Queen Of My Nightmare (Uncharted Secrets, Book 2): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  Queen of My Nightmare

  Uncharted Secrets, Book 2

  CRISTI TAIJERON

  Copyright © 2014 Cristi Taijeron

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1502448385

  ISBN-10: 1502448386

  Edited by Stacey Coverstone & Janine Lieber

  Cover Artwork by Megan Dinsdale and Cristi Taijeron

  Reign-creative.com

  Interior design by Cristi Taijeron

  Endlesshorizondesigns.com

  To My Sister, Tori

  Love and hate, lust and laughter, all aspects of the dream are as real to you as they are to me, and your obsession with my fantasy has made it all the more enjoyable to write.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a crew to write a pirate story and I wish to thank every one of these loyal adventurers who have helped me along the way.

  AJ Addams, Sarah, Barnabas, Nicole, Jessica, Stacey, Jessica, Janine, and Beth

  AUTHOR’S nOTE

  Uncharted Secrets was inspired by a mysterious character mentioned in the Justified Treason series. In those books, Sterling Bentley tells us that he never knew his mother, Hannah, and though his father, Mason Bentley, spoke very little of her, Sterling was well aware that Mason loved Hannah for all of his days.

  When I began writing Justified Treason, Hannah was as mysterious to me as she was to Sterling, but as the tale unfolded I found myself wanting to know more about her. So, I decided to write the story. The surprises I found hiding in the pages of Uncharted Secrets consumed my imagination like a wildfire. There are so many clues to this mystery laced into my other books that I had to delve into the details like a detective, seeking out routes with dead ends and uncovering key elements like pieces to a crime scene. As an author, writing books is sometimes like reading one—I don't always know what's coming next—and the unexpected twists that I have unraveled in this tale have made up a beautifully tragic and unusual pirate story.

  Contents

  I MYSTERY OF MIDNIGHT

  1 Bird of Paradise

  2 Midnight Breeze

  3 Hell on the Horizon

  4 Rich and Free

  5 Blood on the Bulkhead

  II A PLACE TO STAND

  6 Making My Mark

  7 Dead Men Tell No Tales

  8 Never Give Up

  9 Kiss the Gunner’s Daughter

  10 Secret Shore

  III UNCHARTED SECRETS

  11 Dirty Secret

  12 Before My Eyes

  13 The One Left Uncharted

  Queen of My Nightmare

  As told by Hannah Remington

  PART I

  Mystery of Midnight

  Tortuga

  Winter of 1646

  Chapter 1

  Bird of Paradise

  Waking to the feel of Mason’s kiss on my cheek, I opened my eyes and tickled his goatee. “It is not even light yet. Do you have to go already?”

  He kissed me again. “Aye. Esmeralda is almost done, and if we get in enough work today, I can spend the next few days hiding in here with you until we sail away.”

  Liking the idea of him staying in my room at the inn with me, I rubbed my hands down his coat collar. “Get on your way then, buccaneer.”

  While nibbling on my neck and roughing up my hair, he growled, “I’ll do my best to be back by sunset.” Then he went on his way.

  As usual, it took me a moment to shake the sensual sensation he left ringing in my body, but as soon as I did, I called for my cat. “Come here, my Feather.” Not liking to be anywhere near Mason, Feather had been sleeping on the sofa. The sound of my voice easily woke him. After he stretched out his paws and arched his fluffy back, he came to join me in the plush bedding. Snuggled together in the pearly blue and gold blankets, Feather and I watched the morning sun lighting the sky.

  “The view from here is lovely, Feather. I still can’t believe Mason got us the best room at The West Wind Inn. This has to be the nicest place in town.”

  Purring softly, Feather rubbed his face on my neck.

  I petted his soft little head. “I know you don’t like him much. Rightfully so after the way he used to chase you around like a mean ol’ bear, but you have to admit, he has been treating us very well. I, for one, have certainly been enjoying his company for the last couple of months, and the comfort of this room has made for a nice stay while he works on his ship.”

  Unable to go back to sleep, Feather and I decided to get up. After eating an orange, I walked over to the window to get some inspiration for the painting I had been working on. From the large windows overlooking the harbor, I could see Esmeralda floating in the bay. From where I stood I could see Mason working on his ship. The sight of him scaling the masts and hacking at the timbers—muscles flexed and golden skin radiating in the sunlight—left me craving for the nights to follow his hard day’s work. For every night, he was mine. The salty sweat of his body, the rum flavor of his kiss, and the heat of his passionate embrace were all mine and no one else’s, and I loved him more every day.

  “Oh, goodness, Feather.” I turned away from the window. “What a grand distraction that man is. We have a painting to finish for Pauline.”

  Pauline was my servant. Yes, Mason had hired me a personal servant. I had never in my life been doted over in such a way, and though I had no interest in ever again making friends, I had grown to enjoy Pauline’s pleasant company. Since she had complimented my work and mentioned her admiration of the view from these windows, I decided to leave it with her as a tip for her services.

