“Leave poor Smee alone. He’s already heartbroken that you fawn over me instead of him.”
Hook gives me a wry smile, then kisses my cheek. “Got a soft spot for that twat now, do you?”
“No, you’re just mean.”
He barks a laugh as he fusses over me. “Enough about him. You’re still drenched. The fire will sort you out until Bill gets here with dry clothes.”
“Stop.” I try to wave him away. “I’m not a kitten.”
An acrid odor wafts by. It must be the pitch. Smells like when they would pave roads back home.
He grips my hair tightly and stares down at me. “You’re part of me, lass. One that I won’t let go. So you might think you’re giving up, but you aren’t. I won’t let you. I never will. And if that means I need to treat you like a kitten—” He smirks. “I certainly do like the way you purr for me.”
Cookson snorts a laugh from his spot at the fire.
I smile despite myself. “Filth. Always filth with you. Such a pirate.”
“Yourpirate, lass.” He gives me another one of his brutal kisses that warms me from the inside out. “And I’ll do any dark deed to keep it that way.”
I think I’d do anything to keep it that way, too. And isn’t that a terrifying thought?
* * *
It takesthree moonrises and a lot of cussing from the entire crew before the Jolly Roger is seaworthy again.
“Does the ship feel different?” I ask Hook as he waits at the wheel, his foot tapping on the deck impatiently.
“No, lass. I know her through and through.” He cups his hand around his mouth. “Shove off!”
The crew still on the beach uses long poles to push against the front of the ship as the tide comes in and swamps the shore.
I don’t feel the ship move at all, and when I send Hook a questioning look, he says, “We’ve got a land breeze and a high tide, lass. We’ll get to sea. Trust me.”
“I do.” In fact, Hook is probably the only one I trust.
“Raise the mainsail!”
Skylights and Smee turn some heavy-looking cranks as the biggest sail on the ship rises and begins to catch the wind.
“Shove!” Hook cries.
The crew all grunt with effort as they push against the hull.
“One more good one, lads! On my count!”
Hook loops his arm around my waist, the pine tar and ocean scent of him enveloping me. He pulls me tightly to his side as he barks out a countdown. Flicking his gaze to the wind filling the mainsail, he barks out. “Shove!”
This time, the crew groans even louder as they push the Jolly Roger from the shore. I can feel the moment the ship leaves land, the entire thing taking on a buoyancy you’d never notice unless you’d felt it rooted to the sand only moments before.
“Get to swimming!” he calls.
A whoop goes up from the crew as they all splash toward the Jolly Roger.
“The seals are holding, Cap’n,” Cookson calls from below. “Bilge is pumping.”
Sailors hop over the side and onto the deck from where they’ve climbed the rope ladders. Before long, the entire ship is humming again as if it was never beached at all.
Anne climbs onto the deck, her sharp gaze raking the ship.
