The Pirate Captain (70 page)

“It’s wonderful. Have you had yours, yet?” Cate asked as she arranged herself more comfortably and took the cup.

Nathan nodded as he watched her drink. “Oh, aye, before the sun was o’er the gun’l. Could use another bit, though; can’t seem to hit me stride yet.” He blinked widely in example.

She held the cup out in invitation. At first, he refused, but then relented. They spent the next while sitting in companionable silence, sharing and observing the flurry of activity on the beach. As soon as the mug was empty, Nathan passed the word for another. Ordinarily, she would have been reluctant to infringe her needs on others, but somehow on that particular morning, sitting next to Nathan, she was content to be waited upon.

Cate waited with considerable apprehension for Nathan to say something about the night before, but he blithely ignored it to the point she wondered if he remembered. Perhaps, he had been more in drink than thought, or it was just the Captain of Denial in full command of his realm.

They were nearly to the bottom of the second cup, when she realized they had been carrying on an entire conversation and not a word was spoken, a tip of the head, a gesture, the quirk of a mouth, or the cock of an eyebrow communicating every thought.

It was Thomas who finally interrupted their amiable silence.

“Good morning!” he chimed as he crossed the beach. Barely acknowledging Nathan, his full attention fixed on Cate. “Just as lovely under the morning sun as she is under the light of the moon!”

Shielding a hand to the sun, she looked up smiling. “And just as good a liar in the light as he is in the dark,”

Thomas laughed loudly enough to cause several of the nearby hands to give pause. Nathan’s cheerfulness faded as he darted suspicious looks between them.

“I thought we’d linger here for the day, Nathan,” Thomas said. “We need to water and wood, as well. Allow us the day, and we’ll ride the evening tide to take our position abaft the Straits.”

Still casting sharp-eyed looks between them, Nathan nodded distractedly.

“We’ll be setting the kedges and making ready,” Nathan announced at last and rose. “We’ve every reason to believe our prey should pass within the day or next.”

“Fair enough. Much to do.” Thomas removed his hat and sweep a grand bow. “M’ lady.”

“What's he got to be so cheerful about this morning?” Nathan muttered, watching as Thomas strode away.

“Maybe he has a particular relish for mornings,” she suggested lightly, hovering over her drink.

Nathan twisted around to peer suspiciously down the sharp edge of his nose at her. “Maybe he had an extra good night.”

She batted her eyes with exaggerated innocence over the mug’s rim. “Why Captain Blackthorne, whatever are you implying?”

Narrowing one eye threateningly, a precursor to a retort, he suddenly brightened. “I’ve a surprise.”

“What?” Skepticism seemed the better part of valor, at the moment.

“Have no cares,” he replied, with a flip of his hand. “Allow me to attend to a few matters with Pryce, and we’ll aweigh.”

He scurried off, hailing the First Mate. Coffee finished, Cate rose, wincing. Romantic as it might sound, sleeping on a beach did not provide the best night’s repose. Sand was surprisingly hard and had a nasty trait of shifting into shapes unaccommodating to the body.

Cate was rigging a drying rack for the herbs collected the day before—a task slowed by being obliged to pause to scratch Hermione’s head every time she was butted on the hip—when Nathan found her next. A haversack over his shoulder, he hooked her by the arm and led her away, snagging up the quilt as they passed. He resolutely declined to offer a hint as to their destination, answering her inquiries with no more than a dramatic roll of the eyes.

Down the shore a short way laid a broad creek, which they followed inland. It was early in the day, but the walk was still warm. On New Providence, she had been a distracted observer of the new world before her. And yesterday, she had been too preoccupied. Now, following Nathan, braids swinging with his bobbing gait, she walked in open-mouthed amazement.

Going from the saturated blues of sky and water to the vibrant greens almost hurt the eyes. There were vines as thick as an arm and head-high ferns, and trees whose towering heights dwarfed the
Morganse
’s masts. Each step brought the damp, earthy smell of fallen leaves and dying vegetation, which mingled with wafts from the flowers, at times so heady and sweet as to nearly bowl one over. Cate kept close on Nathan’s heels; a few paces too far apart, and she feared losing sight of him. The going wasn’t rough, but the footing did require constant attention.

