* * *
Two weeks later, Izzy was feeling better. The bruises and cuts had all but faded, and her energy was back up. She was smiling, joking even, with the occupants of the house. Some still didn’t like her. They weren’t stupid. They could see the way Johnny looked at her. And when news broke that Johnny was getting ready to leave, they all but cheered.
“I don’t want you to come,” Johnny told Izzy that night in their room, his voice firm and serious. Izzy opened her mouth, ready to object, when Johnny cut her off. “Don’t argue with me, darling. What I’m to do is dangerous, and if anything happened to you while you were under my care, I could never forgive myself.”
Izzy thought about this long and hard. “So,” she began, knowing what she was going to say but wanted to be careful with how it would come out. “If you left me, I would stay here.”
“Correct,” Johnny said, nodding a couple of times. A very tiny part of him warned him that Izzy wasn’t usually this agreeable when she disagreed with something, but he decided to ignore it.
“In a brothel,” she continued, glancing around her room.
“Um. Yes,” Johnny said, this time a bit more wary.
“You listen to me, Johnny Clover,” Izzy said, narrowing her eyes in his direction. “If you promptly decide to ditch me at a whorehouse, I will have no other choice than to become a working woman myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Johnny said through gritted teeth.
“Wouldn’t I?” Izzy asked, arching a brow. “You told me yourself you couldn’t possibly fall in love, so this shouldn’t bother you in the slightest. So we kissed a few times. I’m sure you’ve kissed plenty of girls before. And anyways, I’m slightly experienced when it comes to sex, but—”
“You’re not becoming a whore,” Johnny growled, his eyes nearly black. “Fine, you can come with me, but I’m teaching you how to handle a blade. And you’ll listen to me. And you’ll—”
Izzy interrupted him, by grabbing his face and kissing him fully on the mouth, temporarily causing Johnny to forget what he was going to say. When they pulled apart, he looked down at her skeptically.
“You were never going to become a whore, were you?” he asked her, keeping his hands on her hips.
“Nope,” she said, a tiny smile on her lips.
“I really do like kissing you,” Johnny said, feeling slightly bothered that Izzy thought he believed it to be just another kiss. “You’re the only one I want to kiss, you know.”
Izzy smiled, saying nothing in order to allow herself to be wrapped up in his words. It was nice to hear him say that, but she wasn’t quite sure if what he was saying was true. He probably believed it, of course, but who knew if he’d still feel the same way in the future. Love was a scary emotion, but she had a feeling she was already too swept up in Johnny to pick herself up and pretend she felt absolutely nothing for him.
“And you know where kissing leads, hmm?” he asked with a wolfish grin, his dark eyes sparkling.
Izzy rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him on the shoulder. Though, he wasn’t exactly helping himself with those kinds of comments.
30
“You do know that if you had chosen to dabble in the arts of seduction as a lady of the night, I would have to murder every single one of your customers,” Johnny said the next morning over breakfast, looking at Izzy over a bowl of arguably the best porridge in the Caribbean. The two were quite comfortable with each other, and they managed to share a room—a bed—without any incident as of yet. Neither had confessed any sort of emotional ties concerning their feelings for each other, though both expressed desire in kissing and some chaste caressing when it came to their opposite. It was obvious to anyone and everyone who encountered them, even for a mere moment, how they truly felt, but said nothing regarding such thoughts, deciding to leave it to the two involved.
“Murder?” Izzy asked arching a brow after swallowing a raisin-filled bite of the hot meal. She pushed her lips into a frown as she regarded Johnny pointedly. “Is it so easy for you to kill somebody?” Her tone was not judgmental, but rather inquisitive, and Johnny could clearly read the curiosity in her eyes.
“It depends,” Johnny said, taking a moment to take in his surroundings. It was just the two of them currently in the dining room. That morning, both of them had risen into the early afternoon after a night of deep slumber. Marion apparently expected this because she had two bowls of porridge saved for the company. “If I am defending myself and feel threatened in a fatal way, then I could kill. If I was defending somebody I truly care about, my intentions might be persuaded much easier only because I find that I am protective over what and whom I treasure.”
