by Lora Edwards
Ovidia nodded. She had repeatedly told Mrs. Avery at the beginning that she did not need to serve her, that cooking and cleaning were more than enough, but she would have none of it. Ovidia had stopped protesting and just went with it.
Ovidia crossed out of the kitchen into the small dining nook. Erik was already sitting at the tall bistro table, the long silver tapered candles were lit, and the bottle of wine had been opened, allowing it to breathe. It looked like a romantic dinner for two, and it made Ovidia’s heart ache. She had once loved to watch Erik’s features in the candlelight as it played off the hard planes of his face, sparkling in his blue eyes.
If this was his bid to soften her up, there was no need; she knew the importance of the mission. They had to be in sync during their work. She would bury the snark and treat him like any other colleague at the institute.
“Thank you for opening the wine. I hope you like manicotti,” Ovidia said, knowing full well that Erik loved Italian food.
“Anything made by Mrs. Avery will be fantastic, I am sure,” he said just as she came out of the kitchen holding two steaming plates piled high with pasta, gooey cheese, and tomato sauce. The smell of spice and garlic filled the room. Ovidia felt her stomach grumble.
“Thank you Mrs. Avery, this looks wonderful,” Ovidia gushed.
“Fantastic as always,” Erik said, laughing at the blush that crossed Mrs. Avery’s cheeks.
Ovidia smiled; he had always been able to charm her.
“Oh go on Erik. There is tiramisu in the refrigerator for dessert. I better be off—the mister will be wanting some dinner,” she said as she bustled off toward the kitchen.
“She has to go cook another meal,” Erik asked incredulously.
“Of course not—she always makes enough to take home plus a bit for me to have for leftovers if I choose. I’m not an ogre, Erik. I wouldn’t have that woman slave over a hot stove twice in one night,” Ovidia snapped as she dug her fork into her meal.
“I wasn’t implying that, Ovidia, I was just making conversation,” Erik said tightly as he dug into his own meal. It was quiet for a bit except for the sounds of chewing and the clink of the wine bottle against their glasses.
When they had both eaten their fill, Ovidia sat back in her chair. “Let’s take the wine to the living room. We can hash out some mission details and the truce,” she said, grabbing her glass and the bottle. She sauntered off to the living room, not looking back to see if he followed.
The room was all Ovidia with bright splashes of color, from the paintings on the wall done in the Jackson Pollock style to the glass and chrome coffee table kept to a shine by Mrs. Avery surrounded by a butter-soft wraparound leather couch that was surprisingly comfortable.
“I don’t think you’ve changed a thing in here Vid. I always liked your style—brash, bold, and surprisingly comfortable, just like you,” Erik said, sipping his wine while eyeing her over his wine glass, his eyes a glacial blue.
Ovidia felt relaxed from the wine and just let her gaze roam over his face. He was the classic Norse with silky blond hair worn long and tied back in a leather thong and glacial blue eyes that could pierce with cold or warm to blue fire. His face was all angles, sharp cheekbones and an aristocratic nose, down to full lips and a sharp chin. She let her gaze continue to roam down his body. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him; he was all muscle, and he had the features of a true warrior. Battle scars marked his skin where he hadn’t been fast enough to dodge a blade. She herself had given a few of those scars in their younger days as they practiced to become the warriors they were now.
She let her eyes wander back up to his and noticed the smolder in them.
“Ovidia.” He said it gruffly, both prayer and plea present in his voice.
“Okay Erik, let’s start with mission particulars, and then we can move on to the more personal topics,” she said, gulping her wine. She needed to get things back to business or she would drown in those artic blue eyes, and she didn’t know if she would survive the heartache of losing him another time.
“Have you ever had a mission in this time period before,” Ovidia asked him. She knew he had been involved in secret missions for the institute and was curious how much he was willing or at liberty to reveal.
“No, and before you ask, I’m not hiding anything. I have been to many places with my secret work for the institute, but I have not been to this place in this time,” Erik said.
