Conquered by the Captain (The Conquered Book 1)

by Pippa Greathouse

  He heard a mutter and smacked her again, this time, on the other cheek.

  "Gregory!"

  "Do you need more?"

  A shake of her head caused her long blonde curls to bounce. He reached in again and entered her with one finger, tapping on the front of her channel.

  Her lips parted slightly, and she came apart with a guttural groan, followed by more, as her little delicate body shook.

  She was even warmer, now, and wetter, as she pushed back against his hand. He rubbed her wetness against his fingers and used it to moisten her. But as soon as he reached forward and touched her button, she arched her back and her bottom thrust upward. He leaned down to kiss the spot between her bottom and thighs and gave her a small nip.

  She squealed, and he chuckled.

  "Such a lovely little bottom," he said softly. "Sweetheart, do you want to help me undress? Then, I promise, you can come again before it's time for me to take you. But I can't wait much longer. Are you ready?"

  She was still panting, but he stood her to her feet. Her cheeks were crimson, and he leaned forward to kiss her face.

  Slowly, she reached forward with trembling fingers, helping him with his waistcoat. But she was shaking so badly, it was difficult. He patiently guided her fingers through the buttons.

  She had stopped biting her lower lip, when she saw his chest. Her mouth formed an 'O' as she began to smooth her hands down the front of his chest. "Gregory." She breathed a soft sigh. She walked around him, touching his back, his shoulders, before coming back to face him.

  Slowly, she lowered to her knees. Her hands were trembling again as she reached for his trousers, looking up for permission. He smiled, and she began.

  Gregory took her delicate hands in his, guiding her as she managed to undo his clothing enough to allow his thick member to spring free.

  She gasped, staring. Her eyes rose to meet his and then lowered again.

  "Oh, my," she exclaimed softly.

  Gregory watched her, as she reached toward him and stopped. "May I…touch you, sir?"

  He took her hands in his and brought them around his shaft.

  "It's velvety," she whispered. A smile played across her lips as she leaned forward to kiss the tip. "You're beautiful, sir."

  Gregory laughed softly. The look of fascination on her face was enchanting. He drew her up from her knees and lifted her in his arms, lowering her to the bed. Bringing up her legs, he scooted her thighs apart and leaned down, admiring her blonde, downy softness. He kissed the warm folds between her thighs and ran his tongue upward toward her button, circling with his tongue. When she arched her back, he knew she was close. Sucking lightly, he waited.

  She came apart. Her reaction was strong and her beautiful mouth opened. "Oh!"

  "Sweetheart, I'm going to begin entering you. Is that all right?"

  "Yes! Please, Gregory. I want you."

  Slowly, he began to give gentle thrusts. He could feel her softness around him as he penetrated. She winced only slightly, but with each movement, he knew he was closer. When he was up against her maidenhead, he stilled.

  Her eyes widened. "You stopped. What is it?"

  "Don't look so reproachful, sweetheart. I want to let you know that it's going to hurt for just a minute. After that, it will stop."

  She gulped. "Please tell me when?"

  "I will."

  He brought one hand down and began its circling motion again as he gave a few smaller thrusts. She was getting closer.

  Her back began to arch, and he whispered to her, "Now." He leaned down to put his mouth over hers. As she shattered, he gave one primal thrust.

  He could both feel and hear her scream into his mouth. She was panting and lay still.

  "Sweetheart? Are you all right?"

  A few shallow breaths and she stared up with reproachful eyes, blinking. "It hurt."

  "Yes, I warned you. But it should never hurt like that again."

  She nodded, a tear making its way down her cheek. He moved to kiss it.

  Slowly, he began to move inside her again, gently, until he felt the tension of her body build upward again.

  "Gregory, I—" she opened her mouth and suddenly came apart in his arms. At the same time, so did he.

  Neither of them moved. It was a long time, before he moved behind her and turned her over onto her side.

  "I love you, my darling girl," he whispered into her ear, just before both of them fell asleep.

