The Marooner (Pirates of the Coast Book 3)

by Barbara Devlin

  “Sophia, once again I must remind you that you married a working man.” Soon. Very soon, he would indulge in his husbandly rights, which was his primary reason—his only reason for taking a wife, when they adjourned to his cabin, because, heaven help him, he ached for her, and his new bunk was so close. “But we can take a room at an inn, should you wish to enjoy the sites and sounds of the city, and we will stay with Jean Marc and Madalene, when we venture to Boston.”

  “How often will we be there?” As they drew alongside the mainsail hull, she reached for him. “And where will we celebrate the holidays?”

  “My schedule is predictable.” Holding the Jacob’s ladder steady, Leland admired a flash of her shapely calves, as she climbed. “Tonight, we make for Port Royal, to pick up a shipment of sugar cane. Then we will travel to Boston, where we will exchange one load for another, comprised of rum and molasses, which we will deliver to London. And then we will retrace our course.”

  “So it is an endless cycle?” At the waist, she gazed at the crew and furrowed her brow. “Upon my word, but they are not like any sailors I have ever seen.”

  “Do you often associate with mariners?” Of course, his men were no ordinary seamen. Despite the pact he signed with the English, the crew remained hardened pirates, a fact of which he never intended to share with his innocent bride.

  “I danced with a few naval officers, in the ton’s ballrooms.” Yet, fear invested her delicate features. “But they were clean-shaven, and they wore the most resplendent regimentals.”

  “My crew wear uniforms of their own making, and I would match their skills against the Royal Navy, any day.” And Leland would wager his men were far more cutthroat. While His Majesty’s sailors played by the rules, pirates knew no such limits, and they exercised the distinction to their advantage.

  “Well, I don’t believe it.” A familiar voice brought Leland alert. “So you married a wench.”

  “She is no wench, you gotch-gutted pogy.” Leland turned and greeted his first mate. “Lady Sophia, permit me to introduce Earland Smit, or Smitty, as we call him. He is the second in command aboard the Cry Havoc, and he has no manners, so you must ignore the slight.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Sophia.” Smitty sketched an exaggerated bow. “Welcome to our motley crew.” The first mate glanced at Leland. “The men finished the alterations you requested, and your hammock is gone. In its place, they built a large bunk, against the bulkhead. Should I show her to your cabin, Cap’n?”

  “Aye.” Leland waved to a tar. “And have her trunk delivered, now.”

  “Is there anything I can do to be of service?” Sophia whisked a stray tendril from her forehead, as the men scattered in all directions, in preparation to cast off. “I can stay with you, if you want.”

  “No.” He pulled her close and kissed her temple. Then he whispered, “Go below and remove your clothes. I want you naked when I arrive, and you will not have long to wait.”

  Shock marred her countenance, and she gasped as she retreated and touched her fingers to her bottom lip but said nothing. Without a word, she followed in Smitty’s wake, pausing to peer at Leland, over her shoulder, before she descended the companion ladder.

  Not for a minute did he miss her overt signs of distress, and he realized his grand seduction would have to yield to attempts at comfort and reassurance; else she might jump ship and try to swim ashore. As he headed for the helm, he noted a pile of supplies at the waist, frowned, and caught one of his crew in a narrow stare. “You there, get those stores stowed, now.” Then Leland lowered his chin. “All hands, make sail.”

  When Smitty reappeared, Leland motioned his first mate. “Aye, Cap’n?”

  “Is my wife settled?” Leveling the bring-em-closer, he monitored their course.

  “She is, and Lady Sophia is a sweet woman.” Smitty sighed. “How did you manage to marry that fresh little thing?”

  “It is a not so long story that I am in no mood to share, at the moment.” In truth, Leland doubted he would ever reveal the sad facts surrounding his betrothal, because he would never embarrass his bride. “But she is all right?”

  “She may have the sickness.” Smitty wrinkled his nose and scratched his cheek. “But it is hard to tell, because she would hardly stand still, and she looked on the verge of tears, but she was pale, so something is wrong.”

