Cade took a third swig and winced when he wiped his hand against the back of his raw mouth. “I’ve hated myself every day since.”
Rafe held out his hand for the whiskey. “You shouldn’t have. You did what was right… for yourself.”
Cade handed him the bottle. The dark liquid sloshed as he delivered it to his brother. “You stayed. You were the hero.”
“I stayed,” Rafe ground out, taking a long swig. “I stayed like a martyr. I did what I thought I had to and so did you.”
“I suppose that makes some sort of sense.” Cade sighed, his hands falling uselessly to his lap. “Thank you.”
Rafe nodded and took another long drink. “Promise me something.”
Cade didn’t look at him. “What?”
Rafe’s voice was solid, sure. “Promise me that you’ll never again forget that you’re my brother, that you’re not alone, and that you have family.”
Cade nodded once. “I’ll never forget.” He waited for Rafe to hand him the bottle and took a final swig. “Danielle told me her fondest wish when she was a child was to have a sister. I suppose if I’ve been given a brother—and such a handsome devil at that”—he cracked a grin—“that I shouldn’t take my time with him for granted.”
Rafe grinned, too. “I promise the same.” He took a deep breath. “I’m damn sorry about Dani—”
“Don’t,” Cade warned.
Rafe merely nodded.
Feeling warm inside from something other than the whiskey, Cade reached out to shake his brother’s hand. Rafe leaned down to the bed and pulled Cade into an embrace. Cade clapped him on the back. Both men were choked up when, seconds later, Rafe left go and stepped away.
“Now,” Cade said. “Let’s see about getting back home.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
London, September 1817
“You’re positively morose, Cade. You’ve got to cheer up.” Rafe leaned back against a cushion as the coach jolted over a pothole on the way to the docks.
Cade scowled, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared out the window. “I’m a pirate without a ship. How do you expect me to be?”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “You’renota pirate, sir, and you’renotwithout a ship. Your ship just happens to be in Portugal at the moment.”
“Without me,” Cade grumbled.
“Danny and Sean are more than capable of sailing it, sir, and youhadto stay here because you broke your leg.”
“Danny and Sean are no doubt passed out drunk in a Portuguese brothel and please don’t remind me about my leg. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so bloody miserable, not since I was a boy.”
“I’d venture to guess the reason you’re miserable has little to do with your leg, sir.”
“Don’t say it,” Cade ground out. Danielle had been gone for six long weeks and Cade missed her desperately. He was still struggling with the fact that she’d been the Black Fox. “And if you call me sir once more, I may well beat you to death with my cane.” He waved the weapon about menacingly.
Rafe just laughed. “You’ll have to catch me first, and I happen to know I can outrun you at present.”
The coach came to a halt at the docks, right next to where a beautiful single-masted cutter was moored. Now that his leg was mostly healed, Cade wanted to get back out to sea, away from here, away from memories of Danielle. Memories would haunt him aboard, too, but it was worse in Rafe’s house. The library. The foyer. Even his bedchamber where she’d wrapped his hand and teased him about his boots.
“She’s a beauty,” Rafe whispered, nodding at the cutter. “Remember, you promised to let me go out with you on her maiden voyage.”
Cade was barely listening. All he could do was stare at the beautiful ship. They’d started work on her when he’d first come to town and she was finally ready. He’d christened her two days ago.The Danielle.Of course doing so would remind him of her, too, but it seemed fitting.
Cade pushed himself out of the coach and stood admiring the vessel. Rafe hopped down beside him. A shadow peeled away from the side of a nearby warehouse. A man strolled over to them, his hands in his pockets. Impeccably dressed and stoic as usual. Mark Grimaldi.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t two of my favorite employees,” Grimaldi said.
