by Tracy Kay
Madeline stretched languidly as she watched Damon move about the cabin, clad only in snug fitting breeches that moved easily with his body. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, touching his golden skin kissed by the sun’s rays from many hours of work under its hot blaze. He had taken his time with her last night, making love with her slowly, letting her become accustomed to him and the act of lovemaking. He had loved her again during the raging storm and after its wake. He eased her fears with his comforting arms and soft words. In the early morning, they had finally drifted off into dreamless, satisfied sleep. Now, Madeline moaned lightly with renewed desire and an achy soreness as her body moved beneath the blanket, drawing Damon’s attention.
“You are awake.” Damon smiled, walked towards her and sat on the bed beside her. He gently brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“Mmm.” Madeline smiled back at him.
“Would you like some breakfast?” Damon indicated the table with a tray of hot food sitting on it.
Madeline nodded and sat up. “I am starving.”
“I will pour the coffee while you get dressed.” He stood up and walked to the table.
Madeline watched him, admiring his backside. Oh, my, but he had a nice backside. She blushed at her thought, grateful he couldn’t read her mind. Damon turned to catch her blush and winked at her. Madeline’s blush deepened, and she brushed the blankets aside to quickly put on her dress, the evidence of their lovemaking feeling sticky and damp on her thighs. A shudder of desire and need travelled across her body. She retrieved her brush from inside the trunk and tugged it through her tangled hair nervously, wondering what he was thinking.
Unbeknownst to her, Damon was having similar thoughts, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Filling the awkward silence, he said, “We will be reaching port today.”
“Oh, so soon?” Madeline asked disappointedly.
Damon smiled slightly. “Brandon should meet us there in a few days. Come sit down and eat.” Madeline nodded and obeyed. “And I want you to eat everything on your plate, Madeline,” he commanded as he sat across from her.
Madeline blushed and nodded.
“I mean it, Madeline. You are going to waste away if you don’t eat more.”
“I am too fat,” she mumbled, pushing the food around her plate with her fork.
Damon put his coffee cup down and looked at her sharply. “You are not fat, Madeline, and I won’t put up with that attitude. Do you understand me?” He was not amused by her opinion of herself.
Madeline nodded meekly in reply, not wanting to argue with him. He wouldn’t understand anyway.
“Good, now eat your breakfast,” he commanded again, ending the subject.
Madeline slowly ate her food, mulling over the question that had been nagging at her since she first awoke. The silence stretched between them as they ate until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to ask him. Placing her fork carefully on the plate, she gazed up at him. “Damon?”
“Yes, baby?” Damon watched her closely. He had been waiting patiently for her to tell him what was on her mind.
“Do you . . . regret making love to me?” Madeline swallowed hard, bit down on her lip, and glanced out the window, then at the bed they shared before looking back at him.
Damon gazed at her tenderly, tucked her hair behind her ear, and firmly rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, silently reprimanding her and forcing her to stop biting it. “No, baby, I don’t regret it. You are beautiful and I wanted you.” He smiled wryly. “I still want you.” He took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. “Do you have regrets?”
Madeline smiled brightly at him. “No, no regrets at all. It was wonderful . . . and,” Madeline blushed again. “And I still want you, too.”
Damon beamed and winked. “Good. Now that that is settled, finish your breakfast.” He drank the rest of his coffee in one swallow. “I need to get us into port. Actually, limp us into port. We took a bit of a beating last night and we have some damage that will need to be repaired in port. Thankfully, it is minor.”
“You don’t need to watch me eat, Damon. I will finish all my breakfast. I promise.”
“Are you sure, baby? I don’t want to leave you alone until you are ready.” Damon was still worried about her episode from the night before and didn’t want to leave her alone for long. Perhaps he would send André to keep her company. They seemed to be fond of each other.
“I will be fine, Damon, honestly,” Madeline reassured him, sipping her coffee.
Damon searched her face for a moment before pushing back his chair and standing. “All right then, I will leave you to finish your breakfast. Stay in the cabin until we put into port. It is going to be a bit busy on deck and I don’t want you getting underfoot.”
Madeline nodded as she watched him pull on a shirt.
“If you need me, send André for me.” He kissed the top of her head before leaving.
Madeline sighed, staring at the door he had closed behind him. She loved him. She loved his rugged good looks, his muscular body, his smooth voice, and his spicy scent. She loved how he held her and seemed to cherish her and her body as he made love to her. She loved that he was concerned for her, but she doubted he would ever love her in return. She would never be beautiful enough for him. She was simply a duty for him, doing a favor for his friend, even if he did want her. She sighed again and brushed away a tear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Gretchen stood back from her painting, tilting her head to the right in concentration. It was a painting of Madeline on a ship, her hair blowing in the wind with a wistful expression on her face, and a man watching over her protectively in the background. That is where Gretchen imagined her friend to be at this moment. Gretchen smiled. Her friend was in love. Gretchen shivered and quelled the feeling. How whimsical of her? It was a romantic painting and a foolish feeling. She had no idea where Madeline was, let alone if she was in love or not. She smiled again, but it was a lovely painting anyway and a lovely thought. Gretchen hummed softly to herself as she put the final touches on her painting.
