The Duke & the Pirate Queen

by Victoria Janssen

  “I don’t pay you to sink my ships. Especially not with me in them.”

  Imena swung off the bed. “I need food,” she said.

  “There’s—”

  She swooped down upon the tray of cold rice balls, goat cheese and pickled vegetables with ginger he’d clamped to the table. “Do you want any?” she asked with her mouth full.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t look away from her lean naked body, the gentle curves of her hips and breasts, and the cheese crumbs she was dropping onto the deck. There was another bruise on her tattooed thigh, about the height of one of the deck railings. When she turned away to get another slice of cheese, he slid off the bunk and poured her a cup of rice wine.

  Imena took the cup in her free hand and drained it. She said, “No one knocked, or I would have woken.” She set her cup aside and took another mouthful of cheese. “So you’ve decided to move into my cabin, have you?”

  “The hostages took my space,” he said. “Are you going to sleep anymore?”

  “After I’ve eaten,” she said. “I’ll regret it sorely if I don’t.”

  “Imena?” he said when she had finished chewing.

  She brushed crumbs from her hands and took a step closer. She laid her hands on his chest, and his breath caught. She said, “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “Any of what?” he said. At this close range, he could see a crumb adhered to her lip. He could easily bend and kiss it free.

  “The pirates. The storm. You might say I had nothing to do with either, and that would be true, but if it hadn’t been for me you wouldn’t have been in range of pirates, and I wouldn’t have sailed into the face of a nasty gale to escape them.”

  Maxime brushed the crumb loose with his fingertip. “Instead, I’d likely be dead.”

  She said, “I owe you thanks.”

  “You’re the one who saved me from a life as a pirate’s catamite,” he pointed out.

  “You fought at my side, and then served with my crew as best you could. I couldn’t have asked for more even from Chetri.”

  “So I’m almost as good as Chetri?” Maxime slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, trapping her hands against his chest. Her skin flowed like silk beneath his hands; he circled his palms on the small of her back, then shaped her spine and shoulders before stroking down again. He stopped himself before he grasped her rear, though his fingers strayed a little, aching to sink into her flesh. He said, “Let’s cry evens, shall we? All this talk of owing makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to think of owing where you’re concerned. I just want to think of you.” He bent his head and brushed her mouth with his.

  Imena pulled back, licking her lips. “I was hoping we’d get around to that.” She laced her hands behind his neck and he shivered at the abrasion of her calluses on his nape.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  She didn’t at first. She uncurled her fingers and scratched lightly. He shivered in pleasure and arched his back, rubbing against her.

  He said, “If you like, you can even tie me up first.”

  Imena grinned. “I’m in too much of a rush for that.” Still smiling, she kissed him.

  She tasted of salt and the tang of wine. Maxime let her guide the kiss. He liked the rough press of her fingers on the back of his neck, the prickly pleasure when she gripped his hair and tugged him closer, the fervent slide of her tongue against his.

  When they stopped to breathe, he said, “I’d rather do this lying down.”

  “I might fall asleep on you,” Imena warned him. Her eyes looked dazed, her pupils huge in the dim light.

  “I’ll still be here when you wake,” he said. He lifted her feet off the deck, just enough to make her curse him, and carried her to the bunk. Other than the cursing, she didn’t fight him. He asked, “Do I really smell like a rotted jellyfish?”

  She wriggled free of his arms and stretched out on the bunk, her back to the bulkhead. “Not really. You smell like something I want to devour. Come and fuck me before I fall asleep again.”

  Maxime crawled onto the bunk and lay on his side, facing her. “If I’d known how sweetly you would beg for my attentions, I would have attempted to seduce you long ago.”

  “This isn’t a seduction. We’re at sea.”

  “That makes no sense.” He couldn’t ask her to explain, because she kissed him again, gradually shifting until he supported almost all her weight. He shifted his hips experimentally, and groaned when she rubbed against him with intent. “Let’s just do this,” he said.

  “You say that now, but—” she stopped and bit his shoulder, then his neck, shooting warm thrills down to his cock “—I know you want to fuck me. Be inside me. Remember how that felt?”

