Lock (7 page)

“And whether you eat or not, you’re still doing the washing up.” The healer shrugged.

Lock reverted to his own language as he flung a few choice words in Shea-Ann’s direction.

“What did he say?” Shea-Ann glanced at Sparrow.

“You don’t want to know.” Sparrow curled her lip, not having heard such language since the time she and her younger sister had run off to the docks on the outskirts of the royal city. “Trust me.”

“This is absolutely disgusting!” Shea-Ann muttered, staring at the mound of filthy dishes and smelly laundry piled around Lock’s corner of the room.

“I don’t know how he can stand it.” Sparrow wrinkled her nose, glancing at the pirate who slept soundly, wrapped in a blanket on the floor amidst pots full of stagnant water, plates encrusted with meat scraps, Shea-Ann’s bloody aprons from her rounds, and Sparrow’s filthy woolen socks she used when chopping wood.

“Something has to be done about it. We can’t go on like this or else we’ll get rats.”

“I hope they bite him right on his rear end. Speaking of his rear end…” Sparrow approached Lock and nudged him in the buttocks with her boot. When he didn’t move, she pulled back her foot to kick him harder, but he caught her ankle and tugged. She landed on her back amidst a pile of dirty laundry.

“Listen to me, I want this mess cleaned up!” Sparrow glared at him, kicking her foot in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. She clenched her teeth in fury. He was the strongest man she’d ever met! She kicked him with her other foot, catching him across the face. He dragged her closer and kissed her.

Sparrow struggled, her heart pounding. His beard was rough on her face, and she tasted blood on his lips where she’d kicked him. She pushed his shoulders, but his grasp was firm. His tongue traced her lips, and she shivered, though from anything but disgust. She wanted to cling to him. As when he’d kissed her in the bath, she’d wanted to surrender completely to the warm, muscled body that held her so close, but she couldn’t. If she gave in to a man like him, he’d view it as weakness…or cheapness, and she was neither a milksop nor a whore.

Again the broom crashed down on Lock’s head. “Let her go, you animal! Get those vile lips off My Lady! The gods know what kind of diseases you have, you SothSea swine!”

“I haven’t got any diseases, witch!” Lock released Sparrow, and she leapt away as he leered at her and added, “Anymore.”

“That’s it!” Sparrow suddenly forgot her desire as she spat into the air and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She pointed at Lock and bellowed, “You clean this mess up and do it before I get back from the field tonight!”

“I think we should get rid of him,” Shea-Ann stated, her eyes serious. “He obviously can’t be trusted. I told you from the first this would be a disaster. We should give him back to the bounty hunters, tell them to keep your necklace and get what they can for him from Zaltana.”

Sparrow glanced at Lock. His pale eyes held hers, goading her. She wondered if he felt any fear at all about returning to the bounty hunters and their torture. He must have. Why did she care? He made it plain that he was dangerous, that he had no regard for her at all, even after what she did for him. Shea-Ann was right. She should rid herself of him and let their house get back to normal.

“No,” she replied, “I bought him. He belongs to me.”

Shea-Ann stepped close to Sparrow and whispered, “Are you sure about that?”

* * * * *

When Sparrow returned from the field that night, she was surprised to find the dishes washed and laundry ready to be hung outside. Shea-Ann had yet to return from the village, and Lock sat on the floor, shaking his foot, his arms folded across his chest.

“Do you have any idea how boring it is sitting here day after day?”

“Is that why you did the washing up, or is it because you’re afraid I might send you back to the bounty hunters?”

“Get one thing straight, Sparrow,” his eyes held hers with a hardness that made her shiver, “I’m not afraid of you, them, or anybody. Whatever my fate is, I’ll face it because I haven’t got a choice. Neither do you.”

“You really think if you hadn’t made different decisions your life wouldn’t be better?”

“I made the best decisions I could for myself.”

“By becoming a pirate?”

“How can you still be so naive? Your Knights of the Ruby Order: Lock was taken from you. You were a princess and now you’re shoveling dung and chopping wood. Life is about survival. We do what we can to make it from one day to the next.”

“I think it can be more than that.” She dragged a chair closer to him and straddled it. “Do you know what I dream about?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“What do you dream about?”

Lock lowered his eyes. He didn’t remember his dreams very often, but when he did, they usually came true, like the nightmare about being tortured in the village square. He knew she wasn’t referring to sleep dreams, though, but dreams one had about what they’d like to happen in their lives.

“I don’t have any,” Lock stated.

“You must. Everybody has dreams and desires. You’re a pirate. Maybe you imagined yourself becoming the greatest thief in the world. Not a very respectable dream, but it’s still a dream.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I never wanted that.”

“Than maybe you dreamed of having hair that’s all one color,” she teased.

“Very funny.”

“I’ll get dinner.” Sparrow stood and filled two bowls with stew. “Looks like Shea-Ann is going to be late.”

“Then we’ll finally have a peaceful meal.” He winked. “Looks like I did have a dream after all.”

Sparrow couldn’t control her smile. When he was this amiable, she could actually like him. She said, “Shea-Ann is very loyal and protective of people she cares about. You two will get used to each other.”

“I wouldn’t wager on it,” he muttered.

They ate for several moments in silence before he said, “I cleaned it because I couldn’t take the smell anymore.”

“Neither could I, and I was tired of buying new things at the market. I couldn’t afford anymore.”

“And you call me stubborn.”

She was about to retort when Shea-Ann stepped into the house, grumbling about the girl in the marketplace trying to cheat her out of a portion of shrimp.

“Good evening to you, too,” Sparrow teased her old friend.

“It certainly could be worse.” Shea-Ann smiled, her anger about the shrimp subsiding. “I delivered a big baby girl for Myra the shoemaker.”

