His Spoilt Lady

by Vanessa Brooks

  Shortly after dawn, John awoke, and slipping from the cabin, he went in search of breakfast for them both. Linnett woke and, stretching languidly, realised that she was alone in the cabin; she snuggled down and dozed contentedly until a sharp slap on her sore rump awoke her with a start.

  “Come on you lug-a-bed! I thought you would be up and dressed by now. I have bought us breakfast.” John went over to the table where he had placed a large tray covered in a white linen cloth.

  “It obviously escaped your notice, sir, that I had a very disturbed night!” Linnett chided him saucily.

  John looked surprised and said, “Well, I thought riding always gave you such an enormous appetite. At least, that is what you told me before we left England!” Linnett looked suitably outraged and launched a pillow at him.

  After they had eaten a delicious breakfast of eggs and salt bacon, washed down with a strong aromatic coffee, Linnett began her toilette. She was behind the screen washing when she heard John muttering oaths from the other side of the cabin.

  “John, is something amiss?” she asked.

  “My ruined shirts, there is not one fit to wear. You have ruined them all!”

  “I will sew them all back together. I am good with a needle, do not fear, and I will have a shirt ready for you to wear for dinner tonight.”

  Linnett jumped as John’s glowering face appeared over the screen, “Make sure I have all my shirts repaired by the end of the week or you will find yourself across my knee again, young lady!”

  “John! I was going to repair every single one anyway…. really I was!” Linnett replied hastily.

  “My darling, there is no a doubt in my mind that you will repair every single one! Now, come over here,” John said patting the bed beside him.”

  Linnett hesitated. “Now, Linnett,” he grinned, “I won’t bite.”

  Uneasily, she went over to him. John pulled her down beside him, and kissing the top of her head, he put his arm around her. “Are you nervous of me, Linnett?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  Heat suffused her face and she gave a brief nod before hanging her head. “Well, be warned, fair wife, I won’t stand any more nonsense from you!” he growled.

  She was shocked by arousing shivers pulsing through her, and thrillingly, Linnett knew that he meant every word; last night had proved just that. John was not a man to be trifled with, and Linnett discovered that she found him exciting.

  “I was so angry with you yesterday. It was dreadful having to leave Papa like that! Not saying goodbye to anyone at home, or to Pango. I blamed you, can you understand? I wanted to hurt you, and then after last night... well, I wished that I hadn’t damaged your wretched shirts.”

  John chuckled and said, “I am sure you are extremely sorry...now! But I forgive you this time, my love. However, you will have to sew all the sleeves back together again because I meant what I said.”

  Linnett nodded, relieved at John’s lighter tone. She was a little put out at how condescending that tone was, but she was determined John would never ever spank her again. Indeed, her behind was so tender this morning, she would have to start the sewing standing up!

  “As soon as I am dressed, I shall go in search of sewing materials,” she told him cheerfully.

  “I don’t think so, not just yet,” said John, eyeing her soft cleavage. He pushed her back onto the bed, his hands grasping her wrists. Holding her wrists above her head with one hand, while his other roamed over the swell of her breasts, he made Linnett mewl softly and sent little shivers of pleasure up and down her spine. Tentatively, Linnett’s hand began explorations of its own, making him gasp in surprise as her fingers traced the rigid outline of his throbbing phallus through the straining cloth of his breeches. She gave a small sensuous chuckle as she deftly managed to extract his erect manhood from the confines of material and then ran her hand over the thick, smooth, velvety shaft. John curbed his desire to throw her down onto the bed and plunge himself into her immediately.

  When he could no longer risk suffering her tormenting attentions, he pulled her hand away and pushed her back onto the bed. Thrusting her legs apart and then lowering himself between her parted thighs, he mounted her. John took her fiercely, bringing them both to a rapid, quivering release. Linnett rolled away onto her stomach and stretched luxuriously.

  “Hmm,” she mused, “Perhaps I should chop off your jacket sleeves next time!”

