At last, he sagged forward, covering her body with his hot, heavy one. They were at an odd angle, half on the bed and half out, with Letty’s head wedged up against the wall under the window. Somehow, she didn’t care about any of it. She loved the feeling of such a big man covering her, loved how disconnected and spent she felt beneath him. He was all but a perfect stranger to her, and yet he’d made her feel things that she never could have imagined Pigge even knowing about, let alone sharing with her. Worst—or perhaps best—of all, she wanted more of him. She wanted him to do every vile thing that Pigge had done to her and that he had made her do to him. She wanted it as if every moment of surrender to Captain Foster would swallow up the memories of Pigge in her mind.
“I’m sorry,” Captain Foster groaned at last, rolling fully onto the bed and dragging Letty to lie the right way around on it. “That was even more beastly than I planned to be.”
“I’ve never felt so alive in my life,” she panted in return. “No one has ever done that to me.”
He paused halfway through adjusting the pillows and burrowing under the covers. “What?” He blinked. “You don’t mean that no one has ever made you come before?”
She shook her head.
He hissed an oath that would have had Letty’s hair standing on end if she hadn’t felt so loose and sated. “That right there is a sin,” he said, stroking his hands over her body as he found the most comfortable way to settle with her in the narrow bed. “Give me a few minutes to rest and I’ll make you come again,” he said. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure after the day we’ve both had than to make you come at least a dozen times before morning.”
Letty’s heart beat a mad rhythm in her chest. Her sex was already beginning to pulse with promise again. But all she could think of to say was, “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Chapter 4
Letty hadn’t slept so well since the shackles of marriage to Pigge had been clamped around her soul. Captain Foster’s bed was too narrow for two people, but they shared it all the same. Letty awoke with her naked limbs wrapped around his powerful body and her head sharing a pillow with him. Everything was quiet. The sound of the waves lapping against The Growler’s hull and a few distant cries of sea birds attempted to lull her back into sleep. Soft, morning sunlight poured in through the windows beside the bed, which had been opened during the night to let in the cool breeze.
It was more than just peaceful and comfortable, it was idyllic. And Letty was wicked for enjoying it so much. Her husband had been killed in front of her, and less than a day later, she’d spread her legs and moaned in ecstasy as a virtual stranger, the man who had murdered him, made her come. Several times through the night. Without hesitation or remorse. Every time, she’d felt that blissful rush of pleasure that she’d never dreamed she could feel. The memories filled her with sensual joy and devastating guilt simultaneously.
“Love, desire, passion,” she remembered the quote from The Secrets of Love as she stared at the cabin’s ceiling. “They are all worthy prizes, regardless of the value society places on them. Pursue them with single-minded focus and without regret.”
Letty huffed slightly. That was easy for the author to say. She wondered if the sections of the book that her sisters now had contained better advice on how to reconcile wicked actions.
Captain Foster must have felt her tense as difficult thoughts replaced sleep. He drew in a breath and shifted to get a better look at her.
“Oh, hello,” he said, as though he hadn’t realized she was in bed with him. He quickly burst into a teasing smile.
Letty pushed herself to sit, her legs still tangled with his. The bedcovers dropped to her waist, exposing her breasts to him—a sight it was clear he appreciated. She didn’t know whether she deserved to cover herself like a lady of modesty or whether she was the whore Pigge had always accused her of being and should be ogled as such.
“I’m sorry, Captain Foster. I didn’t realize you were awake,” she said. She met his eyes and his smile briefly before glancing down in shame.
“First of all,” he said, his tone censorious, “I think you can call me Martin at this point.”
She peeked uncertainly at him. His contented smile had vanished, replaced by a gentle frown of concern.
“Second,” he continued, “whatever paroxysms of guilt you’re feeling, stop right now.”
She lowered her head once more, embarrassed that her feelings were so plain for him to see. “What we did—” she began.
“—was lovely,” he finished for her. “And long overdue for me. For you as well, I surmise. Have you truly, in all your life, married or otherwise, never experienced an orgasm?”
Heat flooded Lettuce’s face. “My husband was not a kind man.”
“I can see that by the bruises you carry,” he said, suddenly ferocious. A moment later, he puffed out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have used you the way I did, knowing how you got those bruises.”
“You didn’t use me,” Letty insisted, feeling guiltier than ever. “I was willing. More than willing. And I enjoyed every minute. Far more than I should have.” Tears stung at her eyes. “I’m a wicked whore, just like he always said I was.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle. He pulled her into a surprisingly tender embrace and rested a hand on the side of her head. “None of that. No tears. Every man and woman deserves to give themselves over to pleasure. There’s nothing at all wrong with feeling and enjoying all the amazing things our bodies are capable of with whomever you choose to bed. Anyone that tells you differently or calls you a whore is trying to enslave you. And I am bitterly opposed to slavery.”
Letty blinked, studying him to see if he was teasing her or being insincere. But no, he stared steadily back at her, franker than any man had ever been with her. Not just frank, human. He looked at her and spoke to her as if she were a fellow human, not some subspecies called “female” that deserved to be treated as something lesser. The whole thing, his arms around her and the intensity of his gaze, sent a pulsing warmth through her that focused in her sex and in her heart.
