The Jezebel

by Saskia Walker

  Maisie sat back in her chair, a curious expression on her face. “Gregor?”

  Roderick thought he’d offended her with his plain speaking, but it was Gregor’s name that had caught her attention. “Gregor Ramsay is the man I share joint ownership of the vessel with. He is in Fife at the moment, settling a score.”

  She shifted in her chair and tapped her chin with one finger. “The name. Something about it seems familiar. I am fairly sure I don’t know it, but I have the oddest feeling I should.”

  How would she know Gregor Ramsay? Roderick wondered. “Did you hail from the East Neuk of Fife? Perhaps you heard of him there?”

  She shook her head. “I was born in the Highlands. I have never spent time in Fife.” She lifted her shoulders. “No matter.”

  “The Highlands, aye. That accounts for the wildness I witness when you lose control of your senses.”

  “I have no idea what you are referring to, Captain.” Her smile and the flash of her eyes assured him she did.

  “What took you to England?”

  For several moments she didn’t speak at all, and she looked wronged. It was as if he’d asked her a terrible thing. When she did reply there was tension in her voice. “Something that turned out to be a very big mistake.”

  “We all make errors.”

  “That is true enough.” There was wariness in her tone.

  “This life is not easy, nor is our path laid out straight and fair.”

  She nodded, then lifted her mug of ale and sipped from it. “No, but I did not make the error.”

  Roderick pressed on, his curiosity rife. “Who did?”

  Again, she thought about her response at length, then gave a forced smile. “The man who thought he could bend me to his will and keep me.”

  Roderick lifted his brows. Apparently she’d had a suitor, one she hadn’t given her virginity to. Yet she’d given it readily enough to him. A puzzle lay therein. It was the sort of puzzle that he and some of the men would enjoy debating at length while they shared a flagon of rum on a night and made entertainment for themselves. More intriguingly, she showed a deep determination against being kept by a man. Any man, or just this suitor?

  “You have an unusual strength of spirit,” Roderick commented.

  “For a woman?” she retorted.

  “Aye. And more than many men, too.”

  She looked away and into the flames in the hearth. “I had to be strong.”

  “Why so?”

  She flashed him a warning stare. “It is better that you know nothing about me. I have said too much already.”

  Irritation built in Roderick. “I do not agree.”

  It was more than idle curiosity now. He had a bad feeling about the things she said, and their physical union—whilst only a temporary arrangement in lieu of a fee—made him believe he had a right to know.

  “I have given you my body, nothing more.”

  Unaccountably, her glib comment made him feel even more irritated. “As your captain, I have your life in my hands. You should trust in me.”

  “I trust no man.” Her stare was bright and determined, and Roderick felt her strength of will. She wanted him to feel it, he knew, for it was a warning.

  He frowned. One moment they were at ease with one another, then this disagreement had arisen. “I don’t claim to understand the fair sex,” he stated. “I never have. But you, madam, only serve to show me that I never will.”

  Affronted, she responded by rising to her feet. “You cannot hold all women to account on the actions of one. That is unfair and unreasonable.”

  “Why not? It is the way you treat men. You said so yourself, moments ago.”

  Color rose to the skin on her cheekbones. In her anger, she was even more beautiful. Despite the tension between them, Roderick found himself roused by her, and if they had been in his cabin he would have had her on her back in a flash.

  Mercifully, the door opened and a serving wench bustled in with a cauldron of stew set upon a wooden board. Steam rose from it.

  Roderick nodded across at Maisie. “Sit yourself down.”

  She pursed her lips and stood her ground, as if unwilling to obey.

  He held up his hands. “I will pry no more.” Once she took her seat again, he could not resist adding, “Although you are willful and you are wrong to mistrust me.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and glared across the table at him.

  The stew was set down between them, and a second serving woman brought bread, bowls and spoons. Even after the wenches had gone, Maisie held her position most deliberately.

  Roderick’s belly grumbled. He reached over and dished up the hearty stew into each of their bowls. “Come now, eat. You won’t get a meal this good aboard the ship.”

  “You didn’t have to point that out. I have already gleaned that much knowledge myself,” she retorted.

  Roderick gave a dry laugh.

  When she looked his way, she snatched up her spoon.

  The food was good and they were both hungry. They ate in silence, but still Roderick studied her, wondering.

  “You will not force me to tell you my story,” she commented, when she caught his eye.

  “No, I won’t force you....”

  When he smiled at her, she echoed it, albeit slightly.

  “And you,” she asked. “Why were you leaving Billingsgate docks so hastily?”

  So, she can ask me and expect a response, despite her own stand. Roderick had to fight back a sarcastic retort. “The excise men do not take kindly to merchant shipmen such as us, because we don’t abide by their rules.”

  That seemed to amuse her. “You don’t pay excise on goods you carry?”

  “We are a crew made up of Scots and Dutch. There is little love amongst any of us for the English soldiers, despite the supposed union with Scotland. We find ways to avoid the excise men.”

  Maisie nodded thoughtfully. “You remind me of Scotland.”

  “Because I hate the English?”

