Page 58 of Mardon

“I thought mayhap those trunks might have gowns in them,” he continued. “After all, you will need something other than that to wear.” He nodded at her torn dress that now came above her knees, leaving her legs bare. Her wimple was gone as well.

“Nay, I don’t want anything that will remind me of that evil bastard.”

“All right, then,” said Aaron. “Well, Mardon, you choose first and then I’ll get my double share and then my share and a half.” He smiled from ear to ear.

Mardon looked over at Nairnie. “I give first choice, and my share to Nairnie.”

“What?” The old woman’s head snapped up. “Why would ye do that, Grandson? I’m no’ a part of yer crew. I mean, no’ really.”

“Aye, I agree,” shouted one of the men.

“She doesn’t get a share,” called out another.

“Nairnie, I thought you might find another ladle in there,” said Mardon, loud enough for everyone to hear him. “Or, if not, mayhap you’ll find an iron pan or possibly a whip.”

“Aye, I could use another ladle,” she said, sounding interested. “And somethin’ else to hit these bluidy fools with when they get out of line. Let me at that booty.” She rubbed her hands together and waddled over toward the pile of plunder with every man there following her and probably hoping she wouldn’t find a whip or an iron pan of any kind.

“Thank you, Mardon,” said Emmaline once everyone had left. Her teeth started to chatter.

“For what?” he asked, pulling her closer to warm her.

“You have been more than kind to me. Plus, you saved my life.”

He chuckled. “The way I see it, you saved my life as well. If you hadn’t flung that dagger at Jean Philippe, he might have killed me.”

She hugged herself, looking down at the deck rather than out at the remains of the burning, sinking ship. “How do you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“How do you not let it bother you at all when you raid a ship or . . . or kill a man?”

“I suppose you get numb to it after a while. I’ve been doing it so long that I guess I just don’t think about these things anymore.”

“Well, I do,” she told him wiping away a tear. “I killed a man today. I took a life. And although Jean Philippe deserved to die for the things he did to me . . . I still can’t help feeling like I am naught more than a . . .”

“Pirate?” he asked, looking down at her.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Nay. I was going to say murderer. But then again, I guess there isn’t much of a difference.”

Mardon was speechless and didn’t know how to respond to what he’d just heard. The woman he’d fallen in love with just called him a murderer, and it cut him to the bone. He supposed she was right in a way. He’d spent so much time raiding, pillaging, plundering and killing, that it didn’t even bother him anymore. His father had taught him to push aside his emotions years ago. Only since Emmaline stepped foot on this ship had he started to question what he did – the way he lived. Was he just a thief and a cutthroat in her eyes? God’s teeth, he hoped not. He cared for Emmaline and he wanted her to see him in a better light than that. She’d told him she loved him. Was that the truth? Or was it just fear talking since she thought she was going to die?

“Let’s get you to my cabin,” he told her. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.”

“I have nothing else to wear,” she told him.

“I will find something for you. For now, use a blanket. I’ll be there in a few minutes with some wine and food.”

“Thank you, Mardon,” she said, flashing a smile. Then she turned and headed to the cabin while Mardon walked back to join the others.

“Cap’n, Nairnie found a whip as well as a new ladle and several iron pans,” said Ramble, hurrying over to report to him.

“Aye, this will work well,” said Nairnie with a chuckle, snapping the whip in the air. All the pirates darted out of her way, giving her plenty of room.

“Nairnie,” said Mardon, stopping behind her and holding out his hand. “Give me the whip.”

“Why?” she asked.

“After the pain Emmaline endured at the end of a whip, I will not allow whips anywhere on this ship anymore.”