Treasure by W. A. Hoffman

Author:W. A. Hoffman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: pirate, buccaneer, jamaica, port royal, henry morgan, psychological romance, gay pirate, gay buccaneer, philosophical romance
Publisher: W. A. Hoffman

Sixty-Nine

Wherein We Choose to Play

Gaston was more than a step or two ahead of me; he had already donned a tunic and was standing outside Sarah’s door. I saw the door open, but with the rain I did not hear what was said; I only saw that he entered.

Now, standing half naked in the cold, I found I could easily consider the whole interlude a pleasant dream. I wished to speak to him of it, more to confirm it had indeed occurred than for reassurance that he was well with it – or that I was, for that matter.

Reluctantly, I went to the stable and found a tunic before dashing to see Vivian.

“Where have you been all day?” Vivian demanded as I entered her room. “Henrietta told me you were still sleeping this morning, and now you have been in the bathing room.”

“Well, it would appear you have no need to ask where I have been,” I said with some amusement. “We did not hear you were seeking us until a few minutes ago.”

She glared at me. “My breasts are full and I would like to feed my baby.”

“Let us go, then,” I said. “I am sorry you have been waiting.” And I silently cursed my thinking the baby and she were fine without us this morn.

She did not move. “Have you been fucking all day?” she asked vehemently.

“Would it make you angrier if I had?” I asked, my ire rising. I was beginning to feel she wished to fight far more than she wished to see her child. I was curious if she was drunk, but I smelled no rum or anything else that she might have used to mask it, and her words and eyes were clear and cold. “Is that what you want, to be angry?”

“Nay!” she roared. “I do not wish to be angry. That is why I am angry.”

I took two steps to the door and stopped. On the one hand, I had never seen any man – myself included – win an argument with a woman when she was thus; on the other, leaving would solve nothing and we were asking ourselves to live with the woman: she was going to have to learn to convey her thoughts and feelings in a rational manner.

I turned back to her, grasped her shoulders, and met her angry gaze. “Think about your answer. Why are you angry with me?”

“Because you were not here,” she said quickly.

“Why did that make you angry?”

“Because you are…” She stopped and looked away.

“Because I am what?” I asked.

She pulled away and I allowed it. “It is nothing. Let us go.”

“Nay,” I said. “I will go, and you can stay here with your full breasts and pout all damn day, or you can speak your mind.”

She crossed her arms and sat on the bed. “You will not like what I have to say, and it matters not. It will change nothing.”

“I already do not like what you have been saying, so in that respect, it matters not,” I said.

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