Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  “Turn around,” he said, taking her tunic and tossing it to the table.

  She did as he bade and faced the door. His salty scent filled her nose as he neared from behind, reminding her of the gentle rains she so loved rolling in from the sea. Elyssa suspected he was no gentle rain, but rather a boisterous storm. And yet, she breathed him in deep.

  “Christ. Who made these knots? They’re dreadful.”

  “Dob—”

  “The lubber knew nothing about knots.”

  The captain worked and tugged on the bonds. ’Twas such an intimate act. Undressing should be done in the company of a husband, not a stranger. Still, with the pressure of his fingers working on the cloth at her back, her heart picked up pace.

  “By gads, these will never come loose. Shit. Hold still.”

  The moment the blade touched her skin she froze.

  “Be very still, do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He worked the knife slowly up her spine, slicing through the fabric nearly to the top. She exhaled when he removed the dagger. And with a final tug, he ripped the bindings away, exposing her fully.

  Her breasts fell free and her clammy skin chilled in the brisk relief. She could finally take a full breath. And would have done so had the door not flung open.

  Elyssa shrieked. For a full moment, Mister Kipp, wide-eyed and shaken by her scream, stared, his mouth hanging agape. She flung her arms over her bosom and spun around smacking into the captain’s hard chest.

  His throaty chuckle rumbled in her ear. How dare he laugh. Mister Kipp got quite an eyeful. She was mortified with embarrassment and Captain Blackthorn found it all entertaining. She should be teeming with resentment. ’Twas his doing, making her disrobe. But the moment he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, well, her mind muddled. His hold, the warmth seeping in from his arm, the gentle squeeze, confused her. Heat from his calloused hand burned upon her flesh. And she liked it. Such foolhardy thoughts. He was a dangerous man, and she his prisoner. She shouldn’t lose sight of that.

  “I think it wise to knock, eh, Mister Kipp?”

  “So it seems, Capt’n. My deepest apologies to ya, and to ye, miss.”

  Elyssa could only nod, not wanting to look Mister Kipp in the face, as much for not wanting to move from the captain’s embrace as for humiliation.

  “Remember that French bucket we claimed last month?” Captain Blackthorn said. “If I recall, we acquired one pompous traveler’s chest of fine dresses and under things, no?”

  “Ah, yes. I’ll never forget that cat-claw. Couldn’t stuff a gag in her vicious yap fast enough.” Mister Kipp chuckled. “Ya be wantin’ me to bring it up?”

  “Aye. Mrs. Montgomery will be staying in my cabin for the rest of the voyage.”

  “I reckon that’ll be a bid for trouble, mate.”

  “So was that cat-claw, yet you still managed a dalliance with her.”

  “Aye, that I did.” A crooked smile hitched up Mister Kipp’s cheek. “Then I couldn’t get rid of the fair piece. Trouble, I say.”

  “Verily. No more trouble than I can handle.”

  Bedad. She was practically stark naked and these two were reminiscing. Elyssa cleared her throat.

  The captain smiled down to her, his eyes migrating to her breasts she squished to hide. Though she didn’t hear Mister Kipp’s response, she did hear the latch of the hatch door closing over her pounding heartbeat.

  “The quartermaster is usually the first to handle the spoils of quarry. ’Tis fitting, I suppose, that Mister Kipp witnessed your prizes before his captain.”

  She gulped down the chirrup caught in her throat.

  “Do not fret, lass, I’ll be a gentleman…for the time being.”

  His arm dropped away and she suddenly felt the vulnerability she should have had all along.

  Captain Blackthorn handed back her shirt. “I’ll return straightaway.” Without another word, he left.

  He’d been gone long enough for her to begin to understand her dire circumstance, but not so long to know how to handle it. Those crazy feelings of attraction, they appeared from nowhere, throwing her common sense to the wind. She was no driveling goosecap. She was a man, er, woman. She would make her way out of this mess. She would make it to San Juan, she would use her newly acquired Montgomery name, and she would be all right. But for now she had to take it breath by breath. And curb her attraction for Captain Blackthorn.

