Fire Down Below
by Carly Roberts
*
Copyright 2017 Carly Roberts
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is coincidental.
USA Today bestselling author Serenity Woods writing as Carly Roberts
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
FIRE DOWN BELOW
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
FIRE DOWN BELOW
(a traditional sea shanty)
Chorus:
There is fire in the lower hold,
There’s fire down below,
Fire in the main well,
The captain didn't know.
1. There is fire in the forepeak,
Fire in the main,
Fire in the windlass,
Fire in the chain.
Chorus:
2. There is fire in the foretop,
Fire down below,
Fire in the chain-plates,
The bosun didn’t know.
Chorus:
3. There is fire up aloft,
There is fire down below
Fire in the galley,
The cook he didn’t know.
Chorus:
Chapter One
The trade wind blew across the colonnade, carrying with it the fresh tang of oranges, grapefruits, and limes, and glittering sand from the beach.
I stood on the first floor balcony, resting against the post, and looked across the orchard to the busy town of Nassau. Beyond the port, the dying sun had bled into the sea, but the town displayed no sadness at its departure. If anything, the noise level was increasing every minute, the inhabitants growing more festive as the rising moon cast her magic over them.
The Whydah Galley sat motionless on the still ocean, a silhouette against the tangerine-colored sky. Its large crew had already come ashore, and most of them were either drinking ale and playing dice in the tavern room, or taking their pleasure from the girls in the chambers below my private quarters.
I hadn’t seen the ship’s captain yet, though.
I’d known “Black Sam” Bellamy for many years while he’d sailed as part of Captain Hornigold’s crew, but after a mutiny had removed Hornigold from that position, the crew had elected Bellamy as captain, and since then tales of him had only grown more and more incredible.
“The Prince of Pirates,” they also called him, while apparently he liked to refer to himself as “the Robin Hood of the Sea.”
I snorted. I hadn’t seen him for a year, but I doubted he’d changed that much. He wasn’t royalty, and he certainly wasn’t altruistic. Only one thing had ever been important to Sam Bellamy, and that was Sam Bellamy himself.
Below me, the leaves on the tree rustled. I leaned on the balcony railing and looked down. My heart raced, but I made sure my expression formed a glare. “Don’t think I can’t see you. You’re making more noise than a hundred raccoons, and you are about as ugly too.”
“I’m far more handsome than a raccoon,” the voice returned out of the darkness, “and my legs look better in silk stockings.” There was a distinct crack as his foot slipped on a branch. “Fuck.”
I tutted, stifling a chuckle. “Call yourself a gentleman?”
“Not at all.”
“The Prince of Pirates isn’t a gentleman?”
A hearty laugh rang across the orchard, and I saw a flash of scarlet from his waistcoat as he swung up the tree. “That’s not a name I give myself, ma’am, although I’m not adverse to it.”
I gave in then, and cast aside my scowl to replace it with a smile. “I knew you wouldn’t have changed.”
He pulled himself up another few branches then stopped to catch his breath. In the past, I’d watched him climb the rigging of a ship in seconds. Either he’d grown fat and slow, or he was terribly drunk. “I have changed,” he protested, finally appearing through the foliage. “Much has altered since my last visit to your establishment.”
“Indeed it has,” I said.
He reached the highest branch and contemplated the short distance across to the balcony before his gaze moved to me. “Yes, word reached me of Tom’s death last year.” He cocked his head. “‘I’m not sure whether to offer my condolences or my congratulations.”
“We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Sam.”
“No, ma’am. But I won’t talk about him as if he was beyond reproach. Tom was an ass, and I, for one, do not mourn his passing.”
I said nothing. Like his ship, the captain was silhouetted against the marmalade sky, but his visage was clear enough for me to see his clothing. He wore the long black velvet coat with the deep cuffs that had given him the nickname “Black Sam,” a red waistcoat over his white shirt, knee breeches, pale stockings, and buckled shoes. As usual, he had eschewed the traditional wig and had tied his long black hair in a band.
He could have been mistaken for a gentleman had he not sported a sword on his left hip, two dueling pistols in the sash across his chest, and a further two in his belt. They defined him as a pirate and a rogue.
I smiled. He definitely hadn’t changed.
He put one foot on the branch, and wobbled.
“If you break your neck,” I said mildly, “don’t come running to me.”
“Madeleine, I would row single-handed from Southampton to Nassau and climb a thousand trees to be by your side.”
“Sam, be serious for once. And why don’t you use the front door like everyone else?”
“God strike me down if I’m ever compared to everyone else,” he said, and ran across the branch to vault onto the balcony.
It was a nimble act, and I would have been impressed had he not immediately stumbled and slammed against the wall. Drunk, then, rather than fat and slow.
I watched him steady himself with a hand, flicking back his coat with the other to retrieve a white kerchief embroidered with the initial S, with which he proceeded to wipe his face.
No, he definitely hadn’t grown fat. His clothing clung to the same lean, muscular frame I remembered, and when he straightened, his face carried the wry twist to his lips and flash in his eyes that I suspected every woman within a hundred nautical miles had fallen in love with.
