“Prison guards are hornier than the prisoners themselves.” She cackled again. “Let’s get you out of those wet clo—” Words fell dead from her tongue and she grabbed my chin. Rhodesia turned my face this way and that. “Say—how’d you get this mark across your cheek?”
I steeled my face and stared back into her questioning eyes as the innocent, shy girl I had been slowly melted away. Redella may well be dead in the water, with no hope of resurrection. “My name is Red. Left for dead by China Joe. Wife to Russian Jack. Co-Captain of The Black Otter and her fleet.”
“You don’t say.” Her face flushed a robust pink, then broke into a sly smile. “Since you won’t be needing a job to work off your room and board, you will have to make other arrangements. I’ll see to it you get in to see Captain Bon straight away.” She turned and hurried toward the cabin. Her fat legs smacked together as she ran. “Come along, Captain Red. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. It’s almost time for dinner.”
An emotion I couldn’t quite place swelled in my chest as I strode along behind her, my broken chains clinking behind me. Nobody paid me any mind. Still, something told me I’d just been raised a notch on The Ship of Dreams.
“Get dressed and scurry on to the galley. Pantalets are in the dresser. Blouse is in there, too. Bon will know how to get you out of those irons.”
After all that had transpired since coming to live aboard The Black Otter, from marrying a notorious pirate who wasn’t my fiancé, to doing murder, to getting thrown overboard and picked up from amidst a shiver of sharks, nothing seemed as absurd as wearing pantalets on a boat full of whores.
I dropped my hands to my sides and fingered the wet fabric, heavy with salt water, that clung to my legs. Rhodesia let out a hard, toothless laugh.
“See there, you’re pretty much wearing britches already.” She clapped me on the back so hard I stumbled forward. “Least these in here are dry.”
Chapter Nine
Aboard The Molly Maiden on the high seas
I pulled on the canvas pantalets and the only billowy blouse I found in the drawer. Thankfully, I maneuvered the clunky irons and chains through the too-big leg holes without too much difficulty. They clinked behind me like angry ghosts as I stepped out onto the deck.
Time to find the galley.
Still, convicts, guards and eager women conducted hasty business on the deck as the sun sank lower toward the watery, western horizon. A guard clambered off the black-haired woman I’d seen earlier. She stared at me hard as she pulled her skirts down.
“Heard you’re Russian Jack’s woman.”
I set my jaw and nodded.
She glanced down at my leg irons before returning her piercing stare to meet mine. I didn’t look away.
“I’m Red.” I tossed my hair, which was just as dark as hers. “Where’s the galley on this sloop?”
“Angel-Arse Hazel.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, but still stared at me. Her golden eyes bore no promise of friendliness. “Galley’s that way.”
I nodded and started past her. My chains followed in metallic succession.
Scrape, thunk. Scrape, thunk. Scrape—
“You ain’t no better’n me,” Hazel barked to my retreating back. “Still a whore, you are. Pirates don’t take wives to sea. Just his whore, joining the ranks of many more before you.”
I turned around slowly.
Hazel’s smug smile wrinkled her pug nose and hid the smattering of her freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. “You didn’t believe him to be virginal, did you?”
This one’s going to be trouble. But she has an advantage over me seeing as how she isn’t weighted down with irons.
“You’re right.” I returned her smirk. “I suppose I’ll have to track down all the whores that came before me.”
“For what? Fight for his honor?”
“No. To thank them, of course.”
The fake smile melted from Hazel’s face.
“Because Russian Jack is the most considerate lover I’ve ever had the pleasure to bed.”
No need to let on that I was the virginal one that came to the marital bed.
Something flashed in her eyes that warned me I hadn’t had the last word in this unpleasant exchange. Still, I turned, heavily, and strode off into the direction of the galley.
Scrape, thunk. Scrape, thunk. Scrape, thunk.
The snaggletooth wench, Rhodesia, smiled broadly when I stepped into the galley. “Was wonderin’ if you’d track us down. Never known a hungry gal to pass us by.”
I nodded. “Rhodesia.”
“Come on honey, sit by me.” She waved her plump arm. “I’ll introduce you around. After all—”
All activity in the galley stopped as I dragged my chains across the wooden floor. Careful not to duck my head or let my chin fall, I sank down onto the bench beside Rhodesia. I ignored the ache in my neck from the slash Piranha had given me and kept my face blank.
The old Redella would have balked at the women who scratched themselves freely and sat with their legs spread wide. Now, I was a pirate’s wife and my name was known because of it. I left any fear I’d had back in that scarlet pool of blood on the deck of my ship.
“—any acquaintance of The Black Otter’s is a friend of The Molly Maiden.”
Rhodesia ignored the stony stares and unsmiling faces that seemed to say the opposite. “The prison transport ship will be coming back for the customers soon and the girls trickling in will be hungry.”
“Rightly so.”
