“Oh, aye?” he asked, his head tipped to the side. “What would that be, then?”
“Me,” I answered, and gently closed the door on his disbelieving face.
An hour later I lit the lanterns on my borrowed sloop and gave the order for her to sail. The twins and Tar weren’t terribly happy at having their shore leave revoked but cheered up to no end when I told them all they had to do was sail me out to Corbin’s ship; then they could return to shore and have the rest of the night off.
I was a bit worried that some of the blockade ships might interpret my ship approaching them as an aggressive act, but evidently Corbin had given the word not to open fire willy-nilly, for we sailed past three big warships to the red and black frigate Java Guru without being stopped or fired upon.
“Wow, this is a really, really big ship,” I said as we sailed alongside her, heading to a spot midway down her length where a group of sailors were waiting with grappling poles and a rope ladder. Due to my concern with Corbin earlier, I hadn’t had a really good look at the flagship. I took the opportunity to give her a close examination. She had three masts, a raised quarterdeck (at the rear of the ship), and a forecastle (at the bow). She reeked naval authority and more or less looked exactly how I expected a bad-assed warship to look. “How many guns does she have, Tar?”
“Thirty-eight,” he answered. “This be a captured ship from the English navy.”
“Really?” I looked up to the railing. A dark-haired figure appeared suddenly, frowning over the edge at me. “Wow. Impressive. Hoy, Corbin! Hoy, Holder!”
“Ahoy, lass. Ye look fetchin’ in those knickers. I did well with ’em, didn’t I?” Holder called down happily.
“Amy, what the devil are you doing out here at this time of night?” Corbin asked.
“Yes, you did, and thank you,” I told Holder before smiling up at Corbin. “I have some things to talk about. Mind helping me on board?”
Bas scrambled up the rope ladder after me. He had made a bit of a fuss when I informed him he had spent long enough in the inn with the other crew, but I turned a deaf ear to his complaints.
Corbin grabbed my hands as I approached the railing, hauling me up and over it and straight into his arms. I’m not a fool; I didn’t so much as protest such a domineering action, but I did try to avoid plastering myself on his wound when he locked his arms around me and kissed the very air from my lungs. He might be healing superfast in this reality, but there was no sense in pushing virtual fate.
At the touch of his mouth on mine, my entire body woke up and started making demands.
“Dear God,” I murmured when he finally had to stop the kiss so we could breathe.
“No, not quite, although you’re free to think I am a god,” he said, giving me a roguish smile.
“That was a hell of a kiss,” I said softly, licking my lower lip. I swore I could still feel his tongue burning a path over it. “People are watching, though.” Just Holder, and he doesn’t care. The kiss, by the way, was for being the most delectable, desirable woman in the world,” he said, rubbing his thumb over where I had licked.
“I just melt when you say things like that,” I said, leaning in for another kiss despite the audience.
“And this is for taking so long to come to me,” he said louder, giving me a swat on the behind.
“Hey!” I protested, jumping back and rubbing the abused spot. “You can’t smack a captain on the butt. That’s illegal or something.”
“I’m the captain here,” he said, starting to pull me into another embrace.
“You’re one of the captains, yes.” I backed away, ignoring Holder’s smirk as he watched our byplay.
“No, sweetheart, not on my ship. You’re the captain when you command your own vessel, but only the captain of a crew can be called captain in other circumstances.”
I made a polite bow, sweeping out my hand as I said, “Captain Amy, governor of Turtle’s Back, at your service.”
“What?”
I thought Corbin’s eyebrows were going to shoot off his forehead.
“Bart left. I’m in charge now. My, isn’t it late. I’m sooo sleepy. Mind if I spend the night here?” I asked, batting my lashes at him.
Corbin’s eyes went molten at my blatant offer, but he managed to restrain himself . . . somewhat to my dismay, although I knew it was smarter to get the talking out of the way before I investigated—in an up-close and personal manner—just how healed he was.
