Against the Wind

by April Hill

  Margaret shrieked, and began to pound her plump fists on the headboard, and Emily tried yet another idea. “You know, Margaret dear, many perfectly lovely young seamen have these sorts of illustrations applied to their persons, often at enormous expense. Why, in some cultures they’re even considered a form of art! Perhaps, if you could simply try to regard them as decorative, or as…”

  At this point, the governess became totally hysterical, and Emily finally gave up the effort to console her. For the rest of the voyage, she simply sat by Margaret’s bedside and held her hand. When Margaret fell into a fitful slumber, however, Emily had to resist a distinctly unChristian urge to steal a peek beneath the covers—to see for herself the nature and extent of the infamy.

  Even when the two ships were moored once again at Louisbourg, there was still much to do before they could set sail for home. In the care of her physician, Margaret was whisked quickly away to her sister’s home, while Ethan delivered young Harry to Joshua Coffin to see that the boy’s arm was properly set. The badly injured Gilbert Wallace and his villainous crew were taken to jail to await removal for trial, and the Liza’s brave crew was dismissed to resume their interrupted shore leave, with a handsome bonus in their pockets. Finally, the captain and Emily returned wearily to their hotel, where the whole adventure had begun.

  Emily slipped her dress off, and in nothing but her corset and drawers, dropped gratefully onto the wide bed and lay back amid a mountain of soft pillows.

  “I am going to remove this awful corset, take a long, lovely bath, bury myself in these extraordinary pillows, and sleep for an entire week!” she announced. “You may wake me Sunday morning, at the very earliest.”

  Ethan didn’t respond at once, but stood for several minutes at the room’s small writing desk, looking over his dispatches and making an occasional note. Finally, he laid the papers down, and spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Emily, but before you begin your week’s slumber, you and I have something to talk about—as I’m sure you’ll remember.”

  Emily stretched her arms above her head and pretended a yawn. “What is it, Ethan? I am so tired.”

  He sat down on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed in a way that Emily had come to know meant trouble.

  “Did I, or did I not clearly order that you were to stay in this hotel unless I was with you? To not go out alone?”

  She sat up, annoyed. “Ethan, please! I have just been through a terrible ordeal, and I simply want to–”

  He interrupted. “An ordeal that would not have occurred at all had you not disobeyed my orders.”

  “Well,” she conceded, nervously twisting a stray strand of hair. “I suppose you could see it that way, if–”

  “If you had done what you did, we would also not have lost three days repair, a good deal of profit, and Harry Eakins would have been safely asleep in his bunk, instead of playing at chasing pirates.”

  Emily groaned. “I feel awful about Harry, of course! But he did have a part in this, you know. He behaved very foolishly, and recklessly!”

  “I’m afraid that no force on Earth would have restrained Mr. Eakins from dashing to your rescue, and be assured that I will deal with his insubordinate backside later. At the moment, though, I’m more interested in dealing to yours.”

  “What will happen to Harry?” Emily asked, eager to focus the irate captain’s attentions elsewhere.

  McAllister shook his head sadly. “I’ll take him to his home in Gloucester to recover, but he’ll lose the remainder of the year, even if his parents do permit him to ship out again. Actually, now that I reconsider it, I believe it might just be better to leave the thrashing he’s earned to his good mother, the very sensible Mrs. Eakins. The feel of an ordinary, inglorious hairbrush across Harry’s foolhardy rump might take him down the peg or two he sorely needs. I’ll be sorry to lose him, though. Young Eakins will make an admirable officer, one day.”

  As Ethan removed his coat, Emily tried again to distract him from his all-too-obvious purpose.

  “Be reasonable, Ethan,” she pouted. “After what I’ve been through, it would be terribly unjust to punish me further. Besides, I should think you’d be pleased that I survived my ordeal, alive and all in one piece.”

  McAllister was unmoved. “I’m more than pleased. I thank God that in spite of your best efforts, you came to no serious harm, but that isn’t going to spare you what you’ve got coming. You endangered not only yourself, but all the men who risked their lives to save your pretty skin. If I were of a mind to deliver real justice, I’d haul you out to the ship, bare your backside, and administer this hiding for the benefit of my entire cheering crew.”