  “Bloody hell, I did not think about that.” Leland searched his memory and tried to recall whether or not Sophia mentioned previous travel at sea. Did they not discuss something of her journeys? “Perhaps I should check on her.”

  Then again, he was in no rush to deal with a weepy woman, so he remained on the quarterdeck. Slowly, the Cry Havoc cleared Old Dock, passed through the lock gates, navigated the Lyver Pool tidal inlet of the estuary, and steered for open water.

  “Uh, Cap’n.” Parker, the helmsman cast a half smile. “We know the route to Port Royal, if you would rather retire, as you have other more pressing business.”

  “I would say he does.” Smitty waggled his brows. “What say I take the watch, and you take that beautiful new bride?”

  The men guffawed at Leland’s expense.

  “Enough.” Glancing left and then right, he scowled. “If I hear one more snicker or snort, arses will be kicked.”

  To his everlasting frustration, their expressions conveyed a wealth of meaning he understood too well. At last, he groaned and made for his cabin. While it took a matter of minutes to arrive at the door to his quarters, he could not bring himself to turn the knob.

  Instead, he flexed his fingers, as his palms itched to savor Sophia’s supple flesh. Yet he could not seize her as he would a whore, because she was untouched. Inhaling a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders and leashed the beast below his bellybutton, because he might hurt her.

  Finally, he relaxed and entered his private domain.

  Perched in a corner, and wearing what appeared to be a robe of some sort, his new wife hugged herself. Tears streamed her face, and she bit her bottom lip, as he neared.

  “Sophia, are you unwell?” In actuality, he prayed she had the sickness, because he knew the cure for that ailment. “Why do you not sit at the table, while I fetch you a drink.”

  “I tried to undress, but I could not do it.” She shook her head. Hell, her entire body quivered, and he swore under his breath. “You must forgive me, as I am ignorant in the ways of conjugal duty. I know nothing, because no one told me anything, and I know not what to do.”

  “It is all right.” He splayed his palms and moved toward her. “I will teach you, and you will be fine.”

  “But I have heard that it hurts.” In that instant, he realized she still wore her dress and had added a few layers of clothing. “And some say you bleed the first time.”

  “Come.” When he reached for her, she cringed, and he halted. “Let us take a drink, my dear, as a belated celebration of our nuptials.”

  “I disobeyed your first command.” She fidgeted with the mother of pearl button at her throat. “You are within your rights to punish me.”

  “Something tells me that will not be the last such occasion, and I would be disappointed if it was.” Holding her stare, he strolled to his desk, retrieved a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses, and poured two ample portions, as he required a little liquid courage to manage a panicky virgin. At the table where they would take their meals, he pulled out a chair and sat. “Please, join me.”

  After a few tense minutes, she dragged her feet and perched in the opposite seat. It was then he noted multiple hemlines.

  “Other than some champagne on rare occasions, I have never sampled such spirits.” She cast a wary gaze at the glass before she picked it up and took a sip. Almost immediately, she collapsed in a violent coughing fit. Wrinkling her nose, she squinted. “It burns.”

  “Take it slow, Sophia.” For the first time in his life, he pondered how best to deflower a woman, and he would wager it was not so easy as he guessed. “There is no hurry,
and we will get where we are going, eventually.”

  “Because we must seal our vows.” She clutched the glass to her chest and exhaled a shivery breath. “I understand my body is your property, by law, and I owe you my maidenhead, thus I will honor my commitment. All I ask is that you tell me what you plan to do, that I might prepare myself for the shock.”

  “So you have never been touched?” Again he studied her, as though he looked on her for the first time. “And you did not dissemble when you claimed as much, in the back parlor of Saelmere?”

  “I give you my word, as a lady, that you are the only man I have ever kissed, with passion.” Inclining her head, she averted her stare. “Papa often kissed my forehead, though, but I do not believe that counts.”

  “You truly are a unique woman. In fact, you are unlike any woman I have ever known, and I will take special care with you, my lady.” It dawned on him, in that instant, that she manifested a rare gift, a blank canvas upon which he could design his own creation, if he was careful, and one he was too smart to take for granted. “What say we begin with something elementary?”

