by Lisa Olech
Why couldn’t he stay away from this one, small, powder keg of a woman? He needed to end this insanity this second. Nothing, and he meant absolutely nothing good could come of continuing this infatuation.
He ran the silk of her hair across his lip. Except…Ric closed his eyes to the memory. He could still feel her body wrapped around his. The perfume of their joining still clung to his skin. After her initial pain, she had begun to move like the sea beneath him, her hips cresting to meet his thrusts, dipping to begin another sensuous wave as he withdrew. Calling out his name like a seductive siren to pull him beneath the surface.
That’s what she was--a siren. An old, crusty, one-legged crewmate he’d first served with on the Scarlet Night, Cookie Burrows, had often told him the tale of those watery temptresses. God rest him, Cookie loved to torture him with tales of ghosts and the supernatural. He’d be enjoying all this. Watching Ric get himself into such a mess. And with a skirt, no less.
Hornbach dropped a surgeon’s chest on the table before him. Ric slipped the lock of Jocelyn’s hair into his pocket before opening the chest. An entire box full of gruesome items to inflict more pain so that the patient might survive.
He lifted an amputation saw. So it would have to be with Jocelyn. Pushing her away and cutting her out of his life for good would cause them both pain, but it was unavoidable if they both wanted to survive.
“It’s only a small gash. Surely, I’ll still keep my hand.”
Ric’s head snapped up. Jocelyn stood at the end of the table. He hadn’t heard her come in. His body pulsed at the mere sight of her. With her cropped hair, the elegant sweep of her neck and shoulders beguiled him. He stifled a moan. Which of these tools would he need to cut out his own heart? He fit the saw back into its appointed place. “We’ll do our best, but if infection sets in, desperate measures may need to be considered,” he teased.
Jocelyn sat next to him, her back to the table, giving him better access to her wound. “Desperate measures,”--she unwrap her hand--, “seems a daily occurrence here.”
He met her gaze, before lifting her hand and lowering his eyes to inspect the cut across her palm. “They are.” All the teasing had fallen away. The cutting had begun. “But there are times when they are the only option.”
* * * *
Jocelyn’s hand throbbed. It had taken half a dozen stitched to close the deep slice across her palm. She cradled it to her chest as she pulled in cooling air to quell the slight queasiness she was feeling. Only part of it had to do with watching Ric sew up her palm. He’d barely spoken. It was as if they hadn’t just left one another’s arms. Hadn’t made love. How had nothing changed between them?
“There you are. After the cannon fire, I didn’t see you.” Tupper joined Jocelyn at the rail. Smoke from her pipe smelled sweet. Leviticus rested on her forearm. “You did a fine job during the skirmish, pitching in like you were one of us. I like the hair, too. Quick thinking. It makes me toy with the idea of cutting mine, but Gavin wouldn’t be happy if I did.”
At Jocelyn’s silence, Tupper turned to study her. “Are you well? You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” Jocelyn wished she’d ignore her. Stop staring at her so intently. Did it show, what she’d done? Jocelyn closed her eyes and prayed. Please, talk about the weather. Talk about anything else.
When Jocelyn opened her eyes, Tupper still stared. “Has something happened?”
She gave a quick smile before lowering her gaze. “I see Leviticus is free of his bandage. Are you letting him fly free?”
When Jocelyn dared raise her eyes, Tupper’s shrewd green gaze pierced hers. “His wing was too damaged, it seems. He’s not able to fly properly, but I’m growing accustomed to him. He’s free to stay with me.” Tupper bit the stem of her pipe in her teeth and petted the bird. Her wide gold ring caught the sunlight. “You know, you’re good at that.” She spoke around the stem.
“At what?” Jocelyn blinked at her.
Tupper pulled the pipe from her mouth and pointed the clay stem at her. “Diversion.”
She feigned innocence. “I’m sorry?”
“When you don’t want to talk about something,” Tupper narrowed her eyes. “You deflect the question and change the subject.”
Jocelyn’s eyebrows pushed higher. Perhaps she wasn’t as skilled as Tupper believed. She caught her hand. “That’s a beautiful ring. Is that an ‘A’ on its face?”
