Matthew (BBW Country Music Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearly Saints Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  He had long blonde hair and broad shoulders. Arms that were thick and muscled, like a good piece of meat from a butcher. As he dove down into the water I saw his firm rump, perfect for biting under other circumstances. He had a small belly, but not enough to betray an indulgence in drink.

  In other words, not a pirate. Not one of my crew. A British sailor then. Not much to be done for it. I’d have to kill him, but I’d have to do it away from the pond. Blood turns water foul faster than anything else.

  “Are you going to hide behind that tree all day?” he said.

  I cursed myself silently. I’d lost my element of surprise, and for no gain. Stupid milk coddle idiot!

  “We’ve got you in our sights. Move and we fill ye full o’ lead!” I said, trying to sound imposing.

  I heard a chuckle from the pond and a splash as he dove under the water. He re-emerged closer, coming up on my side of the pond. Better than him going back for a weapon.

  “I said don’t move! Do you know who I am?” I shouted.

  “Aye, you’re the Dread Lady Brass. Scourge of Her Majesty’s seas. You’ve plundered ten ships, sent over two hundred good men and women to Davy Jones’ Locker,” he said. But he kept getting closer.

  I had my flintlock in one hand, my dagger in the other. I stepped out from behind the tree. “That’s far enough, minnow.” I leveled the pistol at his chest.

  He had a hard face, the kind that had been in more than a few bar brawls. His nose had been broken at least once. A thin scar ran down one cheek, But it was a strong face as well. Proud cheekbones and a chin like a rocky outcropping.

  “Minnow?” he said, his lips turning up in a grin. His eyes glanced downward, and mine followed. He was hung, hung like a bull moose.

  “Well, some minnows are bigger than others,” I said, “But yer minnows all the same. Name and rank.”

  “Corpsman Fentin Potswain, ma’am! Proud to sail in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy!” he said, snapping to a sharp salute.

  “You seem upbeat for a dead man,” I said.

  “Dead, am I? Then I do say my last day alive was wonderful,” he said, slowly walking closer. The water dripped from his hot body.

  “Wonderful? What was so wonderful about today?” I said, my pistol hand getting heavy. I wasn’t used to parley: normally I would’ve let the flintlock do the talking. Any followup conversation would be done with cutlass and hatchet.

  “I woke up, alive, on a tropical island. The sun shone down on me, the waves lapped lazily at the shore. And I found a sleeping beauty, a lass trapped by a curse. A lass in need of a kiss,” he said, now a step away.

  Those eyes…blue like the Adriatic Sea. He stepped closer, his body pushing the barrel of my pistol away. The stubble on his cheeks was a rainbow of colors: black, brown, blonde, and even some coppery-red.

  “Watching me, were you?” I said, dropping my blade to lay against his manhood.

  He inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide in shock.

  “Did ye tug your root while ye stood over me? Like a boy at a peephole?” I said, enjoying this. I rarely played with my prey.

  “Watch it, lass. You play with fire,” he said, his voice lower, like rumbling thunder.

  “For some girls, fire is the only thing worth playing with anymore,” I said, but I ran the dagger up from his prick. It scratched a thin white line up his belly, his chest, up to his neck where I pressed the blade. “This better?”

  “Aye, tis better,” he said, his cock stirring to life. “Fire is dangerous. Hot, unforgiving, and a little taste of it can destroy everything,” he said. His hand came up, slowly, to stroke my face. “But fire is also beautiful. Enchanting. Mysterious,” he said, softly brushing some hair aside.

  My body responded to this simple touch. My breasts were trapped in my leather jerkin, my peaked nipples painfully brushing against the damp calfskin. My trousers were tight. Too tight against my throbbing sex.

  I tilted my face up to his, offering him my pursed lips.

  He cocked his head sideways. “Do you hear that?”

  “Aye, tis the passion you’ve ignited in-hey!” I said as he grabbed my arm and pulled me through the brush. His other hand scooped down to grab a satchel he left behind a tree.

  I hadn’t heard anything. Maybe he’d taken a blow to the skull in the melee. I’d known a man who could name every star in the sky. He knew every constellation, even those in the Indian Ocean. One day we were stopped in port and a mule kicked him in the head. Wasn’t good for much besides drooling after that.

  Fentin kept up a brisk pace, with no concern for his wedding tackle swinging as we leapt over driftwood and burst through underbrush. He was tough. I liked that.

  “Where are we-“ I said, stumbling as my foot caught a root. I almost collided with a palm tree, but Fentin grabbed me just in time. I looked up.

  We were at the edge of the thick edge of trees that dominated the interior of the island. We looked out over the beach and into the sea. Ten leagues out, a three-masted ship was putting down anchor. I could barely see tiny crew hauling rope and climbing rigging.

  The wind changed direction and flattened the flag out, making it easier for me to see. My breath froze in my chest. Red background, black coffin. “That’s The Tyrant’s ship!” I sputtered, leaning against the tree with all my weight.

  “Friend of yours?” Fentin said, his eyes scanning over the ship.

