Cassia’s heart remembered its function; this time, it beat a slow, sickening rhythm against her rib cage.
Nathan was . . . to be betrothed.
And worse . . . it was to his late brother’s former fiancée, a young lady who was intelligent and kind and closely linked to Nathan’s family. In short, a woman who was everything Cassia was not.
And even worse than that, Nathan’s sailing career was reliant upon his marrying the woman his father and mother had selected for him, which meant—
Cassia yanked her fingers back, away from those hated pages. In having agreed to be Nathan’s wife and allowing him to do right by her, she’d ultimately prevent him from doing the one thing he loved most, something that his crew relied upon him to do for their own security.
And it would all . . . stop.
Because of me.
“Oh, G-god,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Cassia?” Hayes asked, concern filling his voice.
Cassia’s lower lip trembled. “I’m f-fine,” she said, her shaky response proving she was the worst sort of liar. “I-I am worried, is all.”
It wasn’t all. She was worried, of course. But her heart was breaking, too. This was why a person didn’t go snooping. This right here. Because ultimately one always came upon things they didn’t really want to know.
Doing so, however, did not change the words on that note.
It didn’t change what was to be.
“I promise, it is going to be all—”
“You can’t promise that, Hayes,” she cried. “You cannot tell me that any of this is going to be all right.” As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to call them back, only feeling worse. “I’m—”
“Don’t apologize,” he said solemnly. “You are facing things most grown men don’t even know of.”
Cassia folded her arms at her middle. She didn’t deserve that grace. Not when her being here and Nathan’s promise to marry her would result in Hayes and all the crew of the Flying Dragon losing their livelihoods. For she’d no doubt that Nathan would marry her—he was a man of honor. But in doing so, he’d grow to resent her for costing him what he wanted most in life.
Tears scorched her eyes, and she wiped a hand angrily over her cheeks.
Silly was what it was. Crying like this. Crying, when her life and the lives of Nathan and his crew hung in the balance, all dependent upon the outcome of this sea battle.
Boom.
A violent explosion rocked the ship, and the floor moved out from under her, the suddenness of that blast knocking away the damning note, and Cassia went flying through the air.
A pained hiss exploded from her lips as she crashed onto the floor, landing hard on her side; a vicious throbbing shot from her hip up to her arms.
Breathless from the force of her fall, Cassia lay there dazed and motionless, her cheek pressed against the floor, and her gaze locked on the water rushing into Nathan’s cabin.
A loud ringing filled her ears, and through the din of the battle, she tried to sort out what had happened . . . and what was happening?
Water.
Which meant there was a hole . . .
They were taking on water.
Cursing blackly, Hayes grabbed up weapons. “Do you know how to shoot?” he asked loudly over the noise of it all.
Cassia managed a nod. He thrust a pistol into her hand, and she stared at his mouth as it moved, but like this moment, it was moving entirely too fast, and she was struggling to sort out what was happening. “In case you . . .” Taking her by the elbow, he steered her to the door. “We have to get out.”
She glanced back to the shattered window.
Another ship had entered the fray, the massive, white-masted vessel appearing amidst the smoke left by the cannon’s fire. It towered over the horizon, so that even where she stood, Cassia had to tip her head back.
Even as they made a hasty retreat from Nathan’s cabin, crew members were streaming in with buckets and tools, and it was pandemonium as they set to work repairing the damaged ship.
Chapter 19
Starboard, his hand clenching on the hilt of his bayonet, Nathaniel watched as the enemy ship drew closer.
At his side, Albion matched Nathaniel’s movements and, with an equally intense gaze, followed the approach.
“I know,” Nathaniel grumped.
“I didn’t say anything,” the other man reminded him.
“You didn’t need to.”
Never in all the years Nathaniel had operated as the Scourge of the Seas had he lost a sea battle.
In fact, with each one he’d fought, he’d been as empowered and energized as he’d been eager before those fights.
In the more than two dozen skirmishes he and his crew had engaged in, they’d always emerged triumphant. There’d never been a doubt as to the outcome, and a certainty of anything other than the demise of a French vessel.
That was, until now.
Now should prove the first time they would fall.
The Flying Dragon was to be overtaken.
And God help him, as he shouted orders to the men manning the cannons and the crew around him scurried into position, it was only Cassia he could think about.
Restless, Nathaniel squinted, attempting to make out the shadowy outline through the smoke.
At his side, Albion stared through the bring ’em near against his eye. Wordlessly, he handed it over to Nathaniel.
Accepting the telescope, he adjusted the lens, bringing the distance into better focus, and his muscles instantly coiled tightly.
He cursed.
“A second,” Albion said needlessly, holding aloft two fingers.
This one wasn’t flying French flags. It was a privateer that had come to feast on the French navy’s efforts.
One ship, one crew, they might triumph over.
A second?
Panic. It was a foreign sentiment he’d never known in the heart of battle. In the past, he’d always been enlivened by the fight. Never had he known this numbing dread that spread like a poison within.
Lowering the telescope, Nathaniel looked to Albion. “I need your assurance . . . if something happens to me, you and Hayes will look after her.”
“You’ll live because you’re too damned stubborn to die,” his navigator murmured, and then Albion inclined his head slightly. “But you have my word that I will defend her this day with my life.”
And after this.
Nathaniel’s chest constricted painfully.
But if Nathaniel died, and she somehow managed to survive . . .
Innocent Cassia, with her smile that went on for days and her adorable tendency to chatter, would find herself at the mercy of a rival ship. The fact that those men operated for the French government, whereas Nathaniel did only with special permission from the king, meant nothing.
In the game of war, all rules ceased to exist; the honor that dictated ways in the ballrooms and Polite Society was a world away, which meant any courtesies afforded Cassia in London, or even in foreign courts abroad, should she have attended them, ceased to be here.
His stomach revolting, Nathaniel fought back those images rapidly threatening to overtake him.
He could not let those thoughts in. Not when in so doing, he cost himself a clear head, when a clear head was what he desperately needed to protect Cassia.
Nathaniel firmed his jaw and turned to face his crew, assembling them with a single word. When they were before him, quiet and pale as he’d never seen them, Nathaniel proceeded to walk back and forth amongst them.