Ah,” she sighed with great exaggeration. “Am I to assume the good captain has finished with his lady and wishes me to ready him for bed?”

Diego gave her a queer look as he guided her out of the forecastle and back toward the captain’s cabin. “I think Captain Sebastiano retired hours earlier.”

“Ah, I will assume Miss Honoria must have bored him, for him to retire early.” She grinned at her wit, even as she tripped over her own besotted feet. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Strange talk uttered by a healthy young man,” Diego countered softly as she righted herself and fell into step beside him. “Why, those almost sound like the words uttered by a jealous lady.”

Finn couldn’t hold back her snort. “Lady? I think not, Diego. I am no different from the rest of the men.” She cast a glance up at him, fighting back a wince at how close she’d come to betraying herself.

But looking up at the Spaniard, it was a relief he hadn’t seemed to notice. She smiled. Diego was no longer as fearsome as he’d first appeared. His sleepy dark eyes held a hint of the devil and his thick black beard often twitched with an easy smile. He stopped, turning to face her as he lowered his voice to say, “You need not play games with me, Finn. I am aware of your true self.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know of your deception—my lady.”

She snorted. “And yet you think
me
strange.”

He shrugged. “I find it amusing. After all, Captain Sebastiano is the one who told me the truth.”

Was he toying with her? It made no sense for Iñigo to tell anyone her secret. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, come now, Finn. Am I so great a threat? You’ve spent hours with the others, yet none have even hinted that they suspect you are not as you appear.”

Still, why would Iñigo say anything? She sighed. “Tell me, why does he suddenly insist I spent time with the others?”

Diego shrugged. “That I cannot answer. Mayhap he wished to avoid any supposition on the crew’s part. Mayhap to foster a sense of camaraderie. Remember, as far as any one of the others is concerned, you are one of them.”

She stared at him for a long moment, wanting to ask him if Iñigo whiled this time away with Honoria, but the question died on her lips. There simply was no way
to
ask without arousing suspicion.

Yet, she needed to know, for she had no doubt she would have succumbed to Iñigo Sebastiano, had Diego not interrupted them. To know she would be
sharing
the captain… Well, she’d not think about it, for it only made her want to strike Honoria.

Waving away his explanation, she blurted, “I still do not believe you.”

He shrugged again. “Believe what you will. But we both know I speak true.” When she sniffed, he stopped to grip her shoulders and halt her progress. Spinning her about, he demanded, “Stubborn wench… Why do you think he had Mateo lashed?”

Ignoring his derogatory
wench
, she stared hard at him. “Mayhap because the cur tried to choke me to death?”

“Aye, that is exactly why. And know you, the last time a man was lashed onboard this ship?”

“Considering it is a punishment he’s often levied at me, I’d say quite recently.”

It was Diego's turn to snort as he leaned back against the wall, unperturbed by her glare or the ice in her voice. “It was nigh five years past since Iñigo Sebastiano ordered a man lashed. Aside from the mock of a lashing he ordered for you, that is.”

Catching herself before her jaw slackened, she parroted, “Five years?”

“Aye.” Diego nodded. “Five years. Now, think you in that time, no other fights have broken out onboard?”

“I admit, it would be a surprise to hear otherwise.” True, the
Smiling Jack
was the only other ship she’d ever been on, and mayhap not the best to use as criteria as fights broke out on an almost daily basis. But when thrown together under such conditions, a brawl here or there was mostly likely the best way to let off steam. She suspected life aboard the
María
was no different.

She shrugged. “And how are such things dealt with?”

“Most offenders are simply deposited into the hold until we reach port. There they are escorted off the ship. It’s one of the better ships on which to work, as Iñigo’s reputation as a fair captain precedes him. There are many who would slit another’s throat to serve aboard this ship. To be sacked is punishment enough.”

“
That
is how he deals with a man who thinks nothing of squeezing the life from another? By forcing them off?”

“Oh, no. As I said, it’s how most offenders are dealt with. For the more serious offenses, there are more serious punishments.”

“Such as what? Does the captain make them scrub the deck? Wash his stockings? What?”

Diego's eyes hardened. “It is rare that fights go beyond a brief exchange of blows. Most are broken up before they become out of control. But, on those occasions where they do, the captain’s preferred method is sacking the one who stirred up the trouble. However, should there be no port close by, and though he does not often choose it, marooning is one such penalty he reserves for the most serious of offenses.”

Her blood ran cold. She’d been at sea long enough to know marooning was the ultimate price for any sailor to pay. The marooned man was left on a deserted island with only the most meager of supplies—a day’s worth of water, a pistol and one shot, and, if the captain was feeling generous, mayhap a tinder box. One shot was hardly enough for hunting game, but inevitably gave the marooned man a final escape. To be marooned was to be given a death sentence, unless fate intervened. Men did survive, but only rarely.

