Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (70 page)

“All this, Mr. Tom, to keep your brother from the captain’s favor?”

“Funny thing. My brother doesn’t fancy him.”

“I did not incline that way at the first, either. But I was hungry. I learned.”

“Nibs is more likely to kill him. I don’t want to see my brother hang.”

“But if you showed the
commandant
the cleverness I have seen, he would find you most interesting. Why do you not distract him yourself?”

“I’m just a sailor, Guillaume. As you say, my insolence would get me into trouble. And as fascinating as more scars might make me, I’m content with just the one.” Tom cocked his head. “Besides, Guillaume. I don’t like LeCorbeau nearly as much as I like you.”

Guillaume gave a timid smile. His slender cheeks pinked, then blanched as Tom squeezed his bandaged hand.

“Now give us a kiss, love, and show me that you mean what you promise.”

Between the pain and the ecstasy,
Monsieur
Guillaume nearly swooned.

Tom had learned when to hold firm. The cognac helped. He rolled his eyes and thanked his lucky stars that Mr. Starkey wasn’t watching.

§ § §

Cecco had watched Jill, and— not without pleasure— she studied him in turn. Jill convinced herself that Cecco wasn’t concerned about Mr. Smee. Not now, when the rulers of the
Roger
enjoyed more intimacy than ever. Without doubt, Cecco sensed the sincerity of her commitment to him. Surely when he took her to task about Mr. Smee a dozen days ago, he had been continuing the show for Liza, to report back to her father.

Still, Jill was cautious. When Smee had appeared at last that afternoon, trailed by Yulunga, Jill hid herself away in her quarters. But now, as she scanned the pages she’d covered with writing in the aftermath of Cecco’s questioning, she realized how very absorbed she was with the Irishman after all. And through him, in every drop of ink, seeped her feelings for Hook. Only three people could truly cherish this story. This work must be handled discretely. When Liza rapped at her door, Jill gathered the pages and slid them under her blotter.

“Come, Liza.” Smoothing her features with her fingers, Jill rose to accept the cup of tea. “Thank you.”

Liza set the tray on the window seat and remained standing, her eyes inquiring as she indicated her mouth with her hand.

“No, I can’t eat this morning. I’ve no appetite at all. Even this tea tastes different to me today. But I want you to loosen my laces.” Jill turned her back and shook her hair from it, smiling. “The captain doesn’t know his own strength. It feels as if he’s pulled them a bit tight these last few mornings.” When she was comfortable, she breathed more easily. “Just make the bed, then, Liza. Nothing else.”

Again Liza lingered, and this time she drew her open hand across her throat. Her pretty pearls shone, and Jill brightened. “Yes. I believe I’d like to wear my opals today. It’s been some time.” Some time…since Smee’s big hands had strung them in front of her eyes, on orders from their captain. The first morning ever. Absently, Jill drank her tea. Her emerald gown glimmered around her.

Liza moved to the wardrobe, her skirts rustling. Hearing them, her mistress looked up. “Liza, let me have a good look at your new dress. It’s quite becoming.”

Liza didn’t stop her progress. Only after pulling out the opal necklace and securing the jewel drawer did she turn to display her gown. Jill concluded that the girl must still be accustoming herself to it, for as Liza’s back was turned, she had adjusted the neckline. It swooped in a graceful curve above a tapering triangle of cream-colored fabric that pointed toward her narrow waist. The skirt was wide, necessitating petticoats, which, Jill clearly observed, Liza also wore. A deep maroon, the gown set off her brown hair perfectly. Like Liza herself, the dress was tasteful, but unobtrusive. Under Jill’s direction, she spun once to show it off, then subsided.

“Yes, it’s quite nice. But I see it laces in back. Now you face the same problem I have. I hope that, like my captain, your father is not too proud to help you dress.”

Liza’s breathing grew rapid. The pride she displayed a moment ago vanished, and she clutched her abdomen. The opals dangling through her fingers swung against the maroon, glinting ostentatiously in contrast.

Something about Hook’s jewels in the girl’s hands made Jill feel nauseated. She reconsidered her decision. The day Cecco interrogated her, Jill had laid away the boy David’s silver shamrock. She knew that, today, she mustn’t remove even one of Cecco’s adornments to make room for Hook’s.

“Never mind the opals, Liza. Please, put them back.” Turning away, Jill heard Liza’s skirts swish and the working of the drawer. She busied her hands with her teacup. Settling to rest on the window seat, she stared out at the sea, not really relishing the drink today, but feeling its warmth within the hollow of her stomach. Usually, that warmth sustained her.

