“I told you that I was not to be disturbed for any reason,” John growled back at the door.
“It's an urgent message, sir,” the plaintive voice explained.
“Later, later,” John dismissed the voice.
A sudden tremendous thudding blow was delivered to the door and the jamb splintered. The door swung crazily from the frame to reveal a swarthy pirate holding Stapleton's manservant by the throat.
“He told you it was urgent,” the cutthroat explained, tossing the man into the room.
“What is the meaning of this?” Stapleton responded angrily, stepping between Lady Grace and the pirate.
“Would you like to tell him or should I, Grace?” answered the pirate.
Enraged, Grace shoved Stapleton out of the way and came toe to toe with the pirate.
“Liam O'Shea, what the bloody hell are you doing? You're ruining everything!” she seethed.
“Me? What about you? Your ship is sailing about without her captain while you're here bedding some pasty fop.”
“Pasty fop?” Stapleton protested.
“Oh, shut up,” they both retorted and then glared at one another.
“Lest you forget, Captain O'Malley, this scheme was your idea. ‘Help me, Liam. It's in your own best interest, Liam’,” he mocked. “Are you even aware that for the last fortnight, Pippa . . .”
“ . . . has been sending some extremely interesting information from the Ocean’s Whore?” Grace finished the thought for him. “Of course I know Lizzie has picked a new target. Why do you think I'm spending time in the bedchambers of a fancy pants British civil servant?”
“Grace, what's going on?” Stapleton cautiously queried.
“Shut up, John,” she snapped. “Liam, if we can't get the British Navy to catch her in the act, this will all be for nothing. And thanks to Johnny here, I happen to know that the Commodore of the Navy in the West Indies was due to arrive here in Port Royal yesterday. I'm sure the storms have delayed his arrival, but now you've managed to ruin my introduction to him,” she growled at Liam.
“I'm not the one who decided to stay in port to play dress-up, Grace. You haven't bothered to send word of any kind for weeks,” Liam growled back and grabbed her by the wrist.
“If I hadn't been making regular contact with our network, O'Shea, then how would I know that the captain of the merchantman Hercules had enough of the Jamaican Governor holding up his ship for port fees. They sailed for Charleston early without escort. Just how would I know that without making contact,” she said as she tried to pull free of his grip.
“You're sure the Hercules has sailed?”
“As sure as I will slit your throat in your sleep if you don't let me go, O'Shea.”
He relaxed his grip and let go of her hand.
“Thanks to your damned pigheadedness, Captain Shireland will have her prize uncontested again.”
“Grace, are you two saying that you know for a fact that Captain Elizabeth Shireland is planning an act of piracy in violation of her agreement with the Governor's pardon?” Stapleton dared to ask.
“Did you fools ever think she'd really abide by any such agreement?” she sneered at the Governor's Secretary.
“I must make a report of this at once,” Stapleton said as he grabbed a pair of breeches and bolted for the door.
In a flash Liam pulled his pistol and trained it on Stapleton's head.
“That won't be necessary, O'Shea. If Johnny knows what's good for him, he'll make that report without mentioning exactly where he got such information. Right, John?” Grace leveled her eyes in an unnerving stare.
“But of course, milady. No one would believe that the Lady Whitmore was actually the notorious Captain O'Malley, anyway.”
“It's just that kind of wisdom that will keep you alive long enough to be appointed governor yourself someday,” she smiled at him.
Stapleton ran from the room before terror could overtake him. The poor manservant scrabbled across the floor in his wake.
Liam chuckled once they were alone. “That worked out pretty well, I'd say,” he grinned to himself.
Like a viper striking, Grace slapped him across the jaw. “You foolish idiot, you very nearly ruined everything with that stunt,” she hissed and spat.
“If I had waited much longer, you would have had to take the pleasure of his bed again.”
“He was more adventuresome than most,” she muttered.
