A Pirate's Conquest

by Vivienne Cox

  Alexander Cruise.

  “Alexander…”

  “Ah, gods, he knows me. Jamie, please…”

  But the colour and sound faded back to grey, and he didn’t know who Jamie was, or what he was being begged for.

  Darkness. Then:

  The water was warm as a hot spring. He dived down, swimming hard, the water streaming past his face and hair, sliding along the naked length of his body. There was something ahead. Someone. He kicked toward it. Laughter, trapped in the current, drifted back to him and he swum on. A fish? No. Something else. He laughed too, water bubbling from his mouth as he darted around coral and reef, to see…

  A tail and fins, long arms and long hair weaving patterns in the water. A mermaid. He laughed again and swam closer through the heat, and as he swam she turned, and he saw it was not a maid, but a man, his tail long and scaled purple and gold, his eyes dark as obsidian. A man indeed. Slim, supple as water-born seaweed, beguiling as the sweetest night. He swam onward, to the beckoning arms. One touched him, and he lifted his eyes. Seeing. Seeing the wicked smile and dark invitation. Seeing the coins and jewels that were strung in the skeined and plaited hair.

  Alexander.

  The merman smiled and, the sea like silver around him, leaned in for a kiss.

  Pain!

  He knew he screamed, and was sorry. He’d vowed to be silent, whatever crimes they committed on his body. Shuddering, he felt himself pushed under water and knew this for a new torture. Cold. Colder than he’d ever been. He shuddered, striking out blindly, amazed he was not tethered.

  “Hold him!”

  No, they wouldn’t… He fought, gasping as he broke the surface and found air.

  “James, stop, please!”

  That voice.

  “James, we need to get your fever down, please, please don’t fight!”

  He stilled, worn into nothingness by the sudden absence of fear. After a little time, when he felt hands holding him, soothing him, he opened his eyes. “Alexander…”

  There was water on the thin, lovely face.

  “I’m James.” It was a surprise, but it felt right.

  “Aye.” Alexander was laughing. Thomas frowned. Or was he crying? “That you are.” His hands were like brands, so hot on his frozen skin, a kiss like fire on his mouth. Suddenly he was shivering again. “Stubbs, help me lift ‘im.”

  The world turned. Lifted, lowered, he lay and watched the rigging play against the sky as he was wrapped in something soft. He’d had a fever. The merman wasn’t real.

  Or maybe he was. Thomas felt himself being raised up, and knew he was held in Alexander’s arms.

  The merman smiled at him. And not all the water was tears.

  ::::

  Chapter 12

  Alexander watched the sky turn from darkest lapis to oldest rose, while the horizon shimmered like a silver ribbon that led from night to day. Proud, a thousand yards out in deep water, sat his love, and he smiled at her, glowing with pride at the way she sat the waves, at the sweet curve of her bow and the sheer loveliness of her lines.

  In the half-gloaming he saw the boat being lowered, Cotton’s parrot darting above it, her green plumage the only colour in the world apart from the morning sky.

  As the boat slowly neared, he squeezed Thomas’s shoulder gently. “Hey…” Muscles tensed under his hand. “Shush, it’s only the boat come for us.”

  When he straightened, Alexander let his arm slide away, though he watched as Thomas rubbed his hands clumsily over his eyes and peered out to sea, his face white and strained. “Yours?”

  “Aye.” Grunting at the stiffness of his joints, Alexander stood up, stretching with various mutterings and groans. “Damp sand, bloody stuff hates me.”

  “And me.” Thomas had gathered himself to stand, but with one hand wrapped about his middle had paused, seemingly breathless.

  “It’s all worse for being still so long.”

  “So it seems.” His head bowed, he half sat, one fist clutching hard at the sand.

  Wincing in sympathy, Alexander crouched by his side. “Here, let me help.” Holding out a blistered hand, he waited for Thomas to take it and, managing successfully not to wince, pulled him slowly to his feet.

  The boat was almost upon them. Stubbs was waving, grinning like a monkey. One arm around Thomas’s waist, Alexander led them both out into the shallows, the surf breaking around them, climbing their legs, the sea wrapping itself around them, cold as a whore’s heart.

  “Alexander, good to see ye!”

