“I’ve been there,” Logan said.
“Well?” Red demanded, when Logan continued to stand there.
“Will I be allowed to go ashore?”
“Yes.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
Red turned those striking eyes full on him. “Pirates do have honor, as you keep pointing out to me. I will see to it that everyone is made aware that you are a captive and where you belong. Should you attempt to escape, any one of them would happily kill you, because we’ll have a bounty on your head, a fair sum for your return—dead or alive,” Red said pleasantly.
“That won’t be necessary,” Logan said.
“Really?”
“I have given my word. And, Captain, if you’re curious, I do believe in God, in the hereafter and in purgatory. I prefer to spend my full share of years upon this earth, but I am not afraid to die.”
“Bravo,” Red said dryly.
“You are obviously not afraid to die,” Logan said.
Red once again set down the quill. “You said it so well, Lord Haggerty. I would prefer to spend my time upon the earth, rather than beneath it—or as fish food, as might well be my fate. But I am not afraid of death. You may go now.”
“I am handcuffed.”
“So you are.”
“It’s difficult to do laundry in handcuffs.”
“That matter will be rectified.”
“Captain Red Robert…” Logan said musingly.
“What now?”
“You, too, do not seem to be the type of…man to spend time in New Providence.”
“And why is that?”
“I’ve not seen all that many well-bathed gentlemen upon the island.”
“I have certainly never claimed to be a gentleman, much less do I claim the title of ‘lord.’”
“I definitely do claim it—it just doesn’t mean a great deal.”
“Many a man buys his bath on New Providence,” Red said impatiently.
“Yes, and many other things.” Logan grinned knowingly, as one man to another.
“Are you talking just to annoy me, or to avoid doing laundry?”
Logan smiled. “Well, it is in the articles of piracy that there should be no women aboard a ship. Bad luck, you know and brawls between the men.”
“If you’re asking me if you can buy a whore on the island, Lord Haggerty, you might want to recall that you are a captive, and as such, you have no coin.”
Logan was still grinning. “That would be ‘no,’ then?”
“Do you wish to return to the brig?” Red demanded.
“Not at all. I am quite intrigued by the concept of laundry.”
“Aye, I don’t imagine a lord knows much about it.”
“I pronounce it ‘laird,’” Logan said, surprised by his own sudden irritability.
“A Scotsman, then?” Red said politely. “I had noticed the accent.”
“Indeed.”
Red stared at him. “No better than an Englishman, I’m afraid.” Red’s voice rose. “Brendan!”
The door opened; Brendan was waiting.
Logan cleared his throat and lifted his hands. “You have my word,” he said seriously.
“Captain, seeing as the man has sworn, may I remove the shackles?”
Red Robert had returned to the quill and paper but gave a slight nod.
Brendan grinned. Logan realized the captain’s right-hand man liked him, or at least respected him. He realized, as well, that Brendan bore a resemblance to the captain, or vice versa. They were both far too young for this life.
Then again, few grew old in it.
“Laundry, I’m afraid,” Brendan said.
Logan shrugged. “Lead me to it.”
SHE HEARD LAUGHTER on deck.
Laughter!
Red stood and walked to the cabin windows. Shifting the drape slightly aside, she stared at the improbable sight on deck. The men were teaching their prisoner the art of laundry.
He had already found himself a comfortable niche within the group, which told her that he was either a fearless idiot or very brave indeed. Either way, he was dangerous.
There was a knock at the door, which opened before Red could find out who was there or ask him to enter. It was Brendan.
“Aha!” he said. “You’re spying on our captive.”
“I’m the captain,” Red said irritably. “I can spy on anyone I want.”
“The captain.” Brendan laughed, then sat, placing his feet up on her desk, at ease and amused. “He’s quite a man, is he not?”
“Interesting, at least.”
“And a good swordsman.”
“Yes, I noticed.” A finger rose to her cheek, as if on its own.
“It’s a nick. It won’t scar.”
“I am scarred to the quick as it is, Brendan.”
“Ah, but that’s your soul, not your flesh.”
Red shooed him away from the desk and sat herself. “We’re heading for New Providence.”
“Aye, that’s been your course. But—”
“We can sell this new cargo there.”
“We can get more for it in the colonies.”
“I don’t want to travel so far with this much treasure. Word of what we have will get out, and we’ll be under attack by every untrustworthy sailor out there. It may be considered ill luck to attack a fellow pirate, but most of the time our peers are greedier than they are superstitious.”
Brendan was silent for a while before changing the subject. “I know I have been tormenting you lately, but you must know this life we lead can’t go on forever. How long do you plan to carry on this charade?”
“As long as it takes.”
He leaned forward. “It grows more dangerous every day. And I don’t like going into Nassau. It’s a lair of the worst filth known to humanity. The fellow sharing your rum bottle one moment will gladly share his dagger the next.”
“That’s why the entire crew is careful and ever watchful of one another’s backs,” Red said.
Brendan shook his head. “You want to go to Nassau to see if you can’t find out where he’s heading.”
“Of course.”
Brendan fell silent again.
“Will you please stop fretting?” Red finally demanded, aggravated.
“Lately…lately I’ve been afraid, I admit. Look, we’ve done well…we could find some place, assume new identities…we could live decent lives. Real lives. There are places in America where we could disappear.”
“It isn’t about money, Brendan.”
Brendan shook his head. “Bobbie, you know the kind of man he is. He’s going to be killed by someone, somewhere.”
“Oh,