“It is muy bonita, señorita.” The voice of Manuel Parez behind her made her jump in surprise.
Startled, Gretchen turned with a dripping paint brush in her right hand held up as if it were a weapon. “What are doing in here?” Gretchen demanded.
Manuel smiled slowly with admiration. Gretchen was wearing a tight fitting, paint stained gown that left nothing to his imagination. Her breasts where practically falling out of the gown and he could almost see her nipples peeking over her bodice. He felt the familiar tightening in his groin. Yes, he had to have this one. “I wanted to know if you would like a ride today, señorita.”
Gretchen stared at him in astonishment. How dare he intrude on her solitude? No one was permitted in her studio without her permission, especially the servants. She wouldn’t even allow the housekeeper to enter the room to clean it. She cleaned it herself. The only exceptions to her rule were her brothers, Madeline, Corinna, and now, Raven and Maxine. The studio was her haven, her escape from reality, and she was outraged that this stable hand had the audacity to overstep his place.
Gretchen breathed in deep, and with her most superior voice, berated him. “Señor Parez, if I wish to take a ride, I will do so. I am not obligated to inform you of it in advance. How I spend my days are of no concern to you. Furthermore, this room is off limits to the servants, and that Señor Parez, includes you. If these conditions are unacceptable to you, you are welcome to resign.”
Manuel watched her heaving breasts in admiration. She was beautiful when she was enraged. He would have to remember that. He could imagine her bucking wildly beneath him in fear and passion as he took her, getting his fill. Reluctantly, he set aside the fantasy for another time. He had to gain her confidence and trust first. He would have to move slowly, but he had time. He smiled charmingly at her and inclined his head slightly. “Pardon me, señorita, I did not mean to offend you
. I thought with it being such a splendid morning, you would enjoy a ride.”
Gretchen studied him, unsure to trust him or not. He seemed sincere, but she had her doubts. “Thank you for the offer, Señor Parez, but I don’t wish to ride today. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to finish my painting,” she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
Manuel frowned as he bowed his head, his only concession that he was in her employ and not of the same status. “As you wish, señorita.”
“My lady.”
“Excuse me, señorita?” Manuel peered at her in puzzlement.
“My title is lady, please refer to me as such.” Gretchen glared at him daringly. She had seen his frown and a little demon inside of her had made her challenge him.
Manuel paused for a moment, returning her challenging gaze. “Sí . . . my lady.” Again, he bowed his head slightly before turning to leave. It was going to be a pleasure teaching her his ways, breaking her. By the time he was finished with her, she would be on her knees calling him master. She wouldn’t be demanding he call her lady and she wouldn’t be so arrogant either. He only had to keep his desires under control until it was time.
Gretchen watched him leave. She was going to have to be careful of that one. She was rethinking the wisdom of hiring him. Manuel Parez was going to cause some problems and she may have to dismiss him. But he was so good with the horses, she mused. She didn’t relish the idea of going through the process of searching for another stable master. Perhaps, she would speak to Simon about the man and let him deal with the situation.
Gretchen shrugged and pushed Manuel out of her thoughts. She had worse problems to deal with today. She frowned. Henry Cummings would be calling, again. He had become persistent with his admiration. He had called every day this week and it was becoming tedious. She supposed she would have to have Simon get involved with the matter, although she didn’t want to bother her brother with such nonsense. However, Lord Henry wouldn’t leave her alone and she was not interested in the man, not one little bit.
She absently scratched her cheek with the hand that held the wet brush, getting green paint on her face. She groaned at herself for her carelessness and tried to wipe the paint off with little success. Making a decision, she cleaned her brush and put it down. She would go change and speak with Simon. Lord Henry’s visits had to stop.
“Do you see who is in port?” Tylib shaded his eyes from the sun as he gazed at the busy port of Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas.
“Yes, I see and I am not going to let him agitate me,” Damon answered with a determined set to his jaw.
“You are not going to do anything?” Tylib turned to him in surprise, a wash of anger going through him. From Mac’s story, Tylib was finally able to fully understand the animosity between Damon and Flint, and it infuriated him. In the past, Damon had always said it was nothing but an old grudge. He wanted to take care of Damon’s problem and eliminate the man, but he would control his urges and allow Damon to take care of it himself, for the time being anyway.
“Not this time, and neither are you, Ty,” Damon directed sharply. “We have to concern ourselves with Madeline. We can’t afford the danger Flint will bring us. Ty, we will deal with him another time.”
Tylib put his hand on his captain’s shoulder. “I understand, my friend. I will leave it be for next time.”
“What will you leave be?” Madeline inquired, finally allowed on deck now that they were in port.
“Captain Flint is in town,” Damon replied honestly.
“Isn’t he the slave captain you worked for?”
“Yes, and it was a very long time ago. Please don’t worry about it, Madeline,” Damon retorted, ending the subject. “The repairs should only take a couple of days so there is no need for you to go ashore, Madeline.”
