suppose I’ll see him tomorrow morning when the treats are devoured and his belly is full.”
“Quite a plausible conclusion.” Turk swirled the brandy in his small goblet with a thoughtful intensity, then looked up again.
“So, Kit, where do you intend for the young ladies to spend their nights?” Turk watched him over the rim of his brandy snifter. The ship rolled gently on a wave, and the gimbaled lanterns swayed with the motion, shedding pools of light in shallow splashes on walls and windows.
Kit gave a resigned sigh. It was apparent Turk would not let the subject of the reluctant shipmates rest until he had an answer. “I have no idea. Are you interested?”
Frowning, Turk said, “Your levity is sadly lacking. No, I am not interested in the manner you obviously imply, merely curious. Your decision could have a detrimental effect on the ladies.”
“Or the crew.”
Turk’s brow lifted. “Perhaps not quite as detrimental for them. The men seem a bit more experienced at depravity.”
“But not humanity?” Kit smiled wryly. “Leaving our charming captives on deck would be a grave error, I fear.”
Turk grinned. “Exceedingly grave. There would be only bits and pieces left for aquatic life to devour by the time the crew had done.” He paused. “I understand that you gave the order they were not to be molested.”
“Yes.” Kit shifted impatiently, already regretting his momentary insanity in taking them aboard. He should have left them to the cruel mercies of Turnower. At least their deaths would not have been on his conscience. He took a sip of brandy to drown his irritation and said, “I suppose it’s not fair to ask Mr. Buttons to give up his cozy little cabin.”
“No, it is not.” Turk paused. “You seem quite drawn to the fair-haired miss. Have you considered sharing your berth with her?”
Because he had—for a fleeting instant—considered that very thing, it made him even more irritable, and not at all inclined to admit to such damnable weakness. He slammed his brandy to the tabletop and glared.
“Drawn—devil take you, Turk. Why do you say that?”
Shrugging, the huge quartermaster said placidly, “Because I noted the manner with which you regarded her while we were still aboard the unfortunate Scrutiny. Not many of the fair sex draw your rapt attention so swiftly.”
Kit cursed softly. “Bloody hell. Not many of the fair sex almost cripple me with their knee at first meeting, either.”
“True.” Turk smiled. “In my opinion, you have had matters in your favor much too long when it comes to women. Do you deny that the pretty English miss attracts you?”
Kit arched a brow. “Do I seem desperate for a woman?”
“Desperate in some respects, perhaps, but not for a woman.” Turk sipped his brandy, regarding Kit for a long moment of silence. “The lady is definitely attractive.”
Kit frowned into his snifter, then upended it and drained the last of his brandy. It seared a comforting path to his stomach, and he stood. “This time, my friend, you are quite wrong. I shall find the charming, inconvenient misses and inform them that my cabin is at their disposal for the night. Tomorrow, I will find them another bunk.”
“There will be plenty of offers from the crew.” Turk’s chest rumbled with subdued laughter. “I envision both those lovelies draped in hammocks in the forecastle. Perhaps a rather snug berth, but better than the watery berth Turnower intended to leave them. Although that fate would have left your conscience clear, I daresay.”
Kit paused at his door. There were times that Turk’s words eerily echoed his thoughts. Too often. He shot him a quick glance, but Turk’s innocuous expression gave no hint of his sentiments. He shoved open the door and stepped into the passageway without replying.
Night had fallen. Fitful rays of lantern light glinted from smooth, polished rails and brass fittings on the main deck. A brisk wind blew, filling the sails.
“Quite a plausible conclusion.” Turk swirled the brandy in his small goblet with a thoughtful intensity, then looked up again.
“So, Kit, where do you intend for the young ladies to spend their nights?” Turk watched him over the rim of his brandy snifter. The ship rolled gently on a wave, and the gimbaled lanterns swayed with the motion, shedding pools of light in shallow splashes on walls and windows.
Kit gave a resigned sigh. It was apparent Turk would not let the subject of the reluctant shipmates rest until he had an answer. “I have no idea. Are you interested?”
Frowning, Turk said, “Your levity is sadly lacking. No, I am not interested in the manner you obviously imply, merely curious. Your decision could have a detrimental effect on the ladies.”
“Or the crew.”
Turk’s brow lifted. “Perhaps not quite as detrimental for them. The men seem a bit more experienced at depravity.”
“But not humanity?” Kit smiled wryly. “Leaving our charming captives on deck would be a grave error, I fear.”
Turk grinned. “Exceedingly grave. There would be only bits and pieces left for aquatic life to devour by the time the crew had done.” He paused. “I understand that you gave the order they were not to be molested.”
“Yes.” Kit shifted impatiently, already regretting his momentary insanity in taking them aboard. He should have left them to the cruel mercies of Turnower. At least their deaths would not have been on his conscience. He took a sip of brandy to drown his irritation and said, “I suppose it’s not fair to ask Mr. Buttons to give up his cozy little cabin.”
“No, it is not.” Turk paused. “You seem quite drawn to the fair-haired miss. Have you considered sharing your berth with her?”
Because he had—for a fleeting instant—considered that very thing, it made him even more irritable, and not at all inclined to admit to such damnable weakness. He slammed his brandy to the tabletop and glared.
“Drawn—devil take you, Turk. Why do you say that?”
Shrugging, the huge quartermaster said placidly, “Because I noted the manner with which you regarded her while we were still aboard the unfortunate Scrutiny. Not many of the fair sex draw your rapt attention so swiftly.”
Kit cursed softly. “Bloody hell. Not many of the fair sex almost cripple me with their knee at first meeting, either.”
“True.” Turk smiled. “In my opinion, you have had matters in your favor much too long when it comes to women. Do you deny that the pretty English miss attracts you?”
Kit arched a brow. “Do I seem desperate for a woman?”
“Desperate in some respects, perhaps, but not for a woman.” Turk sipped his brandy, regarding Kit for a long moment of silence. “The lady is definitely attractive.”
Kit frowned into his snifter, then upended it and drained the last of his brandy. It seared a comforting path to his stomach, and he stood. “This time, my friend, you are quite wrong. I shall find the charming, inconvenient misses and inform them that my cabin is at their disposal for the night. Tomorrow, I will find them another bunk.”
“There will be plenty of offers from the crew.” Turk’s chest rumbled with subdued laughter. “I envision both those lovelies draped in hammocks in the forecastle. Perhaps a rather snug berth, but better than the watery berth Turnower intended to leave them. Although that fate would have left your conscience clear, I daresay.”
Kit paused at his door. There were times that Turk’s words eerily echoed his thoughts. Too often. He shot him a quick glance, but Turk’s innocuous expression gave no hint of his sentiments. He shoved open the door and stepped into the passageway without replying.
Night had fallen. Fitful rays of lantern light glinted from smooth, polished rails and brass fittings on the main deck. A brisk wind blew, filling the sails.
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