As it dawned on him, he became painfully aware of how quiet he had been. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you." Keep the conversation going. Don't draw attention to the ring anymore. Names. Keep talking names. "I had a friend who was named after a rather famous pirate as well. Though I doubt his parents had known about the man when they named their son. I don't think he was aware of it either as I only learned of it recently myself."
Grace burst out laughing, the whiskey hitting her now. "Ain't that somethin'? Named after a killer and not even knowin' it."
Edward let out a sigh as he switched the whiskey to his right hand to lower his ring from sight. He would have to remove it later, but what he would do with it after that he didn't know.
It was then that he realized what he had said exactly. He talked about his friend, Henry Morgan, the one he had killed, and he didn't get the same feeling he had in the past. His hands weren't shaking, and the sense that the world narrowing in on him was gone as well. And, though he was thinking of it now, the flashes of those who had died because of him, including his old quartermaster John, never came unbidden to his mind's eye.
Perhaps the whisky is hitting me as well, Edward thought as he took another drink.
When he looked up, Grace was there beside him, sitting on the edge of the table with her legs spread and her back arched. She wore a smile that was unmistakable save to the simple or the blind.
"So," Edward said, drawing out the word as he did his best to lean away from her, "I'm curious as to what it was that we were there to retrieve during my test?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the item she'd taken from the thief's corpse and handed it to Edward.
It was an ordinary necklace made of what Edward thought was driftwood in the shape of a spiral seashell, half as big as Edward's palm. He turned the necklace over in his palm a few times as he examined the unique shape. He couldn't place it, but he felt he had seen the necklace before. Could it have been when Grace was picking it up? No, the angle was wrong. It had been somewhere else, a long time ago.
Then it hit him.
This was his mother's necklace.
"So, you figured it out, did ye?"
Cold sweat trickled down Edward's face, and his body seized. "What?" he managed to get out.
"Knew you was a smart one." She playfully stroked his hand. "Ye worked it out that that's the boss man's property, didn't ye?"
Edward couldn't say a word. All he could manage was a nod of his head as he placed his late mother's necklace on the table. This was too much for him to digest, and he felt sick to his stomach. He got up to leave, but Grace pushed him back down to the chair.
Grace leapt on top of him, straddling him and pinning him to the chair. She pulled his face up and kissed him. The surging pressure of her lips against his kept him pinned like a surging wave. The smell of gunpowder and whiskey—and, strangely enough, cinnamon—broke through his other senses as she forced her tongue into his mouth.
Edward gained his senses and pushed her off. It was then that he noticed just how petite she was compared to him. She certainly had more muscle than the average woman, including Anne, but she almost looked dainty compared to his large form. She was an attractive woman, with curves like a crested sail in the wind and a face that could belong in a painting. Though it was short, with her red hair she could be mistaken for Anne's older sister in the right light.
What am I thinking right now? Edward's better judgement came back to him, and when Grace tried to force herself back on him, he pushed her off again as he rose to his feet.
"Ah, ye like it rough, do ye?" she said, not losing her smile as she loosened one hand from Edward's grip before grabbing his groin. "Aye, seems ye do," she purred.
"No," he bellowed. The force of his single word took her aback, and she pulled herself away from him.
Before she could gain her wits about her, and before Edward could move for the door again, there was a knock from outside.
Grace regained her composure and folded her arms as she took a few steps away from Edward. "What is it? I told ye not ta disturb me."
"Aye ma'am, it's urgent. Ship off the starboard bow."
Grace cursed under her breath and stalked to the door to her cabin, her stride rushed and heavy.
Edward followed a few steps behind, and Grace left the room without looking back at him. He closed the door to her cabin as he chased her and the mate up the ladder to the weather deck, where some other crewmates were rushing up to see the commotion.
As Edward emerged to the humid brine of the sea air, he could see almost the entirety of the crew watching the seas. Many held spyglasses to their eyes, and those who had none held their hands up to their eyes to look through the pinhole of their palms, and others tried their best with their naked eye.
Herbert and John were both on the quarterdeck where Grace headed. One of her senior mates handed her a spyglass, and she peered through it. As Edward climbed the ladder up, he turned his gaze starboard. Even without aid, he could see the distinct dark shape approaching on the horizon. Whoever was aboard the ship, and whatever allegiances they held, would be unknown until they were much closer, but one thing was clear:
