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

by Cristi Taijeron

  “Me too,” I pouted. I had only seen him with his hair down a few times—when he combed through it wet—but here, with his light brown locks draped across his broad, suntanned shoulders, I thought he looked better than ever before.

  Silently, I traced the swirling pattern of the tattoo on his shoulder, wishing I could also run my fingers along the scripted B inked on his shoulder blade, but I just ran my hands through his hair instead. He was simply stunning. Everything a man should be. Touching his nose, I slowly ran my finger down to his lips, and traced the outline of their fullness as he stared at me blankly.

  Thinking of how much I loved him, and how much he hurt me, I started to cry. “You promised you would never hurt me again, Mason. You promised and you lied.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Hannah? What did I do?” He shook his head, looking to be at a complete loss.

  “You had those naked women in your room,” I reminded him, flashing him a hateful scowl.

  He slapped his forehead. “That’s what all this shit’s about?”

  “Yes!” I pulled away from him, annoyed by the way he made my concerns seem petty. “I refuse to be one of your sluts. No matter how handsome you are.”

  “Ah, Hannah, don’t ever say that. You’re my lady. My woman, my everything.”

  “Oh, stick a cannon ball in your gob, Mason Bentley.” I stood up. Realizing that I had no clothes on, I shrieked in shock and wrapped the silky sheet around me. “Why am I naked?”

  Without moving from his seat, he lowered his face into his hands and melodramatically exhaled. “Because your clothes were dirty, torn, and bloody for some reason. Oh, that’s right. It’s because you ran away, got yourself in some trouble, and killed someone.”

  The visual of my knife piercing through Gruff’s hairy throat hit me like a great gun blast, but refusing to ache over the vile memory, I acted as nonchalant as I wanted to feel. “Oh. Uh. Yes. I did do that.” Looking at my hands that were now as clean as could be, I asked, “What happened to the blood?”

  “I washed it off while you slept. I couldn’t stand the sight of it. Nor could I handle the tormenting thoughts about how you ended up with your clothes all torn apart.” He finally lifted his face. “Tell me what happened, Hannah. Who did this to you?”

  Looking around the beautiful room that he had carried me to and cleaned me up in, I noticed that there was a bowl of oranges and a loaf of bread on the table. “I will tell you after I eat.” I sat down all wrapped up in my plum colored sheet.

  Quickly eating half the loaf of bread and chugging down liters of water, I asked, “Where are we?”

  “The West Wind Inn, again.”

  “Oh. They told me there was no vacancy here. How did you acquire this nice room and obtain all this good food?”

  With little interest in making small talk, he grumbled, “I know how to get what I want whenever the hell I want it.”

  I started peeling an orange. “Well, after I saw those naked slut-tramp-trollops in your cabin, I ran off and paid for a room at some shitty little inn. I wish I would have found a place like this.”

  “What inn were you at?” He stood up, sounding upset.

  Not wanting Bermuda Jo to get in trouble for housing me, I said, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, it matters. I’ve been knocking on every door and interrogating every mother’s son and whore-faced daughter on this godforsaken island. Not a one of them knew a thing about you, and if you hadn’t come back when you did, I would’ve burned this blasted town to the ground!” He waved his hands wildly. “I hated not knowing where you were like I never hated a thing in my life, and you can bet your sweet arse you aren’t the only one who ended up with blood on your hands this week!”

  Frightened by the way he was yelling at me, I slinked back into my chair. “You killed someone?”

  “I performed a few trials of ordeal, and slit a few throats to show that I was serious…nothing compared to the hell I was going to raise on this earth with today’s rising sun.” He pointed out the window, chest heaving from the intensity of his emotions. “What did you think you were going to do? Where the hell did you think you were going to go?”

  Feeling like a child being lectured, I twiddled my fingers. “I wanted to go to London.”

  “London?” he shouted. “What the hell do you want to go to that shit-stack city for?”

