Sea Bound (closed for ArcticAvenue)

[MadMissJ]

“You have ta take it!” The yell could hardly be heard over the din at the docks, several people walking up planks onto the boat. She’d been standing in a long line for second class, watching the English lords and landholders boarding. Their stairs were decorated with streamers and there were men in uniform, clearly employed by the shipping company to help the women by holding their hand and luggage as they climbed the planks.

At the other end of the boat there stood a huddled mass of people, it was clear that what they had on their backs were everything they owned. Children wore several shirts and sometimes two coats, but no shoes. All were underfeed, even as some of the children scattered and chased each other around, the stain of brown and yellow on their teeth, the way their elbow joints were comically large and gangling told the story of most in the west counties.

God Almighty may have sent the potato blight, but the English caused the famine.

“Your visa is a marriage visa. Two people.” A tall man, head and shoulders above her looked down on her trying to shove the paperwork into her hands once more.

“I’ve brought the bans!” The redhead was shuttering with temper, her skin flushed with stress, reddened under her freckles. “I’m telling you, officer, I’ve brought my bans, I’ve brought my marriage certificate, signed by a priest! I’ve had them write you out how my husband died, if you’ll just look there at the paperwork. It wasn’t more than a week past.” She was pleading, riffling through the papers in the officer’s hand, but attempting not to take them back for fear she would be told to move along.

“See there on that scrap.” She unshuffled the things, and put it on the top. “Starved to death he did. You see there.” Again she pointed to where a signature was.

“Your visa is a marriage visa, which requires both Mister and Misses to be present to board.”

“But I’ve not got a mister anymore!” She was talking in circles and getting nowhere. The freckled redhead tried to draw herself up to her full height, her slight shoulders squared, breasts high with her huffing breaths. “The name on the form is Bonny Doyle, that is me.” But the officer said no more and merely held out the forms, and with a shaking hand Bonny took the papers. They hung limply at her side as she turned away, clinching her jaw against the emotions stuck in her throat.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sean took one last look over his shoulder for O’Donnah. The woman was nameless to him, a complete stranger, yet her heard every word of the argument between her and the officer. This instantaneous bright idea of his was only going to work if he makes a scene, and it would be fruitless if the fat bastard O’Donnah saw the rouse. He closed his eyes, made a quick prayer for forgiveness then jumped into action.

He grabbed the freckled woman by the shoulders and yanked her around to face him.

“You got to be the most stupid woman in the world. Did you really think I was gonna find out?” He shook her, not violently to cause someone to get pissy, but enough to prove the point. “Am I so horrible to live with that you run off to America without me. Who is it? Who you going over there wit’? Billy Thomas? That Patrick fella? I ought to ...” He raised his hand as if to hit her, but held it aloft.

“Hey, What’s all this then?” The officer called trying to push him away.

Sean turned quickly to the officer and knitted his eyebrows angrily, “Stay out of this, mate; this is between me and me wife.” Sean did the best he could to fight through an Irish accent, something he had worked on while honing the acting craft that got him a beggar's wage in London.

“She your wife then?”

“What’s it to you then, mate? Are you the bloke she is shagging on me?” Sean stepped forward putting his finger into the officer’s chest trying to seem oblivious to the man’s uniform.

“I would never!” the officer flubbed.

Sean was taller than the man, though was not segregated from the famine and his scraggly dark hair and dark eyes showed the signs of weakness. “What, she not pretty enough for you to shag now, so you …”

“Sir!” the officer interrupted. “I am here to clear her tickets. She says her husband is dead.”

“Aye,” Sean replied. “Cause she tried to say I be dead to steal me tickets. Took me wedding band too. Don’t believe me?”

“Your name on this paper then?”

Sean clenched his fists as if he was ready to fight. “Bloody well better be, if she ain’t had changed it on me. Says Doyle, don’t it? Or do you want ta point out that I can’t read neither, you prick.”

The officer looked over at the woman, “this your husband then?”

He didn’t want to give her a chance to speak. “Look at that look on her face. It’s like she saw her a ghost ain’t she. The bitch knows she’d be getting a lesson, ain’t she.”

The officer looked back at the woman then at him. “I will not stand here as you menace her.”

“Just let our bloody arses on this ship, then so you won’t have to see.”

There was a pause in the officer, then he handed the papers to Sean. Sean snatched them angrily, grabbed at the woman’s hand, and started to drag her to the plank. “Fucking prick,” he said loud enough for the officer to hear as they stomped by.

God knows how he was going to explain it to this woman what just happened, but it was done now. He was finally heading for America.

 

[MadMissJ]

When she’d turned around, a man standing far too close for comfort reached out to grab her. His fingers seemed to pierce through her clothing to thin shoulders, his words drilling into her shock frozen mind as he yelled at her. He started to throw names at her, but when he raised his hands, that was when Bonny flinched away, flinging her hands up to protect herself from a blow. Her fingers, serving as only the barest of barriers if he was going to hit her.
When there was only a pause, Bonny looking out and up at the stranger, now giving into the urge to flee from him, trying to pry his hand away from her dress, whilst the words about being married swirled around her. Bonny was instantly shaking her head in the negative. Surely the man of the law could see that the vagabond meant her ill.

“Take your hands off me!” Was what she’d finally managed to get out, just when his fingers were bent away from her and the young widow could stand aside out of arm’s length.

Then the officer finally addressed her to clear up the situation and when he asked if the tall man standing next to her was her husband, she instantly opened her mouth to tell him “No!” but the brute drown her out with his carrying on and Bonny started to shake, face awash in what could only be described as horror. She wanted to crawl back inside her own suitcase, and her heeled feet did retreat a few steps to blend back into the crowd, to hopefully find somewhere much safer than the docks she stood on.

But the angry exchange seemed to heat between the men and Bonny saw her opening, she heaved the heavy suitcase, and took it. But had only just tried to jump into the sea lane of people before her wrist was captured by the larger man, and he started to bodily drag her with him toward the far end where there were other passengers loading. The picture was slowly starting to reveal itself, the way he’d jumped in with her last name. But her body couldn’t forget the shaking, and cruel handling. Either way she bristled like a cat in a bath and hissed as well.

“Touch me again, I'll kill ya! ” The frustrations from the last few minutes finally burst forth in a frustrated yell, and once more Bonny was forced to physically separate herself from the stranger, tripping a little over the small blocks of wood under her feet, meant to make the incline easier to handle.

“If you’re after more money, you’re a little late.” Bonny took a hold of her heavy things with both hands now on the handle. “Charlie’s dead, and I’ve not been left anything.”

