Chapter 15
Rosetta’s life on the Howling Death had fallen into a routine over the last few weeks she’d been onboard.
Each morning, she rose before most to help Mr Darkley and his son in the kitchen. She’d follow his instruction, giving her own ideas as she went – which he mostly shot down. He was a stubborn man who liked to do things his way.
She’d help place food on the dining benches so the crew could grab their grub before they went about their jobs. Those who were about to go to bed would come to have their morning meal before sleep.
Then she’d help clean the kitchen.
She’d have free time between meals, and she’d mingle with the men, talking to those who were also on breaks.
She spent some of her time above, on the deck.
Standing in the warm sunlight, Rosetta would lean against the railing and watch the horizon.
Some would find it boring to watch the wide and desolate ocean pass by, but she didn’t.
Not when every minute, she was sailing closer and closer to what she wanted.
She often thought of her future, what she would do once she met her goal.
Obsessed. That was the word many used to describe her hunt for the Laughing Siren. Foolish was the word others chose, thinking she’d never obtain it.
I’ll prove them all wrong.
Her eyes would often stray to the man steering her to potential victory. With the wind blowing his long black hair any which way, he stood over them behind the helm like a god of the seas.
Pierre would speak to him, and she could tell they were discussing their current position by the fact that he would go over scrolls of parchment with Alister.
Others also came to talk to him in the times she was above, most of which were casual conversations to appease and entertain him.
There were times he was so focused on their direction, it didn’t seem like he knew she was watching.
Then there were times when she’d look away from the horizon to find his gaze already on her. There was a dark glint to his eye in some moments, one that made her lick at the seam of her lips. She returned the fierce look with one of her own.
Rosetta liked to approach him with a certain swing to her hips, a certain crossing leg walk. She would even skim her fingertips against the railing when she walked up the stairs.
It was always followed with a lie that she was just checking to see if he needed food, or water, or something else, when really, she just wanted to annoy him with her presence.
She often got the reaction she wanted, stringing him high and dry, since he couldn’t leave his station or openly try to touch her without inciting jealousy from the others.
Before anything could be said or done, she would return to the kitchen to help Mr Darkley prepare the feast for the night.
Men would eat their dinner before lazing around the ship to drink and sleep, while others rose for their night duties.
Then, once again, she’d help clean, as she did with the other meals.
It kept her busy, and she was thankful that the in-between times were no longer accompanied by groping hands.
She’d been irritated that the moment anyone got a sniff that she might be having sex with someone, everyone had turned on her like uncontrollable, grunting pigs.
All those except her original crew – who apparently had never heard the rumours.
Otherwise, they would have shut them down.
Men had started to grab at her thighs or arse while trying to talk to her, or they brushed their hands against her face and got close to her. Slapping a few of them hadn’t worked until she blatantly grabbed her pistol and threatened one whose unruly behaviour turned to anger.
It died down the moment she moved her sleeping hammock to Alister’s quarters.
He hadn’t been joking when he said they’d turn to me like a harlot. She couldn’t blame men for being men when they were probably used to being around women who liked being shared because it got them more coin.
That was a lie; she totally could, but she didn’t see the point in holding onto that particular grudge when there was nothing she could do about it.
After three days, she’d been overwhelmed.
The groping hadn’t really stopped, but at least it was now only one set of hands. She also often groped back before she came to her senses.
There was something about Captain Alister Paine that got her all hot, bothered, and stupid. And even forgiving.
She’d met many men like him in the past, and they’d all given her the same reaction. She’d never spent this much time with one, though.
There was something about his carefree, nonchalant personality that drew her in. Quick to laugh, but also to anger, he was a man of muscle and steel.
Every time he cornered her, as if their paths just kept meeting when they really shouldn’t, his mouth was like a raging storm. Like a tiny boat, she got swept up in it and lost. The number of times she’d almost caved was disastrous.
He still hadn’t earned her yet.
Rosetta rarely slept with the same man twice, unless he paid her for it. She wasn’t a prostitute, but there were a few port boys she allowed to think she was so she could get paid for something she already wanted.
