On These Black Sands, page 28
Regardless of the cause, she was happy to see his moodiness dissipating, even if she knew it would only be temporary.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She flashed him her best attempt at a coy smile, but she had no idea if she was pulling it off or not.
“Of course not, Aoife. Then I’d have to carry you back to bed.”
The image his words conjured up had her head swimming, and her face warmed with a flush of embarrassment. She hoped it was too dark for him to notice, but then she could always blame the rum for the heat in her cheeks.
She handed her empty mug to him with a nod and said, “You’re the captain. You could have one of your men do it for you.”
“Certain tasks should never be delegated. Carrying women to one’s bed especially.” He snagged her mug and held it up without taking his eyes from her. Tommy was there in a heartbeat to refill it for his captain.
No word of thanks from Declan. No words at all actually, and Tommy was gone again.
Aoife was trapped in Declan’s gray eyes as she took her mug back from him, unable to turn away despite the discomfort of being stared at. What was he seeing in her? She couldn’t look away, as if there were some tether holding her in place.
It was Declan who broke first, blinking a few times before turning back to watch his men dance around the deck and sing loudly to the beat of the music. They didn’t have proper instruments and were instead beating their hands on barrels and stomping their feet on the deck. The deep richness of their voices mixed in perfectly. Aoife had never heard anything so lovely and enchanting.
She couldn’t keep her shoulders from bobbing to the beat, and she let her eyes slide closed as she took another sip. Her mind wanted to take her back to those moments during which she and Lani had danced around her room to no music at all, and she found it difficult to keep the memories at bay. Lani would have loved this. She would have been grabbing each young crew member, insisting they dance with her under the stars while the sea moved the ship as if it, too, were in on the dancing.
Tears pooled in her closed eyes, and she hoped they wouldn’t spill over, but just like her memories, they wouldn’t be deterred. A single drop escaped. Then another. She hated this. Hated crying in general, but especially in front of others. In front of him.
A hand brushed her cheek. Her eyes flashed open and caught his gaze again. His hand hovered between them.
“I’m sorry.” His voice came out in a low and gravelly whisper. He cleared his throat before adding, “For everything you’ve been through this past week. I’m sorry.”
She hunted for any sign that he was teasing or mocking her, but there was only genuine sympathy and care written on his face. It was such an extreme change, so drastic a shift from her earlier encounters with him that she felt bewildered.
“Are we becoming friends?”
Clearing his throat again, he gave her the slightest of nods. “Perhaps we are.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“And you can call me Declan.”
She looked around and leaned in to whisper behind her mug. “But what would the crew think if they heard that?”
A small huff of laughter escaped as he lifted his shoulder. “Well, only when we’re alone then.”
“So when we’re alone, you’ll smile. And I’ll call you Declan.” Another nod. “How scandalous, Captain.”
“You’re a goofy drunk, you know that?”
“Who said I was drunk?”
“So you’re just goofy then.”
“Only with my friends.” She bumped her shoulder against his and shot him a smile. She expected him to smile back, but he didn’t. A flash of something else washed over him. Something she couldn’t quite place. Was he that uncomfortable being her friend? Before she could mull it over too much, the look was gone, and he was downing his own rum and standing.
He looked down at her, and part of her wished he’d reach out a hand, invite her to dance. That was foolishness though.
“I’d better go mingle with the crew a bit. Are you okay here?”
A few quick nods told him she was fine.
“Don’t have too much.”
“Of course. I’d hate for you to have to carry me to your bed.” Our bed. She shoved that thought aside as he walked away without another word.
Were they becoming friends? She wondered if it was okay to believe that were true. She’d wanted a friend. Someone to truly talk to. But she still worried it was all a ploy, a ruse. A way to keep an eye on her until she could help him rescue the fae. Would he ditch her then? Would she be left to fend for herself in some other port or in some other land?
Those thoughts were too much for what should have been a fun evening, so she forced them into a far corner of her mind and tried to watch the crew as they beamed at their captain and clapped him on the back. Tomorrow they’d be arriving in Morshan again. Tomorrow she’d be helping him with the final preparations for the rescue.
But tonight? She’d drink.
She beckoned Tommy over for another fill, and he obliged.
“Last one. Captain’s orders,” he said with a wink. He nearly walked away, but something in her expression must have caught him off guard, because he stopped and knelt in front of her, a hand on her knee and worry tugging at his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Her gaze flashed to where Declan stood by the deck’s railing talking to a couple of the new crew members, and Tommy’s eyes followed.
A sigh filled the space between them. “Be patient with him, Aoife.” She started to ask him what he was talking about, but he cut her off. “He’s lost a lot. Been battling himself and his mistakes for as long as I can remember. But I’m glad he has you.”
“Friends are a blessing, to be sure.”
“Aye. Friends. It’s what he needs right now, I think.” And with a pat of his hand on her leg, he was standing and walking away.
