“You will not be satisfied until you kill me.” Grumbling incoherently, she did as he bade.
“Cease the dramatics, as I have no patience for such nonsense.” A sack filled with provisions rested at the bow, and he snatched the bag. “Tyne, return for us just after sunset.”
“Return—wait, where is Mr. Tyne going?” Maddie craned her neck, as he caught her about the waist and led her to the shore. “Jean Marc, what is happening? Am I to be marooned?”
“How your imagination twists and turns, Madalene.” When she dug in her heels, he tightened his hold on her wrist and trudged alee through the dense tropical foliage. “If I were going to abandon you, do you think I would be here, now?”
“I have made no secret of the fact that you frighten me.” She shrugged. “And I do not understand how that surprises you, given what you asked of me, this morning.”
“You object to something as innocent as brushing my hair?” In that instant, he drew to a halt and prepared to play the ignorant, because he knew precisely what ruffled her pretty little feathers. “Explain how that was offensive.”
“You made me stand between your legs, which defied logic, given I could scarcely reach the back length.” As he cleared the way with his cutlass, she ducked to avoid low branches. “Are you never reasonable?”
“I am always reasonable.” Not to mention savvy, as the position Jean Marc required of her, as she combed his long locks, afforded a spectacular view of her breasts when she bent at the waist. “The real question is why you buck my authority, at every turn, when I have been nothing but a gentleman.”
She snorted. “Do you even know what that word—” Her shrill scream pierced the relative quiet. “A snake.”
To his delight, she flung herself at him, pressing her feminine curves to his frame, and he savored her lush body. In seconds, he located the source of her distress and chuckled. “Mon Chou, that is a harmless creature, and I wager it will not bite if you do not pester it.”
“Are you sure, as it appears quite dangerous.” Twining her arms about his neck, she buried her face in his chest. “And I would not know, as never have I seen a snake, in my life.”
“Then you should rely on my expertise, as I am familiar with these parts.” Ever so slowly, he skimmed his palm along her hip, continued to the swell of her derriere, and discovered her fear tempered her awareness. Instead, she shuddered and squeezed tighter. “Please, take me to the ship. I promise I will do whatever you ask, and I will protest not.”
“Why do I doubt you?” Hefting her to his side, he trudged the last few strides and parted the greenery. “Now relax and enjoy the day I have arranged for us.”
“I beg your pardon?” As he set her down, she peered over his shoulder and blinked. “Oh, Jean Marc, what is this place?”
“It is an isolated cove, and we must descend carefully, using the rocks as nature’s staircase, to the beach crevasse below.” Inch by inch, and holding her hand, he preceded her down the rudimentary path. “Worry not, Mon Chou, because I will catch you if you fall.”
“The water is like crystal and smooth as fresh-pressed sheets.” She paused. “Is the cove completely enclosed?”
“The limestone breaks just beneath the surface, and we should deposit our belongings here, as the tide will rise as the afternoon passes.” Using a large boulder as a seat, he stopped and doffed his boots and shirt. As he unhooked his breeches, Maddie averted her gaze.
“What are you doing?” Wringing her hands, she shuffled her feet. “Although I have no knowledge of your motives, and make no claims to apprehend your rationale, just this once, can you remain clothed?”
“No.” How fetching she appeared, in her pretty pink frock, with her hair piled in charming curls atop her head, and he savored her eventual defilement. Naked, he approached his soon-to-be fallen angel from behind and whispered, “Now take off your clothes, as I intend to teach you to swim.”
From the rear, silence reigned supreme when he bargained on additional protest. Checking on his lady, he found her standing stock-still, just as he left her, and her face deathly pale.
“Jean Marc, please, do not make me do it. I am terrified of the water.” A tear streamed her cheek, and he returned to her. “What I said earlier I meant. Whatever you command of me, I will perform the task, if you let me stay here, where it is dry.”
With hands on her shoulders, he rotated her. In seconds, he untied and loosened her laces, and she wept and shivered. “Will you remove the rest or shall I, because you will do as I say?”
