21. Isla #4
The well-endowed, poised, and elegant fighter opened the door and crooked her finger, beckoning Isla to step into the bedroom.
“While I think I could probably fit in there with you, there’s no reason for us not to do this out here, is there?
” The reassuring way she said it had Isla smiling slightly as she followed her into the room.
Ilona held up the bodice, and Isla ran her arms through the three-quarter sleeves.
She slipped the straps over her shoulders and then, to her utter embarrassment, tapped a breast and blurted out, “They’re not very big.
I probably don’t even need to worry about them.
” Heat rose in her cheeks, and she looked anywhere but into Ilona’s eyes, afraid of the pity she’d find lurking there.
With her typical direct approach to life, Ilona stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and studied Isla’s breasts.
“I’ve seen a lot of women’s breasts, My Lady, and yours would rival any of them.
They’re beautiful and shapely….” She put her fingers beneath Isla’s chin and turned her head so that she could look directly into her eyes.
When she had her full attention, she smiled and said quietly, “And they would fit very nicely into another woman’s hands.
I’m profoundly in love with my wife, but take it from someone who knows.
Your breasts are modest but distinctly feminine and nothing to be ashamed of. Now then?—”
The lady’s maid threaded one end of the tie through the lowest eyelet on one side and then pulled it through to create an even length on both sides.
Once again taking an end, she crossed it over to the corresponding eyelet on the opposite side, weaving the pattern back and forth until the bodice firmly held those—what had she called them—shapely and distinctly feminine breasts in place.
Isla’s blush intensified as Ilona properly aligned the bodice with her body, pushing the breasts into position with practiced efficiency.
Ilona stepped back to survey her work. “Perfect. Usually, I’d suggest you wear a light jacket to take a stroll on the deck, but the captain wanted everyone to remain inside the wardroom until dinner is served because the deck can be slippery after a storm.
Let’s get those boots on, shall we?” She indicated the chair, and after Isla was seated, knelt and buttoned Isla’s breeches below the knee so they fit snugly about her calf.
She helped her step into her boots, pulling them up until they comfortably covered the bottom of the breeches.
“Lady Fitzgerald is waiting for you in the wardroom.”
Looking into the woman’s friendly face, Isla quietly said, “Thank you for taking such good care of me during the storm. I know your primary responsibilities lie with the Fitzgeralds.”
With a wink, Ilona rose, leaned in, and whispered, “Between you and me and the captain, you’re my primary charge. He only introduced me to them first to assuage that snobbish vanity common to the nobility.”
“Ilona!”
After a playful curtsy, Ilona grinned and pulled open the door. “After you, My Lady.”
Isla huffed as she strode through the door and joined Priscilla, who was already seated in one of the wingback chairs. Upon seeing Isla’s apparel, Priscilla’s brows elegantly rose into her hairline.
Isla cast her gaze down at her attire with a discerning eye.
While the breeches weren’t nearly as tight as Ilona’s leather ones, neither were they as baggy as those worn by the rest of the sailors.
They were the equivalent of those worn by Jonto and his officers.
She turned back to her friend and held out her arms. “What? You knew I’d agreed to wear breeches.
I simply felt this would be a good time to try them out.
I thought I’d be more comfortable if I first wear them here among friends than if I were to walk about on deck in front of the men. ”
“Yes, well, after the storm abated and he’d changed into dry clothes, Robert returned to the deck with the Captain. But don’t be surprised if he disapproves of your scandalous choice of clothing.”
While Priscilla had never been one of the girls who’d teased Isla, she’d always fancied herself as the arbiter of what was proper and what was not.
It suddenly occurred to Isla that perhaps her friend’s well-intentioned advice was part and parcel of her difficulty with her self-image.
Had it been part of the problem all along?
With her anger rising, she jammed her fists onto her hips.
“My scandalous choice of clothing? Really, Pris? What are you saying? Even you agreed to wear breeches, and although you sounded brave enough down in the hold, I haven’t seen you wear any yet. ”
Priscilla’s gaze traveled from the bodice down to the boots and back up to the bodice again. “Will you at least wear a light blouse to cover yourself?”
