* * *
They did not sleep long. Claudio burst into the room, startling them awake as the door flew open wide. Kitty jerked the covers up to cover herself as she yelped in frightened surprise, and Rafe grimaced, sucking in a sharp, hurting breath as he inadvertently pressed both hands against the mattress to sit up.
“Rafe, you must come,” Claudio exclaimed, breathless and wide-eyed, his expression alarmed. Rafe had left him in charge of El Verdad; his son, Eduardo, had taken over duties at the helm of La Venganza, and the two ships sailed side by side along the coast of Portugal.
“What?” Rafe asked, drawing his bound, injured hand against his belly, cradling it as he swung his legs around out of bed. He was still weak and groggy, his mind clouded with pain. “What…what is it, Claudio?”
“The fog has burned off,” Claudio said, either not minding Rafe’s nudity, or not caring about it, as the younger man stood, drawing one of the sheets around his hips. “It is gone now, and we can see to move well again.”
Rafe blinked at him, bewildered, as the boatswain reached into his wardrobe, pulling out two shirts. He tossed them to Rafe. “Get dressed, hijo,” he said, sparing a polite nod toward Kitty. “Both of you. There is a ship behind us, coming in fast, flying the banners of England.”
Kitty sat up straight at this, her breath drawing in a sharp, startled gasp. “Daddy…!” she whispered.
Claudio nodded, his expression grim. “We are about to have company,” he said.