“Hello, I’m Nairnie,” said his grandmother with a smile, eyeing up the nun curiously. “Who are ye and why are ye here?” Mardon’s grandmother wasn’t one for subtlety. If she wanted to know something, she just came right out and asked.
“Her name is Sister Emmaline,” Mardon told her in a low voice.
Nairnie’s head snapped around and she scowled at Mardon. “Thank ye, but I’m talkin’ to her, Grandson. It’s no’ polite to answer for her,” scolded Nairnie. “Where are yer manners?”
“Aargh!” Mardon threw his hands up in the air. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Nairnie’s act of mothering him and his brothers. He hadn’t had a mother in a long time now, and wasn’t used to being scolded or disciplined like a child. When Nairnie did this, he swore he wanted to dump her back into the sea where he’d found her in the first place.
He wouldn’t take this kind of treatment from anyone, not even if she were his own grandmother. He’d have to talk to her about it later he decided. Right now, he had a much more important mission at hand. “You stay here and talk to the nun. I’m going to find Aaron and look for the – look for the – you-know-what,” he said, his eyes flashing over to the nun who was intently listening to every word he said.
For a brief second, Sister Emmaline’s eyes interlocked with his. When they did, an odd feeling ran through him. He felt as if he knew her somehow, but this wasn’t possible. Shaking off the feeling, he ran a hand through his hair in thought. Hell, he didn’t even know any nuns, so there was no way he’d ever met her before. He surely would have remembered a nun with a face as pretty as hers.
Her skin was smooth, lit up with an orange glow from the flame of the candle burning on the center of the table. She had a long, regal nose and high cheekbones. Her lips were full, and looked like they’d be good for kissing. It oddly excited him, and he cursed himself inwardly for feeling lusty around a nun. Why the hell did she have to be so beautiful? After all, weren’t all nuns old and wrinkled? It had been too long since he’d bedded a woman, and he decided he needed to make a quick visit upstairs with one of the whores while he was here. If not, he’d most likely be dreaming about bedding the damned nun next! Aye, he needed to get away from Sister Emmaline fast.
“Nairnie, we won’t be docked long, so pick up whatever supplies you need from the kitchen and make it fast.”
“Hrmph,” spat the old woman. “I’m no’ goin’ to be pillagin’ and plunderin’ like ye and yer men, stealin’ food for yer crew, Mardon. So, dinna even think I am goin’ to do it.”
“Did you call him, Mardon?” The nun’s head snapped upward. She almost looked a little scared. “So you – you really are a pirate,” she said.
He raised a brow in amusement. “My men and I prefer to be called seafaring adventurers,” he told her with a grin. He’d hoped to make her smile but she didn’t seem to think it was funny.
“Och, they’re pirates all right,” Nairnie blurted out. “Pirates who cheat, steal, and kill.”
It never ceased to amaze Mardon at what came out of the old woman’s mouth.
“Oh!” The nun slunk back into the shadows, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Nairnie, stop scaring the holy woman,” said Mardon in a low voice. “And stop answering when she is talking to me. Where are your manners?” He threw her own words back in her face and smiled.
“Well, it’s true. Everythin’ I said,” answered Nairnie stubbornly, refusing to admit she was being rude.
“Sister Emmaline, I assure you that you have naught to fear,” Mardon promised her. “Neither I, nor my crew, will do anything to harm you.”
Nairnie snorted, and lifted her arm, waving over the serving maid. “Do ye have any whisky?” she asked the girl.
“Whisky? Nay. Don’t even think of it,” Mardon scolded her this time. Then he looked over to the serving wench. “Give her an ale.” He reached out and pushed Nairnie’s hand back down. His grandmother was already being much too boisterous and he didn’t want to have to deal with her when she was drunk on whisky, too.
“Oh, are ye the one who the nun was waitin’ for and who is goin’ to pay for her drink?” The serving girl looked up at Mardon and batted her lashes. Mardon suddenly had a feeling he knew her, too, but just couldn’t quite remember who she was. He’d bedded many women over the years, but never stayed around long enough to get to know any of them. Sometimes, he’d never even gotten around to asking their names. All his passionate nights ended with him leaving in the morning and heading back out to sea.
“Nay, I’m no’ goin’ to pay anythin’. I dinna have any money,” Nairnie said, thinking the girl was talking to her. She gave the serving wench a look that said she thought the girl was daft.
“I’ll pay for both of them,” Mardon offered. “Bring them some food as well. The old woman will also be picking up food for me and my crew to take back to the ship.” He dropped a pouch of coins on the table in front of Nairnie. It made a clinking noise and several coins spilled out. “That should be more than enough to cover all of it.”
Nairnie pursed her lips and glared over her shoulder at Mardon, mumbling something about him calling her an old woman again.
Mardon spotted Aaron across the room, waving him over, trying to get his attention. “Make it fast, Nairnie, because we won’t be here long,” he told her before turning and leaving before she started insisting he call her Grandmother again.
Emmaline watched Mardon hurry away from the table, feeling relieved that he had walked away. If he had stayed there any longer he might have recognized her. She couldn’t have that.
“Blethers,” spat the old woman, taking the pouch and pushing the coins back inside. Then she pulled the strings tightly to close the pouch and shoved the whole thing down her ample cleavage.
“What are you doing?” asked Emmaline. This old woman amused her with her antics. It made her smile.
“We’re surrounded by drunks, thieves, and godforsaken pirates,” answered Nairnie in a crackly old voice. “What do ye think I’m doin’, lass? I’m protectin’ the money even if it was stolen to begin with,” she griped.
“I see.”
The server returned and plopped down one bowl of some nasty looking pottage on the table, followed by two tarnished spoons.
“That’ll be a shillin’ for the food and drinks.” The woman’s palm shot out as she waited for her money.
“A shillin’?” gasped Nairnie. “I could get an entire barrel of ale for that price!”
“A shillin’,” repeated the girl, still holding out her hand. Emmaline had no doubt the girl was charging them much more than she should, since she saw the pouch full of coins that Mardon threw down on the table.
“What is this slop?” asked Nairnie, crinkling her nose and taking a sniff of the contents in the bowl as Emmaline picked up a spoon and wiped it against her robe to clean it.
“It’s pottage. Now pay up.”
“How auld is it?” Nairnie asked.