Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga

by Andrea Jones

  Jill continued. “Yulunga, who passed through a time of darkness and enslavement. The matchless man owned by many, and mastered by none. He couldn’t be kept. He broke free of his slavery, but before turning homeward to wreak his vengeance, a new captain commandeered the ship on which the chieftain’s son sailed— not as cargo in the hold, but as a buccaneer. That captain, alone among men, stood unafraid, and Yulunga felt his rage dissolve. Released from other men’s fear, there was one now who held him, without chains. This captain captured the strong man’s loyalty. It is the only bond that holds him.”

  In the stillness of many men, Yulunga breathed deeply. He nodded. The darkness of his face opened into a smile, and his fellow sailors grinned with relief, shuffling their feet and leaning back.

  Cecco stood to clasp Yulunga’s arm. The gypsy regarded Jill with heat in his eyes, and then his white teeth flashed as he looked up at his friend. “Yulunga! Mate…” The tension was broken.

  Jill looked content, but she was breathing rapidly. Surveying her closely, Hook supported her with his arm. “Madam?”

  “I’m all right. Just fatigued, perhaps, from last night’s festivities.”

  The doctor leaned toward her over the table. “Madam, you have exerted yourself. Please, you must rest.”

  Turning a jaundiced eye on the surgeon, LeCorbeau remarked, “A party last night, too? But Hook, what a ship of pleasure you now command!”

  “We welcomed our surgeon in proper fashion, DéDé, as we have done for you.” Turning his gaze upon his mistress again, he raised the slender hand that rested below his hook, and touched his lips to her fingers. His speech was brusque. “It is my own fault, Madam. In my selfishness I overtaxed you, but you must retire early this evening…and regain your strength.”

  “But Captain, I assure you, I am quite enjoying myself.”

  The Frenchman played the game of chivalry. “As much as I would like to hear another story, Madame, I should only relish it if I was certain you were well.”

  “Oh, but have you another subject in mind?” Her breaths came shallow.

  LeCorbeau smiled slyly. “Well, eh…perhaps a poetic history of your handsome doctor?”

  Hanover sat stiff. “Do not tire yourself, Madam. I am quite sure my history is of little interest to anyone.”

  “We cannot judge that until we hear it, eh, Monsieur? Or perhaps, like your shipmate, you have an unsavory chapter you may not wish to reveal?”

  Jill smiled warmly on the doctor. “I am certain our physician is ashamed of nothing.” She fluttered a look to Hook for her cue, then gasped and pressed her hand to her breast. “But— I’m sorry! I believe I am a bit too fatigued to continue after all.”

  Immediately, the surgeon leapt from his seat and hurried to her side. “Madam, your wrist, if you please. You are pallid.” Remembering his promise not to touch her, he waited as she took her arm from Hook’s to present it to him, and then he encircled her wrist with his fingers.

  He shook his head. “The pulse is too rapid. I insist upon escorting you to your quarters.”

  “The doctor will attend you, Madam. You must give our guest your regrets.”

  “Of course, Captain. As you will it.” Jill gathered her skirts, and Hook assisted her to stand. She said, “Commandant, good evening. It was a pleasure.”

  LeCorbeau rose to bow with ostentatious elegance. “Madame. We shall meet again! I hope your rest will restore you.”

  “As do I, my love.” Hook smiled wryly.

  Hanover scowled, then called a crisp command. “Liza! The lady’s cloak.”

  The girl plucked it from its peg and moved toward Jill. Her father snatched the wrap from her fingers and flung it open, then gently but firmly draped it over the lady’s shoulders, where his hands lingered for only a moment. The Frenchman was watching.

  Hook kissed Jill’s palm and laid it on the surgeon’s arm. “I shall come to bid you good night, Madam.” His voice sharpened. “Hanover, see to her.” The sailors stepped aside, and Jill leaned on the doctor, accepting his support as he issued his order.

  “Liza, bring my walking stick and fetch my bag.”

  Doctor and patient made their way out the door. Liza, her eyes darting between the captain and his mistress, collected the cane and reluctantly followed.

