A piece of canvas from the battle-ravaged sail flapped overhead. He grabbed the handle and spun it fast, bringing it down. Then the canvas caught in the teeth of a gear, stopping him from lowering it all the way.
“I could use some help.” He tugged at the sail to free the cogwheel. “Abigail?” He looked over at her.
“I’m coming.” She staggered forward, but the wind tossed the ship from side to side, making her approach difficult.
“Don’t take off the rope,” he ordered, seeing her fling it over her head.
“I can’t get anywhere tied to the ship,” she complained.
He shook his head and went back to the mechanism. Before she got to him, he had it free. Their descent was quick. They hit the water hard. It jarred him, and he tightened his hold on a loose line. He let go when Abigail let out a shrill scream.
Chapter Seven
Abigail scolded herself for not listening to Jasper. He knew best when it came to his ship. She tried to hold the rope, but the thick hemp burned her palms as it slipped from her grip. She flew across the deck, her feet barely under her. She lunged for another rope, but it was just out of her reach. In the backdrop of the howling wind, she heard Jasper’s shout. She didn’t understand it, only that he sounded alarmed.
When she tumbled to the side, she tried to sit. Only the ship’s severe slant kept her upright. Then it tipped the opposite direction and she careened into the other bulkhead. The rail hit her midsection and she inhaled sharply on impact. It pitched farther and threw her overboard.
The rush of the waves splashed her in the face. She choked on the water surging into her lungs. As she thrashed her arms to swim, the weight of the brass corset dragged her down. She fought to resurface and felt something heavy clobber her in the head.
“A rope,” she gasped, winding her arm around the loop.
The lightning flashed again in unison with the thunder.
“Hold on,” Jasper yelled.
She struggled to get the loop over her head. The violent waves continuously knocked her about against the ship’s hull. Coughing uncontrollably, she worried her dead weight would be too much for him to pull all the way back up.
The hacking cough spewed water from her mouth and she held tight to the rope with both hands. Jasper’s strength won out over her weight, even though she wore the brass corset. She inched up the side of the ship, every so often turning and banging against it as she swung. While it wasn’t the best circumstance to be in, she was thankful it was not Jasper who had gone overboard. She never would have been able to pull him up.
“Take my hands,” he called.
She looked up and reached for him, surprised he wasn’t holding the rope. Too tired, and anxious to be safe, she didn’t question him.
“That’s a girl.” His strong fingers wrapped around hers.
He pulled until he got her high enough that she could swing an arm around his neck.
“I got you.” His warm breath fanned her face.
The rain continued to spray them as the wind wailed. They fell to the deck. Over Jasper’s shoulder, she saw her rescue rope hooked to pulleys. Interesting as it was, the mechanics of the rope hoist could wait.
“Abigail, are you all right?” His hands framed her face. “What were you thinking, untying that rope from yourself?”
His kisses spotted her face, washing away the remnants of the fear she’d die.
“Shouldn’t you be doing something with the ship?” she asked.
“Good idea.” He got up, helped her and pulled her along with him to the quarterdeck.
She went with him everywhere, helping tie down loose sails, and battening down errant items. Eventually the storm subsided as quickly as it had started. They’d either sailed out of its path or it had moved in a new direction.
“Well, that should take care of us for a while.” He untied the rope from her waist.
“I’d gotten so used to it I forgot I was still tethered to the ship.” She turned her back to him. “Would you mind unbuckling me?”
The heaviness of the brass disappeared quickly. Her wet clothing plastered her body. She wanted to be dry. Jasper stopped her from leaving to go change. His hands slid down her arms and up to her neck.
“You’re shivering.” He surrounded her in his embrace.
She leaned back against him, enjoying the moment.
“I’m all wet,” she said, as if that explained any of what she was feeling.
“Then we should get you out of this.” His fingers felt unusually warm brushing her skin with each flick of a button.
She set aside her ongoing struggle with trusting where the captain’s intentions lay in regard to her treasure. His eager capabilities in satisfying her sexual hunger had nothing to do with the rest of their situation.
Jasper found himself holding his breath. He had no modesty when it came to nakedness. On the other hand, his experiences taught him most women weren’t as open. Yet there they were on the deck of his ship, in little to no clothing.
Abigail slid his breeches down his legs, stopping at his knees. Then she knelt and finished taking the garment to the deck. He stepped out, right foot, left foot. His cock jolted at the brush of her wet hair when she turned her head and leaned back on her heels.
He didn’t say anything, feeling talk might disrupt her tantalizing inspection. Her fingers brushed his thighs, circling upward to his hips as if she debated what she’d do next. Then she touched his erection. An inaudible moan made him open his mouth. Only a hiss of air rushed out.
“Everything about you is strong,” she murmured, her fingertips instantly petting his stiff shaft.
He swallowed hard, concentrating on something other than the way Abigail’s soft caresses aroused him. His gaze stopped on the small sail billowing out in the wind. The storm dying down around them let the canvas go slack and snap out again.
Abigail pulled on his sheath, rolling his flesh down and letting it spring back. The quickening of his heart, the beat of his pulse, the pounding urgency of his blood rushed to swell his balls.
