Tristan (Pirate Lords Series Book 1)

by Elizabeth Rose

  “Like it?” he asked.

  “Like what?” she asked, continuing to run her hand over the top of the loaf of bread in thought.

  His hand slammed down on the table right in front of her, causing her to jump. Then he leaned over and spoke to her through gritted teeth, his face almost touching hers.

  “You keep fondling that loaf of bread like you’re stroking a man’s shaft, and I’m not going to be able to stop myself from ripping off your clothes and having my way with you right here on this table. After all, I’ve been at sea for a long time without the comforts of a woman. I can’t hold back like a saint forever.”

  “I’m doin’ no such thing!” she gasped, her eyes looking directly into his now. This close up, she could see the small dark speckles peppering the rich green hue. He truly did have beautiful eyes. And when the tip of his tongue shot out and he slowly licked his lips, her eyes followed his motions down to his mouth. An inner heat stirred within her. It surprised her and frightened her at the same time that she was reacting this way to a pirate.

  “You’re a horrible liar.” He pulled away and straddled the barrel, sitting across the table from her. “I brought you here to eat, and that was my only intention. Or at least for now.”

  He picked up the spoon and scooped up some of the pottage, shoving it into his mouth. Then he picked up another spoonful and held it up to her mouth, surprising her once again. She moved her head back, not sure what to do.

  “It’s the only spoon I have. I don’t have fleas, so take a bite before you starve to death.”

  “Why do ye even care what happens to me?” she asked, hesitantly reaching for the spoon. She thought he’d give it to her, but he held on to it instead. She had no choice but to cover his hand with hers.

  “I don’t want anything happening to you before you tell me where Birk hid the copy of the map.” She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, his free hand shot up in front of her face. “Don’t even think of denying it, because I know he made one.”

  “What makes ye so sure he did?” she asked.

  “Just answer my question.”

  “As soon as ye answer mine.” She blew on the spoon to cool the food. “After all, ye keep insistin’ I ken about this map when I told ye I didna see Birk make a copy, or hide it.” She blew on the food again. This time, her breath must have hit his hand because she heard his sharp intake of breath. When she glanced up at him, his eyes were closed. She opened her mouth and took in the food. It was good and her tongue darted out to lick a drop of liquid from her lips. His eyes opened just then and his gaze fastened on her mouth. Dropping the spoon to the table, Tristan jumped to his feet.

  “I know you’re lying,” said Tristan, turning away from the girl and pacing the floor. Feeling lusty and distracted, he ran a hand through his long hair, trying to maintain his composure before he lost control of his emotions. Egads, why did the wench have to blow on his skin and then lick her lips afterwards? It was driving him mad. Even dressed like a boy and with that godawful cropped hair, her actions were like those of a siren luring him to do something he was trying hard not to do. This woman excited him for some reason. He figured he just needed to bed a few more whores more often and he wouldn’t be attracted to girls who looked like boys. When he was around Gavina, he couldn’t seem to think straight.

  “Nairnie is a guid cook. It’s amazin’ she can whip up somethin’ so tasty on a pirate ship. And hot, too.” She continued to blow on the food to cool it and, of course, lick her lips. He already felt himself growing hard beneath his breeches. How much more teasing could he take before he bent the wench over the rail and plunged his hardened length into her up to the hilt? “Here, have some more,” she said, picking up the bowl and walking over to him. She scooped up a spoonful of food, blew on it and held it up to his lips. “Open up,” she said with a playful smile. Her straight, white teeth made her look like a princess, rather than a commoner. “I swear I dinna have fleas either,” she toyed with him, repeating his words back to him.

  Open up is exactly what he wanted to say to her, but meaning it in a much different way. Bid the devil, he needed to get away from her fast. Even though a part of him said there was nothing wrong with taking her quick and hard for his own needs, another part of him felt as if this girl deserved better than to be ravished by a black-hearted pirate.

