“Don’t you understand, it’s not about the riches. It’s about you, Devon. All of this means nothing as long as I have you. I love you.” She dropped the pearls into the chest. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Ah Claire, how long I’ve wished to hear those very words from your lips.
Two weeks passed when Claire accompanied Devon to the Sea Scorpion, the great ship pulled on log rollers up the beach, her great hull fully exposed. The men were employed burning and scraping off barnacles and weeds before the carpenters could get to work at caulking the seams, then tarring, and greasing the keel. It was a long arduous process Devon explained, exercising the skills of his men. Areas damaged by the ramming of the Mer Un Serpent had been repaired. Some of the crew hailed their Captain, while cleaning the ship from top to bottom, patching sails and sewing new ones. Devon held Claire beside him, an intimacy carelessly displayed in front of his crew. Claire blushed, thinking of the long erotic nights spent with Devon, the wild abandon fresh in her mind and between her thighs. Claire blushed again. Did his crew guess they were sleeping together?
Looking over his shoulder to the grinning men, giving knowing winks to one another added to her discomfort, and her face heated further. “Devon, we must leave at once. Your men think I am a strumpet. I believe we must be more circumspect.” She moved away from him.
He laughed at her look of alarm and took her in his arms. “It’s a small island. Let them figure it out. Faith, we’ll help them, so there will be no mistakes.” He climbed up on the ratlines, balancing with one arm and one leg hooked to the netting. “Come about lads,” Devon urged. “I’ve an announcement to make.”
Claire shot him a desperate glance, but Devon didn’t see it. He gazed steadily as his men gathered from their labors. Even in her state of embarrassment, Claire sensed a force that communicated to all. The crowd grew silent and riveted their eyes on him. His deep Irish voice rang out over the beach and bay, carrying with it the power and force of a thunderclap.
See that beautiful woman down there?” he pointed to Claire and her mouth dropped open. “She is my wife!”
A round of tumultuous cheers went up.
“As your Captain, whatever oath of allegiance you have sworn to me, is sworn to her as well. What service you render to me is rendered to her as well. Your loyalty will be marked to her as you’ve done with me.”
Another round of cheers went up. Claire, reeling by Devon’s incredible declaration, forced herself to pull her gaze from his broad shoulders and look about her with dawning awe. All around her stood his crew, grinning and smiling, coming forth with hearty congratulations for both of them.
At the first possible moment, Devon whisked her aside. “For now, Madame Blackmon, I am ravenous and my immediate needs demand to be supplied.”
Claire’s eyes grew large in anticipation, forgetting the grinning sailors. They left the ship and landed on the shore when Dooley, his shipwright presented Devon with a progress report. Despite Devon’s scowl not to be delayed, the little man remained tenacious. “The Golden Gull is being brought around from stem to stern, Captain in Crab Bay. She’s an ancient and bloody sight, but I’ll wager a shillin’ to a maiden’ead she’ll hold together when I’m through with her. Aye, by tomorrow.”
“Good job, Dooley,” Devon said impatiently moving away and pulling Claire at such a fast clip she had to run to keep up. Dooley ran alongside, holding his hat to this head. “But Captain Sir, don’t you want a report on the Mer Un Serpent?”
That stopped Devon, and Claire ran into him, his full wrath pinned on Dooley. “Didn’t I command Le Trompeur no more than ten days?”
“Yes sir,” said Dooley. “But he said he needed two more. That’s why I thought I’d be asking you, Captain. I don’t like it. Never did like the smell of the French.”
“Neither do I, Dooley. Why wasn’t I told about this before?”
“Beggin ye’re pardon sir,” Dooley looked sheepishly to Claire and turned a bright red, “You’ve been unavailable until now.”
“Get Ames and Bloodsmythe and enough good men to convince our uninvited guest to remove himself. I don’t care if the Mer Un Serpent sinks a mile from shore. I want it a thousand leagues from Paradise.”
“Yes sir. Right away sir.” Dooley spun on his heel and left.
Devon grabbed her hand and traversed to the house. “You’re not to leave my side until the Mer Un Serpent is far away from here. Do you understand?” He was more than agitated by the news.
“Yes sir. Right away, Captain,” Claire mimicked, saluting him with a playful smile. He looked at her sharply then saw she was teasing him.
“I could drag you into the forest−” he threatened.
Claire tore her hand from his grasp and ran ahead, turned, walking backward, she challenged him. “You could try−”
“I find myself starved if I don’t see you at least a dozen times a day,” Devon said, his hands clasped behind his back as he stalked her. A predatory gleam shone in Devon’s eyes. She held her hand up to ward him off. Her stomach fluttered and her breath quickened.
“You are more beautiful today than I ever remember you.” His eyes sparked wickedly.
Her body clenched on itself in direct, hungry reaction to his words, and the worst part of it was that he knew it. “You are a devil.”
“So why bother saving my immortal soul? I plan to show you more, a continuation of what we’ve enjoyed. To enjoy your body to the fullest. Yet I warn you, there are risks. You might hunger for that pleasure too much. It might lead to boldness.”
“You are very sure of your skills.” She pulled up her hair on top of her head, posturing in such a way as to kindle a fire in him, yet his words suggested a purely sensual experience.
He drew her close and brushed his lips over hers. Claire pushed him away, unbalancing him. He grabbed for her, intent on administering suitable punishment, but Claire outmaneuvered him, giggling as she picked up her skirts and dashed toward the house. Devon followed on her heels. Breathless, she dodged him in the library and scrambled into the dining room, looking for a place to hide. She screamed when his warm breath warned her of his closeness. Too late. He scooped her up in his strong arms, snatching her in his embrace. “You’ll pay for that, Claire.