  She opened her eyes in the middle of the night, smiling, with Gregory cocooned around her, a grin on his face. The worries of pleasing him were gone now. He had taken her several more times, once lying on the braided rug across the floor, once sitting in his lap on the chair, once lying back on the table. And once in front of the windows on the velvet pillows. She'd been able to look up into his eyes and see the night sky full of stars behind him. And, once, he had taken her from behind, lying over pillows. When, finally, she'd closed her eyes in sleep, she knew he'd been right. They were perfect for each other.

  Chapter 17

  Arriving on The Arabella

  "Hurry, my love. There is to be a carriage waiting for us in a few moments. Mercer has gone to fetch them."

  "I'm coming, Gregory. Don't fret." He heard her as she turned back. "Chloe, are you sure you won't come with us?"

  "No, ma'am, but thank you. I'm going to read the book you bought me."

  Gregory shook his head. "If you wish to see Mr. Picou, my darling, I suggest you move along." He put his head back into the cabin where Chloe was helping to tie Bella's dress in the back. "But you don't necessarily have to see him. I can take care of this for you."

  She shook her head. "I want to see the look on his face when he finds out you're my husband," she said, grinning. "Please, though? Don't get too far away from me?"

  "Trust me, sweetheart. You won't be allowed out of my sight."

  Benny, watching the plank, saw their visitor first. "Captain?" he called out.

  Earl joined him, next to the side, and they both looked down.

  "Who's that?"

  A gentleman was coming up the plank, with a portfolio under one arm.

  Gregory moved closer. The three of them stood there, waiting.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen." He bowed.

  Earl, in his usually friendly fashion, approached. "How may we help you, sir?"

  "My name is Emery Carlson. I'm looking for the captain of the Charlotte, but I was informed she has gone down at sea. However, I also heard that the captain and most of the crew survived, and they might possibly be aboard the Mermaid's Revenge. However, I don't seem to find that one in the harbor."

  "You were informed correctly, sir." Earl turned to Gregory. "This is Captain Gregory Smythe. I'm the chief-mate, Lord Darby."

  Gregory shook Carlson's extended hand. "We did indeed lose the Charlotte to a cannon in the side. This is our new ship, the Arabella."

  "Then you are indeed the man I wish to see. I have a claim here—" He paused. "Let me show you." Reaching into his portfolio, he took out a folder and removed a set of papers. "The claim—claims—" he corrected himself. "Are actually for two young ladies who were supposed to be traveling aboard the Charlotte. A Miss Arabella St. John and a Miss Lily Collingwood. The man who took it out claims both ladies perished. The policy was taken out two months ago by a Mr. Claude Picou. He turned, as a commotion erupted down on the deck, and turned to stare downward. His smile faded. "The gentleman you see, strutting about like a peacock down on the dock? That's Picou."

  Gregory's vision followed the direction in which he pointed and turned toward him.

  "Mr. Carlson, you may be pleased to know that the commander and I each have someone here you would be quite interested in meeting. A moment, please?"

  As if on cue, the door to the captain's cabin opened, and Arabella came out onto the deck. She glanced from Earl, who had turned away toward the starboard side, to Gregory, and then to the man she'd never before seen.

  "Gregory?"
her green eyes were wide. "What is it?"

  He lifted her hand to his lips and moved her over in front of him. "My love. Mr. Emery Carlson, Mrs. Arabella Smythe. Formerly, Miss Arabella St. John."

  Carlson had a wide grin spread across his face now. Earl walked up, leading Lily by the hand. With a big smile, he introduced her as the former Miss Lily Collingwood, who was now Lady Darby.

  "I don't understand." Arabella stared curiously up toward her husband.

  Carlson bowed to her. "Ah, but I do. And what I see deserves some further investigation into the affairs of Mr. Claude Picou. It seems there have been some dealings with privateers recently that are quite suspicious. I suppose each of you will go down and greet him, while I watch. I must say, I can't wait to observe his face." He looked from Earl to Gregory. "I have but one request."

  Gregory frowned. "And that is?"

  "Please bear with me. I would like to escort each of your brides down separately. It will be enough of a shock for him to see them one at a time. I dare not risk causing a heart failure and having to pay his policy."

