Mardon (Pirate Lords Series Book 2)

by Elizabeth Rose

  Emmaline squirmed as Mardon stared at the naked image of her. For the second time, he ran his hand over the painting. When his fingertips glided past her nipples in the painting, she tingled, feeling as if he were doing it to her in person. Then his palm covered her womanhood and her eyes closed as she felt herself come to life beneath her nun’s attire. She remembered his kiss and gentle caresses and how they’d almost made love. It was as if he were really touching her once again, even though he was only touching the painting. “Oooh,” she heard herself moan, not meaning to do that aloud.

  “What did you just say?”

  Her eyes snapped open and her palm covered her mouth as she saw Mardon looking at her in surprise. Did she really just moan aloud? “I said, oh, I could never sleep in a room with that thing staring at me.”

  The door opened and Nairnie strode in. She saw them both staring at the painting and her hands went to her hips.

  “Mardon, cover that bluidy thing up! What is the matter with ye? Ye’ve got a nun present.”

  “All right, all right,” he mumbled, going to a trunk and pulling out a blanket. When he did, something fell out and hit the floor with a clink. As the ship swayed, the object rolled over and settled at Emmaline’s feet. She bent down and picked it up, realizing it was a ring. Then her heart almost stopped as she realized it was her ring! That is, the ring that Mardon had stolen right off her finger the day he and his pirates boarded her husband’s ship.

  “Oh, there it is,” said Mardon. “I’ve been looking for that. I thought I lost it.” In two strides, he made his way across the floor and was standing right in front of her. He snatched it out of her hand, his fingers brushing against her hand, causing another flit of excitement to surge through her. What was it about this man that made her wish they’d coupled that day when she’d offered herself to him to save her life? “This belonged to the strumpet,” he said, bringing her back to her senses. Anger filled her now.

  “You stole it,” she accused him. “You probably took it right off her finger.”

  “Aye, I think I did,” he said with a chuckle. “I can’t remember exactly, but neither does it matter.” He walked over to a small chest sitting atop a swinging table. The table was held to the ceiling by ropes. He opened up the chest, dropped the ring inside and slammed the lid closed. “It’s part of my booty now.”

  “Mardon, are ye goin’ to cover up that blasted paintin’ or stand here all day talkin’ about booty?” asked Nairnie.

  “It’s a shame to cover up this voluptuous beauty,” said Mardon with a sigh, draping the blanket over it and tucking the ends behind it. “The men aren’t going to like this. Now they’ll have nothing to fantasize about when they –”

  “Mardon, that’s enough,” spat Nairnie. “Now, show Sister Emmaline which bed is hers.”

  “Sister, you can use my brother, Tristan’s hammock,” said Mardon, motioning to the cloth hammock hanging next to a small, round, open window. “Nairnie, you can have my hammock.” Mardon nodded to the other hammock that looked to be made of rope, hanging across the room.

  “Nay!” Nairnie crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Mardon.

  “I refuse to sleep in yer hammock, Mardon. It’s hard enough for an auld woman to get into the blasted thing. I dinna want to wake up with my hands and feet tangled in the ropes. I’ll take this one instead.” Nairnie walked over and grabbed on to the edge of the cloth hammock. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to look inside. “I hope Tristan and Gavina didna make love in here.”

  “I’m sure they did,” answered Mardon.

  Nairnie wrinkled her nose. “Dinna tell me. I dinna want to ken.” Her hand was on the side of the hammock. When the ship listed, the hammock swung and Nairnie lost her balance. Mardon ran over and grabbed her, righting her again.

  “Nairnie, if you’d rather have Aaron’s pallet on the floor, that can be arranged,” he told her.

  “Nay. I’m no’ sleepin’ on the floor.” She dusted off her hands on her skirt. “Where are ye sleepin’?” she asked him.

  “Well, since you just claimed Tristan’s hammock and I’ve given my bed to Sister Emmaline, I guess I’ll be sleeping on the pallet beneath her.”

  “You’re sleeping in here? With us?” asked Emmaline, not liking the idea at all.

