The Siren's Song Part 14

"Or what, pray tell?" Mather laughed. "You'll tie little bows into my hair?" He took a confrontational step toward Henri.

"Ya find me bows amusin', do ya?"

What was Henri doing? He was a churlish squab, but he was no match for these men.

"Let's see if you find him amusin', too."

Sam stepped into the alley, blocking out much of the light. He leveled two pistols at them.

Turk shoved Gilly back and went for his flintlock. Mather stayed him from firing.

"Alack, it seems we are at a deadlock."

"That we are," Henri said.

The four of them eyed one another, waiting for the slightest excuse to pull their triggers. People beyond Henri and Sam strode by, oblivious to the death lingering near. Gilly wanted to scream out to them, alert them to the malice in the alley surrounding her. Instead, she inched to the left, out of the line of fire.

"Join your friends, Miss McCoy." Mather flicked his hand toward the pirates.

Gilly plucked up her bag, feeling that the bottle inside was still intact, and sprinted behind her unlikely rescuers.

"Mark me well, Gillian," Mather said. "You may have avoided me this time, but we are far from done."

Henri shooed her out of the alley. "Back to the Rissa with ya."

Sam stayed behind until they had a good lead, then he, too, followed.

Crossing the gangway onto the Rissa, Gilly felt as if she jumped out of the frying pan and into the flames. At least her life wasn't in danger on the ship, she hoped. Still, she was alive, thanks to the peculiar pair. It seemed men of the Rissa were less like ghastly fiends and more like saviors.

She whirled around, forgetting her proper conduct, and hugged Sam. He stood like a column of stone, unmoving, with his arms sticking outward, nowhere near touching her. She smiled.

"Hey..." Before he could say another word, she bent and hugged Henri, too.

"Wha-" He swatted at her. "Git off me, ya fool girl!"

Minding her manners, she composed herself. "Thank you, sirs. I am indebted to you for saving me."

"Hmph." Henri crossed his stubby arms. "Capt'n gonna be none too pleased with ya, girlie."

"T'e Capt'n won't be 'appy wit' us neit'er," Sam said.

Henri c.o.c.ked his chin. "Here come the devil hisself."

Captain Drake strode up the dock, his black waistcoat flapping behind him. He did, in fact, look very annoyed. The boy, Jack, had a tough time keeping up.

"Mind telling me what's going on? What the h.e.l.l is so important sending Jack to disturb me from taking my leisure? And what is she doing here?"

Yep. Frying pan to the fire. He hardly granted her a glance. Did he despise her that much?

"Sam and I were gettin' supplies at the chandler, when I saw these two swabs try to make off with your la.s.s. Sent the boy after you when they dragged her inta the alley. They were bein' none too friendly with her and that called for me an' Sam to do a bit o' negotiatin', if ya know what I mean."

The angles of his jaw line clenched. She felt unwelcomed, and that hurt. Desperately, she wanted off his ship.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain Drake. Henri and Sam were very kind to step in when I needed help. You've got mighty fine men, yes sir. Mighty fine. I'll wager they are a hardy and fearsome duo while in battle, plundering, pillaging and such. They sure put on a good show back in the alley. But all is well now. I'll just be on my way." She bowed. "Good day."

She almost made it past him. Almost.

"Not so fast, Miss McCoy." Shoulder to shoulder, he slowly turned his gaze upon her. "As you might imagine, I covet my time in port. To interrupt me is a serious offense."

"But I-"

"We'll discuss this further in my cabin."

"No." She couldn't be alone with him. 'Twould surely be a grand mistake. She couldn't handle more of his hot and cold behavior. "I've intruded enough."

"That wasn't a request, Miss McCoy."

Well then, it seemed she had no choice. And that came as a relief.

Gilly shifted for more comfort in the hard chair at the captain's table, waiting for him to join her. She never thought she would be back in his quarters again. The last time he called her here didn't end well. Perhaps this time would be different. She drummed her fingernails against the smooth tabletop. What was keeping him?