  The day was long and hot, as it always was in the Caribbean, so as the sun began its descent into the sea, I indulged myself in another bath. There was no more washing myself with a rag dipped in a washbasin or rinsing by pouring boiled water over myself in a tub. Now, I soaked in warm water as Pauline washed my hair. I could certainly get used to this standard of living.

  “Your hair is so beautiful, Madam. I’ve never seen such a light shade of blonde. It’s almost white.”

  “White like the snow in Scandinavia.” I smiled. “My great grandmother was a Viking and that is where she was from.”

  “Wonderful.” Pauline scratched my head with her nails. “The way you do your hair reminds me of what I’d imagine a Nordic princess to look like. There is something about you that is so enchanting. Do you come from royalty?”

  “No.” I giggled. “This is my first taste of such things, but I certainly like the lifestyle.”

  “I am sure you do. Master Bentley treats you very well.”

  “I suppose there are some advantages to being his…favored girl.” I was not fond of pretending to be his whore, but it was the best way to keep my true identity secret and appear to be unimportant.

  After my long luxurious bath, Pauline dressed me in my raspberry colored Spanish gown, but by now she knew plenty well that I liked to do my own hair.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Madam?” she asked as she straightened the layers of my skirts.

  “That’s all for me, Pauline, but could you please fill a warm bath for Mason before you go? He should be back anytime now.”

  While she prepared the tub, I took some time to ready myself for another saucy evening with my man. After lining my eyes, I combed my hair over my
shoulder, split the ponytail into many different twists, and even wove a few colorful ribbons into some of the braids. Looking like a Nordic princess in a Spanish dress, I stood at the window to await Mason’s return.

  I enjoyed watching him walk through town as much as I liked watching him work. Though I knew he was a good-hearted man with a ridiculous sense of humor, he did a fine job keeping up the fearsome reputation that kept the troublemakers at bay. In his expensive coat that he never wore when he worked, he passed through the crowd with a threatening scowl on his face. Most men looked away from him, and mothers pulled their children out of his way, but of course, the whores flocked to him like birds to bread crumbs.

  Hoping to fill their voids with his lustful pleasure and their holey purse pockets with his gold, they pinched and gawked and grabbed at him as if he was still an available man. The hateful fire this annoying scene lit in the pit of my gut was always quickly extinguished by the sight of him fanning them off.

  Who is she? they would whine. She’s so lucky they would pout. At that point, all I could do was grin. They were lucky he denied them, so I wouldn’t have to bash their pox-ridden faces against the dirty sidewalks they made their livings on.

  Entering the room, dirty as a dog with the scent of tar and sweat surrounding his masculine presence, Mason hung his coat by the door and whistled at me. The way that ruggedly handsome man eyed me over left me feeling light on my feet. But I still wanted him clean before he hugged me. And he knew that. Heading to the washroom, he informed me, “She’s done! Every mast is solid, every sail is tightly sewn, and the hull is slick as a baby’s bare arse.”

  Walking over to the window, I smiled. “So you are mine and mine alone for the next few days?”

  “That’s right. Three days to be exact.”

  Watching the lanterns and torchlights of town turn on one by one, I listened while he told me about his day. From my view, it just looked like difficult, strenuous work, but to him, there was progress, success, and loads of humor.

  “I would’ve been here sooner if Ziare and Gruff hadn’t gotten in that stupid fight.”

  “What in the world did they fight about?” I asked while watching a mother herd her flock of children across the cobblestone walkway.

  “You’ll never believe it, but their drunk arses started arguing about an apple.”

  “An apple?”

  “Aye. There was a whole bushel of them, but Gruff had his eyes on the one Ziare grabbed. After a few nasty insults and a childish fit of back and forth grabbing, their petty dispute broke into an all-out war of fists.”

  “You’re jesting,” I gasped, terrified to think that these were the men I’d soon be sailing with.

  “If I was telling tales I would’ve made up one of much greater purpose. That was some outright horse shit that landed me with a lump on the head as I fought to break them up.”

  Though I thought the scene sounded horrendous, Mason was laughing as if he was still watching it.

  “You find humor in the most peculiar places,” I said as I heard his footsteps nearing.

  “My sense of humor is my greatest survival tactic.” He chuckled and wrapped his cool, clean arms around my waist. Turning to greet him, I found that he was wearing only a clean pair of breeches and had shaved his face the way I liked it. Tickling his goatee, I sighed, “Even after all these months that have passed, you still take my breath away.”

  “And you still take my sense away.” He scooped me up into his arms. I loved the way he carried me around so easily.

  “Sit with me, Hannah. Dinner will be here soon.” He set me down near a chair and pulled it out for me.

  “For a buccaneer, you sure have some good manners.”

  “Ah, my grandfather who raised me taught me a thing or two about this shit.”

  “This shit?” I laughed. “I suppose your courtesy only goes so far.”

  We both sat down, him across from me. “And you? Where did you get your good manners from?”

  “Well, as you know, my father was a good-natured man who ran a successful business, and with my mother being drunk all the time, I spent most of my days with him at work. He was nice to everyone he met, and most people who left his booth went on their way with smiles on their faces.” My heart saddened with the good memories. “I miss him terribly, Mason. I heard that your mother died, and now I know that your grandfather raised you. Did you know your father?”