“I thought you don’t really have people you care about,” she stated. Again, she was merely stating a fact, with no intention of coming off as closed-minded concerning his own personal belief system.
“I have a very select few,” Johnny told her, throwing a disarming smile in Izzy’s direction. “And you, my love, are at the very top of the list.”
Izzy couldn’t keep the tender smile off of her face if she had tried, but she averted her eyes so they looked down at the porridge in the bowl. Johnny seemed to know how he affected her, for he smiled at her reaction—at the smile itself, and the pink blush currently littering her cheeks. He absolutely adored making her blush; Izzy was quite becoming when she was embarrassed about something.
“You would only murder them because you think I’m yours,” Izzy said, refraining from rolling her eyes, but forcing them to lock with Johnny’s dark ones. “You’re like a dog, you know. I’m actually surprised you haven’t peed on me yet.”
Johnny frowned at such a notion, and he reached over to cup Izzy’s hand, the rough tip of his thumb already caressing mindless patterns on the surface of her skin. As usual, goose bumps sprang to attention all over Izzy’s body, and she couldn’t continue to ignore the way her heart skipped every time he did something so simple and out of character. Her mere infatuation for him was blossoming into something more; she couldn’t deny it anymore.
“You are mine.” The words that trailed out of Johnny’s mouth and laced in his usual low tone were spoken as though it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. However, he said no more on the matter, and refused to do so only because he wanted to avoid having a discussion on the subject of labeling what they had when it concerned their relationship. He didn’t want to commit to anything as of yet, afraid that something may happen to her, especially since she all but forced herself to accompany him on what everyone called his destiny. Upon hearing his words, Izzy opened her mouth as though to argue, maybe even question his statement, and Johnny recognized the look, clearing his throat and starting a new subject. “So, do you think you’ll miss it?”
Izzy paused, deciding that she was finished with breakfast and glanced over at her partner. The question did its job; it threw her off, at least for now. “Miss what?” she asked him, quirking a brow.
“Your home,” he elaborated, his sharp eyes taking in every inflection Izzy’s face had to offer in hopes to decipher any hidden meanings that might or might not reside there. “I mean, darling, when I was in your world, I really didn’t miss mine, only because there was nothing here to miss. But I know that you may be more inclined to miss your home because you had your family, you had Bex, you had Brian, your job.”
“Oh,” Izzy murmured, suddenly feeling guilty at the notion. She hadn’t really thought about it, but then again, she really didn’t have the time to do so. It was in Tortuga when she had been badly damaged, and she was in and out of consciousness for the next few days before realizing what had happened. Then the next two weeks flew by only because Marion, Gabriella, and Sarah all amused her with stories featuring Johnny in some way. And Johnny himself was as much of a distraction as anyone. “I’m not sure,” she finally said, running her fingers through her hair. “Of course I’ll miss Bex, and even my family from time to time, but I graduated college, and that was o
ne of my goals.”
Johnny’s your home now, a silky, almost romantic voice teased, causing Izzy to clear her throat a couple of times.
“I guess I’m just not used to being here,” she finished, looking into her bowl of porridge in hopes to avoid Johnny’s scrutinizing gaze. “Maybe I will. I”—she paused, blushing, before forcing her eyes to meet his— “I probably would miss everything more if you weren’t with me.”
This statement seemed to genuinely please Johnny, and he smiled quite brilliantly, so much so that Izzy felt a substantial portion of her breath disappear of its own accord.
“Well, darling,” he began, standing up with his bowl in his hand. He reached over and grabbed Izzy’s before placing them on the sink counter next to the other bowls that were waiting to be cleaned. “We have to leave soon. The crew should be at the ship in mere hours. Have you gotten everything you need?”
Izzy shook her head, following Johnny’s suit, and standing. “No,” she murmured, placing her fingertip on the point of her chin. “I should probably start packing.”