Cate wondered what had brought to Nathan this sudden urge to go off into the jungle, when there seemed to be so much else to occupy his time and mind. It could have been an innocent desire to show her some local point of interest, or a gesture of atonement for his behavior the night before. The latter seemed highly unlikely; fits of conscious weren’t his burden. Her moonlight walk with Thomas was another possible motivation. Out-of-hand, she ruled that out; outright jealousy an even less-natural state.

The terrain took an increasingly upward slope. In spite of the canopy of shade, the atmosphere was heavy and still. Wiping the sweat from her face, Cate kept climbing, accepting Nathan’s hand to navigate rock tumbles or steep banks.

“A bit more,” was her only hint, as he stood in a nearly knee-deep creek to hoist her from one bank.

A patch of brilliance in the verdant shadows finally came into view: the sun’s reflection on the surface if a broad pool. Flat rocks stair-stepped down at random angles to form a natural basin. The pristinely clear water made the depth deceptive; it could have been a few inches, or it could have been several feet to the crystalline glitter of the black sand bottom. As she came closer, her nose was met with the sharp smell of sulfur.

“Well,” Nathan exclaimed, spreading his arms out. “Here ’tis!”

“It’s beautiful. How did you ever find this?”

He gestured with the bearded point of his chin. “Stick your finger in.”

Kneeling down, Cate dipped her hand in and jerked back. “It’s hot.”

“Aye. Hot springs, from the volcanoes.”

“Around here?” She looked, half-expecting to see lava flowing through the greenery.

“Oh, aye. The Caribbean is full of them; most every one of these islands is some kind of a volcano, either now or before. These springs abound. I thought you might appreciate the chance at a hot bath.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I’d love it.”

“Have a care. Go in here and you’ll be boiled to the bone.” He put out a warning arm, as if she was going to jump in that very moment. He pointed to a waterfall at one end. Barely waist high, it gurgled over a multi-tiered tumble of the rocks. “Go in over there. The falls cool it a bit; you’ll be able to linger.”

“Oh, Nathan!” Cate threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she stepped away. “Thank you,” she said considerably subdued.

“No worries,” he mumbled, waving a dismissive hand. “God knows why anyone would want a hot bath in this foundering heat, but…”

Nathan shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. “There’s a fair stand of fern over there, if you’d wish a bit o’ privacy. I’ll be…I’ll just be over there.”

Nathan moved to a respectable distance. Turning his back, he folded his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, while whistling a nondescript tune. She undressed behind the indicated ferns and slipped into the water.

The water at the hotter end had been clear, but the water tumbling over the falls was tinged brownish-green, making the depth of the ledges deceptive. She crept in, lurching in unexpected shallows and stumbling in surprising depths, until her toes sunk into the sandy bottom. A champagne-like effervescence of tiny bubbles boiled up, giving off minute bursts of sulfur as they broke the surface.

She dived to the bottom and hung like a trout on a hot summer’s day, and then pushed up, surfacing with an explosion of air.

“Oh, Nathan, this is heavenly.”

“I imagined you’d fancy it,” he called from amid the greenery.

“Why don’t you come in?”

He chuckled. “Can’t pass up the prospect of cleaning the whole world, can you?”

“One must have their dreams,” Cate mused. Leaning her head back, she swished her hair from side to side, the heat brushing her temples. “C’mon. It's wonderful.”

“No…I think not.”

“C’mon,” she urged, treading water. “I’ll stay here, and you can come in over there. It’s plenty deep; no one will see anything.”

“You’ll look.” Now he was being coquettish.

“I had five brothers and was married; I've seen everything and far too many times over.”

“I’m shy.” Nathan’s path could be tracked by glimpses of his headscarf through the leaves as he made his way around to the far side.

“Oh, come now. Modesty from a pirate? How many women have you undressed in front of, Captain? What’s one more?”

His mutterings and flashes of movement revealed he was shedding his clothes. “Turn ’round.”

“Oh, very well.” She sighed and did so, closing her eyes for good measure. “I had no idea you were such a prude.”

A splash marked his entry into the pool, a sputter when he broke the surface. Not wishing to injure his pride, she kept her eyes closed while she blissfully floated, shivering with delight as the heat swirled through her joints. Over the years—and yes, it had been years—of dreaming of a hot bath, it had involved visions of endless luxuriant soaking.