“The entire village was starting to wonder if she’d ever have that baby,” Sparrow replied. “How many weeks late was she?”

“A bit over two, but well worth the wait. The baby’s a beauty.”

“What did she call her?”

“Lenora.”

“Nice name.” Sparrow carried two bowls of stew to the table. “If I ever have a daughter, I’m going to call her Thea.”

“Thea?” Lock snorted. “What kind of a stupid name is that?”

Sparrow turned and flung one of the bowls so quickly he scarcely had time to raise his arm in defense. The bowl cracked against his forearm, drowning him with hot soup. Several beans clung to his hair, a thin piece of onion dangled over his left eyebrow, but Sparrow was too furious to appreciate how funny he looked. She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

* * * * *

“Crazy.” Lock scowled and wiped the stew from his face and hair. “Women are all crazy. All that over a stupid name.”

“It was her sister’s name, you ignorant yak!” Shea-Ann curled her lip at him.

“So her sister has an ugly name.”

“Her sister is dead. Defiled and killed by scum like you!”

Lock couldn’t explain the odd feeling that settled in his chest. Why should he care about Sparrow or any member of her family? He said, “I’m no rapist.”

The healer made a skeptical sound.

“I’m not!”

“Well I’m proud of you!” Shea-Ann tossed him a disgusted glance. “At least it’s one foul crime you didn’t commit—or so you claim!”

She followed Sparrow outside, leaving Lock alone with his thoughts.

“Seems like Sparrow’s a bigger fool than I first thought. Her sister was murdered, but she takes me under her roof. She’s just looking for trouble.”

Shea-Ann’s accusation—one he knew the rest of the village shared—galled him. Yes, he was a thief, a murderer, a mercenary when the work paid enough, but he was
not
a rapist. To him, defilement was the worst kind of crime. Nothing made one feel as filthy as the unwelcome body of another devouring one’s own.

The door opened, and the women stepped inside. Neither so much as looked at him as they sat down to eat. When they’d finished, Shea-Ann jerked her thumb in his direction, “What about him.”

Sparrow’s large eyes fixed on Lock. He bit the rude comment on the tip of his tongue, uncertain of why he restrained himself. He told himself she wasn’t worth arguing with, and a night without food wouldn’t bother him. He’d gone days without food when he’d been lost at sea.

She brought him stew, bread, and water.

“I’m going to the barn for a while,” Sparrow told Shea-Ann.

The healer yawned. “I’m going to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

Sparrow waited until Shea-Ann slipped into bed before taking the lantern, leaving the house in darkness, save the glow of the remaining embers in the fire.

Lock sat with his back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. If he was in the Archipelago, he’d be lying in his own bed with the windows open around him. The salty sea air would blow through the house, and he’d drift off to the sound of gulls. Or maybe he wouldn’t be in the house at all. Some nights he spent on the beach. He’d build a fire in the sand just below the shadow of the cliff overhanging the western beach. He’d watch the black waves licking the glistening shore.

The door opened, and Sparrow stepped in, her lantern glowing. She sat by the fire, tugging a shawl around her.

“Did she look like you?” The words slipped from Lock’s lips before he fully decided whether he wanted to speak or not.

Sparrow’s head snapped over her shoulder. “You’re still up?”

“So did she?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Your sister.”

“Why do you care?”

He shrugged.

Sparrow turned back to the fire.

Lock moved as close to the hearth as his chains would allow. While the nights weren’t cold, they were much cooler than in the Archipelago. Sparrow had bought Lock an ankle-length tunic in the village so he could use it for warmth without removing his chains. At that moment, however, it wasn’t cold that pressed him closer to the flames. The unfamiliar pang of regret about his earlier insult regarding her sister made him want to set things right with her. Damn the soft little bitch to hell! Why did she move him?

“She was younger than me,” Sparrow murmured, “but people always said we looked alike.”

Lock stared at the gentle curve of her cheek, the way the firelight danced across her freckled nose, and the emotions gleaming in her blue eyes. “She must have been pretty.”

“Thank you,” Sparrow whispered, turning to him. Her gaze fixed on his and her lips parted as she drew a sharp breath.

Lock’s pulse quickened when he remembered the kisses they’d shared only a short time ago.
Never again
, she’d said.

Sparrow’s hands rested in her lap. He covered them with one of his own.

“What do you want?” she asked, her expression wary.

His hand slid to her elbow then gently grasped her upper arm as he tugged her to him. Her eyes fixed on his mouth as he edged closer, as if to kiss her. Instead, his lips hovered over her cheek and forehead. He kissed her temple then her earlobe which he took between his teeth and nibbled until she squirmed, a giggle bubbling in her throat. It was a fresh sound of genuine pleasure, completely different from the husky laughter and throaty groans of the women he was accustomed to.

Lock pulled her onto the floor, wrapping his arms around her as he ran the tip of his tongue over her ear, then nuzzled her throat.

“Your beard tickles!” She wiggled in his arms. Her knee brushed his cock and Lock’s arms tightened around her as their lips met. His tongue slipped into her mouth, slid over her teeth and tasted her every soft, warm nook. She uttered a contented sound as her hands splayed across his back, pressing him closer. Lock was glad he’d healed enough not to wince at her touch. Why didn’t she clutch his chest, or better yet the swelling, pulsing cock trapped between them?

From across the room, Shea-Ann murmured in her sleep.

Sparrow jerked in his arms and pushed at his shoulders as she whispered fiercely, “Let me go!”

“What are you worried about?” he asked against her lips.

“Just do it!”

“Not until—”

“Sparrow?” Shea-Ann called in a sleepy voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Shea-Ann!” Sparrow replied. Lock credited her with keeping a steady voice as he licked her neck and kneaded her breasts. “I’m going to bed in a minute!”