Once a Scoundrel

by Mary Jo Putney

  Wanting to see more of him, she felt for the hem of his long shirt, then slid her hands underneath. His chest was a miracle of power and firm muscles. She kneaded upward until her palms skimmed over his nipples. Curious, she tweaked them. “Do you feel this as I do?”

  He sucked his breath in. “I’m not sure if the feeling is identical, but I am feeling. A lot!”

  She laughed, a little giddy that she could affect him so strongly. “If I were a bold adventuress in one of my books, I might rip your shirt off, but linen isn’t easy to tear!”

  “Very true. Not to mention that replacing clothing on shipboard can be difficult.” He caught hold of the shirt’s hem with both hands and yanked it up over his head.

  Straddling his lap gave her a splendid view of the hard ripple of his muscles and those truly magnificent shoulders. “Thank you! You look very well in your tailored sea captain’s uniform, but you look even better like this.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He sounded embarrassed by the compliment. “Clothing is interesting, isn’t it? The primary purpose is to protect us from the weather and the hazards of everyday life, but a strong secondary purpose is to identify ourselves to the world, and to the opposite sex.”

  She laughed. “If you’ve ever been to a society ball, you must know that the primary purpose of clothing can be preening for the opposite sex! By both men and women. Not so very different from peacocks and other creatures. Fine feathers are a vital part of the mating game.”

  “True. But you, my lady bright, need no plumage. You are breathtakingly beautiful just as nature made you.” He peeled her robe from her shoulders. It dropped around her waist, leaving her entire upper body bare. She was glad there was so little light because she suspected she was blushing.

  “You look so soft and . . . edible,” he murmured, both gaze and hands caressing every visible inch of her. “I’m tempted to lick you all over, but that would take quite some time and probably wear out my tongue.”

  She giggled. She never giggled! “Is intimacy supposed to include laughter?”

  “Sometimes humor is a delightful ingredient of desire. Other times, crazed passion rules and there is no time for laughter.” He caught her around the waist and transferred her to the mattress, then twisted down so they were lying face-to-face on their sides. “Both are good because shared laughter can be as intimate as touch. Sometimes even more so.”

  “Your thoughts sound very worthy of analysis, but I’ll consider them later,” she murmured. “My logical capabilities aren’t working just now.”

  “Mine are largely paralyzed as well,” he admitted. “You are so shockingly beautiful, so desirable, that I can think of little else.”

  His gaze warmed her to her marrow. Though technically she still wore her robe, it was falling behind her so that she was bare enough for him to run his hand caressingly from breast to waist and along her outer thigh. When his hand reached her knee, he leaned into another kiss.

  She rolled closer so that her bare breasts pressed softly against his equally bare chest. “I love this touching,” she breathed. “I’m beginning to understand the appeal of marriage since it grants license to do this all the time.”

  “Marriage grants license, but true intimacy comes from trust and caring.” He rubbed his chin affectionately on her temple, but his hand began to move again. Up her thigh, closer and closer to the mysteries above. She gasped when he first touched the moist, hidden cleft beneath the triangle of golden hair.

  She almost cried out at the sheer raging sensations triggered by that contact. She felt as if flames burned from his fingers into the deepest, most secret places of her body. Then he began stroking gently and not only logic but all thought disintegrated into intoxicating pleasure.

  Again, he kissed her deeply, distracting her from the increasing intimacy of his touch as his fingertips explored the delicate, insanely sensitive hidden folds. Deeper, sliding, probing, building unbearable heat until she was frantic with need.

  With shattering suddenness, the coiling fire within exploded into coruscating flame, annihilating everything but the passion that ignited every fiber of her being. She convulsed, clinging to him desperately so that she wouldn’t tumble into the abyss.

  Consuming fire faded, leaving her limp and profoundly satisfied. She had never felt so close to another person in her life. “If I’m sinning,” she said weakly, “I’m all in favor of it!”

  He laughed and gathered her close, his hand stroking her back tenderly. As he did, she realized there was a part of him that was still tense and unsatisfied.