“I’m glad you killed him,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t need her to spell out who. “I hated him. I hate my father for forcing me to marry him and for blocking the door on my wedding night when I tried to escape.”
“He what?” Martin snapped, thunderclouds forming in his expression. “I’ll kill him too, if given the chance.” His hands stroked her sides and hips, pulling her flush against his naked body. “I’ll kill any man who so much as thinks of laying a hand on you again. You’re mine now, and I refuse to let you go.”
Letty’s eyes went wide. “I’m yours?” she squeaked, not entirely opposed to the idea.
“Yes, of course,” he said, his teasing smile returning. “I’ve a rule that anything my men can carry off the ships we capture becomes their own. I’m fairly certain I can carry you, therefore, you are my prize for this particular expedition.”
Letty didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or if she was horrified. A pirate captain had just announced that she belonged to him. She wondered what the author of The Secrets of Love would say to that. Letty should have screamed and struggled to get away from him. Instead, she suddenly became aware that she was straddling his hips and his cock was growing harder and hotter by the second.
“What does one do as the prize of a pirate captain?” she asked in a throaty voice, resting her arms over his shoulders and threading her fingers through his hair.
His smile turned carnal. “Generally, it means being fucked senseless.” He jerked his hips against hers, bringing his cock into heady contact with her sex.
Guilt flared once more within Letty, but it was easier to push aside. She was a captive, after all. Martin had claimed her. Perhaps he might keep her with him once they reached St. John’s instead of giving her the money he promised and sending her on her way. Perhaps she could build a whole new life with him. She was certain down to th
e marrow of her bones that Martin would treat her with more kindness and affection than Pigge had ever been capable of.
He leaned into her, bringing his mouth close to hers, his eyes glassing over with lust, but a knock at the cabin door stopped him before their lips touched.
“Captain,” a tenor voice called out. “You’re needed on deck.”
“Blast,” Martin hissed, letting go of Letty and untangling from her so that he could leap out of bed.
Letty was left reeling with the shock of him transforming from an ardent lover to a responsible ship’s captain so quickly. She was much slower to force her limbs to move enough to climb out of bed and search for her shift.
“Never mind about that,” he said as he crossed to the wardrobe and opened it. “You need to wear something more adequate than a shift anyhow. I’ve loads of bits and pieces of things that have been collected in raids over the years. You’re more than welcome to any of it.” He pulled a few articles of clothing from the overstuffed wardrobe, then crossed the cabin again to a washstand built into the opposite wall. “I’d stay and help you clean up and find something, but I’ve already spent more time in bed than any captain should.”
He sent her a sheepish look that she was beginning to feel was his signature. It was ludicrous that a pirate captain would be known for his blush, but then, nothing about Martin was even remotely what she thought a pirate would or should be like.
He washed and dressed in record time. Letty had only begun to search through the clothes in the wardrobe by the time he was fully clothed and striding for the cabin door. Before he reached it, though, he switched direction and came over to her. He stole a kiss that took her completely by surprise, then was gone before she could breathe again. And as mad as it was, she found herself smiling over the whole thing, her heart as light as the sunlight dancing off the waves.
As it turned out, the bits and pieces of clothing Martin had in his wardrobe did not contain a single dress or skirt. He had no women’s clothing at all, which she supposed shouldn’t surprise her. She managed to find a shirt small enough so that she didn’t feel as though she were swimming in a sail, a waistcoat tight enough to make going without stays slightly more comfortable, and a pair of breeches that must have belonged to Jolly. Nothing in her ensemble matched, but at least she was clothed by the time she tip-toed out to the deck.
What she found was as far from what she expected as possible. The pirates were as busy as they’d been the day before, but several of them were singing in harmony as they swung from the rigging, mopped the decks, or sat about repairing various pieces of rope or parts of the ship Letty had no name for. The newly rechristened Vixen floated about a hundred yards off to the left, but a pair of small boats were in the process of rowing between them, one heading to The Vixen and one toward The Growler, both laden with supplies.
Strangest of all, most of the ladies who had been Letty’s fellow passengers roamed freely on the deck. Some were dressed in the same gowns they’d been wearing the day before. Others had found new, masculine clothing, as she had. Some were helping the pirates with their repairs and others appeared to be sewing up holes in clothing that could only belong to the pirates. A few were huddled in the shade of the aft deck looking miserable, but only a handful.
“What is going on here?” Letty asked Lord Ainsley as she approached the spot where he sat against the mainmast.
He still wore a dress and he was busy sewing what looked like a sail. Lady Malvis stood leaning against the mast with her arms crossed, a scowl on her face. She now wore male garb, but she didn’t seem particularly happy about it. Then again, she’d never seemed happy about anything.
“We’ve been put to work,” Lord Ainsley announced with a broad grin. “That is to say, those of us who were willing to lend a hand have taken up work. I’ve never sewn a sail before, but I think I’m quite good at it, see?” He held up the corner of rough fabric to show a painfully uneven row of stitches. “If we never return to England again, I think I would make a fine sailmaker. I feel as though I have a natural talent for it.”
