Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  “I saw dead men on the Flying Cutlass,” she said. “It’s not a survivable way of life, is it? You’d probably die a violent death, and I don’t want to see it happen. When I saw Rob Sanders in the street, he wasn’t a pirate. I fell in love with a dream and I’ve woken to something quite different.”

  He slipped his arm around her waist. “Neither did I seek out a demon who tricked men into piracy. But I saw something special hidden, just as I do now, a treasure I’ve come to love.” He plucked at the lacework on the back of her dress, gradually unravelling the cord.

  The sleeves fell away to reveal the bodice, a pretty piece of clothing quite unlike the bandage she’d coiled around herself. He nuzzled her hair, trailed kisses down her throat, and tickled her cleavage with his beard. The loose gown slipped onto the floor, forming a circle around her feet. Flynn drew a small knife from his belt and used the tip of it to pick at the bodice. She held her breath, remembering the first time he’d cut away her clothing. The sharp edge of the blade sliced through the bodice to uncover two pert nipples crowning the apex of her breasts. He lowered his lips and sucked one into his mouth. The warmth enveloped her pebble. He teased with sucks and licks, exciting every nerve ending. She clenched below, aware of the wetness her arousal had encouraged.

  She looped her arms around his neck and clung on. The dress was abandoned along with her undergarments. He gently lifted her onto the bed and stood back, appraising her with a glint in his eye. The pace was sedate, the manner of his seduction so unlike their first tumble. She watched him undress and licked her lips at the sight of his taut abdomen, the ringlets of dark hairs on his chest, and the bulging muscles of his thighs and arms. What she desired most had risen and hardened, and it waited for her to unfurl and spread her limbs. She settled herself into the feather mattress, a luxury she’d never previously enjoyed, and lifted her arms above her head.

  “So the bargain still stands?” he asked.

  “I will not break it. Ever.” She smiled.

  Flynn slid up from her feet, planted his hands on either side of her head, and lowered his body.

  His eyebrows arched, his lips twitching with gentle amusement. “Even though I’m no longer the pirate of the seas.”

  Esme pursed her lips and contemplated her besotted man. He hadn’t changed, not one bit. “But you are the pirate of wicked ways.”

  He nudged forward, and she received him with soft cry of pleasure.

  Flynn smiled. “Now, show me how wicked you are, my petal.”

  Jaye Peaches is an Amazon and USA Today bestselling author of historical, Sci-Fi and paranormal erotic romances. These stories weave together the kinky journeys of lovers, their struggles and dedication to each other. All her books contain spicy scenes of carnal pleasure and sensual exploration.

  If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then delve into one of her books.

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  His Stowaway

  by Measha Stone

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth

  The smell of a burning pipe made my stomach ache. When I was a child, it had brought me comfort. It meant Father had returned home. It meant I was safe from the harsh words of my stepmother.

  But that was long ago. Too long for me to remember properly the scent of my father’s clothes, or the sight of his long hair tied back from his brow.

  Pipe tobacco meant other things now. It meant my stepmother’s new husband was having his brandy. It meant he had probably already had several. He only smoked once the liquor had soothed his edges and numbed his morals. As though they needed any more decay.

  I shut the window, blocking out the smell of his pipe from the patio below.

  “Elizabeth!” My stepmother’s booming voice preceded her entry to my room. A small bedchamber in the servant’s quarters. A perfect place for the unwanted.

  “Yes?” I scrambled from the stool I need to reach the window as she flung the door open.

  She was young when she married father, I remembered then. Pitch-black hair, long delicate neck, and soft facial features. But the years had faded the stark black into gray streaks. The smooth skin of her neck had wrinkled with the passing time. And a wart had taken residence on her jaw, below her ear. The only thing unchanged was her waistline, though it has more to do with the corset she suffered on a daily basis.

  “The wash wasn’t taken down this afternoon.” She narrowed her raven’s eyes at me. Chores made my existence on her husband’s plantation possible. It gave me purpose. I wasn’t her blood relative, and I was to be grateful she didn’t ship me off to an orphanage after Father’s death.

  I had been grateful.

  Once.

  “It wasn’t dry when I checked on it,” I explained, wiggling my feet back into my shoes.

  “Well, it’s dry now, and William has an important guest arriving any minute.” She stepped aside with a gesture of her arm. “Well, go,” she barked.

  I tucked the loose strands of my hair into my cap as I passed her.

  The humidity of North Carolina’s summers could suffocate a person. That evening wasn’t any exception. I found an empty basket and made my way through the kitchens to the back door, stealing a green bean from the cook’s bowl on my way.

  “That’s for tomorrow’s supper!” Melinda called after me, though the grin on her lips failed to display any real censure.

  I jogged down the steps to the grass and crossed the small lawn where the laundry hung. The evening wind blew through the sheets as I approached.

  “So good to see you, Mr. Croftwill. So glad you could come on this fine evening.” William’s nasal voice carried on the breeze. I hurried to get the wash down before he was able to make a comment. His indifference to my presence would quickly turn unfavorable if I lingered.

