Quest of Honor Read online

  Letting out a loud groan, Thomas closed his eyes and slid his arms across the table, resting his forehead on them. That did not leave him without the difficulty of where Captain Adams was meant to have gone to, for if he took the woman to his quarters, the crew would wonder where Captain Adams had gone and the search would begin all over again.

  “I cannot keep searching for him,” he groaned, knowing that he simply would not be able to face the crew and tell them that Captain Adams had bested them once again. He wanted out, or at the very least a different assignment. He wanted the Navy to acknowledge that he had, in fact, caught the man and was worthy of some kind of respect. At the moment, he was the most disrespected, out of all the captaincy, simply because he could not catch one pirate.

  Lifting the liquor bottle, he went to pour himself another drink, only for the woman’s words to haunt his mind. He had been befuddled before, and he did not need to be so again. Pushing the bottle away, he got to his feet and made his way outside, grateful for the lanterns that lit the deck.

  The lieutenant was busy shouting orders to drop anchor for the night, the crew working hard so that they could go to their bunks and rest. It would give him the perfect opportunity to get the woman up to his quarters without being spotted.

  Marching back below deck, he tried not to feel the slight warmth curling through his veins as he thought of his previous encounter with her. Dismissing the memory, now tarnished, he cleared his throat as he peered through the gloom, seeing her still slouched in the corner with her hat over her eyes. He tried not to let his gaze travel over her legs, her breeches molded to their shape.

  He coughed again, but there was no response. "You there!" he exclaimed, rattling the cell bars. "Don't tell me you're sleeping!" He could hardly believe it when she jolted awake, stretching a little before getting to her feet. Clearly, her confinement was not concerning to her in the least.

  “Did you need something, Harrington?”

  Gritting his teeth, Thomas pulled the key from his pocket. “It’s ‘Captain’ or ‘sir,’ thank you.”

  She rolled her eyes, pulling the bandana from her face. “What’s your plan, Harrington?”

  Irritation had his jaw clenching, but he kept his voice even. “You’ll come to my quarters.”

  “Good,” she murmured, moving closer. “And what will you tell the crew?”

  “I haven’t got that far yet,” he muttered, swinging the cell door open. “But I will not allow them to believe that we have not captured Captain Adams. I’m finished with chasing him. That part of my life, that torment, is over.”

  She paused, no smile on her face as she looked into his eyes. “You have struggled to catch him, that is for sure,” she replied, softly. “But, if you would listen to me, I believe I have a plan that might allow your crew to believe that he is gone from your watch once and for all.”

  Thomas studied her face, aware that she was not laughing at him but rather held a serious expression. “Why would you want to help me?”

  She laughed now, shaking her head at him. “Do not think for one moment that I wish to help you, Harrington. This is for the good of my – of Captain Adams’ ship. If he is supposedly gone, then we need not fear the Navy chasing us.” She tipped her head. “At least, not for a good few months or so. It’s a winning situation for both of us.”

  Thomas did not want to ask for her help, but his mind was so troubled with everything that had gone on, he did not know what else to do. “Very well,” he said, stepping aside so that she might move out of the cell, but staying close so she could not go far. “What do you propose to do?”

  “Have you a sack or two? Something heavy?” Pulling off her coat, she handed it to him. “Apparently Captain Adams has died in the brig. You will have to throw him overboard.”

  A swift realization took hold as he watched her remove her hat, running her fingers over it for a brief moment before handing it to him. The hair he remembered so well was tied back in braids to keep it away from her face. He also could not help but notice without her oversized coat just how womanly her figure was, even if she was clad in breeches and a shirt.

  “Are you going to help or stand and gawk at me?” she asked, frostily.

  Flushing, Thomas dropped his head and turned to walk into the dark corners of the ship, searching for a couple of sacks as well as something to fill them with.