  As the silence of concern broke apart, the sailors, too, finished their drinks and began to leave the galley. Flipping his coat out of the way, LeCorbeau sat down again to sip his ale. He clapped the cup on the table, tidied his mouth, and addressed his host. “You are lucky to have happened upon your Hanover. I observe that he is very attentive— eh, to your mistress. But she is a lovely creature! It is no wonder you have abused her.”

  Unperturbed, Hook gave his guest a sardonic smile. “I endeavor to control myself, DéDé.”

  “As you do so very well in relation to the little girl…her attendant?”

  “Water to wine, LeCorbeau. The one cannot be compared to the other.”

  “Indeed? Your men seem to have no such difficulty! They are, I think, appreciating all that is served.”

  Hook studied the young French officers, still seated with Smee, Mullins, and Cecco, smiling and draining their glasses, their postures finally at ease. “I would say the same for yours, Monsieur, now that their captain isn’t watching.”

  LeCorbeau shrugged. “Eh, it is good for these young men to broaden their horizons. And speaking of this gives me the idea. My friend, you must now accept my own hospitality! I insist that, once we are assured of the woman’s welfare, you come aboard L’Ormonde and take supper with me. And your newest crewmen must also gain the experience of another ship, you must bring them. They have been on duty all this while and have missed the party! Yes, and your Mr. Smee also, and any others you wish. In this way we can continue our festivity without disturbing your so-delicate mistress.”

  As if it hadn’t been his own idea, Hook beamed with delight. “An admirable plan, DéDé. I accept. Do you still employ that fat little chef?”

  “Mais oui, his cuisine is the finest France can produce!”

  “Mr. Smee, we are invited to partake of my compatriot’s excellent fare! Relieve our young men of duty. It will be edifying for them to inspect another vessel. And we’ll bring Mr. Starkey, too, of course, to further their instruction.”

  “Aye, Captain!” Smee shoved away from the table and turned to the lingering sailors. “Finish up, lads, back to work.” He left the galley to spring up the steps, smiling, and take his post outside the master’s quarters. Starkey and his pupils what to do. The doctor bore watching.

  Mullins cast an inquiring look toward his captain. Hook made a light nod in the direction of the door, and Mullins got up, indicating to Cecco and the French officers that they should return to the deck. Benches scraped and boots scuffled. LeCorbeau excused his men, and rose to follow as the galley emptied. But Hook remained seated, amused by the growing discomfort of his guest as Mullins closed the door behind the sailors and crossed his thickset arms, leaning respectfully but firmly against it. The two captains were left, one sitting, one standing, in the swinging lanternlight.

  “DéDé. Do sit down.”

  LeCorbeau did so, in quick, stiff movements. He seemed undecided what to do with his hands.

  Hook leaned forward to rest his claw on the table. It appeared stark and menacing against the mellow wood. “If you have anything to tell me, now is the perfect opportunity.”

  The little Frenchman drew back, his hands stationary at last, having wrapped themselves around his cup. “Hook, mon ami, you surprise me! What could I possibly have to tell you?”

  “You could start with the reason you spent the last three days following my ship. Yes,” he nodded as LeCorbeau’s eyes widened with innocence, “we have spied you on the horizon, slipping in and out of sight. Exactly what do I have aboard the Roger that you believe belongs on L’Ormonde?”

  “I assure you, Hook, this evening I seek only the pleasure of your company! Our meeting is
entirely happenstance. You may have seen L’Ormonde, yes, I admit, but eh, we are in something of the same business, no? And as we have come together, I being somewhat competitive, you are naturally skeptical as to my motives, thinking perhaps I am desiring to reach the next prize ahead of you.”

  “That idea, among others, had entered my mind.”

  “But since you press me, I will be frank with you. This is not the case.”

  “Enlighten me, LeCorbeau. Just what is the case?”

  “Well, eh, it is my intention— with your agreement, of course— to sail closely behind the Roger for some time.…As I have found with the wreckage of the Julianne, staying within close proximity may prove most profitable for me.”

  “Profitable? To scavenge off my leavings?”