“Come into my quarters,” Corbin said, grabbing my wrist and heading for a door under the quarterdeck. “I want to hear everything.”
“Me, too,” Holder said, following. “This promises to be the most entertaining thing I’ve heard since Corb tried to explain why he came back to the ship with bits of fig pudding stuck to his chest hair.”
My cheeks pinked a little as I remembered that wonderful night. Corbin was evidently remembering it as well, because he shot me a wicked look that had me wondering what sort of desserts a blockade ship routinely stocked.
It took the better part of an hour to explain the recent happenings, hindered as I was by almost constant interruptions in the form of questions from both men. But answer them I did, and eventually they were in possession of as much information as I was.
“But why would he do it?” Holder asked, giving me a critical look. “No offense intended, Amy, but it’s not normal for a captain to promote someone over the head of his first mate.”
I shrugged. “I have no idea what his reasoning is other than what he said in the letter.”
Corbin glanced at it where it lay spread out on his desk, a half frown wrinkling his brow. “Leaving Amy in charge makes perfect sense to me,” he said slowly. “She’s smart and competent and will do a good job as both captain and governor.”
I gave him my very best smile, warmed to the tips of my toes by his support. What a perceptive man he was!
“But what I want to know is what this mysterious mission is that caused him to leave during the blockade.”
“No idea,” I said, shrugging. “I asked everyone I could think of, but no one had any clue.”
“It doesn’t make sense any more than his accusation that I stole his woman from him,” Corbin said, examining the letter again. He shook his head while reading it, tossing it down disgustedly. “I don’t know who he’s talking about. I haven’t stolen anyone. You’re the only woman I’ve been with in more than a year. He . . . er . . . Bart didn’t ever express any affection for you, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.” I raised my hands and let them fall in a gesture of utter bewilderment. “He’s never so much as flirted with me, at least not that I noticed. Holder has been more obvious than Bart. He’s ogled me openly, whereas Bart never looked at me twice.”
Holder stood up from where he was leaning over Corbin’s shoulder rereading the note. “The word you are looking for, dear lady, is appreciate. I appreciate, not ogle! My wife has specifically forbidden me from ogling.”
I crossed my arms under my breasts. Holder’s gaze immediately shot to where my breasts were smooshed up under the bodice. “Aha! See? You’re ogling my boobs right now.”
Corbin glanced up at his friend, then over to me, his eyes widening slightly.
“Great, now you both are ogling me.” I uncrossed my arms. My cleavage returned to its better-than-normal-but-not-as-nice-as-Jez’s state. Holder looked disappointed.
“The fact remains that there is no explanation for Bart’s unexpected departure,” Corbin said, his gaze still on my chest. I pulled my shoulders back. He smiled.
“I have an idea, but it’s a bit of a stretch,” Holder said, pouring himself a brandy and taking the comfortable leather seat.
“Make yourself at home, mate,” Corbin said dryly, rising from the desk chair and coming to sit next to me on the bed. I leaned into his nonwounded side, enjoying the feeling of his body next to mine. Something about Corbin felt so comfortable, so right, it made me think of coming home after a long, un
pleasant trip.
“Thanks, I will. About this idea I have . . . Amy, you said—oh, for God’s sake, woman, stop nuzzling him in front of me! You think I want to see that?”
“Sorry,” I said, without the least bit of contriteness as I pulled away from the irresistible lure of Corbin’s adorable earlobe.
Holder turned his glare on Corbin. “You think I don’t see that you’re trying to get your hand under the back of her bodice?”
Corbin stopped trying to do that very thing, looking behind me at where his hand was working its way under the leather and linen. “How could you see that?”
“I couldn’t,” Holder said, looking abashed for a moment. “But that’s what I’d be doing if I was in your place. If you two would try to keep your hands off each other long enough for us to have a rational discussion, I would appreciate it.”