  “What do you propose?” She furrowed her brow.

  “We should address your fear of nudity, because you should know my body as well as you know your own. And there is no shame in that, given I am your husband.” He swallowed his brandy in a single gulp and stood. “Come here.”

  Mirroring his movements, she emptied her glass and yielded to another series of coughs. When he doffed his coat and waistcoat, and commenced to unhook his shirt, she blanched.

  “What are you doing?” She shuffled her feet.

  “Sophia, there is no other way to temper your fears than to confront them.” As he stripped the fine lawn from his shoulders, her mouth fell agape. “Put your hands on my bare chest.”

  To his surprise, she did as he bade. “Your flesh is so warm.” With a finger, she traced a scar. “What happened to you?”

  “I was stabbed during a brawl at sea.” It took every bit of strength not to reach for her. “Do you see, my dear? There is no harm, as I am but a man.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Now what?”

  Given her naïveté, he could not help but smile. “It is your turn.”

  ~

  Swallowing hard, Sophia managed not to scream, as Leland peeled back layer upon layer of clothing, which symbolized her ultimate surrender. It was not as if she did not know what was expected of her, but something inside her rebelled to the last. Embarrassed by her childish behavior, when she was a married woman, she remained quiet as he undressed her—until he tugged at the laces of her traveling gown, and she wrenched free.

  “May I have another drink?” Stalling, she reached for the bottle of brandy, but he caught her by the wrist. Given she had witnessed her father’s drunken forays, she yearned for the mind-numbing intoxicant. “Please?”

  “No, because I need you awake and aware, and you have had enough.” He chuckled, which made him seem far less menacing. Still, Leland frightened her. “Come, sweetheart. Let me take off your dress.”

  “Should you not first permit me to doff my slippers, hose, and garters?” That might buy her a precious few minutes to delay and gather her nerves.

  “What a wonderful idea.” To her horror, he knelt before her and slid his hands beneath her skirt, which completely undermined her intent. “Allow me to be of assistance.”

  A protest died in her throat, as he lifted each foot and eased off each slipper. With inexpressibly gentle movements, he unfastened and rolled down her hose. Every brush of his fingers, however haphazard, to her skin set her alight, the room grew unseasonably warm, and she ached for that which she did not quite understand.

  At last, he stood, turned her around, and untied her laces. At his prompt, she lifted her arms, and he whisked the heavy gown from her body. Covered in naught but her chemise, she hugged herself. When his boots hit the floor, she jumped. Then he tossed aside his breeches, and she gulped.

  “You are naked.” She braced for the first glimpse of his nude form.

  “Aye.” Grasping her slip, he gathered the fine material at her hips, and she did not resist as he pulled it over her head. “Now, you are, too. And you are more beautiful than I imagined, Sophia. Will you not look at me?”

  “All right.” Of course, it was easier said than done. In interminably minute shifts, she faced him. While she tried to focus on his piercing blue eyes, she found herself drawn to the one part of his anatomy that most terrified her. But the reality was far less intimidating than she imagined. “It is not what I expected.”

  “I hope that is a compliment.” He snickered. “Touch me, my dear. Do not be scared, as it will not bite.”

  “But I do not want to hurt you.” Yet she was tempted. “It appears rather angry.”

  “Be gentle in your inspection, and I will be fine. And that is just a sign of healthy desire, Sophia.” Riding an irresistible crest of curiosity, and reminding herself that Leland was hers, as she was his, she cupped his most fascinating protuberance. To her surprise and gratitude, he offered much needed tutelage, and she mimicked his ministrations. “See? There is nothing to fear.”

  “It is so hard, yet it is incredibly soft.” With care, she toyed with the plum-shaped tip and then skimmed her fingers along the ridge to fondle the strange pouch. When he groaned, she flinched and retreated. “Did I wound you?”

