The Captain's Rebel (Irish Heroines)

by C. B. Halverson

  Much later, footsteps sounded across the floor, the door creaking open.

  Someone pulled my gag from my lips and fisted my hair, pulling my head back. Cool liquid dripped on my lips, and I snapped awake and out of the passed-out stupor that had consumed me. The water washed down my parched throat, and I nearly moaned in pleasure at the taste.

  He untied my blindfold, and my pupils dilated. I blinked as Grant’s face came into view.

  “Hello, Mary.”

  I stared at him, gritting my teeth.

  “What were you really doing down there in the hold?” he asked.

  “I told you,” I breathed through the ache in my limbs. “I had to get shoe polish.”

  He exhaled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Have you had enough?”

  “Not a jot,” I replied.

  Grant shook his head and folded the blindfold over my eyes again.

  I swallowed my scream as the gag filled my mouth. The Captain grabbed the collar of my shirt and ripped it from the nape of my neck all the way down, the sound like a crack of thunder in my ears. I flinched as his fingers trailed down my back, pausing at the gauze binding my breasts. He slipped my arms out of the ruined shirt, and I heard it drop to the floor in a flutter of soft cotton. He unraveled the gauze across my chest, turning me and twisting me around and around like a dancer.

  The movement sent a burning ache through my arms, and I arched my back, exposed and vulnerable. I didn’t know if this was part of the game or part of his interrogation, but I didn’t care. He wanted me to submit to him, but I reveled in the pain. Welcomed it. From the moment I stepped aboard this ship, Grant wanted to control my every movement, my every breath. He may have had my body, but my secrets were my own.

  Cold air hit my body and Grant’s palm stroked my spine up and down, warming my skin. It lulled me into a daze, my mind latching on to some remnant of tenderness. He leaned in, kissing me soft against my ear, his hot breath sending a shudder through me. Blind and bound, I bent my neck, and his mouth trailed down to my clavicle, hungry and urgent.

  His palm spread against my breast, and I hitched my breath, startled by his firm grasp. His callused thumb traveled across the soft flesh, and he pinched my nipple between his fingers. A low moan escaped my lips, wetness dampening the inside of my thighs. In the darkness behind my blindfold, his body was a burning wall of fire, his breathing quickening as he squeezed harder.

  “Tell me, Mary…” he whispered in my ear. “Tell me what happened between you and Andrews.”

  I swallowed hard, my hips seeking out his, searching for the relief of his touch. He teased my nipple out from my chest, pulling and pulling until I thought I might pass out from the pain. But just before I cried out, he released me. I took deep gulps of air, panting and gasping, but then his mouth suctioned over my nipple, and with each pulsing tug of his lips, my core flamed, yearning for release.

  He made a low sound in the back of his throat, his hand sliding down my waist, my hip, until he brushed against the inside of my thigh through my trousers. I bent my head back, eager for his touch, but then he stepped away, and with a soft hiss the rope loosened. My feet re-discovered the floor before my limbs gave out, and I slipped to the ground, holding my aching arms around my chest, curling into myself and gasping for air.

  Grant crouched over me, untying my gag and placing a small piece of bread in my mouth, which I chewed gratefully. He followed up with a pitcher of water and I lapped it up, cold drops bleeding down my chin and between my breasts. When I finished, I rested my head back on my arm, but Grant had other ideas. He ran his hands through my hair and pulled me to face him as he ripped away my blindfold. His rugged face swam into view, and I made to reach for him, but my arms fell limp at my sides like dead weights.

  “Are you ready to talk to me, Mary?”

  My eyes rolled back into my head, and I snapped myself into awareness.

  Grant grasped my arm, his thumb digging into my flesh. “Talk to me, Mary.”

  I looked up at the Captain and he swam into twos and threes as my vision blurred. I closed one eye and it helped him return to focus. His face looked haggard, the lines in his forehead deeper, the planes of his high cheekbones harder. The fury in his blue eyes had vanished, and a glint of weariness lined his irises. He needed to drop this. Andrews was dead, and he’d be celebrated back home as the hero he could never be in real life. Grant could suspect all he wanted, but admitting my guilt would allow him to have a power over me I couldn’t give up to anyone.