  “No,” he curtly stated.

  Before I could inquire about his mysterious past which he spoke very little of, the servants arrived with our dinner.

  From golden platters, the various servants served roasted pork, a colorful salad, spicy rice, and of course, another bowl of oranges for me.

  After setting the table, lighting the candles, and filling Mason’s glass with dark red wine, they each accepted the ridiculous tips that he offered them and went on their way.

  “It’s nice of you to tip them so well.” I said as I dug into my rice.

  “Ah, they work hard and not much of anyone gives a shit about them. They deserve a piece of gold as much as my dirty buccaneers do.”

  I raised my glass of water to cheer with his wine. “Well said and well done, sir.”

  After a gulp of water, I inquired, “Why are you drinking wine instead of rum tonight?”

  “It feels fancier.” He took a drink, but there was nothing fancy about the funny face he made. “Shit’s nasty.”

  “Maybe you should stick to the rum.” Thinking back on how often I had seen him drink, I asked, “Do you drink every day of your life?”

  “Aye. The habit probably helps with the humor you’re so fond of.” He winked. “And takes the edge off of the hard life I live.”

  “That makes sense. I guess. But I’m surprised that you don’t annoy me like most drunkards usually do.”

  “It’s because I don’t get thrashed. I can’t. I’ve got too much on my plate to be losing my sense. At any given moment I might end up in a fight or have to solve someone else’s petty problems for them. It’s like I have a hundred children to tend to.”

  “Are there truly a hundred of them?” I began to panic.

  “One-hundred-seven to be exact. Including you.” Taking note of the way I twiddled with my braids, he lifted a curious brow. “Are you nervous?”

  I confessed, “The thought of being stuck at sea with so many men again makes me feel sick.”

  Rolling his head back, he let out an exhausted breath. “Nobody is going to hurt you on my ship, Hannah. Firstly, we’ve created you a strong disguise. Secondly, if for some reason your identity were uncovered, I’m confident in their loyalty to my command, and they bloody well know that hurting a woman in my presence will land them dead, or worse. But listen,” he looked directly into my eyes, “I honestly feel you’d be much better off staying here in this fancy room. Are you sure you don’t want to wait here, eating like this and dressing like that?” He fanned his hand at the food and at me.

  “I know. I know. I have been debating the matter, but I think I will be better off with you. And I am excited to learn about navigation.”

  “All right.” He easily agreed. “And I talked to Seth about how he’ll be teaching you. His beady little eyes lit up at the sight of your sketch of the harbor here. I’ve never seen that bloke smile. Not once. So that’s a miracle in itself.”

  Proud that the cranky navigator would smile upon my work, my weary nerves began to unwind. But considering Mason’s mention about liquor taking the edge off, I contemplated having a sip. “I think I want to try the wine.”

  “Are you sure?” He shot me a most peculiar squint.

  “Yes, I am sure. You have been asking me all along if I want some. Just hand it over already.”

  He filled a glass for me. “Have you ever had a taste before?”

  “Never.” I accepted the glass half full of red wine.

  “Ye be warned, beauty. Wine is kind of awful.” He chuckled and gestured with his hand, signaling fo
r me to go on and try.

  So I did. And it was terrible. Nearly spitting out the strange flavor, I choked on the bittersweet taste. “Oh! Yuck. Bluck. My mouth is still dry. Did I even drink any? Did I miss my mouth?”

  “Ha! You got it. The face said it all. Nasty shit, huh?”

  “Terrible.” I took another drink.

  Handling it much easier this time, I attempted to keep a sophisticated pose as I smiled. “Thank you for this wonderful evening, Master Bentley.”

  We carried on with silly nonsense as I finished the glass, and once I finally got to my feet, I realized I was drunk. “Oh. Whoa. My body is buzzing like bee’s wings.”

  “That’s why they call it a buzz, my sweet.”

  “My, my. I think I rather like it.” I swayed in his direction, feeling as light as a daisy.

  Standing up to meet me, he took me in his big strong arms. “No sword fighting tonight, eh?”

  “Why in the world not?” I whined against his chest. We had been training all month and loving every minute of it, I did not want to miss a lesson.

  “Because you’re drunk and you might stab me.” He arched an eyebrow.

  “Blast it all. Sword fighting is more fun than drinking.”

  “Ah, the little Viking’s world is full of such perilous choices.”

  “Decision is made. I will never drink again.”

  “The sober sea artist.” He twirled me around.

  Dizzied by the spin, I slapped his arm. “Don’t do that! Oh, my, don’t do that.”

  “How about this? Can I do this?” He wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust his hips between them.

  Clearly remembering the magic that happened when those breeches weren’t in the way, I giggled, “Yes. You can do that anytime.” I kissed all over his neck as he carried me to the bed. “Anytime at all.”

  Dropping me onto the fluffy, blue blankets, he quickly laid his big body on top of mine and ran his hand up my thigh. “Ah, but not at sea. And it’s going to be torture resisting you while we’re gone.”