The Wicked Lady

by Julia Knight

  “What is it that you want?” he said, and she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t because that would be to admit all she didn’t want to say, everything she refused to admit, even to herself.

  With a pained grimace, he shut his eyes and shook his head. His hair flicked across her skin, and even that small touch was enough to make her breath come harder.

  “Tell me, tell me what you want, give me something of you. Tell me.” He rested on one arm and, starting at her cheek, ran his other hand along her body, trailing over her throat and stomach, across her hips so lightly she almost forgot to breathe. His fingers reached her tangle of pubic hair and stopped there. So different this time, she thought again. And then she saw it, knew what the difference was. He was naked before her too, and she could see the hint of fear in his eyes to match hers.

  She said the only thing she could. “You. I want you, now and tomorrow, even as I know it can’t be. I want you not to be a navy man, I want me not to be a pirate, not to have it graven in my heart what I am. I want not to be afraid any more. I want the wind in my hair and salt spray in my face. I want the thrill of taking another ship. I want to see different horizons. I want to be my own person, be me, on my own. I want—I want…” And then she had to stop because a rush of tears almost blinded her before she blinked them away. She couldn’t say she wanted above all to be in control of herself and what she did or felt or desired.

  Now, this minute, all she wanted was him, his body alongside hers, his cock thrilling her, his desire burning her, his sweat on her tongue, and his arms around her afterwards.

  Tomorrow she had the sea, and a ship, and the whole world to explore. All she’d ever wanted. A whole world of men to give her one night, and she could leave them in the morning. Never let them have all of her. A deep, dark part of her told her she was lying, told her that this man would not hurt her as he had, wouldn’t try to control even the thoughts in her mind, but she ran it off with a rough shake of her head.

  “Tonight I want you,” she said, and hoped it would be enough.

  He said nothing, his only reaction a thinning of his lips as though he kept some words or strong emotion shut tight behind them. Then he smiled, and his fingers moved, down into the folds of her cunny, his fingers light and gentle. Her legs twitched and her eyes flew open. He almost had her coming, just from that one touch. Her hips moved to give him more room, encourage him further.

  She took in his body, the feel of it against hers, and reveled in its touch under her fingers. He shivered when she ran a thumb over his nipple and it peaked into sharp relief. She carried on, along the sides of his muscled stomach, taut and smooth. Along his hips and over, where he tilted to give her more room. There it was—the softest skin along his length. He twitched as she touched it, along and down to his balls, and traced a pattern with a gentle touch of her nails. Up, and her thumb picked up a drop of his pre-come that seeped out the top. She eased it along his most sensitive part, gratified when it made his breath grow uneven.

  He tangled his fingers with hers and pulled her hand away. Catherine cursed in frustration—her hand could still feel his cock, ached to have it there, to put it where it belonged. She reached across to try with her other hand, but he took that too, held them both tight and smiled that disconcerting smile.

  He moved onto his knees at the bedside and lowered his head. She clenched her teeth against a moan as his breath wavered over her clitoris, but couldn’t hold back when he flicked his tongue across it. Her hips twitched, and when he drew his tongue away, she strained to follow it.

  He dipped down, ran his tongue over and round before he settled to a slow, insistent rhythm that sent pulses of lightning along her nerves. Sweat trickled along her breasts, and she twisted under his tongue. He freed one of her hands and brought his fingers down to brush at her aching wet cunny. He nudged them forward, just a touch, a hint and a promise at her entrance. The promise was enough. Her hips arched off the bed as she came and cried out nonsense words. His arm lay across her, held her down to the bed, and his tongue moved more quickly, harder now.

  Even before she’d stopped coming, her clitoris shuddered once more, wrenching another cry from her. Her free hand flailed around her, searching for something, anything to hold on to. All she found was his head, and she pulled him into her, tight into her thighs, to where her pulse throbbed and pounded under his tongue. Every part of her was a delicious ache, a hot yearning to be filled, to be fucked.

