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He’s definitely starting to trust me and it has been no time at all.
“Do you maybe have any clothes that aren’t so big?” I ask as we make our way to the bridge, nodding to his crew as we go. “Maybe there’s another woman here or…”
“Not a fucking chance are you wearing Millie’s clothes. You’ll probably get crabs.”
Eww.
“Millie?” The girl who was trying to sleep with him that night?
He cringes. “Don’t ask. You’re better off never knowing her.”
“What about a smaller man?”
Stopping in his tracks, he glares down at me. “You wear my clothes.”
“But these are so…”
“My clothes, until we can get you your own clothes.”
My heart hammers in my chest. “How long are you planning to keep me here?”
“As long as it takes.” His lips thin to a white line.
I shake my head with disbelief. “As long as what takes? This isn’t fair. I have a life, friends, a job, my family… my mum. You can’t just keep me here!”
“I can and I am. End of discussion.”
I punch him full force in the chest, he doesn’t even grunt, just raises a brow. “Christ, I fucking hate you.”
“That’s a shame, I heard Christ is a pretty nice guy.”
I try to punch him again, much to the amusement of the men around us but he snags my wrist and, in a fancy move, twists me and pins my back to his chest with his arms crossed over mine.
“Let go of me!”
“No.”
“Stop telling me no.”
“Then stop being a little bitch.”
I’m a bitch?
“I’m a bitch? You… you… fucking pirate fucker.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment when he starts laughing again and the men around him join in.
“Aye, that I am.” Then, he turns me again and pretends to bite my neck while with one hand he tugs his bandana down to cover one of his eyes and using his best pirate impression he declares, “Arr, me hearties, let’s go to skull island and bury us some treasure.”
“You’re not funn—”
He lifts me over his shoulder, laughing again when I pinch the skin of his back. Does this man feel no pain?
He doesn’t put me down until we’re in the bridge where I’m faced with consoles full of buttons and screens I’ll never understand and a gorgeous view overlooking everything we need to see.
“No wheel?” I ask, expecting a big beastly wheel to steer this thing.
Clunk looks at me with amusement but it’s he who explains, “It has a wheel but only for emergencies. The captain sits right here and we bring him coffee.”
I nod and follow Captain around the space. He explains to me what things are and what they do and it’s all surprisingly interesting. Although I can’t say if that’s because he’s telling me or if I just suddenly find all things nautical fascinating.
It’s clear that he has a lot of passion for his pretty boat.
He pats a seat beside where he navigates and I watch him avidly for an hour. Occasionally he looks at me from his perch and smiles so sweetly.
After more time he offers, “If you’re bored, you can go?”
This is it, the moment of truth.
I return his sweet smile and muster up all of the charm I can. “No, I’m good here.”
It’s not a complete lie either.
He looks ahead, out over the ocean and the ship. “Well then, okay. Clunk, bring coffee.”
“Sprout, bring coffee,” Clunk tells somebody else.
It takes a little while but it arrives and we’re brought a tray, complete with two cups of hot water, some sachets of instant coffee, a bowl of sugar and a couple of spoons. No milk.
Never mind, I’ll just have to have it sweeter. I can’t drink it without milk usually but it has been so long since I had coffee.
“How do you take yours?” I ask him, acting every bit the well-behaved captive.
“Two sugars.”
“Do you think…” I start, stirring the sugar into his cup. My voice trails off as I lose the courage to ask.
“What do you need?” His voice is deep and commanding, not his usual soft tone that he typically uses around me.
Now I’ve chickened out even more. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me.” His eyes remain ahead and I’m glad of that.
I get to look at his profile, his growing stubble, his unscarred side, his big, green eye.
“I want to call my mum, so she knows I’m okay.”
I see him tense before he pauses for at least thirty seconds. “Your mum?”
“She’s old and has a bad heart.”
“I’m not surprised what with her only children being convicts.”
My jaw drops. “That’s a shitty thing to say. We love our mum.”
“Clearly.”
My shame and rage rise. “What do you know about it? You have no idea the kind of life I’ve led.”
“Tell me about it.” He looks at me earnestly, imploringly. “I want to know. Why were you arrested? Why is your brother in prison for life?”
