* * *
Gilly shifted for more comfort in the hard chair at the captain’s table, waiting for him to join her. She never thought she would be back in his quarters again. The last time he called her here didn’t end well. Perhaps this time would be different. She drummed her fingernails against the smooth tabletop. What was keeping him?
His musky scent and the aged wood of the cabin pervaded the air she breathed, hushing what was left of her fear. She scanned his shelves. Nautical instruments she could not name, maps, leather-bound books, and gold, ivory and silver drinking tankards lined the case. Many things denoting this man wasn’t a mere captain—he was a master of his trade, whatever that may be. Gilly decided she admired that about him.
Captain Drake entered in grand fashion, like a wild tempest blowing ashore, and lit on the edge of his desk. “Your groom found you,” he said as a matter of fact.
“Groom?” Ah, yes, yes. Her reason for leaving St. Augustine. She squirmed in her seat. “It would seem so.” If she were to take up lying, she should do better to remember her fibs. “I don’t want to keep you from whatever it was you were doing.”
“You’re not.” He uncorked a rum bottle.
“But you said…”
He lifted the bottle in a mock toast before taking a drink.
“I couldn’t help but notice you have a fondness for liquor.” Much more than Hyde.
“Do you really want to speak to me of transgression.” He nodded to her bag.
She collared a strand of hair, twirling it, and attempted to draw the attention away from herself. “You never did tell me about your painting of the naked woman? Where did you come by such a delightful piece?” Not surprisingly, he ignored her question. The man was not easy to thwart.
“From Henri’s account, your intended was angry,” he said. “Henri also said he was after something.”
“There’s been a misunderstanding.” Gilly twirled her lock of hair faster. She had imprudently hoped conversation would not turn to her attack in the alley.
“Why don’t you enlighten me?”
What could she say? She had already lied to him and truly despised that she did so. What would he think of her if she told him the truth now? She didn’t want him to scorn her any more than he already did. She must make this mess go away. “It’s nothing. He thought I had something of his.”
The captain raised his brow.
“I don’t,” she added quickly.
“Some men believe their bride to be a possession.” He studied her over the upward tilt of his bottle whilst he enjoyed a quaff.
“Do you?” she countered, quite inquisitive with his answer.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “In some ways I do.”
“How so?”
“My woman is mine to protect.” He paused, thoughtful. “Much like this chandelier.” He kicked at the chest beside his desk. “The chandelier is valuable to me and I shall take great care of it. When polished, it will shine. When lit, it will be lovely and bring me pride and pleasure.”
“Yet, the chandelier is ill-gotten.”
“As are most of my wenches.” A lusty grin grew across his winsome face and he made a cursory sweep down to her chest.
Did he consider her his wench? Nay, not with the way he dumped her on the floor last night. Her bum still hurt. Nevertheless, her nipples tingled under his slow, heated survey. “You do have a way with trickery and charm.”
“Not trickery. Assure yourself I am a man who does not give in to gratuitous behavior. But you are intimately aware of that.”
Her cheeks flushed hot. She managed to wrap the strand of hair into a knot around her finger.
“My charm, dear lady, only attracts those who wish to shine for me.”
Good Lord, the captain had her flustered. She worked to free her finger and untangle the snarl. “It sounds as if a woman is an ornament for you to flaunt.”
“I’ll grant you that. But that is for me and my woman. No one would expect less from an irreprehensible pirate devil…” he canted his bottle toward her, “…and neither should you. However, I don’t believe it as such for a wedded couple. Then the husband should devote his life to protecting his wife, loving her, and seeing to her happiness, for through her, his legacy lives on.”
“A wife shouldn’t be a prize to merely display and preserve. She, too, should see to protecting, loving and bringing happiness to her husband.”
“Bah!” Captain Drake slammed the bottle on his desk and rose. “In the face of real danger, a woman is to protect her offspring, not her man. Not her man!” He marched around to the bank of windows and stared out into the bay. Leaning his arm on the pane, his fist clenched so that Gilly could see the whites of his knuckles.
