by Andrea Jones
Smee chuckled. “And I’ll be shucking off my boots and diving in to join them! Off you go, now.”
Tom shuttled down the stairs while Smee tapped on the majestic door, just above the brass plaque. Not waiting for a response, he entered the commodore’s quarters. “Good morning, Sir, Lady.” Smee closed the door behind him. His boots made no noise as he headed over the carpets.
The luxuriance of the room was already illuminated with daylight from the bedside windows. Endowed with crowns of sunshine, the pirate king and his queen leaned back against the pillows of their four-posted bed.
“Time to be rousing, Sir.”
“You are too late, Mr. Smee.” The commodore sent his steward a humorous glance. His black hair was disheveled, and Jill caressed his beard. The thick band of jewels on her wrist shone as sharp and blue as his eyes. “You are, however, just in time to save my neck.”
Jill turned her tousled head to Smee. “I was proposing to perform your duties again, Mr. Smee. But I shall bow to your expertise with the razor.”
“Aye, Ma’am. The commodore’s cuts from your last barbering are nearly healed. We’d best not be inflicting any more.” Smee smiled to see that the commodore had taken his advice about the bracelet. He threw open the rest of the curtains and took down the brocaded dressing gown. Inhaling a hint of her scent on it, he held it ready for the lady. Like every morning of the past eight days, he waited patiently for the master to relinquish his mistress. Hook had confided in him: possessing only one hand caused intriguing delays. But the couple had compensated where the jewelry was concerned. Between the two of them, new baubles were somehow secured upon the lady. Every night, now.
Jill fetched Hook’s dusty-blue velvet from the wardrobe, then settled on the window seat, enjoying her tea while Smee tended the commodore. The men strapped the brace on Hook’s shoulders and saw to the shaving. With pleasure, Jill watched her perfect pirate and his burly Irishman. Every mundane task reassured her— she was sailing on her own familiar ocean. Toward her Island, and, no doubt, adventure.
A fresh breeze wafted through the aft windows, and Jill turned for a glimpse of the sea. Instead she found herself gazing at the lovely lines of Red Lady. With a sudden pang, she was reminded of the unsettled segment of her heart. This particular contention, she hoped for everyone’s sake, might never find an end. The men she loved would be thrown together now— and often. Their positions forced them to work in tandem. As ranking officers, responsible for two companies of men, they must consult and scheme together, find value in each other’s skills. And each would seek his pleasure soon, on the shores of the Neverland…if she could keep them from killing each other.
Hook studied her reflection in his shaving mirror. “Your concern would be more profitably employed in regard to the boy, Jill. I wonder to what pass he has brought our Island by now.”
“Aye, Sir. I look forward to speaking with Lily and my Twins.”
Smee’s hand joggled and Hook recoiled, scowling. “Perhaps, Mr. Smee, you had better surrender that razor to Jill after all.”
“Begging your pardon, Commodore. But, Sir—”
“Yes, Mr. Smee. You may be dismissed at first sight of land.” He gestured to summon the razor. “Not before.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’ve waited this long to hold my Lily. Seems I just can’t be waiting any more.” Smee’s features grew cautious, then. “And Sir. Shall I be asking the Indian ladies if they know of a young woman to wait on the lady?”
Jill watched Hook’s face, relieved as it darkened.
“No, Mr. Smee. I have learned my lesson. I’ll not be trusting anyone else. As the commodore’s mate and steward, you alone are to care for my personal belongings.” Hook shot a look at Jill. “All of them.”
She smiled.
When Hook was combed and shaven, the two men perfected the fit of his suit. Jill herself buckled on her lover’s sword. Hook cupped her chin and kissed her, thoroughly, then swept up his hat and her heart all at once. “See to my lady, Mr. Smee. I expect her to be perfectly happy. No less.”
Grinning, Smee nodded. “Aye, Commodore. I’m the man for the job.”
“You were created for it.” Hook sent Jill an incendiary smile that set her insides ablaze, then surged from the cabin in a storm of blue velvet.
Smee closed the door behind him. As the master’s footsteps faded, he reached for the hair brush. “Here we are, Lady.” Observing the lovely tint of Jill’s cheeks, Smee waited for her to recover her composure. “Shall we be putting your hair up in that pretty twist today?”
“Yes, Mr. Smee. And I’ll want the sapphire necklace. To match my new bracelet.”
“And to match your gown…and your eyes.” Smee’s husky hands forgot they were holding the brush. He simply stood staring.
Jill smiled and turned her back. “Sit down, Mr. Smee. I want you to take your time.”
“Aye, Lady.” As he had done for the black hair, Smee untangled the golden. Then, using the brush, using his fingers, he set out to comply with his orders. He knew how the lady loved his hands in her hair. Smee kept his eyes on her, avoiding the sight of the other Lady gliding behind them— with a handsome gypsy captain astride her bowsprit. Smee found a way to keep Jill’s gaze from straying there.
But her eyes opened as she felt Smee’s lips touch her neck. “Mr. Smee. You won’t forget the commodore’s command?”
“No, Ma’am,” Smee murmured against her skin, making her senses prickle with pleasure, “You know I’d never be disobeying him.”
Jill closed her eyes again.
“I’m ordered to be giving you his love. Whenever he’s not handy.”
She turned her head toward him in acknowledgment, relishing the warmth of his hands on her shoulders. Strong hands. Like Captain Cecco’s.
“Aye, Conor. I feel his love.”
As with the Julianne, as with all his prizes, Hook had arranged to leave her burning.
Acknowledgements
My appreciation to the officers of the fleet…
Jolene Barjasteh, Gary M. Burton, Stacy DeCoster, Victoria Everitt, Greg Gressle, Catherine Leah Condon-Guillemette, Erik Hollander, Maureen Holtz, Scott Jones, Kim, Mary Lawrence, Krista Menzel, Deena Sherman, Ginny Thompson, Peter Von Brown, Admiral Morgan Ramirez, and my fellow captains of Under the Black Flag.
Respect and honor to
Marie Gillette and Ruth Brauch of Rock Island High School,
who taught us to read, to write, and to think;
and to
Sir James Barrie,
the blackest pirate of them all.
And the brightest.
About the Author
Andrea Jones is the author of Hook & Jill, a serious parody of Sir James Barrie’s timeless tale, Peter & Wendy. Her debut novel, Hook & Jill won five literary awards, among them the Gold Award for Adult Fiction and Literature in the 2010 Mom’s Choice Awards®, and Best New Fiction in the 2010 International Book Awards.
Jones graduated from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, where she studied Oral Interpretation of Literature, with a Literature Minor. In her career in television production, she worked for CBS, PBS, and corporate studios, also performing as on-camera and voice-over talent.
Jones’ work is informed by a broad range of thinkers and writers, among them Alexandre Dumas, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy, Carl Jung, P.G. Wodehouse, Robert Graves, Patrick O’Brian, Dorothy Dunnett, and, of course, Sir James Barrie, who created the modern mythology of the Neverland and its endearing, enduring characters.
Andrea Jones is known around the world as Capitana Red-Hand of the web-based pirate brotherhood, Under the Black Flag. She is also a proud member of the Brethren of the Great Lakes.
Jones’ home port is near Chicago.
Other Oceans is Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga. Keep a weather eye for Book Three, Other Islands.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Acknowledgements
About the Author
