The door opened. Anne’s muscles clenched. She wanted to move, to turn to look, but she was too tired. Too exhausted. Her spine blistered with bruises and her back was scorched.
Footsteps approached the table where she braced herself. A hand moved gently over her head, massaging her scalp, and she opened her eyes. “Teach?” The word came out as a mere whisper as Anne leaned into his comforting touch with a soft sigh.
Teach knelt beside her, his green eyes locked on hers. His face was pale beneath its tan. “I’m here,” he said, his voice low and shaken. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”
Anne swallowed, rolling her tongue over her cracked lips. She tried to rise, but the tight skin on her back protested against the smallest movement.
“No, don’t move. You’ll open the wounds again.” Teach leaned a flask against her lips, and she lifted her head a fraction so she could drink. Brandy trickled into her mouth and down her cheek. Teach paused and put the flask down, and Anne held still as a damp cloth moved over her skin, erasing the liquid trail.
Still thirsty, her gaze found the flask where it lay near her head. “More.”
After he placed a rag under her cheek, Teach complied. It seemed as if most of the brandy stained the fabric rather than find its way into her mouth, but what did manage to go in helped to mute the pain in her limbs. When she was finished, Teach removed the rag, and Anne laid her head down once more. She touched his face, wondering at the feel of him under her fingertips.
Teach watched her for a moment, the strain around his eyes noticeable. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I’ll see that they pay. I swear to you they’ll pay for this,” he murmured, almost to himself. Desperate fury gleamed in his eyes.
Cara. Coyle. Alastair. Benjamin. Were they aboard Alastair’s ship? Had they already met up with Teach’s crew? Anne’s lids were heavy and she found herself giving in to the weariness that once more overwhelmed her. It simply hurt too much to stay awake. Closing her eyes, Anne gave herself up to the dark.
? ? ?
She slept fitfully. When next she stirred, shadows filled the room. Teach stood at the windows lining the back of the wall, looking out at the darkening sky. The gentle rise and fall of the ship lulled her back to sleep before he turned around.
Unaware of the passage of time, she dozed and woke again, searching the cabin, and only going back to sleep once she knew he was there.
? ? ?
Fingers of light crept into the room when at last she roused, her head resting on her arms. It must have been early morning. A pink tint of sunlight streamed through the windows.
Teach sat by her side, reading Alastair’s copy of Dampier’s book. His hair was mussed, and his shirt was rumpled, as if he’d been there for quite some time. A brown leather baldric hung from one shoulder across his chest, holding three pistols. One of them was hers. In his left hand he toyed with her pocket watch.
Someone shouted overhead and Teach glared up at the ceiling.
“Alastair?” she asked.
Teach glanced at her, and closed the book. “No.” He held a skin of water to her lips and Anne welcomed the cool rivulets that escaped and ran down her neck.
Something heavy dropped on deck, causing the windows to shudder.
Closing her eyes briefly, Anne tried to take a deep breath, but a hollow pain unfolded inside her chest. Beth. Beth was gone. Although she hadn’t said the words aloud, somehow Teach had heard them.
“I’m sorry about Beth,” Teach murmured. “If I could go back and do things differently . . .” His voice trailed off.
Anne lowered her head and pressed her cheek to the back of Teach’s hand. None of this was his fault. The blame lay solely with the Webbs. “Where’s Cara?” she asked at length, still finding it difficult to speak.
Leaning forward, Teach stroked her hair back from her face. His eyes were grave as they met hers. “We’re not on Alastair’s sloop, Anne. We’re on the Triumph.”
Anne puzzled over his words. Something must have happened to Alastair’s sloop. “Where are they?”
“You should rest—”
“Tell me,” she croaked, wishing she sounded more firm.
“They’re still in Nassau. The governor destroyed Alastair’s ship, and they were forced to stay behind. We had to get you out of there.”
Shaking, Anne attempted to sit up, but her back screamed in protest.
“Don’t move. You’ll rip the stitches. Alastair knows what he’s doing. They’ll try to find passage on another ship,” Teach said, but she noticed the hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“I dreamed Alastair came to me. He promised me he’d get me out of there.”
“That was no dream. Alastair did visit you. Together we planned your escape.”
Anne pictured the governor and his wife as they’d stood over her, remembering Mrs. Webb’s words. That man is too powerful by far and needs to be taught a lesson. Alastair and the others were in danger. Anne’s hand shook as she reached out. Teach looked down, placing the gold pocket watch in her palm.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. As much as she cherished the watch, it no longer brought her the comfort she sought.
Next he handed her Dampier’s book, but she rejected that as well. “The pistol.” She pointed at his chest.
With obvious reluctance, Teach handed her the Queen Anne’s pistol.
“You won’t need it aboard this ship,” he said. Anne wanted to believe him, but there was an unfamiliar tension in the lines of his mouth, as if he was trying to convince himself.
“I’m growing to like it,” she whispered, fingering the smooth handle where it lay wedged between the hammock and the desk.
“Well, perhaps you’ll like this one more.” Teach withdrew another Queen Anne’s pistol from the baldric across his chest. It was the same shape and size as the one Alastair had given her, but it was not as ornate. The brown wood grain of the handle was polished to a sheen. “I thought to give it to you for your birthday, but it never hurts to be prepared.”
Anne smiled slightly, her cheek tugging at the hammock beneath her. He was learning, and really beginning to understand her. Knowing that he had promised to protect her was a lovely sentiment—and she knew without question that he’d give his life to save hers— but with this simple gift, he’d finally recognized her desire to protect herself. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Anne closed her eyes briefly, her limbs still weak. “How long have I slept?”
“Two days.”
Anne nodded, not surprised by his answer. She felt as if she could sleep for another two. “Isn’t it too early for my birthday?”
“It’s never too early to celebrate.” And with those words, he removed the gold ring from the small leather pouch that hung around his neck and placed the gold band on her finger.
CHAPTER 24
Teach