Page 11

Chapter 11

A Dangerous Bouquet

Maggie

K aspar came to the door the next morning, a handful of prickly sea-holly stems clutched in his fist. He thrust them into Maggie’s hands when she opened the door.

The thorns pricked her palms and her conscience.

She’d begged on her knees for him, and now she had to go back on her word.

Even though it was for the best, part of her felt guilty.

“Closest thing to flowers this time of year,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed by the half-hearted gesture.

They both knew his visit had nothing to do with romance.

“Came to speak with your da about amending the Wolfhunter’s deed.”

“He’s asleep,” Maggie lied, hoping to keep their conversation private.

“But it doesn’t matter, anyway. We need to talk. I know I said that I’d welcome another proposal, but a lot has happened since then. I can’t in good conscience—”

“Your ma, then,” he interrupted, his eyes searched the darkened cottage interior behind her.

He didn’t seem to have heard a single thing she said.

She stepped out of the cottage and closed the door, setting the dangerous bouquet on the porch rail.

He reached for the door handle, and she moved to block it.

“You’re not listening. I’ve had more time to think, and I believe it’s best if—”

Kaspar attempted to shoulder her aside.

His expression darkened when she wouldn’t let him pass.

“I’m not marrying you for your thoughts on every matter,” he snapped.

“If you want to be a good wife, shut your mouth once in a while. It’ll cause trouble if you prattle on about every idea that pops into your head when I’m trying to conduct business. It’s wearing.”

She gave up on letting him down easily.

“Fine, then. I’ll use short sentences so I don’t waste your time. Go away. I’m not marrying you.”

Kaspar’s eyes bulged at her defiance, his neck reddening.

“Your father may have something else to say about that. Let me in.” He grabbed her shoulder, fingers digging in roughly, but she wrenched herself out of his grasp.

He made a noise of frustration.

“Your frigid little spinster act is getting old. You were begging on your knees for me yesterday.”

“That was yesterday. Things have changed.”

He froze, frowning.

“Who will captain the Wolfhunter , then? Gus? Johan?”

She shook her head.

“Does it matter? Not you .”

“Is it Walther?!” he roared indignantly.

“That smug son of a sea slug. I’ll be faefucked before I watch him steal my wife and sail my boat.”

“Better bend over, then,” Maggie said tartly, and took advantage of his few seconds of gobsmack to push him off the porch.

His wife and his boat, indeed.

Kaspar stumbled backward a few steps before righting himself.

A thunderous expression swept over his face that destroyed any sense of satisfaction she’d been feeling at knocking him down a peg.

“You’ll regret this, woman.”

Instinctively, she reached for her shucking knife, but her hand brushed air where the handle should have been.

She’d been so caught up in her daydreams of Evrard that she’d forgotten to buckle it on this morning.

Panic unfurled in her lungs as Kaspar stepped toward her, menace in every muscle.

She fumbled behind her for the door handle, but it swung open behind her of its own accord.

Her mother stepped out, brandishing the laundry stick with the kitten riding on her shoulder.

When the kitten saw Kaspar, it hissed and growled, its tail as straight as a mast.

“Walk away, Kaspar,” her mother ordered.

“No harm need come of this. The world doesn’t end when a woman tells you ‘no.’”

“Last chance, Maggie,” Kaspar said, ignoring her mother.

“Marry me. If you decline, my offer won’t come again, no matter how much you regret your choice.”

Her answer came easily because she’d already said it.

“No.”

“No?” he repeated.

“So be it.” Nothing in him seem soothed, though.

Even as he turned to go, there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes.

Her answer had only provoked him.

Maggie didn’t exhale until he was out of sight.

“I don’t want you going into the village alone anymore,” her mother said, setting the end of her stick down on the stone steps with a dull thump.

“Not until he’s settled down. You’ve humiliated the man. Give him a few days to drink it off before you rub it in his face.”

Maggie picked up the bedraggled bouquet and marched to the edge of the cliff.

She flung it into the wind, watching the blue-gray stems scatter into the sea spray.

She returned to her mother’s side, dusting her hands.

“No one will know about it unless he tells them. I don’t see why I shouldn’t go about my business. I didn’t take anything from him. Didn’t insult him.”

