“The hour grows late, and we should depart for the Morass.” Sitting upright, Jean Marc furrowed his brow and appeared lost in thought. “You know, I am considering a name change for my ship, to reflect my new occupation as a gentleman.”
“But the current one suits its captain, given his predilections.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek.
With a countenance of confusion, he scratched his chin. “I do not understand.”
“Never mind.” She laughed. “But before we leave our private paradise, will you fetch the ledger from the sack, as there is something I wish to show you?”
“All right, but we cannot linger, as we must trudge through the jungle, and I will not risk injury to you.” He snapped his fingers after collecting the register. “Actually, I believe I should carry you and avoid the danger, altogether.”
“Whatever you wish, my love.” She nodded once. “Now open the book, as it contains papers that specifically relate to you, and I would have you aware of the arrangements I made on your behalf, to ensure your well-being, should something happen to me.”
“My well-being?” His expression sobered, and he set aside the ledger, folded his legs, and pulled her into his lap. “Mon Chou, nothing will ever happen to you, because I will not allow it.”
A single tear streamed her cheek, and she rested her head to his shoulder. “But my father—”
“—Will never again harm you,” Jean Marc asserted.
“Oh, no. What have you done?” She flinched and met his stare. “Despite everything he has done, tell me you did not kill Papa, as I could not live with that stain on my conscience.”
“Calm yourself, Maddie.” With a cherubic manner that did not fool her for a second, her husband pressed a palm to his chest. “And I am surprised at you, as I have changed. But I met with your father before we cast off from Port Royal, and we enjoyed a civilized conversation, which led to a mutual agreement, the sum of which is that we decided it would be better for all parties involved if he never had anything to do with you again. In fact, as a show of good faith, I promised him and his charming countess that they would not die by my hands, and your father insisted I accept your mother’s cameo, which I intended to gift you on your birthday, next month, so you may put your pretty mind at ease.”
Framing his face, she emitted a half-sob. “I love you. Have I told you that, today?”
“Ah, my charming society miss, I love you, too.” Then he opened the leather portfolio and scanned the documents therein. When his muscles tensed, he peered at her and frowned. “What is this, Mon Chou?”
“Exactly what it states.” After claiming a quick kiss, she nuzzled his temple. “While you were imprisoned, I did more than summon assistance to support our cause and win your freedom. I ordered the Crawford family solicitor to draw up my will, designating you as sole beneficiary, but I did not stop there. Per my directive, Mr. Parker reissued the deeds to all my holdings, to reflect my new status as your wife and include you. As such, we share joint ownership of the estate.”
“You did that for me?” Shuffling her in his grip, Jean Marc held her at arm’s length. “Why?”
“Because what is mine is yours, and I will withhold nothing from you.” She assumed a resolute stance. “Not now, not ever.”
Without a word, and to her confusion, he set her aside, rose, walked to the water, and dove beneath the surface. Maddie stood and shielded her eyes from the glare of the sunset. Nervous, she advanced but paused when he reappeared.
Approaching, he favored her with his piratical grin. “Hold out your hands, Mon Chou.”
She did as he bade, and he placed a pile of gold and glittering gemstones in every conceivable color in her clutch. “Jean Marc, where did you get this?”
“That is insignificant.” He chuckled. “But I am no pauper, and our babes will never know hunger.” He glanced over his shoulder. “There is an underwater cave that lies beneath the ledge, and it is well hidden and loaded with chests filled with similar booty.” He tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “Should anything happen to me, you are to engage Tyne to collect the treasure for our family.”
“Do you think it prudent to leave a fortune in gold and jewels secreted in a cave on an abandoned island?” As she assessed the condition of the riches, she gulped and gingerly placed the items in the sack. “If you prefer, we could meet with my banker, when we return to Boston, and arrange to have the items transferred into more secure storage.”
“Perhaps that is a good idea.” Her husband studied her, and then his dogged composure broke, and he tickled her and growled. “Ah, I love you Mon, Chou. I would bath your naked body in a fortune, but nothing compares to the priceless masterpiece I married.”
Laughing, they donned their clothes, trading tender caresses and sweet kisses, as they packed the blanket and the ledger in the sack. At last, Jean Marc bent at the waist, as she stood on the rock and perched on his back. With his hands supporting her knees, she wound her arms about his shoulders, and he carried her back to the landing site, where Tyne would take them back to the ship.
As her pirate trudged forth, Maddie suckled and laved his neck, nibbled the crest of his ear, and whispered salacious innuendos intended to entice and arouse her buccaneer. And she counted each flex of his muscles and accompanying grunt and groan as an invaluable boon and a promise.
On the beach, a single torchlight marked the first mate’s location, and Jean Marc conveyed her to the jolly boat.
“I will be on my knees, in your bunk, when you arrive, my love.” It dawned on her then that so much had changed since last they ventured to their special place, and she recalled his words of comfort on the afternoon he first claimed her bottom. With a wink and a smile, she teased his healthy erection. “But you may decline at any time, and I will stop.”
“You tempt me, Mon Chou, and that is never wise.” Jean Marc narrowed his stare. “Whatever am I to do with you?”
