"While I appreciate your opinion, I do not remember asking for it. While I know it may be hard, please refrain from offering any advice," Donovan said, looking down at Steward as though the man was a waste of his time.
"You and the wench speak the same way; like yer better than us!" barked Steward, his bushy brow furrowed.
"It does not mean we are better than you," Belle said, speaking for the first time. "It just means we are educated."
"Probably not the best way to state that," Donovan said under his breath. His eyes grew darker, if that was even possible, as he regarded Steward once again. "Now, we can take this outside and sort this mess out, or we can remain civilized, let bygones be bygones, and walk away. Your choice, mate." He perked his brow to further his point.
Steward, breathing raggedly, glanced at his men. Belle watched him intently, surprised to see his rough demeanor break; he looked worried for the first time since she had known him. She glanced at Captain Aaron Donovan from the corner of her eye; apparently there was more to him than she initially believed. The Robin Hood of the Seven Seas seemed to have a darker side she had never heard of in any of the tales her grandfather had told her. It would seem that not only was he respected, but feared as well. Then, surprising nearly everyone including Belle herself, Steward turned and began to walk away.
"Horrible rum 'ere anyway!" he exclaimed as he headed out the door with his loyal crew following him, albeit a tad confused. Steward was notorious for his anger, and as a result, his violence. They had never seen him forego a good brawl before.
Once the door slammed shut, cheers began and scrag life resumed normally. Donovan swiveled on his heel, his hands on his hips, as he glanced pointedly at the reason for all this commotion. "You seem to have a knack for stirring up trouble, don't you?" he drawled. It was a statement, and she knew he did not expect an answer in return, so she remained silent as she tried to calm her beating heart down.
The pirate captain turned and headed towards his usual table in the back. Belle could do nothing but watch him walk away.
5
"Arabella."
Belle froze as she heard Norman practically seethe her name. Since the whole ‘unnecessary incident,’ as Belle had dubbed it, she had been hiding out in the back, doing dishes, sweeping, and entertaining her fellow workers so she would not have to go back out there. After Donovan had walked away, she was not quite sure what to, but the first thing that had popped into her head was to avoid Norman. Of course, she knew that Norman would catch wind of this sooner or later (later, she was hoping), but she was wanted to avoid him for as long as possible.
It would seem, however, that sooner or later would be the former, much to Belle's dismay. She quickly washed her hands, wiping them carelessly on the folds of her skirts before exiting the scrag where Norman was waiting for her. Whenever Norman wished to speak with his employees, it was assumed they would always speak outside due to the inconvenience of shouting over the nosiness of the scrag. So, there he was, staring at the rubble beneath his feet, his hands on his hips. The fact that he was tense gave warning to the young woman, and she began playing with her left index finger as she regarded him.
Norman glanced up when he saw her, and he winced slightly. He had taken a strong liking to Belle when he first hired her on as a dish washer when she was merely fourteen. Even at that age, she had been quite a spitfire. She would not let anyone touch her or talk to her in a demeaning way, almost desperately at times. She reminded him of a girl on a mission, but what that mission was, not even she knew. It had been eight years ago when he had first met her, and she had grown into a beautiful young woman. The way she spoke had surprised him at first; she sounded eloquent and educated, and now, he seemed to enjoy it. He liked to think that it made his place of business a bit more upstanding with her there. In all honesty, he had grown quite fond of her, like a father to a daughter, and like all fathers, he had to let her go.
"Listen, Norman," she began, her impatience rising up. She felt very comfortable in silence because there, honesty prevailed. Silence was the truest sound she had ever heard, and in silence, her demons were the most powerful. As long as there was noise, as long as she was listening or even speaking, she could numb them out.
But Norman interrupted her. "No," he snapped, a bit harsher than he originally intended. His tone softened as he saw her flinch at his yell, and he sighed. "Ye need ter listen to me, Belle." He paused, trying to format the words in his head before speaking. He normally did not do this, but he genuinely liked the young woman, and didn't want to offend her. "I know that whatever Steward did in there was uncalled fer; it normally is. But… he is – well, now was – one of our best customers. I've let ye get away wit' a lot, Belle, but this… I just can't. I can't let ye come back ter work for me."
