“We have a thing or two to show all of you,” Lady Malvis answered him, raising her spoon as though she were dining at court instead of a pirate ship.
Rayburn was seated between him and Lady Malvis, but Martin noticed a dull glint of metal at her side. When he looked closer, he realized the fine society lady was wearing a pistol in her belt and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a dagger rested across her lap.
In fact, the more he looked around, the more weapons he spotted. Most were well-concealed, but the butt of a pistol poked out from one of his crewmen’s shirts here and the top of a dagger peeked above one of Dick’s men’s boots there.
“Bloody hell,” he mumbled, subtly testing his arm to make sure he would be able to use it as soon as he needed to.
“Is there a problem?” Lettuce whispered, leaning closer to him.
“Only the full-scale battle that’s about to break out at any moment,” he muttered back to her.
He glanced as covertly as he could to Dick, relieved to find the man and his fellows drinking heartily. The more they drank, the faster the wine and opium would do its work, and the sooner they could get the whole mess out of the way.
The meal was nearing its end when Ainsley and a few of Martin’s men rose from their seats and proceeded to the quarterdeck.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ainsley announced in a surprisingly loud voice, as if he had experience on the stage already. “We would now like to present you with a jolly pantomime set to music.” The crewmen who had taken up the fiddle and flute and a drum played a quick flourish. Ainsley turned to tell them, “That’s very good,” then faced his audience once more. “We present you with our interpretation of The Rape of the Sabine Women.”
The pirates burst into a raucous roar of approval, accompanied by banging on the table. Martin was much more inclined to bury his face his hands and groan over what was sure to be ribald entertainment, especially since “the Sabine women” appeared to be Ainsley himself. The fool started off on an overly dramatic speech about how sweet and innocent he was and how cruel and lusty the Romans that were on their way to claim him were.
And yet, as embarrassing as Ainsley’s antics were and as ominous as it looked when Bernard, one of his men, started loosening his belt, Dick and his conspirators seemed riveted by the whole thing. Their laughter was freer than usual, and they, above all the others, were pounding on the table and demanding to see a right good buggering more than Martin’s own men.
“It’s working,” Martin whispered to Lettuce, although he was loud enough for Rayburn and Lady Malvis to hear and to take a look as well.
“Looks like my blessed fool of a husband is worth his weight in gold after all,” Lady Malvis said with a surprisingly pleased smile.
Martin was ready to doubt her statement when Dick looked their way. His laughter stopped and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion for a moment. But with one sharp, comically feminine cry from Ainsley—who was miming rejection of Bernard’s advances—Dick’s attention was back on the quarterdeck stage. And when Ainsley flipped up the back of his ridiculous skirt to reveal he was wearing nothing at all underneath, Dick burst into laughter once more.
“I’ll be damned,” Martin muttered as Ainsley began to dash about the stage, his lily-white buttocks on display for all to see.
“Catch him,” Dick shouted, laughing drunkenly and gulping down more wine. “Give him a right good buggering.”
Martin exchanged a look with Lettuce, who stared back, wide-eyed. They peeked at Dick and his men, who seemed to have lost all inhibition as they watched Ainsley skittering about the quarterdeck, begging for mercy in falsetto tones.
When, at last, Bernard caught up with Ainsley and bent him over the railing, Dick and his men went wild. Martin’s face heated with embarrassment, particularly as it suddenly became difficult to tell whether Ainsley and Bernard were acting or whether they were actually engaging in a lewd act in front of all of them.
Lady Malvis cleared her throat, her face beet red, all traces of humor gone from her expression.
“I’m so sorry you have to witness this, my lady,” Martin said to her in sympathy.
But Lady Malvis shook her head and nodded to the other end of the table. Martin turned to look. While Dick and one or two of his men continued to laugh and clap and drink, the rest of the traitors had slumped in their chairs and sagged against each other. One of them had even fallen to the floor.
Dick and the others weren’t far behind. As Ainsley continued to make downright ungodly sounds on the quarterdeck rail, Dick’s shoulders began to droop and his eyelids grew heavy. Martin gestured to his men to keep up the ribald cries and table-pounding so as not to raise suspicion, but before long it became clear that even Ainsley was watching Dick with a sharp eye. The moment Dick dropped his mug and fell off his bench, Ainsley ended his pantomime buggering with a cry of victory instead of an acted orgasm and stood straight. Martin was relieved when Bernard straightened as well, revealing he hadn’t even unbuttoned his trousers, though they did bear a distinct bulge. Both men had acted their part better than any West End performer.
“Quickly.” Martin stood, pushing back his bench and gesturing for his men to close in on the traitors. “Get them down in the hold as fast as possible. Lock it up tight.”
“We should slit their throats now,” Lady Malvis said, standing and wielding her dagger.
“I don’t want more blood on my hands,” Martin said honestly.
“It’s not wise,” Lady Malvis insisted.
“I think it’s perfect and merciful,” Lettuce argued, taking Martin’s hands. She glanced up at him with pure admiration, making Martin feel like the hero he never was. “Well done.”