Liam grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her close. “The passion that burns deep inside you is too dangerous for most men to take. They would be consumed in the conflagration,” he breathed hotly against her ear.
“And you are not like most men?”
“You need someone who burns as fiercely as you do, Grace.” To prove his point, he burned a scorching kiss upon her mouth.
He trapped her body against his own, but as the kiss began to fade, she regained her senses. She forced her arms between them and with all the strength she could command, she shoved him away.
“Passion's fires, indeed,” she sneered. “I've been burned by you before, Liam O'Shea. You can be sure I won't be doing that again.” Her eyes were bright with deep anger and old pain.
In a moment of defeat, Liam dropped himself to the edge of the bed and held his face in his hands.
“Every time I'm in the same room with you, I burn. When you're gone, I ache. You are nothing but constant torment to me,” he murmured, almost moaned. His voice was barely audible in the quiet room. “Please, Grace, end my misery.”
Somehow he had managed to soften some of the scars he'd left on her heart. She took two steps forward to reach him where he sat. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and planted a kiss upon his head. He dropped his hands and caressed her bare ankles. A sigh crossed her lips as she wrapped him in her arms and cradled his head against her heart.
Her heartbeat gently pulsed in his ear and her womanly scent filled his nostrils, and he began to caress her bare feet and work his hands up her legs. Without much thought, she began to rub the back of his neck. As his warm hands reached the back of her bare thighs, she cupped his jaw and tilted his face up to hers. His eyes were soft, but beginning to darken with the wildness that resided within.
Her eyes closed as his mouth drew nearer to hers. The warmth of his mouth burned hers like a shot of the finest rum. The kiss ignited the inferno within both of them. He grasped the roundness of her bottom in each hand and pulled her closer. Her head dropped back as he began to kiss and bite her brests.
A sweet throaty moan escaped from her. Liam released his grip and tugged the nightdress off over her head. She took a step back to escape the gown and stood naked before him, wrapped in nothing but the light streaming in from the window.
Burning for the full touch of her flesh against his own, Liam tugged off his shirt and breeches. His cutlass fell clanging to the floor. He pulled Grace down onto the bed with him.
“So help me, Grace, but I need to claim you for myself or wither away without ye,” he whispered hoarsely to her as he kissed, petted, and wrapped himself around her.
She felt her own need for the kind of fulfillment he could give her, but she still lacked the courage to seek it for herself. Rather than say anything at all, she entwined herself in him and welcome his kisses with her own.
For a few moments they tumbled about on the bed together, touching and exploring. When he landed astride her thighs, both willingly crossed the point of no return.
Grace opened her legs and tilted her pelvis up to meet him. Liam's member slipped easily in to her warm wet depths. She drew in a ragged sigh as he pushed ever deeper. He filled her so well and completely, like he had been molded just for her. The press of his hips against hers was sheer bliss.
Then Liam began the first slow pull out of her, causing a delicious friction as cool air rushed into the widening gap between them. Grace's eyes widened as she gasped at the change in sensation. Each stroke thereafter built in speed and intensity, from long s
low strokes to a desperate pounding rhythm.
Grace moaned and panted and sighed as Liam tuned his body to hers. In a rapturous crescendo she called his name in ecstasy. In that moment they had claimed all that they were to each other and finally found completion.
As passion subsided, contentment took its place. Liam rolled to his back and wrapped Grace in his arms. Both slipped wordlessly into peaceful slumber.
Grace had no idea how much time had passed while she laid in Liam's arms, but came awake dreamily, still enveloped in Liam’s warmth. She drew a deep sleepy sigh and was about to open her eyes, when a lightning bolt of pain shot through her head and drove her mind back into darkness.
Chapter 7
Into the Trap
Liam became gradually aware of the emptiness in the bed, but rather than coming awake, he rolled over to doze a while longer. When he did finally awaken, Grace was gone. He wasn’t alarmed until he saw that although she was not in the room, all of her belongings still were. He quickly tugged his clothes back on and strapped his cutlass to his hip. Liam flew out of the house in search of the one thing most precious to him, the woman who had claimed his soul.