Belle's mouth dropped in surprise. "Norman, what are you saying?" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. She was genuinely surprised or emotional about something when she was unable to control her arm gestures. "I am one of your best barmaids! I have been working for you for eight years now!"
"Steward's been comin' here well before you were born, lass," Norman told her, his tone serious. He glanced up at the eclipsed moon before refocusing his eyes on her. "Listen, ye can keep yer room here fer the rest of the month, ay? Besides that, yer goin' to have to look fer work elsewhere. And that's all there is to say." With that, he turned and headed back into the scrag, leaving Belle in the cold night.
She couldn't move; she didn't even feel the cold anymore. It was like she was frozen in time. Even the silence didn't bother her, at least not yet. She didn't know how long she stood there, but the cold began to pinch her skin, and she blinked. It was like she had woken up from a bad dream. But this was reality, and she had just been released from her job.
"Pull yourself together, man," she whispered, straining her insides so the tears that had gathered in her eyes would not fall. Looking up, into the night sky, she began to think about what she should do. She could, of course, go back to her room where she could safely release her emotions. She could track down Norman and beg to have her job back, even offering to take a job washing dishes so she didn't have to interact with customers. But she had never wanted to stay at the Mistake for as long as she did. Maybe, just maybe, this was a blessing in disguise. Instead of heading back inside, she decided to take a walk to the docks. Maybe the smell of salt in the air would help clear her clouded mind, and she might actually be able to come up with some sort of plan for her next chapter in life.
Captain Aaron Donovan had heard the entire conversation the wild lass had with her former employer. He had been camouflaged amongst the shadows, peacefully enjoying smoking some rolled tobacco. The pirate captain had heard rumors about this particular bar wench; how she could hold her own against a man whether with words or swords, how she never offered her body for any sexual services despite the obvious need for money, and how no one knew of her before she arrived in Tortuga when she was but a mere lass. And, after his few brief encounters with her, he seemed to agree with said rumors. Because of this, he decided to follow her when she decided to head towards the water. There was no telling what she would do if left alone to her own devices.
Aaron kept an eye on her silhouette. The young woman may be able to take care of herself, but night wasn't exactly the best time in Tortuga for any woman, except, of course, the whores that decorated the streets. He watched her slip between crowds of people, trying to remain invisible but unable to do so. Men would glance at her, and while some paid her no mind, many followed her with their eyes with interest. One even attempted to follow her, up until Aaron conveniently intervened and stopped the follower with merely a glare.
He found her finally, in a sitting position, on the edge of a wooden dock. Her shoes had been discarded to her side, so he assumed her toes were dipping in the cool Caribbean water. Trying to be as silent as he possibly could so he wouldn't scare her, he took a seat next to her. Instead of removing his boots, however, he
let the bottoms of them submerge in the ocean, and looked up at the night sky.
"I take it you heard I was released from my job," she said, not even looking at him. Instead, she focused her eyes on the bright, shining stars.
"I did," he agreed, reaching his arms behind him and then leaned his weight on his palms.
"So you are here to lecture me then?" she asked, finally regarding him with her hardened eyes.
"I assume you already have a father, doll, and I am too young to try to replace him," he replied as he watched the smooth waves roll towards the shore. "So, nay, I will not be lecturing you."
"Then why are you here?" she asked him, turning back to watch the water lap around her feet.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?" he asked her, quirking a brow as he looked at her profile.
Surprisingly, she chuckled at his inquiry. She glanced down at her lap, an almost-forgotten memory brought to life. Whenever her grandfather was telling her a story, she would constantly question the motives of the story so much that he would stop in midsentence and warn her of her insatiable curiosity. "Do you know that you ask too many questions?" he asked as he regarded her with his blue eyes, and she would always laugh which would, in turn, cause him to chuckle and then continue the story as if nothing happened until she asked yet another question.