  He pulled the covers back, and placed a large pillow on the right side of the bed.

  “Open your drawers and lay down over the pillow.”

  “No!” she wailed. “It’s simply not fair!”

  His voice was grim. “If I am forced to do it for you, Emily, I promise you that the outcome will not be to your liking. “

  Grumbling audibly, Emily pulled her drawers open and positioned herself as he had ordered, with her bottom raised and her head resting on the mattress. Ethan turned up his sleeves, and retrieved a thick wooden ruler from the deck.

  Throughout her life, until she had made the acquaintance of Ethan McAllister, Emily had rarely been disciplined in any meaningful manner. With a quick wit and a winsome smile, she had managed to beguile and finesse her way out of almost every situation that might normally have resulted in punishment. And despite the annoying number of occasions on which she had already clashed with the captain and lost, the lady was confident that now that Ethan McAllister had expressed his affection for her, his stern façade would crumble.

  In the next few moments, however, it became clear to Emily that the anticipated transition had not yet occurred. The first blow cracked across her upturned buttocks with such shocking force that she howled in pain, and squirmed off the pillow to escape. McAllister took her arm, pulled her back into place, then held her down while he leveled a second and third blow, searing each tender cheek and bringing two additional howls of anguish from the trapped victim.

  And then, he stopped.

  Ethan dropped the ruler and sat wearily down on the edge of the bed. Emily took the opportunity to retreat to the opposite, where she watched cautiously and rubbed the livid red welts on her backside.

  “I’m sorry, Emily,” he said quietly.

  As Emily’s curiosity overcame her caution, she scooted closer.

  “Sorry?” she asked.

  “I found myself wanting to hurt you, just now. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  Emily thought for a moment, and rubbed her rear end again.

  “Well,” she said, trying to be as philosophical as he was being, “If it’s any help, I believe I will survive. It was rather brief , as these events go. Disagreeable, of course, but decidedly brief. I’m assuming, of course, that it is over?”

  Ethan squeezed her hand, and smiled. “It’s over.”

  Pressing what she saw as an advantage, Emily poked him playfully in the ribs. “And am I correct in also assuming that you will never, ever spank me again, for any reason whatever?”

  He grinned. “Did I say that?”

  Ethan McAllister was a man accustomed to keeping his private thoughts to himself, and at that moment in time, he would have had difficulty explaining his motives for interrupting the well-deserved whipping, or his exact feelings about why he had done it. What he was remembering was the blind terror that had swept over him when he realized that Emily had been kidnapped by a man that hated him. He was afraid that she would be hurt, and afraid that he might lose her. It was this terror that had fueled the irrational desire to hurt her, to cruelly punish her. Not for disobeying an order, as he had told her, but for the casual way in which she had risked her life and the future he had begun to hope for.

  He took her hand, and kissed the inside of her wrist. “You frightened me, Emily. “

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

  For several minutes, neither of them said anything, until Emily finally broke the silence by heaving a heavy sigh and folding her hands demurely in her lap.

  “I don’t wish to upset you further, Ethan, but I must tell you that your Mr. Wallace appeared to feel that you have been somewhat remiss, so to speak—in demonstrating your affections toward me.”

  McAllister smiled. “And what would Gilbert Wallace know of that? I wasn’t aware that Mr. Wallace was in the habit of chatting with his victims, prior to ravaging, buggering or disemboweling them.”

  “We chatted quite companionably, actually…briefly, I will admit, but companionably.”

  Ethan grinned. “Was that before, or after he divested you of your drawers?”

  “During, as I recall. Mr. Wallace seemed simply astonished that I was…How shall I put this? Well, let us simply say that he thought it very odd that I was still a maid, after having spent such a considerable amount of time in your company. He remembered quite clearly that it had been your habit, when he knew you, to accomplish things of that nature rather more quickly than you had in my particular case. You can imagine my embarrassment in having my lack of allure being bandied about so frankly, and so cruelly.”