“For the love of God, don’t bow,” I scolded as he attempted it and nearly overbalanced. “Why are you already drunk when you’ve only just arrived at my tavern? Have you been drinking elsewhere?”
He pressed a hand to his chest as if the very notion had shocked him. “Maddie! You wound me. I but sampled a few decent vintages while carrying out some business with Richard.” He had trouble pronouncing the word ‘vintages’.
I raised an eyebrow. The handsome, smooth-talking, Irish quartermaster would have been the one to start the drinking, no doubt. “Actually, I believe you. You’ve probably only had one glass of wine. You never could hold your drink.” I led the way into my room.
“Don’t scold me, Maddie.” He caught my hand and turned me toward him. “I’ve been a mighty long time at sea, and you’re a sight for salt-sore eyes, that’s for sure.” He pulled me into his arms, surprisingly strong and steady for a drunken man.
I rested both hands on his chest and looked up at him. His blue eyes shone in the candlelight, filled with warmth I hadn’t expected to
see. I’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of his shoulders, and the way strands of his black hair escaped the band at the back to frame his face.
I’d loved him since the first time he’d swaggered into the Twisted Lime tavern all those years ago. With a confidence bordering on arrogance, a handsome face, and a body that made women weak at the knees, he was a man made for sex, and he’d been happy to demonstrate it as he took nearly all the women in the tavern to bed that first week—quite often more than one at a time.
He’d never approached me, though. As the wife of the owner of the tavern, I was practically the only woman in Nassau who was out of bounds, and thus the only one, I was sure, who had been unable to satisfy her secret desire for him.
He’d flirted with me when Tom was out of earshot, but he’d never once overstepped the boundaries and touched me. I’d cursed him for that as I’d lain awake at night staring up into the darkness with my husband snoring beside me, but I did respect him for it.
When Tom had died, part of me had wondered what would happen when Sam finally docked his ship in Nassau. I’d thought of little else during the first few weeks of my widowhood.
But as the months had gone by, reality had settled in like the fog that rolled off the ocean early each morning. Sam Bellamy was a pirate, married to the sea, a man who had not just one woman but probably ten or twenty in every port, and he would never be reconciled to hearth and home.
Still... that didn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun before he left.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I quivered in his arms, knowing that my eyes must be filled with longing.
Sam tipped his head to the side. “Madeleine... what’s on your mind? You’ve never looked at me like that in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Like what?” I asked somewhat breathlessly.
He slid an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his body, and lowered his lips until they were only an inch from mine. “As if you’ve been stranded on a desert island for thirty years without a drop of alcohol, and you’ve just found a bottle of rum.”
I could feel the heat radiating from his body even through his clothes. My hands itched to slide under his white shirt and touch his bare skin, to feel the defined muscles I knew lay beneath. I wanted to scrape my nails down his back and watch his eyelids lower with desire. Feel his tongue slide against mine, his hands on my breasts.
I’d spent hours dreaming about how he would take me—would he be rough, turn me over, thrust his way home with little thought to my pleasure? I was certain that wouldn’t be the case. I’d heard the girls talking after he’d called them to his room, and they’d all spoken with enthusiasm about how he made sure his companions came before he did, and how he liked to take the time to find out what turned them on.
I’d never been with such a man, and I yearned for it. I wanted to be made love to—I wanted him to kiss me while he moved inside me and teased me to fulfilment. I’d have given all the gold in the Bahamas for one such night, and I was sure he wouldn’t turn me down.
But I hesitated and then pushed him. “Sit.”
He flopped heavily into the chair behind him. “Maddie... ”
“Don’t say anything.” I moved away, putting distance between us, and began to pace the floor, my hands behind my back. “Sam, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s been a really hard year. Tom was well-respected, for all his sins, but since he died it’s been difficult for me to keep a hand on the reins. I’m managing, but it’s not been easy.”
I paused to look out of the window, seeing a squall blowing up to the east, the gunmetal clouds scuttling across the sky. “The worst thing is that Henry Cook claims Tom borrowed money from him before he died. He’s pressuring me to pay, and he says that if I refuse, he’ll take the tavern from me.”
It was a half-truth—there were other reasons why Cook was proving a nuisance, but I couldn’t tell Sam the whole story. I did, however, need his help, and I hoped he’d listen to my plea and come to my aid while he was in Nassau.
“That’s not all though,” I whispered, watching the wind whip the waves into white horses that galloped onto the beach. I hadn’t planned to talk to Sam about this, but I’d also had a few glasses of wine, and the alcohol, along with the melancholy that encroached with the darkness, loosened my tongue.
“It’s been a lonely year,” I confided. “While Tom was alive, I took no other man to my bed. And since he died... There were plenty I could have called on, but I have not had the courage. I play the part of the mistress of the tavern well, but I am ashamed to say I am... inexperienced in the bedroom.”