  Grasping two gunny sacks, he practically threw them at her, before storming off in search of an old cloth of sorts. He hated that she had noticed his perusal, even worse that he had allowed his eyes to linger on her curves. She is a pirate, he reminded himself. And, for whatever reason, has allowed Captain Adams to use her in order for him to make his escape. A mixture of embarrassment and frustration twined itself through his muscles, making his hands ball into fists as he slammed through a few crates, trying to find something – anything – to fill the sacks. Finding some sandbags, he pulled two back towards her, trying to reign in his temper. She was, after all, providing him with the solution he needed.

  “That will do quite nicely,” she said, pulling a small knife from the corner of her boot. For a brief moment, Thomas thought she might come at him with it, but as he started towards her she flashed him something of a humorous look before ripping the sandbag apart.

  Thomas simply stood aside and watched as she filled the coat with sand, before buttoning it up. It was only then he realized that she had somehow found an old hammock, and was beginning to tie it up.

  “Might you put the other sandbag at the end, where his feet would be?” she asked, wiping one hand across her forehead.

  Grimacing, Thomas did as she asked, catching the way she pulled one feather from Captain Adams' hat and placed it within the confines of her shirt when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was a strange gesture, and Thomas kept it to think on later.

  “Very good,” she said, eventually. “Your Captain Adams is quite dead and ready to sink to the bottom of the sea.”

  He grunted, refusing to thank her.

  “Shall I slip away to your quarters now?” she asked, propping one hand on her hip and tilting her head to give him something of a coy smile. “Or do you have other plans for me?”

  His body responded immediately to her suggestive tone, forcing him to turn away. Marching to the steps, he flung open the trap door. "Thankfully I know it is too dark for you to attempt to sail away, otherwise you would remain here in the brig until I decided to return for you."

  He stormed up the steps and, seeing no one on deck, whispered for her to follow. Within minutes she was in his quarters, and Thomas let out a long sigh of relief, before shouting for the lieutenant and the first mate. It was time to dispose of Captain Adams.

  12

  Eleanor looked around the captain’s quarters in surprise, astonished at the opulence. It was filled with dark, mahogany wood and was larger than she had expected. It was nothing like her own cabin on the Gunsway. In one corner of the room sat the captain’s bunk, although it looked more comfortable than anything she had slept on before. It even had four posters, so that he might draw the curtains around himself as he slept! There were large windows to her left, looking out across the sea, with a welcoming window seat in front of it. There was a writing desk to one side of it. Wandering over to the window seat, Eleanor sat down and tried to ignore the frantic beating of her heart.

  She had enjoyed toying with Captain Harrington, pretending to sexually advance on him to gauge his reaction. As much as she hated what his mandate was, there was something about him that perplexed her. During their first encounter, she had felt his soul, deep inside, yearning to be free of the hold of the Navy — and perhaps his society in general. She supposed the rage he showed today was a mask over all of it.

  She had to admit that she was a little proud of herself, in giving the captain a plan to remove Captain Adams from his life forever. It also meant that the Navy would no longer be chasing the Gunsway with such a dogged determination, something she was vastly r
elieved about. It had been a wrench giving the captain her father’s hat, but it was necessary so that there would be no doubt over Captain Adams’ supposed death. She had ensured that some of the famed hat was visible through the hammock, with one feather poking out. The other feather she had kept for herself, although she hoped that the captain had not seen her take it. She felt it tickle her skin just below her collarbone and had to fight a sudden rush of tears. What Harrington did not know was that Captain Adams was truly gone from this world and that he had left her behind in order to continue the Gunsway's captaincy. She must get back to her ship — and soon.

  The door suddenly flung open and the captain stomped inside, his blue eyes searching the room until they landed on her, sitting comfortably with her legs up on the window seat as she stared out the window.

  “Did you manage it?” Eleanor asked, turning to him and trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Is your fight at an end?”

  In response, the captain flung down his hat and shrugged out of his coat. “It is done,” he said, tersely.

