"How is the ship coming along?" Sitting up in bed, Tristan grimaced, lightly touching his bandaged shoulder. The doctor had wrapped him tightly around the chest, stating that the wrap would need to be changed once a day and the stitches checked for signs of decay, as well as any reddening of the skin noted. As for the shoulder, it had been stitched together and wrapped on its own, a sling holding his entire arm in place. All of this had been done while Tristan was unconscious, a small miracle in my eyes. After it was all finished, a few of the men had carried him into the captain's tent—now his tent—and laid him to rest among the pillows and blankets.
"It's fine," John Butler answered, dismissing the question smoothly. "The men know what to do. How are ye?"
"Sore," Tristan laughed, wincing slightly. "But alive."
"Aye, that's a good thing to be." John smiled, glancing at me beside his captain. "Would ye like me to send someone to find ye some clothes, Miss Greene?"
I'd spent the entire night by Tristan's side in just my over large shirt, not having any other pants to wear and not willing to leave him to find some.
"Do you think you could find me some pants?"
"Pants? Don't ye want a dress? Something comfortable?"
"You've obviously never worn a corset," I answered, grimacing. "No, pants will do just fine, if you don't mind."
"Tell the men we'll be gathering at sunset as well," Tristan piped in. "To discuss changes on the ship."
"Aye, Captain." Nodding to us, John turned and left, slipping out of the fabrics covering the entrance and leaving us alone once more.
"Changes on the ship?"
"Aye. Some additions to the code that Rodrigues ruled by. I've been none too happy with the state of things for a while now."
"Are you happy to be captain?" I asked quietly, playing with the hem of my shirt. I knew he'd told me before that it wasn't a job he wanted.
"It's not bad, the few hours I've experienced of it anyway," he chuckled. "It's not like I had a choice in the matter. It was either accuse Rodrigues in front of the crew at an official trial and take over captaincy, or murder him in cold blood and get the same treatment myself."
"What do you mean?" Surprise flitted through me at his words. "Pirates kill each other all the time and no one does a thing about it."
"Aye, they do," he confirmed. "But there's a system to it. An official fight, witnessed by the crew and agreed upon by both parties, is legal in our code. It is true that fights break out and men die without ever even consulting the code, but those men usually face consequences from their crew, be it death or abandonment. Pirates don't take kindly to those who kill their own for sport, savvy?"
"So it's legal to kill, but only under certain circumstances. Good to know," I replied sarcastically. "Why even fight the captain, then? What if he'd attacked and you killed him before the crew arrived?"
"I killed him for ye," he answered honestly. "I knew I would have to eventually. It was all I could do to not rip his head from his body when I saw him on ye, attacking ye like that. But I'd told myself I needed to do it right, so as to not leave ye in the hands of another who would do the same. Even so, I near gutted him like a pig right here in this tent."
My skin puckered unpleasantly, my mind instantly going back to these sheets, another man in them with me. It had been so close, so terrifying, what almost happened.
"I feel like I should feel bad that he's dead," I whispered. "Like I should be upset that it was my fault. But I'm not. I'm happy he's gone. Those few minutes—" I stopped, my voice catching, and I suddenly realized I was crying. There had been so many others besides me, women who had actually been harmed and beaten. I was the lucky one who got away, the one who would never know what it was like to be raped by him. And yet, I felt like I did know, my skin crawling with the memory of his hands on me, the sound of ripping fabric ringing in my ears. Yes, I was glad he was dead. I would never have to be afraid of his presence again.
"I understand, Samantha," Tristan said soothingly, reaching over and taking my hand. "No one will blame ye. Yer feelings are to be expected."
The tent was closing in around me, still smelling of Rodrigues's drunken stench. My torn pants were in the corner, shoved out of the way. It was too hot, the air choking me, suffocating me.
"I need to leave for a minute," I stated, untangling my hand from his and standing. "I'm sorry. I'll be just outside if you need anything."
"Take a walk," he encouraged, seeming to know what I was suffering with. "I'll be here when ye return."
Nodding, I hurried from the small space, gasping in a breath of fresh air once outside, blinking in the bright sunlight.
"Miss Greene!" Turning, I saw a surprised John Butler, a pair of brown leather pants in his hands. "Is something the matter?"
"No," I replied uneasily. "I just needed some air. Are those for me?"
"Oh, yes!" Holding them out to me, he shifted nervously, glancing at the tent. "Do ye mind letting me speak with him alone a moment, miss? It's only business things."
Taking the pants, I slid them on easily, ignoring the pain in my arm as I tucked my shirt in and pulled the belt tight. My own injury was practically healed compared to what Tristan was dealing with now. "I'm sure he would be fine with that," I replied conversationally, while trying to keep my curiosity from getting the better of me. What would he need to say to him that he didn't want me around for?
