Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge Read online

  “Blast it, Bran! This woman, she’s of the Samuel Montgomery brood?”

  Blackthorn shrugged. “Daughter-in-law.”

  “How did you—”

  “It’s not how it seems.” He shot a look over to Rathbone. The scug was hunched over his ale, his jaw set tight, cutty-eyeing Blackthorn. Blackthorn should take the bastard outside and plug his fist into his cribbage-faced mug. “The details are unimportant.”

  “So you’re hitting Flynn in his coffers. You’ll send word to Montgomery’s lawyer in Nassau announcing you have the woman and you’ll release her unharmed, but only if the governor will issue the pardon.”

  Blackthorn avoided thinking too much on Elyssa’s release. He never thought of himself as a man who could get high in the ropes over a woman. Yet he grappled with long forgotten emotions and visions of a smiling angel. The beast he’d cultivated over the years chanted unthinkable tactics in his mind, twining around his pirating creed—take all that he may. He was strong enough to bury those wicked ideas. But just barely.

  “A pretty solid plan, wouldn’t you say?”

  “If Flynn refuses?”

  “I will expect a king’s price for her safe return.” And return her, he would. He had to, for her own safety.

  “’Tis a precarious perch you sit upon.”

  “As do you for coming here.”

  “What’s life,” Christensen grinned, “without a little excitement among brothers?”

  “I’ll drink a hearty one to that.” He clanked his cup with Christensen.

  Cross words interrupted their toast. Mac approached Rathbone and slammed his hands down onto Rathbone’s table, spouting curses. Accusations and threats over Elyssa lobbed between the men. Tension wound tight as a windlass.

  “So that’s how you happened upon the girl,” Christensen said, overhearing the squabble. “Dressed as a lad, was she? And here I thought you’d turned into a heartless kidnapper.” He was clearly amused by Blackthorn’s acquisition.

  “Damn all. My reputation is compromised.” They shared a chuckle and another drink.

  “Annabelle wants to find you a wife, have you settle down. She hates the thought of you—” Don’t say lonely. “—spending time in a brothel. She has a friend she wants you to make acquaintances with.” Christensen wore a crooked grin. “I met the young woman. She’s quite handsome, and a good huntswoman, too.” He winked. “I know how much you like spirited maidens.”

  “Ha! You tell Annabelle I’m all right and I’m in no need for a companion of any sort.”

  “Oh? Did a woman capture the impervious Captain Blackthorn’s heart?”

  Stormed was a better assessment.

  “Are…are you smiling?”

  Was he?

  “Ho, ho! A woman did get to you. Who is she? I’ve got to meet the lass who can make you enamored.”

  Blackthorn no longer smiled. “I’m not enamored. Besides, my lot is cast. She is unattainable and a hazard.”

  “That’s not stopped you before.” Christensen’s mouth fell open and he blew out a sigh of realization. “She’s the Montgomery girl, isn’t she?”

  “It matters not.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  There was that look. That look Christensen failed miserably to hide. Pity for what had become of Blackthorn. Blackthorn wasn’t destined to have a life like Christensen. He had accepted it, but his friend had not.

  “I’ll speak no more of it,” Blackthorn said.

  Rathbone shot up from his seat, knocking back his chair. The argument between the scab and Mac mounted.

  “That one,” Blackthorn nodded to Rathbone, “keep an eye lifting on him. He’s a murderous wretch preying on women.”

  “You don’t say.” Christensen stared hard at the bastard. “Be a shame should he find trouble among my soldiers.”

  “Aye, a shame.”

  Rathbone took a menacing step forward, nose to nose with Mac.

  “I best put an end to that,” Blackthorn said, rising from the table. “Don’t need my lad stirring up trouble for Jackson. Drop your anchor, mate, we’ll finish our drinks and talk of finer things.”

  Blackthorn grabbed the men each by a shoulder and shoved them apart. “You boys need to ease off and mind your noise. They’ll be no fighting here. Mac, go sit with the others and get yourself foxed.”

  Mac slid his gaze from Blackthorn to Rathbone, hate twisting his lips.

  “Tumble to it, son,” Blackthorn commanded.

