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He shook his head, scrubbing a hand roughly along his jaw. Not the ship. This one bore a different name— Endeavor, painted in a cheery red script—not León de Oro. He was staring at an exact replica of the boat that’d stolen him thirteen long years past.
Sailors rarely changed the names of their ships. Pirates were a particularly superstitious lot, and the man with the black pearl had been no different. Aidan recalled the rules: no whistling, no cutting of hair or nails. No pigs, nor rabbit, nor salmon. With ice in his belly, he recalled the chimney boy who’d been tossed overboard to drown, his crime that he’d been born with red hair.
Despite the resemblance, Aidan told himself he was jumping to conclusions, that the two ships weren’t the same. Endeavor was a rare craft, an exotic Spanish beauty known as a xebec, and she was fast, her foremast raking forward as though the ship itself were eager to slice through the wind. She bore a sleekly pointing bow, a hefty stern, and a wide hull exactly like the one in which he’d been imprisoned, laboring for weeks in a grim darkness that’d reeked of mildew and tar. But it seemed more than a coincidence.
Recovering from his shock, he realized he was striding straight for it, his hand braced on the hilt of his sword. He tempered his impulses, forcing himself to halt. He’d need to bide his time—his ghost wasn’t aboard this ship.
His mind raced. The Endeavor was well guarded, sailors swarming on the deck and in the ratlines like flies over a mound of dung. She may not have been his ship, but she was so very like it that a deep foreboding crept through his gut. Elspeth was being wed to a man involved with this.
He just needed to prove hers was a bad match to a bad man.
Seeing a shadow, he stiffened. Someone was approaching. The day was hazy and overcast, but still, he could make out a gray shadow wavering along the rotting timbers of the dock.
He put his hand on his hilt and canted his elbow out hard. There’d be no mistaking the threat in his posture.
The shadow made straight for him, its amorphous shape speaking to a short, cloaked figure. He peered out the corners of his eyes.
“What have you discovered?” asked a familiar voice. The sound aroused much ire, a goodly dose of anxiety, plus a maddening pleasure, all melding together into a blade that cut straight to his heart.
Elspeth.
Chapter 22
He grabbed her arm. “What are you doing here?”
She flinched away, startled at the rough grip. “I followed you. ”
“Sorry,” he said, smoothing her arm where he’d grabbed her. He visibly tried to clear the anger from his face, which left him looking pinched. “What were you—?”
A commotion got their attention—a handful of sailors riled up for what was looking like a brawl—and he swept her away, heading down the harbor and up the first alleyway. It was a dead end, and he ducked them into a shadowy corner. “What were you thinking?” he repeated in a low hiss. “You could get hurt. ”
She ignored his concerns, her voice vibrating with excitement. “You saw him, didn’t you? Dougal Fraser?” Aidan would help her, she knew. He would save her from this ridiculous marriage.
“I saw him,” he answered in a tight voice. “And you’re lucky he didn’t see you, though I’d like to know how you even heard of the man. ” He paused, taking in her outfit, and made a face that was half amused, half exasperated. “What are you thinking, skulking about, and in this ridiculous old cloak?”
“What else am I to do? My father is unrelenting. He doesn’t believe that Fraser is a bad man. ” She clutched at his shirtsleeves. “Is he? What do you know?”
“What do I know?” Aidan’s narrowing eyes alarmed her a little. But the sight was exhilarating too. She’d glimpsed Aidan vulnerable, yet now, the way he was taking charge, she saw just how powerful he was.
“Yes,” she said, a bit breathless. They stood hidden in a corner, and the darkness etched black shadows along his cheeks, under his jaw. His chest was solid, and his heat radiated to her, and she felt she might be lost, consumed by his burning energy. Aidan was a force—knowing he was intent on safeguarding her over all other women was a thrill beyond measure. “When Da told us about him, it seemed you knew something. ”
“What of you?” he demanded. “I think you’re the one who knows something. And I think it has to do with a little something you stole from me. ”
“Stole… something?” Her voice sounded weak to her ears. Stolen something indeed. A sheet of paper that was currently chafing inside her bodice.
He took her chin and gently tipped it to the right and left, studying her. “Very pretty, Beth. But it won’t work on me. ” He gave it a gentle pinch. “Now tell. Where is it? This Dougal Fraser is up to no good, and I need to find proof. I’ll start by looking at whatever it is you took from my papers. ”
“We’ll find proof. ” If Aidan
thought to embark alone on an intrigue—one intended for her own good, no less— he had another thing coming. “And your paper is safe with me. ”
“What if your father reads it?” He let go her chin and stepped closer. “It’s not safe if he can find it in the house. ”
“It’s not in the house. ”
He stepped closer still, and something in her belly sparked in response. “The paper is on your person?”
She imagined his intention had been to make a threatening impression, but his proximity was having quite the opposite effect. “Perhaps,” she said, not budging her eyes from his. She felt something inside her smolder, and willed it to burn clear in her gaze.
