The Neverland Trilogy Box Set Page 7

  “And what of me?” Remy asked. Her voice was delicate, even weary. She was not sure she could belong to a sailing crew, especially one that boasted pirates instead of law-abiding seamen.

  “Yes, what of you?” he said between his fingers. Before Remy could speak, Nick turned on the heel of his boot and proceeded to head to the stairway that led to the second level of the Black Star. “Follow me.”

  Remy had no other option but to listen to him. She hurried her stride in order to keep up. He was muttering things to himself, making her wonder if Nick was all there in his head. As she headed down the stairs, the dreadful thought of him locking her up in the brig until he knew what to do with her struck her mind and she tensed. She could not allow that to happen. What if they forgot about her down there? What if they did not feed her, or the food was not edible, or, even worse, what they did offer her was not something she particularly liked?

  Perhaps she could fight him. Charlie had taught her a thing or two about self-defense, but Remy knew that she was not strong enough to pull it off. Even if she did manage to knock Nick out by some miracle, she would have four other people to attend to, probably much more skilled at fighting than she was.

  Instead of continuing downwards were the brig and the canons were, however, Nick walked down the hall and stopped in front of the doors to his quarters. He opened the door and followed Remy in, shutting it firmly behind him.

  “Oh my.”

  Remy was so taken with Nick’s room that she had not realized that she had spoken her thought out loud. In fact, she did not mind that her mouth had dropped open and that she was gaping at the sight before her, though it was not something ladies like her should do. There were too many things to take in, Remy had not a clue as to where to start.

  The first thing Remy noticed was how neat and put together it was. She assumed that rum bottles would be rolling around on the floor and trash would occupy nearly every crevice the grand space had to offer, but Remy was pleasantly surprised. For a pirate, Nicholas Grey knew how to keep his personal belongings well-organized.

  The bed was pushed against the far wall. It was about as big as her own bed back home, but even she did not possess the grand headboard, hand carved with such finesse that she could feel the emotion the carpenter was trying to instill in it. The sheets were crimson and starch-white, with plenty of matching pillows that rested tucked into the covers. The bed was made – something else that surprised the young woman – and the sheets look recently pressed. Why would the man put more attention into bed sheets than his own personal appearance? Remy did not know and was too intent on continuing to explore this room to speculate.

  There was a bureau just off to the side and a mirror above it. If Nick wanted to shave – and due to how smooth the bottom half of his face appeared to be, Remy believed that he did so on a normal basis – he could sit in front of the mirror and do so. In fact, there was an empty bowl and damp washrag on the desk, placed off to the side. Nick probably did shave this morning, and dumped out the dirty water when he was finished with it.

  Directly across from the bureau were shelves filled with books, all sorts of books in a variety of languages that Remy actually understood thanks to strict lessons in Latin, French, and Spanish. Her eyes skimmed over the titles, the cracked spines that looked as though they had been read quite frequently. Was this pirate actually literate? Could he appreciate works from Shakespeare and Byron and Shelley? Or was this just for show? Did he loot these books from an innocent ship and place them on these shelves in order to give the appearance that he was well-read when, in reality, he probably had never heard of any of these works?

  Instead of trunks for his clothes, he had a small wardrobe. Like the galley, all the big furniture was nailed into place in order to prevent them from tipping over when the waves got rough. It, too, looked to be carved by hand, by the same man who carved the majority of the furniture in Nick’s room. It was the same color, had the same curved design, and there was that same emotion captured in the wood.

  This was where Nick was now. He had unceremoniously flung the door to the wardrobe open, and his head was buried deeply in there. He was looking for something; of that, Remy was certain. She just did not know what that was. As she waited, she felt her eyes begin to focus on the frame of the pirate, sculpting the outline of his shape. In all actuality, the man was, indeed, handsome. Even for a pirate. Though he had on loose clothing that did absolutely nothing for him except offer him a convenient place to rub off his hands should he get annoyed of the dirt stranded in his cuticles and underneath his fingernails, she could still make out the broadness of his shoulders and his backside, which was actually rather nice to look upon.

  “See something you like, darling?” Nick asked her. When Remy’s eyes snapped up, she was instantly met with the fact that Nick knew she had been staring, and he enjoyed it, or so said that smirk currently littering his face. It had to be a record how quickly her face heated up with pink, her least favorite color. “Oh, don’t worry. It happens to the best of us, I’m afraid. You, my dear, aren’t the only one who’s enamored with ol’ Nicky.”

  “Excuse me?” Remy said, unable to believe the wretched thought that spilled from his lips. “Do not flatter yourself, Captain Grey. I could not help but notice how filthy your clothes were and assumed that you brought me down for some help selecting your next outfit because unlike you and your crew, I am put-together.”

  Nick raised a doubtful brow and pressed his lips together. “Put together, aye?” he asked her in that low voice of his. He dropped his eyes so they traveled slowly up her body, lingered on her chest, curved over her neck, and finally made it back to her eyes.

  Remy had never felt so violated in her life. How dare he look at her so blatantly and without shame? She wanted to reach out and slap Nick across the face for his audacity but her arms were coddled against her chest so Nick would be unable to look at that particular area again.