  Mac jostled past Rathbone and joined a group of Sanctum lads.

  “You.” Blackthorn swiveled to stand directly into front of Rathbone. “I advise you to sheer off lest I pipe-clay into you.”

  Rathbone struggled to keep his fury in check. That was evident in the vein throbbing upon his temple. He cast a glance to Christensen who leaned back and rested his hand on his saber.

  “A word of counsel,” Blackthorn added. “Don’t let me see your arse again. I’m likely to make good on that judgment I promised you.”

  “Arsehole.” Rathbone ground out his declaration through his rotting teeth.

  Blackthorn guffawed. “You’re too kind.” His smile gone, he gave Rathbone one last order. “Now, see your way out.”

  The wharf rat turned on his heel and stalked out the tavern, slamming the door behind him. Somehow, slinking in the back of his mind, Blackthorn knew that wouldn’t be the last time he saw Rathbone.

  “Should I be worried, Kipp?”

  Elyssa couldn’t sit still in the longboat. She persistently turned around to get a better look at the island of scallywags.

  “Nay, lass.” Kipp rocked forward and back, slightly flicking his wrists, with each dip of the oars. “’Tis not safe here for a lass, but the capt’n won’t let harm come to ya.”

  She wasn’t sure what to think about that.

  Sparkling azure water gave way to clear crystalline surf gently caressing brilliant white sands and dark flat rocks. Beyond the beach, large leafy green shrubs and trees swayed with the ocean breezes passing through. Yellow flowers dotted the landscape. A long line of brown pelicans soared silently overhead. The coastline was beautiful, to be sure. But beauty can be dangerous.

  She upturned her face to the warmth of the sun. It felt good to be out of the confines of the captain’s quarters.

  “I want to thank you again, Kipp. I was not obliged to have my request for fresh air granted.” She had merely wanted to be allowed on deck to stretch her legs and let the sun’s rays dry her clammy skin. Kipp was ever so kind to ask for the permission to accompany her and, by some miracle, Bran had agreed. But instead of taking a walk around the Sanctum, she’d be taking a stroll along the beach with the captain.

  Perhaps it wasn’t the cutthroats nesting on the island that made her insides braid into knots. Perhaps it was finding herself alone with Bran again.

  “He was gonna let ya outta there sooner or later.” He leaned in as if imparting a secret. “Ya gone and charmed the capt’n, ya did.” Kipp winked, and Elyssa couldn’t stop her tittering grin.

  “You think so?”

  “Ask him yerself.” He tipped his chin to the pier.

  Bran stood at the end of the dock looking every bit as dash and daring as the day he seized the Maraville—dressed in his long black dress coat, long hair tied back, and strapped with a bandolier of pistols. ’Twas good she was sitting, for he made her weak-kneed.

  “Ah, Mister Kipp. My gratitude for bringing Mrs. Montgomery ashore.”

  Elyssa climbed the ladder up and took Bran’s outstretched hand to help her on the pier.

  “Pleasure’s mine, Capt’n,” Kipp said. “But I’ll be glad to take my leisure now, if ya don’t mind.”

  “Of course, mate. Go get lost in your rudder.”

  Elyssa thanked Kipp again, and taking Bran’s elbow, left the first mate tying up the boat.

  Bran led them to the end of the pier and turned away from the cluster of buildings. He took a foot path running along the outer edge of
the beach. The path gently sloped upward, but Bran kept his pace slow.

  “This trail leads to a lookout up in the outcropping,” Bran said. “’Tis a grand view I want to show you.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Elyssa was certain she would bust at the seams with the many things she wanted to say. ’Twas foolish, but she wanted to share with him all her giddy feelings about him. She stole a glance up at his handsome profile. He, too, seemed as if he had something on his mind. Was it her? Could she dare ask? She decided to wait a little longer.

  They strolled past an old cemetery overgrown with weeds and the shell of a crumbling hurricane-ravaged home. Bran explained bits of history behind Parlay Atoll. The rogues squatting there, both past and present, were men to be feared, violent and blood-thirsty. But in listening to Bran, she realized not all were the devil’s spawn. Many had adventuresome tales, interesting lives, and a strong sense of duty to one another. Fascinating.

