A Pirate's Conquest

by Vivienne Cox

  There was nothing of comfort inside. Light filtered in through a series of windows, showing a bare room, foursquare, with another door closed on its other side. Slowly, Alexander lowered Thomas onto the bare, dust covered floorboards and watched him lean back, panting. He was almost breathless himself as he straightened. “I’ll go and extinguish the torch.”

  “Don’t let them see!” The command was sudden, sharp; fear, inadequately hidden, echoed through the words.

  Alexander nodded. “I won’t.”

  He walked cautiously back into the church. There was only silence there now. He checked around, and then doused the dying flame in a puddle of foul water. The darkness cloyed around him. After a while his eyes slowly adjusted, and he went, sure-footed as a cat, back up to the tower.

  Thomas was leant back against the wall, legs outstretched. He was watching the door, a shaft of bright moonlight spearing down from the window. He nodded as Alexander walked in.

  “I wondered if you’d be back.”

  “Admiral, I am honestly and truthfully not going to betray you – least of all to a blackguard like O’Connell.”

  “But he’s one of you. And I’m…” He gave a half shrug. “…not.”

  “I may be a pirate, Admiral, but I do have standards, so please don’t be confusing me with the likes of Black O’Connell. Ever.”

  “Principles?”

  “Nah, I just get this nasty, queasy stomach at murdering women and children.”

  “What about men?”

  “No problems there!” He sighed as Thomas’s expression slipped from sneering to confused. “Look, I’m teasin’ you!”

  “Oh. Really?”

  “I don’t go around slaughtering folk willy-nilly!”

  “How do you do it, then?”

  Alexander paused consideringly. “You know, I try not to. I may be a dirty weasely pirate with a taste for shiny gold and sparkly jewels – and I may not care who those nice bright things belong to as long as they end up being mine – but I don’t murder for ‘em. I’ve killed - same as yourself, Admiral – and I will again, but I take no pleasure in it, and those who’ve died at my hand have all deserved it, one way or another.”

  “Oh.”

  In the silence that followed, Alexander knelt at Thomas’s side and gave him a careful inspection from head to toe. “What’s up with your ribs?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Oh, aye, just like the rest of you. Come on, tell me?”

  Thomas took a long, shallow breath. “You really are most determined, aren’t you?”

  “Good, strong character trait! Now, tell me – what’s that miserable excuse for a shirt hiding?”

  “Nothing. They’re not broken, thank heavens.”

  “Let me check.”

  “Cruise, I know the feel of broken bones!”

  “Aye, and I think you might not be seeing things that well right now.” Three months in the care of none too kind gaolers – the knowledge itself was painfully woven through with memories. “How often did they beat you?”

  Thomas glared, his shoulders pushed tight against the rough plaster wall. “Too bloody often. Why, you want details?”

  The tone of voice was as much a warning as the slight tremor that ran though it. Alexander shook his head, knowing there were secrets he himself would never give up. “No. No details, if you don’t want to tell me.”

  Thomas swallowed, and then looked up, his expression bleak. “He was inventive.” “Ah, well, we’re an inventive lot.”

  The shadowed eyes closed, and he leant his head back, his cracked lips tight-closed. “God help me, I know.”

  After that he stayed silent. Alexander hesitated for a moment, and then stood up. “You need water, something to eat as well. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then we can work out a plan to get ye out of here.”

  The lips pressed more tightly together, until the dry skin gave and dark red blood flowered, trickling thinly downward. Thomas lifted a hand to wipe it away. He seemed quite resigned. “Mister Cruise, if you do intend on betraying me, please, I would count it a favour if you’d just run me through now.”

  “Stop!” Alexander put his hand on a thin shoulder and squeezed gently. “I will be back. Pirate’s honour.”

  Suddenly pain-filled green eyes were staring at him. Thomas hesitated, then spoke very softly. “In a nutshell. All my concerns in a nutshell.”

  Alexander met his gaze, and some intangible thing passed between them. Something that hurt. Taking a deep breath, Alexander shook his head. “Go to sleep, James. I’ll be back, soon as I can.”

