charity?”
“No.” She shrugged. “If he hadn’t taken me in when I was thirteen, I would be like my
mother.”
“So you stay with him out of loyalty?”
“That’s right.”
James was quiet for a moment. “I understand.”
She glanced at the man’s wide, dark figure. “You don’t think I’m daft for staying with
the brigand? For taking care of him?”
“He’s your family.”
“But he’s mad.”
James snorted. “You haven’t met my brothers.”
Her voice softened. “I’d like to meet your brothers one day.”
Sophia had no other family. She was curious to know how James interacted with his
kin, she was curious to know the other brothers.
He sighed. “I don’t think I can vouch for their gentlemanly behavior.”
“Well, I’ve never met a gentleman, so there’s no harm.”
“Hmm…I suppose I can set up a meet.”
“Bring them to supper one night,” she suggested. “I’ll prepare an island delicacy.”
Quiet settled between them again.
Sophia didn’t mind the stil ness. However, she sensed the pirate captain’s sharp stare on
her spine, and she quivered, reckoning he had another grave matter to impart.
“You’re not safe in the mountains, Sophia.”
He had breached the fragile cocoon she had spun around her heart with his stark
reflection. Her fingers trembled as brutal images stormed her weary brain: the blood, the
tears.
She shuddered at the hurtful thoughts. “I’m safe with my father.”
“And when you’re not with your father?”
“I can take care of myself,” she insisted. “I always carry a pistol for protection.”
“Why didn’t you use it today?”
She pushed the fiery wounds deep into her battered soul, bandaged the ugly gashes. “I
could have shot one of the redcoats”—or myself, she thought grimly—“but then the
other soldier would’ve kil ed me…and who’d take care of my father?”
“They might have killed you after the rape.”
She sniffed. “Maybe, maybe not.”
James sighed. “Sophia—”
“What would you have me do?” She inadvertently smacked him in the gut as she
brandished her arms. “Abandon him?”
James grunted at the sudden contact. “You can convince Dawson to move into town
with you.”
She snorted. “He’s afraid of strangers. He won’t leave the mountains, and I can’t desert
him.”
James growled. “But he can’t protect you from the redcoats!”
“He’s mad, and he’s dangerous. The islanders fear him, so he protects me just fine. And
the redcoats are too busy hunting Maroons to bother with me again. I’ll be fine.”
“Damn it, Sophia—”
“I’m home,” she said succinctly.
Candlelight shimmered through the unmasked windows. She spied a shadow bobbing
inside the ramshackle abode—and stil ed.
Despair clutched her heart with its icy fingers. The last vestige of fortitude slipped
from her tired soul, and she approached the house with flat energy, overwhelmed.
Sometimes she still desired to leave her father. Sometimes the fickle feelings stil haunted
her. But the treacherous moment was always fleeting. She shrugged off the cumbersome
shroud of fatigue and grief and entered the house.
Dawson circled the room in an erratic manner, pistol in hand, quarreling with the
shadows, but he quieted as soon as he spotted her.
“Where have you been?”
She sighed. “I needed supplies from town.”
“You should have told me.”
“I did!” Sophia strutted inside the room and dropped the satchel on the table. “I told
you three times!”
He humphed. “Where are the supplies?”
“I didn’t get them. I’ll have to go into town tomorrow.”
“Why?” He eyed her bruises. “What happened to you?” He stared at James, who had
entered the house behind her, before he looked at her wounds again.
Dawson lifted the pistol, aiming it at Black Hawk’s head.
Fortunately, James had had the foresight to guess the balmy brigand’s thoughts, and had
ducked in time, the
“No.” She shrugged. “If he hadn’t taken me in when I was thirteen, I would be like my
mother.”
“So you stay with him out of loyalty?”
“That’s right.”
James was quiet for a moment. “I understand.”
She glanced at the man’s wide, dark figure. “You don’t think I’m daft for staying with
the brigand? For taking care of him?”
“He’s your family.”
“But he’s mad.”
James snorted. “You haven’t met my brothers.”
Her voice softened. “I’d like to meet your brothers one day.”
Sophia had no other family. She was curious to know how James interacted with his
kin, she was curious to know the other brothers.
He sighed. “I don’t think I can vouch for their gentlemanly behavior.”
“Well, I’ve never met a gentleman, so there’s no harm.”
“Hmm…I suppose I can set up a meet.”
“Bring them to supper one night,” she suggested. “I’ll prepare an island delicacy.”
Quiet settled between them again.
Sophia didn’t mind the stil ness. However, she sensed the pirate captain’s sharp stare on
her spine, and she quivered, reckoning he had another grave matter to impart.
“You’re not safe in the mountains, Sophia.”
He had breached the fragile cocoon she had spun around her heart with his stark
reflection. Her fingers trembled as brutal images stormed her weary brain: the blood, the
tears.
She shuddered at the hurtful thoughts. “I’m safe with my father.”
“And when you’re not with your father?”
“I can take care of myself,” she insisted. “I always carry a pistol for protection.”
“Why didn’t you use it today?”
She pushed the fiery wounds deep into her battered soul, bandaged the ugly gashes. “I
could have shot one of the redcoats”—or myself, she thought grimly—“but then the
other soldier would’ve kil ed me…and who’d take care of my father?”
“They might have killed you after the rape.”
She sniffed. “Maybe, maybe not.”
James sighed. “Sophia—”
“What would you have me do?” She inadvertently smacked him in the gut as she
brandished her arms. “Abandon him?”
James grunted at the sudden contact. “You can convince Dawson to move into town
with you.”
She snorted. “He’s afraid of strangers. He won’t leave the mountains, and I can’t desert
him.”
James growled. “But he can’t protect you from the redcoats!”
“He’s mad, and he’s dangerous. The islanders fear him, so he protects me just fine. And
the redcoats are too busy hunting Maroons to bother with me again. I’ll be fine.”
“Damn it, Sophia—”
“I’m home,” she said succinctly.
Candlelight shimmered through the unmasked windows. She spied a shadow bobbing
inside the ramshackle abode—and stil ed.
Despair clutched her heart with its icy fingers. The last vestige of fortitude slipped
from her tired soul, and she approached the house with flat energy, overwhelmed.
Sometimes she still desired to leave her father. Sometimes the fickle feelings stil haunted
her. But the treacherous moment was always fleeting. She shrugged off the cumbersome
shroud of fatigue and grief and entered the house.
Dawson circled the room in an erratic manner, pistol in hand, quarreling with the
shadows, but he quieted as soon as he spotted her.
“Where have you been?”
She sighed. “I needed supplies from town.”
“You should have told me.”
“I did!” Sophia strutted inside the room and dropped the satchel on the table. “I told
you three times!”
He humphed. “Where are the supplies?”
“I didn’t get them. I’ll have to go into town tomorrow.”
“Why?” He eyed her bruises. “What happened to you?” He stared at James, who had
entered the house behind her, before he looked at her wounds again.
Dawson lifted the pistol, aiming it at Black Hawk’s head.
Fortunately, James had had the foresight to guess the balmy brigand’s thoughts, and had
ducked in time, the
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