Chapter 10 #3
For the first time, Alister noticed Rosetta didn’t wear a single piece of it. She had no rings, didn’t wear a bracelet or necklace, and her ears weren’t pierced to hold anything.
“For a woman, you wear none. I find that strange.”
She took them to a clothing stall and placed her fingers over her lips in thought as she looked through the white tunics available. “I’ve been gifted enough, but I sold all of it. I’d rather wear something I’ve bought myself or stolen.”
Her face brightened. She pulled out a crisp bright-white crisp tunic and pressed it against his chest.
“Hmm. You, shop vendor.” The man came forward and respectfully nodded to his potential customers. “Do you have anything like this, but bigger?”
Alister looked down at the shirt and then back up when the man said yes. He started rummaging through the crates on the ground.
“I don’t need more clothes.”
“You do,” she countered with a giggle. “A man should feel good in what he wears.”
“I’m comfortable in what I’ve got.” He gestured to the breeches he wore, the dull tunic covering him, and the doublet coat around his shoulders. He had a couple of spare pants and shirts. “Don’t need much more than this.”
She pinched the front of his shirt, tugging it away from his skin. “This thing looks a hundred years old. For someone wanting to show off wealth with fancy jewellery, you dress like you’re poor.”
She pressed a bigger tunic to his chest and nodded in approval. She gave it to him, despite what he’d said.
“I’m far from poor, Rosetta.”
“Yes, but you dress it,” she answered blandly while she went through more shirts and eventually pressed one against herself.
The wrist cuff was slightly frilly and would droop, but other than that, it was similar to the button-up shirt she usually wore.
“I’ll take this one.” She handed the man the cost of it.
Damnit, Alister didn’t want to look poor. Relinquishing the price of the tunic she’d picked for him to the vendor, he chased after her when she walked away. She was surprisingly spritely.
She tilted her head to the side to peek up at him from under her hat, flashing a small look of triumph. How does she always get what she wants? She always managed to say or do the right thing that had him on the back foot when it came to her.
Why am I buying this? He asked himself as he emptied more of his pouch to buy new black breeches at a different stall. She’d bought a new pair of tights, a dark-brown pair this time.
“I don’t need new boots,” he complained when she made a comment on the ridiculousness of his foot size after going inside a boot maker’s store. The shop was dimly lit and smelt of leather and shoe polish, shoes lining multiple racks.
He was a big man, not just in muscle, but also in height. He needed strong feet to keep him steady!
“How long have you had those things?” She gestured to them with a cringe marring her features. “I’ll bet years.”
She shook her head at him, sitting down on a stool to try on a boot herself. She measured the bottom of it against her old ones first to make sure it was the correct size.
“A man wears a good boot until it’s got holes.”
“Ew! That’s how you lose your toes to foot rot!”
“Not if you take care of them,” he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. He couldn’t believe he was having this argument with her.
“And do you?”
Well, no. Still, didn’t mean his toes were going to fall off.
She started stomping around in the boots she’d tried on, her face heavy with concentration. Then she placed her hands on her hips and nodded at no one, almost as though she was having a secret conversation in her mind.
When he didn’t answer, she raised a brow at him.
“I bet in the storm we faced, your feet were slipping about.” His lips thinned at her words, not liking that she was right. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d had boots with grip.”
Now that was an argument he found hard to disagree with. Being steady at the helm at all times mattered to Alister.
She’s too bloody smart for her own good! He bought the black pair she’d picked out for him by slapping coins onto the vendor’s table so hard the resounding thud spooked him.
Since they had both bought multiple items, they were wearing satchels over their shoulders to carry everything. She’d made him throw out his old boots and wear his new ones while she tucked her new ones into her satchel.
“Enough, lass!” he eventually shouted when she was trying to put a hat on his head.
The yellow dyed feather sticking out of it was disgusting and the idea of wearing it made his skin crawl.
He felt ridiculously foolish with it on his head.
“I don’t need help dressing. Been doing it myself my whole life. ”
Tilting her head back with glee, the loud boisterous laugh she let out made multiple people jump with fright. “I was wondering how far I could go before you stopped me.”