  She shrieked as a large hand descended with a resounding slap on her naked and vulnerable derriere.

  Chapter 7

  Later that day, they decided to take a stroll together up on deck, where it was a relief to get out into the bright daylight. Linnett gulped in lungful after lungful of the invigorating, salty air. Her hair was torn from its pins by the breeze and whipped around her face.

  Linnett was fascinated by the sea; far around them, the green waves dipped and rolled, the occasional white foamy tip surfacing and breaking. She leant over the ship’s rail, watching the creamy froth break at the side of the ship as they ploughed through the swelling sea.

  “It’s wonderful!” she cried to John. I never imagined the sea to be like this!”

  John watched her indulgently. Every second he spent with her, John was falling more deeply in love with his captivating bride. With his arm around her waist, he pointed out the salient points of the ship. He told her that she must stay off the gun decks, and he pointed out the mizzen mast and the bulkhead. John explained to Linnett that the head was out of bounds to her, and once John had explained to her that the crew used it as a chamber pot, Linnett readily agreed to avoid the area!

  They looked up, shielding their eyes from the bright sun, to the crow’s nest. John explained that a man was up in the tiny eyrie and that the sailors took turns at shifts the whole time, looking out for danger. “What sort of danger?” Linnett wanted to know. John, not wishing to alarm her, forbade the mention of pirates. He told her of fog and the danger of collision with other ships.

  After an hour in the bracing sea air, Linnett was starting to feel chilled, so they returned below. John wanted to search out the captain to discuss navigation routes, and Linnet had a shirt or two to sew. John kissed his wife and left her to her own devices. Linnett turned out the chest that contained her clothes and items for the voyage but nowhere could she find her sewing box. Fairly certain that the efficient Lottie would have packed it, Linnett sat back on her heels and pondered for a moment on what she should do.

  While she was thinking, there was a tapping at the door and thinking it would be Mr. Snow, she called out, “Please come in.” The door opened and a scruffy individual, whose face was obscured by a large tray bearing tea things, entered.

  “Oh!” Linnett was much surprised. “I thought you would be Mr. Snow.”

  She felt rather foolish sprawled on the floor, and scrambled to her feet. The tray was placed on the table, the person turned around, and Linnett saw it was a young lad.

  “I be Pat, missus,” he said. “I be the person what’ll serve you, run errands and the like. Mr. Snow’s right busy in the day so he’s asked me like.”

  “Well yes, yes of course, Mr. Snow would be,” Linnett said. She was amused by the little ragamuffin. “Well, I am very pleased to meet you, Pat,” she said, and looked the lad up and down; he was a skinny boy, perhaps twelve, Linnett guessed. His whiskers had not grown yet, so she knew him to be young. He was quite filthy; his nails, she noted, were black, and so were his clothes. He wore a striped, long-sleeved top and what had once been white, tattered breeches.

  Under the grime, Linnett could see the boy had delicate features and pale blue eyes. He stood waiting uncomfortably, first on one leg, then the other.

  He jumped when Linnett spoke to him. “Pat, I need my sewing box; I believe it to be in one of my travelling trunks. Do you know where they would be stored?” The boy nodded vigorously. “Ay, in the storage hold...shall I.... take ‘ee there?”

  Linnett thought quickly, deciding it would be ni
ce to rummage through her things; she could fetch other bits and bobs that she would need at the same time.

  “Yes please, Pat. One moment, though, while I fetch my shawl.”

  A second or two later they were ready to go.

  “Right… lead on, Sir Galahad!” Linnett said grandly.

  “What, missus?” Pat looked bewildered.

  “Oh, nevermind, it is just a silly saying, that’s all,” Linnett replied.