  LeCorbeau could afford only the barest hint of annoyance. “If it pleases you to put it in that way. But eh, being a man of some pride, I should prefer a more complimentary description.”

  “Very well. We shall say you are gleaning a harvested field. But how does this profit you?”

  “Ah, it is a most excellent role to play, that of savior! This is the word the poor captain of the Julianne used, and I very much enjoyed to hear it! Imagine, I was able to board his ship with no bloodshed, not a shot fired! The man welcomed me, and toasted my health, all the while my officers assisted his, conveniently locating anything of value left behind by your pirate scourge— eh, je m’excuse…Heh! heh! I make a friend, my ship develops a noble reputation. Perhaps I select a new crewman, help myself to the items you are in too much of a hurry to locate, and voilà! The job is done at no cost to myself. Hook’s pirates have committed the raid, and my hands are full, but lily-white…yes, even kissed!”

  Hook’s eyes narrowed. “LeCorbeau.” He raised his claw, and aimed its lethal point at the Frenchman’s heart. “I will now be frank with you, also.” Hook’s blue eyes threatened the man as effectively as his hook. “Not only are you a privateer, pretending to be above piracy but respecting only those laws that protect you. You are also a despicable little Frenchman. No, mon vieux, I have never had any use for you.”

  LeCorbeau sat frozen.

  Hook smiled. “Until tonight!” And then he threw back his head and laughed. Eventually, his rival joined in, all the while tidying his very damp throat with his handkerchief.

  “You will excuse me now— shall I call you once again, ‘compatriot?’” Hook shoved the jug across the table. “I shall send for you when I am ready to board L’Ormonde. Have another cup of ale while I say goodnight to my ‘so-delicate’ mistress, making an effort not to ‘abuse’ her too much, and then we’ll adjourn to your own fine vessel where we will come to terms regarding the handsome percentage you will pay me for allowing my men to take all the risk and all the blame. Then we will drink to our new understanding!” He rose quickly, Mullins stood aside, and Hook swept from the galley, grabbing up his hat and calling for his man to follow. He still didn’t know what that little rooster wanted, but Hook was, eh, so much enjoying himself!

  His new partner, meanwhile, the amusing and despicable little Frenchman, sat in the galley, spitting the taste of the foul English ale from his mouth.

  Chapter 7

  Honorable Intentions

  Jill reclined on the silk of the daybed, her hair spread like satin over the pillows. The ship’s surgeon perched at her side, still dignified, and every bit as attentive as Hook had been the first time she’d lain there. But on that occasion, she had been truly in pain.

  “I have no reason to feel faint. I am usually quite strong.”

  “Hush, Madam, let me take your pulse again.”

  She held out her hand to him. It was the scarlet one, and she smiled. Hanover regarded it stoically, then took her wrist between his thumb and third finger.

  “Better, now, but let me look at you.” He peered into each of her eyes. He removed his stethoscope from the black bag at his feet. She watched as he raised its cold metal cone to her breast, then she allowed herself to shiver. He looked up at her face. A vein on his temple gave evidence of his own pulse’s misbehavior, but he tucked the cone under the edge of her neckline, scrupulous in avoiding contact between his fingers and her flesh. He leaned forward and listened.

  Raising his head, he observed her amused expression. He managed to ignore it.

  “Your color is good. Have you ever experienced such a spell before?”

  “Oh, no, Doctor.”

  “Have you any pain, discomfort?”

  She shook her head.

  “None at all? You must tell me truthfully.”

  She lowered her eyes. “Well, perhaps…”

  Sudden concern creased his face. “What is it?”

  “I may have allowed my…undergarment…to be laced too tightly.”

  The doctor straightened. “I see. That might explain the shallowness of breath.”

  “Yes.” She said it breathlessly.

  “Have you any other symptoms? Do you have difficulty sleeping?”

  Several different expressions crossed her face before she shrugged. “I can’t decide how to answer that question.” She observed the dueling scar running from his cheekbone to his jaw. It grew darker.

  “Lady. Under the circumstances, I have to ask. Are there any signs—”

  “No, Doctor.”