"Actually, yes," she said with a brilliant smile. Aaron had to blink once, but the smile was gone in the blink of an eye. She looked genuinely happy at that moment, and he was somewhat sad to see it go. Her smile made her look beautiful, although that was not exactly saying much. It was obvious to see she was attractive, but when she smiled, it was breathtaking and he wondered why she didn't do it more. She had to know the power she had within that smile.
He sighed then, looking up at the night sky before regarding her profile. "So, we set sail tomorrow at dawn," he told her. He picked himself up and stood. "I shall see you no later than an hour before we leave or we sail without you."
If Aaron had stayed for another moment, he would have seen another smile eclipse across her face. But, as it was, he did not, and so instead, Belle heard his boots walk away down the dock.
6
Belle did not have a nightmare that night. She did not remember things she did not wish to remember. She felt as though the stars were beginning to align in her favor, and a fragile sense of safety began form around her. Not even the slightest when compared to the sense of safety she had felt in her grandfather's lap, but it was definitely a start. She could not rely on him to make her feel safe, now could she? She had to begin to learn how to depend on herself.
She did not sleep much that night. It had to be excitement, she told herself, irrational and yet could not be helped. When she figured she could reasonably get up, she did, and opened her small wardrobe, wondering what to wear, what to take with her, and what to discard. She decided on a simple white tunic that fell loose on her body, masking her feminine curves. Along with black breeches rolled at the waistline so they fit her, the clothes were quite comfortable. As Belle pulled on a pair of old brown boots that she had bought with her first month's salary and had not worn since then, she noted that when she had the time, she probably should buy a belt.
When she finished, she stood, a small smile on her face. This feeling of pure happiness was something new to her, and she wasn't quite sure when it would disappear, so she tried to relish it as much as possible. She felt like a child again, with the excitement and nervousness at her building anticipation. And, though she would not admit it aloud, the fact that she would be sailing with the Captain Aaron Donovan, the legend in her grandfather's tales, however minimal it would be, made her feel… well, it would seem the only accurate way to describe it would be happy.
Walking back over to her wardrobe, she sorted through her clothes before ultimately deciding that she would leave everything here. She felt as though this was a new chapter in her life, and because of this, felt that she would not need any of her old clothes. This was the beginning of her adventure; all she needed were the clothes on her back and her perseverance. Plus, maybe someone could put her clothing to good use. Other than that, she really had no other worldly possessions. At least that way, it was easy for her to walk away, scot free. She smiled at the thought.
After a moment, she felt like she could truly leave her room, the Bloody Mistake, and Tortuga, and be happy about it. She glanced around the room, the peeling wallpaper, the wooden floor, the mismatched rugs, and knew that she would miss her cozy little room. She had been there for eight years, after all. Along with her room, she would miss the scrag in general. She liked the exciting livelihood the scrag always seemed to have, and Norman was a good superior – almost like a father-figure. Of course she would miss Bessy, and a few other barmaids, and maybe even Tortuga in general. But she was ready to move on.
Belle walked out of her room and out of the scrag. The crisp, early morning breeze immediately caused her skin to tighten and an array of goose bumps to prickle against her skin. She inhaled sharply, taking in the brisk air. It smelled fresh, a good omen of what was to come. The walk to the docks was quick, but refreshing. She glanced around the docks, looking for his infamous ship the Crimson Tide, but merely found a rowboat at the end of the wooden plank.
"You Miss Belle?" a voice asked behind her.
She swiveled on her heel, expecting someone resembling a pirate, only to encounter a rather short man in loose but rather nice clothing. He had on a hat on top of his head, and squinted as he regarded her. He was an older man, and Belle assumed that he was the dock master.
"Yes, sir, I am," she nodding, quirking a brow in his direction.
