Kidnapped by the Pirate

It was done quickly after that, a sack handed over and inspected, and Hawk unshackled and shoved toward his men at the rail. Toward his lover. He cupped Nathaniel’s face all too briefly, thrilling at the feel of him warm and whole and alive.

He ached to kiss and hold him and say a hundred other things he didn’t have words for, but they weren’t safe yet. “Thank you,” he murmured. It would have to suffice as he turned his attention back to Captain Taylor, who motioned dismissively.

“All right, off with you!”

Snell said, “Our ship is a small sloop. Essa’s Fate. If you think to engage us once we are aboard her—”

“I think to get the hell away from this place and back to chasing Spanish treasure ships.” Taylor sneered. “Begone.”

Soon they were over the rail and down into a small launch, rowing back to shore. Nathaniel sat in the bow with too many men squeezed between them for Hawk to reach him. Hawk grabbed an oar and rowed vigorously.

After splashing ashore, Hawk and Nathaniel fell into step together, and Hawk took his hand, squeezing his fingers, aching to kiss him and feel for himself that he truly was healed and alive and not a ghost.

Nathaniel bumped their shoulders together and whispered, “We must stay on our guard.”

Indeed they must, and Hawk forced his attention to navigating the debris-laden path past the eerily quiet harbor where only a few small ships remained.

The colony’s buildings had largely been flattened, water still flooding ditches, trees uprooted. Whatever citizens remained likely huddled in the church, which had been made of stone and withstood the storm, or several other larger buildings visible in the distance at the edge of the jungle forest.

Hawk kept a careful watch, ready to tear out the throat of anyone who would dare stand in their way.

Then there appeared such a man indeed.

Walter did not come upon them by surprise, instead announcing his presence with a tumult of footsteps and cursing, practically frothing at the mouth as he shouted, “So it is true! You are in league with these villains!”

Hawk gripped Nathaniel’s hand, and with his other, reached to O’Connell, who passed over his sword wordlessly. A large, curly-haired man who had yanked on breeches under his nightshirt followed after Walter, slip-sliding down the slope in bare feet.

Nathaniel called, “Bart, I’m all right. Please stay back.” To Hawk, he added, “He is my sister’s husband. A good man. Please don’t harm him.”

Hawk nodded and regarded Walter Bainbridge, meeting him face-to-face for the first time since that fateful day in the Admiralty Court. Although he wanted to lunge and strangle the man with his bare hands, he nodded and calmly said, “Good evening, Governor.”

Bainbridge’s wig had come off, and his dark hair stood up at all angles. He was fully dressed, his shoes and stockings splattered with mud, eyes wild. “I thought the messenger had gone mad when he said my son had been spotted down here. My son, who has barely been out of bed, my son—” He broke off, mouth dropping open as his gaze fell to where Hawk and Nathaniel held hands, their fingers entwined.

Nathaniel said, “Your son, who is a sodomite. Your son, who is in love with Captain Hawk, and who is leaving to make a life with him.”

All the soft places in Hawk that had festered when he and Nathaniel had been parted now healed in an instant, his heart singing as it hadn’t in decades. He squeezed Nathaniel’s hand, which trembled slightly.

Walter stared agog, and Bart did too. Then Walter snapped his jaw shut, growling and baring his teeth in a grimace. “You little imbecile. You have always been weak and useless. I should have seen that you were an abomination as well!”

The words still echoed as Hawk let go of Nathaniel and surged forward, toppling Walter to the ground, his boot on Walter’s chest and sword at his throat.

Walter screamed, “Bart! Do something, you coward!”

Hawk glanced at Bart, who shook his head, backing up. To Nathaniel, he said, “Take good care, brother.”

“I will. You as well. Susanna and Grace.”

Bart nodded, then gazed down at Walter, squirming in the mud. “As you sow, so shall you reap.” With that, he turned and marched back up the slope, disappearing into the torn foliage.

It would be so easy—to skewer Bainbridge with his blade, to slice open his throat, or even cleave off his head and display it on a pike for all to see, a reminder that the Sea Hawk should never be crossed.

Yet as he watched the man whimper and curse in the mud, at turns defiant and petrified, his fury faded. This man who had changed the course of Hawk’s life, whom he’d hated with such passion for so long, had destroyed himself.

“You’re not worth another moment of my time.” He lifted his blade, and Bainbridge sputtered, perhaps at the affront to his pride.