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sean nearly stumbled on the gangway to keep up with the little thing, but he wasn’t losing her now - not since the rouse was now on and that suspicious officer still was within sight. That and the faster he could get onto the bloody boat, the better chance that O’Donnah wouldn’t spot him boarding either. Yet their assent was slowed because he was determined to drag that bag with her the full way. Sean caught up with her, and pushed his own hand into handle of the bag.

“What are you, daft, woman?” He squawked in response keeping his voice lowered. “Keep yur voice down or the fella back there will figure it out and we both will be thrown over the side. I don’t know if you noticed, but I saved yur arse back there. You weren’t getting on this ship without a husband … now you gots one. I'm yur Charlie now until we get to where we are going.”

Sean felt taller just by standing so close to the young widow. He had no idea of her age, but she didn’t seem any different than he; but she seemed smaller and scrawny like so many that seemed to come in from the farmlands. Sean wasn’t immune to the famine, of course, no Irishman was; but living in the city meant you can get your mits on money easier, and money equals food. He was thin, but not gangly; clearly passable as a replacement husband to the woman. It helped he was clean shaven, and that his hat kept his sandy brown hair from looking clean. Even his brown woolen clothing could make him look like any old farmer. Lucky for him, that was what he found when he was trying to make his escape from O’Donnah that morning.

But it wasn’t just that she was shorter, but she felt thinner. As his hand intertwined with hers on the suitcase handle, it felt thin, cold - and Sean immediately started to think of that the girl has had a harder go than one should.

It made him reply, almost offhandedly, “And I ain’t after your money, woman. You’ll need it wherever you are goin’ unless you want to make ye living on your back.”

As they stepped onto the boat, another man in uniform was standing there. “Tickets please?” he asked.

That’s when Sean realized that this little game will have to last longer than just getting off the docks.

 

[MadMissJ]

She’d almost gone into the drink when the man reached for her bag. The only belongings she had in this world, would not be possessed by the mad harbinger. She tilted it away, holding it with all her strength in front of her, her arms ached and her fingers were white with the effort, but no one other than she would be touching the case as long as she was alive. She hoped the scowl and the setting of her jaw made that clear.

“I'm yur Charlie now until we get to where we are going.”

“Instead of the cross, the albatross, ‘bout my neck was hung.“ The murmur was fueled with annoyance, quoted from “The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner”, a story all sea going folk knew. But as she looked back at the man following her a few steps behind, he looked far more alive than dead. Maybe for the moment he would be able to lead her out of the quagmire she was in.

“And I ain’t after your money, woman. You’ll need it wherever you are goin’ unless you want to make ye living on your back.”

Her head snapped around as he said those words, fear that had been pushed down by her temper flared for the briefest moment, and it drained her face of the hot heat that her rage had given her. The blood that had settled in her cheeks fell away and she felt light headed. Fear, real fear clawed at her belly, the same as the hunger did. She grasped at her cloak with a hand she’d taken off her bag, sealing it together over bodice, saying nothing but hurrying further up to the official that was waiting at the opening of the large liner letting in those working poor who had tickets ready in their hands. Again, Bonny was forced to dig through the papers in her pocket to produce the passage proof, and the man took both and looked them over.

“Miss? You’re not sick, are you?” He asked, eyes narrowing on her. “We can’t let sick people aboard. It’s rules.”

“It’s my Honeymoon.” It was the only thing she could think of, she wasn’t spry on her feet in a pinch like her stranger shadow. But her words seemed to appease him and he clasped the man behind her on the shoulder, with a chuckle.

“Well, take it easy on her, eh? She looks like a good girl.” She almost missed the wink he gave to her pretend husband, and she wished she would have. The action made her swallow down the feeling of being sick to her stomach.

“Evenin’ hours are after 7 pm to 5 am. The Richie Riches are havin’ their balls and such. Confined to quarters whilst the staff is tending up there. No gamblin’, no weapons, and keep your noises down.” That was when he laughed and tipped his hat at her.

Her whispered agreement was instantly lost in the crowd looking for their rooms in the belly of the boat. She tried to veer away from ‘Charlie’ liking space between her and the looming figure. But despite her best efforts they both ended up at lucky number 69, the door almost having to wedge itself between the small bed and the wall when she pushed it in.

‘Charlie…what did you do?’ she wondered, because only a few steps inside brought her to the other end of their room where a small spigot was on the wall over a separate porcelain bowl. Bonny turned, long red hair curling back over her shoulders as she faced the stranger.

“What are you running from?” That was much more important than what his name was. She was sure of it.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

It really hadn’t crossed Sean’s mind. Every bit of honesty in him would admit to that. But the interchange with the ticket taker was what was needed to spark those thoughts. Sean wouldn’t run the life he ran without getting a taste of a bird or two. He even got in good with a buxom thing from Belfast that he thought he may marry the girl. But he hadn’t came around the docks looking for piece. The widow wouldn’t have been something he chased after either, if he wanted to get yelled at he would have had a mother. But the one word of her Honeymoon and he became acutely aware that this little tart had to have had her bread buttered at some point. The small thing could be thought to be breakable, but she had already likely been broken in. So as the thought of the girl’s lost chastity passed through his mind, he just gave cheeky smiles and winks in return to ticket taker.

Of course that didn’t last. They had merely a breath to figure out the horrid conditions of the small cabin before she turned her anger back on him. .

“What are you running from?”

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be,” he replied, his eyebrows crossed and his hands forced on his hip. So much for expecting her to do wifely duties with him. “I hand you the lie that you need to get your arse on this ship, and you do nothin’ but call me a criminal. You think I rob ya, you think I ruin ya, you think I run from something.”

He jumped onto the small bed, and laid out on it as if claiming it for himself. “I should ask you the same, shouldn’t I. For all I know the story I made up was true, you ran off on your Charlie and now here.”

 

[MadMissJ]

She wouldn’t feel guilty even with his carrying on about getting her aboard the ship. When those first words slipped past his lips, she merely raised an eyebrow in question, snorting her disbelief at him and shaking her head at his insistence that she owed everything to him. And though he’d flopped on the bed, with his shoes on no less and was making himself quite at home, Bonny merely removed her shawl and hung it up on a peg on the wall in the windowless room. Very little was provided for them, but what they had should suit just fine. She’d had less…she’d also had more.

Though she loathed to do it, the redhaired lass sat on the edge of the bed, a chained thing that could be lifted to hang and lock against the wall to give them more living space during their waking hours. Bonny looked around for a closet, or rather pointedly looked at anything but the stranger, her green eyes finding a small table that could be brought down on chains at the corners, much like their…her…bed. It wasn’t the lap of luxury but it would get her off the small island of Erie.