  Offended by the way he demeaned my dream, I started to cry. “I like London. That is where I grew up and that is where I was going to make my life with my husband who was murdered. In case you forgot. I am sure it’s hard to keep track of all your whore’s stories.”

  Growling like a beast, he grabbed the table in front of me and threw it across the room. The food went flying, the glasses shattered to bits, but apparently that wasn’t enough demolition for him. He kicked a chair, he broke a mirror, and then, he picked up the table and chucked the entire thing out of the massive bay window.

  Screaming in fear with shards of glass splintering around me, I jumped to my feet and grabbed a knife that had fallen to the floor. Holding my sheet with one hand and the knife with the other, I threatened as he strode in my direction, “Stay back. Stay the hell away from me.”

  Without a care for my weapon or my words, he stepped closer. “If you insult me one more time I’ll throw you out there next.”

  “Insult you?” I questioned, sincerely unaware of his meaning.

  “I’ve been nothing but true to you, Hannah. I promised you I’d never love another and I swear to you I didn’t put one hand on those pox-faced whores in my cabin, nor have I touched another since you went missing. You’re the only woman I want to be with and I’m entirely insulted by your lack of faith in my loyalty.”

  Lowering my knife, I apologized. “I’m sorry. I just…”

  “You just what? I’m starting to think you’re the one who can’t be trusted. Running off into the night, murdering people…” Waving his hands in frustration, he walked away from me.

  “I did what I had to do, Mason,” I firmly stated, sounding as tough as I could while crying in the corner, wrapped in a bed sheet.

  “Not going for it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “If you wouldn’t have left, you wouldn’t have been put in that position.”

  “Well then, maybe you shouldn’t treat me so poorly that I want to run away from you,” I cried.

  Standing stiff and silent, Mason took a deep breath. It looked like he was trying not to throw any more furniture.

  He slowly hissed, “You’re insatiable, woman.”

  I glared at him.

  With his composure regained, he said, “Just tell me what the hell happened.”

  Not at all interested in discussing the topic, I looked away from him. “I just want to forget about it.”

  “I don’t. And you’re going to tell me everything so I know how to deal with it in case any of the devil-snakes slithering around in the mess you made come back to haunt you.”

  There was no use in disputing his reasoning. I rolled my head back and huffed, “It was Gruff.”

  “Gruff?! My bosun?” His eyes grew wide with horror.

  “Yes. But he was raping a young girl, and when I tried to stop him he attacked me.”

  Sitting on the bed, he exhaled into his palm. “Goddamn woman. Just when I think it can’t get any worse with you.”

  “With me?” I shrieked in defense. “He found out I was a woman and I became afraid for my life. I don’t give a shit how much you liked him. He was a terrible man and I am glad I killed him before he could expose my secret. Our secret. Now unless you are going to congratulate me for cleaning the earth of such vile scum, I suggest you shut your fat mouth about this.”

  Walking towards me with a changed expression, he clamped one hand into the other like a closed chest. “Mouth shut. Your secret is my secret, Hannah. I only wish I could have done him in myself.” Wrapping his arms around me, he kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.
But listen here. Normally, I let you make your own decisions, but after all that, you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not. It’s dreadfully obvious that you can’t be left alone. And this…” He pulled my shitty little farewell note out of his pocket. “Just so you know, this little piece of paper hurt me more than any stab wound I’ve ever acquired. So, if you ever do get mad at me or feel like running off, come talk to me first.”

  “I’m sorry, Mason,” I mumbled against his chest. “I just couldn’t say my true feelings or expose my true identity. And I was too mad to go in there without bashing in all of their whore heads like a crazy woman.”

  Putting his hard hand on my cheek, he hummed, “You are a crazy woman, but that’s mostly why I like you. And I must say, you’ve impressed me. Your stealth is almost mythical. Witch like.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If you say so. Now, can we forget that this ever happened?”

