Within A Captain's Soul

by Lisa A. Olech

  But then she lowered her gaze to his mouth and ran a feather-light touch of a single fingertip to outline the lower edge of his lip. She dropped a tiny kiss there before trailing her touch down the front of his throat. Dipping her head she kissed him there as well.

  Will held himself taut. Even when she nipped the sensitive skin where his neck swept into his shoulder. His cock surged in his trousers. If she were trying to kill him, she was doing a fine job of it.

  He wanted to tear her clothing away and lay her down amongst the ferns, but he was at her mercy. Then Jun lifted his hand from where it idled at her waist, and placed his palm over the sweet curve of her breast before taking his mouth again.

  Bloody hell.

  Touching the soft silk of her blouse was nothing compared to feel of the satined skin that lay beneath. The roughness of his hands caught at the delicate fabric as she arched into his touch, reminding him that he was nothing but a time-hardened sea thief, and she was a queen.

  Rocking her hips as she pressed the pebbled tip of her breast against his palm, the movement atop the ridge of his erection nearly sent him over the edge.

  Her lips moved on his. She was saying something to him between kisses. Urging him on? Begging him to stop? Go faster? Slow down?

  Frustration welled in him. He pulled back and searched her face. His breathing matched hers and fluttered the fine hair at her temples. A bright blush tinged her cheeks. His kisses had rouged her lips.

  ‘Beautiful.’ He signed again. ‘Stunning.’

  Jun cradled his cheek. A small frown knit the dark curve of her eyebrows as her chest continued to rise and fall beneath his hand.

  She spoke again. He watched her mouth, desperate for the instant ability to read her lips. Instead, he released her and eased what little Jun’s hold on him would allow. Reaching to the side he retrieved the slate.

  I need to know what you’re saying. He hastily scratched over the surface of the stone.

  Jun gently took it from his hands. I want to know what YOU are saying. She mimicked the sign he had made.

  I’m telling you, you’re beautiful.

  A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Thank you, she wrote.

  Will tapped the slate and made the sign for ‘Thank you.’

  She repeated the movement. Practicing, ‘Beautiful’. ‘Thank you.’ Then her name. Then his.

  What is this? She wrote, before putting a closed fist to her chest and making a circle. You did this last night.

  It means, I’m sorry, Will replied.

  Her frown returned. You did nothing to feel sorry about.

  Ruined our evening.

  She shook her head in disagreement.

  Will rubbed against the slate. Who was the child?

  Qi. Ting is her mother. They passed the stone back and forth between them, scrubbing it clean and jotting down their thoughts.

  Her father is not Chinese.

  Jun nodded. He fled the British several years ago. He now works for me. She rubbed away the words. Qi is a special child. Simple.

  It was Will’s turn to frown.

  Jun continued. But her heart is kind and she is ‘Beautiful.’ She proudly signed the last word.

  Will ran the back of his finger over the gentle curve of her cheek before writing, Not near as lovely as you.

  Jun signed ‘Thank you’ before she lowered her gaze and stroked the edge of his shirt.

  The heated fever of their kisses hadn’t cooled. Only mellowed into something less desperate, more enduring. The attraction was still there but had coupled with an equal desire to know one another. Where others had treated Will as a curiosity, a novelty, Jun actually seemed to care about learning who he was and how to communicate with him.

  Will held her gaze for a long moment before he erased the slate once more and asked her, What are we doing?

  Giving a small smile, Jun lifted her shoulders in a shrug. She curved the side of her body to lean against him and continued to stroke the planes of his chest. The warmth and weight of her brought an unusual calm to him. A healing balm for his battered soul. As if she were exactly where she belonged and his question didn’t need an answer.

  Will kissed the top of her head and breathed in the light scent of her. They stayed tangled up in one another for a long while.

  Jun was the first to move. She picked up the slate. Stay?

  Was she asking him to stay for the day? The night? A week? For all time? A few more minutes holding her in his arms, he might answer yes to all of them.

  She added, I still owe you dinner.

  Will shook his head. He tipped his chin toward his things still on the table. Need to finish my work. Came to the hall seeking more ink.

  Work here. Quiet. Peaceful. No one will bother you. She laid a gentle kiss on his mouth. I have duties as well. Wait for me. Jun kissed him again. This time, her mouth lingered, opened to the slow sweep of his tongue, and was quick to fan the flames of their earlier heat. She eased away and held the slate insistently tapping under her last words, Wait for me, then added the word, Please.

  Will took her hand from his chest and placed it palm down on hers then moved her hand in a circle. He tapped the slate and repeated the motion. ‘Please’

  Jun repeated the motion, imploring him with her eyes. ‘Please?’

  How could he say no? Will nodded and was graced with her smile. An earth-shattering, breath-taking smile. Raise the white flag, he surrendered, and yet, was it surrender when every inch of his body told him he’d won?

  Standing in the garden holding a jar of ink, Will watched Jun make the transformation from pliant heated woman in his arms back into the battle-hardened empress. Still tasting her passion on his lips, it was hard for him to think of her any other way, but the truth of it was right there.

