Page 15 of A Pirate's Pleasure

“But you did it, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Lief was silent after that. I suppose there wasn’t much else he could say. It was another hour before sleep finally came for me.

Chapter Seven

Lief

“Stay away from the new boy,” my mother said. “He’s nothing but trouble. He’s so feral that if he bit you, you’d probably catch rabies.”

“Can a human infect other humans with rabies?” I asked, my brow wrinkling as I considered the notion.

She stifled a smile as she ruffled my hair. “It was a figure of speech.”

“So he hasn’t got rabies?”

“Not that I know of. Doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

“Dangerous! In what way?”

My mother sighed. “He might not have rabies, but he has magic.”

“What sort of magic?”

She shook her head. “Better you don’t know.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in it, only affection. “Have you never heard the saying that curiosity killed the cat?”

“Yeah, but I’m not a cat.”

She laughed, and I got another hair ruffle. “I’ve got to work all day, Lief. I’d like to do it with the peace of mind of knowing you’re not going to get yourself into trouble.”

“I won’t,” I said somewhat defensively. “When do I ever get into trouble?”

She palmed my cheeks and pulled me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. “You’re right.” She smiled. “You, Lief, are my little shining treasure and don’t you ever forget it.”

I squirmed out of her grasp and made a drama out of wiping my forehead. “So embarrassing.”

She laughed. “Sorry. I forgot you were too old at fourteen for a kiss from your mother.” She turned to gather her things. “Stay away from the docks as well. I don’t want to come home and discover you’ve been kidnapped by pirates.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Maybe if you were concerned about that, you shouldn’t have moved to Glimmerfield, then. You know, the place with all the pirates.”

My mother shrugged. “They keep themselves to themselves, mostly. And they’re a good deterrent to keep the authorities away.” She chased me for another kiss before leaving the small house we shared to start a long day of laundry and cleaning. I helped her where I could, but she insisted on me taking weekends off and today was Saturday, so the day was all mine to do whatever I wanted.

I heard the altercation before I saw it. Curiosity had me not doing the sensible thing and heading away from the docks where I wasn’t supposed to be anyway, and instead rounding the bend to see what was going on. The boy I’d been warned to stay away from stood in the middle of a jeering circle, all the boys older and taller than he was.

“What you gonna do?” one of them asked. “You gonna cry?” He raised his fists to his eyes and twisted them in an exaggerated motion. “Boohoo! Please don’t hurt me.” He lowered his hands and started laughing. “Give us all the coin you’ve got and we’ll only break one of your arms.”

The boy in the middle of the circle lifted his chin, his stormy gray eyes flashing. “Give you my coin? I wouldn’t give you anything. Not even the time of day. Not even if you begged me for it.” He raised his fists in a fighting stance. “You want it. You’re gonna have to take it.”

The look the bullies exchanged said they couldn’t believe he was standing up to them. I couldn’t believe it either. There were four of them and one of him. He didn’t stand a chance against them. When they attacked, though, he was like a whirling dervish, making up for what he lacked in stature with sheer tenacity and speed. As the surprise of his spirited defense wore off, they gradually got the better of him, though, two of them grabbing his arms and holding him still while a third punched him repeatedly in the gut.

I couldn’t watch anymore. To be honest, I was ashamed I’d stood there and done nothing for as long as I had. Saying a silent apology to my mother for a promise to stay out of trouble broken, I waded in. It was still two against four, but I had a surprise up my sleeve, or more accurately, in my boot. One look at the blade in my hand and they seemed to lose any desire to fight and ran away. I’d contemplate the target I’d just put on my back later.

The boy had dropped to all fours in the dirt, his head bowed as he struggled to get his breath back. When he lifted his head, it revealed a bloody nose and a blackened eye. I averted my gaze from the sight of the blood, nausea roiling in my gut. I suspected there were more scrapes and bruises I couldn’t see beneath his clothes. My fault for not having intervened sooner. He scuttled back to lean against the wall, resting his chin on his drawn-up knees. And then, to my surprise, he started laughing. When I blinked at him, he only laughed harder. Feral, my mum had called him, and I could see why.

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand to leave a streak of bright red behind, forcing me to wrench my gaze away once more. When I mustered the courage to look back at him, he was grinning up at me. “Nothing like a scrap in the morning to get the blood pumping. Right?”