  She said hesitantly, “I think that was the end of chapter one, but there is another chapter yet unfinished.” She slipped her hand under his drawers and found that rather alarming proof of maleness. When she clasped him, she felt the shock wave through his whole body.

  “You don’t have to do this!” he gasped. “Not if you don’t want to.”

  “How can I know if I want to if I don’t try?” she asked reasonably. She squeezed him gently and he almost stopped breathing altogether. “But you’ll have to tell me what to do.”

  “What you’re doing,” he said in a choked voice. “Perhaps . . . pull a little.”

  She did as he suggested with spectacular results. He jerked in her hand and his hips thrust against her. He culminated with a spasm of release as he crushed her close. The inherent violence was alarming, but also satisfying. She loved that she could give her strong, confident sea captain such pleasure.

  As his body eased, he said, “You’re a swift learner, my lady bright.” A small hand towel hung on a bar on his bedside table and he reached for it so he could clean them both up. He tossed the towel aside when he was done and cuddled her close again.

  “I’m so glad you came tonight,” he whispered. “Having you with me is extraordinary.”

  “It certainly was for me,” she agreed. Her hand still rested on his genitals, which were now soft and intimate rather than threatening. “But surely not as extraordinary for you?”

  Recognizing her barely veiled question, he said, “A man who spends most of his time at sea doesn’t have a lot of opportunity for rakish behavior.”

  “You’ve never been married?”

  “No, the closest I’ve come to that is a long-term affair with a widow in Bristol. Whenever the Zephyr landed there for refitting and repairs, I’d visit my lady friend. She was warm and welcoming and a fine cook. We always enjoyed each other’s company.”

  “She’s gone now?” Rory asked quietly.

  “Yes, she died of lung fever one winter.” He sighed. “I didn’t find out until months later, when we visited Bristol again.”

  Sensing his sadness, she asked brightly, “Since you’re talking about the past, I think it’s jolly well time you told me the history of you and Malek. I can’t wait to hear all about it!”

  Chapter 18

  “I can’t avoid it any longer, can I? But, first, we reposition ourselves.” Gabriel rolled Rory onto her back and tied the sash of her robe. “This is necessary or I’ll be too distracted to speak coherently. Would you like a glass of claret?”

  “Sharing wine with you in bed sounds deliciously decadent.” She scooted up against the headboard, tucking a pillow behind her. Her unbound golden hair cascaded lushly over her shoulders and breasts.

  Gabriel donned his own robe, then unlocked his liquor cabinet and removed a bottle and two sturdy glass tumblers. He poured the wine and handed it to her with a courtly bow. “To my lady bright, the most dazzling star on the Middle Sea.”

  She raised her glass in return and gave him a smile that made him feel ten feet tall. “And to my captain, who has taken me somewhere I’ve never been before.”

  They clinked their tumblers and drank, then Gabriel gave in to impulse and kissed her again. She kissed him back, murmuring, “I feel cherished and decadent in the best possible way!”

  Unable to remember when he’d felt so content, he settled on the bed beside her. She said, “
When you were unconscious, Malek told me you’d saved his life again. What was the first time? Part of your mysterious past, I assume.”

  He turned the tumbler absently, gazing into the ruby depths. “It was over ten years ago. I’ve told you about being disowned and returning to the sea on a merchant ship. The Sea Song. I’d worked my way up to being second mate and was hoping to have more influence with the captain, who was a little lax in his ship’s security.” He sipped at the claret. “Which was probably why we were taken by an Algerian corsair.”

  She caught her breath, shocked by the revelation. “You were enslaved? Was it by Malek?”

  “No, a different reis. But Malek bought me and some other sailors to work on a ship of his.” He glanced sideways at Rory. “One of the other men was Jason Landers’s father, which is how I came to know the family. We’ve been friends ever since, to our mutual benefit.”

  “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “So when Jason Landers was going off to sea, his father asked you to take him on and make sure he was well trained and cared for.”