  She gave a low laugh. “Not only that.” Eyeing him curiously, she explained. “You are barely tamed, and you answer to no one. Scotland runs in your veins. You carry it everywhere with you.”

  Roderick had been about to deny her comment, but when he thought about it he realized she’d seen something deep in his character that he hadn’t even been aware of himself. It was uncanny. Yet he could not fathom her, except when she was on her back. He seemed to have a knack for handling her then.

  A small mercy, he thought, with irony.

  “Would you avoid the law if you were on land, in Scotland, or is it because you are at sea?”

  Her comment amused him. It was a topic they often debated aboard ship. “There are ways, even on land. In the border country the smugglers have trained ponies to follow a path along a low ledge on the cliffs. They carry smuggled goods inland for them, so that they won’t be spotted by the excise men.” Roderick grinned. “I’ve seen the clever beasts myself, from the sea. Quite a sight it was, too. They needed no man to guide them. They follow the path to their destination quite happily.”

  Her mouth quirked and he could tell she was picturing it.

  Roderick felt the urge to share more of his thoughts on the matter. “The truth of it is that men will sometimes do anything to feed their kin, and sharing what little coin they earn with the taxman is hard to do when their mothers are ailing or the bairns are crying for food.”

  Maisie nodded.

  “Does my lawlessness shock you?” He swiped up his ale mug, knowing already that it did not shock her at all. He wanted to hear her opinion on the matter.

  “No. I have seen men even in high and respected places twist and control a situation purely for their own gain. Your tale seems almost noble in its cause in comparison to some of the things I have witnessed and heard tell of.”

  There it was again. A curtain had been pulled back, briefly. What a strange comment it was, too. Did the things she had seen account for the wisdom beyon
d her years? Roderick thought about asking her what she meant, but quizzing her directly had brought nothing. Her comment had, nevertheless, revealed something about her. What it was he couldn’t immediately fathom, but he stored her words away in case they made sense in different circumstances.

  “How do you avoid the excise men when sailing into the harbor?” she asked, turning the conversation back on him.

  Roderick would rather have spoken more about the matters she had hinted at, but he acquiesced. “It isn’t easy, for they watch every move and are often in their rowboats and boarding before you have time to set down anchor. But there are ways.”

  “There are?”

  She was so much happier learning about him. Roderick felt torn. He liked to see her happy. “One is to create a diversion.”

  “How do you do that?”

  He loved to see the spark in her eyes. She liked to learn, he could tell. “Send men ahead in a rowboat or by foot along the coast. Spread a rumor that there are goods aboard another ship, and then dock and unload while the excise men are otherwise occupied.”

  “How clever.”

  Roderick found he enjoyed her interest in their seafaring ways. “It may seem unlikely, but there are even ways to hide an entire ship from view.”

  “Hide a ship? Surely that isn’t possible.”

  “It is. It’s about knowing the coastline as well as you know the back of your own hand. Canny seafaring men make note of every convenient bay or island outside the established harbors. There is one along the coast from here, for example, and if we had set down anchor there we would be within an hour’s walk of Lowestoft, but no ship here would be able to see the Libertas because of the shape of the intervening coastline.”

  She sat back in her chair, obviously impressed. “That is most canny.”

  It was common practice amongst free traders and merchant shipmen, but Roderick was glad they’d found a subject that did not irritate either of them.

  “Yes,” he added, “if a seaman knows the coast well enough he can make a ship disappear from view—” he flickered his fingers in the air “—as if by witchcraft.”

  He thought she might chuckle, but instead she looked at him aghast, her eyes widening. What in God’s name had he said now?

  He was about to ask what was wrong with her when she rose from her seat and turned away to stand by the fire, warming her hands. A moment later, she turned back and offered him an apologetic smile.

  Roderick frowned. He would give anything to understand this woman, but her thoughts and actions baffled him. All that he could glean from this latest oddity was that she wanted to be closer to the fire.

  He took action. “Come, if you are cold we will draw the chairs to the fireside and I will request a glass of port for us to enjoy there.”

  “You are most thoughtful.”

  “I attempt to put you at ease.”

  “I know you do.” She smiled, as if to herself.

  Was there some underlying comment there? He didn’t want to consider it, for it irritated him again. Instead, he reorganized the chairs. A moment later he called for service and requested a bottle of port. When it arrived they sat either side of the fireplace, each nursing a crystal glass filled with the potent liquid.

  It took him back to a childhood memory he had long forgotten, of his parents sitting this way. Of course, they didn’t have fine crystal or port, but it was the notion of a man and wife either side of a warm hearth at the end of a hard working day that struck him and made him feel rather odd, as if he had been cast into a different life to the one he was currently used to.

  I should be thinking of the tides and who is on duty on deck, not what passes between a man and his wife at the end of the day. Such landlocked notions were irrelevant to Roderick Cameron, or should have been.

  “Thank you for this evening,” Maisie said, pulling him back from his thoughts.

  When he looked at her, he found she had her head cocked on one side, as if she had been watching him.

  “You really are a considerate man, aren’t you?”

