Chapter 78: Horizons of Her Own
Anne had yet to move. She still sat with her elbows on the table, chin resting on her laced fingers.
James leaned over and flicked her square between the brows.
Her head whipped toward him, teeth already parting, just as fast as she had when she’d gone after his thumb minutes earlier. This time, though, he’d already pulled his hand away before she could sink her teeth into anything. His fingers brushed her cheek as they slipped past, close enough to catch the sharp huff she let out when she missed.
"Ye’re gettin’ slow, lass."
"I’m not slow."
Anne stared at him with a glare fierce enough to sour fresh milk. "You’re a coward, jerking your hand away like a boy who’s never once played with fire."
"Coward’s one way to put it."
James grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I call it survivin’ the evenin’ with all ten fingers still there."
She folded her arms.
Coming from Anne, that was practically an admission he’d won the point.
"I wasn’t staring at anything."
The denial came far too quickly. "I was thinking about what you and Thatch were saying, that’s all."
"Aye. And I’m the Archbishop of Canterbury."
She scowled, but she didn’t scoot her chair away.
"Funny thing."
James leaned forward until their heads nearly touched across the table. "There’s been a thought rattlin’ around me head. About you, as it happens."
Curiosity flickered across her face before disappearing. She lifted her chin as though bracing herself.
"Nay, none of that."
His grin spread wider, clearly guessing where her thoughts had gone. "Though I’d be lyin’ if I said the idea never crossed me mind. This is a different sort of proposal."
"Then keep it."
Anne inspected her fingernails as though they deserved far more of her attention.
"It’s not as if I’ve nothing better to do than sit here and figure out your riddles."
Yet, she didn’t move. Her knee remained pressed against his beneath the table, close enough that her body disagreed with every word coming out of her mouth.
"...What sort of proposal, anyway."
She paused.
"Since you’re so clearly dying to tell somebody."
"Didn’t say I was dyin’ to tell anybody."
James clicked his tongue. "Might keep it to myself a while longer. A man appreciates bein’ asked in the right way."
"Che."
She scoffed loudly enough that a few people at the neighboring table glanced over.
"Fine. I won’t ask again, if that’s the game you’re playing."
It didn’t take much for her patience to break.
Her fist caught the front of his shirt, knuckles digging into his collarbone as she hauled him halfway out of his chair. Suddenly there was nothing between them except a few inches of air.
Her warm, quick breath brushed his jaw.
"Tell me. Now."
James laughed under his breath, raising his hands in surrender without making the slightest effort to pull away.
"Alright. Alright, you win."
He could convince her easily enough. He knew exactly which words to use to soften Anne, every reason a mind like hers deserved better than pouring rum for men not nearly as clever as she was.
He said none of it.
She had already been convinced to cross an ocean with promises of a better life waiting on the other side. Those promises hadn’t survived the voyage any better than her patience for those who’d made them.
James felt he’d rather leave a door open than try to push her through it.
If she ever stepped across that threshold, it would be on her own feet, in her own time. The choice would be hers, just as every important choice had been since she’d first arrived in this town.
The last trace of teasing disappeared from his voice.
"As you probably noticed, Rose’ll be signin’ on new hands again soon enough."
He locked her gaze without wavering. "There’s room waitin’ aboard for you, if that’s what you decide you want. No rush, take all the time you need to figure out what comes next, then come find me."
Her grip eased on his shirt, though she didn’t let go completely. Her knuckles were still pale from how tightly she’d been holding him.
For several long moments, she searched his face for the joke she expected to find.
There wasn’t one.
"...You’re serious."
"Aye."
She had no answer waiting for him. That might have been the first time the entire evening.
James pulled a shilling from his coat and set it on the table without anyone asking. Then he pushed back his chair and stood. She let him go without noticing.
He lingered beside her a heartbeat longer than the moment required.
Slowly, he slipped his fingers through a loose copper curl at her temple and tucked it behind her ear. His hand rested briefly against the side of her head, warm and unhurried, nothing like the teasing flick he’d given her earlier.
"Think on it, lass."
Anne caught his wrist before he’d taken more than a single step.
Just as quickly, she let go.
"Go on, then."
She kept her eyes turned away. "Before I change my mind about lettin’ you leave in one piece."
Outside, the noise of the Rat faded behind him until the scents of salt and tar replaced rum and smoke.
James walked at an easy pace.
Bonnet was probably aboard the Fortune by now, filling Cudjoe’s ears with enough manners to last the man a month.
James had little doubt how that conversation would end, regardless of whether the crew voted or not. The quartermaster, the gunner, and the navigator belonged to Thatch and Bonnet to recruit now, and neither of those men seemed likely to leave work unfinished.
The rest fell to him and Cudjoe.
They needed enough hands to crew two ships properly, and no one would be sailing for the hidden bay until that problem was solved.
His thoughts drifted to the Fate currency he’d left untouched ever since Pensacola, sitting idle in whatever bank account the voice kept outside his knowledge.
The next time he spent any of it would be to help the settlement grow.