Charles stared. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was not gentlemanly of him. But he could not help it.
The half-Native leaned back from where he was still guiding the wheel, straining to catch sight of something on one of the islands that they had just passed. The fitting trousers and shirt stretched over his lithe body, accentuating every elegant line of his body and thighs, and it was all Charles could do not to march over, bend him over the wheel and have his way with him.
He’d known what his lovely wife looked like when he wore his captain’s uniform. He remembered how succulent Connor looked in those whites, blues and tans, the colors complimenting his olive skin and the cut revealing in all the right places. And he’d prepared himself for that sight of him again.
The wind blew that tricorn hat off of Connor’s head, and the fabric curved around his shapely buttocks as he promptly bent down to pick it up.
Dear lord...
As if Connor felt his gaze, those amber-brown eyes glanced suspiciously at him, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be staring out at sea instead.
Either his memory had failed or he had not prepared enough, because he just couldn’t seem to stop ogling his bride-to-be no matter what he did.
And Connor did not look pleased those first few times he had caught him.
A hand tapped his shoulder, and Charles turned to find himself facing Connor’s first mate, Robert Faulkner.
So this was Biddle’s infamous rival back in the day. The man certainly didn’t seem like much.
“Yes?” Charles began.
Faulkner frowned at him then nodded at the direction Connor was in.
“You want to bed our captain.”
Charles gaped.
The man moved into his space and, for all that he was decrepit looking and old, glared menacingly at him.
“You best not be getting any ideas about him. Omega he may be, but he’s strong and wily enough to take any Alpha and win.”
Except when his loved ones were held captive. He was unsurprisingly weak when it came to his friends and family. That was how he ended up in Charles grasp in that alternate future.
Charles shook his head, clearing his mind of the dark thoughts.
“You mistake me,” he replied simply, already turning away.
Surely, if Connor’s first mate was here bothering him, then Connor must have turned his attention back to steering and commanding the ship. Surely he could turn his attention back to him again.
Charles made to look at Connor again before he felt hands seize his lapels of his coat and thrust him against the railing of the ship.
Charles’s hands immediately went to grasp the railing, and he took a large gulp as he saw the waves crashing against the hull of the ship below him. It was a very steep drop into what was likely some very dangerous reefs.
He turned back to Faulkner.
“Listen, Templar.”
Charles started. Was the man an Assassin? Why had his agents never uncovered this?
“Achilles told me all about you and your Order and what you did to him 12 years ago.
Not an Assassin then. Just a man fed who knew what wild stories.
“You’re a murderous, unreasonable lot, and the lives of people like Achilles and Connor don’t mean much to you. I won’t let you harm our captain.”
Charles bristled.
The man had no right to make assumptions about his intentions for Connor. No right at all.
Connor was, Connor was...
Connor was one of the essential pieces of Charles’s future, of his ability to be happy. Of Master Kenway’s ability to be happy.
To suggest that Charles would do anything to harm Master Kenway’s son, the wife he’d loved and mourned and couldn’t let go, no matter how much his subjects plead with him to remarry...
It was beyond ludicrous. And very presumptuous for such a man as the one who stood before Charles.
He pushed back at the man and watched with satisfaction as the decrepit old fool toppled over.
“What I seek from Connor is no matter of yours,” he hissed. “You would do well to keep to your own business.”
Faulkner glared venomously at him.
“I made an oath to Achilles to look after Connor. He’s my captain and my charge, though God knows the Omega can attract his fair share of the wrong kind of attention.”
Charles was momentarily distracted by this.
Wrong kind of attention?
He glanced at Connor, a lovely vision against the backdrop of the sea, and understood.
It was no surprise that his wife would attract unwanted attention.
“And he can deal with all of them, but you’re the colleague of the man who sired him. I’ll not let you weave your web around him. Not on my watch.”
Charles grit his teeth. Of all the troublesome fools...
He leaned close to the man, even though he could clearly smell the man’s breath.
Privately, Charles wondered what it was about sailors that led to poor hygiene. The lack of bathing he could understand, but there was no excuse for one’s breath smiling like whiskey and rum first.
“I have no plans to harm Connor. Now leave me be!”
Faulkner didn’t go away.
“And what about bedding him?”
Charles snarled at him.
“If I want to bed that delectable Omega then know that you are hardly going to stop me.”
Faulkner glared at him again before looking archly over to the side. Charles followed his gaze to the rough and tumble Alpha crew that kept the ship running.
“You should know that each one of Connor’s crew adores his young captain and would die to see him safe.”
The look in the old man’s eyes asked Charles if he was willing to go against these men just to have Connor. If he was suicidal enough to try when, with one word, Faulkner would have them all at Charles’s throat for daring to have designs on their captain.
Charles didn’t even need to think about it.
“I would go through much more than that for him.”
“For who?”
Both Charles and Faulkner whirled around to see none other than Connor himself staring at them.
He was clearly unimpressed, and only one word franticly darted through Charles’s panicking mind.
