by Swanz, Peppa
Last night she had been in no state to think clearly but in the clear and bright light of morning she saw everything as it was.
Sort of.
The lock was simple enough. One couldn’t grow up with four mischievous cousins without learning a thing of two about lock picking. And after scrounging around the desk draws she managed to find a little knife and with a couple of well placed flicks the lock clicked open and she opened the door with a triumphant flourish.
* * * *
“Blast,” James muttered as he watched the crazy wench run out onto the deck. It was with amusement, curiosity, and a touch of annoyance that he watched her from the helm as she ran to the side, looked over at the vast stretch of ocean, then ran to the other side of the ship and looked again, almost as though the empty horizon would look different from the other side.
She swore viciously with curses that would make some of his men blush and a few that he hadn’t heard before.
He grinned at the way she jumped up and down fruitlessly in her frustration. There was no doubt, she was indeed as feisty as he remembered, and still seemed to be caught in the strange delusion that she was not supposed to be here. I wonder if she hit her head. That would explain the loss of memory...But she seemed to remember herself fine, just not in this time.
“She’s a strange one, captain.” The voice of Mr. Smith made him incline his head to look at the cook sternly, making the shorter man fidget nervously. “Meaning no disrespect, of course.”
James’ gaze softened, “Of course, Smith. And you’re right she is strange.” he said, his voice distant. “Tell me, did she say anything unusual to you, when you spoke?”
Smith fidgeted again, flicking him a slightly scared look.
James rolled his eyes but smiled indulgently at the older man, “You may speak freely, and have my word that there will be no repercussions for your honesty.”
Smith seemed relieved and let out a puffing breath. “Well captain, I believe a better question would be, did she say anything that was not unusual? And my answer would be nothing what so ever.” He cleared his throat at the captain’s bark of laughter and went on. “She spoke of making sure we were paid well and seemed to think I would be comforted by a promise of an extra-large tip and by the fact that she would tell all her friends how wonderful we are and how—lovely—your cabin was…” He blushed. “And how adorable I was. She then made several threats against yourself and the other gentleman.”
James laughed. “Yes she has quite the temper, does she not?” He glanced at Smith again, judging whether or not to include him in his thoughts and with a shrug continued to speak. “She—ah—she says that she’s from the future, the year 2007 to be precise.”
Smith nodded thoughtfully and James was shocked that the other man hadn’t laughed or made some derogatory comment on the lady’s mental condition.
“That would make more sense captain,” Smith said tipping his head as he looked down at the women. She stood, glaring over the water and serving any sailor who dared approach her with a most disturbing glower, effectively making them back away.
“More sense?” James inquired, grinning when Eliza finally looked up to see both himself and Smith watching her. She poked her tongue rudely and turned away to glare at the water again.
“She is like no wench I’ve met, Captain.” Smith mumbled and furrowed his brow as he watched her start to pace again. “If you don’t mind me saying, she dresses inappropriately, curses worse then any of the crew, and seems to speak in words I don’t understand, but there is no doubting that she knows her mind.”
“Mm,” James hummed and pursed his lips. “Yes my feeling exactly, but to believe she is from the future? That’s a damn long plank to be walking.”
It was Smith’s turn to chuckle. “We’ve seen some mighty strange things in our years sailing together, Captain. She is a beauty, though, and I gather can handle a sword, if you get my drift.”
“Indeed I do, Smith, but you will watch your tongue from this point,” James spoke sharply, but his lips twitched with amusement as he watched the woman accept a cup of what he hoped was tea from one of his sailors.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The morning sun was sparkling in her long red hair and the wind made the locks dance around her face. Even in his masculine attire there was no doubting her sex. Full breasts pushed against the white shirt and his pants were tightened with what looked like rope around her slim waist and curving over her softly rounded hips. He had no doubt that she would be breathtaking in any attire.
****
She was pacing again and her feet were getting sore. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit.” Eliza hissed as she hit the side of the ship again and saw nothing but more bottomless water. “This can not be happening.”
After reading more books on piracy and seafaring then she cared to admit, there was no doubting that this was the real pirate ship, Fallen Angel. Eliza had stared for hours on end at the pictures of this very ship, and the pirate, James Bartholomew Butler, since she was fifteen. She knew this ship inside out, well as much as one could from hand drawn pictures. Rigging, mast, sails and she knew his face, his name, and now his smell and taste.
A soft smile played on her lips as she looked down at the sun reflecting off the water. What ever James was, he was one amazing lover. Her body still trembled from his touch—her lips still tingled and felt slightly swollen from his heated kisses.
“Shit!” she swore and spun away. “This is not the time, Eliza.”
She forced her mind back to the ship and the very real dilemma. “I’m in the past,” she said. A blink and another brought her no closer to believing her own words. She walked briskly to the other side of the ship. “How did I get here?” A sudden thought struck her and sent a cold shiver of fear down her spine. “How do I get home?”
All at once her mind filled with words, muddled, panicked and all too loud to really hear and yet she knew what they were saying, “How do I get home? How do I get home? How do I get home?!”
