“I like every bit of what I see,” I hummed as I slowly moved my gaze back up to his face.
We locked eyes for a moment. His widened. One side of his ridiculously saucy smile lifted. Without the mustache and the bushy beard blocking the view, I admired the fullness of his lips and the uniquely appealing crookedness of his teeth as he grinned and said, “I like what I see, too. I have been noticing that you could be a pretty girl, under better circumstances. But never could I have imagined the way you are now.” Slowly and cautiously, he examined the liner under my eyes, the red on my lips, and then the black cloak I had wrapped myself in. “Yes. You are a beautiful woman and I would like to see you in a dress sometime.”
Glad to see he was also interested in me, I began strutting in his direction.
He cocked a brow. “What is this, Rory Bentley? Have you come into my room to seduce me into giving you what your lady friend cannot?”
Ignoring his question, I let my cloak fall to the floor, revealing my bare body. “I will not wear a dress for you, Miguel Cardozo, but I will undress for you.”
His bottom lip tucked under his teeth as he took a moment to eye me over. While admiring me, his eyes lit up with the flame I had often wished I had the power to ignite in his being. He was so near I could smell him. The scent of the patchouli oil he wore drifted off his big body and wrapped around my being, pulling me closer until my chest was pressed against his.
Wrapping his warm arms around my back, he whispered in my ear, “And what of tomorrow, lovely white lily?”
“Tomorrow, this lovely white lily will be but another woman you leave behind when you sail away.”
Pressing his lips against mine, he gave me a kiss so full of passion; I would have thought he had been waiting for it for as long as I. Without removing his lips from mine, he swept me up and carried me to the bed. Slow and gracefully, he lowered me beneath him. There, on the colorful blankets, in the warm firelight, he explored the map of my body with the power of his hands and the heat of his mouth.
Between the adoring compliments he whispered in my ear, he kept asking me if I wanted to know what a real man was made of. And I did. Oh, since I had seen him in battle, I’d been fighting my fantasies of being with him, but I no longer had to imagine or resist my craving for his touch. And it was better than I ever could have dreamed.
With my legs around his back, I pulled him in, letting him fill me with sensations I had long since forgotten. Sliding in and out of me slowly, he kissed my cheeks and nibbled on my neck, telling me I was a beautiful woman who was worth all the love in the world. I knew he was just talking smooth, but when I pushed him onto his back and began riding him like Beleza rode the waves, I romanced him in the same way. In Portuguese I told him how handsome he was, in French I told him I had missed him over the year, and in English I assured him that I didn’t hate men after all.
That was especially true, for there was nothing in the world comparable to the blast of passion barraging my body as he moved me over his lap. And there was nothing in the world more arousing than the sight of his big, strong body pounding against mine as I arched my back and moaned his name and cried out in pleasure beneath him. But the best part was the way he kissed me. Oh, good Lord, this man was bursting with emotion. The rhythm of his tongue harmonized with the thrusts of his hips in such a way it seemed as if we were dancing. All alone on the bed that became our dance floor, he dipped me up and down and my hair spun around like the hem of a dress he wished to see me in. If he’d asked me to put one on now, I would have done it. I’d have done anything and everything to have him in this way.
He lasted forever and I never wanted him to stop, but when he did, that was when the most dangerous part of the erotic risk set in. The aftermath. Aye, the soulful satisfaction I found while lying in his arms—as our chests heaved to catch the breath we took away from each other, and our hearts beat wildly while trying to resurface from the swarming sea of passion we had nearly drowned in—I realized this was the best thing I had felt since I had last laid with Jackson Hawke…And that ruined everything.
Thinking of how foolish it was to fall for Jackson then, and considering the way I felt about Miguel right now, I decided it was time to go. I hadn’t come to this man’s room to fall in love, and I’d come too far on my journey to let sex interfere with my mission—no matter how good it was.
As I wiggled out of his heavy arms and stood up, he reached for me. “Where are you going, my lovely white lily?”
