Shannon Drake - The Pirate Bride

Crisp words, hard spoken, no humor on the face, the facade quite effective.

“I don’t even know where we are. I’m not at all sure where I could escape to. The waters of the Caribbean are warm, but vast,” he replied.

“That’s not exactly an oath. Try to escape now, and yes, you would die, one way or the other. And, as I said, it means little to us, since there’s no guarantee we can gain any reward whatsoever for your life.” The pirate was staring at him intently. Those eyes were…

Deep blue. And haunting.

“I give you my word, Captain, that I will not try to escape while working topside,” Logan said, his tone as level and emotionless as the captain’s.

The captain assessed him with a direct and emotionless stare. And then…just the slightest hint of a smile. “Good. It’s laundry day.”

“Laundry?” Logan said incredulously.

“Aye, laundry.”

“But…we’re at sea.”

“Aye, that we are.”

“But you’d be wasting good water!”

“What I waste is my concern. There is a Bible on the edge of my desk. Place your hand upon it and swear you will not try to escape.” Again, a subtle smile upon the captain’s lips. The young face could be gamine-like, delicate…beautiful, beneath the attempt at ruggedness. “And that you will do laundry.” Red picked up the quill again and began to write. “And bathe.”

“Bathe?” Logan inquired politely.

“There’s a breeze today, you may have noticed. Otherwise, the Caribbean is quite hot. What many of my associates upon these seas have not noticed is that we seem to avoid the dangers of disease with greater success than others because we make every attempt to keep this vessel free from vermin, such as rats, and the lice that are prone to so enjoy the human scalp and body. When we are at anchor, by the islands, my men are quite fond of swimming. They have discovered that saltwater is excellent for whatever may be plaguing their skin. So, you will serve—and bathe—as one of us. Or you may rot back in the cargo hold.”

“Captain, bathing does not at all dissuade me.”

“And laundry?”

“It will be a new…adventure,” he admitted.

“Adventure,” Red mused. “Well, then. Swear. On the Bible.”

“Do most of your captives believe in God, Captain?”

“Most men claim not to give a damn if the devil takes them, but I don’t believe you’re the average man. Then again, at the point of death, a man’s beliefs have a tendency to change. I’ve seen many a supposed disbeliever cry out to heaven when he knows his death is imminent. So, swear or return to the brig.”

He picked up the Bible and gave his oath.

When he set it down he said, “Laundry…and bathing. I can only assume then, given that I have correctly ascertained our direction, we’re heading for Nassau.”

“Nassau, New Providence. You know it?” Red asked politely. “You don’t appear to be the type of man who spends much time there.”

“I’ve been there,” Logan said.

“Well?” Red demanded, when Logan continued to stand there.

“Will I be allowed to go ashore?”

“Yes.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Red turned those striking eyes full on him. “Pirates do have honor, as you keep pointing out to me. I will see to it that everyone is made aware that you are a captive and where you belong. Should you attempt to escape, any one of them would happily kill you, because we’ll have a bounty on your head, a fair sum for your return—dead or alive,” Red said pleasantly.

“That won’t be necessary,” Logan said.

“Really?”

“I have given my word. And, Captain, if you’re curious, I do believe in God, in the hereafter and in purgatory. I prefer to spend my full share of years upon this earth, but I am not afraid to die.”

“Bravo,” Red said dryly.

“You are obviously not afraid to die,” Logan said.

Red once again set down the quill. “You said it so well, Lord Haggerty. I would prefer to spend my time upon the earth, rather than beneath it—or as fish food, as might well be my fate. But I am not afraid of death. You may go now.”

“I am handcuffed.”

“So you are.”

“It’s difficult to do laundry in handcuffs.”

“That matter will be rectified.”

“Captain Red Robert…” Logan said musingly.

“What now?”

“You, too, do not seem to be the type of…man to spend time in New Providence.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve not seen all that many well-bathed gentlemen upon the island.”

“I have certainly never claimed to be a gentleman, much less do I claim the title of ‘lord.’”

“I definitely do claim it—it just doesn’t mean a great deal.”

“Many a man buys his bath on New Providence,” Red said impatiently.

“Yes, and many other things.” Logan grinned knowingly, as one man to another.

“Are you talking just to annoy me, or to avoid doing laundry?”

Logan smiled. “Well, it is in the articles of piracy that there should be no women aboard a ship. Bad luck, you know and brawls between the men.”

“If you’re asking me if you can buy a whore on the island, Lord Haggerty, you might want to recall that you are a captive, and as such, you have no coin.”

Logan was still grinning. “That would be ‘no,’ then?”

“Do you wish to return to the brig?” Red demanded.

“Not at all. I am quite intrigued by the concept of laundry.”

“Aye, I don’t imagine a lord knows much about it.”

“I pronounce it ‘laird,’” Logan said, surprised by his own sudden irritability.

“A Scotsman, then?” Red said politely. “I had noticed the accent.”

“Indeed.”

Red stared at him. “No better than an Englishman, I’m afraid.” Red’s voice rose. “Brendan!”

The door opened; Brendan was waiting.

Logan cleared his throat and lifted his hands. “You have my word,” he said seriously.

“Captain, seeing as the man has sworn, may I remove the shackles?”

Red Robert had returned to the quill and paper but gave a slight nod.

Brendan grinned. Logan realized the captain’s right-hand man liked him, or at least respected him. He realized, as well, that Brendan bore a resemblance to the captain, or vice versa. They were both far too young for this life.

Then again, few grew old in it.

“Laundry, I’m afraid,” Brendan said.

Logan shrugged. “Lead me to it.”

SHE HEARD LAUGHTER on deck.

Laughter!

Red stood and walked to the cabin windows. Shifting the drape slightly aside, she stared at the improbable sight on deck. The men were teaching their prisoner the art of laundry.

He had already found himself a comfortable niche within the group, which told her that he was either a fearless idiot or very brave indeed. Either way, he was dangerous.

There was a knock at the door, which opened before Red could find out who was there or ask him to enter. It was Brendan.

“Aha!” he said. “You’re spying on our captive.”

“I’m the captain,” Red said irritably. “I can spy on anyone I want.”

“The captain.” Brendan laughed, then sat, placing his feet up on her desk, at ease and amused. “He’s quite a man, is he not?”

“Interesting, at least.”

“And a good swordsman.”

“Yes, I noticed.” A finger rose to her cheek, as if on its own.

“It’s a nick. It won’t scar.”

“I am scarred to the quick as it is, Brendan.”

“Ah, but that’s your soul, not your flesh.”

Red shooed him away from the desk and sat herself. “We’re heading for New Providence.”

“Aye, that’s been your course. But—”

“We can sell this new cargo there.”