Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (25 page)

He had not forgotten. His magic was working again. He placed his other hand flat on top of hers, and gently rubbed in a circular motion. On his third stroke, she became aware of him. Absently, she focused on his face, and, again, her intuition took over her conscious mind. “Giovanni…”

His big fist grasped the tips of her fingers. His eyes lit up, gratified, but he held the smile in check. “You are too informal, Madam! You will please humor me with the proper form of address. I do not wish to provoke the chastening of our master, nor to incite the envy of my mates.”

“Aye,
Mr
.
Cecco
. I’m sorry. As I say, I can’t stop the stories as they come to me. And your prediction has surprised me.” She looked down at her hand, and with a jingle of jewelry, he released her.

“The future is always a surprise. Now you are prepared, and perhaps, more open to the possibilities? I hope, always, to make your voyage easier, and more enjoyable.”

Realizing how tensely she held her body, she relaxed it.

“But I came to inquire after your health; this I have done. And also I thank you, Lady, for your interest. The doctor has ministered to my back as you ordered, and today has determined I am satisfactorily recovered from my…foolishness.”

“Flattering foolishness, Mr. Cecco, and I’m pleased to hear of the doctor’s opinion.”

He nodded, and his voice became flamboyantly mocking. “Now, knowing my interesting story as you do, and of my ardent nature, you will expect me to say something outrageously complimentary to you, such as,” he gestured broadly, comically, and he bowed, “‘I would gladly suffer another whipping for the sake of such beauty!’” Still in a bow, he lifted his head and cocked it, smiling again. “But naturally, that would be a lie.”

She laughed. “A beauty of a lie! Have you any others?”

“Yes, certainly, if you wish for lies.” He placed his open hand on his chest. “There is nothing I would not do for you.”

“As I suspected.”

“You are the most desirable woman I have yet to experience.”

“
Very
good. And?”

“My words are only the beginning of my wanting.”

“Oh! Oh, more, please.”

“I will not rest until you have measured the depth of my devotion…”

“Yes, go on.”

“Until you have tasted the honey of my passion.”

“I’ve never heard that one—”

“I will love you forever.”

“I
have
heard that—”

“I would bind you to me…
with golden chains
.”

“Ah— I…I’ve heard that, too—”

“I will share with you all my treasure.”

She exhaled quickly, in a sort of sigh.

“You tear my heart, as you tore my body.”

“…Mr. Cecco—”

“I wish to steal you from my captain, but I cannot break my oath.”

Jill’s smile vanished. She pulled back, regal, her eyes wide open and disbelieving. Cecco dropped his playful posture. He stared at her, unsmiling, his dusky eyes deadly.

“Any
other
man who thinks to touch you, I will kill.”

“Enough!”

“After I carve your name on his back. Tell this to your doctor. He will have a hard time, I think, healing himself.” Giving her no chance to respond, he said,
“Adio
,
Bellezza!”
He kissed his fingertips and opened them. The next moment, he had stolen back among the deckhands, watching for the captain’s decision as eagerly as the rest.

Jill’s pent-up breath escaped in a burst, her hand clenched the rail. Her eyes followed him.

He couldn’t be lost in the crowd, the bloody-orange sunlight reflected in his earrings and his armbands. Pushing through the sea of stripes and bold-colored shirts, he stepped on a cannon and hauled himself up to straddle the rail, knees and heels clinging. His jovial mates made as if to shove him overboard, but he waved them off and kept his balance, his clean-shaven face smiling like a boy’s.

But he wasn’t a boy. Jill’s eyes narrowed as she watched him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Considering his words and his appearance, she tried to think as reasonably as she would have done if he’d stopped after telling her fortune— before telling his feeling, cunningly, as if it were a jest. Unlike the surgeon he so mistrusted, Mr. Cecco didn’t keep secrets. Jill, the storyteller, intuited his history. The first name he hadn’t used in years, that even his captain didn’t know, had rolled effortlessly from her lips, and he had confessed a dangerous truth. He wore the scars of his punishment for all the world to see, and his very visible skin had soaked up the sun’s rays and tanned to olive brown. No, Mr. Cecco was a man. A man who never hid much of anything.

