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  “What was that?”

  “She said there can be no friendship between a wolf and a goat. Back home, I used to run with a rough crowd. That changed when I met Teach.”

  “Are you saying you’ve always been the goat?” Anne asked.

  John sat up straight. “Of course not. I’m the good-looking one, so naturally, I’ve always been the wolf.”

  Anne smiled.

  For a while, they sat in companionable silence. How Anne wished things were different. If only they’d been able to carry out their plans and leave on Alastair’s ship. They could have rendezvoused by now with Cara and the others. Anne sincerely hoped she could introduce John to Cara in the not so distant future. She could imagine the two of them getting on quite well.

  But Cara and Coyle were stuck back in Nassau. With Webb. Beth was dead because of Webb’s wife. And because of the governor, Teach was now in pursuit of a pirate. How Anne hated the governor and his wife. She longed for the day they’d be free of the Webbs’ influence.

  “What do you think will happen when we catch Easton?” Anne asked.

  “I don’t know. Take him back to Nassau, I suppose, just like Webb wants us to. The rest of the men from the Deliverance are still locked up.”

  Although he hadn’t said much to Anne, she knew it weighed heavily on Teach. “And then?”

  John met Anne’s eyes, his expression somber. They both knew the Deliverance itself wouldn’t be a viable escape for them when they returned to Nassau. It required far too many repairs. “Let’s worry about catching ourselves a pirate first. The rest will come to us as we go along.”

  “Webb is a powerful man. Look how many lives he’s ruined. And will continue to ruin. Someone has to stop him.”

  “What are you thinking of doing?” John asked, his voice wary.

  “Nothing,” Anne said as she picked up the pistol by her side.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “John, would you do me a favor?”

  “That depends what it is.”

  A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. He sounded so suspicious. “Can you please bring some extra powder and balls so I can practice loading my pistols?”

  His answer was swift. “Teach wouldn’t like it.”

  “Again, Teach is not in charge of me. I’m asking you as my friend.”

  “Wolf,” John muttered under his breath.

  “I know you don’t want me to refer to you as a goat. I simply wish to be prepared.”

  John raised an eyebrow at her. “Prepared for what?”

  How could Anne make John understand the fear and vulnerability she felt simply because of the color of her skin and because of her gender? “I want to protect myself.”

  “By learning how to shoot?”

  “Not just shoot. I already know how to do that. I want to be able to shoot first.”

  “And you wish to shoot Webb, is that right? You’re mad.”

  Anne’s smiled. “To begin something without fear is the same as victory.”

  “That may be, but my ma always said to retreat before an inevitable defeat is not cowardice.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her advice.”

  “I didn’t always. But I do love her something fierce. I think Marian would like you,” John said, his expression softening.

  “Is that her name?”

  “Aye.”

  “It’s lovely. And I’m sure I’d like her. She raised a fine son. One who doesn’t turn from his friends when they’re in need.”

  John whistled under his breath. “You’re a cold one, Anne Barrett. I’ll have to warn Teach about you.”

  “So you’ll do it? You’ll bring me the powder and balls?”

  “Wait here.” And with that, John stood and exited the room.

  CHAPTER 26

  Teach

  The dappled gray skies signaled an approaching gale. The wind buffeted his hair and shirt, and Teach braced himself, the spray from the ocean dampening his face and cheeks. He had a feel for the sea and its moods and he could tell that the approaching storm was a big one, bigger than some of his men had most likely seen.

  “Reef the sails,” Teach called out.

  Kitts was by Teach’s side in an instant. “Sir, isn’t it too soon? We need to reach the next cay before the storm hits. Perhaps we should wait.”

  By now, Teach was used to Kitts questioning his every move, but it still grated on his nerves. “If we don’t reef now, it will be too late.” A significant gust could easily capsize the ship, especially if it heeled over from the wind.

  “But, sir,” Kitts continued, walking with Teach as he strode across the slick deck. “The ship will be more protected in the cay—”

  Teach rounded on Kitts, his muscles clenched. “A storm is even more dangerous in shallow waters. Waves become steeper and are more likely to break. We have a better chance by riding it out where we are. Now stop questioning me and do as you’re told.”

  Kitts’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “Aye, Captain,” he snapped.

  “Drop the anchor and heave to!” Teach shouted, continuing across the deck as the crew of the Triumph raced to carry out his orders. It was imperative that they turn, with the helm locked into position and the jib backwinded, so the ship could slowly jog along without turning broadside to the waves.

  Anne. He needed to warn her. He hadn’t spent nearly as much time with her as he’d wanted, and she would provide him with a little peace before the storm.

  Bracing himself against the railing, Teach descended the stairs, bumping into the wall as the ship rose on a large swell. Opening the door to the captain’s cabin, he stopped, experiencing a sharp pang at the sight before him. John and Anne stood at the window looking out at the rolling waves. John’s arm was around Anne’s waist, lending her support. She’d changed into another one of Teach’s shirts. The collar was large, exposing one of Anne’s slender shoulders, but the back hadn’t been removed. Neither of them had heard his approach.

  Teach shut the door with a little more force than necessary. Anne jumped. John’s head whipped around. “It’s getting bad out there,” John said. “We’re in for a rough night.”