  Was she teasing him now? “I try to be, even though I am not used to a woman’s company or the finer things in life.”

  “That much is obvious.” Mischief flickered in her eyes.

  Roderick raised his eyebrows.

  She blinked at him in a languid, sensual manner.

  How could such a simple thing affect him so? He had the wild urge to fling her over his shoulder and cart her off to the bedroom. Something about her made him lose rational thought from time to time. That was dangerous. No man, let alone a man of the sea, could afford to be so thoroughly distracted by a woman that he reacted irrationally. Roderick needed to be more sensible about this arrangement. It was imperative that he forgo his curiosity about her background and focus on his ship and the voyage.

  He brooded on that fact awhile and stared into the flames.

  When he looked back at her he realized she’d kept studying him from under lowered eyelids, and she had that certain glow about her that she got when they came together to couple.

  “When do we have to be back at the ship?”

  “Not until after the turn of the tide, at dawn.”

  “Oh.” Her eyelids fluttered beguilingly as she thought about it. “Will we stay here at the inn?”

  Her question was quite innocently delivered, but he saw that she was thinking on it, and her demeanor was considerably more agreeable than it had been during their meal. Was this a ploy to keep him from asking her more questions? It mattered not, for he knew he shouldn’t care about the woman’s origins.

  She arched her neck and leaned toward him.

  It quickly stirred his desires, desires that had been simmering steadily all the while. “I have secured a room for the night, one with a decent, roomy bed and a roaring fire.”

  “I see.” Her mouth lifted at the corners.

  Roderick decided she was a temptress. That part of her, at least, was no mystery. “Does that arrangement suit you, my lady?”

  “Most definitely.”

  The irony struck him. Now that they were talking of intimacy she was so much more agreeable and forthright. Moreover, she did not attempt to hide her interest, like most maidens might. A Jezebel she was indeed, just as Clyde had proclaimed, for she had cast aside her shame along with her virginity.

  Nevertheless, it still rankled that she wouldn’t confide in him. “Yes,” he deliberately drawled, “we do seem to get on so much better in matters of a carnal nature.”

  She gave him a quizzical glance. “Beware your sarcasm, sire, or I shall develop a headache.”

  Roderick rose to his feet. “I do not intend to give you time to have one.”

  Reaching over, he took her by the hand.

  “It is a good thing I find your prowess as a lover makes up for your lack of good manners, Captain,” she said as she stood up. Humor shone in her eyes.

  Roderick shook his head, not allowing himself to say any more, not with the serving girls hovering by the door, waiting to clear the table. But once he got her alone he would say and do plenty, and none of it would involve good manners.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Does milady need a maid to assist?” The innkeeper looked at the pair of them with barely concealed amusement.

  “That will not be necessary,” Roderick replied before Maisie had a chance to speak for herself. “I am quite willing to assist the lady with her disrobing.”

  Much as it was tempting to chastise him immediately, Maisie restrained herself until they were alone.

  “I’m sure you are, sire,” the innkeeper replied, somewhat sarcastically, and then retreated.

  As soon as the door was closed Maisie folded her arms across her chest. “You care nothing for any pride I might yet have maintained.”

  “Ah, so you have abandoned your shame but not your pride?”

  Maisie’s mouth opened. Then she thought better of saying anything, because he was right. It was the way of her k
ind. Those who were closer to nature did not see any shame in the act of lovemaking. It was a powerful, magical thing. Even more so when affection was involved.

  “That innkeeper knows even less about you than I do,” Roderick continued, apparently relishing the taunt. “What is your honor to him or anyone we might encounter?”

  There was truth in that, but she wasn’t about to agree, because it was obvious it stemmed from his annoyance that she wouldn’t confide in him. “You are a scoundrel.”

  “I don’t deny it.” With that pronouncement he pounced, scooped her into his arms, carried her across the room and threw her on the bed.

  Winded by his sudden action, she attempted to rise up and support her weight on her hands to glare at him. “No, instead you seem set on proving it.”

  His gaze, heavy with lust, raked over her.

  Maisie knew she should have been offended by his actions, but there was something deeply arousing about the way he handled her, as if he’d been harboring the need to strip her and make her his all evening. As much as she wanted to keep her private affairs private—and it was safer for him that way—she found it thrilled her immensely to have him so wild-eyed and possessive.

  “You are a disagreeable wench when you want to be.”

  “Why so,” she retorted, “because I know my own mind and don’t buckle under your questioning?”

  He laughed and began stripping off his coat, neckerchief and waistcoat.

  Maisie stared, unable to do anything else as he tore off each garment with speed, emphasizing his imminent intentions to bed her. When he lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, she almost forgot to breathe while she took in the sight of his bared chest in the candlelight. The way he stretched and moved made his muscles gleam, showing them to good advantage. No wonder he could lift her so easily, she thought. He was completely undressed before she had a chance to shift from the place he’d deposited her on the bed.

  When he lifted his head and looked her way, his expression was both determined and roguish. His eyes glinted, and she knew he was about to pounce. When she tried to get up she was too slow, and hampered as she was by her rigid bodice and corset, he was on her in a flash.