But there was still one unanswered question. “Why does he avoid the lash?”

Diego shook his head. “I know not why, Finn. On this ship, it’s a punishment which makes a man’s blood run cold. For when it happens, it is no small ten-lash penalty. You would have been fortunate, had the captain not halted your lashing. Fifty is the norm and, as you saw, it is enough to make a man welcome death.”

She sighed, also leaning up against the wall. “You said Captain Sebastiano told you about me. Why?”

He resumed walking. “I do not know his reasons, nor do I question them. I only know what he told me.” The smile he tossed over one shoulder was bland. “And now you have confirmed it.”

Hurrying to fall back into step with him, she rolled her eyes in disgust. “So be it. I assume you’ll not spill, though?” She cared naught if she insulted him by questioning him, but was far more concerned with preserving her own skin.

If he was insulted, he gave no indication. “I’ve no intention of telling anyone. Iñigo wishes to keep your gender a secret, and I agree. To reveal you as a woman would be the height of foolishness.”

An image of the crew attacking her flashed through her mind and she shuddered. Though she couldn’t quite bring herself to offer thanks, she grunted unintelligibly, brushing by him and hurrying down the corridor.

He didn’t pursue her and she put him from her mind as she reached Iñigo's cabin. Her hand hovered above the door handle. It seemed quiet beyond the oak. Mayhap Honoria had left already?

She took a deep breath. “I can hardly remain out here in the hallway,” she muttered, forcing herself to turn the handle and open the door.

The lantern above her hammock was lit, the only light in the cabin. Her eyes narrowed as they wandered of their own accord toward Iñigo's bed. He was sound asleep.

Alone.

Confusing relief eased her mind as she tugged off her boots and climbed up into her hammock. After extinguishing the lantern, she lay there in the dark for a long while, her mind whirling with what she’d learned about Iñigo. A pirate who abhorred the lash? It made very little sense to her, as she didn’t know
that
was even possible.

She sighed into the velvety darkness. At least the cabin didn’t reek of perfume. Rather, it resonated with the comforting aromas of damp wood, salty air and tangy ocean. A small something, to be sure, but it still put her mind at ease. She’d never sleep, should any
other
scents linger in the night air.

Iñigo snorted in his sleep, the tick crunching as he rolled over. Finn smiled as she settled into her hammock and relaxed. If Iñigo hated the lash, she no longer had to fear it.

Which opened up an entirely new world of possibility.

Chapter Twenty

Finn sat at the table, staring hard at the words on the page before her. “This makes no sense.”

Leaning to peer over her shoulder, he replied, “Try again. You’re very close.”

She tried to ignore the shudder racing down her spine as his breath caressed her ear. For reasons he’d not share, he insisted upon teaching her to read. She welcomed the lessons, but they weren’t at all easy, as the words on the page were a mere jumble of letters to her. Though they were English, she could not make heads or tails of them. Still, Iñigo was a good teacher—patient and determined—and not one to give up easily.

“Do people truly speak this way?” she asked, frowning up at him.

“They did in Shakespeare’s world,” he replied, tapping the page before her. “Try again. Do not admit defeat so easily, Finn.”

She blew out a heavy breath, wanting only to fling the book out the window. “It’s most frustrating, this. Every time I think I have it, I am wrong.”

Looking up, it was to see him smiling down at her with the same endless patience as he’d shown for the past four evenings. Each night, he sat with her, bent over a slender, leather-bound edition of Shakespeare’s
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. No mention was made of her joining the others, nor did Honoria interrupt them. Of course, Finn wasn’t certain she’d mind Honoria's knocking on the door, as reading was a most frustrating endeavor. She stumbled over the simplest words and almost any over two syllables gave her the most trouble. More than once she slammed the book shut in frustration.

Yet, Iñigo did not lose his patience with her. Much to her chagrin, at times her frustrations resulted in tears, which she was quick to blink back. If he’d noticed, he made no mention of them, but instead allowed her to gather herself and encouraged her to try again.

It was quite a pleasant way to spend her evenings, even as her frustrations mounted. Little by little, though, she recognized smaller words, and the powerful rush accompanying her newfound skill was enough for her to persevere.

Of course, it wasn’t always easy. “I understand nothing about this,” she grumbled, shoving the book away once more, sending it toppling onto the floor.

“It’s not too difficult,” he said, retrieving it and flipping back to the first scene of the second act, between Puck and a fairy. “Try again.”