  “Aye. I’m captain and this is my cabin. Is there a problem with it, Sister?”

  “I – I – nay,” she said, looking at the floor again. “I thank you for your kindness.” Then, just to make him really think she was a nun, she raised her hand in the air and made the sign of the cross. “Bless you, Mardon.”

  “Hah!” spat Nairnie. “All the blessin’s in the world canna save my grandson’s soul.”

  “Nairnie,” said Mardon in a low voice. “Stop it.”

  “Mayhap yer prayers can help him, Sister. And make him give up piracy forever.”

  “I . . . well . . . mayhap.”

  “Enough with trying to save my soul. Nairnie, you and Sister Emmaline get back to the meal. The men will be hungry soon.”

  “They just ate at the inn,” said Nairnie. “The meal willna be ready until tonight.”

  “Do it early,” he told her, heading for the door. “There’s a storm coming, and I doubt anyone will get sleep tonight.”

  “Storm?” asked Emmaline with a giggle. “It is sunny without a cloud in the sky.”

  “Believe me, there’s a storm on the horizon,” he told her, stopping and looking back over his shoulder. “I can smell it in the wind.”

  “You can smell it?” She giggled again, thinking he was jesting. He muttered something and headed out the door.

  “He’s right,” said Nairnie, rubbing her hip. “I feel it in my joints. Sister Emmaline, I’ll need yer help since I no longer have a workin’ galley.” She followed Mardon from the room.

  “I’ll be there soon,” she called out after the old woman. “I just need to . . . to pray first. For Mardon’s soul,” she called out and then slammed the door.

  “He’ll need a prayer when I’m done with him,” Emmaline grumbled, heading over to the hanging table and throwing open the lid of the chest. Her ring sat atop a bunch of other jewelry. “I can’t believe he stole all this.” She picked up her ring and slid it on her finger. Then she picked up a handful of the stolen necklaces, rings and bracelets, tempted for a moment to keep some of them. She had no money, not to mention she’d had to leave all her jewelry back in France or at the convent. How she longed to wear fine clothes and jewels and feel like a lady again.

  “Nay,” she said, slamming shut the box. She wouldn’t stoop so low as to steal stolen items from pirates, no matter how desperate she was. Her eyes shot up to the painting next. It was covered with a blanket, but part of the painting still showed. She walked over to it, seeing a bare foot sticking out from the covering. Slowly, she reached down, picking up the hem of her robe, untying the dagger attached to her leg. Holding the dagger in one hand, she started to lift the blanket with the other. She had to bring back proof to the king. She needed this painting to give to him so he could destroy it and then betroth her to a noble Englishman.

  All she needed to do was to cut the painting out of the frame and then hide it until she left the ship. She would use the dagger to do this, and then cover the frame back up. No one would ever know. When she was finished, no man would ever gaze at her naked body in this painting or run his hand over it again.

  Ripping down the blanket, she froze when she saw the large, naked painting of herself, staring her in the eyes. The painter had put a smirk on her face, opening her mouth slightly, making her look naughty. The pose was rather seductive, she realized, never really having looked closely at the painting since she hated it so much. To her horror, she realized Nairnie was right! Her back was slightly arched, making her breasts jut out, and her legs were not pressed together. She hadn’t posed like this! That painter really did make her look like a wanton whore!


  “Oh, no!” she whimpered, biting her lip. This was even worse than she’d thought. It made her want to forget all about bringing it back to King Edward, and slash the thing to pieces instead. She raised the dagger up, but stopped when the door slammed open behind her.

  “Sister Emmaline, I decided I’d better escort you.” Mardon stood in the doorway. “Nairnie said you’d be along shortly, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to . . . what are you doing?” he asked.

  She spun around, dropping the dagger to the floor, kicking it back behind a trunk. “Mardon,” she said, and smiled.

  He sauntered into the room, cocking his head and looking at her from the sides of his eyes. Then a sultry smile spread across his face. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “You do?” she asked, feeling her heart about beating from her chest. She wrung her hands together. That’s when she felt the ring on her finger, remembering she’d put it on. She hid her hands behind her back as he continued to walk toward her.

