Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga (47 page)

Cecco required no more prompting, and the lather on his legs made it easy. Dropping his hands to her hips, he slid her closer.

His eyes grew dusky again. “With courage she defies me, and with grace she serves me. The perfect woman.”

As she leaned forward and positioned him, he lifted her and set her down, gradually, keeping one eye cocked for the razor. She sucked in her breath. Seizing the blade, she leveled her gaze on his whiskers and steadied her hand.

It was a tricky business, but worth every nerve-wracking moment. The soap required fresh application every few strokes and, possibly because she had never performed this task before, it didn’t always end on Cecco’s beard. A good measure of lather transferred itself from his breast to hers. Exhibiting a worthy conscientiousness, he dealt with it until she relinquished the brush, and then both partners painted each other with sudsy fluid. When at last she wielded the razor again, she had to steady herself many times. Bracing her feet on the floor on either side of the stool, she raised up for a better view of his face…only to lower herself slowly, exquisitely, down again…to inspect under his chin. For two very good reasons, Cecco informed her that she had, indeed, changed his mind about hurrying, and the operation took quite a bit of time after all. But as Jill had ordered, no one disturbed their intimacy, and by the time his mistress allowed him to apply the towel, they were both dizzy, and the captain was clean-shaven, smiling, and slightly nicked.

He didn’t care. As the blade in her crimson hand scraped his stubborn whiskers, he hadn’t felt a thing. Except her love for him— liquid, warm…and soapy.

§ § §

The sailors gave up any attempt at pretense. All the tasks on deck that could be done had been performed, three times. Even the flags were inspected and refolded. The black flag, Jolly Roger, was down as usual, waiting for the moment he’d be rattled up for action. The men were blatantly watching the portal where, months before, a lovely, disheveled girl had entered. That girl had emerged as a queen. Now, in spite of their confidence in their captain, the crewmen wondered not whether the woman would reappear, but whether her mate this time might prove to be a consort, or a king.

Those aloft hauled sails about in accordance with the helmsman’s calls, but their heads bobbed like all the others’, turning time and again to glimpse the doorway to the master’s cabin. The empty bottles had been cleared away, the deck swabbed, and the spent torches pitched overboard to avoid displeasing the captain with any lack of discipline. No one wanted to be the first to try him, or test his intimidating first mate. Now they milled about, stacking and restacking cannonballs, cleaning weapons, eyeing the companionway and each other.

Tom polished the bell on the quarterdeck, taking pleasure in the pungent scent of the paste, and dawdling because his position afforded a fine view of the master’s door. On Smee’s instruction, Nibs had lowered himself off the stern to patch that part of the hull that snagged Captain Hook’s coat yesterday. The task completed, he hauled himself up to hike over the rail and join his brother at his advantageous perch. Like Tom, Nibs’ features were tense, but Nibs retained a brooding scowl.

Every so often, Liza’s head popped up from the hatch, and she surveyed the scene before she disappeared again to inform her father of the activities. She was pale today, recovering from some ailment or other, and limping. But she’d reported to the mistress as both her duty and her curiosity demanded, following the lady’s soft-spoken orders for hot water, the captain’s sea chest, and time. The girl was disappointed not to get another look at the man in the captain’s bunk, but seeing the steel in her mistress’ eye, she didn’t dare to cross her. Apparently Jill realized the girl had been punished for last night’s spying, and reserved further castigation until routine aboard the
Roger
was reestablished.

Smiling ominously, Mr. Yulunga had amused himself by teasing the girl about the loss of her pearls. Then he took a perverse pleasure in making her repeat her mime until he admitted he understood the order to fetch the captain’s sea chest. Having delivered it, the first mate loitered at the base of the companionway, leaning against the stair rail and picking his teeth with a splinter.

Today he found himself ogling the girl with fresh interest. The new regimen seemed to pique her old curiosity about the men, and she demonstrated more pluck than she’d shown since Jill confined her for calling attention to herself. Smirking, Yulunga recognized that Liza, too, liked to stir things up. By now, the entire ship’s company knew of her spying, and speculation as to her impression of what she’d witnessed was rampant. Watching her movements, Yulunga also kept his eyes open for signs of the surgeon and the bo’sun, but neither had ascended to the deck as yet.

