Page 39 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son

She was an enigma, too bold and brash by half, blustering into his life like a hurricane, with a glare that could grab any man by the balls. And yet the other night, she had grown soft and fearful in his arms, then come back to him again under his touch in a way that gave him life. Now she seemed determined to be the death of him.

The captain turned his cold, beady gaze and lascivious grin on the girl. Had she somehow just earned herself a legitimate flogging while Bash was woolgathering?

“Your cabin boy has a tender heart,” Mad sneered, not taking his eyes off Maggie, who licked her lips and swallowed, but didn’t back down. “That infernal crow has made a nest of my tops. It attacks any man who tries to take the watch.”

“Isn’t killing it bad luck, sir?” she tried, her voice low and raspy, stoking the lust already burning deep in Bash’s loins.

The captain pinned her with his gaze, and Maggie lifted her chin as though the unconscious gesture might keep her from shriveling before the madman.

“Worse luck not to,” Dutch reasoned, “what with rumors of ships about.”

“The child could be right,” the captain shouted to get the crew’s attention, and Bash’s gut twisted. The captain’s agreement never ended well for whatever poor soul Mad had in his sights.

The Butcher shot at the kestrel again and feathers rained down on them as the bird darted safely away.

“Stop,” the captain ordered as Maggie rubbed her ears, no doubt to ease their ringing after the gun blast. “What would you have us do, Magnus?” he asked her almost kindly, laying a trap. There could be no right answer.

“Since when do we seek guidance from the cabin boy?” Bash jumped in, sacrificing himself in her place. Mad cut him with a glare so sharp he could almost feel the lash of the cat across his tender back, but he refused to shrink. “You said yourself, he’s a child.”

“I seem to recall another cabin boy who was full to bursting with opinions you thought worth sharing,” Mad sneered. “Though I suppose, under Dutch’s guiding hand, you eventually grew up.”

“Still full of opinions, though.” Bash tried to lace his words with levity instead of venom. If Mad could hear the difference, he didn’t let on. They were both all too aware of their audience, and Bash could swear the phantom stings of long-healed scars burned as sweat trickled down his skin.

Then Mad turned to Maggie. “A ship was spotted which bears the colors of my old nemesis, a man with no scruples, who stole my property and has been on the run these twenty years. Such fortune as we might all retire and live out our days in splendor. Surely that is worth the life of one obnoxious bird? Righting old wrongs after all this time must cancel out any ill the bird’s death might herald.”

Maggie blinked at him like he was speaking in riddles.

“What would you do, if you were boatswain instead of him?” the captain implored her, goading Bash, trying to create a rift.

She swallowed again and licked her lips, which, to his imagination, still looked bruised from kissing even all these days later. She glanced at Bash, almost as though she were seeking permission, and when he nodded, she took a deep breath and nodded back.

“I suppose, sir, I would try to bring it down alive,” she said, and Bash silently cursed.

Bugger Mad, and bugger luck, and bugger that buggered bird.

“It’s only protecting what it perceives as its own, same as you.”

They all turned towards the kestrel—why the blazes was there a kestrel this far out to sea?—then they were forced back a step as it shat at them. Very like Mad, indeed.

Maggie cleared her throat. “That way, you won’t cancel out your good fortune in finally locating the thief who wronged you.”

The deck had never been more silent as a collective breath was held, waiting to see how the captain would react.

Mad clapped her on the shoulder, drawing her to his side, jostling her roughly, but patting her on the back, though Bash still half expected him to slit her throat in the same motion.

“Cap?” Roo called from the circle of men still awaiting orders.

“Magnus will go up,” Mad replied, turning an expectant smirk on Maggie.

Christ. She was well and truly caught in the trap he’d so artfully laid, its jaws springing shut.

Mad tossed her his spyglass. “Have a look around while you’re up there.”

She turned to Bash once more, and on his grim nod, she set her shoulders and walked into the circle of men.

Langley stepped forward and handed over a small basket on a long strap, now empty of eggs, and she hung it crosswise over her shoulder, as the others moved back to give her room.

She was a good climber, and canny. Even with that beast diving at her, she would probably be fine, but Bash stepped closer all the same, calculating where she’d land if she did fall, where he’d need to stand so he could catch her.