Page 53 of Of Magic and Rum
Anne laughs and tugs my beard. “One step at a time here, Jack. We wouldn’t want your head to explode.”
“It is far too late for that, lovely.” I close the remaining distance between us, pressing the hardened bulge building in my trousers against her stomach.
Her hands snake around my neck, and she grins wildly before planting her mouth to mine. I pick her up from the waist, carrying her until we reach the desk.
Knock. Fucking knock.
“Captain? Sorry to interrupt. But we’ve spotted an island,” Red announces from the other side of the door.
Groaning, I hold my head low. “I swear to God they do this on purpose.”
“Youdidask them to look for an island. You should be excited.” Anne is still smiling, and she bumps a knuckle under my chin.
I slide my lips against hers, soft and fleeting, with a tenderness reserved solely for her. “You’re right.”
I splash water on my face and pause at the mirror. The reflection is of a man freed of all bindings. A rebellious, adventurous, and untamed man. How far I’ve come since my days as a merchant.
“Think you can keep your hands to yourself long enough for me to take the wheel?” I let my lips melt into a cheeky grin at Anne.
She picks up my sash from the desk and throws it at me. “Agoodcaptain wouldn’t let such a petty thing distract him.”
I catch the sash with one hand, work it around my waist, and tie it in a knot on my right hip. “And how would you know that? Have you been with that many captains?” Hovering over her, I bump the inside of her thigh with my knee, teasing her. “Or am I a first there, too?”
A shaky breath brushes past her lips, and she parts stray strands of hair from my forehead. “You’re a lot of firsts, Jack.”
The words have my heart racing, and I give her cheek a quick peck, slide away, and adjust my trousers. If I’d done anything else, the crew would’ve beaten down the door in the middle of Anne bent over my desk with me behind her. And I don’t need them seeingeverything.
“Ready?” I offer her my arm, which she accepts with a sparkling smile.
Heavens above, let this island have more of this coveted coin. We still have a long voyage ahead of us before reaching Greece. And nothing will boost the crew’s morale more than a bit of gold jingling in their pockets.
I’m acutely and painstakingly aware of Jack’s absence whenever he’s not around me, and a long-forgotten impatience prods and pinches at my skin until we’re close again. Is this type of connection typical? Is it a nymph trait? Human? I never had the chance to have this conversation with my mother, and my father wouldn’t have known where to begin. Whatever the reason,Ilike being with Jack—enjoy who he is and what he represents, and I can’t recall ever smiling this much. And it’s because ofhim.
“It’s uncanny to me this big island still exists out here uninhabited,” Mary says beside me, jarring my daydreaming.
We carry shovels, meandering with the rest of the crew into the thicket of palm trees and bushes. Jack leads the charge but continuously looks behind him, concern cinching his brow every time until he spots me within the crowd. Ragnar barrels behindus, serving as a lookout while the rest of us search the island for buried treasure. Aranck splits from the group in search of any medicinal herbs the island can provide, and Squid stays behind with the ship to keep a weathered eye on the horizon.
“Who’d want to live here this far away from civilization?” I rest the shovel’s handle across both shoulders, propping my forearms on top.
Mary pauses, throwing the shovel in the sand, and quickly braids her hair. “Sounds like a dream to me. Tell you what? I’ll live here, and you can swim supplies for me every few weeks or so, yeah?”
“Swimsupplies to you?” I laugh and wipe sweat from my forehead. “Just because I can materialize fins doesn’t mean they don’t get tired.”
Mary thins her lips. “That’s no fun.”
“My deepest apologies.” Tipping my hat at her, I poke her ribs with my shovel’s handle.
“Captain,” a crew member shouts. “May have found something over here.”
What starts as a group of exhausted people dragging their feet through the sand and whining about the infernal sun turns into a lively bunch practically skipping to the location. The blind promise of gold turns the tide and mood.
Glog trots past us with his hands raised, fingers crossed, and manages not to run into anyone with his eyes closed. “Please let there be gold. Please. Please.”
“How many false alarms have there been?” I ask Mary, keeping my voice low.
Mary bats a rogue branch from swatting her face. “I wouldn’t say so much false alarms as dead ends. Jack won’t take us on a wild goose chase unless he has decent evidence it exists.”
“What about the Sailor’s Jewel? He based that on myth and legend.”