“So you have been to other places in this time?”
“Yes, and that is all I am at liberty to tell you about those missions,” he said firmly.
“Fine, keep your secrets. What is our cover going to be? Besides the obvious that we are looking for work in the pirating trade. Clearly it has been decided that I will pose as a woman as my wardrobe is not made for a man,” Ovidia said.
“I believe we should just pose as two pirates who have lost their ship and are looking to hook up with another ship. Blackbeard is aware of who we are, as he is a member of the institute. The issue will be getting temporary work to get our feet wet, so to speak.”
“Do you think they will hire a woman? There are some legends that say a woman on a ship is bad luck,” Ovidia said, worrying over the detail.
“I think that once they see your fighting prowess in action, they will forget you’re a woman. Besides, you are not going to be high maintenance and will work just as hard as the other members of the crew. You might have to break a few noses to get the point across that you are not to be trifled with, but I have every confidence that you can handle that.”
Ovidia eyes lit up at the prospect of a fight. “Oh, this mission is going to be such fun,” she said, smiling. “As for the personal, I am committed to being professional. After the work is complete, we will go our separate ways and things will go back to normal,” Ovidia stated simply, as if she could just wipe away all feelings she had for him.
Erik nodded. “That sounds like a good plan to me.”
Ovidia felt a small stab of disappointment that he didn’t fight her more on that point. He’d said he felt they were too intense for each other, and apparently he still felt that way. No matter; it was what she wanted anyway.
“All right then, I think we have the details in place. Are you ready to play pirate,” she asked in a playful voice.
“Arrgg matey, dontcha be stealing my treasure map,” he said in a horrific pirate accent that had her laughing.
“That is the worst pirate accent I have ever heard. You better work on that,” she said, walking him to the door.
“I thought it was quite accurate, thank you,” Erik said, slightly miffed that she hadn’t loved his accent. He had heard her laugh, though…
“See you in the morning at eight o’clock sharp for a last briefing in Armand’s office, and then a-pirating we go, matey.” Ovidia said the last few words in an equally awful accent that had Erik chuckling as she shut the door behind him.
Ovidia shook her head; they had fallen right back into the routine of working together. They made a good team, and they were going to kick this mission’s ass. She sauntered into her bedroom, changing into a silk nightgown then slipping between the sheets. Who knew the next time she was going to get good rest.
Chapter 7
Ovidia tapped her foot impatiently as she cooled her heels in the waiting room outside the director’s office. She was raring to go, to get this briefing over with and start the mission. She always felt keyed up before a mission, but this one, she was so excited about. There was an excellent chance that there would be fighting, and all of her training with her cutlass would be put to use.
Ovidia looked over at Amand’s admin typing away at the computer, her long lethal nails clicking on the keys. She could always get a rise out of Cleo while she waited, although it wasn’t a good idea to tease a dragon.
“Don’t even think about it Vid—just because mission excitement has gotten you all hyped up, you don’t want to grab that dragon by the tail,” came a whisper in he
r ear. Ovidia whirled around to find a grinning Erik behind her.
“I was not thinking about doing any such thing,” she stage-whispered to him.
Erik just lifted one eyebrow in response.
“Erik, darling, how have you been,” cooed Cleo from her desk. She had always had an eye for strong tough men, and Erik was just her type.
An easy smile slid across his face, and Ovidia watched him walk over to lean on the dragon’s desk. “Cleo, sweetheart, rip anyone’s heart out lately,” Erik asked with a chuckle.
Cleo pouted her plump lips, which were outlined in red to match her dress. “No. Since Bran went off and mated with that fae girl, I have been ever so lonely,” she said, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her red lips.
A man would have to be dead longer than Armand not to pick up on that invitation, Ovidia thought, rolling her eyes.
Erik patted Cleo’s hand in a friendly gesture. “There are more fish in the sea, darling. I’m sure it won’t be long until you catch one.” He gave her a boyish wink as Armand opened the door to his office, gesturing for them to come in.