She scowled again, fighting to focus on the words before her. It wasn’t easy, though. She desperately wished to master the skill of reading, to conquer it. She was a quick study where things such as swordplay were concerned and was aggravated that reading came much slower to her.

Her gaze flicked to Iñigo, peering at the page over her shoulder. It was quite comfortable. Was it possible they were actually becoming friends?

Friends. Comforting, but not enough to keep her from feeling the crackle in the air whenever Iñigo drew near. Though he hadn’t tried kissing her again, she couldn’t deny his pull, nor could she deny she hadn’t quite put the memory of their kiss from her mind. If anything, she seemed to dwell on it more and more.

As the days passed, her dreams of freedom drifted farther and farther from her mind. It wasn’t difficult, as things between her and Iñigo were most pleasant. She might even say she was happy onboard the
María
. A shock, no doubt, to feel this way, but that was exactly what it was. Happy.

She stumbled over a simple passage and shook her head. “I understand nothing about this. What is an Amazon?”

“A mythological warrior race in Asia Minor.” At her confused look, he added, “On the other side of the world. The Greeks believed there once lived a tribe of fierce, giant warriors—all women.”

She snorted. “That’s silly.”

“I should think you, of all people, would be interested in these mythological women warriors. And who’s to say this race of warring females never existed?”

Finn glanced up at him. “Are you suggesting they did?”

He shook his head. “Nay, but I suggest it’s possible.”

“And these women would be found with the fairies as well?”

He smiled at the derision in her voice. “Ah, yes. You are far too pragmatic to believe in something such as fairies.”

“I believe only in what I might touch and see. I have never been one given to fancifulness,” she informed him with a sniff. “Leisurely thought and imagination were not considered necessary on Barbados. In fact, they could be quite dangerous, if one was working in the boiling house. Many a man was killed because of burns suffered due to distractions.”

“Now that those days are gone, mayhap you will learn to open your mind a bit.”

She shrugged. “That I cannot answer.” Turning her attention back to the book, she tapped the page. “But I do not understand this story at all.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair to lift it away from his face. “It’s about the mystery of how and why we fall in love with the people we do.”

She twisted back to meet his gaze and neither missed the sudden crackle of electricity in the air. She cocked her head. “The mystery?”

“Aye. That man has no choice in the matter. When it is meant to be, it happens and we are powerless to halt its machinations.”

It sounded like absolute madness to her and she sniffed again. “And believe you this?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I neither believe nor disbelieve, Finn.”

Finn wrinkled her nose. “You have never fancied yourself in love, then?”

“There is precious little room in my life for such a foolish notion. The idea of love is for poets and dreamers, neither of which I am.”

“Mayhap it’s simply that you’ve not yet encountered it yet. Mayhap Puck is toying with you.”

He smiled. “Ah, but you are not given to fanciful thoughts, are you?”

“Nay. I have paid no mind to it either way.” Another shrug and she turned back to the play. “And this Amazon, she is betrothed to a duke?”

Iñigo skirted the table, settling across from her. “Aye. He bested her in battle and, in the end, wins her hand.”

Her head snapped up. “What was that?”

A devilish grin played at his lips. “Sound a mite familiar?”

“Ah, an analogy?”

He made no attempt to hide his surprise. “You read very little, and yet you know what an analogy is?”

“I am not stupid, you know.”

Iñigo shook his head, tapping a forefinger against the tabletop. “I think no such thing, Finn. You are an enigma.”

Her brow furrowed. “An enigma?”

“A mystery.”

“How is it you know all of this?”

He reached down to flip the book shut. “I am no stranger to schooling.”

“Is that so?”

Iñigo didn’t answer at once, but sunk back into his chair to stare up at the ceiling. “Aye. Mine was a fortunate family. My father was not an educated man, but he had a thirst for knowledge, a love of learning. He passed both on to me.” He swept a hand toward the shelf of books over his desk. “And I’ve not lost it either, as you can see.”

She let her gaze meander over the collection of leather-bound tomes evenly aligned on their shelf. It was a most impressive collection, to say the least. “You know things,” she murmured absently. “I envy that.

“Ah, but you know things as well, Finn. You’ve accomplished much, despite disadvantages.”

Heat stung her cheeks and she quickly changed the subject. “Yet, you chose a much different path, despite all your learning. Why, you could have been a gentleman.” She bit her lip at his knowing look and slight smile. “No offense, you understand.”

“And none taken.” He sat forward, clasping his hands together. “I preferred the adventures found on the oceans over the dusty history I read in books. Action over being a—ahem—gentleman.”

