Rescued by the Buccaneer

by Normandie Alleman

  Collecting himself, he called Frederica’s name. She didn’t answer, but he noticed her floating about twenty yards away. He made his way towards her, swimming more like a dolphin than a man since his arms were bound.

  By the time he reached her, his breath was labored. “Are you alright?”

  “Alright?” she shrieked. “How could I possibly be alright? We’re stranded in the ocean! Shark bait!” Her voice was shrill, her face white as a dove.

  He wished he could shake her by the shoulders, but since his arms were bound behind him, that wasn’t an option. “Frederica! Take hold of yourself!” he barked.

  She glared at him, floundering amidst the waves, the heights of which were significant.

  “Come closer and help me take off my boot.”

  “What? Which one?” she asked.

  “The left one. Here, I’ll float my leg next to your hands. I’ll push against my other leg. You pull.”

  With an exasperated sigh, she complied with his request. Tugging on his footwear, she asked, “Why are we doing this?”

  “There’s a knife in there.”

  “A knife? So we can cut these ropes loose?”

  He nodded, giving her a now-you’re-catching-on look.

  The boot gave way and Frederica maneuvered herself to where their bound hands touched. Her soft fingers clutched his rough ones, and he tilted the boot, retrieving the knife in the process.

  “Hold onto my boot and I’ll cut your hands loose. Then you can do mine.” He’d be able to cut hers while bound, but she’d need both hands and a good set of eyes when she used the knife on his bindings. He didn’t like the idea of her accidentally nicking one of his arteries, not to mention that blood would bring the sharks. No, he would go first.

  She nodded in agreement, for once not giving him her usual sass.

  Sawing through her ropes in a matter of minutes, he freed her hands. She shook her limbs and rolled onto her back, waving her arms and legs in the shape of an angel. “It feels so good to be free! And the ocean’s not as horrid as I thought it would be.”

  “My turn. Please use caution.” Gaston handed her the knife and rolled into the dead man’s float on his belly, giving her prime access to his wrists. He felt the sawing of the knife, but never its blade. She did a fine job, he had to admit.

  Once his hands were free, he came up for air. “Now take your clothes off,” he ordered her and began to remove his breeches.

  She sputtered. “I beg your pardon? You think now that you are free of Humphrey, you may have your way with me?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself. Don’t you feel the weight of your clothes? Remove those wet clothes, or your modesty will drown you before the ocean has the chance.”

  Through puckered lips and a creased brow, he could see her face absorb his words. She reminded him of a child who had been recently chastised for exhibiting dangerous behavior. She acquiesced, but she didn’t like it, a thundercloud settling on her face as she stripped off her dress and undergarments.

  “I’ll need help with my corset, if you don’t mind,” she said, turning her back to him.

  “Certainly,” he said formally, though his thoughts were anything but as he unlaced the sexy undergarment, releasing her from her all physical barriers between them.

  They each had a bundle of clothes in front of them which they held onto. Only their heads bobbed in the water. While the water was clear, the bobbing of the waves distorted any view he would have had of her nudity in calmer seas.

  “Happy?” she snipped.

  He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Frederica, if we are going to survive this, my dear, you are going to have to adopt a more positive attitude. Do you really think I had you undress so that I might spend the last of my energy taking you in this rollicking sea? Amidst these waves?”

  “Most likely not,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Good. Then stretch out and float. You must save your strength.”

  Gaston tied their garments together, making a chain rope of cloth. He tied one end to his right leg and the other end to her left leg. He clutched his boots, which now held his knife, his navigational instrument, and the precious flask.

  “You swim well for a girl. Hell, most pirates don’t know how to swim. How did you learn?” he asked.

  “There was a creek behind my grandmother’s house that I played near. So much so that it scared my parents. My father made certain I acquired a certain proficiency in the water, said he’d never hear the end of it from my mother if I drowned,” she laughed and reached her arms out to splash at the water playfully.

  Gaston noted Frederica must have been a handful for her parents. Willful, troublesome, and too smart for her own good. Just the sort of woman he was drawn to. The sort of woman who could understand him.

  Seemingly resigned to her lack of clothing for the moment, Frederica rested her backside on the water. Her breasts were visible as she popped up and down in the water like a particularly delightful bobbin at the end of a fishing line. Each pop up gave him a short glimpse at her fetching figure.

  Bountiful milky breasts and long, silky legs led his eye to that sweet triangle between her legs. She had a physique that begged to be loved, every inch of it. The sun’s rays glinted off the water, flecks of light sparkling and highlighting her beauty. God’s blood if she wasn’t the most enticing female he’d ever met.

  She frowned when she caught him looking at her.

  “Keeping an eye on you, so I can let you know when you need to turn,” he said.

  She tossed him a quizzical look.

  “So you don’t burn as severely.”

  “Ah, yes. Thank you, kind sir,” she said, a lilt in her voice.

  They lolled amidst the waves in silence for several moments before he said, “See here, Freddie, I was wrong about you betraying me. Please accept my apologies.”

  “Freddie, is it? One apology and you feel you’ve earned the right to call me a nickname?”

  Damn if she was not a spirited girl, this one. “Frederica.”

