“Because he cares about you.”
Nick was silent for a long moment. “I know.”
Despite what she’d said, Ashley didn’t know Nick’s brother, the marquess. Not really. On the road to Gretna Green, she’d seen a darkness in Lord Blackthorne, the same blackness she occasionally saw in Nicholas. Something troubled the brothers, and now that she knew of their mother’s fate, she understood. In other ways, the two men were not so very different as Nick seemed to think. Nick did his own share of scowling and bellowing orders. And Nick had his own demons. He could not seem to move past the death of his mother or his friend. He could not see that his daughter and his wife were more important than revenge.
Or perhaps his wife was not more important. But if that was the case, why was he here? Why was he telling her about Ralph?
“I saw the papers and the medals in the trunk,” she said, pushing up to her elbows and sitting. “I know you were decorated for your service.”
“Those commendations weren’t my fault,” he argued.
She laughed. “Deny it, but you have more honor in your big toe than most men have in their entire body.”
“All of the sun on Isla de las Riquezas has obviously boiled your brain.”
She had been so wrong about him. For so long she’d hated him because she thought he saw her deformity and rejected her for it. In truth, he had worshipped her body in spite of it. He’d rejected her to keep her safe, even though she continually found ways to put herself in danger again—first, by accompanying Maddie on that ill-fated elopement; and now by stowing away on his ship.
“I don’t deserve any medals or commendations. Ralph is dead because of me,” he said.
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true. It was my error that led to his death.” His voice sounded so anguished, so pained. She reached out and took his hand in hers. Surprisingly, it was cold and if she was not mistaken, it shook slightly.
“Tell me,” she said.
“Haven’t I bared my soul enough?”
She squeezed his hand. “I bared mine—well, my leg anyway.”
“True enough.” He raised their joined hands to her cheek and caressed it, a subtle way to let her know he still thought her beautiful. She wanted to kiss him then, to draw him down and feel his solid weight on top of her. Instead, she pushed her desires and impulses down—not an easy feat—and waited. After a brief silence, he spoke. “I had the watch, but I’d somehow managed to pilfer a jug of rum and had overindulged. I managed to stay awake by some miracle, but I was not keeping an eye on the men. I think I’d probably shared some of my rum.” He released her hand and dropped his head into his hands. “They were sleeping, and by the time one of them roused enough and took a look, Yussef was all but upon us. We sounded the alarm, but the men hardly had time to reach their stations before The Snake fired.”
“Nick.” She wanted to hold him, but his head was down, and he seemed so distant from her.
“I was foxed and doing my best to relay the captain’s orders. We limped away from that battle, but not without casualties. I take responsibility for every single one.” He looked up. “You’ll want to change your opinion about my honor now.”
“I might except for the fact that the navy doesn’t hold you accountable.”
“The navy has its head up—”
“There must have been other circumstances.”
He mumbled something, and she leaned forward. “Pardon?”
“Fog. The other men on the watch argued they couldn’t have seen Yussef at any rate because of the fog.”
“Was there fog?”
“I’ll be damned if I can remember. Even if there had been fog, I should have seen The Snake sooner.”
“The documents said you saved lives, that you showed unparalleled bravery.”
He waved her words away. “It was too little too late. Yussef sailed away unscathed and innocent men—men who’d relied on me—were dead.”
“Ralph was dead.”
He raised his head and looked directly at her. It was dark in the cabin, but she saw the anguish in his features. She wished she hadn’t spoken, but she needed to hear what he would say. She needed to hear all of it. “I killed him.”
“Yussef killed him.”
