Fire Down Below

by Carly Roberts

  “And Tom?”

  I stood and walked over to the window, where the leaves of the lime trees were blowing in the sea breeze. “He courted me, wooed me, and I thought he loved me, but it turned out he only wanted the tavern, and the Sky Pearl. He never got it, though. He died without even having seen it. But he told Cook he had it, and that he would give it to him for a great deal of money. He was certain he could convince me to give it to him.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  I just smiled.

  “Now Cook is convinced you have it,” Sam said.

  “He believes it is in the house, or maybe buried in the foundations somewhere. He will tear the tavern apart to find it.”

  To his credit, Sam didn’t ask me where it was. He leaned against the table and folded his arms. “So what do you want from me? Do you want me to kill him?”

  “That in itself won’t stop others coming after it, drawn by the rumor that I have it.”

  “So? How can I help?”

  I nibbled my bottom lip. “I thought maybe you could lure them away.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You are going to tell everyone you have given it to me?”

  “I will give it to you, Sam. I have no need of a fortune. As long as I have my tavern and my girls, I will be happy. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to me. A frown flickered on his forehead. “They won’t believe you would just hand it to me. They’ll assume I’m a decoy.”

  “I know. But tonight, when I invite you to my bed, you will steal it, and then you can brag to your heart’s content about how you tricked me out of my precious jewel. I’ll have to take out a bounty on your head, of course, but I doubt it’ll be the first you’ve had.”

  He moved closer to me and leaned on the wall above my shoulder. I looked up into his eyes. For the first time since the tussle with Cook, I remembered how Sam had parted my legs beneath the table and pleasured me with his tongue.

  I blushed.

  Sam lips curved up. “When you invite me to your bed?”

  “Purely for show, Sam Bellamy. Don’t get any ideas.”

  We both knew the words were meaningless. I wanted him between my thighs more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.

  He caught a strand of my hair in his fingers. “You would really give me the pearl?”

  “If you can handle the attention, you are welcome to have it. I don’t want it.”

  “Why me?” he murmured. “There has been any number of sailors through your tavern over the past year. You could easily have given it to some other captain to spirit away. Why wait until the Whydah docked at Nassau?”

  “You really have to ask me that question?” My voice hitched. Didn’t he realize how much I loved him?

  His smile faded, and he cupped my cheek. “You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Maddie. You know I can’t say no.”

  “I know.” I reached up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. “Come to my room tonight, and we’ll see how the performance plays out.”

  Chapter Six

  The day passed with agonizing slowness. I felt on tenterhooks, knowing that at some point Cook was going to take his revenge on me. I did want Sam to kill him, but as I’d told Sam, that in itself wouldn’t be enough to keep the dogs away. Cook’s men knew of the pearl now, and they would continue to hound me until I caved and gave them the jewel.

  I was determined that wasn’t going to happen. The damned thing had only brought my father and me trouble, but that didn’t mean I was going to give it to the first person who asked. I couldn’t sell it, because it was worth far too much to achieve its proper price in Nassau. I couldn’t entrust it to anyone to take elsewhere to sell because I didn’t trust anyone further than I could spit, not even Sam.

  No, my only option was to give him the pearl and let him lure the dogs away. I had no doubt the state-of-the-art Whydah with its speeds of up to thirteen knots and its twenty-eight guns would provide more than a match for any other pirate who fancied getting his hands on the gem.

  Sam disappeared for the day, and I knew he’d be getting his ship restocked and outfitted ready for his next journey. Normally, he would have stayed in Nassau for a few weeks, especially if his ship had needed repairs, but the recently-upgraded Whydah required little work. After refreshing the supplies, I had no doubt that the captain would be sailing on to Tortuga or Port Royal, or heading back out to sea ready to capture booty from its next prize.