  “That’s better. And I forgive you.” Her tone was one of a queen granting her subjects largess. The woman was maddening and gorgeous and nearly naked, and she was proving to be quite a distraction from the task of surviving the wicked seas.

  Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she peered at him. “What will happen to us Gaston?” There was a new intimacy in her voice—the kind of intimacy shared by lovers, or those who shared a death sentence.

  Holding up his compass, he answered her with a confidence he did not feel. “If we stay within the flow of the tides, we should wash ashore on the Jamaican Isles within a day or two. Hard to be certain of the currents, but we’re not far from land.”

  His instruments and experience told him this. He wasn’t lying to her, but he wasn’t telling her about the many possible hazards they might come across either. It wouldn’t do to have a hysterical woman on his hands. In this gigantic body of water, he’d need all his wits about him to survive, and she’d diverted his attention enough already.

  “Promise?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

  The corner of his eyes crinkled and he tilted his head back, reassuring her.

  She reached out and squeezed his forearm before closing her eyes. Her touch was electric, and while his brain beseeched him to remain cerebral, the rest of him did not receive the message.

  Frederica dipped up and down next to him, eyes closed, lips parted. How he wanted to capture those plump red lips with his own. Without her clothing, she was stripped of all the presumptions and conventions of society. He’d known life as an aristocrat himself, and he knew what it was to be stripped of society’s pretensions. The sun burned and the sea drowned all men and women alike, regardless of their station. The act of survival was universal. In her vast wisdom, Mother Nature did not discriminate. She cared not if one was pauper or privileged.

  His focus drifted back to Frederica and her charms, and his cock grew erect when h
e thought of how he’d like to spread her legs and thrust inside her tight, warm channel. Absently he stroked himself as he watched her, the ocean lapping at her fair, supple skin.

  He realized he had no business taking advantage of her. She needed an aide to help her survive, and then she would move on with her life. They would both move on with their lives.

  He didn’t blame her, for he had nothing to offer such a woman. No home, no stability, no security. His vagabond lifestyle suited him, but it was no life for a woman. Particularly one like Frederica, who had been raised in an environment where men were expected to be honorable, to abide by certain standards of conduct, and to his recollection, these standards did not include the usual pirate behaviors such as thieving, plundering, and occasionally murdering.

  The hot sun drilled into his skin, and he considered taking a swig from the flask but thought better of it. They needed to save their only source of drink. He let the sunny haze whisk him into a different frame of mind, relaxed yet on alert. It was not unusual for him to keep watch and conserve energy at the same time. They’d make it to land somehow. He’d been shipwrecked, shot, stabbed, and lost at sea more than once, and each time he’d survived.

  A similar fate would befall him this time. Or so he told himself, silencing the voice in his head reminding him that one day his luck would run out.

  When the sun went down, it felt noticeably cooler, especially when the wind began to pick up. Having been in the water for hours, the cool water had begun to drag down their body temperatures. Frederica ran her hands over her shoulders in an attempt to warm herself. “I’m cold.”

  “Move around. When your body is still it grows colder.”

  She swam a few strokes then practically jumped out of the water. “Eeek!” she squealed and jumped into his arms.

  “What is it?” he asked, curling his arms around her. She burrowed her head in his neck and her teeth chattered in his ear.

  “Something brushed my foot!” Her eyes searched the water frantically.

  He held her shivering body tightly in his arms, stroking her long, tangled hair. There was no sign of any dangerous marine life. “Just a fish. It will be alright. I shall keep you warm.”

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched him to her. Rather than a lustful embrace, it was more like a baby monkey holding onto its mother for dear life. Though he had been dreaming of Frederica’s naked body pressed up against his, the fantasy had not included the eerie chill of the ocean at night or the fear of them becoming a meal for a sea creature lurking beneath. Thus, his cock remained limp. Even in their dire circumstances, he hoped she wouldn’t notice. He wondered vaguely what she knew of the male anatomy in any case. Probably not much if what she’d told him about Humphrey was true.

  She whimpered. “I’m hungry.”

  He gave her a sip from the flask, which she drank from greedily.

  “Easy. We must conserve.” He pulled it from her lips and she did not protest. Instead she snuggled closer, gluing her arms around his neck again.

  It was a long night. The water was colder at night, being that it was April in the Caribbean, but the temperature was not cold enough to threaten their lives. However, when one was wet in the dark and the wind was blowing, it felt significantly colder than it actually was.

  Frederica dozed in stretches with her head on his shoulder. He found himself enjoying this, pleased he could bring her comfort, if only for a short respite. After a few moments she would wake and her body would recognize the dire situation again. The body heat they generated served them better than the heat either of them alone would have.

  Once she turned her head toward his and asked, “Gaston, do you really think we’ll make it?” He could hear the terror rising in her voice. “I’m terrified of monsters in the sea.”

  “I’m certain of it,” he said dismissively and kissed her on the tip of her nose. This seemed to satisfy her, for she grew quiet again.

  He stayed awake, ever vigilant of the demons below. Nighttime was their favorite time for hunting, and he tried to move as little as possible so as not to draw any unwanted attention. It was exhausting, and by morning his limbs felt numb.