  As she finished replaiting her hair and donned the last bit of armor, her conversion was complete, and with a quick glance in his direction, Jun passed through the door separating her two distinctly different lives once more.

  Will pulled a deep breath into his lungs, ran a hand over the roughness of his jaw, and tried to process all that had happened. What the hell was he doing? Dropping his hand to his hip, Will closed his eyes and hung his head. He knew damn well what he was doing. He was losing his heart. Again.

  He shifted his shoulders. The pull of the scars on his back reminded him of the last time he’d given away his heart and what that had cost him. This time…no, this time was different. When Bump fell for Samantha Christian, he gave away his foolish heart knowing nothing would come of it. Sam cared for him, yes, but as a friend. She never shared his feelings.

  With Jun, the winds had shifted.

  Will lifted his head and looked around. He moved to the low table and set the ink next to his log book. Moving the scattered cushions back to where they started, he sat down to work, but couldn’t stop his mind from churning.

  He picked up the quill and twirled the feather between his fingers before tossing it aside in frustration. This was ridiculous. He was no child. Neither was he a fool, but with matters of the heart and understanding the workings of a woman’s mind… He was lost and adrift in murky seas.

  One thing was certain, however. Will shifted his weight on the cushion. If Jun wanted only what other woman from his past had wanted, this stiff ache in his crotch would be gone, and he’d be searching for his blasted pants among the potted plants by now with no hope of ever seeing her again.

  Damn it, this was different. And it was like trying to find his direction in a bloody hurricane. Glancing at the log book, he scoffed, We all know how good I am at doing that.

  Will lifted the ornate silver latch and opened the log book to his last entry.

  With fair winds and following seas, our route runs true and

  our rum be plentiful. Respectfully submitted this seventeenth


  day of August, in the year of our Lord…

  He ran his fingers over his signature. Would he ever be rid of the crushing heaviness in his chest? It had been near a week since his final entry. Seven days and an entire lifetime.

  Will stared at the following empty page and thumbed through each empty page after that. This couldn’t be the end. How could it all just stop? Unfortunately he was the only one who could answer that question. Swallowing the bitter lump in his throat, he dipped his quill and began his last and final entry:

  On Wednesday, the eighteenth day of August, in the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and seventeen, the ship known to all as the Scarlet Night was lost in heavy seas and high winds while navigating through the Strait of Malacca due north of the Brothers Islands of Pandang and Salahnama.

  All hands were lost. Save one…

  Will recounted each horrific moment. Each scene that would forever be etched in his mind. As with the sail, he scribed each and every name of his lost crew and recounted the events to the best of his memory.

  He blew across the wet ink and waited until it was dry to close the book. Holding it in his lap, he ran his thumb over the salt-stain that marred its once pristine cover. Perhaps he should add the words The End to the last page in some flourished script. The thought cause his stomach to turn.

  Leaning his head back, Will closed his eyes and breathed in the rich smells of Jun’s garden and tried to forget. He could see why she created this sanctuary. It was easy to imagine it as some protected cocoon where nothing dark or sinister could reach.

  When Will opened his eyes, the child, Qi, stood watching him with a wide-eyed curiosity. He straightened in his seat, and nodded to her in greeting. She didn’t move, yet held him with her stare.

  Jun had mentioned Qi was simple. Not developed in her mind. Will didn’t want to frighten the wee girl, so he made no move himself. It was a standoff to see which of them would look away first.

  Then the child dashed away. Like the darting of a fish. She was back as quickly as she had left, hugging a scrap of filthy cloth. Its original color or purpose a true mystery.

  Qi grabbed one corner of the second cushion at the table and dragged it around the ends of his outstretched legs, pulling it close to his before settling herself next to him.

  With raised eyebrows, he peered down at the child. She, in turn, blinked up at him with clear wide eyes that spoke of her father’s western heritage, as well as the riotous curls that tangled in an unruly mess about her head. An innocent grin curved the gentle pink of her lips.

  Will had always taken a small measure of pride in the fact that he made a rather intimidating presence with his height and appearance, but this child was not fearful at all. Quite the opposite, judging by the eager, expectant look on her little face. Did she think she’d found herself a new friend?

  He shook his head at her. I don’t know what you want, little one, but you won’t find it here. You should run away. I’m a nasty old pirate.

  Qi then reached out her small hand and patted the log before snuggling in closer to him. Will froze. If the mysteries of women baffled him, the workings of children were as foreign to him as the landscape of the moon. Qi tapped at the book harder.

  Was she wanting him to read her a story? A bedtime fairytale?

  No, child. Will shook his head and shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

  Qi frowned and tugged the book from his grasp. Lifting the cover, she turned each page. She kept shaking her head. Turning the pages faster and faster as if she were searching for something. She pushed the book back into Will’s hands and rushed to the boarder of flat stones that accentuated the pathway through the garden. The child crouched and patted a chalked drawing there of some creature with stick legs and huge eyes.

  And then she was back at his side, patting his logbook.

  Child, I don’t have any idea… Did she want him to draw pictures? Of course, she wanted it to be a picture book.

  The corner of Will’s mouth tipped at the thought. An illustrated log would give the poor little chit nightmares. He looked down at her again and shook his head no again.