At the sound of his words, my stupid heart tried to leap back into his bed. Hell, as he lay there, naked in the firelight—looking better than he ever had before—my mind wanted to follow. But I couldn’t. Rather than falling into his arms and lying there till the sun came up, like I wanted to, I simply kissed his cheek and whispered, “Thank you. I needed that.”
Rolling over onto his belly he rumbled, “Pirate.”
My attempt to gather up my clothes was brashly interrupted by the sight of his backside. My heart fell into my gut as I eyed the whiplash scars engrained into the otherwise smooth white skin of his strong, muscle-lined back. Those lash marks were no different from those on the backs of the slaves he had freed. While staring at the soul-sinking sight, that day on Ysabel flashed through my mind: the shouting, the killing, the cutting of the chains, and the emotionally violent murder of Rodrigo.
The free and powerful Miguel Cardozo had once been enslaved.
While putting on my cloak, I told myself to stay out of his business, but as I pulled it closed I braved the nerve to ask, “How did you break free?”
X
Walking towards the harbor in the dark of the night—dressed in my Midnight attire—I looked up at the full moon and thought about the talk I had with Miguel last night. Reluctantly, he’d told me how the Spanish took him and his brother while they were out fishing one night. Side by side, they suffered as galley slaves on Ysabel, but no terror thereafter would ever overpower the horror of the day he watched Rodrigo beat the life out of his brother, Antao Cardozo.
Bound by chains, Miguel could do nothing to help Antao, but he promised his ghost he would avenge his death, and he had finally lived up to his word. After surviving the grief following the unsatisfying results, he now knew he would never feel better and decided to come to terms with the void.
After listening to his painful confession, I decided to open up about my past, as well. All of it. From the affair I had with Jackson Hawke, to the night I found out Mason Bentley was my father, and up to the dreadful events that had led to the night I murdered Joel Addison on his lawn. I probably shouldn’t have, but it just felt right, and while dumping out all the hurtful truths that only the Devil and I had known up until then, a massive weight lifted from my heart.
With our heartbroken truths laid out on the table, the sex that filled the night to follow consisted of much more than the need to fuck. Bonded by our painful pasts, we fused together to make the best of our uncertain present, and woke up in each other’s arms ready to fight for a better future. And this was it. Feeling confident about the path before us, I looked at Miguel Cardozo—who was gazing upon the moon—and nudged him with my elbow. “Are you ready to take on the world, big boy?”
“Ah, I believe you mean to ask if the world is ready to take me on.” He flashed a cocky grin that all too easily rekindled my lust for him. But there was no time for such things. I would play the part of the man I was known as, from here on out, no matter how difficult it would be.
Meeting up with our crewmen—who had already signed on with the crew of the merchant ship I had chosen—we went over the last minute details of the plans, and then headed down the dock to our prize. Zerena was a clean little sloop, and aside from her recently cleaned hull and newly sewn sails, I especially liked the turquoise stripe painted across the black hull.
As directed, our men went aboard like they were truly part of the crew. Cardozo and I waited in the shadow of her hull and listened in as our men chatted away with the wa
tchmen like they were all good friends ready to make sail in the morn.
When the time was right, we boarded.
“Captain Cardozo?” One of the watchmen squinted at us as we drew near. “What brings you here this eve?”
Glad I could now understand and speak their language, I listened as I stood by the captain, ready to speak or act on his behalf if need be.
Cardozo smiled. “I’ve come to appraise the value of this fine vessel.”
“Why?” Both watchmen winced while twiddling about nervously. It was plain to see they were rather intimidated by the pirate captain they knew by name.
Cardozo looked around at the rigging. “She is a pretty little thing. Seems to be well cared for. Have you recently sanded these decks?”
“Yes, sir. Just today, in fact. I did it myself,” the tall one responded like he was reporting the job well-done to his own captain.
“And what is your name, sir?” Cardozo asked.
“Juan Castro is my name.” He saluted.
“Nice to meet you, Mister Castro. Now, tell me about this beauty’s sails.” Cardozo looked up at the tightly furled sheets of canvas. “What condition are they in?”
