The brandy left a trail of warmth in its wake. After two full cups, Anne felt as if she was glowing from the inside out.
“Lie down,” Teach said, indicating the desk.
“I’d rather sit.”
He muttered something under his breath, but Anne couldn’t hear precisely what it was. She sat on the chair while Teach pried the shirt away from her back. The blood had dried, sticking the fabric to her skin.
“How bad is it?” she asked, holding her breath.
“I’m going to have to cut the shirt a bit.”
Not quite an answer. Anne laughed nervously. “You’re going to run out of them if we continue like this.”
“I won’t have to cut much. The lower stitches are fine.”
“How many will you have to replace?” she asked, her stomach already churning.
There was no response. Perhaps it was better that way. Anne glanced over her shoulder at Teach, noting the tense lines around his eyes and lips. He didn’t enjoy doing this any more than she wanted it to be done. But he was right. The last thing she needed was for her back to become infected. This was all the Webbs’ fault. How many slaves had they whipped who had later died from their injuries? She could feel her hatred of the governor and his wife increase with every minute.
Anne stiffened when Teach sliced through the material with his knife. This time she didn’t bother pouring the brown liquid into the cup, but took a large swig straight from the bottle instead.
“Do you want me to warn you when I—”
“No. Just . . . no.” She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t help herself. When she was younger, she’d had stitches twice and it had been a painful experience, leaving her physically ill from anxiety afterward. And, with the recent crossing on the Providence, stitches signified death. It was one thing to sew someone else up, but to be on the receiving end of the procedure . . . This was the one fear Anne couldn’t seem to conquer.
“I’ll need that,” Teach said, taking the brandy out of her hands. Before she knew what he was about to do, he poured the alcohol over the wound. Anne shot up out of the chair and rounded on him, her back scorched beneath the fire of the brandy. She felt the watery sting of tears in her eyes. “The devil take you,” she hissed, looking around for her new favorite pistol. It was lying on the hammock, but Teach swept it into his hand and tucked it into his waistband before she could take it.
“I’m sorry, but you told me not to warn you.”
“Are you daft? I didn’t want you to warn me about the needle,” she said, looking around for her other weapon.
“I’m sorry. I misunderstood.” And from the look on his face, she could see he truly was repentant. His hands shook slightly and he took a gulp from the bottle before handing it back to her. Leaning forward, he gave her a swift kiss and she tasted the fruity flavor of the brandy on his lips. “Forgive me.”
With a shuddering breath, she nodded and sat down, her back tensed, deciding another swig couldn’t hurt. “Do you see this scar?” Anne asked after she swallowed. She lifted her left leg and pointed to the thin white line on her shin.
“Aye.”
“I had to have stitches—” She jerked away as the needle punctured her skin.
“Be still. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t—”
“Finish your story.”
She turned her head slightly, not trusting herself to move for fear of bumping the needle. “Has anyone ever told you, you sound just like your father? So commanding,” she muttered, tilting the bottle to her lips. Teach waited until she was still before he moved again.
For a second, Anne’s vision clouded as he tugged on the thread. Feeling slightly light-headed, Anne was sure she was going to be sick.
“Would it help to know that I understand what you’re going through?” Teach asked.
Once again, the needle pierced her skin. One stitch complete. She was afraid to ask how many more were needed. “You do?” Focus on his voice. Focus on his voice.
“Aye, I do. The captain of the Deliverance had me flogged when I disobeyed a direct order.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s healed.”
“But there are scars,” Anne said.
“Wounds always turn into scars, but that means the pain is over.”
“No, that just means the wound has closed. Every time you see the scar, you’ll be reminded of the pain.”
“If you choose to be. But if you’re able to move on, you’re stronger for it.”
Anne bit her lip and Teach worked quietly. His breath, slightly faster than normal, fanned the nape of her neck. Sparks of awareness chased along her nerves as his fingertips brushed lightly against her skin. Anne stared straight ahead, her heart lurching in an unsteady rhythm. She closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with her fear of needles. “May I see them?”
His hands stilled. “My scars?”
“Yes.”
She could practically hear his indecision. She suspected his injuries had been worse than he let on.
“All right,” he said at length. “Once I’m done with you.”
By the time Teach finished, Anne was much more relaxed. The alcohol had worked its way into her head like warm clouds, diluting the pain, but also dissolving any self-consciousness.
Anne stood and turned, meeting Teach’s eyes. She raised the bottle to take another drink, but Teach quirked a brow at her.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Unperturbed, she took a sip. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she motioned for him to turn around. “Show me.”
Teach’s color heightened as he stared at her, his green eyes darkening. “I should go up on deck.”
“You said you’d show me your scars.”
Teach was motionless as a flush burned across his cheeks. With unsteady hands, he reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
His broad bronzed shoulders sloped down, flowing into the powerful lines of his arms, and Anne could feel the heat of his skin. Somehow she managed to drag her mesmerized gaze away from his chest. He didn’t turn.
Anne paced around him slowly, her head buzzing with more than the alcohol. When she saw his back, she realized why he’d been so hesitant to show her.
He claimed he no longer felt the pain, but she certainly did. Tears slipped from beneath her lashes, even as she tried to blink them away. Her fingers traced the thick, uneven scars crisscrossing his back. Teach shivered beneath her touch.
She didn’t know what was worse: having suffered under the sting of the whip herself, or knowing that Teach had suffered as well, and she’d been helpless to do anything about it. Whoever had sewn him up had done a terrible job. There were jagged edges of skin that would never lie flat or smooth again. She covered a scar tenderly with her palm. The gold band on her finger winked up at her and she realized that she’d never answered him. “Yes,” she whispered.
