Page 42 of Of Magic and Rum
Jack’s voice rolls over the deck like a wave—an authority demanding respect. It sends a current of static fluttering beneath my skin. He waves an arm to get Squid’s attention. “Squid, look lively up there.”
Slowly, taking one step at a time, I ascend the stairs.
“The first spit of land you spy, we’re going to make camp and celebrate our first haul by consumingthiscrate,” Jack adds.
I’ve reached the top when Jack hoists a crate of clanking bottles to the ship’s railing, grinning as the crew cheers. Squid smiles from the crow’s nest, hurrying to the highest point and balancing with one hand.
Ragnar yanks the box from Jack’s hands, hiding it from the crew until the right time. Jack laughs and pats his quartermaster’s back before wrapping his hands around the wheel’s pegs. The impatience to be near him, within the same breath as him, is almost too much to stand, and I’m working through the crowd, my legs moving at their own will despite my brain’s protests.
It's taking far too long to reach him between crew members thanking me or pulling me to their side in quick flashes of celebration. But once I’m there, his scent—citrus, and brine—calms me in a way I never thought possible.
Jack casually props a hip on the wheel, the smug grin plastered to his lips all too telling. It’s as if he knows what plagues my mind from my body language. “Hello, Annie.”
His voice is liquid velvet when he says my name—birth-given or not. I slide closer to him, purposely brushing our elbows. “Hey, Jack.”
He brushes his thumbs against the worn wood, a devious glint in his gaze as he eyes me side-long. “Can I—help you with something?”
“Is this how we’re going to keep playing it? Fleeting moments we pretend to ignore? Back and forth like a fox and hound?” I flick something from my fingernail.
Jack clucks his tongue against his teeth before his hand snatches my hip and pulls me in front of him. His chest is at my back, and every inch of me relaxes and tenses simultaneously as he presses against my ass. “All you had to do was ask, Bonny. And I’d hardly call that last momentfleeting.”
My arms stay glued to my sides at first before I trace my fingers up the ship’s wheel. “Youknowwhat I mean.”
A carnal chuckle—deep, rough, and glorious—rumbles from his chest. He presses his nose at the corner of my jaw and whispers, “This is probably a stupid question, but have you ever sailed a ship?”
If the crew knows what transpires at the helm between the stowaway sea nymph and their Captain, they don’t give it away. They’re performing their duties, keeping the sails taut and still celebrating the victory, oblivious to Jack’s advances.
“No. I’m born of the sea. In it, seldomonit.” I turn to peer at his lips, noting the dark hair surrounding them and continuing over his chin to form a luscious beard.
“Well, then.” Jack picks up my hands, scraping my knuckles with calluses formed from years of pulling rope, wieldingswords, and making a life for himself as this daring pirate captain. “Today is your lucky day.”
No. It started as anunluckyday, but steadily blossomed into one of the more fortunateyearsof my life.
He wraps my fingers around two pegs and slips his hands away, resting them on my waist. “It’s less about the need to steer it in any given direction, but more about feeling her at your fingertips.”
Not only can Ifeelthe ship as he describes, but the ocean itself.
“How did you learn to fight like that, Anne?” Jack keeps his tone low, and our bodies sway with each lull of the waves beneath the ship.
“Do you mean aside from the hundreds of years of practice?” I grin, knowing it’s a smartass response Jack himself would’ve given.
Jack chuckles, and his grip tightens on my hips. “I’ve never seen anything like it, is all.”
“My father, brother, uncles, and cousins. I’ve had a lot of teachers and experiences along the way. Surrounded by warriors, heroes, and war goddesses alike.” I crane my neck, resting it briefly on his shoulder. “What about you?”
His gaze lazily trails down my neck, pausing where my linen blouse parts at my chest. His eyes then lift to the setting sun in the distance, squinting at it. “Life. Life taught me most of what I know.”
And this will be the moment I remember where I fell,plummeted, for Jack Rackham.
The bell clangs furiously from the crow’s nest, and we jolt to attention. Squid waves his arms before pointing north, several palm trees sprouting from an island blurring into view.
Jack pats my thigh before moving to the railing. “You know the drill, boys. Ready the sails. The faster we drop anchor at that island, the faster you’ll be halfway into the night celebrating.”
The crew moves with extra intensity, and I make for the stairs, ready to help.
Jack catches my hand and squeezes it, offering a warm smile before letting go. He doesn’t try to tell me that no assistance is needed, nor does he give me another duty, because he knows I want to be with the crew as much as at his side—and webothneed to share.
When we reach the island, settle the anchor, and cart supplies, the sun is a sliver of red and orange in the dark amethyst sky. The land isn’t much bigger than our ship, but its intimacy will suit us. Several of the crew are assigned to search for firewood, and Mary is “helping” Ragnar carry the rum crate, each holding onto one end.
