He gave her no choice but to come, holding her tightly as they walked across the decking from his cabin past huge cleats and piles of rigging and canvas sail until they came to the carved steps that led to the wheel. Men saluted, doffing their caps to her, smiling their knowing smiles. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she did not respond, but she tried to raise her chin.
“Evening, Captain!” came a cry from the crow’s nest.
“Evening, Jacko. Is she clear?”
“Clear as the sound o’ my sweet mother’s voice, captain! It seems we’ve weathered the storms, and moved into clear weather.”
“That’s fine to hear, Jacko.”
“Milady, you’re looking well!” the man called.
Skye did not reply to him. The Hawk laughed and answered in her stead. “Perhaps, Jacko, the lady, too, has weathered the storm of the previous night and seeks calm seas this eve!”
Jacko laughed. Skye was certain that she heard subtle sneering sounds from all about her, but then maybe she had imagined them. The Hawk’s men seemed more cheerful than licentious. They were a well-disciplined lot for scourges of the sea, she thought. And they were clean for pirates. And neatly garbed.
Hawk led her around to a carved wood seat that curved around the wheel, built into the superstructure of the ship. The man at the wheel saluted Hawk, nodded very properly to her, and gave over the helm. “The course is set south, southeasterly, sir!”
“Fine, Thompkins. We’ll keep her so. You are at leisure, Mr. Thompkins.”
“Thank you, sir,” Thompkins responded. He saluted again and left the helm. The Hawk took the huge wheel, legs spread firm and apart as he stood and surveyed the sea from behind it. They might have been alone in the world, Skye thought, for the sea and sky seemed so very vast. The sunset falling portside was still a sight of crystalline beauty and the wind was gentle and balmy.
She drew her bare toes up beneath her and leaned her head back, feeling the wind. She should be thinking of some new way to slay him, she thought. She should not let another night pass by. She desperately needed to find a way to salvage life and dignity and honor from this fiasco.
But she was weary and unarmed and the air was gentle and soft. She needed to regain her strength, to find the will and energy and way to defy him.
She opened her eyes, and discovered that he was no longer watching the sea. He was watching her.
“What!” she cried irritably. “What is it that you want out of me!”
He shrugged and glanced toward the sea once again. “I am curious, Lady Kinsdale, and that is all.”
“Curious, why?”
“That a woman raised as you have been—a God-fearing lass, born into the peerage—can take her vows so lightly.”
She stiffened. “I do not take promises lightly, sir. Not unless they are given to the rodents and snakes.”
“A promise, milady, is a promise.”
“Not—”
“Yes, milady, a promise, even given to me, is a promise.”
“You are a rake and a rogue and a—”
“Pirate! It is a most noble profession, milady! Why that dear great lady, Queen Elizabeth herself, encouraged the profession. Sir Francis Drake was a pirate, you know. Anytime that England has been at war with the Spanish or French, pirating has been called noble!”
“Drake was a privateer—”
“Pirate!” he claimed, laughing. “Or, to be a thief is fine—as long as we steal from other nations!”
Skye turned away, looking westward toward the sunset. “You would compare One-Eyed Jack with Sir Francis Drake.”
“No, I would compare One-Eyed Jack with Attila the Hun, for both were cold-blooded murderers.”
“Oh? Are there good pirates and bad?”
“Of course. There are the good and the bad in all peoples.”
