Zach rose before first light. He'd spent the remainder of the night in the crew’s quarters after making certain that all was well with the ship.
He slipped into the galley and grabbed a cup of hot coffee. It burned into his stomach, steadying, fortifying. He nodded to Sandy.
"How did we fare?"
"She took the storm real good. I've got Jalew topside at the wheel. We were only a few degrees off course when the storm cleared. I made the adjustments and we've more than made up for the lost time."
"Good. When do you think we'll make Lisbon?"
Sandy shrugged. "Late tomorrow, if the wind holds. I went ahead and posted extra men at the watch, just in case." He stood, shrugging off the fatigue of a long night.
"I was just headed topside to relieve Jalew. He's been on for a couple hours now."
Zach drained the cup. He knew the "just in case" referred to El Barracuda, Juan de la Vasquez Vimeiro. A Spaniard by birth, he'd turned pirate several years ago and now considered the waters of Spain his private hunting ground. Lisbon was quite a ways north of his usual territory, but they'd heard rumors he'd attacked merchant ships as far west as the Gulf of Cadiz. And with a cargo hold full of gold aboardRevenge,Zach couldn't risk an encounter.
"Get some sleep. I'll take over." He turned toward the companionway, practically colliding with Tobias. His friend fixed him with bloodshot eyes.
"I won't ask how you spent the night." Zach nodded.
"Good. I wouldn't remember anyway." Running a hand over his heavily bearded chin, Tobias forced his bleary eyes to focus.
"How's our passenger faring this morning?"
Zach frowned. "No screaming, no broken dishes. I imagine she's still sleeping." He didn't bother to add that she was in his cabin.
Tobias accepted a cup of coffee, frowning when the cook waved aside his suggestion of a draught of brandy. "Dang fool man. I don't see why you keep him on. He's belligerent and disrespectful," he muttered as he followed Zach to the companionway.
"I keep him on because he's the best damned cook on anything afloat or ashore. And as for respect, I suggest you put away the bottle and try to earn it."
"I'll remember that the next time he comes to me with a burn or cut." He narrowed a red-rimmed eye. "I may just let the wound fester awhile."
"Fortunately for us all, my friend, you enjoy eating almost as much as you enjoy drinking. He'd get back at you by putting something in your food."
Tobias nodded. "I'll try to remember that." He hesitated, wondering what kind of response his next question would get. "About last night...?"
Reaching the ladder, Zach stopped. "What about last night?"
"I'm not askin' for details, but I gotta tell you, boy, you're playin' with fire."
"Go on."
Tobias shifted uncomfortably. "She was supposed to marry Jerrold Barrington. You abducted her and forced her aboard this ship. If you've given her any reason to believe... "
"To believe what?" Zach asked.
"Damn man!"he hissed, leaning forward so his words wouldn't be heard by the rest of the crew. "You can't just use her like that and then set her aside. I don't care who she's to marry. It's not right! You can't be playin' with her feelin's."
Zach studied him for the longest time, then turned back toward the ladder. "You're absolutely right." And he knew that he was. He'd come to that very same decision when he'd left his cabin.
"Therefore, you may inform Miss Winslow that she may have the use of my cabin for the remainder of the voyage. She'll be more comfortable. I'll take hers." He started up the ladder.
Elyse awakened slowly, her eyes fixing on the porthole. It took a few minutes for her to remember where she was, then she wished she hadn't. She scrambled to the edge of the bed. St. James hadn't returned.
She came off the bed, determined not to think about it. She would put her mind on food, the weather, anything else but that. Her clothes had been picked up, folded, and placed atop the cabinet. Captain Tennant, no doubt. The man was full of surprises and contradictions.
Crossing the cabin, she dressed. Catching a brief glimpse of herself in the shaving mirror above the basin, she cringed and immediately borrowed the soft-bristled horsehair brush. She carefully worked the tangles from her hair.
She made the bed and tucked in the heavy quilt at the edges. She smoothed the wrinkles from the quilt and a memory surfaced—she had done this before, just this way, and the fragrance of the bed linens...
