“Aww. Your birthday, is it?” Doon tilted his head and gave her a fake smile. “How sweet. Such a shame I forgot to get you a present. Shall I make you a cake instead?”
“That would be great, thanks,” Kitt answered sarcastically. She was determined to be a better smart ass than him. “I like vanilla.”
“Hmm. Such a shame. I would've liked chocolate.” Doon suddenly left the room. The abrupt end to their conversation made Kitt raise an eyebrow. Her confusion didn't last long; however, because he returned a moment later with a mop and bucket. “Happy birthday, Princess. Congratulations! You get to swab the deck.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Though it usually gave her pleasure to defy him, Kitt snatched the mop and bucket from his hands. “The last time I was on deck, I was almost assaulted by one of your men, so this should be great fun!”
“It won't happen again. You'll have a guard this time.”
“Who?” Kitt thought she saw movement in the hallway, so she peeked behind Doon's shoulder and saw a jolly Miles waving to her. “Yeah, Miles is really intimidating. He'll really frighten the big, bad pirates away.”
“No. Your guard will be me,” Doon casually informed her. “Consider yourself blessed.”
“I feel so blessed, I have tears in my eyes.” Gripping her mop tightly in her hand, Kitt headed into the hall, where Miles greeted her with a smile.
“Hello, my lady!” Miles bowed to her as he approached. He was probably the only one on the ship who believed she wasn't a princess, and yet he was the only one who treated her like one. “I asked the captain if he would allow me to assist you today, and he reluctantly agreed.”
“You want to swab the deck with me?”
“Indeed. I thought you could use an assistant.”
“Aww. Miles, you really don't have to!” Kitt's lip quivered at the thought. Miles was practically a stranger, and strangers rarely treated her with kindness. She was more accustomed to dealing with the rude, loud-mouthed regulars at Lucky's.
“I know I don't have to, miss, but it would make me happy to help!” Miles was still smiling as he brandished his mop in the air. “Who knows? Perhaps we will even find a way to make it fun!”
“Mmm. I highly doubt that, but I appreciate your optimism.”
The three of them made their way to the deck. Despite the unfortunate situation she was in, Kitt marveled at the bountiful blue sky that surrounded them. The clouds were so close, they were practically tempting her to touch.
Then Doon cleared his throat, reminding her she had a very specific purpose. “Where should I start?” Kitt asked the captain.
“Take your pick, love. There's bird shit everywhere.” Doon had already pulled a cigarette from his pocket and was in the process of lighting it. He seemed to have very little interest in anything beyond that.
As she grumbled unladylike curses under her breath, Kitt dunked her mop into the sudsy bucket and then slapped it against the deck. Miles followed suit, although he somehow managed to make it look genteel. Kitt noticed she had another helper: a young ginger-haired boy, possibly seventeen or eighteen, with a scab on his chin. Kitt wasn't going to bother asking who he was, but Miles volunteered the information.
“This is Zeke.” Miles gently patted the youth's shoulder as he introduced him. “He doesn't say much, but he's a nice young lad.”
Zeke murmured a soft “hello,” before getting right to work.
“Hello, Zeke. Is that short for Ezekiel?” Kitt tried to make polite conversation, but the young man looked panicked by the question. “Well... I guess it doesn't matter. It's lovely to meet you. I hope you're nice. Miles is nice, but it seems he might be a rarity around here.” Kitt's eyes were heated as her gaze shifted to Captain Doon. He was staring straight ahead, with one hand resting on his gun. In his other hand, he was pinching his haphazardly rolled cigarette between two fingers. As he brought it to his lips, his eyes briefly flickered to Kitt, who quickly looked away as soon as he caught her watching him.
Swabbing the deck was unsurprisingly tedious. Her mop went back and forth, back and forth, and then around in circles. She half-expected the overlord, Doon, to criticize her technique, but he was curiously silent. When Kitt studied Miles in the corner of her eye, she felt a bit guilty, because he was constantly pulling out a handkerchief to swipe his sweaty brow. He was dedicating as much time to mopping his forehead as he was to mopping the deck.
