Why had Danika the devil bug brought her here? Why had Betty and Gerard tried so hard to convince her Hook was the man for her? Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined this ever being a reality.
She laughed. Softly at first, then harder as it all finally started to sink in. The numbness she’d languored in when she’d first gotten here was now being replaced by a weird, sickening gut feeling that this was really happening. Huffing a lank of hair out of her eyes, she stared at the wooden beams above her.
Somewhere up on deck was a man they called Hook.
Danika had said the answers were inside her. Closing her eyes she tried to clear her mind, she really did, but after five minutes she began to feel stupid. What was she thinking? Trying to remember being a mermaid? Of once living in Kingdom? She laughed. How stupid and desperate she’d become.
Irritated, she scratched her thigh, wishing all over again she could just yank the tights off.
Actually… She bit her lip. Maybe if she was quick about it, she could take them off. Listening to make sure no one was headed down the hall, she quickly shucked her ugly green tunic off, then wiggled her way out of the itchy tights. Technically she hadn’t needed to take the shirt off to remove the tights, but she was so itchy she just needed a second without the stuff on.
Her nude skin tingled and itched. Scratching all over, she reveled in her temporary nudity. But it would be just her luck that he’d walk in with her looking like this. Sighing, she put the tunic back on. She felt a little better without the tights, except the trade off was now she felt naked with so much thigh showing.
Rolling her eyes, she wondered what Hook would say if she screamed for him to come back. She was bored out of her mind.
Walking toward the porthole, she expected to see nothing but a thick expanse of black sky and water. What she did see made her gasp. Pressing her nose to the thick pane of glass, her eyes went wide and her mouth slackened as the world outside filled her with a sense of wonder—that is until she realized they were sinking.
Because the only way she could see what she was seeing was if they were well below the sea. Panicked, she ran to the door, flung it open and looked for the stairs to lead her topside. She needed to get off the ship.
“Hook!” she screamed. “We’re sinking, where are you?”
She continued screaming for him, until a rough hand clamped across her mouth, drawing her tight to a solid body as it yanked her into another, much smaller cabin.
“Think a moment, before screaming like a bloody banshee.”
It wasn’t Hook’s voice. This voice wasn’t nearly as deep and it also throbbed with the flinty edge of an Irish brogue.
“If we were sinking, then where is the water, lass? Hmmm? Now,” his warm breath fanned the shell of her ear, “when I remove my hand, you will not yell. The ship is full of men who’d do much to get their hands on a body like yours.”
Slowly, he peeled one finger off at a time. Her breathing was still choppy and hard, but his words had at least sunk in.
“But…but,” she stuttered, trying to get her thoughts in order, “I saw a whale, right outside my window and it was glowing and purple and bizarre and…”
His blue eyes were calm as they gazed on her face and it was that calm that eased her taut nerves. Wringing her hands, she licked her lips and nodded, beginning to suddenly feel embarrassed, which really sucked. She’d just acted like an ass, screaming like an idiot woman about the sinking boat.
But if it wasn’t sinking, what was happening?
She was going to ask him, when she noticed a gleam enter his expressive eyes. His gaze was slow and methodical as it traveled from the soles of her heels, up her thighs, her breasts, before finally coming to rest on her face. A small smile latched itself onto his wide (but not unpleasantly so) lips.
“I can see why the captain decided to keep you to ‘emself.” His normally cultured voice broke for a second and the accent was much stronger this time. Wiping his hands on his creamy white knee high trousers, he held it out to her. “Monroe Smee.”
Smee? As in the Smee? The bulbous nosed baboon? Why wasn’t he fat, or stammering, speaking in a high-pitched falsetto? Looking around the room, she had to admit it was as opposite from Hook’s as could possibly be. There was a bed pushed up against one corner of the wall, a lantern swinging from a hook beside it, and that was it.
Narrowing her eyes, she slipped her hand into his. His fingers were rough and his grip tight. “Do you own a red cap?”
A tiny line drew down between his brows. “What?”
“Never mind.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Where is the captain?”
He shook his head. “Topside, and you cannot go. There are men about. Until the captain deigns to let them know you even exist, you must stay below. ‘Tis Captain’s orders.”