The Duke & the Pirate Queen

by Victoria Janssen

  “Thank you,” Maxime said with heavy irony to match hers. “If, later on, you’d like to allow Julien to pay your considerable salary, I wouldn’t take it amiss.”

  Diamanta smiled. “Oh, I don’t think so. Not just yet. You will not regret your investment in me, Maxime.” Then she turned back to Gisele, who’d watched the whole exchange with amusement. “Shall we move to the table, to look over the papers?”

  Maxime said, “It seems I’m not needed any longer. I’ll be in my office.”

  Sylvie found Raoul in the baths. Except for him, they were deserted at this hour of the morning. He looked up at the sound of her boots ringing on the stone and blinked lazily at her. His svelte dark form was ensconced in one of the hot soaking pools; a silver pitcher and goblet stood near to hand. The scars on his wrists gleamed with ointment.

  Sylvie stripped off her jacket, then her boots. “I’ll join you shortly,” she said. “Unless you would like to scrub me.” She shucked off her riding leathers, then her lacy bodice.

  Raoul said, “It wouldn’t be a hardship.” He turned fully, braced his arms on the side of the pool and lifted himself out. Sylvie watched with appreciation as water coursed down his sleek skin. As he walked over to her, he asked, “Are you going to instruct me?”

  Sylvie finished undressing and picked up a cloth and soap while Raoul filled a bucket. The past few days in the company of King Julien had temporarily cured her of the desire for play with authority. “Take all the time you like,” she said. “I trust you’ll be creative.”

  Raoul would have made an excellent bath servant, if he ever tired of cartography. He mapped every arch and crevice of her body with first his tongue, then a soapy cloth. Sylvie was near delirium by the time he’d washed her hair and was massaging her scalp; he’d licked her to orgasm once, but his slow attentions afterward made her feel as if she hadn’t come for weeks.

  “Hurry,” she said. “I want you to fuck me.”

  Raoul roared with laughter, collapsing onto her shoulder and gasping into her neck. “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be able to last without ordering me!”

  “Well, if you’d been quicker about it I wouldn’t have had to order you,” she said crossly. “There are chambers next door. With beds.”

  Some hours later, after a long interlude in bed followed by another bath, she and Raoul lolled in the soaking pools, speaking softly so as not be overheard by Lady Gisele, who was being tended by one of the servants on the other side of the room. Raoul said, “I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

  Sylvie stared up at the ceiling. Some new tiles had been mosaicked into an underwater scene, and the swirl of octopus tentacles in cobalt water made her contemplative. She said, “You can’t resist traveling, can you?”

  “No,” he said. “Even as a boy, I regularly packed food and books and wandered off into the mountains. I was the despair of my mother.”

  Sylvie said, “When you return, you may visit me if you like.”

  “I would like that,” he said.

  “Where will you go?”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I spoke with King Julien yesterday. I would like to travel with Diamanta.”

  Sylvie realized she didn’t mind. It wouldn’t do to grow too attached. She rolled her head to the side and smiled slyly at him. “You still have hopes, do you?”

  “Yes.” He grinned back at her. “If I fail, the whole ship is full of women. Perhaps I’ll be luckier than I imagine.”

  “I wish you all the luck you can sustain,” Sylvie said. Then she closed her eyes. She would seek out luck for herself, as well. After Maxime’s wedding to Captain Leung, perhaps she would go to visit Karl Fouet. It would be good to renew their friendship, and perhaps explore what could be done in a darkened room lined with velvet.

  Imena didn’t get a chance to return to her cabin until the evening watch. She didn’t expect to find Maxime lounging on her bunk, reading a book.

  On second thought, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She hadn’t seen him in two days. If he felt as she did, the separation must have seemed interminable. She’d grown accustomed to having him near enough to touch.

  Maxime dropped his book onto his chest. He was nude, so it made an odd picture. “I’ve missed my navigation lessons,” he said.

  “The azimuth doesn’t alter if you’re naked,” Imena remarked. “You could have summoned me to the castle if you wanted to see me.”

  “Everyone’s looking at me in the castle,” he confessed.

  “Especially Julien. And everyone in the castle whom I’ve ever fucked has made a point of congratulating me and offering me a celebratory goodbye.”

  Jealousy stabbed her stomach, but she would not ask. “Oh?”

  He stretched like a cat. “Don’t look at me like that. I refused them all. I think they were testing me. You’d think they’d feel a proper decorum toward their duke.”