Those who rose early had watched Hanover curiously when he turned up at breakfast. Evidently his appetite had increased since last night’s ordeal, for he dished up almost a double ration before ensconcing himself once again in his quarters. Mr. Smee, after issuing his orders to Nibs, disappeared into the carpenter’s shop, where he was grimly gathering tools and materials for repairs to the captain’s entryway. The last item he picked up caused the big man to hang his head and deal again with his heavy heart. It was the screwdriver he would need to execute the unspoken worst of the lady’s order. In the bo’sun’s fist, this simplest of implements would dismantle the last vestige of Captain James Hook’s power— an august brass plaque on a meaningless door.

At last, just as Smee tramped up from the lower deck with his boards and carpenter’s box, Yulunga uncrossed his arms, shifting to look up the stairs. The murmurs of the company fell quiet. Smee stopped where he stood and followed everyone else’s gazes. Nibs nudged his brother, who looked up from his busywork. Tom draped the polishing cloth on the bell, Nibs tightened his kerchief, and they both bent over the quarterdeck rail, leaning forward to behold the new master as he appeared in his doorway. Everyone stared.

Captain Cecco wore a leather vest and boots, striped silk breeches, and a smug smile. With his rise in rank, he had donned his gypsy regalia. Circling his throat was a layered necklace, heavy with linking coins and dangling medallions. Around his head he had tied a fine crimson kerchief, and crowned it with a headdress of similar medallions. It was a crucial moment, and in his men’s eyes he appeared as splendid as ever Captain Hook had appeared. While they gazed, the golden band on his biceps glinted in the morning light as he turned away and reached out his arm.

Another arm joined with his. A delicate arm wearing bracelets. The lady’s bare feet stepped over the wreckage of the door, her golden taffeta rustled with a flash of petticoat, and then her glorious blue eyes raised up to greet the company. Captain and lady processed along the companionway, linked in unmistakable accord. She bore her usual weapons, her mother-of-pearl-handled pistol and a jeweled dagger, but on her arms that used to beg for bracelets, Red-Handed Jill now sported four thick and golden ovals. Two bright chains graced her neck, and embracing her upper arm, just below the puffed sleeve of her shoulder, gleamed the companion to Cecco’s shining armband, molded by his own hand to fit her. The highest hopes of the crowd were satisfied; the suspense dissipated.

Of all the finery the lady wore, the most important, the one most lauded by whistles and calls from her approving crewmen, was her smile. Clearly, Captain Cecco had won the respect of their queen, and earned, in full, the confidence they placed in him. She inclined her head to the men and, with an affectionate stroke, relinquished Cecco’s arm. Stepping back a pace, she turned her eyes toward their captain, waiting as expectantly as the rest for his first command.

He squared his shoulders, and his compact, muscular body seemed easily to accommodate the weight of a captain’s burden. “Well, men. I trust we all enjoyed the revelry last night.” The crowd assented with a hearty chorus of ayes. Captain Cecco’s even teeth showed as he smiled. “Now the hold is empty, and treasure awaits us. It is time to get back to work— and make it ours!”

The sounds of approval issued from the throats of his men and from beneath their stamping feet. Jill’s heart beat with them, in glad relief. Tom clapped and hollered as readily as the rest, and Nibs was stoic as, watching Jill’s face closely, he brought his reluctant hands together, too. Only Mr. Smee remained silent, his arms full of tools, his eyes studying the lady.

But the rumbling of the boards under the sailors’ feet disturbed the surgeon in his lair, who started up from his books and seized his medicine bottle on the way to the upper bunk. Chains rattled with a violence as a prisoner jolted to consciousness, too startled this time to control himself. And although his outraged shouts for assistance were drowned by the jubilation on the deck above him, from her perch within the hatch the gray-eyed girl heard his frustration before her father’s ether cut it short.

The company’s exuberance echoed off the waters and rolled away until, a league to northeast, the scout in
L’Ormonde
’s nest swung his spyglass toward the
Roger
, where he could make out nothing clearly on the gilded pirate ship as she sailed except the black flag being hoisted aloft to fly proudly in the breezes.

