Of Noble Birth (24 page)

“Sorry, Captain, there is
nothing more to do. Hand must come off or boy will lose more of
arm,” Nanchu said quietly.

Alexandra was sitting in
Nathaniel’s bed, propped up by pillows. She was feeling stronger,
the wound in her shoulder healing without any hint of infection,
but the doctor’s news made her look worriedly to the pirate
captain. Naked to the waist, he’d just left his hammock and was
standing at the washbasin, using a cloth to bathe before starting
his day. The doctor stood at the door.

“It’s beginning to rot?”
Nathaniel’s face was inscrutable as he set the rag on the edge of
the bowl and turned toward the Chinese man.

“I’m afraid so. Boy has
been
so...
uncooperative.” Only because Alexandra had come to know
Nanchu over the days of her convalescence was she able to detect
his dislike for Jake, or rather, Lord Clifton. “Otherwise, maybe
outcome different.”

Nathaniel sighed and
looked at Alexandra, then turned and finished tying his hair back.
Finally his eyes found the doctor in the mirror. “Do what you must
for
his ultimate well-being. I’ll be there
momentarily.”

Nanchu bowed and backed
out of the room while Alexandra sat, picturing the face of the man
she had seen carried aboard the
Vengeance.
The tragedy of losing a
limb while fighting for some noble cause, as in war, was bad
enough. But this was infinitely worse. The marquess would lose his
hand because of Nathaniel—and he’d be lucky if the stump didn’t
fester and cause him to lose his life.

Nathaniel brushed his
teeth and drew on his shirt while Alexandra watched.

“Do you have something to
say, or have you taken new interest in my attire?” He turned his
back to her as he strapped on his pistol and put his knife in his
boot, a ritual he performed every day.

“Trenton told me who Jake
is,” she said, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice. “Surely you know
the duke will hate you more after this. He’ll probably kill you for
it.”

“I think you need to
decide which role you mean to play”—he turned and raised a mocking
brow—”my sister Anne or an unconcerned needlewoman from Manchester.
Advisor and confidante are not among your options.”

Alexandra winced beneath
the sting of his words. She hadn’t seen Nathaniel for more than a
brief moment over the past two days since he’d kissed her. It
seemed that he was as eager as she to keep plenty of distance
between them. “I didn’t ask to be here,” she retorted. “Besides,
someone needs to talk some sense into you. Not all of life’s
problems can be handled with a knife or a gun.”

“Now you’re a
philosopher?”

“I’ve done my share of
living by my wits.”

“Then perhaps you know
when to keep your opinions to yourself.”

Alexandra swallowed hard,
once again at the receiving end of Nathaniel’s angry glare.
Unwilling to let him have the last word, she lifted her chin. “Now
that I know you don’t have the good sense to appreciate my wisdom,
I will.”

“Next time I’m lost in
indecision, I’ll remember to ask for your help.”

“I won’t be around. You
promised to take me home, remember?”

Nathaniel gave her a
slight bow. “Indeed. And it won’t be long now. Soon you’ll be back
in your safe existence, just as if nothing had ever
changed.”

With that he stalked from
the room, leaving Alexandra to wonder why she cared if the duke
killed him or not. She should have let the sniper have a clean shot
and saved them all a great deal of trouble.

Judging from his behavior,
he felt worse about his half brother’s hand than she did, but he
couldn’t open up and say so. Nothing about Nathaniel was simple.
She hated his autocratic manner, his cynicism, his sharp temper,
and... Alexandra thought for a moment. What else did she hate about
the pirate captain? She couldn’t put her finger on everything just
then, but when her temper began to cool, she knew. She hated the
risks he took, the enemies he made, the hurt he had suffered as a
child. Worse than anything, she hated the fact that soon she might
never see him again.

* * *

Nathaniel cringed as his
eye caught sight of the doctor’s instruments: two sharp knives for
slicing through skin, muscle, and tendons, a bone saw, a piece of
rope to clamp between Clifton’s teeth, and a bucket of boiling
pitch to sear the flesh and stop the bleeding.

