Oceanswept (20 page)

T
he maids informed us that the bath was ready.

“You first,” Nicholas said to me. “I will wait here.”

I placed my new clothes in the bathing area and spread the wicker divider as far as it would go. I was certain Nicholas would stay on the balcony, but I was cautious nonetheless.

I undressed and, without thinking twice about the waste, I threw the Wedgewood blue dress and my undergarment
s into the rubbish bin.

A variety of soaps, oils, and lotions were arranged on the narrow vanity. I examined each delicate cut glass bottle, pulling out the stoppers and inhaling their scents. I poured several drops of an Oriental-scented oil into the bathwater, then sunk in indulgently, my chestnut hair floating in curls on top of the water.

The hot water made my skin feel tight and itchy, but I immediately relaxed. The heat was intoxicating. I sank lower into the water, submerging every bit of me. I’d not had a proper bath since I departed London—at least four months ago. It was a privilege I had taken for granted. I wanted to soak for hours, but I wanted Nicholas to enjoy the water while it was hot. After a few minutes of relaxing I scrubbed my hair and every inch of my skin with sweet smelling soap.

I dried myself with a plush towel and smoothed fragrant oil onto my legs and arms. After running a comb through my wet hair, I slipped into my new dressing gown and rearranged the wicker room divider to separate the bath from the vanity so Nicholas could bathe while I readied myself.

Though we couldn’t see one another, Nicholas and I were only a few feet apart, him in the bathtub and me dressing in front of the mirror. It was strangely intimate, strangely comfortable.

“I’ve always enjoyed staying at a nice inn while in port,” Nicholas said as I pulled on my new drawers and chemise. “Enjoy a little luxury and surround myself with some different company, if only for a few days.”

“Not really one to fraternize with your fellow pirates, hmm?”

“Right,” Nicholas laughed. “Like I said, it’s not the lifestyle I wanted. Don’t get me wrong. I love sailing, and I love the freedom. But if I could do it without the smelly shipmates, I would. And now, I guess I am.”

“I was a fairly smelly shipmate before that bath.”

He laughed loudly. It was a beautiful sound.

“So you have lodged at this inn before?” I asked, stepping into my skirt.

“Yes. It is much nicer than the taverns by the docks.”

“I admit that I am delighted you shared your tradition with me. That bath was amazing. And I cannot wait to sleep on a real bed.”

“Thought you’d like it. How are your new things?”

I had just finished dressing. I stepped back to view myself more fully in the mirror. I wore a white cotton blouse with puffed sleeves that gathered at the elbow into long, fitted cuffs lined with a row of dainty buttons. My plum-colored skirt hung in soft folds to the floor, a double ruffle decorating the hem. Though I had never worn linen before, I loved the way it hung, its movement airy and light. A matching sash accented my narrow waist. I felt loose and free in the flowing top, without the restrictions of a tight bodice. I hardly recognized myself, but I felt a little more like I belonged at Nicholas’s side.

“I love them,” I answered.

I combed all the tangles from my hair, admiring its softness and shine now that the dirt and salt had been washed away. I twisted wet tendrils around my fingers, coaxing them into soft ringlets that hung to my waist.

Looking in the mirror, I saw a different person. My brown eyes sparkled warmly. My cheeks were rosy from the kiss of the sun and my complexion glowed. I smiled involuntarily, wondering whether my glow came from bathing and the thrill of new clothing or from the way I felt about the pirate on the other side of the thin divider.

I strolled to the balcony, admiring the bustling sights of the lively port. Though night had fallen, it seemed the town’s activities were just starting. Voices carried on the wind, lively music floated up from the streets, and more and more lights blinked in the darkness.

I smelled Nicholas approaching before I felt his arms slip around my waist and his face nuzzle into my hair. He smelled like the ocean on a balmy day, refreshing and mysterious, yet unmistakably masculine. I inhaled deeply. Nicholas turned me around and pulled me into the room, stepping back to admire me in the light.

“Beautiful. The clothing suits you.”

“And look at you,” I replied coyly.