  “Good, I am glad to hear it,” Eleanor replied, airily. “Although that does leave you with a problem.”

  He growled at her, pouring himself a large glass of brandy.

  “What are you going to do with me, Captain?” Eleanor asked, rising to her feet and walking over towards him. “Are you going to throw me overboard as well?” She arched one eyebrow, refusing to acknowledge the thump in her chest when his eyes met hers. She was using her sex to her advantage, for she had not failed to notice how his gaze had lingered on her curves. In truth, she still found him quite a handsome man despite his tight, angry features. His forehead seemed to be permanently furrowed, while fine lines bordered his eyes and his strong jaw was held tensely. Not that it any of it mattered. The only thing she had to focus on was finding a way off this ship.

  “I will think about that come the morning,” he replied. “But, first, you are going to give me some answers.” He slammed his empty glass down and walked back towards the door, locking it tightly and pocketing the key before pulling down the shade. “We will not be disturbed.”

  Eleanor ignored him, pouring herself a brandy before settling back down in the window seat.

  “Answers,” he demanded, standing over her. “You will give them to me.”

  Taking a small sip of the brandy, Eleanor looked up at him smugly with a courage she did not quite feel. “I hardly think that is fair, sir,” she murmured. “Perhaps you might answer some questions I have too. One answer for one answer.”

  He gritted his teeth and she saw his hands clench. “You are in no position to bargain.”

  She laughed. “Oh, but I believe I am. No one else knows that I am here, do they? And, if they discover it, then questions might be asked about who or what it was that was thrown overboard.” She lifted one eyebrow. “Answer my questions and I will answer yours.” In truth, Eleanor would only answer what she wished to and would simply lie about the rest – although the captain did not need to know that. She was quite sure that the captain’s answers, however, would be the truth and nothing less. It was how he had been trained.

  “You will swing from the gallows,” he growled, bending down so that his face was close to hers. “I will declare that you are a pirate, and then you shall –”

  “A – a pirate?” Eleanor whispered, contorting her face into a sheen of fear as she pretended to make her defence to some unknown judge. “Oh, no, sir. I’m not a pirate. The captain, he took me to his bed but I did not please him. He lost his temper and now thinks that he can do with me as he will….” She trailed off, her eyes darting around the room as she continued her charade. “You might ask the barman in the tavern. He saw me with the captain. Captain Harrington, he kidnapped me and kept me in his cabin like a prisoner.” Snorting, she shook her head at the captain. “You see? No one will believe you. Hanging a woman’s not the done thing and, after all your years of failure, perhaps people might think that you’ve begun to lose your senses.”

  Inwardly, she congratulated herself on her victory as she saw him practically seething with frustration, the structure of his face growing even sharper.

  “I should throw you overboard,” he grunted, his face far too close to hers as his eyes narrowed even further. “You don’t get to make the rules, miss!”

  She just laughed as he walked away in frustration, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. She was actually beginning to enjoy herself. He wasn't going to be throwing her overboard anytime soon and certainly wasn't about to take her back to Port Royal and attempt to push her towards the gallows. For one, no one in his crew had seen him capture a female pirate and, secondly, it would be far too easy to play the part of terrified wench who had been used by the captain, only for him to grow tired of her. He knew it as well as she. She had to hope that he might decide to simply set her down on an island somewhere. She had the resources and skills to ensure her survival until she could hail a passing ship or somehow make her escape.

  “Very well,” the captain said in defeat, pulling back a chair and sitting down heavily. He had the decanter of brandy in his other hand and proceeded to pour himself a large measure. “Ask your questions. But swear you will answer mine.”

  Eleanor tried not to laugh, schooling her features into a calm acceptance. “Of course I will,” she replied, wondering if the captain was really as stupid as he appeared to be. He should know that he could not trust a pirate to answer truthfully!

  “Firstly,” he began, his eyes darting away from her for just a second. “What were you doing in the tavern?”