The sun now shone brightly and had dissipated the humidity in the air. Abigail’s scent wrapped around him. Her mouth did the same to his bone-hard erection. The delicate silken glide of her lips spread over the head and her whole mouth captured his attention away from the sail. She took his breath away. Acutely aware he didn’t know the extent of her experience, he looked down. She bobbed her head several times, taking more and more of him in with each stroke. Farther and farther, she swallowed his cock into the constricting muscles of her throat.
He wove his fingers into her chestnut locks and held the strands back so he had a better view of her succulent lips massaging his shaft. Her actions continued to stimulate every nerve, every fiber of his being. The unrelenting sucking and releasing drove him crazy. Her fingers held tight at the base of his cock, and he felt her thumb press into his scrotum. She pumped her mouth back and forth. The crowning action was a twirl of her tongue hitting the sensitive spot below the flange of his penis. His thighs trembled and a harsh moan escaped him as he neared discharge.
Then she released him. She rose, slithering up his front, her warm body melding with his.
“In me,” she murmured, kissing his chest, his neck, his jaw. “I want you to finish in me, Jasper.”
“I—I can’t. You could get pregnant,” he said, feeling trapped by honor. Making a baby with her wasn’t right unless there was a commitment.
She nibbled at his bottom lip, taunting him. “It’s all right, Jasper. I’ve taken care of that not happening.”
At her mercy he didn’t question how. He grasped her buttocks to lift her onto his erection. He squeezed and kneaded her soft flesh.
“Are you sure?” he asked, shuddering when her insides contracted.
“Yes,” she hummed, and kissed his shoulder and up along his neck.
He slid his hand down the back of her leg and lifted it, driving himself deeper into her.
“Oh my.
” Abigail suddenly gasped with an almost strange alarm.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever had a woman react with such—” He stopped talking the second she pulled free from him and pointed past him.
He turned to see what she was pointing at. His jaw unhinged and his mouth dropped open. The sight of danger dispelled all his thoughts of the missed opportunity with the so willing beauty next to him.
Chapter Eight
Giant tentacles of a sea creature slapped down hard over the bulkhead and onto the deck. One tentacle flopped back and forth near Jasper while a second coiled around the rigging and yet another crept toward her.
“Move,” Jasper yelled, struggling to get his breeches back up his legs from around his ankles.
“What is it?” She backed away, but the thick, slimy gray tentacle followed.
“An octopus, and by the size of it, I’d guess it’s the reason for lost ships in this area.”
She bent slowly in preparation to defend herself against the monster and reached for the knife in her boot. Her fingers touched her bare leg, and she realized she wasn’t wearing her boots. She had no weapon.
Jasper grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the mainsail’s engine. “One of us needs to go below and add fuel to make steam.”
“You said we’re all out of wood and coal,” she reminded him.
“Coal, yes. But the whole damn ship and practically everything on it is made of wood. Break up some furniture and feed the pieces into the boiler.”
“But I wouldn’t know what was important to you.”
“There’s only one thing on this ship I can’t replace. Now go.” He pushed her toward the doorway leading down to the cabin with the furnace.
“What if I can’t break anything small enough? I don’t know how your furnace works. You go.”
“I have to open the sails as soon as the steam pressure rises enough.” He looked up at the creature’s tentacle moving higher on the mast. “He’s going to turn us over.”
Abigail glanced at the handles on the machine. She had turned both; it wasn’t that hard. “The big handle or the little one?” she asked.
“You’re not staying up here,” he said, grabbing his boots and tugging them on quickly.
“It’s the practical thing to do. You know how to make the steam. I don’t. Oops!” The ship rocked her off balance and she fell against Jasper. “I have managed to operate both gears on the sails. Now, is it the little handle or the big one? Or would you rather we argue this out a little longer?”
Jasper hissed a reluctant sound. “The big one.”
“Oh, why did I know you were going to say that?” She sighed. “Everything always has to be the difficult way.”
She marched toward the contraption of cogs and wheels.
“There’s a pressure gauge on the engine,” Jasper yelled from the doorway leading below.
“I saw it before,” she told him.
“Start cranking as hard as you can until it reaches the red line. Don’t worry. If the sail snaps open fast and hard enough, we should be able to break his hold on us. Are you sure you want to stay up here? Maybe you could—”
“Please hurry, Jasper.” She shoved him to go.
While he broke chairs and crates below, she danced around the tentacles slithering in all directions feeling around for her, she assumed.
“Hurry up down there,” she yelled, trying to crank the handle a little to test her strength.
She watched the octopus but kept glancing at the gauge, waiting for the needle to rise.
Come on, Jasper. She found herself praying.
Once the needle on the gauge began to rise, it quickly moved to the red line. Just go up. She grabbed the handle and put all her strength into cranking.
As Jasper had predicted, the sails snapped out and dislodged the octopus. Unfortunately the tentacle on the mast was flung in her direction, hit her in the arm and knocked her down. Damn. Stunned, she stared blurry-eyed at the tip of the feeler latching on to her leg. She kicked hard to free herself from the creature dragging her across the deck. A strong sour odor wafted around her as it pulled her closer. Her thoughts went to the smells she had encountered in the fish market—strong and salty.