“Is the captain preparing to board
L’Ormonde
, Liza?”

Liza nodded.

“Your father, too?”

As Liza indicated the affirmative, Jill remembered her duty. She filled her eyes with eagerness.

“Tell me. How is he?”

Liza smiled. Not the pretense of a smile she so often used for her mistress, but a genuine smile of pleasure. Jill read its meaning as best she might.

“Then all is well, and we may look forward to a change. Remember that first day, Liza, when I told you? Change can be welcome.”

The girl watched, but Jill’s face showed nothing of the irony under which she must be suffering. Nor— yet— did Jill display the effects of the potion she was imbibing. She would do so, in time. To make sure of it, Liza picked up the pot and refilled the lady’s teacup.

“Thank you, Liza. But how did you finally persuade your father to allow you to accept the gown? I understand it is a gift from Mr. Yulunga. A gift he offered many times.”

Liza replaced the teapot on its tray. Then, looking concerned, she raised her hand to wave once, and her face cleared.

“A parting gift! Yes, that would make our dear doctor happy. You made him feel he has won an extra point against his captors. You’re a clever young woman, Liza.”

Liza’s next gesture caught her mistress by surprise. She tapped her chest to indicate herself, raised her finger to her eye, and then, with a steadfast gaze, pointed at Jill.

The lady stared at her, her smile slowly deepening. “Watching me…and following my example?” She returned Liza’s gaze, and her manner was satisfied. “It seems between the two of us, we will manage your father very well.” Jill rose to stand. The lack of nourishment must be taking its toll, she thought; a spell of lightheadedness caused her to falter and catch herself. The weakness passed. She was pleased that Liza didn’t appear to have marked it.

“Go now, Liza. Don’t fuss with the bed. As it happens, on this particular morning I choose
not
to be watched.”

Liza curtsied and bustled away, feeling the pleasant tickling of Jill’s ruby necklace where it hid between her breasts. Captain Cecco had exhibited some interesting objections to Mr. Smee. With the assistance of the lady’s teacup, Liza was about to put the captain to the test.

§ § §

Jill’s solitude was short-lived, and as matters unfurled, she was grateful for the fact. The master’s door opened and closed, and she looked up, expecting to see Cecco. Only the captain would enter unannounced. But instead, Jill saw another face, a beloved face, unkempt, full of concern, but most welcome. She sat staring at him, and then she smiled. Standing, she shoved the hook from her lap to roll gleaming to the cushioned seat. Like a girl, she picked up her emerald skirts and ran into his arms, her bare feet skimming the carpets.

He set down his burden and without question, bent to welcome her into his embrace. Flinging her arms around him, she pressed her cheek to his rough beard. She hadn’t imagined him. Smee was real.

“You’re here,” she sighed.

“Where I belong.” He saw no reason to let her go. On the contrary, he held her tighter. “I came soon as ever I could.”

Only now did Jill become cautious. She pulled back an inch, holding Smee’s strong red arms. But she didn’t allow him to drop his hands from her waist. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged she had been longing for just this feeling, this touching. More than that. She had craved it. But she didn’t stop to wonder why; time was of the essence. “Is Captain Cecco away then?”

“Aye, and all the lads are busy with the Frenchmen. No one saw me come in. I judge we have a wee bit of time to talk.”

“What of Mr. Yulunga?”

“Seems the lass is giving him her gratitude for the dress. She’s got him up on the quarterdeck. But Lady, what’s the matter? Why were you sending for me? Is it—” Smee glanced across the room to the cushions where she’d been sitting. Shock struck his face. “Where did you find that?”

Jill turned and followed his gaze to the hook. “Oh! Smee, thank goodness you’ve seen it. I’m not allowed to mention it.”

Suspicion darkened Smee’s features. “Not allowed? So it’s Cecco’s doing?”

“The captain’s? No. But he won’t permit me to discuss it with anyone. Please, you must take it. I’m afraid if he sees it again he’ll throw it into the sea.”

Smee disentangled himself from her arms and with a resolute hand, set her aside. Striding to the windows, he studied the hook. “Aye, it’s true right enough. I hardly dared to believe it.” He picked it up, reverently, as if it were the very bones of his captain. “And this is why you were sending for me, then?”

“But— I thought you had news for me.”

Smee turned to hold out a fist. Unclenching it, he displayed a pile of glowing red stones. “Here they are. Your signal.”

Jill’s hand flew to her throat, where she had so often worn those rubies, just below her scar.

Smee said, “I was surprised to be finding them on my door handle. I’ve looked for you first thing every morning, thinking if you needed me you’d be wearing them.”