“Oh, Damon, please, can’t we go ashore for a little while. I could use some time on land and I would like to go shopping,” she beseeched him pleadingly, putting a hand on his arm.
Damon caressed the hand on his arm and acquiesced, unable to refuse her. “All right, Madeline, I will take you shopping, but you are not to go ashore alone.” He looked at her sternly. He had heard of the stories when she had disobeyed orders to stay aboard ship and he didn’t wish her to repeat the behavior. Better to humor her and take her ashore shopping than searching for her later. “Give me a couple hours to get the repairs started and we will go.”
She nodded and beamed brightly, her green eyes sparkling with joy. “I will go get changed while I wait.” She turned and left the men.
Both men looked after her strangely, shook their heads in bafflement and then grinned at each other. They couldn’t fathom what was wrong with the dress she was wearing.
“Capt’n, sir?” Pete, Damon’s newest and youngest crew member of fifteen, timidly approached Damon. He had recently returned to the ship along with a few other sailors who had gone ashore some hours prior to docking.
Damon turned to the young sailor. “Yes, Pete?”
“I have a message, sir.”
“Yes?” Damon waited patiently as he watched the young man shuffle his feet in nervousness.
Pete swallowed hard and gazed down, unwilling to meet the Captain’s eyes. “It’s not a very good one, sir.”
“Then spit it out and get it over with, son,” Damon commanded lightly.
While waiting with the skiff for the others to return with the permission for the Wayward Wind to dock, he had been approached by an unsavory looking sailor with a message for the Captain. Pete hated bringing bad news, especially to such a good and kind captain as Captain Spencer. He knew he wouldn’t be punished for the message, but he gulped in a deep breath to settle his nerves before giving the Captain the bad news. “One of Capt’n Flint’s men gave me the message, sir.”
“Well?” Damon urged with patience.
“Capt’n, he . . . threatened you.” Pete stalled a little longer not wanting to relay the message, and unable to meet the Captain’s gaze.
“Peter, tell me.” Damon put an encouraging hand on Pete’s shoulder, already knowing from Pete’s behavior that the message would not be good.
Damon’s touch gave him courage, and he looked up at Damon, meeting his eyes bravely. “He said he was goin’ to chop you up into bits and throw you to the fishes, sir.”
“Is that all?” Damon suppressed his humor at Peter’s dramatics.
“After he’s given you a hundred lashes, sir.” Pete’s face turned a bright red and he turned his head in discomfort, not wanting to be the one to bear this news.
“Thank you, Pete. That will be all.” Damon dismissed him, doing his best to keep the amused grin off his face.
“Sir?” Pete tentatively asked.
“Yes, Pete?” Damon raised his brows at him quizzically.
“Was he serious?” Pete squinted at him.
“Very much so,” Damon nodded solemnly, his humor slipping away because the truth was that Flint’s threat was real.
“But sir . . .” Pete started, confused as to why someone would want the Captain harmed and why the Captain thought it was funny.
Damon smiled at the young sailor. “Peter, don’t worry yourself over it. Go take the afternoon off.”
“Yes, sir,” Pete responded. Still confused, he scratched his head and quickly left.
“His threats seem to get more gruesome each time we encounter him,” Tylib commented.
Damon glanced over at where the Flying Manna was docked and grimaced. “We don’t have time for him now, Tylib. My main concern has to be Madeline. Flint’s threats always amount to nothing, but if he threatens Madeline, I will kill him.” He declared ruthlessly. He had no issue in eliminating a man such as Flint, none at all.
“I understand, my friend, and I agree.” Tylib motioned towards Flint’s ship. “With him about, I will go with you and Madeline for your shopping. I do not want you unprotected.”
“We will be in a public place. He will not attempt anything where there are wi
tnesses.”
“Even so, my friend, it is good to be safe.”
Damon nodded, accepting his first mate’s offer. “Then we have a lot of work to do before Madeline gets restless and decides to go without us,” Damon proclaimed before walking away to inspect the repairs needed for the damage the storm did to his ship.
“I didn’t think you would be cooking today, André,” Madeline said as she entered the galley while waiting for Damon to take her ashore, careful not to get her blue muslin dress dirty.
“I cook every day, chéri. The men have to eat,” André commented absently as he kneaded dough for bread.
“But won’t they be ashore?”
“Only those with shore leave,” he answered casually.
“Oh.” Madeline was learning that she knew very little about the running of a ship, and it gave her a new admiration for those who worked on them. While on Brandon’s ship, she had rarely paid attention to all the details or the sailors’ activities.
André stopped kneading the dough to stare at Madeline. “And what do you do here, chéri? You are dressed too prettily to be in the galley.”
“I am waiting for Damon to take me shopping, and I got bored waiting in the cabin so I came searching for company.”
“Well, you found some.” He pointed at a stool across the room. “Sit over there so you will not mess your dress.”
“Aye, sir,” Madeline grinned and gingerly sat on the stool, arranging her skirts around her.