Tupper pulled her hand away and laughed. “I’m wise to you now. It won’t work.”
Jocelyn chewed at her lip. Perhaps it would be good to talk to Tupper about what was weighing on her heart. A confession of sorts. She was coming to admire Tupper a great deal. Such a strong figure. So worldly. “May I confide in you? As a friend, oui? Talk to you. Woman to woman?”
“Sure.” Tupper drew the word long. “Friends.”
Jocelyn took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to start. It’s rather a delicate subject.”
A frown drew Tupper’s brows together. “I’m not much good with delicate. Best to spit it out.”
Jocelyn leaned closer. “And you won’t repeat this to anyone?” Leviticus flustered at her closeness.
Tupper smoothed the bird’s ruffled feathers. “Go ahead. It’s only me and the bird.”
It took Jocelyn a moment to gather her words. “Back at the abbey, some of the others would talk. About their lives before coming to the abbey. Some about being with…men. Rapports…”
“Men?” Tupper’s head snapped up. “Rapports? As in intercourse? Are we talking about sex?”
“Oui, sex.” Jocelyn nodded, grateful she didn’t have to be the first one to say the word. “They would sigh and say how it was magnifique, ah, magnificent…and how they would…how did they put it…soar so high they could touch the stars.”
“And…”
“Well,” This was more difficult than she thought. Jocelyn worried her lip. “Perhaps, like Leviticus, my wing is broken too? There was no flying amongst the stars. It was more like sweaty fumbling, and messier than I imagined. I prepared for it to hurt, but not so much. I’m worried I did it wrong? Or maybe my wing is damaged?”
Tupper coughed. Her lips thinned. “So you like my ring. Yes, that is an ‘A’…”
Heat flared in Jocelyn’s cheeks. She turned away. “Never mind. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Tupper’s hand stopped her. She dropped her voice. “You and Ric?”
“Oui.” Jocelyn nodded with a whisper.
“And it wasn’t…” Tupper gave a slow shake of her head.
“No. No stars.” Jocelyn swept the sky with her hand. At Tupper’s pitying look she added, “There were some pleasant parts, like when he put his lips…”
Tupper reared back and raised her hand in surrender. “Please don’t tell me anymore.”
The throbbing in her hand was getting worse as was this conversation. “I thought where you have more experience than I, you would know. Were those other women telling tales? Perhaps there are no stars at all.”
“Oh, there are stars…” Tupper gave a wistful sigh and turned to look out to sea. “Gavin could fill the sky….”
“What can I do?” she begged.
Tupper pushed the stem of her pipe through a small loop in her baldric and planted her hand on her waist. She gave Jocelyn a serious look and spoke low. “To begin with, stop worrying. It was your first time. Those are almost always a disaster, but it will get better.” She leaned in closer. “And it isn’t up to you...to get yourself…to those stars…or…well, that’s another conversation, and…my bird needs a bath….”
Jocelyn let out a small sigh and smiled. “I knew I could confide in you. You are a good friend, Tupper.” She squeezed her hand.
When Jocelyn released her, Tupper examined her ring once more. She gave a small smile. “It’s been a long time since I talked to someone like this. Having you aboard reminds me of a friend I had long ago. I didn’t realize how much I missed h
er.” Her thumb twisted the ring about her finger. “Remind me to tell you about my friend, Annalise. She made this ring for me so I wouldn’t forget her. Last I remember, she wore its twin. She would have liked you.”
Such sadness flitted across Tupper eyes, Jocelyn reached out to her once more. “Has she passed away?”
Tupper’s laugh was short, almost bitter. “No, I did.”
* * * *
Ric raised his eyes as Tupper stormed into the galley. He’d heard the strong tap of her boots coming across the decking. She had her fool bird on one arm. The other planted firmly on her hip. “Are you out of your mind?”
He nodded and went back to his work. “There is a good chance.” He figured he’d catch hell from someone over the decision to attack a fully armed Dutch frigate with only nine hands aboard.