“Do shut up, darling,” Lady Malvis growled.
“Yes, dear heart,” Lord Ainsley said, and to Letty’s surprise, obeyed her order and went back to work.
Letty wasn’t sure what to say. She glanced around at the other women, searching for signs of misery and fear. No one seemed to share the same sense of relief and elation that continued to pulse deep within her—along with the guilt, which wouldn’t go away—but things seemed far less woeful than she imagined they would be.
That assessment seemed even more accurate when one of the pirates—a handsome, black-haired man with deeply tanned skin and dark eyes—walked past Lady Malvis, grinned at her, and winked. Letty held her breath, bracing herself for Lady Malvis’s inevitable furor of indignation. Instead, Lady Malvis’s face went bright pink, she lowered her head, and the faintest hint of a smile touched her lips.
Letty’s jaw dropped. The moment Lady Malvis caught her staring, she sniffed and tilted her nose up.
“It’s not as though you were any less intimately occupied last night,” she said, blushing harder than ever.
Letty didn’t know whether to laugh or gasp. She peeked at Lord Ainsley.
“They had a devilishly good time of it,” he said, still smiling, as though he hadn’t minded at all. “Plenty of us did.”
Letty blinked at the word “us”.
“We broke open Captain Moone’s special store of French wine,” Lord Ainsley went on. “I’ve never had such fun in my life. It was a jolly old scene. Everyone enjoyed themselves in the most shocking ways, even me.” His smile grew to comical proportions. “Big, swarthy bloke buggered me senseless. Said he liked my dress. I thanked him for the compliment, and next thing you know, we were down in the hold and I was stretched over a barrel with his cock up my arse.”
“Ainsley,” Lady Malvis hissed in warning.
“Bloody amazing, it was,” Lord Ainsley went on. “Who knew there’s a spot up there that feels so glorious? I swear I’ve never come so hard in my life.”
“Ainsley!” Lady Malvis barked, balling her hands into fists at her sides.
“I’ve half a mind to try it again,” Lord Ainsley continued, even as Letty clapped a hand over her mouth. “The things you learn when boarded by pirates.”
Letty burst into laughter, clutching her stomach, unable to stop herself. The whole situation was surreal.
“Really, Ainsley,” Lady Malvis shouted. “Must you speak of these things in public?”
“Oh, don’t worry, pet,” he said, smiling up at her. “I’ll still service you and get you to make those delicious sounds I like so much. Unless you’d prefer that swarthy fellow to do it.”
Tears streamed down Letty’s face as her laughter continued. She had to lean against the mast by Lady Malvis’s side to keep from falling over. The whole situation, everything about it, from the sudden deaths after the capture to the night she’d spent with Martin to the things she was learning about her fellow passengers, was so ludicrous that she was beginning to think she’d drowned in a storm and everything that was happening to her now was just a dream. But the pain in her arm when Lady Malvis elbowed her hard was proof that she was awake and alive, as mad as the world had gone around her.
“You’re no better than the rest of us,” Lady Malvis hissed. “And what were we all supposed to do? These are pirates. They killed men right in front of us. It was drink the wine and go with them willingly or put up a fight and suffer.”
Letty’s laughter stopped with a gulp. Lady Malvis might very well have been right. She glanced to the three women huddled on the aft deck. “Were they—” She couldn’t finish the question.
“No,” Malvis said, her scowl growing. “They refused, but no one touched them. Of course, if that lot had been on the ship last night I believe it would have been a different story.” She nodded to a pair of men whom Letty had seen Martin order to the other ship the night before.
“How should I know?” Malvis snapped, tilting her chin up as though she were the woman of superior breeding once more.
Letty sighed and stepped away from her, but with a new understanding of the woman she’d hated so much on the journey so far. The high and mighty Lady Malvis Cunningham had spread her legs for a pirate as quickly as Letty had, and if what Lord Ainsley had hinted at was right, she’d done it willingly. Knowing that actually made Letty feel better.
She wandered farther down the deck, smiling and saying hello to some of the other women and looking for Martin. When she didn’t immediately find him, she decided to go below to see what the lower decks of a pirate ship held.
She didn’t go far before she found the galley. Two of the women from the merchant ship—wives of the merchants themselves and not of Letty’s class—were hard at work, helping the ship’s cook chop vegetables and stir pots over a pair of stoves.
“Have you seen Captain Foster?” Letty asked.
The cook and the two women barely looked up from what they were doing. “Thought I heard him down by the capstan,” the cook said.
“Oh, right.” Letty nodded, then backed away, not wanting to interfere with their work. She turned and headed back through the dim deck, wondering what a capstan was and where it might be located.
Her search took her down to a lower, darker deck and through what looked to be a combination of storage and crew hammocks. Within seconds, she was as lost as she was certain Martin was nowhere near. She turned to head back toward the ladder, figuring it was safest to stay above deck until Martin made an appearance to tell her what she should do for the rest of the day. But before she reached the narrow stairs, a pair of deep, suspicious male voices stopped her in her tracks. She darted into the shadows just as the two men came close.
The Captive Vixen Page 4