“Too many witnesses. Too risky. Better for Remington to disappear without a trace.”
“I suppose so. But everything in life carries risk, wouldn’t you agree, Lieutenant?”
Warstein gave him a knowing look before turning to face the gallows. “You know, I wasn’t always a pirate. My younger brother became a privateer during the war. When it finished and the privateeringdried up, he couldn’t resist the thrill. There was always something to chase. Spanish ships with their gold. British merchantmen laden with goods. He tried to get me to join him, but I was too busy building my shipping empire. He became the famed Remington.”
Replacing his hat, he dropped his gaze.
“When he was killed, I started on the side, here and there, as a way to honor his memory. I inherited his crews, trained my own. One thing led to another, and...” He swept his hands out toward the water and shrugged. “Remington was resurrected.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I made a mistake with Samantha.”
Christian blinked.
“I gave her too much freedom. Told her she could choose her path in life. I shouldn’t have taught her to sail. She’s headstrong, just like her mother. I would have done her better by keeping her ashore and marrying her off.”
A flash of heat prickled over Christian’s skin as he tried to imagine her locked up at home. Wedded and bedded to some man who didn’t deserve her spirit, who would probably try to snuff it out. “She doesn’t seem the type to take well to that.”
Never mind he’d practically thought the same thing minutes before, that keeping her off the sea would keep her safe.
Warstein gave a sad shake of his head. “I want her to be happy above all else. But now that she’s tasted freedom, I fear she’ll wither away like a bird with clipped wings. Being ashore will break her. I could have prevented that.”
Something coiled in Christian’s belly. Something that felt a lot like guilt.
I’ll never set foot on a ship again.
He pressed his eyes closed. Warstein was right. He hadn’t only taken her dreams from her—he’d broken her.
Lifting his hand, he squinted into the square again and frowned.Where was she? His heart began to pound a dull thud in his chest.
“You won’t find her here. She never stays for the hangings.”
The door opened behind them and Judge Williams strolled out. Christian’s stomach roiled and fresh droplets of sweat beaded beneath his hat. Damn everyone’s perceptions of him. He couldn’t do this.
After nodding a greeting to the man who’d sentenced Thorne to death two days earlier, he turned and hurried down the steps. He didn’t slow his pace until he ducked into an alleyway between two buildings. Ripping his hat free, he leaned his head against cool stone.
A thousand other things. His father could have chosen a thousand other professions. And their reunion would have been full of joy. What a cruel twist of fate.
His fist smashed into the wall, sending pain bursting up his arm. Again. And an anguished cry broke free. One that had been building since that day on his father’s ship.
Spinning, he jogged toward the water before anyone could come investigate. He needed to get away from the square. Needed...
Red.
As much as he would regret it, he needed to see her. He’d examine what exactly that need meant later, preferably well into his cups.
For now, he lurched down the steep steps leading to the docks. Where else would a grounded pirate find refuge? Briny air filled his lungs as he strolled onto the thick wooden planks. He headed toward the end, where one of her uncle’s merchantmen floated.
She stood at the bottom of the gangplank with one bare hand resting on the railing, her glove lying discarded at her feet. Her eyes were closed and a small smile played across her lips.
Listening to the vessel.
He’d gotten a chuckle out of it when one of her crew pointed it out that first night on her ship. But then he’d watched her face transform as she had taken the helm. He’d never seen anyone get so lost in the magic of sailing. It made him think back on his first days onthe water as a lad, when each rise and fall of the ship held a new discovery.
And now, he’d taken that joy from her.
He stood still, the constant splash of water against the ship tempering his racing pulse. A dockhand pushed a cart laden with cotton bales past and mumbled an apology when he bumped into Christian. Still, he couldn’t pull his gaze from her. He could watch her all day.
