A Pirate's Wife

by Lynelle Clark

  16

  “Veronica was raped on the first night, while we were still on the ship taking us to the Falcon’s lair. Two months later she became sick with morning sickness. One slave girl said she was pregnant. She hung herself. Everyone knew what had happened to her and everyone made the connection. When I heard about it two days later, I was bitter and full of rage, seeking the man that had done this to her. I killed him later. Hence the scar.” Roberto smirked and Rosa-Lee squeezed his arm. The raw emotions played over his face as she watched Roberto reliving those dreadful times. How tragic to not only lose the home you knew for nineteen years but a beloved sister in such a barbaric way.

  Rosa-Lee reached out to him and grabbed his hand, holding him to her heart. But she said no words as she listened to his life story.

  “The Falcon was so impressed with me that he took me under his wing and taught me everything I know about sailing and piracy. He is a very clever man and I learned a lot. I was eager to learn everything, and at the age of twenty-five he adopted me as his son.” He looked at her with pleading, hoping that she would still love him. She laid a hand on his cheek, the action solemn and caring. Her eyes were set unwaveringly on him and he smiled as his face relaxed in the knowledge that she did not despise him. He kissed her palm reverently.

  She smiled and asked, “How did you meet Pedro?”

  “He was on your father’s ship when we captured it. The cargo was of much importance to the Falcon. After a long battle and lives lost it was in our hands. I first saw Pedro as he killed two of our men, and when he was apprehended and Falcon heard whose son he was, he was impressed. Your father is well-known. His bravery and leadership is respected by all on the seven seas, both sailors and pirates. I have told you that the crew adores you because of the fact that you are his daughter. They respected him although they never met him.” he smiled at her and she returned the smile.

  “At night Pedro had to tell us about the adventures on the sea and in Africa and he talked much about you. I was intrigued with you and when the Falcon came up with the plan to ask for a ransom, I volunteered. Your brother’s stories didn’t do you justice. You are more impressive in real life.”

  Silence fell between them as they locked gazes again, seeing each other, the hardship that had moulded them to become the people they were. Understanding dawned on Rosa-Lee’s heart and she smiled, a smile which reached the dark brown eyes. Roberto pulled her closer and kissed her, demanding. She came closer, opening herself to him.

  “I am sorry for the position you are in but not sorry that I have met you” Roberto said softly as he brushed her hair from her eyes and she kissed him on the cheek.

  “I know what you mean,” She replied. “We would have never met if it was not for the ransom.”

  “No, although I am sure I would have found another way. You have captured my mind and my heart swiftly. My body had no other choice but to follow.”

  She chuckled. “For a pirate you are very romantic.” Their lips brushed.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” he murmured.

  “No. It is my secret tucked in my heart. I love you, Roberto de Ville.”

  “I love you, Rosa-Lee de Ville.” He swept her from her feet and onto the bed in record time.

  Later they let go of each other and ate from the food on the table. He stood up to light more lanterns and sat down again next to her.

  “You had an interesting life, Roberto, and it is true what my father said, you cannot judge a book by its cover.” Her smile was shy but her eyes looked at him like he hoped she would. The last few weeks had been filled with discovery for him. His recklessness to expose his heart was a revelation. Usually he kept everything for himself but with her, he just blurted it out. He wanted her to know him, to love him and was not ashamed to answer uncomfortable questions. In the process she opened up as well. He could still feel her soft skin under his hand, the soft roundness of her curves as she burned with passion. His body was in permanent desire for her, to know her intimately. She opened to him unabashedly, pliant under his coaching.

  “One day you must tell me about your parents and the farm. I would love to hear more.”

  “I will do so, but I think we need to go and sleep. You are still very tired,” Roberto said, standing up. “Let me put you in bed.” He held his arm out and she slipped her arm into his.

  As they walked to bed they were both overcome with the emotions from the previous night, the new discoveries and melted into each other. There was nothing that could compare to this bonding.

  When he turned to her finally, out of breath, his eyes were again that dark ochre colour. He wrapped her in his arms and whispered,

  “I love you. Since the moment I saw you, my Rosa, I’ve loved you. I want you to know that and I will never get tired of saying it.” She placed a hand on his chest and kissed him on the lips. He pulled her closer and demanded her to open her mouth once again, passion flowing as they kissed. His mouth was pleading and demanding to let him in, to love her, his hands burning her skin, setting her heart racing, like butterflies fluttering and the momentum of their wings driving her closer to him. It was as if they could not get enough. All was forgotten except to just live for the moment.

  She moved even closer to him, as desire coursed through her body, a serene feeling that made her breathless. She could feel his body reacting to her.

  “I want you so much,” The things that this man did to her were wonderful, intoxicating and she gave him his heart’s desire.

