by Kimberly Nee
Her mood, which had grown considerably brighter since morning, sank at once. Still, knowing it was pointless to argue, she straightened and arched her back. Her spine cracked and popped. “Of course.”
Without waiting for a response, she marched her way back down below deck. Wincing as her bandages sliced into her skin, she fought the urge to tug at them as she stood outside the closed door to Farruco’s cabin. It made her more than a mite envious, Honoria’s not having to worry about binding herself flat. Of course, she had to admit, she preferred being bound over being passed around as the crew’s plaything, but it did little to ease her dislike of the Englishwoman.
Shame engulfed her as she knocked and Farruco bid her entry. Honoria was the only one remaining in his cabin, as the other men were sent off to their own hammocks to recover. Honoria sat at the surgeon’s desk, a cup of something steaming before her. In the daylight, with her hair and body clean, the girl looked almost pretty.
Finn scowled, clearing her throat. “Juan Pedro sent me down to offer assistance.”
Farruco shook his head, sending a lock of thick black hair over one eye. “Miss Honoria is doing quite well. Tell Captain Sebastiano that she has eaten and will be able to work in but a few more days.”
Finn bobbed her head. “Of course. I will tell him.”
Farruco smiled, gesturing to her wounded arm. “And how do you fare?”
“I am fine,” she replied, backing quickly toward the door. Honoria smiled at her with no little smugness. It was almost as if Honoria knew the truth about the cabin boy, and her smile was one of triumph.
Though it wasn’t possible for Honoria to know, it still left Finn with the puzzling, overwhelming need to be out of Farruco’s cabin. It was silly. Why should a smile leave Finn feeling as though she’d taken a blow to her gut?
Her gut kinked as she stepped back out into the corridor. Only one thing came to mind, and it was one Finn did not even wish to consider.
A heavy sigh bubbled to her lips as she sunk back against the wall across from Farruco’s closed door. She would almost think it was jealousy, but that was truly laughable. She cared naught for the Spaniard. He was nothing more than her master. In fact, she should hope Honoria caught his attention. If that happened, she would have nothing to worry about. She could focus on escape.
She frowned, absently rubbing her sore arm. In that case, why wasn’t she happy?
Chapter Fifteen
“Why so quiet?”
Finn jerked her head up at Ennis's unexpected question, the bowl of beef stew before her ignored. “I hadn’t realized I was so quiet.”
Javier, sitting to her right, let out a chortle as he grabbed a hunk of bread from the bowl in the middle of the long, scarred table. “Aye. Quiet as a—how do you say it?—mouse? What? No stories to share about Captain Beauregard? No tales to tell?”
Tale-sharing was not foremost on her mind. It hadn’t come as a surprise when Iñigo ordered her to go to the forecastle for supper. While excited at the prospect of some free time to spend with the men who were becoming her friends, and Ennis, questions bubbled to her lips about this new change. Still, Iñigo seemed to be in a fine mood, and she had no wish to ruin it. Now, however, she wished she had.
“No stories,” she told Javier, lifting her bent spoon and dipping it into her small, wooden bowl to fish for a hunk of beef. “I was merely his cabin boy.”
Ennis chuckled. “Finn's main duty was makin’ certain Beauregard's rum stores never ran dry. Kept her busy sunup to sundown.”
A roar of laughter rose from the benches and Finn relaxed. In the short time since joining Iñigo’s crew, most of the men accepted her as one of them. There was no need to fear discovery.
“A thankless task, I might add,” she tossed out, lifting a spoonful of thick, salty broth to her lips. Guillermo had outdone himself. Obviously stew was his specialty, as the hunks of vegetables were crisp and the meat was not too stringy. Although the cook did seem to be overly fond of salt, the stew was actually quite tasty.
Alejandro shook his head, almost choking on his mouthful of stew as he chortled, “Captain Sebastiano favors rum, but he by far favors women,” around a mouthful of beef and broth. “Why do you think he sent you down here, with us?” He pointed to her and gestured to the others seated at the table.