  Imena didn’t say they might feel more proper decorum if he hadn’t fucked most of them. She sat on the edge of the bunk. “I didn’t ask.”

  “Well, you should have.” He nudged her with his shin.

  “You won’t hurt me if you ask. I’ve decided I need the reminder now and again. I plan to be faithful to you, Imena. I’ve never tried that for any length of time, and I worry it might be difficult. I don’t want to hurt you, ever. So if you ask me when you think I might need to be asked, you’ll help me.” She turned to face him. He looked uncertain. He said, “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

  He planned to be faithful to her. Imena laid her hand on his thigh and rubbed it. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. She hadn’t even known she needed to hear his words until they’d tumbled from his mouth.

  “Tell me you love me,” he said.

  “I do love you,” she said. “I’m going to marry you. And I’ll kick you in the bollocks if you need it.”

  Maxime laughed. “That’s what I want our marriage to be like. Not kicking me in the bollocks. Helping each other. Supporting each other as we try to overcome our worst qualities.”

  She chuckled, feeling teary-eyed at the same time. “And me? What will you support for me?”

  “Sexual satisfaction,” he said, his tongue curling lovingly around the words. “And…sometimes I fear you’re a bit too…”

  “Demanding? Commanding?”

  “Alone,” he said. “Wait! Stop! Don’t weep!”

  “I’m not weeping, you fish-brained fool!” she said. She sniffed hard, and stood up. She began stripping off her clothes.

  “So it’s all right, then? If I tell you that you can come to me always? Even if you want to tie me up?”

  “Yes,” she sniffed. She tossed her clothes over her chair and stretched out next to him, snuggling her face into his beard. “I expect the same of you. Except for the tying up. I’ll need to think about that.”

  “And teach me knots.” Maxime kissed the top of her head. “I spoke to my aunt, you see.”

  “About?”

  “About marriage. It will take practice. We’ll have to work hard.”

  “I know. I’ve watched my parents my whole life. If they can manage, so can I,” she said. “We can talk about it more later. You know I can’t think when I’m naked with you. Now kiss me.”

  Maxime kissed the tip of her nose. “Those are the words I was waiting for.”

  Imena fitted herself to him, sliding her leg between his, touching her cheek to his bearded one, pressing her breasts against his chest. He spread one hand wide over her rear and stroked the other down and up her back. Imena closed her eyes to better appreciate the sensation of her nipples being abraded by the scruff on his chest, and the friction of the coarse hair on his legs.

  They shifted position until she lay beneath him. “Am I too heavy?”

  Imena spread her hands over his rear, massaging gently. “Not yet,” she said.

  He sighed against her cheek and began to work his way down her jawline to her neck, kissing and nipping. Imena shifted
beneath him restlessly and ran her nails over his rear, then his lower back, then his rear again.

  “More?” he murmured into her ear, his warm breath sending a pleasurable chill down her spine.

  “I want to suck your cock,” Imena confessed. She arched her back, pressing against his erection, and he moaned, pressing back.

  “Right now?” he said. “Because I really want to be inside you. So close that we couldn’t possibly be any closer.”

  “I can wait,” she said. “You see, we’re already helping each other to make decisions.”

  Maxime stifled his laughter against her breasts, then sucked her nipple into his mouth. “So long as we’re negotiating, what are your views on—”

  “Remember, I said we’d talk about it later,” she said. She reached down and found his cock. She used her thumb to find his most sensitive spot and grinned when he moaned and melted into her. She murmured, “Except for this one thing. Your cock is mine. Is that fair?” She squeezed, pulled.

  “Very fair,” he gasped. “If I get your cunt. Including your clit, mind.” She felt his hand wiggling its way between them, gently pressing her lower lips apart and sliding inside her.

  “What’s yours is mine,” Imena said. “I’m going to put mine into yours.”

  “I can agree with that,” Maxime said. “Collaborative effort.”

  Much, much later, Imena woke to darkness. She’d trapped Maxime beneath her outflung arm and leg. He was awake, watching her.

  In the dark and silence and gentle rocking of her ship, it was easier to speak. “I’m afraid,” she said. “What if we can’t do it?”

  “We’ll work at it,” Maxime said. “You watched your parents. Until they were killed, I watched mine. We can do this. I won’t let you fail.”

  “Then I won’t let you fail, either.”