* * *
The dull unending ache throbbing through her skull brought Grace slowly back to her senses. From the rough feel of splinters against her back and legs, she realized that she was lying not in a bed, but on hard wooden planks. She opened her eyes but the darkness did not dissipate. A moment of quiet but futile struggle brought her the knowledge that she was blindfolded and bound. The subtle familiar rocking motion was the final clue; she was a captive, being held aboard a ship.
Grace remained very still. She did not want to give away her conscious condition, if she was being observed. She fought the urge to shift to a more comfortable position and tried to absorb as much as she could of her surroundings.
The moldering smells, lack of air moving across her skin, and the continued gentle rocking told her that she was below decks on a ship of some size. Odds were, she was in the ship's brig. Along with the bustling noises coming faintly from the decks above, she could hear the steady foot falls of a sentry nearby and knew she was being guarded. The question was, whose prisoner was she?
As Grace began to sift through the list of would-be captors, additional footfalls came, presumably from someone coming down the stairs from the deck above. The guard stopped and addressed his new companion.
“Who goes there? No one is to be near the prisoner.”
“I wouldn't be down here if the captain hadn't sent me, you oaf,” came the reply. “Any sign of life, yet?”
“She hasn't moved an inch since we brought her down here.”
“If she doesn't stir soon, captain will send the surgeon down to be sure you didn't knock her brains loose.”
“I barely tapped her skull,” the guard retorted.
“Just shout up the hatch as soon as she starts coming round.”
Then the feet retreated back up the wooden treads and the guard went back to pacing the deck.
Neither of the voices were familiar to Grace, so she still didn't know who was behind her kidnapping. As she listened to the guard's pacing, she determined he was the only one watching her. She timed her movements to test her bonds when he was walking away from her, and quickly found that while she wasn’t chained or shackled, the ropes holding her were quite sufficient to continue doing so. She lay there for a moment or two longer, but she was unable to find a good reason to continue the ruse and decided to find a little physical comfort; she sat up. The guard was standing over her in a flash.
“I see that I did not bash your brains out as feared. How fare you, Captain O'Malley?”
“I am bound and blindfolded, held against my will, my head throbs, and I am as parched as a desert. I fare quite well under the circumstances.”
“The captain warned me that your tongue was as dangerous as any dagger.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. Then a sharp piercing whistle assailed her ears, and footsteps quickly rushed down the stairs.
* * *
Liam checked the harbor first, certain that it would be the most likely place to find her during the day. The Dragon's first mate assured him that Captain O'Malley had not been aboard at all since their arrival. None of the dock workers had seen anyone answering to Grace's description. The old harbor master was a favorite of the fair captain's, and he had not seen her in over a fortnight.
Next Liam stopped in to see Mademoiselle Lisette. Surely Grace would not be gallivanting around Port Royal in naught but a night dress.
“Captain O'Shea, what brings you around to my shop at this hour of the morning?” Lisette purred.
“I was wondering if Captain O'Malley had been round to see you today,” he said quietly.
“No, I have not seen her, nor do I expect to,” she said, her smile wavering just a touch. “Did she mention any intent to come in today?”
“No, she said nothing of the sort to me. I merely wanted to catch up with her earlier than planned and thought she might drop by here,” Lam tried to cover his growing concern.
“Is there any message you would like me to relay should I see her?”
“No message. I'm sure I'll see her before you, anyway.”
Liam was running out of ideas. Why would Grace leave so suddenly? The circumstances felt all wrong to Liam. The more he inquired after her, the more alarmed he became. He even sent a messenger boy to Stapleton to see if she had been seen in the governor's office. All he received was a tersely worded note regarding how busy a man of Stapleton's station was, and that there was no time to go chasing every errant wench in town.