Bloody woman! “You!” He pointed two fingers at her with squinted eyes. “You’re an annoying little pain, you know that?”
She placed her hand over her heart. “I do try my darn hardest to be.”
The tension in his shoulders swiftly dissipated, her playfulness deflating his irritation quickly.
She took them from the stall and led their stroll once more, stepping surely over the cobblestone pathway and the dirt that covered it.
Concern started to needle at him when she began to lead them away from the markets and into town. There were fewer people, and although that made him more relaxed, he was unsure as to where she was leading them.
Since most people were shopping in the market or busy on the street that held most of the taverns, there weren’t many where they were walking. He eyed those they occasionally passed.
“I thought we would be going back to our ships when you were done,” he commented, tilting his head towards her.
“Dixy’s House of Garments is the only place I can guarantee will have quality-made dresses,” she answered, tilting her head back to him. “I’ve always wanted to buy one from there.”
“Wouldn’t any do? You don’t even wear dresses often.”
A mocking snort came from her.
“Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t own one I like.” Her head turned forward and a thoughtful expression fell over her. “Even though I consider myself a commoner now, I was once a duchess. Sometimes, I like to pretend I still am.”
It often slipped Alister’s mind that she hadn’t always been a lowly commoner like him. To him, she was a cutthroat pirate. A tricksy thief. A daring sailor captain. A murderer.
What was she like before? Before her hands had been tainted with blood like his. Before she had set out to change her own fate.
He couldn’t picture Rosetta in any other way than what she was now. A brutal woman who shot and cleaved at men, who wore weapons underneath her skirt. Who moaned and bucked her hips like a whore, rather than staying still like a pure maiden.
But as he examined her while they strolled, he noticed the upturned point of her chin and the way she looked determinedly forward through her long lashes.
How her shoulders were rolled back with her chest pushed forward.
Her hands behind her back showed composure and calmness.
Her footsteps were so short, she almost seemed to glide gracefully over the ground.
It was a walk that held superiority and confidence.
Rosetta was usually a stomping imp, walking with one shoulder forward as if she was ready to barge people out of her way.
How had he not seen the difference in the way she had walked on a ship in tights compared to walking on land in a dress?
She couldn’t completely hide her true self, not with the way she teased him, mocked him, and did her horrible laugh, but in between that, she had been playing pretend.
Not once had he noticed.
“Don’t most noblewomen walk holding the arm of their male companion?” Alister asked to ridicule her for her act.
“Sometimes.” She gave him a raised brow. “I didn’t think you wanted me to be that openly affectionate with you.”
“Nay, I don’t think that is wise in these parts.”
“Then why bother asking?” Her words were like a stab, almost as if she had read between the lines of his question.
“Well, I don’t know,” he grumbled, palming the hilt of his cutlass tighter.
Why did I ask? He wondered if it was because when he walked with a woman, she tended to reach for him. They all smothered him in unwanted touches to appease him – mostly for coin.
Not once had Rosetta done that. He was unused to the lack of intimacy he was usually trying to escape.
It made him frown in thought. Do I want her to do that to me? The idea of Rosetta holding his arm didn’t seem abhorrent to him.
“Also,” she said quietly as she leaned closer, “it’s rude for a woman to just grab a man’s arm. It should be offered.”
Hmm. Alister ran his palm over his chin. I never considered this.
So, his reaction to shirking a clinging woman from him was not unfounded. He couldn’t help crinkling his eyes in humour. Well, that made him feel better about the reactions he’d received for it.
Although Rosetta had purposefully tried to pester him, he’d been surprisingly comfortable beside her while they walked. He thought of her as a part of his crew, and Alister was content being around his crew.
“Unless you want her dead, I wouldn’t draw your sword,” he heard someone say behind them.
A surprised breath left his chest before Alister turned his head to seek out Rosetta, who was no longer beside him. He spun around and found her caught in the arms of a man who had a small knife pressed to her throat.
“Or your gun,” another man said next to them with a smirk.
This one held a long, thin sword in his hand, semi-crouched as though he expected Alister to suddenly attack, was prepared for it.
Shit. He’d been so preoccupied by their conversation that he hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings. He was used to having his crew with him to protect his back.