The Pirate's Bride

CHAPTER II

Esther's pace was quick, purposeful. Her long, navy blue dress rustled around her ankles. The thud of her shoes on the cobblestone rung in her ears, clear and loud against the din of the busy street – heavy women sitting behind stands of fish, fruit or bread, screeching at the top of their voices; dirty, hunchbacked men curled at the curbs, moaning in hunger and biting cold; coquetting girls in bright yellow and scarlet gowns smiling flirtatiously at the men passing them.

Esther was used to such sights. She had lived here, in this small seaside town, her entire life. She had once asked Jonathan why they wouldn't move out now that they had enough money to do so, but it got him into one of those rare fits of rage, and Esther then decided never to ask again. She didn't mind, in all honesty, staying in Redport. It was her home.

The masts on the horizon were growing taller as she approached them. Waves crashing against the ships' hulls were louder. The salty scent of sea and the less pleasant smell of raw fish intensified, assaulting her nostrils. But she didn't scrunch her face. She was accustomed to the reek.

Her feet carried her around the local tavern that was especially popular among sailors, and she finally emerged from between the town's squat buildings. The docks and mooring ships spread in front of her.

She had not the faintest idea which one of those boats could be the one Jonathan would be leaving on. As a matter of fact, she had not the faintest if that ship was still in port to begin with.

People milled about, carrying wooden crates of imported goods or goods for the export, yelling at one another and throwing around picturesque curses one could only learn when he was out to sea. Drunk sailors were stumbling in and out of the tavern. Horses and mules neighed. Bulky, hairy men loaded their carts with more crates. A foul-smelling woman so thin Esther could almost count all the separate bones making up her wrists threw up mere three feet away from her.

Esther scowled and quickly stepped away from the pool of vomit, raising her palm to her nose in order to shield it from the God-awful smell. Her eyes roamed the port, but she had no idea where to even start the search for her husband.

This was pointless. She must be stupid if she had ever believed coming here would do any good. But every fibre, every muscle in her body was being tugged in the direction of those ships. Perhaps if she got closer, she could spot her husband walking around on one of them... However tempting it was to see him now, her brain told her it was a very unreasonable thing to do. If he spotted her, if he found out that she had followed him... would it be enough to elicit another one of his rage attacks?

It certainly would.

She should just go back home, wait those several weeks, and try to talk to Jonathan once he was back, in the safety and security of home.

But she knew by that time she would probably have changed her mind. She was determined enough to confront her husband, and she was going to do it... if luck was on her side today, and Jonathan was still around.

There was a bad feeling blossoming in her gut. Suddenly, everything her friends had been telling her, everything that had ever crossed her mind – and everything she had always ignored – about Jonathan's job, it all stopped sounding as ridiculous as mere seconds ago. For a moment, Esther allowed herself to wonder why Jonathan was keeping this a secret from her.

She scoffed and chuckled to herself at the absurdity of that notion. Surely, Jonathan had no malicious intent. She loved and trusted him, and everything he did must be for her own good.

But she still had to see him.

Her heart rate picked up. Sneaking around the port without her husband's knowledge to find the ship he worked on... This felt like an adventure.