  “I would disagree with your claim,” he said finally. His eyes seemed to know how uncomfortable he had made Remy, and even more than that, revealed that he had no regrets about it. “You are in nothing but a slip and a corset, or have you forgotten your current choice of clothing?”

  The young woman clamped her jaw together. She wanted to yell at him, to scream, to lecture him for the ungentlemanly behavior he had just participated in, but she chose not to. She knew that he was a pirate and did not care one way or the other if he was being chivalrous, and yelling would just make her look like a child.

  Through gritted teeth, she said, “I had to rid myself of the dress in order to climb out of my window without tripping, losing my balance, and falling.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of heights?” Nick asked, taking another step towards her. He had a bundle of clothes in his arm, but Remy did not know what they were for and still did not know why she was here. “After your little visit down here before, I would assume that you would be afraid of heights.”

  “I never said I was not,” Remy said, still keeping a steady control over herself though she wanted nothing more than to lash out and demand he tell her just what he was getting at. She hated admitting it to him, but she knew that he knew her fear so there was no point to lie about it. “But sometimes there are more pressing matters than giving in to your fears.”

  “Like an unwanted marriage, perhaps?” Nick asked.

  Remy wished she could slap the smirk off of his perfectly chiseled face. Not that she noticed his pleasing facial features, of course.

  And why was he standing so close to her? It was just adding to her discomfort.

  “It bothers me how much you know about me,” Remy told him. “At least my being here prevents you from constantly watching me without my knowledge.”

  “You are the only person to have escaped Death,” Nick said. “And it boggles my mind how no one back in the world of the living know that. They just brushed off your experience here as a bad dream. I had a responsibility to keep an eye on you, and
I still do, now that you are back here and not dead. You are an enigma, something I cannot understand. But I plan to figure it out. Sooner or later. Until then, you will be here, on my ship, as part of my crew. As such, you will need these” – he offered her the clothing in his arms – “and in order to make it fair, I will need to assign a chore for you to do while aboard.”

  “Fair?” Remy asked, furrowing her brow. “You took me from my world and brought me to yours.”

  “I saved your life,” Nick snapped. He looked surprised that the harsh tone had come from his mouth, and rolled his shoulders back as though he yearned to get a hold of himself. “Listen, there isn’t any other option for you right now, is there? You’re stuck here, whether we like it or not. Now take these.” He gestured at the clothes in his arms once again. “You’ll thank me later, I assure you. These are much more comfortable than that contraption.” He gestured at her corset as Remy took the offered clothing.

  “And what is my chore that you are forcing me to do?” Remy asked.

  Nick did not answer her. He gripped both of her shoulders and turned her around so that her back was facing his chest and started to unlace her corset.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to tear herself away from Nick’s grasp without dropping the clothes. “Captain Grey? Captain Grey?”

  “Are you telling me you can unlace this yourself?” he asked her in a soft, husky voice.

  She could feel his hot breath on the bare slope of her neck, his voice caress her ear, and the hairs on her body stood completely erect because of it. Remy could not get herself to respond only because her voice was not working properly.

  “I thought not.”

  Nick apparently took her silence as assent.

  When he finished, he turned her around. His fingers felt calloused and warm, and Remy was sure they left some sort of imprint on her skin. She could still feel them though he was not touching her. She clutched her clothes tightly to her chest to keep the loose corset up.

  “You will wash dishes,” Nick told her. Surprisingly enough, his eyes were focused in her own and not traveling down to her body. “And if you do not, you will wash dishes and the deck. You savvy?”

  Remy glared at him. “I savvy,” she said.

  Whatever that meant.

  “Good.” He waved his hand towards the door. “Now go get changed. We have dishes that need washing and all that.”

  “I am desperately looking forward to it,” she muttered under her breath as she turned and headed out the door.

  If she had turned back to look at Nick, she would have seen a small smirk in response to her sarcasm.

  Seven

  The clothes were not as bad as Remy initially believed they would be. She would never admit it, but they were rather comfortable to wear. Much more so than the corset she had discarded and even the slip she decided she would wear while sleeping. There was only so much dirt on the tunic – a white one with a cut that dipped dangerously past her collarbone and sleeves that drowned her arms and reached three inches at least past her longest finger. The pants were black which prevented her from seeing any stains or dust on them, which was a nice reprieve. Giselle lent Remy a belt in order to keep her tunic tucked in and her pants from falling down as well as brown boots. Remy was a bit hesitant with the footwear; they looked quite used and she was not sure where they had been before Giselle gave them to her, but Remy realized she needed them, and as such, had no choice but to wear them. Giselle also gave her a piece of brown ribbon in order to tie her hair back if she wanted.

  Remy was grateful for the ribbon. She did not want to even imagine her hair coming in contact with whatever it was she would be cleaning.

  However, she missed the feel of the familiar slip against her skin. It was soft, and while she would admit that it was starting to get dirty, it was still comforting. It was hers, and came with her to this new world, the only thing she had left of her old world. Now she had Nick’s clothes on, wearing them because they were supposed to give her the ability to move more freely. But they were foreign to her.