Without the slightest inkling of where else Grace might be likely to go, Liam wandered the town until his feet bore him to the door of the Black Swan Inn. The tavern keeper was a trusted friend and always ready with a tankard of grog and a bit of sage advice. He had already checked everywhere else, might as well check here, he thought as he pushed his way into the darkened interior.
“Why if it isn't the wily Captain O'Shea,” a jolly voice called from behind the counter. “I was wondering when ye might be darkening my door.”
“And why would you be expecting me at all, Phineas, you old salt?”
“When has the Black Dragon ever been in port that ye didn't stop by?”
“Aye.”
“But I have more reason than that, lad. Sit down and have a drink,” Phineas offered.
Liam eyed the barkeep suspiciously. “What are you up to, you old sea dog?”
Phineas filled a tankard for Liam and motioned to a nearby table.
“I thought you might be coming round because this young whelp of a sailor showed up with a note for you early this morning. I figured it was one of your own crew, lad,” Phineas explained.
“I just left my own ship, Phin, and no one said anything of leaving a note for me. Let's see it.”
Phineas waddled back to his bar to retrieve the mysterious missive. Liam had drained nearly half the tankard by the time Phin returned with a little scrap of paper, so small it could only be folded once. All interest in the rest of his grog fled as Liam opened the note and instantly recognized the thin flowing hand.
“Dear Captain O'Shea, our mutual friend, Captain O'Malley, has kindly accepted my invitation to join me aboard the Ocean’s Whore along with a recent companion of yours. I just hope for your sake that nothing ill befalls Grace and Pippa while they sail under my colors.”
It was signed simply, “ES.” Lizzie. Somehow she'd uncovered the plot and had gotten to Grace.
Daylight suddenly flooded the tavern as someone came bounding through the front door.
“Phineas! Barkeep! Ahoy!”
“Aye lad, what be your business?”
“Have you seen Captain O'Shea today?”
“Finish blinking the sunbeams out of your eyes, boy. He's sitting right here.”
Both O'Shea and Phineas recognized the Black Dragon's cabin boy straight away. The lad was rubbi
ng his eyes, desperately trying to encourage them to adjust to the dim light inside. He sat down at the end of the table and pushed another piece of paper toward Liam.
“The British Commodore has been informed of Captain Shireland's activities and intends to sail within the hour.”
This note was signed “John Stapleton.”
“Phin, thank you for the bit o' rum, but a situation demands my immediate attention.”
Before Phineas could respond, Liam grabbed the cabin boy and was out the door.
* * *
The guard removed Grace's blindfold just as two burly sailors brought Pippa down the stairs. Grace remained stoic, not wanting to betray recognition of her own spy.
“The Captain figures you two have plenty to talk about,” the guard growled.
They bound the poor lass next to Grace and then departed to the deck above. Grace just sat there, brooding quietly. The Ocean’s Whore; she realized that she was caught right in the middle of her own trap just as it was about to snap shut. Pippa began to sniffle and cry.
“What?” Grace's whisper had a severe edge to it.
“I'm so sorry, Captain,” Pippa hiccupped between sobs. “I had no idea that Captain Shireland was using some of your people.”
“I see,” Grace tried to soothe. “What's done is done. There's nothing you could have done differently.”
“But I feel as though I've utterly failed everyone. I haven't even the heart left to avenge my dear Thomas.” Whatever else she said was too bound up in her sobs to understand.
By the time Pippa had calmed, it was too late for more questions. The guard had come thudding back down the stairs.
“Captain wishes to see you in her quarters.”
Chapter 8
Revenge Is Not So Sweet
Grace rose stiffly and waited for the burly sailor to release her bonds. Despite a full day of inactivity, Grace felt weary. The lack of a meal was contributing to her fatigue. With a sigh, she heaved herself up the stairs onto the main deck of the Ocean’s Whore.
Revenge of the Siren Song (Rogues of Sea and Sky Book 1) Page 4
