Page 60 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son

“It’s all right,” she soothed, stroking his brow. “You’ve been injured. Your memory will return.”

“I took advantage of you,” he said, his heart ripping open. “I never meant my protection to be contingent upon… upon anything else.”

“What?” she asked, glancing around nervously.

“I didn’t think. I’m no better than the captain, no better than your husband. I hope you can forgive me. I should never⁠—”

“Shh, shh, shh,” she whispered as though he were the silly parrot. No. A kestrel, that was her pet. “You mustn’t upset yourself. You’ll wake up Langley.”

“I am upset. Dutch was right. I preyed upon your trust and let myself believe you wanted me to⁠—”

“Bash,” she said, taking his face in both hands, and they were soft and cool against his fevered skin. They felt like heaven must surely feel. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I did everything wrong⁠—”

“Please, listen to me. I don’t know what Dutch said—” Fear flickered across her face, but she schooled it into a determined calm. “I never once felt like anything less than a queen.”

He closed his eyes against the tears. Christ, what was happening to him? He hadn’t wept since he was nine years old, not even when the captain ordered Dutch to flog him for leaving the ship to search out his mother’s old place in Kingston. The pain had been unbearable, only rivaling his disappointment at not even managing to leave Port Royal, but still, he hadn’t cried.

The king once built a town so fair. Red hibiscus lined the square…

Ma’s song drifted back to him again. Would she be ashamed of him as Dutch had been for his treatment of Maggie?

“You have my word and my honor,” he whispered fiercely. “I will protect you no matter what—even if you send me away, you’ll have it from afar.”

He meant to swear he wouldn’t touch her again, but it seemed a hollow promise when something was so obviously wrong with him. He tugged hard at his forelock and then reached for his ear again, but as before, she took his hand so he couldn’t rub away the pain.

“There was a ship,” she explained, her brow creasing. “The Woebegone Whale? You feared it might be a trap.”

A trap. Of course. How had he forgotten? “It was deserted,” he said. “Nothing in the hold to even keep the rats alive.”

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“But someone was there.”

Blinding pain shot through Bash and he closed his eyes, recalling the flash of a cutlass. His hand jerked up again, but she held it fast, pressing it instead against her heart.

“Did I lose my ear?” he whispered.

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Not yet.”

“The Butcher wanted to, but Magnus here insisted it stay attached to your ugly mug, Nav,” Langley said, grinning from a nearby hammock.

Maggie released Bash’s hand and turned to the lad. “He might need more hashish,” she said. “Did you save any?”

Langley jumped up still grinning, but Bash tried to shake his head and instantly regretted it. “No,” he gasped, closing his eyes. “Not just now.”

“You sure?” Langley asked with a disappointed tone. “It’s the good stuff.”

“I can bear it,” Bash said. He didn’t want to lose a moment’s consciousness with Maggie, nor did he want to chance any more nightmares.

“Then I’m to run and tell Dutch you’re proper awake,” Langley said.

“Ask Roo for some cheese, while you’re at it?”

“Cheese, Nav? How hard was you hit?”

“You know Roo. Why do you think we’ve a cow and no milk?”