  “Why, thank you,” a new voice, a worn-out voice said. I moved behind a sheet as I pulled it down from the line. Mr. Croftwill owned a larger plantation several miles down the road. According to William, Mr. Croftwill owned the largest tobacco farm in the area. So large, William had stopped trying to compete with him and focused solely on cotton for the last four years. Why would he be visiting William? They weren’t friendly.

  “Did you get a good look?” William asked.

  “I did. I did.” Mr. Croftwill fell into a small coughing fit. “Perfect age, good hands, among other…important attributes.” He laughed.

  William chuckled along with him. “I knew you’d find her up to the job. Price is three hundred pounds.”

  A cloud of smoke from his pipe blew toward me, and I ducked behind the sheets again. If stepmother found me, she’d probably have locked me in the cellar until morning. I was to know my place, and listening in on her husband’s business dealings was not it.

  “I’d say she’s worth a hundred and fifty pounds,” Mr. Croftwill countered.

  She’s worth?

  Who?

  William was selling someone?

  A woman, nice size, good hands…

  My mouth dried.

  No.

  “Oh, Sarah’s a good worker. I’ve never used her in the fields, but I’m sure she can be of help with yours,” William said, sending my heart into a frenzied beat.

  “I wouldn’t put a pretty thing like her in the fields,” Willcroft scoffed. “I’ll give you two hundred pounds. My wife will want her in the house. One of her girls fell ill last month, and we had to put her out.”

  Put her out?

  My head spun.

  I yanked the last sheet from the line and stuffed it into my basket.

  “That’s more like it. Would you like to take her tonight or should I send her in the morning?”

  Grabbing the basket, I darted across the lawn back to the house. I dropped it just inside the kitchen.

  “Elizabeth!
You can’t leave that here!” Melinda yelled after me. I turned the corner to the hallway and stopped short when my stepmother came out of the parlor. Sarah walked beside her.

  “Sarah.” I breathed out her name. The color had drained from her features, leaving her face pale. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “None of that now. Go up to your room and gather your things. I’m sure Mr. Willcroft will want you to accompany him home tonight.” Henrietta gave Sarah’s shoulder a gentle shove.

  “You can’t—no, you can’t just send her away,” I pleaded with her.

  Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

  “We aren’t sending her away. She’s been sold, for a tidy profit, I’m sure. Help her, Elizabeth.” Henrietta walked past me.

  My gaze lined up with Sarah’s.

  “This is what happens, Lizzie,” Sarah said. She was two years older than me and had been living on William’s estate as one of his dozens of slaves for nearly ten years. She was only eight when we met. My father had been dead for a full year by then. She was my only friend.

  “No, you can’t just go. You can’t,” I said grabbing her hands. If she was to leave, how could I survive my stepmother and William? Who would make the days livable? Who would share stories with me at night?

  I followed her up the stairs to our bedroom . Henrietta liked keeping Sarah with me because it gave her an opportunity to punish me by forcing Sarah to work into the late hours of the night if I displeased her.

  “Sarah.” I sat on the bed beside her bag. She didn’t have much to fill it with. “How can you be so calm?”

  She closed the satchel and sighed. “Lizzie, I’m a slave.” Her voice broke. “My fate is not mine to decide. I have no choice here.” She raised her green eyes to me. “But you do. I’m scared for you here. You need to find a way to get far from here. Away from your stepmother and this place. Far away, Lizzie.” She grabbed hold of my hands.

  “I won’t let you just go. I’ll talk to William. There has to be a way to keep you here.” I jumped to my feet.

  The bedroom door banged open, startling us both.

  “Sarah.” William stepped inside the room, his left hand stuffed into the pocket of his vest. “You’re to leave with Mr. Willcroft. He’s waiting downstairs for you, now, girl, hurry yourself.”

  “William, please.” I stepped closer to him, drawing his attention. His brows furrowed. “Let her stay.”

  His lips twitched.

  “Stay out of this, Elizabeth.” He eyed me coolly. “Be glad I’m not putting a price on that delicate head of yours.”

  A bolt of panic rushed through me. Could he do that?

  “Me? I’m—”

  “I’m ready.” Sarah stepped forward with her bag.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’ll warn you, girl. Mr. Willcroft isn’t as generous as me. He won’t be giving you a nice room in the main house. You’ll be housed with the rest of the slaves.” He shot me a dark look. “As you should have been here, but I felt sorry for Elizabeth. Mr. Willcroft won’t be so kind, so mind yourself there.”

  Sarah’s throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.” She lowered her gaze. I waited until William left before pulling Sarah into a hard embrace.

  She squeezed me back, and I heard it. The soft sniffle, the little sigh of defeat. She had no power here. None.

  “Let me try—”

  She pulled back, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. “No. Lizzie, you aren’t safe here. He could sell you. What would you do? How could you stop him.”

  “I’m—”

  “Not his blood. Not her blood. You’re nothing to them but a servant. Don’t give him cause to harm you. Find a way to leave this place. Quickly, Lizzie.”

  She hugged me. “I’d better go.” She kissed my cheek. “Be good, Lizzie. Be good.”

  And she was gone.