Grateful to be alone with Smee, whatever the reason, Jill was tempted to ignore the pricking sense of danger. She didn’t want to think about it. When she tried, the puzzle of the necklace made her mind spin. She shook her head to try to clear it, but suddenly the opportunity to speak with Smee alone seemed the sole matter of importance. Drawn to the comfort of Smee’s presence, she declined to confess she’d never sent the rubies. Instead, she moved closer. “I’m only glad you came to me.”

The intensity of her blue eyes made Smee’s heart skip a beat, so he smiled, pressed the rubies into her hands, and turned away with the hook. “I’ll be keeping this safe, Ma’am. You were right to entrust it to me.” Smee retrieved his tool box and knelt to conceal the hook within it. “I thought I might be needing an excuse for coming, so I brought my tools. It’s a good thing. I’d best not be seen with the captain’s claw in tow.” He replaced the box by the door.

Smee noted how lonely Jill looked, standing by herself where the hook had lain. It would be painful for her, Smee guessed how very painful, when, in the end, she understood exactly how Cecco came into possession of the hook. Once her lover’s guilt was proven, the lady was sure to be overcome with regret.

But Smee would be there for her, just as he was here for her now. He reached out to her, taking the necklace from her hands and fastening it on. Aware of how near to him she insisted on standing, he inhaled her exotic scent again. After long absence, her proximity tended to make him dizzy— but he couldn’t avoid those eyes. Not even if he wanted to.

She surprised him, seizing his arms as if she sensed how much she’d soon be needing him. Knowing the shock in store for her, wishing he could spare her the coming sorrow, he gazed with tenderness on her lovely face. Something was different about her this morning. Something that made Smee hold her tight, even after the necklace was secure. “Ma’am, if it’s not wrong to be saying so, I’m missing the early days, when I had the charge of your mornings.”

“So am I, Mr. Smee. And I’ve been thinking of you. I’ve a story set down, and no one to show it to. Would you—”

“It’s what I’ve been wanting.” Just as he had done with Hook, Smee gentled his voice. “Let me see it.”

Slowly, Jill released him. She turned to her desk. Drawing the papers from under the blotter, she presented them to him. “It’s not long, but it will be a relief to share it.”

“Aye, Ma’am. I’ve been that worried about your being alone, and grieving.” He adjusted his spectacles and glanced at her elegant script. Looking up again, he turned a shade redder. “Ma’am— I know this story.”

“Yes, Mr. Smee. Read on, and tell me what you think. I’ll have another cup of tea and keep an eye on
L’Ormonde
.”

Ignoring the noises drifting in from two ships’ decks, Smee addressed the pages. As he read, he began to pace. Jill poured her cup, spilling a little on the saucer, and moved within range of the portside windows. She stepped carefully, for although the wind was low, the ship beneath her feet seemed to pitch more than usual. Steadying herself against a bedpost, she felt its satiny texture beneath her fingers. Stopping there, she stroked the wood to feel its luxuriance. Then, settling against a pillow on the unmade bed, she sipped and stared.

The fine china lip of her teacup felt smooth and firm, seductive in the way it induced her to drink. She searched for a thought she’d been chasing a moment ago, but soon wearied of the effort and let it go. An unfamiliar taste hung on her tongue. Sweet, almost like a flower. She forgot it as she caught the brilliance of Nibs’ orange kerchief and glimpsed Tom’s unruly head beside it. For now, it seemed, her boys were safe. The French vessel dipped in the brine, her sailors exchanging yarns and bursts of laughter with the
Roger
’s seamen. Jill smiled to think that, however the captains crossed purposes, the men of the sister ships were now comrades. Pleasantly, persuasive sips of tea slid down her throat.

Every so often, Jill glanced at Smee, each time her gaze lingering a little longer. For too many days, she had been unable to really look at him. She indulged herself now. Immersed in the story, Smee ceased his pacing. Gradually, he stilled to seat himself beside Jill. His absorption in her work was gratifying, and she watched his strong, irregular features with affection. It occurred to her that, as many times as Smee had touched her, she had never really touched him. Restraining her fingers, she took another swallow of tea. It was warm. Jill felt her cheeks flush. She’d had no breakfast, and hunger began to gnaw within her— a yearning, within her belly, and below. The hankering assailed her, the desire to be enfolded in a man’s arms. She set the cup down on the bed shelf and allowed herself a harmless liberty, going only so far as to rest a hand on Smee’s knee. Yet that insignificant contact sent a raw, urgent thrill through her senses.