“Eh, you’d be surprised,” Charlie said as he quickly followed the two, hoisting himself over and proceeding to crawl down the side of his ship.
“No, what I am surprised about is the fact that you let an opportunity like looking at my bum escape you,” Brooke said with a victorious smile. She had one-upped Charlie, and she was letting the triumphant feeling sink in.
Kenneth reached the boat and stepped into it, waiting for a moment to make sure it was steady before walking over to Brooke and helping her down. Charlie boarded soon after, and once everyone had settled, Kenneth detached the boat from the ship. Charlie sat in the middle of the boat while Brooke sat at the bow and Kenneth sat at the stern. Then, taking the two oars in his calloused hands, Charlie proceeded to row towards New Providence.
“Where will we be staying?” Brooke asked curiously, turning her head from the sea to look at Charlie’s back. Even through the white tunic he was wearing, she could see the indents of his back muscles ripple, and she could not help but stare.
“Oh, I know some people,” Charlie said nonchalantly. Kenneth gave him a squinting stare, but said nothing and looked away, out to the sea.
Brooke rolled her eyes at the lack of explanation Charlie had given her, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You seem to know at least one person on every island we have been on,” Brooke mumbled sarcastically.
The ride proceeded in silence, and soon the boat had reached the docks. Charlie quickly pulled out a shilling and handed it to the dock master without giving a name. The dock master watched the three walk on, and then shook his head, scribbling down a common surname.
Charlie led Kenneth and Brooke off of the docks and into a secluded area that was hidden by multiple trees, bushes, and other green shrubberies. There was no trail they were following; Charlie seemed to know exactly where he was going. They were traveling more slowly than usual due to Brooke’s healing condition, and while Brooke would normally hasten their pace despite her pain to save her pride, she was actually glad to have an excuse to gaze at the scenery that engulfed them. Besides the trees and the bushes, there were stones and rocks that littered the trail. Colorful butterflies flew in and out and between them, usually in pairs, signifying that spring was indeed coming soon. Flowers of all different hues were perking up in different places, some as odd as on a tree branch. Bees and flies were buzzing about, their sounds mixing with the chirps and caws of the different birds. The sky was blocked by the tall trees, but light blue would peek out between the leaves every now and then. The air was clean and fresh, and every breath she took, Brooke felt as though her heart was fully replenished. In a way, the air somehow cleansed her being, it was so pure.
After a good half-hour, Brooke could make out smoke coming from a stone chimney. She wanted to point out her findings but decided against it. Charlie’s brow was creased, and sweat decorated his forehead. He did not seem to be angry or upset; Brooke decided that he just wanted to get where they were supposed to be. Luckily for the trio, they did not have much longer to travel.
A small cottage soon made its way into view. It was made of stone, save for a red, wooden door. The window was covered with a regal purple colored cloth. Unlike Kenneth’s home, there were no farm animals wondering about. Apparently whoever lived in this secluded abode was not a farmer.
Charlie walked up to the door as Brooke hung back with Kenneth, watching her captain as he knocked on the wooden door. Brooke tilted her head when she noticed Charlie’s expression. He looked to be hesitant, almost, though not quite, afraid of the situation he was currently in. Well, that was odd. In the time that Brooke knew Charlie, never did she see him afraid of something.
At that moment, the door opened and a short, old woman, maybe in her sixties, stood there with a big smile on her face. She had on a worn, loose-fitting dress, and her gray hair was pulled into a bun that rested on the back of her head. Her skin was predominantly pale with some color to it, and comfortable looking slippers were on her feet.
“Oh, Charlie!” she exclaimed, pulling Charlie into a tight hug. “It is so good to see you again. You know, you really should visit us more often. I don’t like to think about all the dangers my only nephew could get mixed up in. Then again, I don’t like to think of the dangers my husband could get mixed up in, but does he listen? He darn well does not. Lord, the men in this family have no sense.” It was then that she noticed Kenneth and Brooke standing quietly off to the side. Kenneth was squinting at the nearby flowers while a mischievous smile tugged at the edge of Brooke’s lips.