Ovidia couldn’t help smirking at Cleo as she walked by the desk. “Better luck next time, darling,” she said, drawing out the sarcastic endearment.
Ovidia was pleased to see Cleo’s eyes narrow and a curl of smoke come out of her nose. She and Erik may not have been a couple anymore, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was marking her territory.
Putting Cleo and her manhunting out of her mind, Ovidia focused on the task at hand. The sooner this meeting was over, the sooner they could get to pirating.
“Thank you both for coming. I know you are in a hurry to get the mission started, so I will make this brief,” Armand said as he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a rolled-up scroll of parchment. “As you know you, will be setting sail with Blackbeard to help solve the disappearance of a Siren princess. Here is the map to the Sirens’ island. It is heavily guarded. I have had amulets made, and there are enough here for the two of you, Blackbeard, and a crew. When you get close to the island, it will protect you from the Siren song. No one but people with Siren, or mermaid blood are immune to their call, and they are fiercely protective of their home.
“Merrik the Siren King has been made aware that we are sending a team and that they will be protected. These should keep you safe. Do not take them off once you have started sailing. The waters there are tricky and the island will sneak up on you. I don’t want to lose two of my best operatives to a silly mistake.” Armand finished handing them the parchment and a blue velvet bag, the items inside clinking together. “I know this doesn’t need to be said, but be careful.”
Ovidia and Erik nodded then practically skipped out of the office, making Armand shake his head.
“A quick stop at wardrobe and we are on our way,” Ovidia said, pumping her fist in the air.
“Vid, your excitement is contagious. I forgot how you get right before a mission,” he said, chuckling.
She smiled. He had always indulged the different sides of her; it was one of the things that had made them such good friends as children and made her value him so much as they grew into adulthood.
Maybe they could still be friends. She missed being with someone she could be completely herself with.
Dressed in her period costume with a small leather shoulder bag and satchel, she waited in the ready room for Erik.
“Vid, are you sick,” he asked, glancing down at the meager amount of belongings she was taking back with her.
“No, but I am going to have to be hauling it around with me everywhere, so there is no sense in bringing things I don’t need, although it was painful to leave my shoes behind—I think they were pouting.”
Erik just rolled his eyes. “Ready to go,” he asked, that glow coming back into his gaze.
“Oh yes, more than ready,” Ovidia said, taking his hand.
Odin had bestowed Erik with the gift of time travel, as well as the gift of magic that all of the people of their world possessed. It came in handy as they would not need to use a mirror to travel back, Ovidia could just take his hand and close her eyes and he would jump them to their destination.
Ovidia smiled, closing her eyes seconds later, she felt the wind in her hair, smelled the sea, and heard the creak of boats in the harbor. She was there in 1718, and it was time for some pirating.
“Okay Vid, let’s go find some place with rooms for rent and get something to drink at a local tavern, that way we can scope out a pirate ship looking for a couple of crew members.”
Ovidia nodded and slung her satchel over her shoulder, following Erik as he strode off the dock and into Port Royal. They looked just like what they purported themselves to be: a couple of sailors looking for a new ship to call home.
They quickly secured a pair of rooms in a boarding house right off the docks. It was quaint but clean, and it was not like they would be spending a lot of time in it anyway.
That taken care of, they found a seaside tavern and sat at a rough wooden table, sipping on mugs of the local brew, seeing and being seen.
“Erik, this stuff is truly awful,” Ovidia said as she took another glug of the beer.
“I know, but we better get used to it—safer than drinking the water in this time, that’s for sure,” he said, winking at one of the barmaids as they came to deliver their second round.
“Hello there sweetheart, my partner here and I are looking to get some work on a ship—have you heard of any that are looking for a couple of hardworking shipmates,” he asked, winking at her again, pulling out all of his charm.