  “And you, Mister Stubbs.” Alexander tossed his sword to the waiting man. “Give the Admiral a hand, will ye?”

  With Alexander hoisting him up and Stubbs pulling him in, Thomas landed in the boat. In an instant Alexander was beside him, dripping water everywhere as he settled at his side, one arm around his shoulders to hold him up, though it was clear he was hardly aware of what was going on around him. Stubbs was staring doubtfully. “Thomas. ‘e were a lieutenant last time we met. Looks a bit diff’rent now. Is ‘e alright?”

  “Nothing a few weeks at sea won’t cure.”

  “That’ll do it, though you knows it be bad luck to have a navy man on board.” Stubbs nodded. He took a flask from his pocket and offered it to Alexander. “Though I won’t be holdin’ it against ye, and I also thought you might be a needin’ of this.”

  “You are without doubt a wonderful man.” Alexander took the flask as if it were heaven encapsulated. Sitting next to Thomas as the rowers turned the boat, he uncapped it and sniffed the heady contents blissfully. “Jamie, this’ll warm ye up.”

  But Thomas was only half aware, and as Alexander watched his eyes slid closed and his body went limp. Holding him more tightly, Alexander cursed and pulled the coat more closely about his shoulders. “Stubbs, row faster man!”

  “Come on, boys, put yer heathen backs into it!” The small boat surged forward, and very slowly the Siren grew larger, until quite suddenly they were up against her side.

  A net ladder was cast down to them. Sighing, Alexander slapped his sword and hat into Stubbs hands, and simply lifted the unconscious man over his shoulder. Steadying him, Alexander took hold of the rope and began to climb, hand over hand, rung by rung. When the Admiral’s weight was at last lifted from his shoulder, he held quite still, breathing hard as a prize-fighter after ten rounds. Gathering himself he managed another rung, then blessedly someone took pity on him and he was hauled up and over the side, landing in an ungainly heap at AnaMaria’s feet.

  “Welcome back, Captain.”

  “AnaMaria.”

  He patted the planks under his hands, whispering a greeting to his other love. She pranced on the waves and he knew she was glad he was home.

  “Exciting trip?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She looked him up and down, her lip curling. “Aye. At least ye got your Admiral. He should make a fine lot o’ ransom.”

  “Oh, yes.” He smiled sweetly, and crawled to his feet. “Absolutely, aye, I agree. And so that he don’t lose any value, as it were, I think we should look after him, don’t you?”

  “I was thinking of puttin’ ‘im in the brig. Do the bastard good…”

  “AnaMaria, he’s been locked up for three months!”

  She sniffed. “Not on this ship ‘e ain’t.”

  “And he won’t be now. He can sleep in my cabin – he’ll be no bother!” Another winning smile. Alexander waved his hands at her, then jumped as Stubbs walked past, slamming his hat and sword into his arms.

  “Mark my words, ‘e’ll be bad luck. Navy man on a pirate ship…” Changing tack, Stubbs tutted ominously.

  AnaMaria glared at him. “Aye, an’ you think the same o’ me, you old fool!”

  “Aye.” Stubbs sniffed loudly. “Can I have me flask back, Cap’n?”

  “Oh, yes.” Alexander relinquished it. “Right. I’ll be in my cabin. With James – er, the Admiral.”

  “James, is it?” Sharp as a whip, AnaMaria p
ounced on the slip. “I see…”

  Sighing, Alexander decided the best way was just to ignore them all. “Stubbs, give me hand to get him below. AnaMaria, get us underway soon as you can. There might be someone after us…”

  “Oh good.” She bared her teeth at him. “Just what I wanted, another enemy.”

  Stubbs walked back. “Another enemy? That’s bad luck too.”

  “Now, old man, for once I agree with ye.” AnaMaria nodded firmly.

  “It’ll be worse than bad luck if he catches us, so look lively.”

  “Aye, Cap’n!” She screwed her hat more securely on her head, and went off, shouting orders.

  He gestured to a crew member. “Take these.” He passed over his effects. “Bring them down when we’re done, right?” The thin, cropped head nodded.

  Stubbs was staring down with mild curiosity at where Thomas lay sprawled on the deck. “Ye think e’ll live?”