  “I’ll never, ever forget,” he swore, covering her breasts with his hands and gently tugging her nipples. “Are you trying to make me go off like a badly loaded pistol?”

  “I am trying to get your cock into my cunt,” she said. She reached between them and grasped his erection, sliding her thumb over the head of his cock, the rasp of her roughened skin enough to tighten his bollocks.

  Maxime flinched and pushed her off him. “Turn over, I want to do it this way,” he said, and when she’d turned away from him, he spooned up against her back, sliding one of his legs between hers. He was greedy for her warmth, for her scent, and could easily have spent an hour touching her, but she wanted to be fucked, so he would do it for her. He worked his cock into her from behind while massaging her breasts with his free hand. She was squashing his other arm, but he didn’t care; he wanted to feel her back against his chest and rub his face against her hair and kiss and nibble her ear. He never wanted to let her go, unless he could possibly shift her even closer to him, or inside his own skin.

  Imena reached back with her left hand and stroked his flank, her nails startling his hips into a sudden jerk. “I can’t touch you like this,” she said, gasping softly as they rocked together.

  “Close your eyes and let me,” Maxime said, kissing her temple. “I won’t let you fall asleep until we’re done.”

  “I need more,” she said. “Harder, I need this.”

  He wanted to stay here forever, joined with her, their bodies sliding against each other, his world spiraling down to where his cock rubbed inside her tight grip. He caressed his way from her breast down to her belly, then into her hair and the slickness of her cunt. Her outer lips were already splayed from their position and his size. His fingertip easily found her clitoris. He stroked it once before rubbing inward, harder, to match his gentle thrusting.

  Imena gasped, pressing into his hand. “More,” she said. When he pressed a little harder, thrust a little faster, she moaned and twisted her neck.

  He kissed the side of her face and murmured in her ear. “Feel my hand, feel it sliding on you, feel my cock stretching you inside, feel us together.” He caught his breath and said, “Imena, Imena, you’re holding me so tightly I can hardly breathe. I could come from just watching you, you’re so lovely like this, every muscle straining toward your pleasure. You’re dragging me with you.”

  He closed his eyes and gasped again, trying to regain control, but his hips wouldn’t stop surging. He wasn’t able to control his caresses very well anymore, so he simply pressed the heel of his hand into her clit, letting his thrusting motion take over. “Push into me,” he said. “Rub on my hand.”

  She moaned, not his name but a wordless sound.

  “Harder!” he said, and she obeyed, and suddenly she was convulsing around him, her cunt squeezing his cock, her legs jerking against his, her back slamming into his chest as she came on a long moan fading into a sigh.

  Maxime held deathly still, letting her ride it out. He hadn’t had the final, deep thrusts he craved, and he teetered on a horrible precipice, pleasure just beyond reach. As she gradually relaxed, her arms and legs falling limp, he buried his face against her and mentally counted backward in every language he knew. It didn’t help. He want
ed to be with her; he didn’t want to resume thrusting when she had so clearly fallen asleep, but this edge was painful. He closed his eyes and withdrew from her, wincing as the tender skin of his cock slid along her leg.

  “Where are you going?” Imena mumbled. Awkwardly, she reached behind her, patting at him. “Don’t stop.”

  “You’re not asleep,” he said, relieved.

  “Not yet. I can’t sleep with you like that. Your cock, it’s like a third person in my bunk, and I’d hate to disappoint him. What do you want?”

  For answer, he slid his cock inside her again, groaning with relief. “I’ll be quick,” he said. “Then you can go to sleep.”

  “No wonder you’re so popular,” she said, pushing back against him with a satisfied noise. “Now, fuck me. Take your time.”

  “Funny,” he gasped, but the interval had taken some of the edge off his desperation, so he experimented with a few long thrusts and slow withdrawals that caused Imena to laugh and curse him at the same time.

  He reached over her hip to rub her clitoris, but found her hand already there, circling restlessly. “Don’t worry about me!” she snarled.