  Finally, when she was a mass of trembling limbs, he drew his head away. She lay panting on the sheets, trying to regain herself, but he gave her no time. He ran his hands up her legs, over her thighs and hips to her waist and pulled her down the bed. The touch of his cock at the top of her thigh was almost enough to have her coming.

  He leant forward, wrapped her fingers in his and licked the sheen of sweat from across her breasts, kissed his way up her neck and finished with his mouth by her cheek. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.” His whisper was deep and husky in her ear. Oh God, that wasn’t fair, waiting till she was all but helpless, until he knew that all she would be craving was his cock. Not fair.

  Paul slid his hips forward and nudged at her entrance. Her juices glided over the tip of his cock, and he had to resist the urge to plunge in. He’d only restrained himself this far with a great deal of effort, and the way she twitched and moaned at the touch of his cock, he couldn’t hold on much more. His legs shook with the need to be inside her, to feel her muscles clench around him, her hips arching up to meet his own. Just the thought of being inside her was almost enough to put him over the edge, but he had to hear her say it. God help him, he had to get her to give up this madness, stay here with him, because he was more than half in love with her already. If the only way he could persuade her was like this, by giving her every pleasure, showing her what she would miss if she left, then he would.

  He tightened his fingers around hers and inched forward, the salt of her sweat on his tongue. Her hips strained toward him as she tried to draw him in. He pulled back, afraid he would come right there, and there was far too much he wanted to do to her first. His cock throbbed, desperate to be in her, but he gritted his teeth and held on.

  “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

  With eyes half-closed, she shook her head. Her mouth parted as though she wanted to say something, but couldn’t force the words out. He wanted to kiss her, desperately, to feel the softness of her lips on his own as he took her, a long, slow, deep kiss that might last forever, but he knew what the effort would bring—nothing. The one thing she denied him. That, and herself. He had to have something of her, something that wasn’t soft skin or a wet cunny. Something of her heart and soul.

  “Tell me what you want, tell me.”

  She shook her head wildly from side to side, barely even seeming to know where she was. Her panting breath was hot on his neck, and even so he hardly heard what she said. “You, oh God, Paul…” Her voice trailed off into a groan as she tried to pull him in. That was enough. He’d made her say it.

  He pushed into her, a slow thrust that made her eyes snap open and her breath stop as he gradually filled her. He’d barely got halfway when her muscles clasped him, and he was a hairsbreadth from coming himself. She thrust her hips up to meet him and cried out, a great shout that drove him on. He didn’t stop to let her recover, but carried on, slowly at first, and she let out a tortured moan every time he withdrew. Each time he drove in a little faster, a little harder, until her voice gave out, and he knew when she came only by the clamp of her on his straining cock and the twist of her under him. The thought of that power over her, that he could do that to her, throbbed through his cock in a feeling so intense he thought he might explode. And then he did, coming in great shuddering bursts of exquisite pleasure that thrust him as far as he could inside her.

  His shaking arms gave way, and he half fell across her. She wrapped her arms round him, held on to him as though her life depended on it. He laid his head on her chest and her
heart fluttered in his ears, swiftly, almost panicked, like a trapped bird’s.

  He slid out of her with an ache of sated hollowness and drew her onto the bed properly. They lay tangled together, hearts slowing gradually as they kissed the sweat from each other and brushed damp hair out of their eyes.

  For long moments, Catherine barely knew where she was, or cared. Her muscles trembled, her skin prickled where the cool air and his kisses dried her sweat. His warmth was on her, his lips teasing her neck. He drew her quivering body against him so that they touched for the whole of their lengths, their legs twisted together, as though the last hour had been a dream and now they’d woken they had to be sure each other was real.

  A bird chirped outside, then another, and then the dawn chorus began in earnest. Catherine sat up. How had it got so late? Paul reached up to pull her to him, but she rolled off the bed and grabbed her clothes.

  “Catherine?”

