Revenge of the Siren Song

Dinner and Devotion

Liam's stomach was growling by the time Jameson came below decks. He was wearing a scowl on his face and carrying a bucket and an armful of linens.

"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, sir, 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 respectful 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 O'Malley's steward had cleaned and rearranged the cabin to accommodate the mistress' guest. Linens, china, crystal, and sliver 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 bewildered 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, as 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 very carefully followed her step by step through the courses. Although not a word was said, the strategic contest was begun.

"You catch on quickly, O'Shea," she smiled.

"Your ship, your rules, m' lady."

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?"

"Because Captain Shireland has managed to secure the protections of the British Royal Navy. I cannot protect myself from her and them all on my own," she was loath to admit.

"So I became 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."

"And how would you calculate your benefit if you knew that 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 been taking a great deal of taxable goods off the colonial market lately."