She laughed right along with them, but the stew lost a bit of its flavor. Ennis smiled and reached for the bread. Dropping a hunk at her place, he said, “Right then, who is ready to hand over their pieces o’ eight to me this eve?”
Juan Pedro slapped a hand against the battered plank table. “Ah, listen to the young one! Need I remind you, I took all but six of your pieces the last time?”
“Only temporarily,” Ennis chuckled. “As tonight I’ll win ’em back.” He turned to her, his blue eyes bright. “What about you, Finn? Joinin’ us?”
She nodded. Games of chance had been one of her preferred pastimes on Barbados. Hopefully, her skills hadn’t abandoned her. “I will.”
It was one of the most enjoyable evenings Finn had ever passed. The rum was rich and dark, and the cigars plentiful, though she’d passed on them. Her refusal earned her an odd look, but Javier said nothing as he turned to offer one to Ennis. She sipped from her tankard as she concentrated on the card game Alejandro struggled to teach her. Though she was proficient at English card games, Aluette was one she simply could not grasp, as the rules seemed to change with each hand.
It was well into the night when she and Ennis bid each other a good evening, and she made her way back toward Iñigo's cabin. She hesitated as she drew near. After all, she hadn’t been there to ready him for bed, and though he’d told her to join the others, it didn’t mean he meant for her to be absent the entire evening, either.
Swallowing her nervousness, she grasped the door handle and pushed open the door. Her heart jumped as Iñigo said, “Ah, I wondered if they’d ever let you leave.”
She closed the door behind her, unable to decide whether or not he sounded angry. Deciding it was best to assume he was, she said, “Should I have returned earlier? I’m afraid I lost myself a bit.”
He sat at the table, a book open and a tankard before him. His expression was serene as he shook his head. “There is no need for an apology, Finn. It would serve both you and the others well to spend some leisure time together.”
She stepped closer, wondering if he was well into his cups. He certainly didn’t seem to be anything other than sober, but still… “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Tell me, did they suspect?”
Pride brought an uncontrollable smile to her lips. “Not a whit. In fact, I relieved them of nearly fifty in gold pieces.”
He didn’t reply, but instead lifted his tankard to his lips to take a long drink. Wondering if she’d said something she oughtn’t, she shrugged out of her coat to hang it on one of the hooks near the door. Turning back, it was to see him closing his book. “And what do you plan to do with your winnings?”
Still smiling, she drew the chair opposite him away from the table and sunk down to tug off her boots. She removed her left boot before saying, “I will use it to buy my own ship.”
Looking up to see his reaction, she was hardly surprised to see his amused expression. Tapping an elegant forefinger against the book’s leather cover, he said, “And you think fifty gold pieces is sufficient?”
It wasn’t, but she shrugged anyhow. “It is a beginning. We both know I cannot remain here forever. I needs consider what happens then.”
His smile grew smug and superior. “It is reassuring to see your sense of self-importance has not faded. You still believe you might captain your own vessel?”
Her right boot hit the floor. “I care not if you believe me. I know what I’d bargained for with Beauregard. I know what our arrangement was. I care not if you find it amusing. I will own my own ship, even if means remaining hidden as a boy for the rest of my days.”
She wasn’t certain, but it looked as t
hough the captain’s eyes darkened, but for only a moment. He lifted his tankard to her in salute. “I drink to your lofty goal, Finn. Quite impressive, to say the least.”
Her belly kinked and she wanted to slap the smug arrogance from his face. It was far too maddening, the way he patronized her. She rose from her chair, pausing to swipe up her boots before stomping to her hammock. “Mock me all you wish, Captain. You must be mad to think I wish to spend the rest of my days here as a cabin boy.”
“And you truly believe yourself capable of commanding an entire crew? As a woman, no less?”
Ignoring him, she reached up to grip the hemp, and hauled herself into the hammock. It creaked as she made herself comfortable, and she settled back, wishing he would put out the light and let her go to sleep. Her arm ached furiously and the rum served to make her incredibly drowsy.