  As the sun’s rays broke over the horizon, he unfolded his stiff, aching arms from around Frederica. Stretching out on his back, he allowed exhaustion to overtake him.

  Chapter Ten

  Gaston had finally dozed off. He was only able to sleep for minutes at a time, but while he did, his body seemed to be making the most of it. When Frederica looked over at him, her heart contracted, he’d stayed awake all night tending to her, the sea still rising and falling all around them. Once a wave crashed over Gaston’s face, sending water up his nose, but he was so worn out he simply spewed the water from his nostrils and fell back asleep.

  Frederica was no fool. She knew it had been a miracle they’d survived the night. She’d lived among seamen long enough that she’d heard men tell of sharks, whales, and other vicious sea creatures that hunted at night. And Lord help them, she refused to even think about the legend of the Kraken. Gaston must not have wanted to frighten her by discussing the dangers of marine life, and she appreciated that. He’d held her close all night without complaining. Perhaps he had needed the heat from her body, but still… he had kissed her, even if it was on the nose.

  It made her feel better that he acknowledged she hadn’t told Humphrey of his plan. She was innocent of that, and she appreciated his apology.

  Even if he didn’t have feelings for her, he’d at least shown her a more tender side. Last night she’d seen another side of the overly confident, swashbuckling, and obnoxious man who knew how to tweak her very last nerve, a side that proved Gaston Galette was a decent man. And if she were honest with herself, quite an attractive one. While he lay there with his eyes shut, naked as at his birth, she took advantage of the opportunity to take him in.

  His chest was sparsely covered with sandy brown hair that trailed down below his waist. Even though she was alone, she was shy about looking at his private parts. When she was growing up, her family had been very modest and private, so Frederica had never seen a nude man before.

  If she was going to get an education, now was as good a time as any. With the uncertainty of her situation, she might not have another chance. With this in mind, she braced herself and allowed her gaze to travel down between Gaston’s legs. His penis lay flaccid against one leg, surrounded by a nest of hair not unlike her own.

  Hmm. She wondered why men made such a fuss over something so unimpressive. It did not appear to her that the tube-shaped thing should warrant the sort of accolades she heard bandied about.

  On the other hand, taking in Gaston’s muscles brought her great pleasure. His biceps swelled even while he was at rest, and his chest and stomach muscles appeared carved out of the smoothest wood. The sun had burnished his skin a lovely bronze color and streaked his hair so that a variety of golden hues danced through it.

  She thought of his eyes and felt disappointment she could only gaze into the one brown eye the color of rich hazelnut. At the same time, the patch that covered his bad eye lent him a scandalous and mysterious appeal. It made him appear even more dangerous, and Frederica was surprised to find that it attracted her to him all the more. If she had to be stranded in the ocean with someone, Gaston was not a bad option.

  She turned onto her belly and tried to float with her head resting on their clothesline chain. Her cheeks and the front of her body were slightly sunburned. It had been months since she’d been in the sun for any real period of time, since Humphrey had locked her indoors for days at a time.

  Water surrounded her, and there were no ships or land in sight and not even the sound of birds. The salty air filled her nostrils, and she settled in to endure another water-logged day. The sea was calmer this morning, and she found the courage to open her eyes underwater and observe the schools of minnows and colorful fish swimming by. She tried grabbing the larger ones with her hands, but they were too quic
k for her.

  Her body began to tire of treading water, so she went back to floating in the sun, her head resting on one arm stretched out before her. By the time she came round, the sun was directly above her, which told her it was midday. She stretched and splashed water on her hot cheek that had been baking in the sun and tried to get her bearings. Gaston had floated quite a ways from her, and she took several strokes towards him before she saw it. In the distance, closer to where she was than Gaston, was a blob of some sort.

  Could it be land? Gaston said they might reach land in the next few days, but she wasn’t certain if she really believed him or pretended to in order to get through their ordeal.

  She tugged on the rope of clothing that served as a link between them. “Gaston! Wake up!”

  “Hmm,” he mumbled, still sleeping.

  “Gaston!” she screamed. This was no time for laziness; he could sleep later.

  He cracked open his one eye. “What is it?” He sounded annoyed.

  “Is that land over there?” She pointed in the direction of her discovery.

  “What land?” He bolted up, then sluiced back into the water, dunking his head and springing up like a porpoise. “Where?”

  “There.” She pointed again.

  He squinted his good eye. After a few moments he said, “I can’t tell.”

  “Well, I’m swimming over there,” she said, determined.

  “Save your energy. The current is leading us towards where you’re pointing.”

  “No. What if we drift past it? I’m not taking that chance.”

  “My dear, have you ever heard of a mirage?” His voice was condescending.

  Scowling, she said, “I have a pair of eyes to your one. And I see something out there.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Have it your way, Princess. Swim we shall, but go easy. It won’t do to expend the rest of your energy in the case you happen to be incorrect in your assessment.”

  She answered him by diving under the water and swimming towards what she hoped was the shoreline. Scooping up water with her palms, she pushed it behind her while her feet churned, each stroke moving her closer to what she hoped was salvation in the form of dry land.