  “Nay,” he said, pushing her hand away so hard that she dropped the spoon. It went flying from her hand and clattered to the floor.

  She looked down and took a deep breath, only causing his eyes to roam to her chest as he searched for those two bumps that she hid so expertly beneath those baggy clothes.

  “Ye could have just said no instead of bein’ so forceful with me,” she pouted.

  He couldn’t stop himself from wanting her, and that bothered him. He’d never felt such intense desire for a wench in his life. She was like the forbidden fruit, and he the serpent. His want was eating him up from the inside out.

  “If you think that is forceful, then you’ve not been around a pirate long enough to know.”

  “Long enough to ken what?” she asked innocently, her eyelids flickering as she waited for his answer.

  Needing to taste her lush, ruby lips, he reached out, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her up hard against him. He heard the bowl drop from her hand and land on the floor alongside the spoon. Always taking what he wanted in life without asking, he bent over and pressed his mouth against hers, claiming her with a passionate kiss.

  Her hands hung limply at her sides and her head fell back. As he deepened the kiss, he swore he heard a small moan of pleasure come from the back of her throat. And when he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her, he noticed her eyes were closed. This meant she liked it as much as he did. It gave him the sign that it was all right to continue.

  She tasted like honeyed mead. It was alluring and only made him crave her more. Tristan was a man used to taking what he wanted. And right now, he wanted Gavina.

  He went back for a second helping. This time, he let his tongue slip in between her tantalizing lips, filling her mouth completely with his presence. His hands slid down her back, past her small waist, stopping to rest on her curved bottom. Wanting to know how her womanly buttocks felt in his hands, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and squeezed her pear-shaped doup. Pulling her up tight against his erection, he felt like he was going to burst. God’s teeth, this felt good! Their bodies being pressed up against each other almost seemed to cause steam between them.

  Tristan was expecting to hear another moan of desire coming from her but, instead, he felt sharp pain in his mouth. Shocked, he realized that she had the audacity to bite his tongue! At the same time, she stomped on his foot with the one shoe she wore, and then her knee came up and connected with his hardened groin. Her fingers dug into his arms next, the sharpness of her nails scraping against his skin.

  “Devil take you, you landlubber wench!” he spat, pushing her away from him. His hand automatically went to his mouth. The tangy flavor of copper slid down his throat from his own blood. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “I dinna appreciate bein’ ravished by a stinkin’ pirate!”

  “What do you mean? You enjoyed the kiss, I know you did! I heard you moan. And I’m not a – a stinking pirate.” When he rubbed his arm, his head turned toward his armpit and he tried to sneak a sniff, just to see if he really stank. The scent of the sea mixed with sweat filled his senses, making him realize she was right. He was nothing but a stinking pirate and about to ravish her just because she was a woman.

  Tristan turned away from her, snatching up the bottle of whisky as he headed for the door. “Stay inside the cabin and don’t dare show your face on deck before morning. Even then, you’re not to go anywhere unless I’m with you.”

  “Stay here?” The idea didn’t seem to please her at all. “Nay, I canna do that. I have to relieve myself,” she said, making him stop in his tracks. It only brought to mind he was t
rying to relieve his lustful needs by pushing himself on her. But what she was talking about had nothing to do with lust. “Where does one do something like that on a pirate ship?”

  “The men piss over the side of the ship,” he explained. “If it’s more than just pissing you need to do, take a walk to the head.”

  “The head?” Her eyelids flicked in confusion.

  He looked down to see the bulge below his belt and only wished he would have chosen his words more carefully.

  “At the bow, or head of the ship, there is a board with a hole in it that extends out over the water,” he told her. “Savvy?”

  “Aye, I savvy,” she said, sounding snide. “And do you savvy that all I have to do is pull down my trews to use it, and I’ll have no’ just ye, but dozens of lustful men tryin’ to poke me?”