  "No." Gregory and Earl both spoke at once. Gregory continued. "You may escort the ladies down, but the commander and I will be following behind each of them, quite closely. That's the only way we will allow it. That must be understood."

  Carlson nodded eagerly. "Of course." He held out an arm to Lily. "Lady Darby?"

  But they were just about to go down, when Gregory stopped them. "Carlson? A question, please."

  Carlson turned back.

  "I wish to know exactly how much the policy was for." Gregory's eyes were narrowed with suspicion."

  "Absolutely, sir. Two hundred fifty thousand American dollars." He met Gregory's gaze squarely. "Each."

  The glances Earl and Gregory exchanged blazed with fire.

  "Bloody bastard," they both growled at once.

  "And you might also like to know," Carlson said. "He attempted to insure the Charlotte, as well. But when I assured him that any payment would go to the owner of the ship, he withdrew the offer. I do hope, however, that you had her insured."

  Gregory didn't answer. His jaw was chiseled, his expression formidable. Arabella turned to put a comforting hand on his arm, but Lily chose that moment to turn to her.

  "Would you like to go down first?"

  Bella's eyes left her husband. "I'll wait, Lily," she said softly. "Gregory and I have a perfect view from up here. Besides, I want you to come first, for a change."

  Lily's bright smile lit her eyes as she leaned over and kissed Bella's cheek. "Thank you, my friend." She tucked her hand into Carlson's offered arm and slowly started down, as Earl followed closely behind, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

  Arabella and Gregory hung back, eager to watch. She leaned up on tiptoe to whisper into Gregory's ear. "I hope she manages to show him up for the cad he is," she confided. "You don't think Earl will punch him, do you? He might be arrested."

  Gregory patted her shoulder. "Fear not, my love. Earl promised Lily he wouldn't lay a hand on Picou."

  Arabella smiled and gave a relieved sigh. He was so wise and always planned for every possible event. "You have already spoken about it?"

  "Encountering Picou was inevitable. We discussed measures to handle him."

  Bella gave Gregory a lingering kiss on his lips, ignoring the late afternoon sun shining overhead. When he sought to deepen the kiss, she giggled. "Behave. I don't wish to miss anything." Her eyes sparkled. "Knowing Lily, this promises to be good."

  "True enough." Gregory nodded. "But don't forget that thought. I intend to make good on it. If you're trying to distract me, it's working."

  Bella grinned back at him. But Lily was almost to the bottom now. She appeared every inch the proud lady, as she reached Picou.

  The man had a half- dozen friends surrounding him. He watched as Lily came slowly and elegantly down the plank. At first, his facial expression seemed a bit disappointed that his future mistress had survived.

  Picou's recovery was quick, however. He moved forward and rushed the last few inches to greet her, reaching to take her white, silk gloved hand and raising it to his lips. Turning toward his friends, he flashed an arrogant smile. "I am so glad you managed to survive, my beautiful Lily. I declare, the lovely shade of your dress makes your eyes fairly sparkle."

  "Do you like it, Mr. Picou?" Lily's voice drifted just enough to carry back to the ship. "I must admit, I didn't select it myself. I worried the color might wash out my eyes." With a delightful laugh, she turned to take Earl's arm. "My husband was quite insistent that it would be fetching on me, and he was so sweet not to balk at the cost. It's made from pure silk, you see."

  "A perfect Lily response," Bella groaned and rolled her eyes, whispering to Gregory. He chuckled and leaned down next to her. "Indeed."

  But down on the dock, Lily had seemed to lose Picou at the word 'husband'.

  "Your?" His voice sounded suddenly dry. "Husband?" His mouth dropped open, and his friends started chuckling.

  "Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to provide the proper introductions. Claude Picou, may I present my husband, Lord Darby. We just call him Earl, though, as he is soon to be the Earl of Darbyshire."

  Mr. Carlson spoke up. "As Lady Darby is both alive and well, I take this opportunity to tell you the claim you've submitted is null. I shall submit this to the board, as I understand they are doing some investigation into your affairs."

