“It might if you let me bathe you.”
She fried him with her eyes.
He sighed, feigned no doubt, before remarking, “I confess, this is one thing I didn’t think ahead on, so no fancy tub for you. But this one will do, yes?”
“I think we had this discussion last night,” she retorted.
“That was before I put a latch on the door for you. But be warned, if you think to keep it latched, the door will be removed and there will be no more baths.”
She laughed for the first time in front of him. “As tempting as it might be to lock you out, I’m not starving myself this time around, and your door doesn’t have a crack wide enough to slide plates through. You won’t have to remove the door.”
Four sailors came in with filled buckets. Actual sailors, not pirates this time, hair neatly cut, no flamboyance in their clothes, deferential nods in her direction, and not armed. She wondered why Damon had such a mix of men in his crew, but she was too eager to have her bath to ask about that now. When they were done, she walked over to test the water and found that it had been heated, then sucked the water off her finger and laughed again.
“It’s salty.” She turned to tell Damon. “How’s that going to get the salt off me?”
“That extra bucket there has freshwater to rinse with. You’ve sailed before with your family. You should know freshwater needs to be conserved.”
She did know that, she just found it amusing that he was offering ocean water to get rid of the residue of ocean water. But he must have shared the thought with her because he added, “It’s worth laughing over, go ahead.”
They thought alike too much! That was getting annoying. But he turned to leave and she realized he’d completely distracted her with the tub from getting any answers out of him.
She yelled at his back, “Which of my conclusions are wrong? You’ve got to tell me something! Are you working for Pierre Lacross?”
He glanced back, but only long enough to say, “Actually, I’m letting him work for me.” And the door closed behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
CONRAD SHARP STOOD UPto refill their glasses before he remarked to James, “You’re pensive tonight. Thinking about George?”
James chuckled at his first mate. “I’m always thinking about George. But traveling with you again, in this particular direction, stirs a lot of old memories.”
Connie grinned. “Those were good times. Remember when you had that battle with Short-Dog McGee? A bloody giant he was, and shocked the hell out of us both when he barely even noticed your first punch. I don’t think I ever laughed so hard when you were the one that got knocked across the room.”
James gave his friend a quelling look. “So he had an iron gut. He didn’t have an iron jaw. And I recall you went flying, too, before we figured that out.”
“You have to admit it was funny when he dropped to the floor after you gave him a little tap on his chin. Of course with him over a foot taller than you, you had to jump up to deliver that blow!” Connie laughed.
“What I recall is, you dared me to take him on. Not one of your saner moments, old boy.”
“But still fun.”
“My own best recollection as Captain Hawke was when we bumped into Jeremy in that tavern, and the boy, working off his mum’s description of me, asked if I was James Malory.”
“I agree that was a great day. I’ll never forget the expression on your face when Jeremy confronted you. Once you got over your surprise, you were a proud papa.”
“I’m still proud of the boy, rather, the man. I was sorry to disappoint the youngun by not letting him come with us on this voyage. But I’ll do anything to protect my children, Jeremy, Jack, Gilbert, Adam, even kill or die for them.”
“It’s not going to come to that, but in about three weeks when we get to St. Kitts, you’ll no doubt be doing some killing.”
James’s expression darkened. “I anticipate with pleasure getting my hands on that bastard who stole Jack, and Lacross or whichever asinine pirate is pulling his strings.”
“You don’t regret retiring, Hawke, do you?” Connie asked to lighten the mood.
“No, the only regret I have from that time in my life was that I never kept my promise to Sarah Ross.”
“The pretty neighbor you had in Jamaica?”
“Yes.”