His musky scent and the aged wood of the cabin pervaded the air she breathed, hushing what was left of her fear. She scanned his shelves. Nautical instruments she could not name, maps, leather-bound books, and gold, ivory and silver drinking tankards lined the case. Many things denoting this man wasn't a mere captain-he was a master of his trade, whatever that may be. Gilly decided she admired that about him.

Captain Drake entered in grand fashion, like a wild tempest blowing ash.o.r.e, and lit on the edge of his desk. "Your groom found you," he said as a matter of fact.

"Groom?" Ah, yes, yes. Her reason for leaving St. Augustine. She squirmed in her seat. "It would seem so." If she were to take up lying, she should do better to remember her fibs. "I don't want to keep you from whatever it was you were doing."

"You're not." He uncorked a rum bottle.

"But you said..."

He lifted the bottle in a mock toast before taking a drink.

"I couldn't help but notice you have a fondness for liquor." Much more than Hyde.

"Do you really want to speak to me of transgression." He nodded to her bag.

She collared a strand of hair, twirling it, and attempted to draw the attention away from herself. "You never did tell me about your painting of the naked woman? Where did you come by such a delightful piece?" Not surprisingly, he ignored her question. The man was not easy to thwart.

"From Henri's account, your intended was angry," he said. "Henri also said he was after something."

"There's been a misunderstanding." Gilly twirled her lock of hair faster. She had imprudently hoped conversation would not turn to her attack in the alley.

"Why don't you enlighten me?"

What could she say? She had already lied to him and truly despised that she did so. What would he think of her if she told him the truth now? She didn't want him to scorn her any more than he already did. She must make this mess go away. "It's nothing. He thought I had something of his."

The captain raised his brow.

"I don't," she added quickly.

"Some men believe their bride to be a possession." He studied her over the upward tilt of his bottle whilst he enjoyed a quaff.

"Do you?" she countered, quite inquisitive with his answer.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "In some ways I do."

"How so?"

"My woman is mine to protect." He paused, thoughtful. "Much like this chandelier." He kicked at the chest beside his desk. "The chandelier is valuable to me and I shall take great care of it. When polished, it will shine. When lit, it will be lovely and bring me pride and pleasure."

"Yet, the chandelier is ill-gotten."

"As are most of my wenches." A l.u.s.ty grin grew across his winsome face and he made a cursory sweep down to her chest.

Did he consider her his wench? Nay, not with the way he dumped her on the floor last night. Her b.u.m still hurt. Nevertheless, her nipples tingled under his slow, heated survey. "You do have a way with trickery and charm."

"Not trickery. a.s.sure yourself I am a man who does not give in to gratuitous behavior. But you are intimately aware of that."

Her cheeks flushed hot. She managed to wrap the strand of hair into a knot around her finger.

"My charm, dear lady, only attracts those who wish to shine for me."

Good Lord, the captain had her fl.u.s.tered. She worked to free her finger and untangle the snarl. "It sounds as if a woman is an ornament for you to flaunt."

"I'll grant you that. But that is for me and my woman. No one would expect less from an irreprehensible pirate devil..." he canted his bottle toward her, "...and neither should you. However, I don't believe it as such for a wedded couple. Then the husband should devote his life to protecting his wife, loving her, and seeing to her happiness, for through her, his legacy lives on."

"A wife shouldn't be a prize to merely display and preserve. She, too, should see to protecting, loving and bringing happiness to her husband."

"Bah!" Captain Drake slammed the bottle on his desk and rose. "In the face of real danger, a woman is to protect her offspring, not her man. Not her man!" He marched around to the bank of windows and stared out into the bay. Leaning his arm on the pane, his fist clenched so that Gilly could see the whites of his knuckles.

Quietly she sat with her hands in her lap, unsure of what she had done to make him angry. Time ticked off. His silence was too much. "I'm sorry, Captain Drake."

