Page 17 of Of Magic and Rum
“You’re hilarious. It’s not for me.” Chuckling, I flick my wrist at the door. “Carry on.”
I settle back into carving the jewel and wait for Glog to return with a dress. Ocean waves beat against the hull outside, the whooshing sounds gratifying. The crew croons a shanty on deck, faint melodies ofFish in the Sea. They cock up every other verse, but it’s still strangely calming to hear it.
Glog returns several moments later with a satin and lace dress in the precise shade of green I’d been hoping for. Resting Truffles on the desk, I head to the deck, looking for Anne. She’s still scrubbing and mumbling all forms of obscenities under her breath with every other stroke. Her long, fiery hair hangs in delicate shambles over her face. She sits back on her haunches, dragging a shirt sleeve over the sweat on her forehead. I eye the opening of the shirt, longing with every fiber of my being to know what those tits look like. Are they rounded, or do they take on more of that tear-drop shape? Are her nipples pink? I grind my teeth together and mentally slap myself.
“Bonny,” I yell, waiting for her head to shoot up. “I need to see you in my cabin.”
Whoops and catcalls resonate with crew members nearby. I only grin at them because entertainment is severely lacking while on a ship for months. Let them think what they wish.
Anne wipes her hands on her trousers, and with harsh steps that rival a pair of hooves, she breezes into my quarters.
I follow, shut the door behind us, and shove the dress at her. “Try this on.”
“No.” She’s seething at me with her arms crossed so tightly over her chest that it makes her knuckles turn white.
A growl bubbles in the back of my throat. “The threat of marooning you still weighs heavily in the air, Anne. Now put iton.” I shake the dress at her for emphasis.
Truffles, who typically flees from anyone but Duke and me, waltzes across the desk and rubs himself against Anne’s hip, making her tense. Damn cat.
“And if I refuse?” A tightness forms in her neck and jaw.
The growl is full-blown now, and I close the distance between us, lowering my face to hers. “You keep arguing with me, and I’ll make you change on deck versus in the privacy I’m so graciously offering you.”
Anne’s moss green eyes flare wide, her bottom lip quivering before she snaps the dress from my grasp. “Fine. Butwhy?”
“As charming as you are in a shit-covered shirt and trousers, we’re trying to barter you as irrefutable living cargo to Vane.” I point at the dress. “So put it on and make your smiling Irish eyes pop, eh?”
Anne wrings her hands in the green frilly satin, fists shaking, and her lips forming a thin line, butfinally,she doesn’t fight me.
“And you may want to use that water basin in the corner there to wipe whatever in God’s name you smeared on your cheeks.” Grimacing, I circle the air in front of her face.
She peels back, returning to her rebellious mode, posture erect.
And I’m enjoying every bloody second of it. The only other woman to ever deliver with as much as she can take with me has been Mary. And dear ‘ol Jack is all for a good tongue-lashing now and again. I’m a fan of allsortsof tongue-ish-related activities.
I turn for the door, resting a hand on my flintlock’s hilt. “And don’t mind Truffles. He only bites people he doesn’t like alittle.”
Anne’s eyes shoot to my cat, still rubbing himself along her back and sticking his tail straight into the air. Grinning tomyself, I close the door but stand by it in case she attempts any funny business. My gaze, of its own accord, shifts to the crack in the door, catching a glimpse of Anne’s gloriously naked body—ivory skin with patches of light freckles, a brief preview of the side of her breast, but she turns her back to me before I can make out the nipple. As she slides the dress over her ass, I note the single beauty mark on her right cheek. Once she’s slipping her arms into the sleeves, her eyes cast behind her, landing on me. If she’s shy or angry over me watching, she doesn’t show it. It’s as if she half-expected it and doesn’t care. And it has my blood onfire—again. I grin at her and wave.
It’s been far too long since I’ve made Vane’s life a living Hell. And he’ll never see us coming.
I’m going tokillJack. Maybe some of the crew that voted to hand me off as well. But with the Seas as my witness, I willkillJack Rackham. I tried on the dress Jack forced on me, noting how his eyes roamed my body and stored this in my mind for safekeeping. I changed into filthy clothes to continue my duties for the next couple of days until Jack gave me the “head nod,” a universal ship code for “it’s time.”
I’m now in a dinghy with rope binding my wrists, dressed in the frilly kelly-green dress. Jack’s in front of me, grinning and rowing us toward Vane’s ship. I keep my face expressionless, save for my eyes, which are mentally carving holes into Jack’s skull. I hope that the silence and glower will somehow intimidate this pirate captain.
“Come now, Anne. You’re still going to be on a ship, just not—mine.” Jack lays back as he rows with both oars, still grinning at me and so damn proud of himself.
I rub my palms together and focus on our boat cutting through the water. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Oh, thank Christ. Thought I’d have to listen to your twaddle the entire ride,” Jack mumbles.
And I can’t help myself. Grunting, I lodge my foot into one oar, jostling it from Jack’s grasp and splashing it into the water.
Jack blinks before reaching for the oar, which is already floating too far to grab. “What in the flying hell are you doing? You do realize two oars make this little jolt far easier?”
I zip my spine straight. “I’ll swim if I have to.”
“Yeah? With your wrists bound?” Jack scoffs and continues rowing with one oar.
