Death to my dreams ♒︎ A. Bridgerton

0.06

Words to live by

— ⚓︎ —

All the rat-like pirates were running around, hoisting rope and adjusting the sails. Commands and shouts could be heard all over the ship, the cold wind carrying their rough voices.

Some men were climbing up and down the net-like structures tied to the side and up to the sails, hoping to get out of the enemies' line of fire. One of the criminals even had started carrying a cannonball down to the lower deck with all his strength.

As soon as Anthony set foot outside he noticed how wild the ship was rocking, and had to adjust his footing every few moments. 'We're clearly being shot at, why aren't we shooting back' the viscount thought. Just then he heard a raucous voice above all the other noises. "Boom about!"

Now what does that even mean? Anthony didn't understand half of what these pirates said. Before he knew it he was knocked to the ground, all air leaving his lungs at the impact of his rib cage against the ash black floorboards.

"It means get down or get your neck broken by the boom!" He heard a feminine voice in his ear.

He watched as a huge beam to which the mainsail was attached swung over the deck, all men in its way ducking with expertise.

The weight of Michelle Sparrow shifted off of him and she stood up swiftly, offering her hand to him. He sat up coughing, desperately trying to get air back in his lungs.

"Do not be dramatic, and say thank you, I saved you." Michelle stated. "I told you to stay in my quarters, as in; do not get in my way."

He glared at her, wanting to tell her this was all her fault in the first place, but he decided to bite his tongue. Instead, he grabbed her hand.

As he did, he noticed that it was rather rough, unlike the hands of any woman he's met. And they were cold, almost freezing. She must've handled the seawater-ridden ropes, as even the temperature of the sea would cool if it touched her icy fingers.

Women of the Ton did not work like Michelle did, their hands protected by the silk of their gloves, soft hands reserved to caress the faces of their husbands. He thought of Siena, and immediately removed her out of his mind again.

He stood up and let go of Michelle's warm hand immediately. "When are we going back? We are not staying on this bloody ship!" He yelled above the brisk wind the night brought forth.

"By the good grace of Calypso, calm yourself! We are outrunning the navy, you are not my biggest concern right now!" Michelle exclaimed, the French accent showing through her angry words.

Michelle contemplated it, knowing Jack would be the one to decide when they were to step on land again. She looked at the man in front of her, hope in his eyes but everything else about his figure told her she was one sarcastic remark away from being punched.

"Okay, so I'm not Captain. I don't decide when or where we set foot on land again, but I'll try persuade my brother-"

Anthony sighed in relief but Michelle held her hand up. "Do not interrupt me. I'll ask to turn back in a few days."

The viscount widened his eyes, before his temper took over. "A few days! Not a chance. The lot of you must be crazy to keep us prisoner on this godforsaken ship." He said as he grabbed her wrist.

Michelle stared into the eyes of the well-dressed man a second longer, looking for anything but annoyance but then shrugged her wrist loose and decided to help her crew again, leaving his presence. She hoped he'd go back to sit with the other stowaways, out of harms way.