  He swooped me up in his big strong arms. “If you can forget the reasons you ran away, I can forget the fact that you did. But ye be warned, beauty, killing a man—no matter what the reasons—it isn’t an easy thing on the soul, and you might not be able to forget that part of the story so easily.” Sitting down on the bed with me on his lap, he added, “I know I suffered greatly after my first kill.”

  Knowing that I did what I had to do, and feeling no regret over the matter, I was sure I’d be fine. “Just like all the other things I hate in my mind, I’ll deal with it. In fact, I think all of those ghosts will leave me alone for a while now.”

  “Well done, my fearsome Viking queen.” He kissed my forehead.

  Unsure if I should be prying into his privacy, I twiddled with my braid and braved the nerve to ask, “Why did you do it? Your first kill, I mean.”

  Mason took a deep breath. “I suppose I could tell you. I’ve never told anyone else, though, so you have to keep this story in your little bag of secrets, all right?”

  “All right.” I easily agreed and leaned my head on his shoulder as he began.

  “My mother, Maryanna, died birthing me and my twin sister, Lace. She wasn’t married to my father, and being how he was a big ol’ drunkard, it was my mother’s father, Sterling Bentley, who raised Lace and me. Our lives were good on his farm. He taught me most everything I know about life, and though he worked us hard—even as children—he also gave us plenty of time to play.

  Being twins, Lace and I looked alike, and were best friends growing up. Everything was all right in our world until our grandfather died. We were fourteen at the time, and though I thought I was man enough to take over the farm on my own, our drunk ol’ father came back around and slopped everything up. I didn’t like him one bit. Not for one day. And soon as he learned that I wasn’t going to let him take reign over me or my sister, the bastard sold us into servitude.

  The rich son of a bitch who then claimed to own us worked me out in the field and he had Lace serving in the house. As you know, I hated working under that man’s whip, and I kept telling Lace we were going to escape one day. She let me think that it wasn’t so bad in the house, but as the months passed, I watched her body thinning and I felt her spirit fading. Though she would never confess it, I knew that fat ol’ bastard was the cause of her deterioration. Well, one day, I saw for myself just what he was doing to ruin her.”

  I felt his body tense beneath me.

  “Without thinking it through I jumped in the window of his study, yanked him off of her, and…I killed him. I choked him to death with my bare hands.” Staring into space, Mason shivered. “I’ll never forget the way it felt when his life left his body.”

  “What happened then? Is this when you escaped?” The suspense was killing me.

  “Aye. With the sun setting behind us, Lace and I ran into the night. Sleeping in the forest, hunting rabbits and catching fish, we ventured across the woodlands. Finally finding a town far enough away from the troubles we left behind, I got an apprenticeship with a blacksmith. There, I worked my arse off to earn a fair share for Lace and me, who had not said a word or had a bite to eat since we fled.

  She once was a pretty girl, the one all the boys were after, and I had to rough a few of them up while we were young. But by this time she was so thin and discolored that she almost looked like a skeleton. I took care of her day and night, the best I could, trying to give her the strength to turn it around, but she lost her interest in living.”

  With my hand over my mouth, I gasped, “What happened to her?”

  “She got the fever and went home to the Lord,” he sullenly stated.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed his cheeks. “Oh, Mason, I am so sorry. This is a terribly sad story, but even as a lad, you were so brave.”

  Swatting off my generous affection, he said, “Ah, I just did what I had to do, more for Lace than for me. But that’s all part of the shit my grandfather taught me. And I suppose if she would’ve lived, I might be more likely to tell the tale. But she didn’t. So I don’t.”

  “But that isn’t your fault. She got sick.”

  “She gave up, Hannah. I know there was nothing I could do about what was set in her mind, but seeing her fall apart like that,” he shook his head in shame, “I reckon that’s half the reason I never give up. Life is shitty sometimes, but I just try to get the damned best I can out of it while I’m still breathing. And if for nothing else, I always enjoy a bit of my freedom for Lace. She was robbed of it too soon.” He closed his watery eyes.