  “And what did you say to Mr. Wallace on the subject?” McAllister asked, stroking her thigh.

  Emily shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “What could I say, really? Natural modesty, along with my genteel upbringing forbade any response at all. Surely you can see that. I had no explanation to offer, other than your own possible poor health, or frailty.”

  “My poor health!” he exclaimed.

  “Well, what was I to think, after all these weeks?” Emily lowered her eyes shyly.

  McAllister thought for a moment, his tongue in his cheek. “I have been twenty five years at sea, Emily, and I have never molested one of my cabin boys. I saw no reason to change that policy.”

  Emily bristled. “Well, thank you, Captain. So, you find me no more attractive than Jack Hinton, or Little Eli, perhaps? It might surprise you to learn that Mr. Hinton has extremely hairy buttocks, and that Eli boasts of having recently acquired a heart-shaped tattoo that reads ‘Henrietta’ on that same portion of his anatomy.”

  “Whereas, sweetheart, your own buttocks are like ivory satin,” Ethan said softly, pulling her into his arms. Kissing her very gently, he began to undo the long row of hooks on her corset. When he reached the bottom hook, he let the corset slip to the floor and leaned down to kiss her left breast.

  Emily blushed, burying her face against his chest. “May I ask you something, Ethan? Of a very delicate nature?”

  “You may.”

  “Mother says it hurts.”

  He smiled, and kissed her right breast. “Perhaps a bit, at first. Very little, over quickly, and well worth it—or so I’ve been told.”

  “Told by whom?” she asked somewhat dreamily, watching the top of his head as he continued to explore her breasts with his mouth. “Were there many participants in this survey?”

  “Several,” he replied, his voice muffled as he kissed her stomach and ran his tongue around the outside of her navel.

  “Several is a very imprecise number, Ethan,” Emily observed, aware, now, of a peculiar, tingling warmth all over her body.

  He kissed her on the mouth once more, and slipped his hand between her thighs. “It was an imprecise survey, at best, Emily,” he murmured.

  “And when we are done, here, will my statistics be added to your survey?” she asked, feeling oddly short of breath, and very, very warm.

  Ethan grinned, and shook his head. “We will never be done here, as you put it, if you do not stop snooping—and talking. I could regard this entire discussion as a delaying tactic. Are you quite sure that you want…”

  “Oh, yes, Ethan,” she breathed. “Quite sure!”

  “Well, then, will you please shut up?”

  “Yes, Ethan.”

  He pressed her firmly back on the bed, then parted her knees and knelt between them. When he lifted her legs over his shoulders and lowered his head to kiss the insides of her thighs, Emily shivered, closed her eyes, and twisted her fingers into the bedding. And as he moved his mouth and tongue upward with exquisite slowness, she sighed deeply, almost involuntarily opening her legs wider in welcome. She had read enough low novels to understand what he was about to do to her, and to be a bit anxious about her own response. For nothing in Emily Fowler’s strict upbringing or her mother’s halting advice had prepared her to expect this sort of pleasure, or to recognize her own lust. But as Ethan’s caresses grew more insistent, and as the lovely warmth between her legs increased, she felt her entire body trembling, and her will to resist or even to move leave her completely. Emily was possessed, mesmerized by a wave of physical sensation unlike anything she had ever known before, and far from wanting to retreat, every muscle in her young body yearned to push herself lower, to have his mouth everywhere on her, and his tongue deep inside her.

  Responding to her mounting excitement, Ethan parted the lush pink lips of her labia and worked his tongue between them, probing, caressing, searching with the tip of his tongue for the small, throbbing bud of her clitoris. Emily moaned and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him closer until he opened her wider yet and probed, now with one finger, then two, into the velvet softness of her. When she flinched, he moved slower, slipping one finger in and then back, carefully and tenderly. Emily pushed herself insistently down on his hand, groaning and pleading.

  “No, please, don’t stop! Oh, God! Please, Ethan…!”