* * *
Izzy was nearly finished with the task at hand an hour later when a knock at the door caused any thoughts she may have been dwelling on to disappear. Believing it to be Johnny, she called for the knocker to come in, keeping her focus on finishing what she had set out to do. Surprisingly, however, it was not Johnny who was at the door, but Marion.
“Oh, Marion,” Izzy said when she realized who her guest was. She pushed up to a standing position, feeling the burn of her muscles due to the length of time she had been kneeling. “Are you all right? How can I help you?”
Marion smiled the usual beguiling smile, and for the umpteenth time, Izzy wondered why Johnny wasn’t in some sort of relationship with the Madame. She was stunning and sweet, and had quite a profit to her name. Though the jealousy in Izzy wanted to hate her, the feat was impossible because of the natural warmth Marion had.
“I am fine, Izzy,” she said, the name still sounding slightly funny when it touched her French accent. “Actually, I wanted to give something to you.” When she raised her arms, Izzy noticed that something was in them. “It is a dress. It is one of my favorites. I hope that by taking this, you will remember me.”
“I don’t need anything to remember you by, really,” Izzy said sincerely, her eyes pooling into Marion’s. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Please, allow me to do so,” Marion insisted, so Izzy reached out and took the material into her arms. “I think that Johnny will like it on you; the dress will bring out your eyes.” Izzy glanced down upon hearing Johnny’s name and looked at the sea-green material, wondering when she was going to ever wear it, but promising herself she would—sooner or later.
“Thank you,” Izzy murmured, placing it gently on the surface of her bed. Her eyes looked up and locked into the older woman’s. “For everything, I mean. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“Johnny and I are friends,” Marion told the young woman. “At least, I consider him to be so. There are people, both pirate and Navy, who dislike him because of what he is supposed to do. I believe that with you accompanying him, he will stay grounded, more so than normal. I know you care for him, Isabelle. I can see it so clearly in your eyes. And I know that you will look out for him to the best of your abilities. It worries me, this whole prophecy, this impending war. Nobody is sure if Johnny will survive it. But with you, his chances are surely better.”
“I would do anything for him,” Izzy said, speaking before her mind could catch up. Though when she finished her sentence, she knew her words were true.
Marion seemed to know it too, for she nodded and said, “I know.” She smiled as she looked into Izzy’s eyes, nodding once. “And that is payment enough.”
31
Johnny, Izzy, and the rest of the crew occupied the ship a couple of hours later. After saying goodbye to Marion, Sarah, Gabriella, and everyone else, the ship sailed out of the secluded dock and into the sea. Originally, Johnny was at the helm and Izzy was at the bow, leaning over the railing in order to look at the ship sail across the crystal Caribbean water. Johnny watched her for a long moment, taking in everything about her. He was awed by the fact that no matter how long he stared at her, he always found something else he was fascinated with. It was as though this woman was a magician, and somehow, he was cast in her spell. Oddly enough, he didn’t find any reason to complain.
After a couple of hours on the sea, Johnny decided to teach Izzy how to handle a blade. “Beautiful day out,” he said, glancing over at Izzy. She turned to look at him, and then cast her eyes upwards in order to look at the sky. After a moment, she returned his smile, and nodded in agreement. “I have an idea, darling. Taking into account what happened in Tortuga, I have come to the conclusion that you have no idea about the multiple tricky situations you could very possibly get into, and most likely will get into, so I am here to offer my services free of charge.”
Izzy raised her eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What kind of services?” she asked, watching the pirate captain like a hawk watching its prey.
“I’m glad you asked that, darling,” Johnny replied, raising his index fingers “for I was just about to show you.” The pirate captain spun around on the worn heel of his boot, and walked over to vacant area of his ship. He turned once again, a mischievous smile on his face. Then, all of a sudden, he whipped out his sharp cutlass, and began to parry the air surrounding him, a determined look upon his face. Once his dance was done, he stood straight, looking at the woman before him, and then took a dramatic bow. When he rose, he eyed Izzy a bit more closely. He raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. Her hand was over her delicate mouth, and her eyes were cast towards the sea, as if she were purposefully avoiding all and any eye contact with him. It was then that he realized that she was laughing at his performance.