“Oh God!” she gasped, breath coming faster and quickly becoming more difficult as the reality of her predicament suddenly closed in.
A loud yell yanked her out of her growing panic attack just in time to see a heavy looking pulley swing towards her head. She dropped out of the way and screamed as she rolled aside and it hit the deck mere inches from her with a terrifying THUMP.
Someone pulled her to her feet and immediately into a set of strong arms. Eliza shuddered and trembled against his broad chest and her tears soaked into the stained shirt. He smelt familiar, that mixture of salt water and musk that had intoxicated her mind the night before and his arms held her tight, his own body trembling.
“J—James?” She stuttered.
“Shh, you’re all right, love,” he shushed her, wrapping his arms more tightly around her shoulders. He gave her a hard squeeze then let her go, spinning on his heel to face the young, guilty looking sailor.
“Come on now Miss,” Frances spoke softly behind her and took her arm. “We should get you back to the Captains Quarters.”
She nodded dumbly and let him lead her away and behind her she could hear James growling dangerously at the careless sailor, and turned just in time to see the look of fear on the younger man’s face. Eliza stopped and pulled her arm free. What was going on?
Eliza watched in growing apprehension as another sailor grabbed the younger roughly and threw him against the mast, forcing him to grip on while still another pulled out a long leather whip.
“No!” Her voice was outraged as she ran back towards the Captain. “Please, James, it was an accident and no one was hurt. Surely...”
But she was cut off when he spun around again to glower at her. Eliza gasped at the raw rage in his emerald eyes.
This was James Butler. Notorious pirate, scallywag, murderer. Eliza’s head filled with all those other stories about this man, stories that she had conveniently grazed over, and dismissed to keep her fantasy alive. But this was no
t a fantasy, this was real. That mixture of adrenalin and delirium seemed to pulse through her trembling body as she met his gaze and watched his face flush in his anger. He was a dangerous man, and she was afraid.
Captain Butler took one menacing step closer, his boot stomping loudly on the wooden deck. Eliza stifled a sob and stepped back, hating the flash of triumph in his eyes as he took another step.
“You, madam, will shut your mouth and return to my quarters.” His voice was gruff and low and his lip curled when she stayed in her place.
She wanted to run, wanted to do as she was told, but behind, the young sailor whimpered as another uncoiled and yanked maliciously at the long, black whip. Damn it, she couldn’t just leave and let this happen!
“No.” And her voice was much stronger then she felt. “It was an accident. I won’t let you do this.”
His face flushed more, and she watched fearfully as he clenched his fist and advanced closer. “I am Captain James Bartholomew Butler,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “This is my ship and you will do as you are told.”
Another chill shivered down her spine but her feet were rooted to the ground. “I will not.” And she cringed as she heard the words from her lips, wishing she could have been less stubborn. “He is just a child.”
His movement was so quick that she squeaked when he gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her tender flesh. “He is a sailor on my ship and he understands the consequences of carelessness.”
Swallowing hard, Eliza forced her body still. “This is barbaric.” She hated the pleading tone that took over. “James, Please, I wasn’t hurt so...”
James’ head fell back, his laughter seeming to roar with the wind. “You are the child, wench, to think that you matter so much.”
The sound of the other pirate’s answering laugher made her cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean...” She started only to be cut off my more laughter and felt her eyes prick.
“You are here to spread your thighs and warm my bed.” He spoke close to her face. “Do not test my patience—I have been lenient till now.”
Her temper rose, hot and blazing and chasing her fear away. She pulled out of his grasp and glared right back at him. “Coward,” she spat, this time holding her ground when he advanced. “You, pirate, are little more then a thief and a murderer. No wonder you have to pay women to warm your bed. Pathetic.”
He lifted his arm over his opposite shoulder, giving her an ominous view of the back of his large hand. His lip curled and his eyes flashed. Eliza knew he would strike her now. But she didn’t back down, didn’t look away, instead she lifted her chin and glared right back into his narrowed eyes. His muscles tensed and a nerve in his jaw flexed. He pulled his hand back further and Eliza prepared herself for the blow.
* * * *
Blast! She wasn't backing down. James had never hit a woman in his life, but this one just made him so angry and now here he was and she wasn't backing down. The wench didn't even cringe she just glared right back at him. No one had ever stood their ground against his temper before. The stubborn bloody wench was willing to take the back of his hand for the sake of a man she had never before met, a man who had nearly cost her, her life!
“I will not lower myself,” he muttered, lowering his hand, not sure if was relieved or ashamed at the look of relief that crossed her face. “Your compassion for the boy is touching, madam, but this is not the time.” Then to Smith, “Take her to my quarters and see that she stays put—tie her to the bed if you have to.”
Her outraged cry made him grin. He bowed gallantly and laughed when she struggled against the older man's grip. The boisterous laughter outraged her more and she struggled harder against Smith, her cheeks flushing and her eyes flashed angrily.
“Let me go!” she raged. “You bastard, how dare you treat me this way. I am not your whore and I never will be.”