  “No.” He stepped in her direction. “But I have long ached to know you in this way, and you test my limits, because I am a mere mortal.” Backing her toward the bathing area, he paused and spun her about. “As I pledged, I am going to tell you what I am about to do, so there are no surprises.” He pressed his lips to her temple, as he anchored her about the waist, and his erection rested in the cleft of her bottom. “Watch your reflection, as I stroke the treasure between your thighs, and you will know there is no reason to be afraid.”

  “If you say so.” In enticing circles, he caressed her breast and pinched her nipple, before walking a beguiling path to her bellybutton, which he poked in play. To her astonishment, he moved further still, tugging at the dark patch of curls, and then he delved deeper and grazed her core. “Leland.”

  “Shh.” Thus he went to work.

  Locked, safe and sound, in the haven of his unbending embrace, Sophia held tight to her husband, as he wreaked havoc on her senses. Mesmerized, enthralled by his seemingly pedestrian actions, she could not tear herself away, as he shifted and with a single finger entered her.

  Her knees buckled, given the delicious invasion, and sumptuous heat flared, unfurled, and spread, simmering in her muscles and setting her alight, yet he did nothing more. Instead, he confined his attention to that very small, otherwise insignificant part of her body she had grossly ignored.

  Little by little, his intimate massage beckoned, and she answered the summons. Conscious of naught save the rush of his breath, which quickened as he went about his decadent task, she tensed as some heretofore-foreign sensation flitted over her. Resting her head against her husband, she closed her eyes and sighed, as she gave herself into his care.

  “Do you not wish to watch?” he whispered into her ear.

  “I trust you.” In that, she did not lie, because she really had no choice, but she could not have foreseen the response her declaration would incite.

  Picking up the pace, he played a repetitive rhythm, as he trailed a series of charming kisses along her jaw and the curve of her neck. Had he come at her boldly and forcefully, she would have fought him. Instead, he lured her with a tender touch, and she followed in his wake. Like the evening tide, which crept ever closer to shore, a tantalizing awareness rose and ebbed, carrying her ever higher toward some as-yet elusive pinnacle, until she grasped the incomparable prize.

  Wave upon wave of pure, unutterable pleasure cascaded over Sophia, and she thought she screamed, but it came to her as if from afar.

  When next she roused, she found herself in Leland’s large bunk, with her husband splayed atop
her, as he nibbled her bottom lip.

  “Feeling better?” He nudged her nose with his.

  “Much.” Sinking into the down mattress, she sighed and relaxed, until he flexed his hips, and she jolted alert. “Upon my word, we are joined.”

  “Indeed, we are, my dear.” He laughed, and it rocked her to her center. “I thought it best to take advantage of your temporary stupor.”

  “So the deed is done?” Given the intimacy of their position, he struck her as much less ominous, when she expected the opposite. “There is no more pain?”

  “No more pain, Sophia.” In that moment, he arched his spine, withdrew from her, and then thrust, and she gasped as he filled her. “But we have only just begun.”

  Had she thought the act was personal? She could not begin to describe what she felt, as he moved over her, on her, and within her. When he showed her how to wrap her legs about him, she obeyed, and he shifted and penetrated deeper still, such that she could do nothing but fix her stare on the wood beams overhead and give vent to a single exclamation, as passion tasted her. “Oh.”

  THE MAROONER

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A fortnight had passed since they departed Liverpool, and Leland struggled to adapt to his new existence, which included a highborn bride seemingly intent on driving him insane. As he rummaged through his locker, he groaned, because nothing remained as he left it, which reflected his entire world.

  “Is something wrong?” Sophia sniffed. “Because you bellow like some undomesticated beast, when I am trying to sleep.”

  Leashing his temper, because he married her, he summoned patience, which she tested at every opportunity. Indeed, he purchased her, outright, through no fault of her own, so he could not blame her for their predicament, and he told himself that, again and again, lest he crush her spirit.

  “My dear, I wish you would confine your devotion to duty to our bed, where your services and attention to detail are most welcome, because I cannot find my greatcoat. In fact, I cannot find anything.” Sifting through his various garments, he realized his waistcoats were missing. “What have you done with the rest of my clothes?”