It was easy to lose track of time during their menial task. After five minutes—or was it ten—Kitt attempted to engage her silent co-worker in conversation once again. “So, uh... Zeke... how long have you been on Doon's airship?”
The young man's shoulders leapt up in the briefest of shrugs. “Dunno.”
Once again, it was Miles who answered on Zeke's behalf. “Young Zeke has been with us since he was fourteen. So... that makes it about three years now?”
“Wow, that's a long time!” Kitt exclaimed. “Surely you have family out there somewhere, right? Do you ever miss them? Do they ever worry about you?”
“No.” Zeke slapped his mop into the water bucket so hard, it nearly toppled over. His aggressive reaction made Kitt wonder if she had poked a sore spot. “I like flyin.”
“Ezekiel is an orphan, my lady,” Miles quietly explained. “When we found him, he was living in the worst sort of squalor you can imagine. The captain took him in. He rescued him.”
Suddenly, Doon slammed his boot against the ship's deck. “Less talking, more working!” he barked at them.
Though she immediately resumed her mopping, Kitt did so while silently glowering at the captain. It seemed morally questionable that he, a man in his twenties, would demand anything of a kind, older gentleman like Miles.
“Stop glaring at me, Your Highness. Your puckered nose makes you look hideous.” Doon took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke from his lips, letting it sail in her direction. “Oh, and by the way, you will be joining me in my cabin for supper tonight. And before you give me another one of your mind-numbingly boring protests, be assured you have absolutely no choice in the matter.”
“I can hardly wait!” Kitt answered sarcastically. “Is this how you invite all the girls to dinner? You demand it? I'm sure they swoon for you.”
Doon and Miles exchanged glances, then the captain shrugged and said, “When you come, be sure to wear one of your dresses.”
Kitt decided she had tested her luck long enough. After nearly an hour of swabbing, she was escorted back to her bedchamber, where she finally succumbed to the captain's demands. Kitt studied herself in the looking glass as she laced up the emerald green gown. Flounce and frills and lace just didn't suit her, and she stared at her reflection with the most sour expression on her face.
“Stupid...” Kitt grumbled under her breath as she tugged on the lace that swallowed the cuff of her dress. “I look... stupid.”
Miles had an entirely different opinion. He was standing outside her door, patiently waiting for her to change into her gown. As soon as he saw her emerge from her room, he exclaimed, “Marvelous, my lady! Splendid! You truly are a remarkably beautiful young woman.”
“Thanks... but I hate these clothes.” Kitt could feel her shoulders sagging as they made their way to the captain's quarters. She was sure the actual princess would never suffer from such terrible posture.
Since she was forced to wear a fancy dress to dinner, she expected Doon to be dressed up too—but he was just as shabby as ever. He was wearing a fraying blue-gray trench coat with a patch sewn onto the sleeve. His messy brown hair was tucked away under a worn black bowler hat, and the cigarette between his lips only made him look even more like the rogue he was.
Doon removed the cigarette and said, “Well, well. You almost look nice.”
“And you look as tragic as ever,” Kitt countered. “Seriously, do you ever not smoke?”
Doon brought the cigarette to his lips and peered at her over his fingers. “Where's the fun in that?” To Miles, he said, “I wo
n't be needing you for the rest of the night.”
“Very well, sir.” Miles bowed as he backed away from them. “Do take care, my lady.”
Kitt was pouting as she watched Miles leave. She doubted Doon would hurt her, but being alone with him made her apprehensive.
“So. Your Highness...” Doon swaggered to the table in the center of the room and extinguished his cigarette on its surface. “What would you like to drink? Wine? Rum? Water? If I was you, I wouldn't choose water. I can't guarantee its cleanliness.”
“Wine,” Kitt answered with a sigh. Her eyes were narrowed as she took a seat at the table. “I am a princess, after all... right? That's what you tell me, anyway. And I'm sure most princesses drink wine.”
Doon was snickering as he tilted the wine bottle toward her glass. “Cheeky, aren't you? You know, I secretly enjoy your snarky tongue.”
