Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (11 page)

“Take out the captain’s suit, Liza. The golden brown one.” Jill smiled in that way Liza had found so enchanting, yesterday. “Captain Hook and I are a perfectly matched set.”

Liza pretended to return the smile, and obeyed. With the clothing over her arm, she raised her hand to open the curtain.

“No, Liza. Give it to me.” Jill held out her arms to take it. “Mr. Smee, I think this will do for today.” She moved around the curtain, out of Liza’s sight. The girl listened, and, to her delight, it wasn’t Smee’s voice that responded.

“Thank you, my love.”

Smee’s weighty footsteps retreated toward the foot of the bunk, and Liza heard a click and little stirrings as the shaving cabinet over the chest of drawers opened and its contents were removed. Then a silence.

Liza cast around to find a way to look and not be seen. She caught sight of the mirror on the wardrobe door. Her eyes widened.

In the quiet beyond the curtain, she saw Hook and Jill kissing. Jill’s back was turned to Liza. Her face tilted all the way up, and Hook bent down to meet her. His hand was buried in her hair, supporting her head. His leather-strapped arm wrapped around Jill’s shoulders, and from that arm, his hook hung harmless. Liza clearly saw the lady’s sky-blue dressing gown, and on either side of it— Liza sucked in her breath. On each side of Jill stood a naked, firmly muscled leg, foot to thigh, braced against the movement of the ship.

Liza’s jaw fell. Her breath became shallow, and very quick. The silence vanished, driven off by the heavy sound of her heart beating. As she listened to her heart, and stared, Liza could feel it as well, pulsing warmth throughout her body. Her face felt flushed and hot, and she beheld her mistress and her master until their kiss broke apart.

He still held her. With a twitch of his lip, the captain smiled at his lady, and he spoke over his shoulder.

“You came to us too early, Mr. Smee. But I assure you…I have roused now.”

Jill gave a conspiratorial laugh, and Mr. Smee chuckled. At the sound of Smee’s merriment, a thought occurred to Liza: a looking-glass reflected the couple from the shaving cabinet— from Mr. Smee’s standpoint— as well.

Jill turned toward the curtain again, and Liza dragged her gaze from the mirror. With shaking hands, the girl dressed her mistress and hung up her robe. She fetched a diamond and opal necklace from its drawer and brushed Jill’s shining hair, and when she’d finished these tasks, she was commanded to open every curtain in the cabin. She was surprised to find herself alone with the lady. Dazed by a vision of raw masculinity, Liza had tended the feminine chores without engaging her senses, unable to hear another word nor catch another movement from the opposite side of the velvet. Now, Smee and the master were gone. Overcome by what her eyes had seen, Liza’s ears had failed her. She hungered to hear more, to see more.

Jill, looking lovely in the golden gown, commandeered the brush and smoothed Liza’s locks again. “Your hair is most becoming down like this. It softens your features. But I see that you’re anxious this morning, Liza. In time, you’ll feel more accustomed to your situation.”

The girl managed a nod.

“I’ll speak to Mr. Cecco about your ring today.”

Liza was surprised. Jill had remembered her treasure.

Liza had forgotten all about it.

“Starting tomorrow, please bring a tea tray each morning. Two cups. Cook knows how to prepare it for me. Now fetch my cloak. I want you to tidy the room and make the bed. That’s all for this morning. I have some business to attend on deck, and then I’ll spend the rest of the morning writing.” She gestured toward the bookcase by the door. “You may borrow a book if you wish. There is nothing like a good story.”

But Liza looked blank, and shook her head.

For the first time, her mistress seemed disconcerted. “You don’t mean to tell me you can’t read?”

Liza nodded.

Jill didn’t hesitate. “We will begin tomorrow, first thing.”

Liza shook her head vigorously, then pretended to take a watch from her pocket and finger it.

“As I told you yesterday, Liza, your father is an intelligent man. But he is only a man. You must not fear him. We will do what is best for you.” But remembering the captain’s warning, Jill stopped herself short. “No.” This girl wasn’t her family. “I will not teach you personally; I’ll find another way. I must go now.”