"Captain Aaron Donovan told me he left you the boat fer ye," he told her, and then pointed out at the sea. Belle followed his finger, and saw a silhouette of a large ship through the fog. "There be his ship. Have yerself a time rowin', lass. And ye be careful aboard his ship, ye hear? A ship be no place fer a woman, but then again, yer not dressed as a woman, are ye?"
Belle smiled. "I have heard that one before," she said warmly. "Thank you."
While Belle was not exactly thrilled about the prospect of rowing, she was still excited to be leaving this God-forsaken spit of land. She crawled into the boat and sat down. Thinking for a long moment, she realized she had never rowed before. She inhaled sharply and rubbed her hands together, preparing for her task at hand. Then, coiling her fingers around the oars, she pushed down on the instruments and the boat moved a few centimeters. She groaned, the pain burning through her veins. Her brow furrowed, and she began to curse Aaron Donovan's name, but still she persisted. Her pride was more important to her than the pain she was experiencing right now. And she really wanted to get off the island.
It took her sixteen minutes to finally reach the side of the ship when she realized she had to pull herself up, using the rope ladder. She bit her lip to conceal a very unfeminine curse, and glanced helplessly above her. Her arms already felt like deadweights, and the burning was not subsiding. However, she was on a time schedule and she did not want that arrogant captain to think that she could not do this.
Glancing up, she began to mentally prepare herself for the feat of ascending the side of the ship by breathing steadily and rubbing her lips.
Without warning, a face popped up over the side and regarded her evenly. "You must be Donovan's guest," he said. He had a tenor-toned voice, and from what she could make out, short brown hair that fell into his face, dark blue eyes, and a strong chiseled jaw. He was handsome for a pirate, and remarkably clean. Then again, so was Donovan. "Do you need a hand, then?"
"No," she snapped quickly before she processed the question.
The man gave her a cheeky smirk, resting his elbows on the edge of the banister and interlocking his fingers. "Ah," he said. "You must be one of those women who believe they can do anything a man can do."
She returned his smirk. "And better," she retorted. Then she stood, placing her hands on the ship's sid
e to maintain her balance.
"I just want to thank you in advanced for my daily fix of amusement," the man called as his eyes twinkled.
She ignored his comment, and reached up. She inhaled sharply at the pain, but grit her teeth and pulled herself up. As with the boat, this was much more difficult than she originally anticipated, and it took her a long time, but she finally managed to hoist herself over the side and all but collapsed. The man managed to catch her before she fell and steadied her. He looked at her curiously, his hands on her arms, making sure that she was all right.
"Well, you cost me my amusement then," he said, taking a step back and releasing his hold on her when he was certain she wouldn't fall.
"I shall have to make it up to you sometime in the near future then," she murmured, her murky green eyes revealing her exhaustion.
"My name is Rick," he told her. "Rick Fraser; Donovan's first mate. And the only person onboard that is allowed to address him without his title."
"I am Belle," she told him slowly. "Just Belle."
"Just Belle?" a voice asked from behind her. Rick regarded the intruder with familiarity and Belle turned. It was Captain Aaron Donovan, arrogant and handsome as ever. He was wearing a plain but noble tricorn hat, and as usual, his clothing was immaculate. Wearing a blue silk tunic and black breeches, he looked as regal as a pirate could, and those boots he seemed attached to wear as shinier than ever. Between his long fingers was a rolled stick of tobacco, and his dark eyes looked at her evenly. "I thought your name was merely Belle."
"Well, aren't you the wit," she muttered dryly, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I see you have met my trusted first mate," Donovan drawled. He studied her then, blatantly, and Belle couldn't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny. "Ever the charmer, he is."
"You should take note," Belle suggested, and then glanced out at the horizon. Her heart skipped a beat and her hardened façade cracked as she witnessed the beginnings of a beautiful sunrise. Completely forgetting the two men looking at her, she turned and leaned her weight against the railing of the ship. It was quite stunning; the way the sky began to light up because of the mere presence of the sun. She smiled again, not being able to look away. It was like a masterpiece. In fact, she was so focused that she did not even glance up when she felt the captain's presence by her.
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