"Thayer," he corrected her. "I think we are beyond formalities, Gilly. Don't you agree?"

Her heart flipped at his use of her nickname. He sounded so...possessive. Of course, with the current discussion, she was probably imagining things.

He continued to gaze out at the horizon. "We've gotten away from the situation at hand," he said. "What is his name?"

"Whose?"

"Don't play coy with me, Gilly. What is his name?"

"Lowell Mather." There was no harm in telling him who her attacker was and she wouldn't be lying.

"What does Mather want?"

"Nothing that I can give him." Another truth.

The silence stretched too long.

"I speak true."

"Well then, Gilly-" he turned from the windows, "-I will grant you asylum on board Rissa for as long as necessary."

"I've absolutely nothing to pay you in return."

He smirked. "As I pointed out earlier, I'm not of the gratuitous nature. I'm sure we can work something out."

She rose to meet him.

"I must return to sh.o.r.e for a spell," he said. "Stay on the ship and do not venture to the lower decks."

He made it as far as the door, before she reached out to stop him. His eyes fell upon her grip.

"Thank you, Thayer."

Without a word, he left.

Chapter Eleven.

Drake kept a watchful eye out for the Mather fellow whilst he finished up business. He would have rather finished up business at The Black Dog. But as his day took an unexpected turn, so did his plans. He sent Henri and Sam to finish stocking the ship's provisions, making d.a.m.ned sure they procured plenty more rum and ale. With his other two trusted men, Valeryn and Willie, otherwise indisposed in town, he had no one to entrust with Gilly's safety. He opted to stake men around the ship, letting no one on board who didn't belong. As long as she stayed put, she would be fine. Past experience reminded him that women didn't always do as they were told. He needed to get back to the docks soon.

The Bristol Inn, a large red building at the end of the avenue, had a splendid view of the piers. The keeper had decent hot meals, spicy punch and lively music. Drake preferred a dimly lit den, but the alehouse was popular among jack tars in port. 'Twould be a good place for someone keeping watch on the wharf. A man could see who came and went down the quay.

Drake entered the establishment and paused at the door. To the left, a musician played the harpsichord and several high-spirited dancers kicked and twirled on a small stage, coaxing randy dogs to part with their money. The girls hardly danced at all as they scooped up the coins thrown at them. To the right, a long bar lined with patrons. Drake scanned the smoky room. No sign of Mather, his crony, or the little pimple, Abel. He nodded to the inn's proprietor and took a table in the rear, his back to the wall. He didn't bother removing his hat. A man with his hat low over his eyes became inconspicuous. If someone did happen to notice him, there would be no doubt he did not invite company. Drake preferred to watch others from under his brim. No one would be sure if he was staring at them and that made folks uncomfortable.

The owner set a full tankard on the table before him. "Drake."

"McKinley." Drake didn't look up.

"I don't want no trouble," McKinley said. "I still haven't patched up that hole from your last visit."

Drake smiled to himself. The hole in the wall behind the bar was the size of the chap's head who thought to rough up a wench. The maggot learned a painful lesson that day. "I'll do my best."

Jolly dogs, drunk to their gills, guffawed and caroused throughout the place. Drake focused on the tables along the large windows. If Mather entered, he likely would take up a spot where he could keep vigil, watching and waiting for Gilly. He didn't come across the Florida Straits because of a misunderstanding. Be it his bride or something more, the man wasn't leaving empty-handed.

Drake had been restless as of late and Mather molesting Gilly gave him a good excuse to do a little hunting of his own. In truth, he hardly needed an excuse to get into a sc.r.a.p. It was sporting fun. However, he'd drink a bowl of brimstone and fire with Beelzebub before he'd let a man lay an angry hand to a girl. With the murderous glare Mather wore, Drake would wager Gilly had much more in store for her than a sharp backhand. He would make sure that didn't happen.