Jolly Roger had been down, but now he was up and grinning above his crossed swords, ready for anything.

Chapter 19

A Comparable Captain

“M
r. Smee.” Jill paused at the door to her quarters and stole a quick look behind her. She and the captain had enjoyed a late breakfast among their cheerful crewmen, and now Cecco was making the rounds of the ship. There wasn’t much time.

Smee managed a curt nod, then continued with his work. “Lady.” The place smelled pleasantly of newly shaved wood, and curling pieces lay around the bo’sun’s feet. Smee had restored the door to usefulness, and now it rested once again on its hinges. Avoiding the lady’s eyes, he checked for splinters, running his fingers over the fresh wood. He left the door open.

Jill’s voice matched her urgency. “I can’t talk with you long. Keeping some distance from you is part of my accord with…the captain.”

“You needn’t worry. I won’t be staying.”

She ignored the impulse to lay her hand on the bo’sun, to restrain him. “No, Mr. Smee, you misunderstand. I asked you to fix the door so that I could have a moment to explain—”

“Asked? I’d not be saying you asked me, Lady. Commanded, more like.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Anything less wouldn’t do. I had to earn Cecco’s confidence.”

“As if you hadn’t earned more than his confidence by then!”

Jill looked down. “Mr. Smee. I’m doing all I can to preserve the ship.” She raised her gaze to his, pursuing him when he moved away. “For Hook.”

“I’m glad you’re remembering him, anyway.”

“Remembering isn’t the hard part. It’s going on without him.”

Smee’s gaze wandered out the door, and his chest heaved with his sigh. “Aye. And wondering how he’s getting on without us.”

“Yes, exactly.” Her shoulders relaxed as he seemed to sympathize, but when he eyed her jewelry, she stiffened.

“And
you’re
getting on, finally collecting the treasure you wanted.”

“I’d gladly give it back—”

“You don’t have to be saying it.” He gathered his tools.

“I understand, Mr. Smee. His disappearance has hit you as hard as it hit me. But we don’t have time to disagree; because you and I have been so close, the men will be watching us. Listen to me, before you have to go.”

“Is that a command, too?”

She paused, considering how best to answer, then drew herself up. “If it has to be.”

At last he faced her squarely. “All right, Ma’am. What is it you’re wanting to tell me?”

Now that she had the opportunity, Jill couldn’t think what to say to the man. The speech she had rehearsed escaped her as she stared into the familiar eyes behind his spectacles, perceiving the residue of old distrust, and learning that it lacked his former affection. If she had hoped to find comfort here, she now realized it might be a long time coming. She took what solace she could in the fact that Smee was, at least, listening to her. “Please. You have to keep searching the ship. There must be somewhere we haven’t looked. That’s your job. Mine is to support Captain Cecco so that as little as possible will have changed when Hook returns to us.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “Little? From what I witnessed last night, I’d say
everything’s
changed!”

“What hasn’t changed is that I am devoted to Hook, and following his orders.”

“As unpleasant as they may be!”

“No matter what the circumstances. And as unpleasant as it may be, Mr. Smee, you have to respect the new captain. For Hook’s sake, and for your own.”

“Did the gypsy tell you to threaten me?”

“Of course not. But you’ll do no one any good in the brig. You must retain your position as bo’sun. That’s simply common sense, and I say it because you have to hear it.”

“Well, I’ve heard it.”

“Smee, you believe I’ve betrayed the captain. But did
you
feel betrayed when your Lily opened her home to my twins?”

“Lily was doing the right thing by everyone, and I’m that glad your sons are there to take care of her while I’m gone.”

“Don’t you think Hook feels the same about me?”

Smee’s face flushed. “He might…if he thought it was
me
taking care of you.”

“We both did what we thought was right.”

“And I have to be wondering, Ma’am, exactly what you’re thinking will be the right thing to do with your new consort…once James Hook comes back to claim the
Roger?”

Her hand hurried to her necklaces. Smee could see in her frightened face that she didn’t want to contemplate Cecco’s chances. That gypsy had already wormed his way into her heart! Smee’s anger made him brutal.