“I thought you wanted us together.” I said, squirming slightly when Corbin’s fingers found a way under the bodice. He caressed a line up my spine that had me suddenly thinking of all the hours that had passed since Corbin and I had had dessert.
“I do, but not when we’re trying to have a conversation. Sit still, would you?”
“Get on with it, Holder,” Corbin said, clearly thinking thoughts along the same path as mine.
“Fine. Amy, you said that you grilled Bart, and he clearly was a computer player, correct?”
I smiled a slow, seductive smile at Corbin. “Hmm? Grilled might be too harsh a word. I’ve talked to Bart a lot, and he’s always been very piratey and never broken character. Corbin, do you know that you have the most adorable Adam’s apple? I love how it bobbles around when I when I touch you right here—”
“No touching!” Holder said, leaping up out of his chair. Before I could protest he yanked me off the bed and shoved me down into the chair, taking the one Corbin had vacated at the desk. “Lord above, you two are insatiable!”
“Yes, we are,” Corbin said, smiling back at me, his eyes alight with love and passion and a host of other emotions that made my heart soar. “Make your point, Holder, then get the hell out of my cabin.”
“My point, you lust-riddled dolt, is that Bart could well be Paul. And if he is, it’s likely we’re all in danger right this very moment.”
Chapter 21
Go and do your best endeavour,
And before all links we sever,
We will say farewell for-ever.
—Ibid, Act II
I stopped batting my lashes at Corbin to gawk at Holder. Corbin frowned at his friend. “Danger? What sort of danger? We’re already trapped here.”
“Exactly. Paul has us trapped here, all of us, with no clear way to escape, and no way to find him. And now Bart has done virtually the same thing—he has us trapped, together, stuck in this blockade and unable to find him. Makes sense that this was part of his plan all along. And given that, I’m not expecting him to show up and throw us a party with balloon animals and ice cream.”
“Hmm.” Corbin stroked his chin, something I noticed he did when thinking hard. “He has a point, love.”
“Granted, but I just told you both that I’ve talked to Bart, and he seems very much a computer character.”
Holder waggled a finger at me. “No. You said that you’ve talked to him a lot, but you didn’t grill him. There’s a difference between having casual intercourse with a character”—he shot Corbin a look—“social intercourse with a character, and trying to determine if they are a player or not.”
“But . . . don’t you guys know whether you created Bart or not?”
“Sure we do,” Corbin said. “Bart was created to be a nemesis to players—I told you that. But given Paul’s programming abilities, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to guess he’s taken over the character and is now running it himself.”
“True.” I chewed my lower lip while I mentally ran over all my conversations with Bart. “You’re right. I don’t think I ever did really ask him a pointed question. He’s always seemed so perfect for the role, I guess I never questioned that he could be anything but a computer character.”
“The prosecution rests its case,” Holder said, leaning back in the chair.
“Now, wait—just because I didn’t ask him about his childhood doesn’t mean he’s this Paul guy.” I looked from Holder to Corbin, who was looking thoughtful. “For Pete’s sake, Renata has acted much more suspicious than Bart. In addition, there must be other people in the game you haven’t tracked down yet to talk to.”
Corbin nodded. “We’ve done about ninety-five percent of the people on Mongoose, but not all of them. You said you’ve done the same?”
“No, I’ve talked to all forty-seven inhabitants of Turtle’s Back. None of them are anything but what they seem.”
“Except Bart,” Holder said, a stubborn expression on his face.
“Possibly Bart. He’s in the possible category, and I’m willing to bet that a couple of direct questions would clear up any doubt.”
“Right, but how are you going to ask him questions now?” Holder asked.
I frowned. He had a point.
“Ha, gotcha on that one. Running away is the surest sign of guilt,” Holder crowed.
“Not necessarily,” Corbin said, rubbing his chin. “He could be exactly what Amy says—a computer character whose actions are driven by the circumstances provided by the player data.”
“Really? Did you program computer characters to turn over their crews to players?” I asked, more confused than ever about Bart. Could I have been taken in by him?
