Chapter 11 #2
“Bloody wanker.” Hook shoves some more wood into the fire.
“Bit hard on him?” I ask.
“He’s lucky he still draws breath after the way he scared you that time.” Hook strips off his shirt, giving me another delightful view of his beautiful, scarred body. He wrings out what’s left of the water in it, then spreads it on the stone bench for me.
“That happened a million years ago.” I yawn as he lays me down and feels along my clothes so he can wring out the fabric in spots. Smee isn’t my favorite person by any stretch, but I understand his jealousy. Hook is his captain, his life.
“It shouldn’t have happened at all. I’ve half a mind to take a hand or more from him for it.”
I know he isn’t lying. I can still see the crimson rivulet of blood he’d cut at Anne’s throat. He’s ruthless and cruel to everyone who crosses him.
“Leave poor Smee alone. He’s already heartbroken that you fawn over me instead of him.”
Hook gives me a wry smile, then kisses my cheek. “Got a soft spot for that twat now, do you?”
“No, you’re just mean.”
He barks a laugh as he fusses over me. “Enough about him. You’re still drenched. The fire will sort you out until Bill gets here with dry clothes.”
“Stop.” I try to wave him away. “I’m not a kitten.”
An acrid odor wafts by. It must be the pitch. Smells like when they would pave roads back home.
He grips my hair tightly and stares down at me. “You’re part of me, lass. One that I won’t let go. So you might think you’re giving up, but you aren’t. I won’t let you. I never will. And if that means I need to treat you like a kitten—” He smirks. “I certainly do like the way you purr for me.”
Cookson snorts a laugh from his spot at the fire.
I smile despite myself. “Filth. Always filth with you. Such a pirate.”
“Your pirate, lass.” He gives me another one of his brutal kisses that warms me from the inside out. “And I’ll do any dark deed to keep it that way.”
I think I’d do anything to keep it that way, too. And isn’t that a terrifying thought?
It takes three moonrises and a lot of cussing from the entire crew before the Jolly Roger is seaworthy again.
“Does the ship feel different?” I ask Hook as he waits at the wheel, his foot tapping on the deck impatiently.
“No, lass. I know her through and through.” He cups his hand around his mouth. “Shove off!”
The crew still on the beach uses long poles to push against the front of the ship as the tide comes in and swamps the shore.
I don’t feel the ship move at all, and when I send Hook a questioning look, he says, “We’ve got a land breeze and a high tide, lass. We’ll get to sea. Trust me.”
“I do.” In fact, Hook is probably the only one I trust.
“Raise the mainsail!”
Skylights and Smee turn some heavy-looking cranks as the biggest sail on the ship rises and begins to catch the wind.
“Shove!” Hook cries.
The crew all grunt with effort as they push against the hull.
“One more good one, lads! On my count!”
Hook loops his arm around my waist, the pine tar and ocean scent of him enveloping me. He pulls me tightly to his side as he barks out a countdown. Flicking his gaze to the wind filling the mainsail, he barks out. “Shove!”
This time, the crew groans even louder as they push the Jolly Roger from the shore. I can feel the moment the ship leaves land, the entire thing taking on a buoyancy you’d never notice unless you’d felt it rooted to the sand only moments before.
“Get to swimming!” he calls.
A whoop goes up from the crew as they all splash toward the Jolly Roger.
“The seals are holding, Cap’n,” Cookson calls from below. “Bilge is pumping.”
Sailors hop over the side and onto the deck from where they’ve climbed the rope ladders. Before long, the entire ship is humming again as if it was never beached at all.
Anne climbs onto the deck, her sharp gaze raking the ship.
“You made her help?” I ask.
“Might as well get some use out of her before I put her to the sword.” Hook shrugs.
“You still want to kill her?”
“Aye, lass. She threatened you. I know you don’t want any more killing, but having her on the ship is a risk.
She could be a danger to you. I’ll not allow it.
” He reaches for his cutlass. “I’ll do it right now, and I’ll even make it quick if that’s what you want.
” His tone makes it clear that quick is not what he wants.
“No.” I put my hand over his. “Not necessary.”
He looks down at me, those blue eyes like my own personal ocean. “This is who I am, Moira. I will strike down anyone who even thinks to harm you. There’s no other way for me. I’ll do it with a smile on my face, lass. And I’ll keep doing it until all your enemies’ heads are stacked at your feet.”
I can’t with this man. He’s utterly brutal, but worse than that—he’s absolutely devoted. To me. I put my hand to his chest over his heart. It beats strong and fearless. “Let her live, all right?”
His eyes start to narrow.
“For now,” I add quickly. “For now. She might come in handy or something. Might be useful to me. Okay?”
He sighs and lets go of the hilt of his sword. “Only because you asked, lass. Though I’m going to be expecting something in return to slake my bloodlust.” He lets his gaze rake down my body.
I press my thighs together when a tingle ignites between them.