Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga Read Online Free PDF

enemies…
    Hook’s eyes narrowed as he observed the horizon. His enemies must not be allowed the chance to use her. They must believe her to be his paramour, his light-of-love. A vessel in which to pour his pride. Nothing more. They must never guess the truth.
    Hook’s reflections occupied him as he waited for his prisoner to join him on the forecastle. The day was bright, the sea air spicy and invigorating, snapping in and out of the sailcloth above him. No doubt the captive was in need of a stroll about the deck after a dank night in the hold. And Hook had ordered him isolated. The gentleman was as yet ignorant that the girl was here as well. His daughter, and presumably, his weakness. Doubly useful, she was locked in the brig, as unaware as her father that they had both been captured, and ripening for her first meeting with her mistress.
    Jill. The thought of her sank into his soul, an anchor settling to rest in saturated sand. Beneath Hook’s sometimes turbulent surface, Jill was a constant and profound satisfaction. He was grateful for her.
    The sound of boots approached, and the clank and drag of ankles in iron: Mr. Smee, guiding the prisoner up the steps. Hook’s ship was powerful, resplendent with ornamentation, the perfect setting to complement his person. The captive’s first impression of his captor was sure to be dramatic. Hook’s velvet coat cuffs graced the gilt of the railing as he extended his arms and waited until the men stood stationary and expectant behind him. Timing was a tool, for Hook.
    “The gentleman, Captain. Mister Hanover, Captain James Hook.”
    Hook raised his head in his magnificent hat with its glittering gems, its plumes flowing in the wind, and turned slowly to lower his imperious gaze upon the prisoner. He looked on the man for only a moment, then addressed his bo’sun.
    “Thank you, Mr. Smee. Release him, and see to the business in my quarters.” He turned away, and his hook resumed its place on the rail, where it shone sharp in the sun.
    “Aye, Sir.” Smee pulled a set of keys from his belt, and his vigorous frame hunkered down, working the iron fastenings. When the prisoner’s ankles were free and his soft-leather shoes set adrift, Smee released the man’s hands. Gathering up the jingling chains, Smee excused himself. But before leaving the captain’s presence, he waited his opportunity, then, peering over his spectacles, he tapped an imaginary ring on his finger and made a slashing motion across his throat. Message sent, he turned away to stow the irons and head for the captain’s cabin.
    Armed with Smee’s information, Hook addressed the gentleman. The cursory glance had informed him. This was a man in good circumstances, dressed modestly but tastefully in a gray velvet suit adorned only by a gold pocket watch, a wedding ring, and a signet. He was of average height, with an athletic build. Nearing middle age. Fair. He exhibited all the usual traits of a man one night into captivity— unshaven and unsettled. Unremarkable, to Hook, in every respect but one. That mark told Hook all he needed to know.
    “Tell me, Doctor. Have you kept up your fencing skills?”
    The man, who had opened his mouth to protest his abduction, left it hanging open. He raised his fingers to the old saber scar on his cheek, and blinked at this pirate captain, so cool and arrogant. And informed.
    Hook said, “Don’t trouble yourself; I shall answer your questions. Once you have answered mine.” He watched the man expectantly. “Well?”
    The prisoner blinked again. “I’m sorry. Well, what?” His voice was crisp, retaining a trace of his Austrian heritage.
    “You’ll not improve your situation by playing the fool with me.”
    The doctor shifted uncomfortably, as if his ankles were still clad in iron. This was not his first voyage, nor his only encounter with buccaneers. It was, however, his first experience of a criminal so obviously a product of the aristocracy. Why on earth would a