  His story shook me to the core. It explained so much about him, everything from why he understood my struggles, why he was so protective, why he embraced his freedom and the freedom of others, and why he always tipped his servants so well.

  “You are an amazing man, Mason Bentley, and I know your grandfather Sterling would be proud of the way you have turned out.”

  He smiled. “Well, now you know about my first kill. Though I never once regretted it, that man’s dying face haunted my spirit for years to follow. So, if that nasty ol’ Gruff spooks you in the night, just wake me and I’ll chase his hell-bound spirit away.” He laughed.

  “Thank you.” I kissed his cheek.

  Wanting to talk of happier things, I squinted at him and asked, “The blacksmith in that story…Would that happen to be the lady who taught you how to sword fight?”

  His face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Aye. She taught me a thing or two.”

  “Oh, you dirty dog.” I playfully slapped his arm.

  While I sat there on his lap, we talked for a while about lighter subjects. Even with the sounds of the crowd below wafting through the busted window, it felt like we were all alone on one of heaven’s clouds. He was so close I could feel his heart beating, and that exotic sandalwood oil he wore enticed my senses in the most sensual of ways. Relentlessly stunned by his ruggedly handsome appeal—especially with his hair hanging wild about his shoulders—I poked his bold nose and asked, “What is the matter with you, Mason Bentley? Why in the world would a man like you choose to be with a disastrous little lady like me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He looked me over while biting on his lip.

  “Maybe, because I’m an outright lunatic.”

  Grabbing my thigh, he whispered in my ear, “Maybe I’m a bit of a lunatic myself, because I like everything about you.” He laid me down and got on top of me. “Your sweet side soothes my soul as much as your sassy side feeds the fire in my spirit. I like your unique way of looking at things and I like your eccentric style, too. And those braids in your hair and the way you do your eye makeup causes me to stir with so much lust I can hardly control myself. There isn’t a wench in the world the same as you, Hannah, and I’m glad to call you my own.”

  Happy to hear him express the things I never knew he liked about me, I giggled like a shy little girl.

  “And this body…” He pulled the sheet off of me and started kissing me all over.

  Blushing from the compliments, yet chilled by the tickle of his touch, I laid back on my bed of cl
ouds and let him do whatever he pleased with me. As strong as he was, he tossed me around like a play thing, but I didn’t mind. Oh, I liked being Midnight, the artist of the sea, but I loved being Mason Bentley’s one and only woman more than anything else in the world.

  X

  Hannah spent the next few weeks of her life as Mason Bentley’s lady of the night. With her legs around his waist, and her hands tangled in his hair, she moaned his name from every surface of the fancy room he kept her in. As for Midnight, he spent his days adventuring the shores of Tortuga, refining the most particular details of his maps. With every curve of the coast and every hilltop of the island replicated to perfection, word began to spread about the maps marked with a feather and a moon.

  The Midnight Feather was somebody. The satisfaction I felt in my soul when seafaring rogues complimented my maps was far more valuable than any piece of eight they paid me for them. Even the notorious Black James Reid bought one! My life had never been better.

  Knowing we’d be heading out to sea tomorrow, I met Mason on the deck of Esmerelda and asked, “Are you busy today?”

  He looked around. “I could be, or I don’t have to be. It all depends on why you’re asking.”

  “Will you take me out in one of the longboats again? I want to get some final measurements before we leave.”

  “In that case, I’m as free as the birds.” He motioned me over to the boats.

  Whenever he couldn’t take me out, Shark would do it, but with it being my last day to speak with Mason as a woman for a while, I was happy he accepted the chore.

  We spent the day rowing around the bays, measuring the depths, and admiring the beautiful sunlit view of the island itself. From afar, I got a better perspective of the hillsides, and taking our time, I was able to sketch them in much better detail than I did from the ship.

  “You’re getting good at this.” Mason dipped his hat in the ocean and poured the water all over his head. “No wonder the men think you’re a sorcerer.”