With a cocky grin, Nicholas puffed out his chest and posed for me. He was wearing his new attire. His weathered canvas breeches had been replaced with a fitted pair of chocolate brown trousers. He wore an ivory linen shirt with a burgundy waistcoat and a long, tailored jacket that matched his trousers. His wet hair was worn loose, sun-kissed tendrils falling into his eyes and framing his face. The look was finished with a polished set of knee-high boots. I stared unabashedly. He looked much more stylish than the sailor I had met onboard the
Banshee
, yet he was as roguish as ever. The dashing attire added to his rebellious charm. He was not the overstuffed, over-mannered gentleman that I feared excessive civilization would make of him. He was debonair, but he was still Nicholas.

My heart thumped wildly just looking at him.

I walked to him, running my hands along the lapels of his jacket. “You look simply delicious,” I whispered, standing on my toes to kiss him.

Our lips met, melting into one another. Nicholas’s hands tangled into my wet hair and I tugged at his jacket, wanting to be closer.

Breathless, Nicholas pulled away and said with a crooked smile, “I think you are hungry.”

I reached to kiss him again, but he only pecked me swiftly on the nose. I pouted.

“Time for dinner, Tessa.”

“One moment. Let up pin up my hair.”

I moved towards the mirror but Nicholas stopped me. “Leave it the way it is.” He pulled a tendril through his fingers.

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“There’s no bother for propriety in a town such as this. Leave it. For me.”

I shook my head ever so slightly. “You always get what you want.”

“Always.”

Offering me his arm, Nicholas led me downstairs to the dining hall.

T
he plate of sizzling mutton, rice, and beans was pure bliss. I hardly remembered my manners as I inhaled the very last bite.

Waiting for dessert, we chatted idly. Nicholas dazzled me with his vast knowledge of all the islands and local culture.

My eyes constantly strayed to Nicholas. I had always found him pleasing to the eyes, but tonight he was especially so. With his hair loose and his dress slightly more refined, he was irresistibly dashing. I couldn’t help but admire this new look.

As we finished our meal with freshly squeezed orange juice and rice pudding, a loutish man staggered into the dining hall, sat at a nearby table, and ordered ale. I hardly took notice of him until he took notice of us. He seemed to stare, squinting in our direction, leaning towards us slightly.

Instantly, I tensed.

It was important for Nicholas to be inconspicuous, and here was a gruff fellow, eyeing him coolly. Knowingly.

The man was dirty and shifty. His rags were tattered and he wore a frayed stocking cap on his grizzled head. His face was deeply lined, like crumpled paper—a sign that he had spent his days in the harsh sun. Maybe he was a pirate from the
Banshee
, and was here to satisfy a grudge he held against his former quartermaster and the witch.

“Something amiss?”

Nicholas’s voice brought me back to our conversation.

“Oh. Sorry. It’s just…there is a man staring at us. Over there.” I inclined my head in the direction of our observer.

Nicholas turned slowly, not wanting to draw any attention. When he caught sight of the man, he laughed and stood up. The man did the same and approached Nicholas.

“Avis!” Nicholas said, clapping the gruff looking man on the back. “You old sea dog!

“I was wonderin’ if that be ol’ Marks sittin’ there!”

They were laughing and smiling, presumably old friends. I turned my attention back to my pudding, hardly paying attention to their exchange of pleasantries and sailor stories. My stomach felt as if it were bursting from all the supper I had feasted on, yet I could not resist the large bowl of sweet pudding. I was suddenly glad for the freedom of my new clothing. I would have never been able to eat so much in a suffocating corset.

My ears perked up when the man—Avis—mentioned the
Banshee
.

“Still quartermaster of that sucker blastin’ excuse of a ship?”

“Keepin’ out of trouble mostly, best we can. Just coming from southerly waters,” Nicholas said, nimbly keeping his reply vague.

“Best stay that way. Bit o’ trouble up northways.”

“Can’t say I ever shied away from trouble,” Nicholas said with a cocky smile. “What’s happening?”

The man coughed and continued, “If’n I didn’t know better, I’d call it the Pirate Inquisition. Some flappin’ jawed fruity tooty English navy man is huntin’ all outlaws he can find. Some vendetta about pirates killin’ his daughter or somethin’. Any excuse he can find.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Doesn’t sound too serious.”

“He’s got his whole fleet cruisin’ the waters, killing any suspect man on sight. Heard that Carnegie went down.”