“My lusty captain, you are a clever man, and I am certain you will think of something particularly naughty.” Wrenching the hair at the nape of his neck, she bit his lip. “And I will enjoy every minute of it.”
THE BLACK MORASS
EPILOGUE
November, 1816
A cold wind signaled an early winter, as Jean Marc stood on the quarterdeck and directed the helmsman, and they glided the ship alongside the Demetrius. On the bow, a familiar face lingered, and Lady Elaine waved a greeting, which he mirrored.
“Oh, I am so excited, my love.” At his side, Maddie bounced and hugged her round belly. “And I am so proud of you.”
“I never could have succeeded without you, Mon Chou.” He pressed his lips to hers, as the Iron Corsair smirked. “And no snide comments from the gallery.”
Barry laughed. “I have to do something, as I cannot believe I am about to embark on the same lunacy you completed.”
“You want to go home.” Jean Marc shrugged. “It is understandable and necessary, but you never told me how you came to be a pirate.”
“I was blamed for a crime I did not commit.” Barry shifted, as the crew prepared the mainsail hull. “Are you sure I am doing the right thing?”
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?” Jean Marc descended the companion ladder and lifted Maddie down. “Or do you want something more?”
Ah, something more.
At the mention, his wife glowed, and he winked.
It was a strange emotion—love.
He understood why women existed for it, and why men killed for it. Love made him believe in the goodness of a lady’s heart, in the power of a whisper of a kiss, and in the incomparable strength of his wife’s faith. Indeed, what he shared with Maddie knew no bounds. A limitless, seemingly infinite depth of devotion invested even the simplest action, and he wondered how he ever survived without her.
“Welcome, Jean Marc and Lady Madalene.” Lady Elaine gathered with Sir Ross and Lord Raynesford. “And I see you renamed the ship Lady Mad
alene. How fitting.”
“It is wonderful to meet you, at last.” Maddie stepped off the plank and straight into Lady Elaine’s embrace. And as the women quickly became lost in chatter, Jean Marc shook Sir Ross’s hand.
“It is good to see you again, Logan.” Then he snickered. “Never thought I would ever say that.”
“That goes for both us.” Sir Ross gazed at Barry. “And who is this?”
“A friend who would like to avail himself of a pardon.” Jean Marc glanced at the Iron Corsair. “He is known as—”
“—Barrington Nicholas Peregrine Howe.” Raynesford opened and then closed his mouth. “Or as he was called when we attended Eton together, the Marquess of Ravenwood.”
Now that was a surprise Jean Marc did not see coming.
“Raynesford.” Barry dipped his chin. “It has been a long time.”
The marquess shook his head. “I have not seen you since—”
“—I was charged with a murder I did not commit,” Barry replied. “Will the King’s concordat grant immunity from a crime for which I was never tried or convicted?”
“It is a full pardon.” Sir Ross shrugged. “I presume so.”
“I have no interest in reclaiming the title.” Barry gazed at the sky and sighed. “I just want to be free of the past.”
“Then sign the document, and your year commences from this date.” Ross flagged a crewmember, which brought forth a tray with a pen, an inkwell, and rolled parchments. “Jean Marc, may I present you a full and unconditional pardon, signed by His Majesty.”
Images flashed before him, as he accepted the symbol of his liberty. And in that instant, Maddie rushed forward, tears in her blue eyes, and threw her arms about him. When she retreated, she daubed her face with her lace-edged handkerchief, and he adored the contradiction she manifested.
In public, his bride maintained the air of refined elegance that characterized her from the moment they met. But in private, she could best the most seasoned courtesan, and that was a compliment.
“Lady Elaine has invited us to visit them in London.” Maddie turned to Ross’s wife. “And you simply must come to Boston and stay as our guests.”
“Of course, will.” To his amazement, Lady Elaine rose on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “So it appears you found someone to love you, Jean Marc.”
“As did you, Lady Elaine.” He winked and peered at her enormous belly. To Ross, Jean Marc said, “If we are done, we should depart for Port Royal.”
“Take care, Jean Marc.” Logan again extended a hand in friendship.
When they regained the relative comfort of his ship, Jean Marc hailed Tyne, and the first mate barked a series of commands.
“I need a drink.” Barry saluted. “Enjoy your triumph, my friend.”
And so the Lady Madalene, with a new coat of paint and fresh pitch, steered south, and Jean Marc held Maddie close on the bow, as they admired the sunset.
“So how do you wish to celebrate?” She nuzzled his chest and burrowed beneath his greatcoat. “As I am most definitely at your service.”
For a second, he considered her offer, and then he grinned. “I want to take you to our cabin and ride your round bottom until dinner.”
She burst into laughter. “Oh, my love, you say the sweetest things.”
ABOUT BARBARA DEVLIN
Bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite. Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before they find their happily ever after. Barbara earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.
Connect with Barbara Devlin at BarbaraDevlin.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, The Knightly News.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BarbaraDevlinAuthor
Twitter: @barbara_devlin
Table of Contents
The Black Morass
A wanted pirate...
Copyright
Titles by Barbara Devlin
Dedication
Author's Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
About Barbara Devlin
The Black Morass (Pirates of the Coast Book 1) Page 10