  She turned to look at him while she buttoned her shirt, and the fleeting look of hurt on his face tore at her. She regretted it then, all of it. She’d meant to use him, and she had, but she’d never expected this. Never expected to want him quite so much, or to care whether she hurt him. Never expected this sharp pain in her heart at having to leave. She turned away from the look, shamed that she’d caused it. “I can’t be caught here, and I will be once it’s light. I have to go. Don’t worry, if you can’t tell me when they plan to attack, I’ll— It’s all right. I’ll get out as soon as I can. Find somewhere new to hole up.”

  The bed creaked as he sat up behind her. “Making a fool of me?” His voice was cold, bitter, and stabbed her in her heart. She pinched her lips shut. There was no use—whatever might be between them could never work. He was navy and she was pirate, and even if there wasn’t that, she would be no man’s woman, not ever, not in thrall to anyone. Not even him.

  “No, you’re not a fool.” She turned to him, but still couldn’t look at his face. Shame burned her cheeks. “Not a fool. I didn’t come to lie in your bed, or not only for that.”

  He traced the shape of her face and turned her so that unless she shut her eyes she had to look at him. “I’m a man afflicted by pride, Catherine. I don’t want what’s only half-offered. It’s all or nothing. Tonight’s what you could’ve had, we could’ve had, if it was all. I’d hoped that you would choose me.”

  “A trade, was it? Was that all it was? You think I’ll give up everything, all that I am, because you fuck well? I can’t give you all, I can’t. I can only be what I am, and the same for you. Even if it weren’t, I don’t—” She gritted her teeth to stop the words. I don’t want it to end like that with Paul, dear God, I never want that. It was me who sent Jeremiah mad, my actions, my love. My tainted love that led to his death. I don’t want that for you.

  His face shut down. His eyes lost all their warmth and his generous mouth clamped into a thin line. “Nothing, then.”

  With that, he leapt from the bed. He yanked on his breeches, grabbed a shirt and opened the door. He turned toward where she sat, still as a statue in shock. “Three days, that’s when we leave. They know where you are, but not yet who you are. But they will, and I can’t stop that. Three days, with the tide. And when I see you next, it’ll be at the end of a cannon.”

  Paul slammed the door shut behind him and stalked off down the corridor. Damn, fuck and blast the woman! He yanked on his shirt and headed outside. The cool dawn air did nothing to make him feel better. He slumped down and propped himself against the wall. It was hopeless, as he’d known from the start. She’d never give up her heart or her free life. A compliant woman wasn’t what he wanted either, but God damn it, she was too self reliant, too stubborn! He dropped his head to his bent knees. He had to forget her. She’d caused him nothing but trouble since he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d been a good officer. He’d have made captain within the year, and who knew after that, maybe even higher. Now his life was in tatters. Because of her.

  Yet still his cock throbbed just to think of her. Still the thought of being with her crowded his brain. Of having her, all of her, not just her body, but her heart too. He was greedy. He wanted everything of her with a physical ache, but not at this price. Time to forget her, time to try to rebuild what was left of his shattered career. If he could.

  The sun had just touched the horizon when Matthew appeared, flustered and out of breath. “Good, you’re up already. Come on, finish getting dressed, and quickly.”

  He held out his hand and Paul took it to pull himself up. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  Matthew grinned at him. “Time to hunt pirates, man! What we always dreamed of, raiding the pirates and coming out victorious. And possibly richer.”

  “But that’s not today. Wagstaff’s waiting for all the ships to return. We aren’t leaving for three days.”

  Matthew laughed at his puzzlement. “Wagstaff changed his mind. Come on, get your clothes on. I’ll tell you on the way.”

  God curse him, no matter that the Newquay waited at the end, that his childhood dream had come true, that he could have his life back, Paul’s first thought was that Catherine wouldn’t have time to get away before the fleet arrived and he had no way to warn her.

  Chapter Six

  Catherine knew something was wrong the moment her foot landed on the deck of the Lady, but it was a moment or two before she could work out what, exactly. The boards shifted under her feet, and that was when she knew. She cursed Fulton and his foul mouth, cursed that she’d had to put him off the ship or risk a mutiny. Whatever else, he’d been a good sailor.

