It had been a long while since I’d pinned up my wild mane and wore the alias of a respectable lady. I’d forgotten how much I hated it.
“I look like a sunbaked pear stuffed in shrunk satin.” I tugged at the bosom of the gray gown, feeling trapped and miserable. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
He didn’t spare me a glance. “I’d rather not say.”
“Why not? You’re never one to hold your tongue.”
“You’re in a simmering mood.” His brown eyes darted over the perimeter. “Causing a scene isn’t my aim presently.”
“You fret like a lady’s maid.”
“Rot in hell.”
“Someday I shall. But—”
“Today isn’t your day,” he said, finishing my favorite motto.
Voices drifted from a nearby alley, followed by the tread of footsteps.
Reynolds faded into the shadows as a smartly dressed couple ambled by, making a wide berth around the decaying corpse.
When they vanished beyond the corner, Reynolds returned to my side. “Pay your respects to Captain Vane so we can gather the crew. The faster we weigh anchor, the better.”
He retreated again, blending into the darkness.
With his ever-vigilante gaze on my back, I blew out a breath and stepped toward the wooden platform.
Another wave of pedestrians passed, and I bowed my head, hiding my face until they strolled away, seemingly unmoved by the dead pirate hanging above them.
My heart ached.
Slipping a hand into the discreet slit in the gown, I accessed the hidden dimity pocket and stroked the polished surface of my father’s compass. A map, he’d called it. One I’d yet to unlock.
Charles and I had spent a couple of years trying to open the instrument. He eventually gave up on it, and we parted ways. But we always managed to find each other. Whether it was at sea or in a tavern, we would trade stories and reconnect over pewter tankards. He never missed an opportunity to tease me about my father’s unattainable treasure.
“I’m still searching for the key,” I whispered too low for Reynold’s ears. “I bet you’re laughing at me from your throne in hell, you droll, mean-spirited scrub.”
I waited for Charles’ witty retort, but it would never come.
Lifting my eyes, I flexed my hands against the onset of crippling emotion.
Dark, blood-soaked hair fell from his widow’s peak to his chest, his face bloated and clinging to what had once been a devilishly handsome bone structure. Tattered clothing hung from rotting skin, which served as a feeding ground for flies and maggots.
Tears gathered in my throat, and I swallowed them down, transforming my grief into the temperament that had kept me alive all these years.
“Damn you, Charles.” My cheeks burned, and my nails gouged my palms. “You look like the pustular aft of a diseased dog. Is this what you wanted? To hang on display like a damned pirate martyr?” I slammed a fist onto the platform, unleashing the rage in my voice. “I should have kept you in my bed. If it was death you wanted, I would’ve sent you there myself, stiff and hard, with a smile upon your face!”
“That’s enough.” Reynolds hooked an arm around my waist and dragged me into a dark alcove. “What, pray tell, was that all about?”
“We never exchange goodbyes.” I pushed him away and composed myself. “We exchange insults.”
He leaned around me, scrutinized the quiet road through Gallows Point, and turned back. “You and Charles Vane were lovers?”
“Not lovers. I gave him my maidenhood. He was a gentleman about it. Waited until I was sixteen before he stripped me from stem to stern and made me bleed.”
His eyes hardened, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Don’t be offended on my account.” I patted his rigid arm. “I enjoyed it far too much, and we remained dear friends after.”
“Friends, you say?” He cleared his throat. “Even when you seized Jade from him?”
“She’s my ship, Reynolds. When my father died, I was only fourteen and needed Charles to command her. But even then, she was my ship. Until the day she sinks. No matter who captains her.”
“We should return to her now.”
With a nod, I exited the alcove and made my way toward the tavern at the edge of Port Royal. My faithful crew of miscreants would be stirring up mischief with their bellies swimming with ale.
Reynolds trailed at a distance as to not draw attention to me. This wasn’t Boston or St. Augustine, where the streets overflowed with English soldiers. But the governor of Jamaica was known for his terror against my kind. His men hunted and hanged pirates with ruthless enthusiasm.
Up ahead, light spilled from an open doorway, illuminating the dirt road between the buildings. Boisterous laughter and the off-tune clanging of a piano announced the merriment of hard-drinking patrons.
I stuck to the deepest shadows and slipped behind a wagon that sat across the road from the tavern. Peering around bags of grain, I had a direct view of the activity within.
The structure was a story and a half high with bedrooms on the upper floor. The ground level connected to the buildings on either side and served as an inn, trading post, courtroom, and post office.
But tonight, its only purpose was entertainment.
Customers shouted, and tavern wenches heckled back, sloshing quarts of ale and trading coins. The tables overflowed with all manner of freeborn life, from lords and navy sailors to scoundrels and doxies.
I marked the familiar faces of my crew. Most of them bewhiskered and unkempt, they clustered around the bar and pawed at the courtesans like a legion of grinning, belching, rough-talking demons.
A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I’d kept them at sea too long. Six months on this last stretch. They needed this. They’d earned it.
So had I.
From my hiding spot across the street, several strangers caught my eye. Roguish, virile young men, who would eagerly spend a few sweaty hours with a flamboyantly dressed woman.
I glanced down at the round flesh that threatened to spill over my bodice. Perhaps I was pretty enough, but I knew naught how to flirt or seduce. It had been two years since I’d tried.
Two years since I’d been kissed, touched, or brought to the acme of pleasure by a skilled hand.
The last time I’d succumbed to the spell of a man’s charm, it ended in devastating agony. A tragedy I should have avoided but now credited as a necessary life lesson. The next time I fall into someone’s bed—no matter how clever, potent, or irresistibly handsome he might be—I would not involve my heart. Never again.
A blond sailor stepped into my line of sight, lingering just inside the tavern. His eyes glimmered in the overhead candlelight as he watched the crowd and sipped his drink. There was an innocence about him, a harmless curiosity in his expression. Perhaps it would be easy to fuck him with no recoil or attachment after.
Footsteps advanced, and Reynolds appeared at my side, ducking his tall frame behind the wagon.
“Your crewmates are enjoying themselves.” I kept my gaze on the blond man, imagining the feel of his lean body moving against mine. “We should stay a few more hours. I could use a drink.” And a dark corner with an attractive sailor.
“There’s a flush upon your neck, Captain.”
I cupped my hand there and ground my teeth.