Beneath Black Sails (Beneath Black Sails, #1)

by Clare Sager

She didn’t really command it, not any more than a person commanded their arm to rise and fall. Command was what one person did to another. It was for things that were separate. She and the sea were one.

There was something about a man in uniform. Especially one who wore it so well.

His skin burned. He’d only wanted to catch her for the handsome bounty but now… Barking hoarse orders, he gripped the rail, knuckles aching and white. Now, she’d made it personal.

It had been too long since she’d felt a lover’s arms, lips—or anything else for that matter—and touching him had sent her spinning off course, dizzy as a teenage girl.

“Well,” he went on, “add in an absconding fiancée and being forced from our home, and I think it’s fair to say it was a difficult year.” The fiancée had left months before Father’s death, and she hadn’t exactly broken his heart. The betrothal to Lady Avice Ferrers had been arranged by Mother and Father.

“How do you do that?” She frowned and glanced at the bottle of rum being passed around, now in Aedan’s large hands. He couldn’t mean that—she’d barely had more than him, certainly not enough to be impressive. “Do what?” His hand waved up and down. “Be this.” She scoffed, eyes narrow as she shook her head. What was he getting at? “I’m just me.” His brows contracted, the area around his eyes tensing. On anyone else, it would have been an unremarkable twitch, but on him, it felt more like seeing his expression break. “Exactly.” He shook his head, again just a small movement, but something about it felt far truer than his usual studied gestures. “How are you so relaxed about it—about everything?” Vice’s heart clenched, painful for a second. Bloody hells—he envied her. The poor man was wound tighter than cable around the capstan. And not just now, always. His shoulders, his arms, his jaw, neck, chest, all so stiff, they’d almost withstand a gale right up until the moment they snapped. And his eyes, they were full of such intensity that when she looked up from her survey and met his gaze, it was like a physical strike. Every single thing he did was so controlled, calculated, no wonder he looked at her like that. What had the Navy done to make him like this? She sighed softly. Damn him, but he’d helped her today. Maybe she could help him with this. Then they’d be even.