Wood scraped against wood. Leather creaked. Iñigo had risen to his feet. “I asked you if you thought yourself capable.”
It was her turn to smile smugly. “I fooled you and your men.”
Iñigo moved to lean up against one of the posts holding her hammock. Crossing his arms over his chest, he replied, “And yet, I discovered your secret in mere days.”
Her smugness faded. “Very well. I was a mite careless, I’ll admit. But I can assure you, I’d not be as careless on my own ship.”
“Or you could simply choose to remain here.”
His words seemed to surprise him as much as they did her. Keeping her surprise to herself, she simply sniffed again. “To serve as your cabin boy? Surely, you cannot be serious.”
He shook his head. “No. I’d much rather you assume—ah—other duties.”
She jerked toward him, eyes narrowed as she growled, “What other duties?”
His right brow lifted only a fraction, but it was enough for heat to fill her face and raise her hackles. “I beg your pardon, Captain, but I will not serve you in that manner. If that is what you desire, seduce Honoria. She looks to be the sort taken with scoundrels.”
Anger flashed through his eyes, but he grinned and chuckled. “Ah, yes. She would probably be a wiser choice. I prefer my women to be just that—women.”
“Go to the devil,” she spat, flinging herself down and holding on for dear life as the hammock sharply swayed, threatening to topple her to the floor.
“A clever comeback, indeed,” he growled, amusement laced through his words. “It might give you something to think about—whether or not you prefer being a boy or a woman.”
Fury bubbled all through her and she struggled to tamp it down. Easing her grip on the slowing hammock, she muttered, “Unless you need me—as a cabin boy that is—I should like to get to sleep.” She screwed her eyes shut, determined to ignore him and his infuriating grin.
“Go to sleep, Finn,” he replied, now actually laughing. Leather creaked as he sat again, and the pages of his book crinkled as he lifted it once more. “Enjoy your feeling of victory, for tomorrow, you return to being a mere cabin boy again.”
Gritting her teeth, she swallowed another scathing retort, instead imagining the day when she no longer served the arrogant Spaniard. A smile lifted her lips as she imagined being at the helm of her own ship, and blasting the María to splinters.
Chapter Sixteen
After sharing her morning meal with the crew, Finn knelt on the foredeck, a scrub brush in one hand, and a battered wooden bucket filled with rainwater at her side. The sun beat down on her as she dipped her brush in the water. Shaking off the excess, she pressed the bristles into the wood, scrubbing the salt grit from the planks. It was hot, tiring work and after nearly an hour, her arms ached, her back ached, and she couldn’t feel her legs. Her wounded arm twinged from time to time, but only if she stretched out too far. The pain made thinking about anything else impossible, and she was grateful for it.
When she first began scrubbing, the inside of her head was a whirling, jumbled muck. Her mind constantly meandered back to Iñigo's infuriating smugness. She wanted to scream each time it popped forth, and when she spotted him on the quarterdeck, deep in conversation with one of the others, anger burned through her. Merely a cabin boy, indeed. She snorted aloud, plunking her scrub brush into the bucket. “I’ll show him merely a cabin boy. I look forward to the day I wipe his smug grin off his smug face. Laugh at me, will you… We shall see who laughs last, Spaniard.”
She couldn’t wait until they made port. It mattered not if Ennis wished to leave. She was going and that was all there was to that.
She gritted her teeth as Honoria came out on deck, escorted by Farruco. Apparently, she was being made to feel quite the honored guest, as Farruco seemed to be giving her a tour. He pointed out into the distance and a peal of silvery laughter rang out, causing dark heads to turn in her direction, Iñigo included.
“You would think they’ve never laid eyes upon a woman,” Finn muttered, scowling at Honoria. “The way they all gawk, and how Javier almost toppled headfirst into the rain barrel yesterday. They should only know how foolish they look.” She sniffed again, and attacked the deck with renewed vigor.