“It's not such a secret anymore,” Kitt pointed out as she raised her glass to her lips. “Be honest with me, Doon. Do you really think I'm still the princess?”
“It doesn't really matter if I do or don't.” Doon sat across from her, removed his hat, and ran a hand through his hair—which did nothing to tame the tousled tresses. “Whether you're the princess or not, it doesn't matter to me. If you're not the princess, it's not as if I'm going to turn around and take you home. You're the princess' doppelganger, and I'll collect my reward either way.”
“But isn't that dangerous?”
“Is what dangerous?” With an indolent shrug, Doon leaned forward and poured himself a shot of rum.
“To bring back a girl who's not really the daughter of the king and queen? Call me crazy, but that sounds like something that could land you in a bit of trouble, Doon.”
“I hope it does. I rather like trouble.” Doon didn't flinch as he threw the strong spirits down his throat. As soon as it was empty, he slammed the shot glass on the table and poured himself another. A moment later, a hunched-over old man toddled into the captain's quarters to deliver their food. Doon didn't thank him, he simply waved him away with a flick of the wrist.
“You have a knack for friendliness. Truly,” Kitt sarcastically informed him.
“Don't I?” Doon chuckled. “I'm just too friendly for my own good.”
“In all honesty, though... I don't think you're completely vile.”
“That's a shame. When people think I'm an irredeemable ass, that usually makes me happy.” Doon drank his second shot of rum, then turned his attention to the food in front of them. Meanwhile, Kitt kept sipping on her wine while glaring at the captain.
“Is it true what they say about you?” she suddenly asked.
“They say a lot of things about me.” Doon shoved a bite of steak into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “But what have you heard about me?”
“That you're a merciless bastard who will do anything to get what he wants... even if that means killing women and children.”
Doon shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him either way. “So what if it's true? If someone's going to get in my way, if my goals are threatened, why shouldn't I cut them down?”
“So... it's true then? You've killed children?”
“Whether I have or haven't is irrelevant. I want people to believe it. The more they fear me, the better.” Doon realized her wine glass was empty, so he leaned across the table to pour her another one. Kitt descended on it quickly. While she knew that getting drunk in Doon's company probably wasn't the smartest thing she could do, she couldn't stop herself. The stress of the last few days compelled her to bring the wine glass to her lips again and again.
“So...” Kitt began. She skewered a cooked carrot with her fork and waved it at him, like some kind of ridiculous weapon. “Does anyone ever call you Francis?”
“Not if they want to keep their eyes in their sockets.”
“Ooo. Scary.” Kitt pretended to shudder. “But in all seriousness, I can't imagine a name like Francis would be very good for that big, threatening reputation you have.”
“There's nothing wrong with the name!” Doon shouted in protest. “But it's also the name my father used to call me, so I'd rather not hear it.”
“Hmm. So you have father issues? That would explain a lot.”
“You have no idea,” Doon answered with a sigh, then went back to eating his food in silence. Kitt was quiet too, and when he realized her glass was empty just a few minutes later, he lifted the wine bottle and offered her more. She gave a little nod, so he filled the glass again and said, “At this rate, Princess, you'll be on the floor before the night's end.”
“It'll be your fault,” Kitt said. “I need to drown my sorrows, and nearly all my sorrows have something to do with you.”
“I'm touched.” As he continued shoveling food into his mouth, he watched her with curiosity. Kitt was a slip of a girl, and she didn't strike him as the sort of girl who indulged in alcoholic beverages regularly. He was interested to find out how long it would take her to pass out. “I forgot to check, but... are you actually wearing shoes for once? It would be a monumental day if you were!”
“I am!” Kitt's answer was accompanied by a flirty smile that she most definitely would have not flashed at him if she was entirely sober. “I even scrubbed my feet for you, Captain!”
“I'm impressed,” he replied, “And relieved. I was growing tired of staring at your dirty toenails.”
“My toenails wasn't dirty!” Kitt shrilled. She wagged her fork in the air, as if imitating the airship itself. “And I wouldnta ever had dirty feets if my stepmum didn't take my slippers!”