  “Admit it, Sister Emmaline. I won’t tell anyone. I want to hear you say it aloud.”

  “Admit what?” she asked, slipping the ring off her finger, grasping it in her hand. She searched for a pocket to put it but, unfortunately, the nun’s robe didn’t have pockets.

  Mardon walked up close to her, stopping right in front of her. “Give me your hand,” he said in a deep and sexy voice.

  “M-my hand?” she asked. “Why?”

  He held out his palm and waited. Before he could discover she had stolen the ring, she reached out with her empty hand, still wondering what he was doing.

  “Let me help you,” he said, grinning and taking her hand in his. “Then it won’t feel like such a sin.”

  “I – I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Shhh,” he said, taking her hand and lifting it up to the painting. He spread her fingers and glided them over her own naked image, swirling her hand around her breasts and then dragging them down to her groin. “I heard you moan in ecstasy when I did this before,” he told her. “I know you are longing to do it. That’s why you stayed behind. Just admit it.”

  Her eyes closed and she felt that tingling sensation again, but it had nothing to do with the painting and everything to do with the fact he was holding her hand and running it over her naked image. Damn, why did he have to walk in right now? And how was she going to get out of this one?

  “Say it,” he whispered close to her ear, so close she could feel his breath on her face. “I promise it’s not a sin. And I won’t tell a soul. You’ll feel better if you do. I know I do when I admit I want the woman in the painting.”

  “I – I don’t know what you mean. I don’t feel that way at all.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked with a chuckle. “I saw the way you just closed your eyes and I can feel your body trembling under my touch.”

  Oh, God, why did this have to be happening to her? She could never tell him what she had really been doing. And the last thing she could ever admit was that she had closed her eyes and was trembling because she liked the way it felt being close to him and having him hold her hand in his. All she could think about was kissing him right now.

  “What the hell is takin’ ye two so long?” came Nairnie’s bellow from the door. “I canna make food for the entire ship before the storm comes unless I’m goin’ to get a little help.”

  “I’ll help you, Nairnie,” said Emmaline, breaking away from Mardon and nearly running to the door.

  “Mardon, I thought I told ye to cover up that paintin’ of the strumpet,” said Nairnie.

  “I did,” he answered.

  “Well, it certainly doesna look that way to me. Now hurry up, and keep that bluidy thing hidden while we have a nun on board. Yer soul is gettin’ blacker by the minute.”

  Emmaline left the room still clutching her wedding ring in her hand, thinking that she was the one whose soul was getting darker every minute. If not, then why did she just get so aroused by a pirate’s words and by the way he lusted after a naked painting?

  Chapter 6

  By the time Emmaline had helped Nairnie prepare the meal and serve it to the crew, the winds had already picked up and the sky overhead was dark with ominous-looking clouds. She hadn’t had a minute to herself to go back to the cabin. Without any pockets, she had needed to find somewhere to hide the ring. Thankfully, before she’d left the convent, she’d donned a tight-fitting chemise under her robe. She’d found it in the back of a cart from a peddler who had come to the abbey.

  However, she was much too busty for it and had worn it for one reason only. It was tight enough to hold her breasts together to hide the small bottle of poison in her cleavage. Earlier, she’d pretended to be using the bucket behind a hanging blanket to relieve herself. Instead, she had put the ring over the neck of the bottle and stuck it down her cleavage. Now, with all the rocking of the ship, the bottle had started to slip.

  “Here you are,” she said to Ramble, handing him a square bowl of food. Nairnie told her that the wooden dishes were square so they wouldn’t roll when the ship veered back and forth in the waves. Mayhap the plates wouldn’t roll, but her stomach sure did from the movement. She was finding it hard just to stand. She heard a thunk and looked down to see that the bottle of poison had slid out from under her chemise with the ring still stuck on the neck.

  “Thanks,” said Ramble, taking a big bite of the fish stew, seeming as if the rocking of the ship didn’t bother him. She reached down and snatched up the bottle just before the ship rocked back the other way.

