Shaw nudged his wife, who shuffled forward, and Lady Gregg followed. “Alesia, why dinna we leave the men to talk, and ye can come see if one of our gowns…suits ye better?”
Alesia’s jaw set, and Thor had a moment of panic that she’d challenge the women instead. Their gazes connected, and she seemed to think better of whatever she’d been about to say or do. She passed him her mug and quit the room with a glower.
“Explain,” Shaw demanded, his face devoid of emotion, but his tone saying everything.
“I found Santiago’s bastard.” The men nodded, having seen the resemblance as immediately as he had himself. “I plan to reunite them.”
Shaw narrowed his eyes as did Con, glancing at each other. “Reunite them? Since when do ye do charitable works?”
Thor drank the rest of the ale in Alesia’s mug. “Trust me, this is anything but charitable.”
Chapter Nine
Whisked up a back staircase and into a snug bedchamber cluttered with furniture and locked chests, Alesia found her heart skipping beats and her breath labored. She didn’t know who these people were or whether she could trust them. Thor seemed to know them well, claimed they were part of his brethren, but what she knew of pirates was they couldn’t trust anyone, let alone each other.
And women—ha! She’d been betrayed more often by those of her own gender than men by half. So as soon as the doors were closed, she rounded on both Jane and Gregoria with fists raised, ready for whatever it was they were about to toss her way.
“I’ll not be locked up by the two of ye.” Her voice came out surprisingly steady despite her lack of breath and overbeating heart.
The two women glanced at each other, seeming to speak silently, which had Alesia all the more on edge. They kept their hands where she could see them, neither of them holding a weapon.
“We mean nothing but friendship,” Jane started, arms outstretched as she took a step closer, as though Alesia were a rabid animal that needed to be treated with care. The lady was beautiful, elegant, and spoke with an air of nobility. Her gown was of the finest gold brocade, with violet-colored roses embroidered throughout. Golden hair was piled on her head in neat curls, and her brows slashed with teasing intelligence.
“We know you’ve no reason to trust us,” Gregoria said, her voice a smooth English in contrast to Jane’s brogue. She, too, was the epitome of elegance, though the wisps of reddish-brown locks that fell from her braid gave off an air of defiance. She wore a gown of soft lavender silk.
“Do ye think me that naïve?” Alesia shook her head. “Ye know nothing of me.”
At that, Gregoria nodded, backing toward a chair and all but tossing herself upon it with an air of casual camaraderie. “You are correct, so why do you not tell us a little about yourself.”
Clever lady, Gregoria was. But Alesia was not going to be tricked into giving her any information.
Lady Jane, appearing to take a hint from Gregoria, also backed away. Though instead of retreating to a chair, she stepped to an ornate sideboard filled with crystal glasses and decanters, the likes of which Alesia was certain could only have been in a royal palace before now. Jane opened a jug and poured three cups of dark red wine, passing one to each of them.
Alesia held her glass away from her as though it might be poisoned, but the scent of the wine was sweet, and she longed to take a sip.
“I propose a toast.” Lady Jane held her cup up in the air. “To Thor’s woman, Lady Alesia.”
“I’m not his woman. And I’m not a lady, either.”
Jane only smiled, making Alesia wonder if she’d heard her at all.
“I often said the same thing myself when I met Shaw.” Jane winked. So she had heard her, she’d just chosen to ignore her.
“I hate to disappoint ye—” Alesia paused and set down the cup without taking a sip, as disappointing as that was. “Actually, I dinna care if I disappoint ye. I am not his woman. I am not a lady. And I plan on leaving. Now.”
“Truly?” Jane frowned and glanced at Gregoria. “I could have sworn by the way he was looking at ye that…ye and he were…together. Have ye not kissed him at all?”
At that, Alesia’s face flamed hot, traitorous cheeks giving away that she had indeed kissed him. Jane and Gregoria both had identical knowing looks on their pretty, clean faces.
“That’s what I thought.” Gregoria gave a firm nod.
