His piercing seafoam eyes were brighter than before. “You’re my guardian angel, sent from Heaven. No matter what anyone says. Or believes.”
I stared at him a moment, intoxicated, before I remembered why I called him over. I shook my head. “Oh, um, we have a stowaway.”
Jack crouched down. “Welcome aboard, Miss. I’m the captain of this ship, and I’m truly sorry that you had to witness that horrific display.”
He extended his hand to her. She clutched a brown robe about her thin shoulders and glanced first at his hand, then at me. “I’m still tied. Got the rope off my ankles and made it up the stairs. Thought I could jump overboard in the chaos.”
“Oh.” I forced a smile and went to work on her bounds. “Wouldn’t you have drowned?”
She rubbed her wrists as the too-tight rope fell to the deck. “Didn’t matter. Just as long as they couldn’t touch me anymore.”
My forced smile melted before I found my voice again. “That’s over now. No harm will come to a woman on board The Black Otter as long as Russian Jack is in charge.”
She exhaled and stood up without the aid of Jack’s hand. He rose with her. “What’s your name Miss?”
“Monica. Monica Joan from Wales.”
My smile transformed from forced to full. “’Ello Monica Joan. I’m Red, Captain’s wife.”
Monica Joan didn’t return my smile. “They took my ship overnight. Just trying to reach the mainland. That’s all.”
Jack turned to me. “Thank you, my darling, for wielding your blade well. Did I not tell you that you’d be deadly?” He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Muscles I didn’t know I had relaxed with his kiss.
“Now,” he whispered, “take care of the lass. God Almighty himself knows what happened to her aboard that ship from hell. Let her know she’s safe and that she’ll reach the mainland safely.”
After another quick kiss, Jack turned and trotted off across deck. Probably to finish looting the other vessel.
I glanced at the only other woman aboard. “Well, Monica Joan. Let’s get you out of those clothes and into something a bit fresher, shall we?”
Finally, a flash of trust brightened her dirt-streaked face. “Your husband you say? Aye, you make a handsome couple.”
A rabid blush heated my neck.
“Seems you and your handsome husband are my saving grace.”
Somehow, in some world, we could be friends. “Come along. Let’s get you changed.”
“I will,” Monica Joan agreed. “But please. Wipe the blood from your face. You look—” She studied me a moment through her clear, green eyes. “Like a bloodthirsty pirate.”
Chapter Six
Aboard The Black Otter on the high seas
I made Monica Joan a pallet in the cargo hold. Poor thing.” I took my place next to Jack at the railing of The Black Otter. With one booted foot propped on the railing and the sun setting over the sea behind him, I couldn’t help but slide my arm around his waist and give a squeeze.
Jack smiled down at me. A dark bruise ringed his neck. “You two were fast friends.”
“She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose.”
“Unlike my Red. Who always finds herself in the right place at the right time.” He took my hands in his and turned them over. “Should be raw from the ratlines. Alas, my Red has been practicing. I’ve seen lots of things out here on the high seas, but I’ve never seen a move like that.”
I ducked my head. A lock of black hair caught in my eyelashes. “I’ve never dreamed that I could do anything like that. But, you were in trouble.”
Jack raised each of my palms to his lips and brushed them with a kiss. “I love you, Red.”
“I love you, Jack.”
He stared into my eyes for a moment and said more than a lifetime of words. Ever slow, he tucked the wayward tendril behind my ear. “Are you okay, Red? That was a ruthless fight. If I were new to pirating, it may have even shaken me up a bit.”
I shifted my weight.
“Talk to me.”
Sparkles from the setting sun spangled the glassy face of the ocean. “Some of the men, our men.”
Jack waited in silence.
We stared over the railing together. “I expected the carnage, and nothing came across as surprising. Except that they snuck onto our ship. However—”
These men were my crew as much as Jack’s, he’d said so himself. Not wanting to be critical of something I didn’t fully understand, I chose my words carefully. Still, I couldn’t look at my husband.
“The one you call Dark Water William.” I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, the unsmiling African with a face like thunder and his greasy English companion, Charles Swan, stared at Jack and me from the wheelhouse.
Jack followed my glance and offered a nod to the pair.
“Chow’s waitin’ in the galley, Cap,” Charles called. He possessed a voice like a sick, whiny child. I winced.
“We’ll be down shortly, men.”
