dwgm | Dark of the Moon

More Dark of the Moon, in which our heroine grieves, and prays.

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Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

But God was far from her indeed this night. Her back against the cabin door, she sank down to the sole and drew her knees up, rocking and sobbing.

Stupid, stupid Brian! She was suddenly furious that her husband had gotten himself killed and left her in such a fix.

And just as suddenly felt horridly guilty for thinking it. Her sobs increased accordingly.

Thank goodness that pirate had taken himself off after placing such an unreasonable prohibition upon her, for how could she help but weep?

She shuddered and hugged herself tighter, the horror of her capture and the sword fight racketing through her brain – and the foundering, sinking Eliza Mae forming a nightmarish backdrop.

Full fathom five, Brian is, just as in Shakespeare. We could have been in the longboats with the others, together and alive.

Oh, Brian!

Anger and grief assailed her again. And fear. For she was now in the power of… of… that man. A pirate.

But an unexpected one. That had to be admitted. Perhaps he had some hidden motive in his offer of tea. He would drug her, maybe, and take her while she lay helpless!

Although he hadn’t seemed entirely anxious to… dishonor her. In fact, she would almost say he’d been annoyed.

She took a deep, shuddery breath and gave a watery sniff. Groped for the handkerchief again.

Tea. She could use some of that – if not something stronger! But no, she must keep her wits about her. The pirate – Jack, was it? – was dangerous, and cunning, too. Very different from her big, blundering, tow-headed fool of a husband. Dear fool. No, this… Jack… was barely taller than she was herself, and seemed young, but he was also dark, sharp, deadly. Polite, but that could be a mask. Yes. She must keep her wits about her.

She blew her nose.

TBC