A cramp in her right thigh brought her back to the present. Rocking back, she plunked the brush into the bucket, reaching up one arm to draw her sleeve across her sweaty forehead, staining the expanse of gray linen. Honoria and Farruco were gone now, and instead of feeling relief, she was more annoyed. “It feels as though I’ve been here half my life and yet, only a small portion is actually clean. Meanwhile, Lady Blonde is treated as if she were royalty. If only—”
“You! Boy!”
She ignored the shout coming from the stairs as she reached into the bucket to retrieve her brush and resumed scrubbing. Moments later, a shadow fell over her. Looking up, it was to see Mateo standing over her, long legs shoulder-width apart, arms folded over his massive chest as he glared down at her with most menacing eyes.
She did not know Mateo, having only seen him sparingly since she arrived onboard the María. It seemed each time she laid eyes upon him, he lounged about, watching the others as they toiled.
“Boy! Answer me when I’m talking to you.”
She paused in her scrubbing, rocking back once more. “What can I do for you?”
He crouched down, coming eye to eye with her. “You a pretty lad, ain’t you? That why the captain keeps you locked away night after night? You make him odd?”
“I’m afraid I know naught of which you speak.” She went back to her scrubbing.
Mateo ripped the brush from her hand. “Who do you think you are, boy? You’ve been on this ship but ten days. You do not turn your back to me.”
“Leave me be,” she said, glaring up at him and holding out her hand, in no mood for a battle. “My brush, if you’d not mind.”
He grinned at her, revealing graying, stained teeth, several of which were missing. “Nay, lad. It’s of no mind.”
He tossed the brush over his left shoulder, down onto the main deck. It hit the planks with a loud thud, catching the attention of the men below. Heads turned in their direction, hands coming up to shade eyes from the bright, blinding rays of the sun.
Heat crept into her cheeks, but she held Mateo’s stare easily. “You will fetch that for me, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. She fully intended on forcing his hand, as to give in would mean nothing but further misery for her.
He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s amusing, boy. Think you I am a go-for? You want it? You fetch it.”
She drew herself upright, hands on her hips. “I did not throw it, man.”
Mateo mimicked her stance, dark eyes hard beneath unruly black brows. “Tell me, you the captain’s plaything as well? Never guessed he liked anything other than wenches. I suppose I was wrong. Guess he won’t mind sharin’ Miss Honoria, either.”
She sniffed even as her gut twisted painfully. “Mad, is what you are. I am merely there to help him dress and fetch things as he needs them. And, as everyone’s seen, I splice rope quite well
.”
“’Course you do, boy. And I’d wager you make yourself right comfortable in his bed night after night, don’t you?”
“You are mad,” she repeated, folding her arms over her chest. “Now, if you do not mind, I’ve work to do.”
Mateo let out another coarse laugh, kicking over the bucket to send its contents sloshing toward the bow of the ship. She groaned. The rain barrels were lashed to the mainmast, which meant having to make her way through the now-gaping throng of men watching with utmost intensity. “You nasty little man,” she sputtered, wishing she dared throw the blasted bucket at him to knock his asinine grin from his meaty face.
“I’ll wager the captain won’t mind lettin’ you shirk a duty or two.”
“There is nothing odd about your captain,” she growled, eyes narrowing. “He touches me no more than he touches any one of you. And if I were you, my friend, I would think twice before uttering such nonsense out loud. You know not what he will do, should he overhear you questioning his manhood.”
She moved to step around him to get to the steps, but he shifted to block her path. Frustration twisted her belly as she was forced to halt. “Do it again,” she gritted, “and you will regret it.”
Another bark of laughter. “Regret something brought on by a child? I think not.”
She didn’t reply but sighed, rolled her eyes, and made to step around him again. Mateo blocked her once more. Lifting her eyes to his, she growled, “Move.”
“I think not, boy.”
“I said, move!”
He jabbed her in the shoulder with enough force to knock her several steps backward. “Well?” he taunted, remaining teeth flashing in a cold sneer. “Ain’t I supposed to regret this?”
Finn regained her footing and stared at him for a long moment, fighting to control the fire in her blood. “If you do not move this instant, trust me, you will regret it.”