  Part of me wished Sam would stay longer—maybe even announce he’d decided life on the ocean was no longer for him, and that he wanted to stay by my side. But it was a dream. The man was born to sail the waves. Confined to shore, he would grow bored, drink too much, and grow fat and slow.

  Even if he professed his love for me, he would be unable to keep his roving eye off other women. While I didn’t care where he sowed his seed at the moment, if he were mine I would be hurt if he strayed, and that would lead to recriminations, arguments, sadness, and bitterness.

  It would never work. We both knew it, and we both understood that we were attracted to each other because of the ephemeral nature of our relationship.

  That didn’t stop me feeling wistful, though.

  *

  The wistfulness lasted until late afternoon, and then it became overshadowed by a growing excitement, nervousness, and anticipation as the evening neared.

  Two things were almost certainly going to happen that evening.

  I was sure that Cook’s frustration, which had been simmering for months, would boil over after our little confrontation. He would never be able to let me get the upper hand, and I was sure he would make his move tonight. During the day, I was surrounded by people, and he couldn’t risk killing me and being observed. As lawless as Nassau had become, I was well liked in the town and the rest of the locals would never stand for my outright murder. He would have to wait until I was on my own, which meant at night. He wouldn’t wait any longer. I’d pushed him too far.

  The second thing that was going to happen that evening was that I was going to get soundly fucked. At least, I hoped I was. I tried to rein in my expectations. Sam couldn’t possibly be as good in bed as all the girls said. No doubt the whole experience would be over in ten minutes, and I’d be left unsatisfied as always, looking at my partner’s back as he rolled over, and wondering when it would be my turn to be pleasured.

  Then I thought of how he’d spread my legs under the table and teased me so expertly to a climax, and my excitement and nervousness began to grow again. What did he do in bed that made him so skilled? Surely there was only a certain amount of ways a guy could fuck a girl—what made him so different?

  But even though I was relatively inexperienced where lovemaking was concerned, I knew it wasn’t necessarily about what position a couple had sex in, or what fetishes they indulged in. It was about taking the time to discover what your partner liked and ensuring they enjoyed themselves, and that was where my inexperience lay.

  Tom had taken his pleasure from me with no regard to my own, and I could not imagine it any other way. The thought of a man exploring me, of wanting to pleasure me, of teasing me to orgasm and drawing out the bliss rather than making me claw my way to the finish line on my own long after he’d passed it...

  The thought gave me goose bumps, and by the time the sun began to sink into the emerald ocean, my heart was racing and I felt as jittery as if I’d drunk too much of the highly-priced coffee I’d begun to acquire a taste for.

  I spent several hours with my gaze fastened on the door, waiting for Sam to show up, but the evening wore on, the sun set, and still he didn’t appear.

  The tavern grew raucous, heaving with the crew from the Whydah who knew they were due to set sail again the day after, and my girls were kept busy, as were those who poured the ale and wine for those dicing at the tables.

  During evenings like these, I spent my time walking around, making sure everyone was happy
, keeping tankards filled, plates full of food, and the girls busy with customers. I did this for a few hours, but eventually anxiety overtook my high spirits.

  Maybe Sam wasn’t going to show. If he didn’t, and Cook did decide tonight was the night to finish things, I was going to have to deal with him myself.

  Common sense told me to stay in the bar room as long as I could, until the last customer had left or passed out, surrounding myself with people so he would have no chance to approach me alone. In the end, though, sick with nerves and desperate for the waiting to be over, I left the tavern in Liza’s capable hands and disappeared upstairs to my private chambers.

  I walked along the corridor that ran the length of the tavern toward my bedroom. Candles in sconces cast pools of golden light on the floorboards, but the corners were filled with shadows. I walked quickly, my stomach churning, worried that somehow Cook had managed to slip through the busy room downstairs and find his way up here to ambush me.

  I reached the door to my room safely, opened it, and slipped inside. After closing the door, I leaned back on it and let out a long, relieved sigh.