  Her only reaction was to purse her lower lip and give him a look of disappointment. She settled back, huffed a breath and tipped her head to rest it against him. She hooked her arm through his.

  What in the bloody hell—he stopped. Even in his mind, it wasn’t right to curse in front of a child. Especially not little girls. The press of her small body warmed his arm. Short of shoving her aside, he was at a loss as to how to remove her. She was attached to him like a blasted barnacle to a hull and showed no signs of leaving. Only an evil bastard would shake her off like a mangy dog would a flea.

  So, he waited. Why not, he reasoned. She wasn’t causing any harm. It wasn’t as if he were heading anywhere. They could wait for Jun together. She’d know what to do with the child.

  Will peeked down at Qi. Her eyes were closed. The rise and fall of her chest was slow and steady. Was she sleeping? Son of a b—

  All he could do was shake his head. He leaned back and closed his own eyes, fighting a smirk. If Tupper could see him now…

  The crushing ache returned. Perhaps it would forever hurt to think about her. About all of them.

  Now there were stories to tell. Talk about bedtime tales and picture books. Years of one adventure after another. He looked down at the curly top of the child’s head before closing his eyes once more. Oh wee one, if only I could tell you about their escapades, but all the accounts lay at the bottom of the sea. Will’s eyes snapped open. He sat forward, and lifted his logbook once more, flipping through the pages of impersonal facts and events. It was unfortunate that they didn’t tell the whole story—the story he’d been a silent witness to for close to thirty years.

  He looked at the sweetness of Qi’s innocent face. She’d never learn about the grand journeys of the Scarlet Night. No one would, yet Will remembered them all.

  The night of a fierce storm when Will had been little more than Qi’s age, when Tupper braved the crashing seas and bucking masts to climb the center rigging to untangle a bunt line. Or the time Ric ‘Ricochet’ Robbins had earned his nickname with one perfect shot of a cannon.

  If anyone was to know, he’d need to write it all down. Who else would there be to do it? Tell their tales? Carry on the legend?

  Will remembered everything. Everyone. That disgusting beast of a Scot, MacTavish, who smelled like an old sheep dipped in shite and sulphur. The strong quiet dignity of Gavin Quinn and the horrific day when Will watched him die as Port Royal, Jamaica was swallowed into the sea. Samantha coming aboard with her chopped hair and soot-smeared face trying to pass as a lad. Or the look on those British Navy bastards’ faces when Will and Tupper tied them naked to a dock, their bollocks swinging in the breeze while they stole back the Scarlet Night and escaped into an inky sea.

  He looked down at Qi again. Maybe I’ll let ye read that one when yer a might older.

  There were still plenty of empty pages in this logbook. Recalling the stories, immortalizing them for all time, might be the reason he was still breathing. The reason he was spared. To write it all down so the Scarlet Night wouldn’t be lost. She could sail forever in the pages of a book.

  Why that’s a mighty fine idea, little one. Might even find a bloke to draw a picture or two, just for you. Will slipped his hand over the small fingers curved around his arm and closing his eyes again, leaned his head back. A fine idea indeed. I thank you.

  Chapter 14

  The last hour felt like ten to Jun as she dismissed the men hired to add twenty more junks to her fleet. How was she expected to concentrate when Will was waiting for her? For the last twenty minutes alone, she secretly used the sign for ‘please,’ as in please stop talking and stop showing me new hull designs and please let us be finished.

  “Are you feeling unwell?” asked Peng. The pointed a
ngle of his eyebrows met in a sharp frown.

  Jun bit her lip to keep from screaming. “No, why do you ask?” Please let me leave…

  “You’ve looked flushed all afternoon and keep touching your chest. Are you having pains? Should I fetch your physician?”

  “I’m fine, truly. Nothing that a bit of peace cannot cure.” She saw her chance to escape. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Please, no one call my name. She moved with a determined clip to her stride, but as she pushed through the doorway into her private quarters, Jun hesitated. She still didn’t have a good answer to the question Will posed earlier.

  The words he wrote had churned in her mind since she’d left him to wait for her. ‘What are we doing?’

  “I don’t know.” She threw her hands wide and spoke to an empty room. Once Will kissed her, her mind hadn’t been able to think of much else. Jun brushed her fingertips over her lips, savoring the memory. He needed to kiss her again, and soon.

  The entire scene had been her idea, bringing him back to the exact moment they had been interrupted. But once there, Will took command as he had the night before, capturing her, plundering her mouth, stealing her breath. Jun smiled a small, seductive smile. Capturing, plundering, stealing… He might be a merchant captain, but he sure as hell kissed like a pirate—not that she’d been kissed by many.

  Yes, he needed to kiss her again.

  She pulled her armor off once more, reveling in the lightness. Was he still in the garden? Had he stayed? Jun headed toward the doors. In her haste to join him, she almost forgot to remove her headdress. Pulling it from her head, she tossed it aside, smoothed her hair, and hurried into the garden where she nearly collided with Ting.

  Ting held up her hands to stop her. “Mistress, you must come see where my mischievous daughter chose to take her afternoon rest.”