35
Aoife
Aoife couldn’t remember much the next morning. Tommy had effectively cut her off per Declan’s orders, and yet the three mugs she’d enjoyed eventually caught up to her.
Her head ached, and this was made worse by the gentle swaying of the ship. Still, it wasn’t as bad as the time she and Lani had sneaked a bottle of wine after dinner one night and downed the entire thing together in Lani’s room. They had managed to avoid their mothers’ wrath by hiding all evidence in the kitchen waste bin, but they’d both had to claim food poisoning the next morning to get out of their lessons.
No, this wasn’t as bad. And yet it was worse.
No matter how hard she tried, her memories of the evening remained dim, as if she were trying to view them through the rum she’d consumed. It was as though she was still swimming in the drink, unable to get her mind to the surface to think clearly.
“Good morning.”
Declan.
She cringed as each syllable pressed against her aching mind. Some part of her urged her to make a smart remark, but she could only manage a shush through her teeth.
He laughed, sending new waves of pain through her head.
“I told Tommy not to let you have too much.”
She didn’t dare move as she opened her eyes. At least her vision seemed to be clearer than her mind, and she tried to focus on the knots and swirls of the wooden ceiling above her. Drawing in a deep breath didn’t do much to clear the fog.
He chuckled beside her again, and from her periphery she could see he was lying on his side atop the blanket, propped up on an elbow as he stared.
At least he was clothed. Mostly. She had to work to keep her eyes from drifting noticeably down to his bare chest.
She realized she still hadn’t said anything to him, but she couldn’t quite figure out how to get her tongue and teeth and breath to cooperate.
“Did you have fun at least?”
She managed to turn her head, wincing again at the stab of pain the movement caused. “I think so?” She tried not to cringe at how horribly pathetic she sounded.
“You seemed to, from what I can remember seeing.”
“What? What did I do?” Her eyes went wide as her brain continued to refuse to recall any memory of what she’d done.
“You don’t remember dancing with Tommy? You both nearly fell overboard at one point.”
The memories started to come back little by little. Dim images of twirling and spinning. The faint sound of her giggles and Tommy’s laughter mixing with the unceasing beat and songs of the crew.
Her cheeks warmed. Had Tommy wanted to dance with her, or had she forced him to? Had she looked as much the bumbling fool as she felt while replaying the night in her head?
Another wince and cringe had Declan breathing out a silent laugh.
“Don’t worry, Aoife. The crew will probably stop talking about it by the time we leave Morshan again.”
She maneuvered to her side, ignoring the way the movement sent her head swimming again, and looked at him. “It was that bad?” She raced through all the possible embarrassing scenarios she could think of. Oh, she hoped she hadn’t done anything too ridiculous. It had only been three mugs. How full had they been? She didn’t think it had been that much. But now, as she pushed her mind to work, harder than it desired in this moment, the embarrassment settled inside her as heavy as the rum had.
She was going to be sick.
She forced the bile down, not wanting to lose her stomach contents in front of him.
“Honestly?” He lifted his brow, and she waited for his sharp teasing, but she didn’t see any hint of ridicule in his eyes. “You were fine, Aoife. A perfectly respectable lady.”
“But I almost fell overboard.” Her expression twisted with the embarrassment.
“So did half the crew. They were much further gone in the rum than you. It’s going to delay us a bit getting into Morshan today, but—”
“Won’t that ruin all your plans?”
“Not all of them. And to be honest, I’m thankful Tommy and Gavin arranged the festivities. The crew needed it. I needed it.”
“Wait. What happened?”
He shot her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“Where did the Captain Mc—I mean, Declan—I know wander off to? He wouldn’t have been so nonchalant about a delay or anything upsetting his precious timeline.”
He sat up fully then and roughed his hands over his face, the stubble on his jaw looking extra scruffy and appealing. Were such thoughts acceptable among friends? She wasn’t sure.
He turned to her again, his arm now resting on his bent knee. She forced herself to keep her eyes on his face and not his bare chest and the scars that peppered his tan skin. Ignored the way her mind pondered what that chest might feel like.
“I suppose seeing you being dragged across the sand in Foxhaven forced me to get things in perspective.”
“But you’re a pirate. And one with quite the reputation, so I hear.”
“A reputation I worked hard to achieve. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart.”
“I don’t understand. Doesn’t time still tick by? Don’t you still have a deadline to meet?”
“Aye. But perhaps I came to realize if we don’t enjoy ourselves a bit, if we don’t keep our mind focused on the good things we have—or could have—then what is the point? Is success worth losing sight of everything worth living for?”
She mulled over his words and bit her lip as if chewing on what he’d just said. “Are you saying I’m a good thing you have?” Or could have, she added to herself. Her face warmed again at that thought, and thankfully he looked away without seeming to notice.
