Under Black Skies (Beneath Black Sails, #3)

by Clare Sager

“A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.” He snorted, features edged with the dimming light. “I can’t believe you’re quoting Navy idioms at me.”

His chest rose and fell in a long breath. And he kneeled. Kneeled. FitzRoy, kneeling at her feet.

“Vice,” he said, voice thick as he shook his head and looked up at her, “I was a fool. I am a fool. Please forgive me.”

“Well, you’re already on your knees, so some might argue you already are. But you could make it official. When everyone tells the story later, I want us all to be on the same page.” “Very well,” he said with a slow nod. “My greatest Vice, I beg you to forgive me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Knigh,” she murmured for his ears only, “I’ve only said I’ll think about it. For him to do that in a room full of people—people who’ll go back and tell their crews… he’s just decimated his reputation.”

But he’d never seen a good friend stretch her arms in the air and felt such an overpowering urge to run his hands from her waist, over her ribs, up her arms, and trap her hands while he kissed her to within an inch of her life.

“Vee?” It was Knigh, warning in his tone. He caught her with an arm around her waist.

“Knigh.” A grip on his shoulder, cool and strong. “Knigh? You said you’d always come for me.” She gave him a shake, as though trying to wake him up. “Well, right now, I need you to stay with me.”

It was getting harder and harder to pretend being her friend was enough. It wasn’t just that he wanted to touch her, to hold her, to do wonderful, wicked things to her. He wanted to sleep at her side, to whisper secrets in her ear and listen to hers, to share himself, his life… everything.

“Sounds like a recipe for losing control.” She cocked her head, hands still tying off the end of rope. “But all it took was a few words from me and you were fine. That’s a huge improvement, Knigh—huge. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Just Vice,” Knigh muttered, leaning closer to Billy. “She doesn’t like Miss Vice—gets a bit… stabby.”

A woman on a ship—impossible back home. A woman who was a pirate and famed as such—a million miles from the perfect lady Albion had expected Avice Ferrers to become.

That was what running away from their betrothal had bought her—the possibility of a different life, one she got to choose.

“I can’t do that to him again. I can’t risk him again.”

“It is your birthday. It’s customary.” “But…” You’ve done enough. You’ve given enough. She shook her head, blinking that away. “You didn’t have to.” “No. But I wanted to.”

Silver gleamed in a tiny point, barely more than an inch, and black jet twinkled in the afternoon sun, arranged in a tiny hilt complete with crossguard. A dagger, exquisite and near complete except for a short section between the guard and blade where only a thin bar linked the two pieces.

“Knigh. Thank you. This is… You give such wonderful gifts. This, the Copper Drake…”

He was too much, with his perfect gifts and forbidden touch and his strength and vulnerability and teasing smile and warm body and nobility and insistence on putting right his wrongs and… and…

“So,” he murmured, “I thought the birthday girl might like some fun for the night, someone who’ll do exactly as he’s told over”—he bent closer—“and over”—closer—“and over again.” Barely two inches separated their lips and he closed that scant distance.

Or she could, maybe, have Knigh. She could lose herself in him, taste him, touch him, make love to him tonight and for however many other nights they had before he left. She could whisper to him in the dark, wrap her arms around him and enjoy the feel of his around her, listen to that steady heartbeat and fall asleep to its steadfast rhythm.

“Happy birthday, Vee.”

Because she, Lady Vice the notorious Pirate Queen of a dozen exaggerated stories, was afraid.

The pure pleasure of touching him, even this simple caress of his shoulders, the joy of his company—it was worth every ounce of the inevitable pain that would come when he left.

Maybe she’d kiss him here and then they’d find somewhere even quieter—her tent or the forest would work. It didn’t matter where, so long as it was him—them together, at last.

“Anything involving a certain merchant captain, perhaps?”

“You noticed that, then?” “I did.”

“That wasn’t why I brought it up. I merely wish to know if something is happening and if so, what?” He captured the hand she’d flicked and gave a gentle squeeze. “You’re my sister and I care for you, but I don’t own you and I don’t pretend to.”

“My brother the pirate. I’m still proud of you, you know.” His chest stilled, suddenly too full to take in air. I’m still proud of you, you know.

“Billy is a good man. Intelligent, kind, thoughtful… maybe the bravest man I know and the most forgiving. I’d be proud to call him brother-in-law, whatever his title or profession.”

“She wanted”—he cleared his throat—“a run through the forest at Calan Mai.” Is laughed. “You mean, sex?”

“Well, yes, that is what I meant. Gods, you really have grown up, haven’t you?” “That’s what happens to little sisters.”

“Good gods, Knigh, what do you think young ladies spend their time doing? I’m a people-watcher. And I watched you and her yesterday on the boat—those little touches where she tried to comfort you. I watched how you looked at her as I told our story. I watched her with that man tonight, turning him away, and instead coming after you.”

“They were not the actions of a woman looking for a roll in the forest. And she may well be drunk tonight, but I’d wager that was only to give her courage to do what she already wished to.”

“Bloody hells, I need to think about this when I’m not drunk. I don’t even know where to begin.” “At least ask her what she meant,” Is murmured, “what she wants.”

Excuse me, Vee, I was just wondering—when you tried to kiss me the other night, did you mean you wanted to be with me or that you just wanted a quick screw in your tent?’”

I’ll always come for you.

“Did you come for a swim or to take in the view?”

“There’s plenty of space for two and the water is glorious.”

“What I want is not to hurt you.”

“Because I do want you.”

“I want you so much it frightens me.”

“But I still come back to that—I don’t want to hurt you.”

Maybe it’s impossible to be with someone and not get hurt in some way, eventually, but a relationship means you’ve decided that the joy is worth the pain.”

“I’ve decided it is. That… the joy with you is worth the pain, however inevitable.”

“I don’t want this to be like on the Swallow, or in the glow-worm cave. I don’t want us to just give into a thing that’s been bubbling away. We didn’t make the decision to do anything more than screw in that cave, and at Yule we were rash and drunk and sad and longing. But this? I want this to be our choice. A decision made, not a desire given in to.” She dragged in a lungful of air, despite the tightness of her chest. “So I need to know, Knigh. Do you want me? Do you want to be with me?”

“Do I want you?” He arched one eyebrow. “Now there’s a question.”

“Oh, you’ll have your answer. But I want to check I fully understand your question. That I’m not mistaken.”

“So, you’re asking whether I want you mentally”—her