  “You shouldn’t be up. Do you want to rip the stitches?” Teach asked Anne. He ignored John, not liking the poisonous resentment he felt toward his friend at the moment. It wasn’t as if John had strong feelings for Anne. Unlike Coyle.

  Anne’s mouth tightened. “My stitches are fine.”

  It had been five days since Teach first sewed Anne up. By now her wounds had scabbed over. It was a good sign that she was mobile, but it wouldn’t do to rush her healing. It would be at least another week before the stitches could be removed.

  He knew she hated being stuck in the cabin, but they had no other choice. Giving the room a quick sweep, he noticed that the hammock had been removed from the table. “That is the only thing that will keep you safe.” He grabbed the hammock and proceeded to hang it near the armoire in the room.

  “I’m aware of that, but I wanted to take a look before it got too bad out there.”

  “John’s needed on deck. Now.”

  The hint of a smile touched John’s lips. “Aye, Captain.” Turning to Anne, he gave her arm a squeeze. “I’ll be back later.”

  “No you won’t.”

  Both Anne and John raised a brow at Teach. Feeling like a fool, he returned their gazes. It had been Teach’s idea to have John keep Anne company while Teach was on deck. Technically, Teach didn’t have to perform any manual duties, but he’d found it the best way to gain his men’s trust. He wouldn’t ask them to do anything that he himself wasn’t prepared to do.

  This was the first time that Teach felt torn between the two things he loved most. If he devoted his time to captaining the ship, he neglected Anne. But if he devoted all his time to Anne, he neglected the ship and her crew. He felt much like the Triumph as it prepared to meet the coming storm: unsure of which way to go as the two greatest things in his life warred
with each other.

  “I’ll see you later, John,” Anne said pointedly.

  John left, slanting a grin at Teach before closing the door.

  “What was that about?” Anne asked, gripping the table to keep her balance.

  “It’s time for him to return to his duties. The entire crew will have to work through the night if we hope to weather this storm.”

  “Did you have to be so short with him?”

  Teach shrugged, reaching up to ease the cramp of tension at the back of his neck. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Anne held his gaze as she moved toward him. Placing a hand on his chest, she pulled his head down for a kiss. He dropped his hands to her waist, worried he’d undo the very stitches he’d made a fool of himself to keep intact. He had to remind himself that she was still injured, even though she wasn’t making it easy for him.

  “There’s no reason for you to be jealous,” Anne whispered in between kisses.

  “I’m not.”

  He felt Anne smile against his lips. “Good. And there’s no reason for you to be worried about my stitches. I’ll be careful.”

  The ship listed beneath their feet, pushing them closer together. This was not being careful. The storm. The crew. It was time for Teach to leave. Drawing back, he motioned to the hammock swinging behind her. With a sigh, Anne let him clasp her beneath the knees. She kept her back straight as he lifted and then lowered her into the hammock. The sides came up and instantly cocooned her within. Leaning over, he gave her another kiss on the lips. Every touch between them was like a stamp on his soul.

  “Stay here.”

  Anne shook her head at him. “I’ve been on a ship before, remember? And we weathered many a storm.”

  Teach debated telling her about the extent of the approaching squall. He didn’t want to worry her needlessly, but she should be prepared. “Stay here unless I come for you.”

  Some of his concern must have shown on his face, because her brows furrowed. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “We’ll get through it.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  • • •

  By four bells, the men of the Triumph were soaking wet and exhausted. All hands were on deck and had been for the past hour. There was no sign of the storm lessening. Rain lashed at them like needles, and the drop in temperature caused their limbs to shake and their teeth to chatter.

  The bare poles overhead swayed, their canvas tightly rolled to protect the sails from the wind. The occasional flash of lightning lit up the night sky, and the thunder in the distance bellowed its response.

  “Teach!” Bent over at the waist and with his stance wide, John attempted to approach Teach, but the wind and lurching deck beneath his feet made it difficult. “We saw a light in the distance.”

  Teach wiped the rain from his eyes. “It could have been lightning.”

  “It was steady.”

  Before Teach could answer, a wave rolled over the deck, sweeping his feet away. The deck slammed upward, smashing into his back. A pained grunt escaped his lungs, but he couldn’t hear it over the roar of the water in his ears.

  “John!” he shouted, flailing for something, anything. But the sea was the master, dragging its wayward servant into its eternal prison.

  One boot smashed into the railing, sending a bolt of pain clear up to his hip. It hurt like the devil’s hottest poker, but he scrabbled for a handhold. Suddenly he found it, a bit of wood. One hand stable, then the other.

  “Teach!”

  The voice came from Teach’s left, and he turned toward it, still blinded by the salty spray.

  John gave a watery cough, and shouted for his friend once more.

  Releasing his grip on the railing, Teach lunged toward the sound. For a moment, his surroundings receded, his entire attention focused on John. As Teach neared, the whites of John’s eyes were all Teach could see as John tried to find some purchase on the deck. The waves bashed relentlessly onto the sides of the Triumph. If any other men noticed or attempted to help, Teach couldn’t tell. Perhaps they were battling to save their own lives.