“What the hell happened to ‘she’s different’?” She waved a hand toward his crotch. “Is it so hard for you to keep your pecker in your pants?”
Shit. How in hell had she found out? He kept his head down. The muscle in his jaw threatened to crush his back teeth. “No. It just happened.”
Tupper threw up a hand and gave him a bitter smirk. “And not too well by the conversation I had with Mademoiselle Beauchamp.”
The muscle threatening his molars went suddenly slack. “What does that mean?” Ric’s voice rose as he dropped the quill he was using and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I would have thought the legendary Ricochet Robbins was better at such things.” Tupper taunted. “At least those are the rumors around the docks. Having an off day, are ye?”
Ric was on his feet. “What the hell did she tell you?”
Tupper gave him a haughty look. “I’ll not break her confidence. She’s had enough things broken for one day, don’t you think?”
Ric growled and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you’re prattling on about. It happened. It won’t happen again.” He sat back down, dipped his quill and tried to ignore her.
“Aye, but the damage is done. You could still take my advice and use this against her father.”
Ink dripped off the tip of his quill ruining Gavin Quinn’s pristine logbook. Ric slammed the book closed. “Perhaps you’d be happy if one lapse of sanity on my part planted a pirate bastard in the girl.”
Tupper smiled a wicked smile. “There’s always a chance.”
“I told you, I’ll not use her for your revenge.” Ric stood again and pushed past Tupper to refill his rum.
“Our revenge,” Tupper pointed out. “You’d managed to escape his damned prison before the trial. It could have been you as well. And you didn’t hear those men screams. The six. After he held them each in the cage, the little hell as he called it. Beauchamp held them for weeks. His hatred for Gavin and I always besting him in battle, spurring him to torture our crew members in the most heinous way he could. Sending us a message. Putting a price on all our heads.”
Ric swallowed. The rum burned into his belly. “I remember.”
“Do you remember the tarring?”
He shook his head as he recalled that grisly day. “I wasn’t a witness, no, but I heard.”
Tupper thumped her chest with a fist. “I was there. I saw. I still hear those men screaming as they were covered in boiling tar and hung in the gibbets to die. Yes, I took his eye. I’d take the other given the chance. And perhaps his tongue and his hands and roast his innards on a spit.”
“But his daughter is an innocent.” Ric injected into her rant.
Tupper snorted. “Not any more. I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her.”
She’d not soon let him forget. “Jocelyn isn’t going to pay for what he’s done to us. She’s been half a world away. What does she even know of her father’s crimes? I’m not going to use her like some pawn.”
“Jocelyn is already a pawn.” Tupper spat. “Don’t you see? I’m not unfond of her. I like her. She’s strong and tenacious, but naïve to the world and especially the vile things her father is capable of. You’ve heard her tell of her life. He imprisoned her when she was a child. Now when it suits him, he’ll use her for his own political aspirations. He’s building powerful allies. Marrying her off to the highest bidder, he’ll secure his position. Jocelyn is the key to him gaining an advantage. Why shouldn’t we use your disappointing tête-à-tête with her to our advantage?”
Ric threw his hands wide sloshing his rum. “Disappointing?” What the hell had Jocelyn told her?
“Forget your tarnished ego for one moment, will you.” Tupper pointed behind her. “She is our chance to destroy Philippe Beauchamp once and for all.”
“Tupper…” Ric slammed his mug down on top of a barrel. It was then he caught the movement of someone in the doorway. “Shit…” He barked. Leviticus squawked and flapped as he shoved past Tupper. He rushed to the doorway in time to see Jocelyn hurry down the mid-deck ladder way.
“Jocelyn! Wait.” Ric called out before he spun back to Tupper. He spoke between gritted teeth. “As long as I’m captain, I’m making the decisions where this ship and Jocelyn are concerned. We are not destroying her. It is my plan to anchor a short distance from Port de Paix, where I alone will take her ashore. We’ll travel by foot into the city and secure transport across to Tortuga. I will deliver her to the gates of Fort de Rocher, then it’s finished.”