There was something, though, that he covered. Some hidden treasure. And he wanted Jill to discover it. To
want
to discover it. Glancing again at the lines on her palm, she shivered in the sudden wind that snapped at the half furled canvas above her.

She believed him.

She was sure a change awaited her, and one more, dangerous truth. What had he said? Be open to the possibilities. One thing she knew; she was no coward.

More pleased than angry now, Red-Handed Jill wrapped her prophetic palm around her wineglass, and lifted it to her lips. Always, she thirsted for adventure. She watched the ship on the horizon, as did all the other sailors, and when her captain next looked for her, she let him read her heart.

She was satisfied; she was smiling. Golden chains on olive-brown skin glittered in the corner of her eye. Rubies burned at her throat.

And other oceans burned in her palm.

§ § §

A fearless woman is difficult to defend
. Hook tore his gaze from his mistress and examined the ship in the spyglass.

“She is a Dutch merchantman, Smee. Coming out of the west as we are, she’ll not have spotted us. Sink us back into the sun. We will take her at dawn.”

“Aye, Captain! Haul back west, Mr. Noodler! Mark her direction, and follow it.”

“Aye, aye, Mr. Smee!” Grinning, Noodler worked his backward hands to turn the ship again, eyeing the compass.

“Drop sails, lads!”

The men in the rigging spread out to unfurl the canvas, and the spare hands on deck milled loosely in the vicinity of the captain, agitating with anticipation. Like the others, Mr. Cecco, still perched on the rail, craned his neck to inspect the far-off vessel. Hook stowed the glass.

“We will carry out the plan as conceived, Mr. Smee. Has the carpenter completed the job?”

“Aye, Sir. He’s turned out four stout pieces, made to order.”

“Alert Mr. Starkey and inform the crew.” Under black waves of hair, Hook’s eyes looked sharply about the deck. “
Only
the crew. And when darkness falls, no lights tonight. As soon as we cannot be seen, close in.”

“Shall you be going along tonight, Sir? Join in the fun?”

“I think not, Mr. Smee. My attention is required elsewhere, and I shall be more pleasantly engaged. But alert me near midnight, when all is in readiness. I will come to the deck to give the order, and tomorrow, we’ll all enjoy the fun.”

“Aye. Shall I have the guns readied, Sir?”

“As usual, but it is my hope to take her without a shot. Raise the proper colors.”

Smee chortled. “Ha! What’s the proper color for a piece of cake?”

Hook’s trim whiskers spread with his smile. “Quite right, Mr. Smee. If piracy gets any easier than this, I shall have to consider retirement before I expire from
ennui
.”

“Ah, Sir, you’re talking like the Frenchman. I suppose he’ll be invited to the party?”

“Of course. How better to battle our boredom?”

Jill’s crimson skirts swirled in the stiffening breeze, catching Smee’s attention again. He admired her as she stood on the top step, feet apart, one hand on the railing. His quick eye had glimpsed it right away— she was wearing the necklace.

“Begging your pardon, Sir, but I can think of one better way. She’s waiting for you now, and I see a ruby smile.”

Hook regarded her with satisfaction. “I expect I’ll not be able to retire after all, Smee. She’d beggar me with her penchant for jewelry.” And like the glow in the west, his voice softened. “My one weakness, Mr. Smee.” He strode away, his coat flaring behind him as he bounded up the steps of the companionway. He drew the empty goblet from her hand, and setting sunlight flashed along the door’s brass plate as it closed behind them.

Smee looked after the master and the mistress, then took stock of the deck. Mr. Cecco’s avid gaze had abandoned the shrinking merchantman, and trailed in the direction Smee’s had done.

The bo’sun muttered under his breath. “She’s your weakness, Cap’n. And every-bloody-body else’s!”

§ § §

As if the wind sensed the excitement, it rolled the ship along, in darkness. Wave after wave struck up against the hull, and the distant flickers of lanterns grew larger, outlining the shape of the
Roger
’s prey, first to port, then to starboard, as the ship tacked her way forward. The deck hands were ordered to silence in the rigging. Noodler had given the wheel over to Mullins, and the hulking shape of Starkey shadowed his charges as he and Smee readied the canvas bags.

Nibs hunched on top of a cannon, pulling at his boots. Tom shed his shirt and flexed his sore shoulders. His welts didn’t show in the weak, watery moonlight, but he felt them.