For a moment she thought she saw the more vulnerable side of him peeking out from behind the tough shell he had created. But his eyes hardened and his lips stiffened as he slid his mask back into place and faced her. “Perhaps. Though that depends on what happens at the council hall in a couple days.”
“So our friendship is completely riding on my successfully helping you; is that it?”
She had meant it to be teasing, but her rum-addled brain couldn’t keep the bitterness from soaking into her words.
He didn’t seem to have an answer, and before she could push him further, he was moving, swinging his legs off the bed and walking away.
36
Declan
Declan made his way across his quarters toward breakfast, painfully aware that he’d left Aoife’s question hanging in the air unanswered.
He’d spent all evening watching her dance and laugh on the deck with Tommy, pondering how a friendship with her might work. He was still at a loss.
And here she was asking if their relationship would end if she failed at the council hall. How could it end if he wasn’t even sure it had begun? Yet he had the sinking suspicion it had begun against his will.
Something in him had snapped when he took that pirate’s head and freed her, creating a connection, a link between the two of them. Whether it was friendship or not, he didn’t know, but a life without her around? Unacceptable.
Despite this, though, he had no idea how to be her friend.
She wasn’t like Tommy or Gavin or anyone in his crew. And she certainly wasn’t like any of the other women he’d occasionally entertained himself with over the years.
But he couldn’t admit to her that he didn’t know how this would work. Nor could he silence the nagging in his gut that urged him to see the other options.
He’d been unable to completely hold back the memories of his parents. Ever since he’d rescued her, they’d plagued him, unwilling to stay locked away no matter how many times he shoved them aside. The way they’d always talked and shared everything. The tender kisses he’d witnessed and the silent glances that had passed between them. The gentle strokes of fingers as they worked together or the little touches whenever they crossed paths.
They’d had friendship and romance, perfectly balanced and intertwined.
Until the end. And his father had run out the door that night without hesitation.
These images didn’t merely haunt Declan, they were changing him. He’d spent so many years ignoring them, pushing people away and keeping everyone outside the wall he’d constructed.
And now that wall was crumbling down as the memories pushed against it.
Friendship. Romance. He welcomed the first, but the latter seemed impossible. Not something destined for someone like him.
Pirates didn’t fall in love, didn’t raise families, didn’t tie themselves to anything but the sea and the hunt.
“Did you get lost?” Aoife called from the bedroom. At least she didn’t sound quite so pained now.
He didn’t bother looking toward where she still sat on the bed, instead calling over his shoulder, “Would you like some breakfast?”
“I’m not sure I can stomach anything yet.”
He picked up a tin plate and piled an assortment of items they’d stocked up on in Foxhaven onto it. A banana. A roll. Some hard cheese. No pie though. He’d missed out on the slices Lucy had set aside for him, as he had run out to save Aoife.
She’d better be worth it.
He carried the plate back into the bedroom, setting it down before her.
Aoife had managed to sit up. With her slender legs crisscrossed before her, she eyed the food he’d presented before picking up the roll and tearing small bits off, testing each morsel before selecting another.
Even with her hair a choppy mess—the ends pointing out in all directions, some strands sticking up in the back where they’d gotten stuck in place as she slept—sands, she was adorable.
Thoughts warred inside him. Tommy had insisted they needed each other, and Declan had resisted. At least outwardly. But he’d been considering the same thing before Tommy ever uttered the words. And it was more than just practicality. Yes, he needed her help to rescue the fae, and she very plainly needed him to keep her from being whisked back to the council.
But he’d seen something spark in her last night. Even before any drop of rum had passed her lips. He’d seen it in her glances and in the slight turning down of her lips when he’d kept some distance between them while sitting.
It had been brief. So brief he’d been sure he imagined it.
Had she felt the tether that had formed between them after Foxhaven? Or was it only on his end, born out of his innate need to protect those around him—a need he’d spent years refusing to accept? Yet he couldn’t quite figure out what that connection meant for them. Would he turn her down if she pursued a romance?
In this moment, as the sun shone on her sleep-mussed hair and her freckles stood out more pronounced across the bridge of her nose, he wasn’t so sure. But she’d never seemed interested in him in that way, and she was the one who had suggested friendship.
So friendship was what he’d settle for. That was the easier option anyway.
“What are you thinking?” Her question startled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed her look up at him, and he had to blink a few times to clear his mind from all he’d been pondering.
He needed a lie, but one eluded him at the moment, and his brain sent out the first words he could muster. “How to be friends with you, actually.”
Aoife’s laugh split the air, short and sweet, and he found he thoroughly enjoyed it. “Is it that hard to do?” She went back to studying the bread she held, then muttered, “Friendship shouldn’t be hard.”
If she only knew.
But she had a point, didn’t she? Friendship should be easy. Like with Tommy. Why did he want to control it, as if it were a ship to be captained?
Maybe it would be better if he let it ride the waves on its own, let it develop naturally, without force or planning.
