Part 33 (1/2)
Lock laughed humorlessly. ”Just like a woman.”
She grasped his wrist, her nails biting into his flesh. She stared into his eyes, her stomach twisted with rage. ”I don't know you anymore, and I hate you.”
She turned and walked back to Ilias and the boy.
”Ilias, help him below. I'll do what I can for him.” She glanced at the whipped man who was being untied from the mast. ”Him, too.”
Sparrow doubted she'd ever been so furious in her life. No matter where they docked next, she was going ash.o.r.e and never setting foot on the Lady Fire again.
”Nice night.” Lock approached Sparrow who stood, gazing at the sea. Moonlight shone on the water and the breeze felt cool.
”Yes.”
”You look beautiful.” He touched her hair, but she jerked her head away.
He let his hand drop. For over two weeks she'd given him one-word answers and hadn't allowed him to touch her, let alone kiss her.
”Ilias made up a h.e.l.l of a string of limericks tonight.”
”Yes.”
”He had you laughing.”
She started to walk away, but he grasped her hand and felt her stiffen beneath his touch. He resisted the urge to release her, feeling like an unwelcome serpent crawling up her skirt. Since that day he'd punished the men and she said she'd hated him, nothing had been the same between them. At first he thought she'd just been angry. He could understand her feelings. She wasn't accustomed to life aboard a pirate s.h.i.+p. He had to keep control of the men. As it was, he knew several of them thought him lenient in his punishments. They thought Sparrow had influenced him to let the boy live, and they were right to a point. Killing the boy for stealing coins seemed harsh, especially when compared to the crimes he'd committed. Still, when he'd been as young and inexperienced as the boy, he'd been careful not to steal from his captain's cargo. The boy didn't matter to him-at least not as much as Sparrow. Since that day, she'd acted like she truly hated him. She looked at him like he was a demon spat up from the smokiest h.e.l.l, and he couldn't bear it.
”Sparrow, you haven't talked to me in weeks.”
”Really?”
”By the twin G.o.ddesses, girl, can't you make a sentence with more than one word?”
”Perhaps.”
He tugged her toward him, a hand on each shoulder. When he tried meeting her eyes, she gazed past him toward the black horizon. ”Sparrow, what are you trying to do? At night you don't even let me touch you.”
”I'm not your wh.o.r.e.”
He laughed humorlessly. ”There you go. Four whole words. Whoever said you're my wh.o.r.e?”
”You didn't have to say it. It's how you treat me. Like one of your slaves. Like one of your crewmen-except at night, that is.”
”I really need a cook, but if you don't want to do it-”
”It's not the work, and you know it! It's you, Lock.”
”If you're still thinking about the punishments to those crewmen, I was well within my rights.”
”You've changed.”
”I'm what I always said I was and you chose to ignore!”
”No. You were different. Don't you feel it?”
He wanted to deny the truth in her words, but he couldn't. He was different. When he'd been at the farm with her, he thought about being at sea, but the pirating part faded somewhat. He liked working on the farm, not that it was the life he'd choose for himself, but being with her was worth it. He had daydreams of marrying her and supporting them by fis.h.i.+ng and trading on a s.h.i.+p he bought with honest money. It wasn't the most exciting life he imagined, but it was good. When he'd met the Knights in Begonia, he'd even started to have the crazy vision that he could become one of them. That way he could earn an honest living but not lose the excitement he craved. He could study fighting, learn more about healing-maybe even teach that old witch Shea-Ann a thing or two. But who was he kidding? He wasn't a Knight. He'd spent his entire life doing everything they abhorred. They saved lives, he took them. They gave to the poor, he stole from almost anyone. They fought for the oppressed, he fought for whatever monarch hired him as a privateer.
”Don't you feel it?” Sparrow pressed. Her palms splayed across his chest, the most intimate touch she'd awarded him in weeks.
He covered her hands with his, holding them to his heart. ”This is the only life I know, Sparrow. It's what I do.”
”That's an excuse, Lock. You know you can be so much more than this.”
”Can I?”
”Yes. I believe you can do anything you want. Obviously you can be a pirate, but that's a waste of your true talents.”
”What true talents?”
”You're intelligent, Lock. You know so much more than these men, than men like Rino. You can learn so much more. You can be a loving man. I've seen you help Shea-Ann when she's healing. I watched you rebuild a village that was nearly destroyed. You can create, Lock. You don't have to kill and steal.”
Lock tugged her into his arms and held her as they gazed at the sea.
When he was very young, he used to love building things out of sand. Castles. Villages. s.h.i.+ps. He'd pretend he was aboard his father's vessel. His father had the finest s.h.i.+p in the Archipelago and he taught Lock how to run it. They visited ports in exotic places he could only imagine. Of coa.r.s.e it was all fantasy. He had no idea who his father was. It could have been any of the seamen his mother entertained at the brothel.
The waves always destroyed what he built. For years he tried telling his mother about the adventures he made up, but she never listened. She ignored him when he asked who his father was. One day she said his father had returned. He awaited Lock in her room at the brothel. Excited and a bit frightened, Lock made his way to the room. He found a man sure enough, but he was in no way his father. It had been the first time Lock's mother had sold him for profit.
”This isn't such a bad life, Sparrow,” he said. ”There's worse.”
”And there's better. I can't live like this, Lock. I'm telling you I can't.”
”We don't have a choice right now.”
”There's always a choice.” She slipped from his arms and disappeared below.
He stared at the moon, remembering that day in the brothel so long ago. ”No, girl. Not always.”
Chapter Twenty Three.
”Lock?”
”Thought you were asleep.” Lock sat at the edge of the bed beside Sparrow, his s.h.i.+rt rolled up to his elbows, the front untied.
Sparrow shook her head, her eyes meeting his in the dimness.
He continued, ”We'll go ash.o.r.e tomorrow. No point now. It's too late.”
”Good.” She wondered if she sounded as strained as she felt. Ash.o.r.e. This would be her last night with him. She'd been so angry at him for such a long time that she thought leaving would be simple. Now as she looked at him and knew she'd probably never see him again, she felt mostly sadness. Not average sadness, but a deep, raw ache, akin to how she'd felt when Thea died. Lock is not dead! He's just stubborn. And stupid. And... a pirate. He had told her that much from the first.