Page 104 of Tempest

A long-fingered hand clapped down on Brimley’s shoulder and Captain Kane spun him around.

“How long have you sailed for me, Mr. Brimley?” he said curtly, reaching for the bottle.

Brimley’s throat jumped over the collar of his shirt. “Two months, sir.”

“Those navy habits are hard to break aren’t they,” Kane muttered, shaking his head. He brought the rum to his lips, pulling a swig without so much as a wince. Then he winked, mouth curling into a grin.

Around the table, Garedo and the other members of the crew laughed, but Cat did not. She held her composure, one hand on her cards, the other on her winnings, lest Kane send her scurrying back to her cabin.

“Fear not, Mr. Brimley, there’ll be no beatings on my ship,” Kane added, waving the pirate back to his chair. Brimley sat with a relieved look, his flush receding. “Unless you deserve it, of course. And a ration of rum on your own time hardly warrants such a thing.”

“Aye, Captain,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes. “Sorry, Captain. Forgot myself.”

Still laughing, Cavallid patted him on the arm. “We’ll unwind you yet, Brimley.”

To that, Brimley nodded again, though he did not retrieve the rum. Cat could not help but feel a swell of sympathy for the sailor, defector though he was. She leaned in her seat, close enough to whisper.

“Did Captain Errol beat his men?” she mumbled, searching Brimley’s face.

He glanced back at her, brows raised in shock. “You’d be hard pressed to find a captain who doesn’t, Lady Rose.”

A sick sensation washed over her, too quick to blame on the rocking ship or the Lyrian waves. Cat fought it down with a swallow, cursing her naïveté and cursing herself for showing it so plainly.

“A navy captain,” Kane said sternly, still standing over the table. “That’s not our way, on this ship or any other that flies the black flag.”

Cat held his gaze, even as her cheeks flushed. His superiority, or at least the assumption of it, felt like a slap in the face.

“No, you only rob, capture, or kill innocent travelers,” she snapped, the mask of a Meridian lady sliding off. It even took herself by surprise, and she drew a breath, avoiding the wide-eyed looks of her gambling companions.

“You should go to sleep, Lady Rose,” Captain Kane replied, his indifference shattering the last of her composure. “All that indignation must be exhausting.”

Around the table, Kane’s men went silent. Quietly, Cavallid pulled at a flask, eyes darting between lady and captain.

Cat’s hand curled on the silver coin, clutching it as she would a prayer bead.

“I’m accustomed to it,” she snapped.

“I’ll bet you are,” Kane shot back.

Lip curling, Cat wished for fangs. To be a predator, dangerous in her own right, in need of only herself. So far from who Catrine Rose truly was.

The coin warmed in her palm. It grounded her—something she had earned and not been given. Something won with her wits.

Wit can be a weapon too.

Slowly, her snarl became a mischievous grin.

“Speaking of bets,” she said brightly, turning back to the table. “Mr. Garedo, would you care for another hand? Mr. Brimley, I can spot you if you’d like to deal back in?”

Neither answered, their eyes flying to Captain Kane. Waiting for his approval, or his command. But Kane did not look away from Cat. She could feel his glare on his face, the weight of his tempest stare unyielding.

“Captain Kane, you can take Mr. Cavallid’s chair,” Cat added, still smiling.

Behind Cook, the little cabin boy Ratter’s jaw dropped. Cook was no better, pressing a fist to his mouth. The rest looked on as if waiting for a scale to balance. Or a lit fuse to explode.

Then the captain matched her grin, laughing once. But the sound echoed long after it should have, struck like a chord in Cat’s chest, her heart a vibrating string.

With a flick of his hand, he motioned for Cavallid to rise. The pirate did so without question, hurrying to give Kane a place at the table. And the captain obliged, lowering himself into the seat across from Cat. His eyes never left hers, their blue-green sparkling.