Emmaline busied herself picking up more bowls and spoons from the ashes. She didn’t answer.
“Uh huh. That’s what I thought. Well, I suppose ye’ll tell me when ye’re guid and ready so I willna push ye again. Ramble,” she called out, and a young man about five and ten years of age ran over to her.
“What is it Nairnie?” he asked. “Oh, hello, Sister, my name is Ramble,” he said, holding out his hand for a shake. “I’m the captain’s cabin boy.”
“I’m Emmaline. I mean, Sister Emmaline,” she told him, leery to touch him since he looked rugged and filthy like the rest of the men. Still, she reached out and gave his hand a quick shake.
“I guess we’ll be havin’ two women aboard again,” said Ramble. “Not that I mind, of course, but I’m just sayin’ it isn’t customary, especially being on a pirate ship and all.”
Emmaline could see why they called the boy Ramble. He couldn’t seem to stop talking.
“Ramble, get some of the other men to help ye, and clean up this mess,” ordered Nairnie. “I canna cook in filth and ashes.”
“Aaron already told us to do the exact thing,” said Ramble. “The men are headed over here now. Ye know, Aaron’s quartermaster now that Tristan left and Mardon took over as captain. I wonder if I’m goin’ to get a new position as well.”
Mardon walked up behind him. “You’ll be lucky to keep your old position if you don’t stop talking and get to work.”
“Cap’n!” Ramble whirled around in surprise. “I didn’t know ye were standin’ there.”
“Obviously not,” said Mardon. “Get to work helping Coop and the others bring over the barrels of food from the Fish Head Inn.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” said Ramble, turning and running to do as told.
“Thank ye,” said Nairnie. “I need to start preparin’ somethin’ for a meal. What would ye like, Mardon?”
“Nothing that requires cooking,” he answered. “It’s much too windy today for a fire. I don’t want you setting aflame the rest of the ship before we’ve even cleaned up this mess.”
“Aye, of course no’,” said Nairnie. “I’ll need a plank set up here to work on. Hopefully, Peg Leg Pate will hurry up and get my galley rebuilt.”
“I’ll take care of all of that,” said Mardon, still staring at Emmaline.
“Mardon, stop starin’ at the nun,” snapped Nairnie. “It’s no’ an appropriate thing to do, especially for a pirate.”
Emmaline dared to peek up at Mardon, keeping her face turned downward. Those bright blue eyes seemed to glow in the sun.
“It does make me feel uncomfortable,” admitted Emmaline, turning to sort through some bowls.
“Havena ye ever seen a nun before?” Nairnie asked Mardon.
“Aye, but not such a pretty one,” answered Mardon. “Sister Emmaline reminds me of someone. How long have you been a nun?” he asked her. “And what is your surname?”
Emmaline didn’t know how to answer. She wasn’t sure who these pirates knew, or if they even knew the name of her late husband when they’d boarded and raided his ship before Mardon killed him. Still, she needed to give him some sort of answer.
“I’ve been a nun for much too long. And once we enter the convent, we stop using our surnames because they no longer matter.”
“I see,” said Mardon.
“Grandson, move aside, here come the barrels of food,” said Nairnie.
Mardon took Emmaline’s arm and stepped to the side as Coop and Ramble rolled barrels over to Nairnie.
“I’m sure you’d like to rest,” said Mardon. “You and Nairnie will be sleeping in my cabin.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Emmaline, happy to know she’d have a private place to go and wouldn’t be around the men. Besides, she was sure the painting was in the cabin. It had to be, if he still had it. “I appreciate you giving up your private space for me.”
“Who said I was giving up anything?” he asked. “I’ll be sharing the cabin with the two of you.”
“I canna work with ye two standin’ in the way,” complained Nairnie. “Now either leave or help me, but move.”
“Let me show you my private quarters.” Mardon took her arm and escorted her across the deck. Emmaline suddenly felt frantic. The man was taking her to his private quarters?
“I think I should stay and help Nairnie.” She looked over her shoulder but Mardon just walked faster, almost dragging her along with him.
“Nonsense. Nairnie doesn’t need help. Here we are.” Mardon opened the door and held out his arm, waiting for her to enter. Her heart beat faster and her mouth felt dry. She licked her lips, just trying to swallow, noticing his eyes fastening to her mouth.
“Yes. Here we are.” She took two steps into the cabin and stopped dead in her tracks. There on the wall with the sun from a small portal lighting it up brightly was the naked painting of her hanging on the wall!
Chapter 5
“Welcome to my cabin,” said Mardon, entering the room after the nun and closing the door behind him.
“Oh!” gasped Emmaline, holding her hand to her mouth. Her eyes were fastened to the painting. “I can’t stay in here with . . . with that!”
“It’s just a painting of a naked tart,” he said with a chuckle.
“A tart?” she asked, sounding haughty. She turned her head away from the painting.
“Aye, you know. A willing woman, a strumpet, a whore.”
“I know what a tart is,” she said through gritted teeth, seeming angry if he wasn’t mistaken. Mayhap he shouldn’t have explained it to her. “It needs to go.”
“What? Nay. I like it too much to ever get rid of it.” He walked over and ran his hand down the painting, past the girl’s naked breasts, and slowly down to the thatch of hair between her legs. It made him randy. “I had the chance to bed this beauty, but I decided not to. Now, I wish I had.”
“You decided?” she asked from behind him.
“Aye,” he answered, figuring he didn’t need to explain that the woman had offered herself to him and then tried to kill him. His hand went to the scar on his arm from where the wench stabbed him.
“You can’t expect a nun to stay in here with that. You need to take it down.”
“I can’t. I like it too much. So do my men.” His eyes scanned the painting again from head to toe. “Damn, she is a beauty. I’ve had a lot of women but none of them who ever came close to looking like this one. She is damned near perfect, I tell you.”
Emmaline squirmed as Mardon stared at the naked image of her. For the second time, he ran his hand over the painting. When his fingertips glided past her nipples in the painting, she tingled, feeling as if he were doing it to her in person. Then his palm covered her womanhood and her eyes closed as she felt herself come to life beneath her nun’s attire. She remembered his kiss and gentle caresses and how they’d almost made love. It was as if he were really touching her once again, even though he was only touching the painting. “Oooh,” she heard herself moan, not meaning to do that aloud.