There was something else in her eyes, something that made him want to rush the whole process of locking up the conspirators so that they could retire to his cabin. He ordered his men to take the prisoners below with more command than he had felt in ages. Once Dick and all of his men—which included the man whom Martin suspected of firing the shot that wounded him—were taken below deck and the rest of the crew set about cleaning up the deck, Martin grabbed Lettuce’s hand and led her through the hive of activity to his cabin.
“I think we’re in the clear,” he said once they were alone.
“Is the lock on the hold sufficient?” she asked, her eyes alight with excitement.
“I believe so,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it aside. “I’ve set guards to watch it as well.”
“Then we’ve won,” Lettuce said, beaming and working loose the buttons of her waistcoat.
“We have,” Martin agreed. “And now, what did you think of tonight’s entertainment?” He leaned against his bed to tug off his boots.
“I thought it was salacious and inappropriate,” she said breathlessly, stepping back to the chair so that she could remove her own boots.
“As did I,” Martin went on. “Which is why I think we need to reenact the whole thing in a way that is far more palatable.”
“Quite right,” she said, kicking her boots aside then standing and shimmying out of her waistcoat and shirt.
Martin couldn’t wait. As soon as she was bared from the waist up, he abandoned his own undressing to surge toward her, sweeping her into his arms. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” he murmured against her ear, closing a hand around her breast and working her nipple to a bud between his thumb and forefinger. “I will never get tired of feasting on the sight of you.”
“Even if I grow old and wrinkly and fat with age?” she asked, her hands moving to undo his breeches.
“Even then,” he said.
He closed his mouth over hers in a kiss that was designed to sear their souls together forever. It was madness to him that he could have fallen so completely in love with her in such a short span of time, but he had. He couldn’t imagine his life without her softness in it, couldn’t imagine his bed without her splayed across it, her legs parted invitingly. Everything about his life
on the high seas was about to end, but she was everything that waited for him on the sunny shores of the future.
Her hands had resumed their work as he kissed her and dreamed of their life together, so it was a delicious surprise when she opened the front of his breeches and slid her fingers along his hardening length. He let out a wordless cry of need and thrust his hips against her touch.
“I plan to have my way with you tonight,” she murmured against his lips, then added, “You unfortunate Sabine.”
Martin’s brow shot up. “I thought the Sabines were women.”
“I’m the one wearing the breeches here,” she answered in a commanding tone, pushing his breeches down over his hips.
They sagged to his knees as she continued to stroke him until he thought he would go mad. He had rocketed to the edge of completion so fast that he feared he was in danger of embarrassing himself, but in the nick of time, she pulled back. She finished with the buttons of his waistcoat, then tore that and his shirt up over his head while he kicked off his breeches. The result was that he stood before her, fully naked, while she took in the sight of his body with hungry eyes.
“On your knees,” she ordered, pointing to the floorboards.
A ripple of sharp desire shot through Martin at the role reversal. He obeyed her in an instant, ignoring the discomfort in his knees and the ache in his arm as he knelt before her.
“Now, pleasure me,” she demanded, placing her hands on her waist above the top of her breeches.
“Yes, mistress,” Martin answered with false submission and a grin. Or perhaps it wasn’t false submission at all.
He reached for the fastenings of her breeches, mesmerized by what he would find there. They both sucked in breaths as he worked them loose enough to tug down to her thighs, exposing the dark patch of curls between her legs. He traced his hands over her hips and backside, drawing his fingertips forward over her thighs to tease between her legs. She let out a sound of approval, but it wasn’t until he pulled her breeches all the way off and she was able to stand with her legs farther apart that he was really able to give her what she wanted.
Once she had moved to lean against the side of his bed, legs parted farther, he swept his hands up her thighs, teasing her sex with feather-light touches. She gasped and gripped the edge of the bed, her breath coming in shorter gasps that did miraculous things to her breasts. He was aching with the need to plunder her, but he had work to do first.
With one hand still stroking her glorious wetness, he leaned into her, burrowing between her legs until his tongue found the inner sweetness of her sex. She grasped handfuls of his hair and held on tight, pulling in a way he found erotic, as he circled her clitoris with his tongue.
“Yes,” she sighed, her thighs shaking slightly. “Like that.”
He hummed in acquiescence, flickering his tongue and sliding two of his fingers into her sweet, hot depth. She gripped his hair harder and began to move subtly against him.
A rush of triumph flooded him. She wanted this. She was working to come. It made his cock throb with the need to be inside of her, balls-deep. Every sound of enjoyment she made, every jerking movement designed to bring them closer, sent mad desire rushing through him.
“Stop,” she squeaked suddenly, panting.
“Stop?” He glanced questioningly up at her.
“Get on the bed,” she ordered. “Lie on your back. I want to come with you inside me.”
Martin’s mouth dropped open, though he didn’t know whether it was in reflexive protest or agreement. He pushed himself to his feet, then practically tumbled onto the bed, spreading his arms and legs in invitation. His prick stood straight up against his abdomen, hot and already slick with pre-cum.
She scrambled onto the bed with him, straddling his thighs and licking her lips as she took hold of his cock. “I like this,” she said, breathless, her eyes hazy with lust. “You’re big and hot and delicious.” She emphasized her words by leaning forward and taking his tip into her mouth.