  “Friend of no one. The Tyrant is known far and wide. Mean bastard. They say his father was a rifle, his mother a goat,” I said. “What he be doin’ here?”

  “Might have something to do with this,” Fentin said, passing me a bottle.

  I took the bottle. Inside was a curl of white paper. I unplugged the bottle and pulled the slip of paper out. I unfurled it:

  Tyranis,

  We are intercepted. Trish is on Isla de Inconsequencia. Behind the waterfall lies a cave. She’ll be waiting in there. Marines are boarding now. See ye in hell.

  -Breaker Bart

  “Breaker Bart was a captain under Tyrant. I knew him to be a heartless bastard, fond of breaking men with clubs before tossing them overboard,” I said. Trish was thieve’s tongue for treasure: it was always a woman’s name. But I didn’t need to tell Fentin that.

  “Can’t speak to how heartless he was. He bled like any other when a rifle puts a hole in him. He was about to throw this bottle overboard, but we obtained it,” Fentin said, regarding the paper in my hand. “So what was so important about this Trish person that he gave his life trying to tell Tyrant about her?” His eyes glanced up to mine and locked on.

  “You know what they say about sailors. Sometimes they spend so long at sea, even a whiff of pussy makes them crazy. I guess he be sentimental for this Trish gal,” I said, holding his eyes as best I could.

  “I see,” he said, looking away. “He also released a crow before dying. I suspect that message reached Tyrant. And now,” he said, pointing out at the ship, “we have guests.”

  I could see a small rowboat casting off from the larger vessel. I knew those boats to hold a dozen men. Tyrant would not be keen on either a Marine nor another pirate, especially on the island where his treasure is buried.

  “We got to hide, Fentin,” I said, pulling at his arm. “If they spy us, we’ll get no mercy.”

  He stood firm. “Can I trust you?” he asked.

  “What?” I said, desperately looking out to sea and back at Fentin.

  “Can I trust you?” he said, his face calm.

  “Aye. Nay. Does it matter? I’ll not burn you alive over a bonfire for fun, and that’s a good bit better than what ye’ll get standing here!” I said.

  “What’s your name?” he said, quietly, almost in a whisper.

  “You know my name, I’m Lady-“ I said.

  “No. Your birth name. The name yer Ma and Pa gave you when they looked down into your crib,” he said, his eyes locked onto mine.

  “Please, let’s go,” I said, knowing with each second the rowboat wa
s getting closer. If there was a spyglass on it and they were looking this way, it might already be too late.

  “Abbey,” I said, my eyes looking down. “Named for the church my Ma left me at. Abbey Blessed is what the Sisters o’ the Holy Christ sought to name me.” I raised my eyes and found his meeting mine.

  “It is nice to meet you, Abbey Blessed. I do like that name much better than Lady Brass,” he said. His lip curled up into a smile. “Fits you better.”

  “Harumph!” I said, crossing my arms and turning away from him. How dare this scaly minnow mock me. Yes, he was fair to lay eyes on, and his cock would surely give a good ride. But there were men like that aplenty. Find me a man who knew when to keep his mouth shut. A man like that would be worth his weight in silver.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, darting back into the forest.

  “By the Seven Seas…” I said, chasing after him.

  “Please,” I said, wheezing. “Please, mercy. I didn’t expect to die today.”

  Fentin looked back at me and laughed. “The pirate life is one of ease and comfort it seems. As you wish, we’ll make camp here,” he said.

  The little grove was flat clearing, light weeds poking up from the sandy soil but otherwise free of bushes and pricklers. Palm trees formed a ring around the grove, and many of their fronds lay around. Those would make good bedding for keeping the sand fleas off at night.

  We’d been rushing through the thicket and underbrush for hours. Sweat poured down my face, adding more salt to the saltwater that already covered me. My heart thundered in my chest, my arms trembled with exertion. “If all Marines are like you, I fear for the future of good honest piracy.”

  “Ha! Nay lass, not many Marines like me. And piracy, well, as long as some want to take instead of earn, there will be piracy,” he said, pulling a water skin from his satchel and taking a swig. He offered it to me.

  I grabbed at it, pulling the stopper out and taking a long drink. The warm water poured down my throat, soaking into the parched skin. Like luscious fire, it burned but I wanted more. I was greedy for it. I realized that I was sucking from an empty skin and pulled it from my mouth. “Sorry,” I said, wiping my mouth. I’d never been one to take more than my fair share.

  “When life gives ye rocky shallows, ye learn a new route,” Fentin said. His eyes looked upwards, locking on to a bundle of coconuts up in one of the palm trees. “And there be our new route.”

  My eyes followed his. “Fentin, that’s too high. Maybe I could shoot one off if I had dry powder,” I said, shaking my head. “But there’s no way-“

  Fentin dropped his satchel and began stretching, his sinewy muscles pulling to and fro. He slapped his chest several times, a most brutish behavior.

  My slit started to get slick. This masculine display having an effect on me. “You can’t be serious, Fentin. That must be twenty yards high. If you fall, I cannot catch you,” I said, pleading. “No need to lose your life over a coconut.”

