Page 41 of The Pirate Takes A Bride

But Ashley couldn’t back down now. The men had drawn a line in the sand and placed the cup a few feet away. The sailor—or lady—with the best aim two out of three times won. Ashley was ushered to the line. Apparently, ladies were first even in spitting contests. She gathered some saliva and sent it toward the cup. She missed, but not by much.

Behind her, the men were all silence. She doubted any of them thought she could even spit, much less aim so close to the target. Lank was next, and he had perfect aim. If he didn’t falter on the next two, he would win.

Ashley stepped forward for her second turn, studied the cup, closed her eyes, and spit. She hit the cup perfectly and lifted her arms in victory. Lank gave her a courtly bow and stepped to the line. Ashley watched him, noting that their audience had now grown. Most of the sailors on the beach were gathered in a half circle behind them. She was half afraid she’d spot Nick if she looked too closely. She focused her eyes on the target and watched as Lank made his second effort.

He reared back to achieve distance, but his head snapped forward too late, and his attempt fell short of the cup. Ashley blinked, surprised at her good luck and then filled with nerves when the crowd pushed her forward. If she missed, she would surely lose. Lank would not fail again. She could hear him cursing nearby. But should she even attempt to win? Her mother was always admonishing her to be a lady. Winning a spitting contest would only prove, once and for all, that Ashley was not a lady.

“You can do it, Ashley!”

She turned and spotted Rissa on Nick’s shoulders. The little girl had the best view of any of them. Ashley gave her a quick smile and then her gaze met Nick’s. His expression was bemused, one brow raised slightly, his mouth quirked. She would show him. And she would win for Rissa. After all, Lady Brittany was not present, and really, after everything else Ashley had done in the last few weeks, what was one more transgression against the strictures of femininity?

She toed the line, closed her eyes, and gathered as much saliva as she could. Her mouth was dry now with nerves, but she was a Brittany. Failure was not an option. Visualizing the distance and the arc she needed in her mind, she tossed her head back and spit. The cheers told her, before she ever opened her eyes, she had hit the target.

With a curtsey, she stepped back and Lank moved forward. “Luck,” he told her. “Don’t cry when you lose.”

She smiled, not rising to the bait. Her brothers had teased her with far worse. Lank made a disgusting sound, gathering saliva and God knew what else in his mouth, aimed, and spit. For a moment, Ashley’s heart stopped beating. It seemed a perfect effort. And then to her astonishment, Lank missed the mark. The cup was left untouched as Lank’s effort had overshot the target.

Ashley jumped and screamed, and before she could protest, Johnson and the other men lifted her onto their shoulders and were running about the beach with her. She laughed, a deep, joyous laugh. She could not remember when she’d laughed so.

When she was put down, Lank grudgingly shook her hand, but Chante did not speak to her all through dinner. Or perhaps he could not as Rissa never stopped talking. Nick sat on one side and Ashley sat on the other, and Rissa retold the story of the spitting contest again and again, even though they had all been present.

The little girl was quite animated, and with the closeness of the fire in the center of the circle of people, Rissa’s movements made Ashley nervous. Three times she reached out and moved the girl away from the fire, and at one point it appeared Rissa might lose her balance, and Ashley screamed and yanked the girl down.

Rissa started to cry, and Ashley apologized. “I’m sorry. I worried you might fall in the fire.”

She was being too protective, she knew. When she lifted her eyes, Nick was frowning at her. He probably thought she was mad. Perhaps she was.

Finally, the sun was down and the night air cooled, and Rissa was yawning. “To bed with you,” Nick told her, gathering the little girl in his arms.

“I want to sleep by Miss Ashley tonight,” she said with a yawn. “Can I sleep in your tent?”

Ashley blinked in surprise. Why would the little girl want to be near her? “Yes, I suppose.”

“Good.” She wriggled out of Nick’s arms. “You put me to bed.”

Ashley soon learned this meant telling the girl several stories and then snuggling with her until she fell asleep. Ashley herself was almost asleep, glad for the extra warmth of the little body beside her, when Nick appeared at the tent’s entrance and motioned to her.

With a yawn, Ashley emerged and found the beach all but deserted. A few men still sat by the dying fires, but most had gone to their tents. And some had not gone alone, if the sounds from those tents were any indication. Nick had been pulled into conversation with Mr. Carey, but she spotted Red, sitting alone at one fire, and went to him. When she put a hand on his shoulder, he looked up at her. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Red,” she said. “I wish there was something I could do.”

He nodded. “Nothing to do now. We were happy. At least we had that.”

Ashley sat with him for some time, just staring into the fire and listening as he told her about the woman who’d been his wife. Finally, Nick joined them and soon after Red left them alone.

“I checked on Rissa,” he said. “She’s still asleep.”

“Don’t tell me you want to join me in my tent too,” she said, her voice teasing.

“It’s a bit crowded for me. If you need me, my tent is over there.” He gestured to a large tent pitched near the tree line. Ashley was immediately envious. It looked much roomier than hers, and he probably had better blankets and perhaps a mattress. But if she joined him, what would come next? No, better to stay with Rissa, who was safe.

“My daughter likes you,” Nick said suddenly. Ashley glanced at him. So this had been the reason he’d sought her out. He wanted to speak about his child.

“I’m not trying to take her away from you,” Ashley said. “You know how children are. They have a new favorite each day.”

Nick waved her words away with an impatient hand. “I am glad she likes you. How could she not? What with your victory this evening.” He reached out and one finger lightly brushed her cheek. “I had no idea you had such talents.”

“There’s much about me you don’t know.”

“What I would really like to know is what you have underneath that blouse? Anything?”

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