“You took a bit of his pride.”

“He wanted to take my whole life!”

“I’m sure he thought he was giving you one. Most girls would jump at the chance to be his bride.”

“That’s what I mean. His whole life, he only had to crook a finger at a pretty lass, and he’d have her in his lap. The sole reason he wants me is for the Wolfhunter . Once he got it, I’d be nothing to him. Less than nothing, because I’ll be a drain on his purse. An annoyance. It’d be me over the edge of the cliff like a bit of prickly sea-holly.”

Corine sighed, nodding.

“Now that I’ve seen his temper, I’m not sure I’d wish him on anyone. A husband should be the dog that defends you, not the one that bites.”

“That’s why I’m going into the village today,” Maggie decided.

“To hire all the prettiest girls as my crew. I’ll save them from Kaspar’s lap.”

Her mother laughed, shaking her head.

“I wish you’d wait, but I know you won’t.”

Unburdened by her handcart for once, she practically skipped to Brinehelm.

It was only once she reached the gate with its conspicuous absence of Evrard that she realized she’d been looking forward to seeing him there.

He’d taught her so much about her own capabilities in the few hours they spent together.

She’d been convinced that the only way to have what she wanted was to put herself in a wife-shaped box.

But it turned out, it had been within her grasp all along.

Wherever he was, she owed him a debt.

With a purse full of her mussel money and her shucking knife at her hip, she visited Brinehelm’s docks, feeling as free and alive as she had above the clouds when she saw the Wolfhunter moored in the harbor, masts reaching for the sky.

She could hardly believe it was hers.

Did she deserve to captain such a proud vessel?

Could she even manage it on her own?

It felt impossible.

The twinge of soreness in her core reminded her of Evrard’s rough encouragement in her ear: “ You can.”

She’d done a few seemingly impossible things recently.

She’d flown . She could do this.

Maggie checked their stores in the dockside warehouse, then walked along the streets that lined the harbor, visiting with women she knew.

Within an hour, she’d hired a navigator, a quartermaster, a cook, and a carpenter, all willing to work for a share of the catch.

It was simple to find a seamstress who could make sails and repair nets as well.

A little harder to find a boatswain with any experience, but a few strong women signed on as riggers and packers and promised to ask their friends if they’d be interested in the work.

Buoyed by her success at securing at least the beginnings of a crew, she ordered barrels and salt and rope and candles to be delivered to the warehouse.

Her purse grew light, but it would all come back to her when she returned the Wolfhunter with a full catch in her hold.

She couldn’t help the secret smile that crossed her face then.

She and her ship would both return with full bellies, if all went well.

After a long day in the markets and docks, she stopped in at the tavern for a meal before the long walk home.

Walther slid her a bowl of stew down the bar.

It was so full, some of the stew slopped over the lip onto the weathered wood.

Walther swiped up the spill with a flourish before flipping his rag back over his shoulder.

“No cockles and mussels, eh? I expected you to come in with full casks given the ebb tide this morning.”

She tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the bowl to soak up the stew.

“Had other things to do.”

“I see .” He gave her knowing wink, like she’d just shared something naughty.

It was a tavernkeeper’s trick to keep her talking, but she couldn’t hold in her news.

Her day had been too exciting not to share.

“We’re going to run the Wolfhunter this season! Had to get her ready. Hired half a crew.”

“Is that so? Your pa feeling well enough?”

That sobered her a little.

She shook her head, swallowing her stew-soaked bread.

“I’m going to captain.”

“You?!” Walther burst out, planted both his palms on the bar, leaning forward in astonishment.

His loud outburst drew the attention of some of the other customers.

She jutted out her chin, annoyed that even Walther was doubting her.

“Why not me? I was raised on the boats just like half the men in this village. I’m stronger than half of them, too.”

“Aye, I’ve seen you handle a cask or two as well as any man,” he conceded, eyes twinkling.

“I’ll sail with yeh!” a grizzled old gent called from other end of the bar, his grin missing several teeth.

“If we find yeh can’t captain, we can strap yeh to the spar and use yeh as a figurehead. Yeh got the bosoms for it.”

