She nodded vaguely, but she had no desire to leave the deck. The plank was being pulled, and seamen were climbing into the rigging to half-hoist certain sails to catch a steady breeze and move them carefully down the channel. Small boats—theSilver Hawk’s small boats—came to the bow, preparing to guide theLady Elenaaway from the treacherous shoals.
“Milady?”
“Mr. Morley, I should like to stay on deck.”
Mr. Morley shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Lord Cameron has ordered that I take you to your chamber.”
“I will not be ordered about by Lord Cameron, Mr. Morley.”
“He thought that you would despise this island, this place of your imprisonment, and would be eager to see your last sight of it.”
She smiled sweetly and with a tremendous guilt upon her heart. “I sail away, Mr. Morley, and the breeze is fresh and sweet.”
TheLady Elenamoved away from the dock. A command was shouted, and men scurried about. A sailor paused before Skye, bowed his head to her in flushing acknowledgment, and said, “Beg pardon, milady?”
“Oh, of course!” she murmured, and stepped aside. He cast his weight against the rigging for the mainsail, seemed to dangle upon it, and shouted for aid to pull up the canvas. Another of his fellows came along, and between them, the huge mainsail rose above them.
“Come, milady, please!” Mr. Morley urged her.
She sighed, but could not leave the deck. She pushed past him and hurried to the hull, looking backward to Bone Cay.
She saw a figure upon the pirate ship where it lay at berth, quiet and restful.
Sunset was coming on. Sunset, and the tide. The island and ship and channel were bathed in color. Red draped beguilingly over the ship, the sand, the men and women milling upon the dock. She looked from the rise of the island to the outline of the house and walls back to the dock, and to the ship, an elegant lady in the sunset. Then she blinked back a sudden surge of tears.
He was standing aboard his ship, she thought. TheSilver Hawkwas floating there. TheLady Elenapulled swiftly away, but still, she knew that it was he. He stood tall upon the deck, his arms akimbo, his legs well spread apart as if he rode the waves, even though the ship lay at dock. He was dressed all in black, from his sweeping hat to his booted feet. The plume and brim fell well over his eyes, shielding his face from her view.
But it was he, she thought.
He lifted his hand to her in a final salute.
To her horror, a cry tore from her throat and she spun around to a very startled Mr. Morley. “Please! I’m ready. Take me from the deck to my quarters, now, please!”
She was half-blinded, she thought. He caught her arm and led her, and without him she would have tripped over the cleats and rigging. They came to a narrow passage of steps,and Mr. Morley warned her that she must take very grave care. She scarcely heard him.
They stepped below, and he led her quickly to the aft, throwing open a chamber door there. The cabin was huge, with windows stretching around the hull for her pleasure and ease. There was a large bunk, elegantly covered in white linen, and secured tight to the wall. There was a screen for her privacy, rows of books, a washstand and pitcher and bowl, a circular window seat, and a mirrored dressing table. It was all beautiful, all elegant, all well fit for a lady, one who was honored and cherished.
She could barely glance about herself.
“Thank you!” she told Mr. Morley.
“Lord Cameron will be with you soon. Supper will be served in his cabin as soon as we are clear of the shoals and reefs.”
“Thank you. I shall look forward to our meeting.” She dreaded their meeting with all of her heart. At the moment, though, she wished only to be free from Mr. Morley.
He bowed deeply to her and left. Skye swiftly closed her cabin door and cast herself down heavily upon her bunk. Tears suddenly fell swiftly and forcefully down her cheeks, and she found herself swearing aloud. “Damn him!”
Oh, but she had been a fool! To fall for a pirate, a knave, and now discover that her heart remained twisted within his callous hands.
What had she desired? she asked herself. To live with a pirate? To lose her father forever? To wonder day after day if the rake she had sold all honor and pride for would return from his latest venture? No! One day he was destined to hang, or he would die upon the sword of another, like Blackbeard or Logan. No…
But she didn’t want to be here. Not aboard this ship. Not with the gentleman lord who had come to rescue her.
Her tears abated slightly. She needed time, and distance, she told herself. She needed to see her father, to cast herself into his arms, to cry her heart out and tell him that her world had been turned over, and she needed to learn to understand it, and herself.
It was going to grow dark, she told herself uneasily. And the Silver Hawk was no longer with her, a beacon against the night.
She rose, wiping her eyes. She saw no lanterns about the cabin, no candles. Beneath the washstand, though, she found a decanter of brandy. There were pewter mugs beside it but she did not bother with such a nicety. She pulled the stopper and drank heavily. The brandy burned throughout her. She felt somewhat better, somewhat stronger.
