Page 27 of A Pirate's Pleasure
Zephyr arched a brow. “We’re pirates. What did you think was going to happen when you sought refuge on a pirate ship? Did you imagine we’d all give it up and go on a pleasure cruise? Do let me know what sights you were hoping to see on your travels, Lord Cooper, and I’ll do my best to facilitate your wishes. I’m sure the authorities will hold off on arresting you until you’ve seen everything of note in the thirteen kingdoms. It would be unreasonable of them not to.”
Boden and Stafford laughed as I bristled at the sarcastically delivered title. Worse than that, though, was the fact that I felt foolish. Of course, they were going to continue with piracy. It was how they made their living. It was what they were, what Zephyr had always wanted to be. It was incredibly naïve of me to have thought they might take a hiatus.
“Lief?”
I pulled my gaze from the bottom of the rowboat to meet Zephyr’s searching gaze. “What?”
“How come when you ran, you didn’t bring any of your vast fortune with you?”
It was a valid question, and I appreciated the change of subject. “I wasn’t at home when I heard the authorities were searching for me. I ran with just the clothes on my back and the coin I had on me, which wasn’t a lot. And I spent a lot of what I had on the cloak to keep my face hidden.”
“And you never considered sticking around to plead your innocence?”
I shook my head. “I guess I panicked.”
“Wise decision,” Zephyr said. “Considering someone had gone to great trouble to paint you as a murderer.”
Something bumped against the bottom of the boat and we all turned our attention to helping Stafford avoid any rocks that might puncture the bottom of the rowboat and leave us within sight of The Navarino with no means, apart from swimming, to return to it. I had no wish to live out my days on The Welcome Isle, even in the unlikely event it had the tavern Zephyr had talked about.
After landing on the beach and dragging the boat into a cave too high for the tide to reach and conveniently out of sight, should anyone be interested enough to wonder how we’d gotten there, we followed the path that wound its way between two cliffs. To my surprise, the path culminated in not only a quaint-looking tavern that went by the name of The Whispering Parrot, but a settlement of sorts. The houses it comprised weren’t anything to write home about, little more than shacks, but at least it was civilization when I’d believed there was none to be found, and that we were wasting our time.
There were all of three people in the tavern, which begged the question of how they did enough business to stay afloat. It was no surprise then that they were only too eager to give up their supplies for—as Zeph had correctly predicted—an outrageously exorbitant fee. There would definitely be piracy in my future. But then I supposed they couldn’t hang me twice, for piracy and for murder, so what did it matter?
As all four of us, and the crates of salted beef, dried beans, eggs, and milk, couldn’t all fit in the rowboat, Boden and Stafford took the responsibility of rowing back to the ship with the supplies. They would then come back for us, leaving Zephyr and me with some time to kill. And what did two men do in a tavern with time on their hands? They drank ale, of course.
The Black Skull could take some notes from The Whispering Parrot on having an ale which was palatable. It might not be the best one I’d ever tasted, but it was far superior to the slop The Black Skull insisted on serving.
“Why hasn’t Dax changed it?” I mused aloud.
“What?” Zephyr stared at me somewhat blearily. With each tankard of ale he’d drunk, he’d mellowed, like the alcohol in his blood had made him forget he was supposed to be treating me with disdain. He’d moved closer as well, his muscular thigh a warm and welcome weight against my own.
I lifted the tankard of ale. “This is good stuff. Dax could serve good stuff, too, if he wanted. Livingston is hardly ever there, right? He doesn’t care what Dax does with the place, so why hasn’t he made some changes?”
Zephyr shrugged. “You’d have to ask him that. Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t drink it. I drink the rum.”
I took a long swallow of my ale. “I asked him for rum, and he said he didn’t have any. And then, lo-and-behold, you walk in and he found some within seconds. Funny that.”
“He must have forgotten he had it.”
I let out a snort, the action most satisfactory in my inebriated state. I drank more ale, appreciating the freedom it was giving us to have a conversation where we weren’t at each other’s throats and instead could act like two civilized human beings, rather than two ex-lovers who nursed grudges and couldn’t let the past go. I didn’t really want to let go of the past, though, did I? Not if I was honest. I wanted to revisit it in glorious technicolor, and get back what I’d lost. Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. “Have you ever slept with him?”
Zephyr’s blink said the question didn’t immediately make sense. “Dax?”
I nodded.
“Dax, who I’ve known since I was fourteen?”
“Do you know any other Dax’s?”
“No, I can’t say I do.”
“That’s not an answer to the question.”
“It’s a stupid question.”
“So, answer it.” Maybe I’d been a little too hasty in congratulating myself on how civilized we could be.
“Why? Would you be jealous?” Zephyr’s self-satisfied smirk said his question pleased him greatly.