After Liza lowered a fur-trimmed cloak over Jill’s shoulders, the mistress left her alone. The girl stood by the door and shut her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. Idly, she lifted a cover of the bookshelf and stroked the textured bindings. The golden titles winked in the sunlight, but she found she’d never really cared if she could read or not. She still didn’t. Like so many things, like Liza herself, reading had lost all importance after her mother’s death. She had forgotten the few letters she knew then. But the leathery scent of the volumes reminded her of something else, and as she loitered by the case, she indulged in the one thing she did care about now. Closing her eyes to the books, she filled her mind with him, instead.

Then, like a good servant, she followed orders.

Liza was attentive to her work. After setting the dining area to rights, she approached the captain’s sleeping area willingly, even eagerly. She plucked the shaving towel from the floor by the chest of drawers. Short black hairs resided in its soapy folds. After examining them, she leaned out a window and shook them into the sea. When the towel was neatened and replaced near the shaving stool, she tugged the bedclothes all the way down to the foot. Bending over the bed, she straightened the sheet in a manner to rival the most conscientious of chambermaids’. Her palms ran over the linen weave, and Liza caressed every wrinkle smooth, until the skin of her hands tingled and burned. Dutifully, she plumped his feather pillow as she hugged it, then held it to her face in case it might need airing. After scrupulous consideration, she determined it didn’t. It smelled just right.

She shouldn’t have been surprised to find his jeweled dagger underneath. She dropped the pillow to stroke it. The gems glowed in the sun, and the blade felt like solid silk under her finger. She replaced his pillow over the dagger and patted the other pillows into place, interrupting her tasks only to gaze out the window to see what his eyes had seen, and to touch the cold metal of the hook from which his leather brace hung each night— every night, while he eased his passions in this bed. She felt her pulse pounding again.

At last she drew up the top sheet, then the comforter. She folded it neatly beneath the pillows. Stroking its silkiness, she arranged it over both sides of the bunk. The side in which he had lain, and the side she coveted.

And then she balanced on the edge of the bed and looked up. She looked across the cabin. Her eyes observed the crimson curtain before the couch, open now, bunched and gathered at the end of its rail. She saw the curtain’s velvet hem brushing the expensive carpet, no gap between them. The red drape swayed with the ship’s motion, as if someone were already moving behind it.

Her eyes fixed on the mirror in the wardrobe. She imagined a slim girl reflected in the glass, concealed within the curtain and hidden in the shadow of nighttime, watching. Her hair was tucked behind her ears so that she could listen. She wore a brown dress, so that she would blend into the darkness. She never spoke. She was quiet, unobtrusive. The kind of girl to whom no one but hungry sailors paid any attention. She was barely breathing. Only her pulse pounded in secret as she stood stock-still, in her hiding place.

Yes, Liza saw it perfectly. That girl would never be noticed by the lovers moving together on the bed. She would see it all perfectly.

She would see it tonight.

§ § §

Jill stepped from her quarters and pulled the cloak tighter against the mild morning chill. A quick survey of the ship showed that the scene was set and ready to begin. Yulunga stood behind the wheel, Mason perched in the crow’s nest, and far less hands than usual manned the deck and rigging. A knot of sailors consisting of Starkey, Noodler, Cookson, Jukes, and Tom huddled by the forward capstan, while Nibs perched on top of it. All their heads turned toward Jill, watching as a distinguished gentleman in beige walked her way. The lady made her entrance, directing her steps toward the stairs.

Doctor Hanover had tucked a walking stick under his arm, and he carried a tray containing a single cup covered by a saucer. His sandy hair was combed neatly back and his watch pocketed in his waistcoat. Above his otherwise orderly appearance, the dashing slash on his cheekbone seemed out of place, hinting of a less orderly past. At the foot of the steps he halted to look up at Jill. With a curt nod, he smiled in his stiff manner.

“Good morning, Madam. I have brought you a cup of tea. And also, an entreaty.”

She descended, one hand on the rail and the other on the clasp of her cloak. “If I accept one, must I accept the other?”

“To appreciate either one, you must accept my sincerity.”

She stopped one step above him. “Mister Hanover. I am compelled to accept your logic, if nothing else.” The morning was chill, but warming.

“Will you take the tea, then? I have put sugar in it, supposing that you like it sweet, and strong.”