She cheated them out of money they didn’t really need to lose because she wasn’t hungry for coin. She usually had plenty. It’s their fault for being so stupid.
She wouldn’t tell Alister that. She wouldn’t allow him to think of her as a prostitute or treat her like one.
She knew she was drawing a very definitive line with all the rejections she’d handed out over the past two weeks. What impressed her, though, was that he didn’t have a tantrum when he was rejected, not like so many other men.
She’d forgiven him for the day he went too far, simply because of the way he’d looked afterwards.
His face had been crinkled into a mess of emotions, a few of them confused and apologetic. He looked troubled. Without needing to say anything, she could see he’d realised his mistake.
They never spoke about it, and she initiated contact again to show him it was forgiven. It was also because she had just wanted to satisfy her hungry hands and mouth that had been itching to touch him. Rosetta was selfish.
Afterwards, when she continued to reject him, he didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t getting what he wanted. He’d tease her, trying to get further and further each time. Before he could go too far, she’d stop him, and he’d call her out on the fact that he knew she wanted it.
The last time he’d said it, he’d slapped her on the arse and walked away while whistling like a deviant.
Arrogant bastard, she’d thought with a smile of humour at his back.
So yes, over the course of the last two weeks, Rosetta’s life had settled into a routine, but she didn’t think she’d ever had this much fun on a ship before.
She’d go to sleep before him, and she woke before him. Today, she’d woken earlier than usual and had since been sitting on the steps of the quarterdeck, deep in thought.
It wasn’t long before someone troublesome came to bother her. With calculating thought, she knew exactly how to bother him back.
“Ow! Ow! OW!” the person sitting between her legs shouted like a five-year-old. “You’re as bad as my mother!”
“Then stop struggling so much!” she yelled with exasperation, like she couldn’t understand why he was so upset when she knew exactly why.
She was the one purposely torturing him, after all.
“But you’re hurting me!”
“That’s because you don’t know how to sit still!”
“Because you’re bloody hurting me!”
It was a struggle to stifle the evil, maniacal laugh that threatened to escape.
“Why are you complaining so loudly first thing in the morning?” Alister grumbled from behind them, coming out of his cabin sooner than he usually did.
The sun was only just rising; he usually didn’t appear on deck until it was finished. He would take over from Derek, who had been steering the ship throughout the night.
“I’ve been tryin’ to shut ’em up, but they just won’t listen to me,” Derek shouted. He was probably also one of the reasons Alister had woken up.
“She’s torturing me, Captain,” Pierre whined, reaching his hand back like he needed saving. Rosetta yanked the hairbrush through the man’s long golden locks.
“He said he dearly missed it when women in port brushed his beautiful and glossy hair.” She tilted her head back to look at Alister. “So, he told me I should do it for him.”
Pierre had seen her brushing her own, something she did when she remembered. Since she’d woken up at such an early hour, she decided to untangle the knots from her own hair.
Without looking, not taking her eyes from Alister, she continued to forcibly yank the brush through Pierre’s knots.
She noted the way Alister looked at his own long hair, then at her with a strange expression. She couldn’t believe it. It almost looked as though he wanted her to pay him such attention, regardless of Pierre’s whining.
“But you don’t have to be a brute while doing it!”
Rosetta gave Alister a smirk, then a wink, which made his expression turn into a mirthful, toothy grin.
“Sure, I do. It’s just so knotty, Pierre. You did tell me it would be an honour if I did it.”
She could be gentler, starting from the ends, but instead, she was choosing to rake the brush from the scalp down.
“Rosie, please,” he cried, trying to reach behind him to stop her, since she had him trapped by a fistful of hair.
Rosie...
Rosetta shuddered, a deep surge of nausea rolling through her to the point she felt bile rising. She almost wanted to run to the side of the ship and be sick.
She let him go to wrap an arm around his throat while pulling her pistol from its holster.
“Don’t ever call me that again,” she hissed through gritted teeth, putting the barrel of the gun to his head. “Nobody is allowed to call me that.”
“Oi!” Alister warned as he stepped forward.