A few minutes ticked past, and he tugged on the dress, but she broke free.
“If I cooperate, may I retain my chemise?” she inquired in a small voice.
“It may weigh you down.” When she did not budge, he huffed in frustration. “All right, but nothing else.”
As he waded into the water, she used a large outcrop as a makeshift shelter, and he waited. At last, she skittered to the spot where he stacked their things, dropped her bundled garb, and lingered on the beach. Looming in naught but her thin slip, she hugged herself, and he waved for her to join him.
Halfway to him, she paused and cradled her face in her hands, and he realized she harbored genuine fear. So he retraced his path, scooped her up, as he would a child, and carried her into the drink. In a panic, she cried aloud, wrapped her legs about his hips and her arms about his shoulders, and he cupped her bottom through the thin linen.
“Shh, Maddie. I will not let you drown.” While fear could be quite provoking, he found nothing arousing in Madalene’s raw terror. Rather, her distress struck a nerve, and he nuzzled her ear. The water ebbed and flowed, and he bobbed with her secure in his grasp. “The shallow ledge drops off, here, so I will maintain my grip. Is this not cool and refreshing, Mon Chou?”
“No, it is horrible.” Despite his efforts, he could not pry her loose, so he reclined and floated.
“Stretch your legs and kick your feet. Come on, Maddie.” Kissing the crest of her ear, he patted her bottom. “Relax, and glide with the tide.”
“Why are you making me do this?” With a sniff, she lifted her head, and what he spied in her blue eyes fractured something inside him. “Why do wish to hurt me?”
“You are mistaken, because I am trying to help you.” Guilt flared, and she invoked a part of him he had not used in years—his conscience, so he resolved to reason with the stubborn woman. “What if we are attacked, as was the Trident, and I cannot defend you? What if I cannot get to you, and you fall into the ocean?”
“I will die.” Her sorrowful expression called to him, to some strange yearning he could neither identify nor resist.
“No, you will not.” Tipping her chin, he claimed a kiss while she wallowed in a vulnerable state, and he savored the subtle hitch of her breath. “We are going to work together, and by the time we depart the isle, you will swim like a fish, Mon Chou.”
As he floated on his back, he tangled his legs with hers and schooled her in the proper technique. Of course, their respective positions coupled with her feminine form and loaded the cannon in his crotch, but she appeared not to notice. Gritting his teeth, and leashing his sordid hunger, he made several laps about the cove.
“You are doing well, Maddie.” Whereas he preferred to keep her close, he needed to release her to continue the impromptu lessons. With great reluctance and a wicked erection, Jean Marc separated from her, and she immediately flapped and submerged. In an instant, he yanked her above the surface. “Take it slow, and remember what I taught you.”
“I will have your solemn vow not to leave me.” In her fear, she almost swamped them, and they both came up sputtering. “I cannot do this.”
“Wait.” A new idea occurred to him. “Let us return to the shallows.” With the sand beneath his feet, and the water lapping at his waist, he stretched out his arms. “Lie down.”
“Jean Marc, you are determined to torment me.” As she stood upright, he almost dropped to his knees. Wet, her chemise all but disap
peared, and he glimpsed a vision that could bring a grown man to tears for want of her. When she obeyed his directive, he offered support but could not stop staring at the cleft in her round bottom. “What now?”
Ah, what he wanted to do to her sweet arse. “Hmm?”
“You are distracted, which does not inspire confidence.” She wiggled in his grasp, and he shifted a hand to graze her breast, which elicited another shriek. “Check your behavior, sir.”
“My apologies, Maddie.” There was the haughty tone he adored. “Now, kick with your feet, and sweep with your arms, in long strokes, and I will support you.”
“Like this?” Inexplicably charming in her attempts, she furrowed her brow as she followed his instruction.
Soon, Jean Marc retreated, and Madalene drifted on her own. Arresting in her excitement, as she made numerous laps, she never hesitated when he encouraged her to hold her breath and venture underwater. And that yielded more glorious sights than the sea life, because the chemise shifted and swayed, providing all manner of enticing views of her luscious landscape, and he recalled his true purpose for the outing.