For all Nanchu’s
advancement in the field of medicine, cutting off a limb was still
cutting off a limb. He did it the same way any other doctor
would—with a little bit of rum and a saw, and in less than a
minute. Much longer, and the patient would bleed to death, if the
shock and pain didn’t kill him first.

“Are you sure we have to
do this?” Nathaniel asked as Tiny, Trenton, Garth, and John used
ropes to strap the frantic Clifton to the table.

Nanchu didn’t answer. He
removed the bandage from the marquess’s wrist and let the putrid
smell and grayish-green flesh speak for themselves.

“No! Don’t! Please!” Lord
Clifton thrashed wildly as they tried to tie him down. Managing to
free a leg, he kicked John and sent him sprawling, but Nathaniel
stepped in.

“You did this,” the
marquess snarled, his eyes glassy. “ You want me to be no more
whole than you are.”

Nathaniel stared down at
his half brother while Nanchu applied a tourniquet just below
Clifton’s elbow. He thought he’d feel hate, maybe even the morbid
sense of satisfaction that his half brother accused him of feeling,
but he was wholly unprepared for the poignant remorse that flooded
his heart. The boy thought he had done this on purpose? Regardless
of who Lord Clifton was, at that moment he was simply a man about
to lose his hand, and after struggling to live a normal life with
such a handicap, Nathaniel would have given anything to save
it.

“Nanchu, is there any
chance? Any chance at all?” he asked. The marquess’s body quivered
as everyone looked hopefully at the Chinese doctor.

“So sorry. Too late.” The
ropes were secure, the tourniquet in place. Waving them all back,
he asked Tiny to hold Clifton’s arm still, but Nathaniel
volunteered for the odious task himself.

“I’ll do it,” he said.
“The four of you can go.”

Tiny, Garth, and John
glanced at each other in obvious relief, then beat a quick
retreat.

“Let me do that,
Nathaniel,” Trenton said, staying on.

Nathaniel shook his head,
unable to explain why he had to see the amputation through. For
him, escape at that moment seemed a cowardly thing. Holding tightly
to the marquess’s arm, he forced his mind away from what was taking
place and pictured Alexandra the way she had looked when he had
kissed her, imagined her caressing him softly, saw her smile
invitingly...

Clifton let out a
gut-wrenching scream and the vision instantly dissipated. The
doctor had made his first cut several inches above the original
wound. Blood splattered everywhere as he continued to slice through
the muscles and tendons. Then he began to saw through the
bone.

Nathaniel turned his face
away, feeling sick. His half brother’s arm twisted back and forth
with the friction, then there was a soft thud as the cankerous hand
fell to the floor.

Silence. The marquess had
fainted, but no such oblivion eased Nathaniel’s pain. When he
closed his eyes, he could still hear Clifton’s screams echoing in
his head.

“Are you all right?”
Trenton watched Nathaniel with a look of concern.

“I’m fine. I think Nanchu
can finish now. Let’s get out of here.”

The putrid smell of
burning flesh combined with hot tar followed them all the way to
the galley.

“Charlie, give me that
bottle of Blue Ruin I had you tuck away,” Nathaniel
said.

Charlie raised his tufted
eyebrows. “That bad, eh?”

“That bad,” Trenton
breathed, but it was Nathaniel who grabbed the bottle from the
cook’s hand when Charlie retrieved it, and together they headed to
Trenton’s cabin.

* * *

Alexandra knew something
was wrong the moment Nathaniel opened the door. Normally quiet and
as surefooted as a cat’s, his step was loud and uneven, and he
groaned as he clipped the wall with his shoulder.

She tried not to smile at
his clumsiness. He’d obviously had too much to drink. The headache
he’d own in the morning would be a just revenge.

“Bloody hell!”