Martin let out a string of curses at how good it felt and gripped the bedclothes. It took all he had not to come in her mouth. She seemed to sense his desperation, or perhaps she was close enough herself to give up teasing for serious fucking. She held him upright and moved to position him just right, and then she bore down.
They both groaned with exquisite pleasure as she bore down on him, taking his full length into her tight pussy. Her eyes went wide and her mouth formed a perfect “O”, as though she’d surprised herself by how hungrily she’d taken him. That was arousing as hell in its own right, but then she began to move.
She was slow at first, uncertain enough to hint to Martin that she’d never been on top before. She was a fast learner, though, and within no time she had set a steady rhythm that had him growling with lust. He grabbed her hips and thrust into her as she moved, steadying her. Her cries of pleasure grew faster and higher-pitched. She straightened, shifting his angle of penetration, and grasped her breasts, pinching her nipples. The whole show was glorious, and when she let out a fierce cry, her face contorted in orgasm, her inner muscles throbbing around him, he couldn’t stop himself from spilling hard into her.
It was heavenly, the best he’d ever experienced. His orgasm was so strong that it left him as weak as he’d been pretending to be all day. Weak in the best possible way. As she sagged over him, adjusting so that their hot, sweaty bodies twined together inextricably, Martin was certain he’d never been happier. His enemies had been captured, his days as a pirate were over, and the woman he was certain he would love for the rest of his life was in his arms.
Chapter 9
Letty slept like a dream, in spite of the threats pressing down on her and the uncertainty of her future. Except, the more she snuggled against Martin and the more she let her dreams drift off to new island homes festooned with tropical flowers and ringing with the sound of children’s laughter, the less uncertain she believed her future was. Martin wanted her. He was a good man with solid plans for the future, and she could build a whole new life with him.
No one ever had to know. She smiled as that thought greeted her when she was jostled awake in the small hours of the morning. Someone was moving below deck, but the overall peace that pervaded the ship kept her relaxed and loose. No one from her former life ever had to know that she had survived the pirate attack and pledged herself to the captain. She would have to find a way to contact her sisters, of course, but if her father went on believing she had been lost at sea along with Pigge she wouldn’t set him straight.
The bumping below continued. Letty drew in a breath and stretched along Martin’s large, naked body.
“Are you awake?” he asked in soft tones, moving a hand to brush her hair back from her face.
“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, snuggling closer to him. “Though it’s a shame. I was having the most beautiful dream. How do you feel about the name Victor for a son?”
She felt his intake of breath in the darkness and the way his body warmed slightly. She even thought she could hear his mouth curve up in a smile as he continued to stroke her.
“I think that’s just fine,” he said, radiating contentment. “As long as you like Josephine as a daughter’s name.”
“I knew someone named Josephine,” Letty said. “She was lovely. We were not bosom friends, but I always liked her.”
“Josephine and Victor,” Martin said, lightness in his voice. “We need to think of at least half a dozen other names too.”
“Do we?” Letty giggled.
Martin was prevented from answering as the noise below suddenly grew louder. More than that, the bumping and thumping was joined by sudden shouts and curses. Even more cries suddenly arose from well to the side of the ship, from The Vixen.
Letty and Martin sat abruptly together. Martin instantly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stooping to grab his clothes from the floor.
“What’s going on?” Letty asked following his lead and scrambling for her own clo
thes.
“I can only imagine one thing,” Martin said in a grim voice.
A moment later, his unspoken answer was confirmed by a furious knock on the door.
“Captain,” Rayburn’s voice shouted from the other side. “Dick and the others have escaped. Seems they weren’t drunk and drugged after all. The ship is under attack.”
“Hold them below if at all possible,” Martin ordered, dressing with record speed.
“Aye, aye,” Rayburn called. His footsteps retreated.
Letty had gone from peaceful contentment to stark fear so fast that her head spun and her hands shook as she thrust her legs into her breeches and searched for her shirt. “Can we hold them off?” she asked, feeling as though she were making a mess of dressing.
Martin was far quicker than she was, but he didn’t bother to don all of his clothes. “We can if we act fast and if my men fight valiantly,” he said before dashing to a cabinet at the side of the cabin and taking out a pistol and a sword.
A small moan escaped from Letty before she could stop it. The sight of Martin arming himself should have been exciting and invigorating, but all she saw was the possibility that her dreams from mere minutes before could be ended before they’d begun.
Martin must have seen her expression of fear. He finished tucking weapons into his belt and strode across the cabin to her, kissing her soundly. “I’ve fought in dozens of battles like this and barely earned a scratch. I won’t let one mutineer stop me from having the life I dream of, a life with you.”
Instead of encouraging her, his words brought tears to her eyes. “I’m so afraid for you.”
“Don’t be,” he said. He stepped back, taking a long knife from his belt and handing it to her. “Stay here and keep yourself safe. Don’t let anyone into the cabin. Protect yourself if you must. If they set the ship on fire….”
“If they what?” Letty gulped.
Martin shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. They won’t. Dick wants this ship as a prize. Stay here. The battle will be over soon.”
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