Anger knotted in Alesia’s chest. “We might have kissed once, but it was only in a fit of passion. Nothing more. It meant little to me, and less to him.”
The ladies gave her a pitying look. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Alesia tossed her hands up in the air. Apparently, it was time to set these ladies straight.
“Look at me,” Alesia shouted. “My gown is soaked through because the man tossed me into the water. Would a man who considered me his woman throw me off his ship? In case ye’re not clear on the answer, it is nay.”
They both sighed as if she’d just said the most romantic thing and eyed each other once more as they sipped their wine.
“Ye’re both mad.” Alesia turned away with exasperation, feeling quite mad herself. “Whatever’s in those cups, I suggest ye dinna drink any more of it.”
Alesia walked to the far wall, crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the two ladies who whispered and sighed. What the bloody hell could they even be talking about? She had the distinct impression it was no longer about her.
“Ahoy, lassies,” Alesia said in her best imitation of Thor’s voice. “Will ye allow me to leave now?”
The two women were both reposed, relaxed even. They sipped at their wine as if blatantly showing her they would not take her up on her suggestion, and instead, they studied her. Where their seats were situated, she’d have to pass them to get to the door. It wouldn’t be any great feat to shove them both out of the way. She could tell by the look of them that she was stronger, and she obviously had her wits about her, which neither of them could claim.
“Why are ye looking at me like that?” Alesia couldn’t help but grumble.
It was Jane who spoke first. “I grew up privileged, some would say. Father and mother both nobles. My first husband was quite wealthy and titled. But my life took a turn for the worse. I thought I’d made a good choice, living in an abbey, forcing myself to conform, to be someone I wasn’t. Someone I didn’t want to be.”
Alesia stared hard at Jane, wondering why the hell she was sharing so much and yet so little about herself.
“At any rate”—Jane waved her hand as if she were swatting away Alesia’s questions—“what I found was that in order for me to be myself, I had to let go of who I wanted everyone else to believe I was.”
Alesia’s arms fell to her sides as what the lady said sank in, meaning so much and making so much sense it was exasperating. Oh, she understood completely. Jane saw through Alesia’s tough exterior. Through the brashness of her attitude, the vulgarity of her tongue, the strength of her bravado. She saw the vulnerable lass that lurked inside. The one that was desperately besotted.
With a bloody pirate.
A passionate, handsome, strong, sensual pirate.
Well, that would have to be dealt with, wouldn’t it?
But of course, because she was stubborn to a fault, Alesia couldn’t let the woman know how much her words affected her. So she braced her hands on her hips, gave off her most annoyed expression and said very loudly and obnoxiously, “What in the bloody hell are ye talking about?”
When in doubt, let the anger out. That had always been Alesia’s motto, and what hadn’t failed in the past, couldn’t fail her now, right?
Gregoria laughed. Literally doubled over, nearly spilling her wine, or whatever it was in their cups, as she did so.
“I do so love your expressions,” Gregoria exclaimed. “I’ve not seen so much spirit in a woman since I met Jane.”
Dear Hell in a breadbasket, what was Alesia to do now? She was surrounded by a bunch of drunkards, except Jane’s expression w
as serious, which had Alesia wondering if the time the woman had spent at the convent hadn’t sunk deeper into her veins than she wanted to admit.
“I’m going to walk out of this room,” Alesia said evenly. “And neither of ye are going to stop me.”
“On the contrary, my dear.” Jane’s voice held no nonsense. “Ye’re my guest, and it would be most unkind of ye to be rude.”
Rude? Again, Alesia’s mind whirled.
“I dinna want to be here. And me escaping canna be considered rude.” Had the world gone mad? Or just this part of the world? Or just her?
“I understand that, but ye wouldna be here if ye’d not agreed.”
“How do ye know that? Captain Thor could have taken me prisoner. Forced me off the ship and into your strange little pirate town.”
“He doesna take innocents as prisoners. Nor does the way he looks at ye give me any inclination that’s his desire.”
Alesia frowned. “Well, I am allowed to change my mind. Which I have done. I wish to leave.”