It proved to be a job getting her suitcase under the bed, she was just struggling with its placement when her bunkmate spoke again.

“I should ask you the same, shouldn’t I. For all I know the story I made up was true, you ran off on your Charlie and now here.”

“You like to talk in circles.” Bonny observed dispassionately, pressing at the sides of her eyes with her thumb and middle finger to relieve the headache that was brewing after the last hour of stress. She pulled up one boot to rest on the bedside to begin to unlace it, placing the thing and later its partner next to her bag under the cot. Pushing the man closer to the wall with one hand, Bonny climbed in herself careful not to touch him, closing her eyes and taking what felt like her first deep breath in a while.

“I’m Bonny, that is, it’s my name.” She clarified keeping her lids closed. “An’ I didn’t run off on Charlie. He’s dead, buried, you needn’t fear for his tender heart or honor. I’m not sure he had the first, and he definitely didn’t have the second.”

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sean felt proud of himself for being so brave to take the bed, but almost became aghast by her bravery. Right next to him, the lass was removing her boots, and plain as day her ankles & feet were bare to him. Small, dainty, even sweet, they suggested what may also lie under the rest of her rags and clothes. Creating an itch that may make lying next to the girl a problem.

“Name’s Sean. Sean Healy.” His words were quieter, kinder. Hard to be stubborn when a girl sitting next to you tells you her boy is dead. After a little breath he thought to say. “Still, am sorry for your Charlie. Ain’t no good coming from anyone one dieing on a young wife.”

It had been a long, difficult day. A day he felt he spent running more than anything. There would be no clear safety when he got where they were going, but laying there in that bed he realized how tough the day had been, and how tired he now became.

He kicked off his shoes, tossing them with his feet towards the floor beside them carelessly. He was still very aware of the woman that was next to him. So he rolled away, trying to ensure there was nothing of his sudden closeness to all the wifely parts on her had any effect. To try to stamp that, he stated, “best you make sure to call me Charlie this trip though. Whether I be like him or not for all you know. They decied us to be stowaways, they’d either arrest us, or just throw us off.”

With an edge of sarcasm in his voice, he stuck his hand under his head to try to get comfortable turned away from her and murmurs, “so, best be a good wife now, alright?”

 

[MadMissJ]

She paused in unlacing her shoe once Sean told her his name. So far, he’d yelled at her, dragged her by her arm, threatened to beat her, told her she was a whore, made snide remarks and suggestive laughs when someone thought they’d be knocking together in their room. But that was much preferable to whatever softness he was offering her. The moment the tone changed in his voice, the girl rested her chin on her bent knee, laces wrapped around a few of her fingers, making them white with blood loss as she held firm and waited for the feeling, the despair and shame to leave her. Bonny closed her bright green eyes and let the riot of curls fall forward, least Sean had the idea that he’d rather sit up to look at her face.

The redhead waited almost a full minute before she started the task again. Burying any residual feelings she had on the matter, lowering herself on the small bed, turning her back to him and gripping the bar where the taunt canvas was wound around, she wore her half-gloves, the tatted things still had some of the stiffness to the lace, and she played with the scalloped edges and closed her eyes, wishing for a reprieve from the man’s mouth.

“best you make sure to call me Charlie this trip though. Whether I be like him or not for all you know. They decide us to be stowaways, they’d either arrest us, or just throw us off.”

“They’d throw you off.” She told him, emphasizing the possibility that she would be able to remain on ship. “I’ve got witnesses that you coursed me to board this thing with a threat of bodily harm. More than once, mind you.” That made her smile, a secret little thing that clung to her lips as she scooted further to the edge of the bed. She could grin, because she couldn’t see his face. It was a bright spot on an otherwise trying day.

“so, best be a good wife now, alright?”

Bonny rolled her eyes, but felt him turn toward the wall, after his boots thumped onto the floor. Only closing her eyes once she knew it was safe to do so. The exhaustion took her, melting the stress from her shoulders as she curled into her herself, closing arms and knees into her middle to conserve warmth. However long she lay there, Bonny couldn’t have said. Because the girl only woke up when there was a loud banging on door, which had her up like a flash, scrambling for her boot and pulling a small blade from within.

Even after the delivered message shouted through the door ‘Dinner’s at six o’clock, last meal of the day!’ and the heavy footfalls moved on, her chest was still heaving with distress, her corset wrestling with her cleavage as her breathing shuttered from between her lips. And relief washed over her, and only then did she look toward the other side of the bed, or even notice Sean was there with her. She would have liked to have had her hands steady when she leaned past the end of their cot to put the knife back, but she was shaking like a leaf, and avoiding his eyes.

“Dinner…Jesus.” She sighed under her breath, taking a moment to push back her hair from the sweat that had beaded on her forehead when her body had suggested fight instead of flight. “They said that dinner was going to be ready.” This was louder, obviously meant for Sean.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sean thought to be tired enough to sleep, but the bed remained too uncomfortable. It’s hard board lay underneath only a hint of a mattress. He lay over top the scratchy blanket that was about as comfortable as burlap. He could have offered to let the blankets go over Bonny, but that would suggest something of kindness to the icey country girl. There was something said about red headed Irish girls, and this one made every reasonable means to perpetuate that thought. Likely catching her by surprise was the only reason she went along with this lie, but her threats to turn him in were not empty, that’s for sure. So, he was more than fine to lie on the blanket, and leave her to what she had.

It did not help as much that turned away from her, he was lying on his billfold. It was thick, and lumpy, but he was not about to pull it from his pocket even to suggest that there was more inside of it than any would expect for a man of his make. Not only did it dig into him, it reminded him of where that money came from. It reminded him of what he had to do to get it. And that ain’t gonna let a boy sleep.

He heard the calls for dinner. He turned over and saw her sitting there on the bed, and in the dimming light saw two things very clearly. The knife, brandished strong and at the ready -- and her chest heaving and tight. Sean felt the ringing deep in his ears as he heart began pumping harder than it had all day, with all the troubles he saw, this was now pulling a greater intensity. He stared back at her, his brown eyes dark and edging towards fearful. But there was something of the way her form heaved that drove his adrenaline as well. When she calmed, moved to put the knife away, and restated the call for dinner; he started to breathe once more.

“Best we go to dinner than,” he stated very directly. “A little food in our bellies would calm us, I suspect.” It was his chance to acknowledge what now changed the room, even if he didn’t fully understand the changes yet.