Hearing the mumbled curse,
Alexandra wondered what other mishap Nathaniel had managed. It was
too dark to see anything except the soft glow of his teeth and the
whites of his eyes, but she thought he’d hit his shin on the chair
as he stumbled to the window.

He was close enough for
her to smell the alcohol on him, and she wrinkled her nose in
distaste. She hated that smell. She associated it with everything
she had suffered at her stepfather’s hands. But she’d seen little
evidence that Nathaniel drank much. His men downed rum like
water—the slimy ship water tasted so bad that half the time she
didn’t blame them—but rarely had she smelled an excess of alcohol
on Nathaniel.

So he has one redeeming
feature,
she thought
grudgingly.

Evidently he still had a
bottle in his hand. Alexandra heard the soft pop as he tipped it up
and took a long drink. Then he sank down on the floor in the small
circle of light made by the moon and gazed up through the
porthole.

What’s he thinking?
Alexandra wondered, noticing how much softer the
hard planes of his face looked in the mellow light. His hair, loose
from its tie, fell tousled about his shoulders; his clothes were
uncharacteristically disheveled. He looked like a forlorn lad
sitting there, like the lonely little boy he must once have
been.

Alexandra wrestled with
herself, trying to remain indifferent. After a few moments, she
rose and padded over to him.

He didn’t so much as turn
at the muted sound of her movements. He just continued to stare out
the window at the stars.

“Let’s get you to bed.”
She tugged gently on his arm, and he stood, letting her pull the
tails of his shirt from his trousers and undo its buttons. As she
slipped the garment over his shoulders, she tried not to notice how
her hands burned when they brushed his skin.

“That’s good,” she said.
“Now sit.”

“You don’t know what good
is.” He remained standing, just inches away from her, and she could
feel his eyes cutting through the darkness. “But I could teach
you.”

His gentle invitation made
Alexandra giddy. How many nights had she watched him disrobe for
bed, heard the sounds he made as he settled himself, and wished
he’d come to her? But did she want him like this? He was only
searching for a way to stop the pain. He wanted to lose himself in
her arms for the same reason he had tried to drown himself in the
bottle.

“You’re not up to teaching
anyone anything tonight,” she chided.

She saw the glint of his
teeth as his mouth stretched into a lascivious grin. “Try me,” he
said, pulling her hand to the physical proof.

Alexandra let her fingers
linger as the most delicious sensation assailed her. She could
spend this one night with him and hold the memory of it forever,
except that her terms demanded more than one brief encounter. She
couldn’t give her body without giving her heart. Pulling away, she
pressed him back, and he sank onto the bed.

She knelt between his legs
to take off his boots. He was in shadow now; she could no longer
see the silhouette of his face, but she could feel his gaze on the
top of her head. She nearly changed her mind about joining
him—until one moment’s imagination showed her what it would be like
tomorrow, knowing she could never have him for good. Willy had
shown her pain enough; she wasn’t going to ask for more, especially
of such an exquisite type.

Rising, Alexandra tried to
press Nathaniel back so she could cover him with blankets, but he
resisted her attempt. He sat rigid for a moment, then his arm went
slowly around her waist. Pulling her to him, he laid his head on
her breast.

Alexandra’s hands lifted
instinctively to caress him as she would a hurt child. Running her
fingers through his hair, she used her nails to gently scratch his
scalp until his breathing slowed, and he relaxed against her,
falling asleep.

Still weak from her
injury, Alexandra couldn’t hold him long. Smiling, she kissed the
top of his head, then laid him back, and this time he relaxed into
the covers.

Marveling at the many
facets of the pirate captain, Alexandra climbed into his hammock,
her bare legs chilly beneath his long shirt. He could have the bed
for the night, she decided. But her arms felt cold and empty
without him, and it was a long time before she slept.

* * *

Alexandra woke to find the
sun streaming in at the porthole and Nathaniel staring at her from
the bed.

“Tell me about your
stepfather,” he said softly.