  He nodded. “It was no hardship; Jason is a born seaman. In return, I have friends and a really good shipyard on that side of the Atlantic if I need repairs.”

  “So going back to the Barbary Coast and your being enslaved,” she said encouragingly.

  “Experienced European sailors are prized and valuable because we generally have superior ship and artillery skills. I brought a good price,” he said dryly. “Malek rather liked me and regularly suggested that I turn renegade and embrace the Muslim faith. I would have my freedom and I could captain one of his ships.”

  She sipped her wine, her gaze not leaving him. “Clearly you turned him down.”

  “I’m not a very good Christian, but I realized that the faith I was raised in was too much a part of me to renounce.”

  Her brows furrowed thoughtfully. “When one is forcibly removed from one’s own world, preserving as much of one’s identity as possible must feel very necessary.”

  He hadn’t thought of it in those terms. “That’s it exactly. Despite the advantages of turning renegade, few captured Christians do so. At any rate, I worked on one of Malek’s local boats that sailed mostly around the harbor of Algiers. I learned a lot about the language, customs, and waterways and considered ways to escape.”

  “Is that how you escaped?”

  “Oh, no, the story is much more complicated! I was getting ready to make my attempt to escape when Gürkan came. He’s Malek’s second cousin, a rich and powerful merchant based in Constantinople. He’s well known at the imperial court and has several government posts in places like the customs department. He and his younger brother came to Algiers to build their own corsair fleet, and he called on his cousin Malek for help.”

  “And then betrayed him,” Rory said flatly. “How did it happen?”

  “Malek was flattered by the attention of his older and wealthier cousin. He thought they were allies. Instead . . .” Gabriel shook his head. “There’s an old Arabic saying. ‘I, against my brothers. I and my brothers against my cousins. I and my brothers and my cousins against the world.’ Gürkan didn’t want an ally; he wanted Malek and his sailors. He captured all of us, including Malek, and chained us to the rowing benches of a corsair galley.”

  Rory sucked her breath in. “How did you escape?”

  “Working together, Malek and I managed to free ourselves of our chains and take over the galley, and then the Zephyr, which was Gürkan’s newest prize and his headquarters. Gürkan wasn’t on the Zephyr when we took it, but his younger brother was. I killed him in the fight, thereby sparing Malek the crime of killing his own kin.” Gabriel poured himself more wine, preferring to drown the memory.

  “I’m sure it was more complicated than you’re letting on.”

  “Yes, but it was a lot of years ago, and what we did was necessary. When the dust settled, Gürkan had pulled out of Algiers and Malek was in possession of all Gürkan’s ships, warehouses, and trading goods in the area. He’d become a much wealthier man, so he suggested that Gürkan should stick to the eastern end of the Mediterranean.”

  “After all you did for Malek, did he keep you enslaved?” she asked, frowning.

  “We negotiated.” Gabriel smiled a little. “Or more accurately, Malek wanted to keep me so he tried to find conditions under which I’d willingly work for him in Algiers as a free man. And while he was talking, I seized the Zephyr and escaped with as many of my fellow Christian slaves as I could manage. Malek was not happy, but I think he felt he owed me too much to pursue us. Not that I think he could have caught the Zephyr. She’s the fastest ship I’ve ever sailed in, which has proved useful in my shady career.”

  “Good heavens!” Her eyes were wide with admiration. “I would love to weave your story into one of my novels!”

  He smiled crookedly. “It was painful, bloody, and difficult and I will not give you more details, my charming little ghoul. I claimed the ship as my prize and returned my fellow freed slaves to safety. Some are still part of my crew.”

  “You’re a hero, my captain,” she said seriously. “You freed yourself and a number of other captives and have become a man of means as a ship owner and captain. Surely your horrid grandfather would be proud of you.”

  Gabriel snorted. “He would condemn me for being taken captive in the first place. To him, the only kind of honor that matters comes from the Royal Navy. I find it easier to respect Malek, actually. He is a man of his time and place, as we all are, but he’s also a man of honor. Which is why we haven’t been at each other’s throats despite that very adversarial history.”