“Let go!” She struggled to no avail.
A rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire became a welcoming sound when the bullets cut the sea monster’s gray arm from its body. She pushed the slimy, suctioning flesh off her and lay down, exhausted.
“Abigail, are you hurt?” Jasper’s steel Gatling made a loud echoing clunk as it hit the deck.
He knelt next to her and wiped her wet hair from her face. Concern in his tone and his expression made her feel warm and tingly all over.
“Tell me we’re not going to see anything like that again.” She took hold of his arm and let him help her sit up.
“You’re all right.” A pronounced sigh relaxed his bunched-up shoulders, and then he smiled. “You’re having one hell of an adventure, aren’t you?” He tucked his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet.
She stared at him, thinking about the day she met him, or rather, the second day of their meeting. She liked adventures. When he’d set sail with her, she felt wonderfully free from her dull life. Their meeting offered her a chance to explore beyond the drudgery of her everyday existence. She still hoped to find the treasure and save her house from the bank foreclosure, but life with Jasper seemed to magically ease those worries.
“You have a faraway look in your eyes.” His voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Were you wishing you weren’t here?”
“I was just remembering that night you walked me home and we met that little man—the troll. It makes me wonder what else there is in the world that I don’t know about?”
“A lot.” He walked away from her.
She followed. “I’ve had this feeling you’re keeping something from me.”
“Like what?” He cranked the sails back into an upright formation.
She put her hand on his arm to get him to look her in the eye. “Even if it’s bad, I can handle it, Jasper.”
His shrug and his sudden avoidance concerned her. When he walked away again, she let him. He kept something from her—something important. Again she had that uneasy feeling he was deceiving her. Her reckless journey would undoubtedly end with him stealing her treasure, just as he had stolen her snow globe.
She watched him climb up to the quarterdeck and fiddle with his navigational instruments. He looked preoccupied with the working of his ship. Then he glanced at her. The brief, unsettling flash of his gaze turned away almost instantly. What did he hide?
Not ready to confront him again, she picked up her brass corset and went below to change into dry clothing. Once dressed, she sat on a chair and gazed out the window at the fish. She studied their movements, keeping in groups until something disturbed them. With their course of direction changed, they made a new formation and moved along as one again.
She took her usual stroll around the cabin, examining oddities. The driving goggles caught her attention. She wondered why he had them, but shuffled the question away with the others as she picked up the handkerchief that lay beneath them.
“I’m immortal.” Jasper startled her with his declaration from the cabin doorway.
“This is mine. How did you get it?” She held up the embroidered white silk with her initials interwoven in the design. “And what did you say?”
“I’m immortal.”
“You’re what?” she asked, unsure she heard him right.
“I can live forever.” He propped his hands on his hips as if punctuating his statement with his stance would make her an instant believer.
“No one lives forever,” she scoffed. “That foolishness won’t get you out of telling me how you got my handkerchief. I haven’t carried this particular one in months.”
Jasper walked to her and snatched the lace-edged silk from her fingers. “I’ve been watching you for years.” He waved the handkerchief at he
r. “And you unknowingly dropped this while walking in the park with Mr. Randolph Humphries.”
“You’re the one?” She staggered back and bumped into the wall. The coolness of the window’s glass seeped through her clothing, chilling her back.
“The one what?” he asked, staring at the small cloth in his hand.
She watched him rub the silk between his fingers and then place it back on the table next to the goggles.
“I’ve always felt as if someone had been following me—watching my every move. You’ve been looking for the opportunity to get the Crystal Compass for a long time, haven’t you? But my father and I were in the way, weren’t we? Once he was dead—”
Abigail had trouble voicing the horrible thought that struck her. Jasper couldn’t have killed her father. He wasn’t mean or evil—or was he? A chill moved down her spine as she realized that, despite their lovemaking, she didn’t know him, not really.
“You didn’t have anything to do with…You…My father…”
She flinched when he rushed forward, not sure what she expected from him. When he grasped her arms and tugged her close, she looked up into his eyes and saw a pained expression.
“He was a friend, Abigail. I had nothing to do with your father’s death.” His fingers tightened. “Whatever you may think of me, I’d never do anything to hurt you or your family.”
She wanted to believe him. Yet how did she overlook the deceitful ways he had used to get close to her? If she had time away from him, time to think, maybe she’d find that things weren’t as bad as they sounded. Confused, she hurried to the door. She heard the loud stomp of his boots following as she scurried up the first set of stairs and then the second. With nowhere to go, she stopped midship and turned around. The longboat caught her eye and she went to it, ready to release it into the water.
Then a shadow fell on the deck. She looked up, expecting to see a dark cloud. Instead, a hot air balloon hovered. From it a hung a rope, and on the end was a grappling hook. She turned away just as the heavy iron came close to colliding with her. Then it swung back and caught hold beneath one of the buckles of her brass corset. A whooshing sound coincided with the balloon’s sudden rise, lifting her off Jasper’s ship.
Under Her Brass Corset Page 12
