Under Her Brass Corset

by Brenda Williamson

  “Pirates are criminals.”

  “So are the men who run the countries that commission privateers.”

  “I suppose.” She didn’t have much knowledge about pirates, even though she was descended from one. “I just can’t believe you can’t die.”

  “Oh, I can die. It’s just not as simple as a bullet, a stab of a knife or any illness.”

  “Then how do you say it can be done?” She turned over her hand and looked at her palm. It hadn’t changed color, but there were signs of calluses. She hadn’t used any hand cream for days.

  “I think you’ve had enough talk about death.” Jasper pushed away from the rail. “Let’s discuss a topic less morbid.”

  His reluctance gave her reason to think that maybe there was something to his claim. Out of self-preservation, an immortal would hardly discuss ways he might die.

  “Abigail, is something wrong?” He touched her fingers. “Did you hurt your hand?”

  “No,” she said, pulling away and hiding her hand behind her back. “I just noticed I’ve been getting too much sun.”

  “It’s good for you.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s healthy to get some sun. Not to mention the way it makes your skin glow.”

  “I’ll look like some shellfish, pink and crusty. My skin is dry and chafed, not smooth and—” She frowned as Jasper laughed at her.

  “I like the way you look.” He stroked her arm and caught her hand, then kissed her fingertips. “I think you’re beautiful.”

  She shook her head, not believing she was standing there, allowing to him charm her.

  “You were telling me about Blackbeard,” she said, figuring if she asked enough questions, eventually she’d trip him up.

  “Yes. Well, we both pirated for Hornigold. Then Edward wanted to go out on his own. We had become friends, and he took me on as his first mate.”

  “Was he as mean and evil as the news articles described him?” Those stories her father had told her kept her from ever mentioning to anyone that she was related to the infamous pirate.

  “Blackbeard never killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill him. He actually perpetuated many of the lies making up the legend of his bloodthirsty existence. His crazy antics and gruesome tales were fodder for the journalists. In the end, those tall tales made men afraid of him, thus helping him conduct his business without much interference.”

  “Go on.” She avoided looking at him while he talked. It helped distance her thoughts from the feelings he stirred inside her.

  “Edward eventually wanted to retire. A life at sea was good, but working to stay alive was a chore, especially with one hateful enemy—Lieutenant Robert Maynard. Maynard wanted Edward Teach dead. He chased and cornered us in a bay too shallow for the ship. Edward was shot up pretty bad. I took him ashore to one of the barrier islands. It wasn’t my plan to make anyone immortal, but he was dying, and I—”

  The depths to which Jasper had gone to forge an impossible past had her amazed. His story choked her up enough to momentarily forget she didn’t really believe what he was telling her. Even knowing that fact, she felt the depth of his emotions had to be based on something in his past.

  “So what happened next?” She had gone too far now to end her ruse of belief; fueling his lies was wrong, yet she couldn’t help herself. Jasper told a good story and she was a sap for fiction.

  “I told him to drink the water, while I distracted and led Maynard off his trail.”

  “Did you tell Blackbeard why he was drinking it?”

  “That came later.”

  “So, my great-grandfather drank the water and became immortal without a choice? Real or not, I can’t image anyone being agreeable to living forever.”

  “What if it was your mother and you had the opportunity to give her an immortal life?” Anger fringed his words. “Wouldn’t you want that so you’d never be alone?”

  “Not if she didn’t want it for herself,” she shot back. “I couldn’t play God like that with someone’s life.”

  “Well, God wasn’t around at the time. I had to make the decision.” His jaw clenched and his mouth formed a straight, tight line.

  Anger. Frustration. Why is he acting hurt and upset over the silly subterfuge of his own game?

  As if stabbed with a sharp stick, Jasper felt a pain in his chest. The easily healed, physical variety had never hurt with such intensity. Abigail didn’t believe in living forever. Long ago he’d had that same distressing message conveyed to him by someone else. His suffering from that time had dulled, but had never gone away. To have a fresh layer of anguish added reinforced one tenet of his life—never get involved with mortals.

  “I suppose he’d be grateful. That is, if it really could happen. What pirate wouldn’t want to live forever, plundering the goods from merchant ships?” she said sarcastically.

  “That wasn’t why I did it.”

  “Oh?”

  “He was a friend. I didn’t want him to die. Although, as it is, Edward only drank half the water and it ended up giving him trouble with his memory.”

  “Then why didn’t he drink more?”

  “He couldn’t remember where he buried the vial with the remaining water. Later was too late.”

  “See, this is where your story doesn’t make sense. If I were doing the telling, I wouldn’t have even added the forgetfulness part. At the very least, you should have said you used the Crystal Compass to find more water.”

  “I didn’t have the Compass then and when I did, a hundred years later, I brought him more water. It had no effect. He’s not so bad off. He has a lot of memories, some as clear as if they happened yesterday. He just forgets little things.”

  “So how is it you acquired the Crystal Compass?”

  At times Abigail looked at him in disbelief. Other times she stared with that wide-eyed wonderment of someone hungering for a thrill. The more she heard, the better the chances he had of convincing her it was all true. He loved her all the more for giving him that chance.