Isla stifled the childish urge to stomp her foot. “To cover what, exactly?” She held her hands out to her side. “I wear bodices all the time in Fachan’s Bay. Why is this any different?”
Priscilla’s brows descended from their previous heights as she considered the question.
“I don’t know exactly. I suppose it’s because skirts cover the line of your legs, but those breeches hardly cover the curves of your body.
You look.…” The words failed her as she cocked her head, grasping for a polite way to say what she thought.
Ilona supplied her with a few choice words. “Enchanting? Comfortable? Able to climb up and down ladders without worrying that someone below might see her knickers? We’re on a working man-of-war, My Lady and, as such, those breeches are more appropriate than any skirt could ever be.”
The scathing look Priscilla turned on the lady’s maid would have quelled most servants.
With a confidence that belied her station, Ilona glared right back at the prim and proper aristocrat.
They glowered at one another for quite a while until Priscilla, who must have remembered Jonto’s cautionary warning, finally looked away.
She picked some nonexistent lint off her skirt and then indicated the second overstuffed armchair.
“Oh, stop hovering with that paddled puppy dog expression on your face, Isla. I’m afraid I’m being a prig, and I apologize.
The fact of the matter is you look lovely, and I suppose I’m a bit jealous that you were brave enough to wear the breeches before me. ”
Ilona was savvy enough not to gloat over her small victory. “I’ll be back soon. I need to ensure the kitchen has everything prepared for the evening meal.”
As Isla watched her go, she noticed Lily and Celie staring wide-eyed at Ilona’s temerity. As the maid exited onto the quarterdeck, Jonto, who’d been about to enter, held the door for her and then indicated Robert should enter before him.
The Captain, who was still wearing his wet clothing, strode in after Robert, took a stuttering step, and then stopped altogether when he saw Isla in her new outfit.
He blinked several times, swallowed hard, and then took hold of his lapels and settled his jacket onto his shoulders as though that had been the reason he’d stopped in the first place.
Before he looked down, Isla saw something, yearning, perhaps, shining in his eyes.
She’d experienced similar looks from men before and had always felt slightly dirty from their regard.
This, on the other hand, excited her. No not excited.
It thrilled her because it felt so right where the blatant, lascivious looks from other men inevitably felt so wrong.
Robert’s look, on the other hand, sent a frisson of fear racing down her spine. Here was the aristocratic disapproval she’d shied away from her entire life. The fierceness of his eyes and his pinched lips fairly screamed ‘inappropriate,’ ‘unacceptable,’ and ‘not allowed.’
Even though he hadn’t said any of that, Isla stiffened.
It wasn’t as though she was dressed in Ilona’s skintight leather pants.
Plus, a bodice was a perfectly acceptable garment worn by women of all classes.
As her friend, he’d seen her wearing them her entire life.
She bristled, waiting for him to tell her he wouldn’t allow her to debase herself while under his care.
Behind her, Priscilla rose and came forward.
She placed a gentle hand on Isla’s arm and repeated, “Isla, my dear. You look lovely. Now that I know that you’ll be wearing breeches tomorrow for our excursion to the island, I’ll be brave enough to wear them as well.
” She pulled Isla around and indicated the wing chair.
“Come sit and chat with me while the Captain changes into some dry clothes.” She looked over her shoulder.
“Robert, why don’t you join us as well? Ilona’s gone to check on our dinner, and I believe Lily and Sandy were just about to prepare the table.
” She lifted her brow in their direction, and the two women hurried toward the back of the room to begin setting the plates, wine glasses, and silverware.
Isla hadn’t done anything wrong, and with her head held high, she walked to the chair and sat, watching the others obediently do as they’d been told. Even Robert crossed to his chair, still fuming but blessedly silent.
Grateful for Pris’s timely intervention, Isla settled in to talk of anything other than the fact that she’d stepped out of her comfort zone and survived.
She allowed herself a small, congratulatory smile before leaning forward and listening to Pris describe riding out the storm while strapped to her bed.
Seeing the excitement in Pris’s face cheered her.
Those bright, grey eyes told her that their adventure had truly begun.