Page 110 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Ha! Hahahaha!” Throwing his head back into the sand, Jackal burst out into laughter. Suddenly, his hand reached out, and before I could really think about what the heck I was doing, I had grabbed hold and helped him to his feet. “Dammit, mate! You’ve got the toughest bollocks I’ve ever kicked!”
Considering my lack of, ehem, “equipment”, that statement was probably not very complimentary to the male gender. I decided, however, not to point this out.
Just then a hand slammed onto my back, followed by another. Cheers rose from all around, and the grinning circle of thugs started chanting my name. The fact that said name was “Freddy the Fatty” wasn’t bothering me in the least. No, not at all.
Do you want to know why?
Because I had done it! I had survived! I had won!
With a grin wide enough to split my face apart, I swaggered over to Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who was standing at the edge of the ring, stiff like a frost-covered rod of iron, his eyes burning holes into my head with a cold, silent ferocity that would make any ordinary woman quake in her boots.
Lucky I was special, wasn’t it?
Coming to a stop in front of him, I struck a victory pose. “Well? Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
“Never. Ever. Again. Do you hear me, Mr Linton? Never!”
“Why, Mr Ambrose! What is it? You look a little bit perturbed.”
The guttural growl that escaped Mr Ambrose’s throat in response was loud enough to make some of the pirates look around with concern, trying to spot the dangerous predator that had apparently invaded their camp.
“Never. Again!” he repeated in a low, deadly whisper. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a small pistol clutched in his hand. A pistol he had definitelynothad during our stint as castaways. I also noticed an empty holster on a man standing nearby. Seems like my husband was already embracing his new occupation as a pirate.
I was under no illusions about what he had acquired the pistol for. If that pirate I’d been up against had gotten the upper hand, and if there’d been even the slightest chance for me to be harmed…
I felt my heart warm.
Seems like Jackal is a very, very lucky man.
“Let’s hear it, everyone!” The roar from one of the pirates tore me from my thoughts. “Three cheers for the new members of the crew!”
“Hip, hip, huzzah! Hip, hip, huzzah!”
Turning, I let my gaze sweep over the cheering pirates. As I stood there, surveying the rag-tag band of cutthroats who had been ready to stab me in the back a minute ago, it really settled in: I had truly won! I had done it! Once more, relief flooded through me, and a wide grin spread across my face. I was alive!Wewere alive! We were gonna be all right! We—
Then, Mr Ambrose patted me on the shoulder and spoke the words of doom.
“Well, I’m so glad you’re happy about this. I’m sure the pirate crew will appreciate your work,ship’s cook!”
Crap.
Lilly, the Pirate Queen (of Cooking)
I stood bent over a table, a knife in my hand, crying bitter tears. How could my husband do this to me? How could he torture me like this? Ihatedchopping onions!
“Just you wait…sniff…Mr Ambrose! You aren’t going to…sniff…get away with this! I’m going to—”
“Going to dowhat, Mr Linton?” a cool voice came from right behind me.
“Aaah!”
I nearly went straight from slicing onions to slicing my own digits. Whirling around, I stabbed a finger at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, only barely resisting the urge to use my knife instead.
“You…! It’s you! Tell me something. How is it that, even after keeping my feminist principles, keeping my job, and getting bloody shipwrecked on a deserted island, youstillmanage to stick me into a kitchen and make me cook? To cook not just for you, I might add, but for you and abloody ship full of people?”
He cocked his head. “I? Make you? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean, Mr Linton.”
Yes, and I’m a four-armed chimpanzee!
