Vivienne obeyed, though she eyed the bottle with suspicion.
Melodie uncorked it with a sharp pop and poured a few drops onto her raw skin.
A burning sting shot through Vivienne’s hands, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
"You’re evil."
Melodie snorted, unfazed. "I prefereffective."
Vivienne scowled, but relief rippled through her skin as the doctor rubbed the cool salve over her blisters. The pain dulled, replaced by a soothing numbness.
Melodie wrapped her hands with quick, practiced motions. "Salve twice a day. Fresh bandages if they get wet. Got it?"
Vivienne exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. "Got it. Thank you, Dr. Mercer."
The doctor’s lips quirked into a smile. "You can call me Melodie. Only Owen—Commander Thorne, is strict about titles."
Vivienne grinned despite herself. "Thank you, Melodie. This salve is magic."
Melodie wagged a finger at her. "Not magic. Medicine."
"Shame you can’t sing," Vivienne mused, as Melodie returned the dark bottle to the drawer. "Gus could use some variety when he pulls out that accordion."
Melodie glanced over her shoulder. "I never said I couldn’t sing."
Vivienne raised both eyebrows. "Oh?"
Melodie flashed a playful grin. "I just didn’t want to do it for a living."
* * *
Vivienne glaredat the piece of rope in her hands, frustration tightening her grip. The boatswain, Gus ‘Skull Crusher’ Conway, had demonstrated the clove hitch knot multiple times, his massive, tattooed hands moving in an automated flow, but no matter how many times she tried, her fingers refused to cooperate.
With a low, rumbling chuckle, Gus took the rope from her, his thick fingers twisting and looping the fibers effortlessly. "Takes practice is all," he assured, his deep voice like the rumbling of an earthquake. "Don't be discouraged."
Easier said than done.
Vivienne had already endured a full shift of learning the ins and outs of sail inspection, rigging, and overseeing deck operations. Gus had been patient and thorough, answering Lewis’ endless stream of questions, but Lewis hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire time. Even now, he worked on the opposite end of the main deck, recoiling piles of rope with singular focus.
Vivienne wiped sweat from her brow and looked up at Gus, craning her neck to meet his gaze. "Gus, can I ask you something?"
He nodded, offering a low hum of acknowledgment.
"Why do they call you Augustus 'Skull Crusher' Conway?"
A slow, knowing smile crept beneath his chestnut-brown mustache, the curled ends bending into his cheeks.
"Got that name when I sailed with pirates in the Eastern Seas."
Vivienne’s eyes widened, heat flickering in her chest at the unexpected revelation. "Pirates?"
Gus gave a deep, amused grunt. "Aye. But, I never crushed any skulls." He paused, the smile on his face turning mischievous. "I can, however, crush any melon between my hands, thighs, or knees."
A subtle crease formed at the edges of Vivienne’s eyes, intrigued. "So why skulls and not melons?"
He let out a booming laugh. "Augustus 'Melon Crusher' Conway doesn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of men." His dark eyes twinkled with humor. "Captain Varik thought 'Skull Crusher' sounded tougher, so it stuck."
Vivienne grinned, studying the web of ink covering his broad arms, hands, and even the sides of his neck. "Did you get your tattoos while sailing with pirates?"