  “You are certain of this?”

  “Quite.”

  “And…in the past?”

  “No. Never.”

  Visibly relieved, he put the instrument away, then he lifted his hands to her throat. “May I?”

  She inclined her head, then raised it. Touching the sides of her neck with his fingertips, the doctor pressed up to her jaw line, and then down, frowning. “Does he mistreat you in any way, strike you?” He heard a quick intake of breath and once more became aware of his daughter standing behind him.

  He didn’t look at her. “Liza. You will help the lady prepare to retire. I want you to stay with her until she falls asleep. You will alert me if she experiences further distress. Of any kind.”

  For a moment, Liza stared at the red velvet curtain draped near the couch, then she dropped her gaze and nodded.

  “Now wait outside.”

  The girl’s eyes asked her mistress. The lady acquiesced. “Leave the door half open, Liza. You may go change your dress.” She had seen the blotch of ale.

  Grateful that her father was too obsessed with the woman to notice the stain or to comment on her unconfined hair, Liza tiptoed from the room to hurry to her quarters. She knew now he wouldn’t bother with her again. Not until he needed her.

  “You must listen to me, Madam. I forbid you to exert yourself in the next few days. You will remain quiet.”

  “I had intended to practice fencing tomorrow, but it can wait.”

  “Fencing, Madam. You surprise me again.”

  “The captain insists I be ready for anything.”

  “I see that I must be the same. As you know, swordplay is also an interest of my own.”

  “Perhaps you will show me one or two of your strategies. But not tomorrow. I will obey your orders. I hope you will allow me to walk, though? Fresh air always does me good, and I did promise myself to inspect your daughter’s living arrangements. I have neglected it.”

  “It is kind of you to concern yourself for her. Fencing is out of the question until I have examined you again, but yes, you may take the air if you wish. Otherwise, rest. To make sure you do not overdo, I shall personally escort you to— our quarters.” The doctor’s handsome face flushed as he realized the implication of his words, and he made a business of neatening his medicine bag.

  “You see, Doctor Hanover, you are already falling in with our unconventional manners! A gentleman showing a woman to his quarters? What next?”

  “Of course Liza will accompany us. But perhaps you are right, Madam. You have a strange effect on me. I find I am not as strict in my thinking as I once was.”

  “I am trying to think now. What can have m
ade my heart race in such a way this evening? We were only discussing—”

  Hanover looked at her sharply.

  “Or rather, we were about to discuss your history. Weren’t we, Doctor?”

  “The inquisitive Frenchman seemed eager to use your talents to pry into my past.”

  “I admit, I should like an excuse to learn your history.”

  “Until I came aboard your ship, Madam, I had no history.” Hanover leaned closer. His crisp tone softened. “And as far as I am concerned, you had none either.”

  She tilted her head. “Doctor? Whatever do you mean?”

  He snapped his bag closed and set it aside. The surgeon’s duty was at an end, and he became a man like any other. “I hardly know, myself! But as of this evening, I have new hope. Perhaps this elusive weakness you are experiencing is a fortunate thing after all. It gives us a chance to speak together. Privately.”

  Jill cast a look at the door. The ship’s motion had nudged it, or was it her bo’sun? But it remained slightly ajar. “Are you implying that I deliberately feigned illness?”

  “I am implying that I hope you have done so.”

  “But that would mean I have lied to you. And to my captain.”

  “I hope you have lied to me. Lied for me.”

  Her eyes remained clear. “I have no need to lie. Quite the opposite; I find candor to be protective. Truth, itself, is a weapon.”

  “Then do not wound me with it!”

  “So once again you hope for falsehood? You are indeed compromising your principles, as I predicted.”

  “Like you, Madam, I find myself inventing my own standard of conduct.”

  “And what do you hope to gain by it? However we have come by our moment of privacy, what should we have to say to one another within it?”

  Hanover glanced over his shoulder at the door. He spoke quietly. “What I have to say is quite simple. I am an experienced and intelligent man. I am able to weigh evidence and make decisions quickly. It is a necessity in my profession. I have come to understand that you are exactly the woman I need.”