Page 71 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son

Holy fucking hell. Bash was a little put out that not a single story he’d ever been told of the act had come close to living up to the real thing. It was sacred and incandescent, St. Elmo’s fire made flesh.

He’d known for weeks that Maggie’s body fit perfectly against his own, known too that her mind and spirit were his perfect counterweight. And though he’d dreamt of their coupling more than one dark night, he’d never dared hope such a thing might come true, let alone fill him up, body and soul, all the empty, broken parts made new.

Now he sat with his back against the mast, and she rested between his legs, leaning into his chest, as though they were cut from the same piece of wood.

“Thank you,” she murmured sleepily, and he chuckled.

“Did it work?”

“I believe it did.”

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me know if you need another.”

She giggled softly, and he wanted to bottle the sound to hear again and again after she was gone, like the ocean waves inside a shell. His stomach sank, and he deflated a little. Soon they’d reach Jamaica and she’d sail away home forever, leaving him lost and wandering without compass or lodestar to guide him.

Once she was safe, he would dedicate the rest of his life to making an honest living for himself so that someday he might actually deserve her.

“Dutch was looking at me funny this morning,” she said softly. “I’m afraid he might suspect.”

Christ. Bash considered his options—lie, deflect, or be honest—and he decided on the truth. “I should have warned you, but I didn’t want you to worry,” he admitted.

She stiffened in his arms but didn’t pull away.

“He would never betray me,” he swore.

“But if he knows, surely others⁠—”

“I don’t think so. Dutch is the most perceptive man I’ve ever met. Especially where I’m concerned.”

“He loves you.”

Her statement made him warm all over, such a simple pronouncement of fact, and yet one Bash had never allowed himself to put into words lest he be mistaken.

“I could see it,” she went on. “When he visited the infirmary. Langley, too.”

Bash smiled. He’d often felt unlovable after his mother died. Strange to think the actions of a man who never wanted him had led him to this other family, aboard a pirate ship no less.

“We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Mmm,” Maggie chuckled.

“What?”

“It’s just funny how that works. You know Finn?”

“The erstwhile Shaw Wretch?”

“Mmhmm. He had two brothers. One still lives, but I believe Silas MacKenzie is more of a brother to him than his own flesh and blood even now. It’s just… it’s like God gives you a family, but if that one doesn’t fit, He leaves you the pieces to make one of your own.”

Bash had never thought of it quite in that way before, but he was getting used to seeing a new world through Maggie’s sea-blue eyes. “And which do you have?”

“A little of both, I hope,” she whispered.

He was glad for her to say so. It would make their parting easier for her. “Will you go to Ellen? Or to Jory? When you return home.”

“If I were to return, Langley thinks I should apprentice to be a physician,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“You must return. I’ll write you a letter of reference,” he agreed.