  He laid his hand atop hers and gave himself up to her and to pleasure. Three more lubricious nudges inside her and he could feel his release swell within him, inexorable, snatching his breath so he could only gasp and hold her to him.

  To his shame, he immediately fell asleep, not a habit to which he was normally prone. He woke some time later when she stirred in his arms. “Four hours?” he asked muzzily.

  “Yes,” she said. “Let me go, I’ll turn down the lamp.”

  When she returned to the bunk and tugged his arm around her, he rubbed his cheek against her scalp and tightened his arm about her waist.

  “Nice,” she murmured.

  “We’re good together,” he whispered close to her ear.

  “Aren’t we? Will you marry me?”

  No answer. She’d fallen back to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IMENA WOKE FEELING MUCH REFRESHED. ONCE she’d put out the lamp, she’d been able to shut down her mental clock and sleep through the equivalent of a full night’s sleep. The sex hadn’t hurt; after she’d come a second time, she’d barely been able to lift an eyelash.

  She always slept better after sex. Most especially, she slept better after sex when her partner remained close to her throughout the night.

  Maxime was gone now. She dimly recalled reaching for him when he’d slipped out of the bunk just after dawn. He’d stroked her face and she’d turned over for another hour’s sleep, perfectly content.

  It was a little disturbing, how well she’d slept.

  Roxanne would be on deck command at this hour. Imena stretched and rolled out of her bunk before stretching again. She still ached from her exertions during the storm, and during the night, as well. She found clean clothing and went up on deck.

  The full array of Seaflower’s canvas was hung to dry in the light, fresh breeze while various crew mended lines, stitched sails and attended to smaller tasks such as chipping rust off ironwork, scraping splintered wood and laying on fresh caulk and blacking. Norris ran up to Imena with a mug of hot tea before she could reach Roxanne, and said, “I’ll have a bath ready for you, Captain, as soon as you’re finished here.”

  Imena took a deep, refreshing sip of tea. “You are a jewel, Norris.” After Norris trotted off, Imena finished her interrupted stroll to Roxanne’s position at the prow, overseeing the crew’s labors.

  Roxanne handed over a written report. “The rudder’s damaged, and the steering ropes, and we lost two topmasts. Plus, there’s a leak below, and Chetri thinks there’s a split from all our flailing about. We’re shredding more rope for oakum, so that should help if we find additional leaks.” With a grimace, she added, “We have plenty of ruined lines, after all that. I’ve got Kuan in charge of the pumps. Seretse and Gnalam are organizing crews to help them with the carpentry on the topmasts.”

  “Supplies?” Imena asked.

  “The rainwater we collected is nigh undrinkable,” Roxanne replied glumly. “We’ve no fresh fruit left, and some of the hens drowned, but the cat is in fine shape. We found him with the hostages. Arionrhod’s recording the losses. Wiscz already butchered the hens, so that’s some fresh food taken care of, but Tessa says everyone’s in low condition after that long chase, and the gale, and that we all need a rest and some fresh vegetables.”

  Imena had another sip of her tea, letting it warm her all the way down. “We need to careen the hull regardless, to take care of that split. When Chetri comes on watch, let him know. I’ll see what I can find for us.”

  Back in her cabin, Norris brought her breakfast: rice in chicken broth, and some dried cherries and apricots. Imena ate while examining her charts against the navigational notes Roxanne had given to her, gauging their position from Chetri’s star plots of the previous night and of the sun and horizon positions he’d taken at dawn. They’d been blown well off their intended course by the storm. Imena couldn’t regret it, as she’d allowed it to happen, and it had enabled them to escape from their pursuers. She drew another chart from her drawer. It wasn’t nearly as detailed as the charts for more trafficked lanes, but did give a few notes on favorable currents. Unfortunately, some of the notes were contradictory.

  She should approach Maxime about charting some of these waters more accurately. He could afford to pay her for the service, and the charts they gained would repay him dozens of times over. She blinked and took another sip of her tea, which had gone cold. It was the first time she’d thought of Maxime in hours. What had he been doing all this time?