Johnny walked over to her slowly, his eyes flashing with annoyance, and even some offense, but as he stepped closer, in hopes to intimidate her, her face got more and more distorted so she wouldn’t laugh out loud. He stopped when he was half a foot away from her, and leaned down so his nose would be brushing hers if it wasn’t for her hand covering her mouth. Her face turned bright red, and her eyes lit up so strikingly that it caught Johnny off guard, but only for a quick moment. “Is something funny to you, missy?” he asked.
Finally, her eyes met his, and she shook her head, but her answer was in vain. She lost control over her laughter, and burst into a fit of giggles. It was so contagious that Johnny had to press his lips together to ensure that he wouldn’t laugh. Instead, he just stood there, his head tilted to the side, a fraction of a degree, trying to understand this young woman’s response to his display of talent.
Izzy managed to compose herself, but an amused smile still rested on her lips.
“Are you finished, then?” Johnny asked with annoyance.
Izzy nodded. “I do have a question, though,” she said, raising her hand to emphasize her point.
“And, pray tell, what would that be?” Johnny asked, trying to maintain his patience.
“Why were you doing that?” Izzy questioned, flailing her arms about in a manner of mimicking the man before her. “What is that, exactly? I already know how to dance.” Johnny turned to glance back at the young woman, a look of frustration on his face. “All right, sorry. I’ll be serious now.” She bit her lip, but failed to keep a smile off of her face.
At that moment, Johnny slipped off his tunic so his bronze chest was bare and grabbed onto the cutlass that had been hanging from his side. Izzy’s breath caught in her throat as she stopped abruptly. Her eyes couldn’t help but drink in the scenery before her; his brazen torso, his toned muscles, his built shoulders, the scars that decorated his body as ornaments decorate a Christmas tree. A feeling of arousal overtook her senses, and even though she tried desperately, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was beautiful.
“See something you like, darling?�
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His voice clipped into her senses, causing her eyes to drift back up to his face. Her face felt like fire, and when she opened her mouth to reply a witty retort, she could muster no sound. She felt like such a fool, being speechless because this man couldn’t dress properly. “Are you going to get decent?” she managed to say, after finding control of her voice.
His smirk deepened. “I don’t intend to, no,” Johnny said, knowing full well the effect he was having on her. He loved being admired by women, especially beautiful women, women that he, too, admired in a strictly physical way. Izzy was the epitome of what he found attractive; beautiful eyes, a curvy body.
“Are you ready?” Johnny asked, forcing himself to speak. “Now, darling, pretend I’m coming at you, about to tackle you to the ground,” he began, standing in front of her. “Let’s say that instead of running, you decide to actually stay and fight.”
“Okay,” Izzy murmured, her eyes locking with Johnny’s.
“Get into a stance in a manner to defend yourself,” he told her, and Izzy did as she was told, her right foot in front of her left, her right shoulder hunched over as though she was defending herself. “Ah,” he said smiling. “We have a leftie on our hands. All right, that’s good, but you need to make your stance strong,” he told, and then to prove his point, he pushed her. She lost her footing quite easily, but managed to catch herself without his aid.
“Here,” Johnny said, getting into his own defensive stance. “Why don’t you push me?”
A smirk appeared on Izzy’s face, and she immediately pushed him, throwing her weight into it. It was all in vain, however, for he moved, maybe, about an inch, but his footing was steady. He chuckled with amusement. “Nice try, pet,” he said. “Now you try.”
Izzy locked her jaw and nodded, showing she was ready. Her muscles were tense, but Johnny still managed to get her to lose her footing. She groaned, frustrated, only causing Johnny to laugh again. They repeated this procedure a few more times before Johnny was finally satisfied with her stance, though he must admit how much he thoroughly enjoyed touching her.
To Believe A Buccaneer: Book 2 in The Scandalous Adventures at Sea Series Page 15