Tupper set her chin. “If the French discover who you are, you risk us all.”
“Only if they find the Scarlet Night.” He swept the maps and charts on the table. “I’m finding the perfect hiding spot to make sure that doesn’t happen. Twelve hours, I’m back aboard, we weigh anchor and this will all be over.”
“And if you’re not back?”
“Then you’ll leave me to my fate, and save the ship.” He slapped a hand against the doorframe. “But now I need to speak with Jocelyn. There’s no telling how much she heard. I need to reassure her we won’t be using her as a weapon, or subjecting her to another disappointing encounter with me.”
Chapter 18
“Jocelyn, open the door.” Ric tried the latch. It was locked. “Jocelyn. Tupper was wrong. I don’t know what you heard but let me in and we can talk.” Not a sound came from within. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and lowered his forehead to the door.
Disappointing tête-à-tête … “I give you my word, we will just talk.” He tried the latch again with no success. “Fine. I realize you’re upset, but there are things you don’t fully understand.” Still no sound could be heard. “Perhaps it’s wise to wait until morning. Discuss things in the fresh light of the new day. I’ll see your evening meal is brought down to you, but we’ll meet on deck at four bells come morning. Understood?” Silence.
“Jocelyn?”
* * * *
The sun dropped into an orange sea off the tip of their bow. Ric had tucked the Scarlet Night as close to shore as he dared and ordered the anchor dropped for the night. Along this side of the island, the coral reefs were known to reach their sharp claws and catch a ship unawares. It wasn’t wise to float adrift here at night.
A few more days like this one, and Ric would gladly throw himself on a reef. Reaching overhead, he hung tight to a tarred rope of rigging and lost himself in watching the last flash of sun before it disappeared and the sky melted gold into blue as the world debated day against night. With too many thoughts sparring in his brain, he pushed them all aside to stand in the gloaming, his favorite hour.
Still in the play of such magnificent color, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jocelyn for more than a moment. He was mad. His mind playing the events of the day over and over. His emotions tumbling over one another in a race to nowhere.
During the skirmish, seeing her rushing about the deck, skirts pinned, sword drawn. Hair flying until with a slice of her blade she transformed from a delicate aristocrat into some fighting hellcat. He’d swelled with pride. Ric slipped his hand into the snug pocket of his breeches to mak
e sure he still had the curl of her hair.
Then after, when the cannon smoke began to clear and he couldn’t find her. Had he ever known such fear? Racing to her quarters, his heart threatening to beat its way out of his chest. To find her crying. Relief to anguish to raging desire in three beats of his heart.
He’d taken her like a fumbling lad. Only concerned with the first thrust and moving her past the pain so he could find his release. Never thinking about her pleasure. Not once.
And when all his passion flamed out and had turned to shame, he’d become cold to her. Too caught up in his own failings and trying to justify abandoning her after he’d taken what he had no right to take as some misguided way to once again protect her? Utter rubbish. He was the worst kind of rogue. A cad of the highest rank.
He should have himself flogged.
* * * *
“When was the last time you slept?” MacTavish placed a mug of morning ale in front of Ric.
Dawn was burning red. There’d be strong weather moving in before day’s end. Ric gave MacTavish a side glance before lifting the mug. “Slept like a babe the night before you idiots voted me in as captain.”
MacTavish lifted his mug, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
Ric groaned. “What kind of pirate are you? Draped in tartan, quoting Shakespeare. It’s too early in the day.”
The Scotsman dropped his bulk across the table from Ric and looked over the charts. “What’s got you pacing the decks?”
“The reefs along this stretch.” He pointed to several areas on the charts. “We need to keep in tight to the shore, otherwise we’ve got our arse out for the taking. But if we cut in too close, we’ll get hung up.”
“So, it wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with a wee dark-haired lass?” MacTavish spoke into his mug before raising a bushy eyebrow in Ric’s direction.
“Not you, too.” He glared at him. It was coming on four bells, and he’d been going over in his mind exactly what he wanted to say to Jocelyn.
MacTavish leaned across the table. “Heard Tupper’s fit yesterday.”
