Page 43 of Of Magic and Rum
“Anne, would you like to try my new concoction tonight?” Glog shakes a bottle of liquid in front of me.
“That depends.” I take the bottle and pop the cork, sniffing it. Though slightly bitter, the coloring is three shades darker than average rum water, and the odor doesn’t smell foul. “What’s in it?”
Glog covers his mouth with a hand and taps his finger against his cheek. “I’d rather not say my secret ingredient quite yet. Rest assured, however, there is nothing that will poison you, make you sick, or spew liquid from both ends.”
I’m a deity. Considering how difficult it is to kill us or make us sick, what harm can come from me helping a friend?
Taking a sip for good measure, I sigh at the tinge of lightheadedness tantalizing my brain. I already desire to continue feeling this way, but my curiosity over the drink’s ingredients will soon become a distant memory.
“Then I’ll be certain to report to you my findings by night’s end.” I grin, hiding the bottle from view in my pocket so I don’t chug half its contents before the bonfire roars.
Glog elbows my side. “With any luck, it won’t be until themorning.” His grin is mischievous, and he leaves little time for me to contemplate his meaning before running off to join the others.
Several men have staked claim to places in the sand, sitting and holding their rum bottles to the sky after Ragnar hands them one. Wood is piled high in a triangular pattern in a cleared patch of sand. Red uses a small amount of gunpowder, and a spark from a flint rock flickers a blazing fire, illuminating the island.
Mary drags a large piece of driftwood near the fire, sitting on it and patting the spot next to her, beckoning me to join her. I oblige, but my eyes roam the shadows outside the fire’s glow, searching for Jack, who’s nowhere in sight.
“You going to cut loose a bit tonight, Bonny?” Mary smiles and takes a swig from her bottle.
“I’m certainly going to try.”
“Cheers to that, mate.” Mary raises her drink, and we cheer.
The night dwindles with drinking, roughhousing, conversation, and music from the fiddle and hurdy-gurdy. Whatever Glog has put in this drink has me swaying on the log next to Mary, our arms curled over the other’s shoulder, beltingWhisky Johnny O’to the top of our lungs. Only two mouthfuls are left of my drink, and the world has turned blissfully serene, even as my head buzzes and my lips tingle.
Glog heckles Mary and me until we’re on our feet, bottles raised to the stars, and dancing circles around one another. My feet sinking in the sand does nothing for my foggy brain or my balancing, and I trip more than actually dance but laugh myhead off. My heel catches on a rock, and I fall backward. Mary reaches for me, cackling, but I land in a pair of strong arms.
“Having fun, Annie?” Jack asks. He’s upside down as I look up at him, and his glorious grin turns me into a jellyfish within his grasp.
Letting him support me, I sip from my bottle. “I’m even better now.” The fire casts shadows over his face in the most perfect places, accentuating his already strong jawline and high cheekbones. “Dance with me.” I don’t ask, Icommand.
Jack tips his head to one side. “Yes, ma’am.”
He helps me stand upright and takes my hand in his. I’m uncertain why I thought Jack wouldn’t be able to dance, but he still surprises me by leading us in a pattern of skips, turns, and side steps. His hand presses to my lower back, spinning us in circles, and I’m at his mercy, letting the world spiral out of control around me. The lively music fades into a somber tone, the fiddle player edging a knowing smile.
Jack slows us to a sway, his fingertips brushing the top of my trousers. “I think, perhaps, the crew is mocking us.”
“Can you blame them?” I throw my arms around his neck, and Jack snatches my bottle before I accidentally smack him on the head with it again. “How you look at me is like you’re starving for unobtainable food.”
Jack’s eyes seem to darken from the bonfire shadows, and an irresistible grin edges his lips. He trails the bottle up my spine, lifting my shirt enough to expose my lower back, and presses his other hand there. “Don’t think I haven’t caught you staring at my ass when I walk away—lingeringeven.”
I shrug like his posterior is the last thing on my mind. “It’s a nice ass.”
“Then tell me—” Jack lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “—how badly do you wish to see it without these pesky trousers?”
I choke on air and bunch my hands in his long, chocolate locks, pulling him closer. My lips part, ready to take him in.
“Alright, boy,” Duke interrupts, grabbing Jack’s tunic shirt and prying us apart. “Don’t be hoggingallthe ladies. Let the old man have a dance.”
A chuckle flutters from my chest when I spot Jack pouting with an exaggerated protruding bottom lip.
Jack rakes a hand through his hair and points a stern finger in Duke’s face. “You’re lucky youarean old man, Duke.”
Duke slaps Jack on the back, hurrying him away before scooping me up. I’m still laughing when Duke begins to waltz us around the fire, but I catch Jack’s gaze when he burns me with a lustful glint. He spins on his heel and, keeping eye contact with me, removes his shirt before sitting on one of several wooden chairs procured from the ship by Aranck.
Jack slumps in his seat, half-naked and bronzed, with a rum bottle propped on his knee. Time marches on, and he’s been watching me for the past few minutes—or maybe the past hour? I’ve lost track. And I’ve milked every smirk he’s given me, every cheek twitch, andeverytime his lids grow hooded.
I’m fearless at this point in the evening, so I let out a shrill whistle, gaining everyone’s attention. Mary zips her spine straight, a curious grin playing on her lips, watching me. Climbing atop a barrel near the fire, almost falling twice, I stand tall and raise my bottle to the stars. “I have something to say.”