  And he went, conscious that curious, hollow eyes followed him all the way out of sight.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  The climb back up the stairs was more awkward with what he was now carrying, than it had been with a half-conscious man. One sack slung over his shoulder, a bucket heavy in his hand, Alexander cursed softly as he opened the door to Thomas’s hidey-hole.

  “Admiral?”

  Stilling, Alexander hesitated, then closed the door softly. Curled lightly onto one side, Thomas lay asleep in the moonlight; bruised eyes closed, his breathing only faintly disturbing the ripped and stained cloth of his shirt.

  Setting the bucket down, Alexander lowered the sack and crouched at his side. Thomas looked young. Without the wig and the uniform, he looked… innocent. Startling himself with the thought Alexander laughed silently. Aye, and he himself was the Queen of Sheba, complete with entourage.

  “Admiral?”

  It took a moment, but then the still body tensed, and Thomas uncurled, attempting to sit upright. A hand under his arm helped. Alexander kept the contact for a moment.

  “You.”

  “Aye, well done. Nice to know your sight’s so excellent. Never know when it might come in handy after all.”

  “Fool.”

  “A fool with water and food.”

  Thomas groaned in relief, and reached forward as Alexander handed him a small jug. Taking it, he drank slowly, carefully, before slowly wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Only then did he look up, his dark scrutiny holding Alexander’s gaze for a long time. Then he swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “You really thought I wouldn’t be back.” In answer Thomas just shrugged. Alexander drew himself up indignantly. “I do usually do what I say I’m going to.”

  “Is that in The Code?”

  “In my own code, aye.”

  “Then I thank it, Mister Cruise.”

  Alexander looked at him reproachfully. “Captain, please.”

  “I beg your pardon, Captain.” And he smiled.

  Breath caught sharply in his lungs, Alexander smiled back. “More water?”

  “Please.”

  Thomas drank again, while Alexander watched him intently. Thin, battered, but whole enough. Nothing time wouldn’t heal, which in itself was a surprise, after all that had happened. Alexander thought about the last few months, and felt his own gut clench and his skin crawl. Three months was a long time to endure such treatment. That the Admiral had survived? Well, it showed more than the blind courage he’d already known the man possessed. All that determined obstinacy must have been a great help too.

  The jug was drained. Alexander nodded to the sack. “I’ve bread and cheese, and some clean clothes for ye.”

  Thomas handed the jug back. “I will repay you, in time, believe me.” “Admiral, if y’think I’m doing this for payment, think again.”

  “Not a reward in sight?” Somehow Thomas sounded very doubting.

  “Er, no. See, they buried you in Port Merrian a few weeks back. Well, not you, as you might be understanding, but a coffin with your hat in it. I think they felt sorry for it.”

  “My hat?”

  “All they had left. Very sad. Lots of long faces and black cloth. I believe Elmira tried to persuade them not too - the dame being convinced you still lived - but there you go. Six feet under. And they planted something pretty on the lif
ted earth, a plant with bright petals. Nice touch, don’t y’ think?”

  Thomas just looked bewildered. “But, why do they think me dead?”

  “You disappeared in Port Wiley, mate. You, a nice shiny officer of the nice shiny Royal Navy larking about in Port Wiley – where your skin was worth slightly less than a half-full bottle of rum? What would’ye think, eh? Look, have some cheese.”

  Distractedly he took it, and bit off a mouthful, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “I was there looking for you.”

  “And look, you found me – not in Port Wiley, mind. And to be truthful - as I am sure you know I always am -I kind of did the finding. Shame ye had to get so battered on the way.”

  Thomas looked down at his hands, and Alexander followed his gaze, wincing in sympathy at the shackle galls around the bony wrists. “They’ll scar, even if they don’t get infected first.” He touched a finger to one particularly raw wound on Thomas’s arm. “Come on, let me see. I brought some salve. Eat that up, mate, you need the strength.”