“I tell you, Nibs, I’m looking forward to the adventure, but not the sting of saltwater!”

Little levity accompanied Nib’s answer. “All part of the job, Tom. And it won’t trouble you long. The water will be cold enough to distract you from the sting.”

“Aye, I hope Mr. Smee’s ready with the hot toddy when it’s over.”

The young sailors were nearly floating already. It was long since they had stretched their wings, and, apprehensive as they were, they were eager.

Securing his dagger in his belt, Tom spoke more quietly. “I hope it all goes smoothly. I want to show the captain he can trust me again.”

“I want to get at that ship tomorrow, and haul in her riches.” Nibs’ voice was barbed as he anticipated the business to come, and then he waxed grim. “And when we get to port, we’ll spend it on some of those ladies Smee was talking about. The kind that understand a man’s duty.”

“There’s a happy thought! I’ve got to say, Nibs, what with my troubles lately, I was a bit worried I wouldn’t think of one. And we
have
to fly tonight. Captain’s orders.”

Nibs’ eyes sought Tom’s face in the night. “You know better, Tom. Between the two of us, we’ll always pull through. No matter what— or who— we’re up against.” His bare arm stretched through the darkness to find his brother’s. They clasped firmly, then the two sailors reported to Starkey for work.

§ § §

Close to midnight, Mr. Smee rapped on the captain’s door. He listened, and he rapped again, louder. Smee had learned patience over his years of service, and he didn’t begrudge the captain his contentment. The man had earned his pleasures. On occasion, he’d even shared them. After a respectable pause, Smee clicked the handle under his fingers, and a sliver of light spilled on the bo’sun’s face.

“Captain?…Sir?”

Smee stepped quickly over the threshold and closed the door to hide the light. “Ma’am?” Only the swishing of the sea answered as he cast his gaze around the comfortable cabin. Under its rich hangings, the bunk lay flat and empty, just as Miss made it up this morning. Stepping in further, Smee relaxed. The agreeable aroma of fine tobacco greeted him. One lantern was lit and hanging, and most of the curtains were closed to imprison its light. The captain’s boots stood by the bed, his shirt lay on the couch. His coat and waistcoat reposed over its back. A tapping startled Smee, and he swiveled toward the bunk again. The hook hung there, moored to the wall by its leather strappings. It was the only thing in the room, Smee acknowledged with a nod, not softened by the soft light.

The night was pleasant, but only one window was uncurtained. An aft window over the cushioned seat. Striding along the carpets, Smee stopped by the dining table to survey its remnants. The candles with their warm tallow drippings had been extinguished. Nearby, on the harpsichord bench, Jill’s dressing gown and the captain’s breeches were strewn. Smee pushed the chairs up to the table and tidied the dishes, placing them on the sideboard to show he’d been there. With a smile, he pocketed the cigar the captain left for him, already pierced, he guessed, by the lady’s hands. Then, picking up her new treasure, he cupped it in his palm and turned to search out the window. Lured by the pungent smell of the sea, Smee rested one knee on the window seat, bracing his elbow on the decorative ledge and leaning out to breathe. The newborn moon, not visible from here, was distant and dull.

It was a perfect night.

On the way out of the cabin, Smee dropped her ruby necklace into the drawer in the wardrobe. It sprawled next to the opals on the velvet lining, and he spent some minutes under the swaying lanternlight arranging them both into the delicate shape of her neck. Smee knew every inch of that throat, and the velvet under his fingers wasn’t nearly as soft. He positioned the jewelry with the catches toward him, as if she stood before him and he were looking down on her beauty again, with her hair just catching his beard. He rubbed the back of his fingers to his whiskers as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. For a woman so precious, that drawer should overflow with baubles. But there was plenty of room for more loot. And plenty of time to win it.

If he were the captain, he’d give her a bracelet next. Solid gold, and soon.

No, if Smee were the captain, she’d be wearing it now. On that soft skin.

He slid the drawer closed.

Casting one last glance around the room, the bo’sun left. He’d just have to tell the lads to wait. They’d have to learn, as Smee had done. It wasn’t easy for an Irishman, but he’d learned it, that first night he ever laid eyes on the captain— patience paid off. Patience, and loyalty.

To those he trusted, James Hook could be a generous man.