  “Stubbs, if he don’t, then I’m going back there and mark my words, Black O’Connell will be very unhappy.”

  “Oh, so that’s how the land lies… Either that or the ransom is a very big one.” He leered happily.

  Alexander sighed. “Just shut up and take his legs.”

  “Just thinkin’ out loud, Cap’n.”

  “Don’t.” He grunted as they lifted Thomas off the deck. “And don’t drop ‘im either.”

  “Rules, rules and more bloody rules. I could’ve stayed in the Navy, ye knows that?”

  “Yeah, and a likely story.” They passed through the doors to the stateroom, easing the limp body past the ornate furniture, Alexander walking backwards, head twisted around to see where he was going, heading past another curtained doorway into his bedroom. He pushed the door open and backed inside, walking to the bed and carefully laying the dead-weight down upon it.

  His back spiked at him as he straightened, and he rubbed it hard to ease the ache. “Stubbs, thanks.”

  The gnarled face creased with pleasure. “For ye, Alexander, anything that don’t involve women, ye knows that.”

  “Or Navy men, I thought.”

  “Well, I’ll be reconsidering that one. Besides, Cap’n, you can always prove me wrong. Or he can, when he wakes up, though I reckon ‘e won’t be happy for a while.” He whistled, soundlessly. “What did they do to ‘im?”

  “Too much, Stubbs, too much.”

  The old man sighed. “What can I bring ye?”

  “Hot water. Lots of it. I’ve all I’ll need otherwise in here.”

  The ship moved suddenly, and Stubbs looked up. “We’ll be out at sea soon enough. I’ll be back, quick as I can.” He paused in the door way and taking Alexander’s effects and coat from the boy, he laid it all on the floor before closing the door in his wake.

  The cabin was home. Alexander blessed the person who had put candles and water at the bedside. He poured a cupful out and drank it down, gasping as his thirst was quenched. Slowly placing the cup back, he stood for a moment, looking at his Admiral. The moment held, drew out, then brisk and efficient he prepared, stripping off his belt and unwinding his sash, stowing various pouches and packets in a high chest as he did so. Folding the long length of fabric over a chair, he went back to the bed.

  For a long moment he just stood there, pausing again, looking down at the still figure. Then he pulled off his waistcoat and, tossing it onto the chair, rolled back his sleeves. His hands were stiff, but not too bad, considering. With a shrug he peeled the wrist guards off along with the scraps of singed fabric that were still wound around his palms and fingers, dropping it all on the floor.

  Thomas’s soaked breeches were tough to undo, and just as difficult to remove. Alexander was half way through tugging them off narrow hips when Thomas coughed and, as he came to, jerked to one side in alarm.

  Hands not quite touching the tense shoulders, Alexander spoke reassuringly: “James, it’s all right. We’re safe!”

  “What?” Bewildered, wide-eyed, Thomas stared up at him, then slowly relaxed into the pillows. “Alexander.”

  “Aye.”

  “Where are we?”

  “In my cabin.” Alexander took Thomas’s reaching hand and held it. The skin was cold, though his face was already beginning to show signs of fever. “We need to get those wet clothes off you.”

  “We’re on your ship?” He frowned in confusion.

  “And she’s taking us out to sea.”

  “So we are safe.”

  “We’re away from Hispaniola. The Siren will look after us now.” Alexander reached for the cup. “Here, drink this.” Shifting, he knelt on the floor and helped Thomas to sit forward, holding the cup to his mouth. He drank thirstily, water escaping his mouth and trickling down his chest.

  Alexander replaced the beaker. “Your breeches are soaked, they need to come off.” Patiently, Alexander waited until Thomas nodded. Then he climbed back to his feet. “Lift your hips.” It was far easier with the sick man’s co-operation. As the wet fabric peeled away from cold skin, Alexander took stock of the fresh injuries. More bruises, some clearly those where fingers had dug deep into flesh. A series of lacerations down his left thigh, more on his belly. Anger burned in him. Anger at the men who had abused Thomas so, and also at himself, at his failure to find a way out before all this new damage had been inflicted.

  A knock sounded loudly at the door, startling them both. “Hang on.” Quickly, Alexander pulled a sheet over Thomas’s nudity, and went to the outside door. He opened it just long enough to take in a bucket of steaming water and a jug of fresh, before closing it back, not letting Stubbs inside.

