Forever Neverland(38)

“Pardon me, miss,” Smee addressed Wendy from behind.

She turned to find him smiling, as usual, his hat in his hands. “If you don’t mind, miss, the Cap’n would be most honored if you’d join him for a cup o’ tea.”

Wendy’s eyebrow shot up. “Oh?”

Smee’s smile broadened. “It’s quite good tea, if you don’t mind me saying so meself,” he assured her. He leaned in and added, “Liberated it from a group o’ pixies that was picnicking on the shore of Kidd’s Creek last Spring.”

Wendy blinked at this, wondering how Smee had managed such a feat, and then she shook her head as if to clear it. “Fine, Smee.” She sighed again. “I’m thirsty anyway.” Though, the truth was, she wasn’t thirsty at all, and, in fact, had not been hungry or thirsty or cold or hot since she’d been on Hook’s ship. But maybe taking tea with the captain would give her a chance to find out what was going on.

At this, Smee bounced up on his toes and turned to nod at Starkey, who nodded back. “Splendid, miss!” He offered her his hand, and since Smee, unlike so many of the pirates, always had clean hands, she took it. He lead her to the door of Hook’s cabin and knocked.

“Enter.”

Smee opened the door and gestured for Wendy to head inside. Wendy took a deep breath and stepped foot into Hook’s cabin. This would be the third time in her life that she had been inside of the notorious pirate captain’s private quarters. As she always did, she looked around as she entered, taking in the opulence and vastness of his living space. It seemed almost impossibly large; as if it shouldn’t really fit on the Jolly Roger.

“Ah, the fair Wendy.”

Wendy found Hook immediately. He stood from his side of his dining table and moved around to the other side, pulling her chair out for her. “I’m honored that you’ve decided to join me.”

Smee stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Wendy noticed that Hook was no longer dressed in the red brocade coat and vestments that he wore whenever he fought with Peter Pan on the Jolly Roger. Instead, he had donned the black clothing that he’d worn in the massive keep built into the maw of Skull Rock five years ago. These clothes, as all of Hook’s garments, were richly sewn and embellished with the finest fabrics. Cookson, the tailor, truly was excellent at his craft. The sable material of Hook’s black coat blended with the darkness of his long, curly hair and made his eyes appear impossibly blue.

“No longer expecting Peter Pan?” Wendy asked as she made her way to the chair he held out for her.

Hook cocked his head to one side, studying her with great interest. “You’re quite observant, Wendy,” he told her, no hint of mockery in his tone. She sat down and he gently pushed in her chair. Then he returned to his own chair and took it gracefully.

“To be honest, my dear,” he said as he began to pour tea into two delicate china cups, holding the pot with his left hand. “No.” He set the pot down and picked up the bowl of sugar. “I am not expecting Peter Pan.”

Wendy had a second to digest this.

“Sugar?” Hook offered.

“Yes, please,.” she answered automatically.

He scooped a few small spoons-full of the powder into her cup and deftly stirred it.

“Why do you think he’s not coming?” Wendy ventured.

Hook glanced up at her then. His intense blue gaze drifted from her lovely face to the X-Men logo on her t-shirt. She subconsciously glanced down and then back up again, meeting his eyes.

“Frankly, my beauty, I no longer believe that Pan is the reason behind the sunrise in Neverland.” He set down the sugar bowl. “Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

He stood then and brought the tea cup and saucer to her side of the table, setting it gently in front of her.

“He’s not?” Wendy asked.

“No.” Hook replied, remaining beside her so that she was forced to look up at him as he towered over her.

“Then. . . who is?” she asked, becoming lost in the oceans of his eyes.

“My dear Wendy,” Hook replied, leaning in so that his breath caressed the side of her face as he whispered in her ear, “you are.”



Chapter Fourteen

“I tell you, Princess Tiger Lily. If the Great Peter Pan were in trouble, the spirit of the Never Bird would tell us.”

Tiger Lily turned to Great Big Little Panther and her gaze narrowed. “Why does he not visit, then?”

Panther, as he was called for short, was a hunter in the Picadilly tribe, and one of Tiger Lily’s two best friends. He was a giant of a boy, nearly popping out of the extra-large leathers that had been sewn for him. But he was good with a bow and arrow and, despite his size, his step was as light as that of a cat’s. And the thing that Tiger Lily valued in him the most was his honesty.