  “You’re a strange man, Captain Alexander Cruise.” But Thomas obeyed, biting into the cheese.

  The intense gaze was back on his face. It made Alexander shift uncomfortably. “I’m not heartless… What am I meant to do, pretend I can’t see your bruises, pretend I don’t know O’Connell’s had you prisoner for nigh on three months?”

  “Three months? What…?” Thomas almost choked.

  “That’s why they think ye dead.”

  “Lord…” Thomas looked stunned. He shifted, curling one leg up. “How come you didn’t think me dead too? After so long, well, I can hardly believe that I am alive myself.”

  “Who knows?” Alexander pulled the sack towards him and rummaged. “Maybe I thought you too stubborn to die without having caught me first? I mean, you seem quite determined to have the hanging of me.”

  “Maybe not as determined as I was.” Thomas’s voice was dry. Alexander nodded at him and mimed for him to keep eating.

  “Really? See, I knew rescuing you was a good idea.” He rummaged in the sack. “And, to follow the cheese…” His hand emerged holding a bottle. In a trice he had it uncorked and tested. “Lovely.” He smacked his lips and holding the bottle out, offered it to Thomas. “Here, it’ll do ye good.”

  Thomas shuddered delicately.

  “And it’ll dull the pain…”

  “And make my head ache in the morning.”

  “Admiral, it is morning. Well, near enough anyways. And besides, can you really sit there and tell me your head don’t ache already? Go on.” He cajoled very prettily. He knew he did. “Just a swig.”

  “Just the one?”

  “Aye.” Alexander watched Thomas drink. “There.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So polite!”

  “Manners maketh the man. Apparently.”

  “Who said that? Doesn’t seem very likely, does it! I mean, blood and bones an’ squelchy stuff makes up most men.” Alexander paused as Thomas made a face. “Oh, seen a lot of squelchy stuff of late, have ye?”

  “Yes, and a lot of it was mine, so if you don’t mind…”

  They sat drinking for a while. “You know?” Thomas said, after his fourth go at the rum bottle. “It does help.”

  “Told you.”

  “Clever pirate.”

  And nicely soused Admiral. “I think it might be time to have a little look-see at ye. Now, shirt first.”

  One arm, then the other, Alexander slowly and carefully removed the tattered garment. He hissed in sympathy when he saw the state of Thomas’s torso. He’d been whipped at some point at least two months since, for the deep cuts left by the whip were healing into scars that striped around his back and ribs. Along with the spectacular bruising that ran through an array of evil colours, the front of his body was marred with strange sores, ones that looked like burns.

  “What are these?” One long finger delicately touched at one of the marks.

  “Nothing.” Though Thomas flinched.

  Alexander looked into the pale face that seemed to have gone significantly whiter. “Tell that to the mermaids. What did they do?”

  “You do not want to know.”

  “I do.”

  He sighed. “I believe they thought it a game.”

  “None I have ever seen!”

  “No? Then I think all the better of you.”

  “Did they burn you?”

  “Captain…”

  “Aye I know. You don’t want to talk about it.” Alexander touched again, seeing that the marks were topped and tailed by small wounds, some of which were still as raw as the burns themselves. “It’d be better if I knew. So I can help.”

  “Lord, you confuse me so.” Thomas sighed deeply, and shifted uneasily. “Very well. According to your friend, it’s an old Indian trick. You force slivers of wood through pinched flesh, a process that in itself is not exactly charming, then you set fire to the wood.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “The bastard.”

  “Apparently it is considered a good game. So much so that the amusement is repeated again and again.”

  Alexander swallowed, and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I believe I am pleased to know it.”

  As Thomas sat, quite still, his head bowed, Alexander took a strip of cloth and dipped it in the water. He hesitated, then began to wipe at the grime coating the pale, bruised flesh. Thomas flinched. “Please, James. Let me?”

  “James?”

  “It’s your name. An’ you can call me Alexander.”

  “Not Captain Alexander?”

  “If I gets to call you James, then fair’s fair, right?”