  All his equipment for physicing was in a box. He dragged it out and pulled it into the smaller cabin, setting it next to the water, opening the polished wood lid and hoping there was enough of use inside. Taking a deep breath, he smiled at Thomas with a confidence he deeply wished was more than a mask, and pulled the bucket near.

  The water stung his hands, and he washed them first, before taking up a clean rag and soaking it thoroughly. “I seem to be cleaning you up a lot of late.”

  Thomas nodded, hissing softly as the cloth soaked dried blood from his face. “I am most grateful.”

  Alexander winced in sympathy. “I know. Now be quiet.” He worked the cloth around the cracked and battered mouth, working up to clean a deep gash over one swelling-narrowed eye. Seeing the damage so close made his belly clench tightly. Thomas had been lucky not to lose the eye. Somehow his nose had remained unbroken too. Under the bruises and grime Thomas had a fine face. There, better to be distracted by that than to think on what had happened. A fine face and fine body. He’d look forward to it all being in good health. Which it would be. He brought a pot of salve from his physic box and opened it up, taking some on his finger and smearing it into open cuts and grazes. Thomas’s eyes flickered open and a frown set two lines between his dark brows.

  “What…?”

  “It’ll help you heal.” Leaning over the still man, Alexander let his fingers sooth. “One of the Islanders told me about it. It works, I promise ye.”

  The frown cleared, and he nodded slightly, his eyes falling shut almost immediately.

  “I’ll get ye a nice bath in a day or so.” Touching the prone man, Alexander felt the shiver that racked through him. “Nice, eh?”

  “God, yes. I would be most deeply in your debt.” Thomas swallowed, his head turning to one side, his over-bright eyes just focussing. “More than I am already.”

  “No debt, Jamie. Just an accord, remember?”

  “Yes. I remember.” He spoke softly, slowly, sounding drugged by exhaustion and pain.

  “Good, now be quiet.”

  While the Siren sang around him and they headed deep out to sea, Alexander worked on. After a little while he paused to light fresh candles on the bedside, and with their illumination set to again. Constantly rinsing the cloth, working fast so as to keep the water warm as possible, he cleaned salt stains and blood, dirt and worse, using a sheet to dry the areas he had do
ne. He was very careful around the deeply bruised belly, careful not to touch too hard, or press too deep as he swept the cloth over the warming skin. Further down he was careful too. Thomas’s sac was swollen, from being kicked or twisted maybe, there was no way of telling, but his own balls lifted in appalled sympathy.

  Muttering softly he eased Thomas onto his side and cleaned the weals that wrapped his back and ribs and arse. Shivering himself, biting his lip, he washed into the cleft. No blood. Though would that extra pain have mattered now? He wasn’t sure, and was just glad as damage there could kill. But then so could the fever that was visibly taking hold. For by the time Alexander was wiping the long feet dry, James was almost insensible, his skin flushed and patchy.

  The bed was wide enough for two and, though a tall man, James looked small in its depths. Alexander pulled the covers over him, and smoothed the crimson blankets. He stared wearily at the flushed, insensible face, then with hands that hardly obeyed him, he clumsily stripped off his own clothes.

  Lastly, with a frown, he remembered to put the bucket of fouled water outside. Someone would dea with it. AnaMaria was in charge of everything now.

  With a weary sigh he peered out at the sky. In the time he’d been working it had become full morning. No wonder he was weary. Closing the doors he locked them fast. Light-headed, he walked back to his cabin. Light was spilling in through the high, mullioned windows. He snuffed the guttering candles, pinching the wicks between finger and thumb. Feeling old as Methuselah and far more tired, he drank some water, then carefully slipped between the sheets, gasping as his own warmth met Thomas’s chilled flesh.

  With a deep sigh, he wrapped himself gently around the sleeping man, and in less than a second was deeply asleep.

  ::::

  Chapter 14

  James Thomas awoke to the feel of a very warm body curled against him. As feelings went it was pleasant, and quite novel. He had rarely slept with a lover, rarely had the luxury of a bed wide enough or time long enough to indulge such hedonism.