Jane approached her, less cautiously now. “Then allow me to give ye a new gown afore ye go.”
“Ye will let me leave?” Never mind the gown.
Jane shrugged, neither confirming nor denying anything. Well, Alesia would take that as an aye, and make her way to the door as soon as she was dressed.
“Besides”—Jane touched Alesia’s bare elbow—“ye’d not want to make your escape dressed in less than a harlot’s gown.”
Less than a harlot’s… The meaning was both an insult and a fact all at once. Rather than comment, Alesia simply gritted her teeth and swallowed the harsh and vulgar words that came immediately to mind when she found herself in a threatening situation.
“I am not a harlot.”
“I would never have thought so.” As she turned away, Alesia caught the look in the woman’s eyes—triumph, but something else, something bordering on compassion.
Jane opened up a chest and started to riffle through it, muttering to herself as she studied one gown after another and then finally pulled one from the very bottom. The fabric was dark-blue velvet with silver threading, the kind she’d seen on ladies in Edinburgh. She’d always envied the ladies and their apparent lack of worry. They never had to consider where their next meal came from. Or struggle to put clothes on their backs. The gowns she saw them wear were likely only worn a few times before being tossed into the garbage for someone else to salvage. Was that where this gown came from now? Some lady’s toss offs?
“I canna wear it.” Alesia longed to don the soft-looking gown, even as she denied herself the luxury.
“Why not? ’Tis the right size.”
“I’d rather be paraded naked down Leith Street.”
Jane cocked her head. “While I admire your…principles or morality, or whatever the reason is ye would deny yourself proper clothes—”
“I would prefer breeches.” Alesia felt her face flame red once more. She pinched the skirt of her ruined gown. “To wear that”—she waved her hand in the direction of the blue gown—“would go against my own…self.”
“Self? Do clothes make a self?” Gregoria commented, her leg tossed over the arm of the chair, and a lavender slipper poking from under her own skirts.
Alesia rounded on her. “Aye, they do. That is why the men below, half of them wear a plaid—matching plaids, mind ye—and the others wear breeches. That is why ye think I should change my gown, because I dinna suit whatever ye have decided a lass must be.”
“Does this not suit ye?” Jane held up the gown in question. “’Tis beautiful.”
“Nay it doesna. And while it may be beautiful, I prefer to wear breeches.”
“All right.” Jane tossed the gown back into the chest and marched toward the door. She yanked it open and yelled for someone, calling out she needed small breeches and a shirt. “Are ye certain ye dinna want a plaid, lass?”
A plaid? Nay, for to do so would claim loyalty to whomever she wore the colors of, and Alesia refused to swear allegiance to anyone but herself. “Nay.”
“Boots?”
“I have my own pair aboard The Sea Devil.” She bit her lip. “I prefer to be barefoot.”
“Do ye never get cold?”
Alesia shook her head.
“Well, we all have our quirks.” Jane smiled. “I wish I could be barefoot, but alas, I am so clumsy, I’d probably break a different toe each day.”
Alesia sank onto the chest where the gown had been tossed and crossed her arms over her chest. While she wanted to continue sulking, she was finding it hard not to like Jane and Gregoria. Their apparent joy for life and the humor they seemed to find in almost everything was contagious. Plus, they did not judge her for wanting to wear breeches. In fact, they were going out of their way to see that she was comfortable.
“From where do you hail?” Gregoria asked.
“Edinburgh. Born and…” She was going to say raised, but could she truly call her upbringing a raising? Nay. Not in any sense of the word they might understand. “Survived.”
Jane shut the door, her arms clutching a load of fabric. “Edinburgh, ye say?”
“Born and survived,” Gregoria added. “Quite right. We should all say so much about our childhoods.”
“Aye,” Jane agreed. The lady’s eyes grew misty. “Edinburgh is where I met Shaw.”
“Oh? That is where I came across Thor as well.” Alesia stood and moved closer to the fire, feeling a little more at ease with the two ladies. “Seems the men spend a lot of time in the city. What’s the appeal?”
Jane’s lips pinched at the corners. “Besides it being a port?”
