Chapter Ten
The wind whipped at Hook’s hair and coat as he stood tall on the deck of his ship and watched Peter Pan disappear far below. When the boy was gone, Hook straightened and sheathed his sword. Then he moved across the deck to the stairs that led to his cabin. His men stepped aside to let him pass.
One pirate, a man nearly as tall as Hook and dressed in clothing much cleaner and more well cared for than that of the other members of Hook’s crew, came forward and addressed his captain. “The girl’s been locked in your quarters, Captain, as you ordered.”
His accent was somewhat refined, and where as the other pirates seemed to enjoy decorating their bodies with a multitude of tattoos and piercings, this man had but one silver hoop in his ear, and kept his hair short. He also appeared to be relatively clean-shaven.
Hook turned to nod at the pirate. “Thank you, Mr. Starkey.” Then he leaned in and whispered in the man’s ear. “Remain nearby; I’m sure the lady will require articles of the sort which I do not trust the others to obtain for her. I’ll send out Mr. Smee with orders.”
“Aye, Captain,” Starkey nodded.
Hook continued across the deck and then climbed the stairs two at a time. Smee nodded at him in greeting as the captain passed by his first mate. When Hook reached the door to his cabin, he pulled on the chain around his neck, drawing forth a small gold key from beneath his white shirt. There were two such keys in existence; he had one and Smee had the other, which is how the first mate had managed to lock Wendy in Hook’s cabin.
Hook inserted the key into the handle of his cabin door. There, however, he paused, suddenly uncertain.
“Ah, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, Cap’n, I do believe the lady will be wantin’ a drink,” Smee suggested quietly, as he was only a few feet away. Hook glanced at him and the first mate continued, “Crossin’ swords with a pirate must make for thirsty work, wouldn’t you agree, Cap’n?” Smee winked behind his spectacles and Hook considered his words.
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Smee.” Hook’s lips curved up in a slight smile. He turned the knob and entered his cabin, closing the door behind him.
Wendy stood by the far windows, her arms crossed over her chest. She was pacing nervously and when Hook entered, she spun around to face him. Her storm gray eyes fairly shot sparks of electric anger in his direction.
Hook had to give her instant credit for not attempting to attack him, as she most likely wanted to do. It would not have been wise, and he was pleased to see that she must have known as much. It was an unexpectedly agreeable reminder of how intelligent Wendy Darling was.
He regarded her for a moment before he moved to the tall rack in the nearest corner and shrugged off his scarlet coat to hang it elegantly on one of the wooden hooks.
“May I take your coat?” he asked her softly.
She glared at him. “What will you do with my brothers?” she asked, her voice tight with rage and frustration.
“They will not be harmed; I give you my word.” Hook assured her, his voice still soft, his tone gentle. Wendy frowned and blinked, clearly taken aback by his mild manner.
“And what is it worth – the word of a pirate?” she asked then.
“A good deal, actually,” Hook replied, leaving the coat rack and crossing to his desk, a few paces away. There, he calmly unstopped a crystalline bottle of what must be wine or ale and poured some of the red liquid into a nearby goblet. Wendy watched him warily. He replaced the cork in the bottle and then lifted the glass, delicately scenting its contents before placing the goblet to his lips and taking a drink.
Wendy licked her lips.
Hook glanced up to gaze at her over the top of his glass. His blue eyes glittered with amusement.
Wendy looked away, her fingers self-consciously twisting in the fabric of her coat.
“I apologize. You must be thirsty as well,” Hook said as he lowered his glass and set it back down on his desk. “Would you like me to pour you a drink?”
Wendy didn’t answer. She wouldn’t even meet his gaze.
“I see,” Hook nodded. He re-claimed his wine goblet and strode calmly to the giant velvet-covered armchair a few feet away. There, he gestured to the gold silk chaise lounge across from him. “Please at least be seated. I can see that you are trembling, even from this distance.”
Wendy looked from him to the fainting couch. It was true that she was shaking. She could feel the weakness in her knees, but she had a horrible feeling that it had more to do with her proximity to the notorious pirate captain than with any need of rest or refreshment.
She remained standing, her eyes flitting anxiously to the cruel sharp hook on the end of his right arm.