  Upon his return, he set a bucket of rainwater on the floor. Mister Kipp followed with a large trunk. The quartermaster added it to other trunks set against the shelves securing the captain’s books, navigational instruments, and drinking cups.

  “The lads are stirred up,” Mister Kipp said.

  “Imagine they are,” the captain said. “I’ll be out momentarily to address them.”

  Mister Kipp bowed his head to Elyssa and winked before leaving once again. She’d never be able to look at the man again without heat flushing her cheeks.

  “’Tis late,” the captain said. “Bathe and take your rest.” He handed her a rag. “You may sleep in my bunk.”

  Sleeping in a pirate’s bed? Elyssa glanced at the thin pallet against the wall. Scandalous. There was no other word for her situation. Her troubles burrowed deeper and deeper. Come now, Elyssa. For months you’ve been sleeping in close quarters with dozens of strange men. Ah, but as a man. There was a distinct difference. She should be pleased to lie on a mattress again, meager as it was. But would she lie alone? Or would Captain Blackthorn have immoral intentions in mind?

  She looked back to the man who would keep her and was startled to find him staring. No, not staring, gazing. Damn, what was it about his eyes that had her drawn to him? She couldn’t break away from their hold, nor did she want to.

  The faintest of smiles flitted across the captain’s lips. “On the morrow, you may pick out a dress from the chest.” He rolled up a map and packed up his journal. “And do wash that dreadful hair of yours.”

  Instinctively, her hand flew to her head. Her plaited hair crinkled to the touch.

  “If I’m to accommodate you by keeping you safe in my quarters, you will accommodate me by making yourself presentable.” He scooped up his rum bottle and turned to leave.

  “Captain Blackthorn,” she called.

  He paused at the door without looking back.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Mrs. Montgomery. I’ve yet to determine what I shall do with you.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Blackthorn had hardly stepped out of his cabin before the men crowded in. They peppered him with questions. Angry voices carried on about the trickery of a woman sneaking on board the Sanctum. Others were curious about who the lass was. Most were anxious to pass judgment on Rathbone. A handful called for justice. Justice for who was debatable and so Blackthorn left the men with one clear order. No harm was to come to the woman lest the wretch meet with a bullet between the eyes. He didn’t feel the threat was necessary except for the few that might be sympathetic to Rathbone’s plight.

  The men parted and Blackthorn made his way below to the galley. He needed a quiet place to finish off his rum and think about his predicament. He should be deciding on a course, making a firm decision on a port or to continue pirating. Instead, his mind wandered to the delight in his cabin. By God, what he wouldn’t give to watch her rub that rag across her wet, naked skin.

  He smiled. He’d have to thank Kipp for barging into his quarters. Blackthorn had nearly come undone when the lass spun into him. How soft and warm her flesh. Her breasts rounding over her arm in an attempt to hide them made his mouth water. ’Twas a terrible shame to have a naked woman in his cabin and not be able to enjoy her.

  “Yer one lucky bastard.” Kipp ducked into the galley and took a seat across from him at the table.

  “How so?”

  “A woman, alone in yer quarters, in the middle of the Caribbean.” He sat down two cups and a fresh flagon of spiri
t. “Blimey. A man couldn’t ask for a better blessing. And might I add she has blessings of her own.” Kipp whistled.

  “Aha, who’s the lucky one, my friend?”

  They shared a laugh, but harsh reality kept Blackthorn from enjoying their raillery.

  “She’s a blessing, all right, or a curse. That pretty pullet happens to be Lord Samuel Montgomery’s daughter-in-law.”

  “The Lord Samuel Montgomery? Ya don’t say.” Kipp poured them each a drink. Midway through pouring his cup, Blackthorn’s meaning dawned upon him. “Oh.” Kipp smirked. “Now I get ya. Don’t want to spoil the goods, eh?”

  “That’s right, mate. Montgomery might pay a king’s ransom for her safe return. Wouldn’t want to taint the leverage.”

  “Puts us in a bit of a dilemma, don’t it?”

  “Aye.” More so than Kipp might realize. Years ago, before Edward Flynn wiled his way into a commission in the governor’s palace on New Providence, Flynn trolled the same waters as Blackthorn. And when the Sanctum poached the mighty fine Spanish galleon busting with gold Flynn had been chasing, well, Flynn swore revenge.