  Then, on my neck, I felt the press of cold metal—the circular end of the barrel of a pistol.

  I froze, my heart thudding so loud I was sure everyone would be able to hear it above the noise in the tavern.

  “You took your time.” Sam’s lazy voice made me spin around.

  “You!” I slapped the barrel of the pistol away. “You damn near gave me a heart attack, Samuel Bellamy.”

  “That’s Captain Samuel Bellamy to you.” Laughing, he caught me by the hips and pushed me to the bed. The back of my thighs met the mattress and I sank onto my bottom. I gasped when he used his weight to push me onto my back and then lay on top of me so the two of us were a tangle of legs and petticoats.

  “Sam!” I rested my hands on his chest and pushed. It was like trying to lift a heavy oak wardrobe that had fallen on top of me.

  “What?” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight that streamed through the window. “Don’t you want to play anymore?”

  He lowered his lips to mine, and my stifled protest turned into a moan as he sank his tongue into my mouth and kissed me deeply.

  He must have gone somewhere to bathe again because he smelled of sandalwood and the scent of clean male, while he tasted of whiskey and something sweet—pineapple, maybe, with a little coconut. Catching my hands in his, he pinned them above my head, and for a good few minutes I could do nothing but lie there and let him kiss me until all my resistance had melted away and a shivery desire had taken its place.

  When he finally lifted his head, I looked into his eyes with helpless resignation.

  “I give in,” I said.

  He chuckled and kissed my neck. “Good.”

  “But Sam, shouldn’t we worry about Cook?”

  He continued to kiss up to my ear. “I have men stationed in the town and throughout the tavern. He won’t get to your room without me knowing about it.”

  “I didn’t see anyone.” My eyelids fluttered as he took my earlobe into his mouth and sucked.

  “You didn’t look. They’ll let me know if they see him. And don’t worry. I always come to bed with my weapon fully loaded.” He smirked.

  I licked my lips, tasting whiskey. “Are you drunk?”

  “No.” He kissed down my jaw and back to my mouth.

  “Sam...”

  “I’ve had one glass, Maddie. I wanted to keep my wits about me tonight.” He thrust his hips, and I felt his long, hard cock press against my mound. “For more than one reason.”

  My mouth went dry, and nerves washed over me. “I... um... I’ve changed my mind.”

  “No you haven’t.”

  “I have. I won’t be able to relax knowing Cook’s out there somewhere.”

  “Enough about Cook,” Sam said impatiently. “I’ve waited years to have you, Maddie, and I refuse to wait a minute longer. If I can’t take your mind off him for the next hour, I’ll be very surprised.”

  Chapter Seven

  I blinked. “Next hour?”

  “What?” He kissed my lips, slow and lingering. “You thought that once I finally got you into bed I’d want to get it all over within five minutes?”

  “I... um... I’m just not sure what there is to do for a whole hour.”

  He rubbed his nose against mine. “We could have fast sex four times, reasonable sex three times, or great sex once. Twice, if we’re lucky.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

  He laughed and kissed me again. Then he lifted his head and surveyed me with a wistful, slightly sorrowful stare. “Maddie, I—”

  I stopped his words with a kiss. “No,” I said, somewhat fiercely. “No promises you won’t be able to keep. I don’t want hearts and flowers, Sam. I just want to know what passion feels like. Just once.” My lips twitched. “Or twice. If we’re lucky. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t mean to make demands on you.” I didn’t want him to think I had any expectations beyond tonight. “If you would rather leave now, I’ll understand.”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “Why on earth would I want to leave?”

  “It seems unfair to have such expectations of you.”

  Now he looked completely bemused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Expecting you to give me pleasure...”

  “Madeleine, it really isn’t that difficult, I swear. Any decent man worth his salt should be able to ensure his woman enjoys her time in bed with him, and in fact it makes it more pleasurable for him if she enjoys it too.” He shifted to one side of me and stretched out. Resting his head on a hand, he traced the fingers of the other lightly across my breastbone.