  She already started to feel as though she were losing her identity.

  Especially since she had dishes she had to wash – dishes she never would have touched back home.

  Remy trudged down the stairs and into the galley. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the sink, where stacks of plates and some utensils were stuffed just waiting to be polished up, eaten off of, and washed again. It was like they were mocking her, knowing that she had been doomed to wash them for the rest of her time in the Underworld.

  Maybe she really was dead.

  At that moment, Nick himself walked in carrying a big bucket of water. A couple of towels hung over his shoulders, and from further inspection on Remy’s part, she discovered that like the clothes, these towels were not as clean as they could be. He set the bucket on the long table where eating normally took place, and deposited the towels next to it.

  “I think that should do it,” he said.

  “I do not know how to do this,” Remy blurted out.

  Nick dropped his mouth open. “You are telling me,” he began slowly, his brown eyes never leaving Remy’s face, “that you do not know how to wash dishes.” Then, to himself, “I thought the task was rather self-explanatory myself.”

  “I know how to write and read,” Remy said. The words pooled out of her mouth without pauses or breaks. She did not know why it was necessary for her to speak so quickly, but she could not stop herself if she tried. “I can do math and speak three different languages – although Latin is rarely, if ever, spoken anymore – and pick out an outfit that reveals my best features while aptly hiding my flaws. I can do all of that. I just do not know how to clean and cook.”

  “It is a good thing, then, that I’m not forcing you to cook, aye?” Nick asked her, his lips curled up. “The food we do have is practically priceless; we make sure that it does not rot or go to waste. If I made you cook, I’m sure you would be able to find a way to burn soup. Cleaning, on the other hand, is just common sense. Here’s what you do: take a dish” – Nick began to follow his own instructions in order to show Remy just how it was done – “dunk it in the water, use one of the towels to wipe the grime off of it, and then use the second towel to dry it. When you’re finished washing them all, you place the dishes where they go, which is there.” He pointed at the cupboard. “Do you think you can handle all of that?”

  “Should I not have soap?” Remy asked. “In order to ensure the grime does come off?”

  “We do not have soap,” Nick replied.

  “You do not have soap?”

  “I’m sorry, is there a parrot in here?”

  “How do you bathe? How do you wash things? Do you realize you could get diseases eating on a dirty plate?” Remy could not believe what she was hearing.

  “That is why we wash them,” he said, as though he was explaining something complicated to a schoolchild.

  “It does not count without soap,” Remy said.

  “On this ship it does.” He leaned in close so their faces were mere centimeters apart. “My ship, my rules. Sorry, darling, but in this instance, I win.”

  Remy pressed her lips together and looked away. “Do I at least get gloves of some sort to protect my hands from the germs that are certain to be on the dishes and probably in this water?”

  “No.” Nick’s voice was flat and uncaring as he pulled away. “Go on, then.”

  Remy gritted her teeth and grabbed one of the plates in the sink with her fingertips after she rolled up the loose sleeves of her new tunic as best as she could. If she could prevent the filth from touching as less of her hand as possible, she would consider it as a personal accomplishment. She turned back to the table and nearly dropped it into the water. Taking the already dirty washrag, she began to wash the dish with both forearms in the water, trying to do her task as fast as she possibly could.

  “I’m not sure you’re aware, but the look on your face is pricel
ess,” Nick said with that grin that was starting to annoy Remy more than dirty clothes ever could.

  When she finished, she pulled the plate out of the water and dried it with the other towel. She put it on the table, on top of the one Nick had washed.

  “There you go!” Nick exclaimed. “Now all you have to do is finish the ones in the sink and you’ll be done. For the day, I mean.”

  Remy let out a whimper and turned to head back to the sink.

  “While I have you here, I should probably go over the rules of the ship,” Nick said. “You know, to make sure there are no unnecessary skirmishes with the crew. Number one” – he counted on his fingers as Remy placed a few dishes into the pot at once – “no killing. That’s an obvious one, but I felt it was necessary to mention it since you did not know how to do the dishes. I want you to be able to understand everything so you don’t do something stupid. If you have any questions, please feel free to stop me and I’ll try to explain them in a way in which even you will understand.”

  “Your mockery of my intelligence lacks the humor you think it has,” Remy muttered.

  “Number two,” Nick went on, promptly ignoring Remy’s snide remark, “any dispute between you and another crew member should be attempted to be resolved between the two of you. If it can’t be, bring the matter to me and I’ll resolve it. But once I make my decision, there’s no overturning it. I’m the captain, and what I say goes, whether you agree with me or not.

  “Number three, any loot we happen to acquire for myself shall be split in this manner: I, as captain, get fifty percent; Edward, as my quartermaster, gets twenty-five percent; Giselle, Adele, and Calum now get seven percent; which leaves you with four percent. Sorry, darling, but you are the new member, after all. It is only fair.

  “Number four, someone is going to have to teach you to fight because it is quite common for our ship to be attacked by – oh, let’s say the Guard – and I need to trust my members to take care of themselves. I don’t want to have to worry about you. Understand?” He pushed his brow up so it hid underneath his tri-corn hat.