  The ease with which he talked lulled her. Elyssa could wrap herself up in the comfort of their casual conversation. Being with him, it felt so … right. Excitement tickled within her.

  “Here we are,” Bran said.

  ’Twas more of a small ledge wedged between two palm trees than a lookout, but the view stole her breath. The glittering sea gave way to various shades of stunning blue. The beach below, as white as fresh snow on a crisp winter morning, curved along with the coastline, broken only by patches of black rock. They weren’t so high that the steady murmurs of breaking surf didn’t reach her ears. Islands rose from the horizon, much closer than she anticipated.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Elyssa met his stare. She had that fluttering feeling in her stomach again.

  He blinked and dropped his elbow from her hold. “That island there,” he pointed to a large mass in the northwest. “That is New Providence.” He leaned against a tree, plucking a red hibiscus from a nearby bush. “That is where you will find Montgomery’s office.”

  “You’re releasing me?”

  Twirling the flower’s stem between his fingertips, he said, “Soon.”

  She should be overjoyed. The pirate master was setting her free. And yet, Elyssa didn’t want to be set free. Nay, that wasn’t true. She wanted freedom, freedom to choose where to lay her head at night, and with whom. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to stay with you?”

  Blackthorn’s brow furrowed. “I’d say you’ve been tippling in my rum stash.”

  “I speak true, Bran. You’re all I think about.” Oh Lord, did her tongue run amok? She clamped her teeth onto her lip before she began to sound like an infatuated child.

  “You don’t know what you want, Elyssa.” He threw the flower to the ground. “You’ve been at sea too long and only recently lost your husband. You’re frightened of what awaits you out there.”

  He rolled to his shoulder on the tree and faced the ocean. Why was he angry at her? She steadied a fluster of humiliation with a deep breath of admission.

  “You may be right,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m to do once I’m in Nassau. I’ll have to send word to Lord Montgomery of Dobie and it will be months before I know if I’ll be given an allowance. So yes, I’m a wee bit frightened. With you, I’m not so scared.”

  “You’ve cracked your skull.”

  She put her hand on his arm, warm and solid. “I would like more time with you, Bran.”

  He tilted his chin, looking down upon her. Irritation, pity, lust, she couldn’t decipher what was going on in his coppery eyes, but they were alive with emotion. He pushed off the tree. “You don’t know what you are asking.” He annunciated each word slowly.

  She rose to her tiptoes, lessening the distance between their gazes, between the doorways of their souls, so that he might see her heart. “I know exactly what I’m asking.” By saints, she did.

  “Damn it, woman,” he growled.

  Bran snatched Elyssa and pulled her tight against his chest. She gasped, wetting her parted lips with her tongue. He was hungry for those lips, more hungry than he had ever been. He had no strength of will left. It had been scuttled and ruthlessly sunk to the depths of the ocean with her last declaration. “Damn it.” With no more control, he crushed his mouth to hers.

  She muddled his mind, and for that moment, Bran did not care about consequence. He’d be the pirate he was meant to be. He’d take what he could, what she would give, while there was still time left. And why not? The good Lord knew the sands of Bran’s hourglass were running out. Hell was waiting.

  Gently he guided Elyssa to the ground. He broke from their kiss and gazed upon her. The dying sunlight was captured in the amber strands of her tresses. A smile most innocent embellished her plump, flushed lips. She was more enchanting lying beneath him in the windswept grass than a chest full of precious gems and gleaming gold.

  “I know exactly what I want, Bran. Don’t make me beg. ’Twould be a dreadful sight.” Elyssa cupped her hand behind his neck, pulling him down for a sensual kiss. Earthy scents of crushed foliage mingled with French soap. Sticky and sweet, their lips clung together for a brief stretch as she slowly released him.

  By thunder, Blackthorn could take no more. He sat back on his heels and removed his coat and both bandoliers of pistols. “What a bewitching spell you have cast upon me. I have never come across anything like you, Elyssa. Not in all my wretched life.”

  “And you never will again,” she smirked.