“No self-respecting ship is going to take her on, that’s for sure. Them sailors are mighty strange about having a woman aboard their ship,” she said, giving Ovidia’s attire a disdainful look.
“Well now, we are not looking for reputable, if you know what I am meaning, darlin,” Erik drawled out, taking the woman’s hand as she giggled and blushed.
“Sir, stop. I am sure your missus there doesn’t appreciate you hanging on another woman while she looks on,” the woman said, giving Ovidia a decidedly hostile glance.
“Oh no, she isn’t the missus.” Erik laughed as if the thought was just ridiculous. “She’s my business partner. Wilder than a March hare is that one—why, she would rather cut ya than look at ya, she would,” Erik said, causing the barmaid to glance at Ovidia warily.
Playing her part, Ovidia slouched down in her seat and gave the girl a menacing grin.
“I did hear tell of one of the captains looking for mates. He frequents the tavern there at the end of the row, The Drunken Hare. You might be able to get the kind of work you’re lookin for down there. We run a reputable place here, we do,” she said, and with one more blush and giggle at Erik’s wink, she bustled off to serve other customers.
“Good to know you haven’t lost your touch with the ladies,” Ovidia said dryly.
“Vid, you aren’t jealous, are you,” Erik asked teasingly.
“Jealous? Are you crazy? I am not jealous. If you fancy a tumble in the hay with the likes of that one, you just go right on ahead. I won’t be stopping you,” Ovidia said hotly, drinking down the rest of her beer and standing. “Let’s wander down to that tavern she mentioned to see if we can get on a ship, then you can come back here and woo your little tart for all I care.” Ovidia strode out of the tavern.
Erik looked after her, and Ovidia missed the grin and then the look of longing that slid over his face as he watched her walk out. He was not as unaffected by her as he pretended to be, and he missed her as much as she missed him. He knew he had made a mistake, and after the mission was over, he was going to work on making it right.
Ovidia and Erik walked into the tavern and both grinned. It was full of filthy, rowdy pirates.
“Now this is my kind of place,” Ovidia said, striding up to the bar.
Ovidia, who liked designer outfits and shoes, who was elegant and sassy. She also fit right in with the pirates and riffraf
f, and from the ear-to-ear grin on her face, she was loving every minute of it.
“Two ales if you please, bartender,” she called out above the din. The barkeep grunted then looked her way, his mouth falling open.
“Great, we’ve been here less than a minute and there is going to be a fight,” Erik grumbled as he made his way across the room toward Ovidia.
The other men in the tavern started to notice her, and many a lady of the evening was dumped on the floor as the men took in the new beauty that had strolled into their bar.
Erik saw one adventurous soul sidle closer to Ovidia so he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, readying himself for the fight that was probably to come.
“Aren’t you just a comely lass? Why dontcha come sit on my lap and keep me company? I have long been at sea, and you are just the tasty morsel to welcome me back to dry land,” the pirate said to Ovidia as he reached out and grabbed her bottom.
Erik sighed and started to move through the crowd. It would be easier to protect her back if he were closer; Ovidia could protect her own front.
“Excuse me sir, did you just grab my ass,” the smoothness of her voice belying the threat that lay just under the silken tones.
“And what if I did, my pretty? What are you going to be doing about it,” the man asked. He was large and swarthy with arms and legs well muscled from fighting and the duties of working on a ship. It wasn’t work for the weak, and his body showed it.
He roughly grabbed Ovidia by the arm, likely planning to drag her upstairs and have his way with her.
Erik took pity on the poor man and tried to help him out. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sir. The lady there, she has a nasty bite when riled,” he said.
“What it’s to you? Mind your own business. This is between the wench and me.”
Erik closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Okay mate, it’s your funeral,” he said.
“Did you just call me a wench,” Ovidia said, her voice going one octave higher. Erik smiled as he saw her eyes light up with berserker rage. The man was going to get what was coming to him and she was going to prove herself to these rowdy pirates, all on the first evening.