Kidnapped by the Pirate

Nathaniel still smoothed his fingers over the scars, back and forth. “And what is your true name?”

It was a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in many years, and Hawk’s heart thumped. Perhaps he’s hypnotizing me, he thought as the truth slithered up his tongue. He was only just able to swallow it down deep again.

He wondered what it would mean for his name to be on Nathaniel’s lips. Something unfurled in him, a dark knot that had been cinched tight. He wanted to hear it, but couldn’t permit it.

Apparently letting that question go, Nathaniel asked, “What did your father say when you decided to become a sailor?”

Hawk briefly closed his eyes to the distant stars, a shiver rippling through him. Perhaps he should close the window after all. Yet he didn’t move, the warm weight of Nathaniel’s leg hooked over his like an anchor.

“He had no chance to say a thing. I slipped down to the docks to go fishing. There was an old man who was happy to teach me in return for labor. Some nights, I’d climb out the window and steal away. The days on the farm were long, but I was young enough that excitement could fuel me instead of sleep.”

“How young?”

“Fifteen. Depending on the tides, the fisherman went out in the darkness sometimes. It was past midnight when we returned to the harbor. I was wet, the reek of cod replacing the stink of sheep. I should have been more careful. Should have paid more heed as I made my way past the tavern. But I was thinking of the thrill of full nets, still tasting salt on my tongue, feeling the rock of the boat beneath me. They came upon me in an instant.”

Nathaniel’s hand stilled again, now resting on the swell of Hawk’s arse. “They?”

“Press gang.”

He sucked in a breath. “I’ve heard the tales.”

“There were five of them with clubs.” Rough hands dragging him back to the docks, fetid breath, his bare feet barely touching the cobblestones as they bore him away from home and all he knew. Powerless. “I tried to tell them I was a farmer, not a seaman, but of course all evidence pointed to the contrary. And I had no money to pay them off.”

Nathaniel whispered, “They simply…took you?”

“The navy needs men. It’s so vast it can’t operate without impressment. They said it was my duty to serve king and country. Hauled me aboard the Leaside, and soon we were away. I was finally at sea.” Hawk laughed derisively. “I learned to be careful of wishes, lest they come true.”

A lesson he still hadn’t quite learned, it seemed.

“It’s awful. Barbaric. You didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye?”

The pang of missing his family had long ago faded to a dull echo of another existence. “I would have left one way or another. It wasn’t for me, a farmer’s life. My father couldn’t understand. He was a good man. Fair. Hardworking. But he thought me a fool for wanting anything beyond our fields. Still, I would have liked to give my farewells.”

“I’m sorry.” Nathaniel pressed his lips to Hawk’s shoulder.

Holding his breath, Hawk watched the stars shift as the ship rocked. Then he made his voice hard. “Don’t pity me too much. I kidnapped you, after all.”

Nathaniel’s warm presence didn’t waver, his hand still resting on Hawk’s backside. “I suppose you did. I learned to be careful of what one wishes for as well.” Before Hawk could wonder too much at what he meant, Nathaniel asked, “What was it like? Aboard the frigate?”

“Dank. Crowded. Freezing or sweltering, seemingly never anything in-between. Rations were hard biscuits, sometimes crawling with weevils. Salted meat. The officers ate better, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I was given the choice to ‘volunteer’ for service or remain a pressed man and get nothing. Volunteers were given two months’ salary in advance to buy slops—clothing—from the ship’s purser, and perhaps a hammock. Since I clearly had no choice, I agreed to volunteer. And I was promised more salary, but I barely saw a shilling. I probably should have refused their offer on moral grounds, but it seemed an exercise in futility that would harm me far more than them.”

John’s voice echoed in his mind. “I ain’t giving them the satisfaction.” He had been stubborn and righteous, beautiful in his rebellion and rage. But he’d smiled so sweetly when Hawk had offered to share his hammock one night, then every night following until…

Nathaniel’s hand stroked up and down his spine, and Hawk realized he’d tensed from head to toe. Part of him wanted to shove Nathaniel away and spring from the bed, escape up to the main deck and breathe the night air until he regained his senses and stopped this slow, steady loosening of truths.

Yet he couldn’t seem to move, and he exhaled under Nathaniel’s caress, still keeping his head turned away as if that was some kind of protection.