He shifted around her to reach for her boots. The small bed and the closeness made it very difficult to do so without touching the woman. Something he was doing his damnedest to avoid now that she wasn’t not just some angry Irish girl, but a blade wielding one at the same time. Still, getting a hold of boots, his side pressed against her hip, and once more he became acutely aware that under all that anger and fear is a woman. One that was as warm as any flesh with blood in it. Quietly he pulled away, and proceeded to push his feet into the boots, trying to ready himself for dinner.

 

[MadMissJ]

Her movements after that were clumsy. Her face pale under her light sprinkling of freckles across her nose, was much more noticeable even in the fading sun. She nodded like a rag doll, her body sagging and her breathing returning to something akin to normal. But the sleep she’d gotten had only made her feel further exhausted. Her senses felt dulled now, and she bled out the adrenaline that had her up and ready for whatever was coming at her through the door. Pulling herself around, she put her stockinged feet on the floor. Still staring at them with a strange, absent gaze.

There could be a man on board. She could have been followed, she was in a coat closet with a stranger who may have mischief on his mind, but so far Sean only talked big, he’d not attempted any of the things he’d promised out on the docks. It was while she was swallowing down a sick feeling that she felt him move off the bed, her arms were bare and each time he tried to shift himself, some part of him brushed up against her. She wanted to make herself smaller, but that wouldn’t do. She only had bravado and bluster to get her into the ocean proper.

“Best we go to dinner than,”

Bonny raised her head but it was an effort, she wanted to focus on Sean, who seemed to be a sneaky son of a bitch, she told herself that if she stared straight into his eyes and didn’t blink, that was going to put him off.

“A little food in our bellies would calm us, I suspect.”

It was a long moment and his actions of handing over her boots that gave him his soft lilting answer.

“Right.” And she went through the onerous task of putting her shoes on again. But their trying to take actions at the same time was difficult. Her shoulders, her hands, even her leg seemed stretch and caress against his own, no matter how close to the wall she pressed herself. Finally, she stood and retrieved her shawl draping it around herself and stomped around him to the door, finding the energy to be annoyed with Sean once more. Or maybe annoyed with herself that each little kindness he offered, the ice of her chipped a little bit.

But meals in steerage would be trying. What she hadn’t known about their room was how lucky they were for walls, for bedding, for a shelf to hold things and a spigot with water. What Bonny saw as she walked further into the bowels of the ship was stark and harsh. Walls were lined with short bunkbeds, hard wood and a sack of straw making up the most of it. There were babies wailing, people fighting or kissing out in the open. She tried to weave her way around both, and get to where she could go up on the main deck.

Once she was at one of the ladders, she started to climb. That was the way of things, the lower-class passengers were free to sit on the main deck exposed to the fog, the rain, the sun and the soot from the smoke stack where young boys had been pressed into labor. There were no chairs on which to sit, no blankets to lay out, the masses were let out of their cages like animals, when the upper-class cabins were inside dining. Their own meals served as things were being picked up, cleaned off and readied for another day of fun and frivolity for the knickerbockers.

She took up against the side of the ship, the wind had kicked up and she ducked beneath the heavy wood to let it blow over her head. There was a line of staff, weaving its way through the groups. Handing out wooden bowls, another ladling from a pot carried by another two, another was passing out bread. She took her bowl, and the minute she received her victuals she was tempted to curse.

“Potatoes.” She glanced up at Sean, putting her bowl on her lap. “Bloody Irish potatoes. God may have sent the damned blight, but it was the English who brought the famine.” She spit out the words, knowing that her bowl of broth and potatoes was being taken out of the mouths of hungry farmers. And though she longed to have the moral fortitude to resist the meal, as much as she glared at the bowl, she still picked up her spoon.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

In many ways putting on his boots was more of a chore than he could ever want. This tight cabin and bed barely allowed for the couple to lay, but now that they moved every action caused them to run into one another. There were no intentions from him, and as the chore continued he felt obligated to make his accidental contact be as clearly accidental as possible.

This was no small chore. Sean was bigger than Bonny. But then again, most lads would be bigger than Bonny. If her Charlie was a farmer, bigger and sturdier than Sean was, he might have crushed her when he loomed on top of his wife. Sean worked more with his mind and his mouth, and while no man in this famine grows soft, he’d barely rate even money in a fight against an average man. Still, climbing around the girl just in the effort to don some boots meant he began to notice the girl under the clothes. Thin, firm, and tough. And as the touching kept happening, Sean had to start pushing the vision of he looming over the bride rather than her Charlie.

He was no happier to see the meal than Bonny was. He squinted as he pushed the boiled potato around the broth. He scowled slightly when she made her words, though. “My mother was English, mind you. Don’t blame us for what the bloody royals did.”

As much as he could complain, there was something satisfying about the way the skin broke between his teeth and the hot flesh of the potato found his mouth. A hot meal, a proper hot meal, as bland and lifeless as this was - it was the first hot meal he had in days. He almost forgot what it was like to be served food, be given something without question, without judgement, or without paying a bloody penny. It made him forget the last few days, from all that chased him to this place and this situation. It made him start to believe everything was behind him now, that where he ended up would be what made all the rest of it worth it.

That reminded him of a little nagging question. Trying to sound as disgusted by the food as Bonny was, he stated, “How long do we have to put up with shite? Or for that matter, where is this boat heading to?”

 

[MadMissJ]

“Ain’t my royals.” Bonny put her nose in the air with a curl of her lip. “An’ my breast swells with pity for your father then.” She should have crossed herself for making light of a man’s mother, but she was in a sour mood and getting a jab at the man she’d been tossed in with made her feel strangely better. Sure, she was taking out her frustrations on him, but then again he had invited it when he’d invited himself to avail of Charlie’s ticket.

Bonny turned her face to her bowl and took a quick stab at the potato while the bread soaked into something more edible. And from the looks of things, Sean was in the same boat she was. It had been a while since she’d had a proper meal, and she could hear the more vocal of the little ones whining at their mothers now that some pep had been put back into them. She tried to put as much into her mouth as possible to keep from having to speak with the man by her side. Table manners be damned. There wasn't a table in sight. She’d not call him Charlie, best to merely enjoy the cold air against the hull of the boat and the stretching of her legs before they were sent below again. And though she had resolved to not speak, it seemed that Sean hadn’t made any such deal with himself.

“How long do we have to put up with shite? Or for that matter, where is this boat heading to?”

She gave the man next to her a sidelong look to see if he was joking. And when she laughed at first it was quiet and faint, more as if her soup had said something particularly witty, but it grew. And it wasn’t long before she had to silence herself by biting the inside of her half-gloved hand to keep from drawing too much unneeded attention their way. Moisture had to be brushed aside and away from her lash line as she smiled at him. A cheeky, knowing thing as she snickered to his face.

