The Jackdaw

Chapter 14: I Know It Already

Edward was still asleep when you woke up. His head was buried beneath the pillows that he had smashed up against the headboard during the night. He was sprawled out on his stomach, softly breathing and his chest gently rising.

You got out of bed as quietly as possible and padded your way through the house to the kitchen. You grabbed a few pieces of salted meat, sizzling it across a hot pan, before cutting off slices of cheese and grabbing a chunk of fresh bread. You knew he would be starving when he woke up. Life out on the open waters often came with hard work and hardly enough food to make up the difference.

Edward hadn't moved in your absence. You set down the plate of food, deciding to let him sleep a little longer. Whatever happened to him on the Jackdaw left him wounded and exhausted both physically as well as mentally.

You moved through the house towards the window that looked out over the harbor. The Jackdaw was bobbing beside the dock. Her sails were frayed and worn, the deck being cleared of scattered bits of wreckage from the storm last night. And from the looks of it, the skies were ready to bring another bout of rain and wind.

The warmth of Edward's hand jolted a gasp from you as it slid across your stomach. He brushed aside your hair and dipped his mouth to the curve at the base of your neck. His teeth ever so slightly grazed your skin.

You leaned against him, reaching your hand back to find the messy strands of his hair. You tugged and squeezed his neck as he suckled the skin beneath your jaw. "Edward."

Edward pressed his mouth to your ear, muttering softly, "Morning, love."

A sigh slipped free, delighted to have his arms surrounding you again. "I left some breakfast on the table."

He moaned against your ear. "Later."

You laughed, sighing when his soft kisses trailed along your cheek. "It'll get cold. And I'm sure you haven't eaten in days."

"Aye." His voice lost its charm, slipping into an exasperated whisper, "First I'd like to talk with you."

Edward, this new Edward, had given up drink and he had barely even touched you last night. You weren't entirely disappointed but the man you knew would have never acted this way. Something happened, something terrible, while you weren't with him. 

You turned around in his hold, your eyes meeting his bright blues. "Talk to me then."

His eyes became glassy, wavering with tears. He tilted his head away with the hope you wouldn't see the flashes of agony. "Thatch..." Edward shook his head slightly, pressing a hand over his eyes. "I tried, lass. I just couldn't get to him in time."

Your hands took hold of his, prying it away from his face until you could see him clearly. He couldn't meet your gaze even when you muttered, "It's okay, Edward. Whoever has him, we'll get him back."

"We can't." He finally looked at you, a tear rolling over the corner of his eye. "They killed him, lass. He's dead. I couldn't save him."

Your mouth opened, words thickening inside of your throat. You focused on your breath, feeling it push past your parted lips. You forced your tone to harden, "Thatch would have yelled at you if he saw you like this. Growled, probably." You tried to smile, forced yourself to laugh for Edward's sake. "He had such a bear of a voice."

Edward gave a short, breathy laugh. "He did, aye."

You pressed your hands on either side of his face. "It wasn't your fault. Don't you dare think that. They are responsible. The men who killed him will get what's coming to them. Remember that."

He was about to disagree, about to argue, but he slid his eyes closed and gave a meager nod. "We're going to head to Kingston for supplies. Then we need to meet up with Vane. We're in need of his help if our plan is to work." You knew Edward was trying to ignore Thatch's death by focusing on the mission. He needed to return his efforts to the important tasks at hand.