Quietly she sat with her hands in her lap, unsure of what she had done to make him angry. Time ticked off. His silence was too much. “I’m sorry, Captain Drake.”
“Thayer,” he corrected her. “I think we are beyond formalities, Gilly. Don’t you agree?”
Her heart flipped at his use of her nickname. He sounded so…possessive. Of course, with the current discussion, she was probably imagining things.
He continued to gaze out at the horizon. “We’ve gotten away from the situation at hand,” he said. “What is his name?”
“Whose?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Gilly. What is his name?”
“Lowell Mather.” There was no harm in telling him who her attacker was and she wouldn’t be lying.
“What does Mather want?”
“Nothing that I can give him.” Another truth.
The silence stretched too long.
“I speak true.”
“Well then, Gilly—” he turned from the windows, “—I will grant you asylum on board Rissa for as long as necessary.”
“I’ve absolutely nothing to pay you in return.”
He smirked. “As I pointed out earlier, I’m not of the gratuitous nature. I’m sure we can work something out.”
She rose to meet him.
“I must return to shore for a spell,” he said. “Stay on the ship and do not venture to the lower decks.”
He made it as far as the door, before she reached out to stop him. His eyes fell upon her grip.
“Thank you, Thayer.”
Without a word, he left.
Chapter Eleven
Drake kept a watchful eye out for the Mather fellow whilst he finished up business. He would have rather finished up business at The Black Dog. But as his day took an unexpected turn, so did his plans. He sent Henri and Sam to finish stocking the ship’s provisions, making damned sure they procured plenty more rum and ale. With his other two trusted men, Valeryn and Willie, otherwise indisposed in town, he had no one to entrust with Gilly’s safety. He opted to stake men around the ship, letting no one on board who didn’t belong. As long as she stayed put, she would be fine. Past experience reminded him that women didn’t always do as they were told. He needed to get back to the docks soon.
The Bristol Inn, a large red building at the end of the avenue, had a splendid view of the piers. The keeper had decent hot meals, spicy punch and lively music. Drake preferred a dimly lit den, but the alehouse was popular among jack tars in port. ’Twould be a good place for someone keeping watch on the wharf. A man could see who came and went down the quay.
Drake entered the establishment and paused at the door. To the left, a musician played the harpsichord and several high-spirited dancers kicked and twirled on a small stage, coaxing randy dogs to part with their money. The girls hardly danced at all as they scooped up the coins thrown at them. To the right, a long bar lined with patrons. Drake scanned the smoky room. No sign of Mather, his crony, or the little pimple, Abel. He nodded to the inn’s proprietor and took a table in the
rear, his back to the wall. He didn’t bother removing his hat. A man with his hat low over his eyes became inconspicuous. If someone did happen to notice him, there would be no doubt he did not invite company. Drake preferred to watch others from under his brim. No one would be sure if he was staring at them and that made folks uncomfortable.
The owner set a full tankard on the table before him. “Drake.”
“McKinley.” Drake didn’t look up.
“I don’t want no trouble,” McKinley said. “I still haven’t patched up that hole from your last visit.”
Drake smiled to himself. The hole in the wall behind the bar was the size of the chap’s head who thought to rough up a wench. The maggot learned a painful lesson that day. “I’ll do my best.”
Jolly dogs, drunk to their gills, guffawed and caroused throughout the place. Drake focused on the tables along the large windows. If Mather entered, he likely would take up a spot where he could keep vigil, watching and waiting for Gilly. He didn’t come across the Florida Straits because of a misunderstanding. Be it his bride or something more, the man wasn’t leaving empty-handed.