  Pat led the way down dim passages and creaking stairways, and Linnett stumbled a couple of times. She was still unused to the ship’s rolling movement. Pat, at least, had had the foresight to bring a lantern because most of the narrow galley ways were unlit. Occasionally, they came across an unsavoury-looking sailor, who would stare at Linnett with lewd interest; however, they seemed a harmless enough bunch to Linnett, who swept past them with eyes straight ahead. One or two, who knew Pat by name, made a playful gesture, cuffing his head in a rough greeting.

  After rather too many narrow stairways, which were awkward for Linnett in her full-skirted dress, they came to a dark but open space.

  A few hammocks were slung across the ship’s timber joists, and one or two hammocks were inhabited by snoring sailors. The overpowering smell of unwashed humanity hung in the fetid air. Pat led the way between the rows of hammocks; on the opposite side of the “room” was another dark and dingy galley. Holding the lantern high, Pat led the way forward. At the end of this passage was a door, which Pat pushed open and gestured for Linnet to follow him. They were in quite a large open space that had a very low ceiling, and without the lantern’s glow, it would have been pitch black. Pat held the lantern up as high as he could, and Linnett was startled by scurrying coming from within the deep shadows.

  “Them’s rats,” Pat told her matter-of-factly.

  Linnett shuddered, wishing now that she had waited for John’s reassuring presence before venturing down here with only Pat for company.

  “Where are the trunks normally put?” Linnett asked Pat in a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” came the unhelpful reply.

  Linnett, resisting the temptation to clout his ear, ground out, “Well, let’s start to look then. In alarm, she added, “But stay close to me!” as the boy moved away with the lantern.

  Linnett’s eyes adjusted to the gloom and she started to make out large shapes in the deep shadows and called softly to Pat. “Over here, boy, shine the lantern here!”

  Pat did as he was bid and sure enough, a large pile of travel trunks were piled up along the wall; it was not going to be as easy as she had anticipated. Not all these trunks belonged to her and John. She guessed correctly that the captain and his officers stored their trunks down here as well. Linnett sighed heavily; there was nothing for it- she would just have to sort through them all until she recognised her own. At least hers had her father’s crest on the side of the trunk, which would make it easier to identify.

  “Stand the lantern on the trunk at the end, Pat, please.” Pat duly did as he was bid, and Linnett then began to slide the trunks forward one by one.

  “Come on, lazy bones, help me!”

  Pat pushed the nearest trunk, and then there was a sudden crash, after which they were left standing in complete darkness. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Pat’s high voice said, “T’ lantern fell!”

  “Well I am quite aware of that,” snapped an exasperated Linnett. “What on earth shall we do? Can you feel around for the lantern, Pat?” She herself was feeling her way around the stack of trunks, heading towards the sound of the boy’s voice.

  It was totally unnerving standing in this horrible place, unable to see without the comforting presence of another person to hold onto. Her foot knocked something solid yet yielding and it moved. Linnett’s heart was thumping hard under her ribs, “Pat? Pat, is that you?” Her voice sounded reedy and hollow.

  Pat’s voice came from her left. “Over ’ere, missus.”

  Linnett tried to swivel towards the direction of his voice, but as she did so, she fell over a large mass of something warm and moving; Linnett screamed, terrified.

  A deep voice resonated from where she had tripped, “Mon dieu!”

  Pat called out, “Missus, Missus?!” in a voice that betrayed his fright.

  Linnett, more terrified than ever, pulled herself to her feet and blundered towards the boy’s voice; they collided with one another, and both shrieked and realised what they had done.

  Linnett gripped Pat’s arm and hissed, “There’s someone over there, Pat!” She could feel the boy shaking through his thin clothes.

  “ ‘Tis a ghostie! I ain’t staying here no more! The door t’was this way, missus. Come on!” Pat dragged Linnett with him through the pitch black, and suddenly they collided with a solid wall and screamed, truly panicked by now.

  Linnett stretched out her hands and felt her way along the rough wooden wall. Then there was a grating sound, and dim light appeared on the other side of her. Pat had found the door and pulled it open. They both scrambled, pushing and shoving one another through the small frame, letting the door slam shut behind them. With hands still clasped, they scurried along the dark galley, back through the sailor’s sleeping place and up the stairway to the next level.