Tired but unwilling to leave, Cate found a place where she could sit on the rocks and still be immersed to her neck. Modesty was never her burden, but feeling her breasts bob, she was relieved to see her hair fanned out enough to cover her. In the discolored water, the rest of her body was but an amorphous blur.

A surge of water against her calves was a precursor of Nathan’s arrival. His head broke the surface sleek as a seal at her knee.

“How is it?” He beamed with boyish anxiousness.

“It’s heavenly. The water feels like it’s alive.” The small stirrings of bubbles had felt like tickling little fingers.

“Aye, that would be the spirit of the spring.” He swiped the dripping water from his face. His lean arms braced on the rocky ledge, his braids coiled like water snakes around his shoulders.

“The natives say the bubbles are the breath of the gods of the underworld. Bloody rotten breath, I’d say.” He cast a disdainful glare toward the sulfur-laden corner. “Anyway, they believe it’s the breath of life.”

“How can the gods of death give you life?”

“Trifles, darling,” Nathan declared with a flick of his fingers. The bells in his mustache sparked in the sunlight. “Don’t argue with the powers, luv, just bide and reap the benefits.”

“I hadn't realized how much I missed hot water. Come to think on it, I can’t remember the last time I had a hot bath.”

“’Tis yours for as long as you desire.” He pushed off from the ledge. The tattoos at his neck and chest were distorted by the wavelets as he tread. He gestured with his head toward the path they had taken. “Mind, I’d rather not navigate yon hill in the dark, but the day is yours, luv.”

Arching sideways, Nathan dove out of sight in a flash of brown breeches. Perched on her rock, she visually followed his image as he cavorted like an otter, his bells twinkling in the bands of sunlight. He shot off to a corner, and then curved back. Spouting to the surface, he swam several passes before submerging again. He circled the bottom and rose once more at her knee.

Nathan grinned, droplets of water diamond-like in the ebony of his lashes and mustache. “I believe I’ve seen never you smile so grand.”

“It doesn’t require that much.”

“Not
that
much, but rare difficult. You deserve all the fineries what could ever be bestowed.”

“I’ve been fairly happy since I’ve been on the
Morganse
,” Cate said in all earnestness.

Nathan beamed at that, and then sobered. “’Twould be better if we could dispense with that
fairly
bit.”

“A feast fit for a queen, a romantic fire on the beach, coffee in bed, and now a hot bath; you're going to spoil me.”

His eyes held hers, as deep and luminous as the pool itself. “One can only hope.”

Nathan pushed back and disappeared to the depths. Arms sweeping at his sides, he swept off around the rocks. A slosh of water marked his exit.

Reluctant to leave the blissful heat, Cate slipped off the rock and sank to the bottom, spiraling up only when the need for air required. The heat, however, began to take its toll, her limbs going loose-jointed and heavy.

“C’mon, luv!” Nathan stood on shore, his voice muffled by the quilt held before him. Peering over the top, he shook it in offering. “Let’s get you wrapped up before the meat is boiled off.”

Cate rose from the pool and her legs buckled. Nathan adroitly caught her in the quilt as she crumpled. Bracing her up, he guided her to a sun-dappled spot amid the ferns and moss. Lowering her in the patch-worked envelope, he knelt in the greenery next to her.

“I’m as wobbly as a new colt,” she giggled.

“Stay wrapped or you’ll take a chill. Give yourself a few minutes,” he said, chafing her legs between his hands. “Get the blood going again and you'll do.”

Jelly-limbed and flushed with heat, Cate lay as Nathan fetched her clothing and spread them on the grass nearby. From the haversack, he produced a stoneware bottle, cold roasted meat wrapped in leaves, and discs of flat, unleavened bread from the
Griselle
’s cook fires. His shirttail haphazardly stuffed into his waistband, he sat cross-legged before her blue-and-yellow cocoon and fed her bits of meat and bread.

With Nathan's arms resting on his legs, Cate noticed there were tattoos encircling his ankles. Their pattern was identical to the woad-colored ones at his wrists and neck, a complicated chain-like interweaving, very reminiscent of Highland designs.

“Where were you born, Nathan?”

He jerked at the unexpected question, but answered amiably. “Dover.”