“Why, hello!” the old woman exclaimed, throwing her arms out in excitement.
This must be where Charlie got his accentuating gestures, Brooke thought to herself.
“Kenneth, it really is such a pleasure to see you again,” the woman said, moving around Charlie to pull Kenneth into a hug. Kenneth was surprised by the gesture but wrapped his arms around the woman nonetheless.
“Good to see ye too, Nora,” Kenneth said with a curt nod. “How’s ol’ Noah, then?”
Nora pursed her lips. “You know Noah,” she said, flicking her wrist. “He’s impatient for his dinner.” She glanced up at Charlie and then back to Kenneth. “But you know men; they are always hungry!” Nora, then, glanced at Brooke and her mouth dropped into an “O.” She spun on her heel and glared at Charlie, who was standing impatiently in front of the doorframe. “What did you do to her, Charlie Colt? She looks terrible!”
Heat flamed Brooke’s cheeks, embarrassed suddenly at her outward appearance.
“I did nothing,” Charlie said, surprised that the woman would even think that he could do something like that. He sighed, and then walked over to Brooke, standing beside her. “Aunt Nora, this is my…” What, exactly, was she to him? She was his mate, but she was much more than that.
“I am Brooke Cunningham,” Brooke said, noticing Charlie’s silent struggle with description. “And these marks are not from your nephew. We got into a bit of trouble on our journey, but really, there is no need to worry; you should have seen me before!” Brooke smiled at her joke and glanced at Charlie, who was looking down at her, smiling proudly.
“Brooke Cunningham,” Nora said, tapping her chin with her forefinger. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Are you not the rice merchant’s daughter who lives in Port Royal? The one who went missing?”
“Really, Aunt Nora,” Charlie said, cutting into the conversation. “I promise I will answer all of your questions, but we have traveled a long way and would greatly appreciate some sustenance.” He flashed a smile at her, his gold teeth twinkling much like his dark eyes.
“Don’t give me your charming smile; you know it won’t work,” she retorted. She smiled suddenly and looked at Brooke. “But of course, you all look like you could use some food. Supper’s almost ready.” She led the three toward the house, but before she entered, she threw a concerned glance in Brooke’s direction. “While you wait, dearie, I am going to run you a bath. Even if you do look better than before, I think it would be best if you cleaned up.”
Brooke opened her mouth to object but then shut it quickly. Who was she kidding? She desperately needed a bath and was not about to refuse.
The three followed Nora into the cottage, Charlie shutting the door behind him.
“Noah! We have guests!” Nora called, before throwing a smile over her shoulder. She led her guests immediately to the left, where there was a sitting room, complete with a fireplace. The old woman looked at her husband, who was currently reading some sort of newspaper. Either he had not heard her, or he had, and paid them no mind. “Noah!” she exclaimed, causing him to jump slightly.
The older man looked up at his wife over the edge of the newspaper, furrowing his bushy brow. It was then that he noticed the people behind her, and he broke out into a smile.
“Charlie, m’boy!” he exclaimed, closing his paper and putting it on the coffee table. He stood up and pulled his nephew into a tight hug. “How are you doing, son? Be
en on any nonsensical adventures?” He released his nephew but continued to look at Charlie with pride. He turned to Kenneth, sticking out his hand so that the two could heartily shake hands. They clapped each other on the back as they did so. “Kenneth, haven’t seen you for a while now. Heard about the wife. I am so sorry.”
“Oh, Noah, it’s just like you to bring up inappropriate things at inappropriate times,” Nora said, throwing her arms up helplessly and letting her dark eyes roll up to the ceiling.
“It’s quite all right, Nora,” Kenneth said, waving off her worry. “I appreciate your sympathies, Noah. And it’s good to see ye too.”
Noah’s clear, blue eyes finally rested on Brooke. He shot Charlie a curious glance.
“And who is this beautiful young lady?” he asked as he stepped in front of her. “My name is Noah Elliot, Charlie’s uncle. And you are?”