  “What do you mean?” His words held no meaning, but they intrigued me. I felt as if he was taking me aboard his ship to some mysterious treasure island I’d never been to.

  He pursed his lips. “Did Tom ever give you an orgasm?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  Sam gave a short laugh that was half-amused, half-angry. “I swear, if the bastard was alive I’d have killed him for that.”

  I sighed and turned my gaze up to the ceiling. “’Tis done, Sam. Let it go.”

  “He seriously never gave you an orgasm?”

  “As I said, I am a lot less experienced than most people would think.”

  “I cannot believe you run a tavern.”

  “I’m a very good actress.”

  “You are. You act as if you know what men want in bed.”

  “You don’t have to know what’s in a sausage to eat one. In fact usually it’s best if you don’t.”

  He chuckled. “That may be so. But it is difficult for me to believe. You look...” His voice trailed off.

  I glanced at him. “Like a whore?”

  His eyes widened with shock. “God, no! Beautiful, Madeleine, I was going to say you look beautiful. Fuck. I cannot believe you said that.” He stopped stroking my skin and glared at me.

  “Sorry.” I hadn’t meant to make him angry. I knew I acted no different to the other girls—I wore the same tight bodices that propped my breasts up for display, and rouged my cheeks in the same way. He wouldn’t have hurt my feelings to tell me I looked like a prostitute.

  Reaching behind his head, he pulled undone the black velvet ribbon that tied his hair back and tossed it onto the floor. His dark hair fell about his face in silky strands.

  He ran a hand through it, then looked across the room, out of the window into the dark night.

  “Over the years, I both loved and hated coming to Nassau,” he admitted. “All the time I was at sea, I dreamed of you and couldn’t wait to see you. And then as soon as we docked and I entered the tavern and saw you with Tom, I couldn’t wait to leave again. I hated watching the way he treated you—with disdain, as if you were nothing, lower than low. It is a crime that you were married to that man at such a young age.”

  “It is the plight of many women
, I fear.”

  “I know. Were you faithful to him?”

  “Always.”

  “And you have not been with another man since he died?”

  I looked up at his stern, handsome face, his curious eyes. “No.”

  A frown flickered on his brow.

  “Do not flatter yourself that I was waiting for you,” I said, although I’d already told him as much earlier.

  “We shouldn’t have waited this long,” he said.

  “I am glad I did if only because morally I do not have to reproach myself. I have peace of mind, and that is no small thing in today’s world.”

  “I suppose.” He looked sad. Reaching out a hand, he linked our fingers. Was he wondering how different our lives would have been if we had married at a young age? Maybe if we’d met before he’d taken to the sea, he would have been content with a life as a tavern owner, living with one woman.

  I could hear my mother now: If ifs and ands were pots and pans, there’d be no need for tinkers’ hands...

  I didn’t want him to be sad. There was no point in regret. Life had dealt our hand of cards, and we just had to play them as best as we could.

  I wanted to see that mischievous glint reappear in his eye, and feel his lips on mine. I wanted his passion, not his melancholy. Lord knew I had enough of that myself.

  I rolled to face him. “You still haven’t explained what you meant about it being more enjoyable for a man if the woman receives pleasure. You forget what job I do, Sam. The door gets left open enough to let me know that men don’t always care if the woman has a good time.”

  He ran a finger across the swell of my breasts above the tight bodice. “That’s not what I meant. Maddie, you do... pleasure yourself?”

  “Yes, Mr. Nosey. I pleasure myself, as you so finely put it. Now you’re going to ask me to prove it, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “Not yet. The point is, do you understand what happens when you become aroused?”

  I nibbled my bottom lip, embarrassed that I sold sex for a living and yet couldn’t be sure to what he was referring. If and when I pleasured myself—and I was too tired to do so on a frequent basis—I usually did it through my clothing. “Um...”