On These Black Sands, page 33
At least that’s what Cait needed to believe.
“So, Aoife. How has life on a pirate ship treated you?” She tried to give her as warm a smile as she could muster, but she didn’t know how well she pulled it off given all the doubts and worry that wouldn’t quite dissolve.
Aoife seemed to startle, her eyes blinking below her scrunched brow, as if she couldn’t fathom why Cait would bother talking to her.
“The food could be better, but the company—” Her words cut off, and she looked to Declan, seemingly out of habit.
The warming feelings are mutual then.
Cait’s eyes narrowed with this suspicion, but she recovered quickly, hoping Aoife wouldn’t realize how much she was learning with this encounter.
“I hope they’re treating you well. There are far worse crews and ships you could have stumbled upon.”
Something flashed across Aoife’s features. Pain. Fear even.
What happened to her this past week?
“Indeed,” Declan said, returning to his seat. “Far worse crews. Everything looks to be in order.” He gave a nod toward the table.
“Given the list, I can assume you plan to enter the council hall and pass for a member of one of the crews in attendance tomorrow evening?”
A nod from him. Another glance at him from the girl.
“It would benefit you to know, then, that I have someone inside the council hall who can help.” Cait ignored how Aoife’s eyes widened at this ever so slightly. “She can’t—won’t—help outright for risk of being outed, but she can help you get in at least.”
Cait explained how the servant’s entrance would be left unlocked and how they were to station their lookouts in the hallways. Aoife tensed as she spoke, and Cait couldn’t help but wonder how the girl would manage with being back home. She had so many questions for her.
Why had she fled? Did she know the truth about the council? Was she truly ready to betray them?
Surely Declan had asked her all of this, and Cait had no choice but to trust him. Time was ticking by, and this was the only play they had.
With all of Declan’s questions answered and the plan laid out, he moved to gather up the clothing they’d need for their ruse.
Cait followed them to the door, watching as Declan ushered Aoife out in front of him. Had she not known otherwise, she would have suspected him to be a doting lover, not a pirate of wild reputation.
Once Aoife stepped out into the darkened hallway, Cait grabbed Declan’s elbow. He turned his chin over his shoulder, as if unwilling to let Aoife completely out of even his peripheral vision.
“Declan. Be careful.”
He flashed her that stupid smirk of his. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Cait lowered her voice to a whisper. “With her, I mean.”
His eyes twitched, and Cait couldn’t tell if he was questioning her meaning or challenging her words.
“I mean it.” Before she could comment further, warn him of how dangerous it was to get too close to Aoife, he gave a final nod and was gone.
Cait stood in the doorway long after they’d exited and shut the door to the street at the end of the hallway behind them. She’d need to go lock it again, of course, but she couldn’t yet, frozen by new fear and worry, not just for the mission at hand, but for her brother’s heart as well.
41
Declan
All the preparations had been made and the crew briefings wrapped up, but Declan still hadn’t been able to shake the odd warning from his sister. Throughout the entire evening, he’d been distracted by her words.
If Aoife had noticed his quiet demeanor, she hadn’t let on, hadn’t pushed him to explain it. Perhaps she assumed he was merely nervous over the task ahead, fearful their plan would fail.
He should have been thinking of the plan, but he told himself it was solid and set, with little need to worry over it further. His men knew what to do, and Aoife would be by his side the whole time so he could ensure she didn’t stumble or falter.
Or get in the way.
He swept that thought aside, a remnant of his former opinion that she was nothing more than a nuisance. She remained clumsy and awkward, but despite the trouble that could cause, he didn’t hold it against her as he once had.
Pacing, he trod the familiar path in his chamber that had worn the old carpet down to its threads. With Aoife relaxing in the bedroom, working to calm her mind before they left for the council hall, he was left to his own thoughts.
And they plagued him, like a swarm of flies that wouldn’t leave no matter how often he shooed them away.
None of this worrying would help them in their task. It would only bring cloudy thinking and poor judgment. He needed to be prepared, focused. But every time he managed to get Cait’s warning firmly tucked away, it slammed into him again.
Be careful with her.
What had she meant? There were two obvious messages there, and it behooved him to consider both. He needed to protect Aoife and ensure nothing happened to her but also be watchful and guarded. He’d never gotten the sense from Aoife that she secretly worked for the council; he’d pondered the possibility only once, early on during her stay aboard the ship.
Still, what would going back there do to her? Would her loyalty be swayed?
He needed to prepare for all possibilities, but that latter one—her turning against him in the end—the mere thought of it felt like a dagger tip at his breast. A warning of the pain it would wrought if that happened.
He roughed a hand over his chin and then behind his neck. A desperate attempt to clear his mind and push away the anxiety all these thoughts brought on.
