The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

“In that case,” she said, “I will finish the vegetables and you can do something else, until you have to go below deck with the pot.”

He stood up, smiling gratefully. A moment later he joined a group of men who were discussing which of them would wet down the boards that day. Adam volunteered.

Once he was gone, Maisie returned to her work and sharpened her hearing in order to listen to Roderick instructing the men. Even though she didn’t understand many of the terms he used, his voice made her feel warm. It also made her remember how the timbre changed when he was making love to her. At those times his voice seemed to vibrate right through her, an intimate call that she alone could hear. Once again she thought how lucky she’d been with her random lover. Roderick had stirred her affections as well as her passions. That she could no longer deny. She cared for him, for his safety and happiness. Could she halt that? Probably not, but she would leave his side quickly at Dundee, unwilling as she was to put him in danger by association.

During the course of that day the men seemed friendlier toward her. Clyde, who had been suspicious of her at first, and had asked her to sing, stopped to talk to her.

“Not many women would brave this deck. You are a strange one.”

Was that a note of admiration she heard in his voice? “I am trying to make myself useful. Tell me, have you decided whether I am a good woman or a bad one?”

“I’m still thinking on it.” He ran his fingers over his beard as if suddenly concerned for his appearance.

“The captain told me you carried a woman passenger once before.”

“Aye. She was nothing like you, though. She would never have sullied her hands preparing food or milking the goats. She did try to order the captain about, both him and Master Ramsay who was aboard ship then. Treated them as if they were her servants, or tried to.”

“It’s little wonder the captain was reticent when I requested passage.”

Clyde’s eyebrows flickered. It clearly interested him that the captain had not immediately agreed to her plea.

“It took some persuading,” she added, “and I was most eager to travel north, to my family.”

Clyde nodded thoughtfully. “The captain is a generous soul and you appealed to his good nature. It is his first term as captain of the ship without Master Ramsay at his side to discuss matters. It is important that the men do not doubt him.”

Was that a warning? When Roderick told her to keep out of the crew’s way, she hadn’t realized it would reflect badly on him if she didn’t. It was too late now, but because she was particularly wary of Clyde she took his words to heart. “Do the crewmen think I have brought disrep

ute on the captain?”

She hoped that was not the case.

“Some of the men believe it is bad luck to have a Jezebel flaunting herself about. Others merely think it is no place for a woman.”

“And you? What do you think?”

“Sometimes I see the captain watching you, when he ought to be watching his men.”

Maisie swallowed. That definitely sounded like a warning. This man doubted her, recognized her Pictish tongue and thought her a Jezebel.

Before she had a chance to respond, he broke into a grin. “I cannot blame him, for you are much prettier than the men.”

With that, he limped off, leaving Maisie to think through what he had said. The man clearly had his misgivings about her presence. He was a riddle, though, because she knew he was trying to get the measure of her, but he was giving nothing away. Had he known the words that he overheard that first morning? She still wasn’t sure. What she did know was that he was watching her closely. It reminded her all too readily of Cyrus’s threats and warnings. Icy fingers flitted over her spine. She braced herself and pushed the thoughts away, fixing her attention on the work at hand.

Maisie was nearly at the end of her task, with only two turnips left to peel, when a commotion broke out overhead. One of the ropes that harnessed the sails had become entangled with the material, and a young man was climbing the mast, his intention apparently to free it. There were mutterings and shouts, and a moment later she realized the young man in question was Adam. He had taken it upon himself, even though the older men called him back.

One man in particular, a fellow Dutchman, shouted up in his own language.

Adam called back, and as he did he lost his grip and swung in an ungainly manner from the rope he had been working on, his legs coming free from the mast. The rope rapidly unraveled and the lad descended, his body twisting on the descent.

Maisie’s heart thundered in her chest, fearing as she did for his safety. Instinctively, she mustered an enchantment, but there was no time to prevent the accident. Adam hung precariously in a tangle of rope like a great fish caught in a net.

Maisie covered her mouth with her hand and rose to her feet. Men swarmed to his aid, two climbing the rigging to assist from above, while others eased him down to the deck. Adam cried out in pain on occasion, and Maisie could see the hand that held him tight to the rope was twisted and bloodied.

“Take the wheel,” Roderick shouted to Brady, then darted over to the scene to examine the lad. “Take him below and tend him,” he instructed two of the men.

The sailors moved quickly, lifting the lad. One of them shifted his injured arm, laying it across his chest so it would not dangle as they carried him, and Maisie saw the extent of his injury. Blood ran down his forearm from scraped knuckles, but that was not all. Two of his fingers were badly misshapen, in all likelihood dislocated.

Turning on her heel, Maisie made her way quickly below deck to the captain’s quarters, where she retrieved her bundle from under the bed. Checking through it quickly, she reassured herself that she had dried agrimony leaves, a vulnerary herb that she could bind around his fingers in a dressing to aid healing.