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Captive of the Corsairs (Heart of the Corsairs Book 1) by Elizabeth Ellen Carter (29)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kit woke with a start. He reached between the mattress and bed for his knife before he was fully awake to what was different. Sophia’s head lay on his shoulder, an arm draped across his chest.

He breathed out, not wishing to wake her. He released the knife and drew the hand around to stroke her fingers. Today was different. Quite obviously. He was married for a start, and there was a naked woman in his bed – but no, there was something different about him.

He felt full – and it wasn’t just his bladder. He’d once likened himself to a tree, living on the outside but hollow in the center. Now he felt whole.

It is not good for man to be alone.

One of Elias’ sermons came back to him. Kit had been alone, and he had been for so long he no longer recognized it. The hollowness he thought he would have to bear was gone. He was not much of a praying man and knew little of the Bible other than what Elias read out to the men on Sundays. But he knew when to be grateful and he was, indeed, thankful to the Divine Providence who gifted him the woman beside him.

In the early morning light, he could see the cabinet and the leather-bound journals of those he rescued. The voices that accused him of being too little, too late, were muted now, but still they reminded him there were others still desperate for rescue. He extracted himself from Sophia’s arms and rose from the bed. He kissed her cheek. She murmured in her sleep, but did not stir.

He relieved himself before washing and dressing quickly. He would leave his bride to rest.

Dawn spanned a veil of rose pink across the dock. He made his way along the deck, climbing each mast and examining the rigging – a habit from his very first command.

He trusted his men, and he trusted his ship, but there was something intimate in touching each spar, the lines of rope making up the shroud, the sturdy canvas of the sails.

From this vantage, he could see Palermo come to life. Farmers with wagons of fresh produce made their way down the hills into the city itself; carters left the trawlers with barrels of freshly caught fish; cockerels crowed from various parts of the city, awakening it.

He clambered down and approached the bridge. Giorgio was examining the barometer and noting it in the log. Kit slapped him on the back.

“How goes the watch?”

“Quiet,” he said, putting down the pen. “It’s always quiet when we’re in dock. When are we getting back out to sea?”

“Soon.”

“Sorry, Captain, I don’t mean to be taking you away from your honeymoon. You’re a married man now like Jonathan and, well, the men and I were wondering what the future of the Calliope is to be.”

“Nothing will change. Not on my account.”

Both men turned to the sound of Sophia’s soft voice.

She finished climbing the gangway and handed Kit a mug of dark, sweetened tea. She was fully dressed. Her hair was in a simple braid that rested over her shoulder.

“Some of the people you rescue – the women and children – they may want to talk to a woman. I want to be there as you rescue the captives of the Corsairs.”

She was so appealing in the sunlight he might have given in to her. But he wouldn’t. She would stay on Catallus with Professor Fenton to dig around to their hearts’ content amongst the ruins, safe from the dangers of a battle at sea.

But there was time enough to tell her – when he was a nautical mile off the coast and safely away from the heat of her temper.

“We’ll leave for Catallus three days from now. Giorgio, tell the remaining crew they have shore leave for the next two days. I expect to see them back here sober and ready to sail.”

“Aye, Captain.” The cook grinned and bowed broadly. “On my return, I shall reclaim my galley and prepare Signora Hardacre a feast to celebrate our newest shipmate!”

*

“You keep staring at me,” Kit said.

Sophia blushed and looked to the horizon.

“I wouldn’t mind so much,” he continued, “except I can never be sure what you’re thinking behind those beautiful brown eyes of yours.”

When she looked back, his attention was on adjusting the sail on the skiff. He was a beautiful looking man. It was strange to think of him in such feminine terms, but it suited him – his white shirt, open at the neck, stretched taut across his shoulders, golden blond hair ruffled in the breeze as he expertly maneuvered the craft through the small chop.

Apart from last night, this was the first time she had been completely alone with him – this man who was her husband and yet, in many respects, still a stranger.

Sophia rubbed a thumb at the underside of her wedding ring. Judging by the tales told by his crew during their voyage to Sicily, it was as though Kit’s life had begun only ten years ago.

True, hints of a darker, more painful time before that were easy to glean from the tales of other people in those journals in his cabin, but he never spoke of them.

Should she ask? Or should she let him choose when or if to share his past? What of his family? Perhaps she should ask Elias first. Or would that be disloyal?

A wry smile crossed her face. Who knew being a wife had so many questions?

