Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (23 page)

“Because she’s gone.” It was the first time he’d said the words aloud, acknowledged them to someone other than himself. He wouldn’t call the experience freeing, but it didn’t cripple him either.

Grace lowered her hand. “Where is she?”

He pulled out a chair, sat wearily. “I don’t know.”

Her brow creased. “How can you—”

“I was at sea. Both she and our son Caden were there when I left. When I returned, they were both gone. The house had been torn apart. Other than blood smeared onto the floor and her discarded necklace, there was no sign of them.”

Grace grasped the edge of the table, sank into a chair. “You had a son?”

“Aye.”

“How—how old was he?”

“Five.” To this day he remembered the boy as last Cale had seen him, standing on shore, messy blonde hair waving in the breeze. Only his hair had waved. The rest of him had stood defiant and angry. He’d begged to go along but Cale had refused him. If he hadn’t…

“Five? Dear Lord.” Grace gasped.

“I searched. For years, it’s all I did. I searched day and night, stopped in every port I passed. But a crew wouldn’t work for free and soon I lost them as well. As I couldn’t sail a vessel by myself, I went home, sold the ship.”

“Were you a merchant sailor, then, before?”

“Aye. And it should have been enough. Earning a wage to keep my family fed should have been enough. But I’d found part of a treasure map, and I’d convinced myself and my crew we could find it. Between voyages and sometimes in the midst of one, we’d stop and search any likely spot.” He hung his head. “It’s what we were doing when Catherine and Caden went missing.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Does it matter?” He demanded, hating her understanding tone. “Does it make them any less lost to me? I should have been there and I wasn’t.” He finished his rum, shoved the empty cup aside. “Once I sold the ship, I organized a poker game. I took everyone’s wager and the winner got the map. As it happens, it was Nate who won the map. And it was Nate, Claire, and Vincent who found the treasure.” He slammed his fist onto the table; both Grace and his empty mug jumped. “That damn treasure took my wife, my son, and my brother and they would all be alive today if I hadn’t been obsessed with it.”

Grace leaned forward. “You don’t know for sure. You could have been taken along with your wife and son had you been home. Or worse, killed. And Vincent was on a pirate ship, he could have died in any battle.”

“But he didn’t! He died over the treasure.”

“Cale.” Grace sighed. “You have to stop punishing yourself. You’re a fine man. Aye, you’ve made mistakes. Haven’t we all? That doesn’t make it all your fault.”

Then why did it feel as though it was? Cale came to his feet. “It’s late. Let’s try to sleep.”

Grace’s chair scraped the floor and suddenly she was at his side. “Why can’t you see the man you really are?”

“I do. It’s you who can’t see it.”

Her eyes filled with fire. “Oh, I can’t, can I? Well, let me tell you what I see. I see someone who takes care of everyone on this ship, everyday.”

“I’m captain, it’s my duty,” he said, waving away her comment.

“Is it now? And was it your duty to send me Carracks for company? To give me a knife when I asked for one? To ensure someone was with me all the time in order to keep me safe?”

“Only after Isaac came after you. I hadn’t protected you before.”

She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “And was it not thinking of me happiness when you suggested I meet Paddy?”

Cale threw up his hands. “For the love of God, it was just Paddy.”

“What about when you dropped anchor and let us frolic in the sea like dolphins?”

“It was hot, Grace, and we all needed to cool down. You make it sound as though—”

“You took me to a secluded beach so I could save me dignity while I, too, cooled meself.”

“I wasn’t going to have the crew leer at you!”

She smiled. “Because you were looking out for me.”

“And was I looking out for you when I took you on the floor of the quarterdeck? I could have stopped. I
should
have stopped, but I didn’t. It wasn’t you I was thinking of, Grace. It was me and my need to bury my cock within you.”

She swallowed, but it didn’t slow her down. “You can make it sound as crude as you need to, but it doesn’t change the facts. Don’t be lying to me any more than you be lying to yourself. I wanted you to make love with me and ’tis what you did. With gentleness, with respect and with affection. You took something I’d only known as ugly and you made it beautiful, made it memorable. You took great care with me.”

He shook his head. Why was she so determined to make him into something he wasn’t?

“You’ve taken care of me, Pockets, Aidan, your entire crew. ’Tis who you are.” She brushed her fingers over his forehead. “You may not want to accept it. Aye, it’s easier to hide behind Steele, but you are a protector, Cale, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

He shoved her hand aside. “I’m nobody’s protector! Haven’t you been listening to me? My wife and son were taken, Grace. Taken! All that was left of them was blood smeared on the floor and all because I couldn’t protect them.”

“No. They were taken because you weren’t home. Had you been home, Cale, I’ve no doubt you’d have fought the battle of your life to save them.”

He turned, wiped his eyes on his forearm. Yes, he’d have fought. Mother of God, he’d have died for them. Wished he could have.

He bowed his head. “The past can’t be changed and neither can the fact I’m not the kind of man you think me to be.”