  “This seems like a right production for a bit of shoe polish, Captain,” I said in a strained voice.

  Grant exhaled in disgust and frustration, his fingers slipping out of my hair. My head dropped back to the floor, and I sank into it, reveling in the break from the rope.

  He paced the floor, his footsteps thundering against my ear. “We need to stop this, Mary. It has gone on long enough.”

  I sat up, clutching my bound hands to my waist. The coiled rope created an intricate pattern, almost like a nautilus shell, and I smiled at the meticulous nature of his handiwork, how he had created a special knot that would lessen the pressure on my wrists, my arms. This wasn’t about the pain for him, and I knew as I glanced up at his tense shoulders, his furrowed brow, that he had never intended things to get this far. But men had underestimated me my whole life, and I was no stranger to pain. To suffering. I was Irish. We bloody well invented the concept.

  “’Tis a shame,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I thought we were just getting started.”

  Grant stalked over to me and dragged me to standing. I gasped as my muscles instantly retaliated against my stubborn mind, the ache returning with a strange fire that consumed me. I blinked back hot tears as the Captain brought a blindfold back over my eyes and a gag across my mouth. He stripped my trousers down, pulling them off roughly. My skin tingled, and my face burned to be so exposed to him. Grant stood behind me, his hands resting on my hips, his fingers burying into my flesh.

  He brushed my hot, sweaty curls away from my forehead. “Tell me what happened.”

  His hands wandered down the indentation of my waist, trailing across my belly in circular strokes. He slipped a hand between my thighs, and the invasion of his fingers left me moaning for him, the sweet release of his touch making me forget all about Andrews. He kissed me behind my ear. “Whatever it is, I can protect you. But I need to know. Tell me, Mary.”

  I parted my legs wider, letting him slip deeper inside me. He responded to my movements, his fingers probing, searching, massaging my inner walls. I arched into his hips, and his hard cock pressed against the cleft of my arse.

  “Give yourself to me, Mary. I know you were down there with Andrews. What happened?” He slipped another finger inside, and I groaned into my gag, my body betraying me as I tilted back toward him, swaying slightly on the rope, the ache in my arms forgotten as the ache in my core took over. I wanted him to fill me, overwhelm me. He threw a hand around my waist from behind, supporting me with his strength as his fingers moved faster, wetness dripping down my inner thigh as my body responded to his touch. Grant paused, breathing hard, his heart beating against my back. “Tell me,” he growled.

  I shook my head.

  Never.

  His hand slipped from my mound, and I cried out in agony, my orgasm nearly at its peak as he moved away from me. My core tingled painfully, and I longed to finish myself, but with my wrists tied, it was impossible.

  “Then you can stay there until you do.” The door slammed behind him, and I screamed a stream of obscenities into my gag.

  The pressure of the Captain pleasuring me turned into a horrible cramp in my abdomen as the need to relieve my bladder became increasingly more urgent. I tried to cry out, but the kerchief stuffed in my mouth made sound impossible. I could do nothing more than dance on the floor, exhaustion taking over my limbs. I think I slept, or passed out, more like.

  When I woke again, Grant’s familiar scent of cedar and boot polish f
illed my nostrils and I screamed through my gag, the pressure on my lower abdomen excruciating.

  “Are you ready to talk now, Mary?”

  I nodded, and the gag unraveled out of my mouth while the blindfold remained, the darkness disorienting.

  “Please, sir, I need to relieve myself.”

  “Of course you do.” Grant’s voice did not belie any sense of urgency or alarm on his part. In fact, he began warming my back again with his hands.

  “Captain, please. Don’t make me soil myself.”

  “I am not a man who shrinks from natural bodily functions, Mary.” He moved closer to me, the heat of his body warm against my bare skin, and the back of my neck prickled with fear.

  “Listen to me now. I did not ask to have a woman aboard my ship,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I do not appreciate being blind to anything happening on the Elizabeth. I know you are lying to me, and I have had enough of your secrets.”

  “It’s better you don’t know.”

