Page 20 of A Pirate's Pleasure
“Yeah?” I said warily.
“What you thinking?” the tall pirate asked.
“Remember that trunk we found a couple of months ago? The one that washed up on the beach. Remember what was in it?”
“Oh yeah,” the pirate with dreadlocks said. “Reckon it would suit him. Reckon it’s his color.”
There was a joke here that they weren’t letting me in on. It wouldn’t be long, though, Newton almost vibrating with the need to deliver the punchline.
“What was in it?” I asked, eager to get it over and done with.
“A dress,” Newton said with a splutter. “A nice red one. Shall we fetch it for you?”
“Sure,” I said without missing a beat. “Why not? Do you want to do my hair as well? Perhaps we can rustle up some lipstick from somewhere.”
Newton blinked, and I almost felt bad for not giving him the reaction he was after. Not bad enough not to play on it a little more, though. “How long have you been trying to find someone to wear it for you?”
Bright flags of color appeared on Newton’s cheeks. “Fuck off.”
I might have twisted the knife a bit more if one of the cabin boys hadn’t chosen that moment to run over with some familiar items clutched in his arms. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I have your clothes here. Kept good care of them for you.”
He handed them over and I slid my hand into my boot, the familiar feel of the mother-of-pearl handle of my knife reassuring me that all items were present and correct. “Thank you,” I said. “But you don’t have to call me sir.”
“Heard tell you were some sort of lord.”
I grimaced. “I used to be, but on here I’m just Lief. Who do I have to thank for returning my clothes?”
The cabin boy gave a crooked smile, a lock of dark hair falling over one eye. “Name’s Atley.”
“Well, Atley…” I performed a small bow. “I am forever in your debt.” Cheeks flaming, he scuttled away. It seemed I’d earned myself a fan last night with my display of nudity. Perhaps Zephyr had been right to get annoyed at me. It seemed their heads—or at least one of the cabin boys—were easily turned.
I turned my attention to Newton, offering him a saucy wink. “I guess you’re just going to have to wait for someone to put that dress on for you.”
“I don’t… I… I’ve never…” I walked off while he was still lost for words. Finding a quiet corner of the deck, I put everything else on, but left Zephyr’s shirt in place. Why? Who knew? To provoke the pirates? To provoke Zephyr? Because I enjoyed wearing it? Probably for all those reasons and more.
It felt better to be dressed again, and I blamed that for letting my guard down and not predicting that when you’ve just pissed four pirates off, one of them to the point of embarrassment, that they weren’t just going to let it lie. Maybe I did know, and I’d thought they’d wait longer before exacting their revenge. Whatever the reason for my lack of clarity about the situation, it was too late by the time one of them had already stuck his foot out.
I crashed to the deck face first, and he was on me straightaway, holding me down and mushing my face into the wooden planks in a way that made it difficult to breathe. “Think you can get the better of Garrick, do you?” he said. “Think you’re better than us? I’m going to teach you a lesson that’ll make you regret ever being born.”
I thought nothing of the kind, but I didn’t take too kindly to being waylaid in this way, and I doubted he was alone, so time was of the essence. I drove my elbow back into his gut, a satisfying whoosh of escaped breath resulting from the action. Before he could recover, I twisted around and grabbed my knife. It was a matter of seconds to pluck it from my boot and press it to the soft skin of his throat. It was the tall pirate, the one who’d first approached me. “Get up,” I growled. “On your feet.”
He did as I’d asked, and I followed him up, keeping the point of my knife pressed to his skin. In my peripheral vision, a small crowd had gathered around us. “Say sorry for tripping me,” I demanded.
“Fuck off!”
I pressed harder, but not hard enough to break the skin. “Say sorry.”
“Aw man, let him go. He didn’t mean nothing by it.”
Newton’s voice. “If he didn’t mean anything by it, he’ll say sorry, won’t he? Before I slit his throat.”
A small tornado blew through the ship, the pirates shuffling their feet in anticipation of what their captain might have to say about me holding one of them at knifepoint. To be honest, I shared their curiosity, given that Zephyr’s reaction could range anywhere from fury to amusement. The old Zephyr would have found it funny. He’d had first-hand experience of how quick I was to anger. He’d even been on the wrong side of it a time or two. But that had been eight years ago, so there was no telling how he might react now. Footsteps followed the tornado, but I didn’t turn my head, keeping all my focus on the sweaty pirate, who despite his discomfort still refused to apologize.
Zephyr’s sigh was loud. “Can I not leave you alone for two minutes without you getting yourself into trouble?”
“He attacked me,” I said.
“I did no such thing,” Garrick insisted, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the blade. “He tripped over my foot. I can’t help it if he’s clumsy.”