Grace stepped around him, held him when he’d have turned from her again. “Cale,” she whispered, her voice filled with respect and affection. He didn’t deserve either. “You’ve never stopped being that man.”

*

A wife. A
son. Grace stared at the ceiling while those two words circled in her head. She’d wondered why he hadn’t married, why a man with his goodness wouldn’t take a wife. Now she knew. Grace could easily envision him with a wife at his side and a son on his shoulders. The image suited him far better than the one she’d grown accustomed to; him standing on the quarterdeck, hands firm on the wheel with his stony gaze locked onto the horizon.

When she’d first come aboard, she’d thought him cold, emotionless. And, all along, he was carrying the guilt and the grief of his lost family. The pain the man carried was staggering. Rolling onto her side, Grace peered over the side of the bed and looked at him.

They’d gone back to their beds what must have been an hour ago. Cale had crawled onto his pallet and turned his back. She’d stood there, unsure what to do or say and feeling, no matter how much she told herself she was being ridiculous, rejected.

Grace had blown out the candle, settled into the bed, and wished him goodnight. He hadn’t answered. Just as he’d never acknowledged her final comment before he’d told her they both needed sleep.

But he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too shallow and every so often, as he did just then, he drew a deep, uneven breath. Grace hurt for him. She saw his arm move, saw his hand swipe over his face.

She bit back tears. What fools they were. His heart belonged to a woman who was gone and a part of hers, more than she’d even believed possible, belonged to a man whose heart was with another.

Yet, no matter how many times she called herself a fool, she couldn’t escape the loneliness threatening to choke her.

But, by Jesus, she wasn’t alone yet.

They had another two days before reaching shore and if all she was to have were memories, then she was going to make as many as possible.

“Cale?”

“What?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“I thought—” She swallowed her nerves and the fear he’d turn away from her again. “I thought you could join me.”

“Grace.” He sighed.

“Just lie with me, Cale.”

Moonlight slashed across his broad chest and the black hair dusting it. Grace knew what it felt like beneath her cheek, what his skin smelled like. She wasn’t trying to seduce to him, though she wouldn’t refuse him. She simply needed him close.

“Please? We have the rest of our lives to be alone. For tonight, can you simply hold me?”

His deep breath didn’t sound any less troubled, but he came to her, the ropes dipping and creaking as he lay beside her. Grace curled into his side. Her hand settled above his heart and his arm curled around her back and held her close.

“Goodnight, Cale.”

She hadn’t expected an answer but he pressed a kiss to her temple, drew her a little closer, and whispered, “Goodnight, Grace.”

*

It wasn’t what
Roche was hoping to see when he peered through his sight glass. His biggest hope had been to see the bobbing lights of Steele’s sloop within his grasp. To know the wretch and that bitch, Grace, were finally going to be his to do with as he liked. But now? He closed the glass, tapped the metal against his chin and considered.

It could be Steele. Though he saw no ship, if the lights were doused it would be possible to miss one in the darkness. He could have gone ashore for any number of reasons and considering the man had no way of knowing he was being pursued, he could be feeling confident enough to drop anchor. There was only one way to find out.

Feeling as though luck had just shifted in his favor, Roche called out the orders and adjustments were made.

With anticipation beginning to course through his veins, Roche licked his lips and directed his ship toward the fire on the distant shore.

*

He awoke as
men were wont to do, whether there was a beautiful woman lying next to them or not. In Cale’s circumstances, not only was Grace beside him, she was very nearly in his lap. Her back against his chest, her hair tickling his chin, her buttocks nestled temptingly on his thighs. Yet it wasn’t his arousal holding his attention—at least not all of it.

His hand lay over her belly. Though there was no evidence a child lay beneath his palm, he swore he felt it. From his fingertips to his heart. He remembered how often he’d touched Catherine’s belly, how he’d marveled at the life growing within her. A life they’d created together.

This wasn’t Catherine and it wasn’t Caden. Perhaps in the first years after he’d lost them, he’d have closed his eyes and pretended it was Catherine in his arms, and the life growing beneath his hand was Caden. But Catherine was gone and last night, after he’d told Grace of the tragedy, he’d allowed himself to grieve. Allowed himself the possibility of letting go.

He wasn’t convinced he was the man Grace thought him to be, but neither could he keep pretending he was Steele.

Grace wasn’t his wife, her child wasn’t his and yet, in his arms, with her child growing beneath his hand, he couldn’t deny the keen yearning filling him. He wasn’t sure he could risk loving so deeply again. But neither did he believe he could simply drop Grace off in Santo Domingo and wish her the best while he sailed away. Perhaps he could have yesterday. Yet he knew as sure as dawn’s pale light crept into the cabin he couldn’t now. Where did that leave him? Where did that leave them?

Despite his worrisome thoughts, he smiled. If Grace knew he was thinking such things her eyes would shoot daggers and her back would snap straight as a mast. She’d blister him with her temper and remind him, in the most colorful of words, just what she thought of his ideas. Grinning, he cuddled closer.