  “Ramble, take this to Mardon,” said Nairnie, filling up another plate with a ladle of food.

  “Sure, as soon as I’m done eatin’,” said Ramble, licking his lips.

  “The storm is comin’ fast and we need everyone to eat so I can get cleaned up,” spat Nairnie. “Now take it to him.”

  “Let me do it.” Emmaline grabbed the plate of food, hoping to find somewhere to hide the bottle and ring for now. It was proving bothersome, and she didn’t want anyone to know she had them.

  “Ye can barely stand, Sister Emmaline. Ye’ll never make it up the stairs to the sterncastle. Ramble will do it,” said Nairnie.

  “Sure,” said Ramble, reaching for the plate, but Emmaline shook her head.

  “Nay. I need to walk or I’m going to retch.”

  “Have it yer way.” Nairnie slopped another ladle of food in a bowl, the sight of it causing bile to rise to Emmaline’s throat.

  Clutching the bottle and ring in one hand, and holding the bowl in the other, she tried to walk to the stairs of the sterncastle, stumbling and almost falling several times. Pirates hurried back and forth, acting as if they weren’t bothered at all by the storm or the rocking of the ship. She supposed it was normal for them.

  Stopping at the foot of the stairs, she took a moment to take a deep breath. Looking up at the dark sky, she saw lightning flash and the rumble of thunder scared her. She dropped the bottle on the bottom step, but quickly retrieved it. That’s when she noticed the wood on the stair was loose. Her eyes flashed up to Mardon at the stern, but he didn’t even notice her. He was focusing on bringing the ship through the storm.

  She looked down at the bottle in her hand, wondering why she’d even kept the poison. If it ever came down to killing someone, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to do it. Still, she needed protection and didn’t want to throw it overboard just yet.

  Placing the bowl on the second stair, she quickly lifted the top of the broken stair, slipping the bottle and ring inside it. She had just stood up with the bowl when she heard Mardon’s voice from above her.

  “Sister Emmaline, are you all right?”

  “Aye,” she said, making her way up the stairs, hearing the first stair squeak beneath her foot. “I am just having a hard time standing up with all the rocking of the ship.” She held out the food to him. “Nairnie wanted me to give you this.”

  “Aye,” he said, taking the dish in one hand, never letting go of the
helm with the other.

  “Oh, I forgot to bring you a spoon.”

  “No need.” He lifted the bowl to his mouth and slid the food right into it. In less than a minute, he had devoured everything. This only made her feel sicker than she had before. With her hand on her stomach she moaned.

  “Did you eat?”

  “Nay,” she answered. “I couldn’t. I’m afraid if I did, I’d become sick.”

  “The storm is going to hit very soon,” he told her, handing her the empty bowl. “Get back to my cabin and stay inside. Do you hear me?”

  “But I need to help Nairnie clean up.”

  “Sister, the first thing you’ll need to learn when you’re on any ship, is that you never, and I repeat never, question the captain’s orders.”

  “All right,” she said, gripping on to the wooden railing, feeling like it might not be a bad idea to get back to the cabin.

  “Tell Nairnie that I want her inside the cabin as well. I know she’ll object. So when she does, remind her that I won’t fish her out of the sea again.”

  “I’ll tell her,” said Emmaline, gripping the dish in one hand and the railing in the other and heading back down the stairs.

  “There ye are, lassie. What took ye so long?” asked Nairnie, quickly packing the bowls inside a large wooden box with a lid that was fastened down to the deck.

  “Nairnie, Mardon wants us in the cabin right away. He said we should stay there until after the storm.”

  “Nonsense,” she spat, grabbing the dish from her and throwing it into the box. “We’ll wash these later.” She slammed closed the lid, picking up her ladle. She wiped it with a rag, leaning against the box so she wouldn’t fall. “I have work to do, and I willna lose what little supplies I have to the storm.”

  “Mardon said he won’t fish you out of the sea again.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the waves crashing over the sidewall now.