“Oh-ho, Boyo.” She blew a whistle and shook her head, finally settling her dancing green eyes on him.

“Out with it then.” Bonny whispered. “What’s got you all twisted round that you’d hop a ship bound for anywhere?” She didn’t say another word until their bowls had been taken and they were given five more minutes above board.

“Murder?” She guessed, feeling far more confident surrounded by hundreds than in their room alone. “An’ angry father?” Bonny paused. “A thief?”

Either way she didn’t wait for an answer before she pushed herself upward, the crowds were closing in on her, the men a little too leery for her liking, but she did put her shawl over her red curls, drawing it up around her chin as if she were too cold to be above the decks for too long anyway.

“C’mon, Husband.” The girl called back over her shoulder, weaving in and out of the people resting.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“None of your fuckin buisness,” he spat back at the woman when she challenged what he was running from. Immediately he realized that the response was as much a confession that he was running, than it was a chance to hide his troubles. “It ain’t runnin’ if ya just want to leave shite behind, now.”

He let her speculate all she wanted but he wasn’t about to answer that. As they started to walk through the crowd he decided to return the favor. “Besides, I ain’t the only one runnin’ ain’t I. Surely there be boys back on the potato farms you can spread your legs for and be a good wife poppin out some bebes for. You’re still pretty enough.” Thinking that maybe too forward he rethought, “that is, you ain’t lost your looks so that some hairy arse won’t take ya.”

“Or is your Da trying to get you to …”

Sean’s voice stopped abruptly, because it was like he saw a ghost.

In the gangway about sixty feet ahead a man stood in profile, but his appearance was unmistakeable. He wore a black coat that overhung a white shirt. Dressed maybe good enough for second class, but definitely above the steerage folks he seemed to be walking amongst. The black bowler hat, something he chose to wear seemingly constantly, became his own personal trademark. Yet Sean knew his other trademark better. The man went grey early and young, even if he was likely in his forties by now. That flush of grey hair, thick and matted springing from under his bowler contrasted sharply with the full thick mustache that was so black it was like he painted it on. Sean knew he worked for O’Donnah, but he worked for many men. Surely he had a real name, but Sean only knew him by ‘Brick’ - like what it feels like to be hit with when the guy wants to. Brick was on this boat, and Brick was looking for something. If Sean knew better, it was he that Brick was looking for.

“Come’on’” he commanded, grabbed Bonny by the arm and pulled her straight away into the nearest door. It was the jacks, the only big enough for the toilet and a place to stand to pull up your trousers. Two of them wedged into the room was tight, close. But before she could say anything, he put a hand over her mouth and said through gritted teeth, “say anything, and we are dead, hear me? Dead.”

 

[MadMissJ]

“But that ain’t what happened.” Bonny retorted to his assurances that he may have just wanted to get away from it all. No one blackmailed random strangers for a chance to get away from it all. Bonny would know, ever since she’d come to the city, she’d been learning a lot about what people would do when they were in a scrape. But she was riding high currently on her small victory, and snorting at the ridiculous accusations that he was flinging at her. After all there was the small fact that she’d touched a nerve, a nerve so raw that it had caused him to break from the character that he’d been forcing her to interact with. Sean wasn’t so smug now that curses were flying off his tongue and he was yet again calling her a harlot. There were plenty of things worse than laying on her back for a potato farmer. If there had been a chance that Bonny thought that she could go and hide away in the west counties for the rest of her life, she would have kissed whatever green hill that her home would have stood on and taken the worst of what Sean wished on her.

But Charlie had seen to it that any union wouldn’t be peaceable. The fact was, was that she wasn’t a free woman. Not in any sense of the word, besides that she’d flown her coup. Technically she was a thief too she supposed if hying off one’s own person could be considered stealing. There was that question in her mind as she walked across the boards of the ship, missing the panic of Sean behind her. Only becoming aware of it as he’d hit her from behind, grasping ahold of her arm so harshly it was like a child being taken to task by a nanny, her wrenched shoulder protested and her tongue desperately wished to voice it, but as soon as he shoved her into the loo, his large hand was placed over her face, fierce green eyes angled up toward his, splashed with fading sunlight from the slats in the boards.

“say anything, and we are dead, hear me? Dead.”

Her eyebrows were a warning to him, red like her hair and set on a steep angle of anger. There were many words that were swirling around in her head, whilst they stood. But after half a minute passed, Bonny felt the anxiety coming off of him, as he was pressed into her. The breathing through her nose was the loudest noise in the room, and she didn’t bother to look around, only glaring at the man with her, defiant and with warning. A minute had her shawl falling from sheltering her red hair, instead the hand that had been clutching it came around to grasp Sean’s wrist between them as she swallowed nervously, her other hand trying to push him away, the way his shoulders crowded her and his hips seemed to find a cradle against hers, perfectly fitted made her distinctly uncomfortable.

That didn’t suit her at all, and neither did the fact that without fear of him, interest could take hold. That’s what had brought on her questions. Even the fact that he believed they were going to be killed, didn’t much deter it. She needed space, now, without warning Bonny took it upon herself to bare her teeth beneath his hand and bite that palm that held her head against the wall.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

As aware that Sean was back in the room of the closeness he was to the widow was as little he recognized it now. He strained through the nose breaths of the redhead to listen for the steps of the man who hopefully was oblivious to his efforts to hide, or for that matter the fact he was even on this boat. Sean’s mind was racing now, etched into the thought of what would happen if he was spotted, worse yet if he were found or caught.

It was quite possible Brick didn’t even care about Sean. The idea that the damn fool was on this boat looking for him was a stretch to say the least, but it was a stretch none too far to make. Any word from O’Donnah on what Sean had done earlier that morning and any one of his loyal men would find reward for doing something to Sean, whether just cutting him, taking everything he got, or worse. Whatever reason Brick was doing on this boat, being spotted by the man would not end well for Sean. Not well at all.

What maybe worse is that now Sean seemed cursed to be followed by more than just thugs. Bonny was right, he was running, but not just from O’Donnah. He was running for what he did, and for what he didn’t do. He hadn’t realized it yet, but there was a simplicity to the coincidence he found in the young redhead. No matter what her Chalie had done, no matter how awful a husband he was, being Charlie meant he didn’t have to be the man who he was before he stepped on this boat. Because Sean still had to live with being Sean.