  “In Port Royal, you mean?” she asked, trying not to allow her own rising embarrassment to show. “Why, I was simply looking to take my pleasure!”

  “And apparently, you found me,” he replied, sarcasm filling his voice. “Don’t lie to me. You knew who I was.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Perhaps I found you a singularly attractive man, Captain. It was nothing more than that.”

  He snorted. “You are lying to me again. I know I must have told you something of my plans as regards the Gunsway.” His flush deepened. “I had partaken of a little too much liquor.”

  Eleanor allowed herself a tinkling laugh as she glanced at the brandy he currently held. "Yes, you did indeed, Captain. For what it is worth, you did speak to me of your plans for the Gunsway, but your words were mostly colored by disappointment and failure." As she spoke, Eleanor studied him and was surprised to see him glance away, before dropping his head to stare at his hands for a brief moment. Apparently, his pain was more than she had realized. Pushing away the jolt of sympathy in her chest, she cleared her throat and prepared to ask her own questions.

  “Why were you so eager to follow through with my plan, Harrington? Why so willing to pretend that Captain Adams is truly gone from this world?” She sat forward, her eyes boring into his as he raised his head. “Have you no honor?”

  He slammed his glass down and rose to his feet with such force that his chair fell to the floor with a clatter, making her jump. His eyes blazed with passion, his face burning.

  "I have more honor than someone like you will ever know," he ground out, his voice shaking, his emotion greater than she had seen from him thus far. "I have been pushed to chase Captain Adams for years, given nothing but mockery and laughter for my troubles. Over and over he has outsmarted me and I will not allow that shame to continue!" His voice slowly faded, and she could almost see the anger draining away from his face. "The Navy has refused to allow me leave from chasing that man," he finished, pouring another brandy. "I cannot bear it any longer."

  Eleanor sat quietly as she watched the captain. He pulled up his chair and sat down, before putting his legs up on the table and crossing them at the ankle. He held the glass of brandy between his two hands and stared, broodingly, across the table. She could tell he was getting deeper into his cups once again, but perhaps that was to her advantage.

  Despite herself, Eleanor fel
t a stab of sympathy for the man. He had said as much before when he had taken her to his bed back in the tavern, but she had not realized how deeply he felt. She was more than aware that he had not intended to share so much of himself with her, but at least it gave her something of an advantage. She could use that shame and embarrassment to her benefit. A pang of guilt, an unfamiliar sensation, rent her heart for a moment, making her frown.

  “You see, miss,” the captain began, his voice now hoarse with emotion. “You have no idea what you have done to me in pretending to be the very man I have sought for so long. Yes, I agreed to your plan and yes, Captain Adams is now, for all intents and purposes, at the bottom of the ocean, but that does not hide the fact that I know the truth. I know he is still out there, and at some point, the Navy will too.” He looked at her, letting out a long sigh. “Why did you keep that feather?”

  She frowned, his question sending her off balance. She hated that he had seen her moment of weakness. “The captain would want me to keep it.”

  “Why?”

  "It is of sentimental value," she replied, not daring to give more away. She studied his handsome features in the lamplight, seeing the strain on his face as he put his head back against the chair. Clearly, he was a man with many burdens. "Surely now, Captain, if you are free from chasing Captain Adams, you might be given some new task. Is that not enough to lift your spirits?" She did not quite know why she asked such a thing. Perhaps it was the look on his face or the slump of his shoulders. Regardless, she waited until he raised his head to look at her, the fight gone from him completely.

  “I will never be free,” he murmured. “Never allowed to sail where I want, to explore uncharted lands or make up my own crew. I will always be at the Navy’s bidding.” He snorted and drained his glass. “I joined the Navy so that I might be away from under my family’s expectations, only for them to continue to pile upon me from not only my family but the Navy as well.” He shook his head, his eyes taking on something of a glazed look. “It appears no matter where I go or what I do, I shall never be my own man.”