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“Avast ye scalywags… the vittles won’t be waiting on you slug-a-beds. To the galley with you all,” he called out in a hoarse voice, sounding stern, and so different from the gentle man that had laughed at one of her jokes last night, under the moonlight.
“Captain,” she said simply in greeting.
“Wench,” he retorted… but his lip curled softly, removing any sting from his tone. “Get to the galley with you.”
… And she stepped forward, closer to him.
“See you tonight?” she whispered, picking up a lock of the wig and tying the small ribbon along the bottom of the dark brown wavy lock. “There, a token just like in renaissance times.”
“A token?” he questioned softly, looking at her as Meatloaf flew over to land on his shoulder. The parrot’s wide green wings flapped several times as he settled with large, sharp-looking claws digging into the material.
“Tonight,” she reiterated, smiling softly, and looked at him as he nodded, his eyes searching hers. “Perfect. See you then… captain.”
“Away with you,” he barked, slipping back into his role. “To the galley, lass. You’ll need your strength for the battles to come!”
“Aye captain,” she murmured pertly, tugging the ribbon once more that she’d just tied into place, and heard his amused chuckle.
As she walked off, she felt something swat her on the backside of her skirt and looked back – only to see that he’d done so with the flat side of his cutlass, almost flirtatiously.
She turned, grabbed her skirt, swishing it around to reveal some leg, and realized it was fun to play in costume… to slip into another role. She would have never done something like this before, but here? Now? This was a boisterous captain… and a pirate wench.
“Fancy that, ya’ scurvy bilge rat?” she called outplayfully, trying to sound as authentic as possible if someone overheard their playfulness or had seen this display. This was out of character for the man who stayed far from the others, letting his crew handle the guests.
“Lay to that, lassie!” he called out behind her, causing her to blush wildly as her eyes went wide in shock; she darted into the galley without another word, completely out of her element.
Was he boldly saying that he wanted ‘to get laid’?she thought in disbelief, wondering if the others heard him, assumed as she had, and hung her head as she silently accepted her plate.
She didn’t even care what was on it as she was suddenly thinking of what it would be like to kiss him, hold someone close once more, or sleep with them. She wasn’t some simpering maiden – no. She’d been married for years to Jack, and knew quite well how wonderful being with someone could be on the right terms, in the right conditions.
Marie slung her leg over the bench opposite of her, grinning like a Cheshire cat, looking at her.
“So?” Marie asked bluntly. “What did you two bet on?”
“Bet?”
“Yeah. What did you bet on? The captain said, ‘lay to that’ and that’s pirate slang for ‘you can bet on it’. So? What’s the bet?”
Calista blinked several times owlishly – and felt her face get even redder, realizing that she was the one who went straight to the gutter with his statement, not even imagining that it could be pirate slang used on board the ship.
“We didn’t bet anything,” she whispered nervously, seeing the woman’s confusion on her face. “I asked if hefancied something – and obviously he agreed, saying ‘you can bet on it’. It was quite innocent. I promise.”
“Sounded slightly raunchy,” Marie sighed heavily and rested her cheek on her fist, putting her elbow on the table almost in despair. “I was hoping for some sappy soap opera, or some deliciously scandalous bet that I wanted in on.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she sputtered, picking up her spoon and then wincing.
Oatmeal.
Again.
She was not a huge fan of oatmeal, and obviously it was used because it kept easily onboard. Once was fine. Twice within three days was pushing it.
Marie leaned towards her and spoke softly as some of the others entered the galley, getting their bowls and talking.
“Don’t judge the book by the cover.”
“Who says I’m reading the book?”
“He watches you.”