  Just when it appeared that John would be swept overboard, Teach grabbed his friend by the arm, his fingers digging desperately into John’s flesh. Teach was quickly followed by more members of the crew. They heaved and pulled John and Teach to the center of the ship. With a mighty tug, the two collapsed onto the deck, struggling to regain their breath, wet hair hanging in their eyes.

  “I guess this means you’re no longer mad at me,” John yelled at length, his voice carrying over the strength of the wind.

  Teach gave a shout of laughter. “No, John. I’m not mad at you.”

  Drawing a deep breath, John smiled. “Good. Because you’re a fool if you think she’d care for anyone the same way she cares for you.”

  Getting to his knees, Teach grimaced as he held out a hand to John. Teach was a fool. But when it came to Anne, he couldn’t seem to control his reactions.

  They both struggled to their feet.

  “Come. I think you deserve a break.”

  John shook his head. “No. I saw a light.”

  If it had been anyone else, Teach would have questioned their eyesight. But John was an experienced sailor and wouldn’t make such claims if he wasn’t sure. “You think it was Easton,” Teach said.

  “Aye, I do.”

  A part of Teach wanted to find Easton immediately. The sooner they found the pirate, the sooner they could return to Nassau and free the others. But another part of him dreaded the upcoming confrontation. If the rumors about the pirate were true, Teach feared that not all of his men would survive the encounter.

  CHAPTER 27

  Anne

  Anne stood at the windows, steadying herself against the pitching of the ship as she watched the endless procession of waves threatening to capsize the Triumph. It was just before dawn, and the sky outside was gray. The rain came down in horizontal sheets, and the wind screamed, drowning out any sound of the men’s shouts on deck. She was actually grateful to be in the shelter of the cabin, and hoped that the rest of the crew would be protected against the storm. It appeared to be abating. Somewhat. Of course, it hadn’t completely passed.

  The hull creaked ominously and Anne moved once again toward the safety of the hammock. Wondering what time it was, she reached for the watch in her pocket, but a sudden shift in the floor sent her sprawling. Her arms flew out as she tried to catch herself, popping a few of the stitches in her back. The watch sailed across the room, and landed near the armoire in the corner.

  Grimacing against the pain, Anne went to retrieve her timepiece. She had just picked it up and was checking the glass when the door to the cabin began to open. Conditioned to duck out of sight, she automatically crouched down, praying it was Teach. But as the door swung shut, any words she might have uttered died on her lips when she saw that it wasn’t Teach. Or John or even Benjamin.

  The man before her was a stranger. He was sopping wet and had a large dirk slung across his back, sheathed in a baldric. His hair was gathered in a queue at the nape of his neck. It was too dim in the cabin for her to make out the exact color. It could have been dark brown or perhaps even black. She couldn’t see his face, but he was broad shouldered and stout, much like John.

  Anne’s breath caught in her throat and she went still and cold. Her eyes found her revolvers, tucked neatly into the baldric lying beside the solitary chair in the room. Blast! There was no way for her to retrieve them without him noticing. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to retrieve them.

  All she knew was that whoever this person was, he wasn’t supposed to be here. Apprehensive, she watched and waited as he looked from side to side before he moved toward the desk, his gait unsteady with the tossing of the ship.

  Feeling a trickle down her back, Anne wasn’t sure if it was blood or sweat. What would happen if he saw her? Deciding she didn’t want to find out, she searched desperately for someth
ing to hide behind, but aside from the armoire and the desk, the only other object in the room was a long crate behind the door. Anne crept toward the crate. It slid back and forth, back and forth, as the Triumph listed with every wave.

  He searched through every drawer, tossing maps and scattering papers across the floor. As far as Anne knew, there was nothing of value on board.

  When he was done at the desk, he turned to the armoire, pushing the hammock out of the way before continuing his search.

  Anne crouched low behind the crate, grateful for the gloom of the cabin and the howling of the wind. The storm outside cloaked her in darkness. But the storm seemed the exact reason he was here. While the rest of the men were up on deck, trying to prevent the ship from sinking, he was free to search the room. But for what, exactly?

  Cursing, he spun, taking in the rest of the furniture. His eyes fell on the glint of the pistols. Anne tensed in anticipation. Her small movement must have caught his attention, as ever so slightly, he turned his head and looked directly at her. Their gazes locked and the two froze, glued to each other’s stares. She didn’t know if he could tell that she was female. Her hair was caught back in a braid and she still wore breeches and Teach’s shirt. Nonetheless, the man’s jaw dropped and he looked as startled as she felt.

  Something in his posture announced his intentions a second before he moved. Anne lunged for the pistols, the motion of the ship launching her just as he slammed into the wall.

  Clutching the weapon with two hands, she pointed it at him. A poisonous alarm crept through her, and her finger touched the trigger. What would he have done if he’d reached the weapons first?

  She’d never find out. With one last look in her direction and a chilling smile, he rushed toward the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Anne tried to catch her breath. Shaking, she pulled herself up by the desk and made her way to the hammock, clambering into it, and lying with her feet toward the door. She’d forgotten all about her stitches and cringed as her bloody back contacted the canvas.