Page 30 of Tempest

Cat was not a short woman, and Fell only a few inches taller than she. He bent slightly, standing eye to eye.

“I’m sure Captain Quine will oblige when he has a moment. Not to worry, you aren’t in the way on deck,” he said, though it was far from Cat’s concern. “More than a hundred men serve on this ship. You three will hardly be noticed.”

“Captain Quine is occupied with bringing the ship out of the cove,” she replied. “I would like to go to my cabin, sir.”

Fell did not move. Sails unfurled overhead and oars splashed into the water below. The ship rolled and Cat fought to keep her balance, lest she tumble forwards into Fell’s chest. He held his ground easily.

“Lieutenant,” she prodded through gritted teeth.

“Lady Rose, I apologize, I did not wish you a happy birthday.”

Something cold hooked in Cat’s belly, and she faltered, lost for words. Fell only stared, his scrutiny sharp and keen.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yesterday.” Fell gestured with his hat, back to shore. Rosby was already distant, soon to be swallowed by the sea. “It was your birthday, was it not?”

Cat blanched. She’d shared a long dinner with Captain Quine and his officers, longer than she’d cared to suffer, without a word from her husband. How Fell knew it was her birthday was beside the point. Ryman knew and cared not.

“I—yes,” she heard herself stammer. “Yes, it was.”

Fell gave a shallow nod, a knowing look in his eye. Cat did not need to puzzle after his thoughts now. She saw the pity in him plain as day.

She thought of another man, standing on the deck of a different ship, eyes flashing, gold in his mouth as he hissed down on her. I don’t pity the likes of you.

Somehow, she wished Fell shared the pirate’s sentiment.

“Well, I suppose I should give you a gift.” He sighed, donning his hat again.

Whatever shame Cat felt for her lot and her marriage gave way to annoyance.

“You can give me the gift of my cabin, sir,” she spat.

“I can give you the gift of advice, ma’am,” he answered with equal fire.

Cat could not help but reel back a step, almost colliding with her maid. To her shock, Fell matched her movements, closing the distance between them as if they were partners in a dance, and not near-strangers.

Despite the motion of the deck, the waves growing stronger as the Venerable raced out to sea, Cat set her feet. As Fell bore down on her, she clenched a fist and thought of her prayer beads, smashed against a pirate’s face. Or in another pirate’s pocket, stolen with swift hands and a smirk.

But there was no time to dwell on such things.

Lieutenant Fell stopped short, leaving a foot between them. He was careful, Cat noted, and deliberate.

His voice dropped, low enough to be lost in the bustle of the deck. For anyone but her.

“A sullen, sad, shadow of a woman will win no allies on this ship, or in Archenport,” he breathed, one eyebrow raised.

Cat’s face went hot. “Excuse me?”

“Governor Baltross’s wife is near your age, I think. She is in need of friends,” he pressed on, eyes flashing. “Or am I mistaken? Are you so eager to return to your—” His gaze flicked past her shoulder to Rosby in the distance. “Rock?”

No, I am not, she thought, wishing she could scream the sentiment aloud.

Suddenly she wanted the Venerable to catch a hurricane wind and sail faster than any ship had sailed before, carrying her away from her cage, perhaps forever. Life next to a governor’s wife could not be so horrible as this one. And she would be in a proper city, separated from her loathsome husband by a hundred miles of treacherous sea. The prison of the last six months seemed breakable, the key to her chains pressed firmly into her hands.

Catrine Rose would not waste it.

She set her jaw and raised her chin. Slowly, gracefully, she dipped into a curtsy, sweeping back her skirts.