  Her soft footsteps faded down the hall. I stood in the doorway of our small chamber, grief pulling me down.

  “You left the sheets in the kitchen, Lizzie.” Melinda appeared with the basket in her arms.

  I looked at her, silent, unsure. “Do the work, Lizzie. Do your work, say your prayers, and keep low.” She put the basket at my feet. “Hurry with your chores now.”

  I nodded mutely.

  I looked over at Sarah’s empty bed and swallowed back a sob. I cried for days when Father died. For longer than that when Henrietta told me she had no responsibility for me and it was only because of her most generous heart she let me stay with her. And sobbed again when William had my things moved from the large bedroom I slept in to the servants’ quarters. Not once in all those times did crying change my fate.

  I would not shed a tear now.

  I gritted my teeth.

  But I would not be powerless either.

  Chapter 2

  Sebastian

  “Three barrels.” I glared down the saloon owner. “I wanted three barrels, and I wanted them by sunset.” I rested my hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to my hip. “I paid enough coin to have it waiting for me when we pulled into port.”

  The round man swallowed and wiped his sleeve across his brow.

  “Aye, ya did, Cap’n. The lad I hired took off on me. But I’ll have it brought to the dock. Just like you paid for,” His voice trembled. “I swear it.”

  I didn’t take offense at the panic in the man’s eyes as he promised to correct his error. It would have been odd for him not to get a bit jittery with me staring him down.

  I scratched my chin. “See that it’s done. And I’m sure you’ll add an extra barrel of rum for my trouble.” I raised my brows.

  “Yes, of course.” He hurried to agree. “Four barrels you have my word.”

  I gave a curt nod to my men standing behind him. “Let him pass.“

  “I’ll return within the hour!” He waved and hurried down the dock. My men casually followed him.

  “Still the brute I remember.” A familiar voice came from behind me. A smile crossed my lips as I turned to greet Madame Castelle.

  “I would have thought the crew would have already filled your coffers today,” I said.

  She laughed. “Oh, they did, more than full. I was a little surprised I didn’t see you among them.” She tilted her head to the side. Her long blonde hair was curled around her shoulders, and on her head she wore a hat full of feathers and flowers.

  “Other duties, I’m afraid.” I gestured to my ship. The Valliant

  “Seems to me the captain of such a fine vessel should be allowed some shore leave.” She gentled her smile. “But, as a business owner myself, I understand the pressures of being the employer. Perhaps you’d like to bring a companion along with you on your journey?” She stepped closer to me, her gloved fingers touching my shoulder.

  “I’m afraid we won’t be returning to this port for several months if not longer.” Sinking between the creamy thighs of one of her ladies was good for an evening of entertainment. But housing her for the travel ahead would be more work than pleasure.

  “I can offer you a good rate, Sebastian.” Her gaze fixed on me.

  “I have no doubt.” I forced my smile to remain steady as her fingers played with the collar of my jacket.

  “Perhaps one of your men would like to take me up on my offer?” She made a dramatic performance of whipping her head to the side to watch the crew loading the last of the supplies we’d procured while docked.

  “Sorry, love, no passengers allowed aboard my ship.” I took a small step along the deck. “I need to see to a few things before we weigh anchor shortly.” I bowed my dismissal and turned to leave.

  “Sebastian!” she called, and I froze. Clenching my teeth, I forced another civil smile and turned back. “Safe voyage.” She wiggled her gloved fingers at me.

  I inclined my head and took my leave, stalking onto the ship. Once the damn barrels of rum were aboard, we could finally leave the shores of North Carolina. We’d only been in port for two days, and already I could sense the stench of
the land sinking into my skin. A few weeks of open waters before settling in St. George would right things again.

  “Ready on deck.” Talley, my first mate, fell into step beside me as I made my way to my cabin.

  “Once we have the rum, we go,” I informed him.

  Talley followed me to my desk where a large map was laid out.

  “Course is unchanged?” he confirmed. We’d already been over the plans. This was his attempt to dissuade me.

  “Aye.” I jammed my finger onto the map at the tiny coastal island, Clifton. “I know it’s here. I just feel it, Talley.”

  He kept his concerns to himself, wisely. The small island was uninhabited as far as anyone knew, and barely explored due to the dense rain forests covering the majority of it, but I could sense it. What I sought would be found there.

  What I sought was there. It would take us only a couple of days to arrive, but several weeks to explore the entire island. Unless we came across my treasure sooner. But I expected the worst case in every case. By the end of the month, we would have them.

  The Jacobin Jewels.

  “And if they’re not there?” Talley questioned.

  I looked up from the map, into his steadfast gaze.

  “Then we keep looking,” I said firmly. “Did you have other plans? Something more pressing to do?” I straightened.

  He shook his head and gave me a wry grin. “I’m only curious. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

  Any other man would find himself flat on his back with my boot in his throat for such words.

  “Get the men in order. I want off this shore.” I waved a hand at him.

  “Aye. On that, we are in agreement.”

  The night waters calmed. The cool breeze blew across the deck, and the stars lit up the sky. I’d be leaving the port windows in my cabin open for the evening and finally get a solid night of sleep.