A rustle of fabric behind him made him turn. Aoife leaned against the archway between the main room and the sleeping quarters. With her arms crossed over her chest and her legs crossed at the ankles, she displayed a surprising amount of swagger. She was getting quite good at mimicking him, which would help in this next adventure. He needed her to look every bit a pirate tonight.
“You look—” she said before stopping to chew on the inside of her lip, as if the word she’d planned to use had evaded her. Or she’d thought better of saying it.
Declan didn’t feel like bantering, but he couldn’t risk having her worried about him or knowing he was preparing himself for her possible betrayal. “Dashing? Handsome beyond measure? Irresistible?”
The last word was out before he could stop it. The tension between them had been palpable since the night of his birthday, and he had little doubt she felt it too. He didn’t need to tug at that invisible connection, but he couldn’t seem to resist doing so either. And every time he toyed with it, tiptoed along it, letting a hand linger on her shoulder, allowing his gaze to settle on her body, or whispering a delicate word in her ear, it only grew stronger and more adamant.
Be careful with her.
Yes, his sister must have intended it as a double-edged warning. But with the look in Aoife’s eye now, after he had planted a seed of desire with those blasted words, he wondered if he should have been more careful with himself.
This would end nowhere good.
Or it might be the one good thing in your life in years.
And there. A spark of hope somewhere deep in his chest. It was small but bright. And while he couldn’t afford to give it the oxygen to burst into flame, he couldn’t bear to blow it out completely either. What harm was there in a dream? A dream of hope and love and family.
It took him a second to realize Aoife had never answered him. How long had they been standing here studying each other?
Aoife dropped an ear to her shoulder, looking the epitome of calm and collected as her fingers tapped against her arm. “Well, I was going to say, ‘tired’ or ‘worried,’ but…”
He held a breath and realized the books had gotten it all wrong when they spoke of hearts stopping in anticipation. Because his now thundered in his ears as he waited to hear which of his previous words she would choose to elaborate on. If any.
A light sigh escaped her lips before she added, “Your suggestions would apply as well.” Her chin dropped, and she pulled her eyes down, as if the part she was playing had become too difficult to maintain and the embarrassed and awkward girl within had stumbled out. He thought he heard her add a whispered “always,” but he couldn’t tell now, with her lips hidden from view.
He must have heard correctly though, as a flush of pink washed across her cheeks, nearly hiding the freckles below her eyes. He wondered if her skin warmed noticeably when that happened.
“No point in being embarrassed by merely agreeing to the obvious, Aoife.” He hoped making light of it would be better than ignoring it altogether, wash away some of the tension mounting between them.
Lifting her head, she said, “I’m not embarrassed.” But her features said otherwise as the pink only deepened. Something sparked in her eyes, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. He knew what he hoped it might be.
A teasing smile tugged at her lips. “I’m merely worried all this talk of your irresistibly dashing good looks will make your head swell to the point we won’t be able to enter the council hall doorway.”
“Then I suppose we’ll need to find another way in?”
“Or I could cut you down a peg or two.” Declan waited. She seemed to be studying his face, looking for some piece of him that she could insult. He nearly laughed when a full minute passed. And then another.
He was the first one to speak. “Surely you can think of something negative to say about me?”
“It is just so hard to choose one. There are so many.” She tossed her head, as if she’d forgotten the hair she would normally fling behind her had been chopped off.
“Liar,” he said.
Aoife moved away from the doorframe and took a step toward him. Then another. She’d at least gotten better at walking aboard the ship—at least while they were in port. She kept her eyes lowered as she reached a timid hand toward his chest. He froze, his breath trapped in his lungs as Cait’s words echoed in his mind for the millionth time.
Be careful with her.
She knew where he kept the fae’s letter. Would she be so brazen as to take it from him now, when he had his guard down? Had she been playing him this whole time?
He couldn’t risk haste, so he waited and watched her hand slide into his jacket. It wasn’t the letter she pulled out but his pocket watch.
The chain it was attached to pulled taut as she held it in her hands and flipped it open. “It’s nearly time.”
With a click of the watch’s clasp, she added, “We should get ready.”
42
Aoife
Aoife’s fingers tingled as she fumbled with the purple fabric they’d acquired from Declan’s sister. He had gotten it tied around his waist, but she’d insisted on fixing it to keep it from looking ridiculous. With no mirror aboard the ship, it was a wonder the captain managed to look halfway decent most days. More than halfway.
She shushed the thought. Though, what harm was there in admitting his good looks? None. Like admiring the beauty of a sunset on the sea or the rocky cliffs of Cregah overlooking the black sand of the cove.
But those couldn’t reach out and touch her.
For the past day and a half she’d been racked with confusion over this new desire to have him near, and those damn visions of a future together invaded her thoughts when she least expected.
She huffed a sigh in frustration before realizing he would hear it and have no idea what she was thinking.
“It’s just a sash, Aoife. No need to get angry with it.”
She refused to admit what was truly bothering her. “But it won’t sit right. Blasted thing!”