  Grant’s hand warmed my backside, and my body responded in kind, my hips jerking toward his callused fingers as they smoothed over my skin.

  “Did you kill Andrews?” he asked.

  “How would you expect a little thing like me to take on the bastard?”

  The Captain’s hand slapped my backside, and I gasped, leaning painfully on the ropes to escape the horrible sting.

  “Did you have an arrangement with him?”

  Panic flooded my limbs, and my blood ran cold. “An arrangement?”

  Grant spanked me again, and the tiny shards of white-hot heat bled through my body. “Do not play dumb, Mary. It does not suit you. Did he know your identity? Did he threaten you?”

  “I swear, Captain, there was nothing between us.”

  Grant filled my mouth with the gag again even as I struggled, my teeth gnashing at his hands. He fisted my hair and pulled me back. “You’re lying. I know when you are lying.”

  His voice sounded like an animalistic growl, low and throaty. Grant smacked my arse again, the pounding taking on new levels of pain as he persisted without mercy. I could do nothing but dangle there helplessly, swallowing hiccupping sobs behind my gag, screaming soundlessly as the punishment continued.

  He ripped the cloth from my mouth.

  “Are you ready to talk now?”

  I shook my head. As sore as my bum felt, I could withstand it. And in some dark place, I welcomed it, watching him come undone and retreating before he lost all control. I could smell the sex on his skin, his body radiating hot desire, and I shivered, opening my thighs wider as if in wait for him.

  “Maybe you had an affair with Andrews.” The Captain’s voice turned lethal, as sharp as the sword swinging from his waist. “Maybe you have been lying with him this whole time. Was he your lover, Mary? Did he tire of you?”

  I shook my head, the idea too ridiculous to entertain. Even still, the heat of jealousy burned in the Captain’s voice, and he gripped my breast hard as he leaned in close to my ear.

  “Perhaps you have had other men aboard this ship, Mary?” he whispered. “Was it an ill-fated lovers’ triangle? Did one of them kill Andrews?”

  I shook my head again, no. Grant must be daft to think I would touch any other sailor without him knowing.

  He grabbed my ankle and wrapped it around his waist, his other hand caressing the inside of my thigh. The response to his touch was immediate, warmth flooding my core. As if sensing my need, he explored further, and I leaned into him, craving release. Bending down, he buried his face into my neck and planted hot kisses there, trailing his lips down to my breast still clutched in his hand. His tongue brushed against my nipple, and I shivered.

  “So what was it, Mary? Did you give yourself to Andrews?”

  I shook my head no.

  “You are lying. I can tell when you are lying. Your spine turns rigid, your heart murmurs, your breath catches in your throat.” He inserted a finger into me, and I gasped through my gag, bringing my hips closer to him. I succumbed to his wandering hands, his seeking tongue as it traced lazy circles across my hardened nipple. Some secret part of me awakened to Grant’s power, his jealousy, his rage, and in that moment, bound, gagged, and blindfolded, I wanted to be his entirely. I desired nothing more but to have him enfold me in his dark, masculine strength, and I tightened my leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

  Grant’s trousers dropped to the floor in a rustle of fabric, and then his hands gripped painfully on my hips, pushing me up against his erection, one leg flung over his arm. My slick folds invited him in, and I rubbed against his long, massive cock as he sought out my core.

  “Oh, you are so wet, Mary,” he hissed in my ear. “Did you get this wet for him?”

  Unable to speak, I shook my head vigorously, rubbing myself against him like a cat in heat.

  “Is this what you wanted, Mary?” he hissed in my ear. “You want my cock inside you?”

  I nodded.

  Yes, I want you. Only you.

  With one hard grunt, he thrust himself into me, and I moaned into my gag, my chin digging into his sweaty shoulder as his muscles strained to surge inside of me. Relentless, cruel, he drove hard, each thrust punishing me for my silence.

  His cock pushed so far into me, it pressed against the walls of my womb. I cried out into the gag, the pain mixing with a kind of pleasure I had never known. Dark, twisted, hurtful, delicious. Something bent in me, the cold hard splinter of steel in my heart contorted around him, letting him penetrate me. And in that hollowed-out darkness behind the blindfold, I felt utterly and completely his woman in that moment.