In Pursuit of Happiness 13
Chapter 13 - First Mate
Charles stared. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was not gentlemanly of him. But he could not help it.
The half-Native leaned back from where he was still guiding the wheel, straining to catch sight of something on one of the islands that they had just passed. The fitting trousers and shirt stretched over his lithe body, accentuating every elegant line of his body and thighs, and it was all Charles could do not to march over, bend him over the wheel and have his way with him.
He’d known what his lovely wife looked like when he wore his captain’s uniform. He remembered how succulent Connor looked in those whites, blues and tans, the colors complimenting his olive skin and the cut revealing in all the right places. And he’d prepared himself for that sight of him again.
The wind blew that tricorn hat off of Connor’s head, and the fabric curved around his shapely buttocks as he promptly bent down to pick it up.
Dear lord...
As if Connor felt his gaze, those amber-brown eyes glanced suspiciously at him, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be staring out at sea instead.
Either his memory had failed or he had not prepared enough, because he just couldn’t seem to stop ogling his bride-to-be no matter what he did.
And Connor did not look pleased those first few times he had caught him.
A hand tapped his shoulder, and Charles turned to find himself facing Connor’s first mate, Robert Faulkner.
So this was Biddle’s infamous rival back in the day. The man certainly didn’t seem like much.
“Yes?” Charles began.
Faulkner frowned at him then nodded at the direction Connor was in.
“You want to bed our captain.”
Charles gaped.
The man moved into his space and, for all that he was decrepit looking and old, glared menacingly at him.
“You best not be getting any ideas about him. Omega he may be, but he’s strong and wily enough to take any Alpha and win.”
Except when his loved ones were held captive. He was unsurprisingly weak when it came to his friends and family. That was how he ended up in Charles grasp in that alternate future.
Charles shook his head, clearing his mind of the dark thoughts.
“You mistake me,” he replied simply, already turning away.
Surely, if Connor’s first mate was here bothering him, then Connor must have turned his attention back to steering and commanding the ship. Surely he could turn his attention back to him again.
Charles made to look at Connor again before he felt hands seize his lapels of his coat and thrust him against the railing of the ship.
Charles’s hands immediately went to grasp the railing, and he took a large gulp as he saw the waves crashing against the hull of the ship below him. It was a very steep drop into what was likely some very dangerous reefs.
He turned back to Faulkner.
“Listen, Templar.”
Charles started. Was the man an Assassin? Why had his agents never uncovered this?
“Achilles told me all about you and your Order and what you did to him 12 years ago.
Not an Assassin then. Just a man fed who knew what wild stories.
“You’re a murderous, unreasonable lot, and the lives of people like Achilles and Connor don’t mean much to you. I won’t let you harm our captain.”
Charles bristled.
The man had no right to make assumptions about his intentions for Connor. No right at all.
Connor was, Connor was...
Connor was one of the essential pieces of Charles’s future, of his ability to be happy. Of Master Kenway’s ability to be happy.
To suggest that Charles would do anything to harm Master Kenway’s son, the wife he’d loved and mourned and couldn’t let go, no matter how much his subjects plead with him to remarry...
It was beyond ludicrous. And very presumptuous for such a man as the one who stood before Charles.
He pushed back at the man and watched with satisfaction as the decrepit old fool toppled over.
“What I seek from Connor is no matter of yours,” he hissed. “You would do well to keep to your own business.”
Faulkner glared venomously at him.
“I made an oath to Achilles to look after Connor. He’s my captain and my charge, though God knows the Omega can attract his fair share of the wrong kind of attention.”
Charles was momentarily distracted by this.
Wrong kind of attention?
He glanced at Connor, a lovely vision against the backdrop of the sea, and understood.
It was no surprise that his wife would attract unwanted attention.
“And he can deal with all of them, but you’re the colleague of the man who sired him. I’ll not let you weave your web around him. Not on my watch.”
Charles grit his teeth. Of all the troublesome fools...
He leaned close to the man, even though he could clearly smell the man’s breath.
Privately, Charles wondered what it was about sailors that led to poor hygiene. The lack of bathing he could understand, but there was no excuse for one’s breath smiling like whiskey and rum first.
“I have no plans to harm Connor. Now leave me be!”
Faulkner didn’t go away.
“And what about bedding him?”
Charles snarled at him.
“If I want to bed that delectable Omega then know that you are hardly going to stop me.”
Faulkner glared at him again before looking archly over to the side. Charles followed his gaze to the rough and tumble Alpha crew that kept the ship running.
“You should know that each one of Connor’s crew adores his young captain and would die to see him safe.”
The look in the old man’s eyes asked Charles if he was willing to go against these men just to have Connor. If he was suicidal enough to try when, with one word, Faulkner would have them all at Charles’s throat for daring to have designs on their captain.
Charles didn’t even need to think about it.
“I would go through much more than that for him.”
“For who?”
Both Charles and Faulkner whirled around to see none other than Connor himself staring at them.
He was clearly unimpressed, and only one word franticly darted through Charles’s panicking mind.
Bugger.