“We are pirates, you know. We don’t have to look perfect.”
“Yes, but you’re walking into the council hall. You’re expected to look somewhat put together and not like you just strolled in from mercilessly pillaging merchants for the past two months.”
“Aw, if only that was how I’d spent the last months.” There was a longing in his voice, and she realized she had little idea what he’d been through recently.
When she looked up at him, she found him facing the window, his attention on the setting sun.
Out there was where he belonged. On the sea. Not on this island or in a council hall. The realization fell in her gut like a weight dropped into the ocean. And all those visions she’d struggled to be rid of seemed to vanish in an instant, as if they’d been squashed by that weight.
She straightened her shoulders. “You’ll be able to get back to that soon.” She’d expected to feel free, the weight of her longing lifted by the confirmation that it was the sea he wanted, not her. But it had been replaced with something decidedly worse.
She should have tried harder to keep those thoughts at bay. Then she wouldn’t feel such deep disappointment now.
“Not soon enough.”
His words pricked her heart. How he must long to be away from her. She had thought she’d seen the same hope echoed in his gaze, but she had clearly misunderstood.
She would not let this distract her. There had never been any future for them. They were cut from a different cloth. Destined to tread different paths. And those paths had only converged temporarily for this one shared mission and goal.
And that goal was what she needed to focus on now.
“Aye. I suppose that’s true,” she said, now reaching up to adjust his shirt and jacket and brush lint off his shoulders, anything to help her avoid his gaze. “But we will get the fae, get the dagger, crush the council, and get you on your way to distant seas and new adventures.”
She ignored the sight of his shoulders rising as he took a breath. Ignored the way that breath sent tingles down her spine when it swept across her forehead.
“Is that all,” he said. Not a question.
“Simple as that.” She lowered her hands then and took a step back to look him over. “That’ll have to do.”
He reached behind him and grabbed the gold sash from atop his desk. “Your turn.”
It had been one thing to be touching him, but to have his hands on her and around her waist, straightening and adjusting her garments? Sands, help her. The ghosts of her hope threatened to rise from where they’d been trampled.
No, she would let them rest in peace.
There was nothing in his touch that indicated they were anything more than two friends preparing for battle, and the last thing she needed was to have her head muddied by a dream that could never be.
Her breath hitched as he moved his hands behind her and pulled her closer with the gold fabric at her waist, causing her to stumble. She nearly fell into him but managed to catch herself before her hands made contact with his chest again.
“Already getting into character, I see.”
She could hear the smirk in his words, but she dared not look up, unsure what his face might do to that damn hope she’d laid to rest.
“Do you pretend to be drunk often in your escapades?” She tried to sound casual, but her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. “It seems to be a common ruse for you.”
“It is rather effective, I must say.”
They stood mere inches away from each other now, and the heat of his body mixing with the stickiness in the air would have normally made her uncomfortable, given the many layers of garments she wore. But now she was thankful for all the barriers between them. If only Tommy or Gavin or anyone else would knock and save her.
They were too close. Altogether too close. Each breath caused his scent of sea and spice to nudge at the ghosts of her dreams. She needed to get out of here before she lost herself to something she could never have.
His hands moved to adjust her jacket, just as she had done with his, but where her hands had brushed along his shoulders, his went up along her neck to straighten out the collar.
She closed her eyes at the touch and hoped he didn’t read too much into it. She simply couldn’t bear to look at him while his skin touched hers.
His touch lightened but didn’t leave, even after it seemed all the necessary adjustments must have been made. She felt ridiculous standing there, eyes closed, arms dangling lifeless at her sides. But she didn’t trust herself not to look even more foolish if she moved. Hopefully he’d read it as her final effort to prepare mentally for the night.
The warmth of his hands and feather lightness of his fingers trailed across her shoulders and down her arms. And when his hands met hers—a breath of a touch she couldn’t quite be sure was real and not imagined—he whispered her name.
A hum of a response was all she could manage as she forced her eyes to open and take him in. What she had expected to see, she couldn’t say, but it certainly wasn’t this. The longing she’d seen in his face earlier, when he’d been looking at the sea, had returned.
Now directed at her.
Everything disappeared—the cabin, the ship, the council, the fae—as if nothing else mattered but the man before her. Her mind went blank yet whirred with a million thoughts. Such an odd sensation to feel empty and full all at once. Full of hope and desire and fear. As if the touch of his hand and her name on his breath had fully resurrected every dream and hope that had been dashed away.
And she didn’t know what to do with any of it.
This had never been a part of the plans for her life, and now all she had to do was dare to reach out and grab it, to take it for herself. Like a pirate.
Her hand twitched, and a tingle went up her arm as it brushed against his fingers. All of time stood still and yet rushed by too quickly. The stormy grays of his eyes held her. She found herself drowning in them, even as she realized she’d never truly breathed until now.