Castro smiled. “Oh, they are very nice. Recently sewn and haven’t met a rain yet.”
Patting me on the back, Cardozo looked around at Zerena one last time. “Good choice, Rory. I like her. Yes. I’ll take her, Mister Castro.”
“Well, uh, far as I know the captain had not planned to sell her,” the little watchman with the rotten teeth said, taking a step back.
Cardozo flashed a wicked grin. “Good, because I had not intended to pay for her.”
Both of their jaws dropped.
Pacing before the small handed crew—all of which, beyond the watchmen, were in on our plan—Cardozo explained the situation at hand. “Yes. From this moment forward, Zerena belongs to me, and any man among you who wishes to remain aboard as part of my crew, will be offered equal shares of any future prizes we may take.”
All of our men gathered up behind Cardozo.
Castro wanted to join, but Rotty—as I decided to call the little one—grabbed his arm. Noticing the way Rotty continued looking back to the dock as he yanked on Castro, I pulled my gun. “Eyes over here, mate. And if you dare to shout out, it will be the last pitiful groan to fall from your sheepish lips.” I certainly didn’t want to shoot anyone, but I’d worked too hard on this plan to have it spoiled at the last minute.
Rotty bolted for the gangway! Quickly realizing the sound of gunfire would bring too much attention, I pulled my knife and tossed it hard in his direction. The blade landed solid in his thigh, halting his momentum just before he escaped. Dusty jumped on his back, dropped him to the deck, and gagged his rotten toothed mouth before he could shout out. Cloud and Henry Bail held Castro steady. Cardozo nodded at them to follow his lead.
Slowly walking over to meet the bleeding and gagged man, Cardozo knelt beside him and chuckled. “Before that rude interruption, I was going to inform you that you could very well be killed for denying my generous offer.” He looked up at Castro to be sure he was listening, as well. “But I sense you to be solid men who are proud of your trade and I would hate to see good hands go to waste. Now, I’m not sure how you were being paid or treated before I came aboard, but I can assure you that your future with me will be much brighter and far more rewarding. The choice is yours, gentlemen.”
“We are not going to tell.” Castro nodded at Rotty—who was rolling around in pain under Dusty’s hold on him—and then looked back at Cardozo. “We have both heard how you make free men of slaves and fill the pockets of the poor with wealth. We will be honored to join you, Captain Cardozo.”
“Good choice, men. Good choice.” Cardozo patted each of them on the back, and then took out the articles he had rolled up in his pocket. After each of us signed, Cardozo rubbed his hands together greedily. “The tide is ours to take. All hands make sail!”
Up the shrouds I went.
It had been so long since I’d scaled the hempen ladders, I’d nearly forgotten how frightening the height could be. But once I reached the yardarm—where I helped my fellow sailors unfurl the massive sail—I remembered how much I loved riding high above the world. Yes! I was sailing again! The cold winter wind lifted my spirit on the breeze as it filled the canvas sheets, and my hopeful heart beamed as brightly as the puffy clouds glowing in the moonlit sky as we distanced ourselves from the dock below.
In the mystic blue glow, I watched a few men on the dock chasing after Zerena as she soared out of the grip of those who once owned her, but I was confident in the way I’d covered our trail ashore. No one in Lisbon would ever know Cardozo or I had anything to do with this seizing.
What a good team we made. Between his power and my stealth, I was beginning to think we were a bit like Mason and Midnight. Aye, the way we smoothly performed this seamless act of piracy assured me there was nothing we couldn’t do, and like the wild Atlantic before us, the future was ours to take.
Chapter 13
Haunt My Dreams
Awaking to the feel of Zerena swaying on the tide, I opened one eye to look around. It was still dark out and my face was shoved up against a wooden barrel on the main deck. Shit. I must have passed out while star gazing with Cardozo. I rubbed my heavy eyes. Quickly realizing he was lying face down next to me, I nudged his shoulder. “Wake up, you lazy ol’ deck dog.”
Chuckilng, he opened his eyes and peered at me. “It is still dark out. A deck dog I will be until that blasted sun rises.”