  Earl stared down Claude Picou, no sign of his general smile showing. "My wife will not be taking on the position of your 'secretary', Picou. She is a lady and well above any position you might care to offer her. Good day, sir."

  Even from the height of the ship, it was evident that Lily's eyes had moistened. She threw her arms around her husband and was murmuring words too soft to be heard.

  By this time, Mr. Carlson had made his way back to the Arabella. "May I?" he asked, holding out his arm. "Days like this make having this job worth suffering through. Either my clients are heartbroken about their loss or they set into motion the events leading up to the loss in the first place. Both instances are tragic."

  Claude's back was to them as Arabella began to make her way down the plank. Behind her, Gregory stayed close.

  The laughs were heard clearly as Picou's friends mocked him for bragging about having his mistress arriving. One man pointed out the obvious. "Why would the wife of a wealthy earl settle for being a mistress? You were boasting again, Picou. Admit it."

  "I paid for her passage here, gentlemen. I don't know what happened aboard her ship, but I will speak to the captain at the first opportunity. Did you notice the name on the ship? It's called the Arabella, after my intended. She was truly a beautiful soul, sweet in disposition and as virginal as new fallen snow. Even in death, she inspires such devotion, the captain christened his new ship after her."

  Once again, however, Picou had lost their attention. They were no longer looking at him.

  The eyes of the men behind him were fixed on Arabella as she continued downward, her elegant and soft blue gown flowing gently in the breeze along with the ribbons on her bonnet. The other men began to whisper Picou was truly blessed to have won such a prize.

  Picou, however, stood frozen, as he stared, speechless, at the bride he'd assumed was dead.

  Gregory's eyes blazed with anger as he watched Picou's face. Guilt was clearly written all over it. And if what Carlson implied was true, he had sent the captain of the Mermaid's Revenge, not only to kill Arabella and Lily, but to take out the Charlotte and the crew, as well.

  Picou rushed to greet Arabella, lifting her gloved hand to his lips. "My dearest Arabella," he whispered. "You are even more beautiful than when I last saw you."

  Gregory moved beside her, glancing down. Her face, when she stared back at Picou, showed more than anger. She was hurt. Betrayed.

  And he was raging inside.

  Arabella tugged her hand away from Picou's grasp, turned and looked up into Gregory's eyes, softly
touching his arm, as if to try and get his attention. He knew she'd felt his fury. At the same time, Carlson, on Arabella's other side, reached into his portfolio. Pulling out the same set of papers he had shown to Gregory on deck, he held them up.

  "Mr. Picou," he said in an authoritative voice. "Luck is on your side, sir. Both these beautiful ladies are alive and well. I'm sure that pleases you. However, the claim you've submitted in both cases is void. And I shall also take this opportunity to tell you that we have terminated the policy you took out on each of them."

  Once the chattering of Picou's mates died down, Carlson continued. "As to future business arrangements, I regret to inform you there is some question about your association with known privateers. Detectives are investigating such behavior, as we speak.

  "I have but one more thing to say. If you had anything to do with the disappearance of Ezra Miller, it would be best to share that information with the proper authorities." He stuffed the papers back into the portfolio and spoke again, through clenched teeth. "Your friends should be more particular about whom they include and whom they waylay. They selected the son, albeit a bastard son, of a powerful man in England, who happens to be looking for him." With those as his parting comments, Mr. Carlson closed up his portfolio and bid everyone a farewell.

  Shaken at first, Claude pulled himself up tall and faced his friends to reclaim what little bit of dignity he could. It was as though he had not even noticed that Gregory stood there beside her. He turned to the men standing around him.

  "Feast your eyes on my beautiful bride to be, my friends. We are to be married in the cathedral by the archbishop himself." In a lower voice, he added, "This innocent will be warming my bed soon."

  But Arabella was prepared for this. Wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, she rose up on her tiptoes to claim his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Picou's friends were in fits of laughter, highly amused as they turned to leave. His life was in apparent ruins now.

  "If so, Picou, she's kissing the wrong man," rang out on the street, as they disappeared, one by one.