  A faint smile lifted the corners of Thomas’s mouth. “Then James it is, Alexander.”

  “An accord.” He spoke softly, relishing the moment. “We have an accord, James.”

  “Aye.”

  They smiled. “Good, now I think the breeches need to go next.”

  “Tyrant.”

  Alexander growled.

  “I said, tyrant, not terrier.”

  Giggling like the fool he was, Alexander Cruise stood up. “Come on, James, breeches.”

  Sighing, Thomas stood, the process slow. He unfastened the buttons himself, and dropped the offending garment to the floor. Alexander held out a hand and kept him balanced while he stepped free of the ruined cloth. Under them he was naked. He stood quite still to let the pirate act as manservant, and Alexander was careful to be gentle. It took a while for the dirt and blood to be sluiced away, the water trickling onto the floor and into puddles that spread then slowly disappeared, taken away by the hea of the night. Thomas’s skin was the same, for even though they had nothing to dry him with, the moisture evaporated quickly.

  The damage Alexander could do little about, but the salve helped on the worst of it, on the deep cuts that lacerated skin at wrist and ankles, on the small burns that made him cold to look at and on the weals that marred the fine, long back. When he washed into the cleft of Thomas’s arse, the man only gasped, and shivered a little, from the intimacy, not from pain. And, pausing in his work, Alexander sent up a small prayer of thanks to a deity he had long thought unforgiving.

  In the silence, Thomas sighed. “They didn’t sodomise me.”

  Alexander bit his lip. “I didn’t mean for you to think… James…”

  “Please, you were being most subtle.”

  His gut a knot of emotion, Alexander Cruise stifled an overwrought laugh. “Thank you. And I’m glad. That they didn’t.”

  “As am I. I cannot think of much I would enjoy less.”

  “With any man?”

  Thomas turned, his face very still. There was a long silence, then his lips twisted sardonically. “Only with one who wished to force me.”

  “So the two of us?” Stunned at himself, Alexander bit his lip. What was he saying – what was he admitting?

  “Us?”

  In for a penny�
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  “In those moments we shared, you were completely willing.” He stepped closer, breath bated, feeling the air thick with tension, his own stomach churning with the sudden realisation of desire and attraction.

  Thomas said nothing, his thin face unreadable, but then he leant forward and brushed his lips against Alexander’s.

  The action was shocking, but so right. The bruised lips tasted of rum, underlain with the copperiness of blood. Alexander sighed and kissed him back, gentle as his whirling feelings would let him be. When the dry lips parted for him, he moaned, and pressed closer, licking, tongue to tongue, the sensation more fiery than rum, sweeter than the ripest mango. His hands came up and caught the other man by the shoulders, holding him fast, until Thomas lifted his own and brought them hesitantly around Alexander’s sides.

  There they stilled, the kiss hardly more than a light touch of skin on skin. Alexander tilted his head back, and stared into the dilated green eyes. “Is that a promise, Admiral?”

  “On my honour, Captain.”

  Alexander kissed him again, lingering in a haze of untoward delight. Ah, but James Thomas surprised him more and more. Intrigued him. It was a lovely feeling. Like coming across the Siren for the first time.

  And that thought struck him like a bolt of lightning from out of a blue sky, and he pushed away, gasping.

  “What?”

  Thomas looked so confused, and no wonder. Alexander shook his head, and tried a smile. “Sorry, getting carried away…”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “No, no!”

  Dammit, now Thomas was climbing on his dignity.

  “Just, not here,” Alexander explained, breathing deep. “But elsewhere, Admiral? I think you might tempt me to all kinds of sin.” And Alexander smiled as Thomas’s pale cheeks coloured slightly, though he still looked uncertain. Reaching out, Alexander touched his shoulder lightly, the act merely one of reassurance and comfort, his own flesh fiercely controlled. “I am not toying with you.”

  The rum, or the night, had darkened Thomas’s eyes, and it took a moment for him to meet Alexander’s. “Just confounding me, then?”