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She felt as though she had died and was waiting for Saint Peter to choose her eternal sentence. Time seemed to hang suspended as he paced the room, his boots clicking against the planks of the floor.
The windows to his cabin were open, and a soothing breeze ruffled the curtains she wished she had never made.
She inched closer to the door.
Maybe she could make it out…
“All right, Miss James,” he began at last, making her jump. “I’m going to do what I’ve never done before.”
She made ready to run. “From the stories I’ve heard, Captain, there’s absolutely nothing the Marauder hasn’t done. Why, I’ve even been told you eat children and infants for breakfast.”
Morgan let out a low growl. “If you don’t hold your tongue, I might serveyouup to the crew for dinner.” He clenched his hands into fists at his side and paused before her as if gathering his thoughts.
Her way to the door momentarily blocked, she had no choice but to look up at him and his cinnamon-colored eyes that burned with raw anger.
When he spoke again his voice was low, and yet it seemed to fill the entire space of the room. “I know what you must be thinking.”
“That you’re a pirate who is now going to kill me?” she asked before she could think better of it.
Her words seemed to make him relax. A little. The corners of his lips twitched and his eyes softened. “Very well, I knew half of what you were thinking.”
Unsure if she should take a breath in relief or a mad dash at the door, she asked, “Which half?”
“Don’t interrupt.”
Serenity stiffened at his gruff command. It was foolish to goad him, but at this point, did she really have anything to lose? Besides, she wasn’t one to just stand by and wait for him to hand down his judgment athisleisure.
She wanted to know her fate.
“Don’t interrupt? I do believe, Captain Death Pirate, that I have a right to know what you intend to do to me. Or is not telling me part of the torture you use on your victims?”
He became ramrod stiff again.
“As I was saying,” he began, ignoring her question. “I realize you don’t know how to take in all the information you’ve just been given. But you have to understand exactly what you heard.”
“What I heard,” she said, her voice shaking with pent-up fear and heartbreak, “is that the man I thought was an American hero is actually a low-down, thieving murderer who has no more regard for human life than…than—”
Morgan grabbed her by the arms, and she could tell that he wanted to shake her. “You have no idea of the things I’ve seen,” he said, his voice so sharp it could slice iron. “Iwasa pirate—once. I’m not denying that, nor do I make excuses for it. I was young, angry, and desperate. Three things that make a most lethal combination. I wanted blood from the Brits and I wanted blood from my enemy.”
“And you were willing to do anything for it.”
“Yes.”
Her heart shattered even more. It was true. He was the Marauder.
Still, she wanted him to deny it. To tell her that he had never harmed anyone undeserving. That he was the same caliber as her fictitious hero. That he, Morgan, would never lie, never rape, never…
“You killed innocent people?” she asked, desperate for him to redeem himself.
“If they got in my way.”
With one sentence, he had vanquished the last of her hope.
Douglas was right. She was a dreamer, and no man could ever be as honorable as the men she imagined for her stories. They were phantoms. Horrible, wretched phantoms she had created to save her from this reality.
The death of her dream brought an ache to her chest that almost suffocated her.
She tried to push him away, but he held her fast. “My God, you’re a monster,” she whispered.