  “My Rosa.” His body was trembling with the need to have her, his lips craving her body, and she responded.

  †††

  Every day they passed each other on the deck. The magnitude of their hearts, the passion of their bodies drew them closer. At times when it became too unbearable he would open his arms and she would step in, seeking his closeness, listening to his steady heartbeat.

  They would talk and he would open more to her the things that were important. Her resistance crumbled under the care and love she received.

  Pierre would tell of his bravery on many occasions. The bond of friendship between the two men was tight, since they shared many journeys together.

  On occasion Pierre would meet up with her when Roberto was engaged with work and although he was quieter they had a lot in common. Pierre would tell her about their journeys in great detail depicting Roberto as a good leader although a pirate. They were not ashamed of their vocation and sometimes she would tremble with fear and then laugh in joy. She always felt safe though, with Pierre and the rest of the crew.

  On occasion when alone her mind would drift to her parents left behind in Portugal. What would be their reaction to her sudden marriage to the man that abducted her from her home? She thought about her brother Manuel and the man he had become; about Pedro and the path he had chosen for himself. And of course she thought about Roberto, her husband, and what life held for them.

  Would they have a future?

  Here on the open seas he was fairly safe but once on land he would have to stay hidden. He would always be on the run from the authorities, living in the shadows, and where would that put her? How would she go on knowing that any day he could be arrested and hanged? Because there would be no mercy once he was caught. Could she really live a life on the run, with uncertainty her only constant? What if children were born out of this union? Where would it put them?

  She had so many questions always in the back of her mind and when she watched him she was terrified of the life she agreed to live with him. He said she was brave but she was not. The mere thought of him being killed left her shaken with fear.

  Roberto himself had problems of his own. He would watch her as she strolled down the deck, deep in thought. He knew that he had done the right thing to marry her. She made him happy and he felt content with her being his wife. But if everything worked out as he hoped could he continue being happy with her? Would she not regret this marriage? It was so much for her to trust him wi
thout knowing the truth. She trusted him.

  Fear gripped him many times and on occasions like that Pierre would sweep in and change his thoughts. He was the only one he could trust with his feelings and his future. He was the only one that knew what this could cost him if he failed.

  I cannot fail. I cannot lose her.

  Never!

  †††

  A month later, another storm hit them. The day quickly turned into night as thunderous black clouds formed in the sky.

  The swells of the seas grew bigger and higher with every passing minute. It looked terrifying. The waves stood ten feet high, towering over them before they crashed down on top of them. One mast broke because of the weight, and the ship was tossed and rolled with every breaking wave.

  High-speed winds went through them, leaving them cold and helpless. A few of the men were tossed overboard and Roberto instructed Rosa-Lee to stay down in the lower decks where she helped, carrying water and comforting the hurting men.

  It went on for three days. The ship creaked dangerously but kept together. Everyone tensed every time another deafening crack vibrated through the woodwork, holding their breaths until the ship rolled again. Exhausted, the men fell down and slept in shifts during this time. The cook prepared a warm stew that the men gobbled up. Their arms felt heavy. Every muscle felt torn from the inside. The doctor worked right through to aid the men in their discomfort, salving blisters and torn muscles, removing splinters, stitching up head wounds, bandaging broken bones. They were in pitiful shape.

  In all this time Rosa-Lee hardly saw Roberto, only hearing his barking voice as he gave orders, demanded action, motivated the men. His voice was scarcely audible over the high wind and tossing waves. He hardly took a break, irritated when she came close to offer him food or water, sending her right back below.

  Finally, when it became quieter, Roberto stumbled into their cabin, soaked, exhausted. When she looked for him later she found him sprawled on the bed, too tired to bother with the wet clothes. He was snoring lightly, his head pushed in the pillows, his black hair plastered against his face. Softly she walked to him, just studying the broad back, ripped shirt, the narrow waist with the incredible long legs.

  She knew she loved him. As she watched him, she knew he was the one for her, the one she had waited for all her life. She had no doubt in her mind any more. His love warmed her up and she gave to him what he wanted, her love.

  At first, she hesitated, but she knew she could not leave him in this state. She wanted to take care of him as he had cared for her many times. She wanted him to know that she cared more. With trembling hands she started to push him to the side. She had to get to the buttons to strip the wet clothes from his body.

  The moment she touched him he was awake. Her small hands were trying to roll him, pressing against his body. He rolled on his back and watched her out of hazy eyes, enjoying her touch on his skin. He watched the emotions on her face, the tenderness as she looked at him, her hands brushing over the length of him. A soft, womanly smile played over her lips, dimples appearing. She was lovely.