  “I was in a small village in northern England,” he continued while looking out at the island they were going to visit.

  “Doing what, pirating?” Her tone conveyed disapproval of his somewhat ignoble prior occupation.

  “That was long behind me. I had made my fortune.”

  “Stealing,” she grumbled.

  “My life is long, Abigail. I have accepted there will be unscrupulous eras to my existence. To know the best of times is to have known the worst. That’s what makes the future less formidable.”

  “I don’t think there is any reason to be a criminal.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  He considered ending their conversation and going ashore. “Not even for a good cause?”

  “What good cause could there possibly be for pirating, for attacking a ship and stealing its cargo?”

  Jasper frowned. He had no argument. Abigail’s twentysome years of existence barely touched upon boredom. She’d not know the cravings of adventure like an immortal, or how open-minded they were to different ways of life.

  He decided it was best she heard everything before she met Juan, though. That way, Juan’s corroboration could help in making her see he wasn’t making anything up.

  “You wanted to know how I ended up guardian of the Crystal Compass,” he said, steering them back on topic. “It came about around my three hundred and thirty-fifth year.”

  “Three hundred and thirty-fifth,” Abigail snorted. “Shouldn’t you at least have some gray hair?”

  “My nails, my hair, my feet, my nose–nothing will grow or change. It’s because of that, that I cannot stay but so many years around mortals.”

  “That’s not very good—making friends and then having to give them up.”

  “I don’t make friends with mortals, so I haven’t found it much of a problem.” He watched her eyes get misty and he quickly moved on with his story. “I was in this village when—”

  �
�Did you go there by chance, or with a specific intention, like seeing someone that may have been dear to you?” she interrupted with a hint of jealousy in her voice.

  “I was an orphan when I signed on to the ship that brought Juan on one of his expeditions. There was no one for me to see. As I was saying, I was in this village minding my own business when I heard someone begging for his life. There in the middle of the square, the villagers had a man…Well actually he was fey—”

  “A fairy? Are they very little?”

  For the first time, Abigail sounded truly interested in what he said.

  “Fey come in all sizes. As for this one, he’s of a standard height for a man.” He smiled. “You know, you do have to let go of your stereotypical outlook on all beings from myth and legend. They are often not as you’ve been told.”

  “You’re asking me to believe an awful lot, you know?”

  “Does that mean you’re starting to?

  “No, but don’t let that stop you from finishing your story.”

  “Well, the man was tied to a post and about to be branded a thief.”

  “Oh dear, was he?”

  “Was he branded, or was he a thief?”

  “Both.” She smiled, sincerity gleaming in her eyes.

  “Branded, no. Thief, don’t know, didn’t care. He was a fey. To befriend one brings good luck, and I’m always in favor of a little extra good luck.”

  “This sounds a whole lot like another troll story, Captain Blackthorn.”

  “It could be, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Trolls are short, ungainly and usually unattractive creatures. Fairies come in all sizes and are generally very pleasing to the eye, especially the females.”

  Abigail’s little “humph” suggested more jealousy. She had no reason to be, and he’d not pursue making her think there was, even though he liked the way the prideful emotion tickled his lungs into tightening.

  “So did you help the man and get some good luck?” she asked.

  “I helped him. As for the luck, who knows how to judge that? What I did get was a gift. He insisted on repaying me and so he took me to a lake. At sunset, a woman’s arm reached up out of the water. In her palm lay the Crystal Compass.”

  “That’s the story of Camelot and it was a sword for King Arthur from the Lady in the Lake,” Abigail exclaimed.

  “The Lady of the Lake is real, Abigail. And her name is Morgan Le Fay.”

  “Now I know you’re telling a tall tale. Morgan Le Fay was King Arthur’s half sister. She was a sorceress, not a fairy.”

  “Are you sure? Legends, myths, tall tales, they all have one thing in common.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “There’s a grain of truth in each one. Facts may become distorted over time, but there’s always a sliver of reality. Yes, Morgan does have powers. People like her have been called a sorceress, a witch, an enchanter and many other names. What she is, however, is the fairy that rules Avalon, also known as the Lady of the Lake.”

  “Why would she give you the Crystal Compass? She didn’t know you. For all anyone knew you could go around creating more immortals and filling the world with criminals.”

  “Oh, I think she might have had some magical help in accessing my nature. Remember, she controls the water that flows to the springs of Avalon—the very water that made me immortal.”

  “I once thought it would be nice to know magic.” Abigail turned from him and walked along the deck.

  “What would you do with your magic?” He followed.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Make everything wrong in the world right?” She spun around. “And before you ask, yes, I’d bring my mother back to life. But not to make her immortal. Just to have her around a little while longer so I could get to know her better.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. “All you have to do is take a good look inside yourself. You are a part of her. Everything she was is in your thoughts, your actions and your heart. As far as I can tell, you are every bit how your mother would want you to be.”

  Abigail’s eyes watered. Her lips puckered as if to hold back a sob. He pulled her close and leaned to kiss her. Unsure of her reaction, he hesitated. And then their mouths connected. Her lips quivered, her jaw trembled. He grasped her face and kissed her longer, deeper, until he felt her relax against him.