Smiling, he excused himself and entered the tent, greeting Tristan and informing him that the crew knew of the gathering.
Sighing, I slowly walked away, letting the breeze brush the hair from my face. The crew had finished the careening the night before and the Adelina sat on the shore like a beached whale, waiting to be returned to the sea. With everything that had happened, no one had gathered together enough to pull her out into the water.
"Is everything good with ye, Miss Greene?" A slightly familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts and staring and I turned, recognizing one of the able bodied sailors who did whatever was needed of him on board.
"I'm fine, thank you." My gaze turned back to the sea, but my heart picked up. This was the first time I'd been around any of the other men alone since having my gender revealed. My chest was strapped down, and I wore men's clothing, but they all knew without a doubt.
"I'm Adam Kelly," he said by way of introduction. "We met before? I'm one of the men who was helping to keep ye a secret while ye were on board."
"Excuse me?" I replied sharply, spinning around to look at him.
Taken aback, he hedged away, eyes wide. "Captain O'Rourke asked me to keep an eye on ye when he wasn't around, said ye were never to be unwatched among the men, savvy? I was just following orders."
"How many of you were there?" And why hadn't Tristan mentioned any of them?
"Three or four, including that padre of yers," he answered confidently, smiling. "Ye knew about John Butler, aye? James Abby was the other. We weren't to say anything to ye about it, though. Captain didn't want anyone else to find out."
"Then how did Thomas know?" My face was burning in anger and embarrassment. All this time I'd thought Tristan trusted me enough to handle myself among the crew. But there had been watchmen, which made me feel like I'd never really done anything brave in the first place.
"I don't rightly know, miss." He glanced out to the part of the beach where the crew was relaxing, laughing loudly, and talking amongst themselves. "Then again, I'd say I didn't rightly know a good deal of things about Thomas Randall." There was a melancholy tone to his voice and a faraway look in his eyes that suddenly set my brain alight.
"You're a member of the Order," I spoke without realizing this was an organization among them I should know nothing about. Scrambling to cover up my blunder, I stumbled over a few words trying to right it. "T—the club, I mean. The one Tristan told me about, that likes to play . . . cards. Thomas was too, wasn't he?"
Eyebrows raised, Kelly stared at me like he didn't quite believe my cover up, nodding hesitantly. "Aye. Ye think ye know a man after spending that much time with him."
"It's a shame," I agreed hastily. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish my walk and get back to Tristan. Thank you for—uh—watching me."
"Yer welcome," he replied in surprise, watching me turn away.
"Stupid again, Sam," I muttered to myself. Of course John wanted to talk to Tristan alone. They hadn't just had a crewmate mutiny against them and abandon their cause, they'd had a fellow knight sever ties. I couldn't even imagine the implications that put into place for them. Thomas knew where the treasure was, maybe even how to get to it. Everything that they'd been working to secure was now in danger.
Where had Thomas gone? Would he go after the treasure on his own? He had five men with him, but there was no indication that they were knights as well. Surely, Tristan would want to find out, or at least get the Adelina back in the water as soon as possible.
Hurrying back to the tent, I caught a glimpse of John leaving, a grim set to his features as he went. Tristan appeared in the opening soon after, his eyes closed as he inhaled the hot air, the sun shining off his dark hair.
"Good talk?" I called, smiling as I approached. He looked the most relaxed I'd seen him since we'd visited his family. It was comforting to see he didn't appear worried, especially since I wanted him to give himself plenty of time to heal. He would be able to go out to sea within the next few days, I imagined. Fighting wouldn't be an option for much longer.
He turned, beaming at the sound of my voice, his eyes opening slowly, watching me come closer, like he was devouring me. I felt a chill of pleasure go up my spine and grinned, loving the way he made me feel without doing absolutely anything.
"Ye could say that. And yer walk?" His voice sounded smooth and in control, like I remembered it always being.
"Informative. When will the ship be back in the water?" Coming up beside him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned against him, careful of his wounds. He hadn't been out of bed until now and I felt both anxiety and happiness at seeing him on his feet again.
"Tomorrow morning. It's not the best amount of time for us to be on display here, where anyone could attack, but I want the crew to be alert when I speak with them tonight." He sighed, brushing a piece of hair from the corner of my mouth, and bent down, kissing me softly. It wasn't like the one he'd given me before, but timid, like he was shy of me suddenly. "Ye'll come, aye?" he asked as he broke away.
"I'm a member of the crew, aren't I?" I joked. "My name is in the records—sort of."
"Good. Listen, don't be upset when ye hear what I have to say. It'll be an adjustment for us all."
"What are you talking about?" I frowned, looking up at him in concern. "Why don't you just tell me now?"
"No." He shook his head, looking over to the rest of the crew. "Yer right. Ye are a member of the crew and ye all should hear it together."