At this, the woman chuckled, and her warmth set Desi at ease.“Depends on what you did.”She waved toward the dress.“But I don’t think he’d be providing a gown for you if he was going to do dat.”She raised a brow and then turned to leave.“I’ll bring dinner later,” she said before slamming the door.
Plopping down on the cot, Desi eased a lock of her dry, salt-sticky hair behind her ear.At least the woman didn’t think Desi was evil anymore.Maybe that was a good sign.She fingered the dress and found stockings, a shift of some sort, a petticoat, and what she assumed were stays bundled up inside.If it weren’t for the research she’d done for the romance novel she hoped to write, she’d have no idea what these were.Even so, she still had no clue how to put any of them on.
Lifting the biscuit to her mouth, she attempted a bite.Pain spiked into her jaw, and she wiggled her tooth to make sure it hadn’t loosened.Some biscuit.Her stomach rumbled.Oh, how she longed for her usual English Muffin with butter and jam.
An hour later, with great effort and much frustration, and more than one tumble to the deck, she managed to put on the petticoat and gown and even the stays, which thankfully, she could tie in front.She wouldn’t have bothered, except she had nothing with which to support her breasts, and in this crowd, it was safer to hide her curves as best she could.She forfeited the extra shift and the stockings, however.She’d never been one for stockings, or for dresses, either.Growing up as a Florida tomboy meant her wardrobe consisted of shorts, swimsuits, t-shirts, and flip-flops.She’d only worn a dress three times in her life—her college graduation, her mother’s funeral, and a date that was an absolute disaster.
Even so, she longed for a mirror to make sure she didn’t look like a complete buffoon.With the stays binding her chest, the low neckline exposed far more than she’d like, but there wasn’t much she could do.Wearing the form-fitting wetsuit would be worse.
Walking to the window, she peered out at the rippling blue expanse.The Caribbean.The sea she loved so much, the calm turquoise waters in which she’d spent more time as a child frolicking about in than on land.Yet now those same waters held her prisoner.
“Are the answers I seek within your majestic depths?”she whispered out the window.She’d been talking to the sea for as long as she could remember.And it always answered her.Not in words, but in mystery and beauty and a knowing deep within her whenever she plunged beneath its waves.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the window ledge.Think, think, Desi.How did you get here?And how to get home?She had a business to run and a sister to care for.
The key was that Ring.But now the captain had it.
The ship leapt over a swell, catching her off guard.She tumbled backward, thankfully gaining her balance before she fell.What was wrong with her?She’d been on a ship most of her life.Maybe not an eighteenth-century tall ship, but…
A creaking sound and a blast of wind turned her around to see the door had swung open.Had Ayida forgotten to lock it?Struggling against the unfamiliar tangle of her skirts, Desi finally gripped them and stepped into the hallway.Shadows loomed to her left, but to her right, sunlight trickled down in shifting golden patches upon a ladder leading upward.She probably should stay put and not risk whatever danger lurked above, but she’d never been one to shy away from trouble, especially when she was on a mission—and this mission was life and death.
Hers.
Holding her skirts with one hand, she gripped the ladder with the other as shouts blared from above.Some she understood, commands to adjust sail and direction.Some she did not.One unforgettable voice belonged to the captain.A deep, resonant timbre that commanded attention, like the steady roll of distant thunder, powerful, authoritative.
Wind blasted her when she reached the main deck, while the hot sun and the eyes of every sailor aboard seared her.
“Back t’ work ye wind-headed weasels!Never seen a woman before?”The shout did not come from the captain, but from a man she’d met yesterday, a rugged soul with a scar across his cheek and a wooden cross dangling from his neck.Alden, if she remembered.
Ignoring the thunder of boots down the quarterdeck ladder and the spasm of terror coursing through her, she made her way to the starboard railing and gripped it just in time as the ship leapt over another incoming swell.Clinging to it, she balanced her bare feet over the deck, desperate to keep her balance in front of these men as a spray of seawater moistened her skin.
Oddly, it soothed her.
Until the Captain appeared beside her.“How did you break free from the lock?”Displeasure narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw.“Some mermaid power I’m not aware of?”
Of all the…she grew weary of the insanity of this dream.Weary, most of all, that it was probably no dream.So, she met his gaze head on and smiled.
“Yes, of course.Didn’t you know we mermaids can walk through walls?”
♥
Caleb would grin at the lady’s impertinence if it wouldn’t betray his pleasure at her wit.Clearly, she was frightened—the slight tremble in her lips, the tight grip she maintained on the railing despite calmer seas, the way her eyes flitted about, seeking a place of solace on which to land.Yet strength shone bright within them, along with a determination filling every breath.Breath that drew his gaze to the mounds of golden skin peeking above her bodice.
Aye, he’d noticed how wonderfully snug Esther’s gown fit this lady the minute she appeared on deck, how glorious a transition she’d made from black-skinned sea nymph to island queen, regal and unearthly in her beauty.
Unfortunately, so had his crew.
The lady blew out a sigh of disdain.“I’m up here, Captain.”Her sharp tone brought his gaze back to her face.“As far as I know, even mermaids do not have eyes on their breasts.”
This time he could not withhold a chuckle at her brazen tongue.He leaned one elbow on the railing, examining her with a grin.“’Tis a compliment, Miss, for the gown has changed the moth into a butterfly.”
“So which is it, Captain?Am I a mermaid or a butterfly?”
“I haven’t decided,” he returned.
Drawing a deep breath, she gazed at the horizon.“I would not have put it on except I thought it would draw less attention.”Turning slightly, she glanced across the ship, where several eyes were still fastened upon her.“I see I was mistaken.”Shifting her back as if uncomfortable, she tugged on her neckline in an effort to hoist it up, but to no avail.“No doubt this was from one of your many conquests?”
Caleb faced the sea, his smile fading.“Nay.My sister.”