  “Flynn finds out we have the lass, we may never get that King’s Pardon.”

  “He’ll look for any reason to deny me, that you can be sure. Flynn will, without fail, charge us with kidnapping.”

  “The bastard will put into the hands of every pardoned pirate a letter of marque to kill us.” Kipp took a healthy gulp from his cup and swiped the dribble from his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

  “Nay, he’d rather we be taken alive so he can hang me himself.”

  “Ya’d think being blood kin would have bearing.”

  Blackthorn snorted. “My being the bastard son of a Rear Admiral does not bind us by blood, Kipp. ’Tis just another reason my brother would gladly see to my death. Never mind. Flynn knows I’ll stick to my word. I’ll leave his waters and trade commerce alone. Should he grant the Sanctum clemency, of course.”

  “And if yer man Christensen fails to secure the pardon?”

  “I’ll declare war with Flynn.”

  Kipp raised his cup in a toast. “Damn the Governor. May the devil place a plague on his scurvy head.”

  Blackthorn smiled and raised his cup in turn.

  “Ya trust this Christensen?”Kipp asked.

  He scratched at the stubble on his chin. Robert Christensen was like a brother to him. As young lads, they trained and fought as naval infantry during the War of Spanish Succession. Comrades had claimed the two were formidable, striking down enemies on the battlefield in synchronized precision, and always watching one another’s back. ’Twasn’t enough for Christensen or for himself. Neither wanted to sail around the West Indies waiting for the next land battle. With a little friendly competition, they vowed to become skilled as master seamen, as well. It was said they would both rise to the top ranks. That was before an unfortunate accident stripped Blackthorn of all he’d worked hard for and removed him from the Royal Navy permanently.

  “Commodore Christensen will do what he can, but his loyalty lies with the crown.”

  “A fool’s errand, I say.”

  Blackthorn agreed. Either way, reprieve or no reprieve. Only the decision mattered. He’d long since grown weary of the cruising trade. If he couldn’t reap the rewards of his roving commission, then he’d go out a pirate’s legend. And he’d take Flynn with him.

  “What course do we take, Capt’n?”

  “Set a heading for New Providence and pray we don’t run into too much trouble in port. Samuel Montgomery is a Lord Proprietor, owning much of the island. He has an office in Nassau. We send Montgomery’s officer our terms and his daughter-in-law’s condition—nothing more.”

  “Bold. Crafty. Just like ya, Bran.”

  “A man’s got to make his way with what he’s been given, mate. And God, or the Devil, has given me a fetching nymph to line my coffers.”

  The middle watch bell cleaved through the silence and caught on the midnight breeze. Black water below rolled and stirred from the Sanctum’s hull. The moonless night cloaked Blackthorn’s ship making for an odd sense of suspension somewhere between time and the sea.

  Across the chasm there was no distinction between the water and sky. He sighed, comforted by the lonely and dark void. That empty place, meant for him, understood him.

  Exhaustion tugged upon his limbs and his back ached. He was getting too old for this shit. ’Twas time to retire.

  Ah, but the lass, Elyssa, was in his cabin. He’d left her hours ago, gave her the privacy required to bathe—as a gentleman should. Though he was far from a gentleman these days, he was no boorish cad either. No reason he couldn’t give the lady the decency a woman deserved. Thoughts of her wet, bare skin danced through his mind once more. He suspected she’d clean up nicely. Anticipation of seeing her chased his exhaustion away. What treat awaited him in his quarters—his private quarters. His cabin had been invaded by a wayward chit on a fanciful adventure. He growled. Perhaps he should sleep on the deck tonight. Piss on that. No woman was going to run him out of his only place of exile on the sloop.

  He took a final pull from the flagon of rum, his third this night, and pushed off the rail.