  She struggled to remove his wet boots. They clung to his feet and it took her awhile to dispose of them. He smiled at the determination with which she did the task. When she started with his breeches, he had to will himself not to respond as she brushed against him, unaware of what she did to him as she stripped the wet clothes from him. He closed his eyes and relaxed under her stare, allowing her to study him. He could feel her eyes raking over him, sure that there must be a blush on her face.

  Hard and beautiful he lay in front of her, his muscles still tensed after the strenuous work. A soft mat of black hair was on his chest trailing down to his manhood. She allowed herself the freedom to let her eyes linger there and swallowed as her own body reacted, moisture pooling between her legs. He was stunning. She took in every muscle on the toned body until she ended at his face with the three-day-old stubble.

  She reached for a towel, dried him, and then placed the covers over him. When she started to leave, he spoke sleepily. It startled her and she blushed, keeping her face down. Just the mere thought of him lying there buck-naked under the covers, the fact that she had just seen him so, even though they were married, still caused the blood to sing through her veins.

  “Please. Stay with me,” he murmured, and then appeared to doze off. She went back to his bed and the moment she sat next to him, he turned on his side and his arms encircled her, pulling her closer, and then he was gone into sleep.

  She watched him sleeping and enjoyed the feel of his skin under her fingers, tracing the muscles on the broad shoulder, following the arm. He rolled again, exposing his chest for her, her hand touching the dark nipples with curiosity as they hardened. She suppressed a giggle. He really was a handsome one.

  When she had removed his shirt she saw a few scars on his back and on his stomach, evidence of the life he led. She traced them, giving each one attention with her fingers, brushing against him. He looked like the paintings they had on the walls in the study at home; a portrait of masculinity and beauty.

  It made her skin tingle with pleasure. She could feel him move closer. He turned once again, his head in her lap and his bare back exposed for her to touch.

  She caressed him softly, tracing the shoulder blades with her hand, his skin soft but muscles hard, his breathing rhythmic against her.

  She was also tired after the storm and somewhere during the night she dozed off, her head on her chest, her long hair touching his back.

  She awoke when a hand cupped a breast and when she open her eyes, he was very close to her, his head lifted, lying on her bosom. He tangled his hand into her hair, bringing her head down, and then kissed her with a burning passion. He lifted himself more against her and her arms went around him, drawing him closer, opening her mouth. The exploring of their tongues ignited fire in them both. She could feel his hands busy with the lace of the bodice.

  “I need you, my Rosa,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Yes. Me too. It was too long.” She arched toward him, his hand rough but yet soft on her bare skin.

  “How much...?” he encouraged.

  “I love you!” she finally could say, out of breath.

  “Tell me again, how much?” His voice strained with bottled up emotions, his hands untying the laces of her skirt, pressing the material down. With a thump they fell on the floor. He removed her petticoat, pressing kisses on her flat stomach.

  “I love you,” she managed to say again; butterflies scattering around her stomach and throat. With a groan he lifted himself, drawing her underneath him until they were back on the bed, pressing her into the softness, and he kissed her all over.

  Her skin electrified under his touch. The sensations of desire flooded her very being and she was ready for him. Her body trembled under every touch as his fingers moved into the core of her excitement.

  Moans left her mouth that he smothered with his own as she gasped. He took her to a high plain of heated desire. She wrapped her legs around his hips, clamping him, and then with a thrust he was in her, taking her, claiming her as his own.

  Her brain exploded with him inside of her. She felt dizzy and said, “I love you,” which brought him to a fruitful climax.

  To experience the wonder of his love after the storm was too much and tears ran down her face. Her eyes shone with adoration as she brought him closer and kissed him.

  Roberto was in a blissful state of his own. He had never had this kind of passion, never felt as intimate with a woman as with his Rosa, kissing her with heated kisses, hungry for her touch.

  He held her, imbedded in her. She did not let go. She whispered in his ear, “More, my love,” and he complied, whispering,

  “I love you, my Rosa.” He turned her around as she whimpered from the release. He smiled, stroking her lower back to relax her, lifting her hips, exposing her. He took her again. She gasped for breath.

  Moans vibrated through her again as she rea
ched for the wall to steady herself to receive him. Again, their rhythm synchronized as they came to an orgasmic scream, breathless with desire.

  He held her tight; laid his head on her back, running his hands over her, and let them rest on her with delight.

  Touching her, he could not remember the last time he had experienced multiple orgasms in one.

  Panting for breath, they dropped down on the mattress, he still holding her into his body, spooning into her as she lay on her side out of breath, her eyes closed.

  Feeling her own heartbeat racing, she felt satiated, her body trembling under his embrace. The mattress shifted under his weight. He came up onto his knees as he turned her over again, facing her, while he cuddled her in his strong arms.

  “My wife, my Rosa, I love you.”

  “I love you, my love,” she whispered and they dozed off into a wonderful carefree sleep.