  “Oh Abbey,” he said, walking over to the tree. He looked back towards me, “Sometimes you just need to make a stand and fight the fight.” He turned back and began climbing the tree.

  I did not have faith in his plan. But I watched, mouth open like a simpleton, as he climbed up and up. Instead of wrapping his arms around the trunk and hugging the tree to himself, his hands held the trunk. His toes also found purchase in the swaying wood somehow.

  I thought some kind of shadow had fallen over him, as a cloud that passed over the sun. His skin got darker, even on his fruits, dangling heavy between his legs. A wind picked up and I saw the shadow shift.

  It was fur! Not a shadow at all, but a coating of fur that had sprouted all over his body. I saw now that his hands now ended in long claws. An overwhelming sense of terror filled me. Such terror that I didn’t know what to do. Run?

  Up and up he went, until he reached the cluster of coconuts at the top. He brought one hand back and slashed at the green globes. A dozen woody canon balls plummeted to the earth. He came back down swiftly, the fur receding back into his body as he got closer to the ground. With a grunt, he let go of the tree and fell the last five feet.

  “What devilishness is this?” I said, making the sign of the cross on myself. “I do no deals with demons, foul creature! I resent thee and cast ye to Hades!”

  “These are ye better qualities, Abbey,” he said, bending over to collect the coconuts. “Ye would have more friends if you started with these instead of the Lady Brass stuff.” He ducked and a coconut hit the tree behind him.

  “Do not mock me, creature of the night! My own eyes did see your true form,” I said, hefting another coconut.

  “And now you take in this form,” he said, his hand gripping the meat between his legs. My eyes followed it as his hand stroked up and down. He let it go. “Is the butterfly evil because it was once a caterpillar?”

  “What? No, but-“ I said.

  “What dastardly plan do I plot, Abbey? I think ye can agree that if I meant ye harm, I had ample opportunity,” he said, picking up the coconut I’d thrown at the tree. He made a pile in the center of the grove. He found a large stone and brought it over. “I am different, aye, but only in some ways.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Stupid man! You could’ve died! I don’t care how much fur you can grow, it wouldn’t have saved you!” I said, throwing the coconut I held towards him.

  It rolled over and bumped his ankle. He bent over to pick it up. “The key is to find a good stone,” he said, patting the large stone in front of him. “Should be broad, but have a point in the middle. A strong corner.”

  He lifted the coconut in both hands and slammed it down. It cracked, spilling some coconut milk onto the sand. He held it over his mouth, letting it pour in. When it was empty, his two hands ripped it half. He held one half out to me.

  My stomach grumbled. I took it, pouting more than a little bit. I didn’t like depending on anyone else, especially a soldier of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. And a monster to boot! I bit into the soft flesh of the coconut, chewing the sweet fatty tissue.

  Fentin squatted there, watching me. I felt his eyes find my ears, my sloping shoulders. They took in my ample breasts, my belly and my strong ass. He chewed the coconut more slowly, the food only sating one kind of hunger. Every now and then his cock was twitch, betraying his other kind of hunger.

  His desire to pounce onto me. The thought was mad. Pirates and sailors do not lay together. It was a violation of the pirate code, to fraternize with the enemy. Punishable by death should any other corsair or cutthroat find out.

  His fate would not be much better if his superiors found out. To offer refuge or comfort to a pirate was to become one yourself. If his commander found out, he’d be tied to the mast and flogged bloody, and that was if the officer was feeling merciful.

  Off to the west, the sun made it’s last hurrah as it began to sink into its own molten orange reflection. I collected a bundle of the palm fronds and made two beds. We couldn’t light a fire: that would draw too much attention.

  “Do you have a plan, Fentin?” I said, watching him as he sat on the green palm leaves.

  He lazily plucked at the long leaves, holding one in his fingers and looking at it. “Aye, I do,” he said. “My ship was on patrol, and was set to rendezvous with her sister ship in a few days. The fire aboard my ship would have been seen.”

  My heart sank. Another Royal Navy ship appearing would not save me. But why would I expect it to. Being taken in chains back to London to hang was not the rescue I’d hoped for.

  I laughed, startling Fentin. Why did I think I deserved rescue? Silly ideas for a silly girl. I had to start being realistic. I had to remember what I was. Who I was. I was The Lady Brass, wanted for High Crimes of the Sea in six nations.

  “Ye need not look so bleak, lass. Should my ship come, I’d just tell them I was fortunate enough to find another survivor on the island. Ye will have to think on this,” he said, twirling the leaf around his f
ingers. “Would be me standing next to ye on the hangman’s scaffold if they discover our ruse.”

  “What? Why? Why would you do that?” I said, befuddled. “Is this a trick?”

  This time he laughed. “Nay, no trick. I never had the gift o’ glib. I’m just an honest man who’s done his fair share of bloody work. Sent men to their graves just like you. Maybe it’s time I do some kindness.”

  “I refuse,” I said. “I don’t need your charity.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I forced them back with all my being.

  “Aye, you do. Besides, charity is not something that can be refused,” he said, rising. He sauntered over to where I stood.