I swallowed a nervous lump that had appeared in my throat. It wasn’t an easy admission. I organized the sexual happiness of men every day, and looking after the girls was a big part of my life. But none of them would ever guess how little direct experience I had of the things they discussed.
Tears filled my eyes. “Tom took his pleasure from me with no thought to my own. I yearn for more, Sam, but I need someone who will show me the way. Who will be kind and understanding. Do you think you could be that man?” I turned to face him, holding my breath, wondering what his reaction would be.
He was asleep.
I pursed my lips and studied him for a moment, hands on hips. He’d slumped in the chair and rested his head on a hand. A light snore emitted from his mouth.
There, I thought, that’s a lesson to you, Madeleine. He wasn’t the answer to my dreams. He was just the same old rogue he’d always been, and it was best I remembered that.
Needing to keep him sweet, I fought against the urge to throw a bucket of water over him. Instead, taking a blanket from the bed, I covered him with it.
Then, leaving him sleeping, I went out and shut the door.
Chapter Two
“He’s awake.”
Liza joined me at the bar where I was cleaning tankards. She leaned on the wooden surface, her blue eyes dancing, resting her generous breasts on her arms so the creamy globes almost popped out of her tight bodice. She was one of my best girls, always smiling, confident and sexy, a favorite with most of the men, and I loved her dearly.
“I bet he has a hangover the size of New Providence.” I placed the glass I held on the table with a bang. The night before, I’d returned to my room an hour after I’d left it to find Sam had made it to my bed and crashed out there. I’d tried to wake him, but he’d been like a dead man, his rattling snores the only sign that he hadn’t actually kicked the bucket in the night.
“Not at all,” she replied cheerfully. “He is in a remarkably good mood.” She winked at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Then provide him with a hot bath and see to his needs, if you wish.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes lit up.
I waved my hand. After several hours of lying in a spare room, staring up into the darkness, I’d promised myself I’d put any notion of taking Sam Bellamy to bed to the back of my mind.
I did, however, still want to ask for his help with Henry Cook, so I needed him in an excellent mood. “Give him what he wants, Liza. I need him buttered up.”
“Literally?” She grinned.
“If that’s what it takes, then please, feel free to use your imagination and the contents of the pantry.”
She pushed herself off the bar, clearly excited at the prospect. “I’ll take Kate too, shall I?”
I threw up my hands. “What is it with the man? Can he not be satisfied with just one woman for a change?”
“He said he’s in the mood for some fun.”
“Then do as you wish—’tis none of my concern,” I snapped, and stormed off.
*
Half an hour later, I stomped up the stairs with some fresh bedclothes. There was no way I was going to sleep in my bed when a pirate who smelled of alcohol and reeked of fish had left his noxious scent on the sheets.
I strode up the corridor, then slowed my pace as I heard voices and laughter emitting from my room. Davy Jones�
�s arse, was the man still in the bath?
Pushing open the door, I marched into the room.
My beautiful iron tub in its polished wooden frame sat to the right of the room near the doors onto the balcony, which they’d opened to let the sunlight in. It streamed across the floorboards and slanted across the bed, casting everything in gold.
I stopped abruptly. Liza sat astride Sam in the bath. She still wore her cotton chemise, which clung to her back, practically transparent where it was soaked through. I suspected he’d pulled her into the bath while she was undressing—not that she appeared to be protesting overmuch.
She was riding him slowly, and with every thrust of her hips another cupful of water sloshed over the side onto the floorboards.
Behind him, red-haired Kate was leaning over him, kissing his lips, her bare breasts swinging, her skin a rosy cream in the early sunlight.
I cleared my throat.
Kate lifted her head, and all three of them glanced over at me.
“Maddie.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You could have knocked.”
I put my hands on my hips. “This is my room.”
“Good point.” He grinned, looking not in the least embarrassed at being caught in flagrante delicto.
I gestured at Kate, and she hid a smile, gathered up her clothes and scuttled out of the room.
“Downstairs please, Liza,” I said.
“Aw.” Sam held her hand to stop her rising. “Come on, Maddie. Just a few more minutes. I don’t like to leave a woman unfulfilled.” He cupped Liza breasts and ran his thumbs over her nipples, and she shivered.
I plonked the clean bedding on the mattress and walked across to the chair in which he’d fallen asleep the night before. “I want to talk to you,” I said, sitting, crossing my legs, and folding my hands in my lap. “And I’m not moving until you’re done.”
“Fair enough.” Sam laughed and pulled Liza toward him, and she fell onto his chest with a splash. Liza gave me a quick glance, but he slid a hand into her hair, turned her head to claim her lips, and kissed her hungrily.
I glared at him, but he’d obviously decided to pretend I wasn’t there, and I watched as he moved his hands to Liza’s hips and encouraged her to move again. She did so, rocking on top of him, unmindful of the water sloshing around. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed herself upright. Sam caught hold of her wet chemise, pulled it over her head, and dropped it onto the floor. Then he cupped her breasts again and squeezed her nipples, and Liza moaned and thrust harder.
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