“Oh, come on, last I remember you were telling me about the constellations. Look, all the stars have moved since then. What time do you think it is now?”
Propping himself up beside me, he scratched his head, ruffling his short, but wild locks. “Since you refuse to silence, I suppose we will finish the lesson.”
As he explained the placement of the stars and their significance to time and season, I thought about Midnight. She knew all of these things, as well. Too bad she hadn’t taught me. Ah, I probably wouldn’t have learned, anyhow, for all I was thinking about now was my admiration of his knowledge.
Considering the vastness of the sea and the infinite display of stars from this tiny piece of floating lumber, I said, “It is an awesome thing to know where you are on this big, blue ocean. I mean, beyond what I have seen on your maps, I can tell we are in the Caribbean because it is as hot as Hell and the shallow waters are a different shade of blue, but we could be going in circles for all I know.” Standing up, I stretched. “How did you learn all this shit?”
Rising beside me, he rested his large hands on the gunnel. “My father told me about the stars as he taught me how to fish. He always said I’d be thankful one day, and I sure am. Not only has the skill guided me and my men across the seas many, many times, but it has also granted me a stronghold among them.” A cocky grin lit his face. “Nobody tampers with the navigator.”
His deep, sultry voice rumbled through my ears, traveled down my spine, and settled in the lowest part of my belly with a twisting, burning tingle. Goddamn, he hadn’t touched me since we left Lisbon, but I never failed to feel weak and girlish beside his big, strong body. Gather your wits about you, stupid girl, I cursed in my mind as I fanned my face with my hat—glad it was night so he couldn’t see me blushing. “So, uh, apparently, ol’ Rotty is a navigator, as well.”
“Is he now? How did you come upon that shiny gem of information?”
“Ah, I heard him and Cruz complaining about the heat again, and when I told them to shut their nattering mouths, Rotty barked at me for having forced him aboard. Apparently, he had been hired as a navigator on this ship we seized, and he was going to be able to support his wife and newborn child with the lofty pay.”
Touching his solid teeth, Cardozo chuckled, “I feel bad for the woman who’s kissing that rotten ol’ mouth of his.”
“You’re mean.” I shoved his shoulder. “I was more concerned with the fact th
at we took a man from his family. He is mighty torn up about it, and though his complaining annoys me, I suppose I can’t fault him for being upset.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” He patted my head. “Now look, a new day is dawning and the breeze is calling for some sails to slap at. I say we get this bitch on the move.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I gazed upon the hint of light illuminating the lowest part of the eastern horizon.
“Wait. I see masts.” He squinted into the darkness.
Gazing in the direction he was pointing in, I finally spotted her. “Ah, yes. Three masts, to be exact.”
“Low as she lies, I believe her to be a merchantman. I say we take her.”
“Take her? Why?” I struggled to make out her details. She was awfully close and was rather low… “But what if she’s one of my father’s ships? According to the last marks on your map, we are well into the shipping lanes his captains ride in on.”
“You keep your head low and I’ll do all the talking. And let me tell you, dressed like this, you look nothing like the woman I know you are.” His expression was strong with the memories of the love we shared in his bed all those nights ago. “No one would ever recognize you this way.”
Blushing like a foolish young girl—yet again—I shook my head. “I don’t like it. We have everything we need and we have so few men. Who will man all those sails?”
“We’ll keep the sailors,” he said as he stormed toward the berth.
“And do what with them? Who knows what this Panamanian village will be like, and if they welcome us at all, I highly doubt they will want a mass of sailors following behind us.” My complaints fell on the breeze as I followed him down the gangway.
I kept bitching until he stopped in his tracks and jerked his head around to snap at me. “We can deal with that later. But now, I have seen, as well as you have, that our men are getting restless. They hate this heat, and out of frustration they are aiming their agitations at me. I promised them wealth, and if we show them what we are capable of and what they stand to gain, their moods will lighten. I know it. Plus, that ship is bigger and will carry more guns than this tiny little tramp.”
Never Surrender (Uncharted Secrets, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 12
