Page 39 of A Prince Among Pirates
“Non, monsieur, that will not be necessary,” he says, exasperation clear. “Your crest is proof enough.”
I face him and lift my chin again. All this moving around is starting to make me queasy. “You have disturbed my crew.” Iglance around at the men, and—good God—I hope I hide my alarm well enough. What the hell are they dressed as?
Renard is wearing a suit I can tell isn’t the best quality, but it’s still strange to see him looking so sharp. Billy stands beside him in some sort of ill-fitting livery. What on earth? I even glimpse someone in adress. Who is that? “A-and my guests,” I stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice how my voice cracks.
He has no answer. Thank Christ. I watch as he takes a steadying breath, continuing on before he can speak.
“If you disembark immediately and leave us be, I may not press charges upon my return home.”
“Press charges? Mons—”
“The Prince of Wales is my fiancée’s godfather,monsieur,” I snap at him. I can hear men murmuring behind me. I didn’t want to give so much away, but I need these Frenchmen off this ship before my charade falls apart. And before I retch up the food and wine going sour in my belly. “Do you think he would take kindly to the French navy shooting at his goddaughter’s future husband? It sounds like a declaration of war to me.”
“W-war? Monsieur,” he splutters. “Please be—”
“If you are about to ask me to be reasonable, I suggest you hold your tongue and return to your ship. I may not be armed, but my captain is, and I am not above having him shoot you in the kneecap if you annoy me further.”
He clamps his mouth shut, and Captain Sharpe’s laugh from behind me nearly makes me lose my cool. I cross my arms to keep from laughing myself—or from falling over, whichever comesfirst—and the officer glowers at us both. At first I think he will not leave. My stomach twists in my gut as I stare at him, trying to look annoyed and unafraid.
By some miracle, he seems irritated enough by my behavior to give up his persecution of the crew. He shouts a few orders in French, and his men fall in line beside him. I keep my arms crossed, my brow raised menacingly, as I watch them caucus.
Before the officer leaves, he turns his gaze upon me once more and offers me an unfriendly smile. “Very well, my lord,” he says. His accent is truly grating on my nerves. “We will escort you to port, to prevent any further molestation to your vessel.”
The entire crew seems to tense up. Or is it just me? I squint and frown. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, no—I must insist. The son of an English viscount? I could not possibly let anything happen to you. I will leave two of my men in your service for the remainder of the voyage. You are heading for Cap-Français on Saint Domingue, are you not?”
I’m about to ask,Are we?when Captain Sharpe steps forward to stand beside me. “Yes, as I told you before his lordship joined us on deck.”
I do my best not to appear surprised by this information. I’m truly beginning to regret stepping out on deck at all. What will we do if these Frenchmen remain on theDeliverance? Surely, we’ll all be killed.
“It is settled, then,” the French officer says. He motions to two of his men, giving them their instructions in French as I turn towards Captain Sharpe.
Without moving his head, he glances back to the cabin door with one raised brow, as if to dismiss me.
I take the hint. “I’m going inside,” I announce, trying to sound petulant. (I’m fairly good at that.) “It’s far too hot out here in the sun.”
“I am sure we will meet again, Master Davenport,” the French officer sneers.
I keep my expression carefully neutral as Sharpe and his men stare at me, dumbfounded. Then I return the officer’s sneer with one of my own, not bothering to hide my irritation as I march back towards the captain’s cabin.
I could do this. I could be a pirate—arealone. With this small victory, I feel a little invincible. Something I almost recognize as hubris wells up in my chest as I cross the deck.
But like Icarus and his waxen wings, I can feel the intoxicating thrill from my little performance fading as I near the cabin door, and my heart is pounding against my ribs loudly enough to drown out whatever Captain Sharpe says as I walk away.
I slam the door behind me as he volleys with the French officer. I don’t even hear him enter the cabin, for I am in a full panic now. Maybe I’m not as cut out for this as I hoped. My heart may just break through my rib cage at this point. I can’t seem to catch my breath.
Then, all at once, he is grasping my shoulders and hauling me back to my feet. I hadn’t even realized I was on the floor.
“Kitten.” Captain Sharpe’s voice is soft against the back of my ear. “Breathe. We’re all right. It was nicely done.”
If Icouldbreathe, I would. But as I try to take control of my breathing, last night’s bad decisions come bubbling back up into my throat and I promptly vomit on the floor—and Captain Sharpe’s boots.
Fifteen
When I wake in my bed, I am grateful the lingering nightmare of my accidentally becoming a pirate has ended. I roll onto my side and pull the pillows close. There is something perfect about pressing your face into the cool side of a pillow first thing in the morning. In this moment nothing can bother me.
That is, until a hand lands on my shoulder and shakes me alert. I lift my head with a jolt and stare at the blur of red and blue in front of me. I squint, and a pair of breasts come slowly into focus.
