Drowning his memories of the last week into oblivion would be amazing. Yet...
The tavern meant more than drinking away everything that had happened. It meant tavern wenches. Ones who would offer him a hero’s welcome. One his men would expect him to take. And not partaking...
Well, that meant he’d have to come face to face with feelings he wasn’t ready to admit. Feelings he couldn’t have.
“Not tonight. I’m exhausted. Going home sounds nice for a change.”
Isaac arched one brow, just enough to hint he’d read the lie. But he didn’t push the issue.
“Officer?”
His friend straightened.
“Make sure the men keep quiet about the identity of the men on board.”
“Of course. And your lady pirate?”
“Stop calling her that.”
Isaac squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry. The crew knows better than to spread any gossip. They won’t say anything.”
Christian pressed his hand to his temple. They’d better. He tread along a dangerous line of treason by not turning the pirates in. It would only take one man, one slip of speech, to bring discipline down on them all.
He climbed up the bank and found a delivery driver with an empty wagon. “I’ll pay you a dollar to take me home.”
The man’s eyes widened at the exorbitant sum and motioned to the bench next to him with a grin. A few moments later, they turned away from the dock. Christian gave the man his directions and settled into the uncomfortable seat. Each bump of the road intensified the ache behind his temples. Thank God he’d found a place close to the city.
When they pulled up his drive, he ran inside to retrieve the man’s fare. His housekeeper met him as soon as he opened the door.
“You have a visitor.”
He blinked at her.
She motioned toward his study and lowered her voice. “He’s not a friendly sort. Told him you might not be home for days and he barged right in. Said you’d be home shortly. It’s been an hour at least.”
Christian’s gaze flew to the cracked door. “Did he give you a name?”
She shook her head.
A visitor was the last thing he needed right now. He sighed. “Thank you. Bring the gentleman outside a dollar and draw me a bath.”
He cracked his knuckles and strode to the study. Whoever it was, they would have to come back another time. Nudging the door, he opened his mouth to say just that.
The man stood with his back to him, broad shoulders rising andfalling with each slow breath as he stared at the painting on the wall. He didn’t turn.
He didn’t have to.
Christian’s hand grasped the empty space at his hip. Damnation. He didn’t even have a knife on his person.
“What are you doing here?” He ground the words out.
Thorne nodded toward the portrait. “I suggest never falling in love.”
“It’s a little late for fatherly advice. And forgive me if I’m disinclined to take it.”
His father pivoted. “Too late for advice? Or too late to stop you from falling in love?” A smirk twisted across his lips. “I saw the way you and that fiery redhead looked at each other.”
Christian ground his teeth together. “I find it hard to believe you risked breaking into my house just to tell me this.”