Charlie quickly introduced Brooke, coming to stand beside her. “This, Uncle Noah,” he said, resting a hand gently on her shoulder, “is Brooke Cunningham.”
“Ah,” the man said, nodding. He said nothing more but gave Charlie a look that read that they were to have a private conversation soon about the matter.
“Noah,” Nora said, breaking Noah’s stare. “Look at her; she’s sore and tired. Can you help me heat up some water for a bath?” She glanced at her nephew. “Charlie, why don’t you show Brooke around since she’s never been here before? Give her a tour of sorts while your uncle and I get her bath ready.”
Charlie nodded, and glanced at Brooke, nodding his head to the doorway that led back out to the entrance hall. Brooke followed Charlie from the sitting room and back out into the hallway.
“I’m sorry if my relatives seem particularly eccentric,” Charlie said quietly as they walked down the short hallway. A painting of the sun either rising or setting hung on the wooden wall, catching Brooke’s eye. She stopped to study it, overtaken by the simplicity of the colors and the beauty it eroded.
“No more than yourself,” Brooke said with a smirk, not taking her eyes off the painting. She waited for Charlie’s response, but when she received none, she glanced up sharply at him, hoping she did not offend him. He was staring at the painting as she was, but there was a sad emotion in his dark eyes. It would have been sad to see anyone look so silently reminiscent, but the way Charlie’s dark eyes reflected his sorrow was different. His lips were curled downward, in a very slight pout. “I am just jesting, Charlie,” Brooke told him quickly. “Your family seems to be very kind, and I hope to learn more about them as our visit progresses.”
Charlie looked at Brooke, his eyes locking with hers. A wave of sadness washed over Brooke as she looked into his eyes, somehow feeling what he seemed to be feeling. For whatever reason, this particular painting brought out emotion in Charlie, and while Brooke wanted to know why, she did not want to upset Charlie by asking.
“This painting,” he said in a low voice, tilting his head in the painting’s direction, but refusing to leave Brooke’s eyes, “was from my old home back in England. It is one of the only things I have left of my parents.”
Brooke opened her mouth to say something, but slowly shut it and slowly exhaled. There was nothing that could be said to take the pain away from Charlie, and while Brooke understood Charlie’s pain in some way, having lost her own mother when she was young, she would not speak on her past experience because she did not want to take away from Charlie’s feelings. No matter how similar their circumstance in this particular area, the feelings they felt were different because the feelings were individual. He would never be able to feel what she had felt, and she would never be able to feel what he had felt. She nodded to him; while she could not experience his feelings, she did understand his pain. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. His hand was warm to hold, and fit around hers perfectly. He gave her a sad smile, and nodded back, squeezing her hand silently in appreciation of her small gesture.
Almost at the same time, they released each other and let their hands fall to their side. Charlie proceeded to show Brooke around the cottage; the kitchen was to the left, where Nora was cooking some type of food. Nora’s cooking was always impeccable to Charlie, and while it was not often, he loved returning to his relatives’ home for an actual cooked meal. Across from the kitchen was the bathing room. Normally it would have been upstairs, but carrying the hot water up the stairs was becoming a difficult task as Noah and Nora got older, and so it was easier to just have the bathing room downstairs.
Charlie took Brooke upstairs. There was a short hallway and six rooms total. The master bedroom, where his aunt and uncle slept, was at the west end of the hallway, while Charlie’s room was at the east end of the hallway.
“In case of any…noises that may or may not occur during the night,” Charlie explained sheepishly, itching the back of his head. Brooke rolled her eyes at the insinuation.
The four bedrooms in between were fixed up for any guests that may or may not come by. Charlie led Brooke into the room she would be staying in. It was a cozy room, with a bed in the middle of the room. Soft mint green colored blankets covered the bed. A wardrobe was across from the bed, resting against the wall, while the window, cracked open slightly, let in a cool breeze while also revealing a beautiful view of the surrounding forest. Finally, a painting of an island surrounded by the sea hung above the bed.
“I love it,” she murmured, taking in her surroundings. She had never had such a small room before, but it brought a sort of hominess that she had not really felt until now.