He felt the rage flowing from her tense body grow stronger and hotter when another of his men, Carter, took her other arm. So intense, her heat seemed to strike his body and wrap tightly around his hardening cock. He'd never seen anything like it. She was perfect in her anger, beautiful. If his men had not been present he would love to shove her slight body against the mast, tear down those britches plunge his rock hard cock home.
He knew he was grinning wickedly and liked the sudden awareness in her eyes. She was something else.
“You didn't seem to mind performing the duties last night, My Lady.” The last words were mocking and he grinned widely when she gave an outraged cry and struggled again against his men's iron grips.
“Hell's Bells, Captain,” Carter grunted. “The wench is a strong one.”
“She is that.” James let his lips curl sensually at her glare. “But I'm sure you can manage.”
She screamed. “You are nothing! Less then,” she spat and James had to bite his cheek to hold in the groan when his arousal spiked again. “In my time men are huge and they know how to treat women. You don't even come close. The men of my time can take women ten times a night, and have brought me to the heights of pleasure over and over till I am barely conscious with it...”
Her words continued to screech out as Carter and Smith grunted and pulled her away till she was finally silenced by the shutting and locking of his cabin door. He turned back to his men, who were watching him closely.
“Well if I must, I must.” He drawled with a roguish grin and his men laughed uproariously.
* * * *
Eliza stopped struggling once she was in the pirate's quarters. There didn't seem much point and she was left feeling drained. The one James had called Carter threw her onto the bed and leered when she cried out in surprise.
“Ow!” She glared at the smugly grinning man. “Well, what are you looking at? Don't you have to go watch that poor kid get whipped to within an inch of his life?”
He chuckled and knelt on the bed, his brown hair hanging just above his shoulders. With those thick muscular arms and that tightly trimmed beard and moustache he would have made one hell of a biker. “You better start playing nice, wench.” he sneered and leaned closer, making Eliza pull back sharply. “If the captain loses patience with yeh, he might decide to share that pretty mouth with the rest of us.”
“I'll die first,” she spat and felt coldness shiver down her spine when he simply grinned wider.
“All right, lad,” Smith said his eyes flicking from Eliza and back to Carter. “The lass gets the point.”
Carter glared at the older man before reluctantly backing away and with a final leer in her direction followed Frances out.
She threw herself back so her head hit the pillow.
Still mad.
She slammed her fist against the mattress and shut her eyes tight, taking deep breaths. It felt as though every nerve in her body was on edge and her heart was beating so hard she was sure that the crew would be hearing it as well.
Damn, why the hell did that man have to be so sexy...No! Not sexy, infuriating, pigheaded, brutal, misogynistic, sadistic...
Behind her tightly shut eyes he wore a roguish grin, his stance strong, large hands ready to tackle her should she try to run. A soft moan escaped her as heat pooled in her lower belly and her inner muscles tightened with need. Damn him!
All right, she needed to control that. Lusting after that chauvinist jerk wasn't going to solve her problem. She needed to be angry—anger was useful, anger was her friend. After all, it was anger that pulled her out of that destructive relationship with Sean, anger that made her keep fighting day after day in her job in the emergency ward of the Royal Brisbane Hospital.
She felt her temper rising again and reveled in it. That overgrown teenager saw her as a whore, a wanton slut to spread her thighs and warm his bed. Well he had another thing coming if he thought she was just going to accept that as her fate. She belonged to no one and certainly not to him.
And what about that poor boy. Sure, he'd been careless and she could have gotten killed, but it wasn't like he'd
done it on purpose, and no one was hurt. How dare James lay a finger on him! Was the poor boy supposed to be perfect? Of course not...
“I'd like to see him chained to that mast and whipped like an animal,” she said out loud and immediately regretted the direction of her thoughts.
No sooner were the words out then her mind filled with the vision of James' large body thrown roughly against the mast.
Her breathing grew labored.
His strong muscular arms yanked high and chained securely.
Her arousal spiked and she felt her face flush.
Someone ripped open the back of his white shirt to reveal the broad expanse of his back and that brilliant tattoo.
She squeezed her thighs together to relieve the tension in her throbbing core and cried out softly.
His flesh glistened in the blazing sun and sweat dripped down his back and his long damp hair hung over his shoulders.
Sweet thrills shot from her quickly heating pussy, making her tremble.
Another pirate grinned maliciously and pulled at his long black whip. Coiling, then pulling it straight with a breath-stopping snap.
Bad idea or not, she couldn't face him and make her displeasure clear while her body screamed for his...Licking her lips, her breaths coming in quick almost painful bursts she flicked open the button of her britches and let her fingers slip inside. She'd make it quick, she was already close, a few firm strokes should relieve some of that tension so she could think again and give him a damn good seeing to...No, no that was wrong. A serious piece of her mind.
With a frustrated growl Eliza shut her eyes and gently parted the folds of her already soaking pussy. She gasped with pleasure as her middle finger dipped into her tight opening then flicked smoothly along the side of her swollen clit.