“Really? Carnegie?” Nicholas sounded surprised. “Where’s all this happening?”

“New admiral is stationed in St. Kitts. Gone haywire, I tell ya. Simply haywire.”

My spoon clattered onto the floor.

The drunken sailor continued to cuss, “Cockleheaded bleedin’ fussy. Come straight from England thinkin’ the royal crown gives him the r
ight to do what he pleases. Gets into a little pirate trouble along the way, an’ instead of takin’ it as a valuable lesson learned swift, he’s gotta declare war—”

Without thinking, I shot to my feet and pushed my way in front of Nicholas.

“Do you know his name?” I demanded.

Nicholas grabbed my wrist and yanked me back a step.

Avis eyed me shrewdly, a sloppy smile on his drunken mouth. “Looky, looky, you got a cookie. Marks has been keepin’ some treasures for hisself. Pleased to meet—”

“His name,” I interrupted, my voice faltering. “Do you know the admiral’s name?”

Avis stepped back slightly, seemingly offended at my rudeness.

He directed his answer to Nicholas w
ith a sly wink. “We be callin’ ’im Monstroe, like a monster. But his name is Monroe.”

Nicholas’s hand clutched mine.

I stared forcefully into Avis’s hazy eyes. “Are you lying to me?” I said, afraid to hang any hope on what a drunken pirate in Curaçao said.

His eyes darted from mine to Nicholas’s. He let out a drunken guffaw. “Got yourself a live one, dontcha, Marks!”

Nicholas pulled me behind him, “Don’t I know it,” he replied good-naturedly. “So, it’s Admiral Monroe, is it? Causin’ all this trouble from St. Kitts?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

“Thanks, Avis. Glad ya did.” Nicholas clapped him on the shoulder again, “It was good to see you, a dirty surprise if ever there was one. Now, if you’d be obliged, I don’t have much time in port and—as you can see—I’ve got better things to look at than your simian mug.”

Avis winked at Nicholas and tipped an imaginary hat to me, then slowly shuffled back to his table.

“
M
y father!” I whispered fiercely as Nicholas turned to me, our faces only inches apart. His expression of shock certainly mirrored mine.

Avis’s story of pirates killing the admiral’s daughter registered fully. Was that what had really happened? If both my father and I had survived the storm, we would certainly be together now—unless predatory pirates had taken advantage of such a vulnerable ship. It seemed just the opportunity pirates would exploit.

“But the hurricane, Nicholas, how is this possible?” I asked, not caring that suspicion colored my voice.

“I don’t know,” he said. His brow was furrowed and he softly chewed at his bottom lip. “I can’t imagine how it happened. That ship was decimated. There was nothing but you.”

“Avis’s story…Why would my father think that pirates killed his daughter?” I pressed.

“He must have seen us take you in.”

I pressed the pads of my fingers against my temples, closing my eyes against the storm of emotions that threatened to incapacitate me. With my eyes still closed, I said as evenly as possible, “I need to know something and I need you to tell me the truth.”

My demand was met with silence. With my eyes still closed, I braced myself and continued.  “How is it that both my father and I survived the storm, yet he made it to port and I only made it as far as your ship?”

“What!” Nicholas exclaimed, fully comprehending the unsaid accusation. “How am I supposed to know that?” He yanked my hands away from my face. I opened my eyes instinctively and met his gaze. He was angry. “You know everything I know.”

Nicholas clenched his teeth, the muscles at his jaw flexing tightly. His eyes were sharp.

I glowered back at him.

Admittedly, I was falling for Nicholas. But I had seen too much. I knew what he was capable of. Not only had he manipulated me, but he had turned on his captain and bribed his crew. My affections for him changed none of that. I would never allow myself to forget what he really was.

“I know you’re a pirate,” I retorted.

He stared at me tensely. Though his jaw was still clenched—and his fists matched—his grey eyes were raw with hurt.

“I am not exactly proud of what I’ve become,” Nicholas defended, “but I’m not ashamed of it either. I have never lied to you about anything.”

“Is that so,
First Mate
Holladay? You
never
lied to me? Was my ship even lost? Or was it simply an easy target for a raid?”

Nicholas stared at me in disbelief.

“Was I your
unique item
?”