“You’re doing it again. You’re having entire conversations in your head.” He smiled, so she smiled back.

“I’ve been so used to keeping my own counsel for such a long time, it’s been a habit to answer my own questions in my head.”

“Are there any you’d like to share with me?”

There was her opportunity. Questions queued up behind her lips, jostling for escape. Would her fate be that of Bluebeard’s wife if she dared peer through a door to a past he did not want opened?

She hesitated, then asked the question. “How did you come to sea?”

Did she imagine a look of relief crossing his face? It was an answer of sorts. This was a safe topic.

“It was either be a chimney sweep or a cabin boy. I chose the fresh air.”

Another question flirted at the edge of her tongue when Kit pointed.

“We’re heading for that beach there for lunch.”

She followed where he directed and saw a sandy cove where the blue of the sea met stratum layers of yellow rock, remnants she supposed of volcanic activity of eons past. But nature was resilient. Tenacious coastal plants covered the tops of the exposed rocks with greenery, which became more plentiful the closer it reached to the top of the promontory.

“Would you like to sail us in?”

“What? I don’t know how to sail.”

He raised his chin. “Sit in front of me, I’ll teach you.”

She moved to his side of the boat and settled between his legs.

“Put your hand on the tiller.” Tingles cascaded down her neck as he spoke into her ear. She grasped the tiller arm, warm from his hand now resting on top of hers.

“Gently, that’s it,” he encouraged. “The important thing to remember is a boat can’t sail directly into the wind, it has to be about forty-five degrees to it.”

He wrapped the rope one more time around his wrist and pulled the boom towards them. She felt the tug of the tiller at her hand and the little boat responded. She was beginning to understand the sailor’s delight of mastering both sea and wind.

“Put your hand on mine.”

She put her much smaller hand over his, felt the rope under her palm and the strength of his fingers as he controlled the sail.

Sophia gained a feel for sailing, and joy found its expression in a delighted laugh. His warm chuckle in response added to her confidence.

Kit had given her a gift. He had warned her he was not good with words, so she learned his actions spoke more. Today, he was not just teaching her to sail, but revealing something about himself. Rather than telling her why he loved the sea, he showed her – giving her a glimpse into how much the Calliope meant to him.

She had never felt more alive than she did at this moment. Every sense seemed heightened. She didn’t need her glasses here. She could see further without them. The wind and sun warming and cooling her by turns, the rush of breeze past her ears, and the piercing sound of seabirds – and Kit’s presence, solid at her back – were arousing.

“Aim for the shore; we’ll beach her there and find some shade,” he said.

She felt sand scrape the bottom of the hull. Kit leapt over the side and dragged the boat further up onto the beach. He lifted her over the side while she cradled a blanket and a satchel Giorgio had given her.

Soon, their picnic was set up and sweet white wine poured. She shared childhood reminiscences from the convent. And as she spoke, she realized that despite her loneliness, there were more good memories than bad. Kit told stories about his crew, of how Elias and Jonathan came to join them, as well as some of their tamer and more humorous stories.

He made love to her there on the blanket. She reveled in his touch and the delight he allowed to show on his features as he removed her clothing, exposing her to his gaze and the sky above. She watched him and gloried in his body, and in his response as she freely touched him as he did her. Soon, they were spent and lay side by side on the blanket holding hands.

“This place is beautiful. How on earth did you know it was here?”

“One of the first people we liberated from the Barbary pirates came from the fishing village here.”

“I don’t recall seeing a village on the way here.”

Kit shook his head. “Leo had been a slave for five years when we rescued him. He stayed with us for several weeks until we returned to Sicily. We dropped anchor, and the village was gone. We literally stumbled across what remained of his cottage on the headland. It was nothing more than half-buried stones. The more we looked through the scrub, the more stones we found. They were all scorched.”

Sophia shivered. Suddenly this place seemed ominous, yet it was exactly the same place it had been only an hour before. As though echoing her mood, a cloud moved across the sun, bringing the cove into shadow.

“Is this what it’s like for you? Is there nowhere you can go where you don’t see these horrors?”

“I don’t see them when I look at you.” His words were barely above a whisper. “I can’t stop, Sophia. Not until this is over.”

He accepted her embrace.

Was she ready for this? Was she ready to battle demons right alongside him? She didn’t know if she was brave enough, but what choice did she have? She sent a prayer heavenwards for the strength to keep them both safe and made her decision.

“You won’t ever have to do this alone,” she said.

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