Drake had been restless as of late and Mather molesting Gilly gave him a good excuse to do a little hunting of his own. In truth, he hardly needed an excuse to get into a scrap. It was sporting fun. However, he’d drink a bowl of brimstone and fire with Beelzebub before he’d let a man lay an angry hand to a girl. With the murderous glare Mather wore, Drake would wager Gilly had much more in store for her than a sharp backhand. He would make sure that didn’t happen.
Drake was into his third cup when Mather and his crony waltzed in. They approached a table already occupied by the window. Cross words were spoken and Mather’s strong arm tossed a lad out of his seat. The table cleared and Mather made himself comfortable. They ordered ale and slouched back in their chairs.
Let them take their ease, and then he’d move in. Drake finished off his punch and was about to rise until a new development to this scouting party arrived. He snarled. Lynch. The fat conch, led by Abel, joined the renegades. The men had an intense discussion lasting through another cup. What were those bastards up to? Did any of it have to do with Gilly? Finally Lynch shook Mather’s hand and left, Abel trailing after him.
He got up, laid coins on the bar and nodded to McKinley. The keep had a hopeful expression. That was until Drake added more coins to the pile. Poor fellow, his shoulders slumped, and he made quick with clearing bottles and glasses from the bar. Drake suppressed a smile and strode over to meet with his new foe.
“See that ship there?” Drake took a vacant seat next to Mather, thumbing toward the window. “She’s a mighty fine ship, wouldn’t you say, Mather?”
Mather tensed with anger for a mere moment. “So I hear.”
“Aye. She’s got quite a reputation, eh?”
“As does her captain,” he said.
Drake chuckled and removed his hat. “Good to know. I noticed your interest in my ship.” Drake leaned over the table on his arm. “Why is that?”
“Let’s trifle not.” Mather relaxed back into his chair. “You’ve got a woman on board.”
Good. No mincing words.
“Lovely lass, isn’t she?” Mather continued.
“Cough up your tale,” Drake said. “And call off your harem girl. I’ve no wish to waste gunpowder on him.”
Mather spoke to his crony without looking away from Drake. “Stow your weapon, Turk.”
The wretch withdrew his gun he had aimed at Drake under the table, but he remained on high alert.
“Gillian McCoy is a prize I had the good fortune to acquire. She belongs to me.” Mather took a casual sip of his ale.
“My men said otherwise.”
“We had a simple dispute, yes, and don’t quite see eye to eye on the unfortunate result of a mishap. If she will allow me, I’m quite sure I can straighten the whole matter out.”
“She seemed fairly resolute in staying clear of you.”
“You’re a man accustomed to marauding and staking claim, no? Once you’ve taken your due, you’re not wont to relinquish your reward, are you? Plain and true, you can appreciate how I might want her back.”
“All the same, unless she seeks to reunite with you, Miss McCoy will be staying with me.”
Mather’s complacent smile tightened with his glacial stare. His head jerked with the twitch of his jaw muscles. His tongue flicked out. The man grated his teeth in great effort to control the spasm. “That’s too bad.”
“Oh?” Drake did enjoy a challenge. ’Twas laughable this miscreant would taunt him with a warning.
“Aye. One way or another I will get to her,” Mather said. He tilted his head. “I would hate for someone to get hurt when I do.”
“She must be worth it to risk your life over.” Oddly, his own words rang in his ears.
“Not my life,” he retorted, quite confidently.
A lanky lad entered the inn and rushed up to the table, unaware of Drake.
“Mather. Everything is ready.”
Drake didn’t have to look up to know it was Abel again. Or that Abel froze solid upon seeing him. The beanrake started to turn away, but Drake snatched up the front of his shirt. Quick as a viper he yanked Abel down level and bashed his fist into his nose.
Abel flew back and landed on a table, toppling it. Bottles and cups flew through the air. The men who’d been sitting there showered him with irate obscenities. Soon, Abel, no less deserving, was having his arse kicked to the scuppers. He would be laid up for some time licking those wounds. One soused chap at the table jumped to his feet and inadvertently bumped the fellow behind him with his seat. It was all very amusing to witness the bedlam unfold. Punches were thrown, chairs flew across the room. Two sots chased squealing, giggling dancing girls around the stage whilst the harpsichord player pounded out a livelier tune. And poor McKinley. The chap poured himself a drink and sat in the corner.
