Free The Siren's Song by Jennifer Bray-Weber Page A

around Drake to Gilly. “You’ll trifle not with me again, will ya, lass?”
    “No, sir.”
    She let her hands fall away and instantly Drake missed their warmth.
    What the devil was wrong with him? The Rissa had been in port not a fortnight ago. He couldn’t be craving a woman’s touch this bad so soon. Not just any woman, either. This woman. ’Twas not like him to want any particular pullet. What made her different?
    Those coy eyes looking at him expectantly offered a fleeting answer.
    He should see her to her cabin.
    Ah, but she agreed to please him as he saw fit. At the moment, it pleased him to keep her close. His reason was an obvious pretense. ’Twas better to protect her from conniving wretches such as the likes of Abel. Later, he expected to be fully satisfied by her. Just how might be a strain on his already threadbare moral fiber.
    “Fetch ahead, Miss McCoy. ’Tis time to start a fire.”

Chapter Six
    Fire simmered upon the Rowena wreckage lighting up the twilight vista. Gilly marveled at the orange ridge riding atop the water. The rippling waves reflected the flames in thousands of tiny dancing torches. The ship protested her demise with frightful crackling and hissing. Mild southeasterly winds blew the smoke away but not the smarting smell of burnt tar and wood. The sea breathed fire, or so it seemed, as drifting wayward planking burned.
    Gilly watched the ship burn with the same revere as the silent seamen around her. The glowing tinder exaggerated the tangible sadness upon their long faces. Livelihoods disintegrated with the gray smoke disappearing up into the night sky. To stand beside them at an old friend’s funeral pyre would have been no different.
    All except for Captain Drake.
    He puckered his bottom lip and viewed the charring with impatience. With each glance she stole, his agitation grew.
    “Do you not find this a great sadness?” Gilly asked. “The others, they are mourning the destruction of their ship. But you act annoyed. Why?”
    “’Tis business.”
    “That is all this is to you, a business?”
    He did not acknowledge her question.
    “These men will lose work. Does that not bother you?”
    “They’ll find more.”
    “But won’t they have lost wages?”
    Again, he said nothing.
    “And what about Captain Mott? His ship is destroyed. It isn’t as if he could merely find another ship to captain, now is it? Surely the owner will hold him accountable. Do you not feel some sort of compassion for a fellow captain?”
    “Are you quite through?”
    “No.”
    He arched his eyebrows, slow and deliberate.
    “Yes.”
    “Good.”
    He faced the burning ship. His silence drew on and Gilly decided something else weighed on the captain’s mind. Something more calculating. Without breaking his gaze on the bonfire, he spoke.
    “Let us return to my cabin. I am eager to see how well you satisfy your debt.”
    “As you wish, Captain, for I too am eager. You shall change this cheap opinion you have of me.”
    “We shall see.”
    He let her lead the way. A gentlemanly gesture? Doubtful. She knew he watched her backside. Didn’t all men? She put an extra swing in her step, glad he couldn’t see her mischievous smile. The familiar flutter in her stomach just before she performed twittered with relentless expectation.
    Doing what she did best, singing and dancing to entertain a man. This would be easy.
    Or so she thought.
    Her confidence faltered once they entered his chambers and he locked the door for his private show. Trepidation sneaked in through the rear door of her mind. Surely he would find her voice pleasing. Wouldn’t he?
    The captain scooped a flagon off his desk, plopped down at the table and wasted not a moment to pull from the bottle.
    “Well? What are you waiting for? Entertain me.”
    “Now? Without accompaniment?” He couldn’t be serious. She needed music.
    “This would not be a good time to play games with me, Miss McCoy. ’Tis been a lengthy day and I’m tired.