  “Then use the damned pot in the corner,” he said, pointing to it on the floor. It looked to her like one of Nairnie’s cooking pots, but much smaller. “Gavina, don’t expect me to protect you from any of my crew again.” He turned and looked over his shoulder, gripping tightly to the bottle of whisky. “Let me make myself clear. When I say my crew, that also means me.” He turned and walked out the door, wondering just how long he could refrain from rogering her at the rail after all.

  Chapter 7

  “Where have you been, Brother?” asked Mardon, as he and Aaron joined Tristan at the bow of the ship right after nightfall set in. It was a calm night and they weren’t far from shore. They’d already dropped anchor. It wouldn’t take long to make it to shore in the morning.

  “Aye, we’ve been looking for you,” said Aaron, climbing up on to the sidewall, resting one leg on the bowsprit. “You and . . . Gavin disappeared at mealtime and we haven’t been able to find you for hours.”

  “It’s not that big of a ship, you fools.” Tristan half-smiled and shook his head, leaning on the wooden rail, looking out to sea in thought. “If you two couldn’t find me, it’s only because you weren’t really looking.”

  “All right, so we knew you were on the bow but figured since you missed your nap, you needed time to think,” said Mardon.

  “That’s right,” agreed their younger brother. “You get irritable and ornery when you don’t get your time to rest, so we didn’t want to bother you for fear you’d bite off our heads.”

  “I’m not that bad,” said Tristan, even though he knew his brothers were right. He’d flogged men for nothing more than bothering him when he wanted to be alone.

  “Tristan, is there anything you want to tell us?” One side of Mardon’s mouth rose into a half-grin.

  “I didn’t take the wench to my cabin so I could bed her, if that’s what you’re hinting at.” Lifting the bottle, Tristan brought it to his mouth, taking a deep draw of whisky.

  “We know,” said Aaron with a chuckle. “If you had, you wouldn’t be nursing that bottle so desperately.”

  “Aye, you would have used the wench as a wetnurse instead. That’s what I would have done as soon as we found out she was a girl.” Mardon leaned on the rail and looked out to sea, still grinning as if he were picturing it in his head. He was the randiest of the three of them, and never stopped thinking about women. He also prided himself on the fact that with his looks, he could always get any women he wanted to lift her skirt for him quite willingly. Tristan wasn’t as lucky. Then again, it was probably because he didn’t want to waste time trying to woo women when he could pay for what he wanted and have more time to spend looking for treasure instead.

  “Believe me, the thought went through my mind to play wetnurse with her,” he told his brothers, looking down at the bottle and swirling around the remaining contents in deep thought.

  “You almost bedded her? Really?” asked Aaron excitedly, leaning forward so as not to miss a word. He moved so quickly that he almost lost his balance when the ship listed hard. Aaron reached out and grabbed on to the lines to keep from being dumped into the sea.

  “Well, why the hell didn’t you?” asked Mardon. “God knows you need it. We all need a little female company about now. It’s been too long.”

  “I don’t know.” Tristan shrugged. “Something about bedding Gavina just didn’t feel right.”

  “Mayhap because she looks like a boy,” said Aaron through a fake cough.

  Mardon laughed. “Nay, that’s not it. She rejected you, didn’t she? Just admit it.”

  Tristan was in no mood to deal with his brothers and all their questions. “It doesn’t matter because that’s not why I brought her on the ship to begin with.”

  “Give her to me. I’ll take her to my bed, and I assure you she won’t push me away.” Mardon bragged, turning to go. Tristan’s hand clamped around his brother’s arm to stop him.

  “Leave her be,” he warned him in a low voice. “She doesn’t want you, or any of the men here. She’s young and innocent and most likely still a virgin.”

  “A virgin? Damn, that makes the wench even more desirable,” said Mardon with a wide smile.

  “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had any wench with that kind of innocence?” asked Aaron. “She must be truly pure . . . and tight as well.”

  Mardon and Aaron chuckled.