With a flash of red, Sean was shook back to now. The bitch bit him. Hard. He sucked in air sharply, trying his best to not scream in pain and give away their location . He shook his hand furiously trying to make the pain go away. Through grit teeth he breathed, “you daft … woman …” Unlike the show he created on the docks, Sean never struck a woman, would never think of to do so, and that instinct held true as he made no action to strike, slap, or even attack the girl. But did that ever tempt him at that moment. “You’ll get us killed, you will.” His whispers were strong and harsh.

Now that his mind was focused he was very aware of the closeness of the room. The way his legs nearly intertwined with hers. The feel of her hand on his chest to push him away. The strange intimacy of the situation.

Yet he was still pissed. “What did you do that for,” he chided barely over a whisper.

 

[MadMissJ]

“you daft … woman …You’ll get us killed, you will.”

It would seem that Bonny had a fatalistic view of the world, because once Sean hissed at her that they were both going to be dead if she didn’t heed his commands. The Irish lass tried to laugh as softly as she could in the partial darkness while the man waggled his hand about, Bonny raising her own hand to brush away what he said and shifting so she could climb on top of the lidded seat, sitting askew and pulling her feet up with her, anything to avoid more of the intimacy of Sean and his body crowding her.

“My fate ain’t tied to yours. I’m a free woman.” Bonny tried to whisper it as low as possible, though if it was for Sean or herself she didn’t know. It sounded good to her ears either way. She’d been cowering long enough, and she wouldn’t do it for Sean and whatever show he was putting on.

“What did you do that for,”

“Because I didn’t give ya permission to touch me.” Bonny’s feathers ruffled some more, putting her chin into the air defiantly and her shoulders hunched while she wrapped her arms around her legs. After a withering once over for the man, she rested her cheek on her knees feeling much safer in the stifling room and she sat stiffly in silence. And so, she still, quietly and with her eyes closed. It was a bit of a trick to get out of the room that you were stuck in, she’d traveled thousands of miles over the last few months inside her head and behind her eyelids. Doing so again brought a bit of calm over the temper that Bonny had been displaying, she relaxed despite her closeness with Sean and when minutes had dragged on and on she whispered to him again.

“We’re going ta Canada. There’s an island, Newfoundland. It’s got fishin’ and land and it’s growin’. I’ve got a chance there, they don’t much care if I’m a woman. Maybe it'll be better because I am. I can get a piece of something for myself. That’s where we’re going.” Now she opened her eyes and tried to focus on Sean in the darkness.

“We can’t stay in this loo for eight weeks, Sean.”

 

[ArcticAvenue]

When Bonny found her seat on the jacks, Sean pressed his head against the door to listen. It was against his better judgement because he was basically turning his back to the woman who had bitten him and pulled a knife in the last hour alone; but he wanted to gauge the moment. Besides, she could stand to get a face full of his arse for a while.

In his head, Sean made a plan. No noise outside the door meant the Brick wasn’t waiting for him, maybe that means he hadn’t even seen him. If Sean was lucky, this boat would just be going across the channel and he make a runner before Brick saw him. The guy maybe a brute, but he was slow..

“We’re going ta Canada.”

“Beautiful, just bloody beautiful,” Sean moaned sarcastically in response. “I am sure them Canadians are notin’ like them Americans. I am sure they would LOVE to welcome an unmarried Irish girl and give her all the jobs and tings you can’t get in Ireland. Bloody brilliant.”

Of course, he was more pissed that this little plan to hide from Brick was out to sea with the rest of them. She was bloody right, they wouldn’t be able to hide in the loo for eight weeks. At this point he didn’t know what to do. Nothing. But if she really thought her fate wasn’t tied to his, then he would need help.

With a more honest tone, he spoke to her without looking back where she sat. “There’s a man. Big with a Mustache. Always wears a bowler. I think he was in second class. I know him. He knows me. And I pissed off his boss. I don’t know what he’s doing on this boat. But I can tell ya, I don’t tink he will take seeing me too kindly.” With a deep breath, he relaxed letting some of this out finally. But then got his grip. “I’m tellin ya because if he comes along lookin’ for me, best keep your mouth shut. That boyo don’t take kindly to witnesses, if you know what I mean.”

 

[MadMissJ]

She was thanking God for little favors when Sean began to speak. Making her face blanch with panic, she raised her own hand to her mouth to block any cry of anguish as Sean explained exactly why they were in the small room and hiding. Bonny sat still, hoping that her bunkmate hadn’t heard the squeak of dismay that she’d barely contained. But how was she going to hide the large thumps of her heart rattling their ribcage?

O’Donnah. Brick.

She couldn’t even hear him anymore when her blood pressure put the sound in her ears, and she felt a bit like falling. Out of her control, everything was out of her control. He was confessing to having wronged one of the larger bosses of the city, telling her to watch her herself. And though she didn’t amend the statement from earlier, it was now becoming more clear to her that their fates were indeed intertwined. How many possible people could Brick have been tracking down on the damn boat? How were the only two people that he may be after sitting in the same closet?

She wanted to cuss but resisted. They could not stay here, they needed to retreat to where it was safe, where there was no chance of a second-class passenger running into them, with a solid shove of resolve, Bonny scooted past him and to the door, looking out for the bowler hat and mustache.

The coast was clear and her shawl again covered what Bonny thought was her most memorable feature, the blazing red hair she possessed. But they would need to move fast, because Bonny had no intention of being found by Brick, come hell or high water, both of which seemed to be haunting this ship.

“Keep your head down an on your shoulders.” She urged him, placing her own palm against his hair to make him crouch as she pulled on his hand and started to walk faster than those around them to make their way toward the ladders that would put them down below. But they only made it as far as the opening in the wall, when thick shoulders parted the line next to them and her eyes found Sean, her's wide until she again pushed at his shoulder, but not to knock him out of the way. She wanted him leaning on the wall next to the door, and as she surged on her tip-toes and her mouth latched onto his, her palms captured either side of his face and she fell into him. Her lips parting to encourage his own.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

In what seemed to be a complete contrast to her manners before, she seemed now to have lurking instincts. Taking command of their escape, she was quick to point out how to walk, how to stay hidden, and how to keep low. Not that the concept was foreign to Sean, but Bonny whom a brief time ago was as brilliant as the fiery locks on her head, now turned herself as grey and dark as the shadows.

She knew what she was doing.

That was going to be some questions he needed to ask her. But that was for later. Right now they were quickly making their way through the crowds and their means out. Sean just did as he was told, and followed. At least, that’s what he did up until that moment. That moment when her eyes went wide, and she reacted.