Maggie snorted, coughing on her mouthful of stew, as Walther and the others within hearing howled.

When she recovered, she pointed at Walther.

“And that is why I’m only hiring women.”

“You don’t say.”

“Signed half a crew already. Know any women who could boatswain?” she joked.

He tilted his head, considering.

“My niece might. Tilda. Knows her way around a ship. Never been a deck leader, but she runs my uncle’s shipyard with a firm hand. Don’t see why she couldn’t manage your crew.”

“I’ll ask her.”

“Yeh sure you don’t need a gent aboard to service all those hardworking lasses?” the old sailor piped in.

Maggie snorted. “We hardworking lasses can service ourselves better than you could.”

Walther and the rest of the tavern howled again.

Warmed by their laughter, Maggie scraped up the last of her stew and tapped the bowl on the bar so Walther would refill it.

She dug into the fresh helping with delight, but her seconds were interrupted when a wild-eyed man burst in from the street.

“Fire at the docks!” he shouted before darting out to warn the occupants of the next building.

The tavern was instantly on its feet.

Nearly everyone in Brinehelm had a stake in the docks somehow, so it was a crush of people grimly running through the cobbled streets toward the harbor to put out the flames.

Skirts fisted to keep them out of the way, Maggie raced along with the others, picturing her newly bought candles melting into puddles, the hemp ropes charring.

Even in the dimming evening light, the smoke was visible above the rooftops, lit by an ominous orange glow.

When she reached seafront, her worries proved true.

The warehouse that housed her freshly purchased supplies was ablaze.

Dockworkers and townspeople were already doing their best to put out the fire, pumping seawater into buckets and throwing them onto hissing flames.

Maggie joined the long line of people passing buckets.

There was nothing she could do except dig into the work the same way she’d dig into stirring the laundry tub or hauling her handcart.

It was a task for her muscles, not her mind.

She couldn’t think about how she could afford to replace the supplies.

She just worked , biceps burning, until the sweat ran down her spine and her hair stuck to her sweaty brow and the evening turned to night.

It seemed all of Brinehelm was there, working together.

Men and women. Bakers and barristers and barmen like Walther.

Even Kaspar, who nodded at her from where he was directing another bucket line.

He didn’t look angry at her.

For once, they were united in purpose: to put out the fire.

All of them needed it.

Slowly, the bucket brigade gained.

Smoke gave way to steam, and the brigade broke up, some staying on the buckets while others went to shovel and rake away the burned portions of the building to separate the embers from the salvageable stores.

Maggie picked up two buckets to douse any small fires she might find on the way to check her supplies.

Maybe the chandler would extend her credit.

Maybe the salt could be salvaged, however smoky.

Maybe…

New shouts broke out, and she jerked her head up to see the cause.

She followed the pointing fingers to the harbor, to the dark silhouettes of the ships moored there.

To her own ship, which she hardly recognized.

The Wolfhunter was on fire.

Flames licked up the masts and spread across the forecastle, growing with every passing second.

There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Something in her died.

She sank to the charred ground and watched her dreams burn.

Someone blocked her view, dark and shapeless, until her eyes adjusted.

Kaspar. He stood too close, staring down at her rather than at the spectacle in the harbor like everyone else.

“I like you like this, Maggie. Quiet. On your knees. Full of regrets.”

Her lips went numb with realization.

He couldn’t have the Wolfhunter , so he’d made sure no one else could, either.

“You did this.” Her voice cracked painfully.

“What are you talking about? I was here, putting out the warehouse fire, just like you.” His voice was all coy innocence, but she could hear the triumph underlying it as he surveyed the smoking wreckage around them.

He shook his head, clucking his tongue.

“What a shame. What a waste.”

All this destruction around them, his earnest efforts alongside the rest of the townspeople had just been a distraction.

Just an alibi . He hated her so much, he was willing to threaten the livelihood of the whole village to get his empty revenge.

He turned his attention to the harbor, showing her his back.

He thought he’d won, but he still didn’t have anything he wanted.

He wanted her regretful, but he’d only proved why she’d made the right decision.

He wanted her quiet and on her knees, and she wouldn’t give him that, either.

So she stood. And she screamed .