  She wasn’t worried, she realized. At some point during the storm, or perhaps before that, when he’d fought at her back, she’d begun to trust Maxime. She’d thought she’d trusted him before, but this was different. Now she trusted him to be loose aboard her ship. That was an entirely different proposition than simply trusting him to pay her wages on time.

  Chetri knocked, interrupting her musings. He’d consulted with Seretse and Gnalam already about the ship’s structural state. Once he’d entered and settled next to her on a stool, they conferred over the possible landfalls Imena had identified, finally settling on an isolated island that reportedly had a wide, sandy beach that should be suitable for careening Seaflower and mending her bottom; regardless, they would set the crew to scraping the hull and recaulking, and carefully inspecting for any weakness they might have missed.

  As he left to assume deck command, Chetri said, “His Grace is chatting with Annja and Suzela. Do you have any plans for them?”

  “I’ve not decided. I told them to prove themselves to me first. Has Suzela said anything at all yet?”

  Chetri shook his head. “If Annja hadn’t reassured me otherwise, I would’ve thought she couldn’t speak at all. Captain, I wouldn’t have brought them aboard if I hadn’t been worried for their fate.”

  “We can feed them,” Imena said. She understood why he’d done it. Chetri had once been the captive of pirates, and been treated, she suspected, much worse than the two women he’d rescued. She added, “I wouldn’t have put it past Captain Litvinova to have handed one or both of them over to Venom, to satisfy him after we’d escaped.”

  Chetri looked relieved. “The Knife said she would give them work to do.”

  “And she will do this for you in exchange for…?”

  He grinned crookedly. “Three fine dinners of her choice, the next three times we’ve shore leave in a place she finds congenial.” Ruefully, he added, “Once I’m allowed leave again. And it’s to be dinner for her and for Roxanne, as well. She’ll bankrupt me.”

  “You’ll get to share in the food with them,” Imena reassured him. She glanced down at their navigational notes. “Let’s hope our island has enough fresh fruit and vegetables to satisfy the Knife, as well.”

  Maxime was already tired of pretending to be a concubine, but he didn’t think the two women rescued from the pir
ate ship would believe him if he said he was really a duke. Sometimes, he didn’t believe it himself, he’d spent so long as the son of a man deposed by violence.

  Suzela ate a slice of dried pear, her eyes never leaving him, as if she feared he would snatch the fruit from her. She sat behind Annja on the deck, again, this time with the cat lying next to her on her discarded blanket. There weren’t any bunks built into Maxime’s former quarters, as normally the space was filled with cargo. Norris planned to obtain a couple of hammocks for them later today.

  Maxime sat on the deck, as well, blocking the exit. He said, “So this Captain Cassidy, he’s mad?”

  Suzela flinched. Annja sneered. He liked that expression, twisted as it was, more than the soft acquiescence she’d demonstrated on the pirate ship. She said, “I think he’s one of those who was born wrong. Belowdecks, they say his family sent him to sea to get rid of him. He killed his brother, or some say his sister or his mother, no one knows for sure. And he’s killed plenty since. Has a taste for doing it slow.”

  Annja paused, swallowed and went on. “He likes poison. He eats it, a little bit every day, so it won’t kill him. He can chew on a hunk of poison leaves and spit it at you, and it burns like fire.”

  “Nasty,” Maxime said, disguising an inner shudder. If not for Imena, he might be in the process of dying slowly right now. “How did he end up with Captain Litvinova?”

  Annja shrugged. “She hired him. They were already together when I was taken.” She glanced at Suzela. “Suzela was his, but he’d tired of her. I asked for her as my maid.”

  “Captain Litvinova gave her to you?”

  Annja hesitated. “After a while.” She picked up her cup and drank, clearly considering what she planned to say. “I did some things for her first. But I don’t think she wanted Venom to have Suze, anyway. She doesn’t like him.”

  “I suspect that’s an opinion shared by everyone who’s ever met him,” Maxime said wryly. “Do you think Captain Litvinova would turn on him, given the chance?”