No sooner did he feel the bend of the bulkhead in his back that he felt the soft thin lips on his. Instinctively, his hands circled her waist and helped pull her up to his. His mind raced to what he held in his embrace; the strong girl with smooth shape, the arching back, the firm breasts pressed into his chest. Where his hands rested, he could feel the gentle slope of the bottom. The rush of blood through his system screamed at him to grip her against him, to pull her body into his. His mouth opened as he recieved her kiss, wetting their lips and tasting her flavor. He had lost all thought, did little to make an act, just followed what his body was doing.

“My word,” a older woman’s voice thick with English accent interrupted their embrace. “There are Children About.” The old hen looked as though she thought she was Victoria herself, but the clothes were more shambled and rotten. Behind her were three youngins clutching her skirts. In that instant, the magic was gone, and he broke the kiss.

One of the girls tugging at the old mum’s dress said, “is he gonna show her his willie?”

 

[MadMissJ]

The kiss worked two-fold, her fingers caressing his features would hide both of their faces, and they were likely to be dismissed as lovebirds than pinpointed as criminals. Still, her long lashes fluttered closed, when her nose bumped his, as she turned her head, her abrupt jump to snog him had turned from pressing her lips flat against her own teeth, the sharp pain of it eased when she soothed his top lip with her tongue. A hand that had been on his face, trickled down his neck softly, dragging her fingertips around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper.

They needed the wide shouldered man in the bowler to walk by them, but Sean’s hands that had been on her waist, spread on her hips before she could feel the expanse of them across her bottom. And Bonny, who had been hostile to him before, was now aware of how easily they fit together, leaning against him, arms around his neck, pulling on his bottom lip with a nip of her teeth, before she lashed it with her tongue. She straddled his thigh like before, only now she wasn’t ready to ice up, rather Bonny felt something akin to a fire starting.

It had been a very long time since she’d enjoyed a kiss. Since, she’d instigated one, since she’d started to wonder where palms would wander. And she’d forgotten why they were doing it in the first place. Until the world came chiming back around her ears.

“My word,” an older woman’s voice thick with English accent interrupted their embrace. “There are Children About.”

Immediately Sean pulled away from her, and though she had hated being near him in the loo, now there was just an inkling of loss. His lips were red, obviously from her attention and she imagined that her own would be slightly swollen and blushed too. But there was nothing for it. She turned back to the woman quicker than Sean did, grabbing his hand to pull him down toward the abyss of the boat with her.

“Oh pardon me, I didn’t realize we had the fortune of ridin’ the boat with the new virgin Mary. How do you think those wee ones ended up on his earth?” She chimed, “It wasn’t from sitting about in front of a pew all day.” Her haughty look was back, nose in the air. But the next question made her laugh as she skipped down the stairs, the older of the children, a girl had asked about Sean’s willy.

“It ain’t anything special, let me assure you.” She couldn’t resist, Bonny grinned at Sean, for the first time, her blood had already been humming, but she was exceptionally pleased with her quip at his expense. But once she was down the ladder, it was short work to get back to their room through the sea of humanity. She was still in a decent mood as she reached their closet, despite what was laid out for her for the next eight weeks.

She needed to get out to the sea, hide if possible until she could disembark in Canada. And never see any of O’Donnah’s men again. Bonny sat on the bed and started to pull up her foot again to take off her shoes, the space wasn’t conducive to wearing her heavy boots, she needed to be able to pull her feet up on the bed so there would be a moderate amount of floor space. But she didn’t look up at Sean, doing just that and taking off her shawl and half gloves, placing them where a pillow should have been. Moving her large brown suitcase, she opened it a crack to get her other shawl to make up the difference, and a book.

Without a word, Bonny sat up against the wall that their bunk was cozy with and opened it, willing her eyes to stay on the words, instead of looking up to see if Sean’s mouth still looked as well kissed as hers felt.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sean willed his breath and his heart slow; otherwise the fire in his blood would make something erupt far worse than what occurred up to this point. What brewed up underneath the two of them broke free like an ice dam on a river. In the short minutes from the time they broke the kiss, he remained utterly speechless, taking the cutting words in her response to the poor girl and being dragged back to the dungeon that was becoming their room. He remained tight against the door as she prepared her bed, pulled out her book, and acted like none of what had just occurred never happened. Sean tried to remain calm, but everything she did made him that much more frustrated. Frustrated by her silence of what her story was in all this. Frustrated on how she seemed to be as focused on laying low as he was. Frustrated by her continued insults and distrust of him.

Frustrated that all of it made him all that more pulled towards her. Frustrated that the kiss they shared in some rouse was one of the greatest of his adult life. Frustrated that when she pulled her feet up to pull her boots off he wanted nothing more than to push that skirt up higher. Frustrated that he wanted to lay her head back against that makeshift pillow and reenact that kiss all over again.

As she opened that book and started to read out of complete ignorance of his standing there, he could no longer hold back.

“What … The Fuck … Was That!”

He moved over to stand at the bed directly in front of her. The position allowed him to loom over her nearly blocking her reading light.

“It is time you starting telling your tale, lassie. Because it bloody well clear is not what you put on, ain’t it? You show up on the docks with no mate, knife in hand, and cool as a stone. Not more than a breath ago you were acting the maggot back in the jacks all because I tells you that I may be chased by someone. Then in a blink, you act as though I ain’t no chancer orw wanker. You know exactly how to keep on the low, then play me like the fool up against the wall. I ain’t gonna begin to guess that was someting you intended to do as soon as you got me alone; I don’t care how good of a snog it was; you were sure to keep both our faces hidden weren’t you.”

He took a breath to drop the stone, the real stone, he wanted to drop. “You ain’t no potato farmer’s girl. You ain’t no free woman either. I’d say you changed your mind about our fates being intertwined. So since I told you how I could get you killed, care to tell me how you will get me killed?”

 

[MadMissJ]

She was all too aware of where he was, though he thought otherwise. But what was there to say after a kiss like that? It had left her blood singing through her veins, her fingers that had touched his bare skin tingled and the warmth between her thighs would be what would betray her intense interest much quicker than the half frown on her face and the nose buried in her book.

And she would have stayed on that way until the light faded away and she needed to change clothing. Bonny still didn’t trust the man with her, but she didn’t trust men in general, they had no self-control, they were mean, violent and thrived on possessing that which didn’t want to be possessed. Like herself. She didn’t want to deal with Sean after their impulsive snog, the fantasies of where it could have lead were still swimming in the back of her mind. She didn’t know what she would say to him, but Sean seemed to have all the words needed to fill in their silences. His yell split the silence in the room, and on principal she kept her eyes on her book, though Bonny couldn’t make out the words when Sean was blocking the only bare lightbulb in the room.