  “You wanted this, didn’t you, Mary?”

  He grabbed the gag from my mouth and kissed me hard.

  “Yes,” I whispered through his powerful movements, my moans taking over, my body reaching a tipping point.

  “You wanted my cock inside you.” His fingers dug into my flesh as he pounded me. Merciless. Unforgiving. “Like this.”

  “Yes, sir…ahhhh…” I buried my face deeper into his chest, biting his flesh as my orgasm exploded with each raking thrust.

  His spine contracted, his massive body towering over mine as he shuddered, pumping his seed into me again and again. He hovered over me, shaking and breathing hard. He clutched at my curls, kissing my hair, my cheek, my neck.

  “God, Mary. Is there nothing you will not do to find that worthless man?”

  Grant pulled away, and the rope sagged. I dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap, my body limp and shaking. Grant collected me in his arms, shoving the blindfold over my sweaty curls, which he brushed away with the back of his hand.

  I let out a small chuckle, thinking of the absurdity of it, of doing all this for some stupid man. As if any man would be worth enduring so much. The small, breathy giggle exploded in a peel of hysterical, cackling laughter until tears streamed from my eyes. I had remained so strong, so guarded in the face of Grant’s domination, but now—exhausted, fucked blind, and dizzy—I crumpled against his chest, shaking and exploding with manic laughter.

  “Oh, Captain,” I said, catching my breath, muffling my giggles with my palm, my wrists still bound together, a sight that only made me laugh harder.

  Grant’s body tensed. “What do you find so funny, Mary?”

  I turned in his arms and shoved him away, the suddenness of my movement catching him off guard. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me closer to him, and we kneeled together in the dark, me reeling with insane, hiccupping laughter, Grant’s nostrils flaring with rage.

  “What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

  “You think…you think,” I gasped, swallowing hard. “You think I did all this for some stupid man? Cut my hair, dress up like a boy? Risk death? Or worse?” I doubled over with laughter, the insanity of everything overwhelming me like a tremendous wave, pulling me under.

  Grant’s grip loosened. “You said you needed to find your fiancé. Was that a lie, too?”

  I laughed harder, high and sh
rill, and I leaned against his shoulder as he stared at me, his blue eyes glimmering in the darkness. Leaning forward, I looked hard at him and shook my head.

  “Have you ever wanted something?” I said. “Something you could never have? Something that filled you with a never ending ache in your soul? As if you would never be whole until you held it in your hands? Have you ever known that kind of longing?”

  Grant blinked, a muscle in his jaw flickering wildly.

  “Oh, you have. I know you have, Captain Richard Grant. Bastard son of a London prostitute. People like us, all we ever know is that longing.”

  “You don’t know me, Mary.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I snapped, throwing my head back and laughing. “The only difference between you and me is that I have a chance. I have one chance of getting what I want, and Andrews wanted to take that away from me.” I stared down at my bound hands and fresh tears streamed down my face. Wiping them away, I looked back up at the Captain. “Tell me, sir. Tell me you wouldn’t do anything for that one chance.”

  “I would not kill a man to be an Admiral, if that is what you’re implying,” Grant argued.

  “Andrews was a bloody bastard and he deserved to die. I’m glad I killed him. He’s just like—” I clamped my mouth shut. He had tricked me, and like a fool, I had confessed. My cheeks burned, and I bit hard into my lip, turning away.

  The Captain paused. “Just like whom, Mary?”

  I let out a long, shuddering breath, my skin prickling with quiet rage. There was no use hiding it now.

  “Just like the bastards who took away Dunraven,” I spit out. “Rich and stupid men. Opportunists. Rapists. Plunderers.” I swallowed hard, raising my gaze to meet his hard stare. “Just like the men who killed my mother.”

  “Your mother?” He cocked his head to the side, studying me with wide eyes.

  I wiped hot tears from my cheeks, and I rocked back and forth, tucking my bound wrists against my neck. “She died. She died trying to take back the O’Malley estate from the English. And I owe her this. Don’t you see?”

  “So you did this for land?”