Teach turned. “Yes, what?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she murmured, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.
Teach’s lips lifted at the corners. His hands skimmed down her sides, careful to avoid the wounds on her back. Taking the bottle from her, he placed it on the chair before returning his palms to her waist. He used his grip to bring her closer until she listed against him, his mouth briefly touching hers. Anne responded to the tender kiss before she turned her head and leaned her cheek against his chest. For several moments they simply held each other, their connection strong and unshakeable.
Someone knocked on the door. Reluctantly, Anne pulled away. She put her hand to her midriff, her nerves trembling.
Teach fell back a step. “What is it?”
“It’s important,” John said, his voice muffled. “Otherwise I wouldn’t bother you.”
Teach opened the door and peered out before allowing John to enter.
John quirked a brow at Teach’s state of undress. Anne hid a smile at John’s expression as Teach hastily donned his shirt.
“What’s wrong?” Teach asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
“We spotted a sail. From the same direction I saw the light last night. In the next cay.”
“Do you think it’s Easton?” Anne asked.
“Can’t be sure, since we only saw them through the spyglass. Their sails were torn and it looked as if they might have to repair one of the masts. We lowered our canvas and dropped anchor. I simply came down to see what the captain wanted us to do next.”
“Well done,” Teach said. “How far away are we?”
“At least a league, if not more.”
Teach nodded. “Have the men who are awake prepare their weapons. We’ll rouse the second watch as soon as the others are finished.”
“You should rest as well,” John said. “How much sleep have you had in the last twelve hours?”
“There will be plenty of time for sleep when this is over. I’ll take the second watch ashore. Once we land, we can set out and observe Easton from a distance. You remain with the boat. Before sundown, bring the Triumph in closer to the head of the cay. You’ll cut off any plans they might have for escape.”
John nodded and exited the room.
“And what am I supposed to do?” Anne asked, regretting the brandy. Her speech was slurred and her limbs felt heavy.
“Stay here. I’ll send Benjamin to keep you company. Don’t open the door for anyone.”
Mindful of her back, she caught Teach by the front of his shirt and tugged gently. He went willingly, his gaze locked with hers. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him. “Be careful,” she whispered against his lips.
Brushing his knuckle down her cheek, he nodded. This time he didn’t say “always.” It was understood.
• • •
To pass the time, Benjamin straightened the clothes in the armoire, while Anne organized the papers and maps from the floor. To Anne’s surprise, she found extra clothing in the crate. John had told her how Teach and Alastair had helped her escape, and Anne ran the material through her fingers, wondering how her friends were doing. They’d risked a lot to get Anne out of the fort. If Webb had done anything to hurt them . . . Her chest tightened at the thought and she closed her eyes. Webb would pay.
“Are you all right?” Benjamin asked, his kind brown eyes watchful. In the brief time they’d known each other, he’d become like an older brother to her. He wasn’t loud or blustering, and his quiet strength was comforting.
Anne nodded, drawing a deep breath. She attempted a smile, grateful for his company.
“You’re tired of being in here.” It wasn’t a question.
“I am.”
Outside the cabin, heavy footsteps traipsed up and down the stairs leading to the deck. The men were preparing to go ashore and they called out to one another.
Benjamin was quiet for a moment. “Would you like me to bring you some water? To bathe?”
“I would like that very much.”
With a nod, Benjamin slid out the door. Anne could hear one of the longboats being lowered over the side. She longed to leave the confines of the ship as well, but she was stuck. What a horrid world in which women were born. Subject to the whims and fancies of men, dependent on them for everything.
Benjamin returned, a bucket of fresh water in his hands. “I’ll go and get you some food as well.”
“Thank you for this.”
Smiling, Benjamin left. While he was gone, Anne cleaned herself the best she could. Hoping to protect her wounds, she ripped Teach’s shirt into strips and wound them carefully around her chest and back. When she was done, she donned one of the smaller shirts that Cara had made.
All the while, the men of the Triumph marched up to the deck and down to the belly of the ship. Another longboat splashed into the water, punctuated by shouts. Once Teach departed with the shore-going party, the men left on board would rest.
A light tap on the door alerted Anne to Benjamin’s presence. Assuming his hands were full, she opened the door, only to slam it shut when she saw the leering face on the other side.
“What’s the matter, love? Aren’t you happy to see me?”
She shivered, the voice giving her chills. She had a clear image of his face now. His bulbous nose looked as if it had been broken numerous times. His neck was thick and his shoulders wide. He pushed against the wood, his hand snaking in, and Anne’s feet nearly slid out from under her.
With her heart in her throat, she realized she’d left both pistols in the hammock. Rage at her helplessness leant her strength and she smashed her back into the panel, forgetting about her stitches. The man howled and Anne grinned with grim satisfaction as he withdrew.
“You’ll be sorry for that. Once I take care of him, I’m coming back for you!”
The door buckled beneath the weight of his fist before his steps faded down the hall. Not trusting that he truly left, Anne waited, holding her breath. She needed to warn Teach. Now that she’d seen the man’s face, she could easily identify him.
Except what would she accuse him of ? Searching the captain’s cabin? If she came out of hiding, then everyone would know she was on board.
But it was clear from the man’s comment that Teach was in danger.
The door behind her opened and Anne practically dragged Benjamin inside, his face startled.
“Teach is in trouble and I’m going to need your help.”