Heart picking up, Nathaniel pondered his answer. “The next time you go ashore, I accompany you. I get to run down the beach as fast as I can.”
Hawk laughed sardonically. “Yes, I’m sure you’d love to run away.”
“Not running to escape, simply for exercise. For the sake of it.”
“That’s it?” His forehead creased. “You want to…run?”
“It’s been far too long since I had the opportunity.”
Hawk shrugged carelessly. “It’s a bet.”
There was no way Hawk could think he’d win given the amount of blood already soaking the fresh bandage. Nathaniel simply nodded and accepted the unsaid thanks, his own blood rushing far too fast in the hush of the cabin.
Chapter Eight
Sitting on the side of the bed, Hawk hid a grimace as grizzled Mr. Pickering poked at his thigh. Graying hair flopping over his forehead, the surgeon nodded. “Stitches are healing up nicely already.” He glanced at the corner of the cabin. “Thanks in no small part to young Mr. Bainbridge’s ministrations.”
Hawk grunted, and Pickering went about applying a fresh bandage. It was true Plum had been helpful, and Hawk was still puzzled as to why. Surely Plum had an ulterior motive.
Hawk needed to remain vigilant and not be moved by any acts of kindness, for kindness always carried a price. The prisoner only wished to worm into Hawk’s good graces to save his own skin. Hawk had already made the silly bet, but that had to be the end of it.
Of course Plum had been right, and as soon as Snell had taken one look at the bloody mess in Hawk’s cabin, he’d shouted for the surgeon and the needle and thread had come out.
But Hawk had to remember the boy was his prisoner. He was nothing more than a representative of money and revenge. Of the sea’s justice. There was naught to be grateful for.
Still, it was impressive that he hadn’t been at all squeamish about the blood. For having lived a life of luxury, he truly was surprisingly practical and adept at physical tasks. The weight of his hand against the wound had been reassuring, as was the touch of his knuckles to Hawk’s forehead a few times in the night, following Pickering’s orders to check for fever.
The last time, just before dawn, Hawk had pretended to remain asleep. The windows were still open, the cool breeze lovely on his skin, his sheet kicked aside. He’d heard the whisper of Plum’s feet on the planks, the press of his fingers against his forehead, assessing for a few moments before lifting. He’d waited for the footsteps to retreat, but Plum had remained standing by the bed.
He’d witnessed the hunger when Plum had eyed his prick after he’d tended to the wound, and if not for the burning ache in his thigh, Hawk might have gotten hard under that eager gaze.
In the early morning, that gaze had returned, hot on his skin, and Hawk had allowed him to look. His balls had tingled, and he’d had to shift and stretch to send footsteps scurrying back to the corner.
Pickering finished the bandage and groaned as he straightened, arching his back. Hawk frowned. “You weren’t injured yesterday, were you?” The surgeon’s hair grayed more with each week, it seemed. He’d been forced into service on a pirate ship years back thanks to a bad wager and had discovered he liked it.
Pickering laughed. “No, it’s simply old age. More aches and pains by the day, it seems.”
Hawk knew the feeling, but kept that to himself as he pulled up a clean-but-rumpled pair of trousers, aware of Plum’s gaze on him. Hawk had determinedly dressed—boots and all, ready for battle even if he was being treated as an invalid. He eyed his feet. The leather could do with a polish, and the gold tips had dulled. He should shine them now while he lazed around useless. He stood, the bed frame creaking.
Pickering was already upon him. “No, no, no. You will stay abed the rest of this day. You insisted on leading the funerals last night, walking up there as if you were unscathed when you were in agony. You can fool the men, but I know better. You lost more than your fair share of blood, and infection could kill you. So you will remain here and rest until at least tomorrow, and preferably the following days as well. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, and we’re nearing Nassau with nary a sail on the horizon. If that changes, you’ll be informed. In the meantime, get some rest for fuck’s sake. Or I’ll hold you down and dose you.”
Standing had sent a fresh burning throb through his thigh, and although out loud he grumbled, Hawk secretly was grateful to sit again. As captain, he should want to be surveying his kingdom, ensuring smooth operations.