It was time to leave before Drake took up the fight. Damn, how he loved a good fight. But not this time. He had an overwhelming urge to return to his ship and lay his deadlights on the sweet lass to make certain she was safe. He’d try to figure out why this particular bit of armful mattered to him later.
“You’ll leave the woman be, Mather. Am I clear?” Drake donned his hat, tipping it up just enough for Mather to see he meant his sound advice. “Go back whence you came. She is through with you.”
Drake did not break eye contact with Mather as a man crashed onto the table between them. The addled lad cleared his head and smiled. Turk grabbed him by his collar and tossed him back into the mayhem.
“Noble of you to act as her protector. I wonder if you are courting her favor. Hearken and be forewarned, Captain Drake.”
Mather sneered out Drake’s name as if he were a vile man unworthy of recognition. Aye, he wouldn’t deny it.
“I will get Miss McCoy.” His tongue fidgeted again. “And I will put a bullet in your brisket should you try and stop me.”
“You will match yourself against me?” Drake smirked. Overly confident, this landlubber. Now Drake was obliged to see him bleed. “Never has a man looked me in the eye with threats and lived to see a good day afterwards. Take that as a Bible oath.”
* * *
The dark sky twinkled with millions of stars. So close it seemed to Gilly that she could reach up and stir them with her fingertips. Sparkling lights shimmered on as far as the eye could see, making it difficult to tell where the heavens ended and the earth’s horizon began. Warm sailing winds caressed her cheeks and fluttered through her hair, carrying soft scents of briny tides. Sails flapped against the breezes and the water below carried the ship silently across the vast sea. Nighttime on the ocean brought peace to her soul. She should make a serious decision to settle close to the sea.
Gilly had sat quietly on t
he poop deck since the Rissa left New Providence. Henri had brought her a plate of food and she had shared a meal with Willie as he navigated the ship. She enjoyed her new friends, though Henri was still quite a crusty crab. Willie was a terrific conversationalist and when she retreated to the deck overlooking the wheel, he gave her the silence she craved. He held his tongue when he caught her taking another dose of laudanum, as well.
’Twas rare that she wanted to be alone. But this night, she needed to sort through the thoughts flitting through her head like minnows in a puddle. Captain Drake, Thayer, had her wound tighter than that winch used to bring up the anchor; the anchor windlass, Willie had called it.
She had been relieved Thayer had given her a refuge from Mather. Deep down, if she cared to go that far, his involvement made her hopeful. Hopeful that he had a sliver of compassion for her. Not as a woman in need, but as a woman he might, even a tiny bit, like. Childish, wistful, foolishly smitten ideas.
Now Gilly was on her way to Havana. Once they made the Spanish island, what would become of her then? Would Mather catch up to her there? She didn’t want to think about it. She had a few more days with the captain and she would focus on making them count.
Thayer retreated to his quarters upon returning from town and sent her away. He and Valeryn had matters to discuss that did not concern her. Or so she was informed. And that was fine by her. She didn’t understand much of their shipboard jargon, although she was learning. Gilly hadn’t seen Thayer since and she pondered if he avoided her.
The middle watch bell pealed through the mantle of quiet. The mournful toll fell on the sea’s deaf ear and an ominous shiver slipped up her spine. An image of Thayer leaning against the banister with a devilish smirk on his handsome face, waiting for her to pay her due and kiss him, flashed in her mind. A shame her debt had been fulfilled.
Midnight. She should retire.
Gilly hopped off the poop deck, nodded to the helmsman and climbed down the ladder.
“You’re up late.”
She jumped at Thayer’s rich voice. It melled into the eeriness the witching hour brought.
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