But with each word of insistence that she divulge her information, her eyebrows tilted down and her frown bent into a scowl. Bonny didn’t want to be told what she needed to do. But Sean was making connections anyway, they’d been in each other’s company for half a day and it seemed that the two of them with so much in common were starting to recognize like. But finally, her carefully bored eyes swung up from her book to consider his face.

“I don’t care how good of a snog it was; you were sure to keep both our faces hidden weren’t you.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She murmured indignantly, folding her book closed and placing it on her bent knees, and wrapping her arms around her legs. She tried to keep her panic from showing, but the tension in the air now was almost cutable. Her heart had started to throb against her ribcage again, exactly as it had when she’d had her body against his on deck.

“You ain’t no potato farmer’s girl. You ain’t no free woman either. I’d say you changed your mind about our fates being intertwined. So, since I told you how I could get you killed, care to tell me how you will get me killed?”

“I was.” Bonny insisted, because it was true. She had been a farm girl when she’d first married Charlie, Charlie who had crazy dreams, a taste for whiskey and gambling. “And I ain’t going to get you killed by Brick. They don't want me dead, they want me back."

And there was where the girl half collapsed, letting her book fall to the bed as she shifted and laid down once more. Closing her eyes so she didn't have to look at Sean's demanding ones and think about what she'd escaped and how if Brick sniffed her out she'd be in the second-class cabins if she wanted to be or not.

"I've no intention of being found if that's your game, Sean. You ain't going ta sell me out to Brick in exchange for your freedom. If that's your plan. I'll cut your throat before I cut my own." She promised, it was soft as if she was trying to fight back emotion, brushing cold fingers across her cheek under her closed eyes to hide the moisture there.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sean could feel his face flush red with the heat of anger. This girl who gave no notion of thanks for saving her hide at the docks, threatened him many times over, now clearly is lying and keeping things from him. As he tries to threaten it out of her, she just simply tosses a book around and acts as though she is ready to sleep. Sleep. At a time like this.

[I} “And I ain’t going to get you killed by Brick. They don't want me dead, they want me back." "I've no intention of being found if that's your game, Sean. You ain't going ta sell me out to Brick in exchange for your freedom. If that's your plan. I'll cut your throat before I cut my own.”[/I]

“Back,” he scoffed. “Back for what? Back for making them a fine pudding? These aren’t people who take kindly to rushing off, mind you. These people are the kind that break bones just to leave a message. Brick himself done …”

That’s when it hit him. The name.

“You thick little sausage,” he burst. “O’Donnah is after you too. It ain’t just your little your bogger friends ain’t it? You owe to them. O’Donnah owns you. I ain’t once told you it was Brick up there with the other classes. Just told you it was a man. Yet you knew him.”

He threw his hands up in the air and turned towards the door, forgetting then just as quickly remembering that there was no place in this closet where to pace.

“Fucked. We’re both fucked. Right in the Arse. You’re not just a ranging firemouth but you’re a chancer too.”

He grabbed at the door to make a break for it. Natural instinct really, to run from this trouble like he has so many times before. But now … where. This boat is too small to run anywhere, let alone when it was just to get away from the she devil on the bed - worse that a man who can gut him is walking the decks as well. “Jesus Mary and Joseph; I can’t even go out to get a proper drink either, can I. Bloody fucked.”

 

[MadMissJ]

The words out of Sean’s mouth got the reaction he’d wanted out of her, though there was still moisture on her cheeks, she roared to her feet. Green eyes blazing with fire, and chest heaving with all the tension within her body and Bonny’s attempt to keep her hand from striking his face.

“I ain’t NO chancer! I did nothin’!” It was her turn to yell, and though she was out of her boots and her nose was now even with the taller man’s chest she was in a fine temper, every inch of her bristling and blowing like a foul wind. “Charlie sold me, you thief. I was his collateral. He said he’d be back for me with the money and then some. But he didn’t come back, but they did find him and sunk him to the bottom of the bay with rocks tied to him. So what would you do? I had my chance, I took it, I planned it, and I ain’t going to be sold out by you or broken by Brick. Do you know what O’Donnah does with women? Before he…before he…” She couldn’t even finish the words, they choked her like poison. It was with a swirl of her skirts that she rounded on Sean to put her own hand against the door to keep him inside.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph; I can’t even go out to get a proper drink either, can I. Bloody fucked.”

They were wedged together in the doorway, Bonny’s back against the wall and her nails digging into the handle, pointed chin taking its notch once more. She needed to veer away from the fear that made her eyes water and throat close at the thought of getting back into the clutches of O’Donnah, because their yelling at one another wasn’t going to keep them on the low down, below decks if they were screaming at each other where many people could merely be loitering outside the door and listening in.

“Will you think for one damn minute?” Bonny hissed, “We aren’t likely to get caught with two pairs of eyes, are we?” Even though she’d been the one to threaten him with a throat cutting if he sold her out, her mind was spinning with the options they did have at this point. “But we cain’t be yellin’ an’ hissin’ in the room like we’re cats and dogs.” At this, she pried her fingers from the door, where she’d been white-knuckling her temper down to a fizzle. She slid past the man in the room brushing up against him yet again as she shimmied her way to her suitcase, opening it on the bed and rifling through the clothing, a pair of shoes, a few books but she pulled her hand out and with it a small metal flask.

“Here, if you need a drink so bad.” She held it out for him, practically stabbing it at him, before she started with the laces on the front of her dress, starting to tug them from the eyelets of her country clothing. Turning her back she slipped the wool off her shoulders, exposing a cotton gown under it. It was just a few buttons at her hip and the dress was able to fall to her feet, there was a small cut of wood with hooks that would have held several coats it was nothing to reach across to the other wall of their room, the whole thing itself was about as wide as she could stretch her arms twice. And with a loop and several ties her dress was left to dry there. But she didn’t turn back to Sean, she’d be sleeping in her cotton dress, but there was still the image in her mind of the kiss that they’d shared, his hands on her backside and her own threading through his hair and their lips and tongues challenging each other. Crossing an arm over her breasts and curling her fingers around her own shoulder, Bonny turned her head around to look at Sean.

“I’m going to have to trust you’re a man of some honor, Sean. What O’Donnah did…it weren’t pretty, right? I didn’t run off to land me’self with another like him.” There was no other way to say it than that, was there? Straight out so she could sit on the bed again and tuck away her bag, her arms folded across her chest and legs crossed. But her hand was out and fingers were demanding her flask.