  He pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, her legs still draped over his broad shoulders, and stood up, leaning forward to kiss her breasts as he pushed her legs tight against her chest, then slipped his fingers inside her once more. He began stroking her clitoris harder now, until Emily began to writhe. With his hands beneath her buttocks, he held her firmly and placed the head of his erect penis against the wet lips of her vagina, and entered very slowly.

  As he penetrated her, Emily winced slightly and pulled back, but Ethan pushed forward again, encouraging her softly to relax. Then, he began to thrust, again, slow and deep, while gripping both her buttocks to hold her firmly against him. After a few more moments, when she began to make low moaning sounds, he thrust again, harder now, in a slow deep rhythm that she finally joined, gripping his arms and forcing herself up to meet him. As he plunged deeper and deeper, Emily’s nails bit into his arms and she threw her head from side to side until her hair was a damp tangle of copper curls covering her face.

  Ethan shuddered, thrust once more, and came, his arms trembling, beads of sweat on his brow. When Emily put her arms around his waist and pulled him down on her, unwilling to let him slip away, he smiled and leaned down to kiss her—and to make several last thrusts with his rapidly diminishing erection. Emily trembled, and giggled with astonished delight at her own wanton greediness.

  Finally, he pulled away, turned her quickly on her stomach and dealt her a soft slap on her rear, then kissed the spot and fell onto the bed beside her. When Emily rolled into his arms and buried her face against the dark thatch of hair on his chest, he lifted her chin with one finger, raising her face to his, and kissed her again. Then, he let his eyes wander appreciatively down her flushed, warm body.

  “You’re a lovely woman, Emily Fowler, every inch of you.” He pulled her leg comfortably across his hip and slid both hands slowly down her flanks. Emily slipped her arms around his waist, and kissed his chest. When she found the nipple amid the thatch of hair, she put her tongue to it, and then kissed it.

  “Why do men have nipples?” she asked suddenly.

  Ethan laughed. “For that very reason, I suspect. You may do that again, please.”

  Emily did it again, and when he leaned across to return the favor, he took her nipple deeply in his mouth and sucked at it gently.

  “I think I didn’t get enough of that as a babe,” he explained.
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  Emily sat up, and pulled the sheet about her.

  “I need to ask you something, Ethan, and I insist that you be completely honest with me. Was I…acceptable?”

  He grinned. “Acceptable in what way?”

  She slapped his arm. “You know very well what I mean. Was my… Was my… performance…Well, I mean, did it seem … adequate, from your experience? Sufficient?”

  Ethan smiled. “Acceptable, adequate, sufficient, and breathtaking. All of those things, and more.”

  “You’re being kind, of course,” she sulked. I’m certain that’s what all gentleman say, when asked.”

  McAllister took her hand and kissed her palm. “Throughout life, I will do many things to you, Emily. I will stay at sea for months at a time, neglect you when you chatter too long, and fall asleep during plays you drag me to. I’ll most likely forget your birthday on alternating years, and of course, I’ll blister your pretty bottom when it needs it, until you howl and kick. But I will never, ever lie to you, about anything. That much, I can promise you. As to the adequacy of what you call your ‘performance’, it was immeasurably beyond acceptable, and well more than adequate. However, as with most other activities, practice does make perfect.”

  Emily blushed. “May I ask another question?”

  “Anything at all. What is it?”

  She glanced shyly down at his rising penis. “Does that mean we can practice again?”

  Ethan McAllister was a tall man, well-built and exceptionally strong from hard work and many years at sea. He was also a man of lusty appetites, with a profound appreciation for the female body and an excellent understanding of how to please it. His early years had been somewhat wild and reckless, often spent in the company of hard-living men, and of women not in the least shy about asking for what they wanted. Many of these women, with no apparent modesty, had told him, and then shown him what was expected of him. It was in this pragmatic school that Ethan had learned that women, as well as men, were capable of extremes of pleasure he had never before imagined, pleasure well beyond what was publicly accepted by the polite society into which he had been born. A quick and willing student, the young Ethan spent many of his off-duty hours acquainting himself with the techniques necessary to achieve this ecstatic result. And now, in this soft, warm bed with the first woman he had ever genuinely loved, he was eager to share with her the delight that he knew was possible.