Chapter 18
Spanish Town, Jamaica
Captain Johnson’s pulse thumped. A woman, making her own offer of marriage? He’d never heard of such a thing. Would readers believe it? He’d make them believe. He inked his quill again, eager to capture the pirate’s next words, when suddenly Miss Bonny ceased talking.
He looked up, expectant.
But Anne, her red hair tied atop her head and sweat glistening on her brow, did not return his gaze. She massaged a cramp in her foot.
“What happened next?” he asked, exasperated.
“You asked me how I got the name ‘Bonny.’ I was rather generous, as you can now ascertain why I sometimes used the alias ‘Fulworth,’ too.”
Captain Johnson set his jaw. He had to have this story. He must capture it first. “Generous?” He repeated with frustration. “To pause there?”
Anne narrowed her eyes.
Johnson cleared his throat. He had revealed too much excitement—a blunder.
He’d need to exercise more patience, coming as often as necessary.
Be more affirming. Consoling, perhaps, in dealing with the fairer sex in this delicate state.
If Anne could be called delicate. Though surely she once was?
“It is only that I am anxious, on your account, to know if matters resolved.”
Anne guffawed. She leaned against the stone wall, her hands folded over her belly.
“Did your father approve of the marriage? Did you find Ellen?”
Anne considered him in a way that made him feel like a petulant child. It was all rather unpleasant. But he held his quill at attention.
“No, and no.”
He should’ve left by now, but Johnson couldn’t stop himself. “What happened to Mr. Nathaniel Fulworth? Did you intend to kill him? Was he all right in the end?”
Anne scowled with more hate than he knew was possible in such a pretty face.
Or was that hurt?
“Go attend to Mary,” she ground out, turning away with finality. “As you damn well promised.”