Read Online A Pirate's Ransom by Gerri Brousseau - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gerri Brousseau
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pass and suddenly I no longer gave a care to the smell of fish.
The meal was ready just in time for dinner. I was anxious for the crew to arrive and sample my creation.
Skepticism was written upon the faces of the men when they entered the galley, yet their hunger won out and soon everyone was seated around the table.
The hearty aroma of the meal arrived moments before Cook appeared with the tureen. Bowls full of the delicious concoction of rice, fish, and beans were laid upon the table. The men were eager to taste what was set before them and were quick to scoop up heaping spoonfuls to sample the fare. I sat in silence, suppressing a smile, awaiting their comments.
“Is this wot become o’ them fish we netted today?” one of them asked.
“Aye,” the cook replied as he laid out some dark bread.
“What is that delightful aroma?” the Captain asked, entering the galley with a smile.
“Her Ladyship calls it Callaloo , and it be right tasty,” the cook answered.
Edmund’s eyes met mine. With one eyebrow raised and a crooked half smile he asked, “Am I to believe you made this meal, Countess?”
“Yes, Captain. I have been known to have made a meal from far less.”
“Hmm, well, let us hope it tastes as good as it smells.”
“It do, Captain, it sure do,” the cook replied.
Edmund took a seat at the table and Cook handed him a bowl full of the stew. He put the first spoonful into his mouth, and I held my breath.
“Countess, what exactly is this?” he asked.
Thinking he didn’t care for my cooking, my heart sank to my feet. “It is a dish called Callaloo and is quite common in the islands. I would be pleased if you found it to be adequate.”
“It is far more than adequate. It’s completely delicious.”
I felt the sting of a blush at his compliment. “Thank you, Captain.”
“No, Milady. Thank you.”
That night, after we had dined, Mary and I took a stroll on deck to get some fresh air before retiring for the evening and to the confines of our cabins. It was rare for me to be on deck at this late hour, but the cool night air and the spray of the sea were so refreshing. As we walked, we came upon the crew and I was amused watching these pirates engaging in relaxing activities. Some played cards, others rolled dice in a betting game of chance, and some danced around while others played fiddles, a pipe, and squeezebox. I found myself drawn to the sound of the lively music. Standing among them, I clapped and laughed watching the activity and before long one of the pirates called Willy grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him into the dance. Willy was a strapping man with a ragged beard. He looked to be quite a ruffian, but in truth I found him to be a gentle giant. I hesitated at first, not wanting to draw unwanted attention, but saw that Mary, too, had been swept up by Mister Smith and crossed the deck, feet flying and giggles floating on the air.
Although I didn’t know the steps, I found the dance exhilarating and quite enjoyable and grew breathless at being pulled from one set of arms to the other and swirled around to the lively tune until steely arms gripped me in a close embrace. The music stopped. I stared up into sparkling green eyes and my breath caught in my throat.
“May I have the honor of this dance, Milady?”
“It is I who would be honored, Captain,” I replied in what was little more than a whisper.
“What’s ‘e doin’ ‘ere?” Whispers rose among the crew.
“‘e ain’t never left ‘is post.”
“Can bet it’s the likes of ‘er.”
If Edmund heard the grumble rolling among his men, he didn’t let on. He gestured toward the pirate they called Fiddler and said, “Carry on.” With a shrug, Fiddler lifted the well-worn instrument and Jake picked up his squeezebox and together they started playing a tune with a slower pace.
Edmund held me so close I could barely breathe, or perhaps I could barely breathe because he held me so close. His body was
The meal was ready just in time for dinner. I was anxious for the crew to arrive and sample my creation.
Skepticism was written upon the faces of the men when they entered the galley, yet their hunger won out and soon everyone was seated around the table.
The hearty aroma of the meal arrived moments before Cook appeared with the tureen. Bowls full of the delicious concoction of rice, fish, and beans were laid upon the table. The men were eager to taste what was set before them and were quick to scoop up heaping spoonfuls to sample the fare. I sat in silence, suppressing a smile, awaiting their comments.
“Is this wot become o’ them fish we netted today?” one of them asked.
“Aye,” the cook replied as he laid out some dark bread.
“What is that delightful aroma?” the Captain asked, entering the galley with a smile.
“Her Ladyship calls it Callaloo , and it be right tasty,” the cook answered.
Edmund’s eyes met mine. With one eyebrow raised and a crooked half smile he asked, “Am I to believe you made this meal, Countess?”
“Yes, Captain. I have been known to have made a meal from far less.”
“Hmm, well, let us hope it tastes as good as it smells.”
“It do, Captain, it sure do,” the cook replied.
Edmund took a seat at the table and Cook handed him a bowl full of the stew. He put the first spoonful into his mouth, and I held my breath.
“Countess, what exactly is this?” he asked.
Thinking he didn’t care for my cooking, my heart sank to my feet. “It is a dish called Callaloo and is quite common in the islands. I would be pleased if you found it to be adequate.”
“It is far more than adequate. It’s completely delicious.”
I felt the sting of a blush at his compliment. “Thank you, Captain.”
“No, Milady. Thank you.”
That night, after we had dined, Mary and I took a stroll on deck to get some fresh air before retiring for the evening and to the confines of our cabins. It was rare for me to be on deck at this late hour, but the cool night air and the spray of the sea were so refreshing. As we walked, we came upon the crew and I was amused watching these pirates engaging in relaxing activities. Some played cards, others rolled dice in a betting game of chance, and some danced around while others played fiddles, a pipe, and squeezebox. I found myself drawn to the sound of the lively music. Standing among them, I clapped and laughed watching the activity and before long one of the pirates called Willy grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him into the dance. Willy was a strapping man with a ragged beard. He looked to be quite a ruffian, but in truth I found him to be a gentle giant. I hesitated at first, not wanting to draw unwanted attention, but saw that Mary, too, had been swept up by Mister Smith and crossed the deck, feet flying and giggles floating on the air.
Although I didn’t know the steps, I found the dance exhilarating and quite enjoyable and grew breathless at being pulled from one set of arms to the other and swirled around to the lively tune until steely arms gripped me in a close embrace. The music stopped. I stared up into sparkling green eyes and my breath caught in my throat.
“May I have the honor of this dance, Milady?”
“It is I who would be honored, Captain,” I replied in what was little more than a whisper.
“What’s ‘e doin’ ‘ere?” Whispers rose among the crew.
“‘e ain’t never left ‘is post.”
“Can bet it’s the likes of ‘er.”
If Edmund heard the grumble rolling among his men, he didn’t let on. He gestured toward the pirate they called Fiddler and said, “Carry on.” With a shrug, Fiddler lifted the well-worn instrument and Jake picked up his squeezebox and together they started playing a tune with a slower pace.
Edmund held me so close I could barely breathe, or perhaps I could barely breathe because he held me so close. His body was
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