“And now,” Charlie said, leading Brooke out of her room and into his, “this is where I grace my presence from time to time.”
Brooke peered in, curious to see Charlie’s bedroom that was not attached to a ship. Satin red covers occupied the bed, and like hers, his window was cracked open slightly and also had an excellent view. The sun was slowly setting outside, causing different rays of light to protrude through the glass. Charlie’s wardrobe was slightly smaller, due to the fact that he was always traveling. The pirate captain went over to it, and Brooke watched as he grabbed a small red tunic and black breeches.
“To change into after your bath,” he explained.
Brooke nodded and glanced back at the bed so that she could see the painting that hung over it. What she saw caused her mouth to drop. It was the exact painting she had showed him when she was a child and had been destroyed when Diablette had attacked Port Royal.
“How did you get that?” Brooke asked him with wonder. “I thought there was only one copy of that painting, and that it had been destroyed.”
“After seeing the painting, I looked around for a replica of it, and happened to find it,” Charlie said, nodding to the painting.
Brooke smiled. “I love this painting,” she murmured softly, staring at it with such admiration.
“I know,” Charlie said quietly.
“Charlie!” a piercing voice called from downstairs. “Brooke’s bath is all ready!”
“We should go,” he said quietly, and the two walked back down the stairs.
Once they reached the entrance of the bathing room, Charlie handed Brooke his clothes. She quietly thanked him and disappeared inside, shutting the door behind her. Charlie stood there for a moment, when a hand clapped him on the shoulder. He turned, only to meet the clear blue eyes of his uncle.
“Let’s go out back, ay?” he asked, holding a pipe in one hand and matches in another.
Charlie pursed his lips and nodded, letting his uncle lead him out the back door. Noah shut it and proceeded to light the pipe. He puffed on it a few times before releasing a long bout of smoke through his nostrils. Charlie stared out at the forestry silently, taking in the silhouettes of the trees. The sun had fully disappeared, leaving only blackness in its wake. He arched his neck up, peering at the booming, bright stars. The moon hung low in a skinny eclipse; the night was absolutely beautiful, challenging the day.
“So tell me about this young woman, Charlie,” he said in a
low, gruff voice, glancing up at his nephew. “How does a wealthy merchant’s daughter end up with you, exactly? Not questionin’ your charming abilities, lad, just curious is all.”
“It’s a very long and complicated story,” Charlie told his uncle, still staring up at the stars. “The short version of it is that I saved her life and took her aboard my ship. My crew ended up mutinying against me and killing Heath, and they stranded Brooke and me on a desert island. A ship happened to sail to said island, save the captain of this ship happened to be Lord Sutherland, who, as we all know, is not quite fond of me. Brooke managed to work a deal with him, exchanging her hand in marriage for my freedom. A few months go by and I rescue her from the marriage by dressing up as a priest, who, might I add, supported me the whole way. Anyways, we were looking for the treasure of the Dead Man’s Tale, got into a bit of a scuffle, not only with Sutherland, but with Diablette’s crew of miscreants, and now here we are.”
“And that’s the short version?” Noah asked after taking a drag of his pipe.
“Considerably,” Charlie said, shrugging, smiling at his uncle.
“How do you feel about her, Charlie?” Noah asked him seriously. “I know you quite well, and I see the way you look at her even after only a moment of seeing you with her. You look at her differently than the other women you would bring home when you were younger. You look at her with respect.”
Charlie let his words sink in, and breathed deeply for a moment, taking in the cool air.
“She is different,” Charlie murmured, glancing back at his uncle. “And you’re right; I respect her immensely. When we first met, after I turned to piratical ways in the stead of more lawful ways, I decided to raid her father’s home. I set up this whole elaborate plan, sending Heath in to distract the residents while the crew and I crept into different rooms and accumulated his wealth. I happened to have crept into her room while she was still in it, and she did not say one word! In fact, she told me where her jewels were! I was baffled, to say the least.”
To Marry A Marauder Page 23