  “Complex relationships are fascinating,” she murmured, her eyes out of focus.

  “You may take the essence of my relationship for one of your stories, but only if you change the facts out of all recognition.”

  She nodded. “That’s fair.”

  He gazed at her, his gut knotted at the thought that her stories might be locked forever with her in some damnable harem. That wouldn’t happen if he could help it, but he had no idea what he might be able to do to save her from such a fate. Better to think about the present. “Tomorrow morning, or I suppose it’s later this morning by now, the three Muslim soldiers who died in the attack will be given burials at sea.”

  “Should Constance and I come, or are no women allowed?”

  He hesitated. “I’ll check with Malek and his imam. I think they’ll let you attend the service, though in your most conservative, unobtrusive clothing.”

  “Long dark gown and maximum head scarf,” she said with a nod. “Unless it’s forbidden, I’d like to attend. Those men died for all of us.”

  “Exactly. I think that Malek and his men would be pleased by a show of respect from two foreign ladies.”

  “What is a Muslim funeral like? I’d like to know what to expect.”

  “The details vary greatly,” he explained. “Ideally, a Muslim is buried in the earth within a day or so. If a ship is too far from land for that to be practical, burial at sea is permitted. The bodies will be sewn into shrouds with weights so they’ll sink quickly, and sent into the sea facing Mecca. Prayers will be said, but the service is otherwise simple.”

  “We can manage that.” She smothered a yawn. “I’d love to stay the night, but I think it’s time to return to my cabin.”

  Reluctantly he said, “You’re right. I’ll escort you back.”

  “I’ll probably not be seen by anyone.”

  “Nonetheless.” He swung out of the bed and offered his hand to help her to the floor.

  She slid her feet into the light slippers that she’d worn coming in and kicked off when things got interesting. After pulling her hair back in a loose knot, she tightened her sash, making sure she was completely covered.

  They stood in front of the hidden door, their gazes locked. She was so beautiful, so warm and open. It seemed impossible that she could care for a man like him, but he couldn’t doubt that the emotion between them was
mutual. “I wish so much you could stay,” he said painfully.

  “There will be some other nights between now and Constantinople,” she said. “If you want me, I’ll take advantage of every one of them, and of you.”

  “I’ll take you up on that, my lady bright.” He drew her into a hug, engulfing her in his arms as if his body could protect her from all danger.

  She clung to him for long moments, then stepped back, her face resolute. “Good night, my captain.”

  Silently he opened the door and gestured for her to go ahead. Then he followed her down the narrow passage and into the wider one where her cabin was. They didn’t touch, because they might be unable to release each other again.

  When she reached her cabin door, she looked back for one last intimate smile. Then she turned the key, opened the door, and disappeared.

  He returned to his cabin, feeling gut-punched. There had to be a way to free her and her cousin and the crew of the Devon Lady. But he didn’t know what it might be. Any chance of success must be wrenched from events as they unfolded.

  * * *

  When Rory quietly closed the cabin door, she was unsurprised to hear the squeak of her cousin’s springs, and a sleepy voice saying, “So you’re safely home again. How did your clandestine visit go?”

  Rory sank wearily onto the foot of her cousin’s bunk. “I think I love him, Constance. And I think he loves me. We stopped short of endangering my virginity, but I learned that there is much that can be done without going too far.” She smiled reminiscently, still tingling in unnamed parts of her body.

  “I’m glad,” Constance said softly. “It was dangerous to meet him, but with so little time before our journey ends, I think you were wise to take the risk.”

  Rory turned, barely able to make out the pale oval of her cousin’s face. “What about you, Constance? You also have a man you care for deeply, and you’re a widow. Why not take advantage of your circumstances?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about that!” Constance said, surprised. “You’re always the adventurous one, not me. But perhaps this time I should be reckless. Do you think Jason would be interested?”