“She’s beached as well as she can be, Captain.” Smee is winded as he jogs into sight. “Once the tide goes out, we’ll be able to repair her. Might be a week, perhaps two, but we?—”
“You have two moonrises, Smee.” Hook stands. “And that’s too long.”
“Two moonrises?” Smee, soaked and pale as he is, goes almost translucent. “There’s no way?—”
“Then you better find a way, Smee!” Hook yells and advances on him. “I’m getting Moira to that goddamned Spinner or we will all die trying, including you. So, I suggest you get to it!”
I wince at his tone, glad I’m not on the receiving end. Then again, Hook has never spoken to me like that. Not once.
Cowed, Smee lowers his chin. “Yes, Captain.” He sulks away, then starts barking harsh orders at the crew to collect Anne’s timbers and start a fire to heat pitch.
“Bloody wanker.” Hook shoves some more wood into the fire.
“Bit hard on him?” I ask.
“He’s lucky he still draws breath after the way he scared you that time.” Hook strips off his shirt, giving me another delightful view of his beautiful, scarred body. He wrings out what’s left of the water in it, then spreads it on the stone bench for me.
“That happened a million years ago.” I yawn as he lays me down and feels along my clothes so he can wring out the fabric in spots. Smee isn’t my favorite person by any stretch, but I understand his jealousy. Hook is his captain, his life.
“It shouldn’t have happened at all. I’ve half a mind to take a hand or more from him for it.”
I know he isn’t lying. I can still see the crimson rivulet of blood he’d cut at Anne’s throat. He’s ruthless and cruel to everyone who crosses him.
“Leave poor Smee alone. He’s already heartbroken that you fawn over me instead of him.”
Hook gives me a wry smile, then kisses my cheek. “Got a soft spot for that twat now, do you?”
“No, you’re just mean.”
He barks a laugh as he fusses over me. “Enough about him. You’re still drenched. The fire will sort you out until Bill gets here with dry clothes.”
“Stop.” I try to wave him away. “I’m not a kitten.”
An acrid odor wafts by. It must be the pitch. Smells like when they would pave roads back home.
He grips my hair tightly and stares down at me. “You’re part of me, lass. One that I won’t let go. So you might think you’re giving up, but you aren’t. I won’t let you. I never will. And if that means I need to treat you like a kitten—” He smirks. “I certainly do like the way you purr for me.”
Cookson snorts a laugh from his spot at the fire.
I smile despite myself. “Filth. Always filth with you. Such a pirate.”
“Yourpirate, lass.” He gives me another one of his brutal kisses that warms me from the inside out. “And I’ll do any dark deed to keep it that way.”
I think I’d do anything to keep it that way, too. And isn’t that a terrifying thought?
It takesthree moonrises and a lot of cussing from the entire crew before the Jolly Roger is seaworthy again.
“Does the ship feel different?” I ask Hook as he waits at the wheel, his foot tapping on the deck impatiently.
“No, lass. I know her through and through.” He cups his hand around his mouth. “Shove off!”
The crew still on the beach uses long poles to push against the front of the ship as the tide comes in and swamps the shore.
I don’t feel the ship move at all, and when I send Hook a questioning look, he says, “We’ve got a land breeze and a high tide, lass. We’ll get to sea. Trust me.”
“I do.” In fact, Hook is probably the only one I trust.
“Raise the mainsail!”
