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As a trio, we sauntered down the steps to the main deck, where half the ship’s crew seemed to have assembled. A few lanterns placed along the deck lit the open floor space amongst them. Bellamy stepped out from the crowd, giving me a nod and a half smile that made my blood pump harder and my eyes want to roll into the back of my head.
“Step up, mates,” he ordered, picking up three swords from an open barrel beside him. He tossed them to us, one at a time, hilt first.
“Um, dangerous!” McKenzie screamed.
“You’re sailing with pirates, lass. Dangerous is all there is.” Bellamy’s voice drifted to my ears like thick smoke, smooth and bold. “First, watch how I hold it. Grip the hilt firm against your palm. Use your last two fingers to tighten your grip and provide power on a swing—but keep these two fingers loose to help guide the sword.” He stuck out his index and middle fingers to emphasize. We all three did our best to mimic his movements and position as he walked around and corrected us individually.
“Decent enough start. Now for your stance.” He stopped at me and lifted my chin as he spoke. I pulled my face away. “Stand with feet shoulder width apart, and eyes straight and focused. Be sure to keep one foot in front of the other. You don’t want to become unbalanced.”
He’d made his way to Noah now, and made an effort to shove him. Noah braced to steady himself, and that’s when Bellamy swung his cutlass to the side without warning, clattering it against Noah’s.
“And the most important thing to remember,” he said with a chuckle, “is that pirates never play fair.” He swung again, nearly knocking the blade from Noah’s hand. But Noah tightened his grip at the last second and leapt to the defense. McKenzie and I watched wide-eyed as he sparred with Noah, yelling tips and suggestions as their blades crossed.
“Kind of hot, isn’t it?” McKenzie leaned over and whispered over my shoulder.
I couldn’t help but giggle. “I can’t say I disagree.”
I knew she was likely referring to Noah, but I had my eyes on Bellamy. I watched the way his body turned and twisted as he stepped deftly across the wet floor, as balanced and sturdy as the masts themselves. He moved with the subtle bobbing of the ship as though he and the sea were one. His raven hair, loose and flowing, whipped around his face just as fluidly as his movements.
You thirst for him.
What was that? I looked away, reprimanding myself for the way I was fixating on him. I looked at the last bit of setting sun remaining on the horizon.
“Katrina,” Bellamy calling my name made me refocus on him. He was walking toward me with a fierceness in his eyes that made me shift uncomfortably. “Since you’re so interested in what’s out there, I supposed you already know that a proper swing isn’t really a swing at all.”
He lifted his sword at me. When I flinched, he lowered it, and then took my hand, pulling me forward, not at all in a gentle manner. I stumbled to the middle of the deck, gripping the hilt of my sword in my sweating hand.
“Swinging isn’t effective. It’ll make you tired before the salt’s dried from your boots.” He grinned, lifting my arm to set my sword up to brace against his. “No, instead, you want to conserve your energy in a fight. Use jabbing motions. Stab your opponent. Thrust forward.” He demonstrated, pointing his sword at me with a poking motion. “Now fight me.”
I felt a foreign heat building in me. Something else was intruding and I couldn’t stop it. I lifted my sword as he’d shown me and swung it, and he caught it with his.
“Try to hurt me, Katrina,” he commanded under his breath.
“Believe me, I want to,” I growled. Stepping forward, I attempted to whack him with the flat side of my cutlass, missing as he dodged it effortlessly. I bent at the waist, trying to achieve more reach, but he deflected my attack yet again. With our swords still crossed, he pulled me forward with his free hand. I barely reached his nose, but he looked down into my eyes with a gaze as steel as our weapons. “I told you to thrust, not swing,” he said under his breath. A tingle ran down my spine like fingertips across velvet.
“Like this?” I shook away the heat rushing to my face and shoved the point of the sword toward him as I spat out the rhetorical question.
“Good lass.” He spoke low and slowly as he parried my blow with ease. “It’s a start.” His gaze swept over me from top to bottom and back up.
For the next few moments, he instructed me, and I did my best to follow. And when he would correct me with a repositioning of my arm or when he touched my waist to fix my posture, the voice within me told me he was everything I wanted. And I fought hard to shut it up.
With the setting sun at our backs and the open sea in front of us, we danced our waltz of blades, as I became more confident with my cutlass. I swung, nearly landing a hit against Bellamy’s shoulder just before he flicked it away with the tip of his sword. So close.
“Left. Lean to the right. Now backwards.” My footsteps followed Bellamy’s every word like clockwork. Our steel blades began to move faster. And faster. Out sang a chorus of metal on metal as sparks flew across the deck. I was too confident. I was sure I could land a hit on him if I kept going. And just as I thought I saw an opening near his waist, I dove for it. But the clang of steel reverberated up my arm and made me wince. He’d knocked the sword from my hand. No sooner did it come to a sliding stop on the deck at the feet of his crewman did he have his own sword pointed at me.
“Not bad.” His upper lip curved into a smirk. “But it appears I’m the winner here.” He held out his hand, and Tristan stepped out from the group of crew members surrounding us and shoved a canteen of rum into his open hand. Bellamy took a swig, leaning his head back so that I could see the shimmer of sweat along his neck beneath his raven locks.
“Guess you can go celebrate now. Are we done?” I shrugged.
Bellamy tossed the rum to the floor and fixed his gaze on me. With a mischievous look in his eye, he stepped forward to me, and took my hand in his before yanking me forward against him.
“I won. So, you owe me a dance.” He winked towards his crew, and music began to emit from the men. The vibrant, upbeat sound of a fiddle and flute filled the air as two crew mates with the instruments made themselves known.
I rolled my eyes, but if he could tell how fast my heart was beating, he’d know I was only lying to him. And to myself. He pulled me to him and began to follow the music. It reminded me of dancing with him at the gala months before—or centuries later—whatever made sense. But only, this dance was rugged, more lighthearted, and he carried me across the deck in his swift movements and lead me with grace and skill I didn’t expect. He spun me around as the fiddle played faster and the flute’s notes went higher. Soon the other crew members joined in, and I even caught a glimpse of Noah and McKenzie embracing each other as they danced, too. It made my heart happy, and for just a moment, that’s all I wanted.
For so long my heart had been heavy. So much had felt lost and broken and irreparable. But this. This was just simple, real fun. And the more I watched the man in front of me, the deeper I found myself lost in him. But it was a good kind of lost. The kind that makes you forget all the bad things happening around you. And I wanted more of that.
I drew myself closer into him. I was all too aware of the secure brace of his hand against the curve of my back. The look in his eyes as they locked onto mine made me feel like I was looking into some unknown, beautiful depths of the sea that had yet to be discovered. And the way we moved together, stepping in time to the upbeat shanty music, gave me a feeling I was afraid to acknowledge, but at the same time was all too afraid to let go of.