  Her soft lips caressed his. Her tongue darted out, playfully jabbing and licking. She slipped her arms around, embracing him, first at the waist, and then gliding higher. She clutched his back. He hugged her tight, wishing she wasn’t wearing the corset. Without the thin sheet of metal, he would be able to feel her breasts squash against his chest. She kept his mind from that thought with her tongue, caressing, teasing and taunting him. Then she pulled back and stared up at him with a beautiful, steamy seductive gaze. No words were needed for him to turn her around and unbuckle the corset. He lifted it away and set it on a crate.

  “Do you want to go below deck?” He circled her waist and pulled her back against him.

  “No,” she breathlessly answered. “Make love to me right here.”

  He kissed her shoulder and her hair. She turned her head and gazed up at him. He saw his reflection in her pupils. It used to be that he called his obsession with her a passing phase—an infatuation he’d outlive. Now he had to accept that was never going to happen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abigail ran her hands over Jasper’s, feeling his fingers travel over her breasts. She wanted to resist him before he had kissed her. Confused by her mixed feelings, one clear fact had come through loud and clear—her deep sexual attraction toward him. She had listened to his stories, scoffed at points and yet encouraged him to continue. She’d thought a battle of wits would dull her raging hormones. Instead, Jasper’s adventurous tales were like water to a thirsting plant, and she wanted to be quenched.

  She reached back and stroked Jasper’s hip and thigh while he massaged her breasts through her blouse and chemise. She tilted her head and stretched her neck, loving the feel of his mouth sucking at her skin. Eventually his hand slithered down over her belly. He unfastened the waistband of her skirt and the garment dropped away.

  She turned by his guidance and faced him. Together, they stripped each other of every shred of clothing. Between the warm weather and the heat of Jasper’s hands roaming wildly over her body, a wave of euphoria enveloped her. The rush of mental exhilaration felt wonderful, in fact, so fantastic that she threw her arms around Jasper’s neck and hugged him. He took her ardent display of happiness as sexual aggression and she didn’t care. Not when his kisses became fiercer and he displayed an equally cheerful eagerness.

  “Come down here,” he said, holding her hands.

  He knelt first and kissed her breasts and belly.

  “I’m not moving anywhere with you doing that.” She laughed as he flicked his tongue at her belly button.

  “Come here.”

  She lowered to him, maneuvering with him, letting him cradle her in his arms until she was lying beneath him.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Do you have any specific place you want me to start making love to you, or—”

  She bit her lower lip, bashfully surprised by the familiarity of his hand cupping between her legs and rubbing her mound. Unable to form words, she let the question go unanswered. Jasper didn’t need one as far as she was concerned. He kissed and caressed her with an obvious plan of his own.

  She whimpered softly, impressed by his methodical patience. The constant flick of his thumb and the intermittent probes of his fingers into her soaked vagina made her tremble with anticipation.

  “That’s it,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against hers. “I love to hear the sounds of your pleasure.”

  She loved to hear him too. His cooing approval, his fervent panting and his playful growl tickled her to the core.

  “You taste delicious,” he murmured, kissing a
nd licking her.

  He shifted downward. The stubble on his face prickled her skin, making it burn as he rubbed his lips up her belly and between her breasts. She lost focus on her misgivings as he kneaded her flesh and suckled a path back down her belly. His lingering at her navel frustrated her. She drew back her legs, bending them at the knee and fanning them open to invite him to dwell on the neediest part of her body.

  When he grasped her nether lips with his mouth and tugged, the electrifying shock to tiny nerves caused her to buck up against his face. She lowered her bottom back to the deck, thankful Jasper followed. He understood her greed. She could tell from the forceful pressure of his mouth devouring her. His tongue thrust and his lips sucked at her folds. She squirmed to get him to hit the right spot. Her whimpers escalated into stuttering gasps as her climax grew intense. She grasped his head and ground her pelvic region to his face. He helped elevate her with his strong hands under her bottom, his fingertips digging into the cheeks of her ass to force her tight to him.

  And then it hit her. She stiffened involuntarily as her orgasm exploded. The erotic sounds of Jasper sucking at her juices made her tremble harder. She wanted the sensation to last forever, but knew she was on a downward spiral from the rapture.

  He rose and she stared into his lust-filled eyes. She hadn’t understood the full meaning of his desire to bring her to climax until she felt the stir of his wet cock between her thighs. His erection grew fast, his needs more intense as he put her on her back and pushed her legs open.

  He moved between them and positioned his cock against her still quivering cunny. She jerked at his forceful thrust penetrating her slick passage. He drew his hips back, retreating to the verge of withdrawal, and then he slammed into her.

  “Oh God!” she cried out.

  One ramming wasn’t the end. Propped up on his hands over her, he continued the ship-rocking thrusts, pushing himself deep into her constricting core. The new orgasm he created came from somewhere deeper inside her shuddering body. She felt as if he were going to split her in two as his long, thick cock battered the walls of her vagina.