She mimicked his position, fingers entwined, resting on the open book. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Diego has told me something which lies heavily on my mind.”

“And what might that be?”

His voice was mild, but still she hesitated before saying, “You have an aversion to the lash. Why is that?”

His body stiffened slightly, his eyes darkening as he said, “That is something you need not concern yourself with, Finn.”

“Yet you threatened me with such punishment.” She pressed on despite the muscle bulging along his jawline. “Do I still need fear that? After Mateo and all, I mean.”

He held her stare and she almost saw the ire rising within him. “Again, Finn, it is not something I will discuss. Now—” he reached across to tap the book, “—read. You are very close.”

Something in his eyes told her anger was
not
the primary emotion running through him. She sighed, “I apologize, Captain. I meant no harm.”

“I accept. Now, continue.”

“One more question?”

His sigh was heavy with impatience. “What?”

“Why did you choose to become the dreaded pirate Iñigo Sebastiano?”

Iñigo held her stare easily. “
This
is what has weighed upon your mind?”

“Aye. I am most curious.”

He sighed, sinking back in his chair once more. “It’s not quite as interesting as you think. In fact, it’s quite simple. Greed, mingled with an insatiable lust for adventure. I wished not to waste my life as my father did, toiling in a fruit stand from sunup to sundown, praying every season there would be enough rain, that no insects destroyed crops. It wasn’t a life for me.

“Thanks to my father’s insistence, I learned to love reading and lost myself in books filled with the adventures I sought for myself. Diego was as much the adventurer as I and together we held grand notions of the riches to be found by preying upon the ships traveling between Spain and West Indies.

“I was but a score and three when I made my first capture. It was a treasure ship I bested and afterward, I felt invincible. To this day, nothing has yet to compete with the thrill accompanying such a capture. I have sunk some of the largest ships in Spain’s fleet, have bested the finest the British could set afloat, and none compares to what I felt when I blasted the
Oceania
to hell. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Better than gold, better than jewels or riches. Better than any sexual experience I’ve ever had.”

Her cheeks burned, but she smiled. “I am impressed.”

“Oh, come now, Finn. I told you not to impress you. I told you simply because you asked.” His expression softened, his gaze almost heavy.

“I am impressed all the same.”

“As I said, I was fortunate. But, I was a boy. I wanted adventure and excitement, not serious discussion and theory.” He shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders bunching in a thick ripple. “I far prefer my life this way.”

“A battle on the sea and a woman in every port?” she murmured.

A devilish grin. “Exactly.”

“Captain Sebastiano?”

Her pleasant mood evaporated as Honoria's lilting voice floated into the room. Iñigo smiled as he rose to his feet. “That is all for now, Finn. Off you get. I do believe Juan Pedro will find a chore or two for you.”

She flipped the book shut, struggling to keep from scowling. “Of course, Captain.”

His smile was all-knowing and she wanted to knock it from his lips. It was quite obvious,
why
he smiled, as Honoria knocked again and called, “Captain, are you in there?”

“I’ll be there in but a moment, Miss Honoria,” he called back. Turning to Finn, his smile faded. “Does something trouble you, Finn?”

Knowing full well she couldn’t admit to the truth, she shrugged, pushing her chair in. “I’ve a bit of a headache from trying to make sense of that babble you force me to read.”

His expression suggested he believed not a word leaving her mouth. “Finn, what troubles you?”

“You’ve yet to tell me where we are going. Nor have you told me what will happen whence we arrive.”

“We are sailing home. My home.”

“St. Philippe?” At his surprised look, she added, “I asked Ennis.”

His expression darkened and when Honoria knocked a third time, he muttered something in Spanish. Something she would swear was an oath. He scowled, and Finn's spirits rose. At least he was annoyed with the perfect Miss Honoria. It was a small something, but made her smile nonetheless.

She opened the door, taking a childish delight in startling Honoria, who gasped and jumped back. Still, Honoria recovered her wits quickly and thoroughly ruined Finn's good mood by giving her a flirty smile and a girlish giggle. “Good afternoon, Finn. A pleasure.”

Ignoring her revulsion at Honoria’s attempt to charm
her
, Finn simply snorted, brushing past her as Iñigo bade her entry. Finn tried to blot out the girl’s laughter as Honoria stepped into the cabin and slammed the door shut in Finn's face.

Finn's mood hardly improved as she went topside to find Juan Pedro. It threatened to drive her mad, wondering what Iñigo and Honoria were up to behind that blasted closed door. It also drove her mad that it should drive her mad in the first place.

“Oh, leave off,” she muttered, stepping out into the clean gold sunlight. “It matters not what they do. I care not. In fact, they are made for one another.”