Some pirates favored warships, but Hawk preferred the agility of a sloop, its forty-six men a lean crew compared to some ships. Fewer men to share prizes with. Fewer men to cause trouble.
Hawk’s mind whirled. For most of his years, he’d dreamed of a life on the waves, but he’d never wanted piracy. Walter Bainbridge had given him no choice. There was no possibility of restoring his tarnished honor, but with his share of the ransom, perhaps he could escape the brutality.
Maybe he could find…somewhere. A quiet stretch of island, beyond England’s reach. A place to fish and raise a few animals, enough to live comfortably. To know peace on his own terms. He’d be alone, but he was long accustomed to that.
A distant pang twinged, dull after all this time. Years ago, he’d imagined finding a mate, a man to share his life with. Even to love. Such absurdity.
Unbidden, a memory of blond hair and impish blue eyes flared before returning to the dark morass of the past. He’d had love for a brief moment before it was ripped away. Ah, the folly of youth.
Yet here I am dreaming of a peaceful life. Folly indeed.
Hawk centered his mind on the task at hand, peering into the distance. They were well away, so he hauled the boy belowdecks to his cabin, ignoring his yelp.
There was just enough murky light through the stern windows to see without bothering with the tinderbox. His desk sat at the rear, bed built into the wall opposite it, on the other side of the cabin’s open space. In that space, Hawk crossed his arms and eyed his captive up and down. “Boy—”
“I’m eighteen years.” Bainbridge puffed up his narrow chest. “I’m a man.”
Hawk had to laugh, a sharp exhalation. “Are you now?” At one and forty, Hawk could barely remember being so damned young. “Listen, boy. Here’s how it will be.”
“My name is—”
“Unimportant,” Hawk barked. He’d surely heard the name when he’d looked into Bainbridge’s history, but it didn’t matter now. In fact, it was easier this way. “You are merely cargo. My treasure, my prize, my plum. That is all you are until your father pays what I’m owed. I would put you in the hold, but the men would be tempted to have at you, and your father wouldn’t want what was left. Do you understand… Plum?” It was all the name the prisoner needed aside from his accursed surname.
Not waiting for an answer, Hawk opened a trunk by the starboard hull and dug out a scratchy wool blanket he rarely used, tossing it. It hit Bainbridge in the chest and pooled at his feet. Hawk nodded to the corner by the windows. “Sleep there.”
Bainbridge snatched the blanket from the floor and straightened unsteadily.
“For the next month while your father gathers funds, you will not be leaving this cabin, so food and water will be brought to you. You’ll have use of a bucket that will be emptied regularly so your filth doesn’t stink up my cabin. Don’t speak to any of the crew. Don’t speak to me, unless spoken to. Nod if you understand.”
“Not leaving this cabin?” Plum blurted, horror written plain on his boyish face.
“Clearly you do not understand.” Hawk took a stride forward, gratified when the boy jerked back.
“It’s… It’s just—please. I won’t be any trouble.” His breath came quickly, chest heaving. “Can’t I go up to the deck at times? To stretch my legs?”
“Be grateful I’m not chaining you to the bed.” Hawk raked his gaze down and back up his prisoner, instilling fear with a leering snarl. “Naked.”
Plum’s light-brown eyes widened, darting to the mattress. Hawk turned on his heel and fetched the key from his desk. Now that they’d settled that, he’d—
“I could work! Up on deck. Help the crew with…whatever it is they do.”
Disbelieving, Hawk straightened to his full height and whirled, making sure—yes, his coat flared behind him. He hadn’t garnered the Sea Hawk’s fearsome reputation in only four years without some dramatics. Yet incredibly, Bainbridge kept talking.
“I’d be happy to work.” His eyes implored, fingers twisting in the blanket. “I’d do anything you say.”
Clearly fucking not, as the command to shut his damn mouth had already been tossed aside. Hawk sneered. “Work? You? Tell me, have you worked a single day in your delicate little life?”
Cheeks red, the boy stared at his scuffed shoes in answer.
“You will stay in this cabin, and you will only speak when spoken to. But I’m not wholly cruel.” He waved his arm magnanimously at the bookshelf. “Read all you like.”
Bainbridge looked at the volumes with a strange sort of despair bordering on disdain, his shoulders slumping even lower.
Fury sparked, and iron dug into his palm as Hawk gripped the key. “Is my library not to your liking, my lord?”