“I’m not going to listen to your bloody accusations.” Nicholas backed away from me and turned to go.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” I jabbed, still angry, still lashing, yet suddenly terrified of abandonment.

Nicholas turned back to me, his face a dark cloud. “Despite what you think, that’s not who I am.”

“Where are you going?” I demanded, the fear of being left behind growing stronger than my anger.

“I need a drink,” Nicholas grumbled as he stalked away.

I sat down but kept my eye trained on Nicholas. He had better not leave me.

He retrieved a pint of ale and sat with Avis. I stirred my rice pudding moodily.

How dare he get so offended? My accusation wasn’t against him—it was against Captain Black and all the pirates on board the
Banshee
. I would be an imbecile not to ask what happened.

Finally, Nicholas ambled back and sat across from me.

I avoided looking at him, but he seemed to have no qualms about boring into me with his fiery eyes.

We sat awkwardly. I toyed with conversation starters but nothing sounded right. I was still too upset to apologize but anything I said besides an apology seemed trite.

Crushed by the angry silence, I finally eked out an explanation. “Please understand, I do not remember a thing. What that man said…it just made me wonder.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrows at me, seemingly enjoying my discomfort.

I continued. “I just needed to ask.”

Nicholas took another swig of ale.

I knew I should stop talking, stop explaining, and let the burden of the conversation rest with him. But I could not get myself to shut up.

“I have a right to ask,” I said haughtily.

Nicholas’s eyes narrowed a little. He was waiting, knowing I would say more.

“And you have a right to be offended,” I added.

Nicholas smirked a little. I couldn’t tell if he was still angry. “I can’t blame you for questioning. I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to.”

He finished the last of his ale and stood
, dropping a handful of coins on the table.

“Finish your pudding and we’ll get going,” he said.

I pushed my dish away. I wasn’t hungry.

“Where are we going?”

Nicholas deftly wove through the crowds in the tavern. I struggled to keep up.

“I am going to work the town a bit. See if I can uncover any more information. Maybe confirm this rumor.
You
are going to go to bed.”

“I am coming with you,” I said.

“No, luv. You’re not.”

“Nicholas, I need to do this. It’s my father.”

Nicholas turned and faced me, our faces just inches apart. “You cannot follow along. First, it’s too dangerous. I’ll be constantly worried about you getting your pretty little neck in trouble. Second, you should not be exposed to the places I am going. Believe me, you won’t want to see the dark side of the city.”

I started to protest, trying to find a solid argument for accompanying him. Nicholas talked over me.

“Finally, I cannot get the information with you next to me. No one will talk. We will get nowhere. So if you really want to help, please understand that the best way to do so is to stay in the room.”

I agreed reluctantly. We entered the room and Nicholas strapped on his baldric and mashed a hat onto his curls.

“Is it even possible that my father is alive?”

Nicholas peered into my face, a look of tenderness in his eyes. “We will go to St. Kitts. We will set out tomorrow. If your father is there, we will find him.”

Loading his pistol, Nicholas said, “Lock the door. Don’t venture on the balcony. I’ll most likely be late. Rest if you can.”

I stood still as
he gently touched my cheek and breezed away, the heavy door thudding behind him. After his footsteps faded, I rushed to the balcony hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Perhaps I could overhear any conversations he might have on the street below. I waited for the better part of an hour but never saw him pass by.

Knowing I would not sleep, I prepared for bed slowly, hoping that my every action would help the time pass. I tried to read. I tried to write. The turmoil within me would not let me rest. I paced around the room listlessly, my vacant eyes refusing to focus on anything. I tried lying down, or at least sitting still, but could not. I analyzed the oils by the washbasin, repeatedly smelling each scent, rearranging the bottles from tallest to shortest, from roundest to thinnest, from darkest to lightest. I brushed my hair excessively, barely noticing when the head of the brush broke away from the bone handle. I paced the balcony, staring into the night, trying to make sense of the activity below. Every time I heard a noise from outside my room, I unlocked the door and peered down the hallway, even stealing a few steps towards the staircase, hoping to find Nicholas returning.

I stared at the candles in the room, judging the passage of time by the amount of wax pooling around them. The hypnotizing flames captured my attention longer than anything else had, small fires twisting and lurching in a scorching dance. There was too much time.