“I’m so sorry.” Her voice came out barely above a breath. “I triedto get away. Thought I had. But I—” She stopped herself, the guilt sinking deeper with each passing second. “I put you in danger. If I hadn’t been there… none of this…”
Isaac’s expression softened, his hand coming up to catch hers. He gave a gentle squeeze, the pressure steady and grounding. “You didn’t make this happen. This was never your fault.”
Her chest tightened at his reassuring words. But deep down, a part of her still couldn’t let go of the feeling that she was to blame. The weight of everything that had come before, the trail of danger that followed her from the moment she made her fateful choice back on Tortuga, pressed down on her.
If only she hadn’t—
No.
Her fists clenched at her sides. If she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t have known what it was to know true passion. And even if it all ended tomorrow, she wouldn’t undo it. Not if it meant losing what she’d found in him.
“Isaac…” She hesitated when his gaze sharpened at the use of his name. It felt too intimate, too charged—but “Lieutenant” no longer fit, not after what they’d shared. She wanted to say more, but her words caught in her throat, too tangled to make sense of.
I love him.
The knowledge hit her like a sudden rush of cold water, and she sucked in a breath, startled by the force of it. Not because of her silly convictions back on the island. Not because she’d chased him across continents. Because he made her feel. Feelalivein ways she never had before. He’d come after her without hesitation, had offered himself to secure her safety. Warmth curled in her chest as she met his blue gaze.
He dropped her hand and reached forward to brush a lock of hair from her forehead. The touch sent a jolt through her that settled somewhere deep inside. “Have faith. We will make it through this.”
Her heart stuttered. She wanted to tell him everything—about theway his presence anchored her, how his strength pulled her through these dark moments. To confess she’d never realized she could feel so much for someone. How, for the first time ever, she was starting to believe that someone might care for her in return.
Instead, she nodded.
He stepped back, his hand falling away. “Besides, there is one good thing about all this.”
Her head tilted, brows drawn together as his eyes brightened.
“My mission was to find Thorne.” He waved his hand toward the deck above them and gave her a wry grin. “I’d say I succeeded.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “At least I’m good for one thing.”
He stiffened, eyes cutting like ice. “Don’t say that.”
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in him.
His gaze searched hers. “You’re good for more than you know. For your courage. For your wit. For the way you never back down.” He hesitated. “For making me feel there’s more to life than duty.”
Without another word, he reached for her, his hands framing her face and pulling her to him. His mouth crashed against hers, consuming, unyielding. She gasped against him as she leaned into the kiss, hands twisting in the front of his shirt. For a few glorious moments, the world narrowed to the press of his body, the heat of his lips, the way her heart stuttered like it might never right itself again.
Then, the dull thud of boots on the deck above broke the moment like glass. He pulled back, his forehead brushing against hers for a beat before he straightened and glanced at the closed hatch, breath ragged. “I need to get above and put some work in. Don’t want to upset the captain.”
Her entire body burned, breathless and aching for more. “I’m coming with you.”
He frowned. “You should stay here. You’ll be safer.”
Alone. Where no one would hear her if she cried for help. Sheshivered, wrapping her arms around her. “Will I?”
His lips drew into a thin line as her meaning sank in. “Alright. But stay close.”
They climbed through the hatch onto the gun deck. Muffled light filtered through the open gunports, casting long, slanted beams across the rows of cannons that lined each side like silent sentinels. Chains clinked with the sway of the ship, and a low groan rose from the wooden hull with each shift of the waves. Shadows moved at the edges of her vision—pirates, mostly silhouettes in the gloom, casting predatory glances as they passed.
When they reached the foot of the steep companionway ladder, Isaac went first, climbing with practiced ease before pausing to glance down. His eyes softened at her hesitation. “You don’t need to come.”
She shook her head and grabbed the first rung, lifting herself up. He caught her wrist and guided her out onto the main deck. Dawn’s soft gray spilled across the deck, the creak of rigging and slap of waves rising to meet her. The morning breeze pressed into her lungs, a welcome respite from the stale air below.
Men moved about the ship, their motions methodical and efficient. They lined the rails, lounged near the ropes, crouched on barrels. Their gazes crawled over her skin, sinking into her like cold fingers. Isaac’s hand brushed the small of her back, a silent reassurance, grounding her in the face of the scrutiny. She kept her head high, but her heart beat faster with every step they took.
Isaac reached for a loose clew line and pulled it taut, fastening a knot. He strummed his fingers across the rope, testing its tension. The wind tugged at the sails above as he stepped back, his eyes scanning the deck.