“Your stepmother... took your slippers?”
“Uh huh.”
“Where they particularly special? Golden slippers, perhaps? Or glass?”
“Nuh uh.”
“Well... then why the bloody hell would she take them?”
“I dunno!” Kitt threw up her hands in confusion before taking another sip of her wine. “I dunno. I literally have no idea! She's mad. I think she just wanted to make my life a living hell.”
“I know you don't care for me, but I can't be any worse than the woman who stole your slippers, yes?” Doon was smirking. He almost enjoyed conversing with this new, intoxicated version of her.
“Riiiiight,” Kitt slurred. “Well, actually, you're a bit better than she is because at least you're handsome and not entirely terrible to look at.”
“I'm handsome, huh?” Doon leaned forward and laid his elbows against the table. “I never expected to hear you say that.”
“Aw, don't let it go to your head!” Kitt dismissed the compliment with a snort. “I've seen handsomer. Now pour me another glass!” She slammed her empty cup in front of Doon.
“I'm not sure that's a very good idea, Princess. You've been drinking too much, too quickly.”
“Pour... me... another... one!” Kitt lightly banged her glass on the table a few times. When he finally gave in to her demands, she smiled dozily.
“You're lucky you're with me and not one of the more licentious crewmen.” Doon leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “In the very near future, you're likely to be passing out or retching. If you were to pass out in front of anyone else but me, I'm afraid I couldn't guarantee your safety.”
Kitt rolled her eyes. “Oh. Right. Like being around you is so very safe!”
“But you are safest with me,” Doon assured her. “I can promise you that.”
7
When Kitt woke up the next morning, it took her a moment to realize where she was. Then she saw the table in the center of the room, where an empty wine bottle stood as a shameful memorial of the previous night.
“The Captain's room...” Kitt whispered to herself. Not only was she in the captain's room, she happened to be in the captain's bed. Panicked thoughts raced through her head as she sprang to her feet and raced to the door. How long was she there? Was it the next day? Did he take advantage of her? She was still wearing her dress and undergarments, which gave her some sm
all relief, but it wasn't as if he couldn't remove them and put them back on.
When Kitt tugged on the doorknob and it actually opened, she was a bit surprised. She had gotten so used to being locked inside her own room, she had simply grown to expect it. With her blood pumping with white-hot rage, she stormed around the airship in search of Francis Doon. One of the ship's steam engines whistled sharply as she climbed to the deck, as if to signal her arrival. A welcoming wind tugged at the bottom of her dress, pushing the material upward.
“This is why I hate dresses...” Kitt grumbled to herself. She kept her arms firmly at her sides, ready to push down the skirt if it drifted any higher. Her wind-lashed knees shivered as she made her way forward. It must have been early morning, because the airship was cutting its way through an immense fog—or were they drifting through clouds? Kitt wasn't sure. She thought she heard the sound of distant laughter, and possibly a voice that sounded like the captain's, so she let her ears guide her.
Kitt wasn't wrong. She found the captain standing with three other men, who roared with laughter as he tossed Kitt's breeches overboard.
“And what do we have next? Ah, the brassiere!” He dangled Kitt's undergarment from the tip of his finger and held it up for all to see. “Shall I toss it overboard or keep it?”
“Pitch it!” shouted one of the men.
“No... keep!” objected another. “I can think o' a few things I could do with a garment like that. I'd keep it under me pillow and bring it out on a lonely night.”
“Hmm...” Doon seemed to ponder it for a moment. “I think I'll toss it. This garment's gone a bit yellow. Surely this isn't an undergarment suitable for a princess?”
As Doon wadded up Kitt's brassiere in his fist and prepared to throw it overboard, Kitt charged forward with a roar. “Hey! Excuse me!”
Doon smiled innocently. “Oh, look. The princess awakens. Did you sleep well, Your Highness?”
Kitt's hand shot out to snatch the garment from his fist, but Doon was faster and taller than her, and he held it well above her head. “Give it back, you ass!” she hissed.
The Barefoot Barmaid (Belles & Bullets Book 1) Page 4