  Somewhere between madness and rapture he succumbed and descended upon her. Tugging her bodice down, a seam popped. It took all his might to slow down, to not rip her clothes. The beast in him wanted to tear away every scrap of clothing she wore from her body. Control, Bran. Maintain your control.

  With her breasts bare from restraints, he took her taut bosom into his mouth. He flicked his tongue across the hard peak. Her fingers threaded tight through his hair, her breathing quickened. Christ, her sighs pleased him in a way he did not understand. He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he.

  Desperate, but not willing to leave her delectable breasts yet, he grabbed fistfuls of her dress, pulling, tugging the folds—too many damn folds—up around her waist. She must’ve felt the same desperation, for Elyssa helped, grabbing her own bunches of fabric. The smooth naked skin of her inner thigh was sleek as alabaster stone against his palm. He surrendered her breast for a taste of her leg.

  Blackthorn nudged her legs open and planted himself between them. For one long moment, he gazed upon her exposed mound. What treasures she beheld there. He admired the view, migrating to her puckered nipples and still further to her white teeth gnawing that bottom lip. He was certain his lass had not experienced what he was about to do next. Worry lines drew at her brow.

  He kissed her thigh very near the heat of her core.

  “Bran.”

  He kissed the other thigh and dragged his tongue closer.

  “Bran. Oh!”

  She tasted of warmth, fleshy and fresh, a wine of the gods. He suckled and kissed her folds, swirling his tongue on her nub. Moans and references to all that was holy encouraged him further. Her hands alternated from grabbing his head to slamming down to snatch clumps of grass. Elyssa rotated her hips to the flick of his tongue until her thighs tensed and her knees clamped around his head. She screamed out. Music, the most divine music he had ever heard.

  Urgent need pressed tight against his trousers. He needed release. Blazes! He needed to be inside her. He’d have her scream again, soon.

  Blackthorn kissed the inside of her thigh again before prowling up her body. Hovering above her, he grinned. “How did you like that, my angel?”

  Elyssa struggled to catch her breath. “Oh my…Bran… I’ve never… You…”

  He gave her a reprieve and kissed her. The heady taste on his lips shared with her unraveled him. His cock grew harder, if that were possible. With one hand, and faster than the drop of an anchor, he freed himself from his breeches.

  “I d
on’t deserve the gift you bestow, here, with me,” he said. The wet flesh of her core readily received him and he eased inside. “But I will cherish it always.” She said his name on a wispy breath arching her back as he slid deeper within.

  Her glassy eyes gazed at him, so full of lov—desire. “As will I,” she said.

  Taking both her hands, he laced his fingers with hers. In and out, he rocked. Slowly at first, then as a ship sails into tumultuous seas, he picked up speed, pitching and bucking along to Elyssa’s throaty voluptuous cries. With each thrust, the pressure in his cock built. He bristled, smoldered, ready to explode from the sensitivity of pumping into her.

  She squeezed his hands, flung her legs around his waist, and cried out. The friction she created coupled with her quivering muscles drove him blind. He bit out a growl on one final jab and erupted. He was rendered immobilized, unable to do anything more than collapse into the arms of the woman who had stowed away into his heart, until the waves of pleasures ceased.

  Stowed away into his heart? ’Twas unwise to entertain ideas of ardent affairs. Regret would be his due. Ah, but not for long.

  Elyssa craned her neck up to kiss him. “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.

  He answered by taking her mouth, chaste and tender and then withdrawing.

  Words were not spoken as they redressed. But Blackthorn found it comforting as none were needed. Together they sat on the bluff and looked out over the horizon. She moved close, and before he realized it, he had wrapped his arm around her waist. Aye, being with her was too comfortable.

  “Watch the sky,” he said. “The colors of sunsets in the Caribbean are the most beautiful you’ve ever seen.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at him and smile.

  Shades of yellows and oranges along the horizon’s edge gave way to dark hues of pinks. Purple tinged the dawdling clouds. Rays of light speared out from behinds the billows.

  “Amazing,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder. “These last two hours, with you, have been amazing.”

  He agreed. ’Twould be hard to top this afternoon. But he bloody well would try. “Tonight, love, I will reclaim my bed. And you will be in it. Naked.”