Revenge of the Siren Song (Rogues of Sea and Sky Book 1) by Michelle Stinson Ross Page B

suggestive smile.
    “Dinner,” she choked. “We’ll talk.”
    He walked back over to his tiny stool and sat down. “Dinner it is.”

 
     
     
    Chapter 2
    Dinner and Devotion
     
     
    Liam's stomach was growling by the time Jameson came below decks, wearing a scowl and carrying an armful of linens and a bucket of soapy water.
    “It's about time someone remembered I was down here,” Liam growled. “What's with the bucket?”
    “Captain says you have to clean up before dinner,” Jameson growled back. “She won't dine with smelly sailors, she says.”
    “She wants me to bathe just to eat?”
    “Aye, and she sent me down with clean clothes, too.”
    “Clean clothes and a bath? I think I'd rather starve.”
    “Her ship, her rules, sir.”
    “So she's told me.”
    “She's waiting, sir. And if she has my hide lashed because you kept her waiting, you can forget that pint o' rum I owe you.”
    “I hate losing a good pint o' rum far more than bathing. Hand it over.”
    Jameson handed the captured captain the bucket and clothes and stood a decent distance away. Once Liam was as respectable as he was ever going to be, Jameson unlocked the manacles and led him back to the captain's cabin.
    Dinner aboard the Siren Song was served in a manner to rival any table in London or Paris. Captain Grace O'Malley's steward had cleaned and rearranged the cabin to accommodate the captain’s guest. Linens, china, crystal, and silver adorned the table. The steward lit the last of the candles and decanted a bottle of fine red wine when Liam entered. As the steward was seating the captive, the captain entered from an adjoining chamber. Gone were the practical trappings of a pirate captain able to hold her own among the men of her crew. The mistress of the Siren Song was dressed for dinner in a rich velvet gown and gold brocade bodice. Her wild raven hair had been pinned up, exposing the long line of her neck and the graceful curve of her shoulders. Around her neck was hung a handsomely crafted emerald necklace, and dainty gold earrings swung merrily from her ears. No lady in all her finery could match Captain Grace O'Malley for her beauty, and no man could defend himself against it.
    “I think I like you better in your sailing clothes. At least I understand the rules of engagement under those circumstances,” Liam said as she seated herself across the table.
    “Are you telling me that you do not understand the rules of good manners at a civilized table?”
    “Since when have I ever been civilized?”
    “Fair enough.” Turning to her steward she added, “You may begin serving.”
    For a time, they sat quietly and ate. Liam followed her carefully step by step through the courses. Although not a word was said, the strategic contest had begun. Finally, she broke the companionable silence.
    “You catch on quickly, O'Shea,” she smiled.
    “Your ship, your rules, milady.”
    She raised her glass to him, “Well said.”
    “Would it be rude of me to ask at this point why I was shanghaied?”
    “As I said before, I'm not certain I can trust you.”
    “Then why involve me and my crew at all?”
    She stared moodily at her wine glass. “Captain Elizabeth Shireland has managed to secure the protections of the British Royal Navy. I am loath to admit it, but I cannot protect myself from her and them without help.”
    “So I am a necessary evil,” he smiled.
    “It is to your benefit to stop her as much as it is mine.”
    “Maybe, maybe not. Thus far she's left me well enough alone.”
    “In the past. But now I tell you plain, the British agreed to this happy little arrangement with the scheming captain of the Ocean’s Whore because she assured them that she could bring them your head on a platter. It would seem you've taken a parcel of taxable goods off the colonial market lately.”
    “Hell truly doth have no fury like a woman scorned, then.”
    They both lapsed into thoughtful silence as they picked at the remains of the current