“Ash—”
She held up a hand, silencing him. He was tempted to grab it and shove it back to her side. “And if you attempt to escort me back to the cabin before I’m ready, I’ll make a scene the likes of which your men are unlikely to soon forget.” Her sea-green eyes flashed anger at him, making them look even more vibrant than usual. She was striking with his black hat and her pale skin and hair and those unusual eyes. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—and he had seen a lot of beautiful women—but he would not be swayed by her charms. He was not one of her legion of admirers.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You think I am afraid of a little girl’s scene? Do you know what I have out there?” He pointed starboard toward the spot where he’d seen the shop through the spyglass. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye, not yet, but it soon would be if the wind stayed with them.
She followed his finger. “Water?”
“Another ship. Possibly a pirate ship. Possibly a ship-of-the-line. If we are lucky, it’s a merchant ship.”
“Why, because then you can plunder them?”
He took her arm and leaned close. “Because then they will steer clear of us, and I won’t have to blow them to splinters. I’m not interested in plunder at the moment. I’m interested in reaching my destination. Quickly.”
“I’m not interfering.”
“You are distracting my men.” As if to make his point, Mr. Johnson strolled by and grinned.
“Argh!” he said before clambering up the rigging.
She gave Johnson a wary look then turned to Nick, smiling. She was stunning when she smiled. He almost couldn’t breathe because of the ache in his chest when she smiled like that. “If I’m distracting them, it’s not intentional.”
“I’ll remind you of that when we’re floating among the wreckage, waiting for the sharks to sniff us.” He almost regretted the words because her smile faltered, and she peered out at the horizon again. He knew she couldn’t yet see the ship. The threat must have seemed trivial to her until now.
“If you really think I should go below—”
“No,” he interrupted. His answer was against his better judgment. He should send her below. He wanted her out of the way so he could concentrate on the danger at hand, but a part of him wanted her near. A part of him wanted to see her smile again. He signaled to Chante, and his quartermaster nodded, moving toward the poop deck. Nick had a competent crew—hell, they were better than competent. They were the best he’d ever served with. He could trust them to monitor the situation for a quarter of an hour. Even moving at the rate it was, it would be several hours before the ship reached them. “Mr. Chante will keep an eye on things. Would you like me to show you around the Robin Hood?”
“I thought Mr. Fellowes claimed that task.”
“I relieved him.” He held out an arm. She looked at it, raised a brow, and turned back toward the ocean. He supposed he deserved that. Perhaps he should start another way. “Have you been on a ship before?”
“On the Thames,” she said.
“A pleasure cruise?” he asked. She nodded. In Nick’s opinion, that sort of vessel was more accurately termed a boat, but he let it pass. “The front of the ship is termed the bow, and the rear the stern.” He escorted her toward the bow, pointing out various objects of interest. At least he found them interesting. He realized he’d been speaking for some time, and she hadn’t made any sort of response, and he peered at her face to catch a glimpse of her expression. It was difficult to see her face when she wore his hat. That was his favorite hat, too, and he had to stop himself from telling her to be careful with it. He didn’t want a gust of wind blowing it overboard.
After a moment of silence, she tilted her face up to his, and he saw expectation in her expression. “Go on,” she said.
“I was afraid you might find all of this tedious.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I didn’t realize you knew so much about the ships and the sea.”
“I sailed in His Majesty’s Navy for years before we met.”
Her honey-blond brows rose. “I never knew.”
“We did not actually converse a great deal during our former acquaintance,” he said. Her eyes flashed the color of the sea before a storm.
“A mistake I promise you I will not repeat.”
“Ashley.” He put a hand on her arm, and she shook it off. He noted one or two of his men turned to glance at them—those who weren’t watching them outright already—and he cleared his throat. Had he really thought now the time to apologize to her? To speak to her of the past? She did not want his apology anyway. He stepped back and spread his hands. “A wise decision.”
He flicked his gaze to Mr. Chante and noted the grim set of his quartermaster’s jaw. “I do think it time you returned to our cabin,” he said. “I’ll have Mr. Fellowes escort you.”
Fellowes was beside them in an instant, corroborating Nick’s feeling that all eyes were on them. He would have preferred to wrap Ashley in a sheet and hide her in his wardrobe until they returned to England. He didn’t want his men’s hungry eyes on her. Not that he worried any of his men would touch her. They wouldn’t even speak to her without his consent. She was safer on this pirate ship than in any ballroom in London.
Except, of course, she would not be blown to splinters in a ballroom in London. He wasn’t going to allow any of them to suffer that fate—at least not today, he thought as he made his way to the poop deck. But every pirate knew his day would come. Fate was a fickle creature indeed. She’d favored him so far, but one of these days the wind or the waves would be against him, and the briny deep would welcome him and the Robin Hood to a watery grave. Nick could only hope his luck held until he’d had his revenge on Yussef. He could only hope he might deposit Ashley back on land, find her a little cottage by the sea where she’d be safe from Barbary pirates and the gossips of the ton.
“What’s so funny, Cap’n?” Chante asked.