As the sun sat low on the horizon, he collected palm leaves and branches, to start a fire. From the sack, he pulled a blanket, which he spread, and a few other necessities. “Are you hungry, Mon Chou?”
“Indeed, given you have exercised me for most of the day.” Poor thing had no idea how he intended to employ her, in truth. “The saltwater is so harsh, and my skin may never recover.”
“Well, I need you to work a little more, so we can eat.” With her hand in his, he walked her to the beach and just into the water. “Have you ever dug for clams?”
“No.” She sported a look of confusion. “Yet I gather you will show me, but who will prepare them?”
“Do you think me incapable, Maddie?” Ah, he treasured her countenance of shock, given he had her exactly where he wanted her. “As I have been told I am an excellent cook.”
#
So the former pirate fancied himself a chef? How absurd. While Madalene hid behind the rocks to strip off her wet chemise and don her dress, garters, hose, and slippers, Jean Marc pulled on his breeches, a gesture she appreciated, and retrieved various items from his bag. For a few minutes, she studied the fascinating captain.
After filling a pot with the clams they collected, he uncorked a bottle and poured some liquid over their fare. Then he placed the covered container on the fire and glanced straight at her. “You are watching me, Mon Chou.”
“Why do you call me by a term of endearment?” To dry her hair, she removed the pins. Yes, it was shocking to let down her coif before a man who was not her husband, but she had no real choice.
“Because it suits you.” In light of his actions, noble in their own way, she wondered whether or not she had been to quick to judge the captain, as he patted the spot beside him. “Come and sit with me.”
“In the event I forget my manners later, I will thank you now for the wonderful day.” Scooting close, she studied his profile. “How did you injure your eye?”
“In a sword fight.” He lifted the lid and stirred the clams. “We are almost ready.”
“Why do you wear the patch?” For some reason she could not quite fathom, she ached to comfort him, and she reached for him. “May I?”
“You want to see it?” When she nodded, he snickered. “All right.”
With the swipe of his hand, he whisked off the leather patch, revealing the full length of the scar, which cut a jagged path from his forehead, through his left eye, which was milky white and ghostly in appearance, and arced across his cheek.
“I like you better without the patch, as it strikes me as rather banal for a former pirate.” Trailing her finger along his marred flesh, she smiled. “And you seem far more menacing with it.”
“Perhaps I need it to keep the crew in line.” From a different bottle, he poured two mugs of rum. “Take a drink with me, Maddie.”
“Of course.” As opposed to the first time she consumed the none-too-elegant intoxicant, she sipped with care and managed not to choke. “What did you put in the clams to steam them?”
“Ale.” After another check of the clams, he set aside the lid and transferred the fare to a large wooden bowl. “Close your eyes.”
“What for?” She blinked.
“Do you suppose you can ever do as I ask without questioning my motives?” His scowl chastened her, given his gallantry of late. “Close your eyes.”
Despite lingering reservations, she abided his request, and he fed her a morsel. The texture was smooth and chewy, and the taste was a tad salty mixed with other flavors she could not identify, but it was delicious, and she hummed her appreciation. “Jean Marc, that is truly delectable.”
“Eat your fill, as you fished them, and there is plenty.” How amiable was her host, when away from his ship. “Would you like some more grog?”
“Yes, please.” Indeed, she favored the rum, as the more she consumed, the more she enjoyed it. And it emboldened her. “From where do you hail, and what of your parents?”
“I am from a small town in western France, on the Seuil du Poitou, called Poitiers.” He gazed into his mug and sighed, and she regretted posing the query. Just as she was about to rescind her question, he lifted his chin. “My mother loved to sit along the banks of Clain River and read to me. I was seven when she died of a fever, and my sire sold me to pay a debt. It was more than a decade before I met him again.”
“I beg your pardon?” Her stomach rebelled in that moment, and she drained her mug. “Did you say your father sold you to pay a debt?”
