I’d nodded and studied the face of the angry pirate. Something about him, though obviously roughened and hard, struck me as vulnerable. Right behind the eyes, perhaps. “Red Legs,” I said where only Jack could hear. “I believe he has potential.”
Jack let go a belly laugh. “Ah, my dear girl. A good captain rules his, or her, ship with an iron fist. Not with emotions.”
I blinked as the fresh memories fizzled. I didn’t realize I had been staring at Red Legs until he met my gaze.
Jack’s voice broke the silence and made me jump. “It was all lost, I thought. Then, an angel from above rained down upon that captain like hell’s fire.”
All the pirates turned their heavy stares to me. Some were missing an eye, others were cut up and scarred. Some were missing teeth, and others, their hands. I shifted in the straw.
“My angel,” Jack said. “My partner in every way. Redella.”
An uneasy silence fell upon us. Red Legs drew a long swill from his jug and spat. Without fanfare, he stood up and strode out of the galley. Thankfully, the uneasiness that had filled the cabin went with him.
A Spanish Rose pirate, sporting one eye and a scarred, bald head, reached behind him and produced another brown jug. A low laugh rolled over his thin lips. Chills danced down my backbone as they drew back over his teeth like a rabid dog. Soon, all the drunken men joined in. I stood up. “Gentlemen, I leave you to your much-deserved rest.”
Jack caught my arm. “I’ll walk you down. Men—” He faced his crew with rosy cheeks. “Save me some of that rum.”
By the time we crossed the deck, rum-slurred sea shanties chorused from the galley. My smile mirrored my husband’s. “They’re really something, Jacky.”
“Some of the most bloodthirsty—and loyal—upon the seas.” He slipped his arm around my waist as we stepped down the tumbledown stairs together. “Red?”
“Yes?”
Jack looked down at me with such intensity, I feared he may hoist up my skirt and have his way with me, right there on the stairs that led down to our cabin. I shifted my weight. Under the bulk of his stare, I realized then and there that I may be the one to immodestly hike my skirt for his pleasure, without any worry as to who might wander onto the stairs to the captain’s quarters and bear witness. A blush warmed my cheeks, but something else flamed hot between my thighs.
What is this side of you, Red?
Jack paid my obvious bewilderment no mind. “Not all pirates are princes, Red. And not all pirates are seers and guardians like The Poison Lightning. And not all pirates are simple like Tommy. You’re keen witted and brave. Trust those wits.”
I nodded as the flash of want for my pirate husband drained from my face and body and a chilled fear replaced it.
He smiled again and wrinkled his nose at me. “I’ll be down later. Keep the bed warm for me.”
Our thick wooden door scratched slowly across the floor. I struggled to open my sleep-heavy eyes. “It’s about time,” I attempted to tease. “I was beginning to think you’d rather spend the night with your ship’s mates than with your wife.”
Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped inside and pushed the door shut, hard. His steps were heavy and offbeat.
“Sounds like you’re tipsy, Jacky.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The darkness was too thick to make out anything other than his shape. “Come on now and lay down.”
Jack’s heavy steps stopped at the side of our bed. Still, he had not spoken a word.
I shifted on the mattress. “Was the rum good?”
He grunted as I heard his britches slide down to the floor.
I sucked in a breath.
He’s certainly acting odd.
“Jacky?”
“Jacky, bleh.”
I froze. The blood in my veins went icy.
That is not Jack’s voice.
“Is that what you call the fearless leader of The Black Otter Fleet? Jacky?” The voice’s owner coughed deeply and spit on the floor. “Before you think about doing something stupid and opening your fool mouth, you ought to know I have a blade at your neck right now. Move or cry out—and you’ll feel it.”
All the new faces from The Spanish Rose, and even the old ones from The Black Otter, flashed through my mind. I kept my mouth shut and tried to visualize the room I shared with my husband. Surely daggers were stashed about, here and there. Like the cutlass under the mattress. The swords over the door. But that was too far to grab in a pinch like this.
Jack had his cutlass on him, as he always did, and the only other blade I knew for sure was hanging over the door, with mine. If the mysterious intruder truly had a blade to my neck, I’d be dead long before I could reach my steel no matter which blade I went for.
“Jacky went on and on about you. About his Red. What an angel you are—” His words, thick with a jealous hatred as he climbed onto the bed beside me. “Well little angel. You are about to get a taste of the devil.”
The sword he promised met the skin of my neck as he climbed shifted his weight and climbed on top of me. His manhood’s hardness pressed against my inner thigh like a weapon in itself. I shifted my hips to keep it as far away from me as I could.
Please, don’t.
The contorted face of the one-handed man came to mind, followed by that of the smarmy Charles Swan.
No, the voice wasn’t squirrelly enough for Swan and his thin moustache. Dark Water William, perhaps? The tall African hadn’t spoken a lick to me or where I could hear since I’d been on board. Maybe, but this voice sounded like it belonged to a white man.
“My, you’re a wiggly little whore, aren’t you?” He pressed his knee against my thigh and sent a shooting pain down my leg. “That’s all right, I like a little fight in my whores.”
The skinny one-eyed man with the maniacal laugh? The bearded starer, Red Legs Roberts? Icy fingers of fear gripped my backbone as the sharpness of the blade bit deeper into my neck.
I struggled against his weight, but he dug his free knee into my other leg. “Ah, there we go now. Get ready to buck, little whore.”