“Ah, aye, I suppose I can see that,” Alesia said. “Plenty of places to blend in.”
Jane’s eyes flickered, and Alesia wondered what she could be hiding, but she wasn’t brave enough to pry. Gregoria seemed to know and approached her friend to take the clothes and pass them on to Alesia.
“You’re welcome to go behind the screen to change.”
Alesia took the opportunity to do just that, hearing them whisper and unable to make out any of the words. Dressed, she still couldn’t face them. Instead, she leaned against the wall, needing the support of something steady. Seeing, hearing the women confide in one another, the support they showed each other, only affirmed just how lonely she truly was.
There had never been anyone she could confide in. Not even her mother. Before her mother had died, Alesia had spent more time running away from the woman, searching her out in taverns to get her home than receiving any sort of comfort from her.
And the men, Jane and Gregoria seemed to truly admire and love their men. Something Alesia had dreamed of only on the nights when she allowed the bleakness to disappear and a fairy tale to emerge.
“Are ye all right back there?” The voice was Jane’s, and she sounded genuine.
Tears pricked Alesia’s eyes. Why should they care about her? Why did they bring her into their fold? Teasing her, clothing her, feeding her?
Their sincerity and kindness seemed too much, and yet she wanted to grasp it. To pull them to her breast and declare she wanted to be one of them. But Alesia had only ever known bitterness and disappointment. And who was she to kid herself that she was worth anything more than that? She was a wharf rat. A lowly and disgusting breed. Worthless. The scum of the earth.
“What’s wrong?” The sound of Jane’s voice had Alesia jerking her head up. She’d not realized that she’d sunk to the floor, or that she’d been crying.
Embarrassed, she swiped at the tears on her face and scrambled to her feet, only to find herself enfolded in a warm embrace and the scent of flowers.
“There, there,” Jane said, stroking her back. “All will be well. Gregg and I will see that no harm comes to ye. Ye’re safe with us.”
Safe. Practically foreign, the word had taken on new meaning since she’d climbed through the portal in Captain Thor’s cabin on The Sea Devil. It meant hope.
Chapter Ten
/> “I canna believe ye found Santiago’s daughter.” Shaw sat back in his chair shaking his head. “And ye’re a bastard for what ye plan to do to her.”
Thor had to admit it had been easier to find Santiago’s child than he’d initially thought. In fact, he’d thought it would be a lost cause. But he was wrong. And Shaw was right—Thor was a bastard, a fact he’d reminded himself of a hundred times already. “Planned, man. Emphasis on the past. I dinna plan to seduce her any longer.” Thor downed the contents of his ale, hating the censure he was gaining from his two happily married comrades.
“But ye will sell her.” This time it was Lachlan who spoke. “For a bit of coin?”
“’Tis not like that,” Thor grumbled. “The man is looking for her, and he’s willing to pay a high price to whoever finds her.”
“But if he sees ye deliver her, he’ll never believe she’s the one,” Shaw said. “His hatred for ye runs too deep.”
The men didn’t know the half of it. All they knew was that years ago, Santiago had captured Thor and tortured him. He had never told anyone about his mother. About his father’s treachery, or why he’d been found alone and seeking vengeance as a lad. Or why their pirate king had tucked him into the fold of the brotherhood like everyone else.
Thor set his jaw and spoke calmly. “My hatred for him is a thousand times worse.”
Shaw frowned while Constantine chuckled. “Dinna let your hatred rule ye. When we allow our anger to breach our minds, mistakes happen.”
“Aye,” Con agreed.
“I’ll not be making any mistakes where that bastard is concerned.” He’d already carefully crafted exactly how his plan was going to work. “But I need your help.”
Constantine and Shaw leaned forward at the table, each of them eyeing him with their own speculative glances before making eye contact with each other, some unspoken message passing.
“How?” Shaw folded his hands in front of him, patiently waiting.
“I’ll need a new ship. I dinna want Santiago to see me coming.”
The Sea Devil: Pirates of Britannia: Lords of the Sea Page 9