“I did.” He uncorked the bottle and refilled their mugs. “The man who owned me was a merchant with a fleet of ships, and he sent me to work loading cargo. It took me eleven years to work off my father’s account.”
“Oh, Jean Marc, I am so sorry.” She could not begin to imagine the horrors he endured, and her heart bled for him. Now she understood the rough exterior and crude language, as that was all he knew, and she vowed to show him kindness.
“Why do you apologize? You did nothing to me.” He shrugged, yet she suspected he harbored invisible wounds. “The man was an unholy bastard who loved to beat me for no reason, and his was the first life I ever took.”
“But that does not mean I cannot extend a measure of sympathy, and I believe your cause just.” Considering what he survived, she viewed him in a completely different light, and she could only imagine the tales he could tell. “In truth, I admire you, as you suffered such adversity at a young age, yet you improved your circumstances, and now you captain your own ship. You must be very proud of your accomplishments.”
“What good is pride?” The fire cast shadows on his face, and she noted the angular lines and chiseled cheekbones. “I am still here, and that is all that matters. And I have memories.”
“Would you share one?” She inched closer, as she needed to be near him, but she knew not why, and he draped an arm about her waist.
“At night, after ma mère tucked me into bed, she used to sing to me.” Narrowing his stare, he compressed his lips. “It went something like, Plaisir d’amour endure qu’un moment, chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie.” As he continued in his rich baritone that would make many a lady swoon, she joined him for the next verse, and their voices coalesced into a single mellifluous harmony, as together they sang, “Tant que cette eau coulera doucement vers ce ruisseau qui borde la prairie.” Surprise evident in his countenance, he grinned, and her heart skipped a beat. “You know ‘Plaisir d’amour,’ Maddie?”
“Indeed, I know ‘The Pleasure of Love’ quite well, as it was Aunt Eileen’s most cherished composition.” Stunned to discover a connection to her errant buccaneer, she revised her opinion of him, as anyone who could recite one of her spinster relation’s melodies could not be all bad. “You are a strange creature, Jean Marc, and I no longer believe you are as intimidating as I previously thought.” Fondling the soft and supple leather thong, she humphed
. “Contrary to your brutish exterior, you gave of yourself to teach me to swim, thereby undermining your repeated threats to throw me into the ocean, you cooked a savory meal as would a beau for his sweetheart, and you crooned in a timbre as smooth as well-churned butter. Indeed, I would argue you wear this patch as a shield, of sorts, not that I blame you, but you are not what you seem, when you drop your guard, and I prefer this side of you, if you permit me to extend the compliment.”
“Mon chou, that is a pretty sentiment, but I should caution you that your newfound ability will not save you from the sharks.” Leaning over her, his nose mere inches from hers, he laughed, and a chill coursed her spine. “So I would not test your supposition, if I were you.”
“Of course.” Faltering, she slumped her shoulders, gulped, and sought to change the topic. “Have you ever been to Boston?” she inquired in a high-pitched shrill.
“No.” Still he loomed, and she pondered how he might respond were she to kiss him. Not that she wanted to kiss him. But she contemplated his reaction were she to enact such a gross breach in polite decorum. At last, he sat upright, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I think you would love the city.” Settling her skirts, she regained a position of relative comfort. “There is a lovely little café on the wharf, and they serve the best sea scallops. We could patronize the teahouse on Blackstone Street, which is the center of the Haymarket, where we could shop. And we could take long strolls along Newbury Street.”
“We could?” His lazy smiled mocked her, and it was too late when she realized she had spoken of him as a suitor.
“I apologize for the unintended inference, sir, as I meant no offense.” When he pinched her bottom through her dress, she slapped his hand. “Stop that, Jean Marc. I am not your lady, and you are not my—”
“Husband?” Now he guffawed, and she fought tears, but why she knew not.
“That is quite enough.” In a huff of indignation, she scrambled to her feet, dusted the sand from her skirts, and sniffed. “Is it not past due for us to return to the Morass?”
The Black Morass (Pirates of the Coast Book 1) Page 3