Jill smiled, raising the temperature by several degrees. “How clever of you to guess. Thank you.” She accepted it, noting once again that his fingers didn’t touch hers, and that the surgeon averted his gaze from her red hand. The stick under his arm, she observed, was carved into a ram’s head, its ivory horns curling down like the handle of a sword. He set the saucer and tray on a stair, leaned his well-formed frame on his cane, and waited for her first sip before he spoke again.

“As for my entreaty.…Please accept my apology for the insults with which I afflicted you last evening. I very much regret that I behaved in a manner so unbefitting a gentleman.”

The tea was hot. Jill didn’t have to pretend to appreciate it. Cupping her hands around it, she drank. She lowered the teacup to study him over the rim. Then, glancing about, she lowered her voice and her eyes too. “You must not press me to play lady to your gentleman, Sir.”

The surgeon also looked around. Yulunga’s gaze bore steadily ahead, the men in the rigging rode high aloft, and, toward the bow, the other sailors oiled weapons and talked among themselves, chuckling every now and then. Hanover appropriated Jill’s cup and set it on the tray. He offered his arm. “Will you walk with me?”

“Thank you.” Skirting the cannons, the couple began a slow promenade along the starboard rail.

Hanover said, “Please, explain what you mean.”

“I’m not sure I can explain to your satisfaction. Doctor Hanover, due to peculiar circumstances which I admit I cannot regret, I now exist in a most unusual situation. I have had to invent new standards as to what comprises a lady, and what makes a gentleman. My own rules, if you will.”

Hanover believed he succeeded in hiding his distaste. “I suppose that is precisely what is to be expected on such a ship, full of those who prey on decent society and disregard its laws.”

Jill’s gaze engaged his. The tea left a sugary aftertaste at the back of her throat. “I cannot worry about what reputation society would lay on me. I am concerned only that the men aboard this ship respect me.”

“Both your conduct after my rude behavior last night and your generous forgiveness this morning inform me that you are a lady. Why is it important to be respected by such men?”

“Such men make up my world, Sir. The
Jolly Roger
is now my home. And yours.”

“I tried to change that for you. Quite unsuccessfully, I am afraid.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Doctor. Captain Hook is a powerful man, a master of manipulation. But, as strange as it seems, in time you may come, as I have done, to admire him.”

“It is not likely. I won’t be mastered.”

“You won’t think you are mastered. You don’t know him yet, and by the time you do, it will be too late. You will have willingly given him all your secrets.”

“Fortunately, I have no secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets. But now you challenge me.” Her smile was intriguing. “Now I must know what you hide.”

Hanover laughed, a short, forced gust.

“Ah, there is one secret revealed. You
do
laugh. I had begun to wonder.”

“Madam, tell no one. I have a reputation to protect!” But his smile fell away, and he bowed his head. “I am sorry. I was insensitive to make such a remark when we have just been discussing your own reputation.”

“No, Doctor Hanover. I think you quite remarkable. I will find it most interesting to watch you preserve your integrity aboard our ship. And your secrets.”

“You think me remarkable? I am flattered. It is…more than I had hoped.”

“You set your sights very low, then.”

“It seems that I set them too high last evening. I confess I was disappointed.”

“I know better, Doctor. A man as accomplished as you will not give up after one disappointment.”

The surgeon halted and turned to look on her. His eyes were interested, curious. “Again, Madam, your candor gives me pause. I am not good at games. Are you encouraging me?”

She smiled, half-way. “I am very good at games. I don’t give my strategies away.”

“How can I know, then, what is play and what is real?”

The lady dropped her levity. “When you know me better, Mister Hanover, you will know that I always tell the truth.”

She tried to walk on, but his sudden pressure on her arm restrained her.

“Then you will answer me truthfully.
Are
you encouraging me?”

She looked down at his hand, then up to his face. He relaxed his grip.

They continued their walk, in silence.

As they neared the cluster of sailors, Jill acknowledged them. “Gentlemen.”

The men inspected the surgeon, but greeted the pair with bows to the lady and cheery good-mornings.

“Are you all acquainted?” she asked.

“Aye, Ma’am, Mr. Smee saw to it earlier.”

“Good. Where is the captain?”

“In the galley, Ma’am.”