I stared out the window toward the starboard side of the ship at the rolling sea. Rain still pounded the windows, and the wind blew hard. Darkness had fallen, and the storm marred the sky, so there was no light from stars or moon. If I were prone to seasickness, this would have been the night I suffered the most. I was thankful the malady had not bothered me.
But something else made me feel sick—sick at heart, if not in body.
Hours had passed since theOcean Cursehad captured the frigate. The supper hour had come and gone, but I hadn’t been to the galley to see if the cook had food for me. I didn’t care if Captain Zale returned and was angry that his meal wasn’t on his table. And I had no appetite to feed myself.
It was close enough to midnight that I could have gone to sleep and not had to face Marcus until I woke up here again, but I couldn’t bring myself to return to 1927. Not yet.
There were too many emotions filling my heart and soul tonight. I was so overcome by them I’d almost forgotten we were on our way to Nassau and to my mother.
The cabin door opened, but I didn’t bother to look in that direction. I knew who had come.
Marcus paused, perhaps surprised to see that I was still awake. Though I was wearing his clothes, I had my blanket pulled around my shoulders for heat and for modesty.
He slowly closed the door, and I finally turned my face toward him.
Marcus was soaked from head to foot. Water dripped from the ends of his dark hair and pooled around his boots on the floor. Our gazes met as they had on the main deck, but this time I couldn’t read his emotions. Was he angry at me for being upset? Was he ashamed? Or was he feeling victorious?
He looked from me to my clothes on the line and then back to me, and I suddenly realized I was wearing his only other suit of dry clothes.
I got up, keeping the blanket around my shoulders, and went to the clothesline to see if my things were dry. They were still damp, but not as wet as his.
“I’ll change,” I told him as I dropped the blanket and started to pull my shirt from the line.
He took a few steps into the room and put his hand on mine to stop me.
My breath stilled as I felt the heat of his body behind me and his skin against mine. My mind warned me to move—my heart begged me to stay.
He lifted the blanket from the floor and settled it over my shoulders.
“What will you wear?” I whispered.
“I’ll make do.” His voice was low and deep.
I closed my eyes as I lowered my hand. I couldn’t move, nor did I want to.
His hands were still on my shoulders as he said, “I know you’re angry with me, lass.”
I had no defenses when he stood this close to me. My mind was a muddled mess and incapable of counseling me, while my heart was crying out for love, for affection, for something that it had never felt before. I needed reassurance, especially on a night such as this.
I desired to be loved, and I longed to be wanted.
He lifted my unbound hair from beneath the blanket before gently placing his hands on my arms. Heat radiated from his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
My eyes were still closed, and his words felt like a sweet embrace. Remorse filled his voice, and I knew he meant what he said. But he’d still done it.
I was aware of my breathing, of feeling like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.
“Will you always be a pirate, Marcus?”
His hands slowly lowered from my arms, and he stepped away from me.
He hadn’t answered my question audibly—but he’d answered it.
And there was no room in my life for a man who would hurt me the way Andrew hurt Ruth.
12
