“I didn’t intend to … I …” He shakes his head, seems to collect his thoughts, then presses his palms on either side of my head as he leans toward me, towering over me with the darkest glint ofdesire in his eyes. “Let this be a warning to you, lass. If you look at me like that again, I’ll have your knees pinned to your ears and my cock so deep in your sweet cunt that you’ll feel me for days.”
I can barely catch my breath. “If that’s your version of a threat, you might need to work on your ‘scary pirate’ skills.”
That pulls a smirk from him, the temperature in the room lowering a few degrees. Only a few though, because I still feel the heat coming off him in waves.
“Then again, Peter might take that threat a little more?—”
His face instantly sours. “I don’t want to hear that cur’s name.”
His quick wrath is almost like a slap.
I wince back, but he doesn’t give me any room.
“Afraid of me now that you remember him? Is that it?” His voice turns cold, hard.
I reach for any thought, any combination of words to defend myself. “Why do you hate Peter so much?”
His nostrils flare, his eyes igniting with blazing fury. “Because he’s a vile, arrogant child who plays at being a god!” He seethes. “A parasite that destroys everything and everyone around him. Because he brought you here. Because he stole you away and drowned you in this nightmare, his nightmare. Because he touched you.You.” His voice breaks, the pain and rage crackling like the glass of a broken mirror. “Because he hurt you,” he finishes on a whisper, his lips so close to mine that we share breath and soul and roiling emotion.
I don’t know what I expected from this fearsome pirate, but that wasn’t it. Not the way he sounds like a wounded animal. Notthe way he looks at me with a mix of regret and pain. My heart—a cloistered and protected thing, soft and untried—suddenly cracks open, revealing lifeblood that mingles with his.
“I’m all right.” I press my palms to his cheeks, the stubble rough under my skin. “I’m right here, James. I’m not hurt.”
He pulls in a deep, shuddering breath, then—as if remembering himself—he blinks and pulls away from my hands.
I let them drop, unsure of what this means or where we go from here.
“Come down for supper. Then rest. You need a break.” He leans closer, so close I think he’ll kiss me again, then he pushes off the wall and strides from my room.
Widow plopsdown next to me. There’s a roaring fire in the middle of the diamond created by the cottages. Sparks of embers fly up to the half moon, bright as they leave the flames then darkening as the shadows eat them up.
“So, I’m going to need details.” She elbows me lightly as I take a bite of the crispy fish Cookson claims he made just for me.
“No details.” I chew, then have to stifle a moan at how good it is. It’s somehow buttery even though it was cooked over an open flame.
Cookson watches me from across the fire, though he’s trying to pretend to be busy serving the pirates.
I take a bigger bite and give him a thumbs up. He seems to swell with pride, then gives Starkey a generous helping of ribs.
“This is a feast.” I try the vegetables—some of them completely unfamiliar—from a skewer. The thing that looks like a pepper has a little spice, but it’s sweeter, the red meat of it like a treat.
“Don’t change the subject.” She balances her plate on her lap and slices off a piece of her fish and plops it into her mouth.
“Good, right?”
She chews for a moment, then swallows. “I hate to admit it, but Cookson is good at what he does. Not as good as me, of course, let’s not get looney. But he can cook a mean fish. Now spill.”
I keep glancing around for Hook, but I haven’t seen him since he left my room. I’m still reeling from what happened, from everything he said. His voice is on constant replay in my mind, and I get chills each time. I don’t understand him, not completely, but I understood his emotion, the deep well of sorrow in him that I’ve barely seen.
“Moira, come on,” Widow wheedles.
“I don’t know if I can. It all happened so fast. Smee was in there, and he scared me?—”
“Yeah, I know. I was bringing the firewood when I heard you scream. Hook took off like someone had shoved a hot poker up his ass.” She shrugs. “I figured he had it handled. But when you didn’t come out, I wanted to make sure?—”
“So, you didn’t just happen by to tell me about the food, then?” I give her a playful elbowing. “You were snooping.”
“Absolutely.” She takes another big bite of fish, then talks around it. “I was in service, like I said. I used to deal exclusively in baked goods and secrets. Maybe a gooseberry jam here or there.”