  “Stop it,” ordered Tristan, not liking that his brothers were talking about Gavina this way. “She’s staying a virgin so don’t even think of touching her, or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  “Bid the devil, what the hell’s the matter with you, Tristan?” Mardon shook off Tristan’s hold and scowled. “You almost sound as if you care about the damned wench. This is so unlike you.”

  “Aye,” agreed Aaron. “She’s a stranger to us, not to mention, she’s just a girl! A girl that the rest of us would enjoy getting to know.”

  “No one but me is going to be getting to know Gavina, so forget about it, little brother,” snapped Tristan.

  “You’re letting her get into her head.” Mardon brushed off his shirt, always liking his clothes clean and neat. Tristan had wrinkled Mardon’s sleeve when he’d grabbed his arm. Mardon’s disapproval showed in his expression. It would probably bother him now for the rest of the day.

  “She’s more than just a wench,” Tristan told them, not able to push the vision of Gavina’s clear blue eyes from his mind.

  “What does that mean?” asked Aaron.

  Tristan stood up straight, turning so he could see both of his brothers at the same time. It was a quiet night, the only sounds being the snoring crew, the creaking of the vessel, the slight flapping of the sails, and the sound of waves lapping against the side of the ship. “It means that I’m sure she somehow holds the key to finding the king’s treasure. I don’t want anyone scaring her off before she tells me where to find the copy of that map.”

  “If you think Birk made a map, shouldn’t we be searching the Crooked Crow or its surroundings again instead of sailing south?” asked Aaron, throwing his leg back over the side of the ship and hopping down to the deck – with bare feet as usual.

  “Birk would never have let the copy of the map out of his sight,” Mardon told them. “I think we need to turn around and go back to shore.”

  “Mayhap you’re right,” said Tristan, swirling the last of the whisky in the bottle, lost in his thoughts. “It wouldn’t hurt to go back and take another look.” His brothers did have a point. Tristan’s only concern was that treasure. Ever since Nairnie told him about finding the map, he should have made that his priority. Instead, he’d let Gavina distract him. Now, they were most likely sailing away from the treasure instead of toward it. They’d already dropped anchor for the night but, tomorrow, they’d turn around and head back toward the Crooked Crow. He never should have left the tavern in the first place without that map. It had to be there, or at least nearby. “Tell the crew that we sail back to the Crooked Crow to look for the map at first light.”

  “Then you admit you made a mistake by telling us to follow the path of the Desperado?” asked Aaron.

  “Aye, and you admit
that I was right and you should have listened to me?” Mardon broke in. “After all, I’m quartermaster. I decide when and where we pillage a ship and when we turn around.”

  “Don’t break your arms patting yourselves on the back, Brothers,” grumbled Tristan. “I never said we were following the Desperado. I just said we were heading south.”

  “But we’re right,” said Aaron.

  “Every once in a while, you two seem to come up with a good idea, whether it is purposely or merely by accident,” said Tristan. “The only thing we need to be chasing after is that treasure.”

  “The treasure will make a good future for us,” said Mardon.

  “If Father would have let us go after it years ago, mayhap we wouldn’t have had to go back to piracy,” said Aaron.

  “I know it’s been a long time, but do I have to remind you two that one of the reasons we left was because it was our father’s fault that Mother died.”

  “Mayhap we should have stayed,” said Aaron, sounding like he was having second thoughts. “If nothing else, perhaps we should have been there for Gwen.”

  “Stop it,” said Tristan, becoming irritated by this conversation. “We made a choice and we live by it. No regrets, remember? Besides, according to Nairnie, Gwen is happily married with a family, so it sounds like she isn’t hurting any by our leaving.”

  “Tristan’s right,” agreed Mardon. “That is all behind us now. Once we find the king’s gold, we’ll be set for life. The crew has been restless for a long time now and for more than just food. Sailing the North Sea isn’t half as productive as the channel where we’d have ships to plunder every day if it wasn’t for Nereus. Making an agreement with Rowen was one thing, but we never should have done so with Nereus, too.”