Kidnapped by the Pirate

“I don’t know,” Plum replied. “The desire to add every bit of land to her empire, no matter where it sits?” He sat back and wiped rain from his face.

Hawk huffed out a laugh despite himself. “Sounds accurate.”

“If not for the grief it would cause my sister, I’d beg you to declare me dead once you have the ransom, then drop me off on some other island.”

He should nip this conversation in the bud. Yet he asked, “What of your father?” He fiddled with the divider.

Plum was silent before sighing. “It’s been years since I’ve seen him. I confess I haven’t missed him at all. Primrose Isle would be a much more attractive prospect if he wasn’t on it. I could run and swim and climb, and no one would call me a fool. Or if they did, I wouldn’t care. I’d assume an alias and learn to make an honest living. Carpentry, perhaps. Working the land, picking fruit. Anything in the open air.”

Why am I asking these questions? Why do I want to hear more and more and more? “I see the merit in such a life,” he said, the words sneaking out, unsummoned and unwelcome. A mad urge to reassure rose in him. Why should he care about young Bainbridge’s discontent with his lot in a privileged life? It was ridiculous.

Enough.

“Why do they call you Hawk?”

“None of your fucking business.” Yet his tone didn’t possess the bite it should, and N—Plum only chuckled.

When he glanced over a minute later, Plum was leaning so far out—shapely backside in the air, knees coming up off the narrow window seat—that Hawk’s heart skipped, and he found himself in the corner holding down Plum’s feet.

Face drenched, Plum looked back over his shoulder and grinned, a delighted laugh on his lips as he reveled in the downpour. There was no artifice there, his happiness in such a small thing as being rained on shining from him and capturing Hawk in its rays like dust motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight.

He tried to discern the warmth flowing through him, an unfamiliar sensation that wasn’t lust or triumphant satisfaction. It was… Good fucking God, he was charmed. He wrestled with the peculiar sensation, letting go of Plum and stepping back until he hit the corner of his desk, wood digging into his hip.

You make me feel young again.

Christ, it really was time for him to retire, as his brain had evidently become addled. Yet, in these dangerous waters, he found himself unable to retreat to shore. He wanted to see the world through Plum’s eyes. He wanted to be so…new.

As Plum leaned back inside, twisting around on the window seat, his smile stuttered. “What?”

“Such a simple pleasure, but it runs deep.”

He flushed, skin going red down his firm chest, which Hawk had to stop ogling immediately. N—Plum ran his fingers through his curling hair, exuberance disappearing. “Well, I’m a simpleton. It stands to reason.”

Hawk frowned. “I’ve known my share of the slow-witted over the years. You are not among their number. Taking joy in the mundane is nothing if not wise. For what is life if not largely fucking mundane?”

“Says the pirate king.” A little smile, tentative like a bud poking through soil in spring, played on Plum’s lips.

Hawk turned away to lean over his desk so he wouldn’t smile back. “I’m sure you’ve seen for yourself that the ordinary is well at home here.”

“Yes, despite your flimflam. It seems piracy is an act of theater as much as dastardly deeds.”

“It is,” he admitted, needlessly moving the ink pot and quill on his desk from one side to the other, then back again. “We spread rumors of the Sea Hawk’s tyranny in Nassau, Port Royal, Tortuga. It’s far easier being a pirate when most ships simply surrender upon spotting our flag.”

The bucket was filling with alarming rapidity, and he went to inspect the ceiling, which would have to be fixed. It was a good time for it, while they waited for their ransom. His gaze was drawn back to Plum, and a knot tightened in his gut.

Plum bit his lip, looking hopeful, and Hawk narrowed his gaze before realizing what he wanted. Of course Hawk should deny him, yet he found himself sliding the bucket toward Plum with his boot and replacing it with a bowl.

There were a few cups of water in the bucket, enough to wash with, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Plum strip naked and splash himself before fetching a cloth that had been left in his corner. He hummed softly, standing by the window, pulling the material over his body.

There was absolutely no reason Hawk should cut him a sliver of soap, yet he did, keeping his eyes averted as he tossed it over, grunting in response to Plum’s delighted thanks.