  Imena didn’t so much chafe at being landside as at the fact that while she was staying in the castle, everyone wished to consult with her about plans for her wedding. She would rather have jumped the cutlass and been done with it. If only they’d thought to do that back on the island. Life would be much simpler if they’d just stayed on the island. Well, aside from the occasional sex competition.

  She wanted this marriage. She wanted a life together with Maxime. The idea of being called Your Grace frightened her a little, but she imagined she would grow used to it, as she’d grown used to being called Captain. When she thought of the challenges ahead, she welcomed them.

  It was only the wedding she dreaded.

  Today, she was discussing mechanics with her officers and Maxime. She sorely missed Chetri, who had a gift for cutting to the heart of matters and hauling everyone else along with him. The rest of her crew seemed determined to drag the discussions out for months.

  “Why can’t we have the wedding on the ship?” the Knife asked.

  “Too small for all the guests,” Imena said.

  “We could have a smaller ceremony of our own,” Maxime said. “We could take a small cruise, perhaps an island idyll.”

  “That would require even more planning,” Imena grumbled. “Roxanne, that will be your duty. As if you didn’t already have enough to do.”

  Roxanne looked grim, the Knife delighted. Norris entered the room, followed by Alys and several more of Maxime’s young female cousins. Every one of them had a cascading armful of bright silks.

  Imena held up her hand. “No.”

  “But, Captain, this blackberry-juice purple—”

  “No.” Imena sighed. “My mother is providing the silks. In fact, Norris, you had better go and consult with her courier.”

  Maxime said, “The rest of you, too. Out!”

  Imena grabbed Roxanne’s arm. “Can you go to the docks today? See if the repainting is complete? And I’ll need a report on the shore-leave rotations.”

  Roxanne grinned down at her. “Naturally, Captain. You know, you should have just jumped the cutlass, like I did with Tessa.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” She let Roxanne go.

  The Knife said, “Am I dismissed also, Captain? I’d like to catch Norris before she goes too far. Your crew would look stunning in some of those silks.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  Alone at last. The room seemed unnaturally silent.

  Maxime closed his hands over Imena’s shoulders and massaged. She moaned and let her head fall forward. “The protocol is killing me, Maxime.”

  “Luckily, you don’t have to do it all yourself, as I have tried to impress upon you before this. I have a staff. A large staff.”

  “A very long, thick staff,” she said, then laughed until she snorted.

  Maxime dragged her over to a sofa, pulled her onto his lap and proceeded to kiss her witless. She retaliated. Sometime later, they curled together on the rug, leaning their backs against the sofa. Imena said, “Sylvie carried the invitations to Her Grace Camille and Henri, didn’t she?”

  “She left yesterday.”

  “Do you think they’ll arrive before my mother and father?”

  “It seems likely. You did instruct Chetri to take his time about fetching them.” Maxime nuzzled her neck.

  “He can only dawdle on the way there. Coming back to the duchies, he’ll have my mother staring at every move he makes.” Imena was extremely grateful she wasn’t transporting her parents herself.

  “I still think Camille and Henri and the baby will be here first.”

  “Good.” Imena relaxed against Maxime’s shoulder.

  “Do you think Camille would be willing to take charge of my mother?”

  Maxime kissed her with enthusiasm. “You see! You’re already a diplomat! I told you what a wonderful duchess you would make!”

  Imena patted his chest. “Well. Then in return, I’ll make a sailor out of you.” She grinned. “Perhaps we’ll start with the basics of scrubbing the captain. What do you think?”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Ann, Ef, John, Judith, Steve and Ricardo, of the Nameless Workshop, critiqued for me, and their comments helped me make this novel a good deal more coherent and complex than it might have been were I left to my own devices. Lorrie, as always, provided sanity, small monkeys and pie. Charlotte brainstormed with her usual brilliance. Sherwood told me about invaluable research books, and I was further inspired by the sea-battle scenes in her Inda series. Arionrhod and Kyle Cassidy contributed their names in support of charitable causes. Nif and Jen patiently listened to me relate the entire plot when this novel was still nascent. Special thanks go to Lara Hyde for okaying the pirate-eating sharks (and for the ice cream) and to Susan Swinwood for her insightful revision notes. And finally, thanks to the production folks at Harlequin for yet another beautiful book.

  Further information may be found at my website, www.victoriajanssen.com.

  THE DUKE & THE PIRATE QUEEN

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-4260-9

  Copyright © 2010 by Victoria Janssen

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