“Actually, yes, if the data matched preset criteria, a character might well abdicate in favor of a senior player officer.”
“But I’m not an officer,” I pointed out.
“Moot point—you’re the only player in his crew, so that makes you the senior person. Something you did could well have triggered Bart’s AI into making him turn over the crew.”
“Or it could be a nefarious plan to trap us,” Holder insisted, still looking stubborn.
I rubbed my forehead, my thoughts so muddled I couldn’t seem to get them to make sense. “We’re back to where we started. It’s like we’re going in circles. We keep trying to get somewhere but don’t actually do anything.”
“You’re tired,” Corbin said, marching over to the door and opening it. He gave his first mate a very pointed look. “You need to go to bed. Everything will be clearer in the morning.”
Holder rolled his eyes as he obeyed Corbin’s unspoken command, sauntering to the door only to pause. “I’ll be the first to admit that a steamy, sweaty night of unbridled sex has many powers, but it won’t decide the problem of Paul.”
“It’s too late to do anything tonight,” Corbin said. I agreed.
Holder gave me a quick leer. “I’d wish you a good night, Amy, but I doubt you’ll need—”
Corbin pushed him through the door, slamming it behind him. As an afterthought he locked it, tossing the key onto the desk.
I crossed my arms. “Locking me in again?”
“No, sweetheart,” he said, his smile so filled with love it made me want to cry. “Locking the rest of the world out.”
“Sounds good to me. About this plan for a steamy, sweaty night of unbridled sex . . . I’m afraid there are going to be conditions.”
“Oh, really?” Corbin stood on one foot and yanked his boot off. “What sort of conditions? Something exciting? Something naughty? You want to tie me down?”
I was about to tell him that I wanted to see for myself how his wound was doing before I gave the okay to anything so strenuous as a bout of lovemaking, but the image his words presented gave me a couple of moments’ pause. “Do you want me to tie you down?”
Corbin looked thoughtful as he pulled off his other boot and started unlacing his leather jerkin. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been tied down. I generally prefer to be in the driver’s seat, but if you really wanted to go Amazon on me, I suppose we could give it a shot.”
I
smiled as I walked over to the desk. “I have a better idea.”
The last thing I saw before I left him was his questioning frown. I hurried up the stairs to the quarterdeck, found Leeward Tom, and gave him my request. He looked startled, but nodded and summoned Barn and a couple of others. While that was being done, I trotted back downstairs, pausing to kiss Corbin quickly as he stood with his hands on his hips in the door to his cabin.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as I headed for the stairs leading belowdecks.
“You’ll see. Back in a mo.”
It actually took longer than a moment to find something along the lines of what I wanted, but in the end I was happy with the results.
“You want to take a bath? Now?” Corbin asked when I reentered his cabin. Barn gave the big copper and wood tub one last shove so that it sat in the middle of the cabin. Several younger crewmates were hauling in seawater in large leather containers. Others were carefully carrying copper pots with heated water.
“No, you’re going to take one,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at him as I oversaw the filling of the tub. Five minutes later, the water was at a temperature and level I liked. I thanked the crewmates and shooed them out the door before closing and relocking it. “I know real stitches need to be kept dry, but I doubt if a little water will harm yours. Besides, that wound needs to be kept clean, and what better way to ensure that than to bathe all of you?”
His frown faded. “You’re going to bathe me?”
“Oh, yes. Normally I’d pass on this opportunity since most tubs just aren’t made for any extracurricular activities, but since this one is amply built, I thought we could give it a whirl.” I pulled a palm-sized bottle out of my cleavage. “And to make sure your skin is soft and supple, I’m adding a little lemon oil to the water.”
He watched with interest as I poured a dollop of the aromatic oil into the tub. The scent of tangy lemon filled the air of the cabin, making me lick my lips as I knelt next to the tub.
“Stop that,” Corbin said, his eyes flashing silver at me as he tore at the leather laces of his jerkin.