  Blackthorn entered his cabin in a wash of light. Every blasted lantern had been lit, their flames turned up high. Didn’t the lass know safety could not always be found in the light? Her seaman clothes, scrubbed clean of shipboard grime, lay draped over the chests to dry. Was that rose petals he smelled? Yes, he definitely smelled roses. She must have found perfume in the Frenchwoman’s trunk. He fancied the floral fragrance. Reminded him of the glittery parties filled with festive music, courtly dancing, and coy smiles. Every young soldier such as himself had been hopeful to steal a chaste kiss from a sweet young lady. The floral scent harkened memories of his youthful luck in wooing a lass or two.

  He let his eyes wander to Elyssa curled in his bed. The sheet tucked clear up to her chin. Heigho, the thin cloth did nothing to hide the dips and swells of her body underneath. Wisps of tawny locks swept around her peaceful face and fanned out on his pillow. Blazes. Seeing her there, so vulnerable, so intimate, caused a stir in a lamentably underused spot in his trousers. Sweet and tempting. He realized he hadn’t moved away from the door. Damn! ’Twould be a long night if he kept staring.

  Blackthorn took a seat and propped his feet on his desk, careful not to make too much noise. Not that he feared disturbing her sleep. Nay, he knew well enough Elyssa Calhoun Montgomery was wide awake.

  Elyssa awoke to an empty cabin, to which she sent up a relieved prayer of thanks. She sat up, stretched her arms upward easing her tight muscles, and yawned. The last couple of hours had been the best sleep she’d had since becoming a man. But it hadn’t come quickly. Pretending to be sleeping when Captain Blackthorn returned in the middle of the night had proved difficult. She had stolen glances of the pirate through her eyelashes. Not too many as he, too, watched her. She refused to sleep not knowing the man’s intentions. If he attacked her, she’d go down fighting. The small dagger she had found hidden in one of the Frenchwoman’s boots allayed some threads of vulnerability. But the handle dug into her side causing her a fit of discomfort. Such as it was, he just sat in his chair. At times, she couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to drift away in thought, contemplating, a little sad, perhaps. Criminy, she thought the man would never fall asleep. Eventually he did. The moment his chin dipped forward she knew he had slipped into slumber.

  She had studied him without reservation. His arms crossed over an expansive chest. Long lean legs strained against his trousers. His thick hair bereft of a bind rested just below his shoulders. No visible mars or oddities to his face. So unlike Dobie with his aquiline nose and pocked cheeks. The captain was handsome indeed. Remember your place, silly girl. A pirate’s prisoner.

  The floorboard cooled her bare feet as Elyssa stood. She tucked the knife under the mattress and padded to the trunks. The Frenchwoman had quite a selection of luxurious gowns and shoes t
hat surely cost a small fortune. ’Twas no doubt the reason Captain Blackthorn kept the chest. She picked out a delightful blue damask contouche with silk ribbons. ’Twas the simplest gown she could find.

  A bath, privacy, a bed, and now a fine dress. One thing for certain, the captain showed her a batch of kindness. Would telling him how grateful she was extend his good nature towards her? She hoped so.

  Dressing took quite a bit of time without aid. Nevertheless, even after pulling the front laces of the French corset tight, she could breathe much easier in the fitted gown than the torturous binds she wore as a lad. After fiddling with her hair and tying it with a ribbon, there was nothing left to do but wait for Captain Blackthorn. She nearly gnawed her fingernails down to nubs when he finally returned.

  His brow hitched up, accompanied by an appreciative smile. “Mrs. Montgomery, permit me to say you look much better as a woman than a mangy boy. A real feast upon the eyes.”

  Elyssa’s cheeks warmed. Seems she was always in a state of blushing. She bowed her head. “Thank you, Captain Blackthorn.”

  Gruff shouting carried in from outside. The captain tilted his head to give a listen.

  “Yes, well, perhaps too womanly. I may have made an error in insisting you clothe this way, but there’s no time for you to change now.”

  Quite suddenly, Elyssa felt like a dressed dish to be served up to a horde of half-starved warriors.

  A knock was followed by Mister Kipp’s announcement.

  “Enter,” Captain Blackthorn said.

  “Capt’n, the men are restless and Rathbone is…” Mister Kipp’s gaze landed upon her. A silly grin reached his eyes. “Blister me. May my deadlights go blind now that they’ve seen something as lovely as ye, my lady.”