  “Bailey! What the bloody hell’s going on? We’re almost aground!”

  The Lady had a shallower draft than many and certainly could go places no navy frigate could, which made her perfect for hiding in little inlets like this. Even so, the Lady had drifted too far around toward the sandbanks.

  Bailey glared at her sullenly. “You was supposed to be here by dawn, you said. Wind’s backed something fierce since. Been all I could do to keep her this far from the sand bank. By dawn, you said.”

  “By dawn, I hoped.” Catherine shrugged. “Took longer than I thought. Let’s get going before we end up aground. We’ve a few days start, at least.”

  “Fulton was right,” Bailey muttered as she turned to go. “You ain’t thinking of your ships, of us, just lately. Got your mind on something else.”

  Catherine whipped round, her sword already out. She laid the side of the blade against Bailey’s cheek, just as he went for his own sword. “If you’ve something to say, say it to my face.”

  “That I will. You led us good all that time. Even when you was married to that toff, to start with. When you didn’t come no more, we managed till you came back. She’s your ship, and we kept her for you. You left old Adams in charge and he done us well. But now he’s captain of the Kittiwake and our captain ain’t here, even when she is. And when she ain’t, well, we get to thinking who she’s with and how much we’d be worth if she was to turn us in. We’s thinking we might be best off with a captain who’ll look after us, who’ll get us plenty of money. Who isn’t spending all her time with a navy man, or when she isn’t with him, is thinking of him. Who risks our lives just so’s she can fuck him. We’s thinking you’re not a captain, you’re a millstone.”

  Catherine pushed the blade forward an inch and bit down on her anger. He was right, loath though she was to admit it. Stupid woman. She’d risked her crew for an excuse to bed Paul one more time. To see him one more time. Well, that wasn’t likely to happen again, and that was probably for the best. “Are you questioning my loyalty? Because if you are—”

  A rattle of steel behind her alerted her to more of her crew, just as disgruntled as Bailey. Shit. Concentrate! Think about what’s important. Forget him. It was never going to be any more than a quick tumble, whatever she’d hoped. She took a deep breath.

  “Because if you are, you’re wrong. I know where they’re coming from. I know when. They’re after us because w
e stole their ships, and their admiral’s livid.” She looked up at Bailey and grinned slyly. “Because we’re bloody good pirates and they hate that. I went ashore to see how long we had, and three days is what we’ve got before they sail. Time enough to clear out and be home free before they get there. Let them find nothing but empty houses. So it is you I’m thinking about, you and the crews of all the ships. And if you think he’s a problem, he isn’t. He can’t say a damn thing without incriminating himself, and now it doesn’t matter anyway. Because we’re off, and with luck, the poor, dear lieutenant will never cross our paths. And I, for one, won’t be sorry.” Dear God, she was getting good at lying, even to herself. But she could be sorry later, alone in her bed. She could hold her pillow and dream it was him, dream of his mouth on her, but now, here, she couldn’t let what she felt for him interfere. “I think we should head for waters new. There’s plenty of good pickings for a pirate with men behind her. Are you with me or not?”

  Bailey appeared to consider her words gravely. “You got your mind where it should be, instead of in your cunny?”

  Catherine tightened her grip on the hilt, but she held her temper. “It was never in doubt. Now are we going to get this caravel to sea, or are we going to let her run aground?”

  Bailey stepped away from the point of her sword and nodded at the men behind her before he turned to start bellowing orders. Catherine allowed herself a silent sigh of relief. She’d come close to losing everything for a man. A mistake she intended never to repeat. Ever. Even if it meant she spent the rest of her life like a nun. She turned for her quarters, but found no solace there. Just her bed staring at her, taunting her with its emptiness. She shoved the heels of her hands in her eyes, but as the ship pulled out of the inlet, the tears came anyway.