  Hurriedly, they made their way back to Linnett’s cabin without speaking. Panting and sobbing, Linnett flung open the cabin door and they tumbled inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

  They were met by an astonished Duncan Snow and John. “Good God, woman, where on earth have you been? You look terrible!” John said and strode towards his dishevelled wife.

  He was most surprised when Linnett flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his chest. Mr. Snow grabbed the unfortunate Pat by the scruff of his neck.”What’s been going on, boy? Where have you been?”

  Pat began to howl so Duncan shook him. “Stop that at once and tell us what has happened.”

  “Ghostie! Ghostie that’s what!” the poor boy stuttered.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous! We will never get any sense out of him; he’s hysterical!” Duncan said and released the boy in disgust.

  John held Linnett away from him and looked earnestly into her face.

  “Linnett, now calm down and tell me what has happened.”

  Duncan Snow poured out a cup of tea for her and said, “Here, John, this might help her.”

  They gently pushed Linnett into a chair and made her sip the tea. “Alright,” said John, hunkering down in front of his wife, “now, just tell me what happened.”

  Linnett drew a deep shuddering breath. “We went down to the luggage hold to fetch my sewing basket. We were sorting through the trunks, and the lantern fell over and went out and we were left in total darkness!”

  John ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “Why didn’t you ask me to fetch the damn thing for you? Linnett you are not to roam around the ship alone! Anything could have happened to you, just what did happen!” John stood up and started to pace up and down in front of Linnett.

  She flared up at him. “Oh for goodness sake, stop your bellyaching and listen. I am trying to tell you what happened, and anyway, I wasn’t alone! It was totally dark and I fell over something, but I don’t know what!” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her body. “It was horrible! Then we heard a voice, it cried out in the dark.” She gazed wide-eyed at Pat, who shivered and stared back, horrified, at her.. Duncan Snow frowned and asked, “What sort of voice?”

  “It be the souls of drowned Frenchies,” whispered Pat unexpectedly.

  Linnett stared at him round-eyed “Yes!” she said, trembling. “You are right; that’s exactly what it sounded like!”

  John rubbed a hand over his face, exasperated. “Oh for goodness sake, this is complete twaddle! Duncan I leave you to sort this ignorant young scoundrel out. What on earth did he think he was doing taking my wife down amongst those ruffians?! Anything might have happened to her. It doesn’t bear thinking of!”

  Pa
t opened his mouth to protest, but Duncan Snow quelled him with a look that promised him no good; Pat gulped and closed his mouth.

  “Come along, you young whipper-snapper,” Duncan said, walking to the door. “Perhaps a sound thrashing will soon make you forget about drowned sailors and ghosties!”

  Linnett jumped up, shouting, “No, no! Please don’t hurt him, Mr. Snow, I beg of you! Be kind to the lad, he’s had a terrible fright.... we both have.”

  Linnett reached out an imploring hand. Pat flashed Linnett a grateful grin, but he didn’t hold out much hope of reprieve despite her plea. Duncan Snow nodded politely but refrained from reply. He would do as he saw fit with his crew.

  When they were alone finally, John swung round and immediately took Linnett to task. “Have you any idea of the danger you might have been in?” he asked her incredulously.

  “Oh, John,” Linnett said wearily, “please leave it. I have had a horrible shock and I just want to lie down.”

  John gritted his teeth and counted to ten.

  Later, at dinner with just the two of them, the captain and Duncan Snow, Linnett recounted her story again for the captain’s benefit. When she had finished her tale, he put his elbows onto the table and placed his fingertips together thoughtfully.

  “Tell me, my dear, what made you and the boy suppose this ghost to be French?” the captain asked.

  Linnett thought a moment. “Well,” she told him, “it spoke in French! It moaned horribly, calling out, ‘mon dieu, mon dieu!’”