Page 27 of A Prince Among Pirates
As the wind whips my curls loose from their queue, I tugthe ribbon free and begin the work of smoothing it back once more—not an easy task in the warm Caribbean wind. I’ve yet to learn how to pull it back properly, as I’ve never allowed it to grow this long before. I am still struggling to smooth my hair when I hear Tristan make a strangled sound beside me.
I turn to him as I wrap the ribbon around the hair at the base of my neck and tie it into a tight bow. “All right there, Tris?”
He hesitates, and I am sure he’s about to ask me how to pronounce “fornication” or something similar, when Mr. Tydes comes barging past my table to pound on the captain’s door.
“Captain! Sail ho!”
Tristan is on his feet in an instant. He runs towards the port bow, and I am left staring after him as the captain’s cabin door swings open behind me.
“Where?” he booms.
“Off the port bow,” Mr. Tydes says.
They pass me, but the captain pauses to look back with a frown. “Bring the ledgers inside and lock them in my top drawer, Kit.”
There is a ship on the horizon; I can understand why he’d want the books locked away. The ship’s finances are no one’s business but his. I gather the ledgers and my ink and quill and carry them into his cabin to lock them all in the top drawer of his desk, which he has emptied for my personal use.
Before I can step back out on deck, Captain Sharpe is pushing into the cabin. He makes his way across the room in a few long strides and grabs a sword down from his weapons wall. He hesitates, then grabs a gun as well.
My heart sinks into my gut as I watch him. Something is wrong.
“Captain?”
“Kit, go belowdecks and keep out of sight,” Sharpe says as he makes his way back to the door. “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”
I intercept him, setting a hand on his chest, before he can push past me. “What’s going on?”
“Do as I say, Kitten.”
He sounds so serious that now I am genuinely afraid. I swallow back the hard lump forming in my throat and follow him out on deck. The ship is nearer than I expected, and it’s large. Nothing about it looks particularly menacing, but I am terrified all the same.
“Are we about to be attacked by pirates?” I ask.
I can sense the sudden stillness that falls over the men around us, though I am staring at Captain Sharpe as his face makes a fascinating journey from amusement to disbelief and lands on something I can only describe as bewildered horror. I hear someone laugh, and then my ears begin to ring as I watch Captain Sharpe’s perfect mouth form the words: “Lad—wearethe pirates.”
Eleven
Four months.
Four monthsI have lived on this ship… and yet I am absolutely flabbergasted. Flummoxed even. I am downrightconfounded, and perhaps if I sit here in my hiding spot and continue to go through the entire list of synonyms in my head, I will not have to process the humiliating and terrifying truth of Captain Sharpe’s words.
Pirates.
PIRATES.
I have somehowaccidentallybecome a pirate! I’m not sure if I am afraid or just mortified. These men have become like a family to me over the last few months, and though I always knew they were a bit rough around the edges, I never once pegged them asbloodthirsty criminals!
Is my life now in danger? Or merely my pride? This will likelygo one of two ways: They will reveal some calculated plot to ransom me back to my awful family, or they will mock me relentlessly for my sheer stupidity. I keep thinking back to Renard’s face when I told him that I had chosen theDeliveranceout of convenience. He has known from the start what an absolute boob I am.
I look up at the sound of gunfire overhead. When Captain Sharpe told me to get out of sight, I ran below with the intention of hiding in the hold—but the sound of a cannon, and the reverberating jolt of the shot, send me scurrying behind the stairs to the officers’ quarters. There is nowhere to hide in the open layout of the fo’c’sle. I try the door to the officers’ salon first but find it locked. As are the next two doors. It is the door to Renard’s quarters that finally gives way. I stumble into the room, slam the door behind me, and shove a chair under the handle.
It will do nothing to keep out an aggressor who truly wants to get in, so stuffing it there was unnecessary. Even if itwouldkeep an aggressor out, I realize with a small pang of guilt that there is no aggressor after me. Captain Sharpe told me to hide; if he meant to hurt me, he wouldn’t have made such an effort.
Or he wants me to hide so whoever is on that ship doesn’t know he has a future viscount held captive!
No, I am being ridiculous. I glance around the dimly lit room. I’ve been in here once or twice before, sharing a drink with a few of the men, but being in here alone feels like a huge overstep. Still, I can’t bring myself to go back out into the open just yet, so I sit on the edge of Renard’s bed and cover my ears to block out the sound of guns and shouting.
Captain Sharpe has no idea I am an almost-viscount. He knows I’m a rich nobleman who is running away from my problems, nothing more. Though he has teased me here and there about being secretive, he has never once truly asked me why I boarded his ship. He either doesn’t care or is the sort of man who believes everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.
