“Lilli,” came his exasperated sigh. “If you’re not careful, people get hurt.
And sometimes, damn it, they die.”
Christina flinched, realizing that if not for the valiant efforts of Pauly and the captain, the fire might have spread, destroying the ship, killing the crew, even the captain himself.
“The sea is exacting.” His voice dropped gravely. “So I have to be the same.”
“You believe it was an accident, don’t you?”
“Stay out of trouble, Lilli. I’m not your nursemaid.”
“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she said stiffly.
“In less than twenty-four hours, you’ve managed to agitate the crew and nearly set the ship on fire. I mean business, Lilli,” he grated out. “Think next time. Otherwise, I might not be around when you need saving.”
-57-
Shelley Bradley
Chapter Four
Thoughts of the captain whirled in her head as she attempted to clean flour from the small but sooty floor in the galley. Dangerous described him all too well. Why did the most exciting man she’d ever met come in the unsuitable form of a masked, controlling privateer?
She also feared discovery. Each time he inquired about her identity, his questions probed closer to the truth. The Black Dragon could not learn her real name. Ever. Lord knew what he would do to her. Take her virtue for revenge?
Ransom her back to her grandfather? As tired as she felt, despite a few hours’
sleep, she’d have to watch herself and keep her tall tales straight.
The men shuffled into the galley for their meal. With wrinkled noses, they sniffed at the odor of charred wood blending with salt sea streaming through the open gun ports.
Christina retreated to the counter beside the wood-burning stove as the sailors ambled to the galley’s lone table in silence. She set her rag aside, pressing wrinkles from her blue dress with a nervous brush of her hands.
The motley bunch wore greasy scarves about their necks and ill-fitting breeches below chests covered only by ropes, weapons or tattoos. One man, however, had donned what appeared to be a gentleman’s brocade vest.
Christina did not want to consider how the outlaw had acquired such a finely-made garment. Coercion, the kind that included sharp knives and bared teeth.
Two more sailors straggled in. Her palms turned sweaty. What would her friends say if they saw her behaving in this manner with these cutthroats?
The crew’s unfashionably long hair and coarse beards made her shudder.
The assortment of gold jewelry and gems that dangled from shocking holes in their ears, just like the captain’s, did little to ease her fear, either.
-58-
The Lady and the Dragon
Christina sent them a stiff smile. The fact the crew gave her an equally wide berth lent her little comfort, given their quick but heated glances.
Then the last man ducked through the open doorway with a familiar swagger, and she almost groaned. Talbot, the brute who’d cornered her in the companionway as she’d asked for directions. As if the captain and his overbearing ways weren’t torment enough, now she had to deal with Talbot.
And judging from his obnoxious leer, the meal was going to be long.
Determined to look brave, she ignored him and met the stares of the others with arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
“Where’s Pauly?” one man asked suspiciously.
Christina gathered her courage and answered, “There was an accident. He’s resting.”
She hoped her crisp reply was enough to deter further questions. But their narrow-eyed expressions didn’t bode well. If they knew she had almost burned their cook alive, who knew what dreadful punishment they might see fit to mete out.
“See, I told ye she was dangerous,” commented a stout, dark-haired giant, his tone righteous. “Bad luck, mates.”
Another nodded, grumbling, “Only one thing a wench like her is good fer, and the cap’n ain’t bloody likely to share.”
The other sailors nodded in agreement. Their stares, a terrifying mixture of lust and distrust, added to the consensus.
To break the tension, Christina set out the food she and Pauly had prepared earlier. With shaking fingers, she circled the table, filling each plate, then tip-toed back with a sigh.
No one touched the food. Instead, the sailors stared at the meal, their faces a mixture of wrinkled brows and grimaces.
“What is this slop?” one asked, his eyes accusing.
“Pauly damn sure didna cook this mess,” asserted the first dissenter in a thick brogue. “Are ye tryin’ to poison us, lass?”
“I didn’t try to poison anyone. This is my dinner, too.”
-59-
Shelley Bradley
“She don’t belong on board,” he called again. “Just like I said before, she’s bad luck and she’s dangerous!”
Hancock, the captain’s surly first mate, considered her for a long moment.
Biting her lip, she stared back.
“If ye ain’t tryin’ to poison us, ye vixen, why does the food look so bad?” he asked.
Christina thrust her hands on her hips and stopped just short of stomping her foot. “Can you do better?”
Hancock grinned. “Probably not.”
Suddenly the others’ expressions turned from scowls and leers to guffaws.
Maybe they wouldn’t throw her overboard after all.
She peered curiously at Hancock. He shot her an unexpected wink before turning his attention to the fare on his plate. He had intervened, but why?
All the others began eating—except Talbot. The barbarian merely pushed his plate aside with a sly curl to his lips and ogled her from his perch at the end of the table.
“She obviously wasn’t made for cookin’. Look at them bosoms, all pretty and pink. Come here, sugar, and sit on Talbot’s lap.”
Nine pairs of eyes swerved across the room to rest on her. Their heavy gazes told her Talbot had been the only one cocky enough to speak their thoughts aloud. At that moment, Christina wished she’d had more time to pack adequately for this adventure. Her entire body burned with embarrassment and fear.
A skinny scrap of a man broke the long silence. “If we ain’t allowed to touch her, neither are ye.”
“Yeah,” said a bald man beside him. “If I don’t get no fancy piece like that, you don’t.”
Christina stared in shock, listening to the men haggle over her like she was a prime cut of meat.
“Quit whining, both of ye. There should be enough of her left after I’m through.” Talbot leveled Christina a ribald smile.
-60-
The Lady and the Dragon
Christina mimicked one of Grandfather’s frostiest looks. “Find some tavern wench to sit on your lap. I will not.”
Everyone in the room held their collective breath and turned their gazes on Talbot. Christina felt her hands begin to tremble as the lewd grin on Talbot’s face slurred into a threatening scowl. His biceps bulged as he braced meaty hands on the end of the table and rose. “I told you to come sit on my lap, wench.”
Swallowing the lump lodged in her throat, she squared her shoulders. “I would rather take my last breath.”
In the next instant, Talbot unsheathed a knife at his thigh. The blade gleamed under the shaft of sunlight streaming through the gun port. Christina gasped.
Before she could move, Talbot hurled the knife at her. The blade flew end over end before burying itself in the counter just inches from her abdomen with a heart-stopping thud.
He smirked when she gasped. “Listen up, girl. If you spread yer legs for the likes of the captain, you can do the same fer me. Now get over here.”
Christina’s gaze flew from the knife, then back to Talbot’s face. The ruffian’s glare of conquest ignited her temper.
She collected her nerves, along with the last of the oatmeal, and strode to Talbot’s side. The oaf sat back in his seat with a satisfied smile. “That’s what a man likes, a warm woman and extra food.”
“The cap’n’ll slice your back open if you touch his woman,” Hancock advised.