“Mercy. I but a poor maid caught by a ruthless brigand,” Claire cried between helpless peals of laughter.
“Never.” Devon growled with mock ferocity and bore her to the table and laid her there. He threw up her skirts. In a froth of petticoats her slim white thighs were exposed for his perusal.
“You must stop this at once, Devon. This behavior is unseemly.” Although she didn’t really want him to stop. “What if Lily and Robert walk in?”
“I’ll remember your sly tactics to avoid the inevitable. In terms of Robert and Lily−those two are engaged in such bliss that their first child is undoubtedly rooted. Which reminds me, it’s time we created one of our own.” He unbuttoned his pants. How did he arouse so quickly? His swollen manhood stood hard, pulsing and seeking, a sword ready to thrust.
Claire sat up. “It isn’t proper. The sun is up. What if someone should happen upon us?”
“For the past two days, you’ve been unconcerned about the daylight. The servants, I’ve ordered out until dinner time and that’s the only time they’re allowed here,” he grinned wickedly.
“I fear for my virtue.” She sighed.
“Liar,” he chided, his hands shooting out to push her down on the table. “You’re my wife, I mean to take advantage of the fact, when you want it, and I want it.”
He slid his hands under her buttocks, cupping them and pulling her close to the edge. Claire had wantonly taken to not wearing undergarments for Devon’s insatiable appetite left her not knowing when he would take her next. On the beach under the stars, at the waterfalls, amidst a bed of soft forest ferns, shamelessly in his cabin on board his ship while his crew worked up above. She could not get enough of him. Her body melted in sensuality as her naked
limbs were exposed to his hungry view. He bent her knees up, gently kissing one then the other. The blazing desire in his eyes stoked a burning fire, her hot scent warm and wet swirled, his nostrils flared, luring him and building her arousal in the most primitive way. A soft gasp caught within her throat when he thrust inside her. He gripped her bottom and slammed into her and within seconds, she moved with him, liquid, hot, intoxicating, exciting, her body gloving his...
Her fingers clutched at the edges of the table. Her body strained wildly and gave, allowing free rein to his passions, the relentless driving force of his body pulling her hard back upon him. And still it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, she felt as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, shattering in a million brilliant shards of light. He thrust, once, twice, and then spilled his seed into her, liquid and warm, the smell of his sex deliciously, permeating the air. She marveled, the warm sweet-tasting ecstasy pulsing into her.
Spent, he collapsed upon her, Claire taking his full weight, wrapping her legs and arms protectively around him, cradling his head upon her chest. In time, he rose and carried her upstairs, made love to her again then dozed and laid the day to waste, luxuriating in bed.
Until she faced Devon leaving, she would live from day to day, enjoying the simplest pleasures, savoring her newfound appreciation of life. A fragile happiness she prayed would not be shattered and taken by events beyond her control. This she vowed. She snuggled up to him and drifted off to sleep.
“What do you want?” Le Trompeur growled under a sickle moon. “If Captain Blackmon learns of my communication with you−”
“We need you to help us escape.” Jarvis gripped the bars of his prison.
“You squander my time on stupidity!” Le Trompeur’s spittle flew through the bars.
“Hear us out. We have a proposal that I’m sure will interest you. A quid pro quo arrangement,” Jarvis smoothly suggested.
“What can you possibly offer me of value, locked in a jail?”
“A ransom for myself and Sir Teakle.”
Le Trompeur huffed. “Fools. I must be gone by tomorrow. To think I crossed this island in the middle of the night for nothing. I should slit your throats.”
“Hear me out,” said Sir Jarvis, inspired with his own cleverness. “There is enmity between you and the Black Devil. I can give you vital information on him. He was a slave on my plantation. I know his Achilles heel. In fact, I can give you something very dear to him. How would you like to be a marionette, pulling all his strings?”
Le Trompeur leaned against the grill work. “You have my interest.”
He held her securely in his arms, dreams of this haunting him forever now real. He had never begun to imagine the magic that he could feel, and if he feared of anything, he was afraid that he might never come to a place in his life again when he could know such sweet and soaring pleasure. His wife slept against him naked, her hair splayed over him, her slim white hand upon his bronzed chest. A fierce tension seized hold of him. He had not imagined that any woman could create such a desire within him, could arouse such passions, such a deep tempest.
She shifted slightly, then realized he was awake. She turned slowly in his arms and her eyes widened, grasping he’d been awake for some time, studying her. She searched his face, her eyes golden splendor in the silvery sheen. A look of longing held in her gaze, a longing as deep and as keen as the one hungering in his chest.
Devon moved a strand of her hair away from where it cloaked her breast. She moved her arms about him, beckoning him closer to her as they lay on his bed. Her scent and heat surrounded him like a sensual miasma. The magic and memory of this night swirled a potent brew that would drown him in heady passion. He rolled atop her into the white slant of the moon’s glow.
She wasn’t wondering at his thoughts anymore−his body tensed and tightened, felt the cup of his hand upon her cheek, and before she could speak, he kissed her, forcefully, seductively, denying any chance of protest. In response, she weaved her soft arms about his neck, splaying her fingers down his shoulders and back. He liked her free response, moving her hands everywhere to pleasure him.
A hand upon his chest, she pushed him back to his elbows. She leaned over him, her hair veiling them in a canopy of silk.
“Hungry?” she teased.
“Starving.”
When her lips met his, he needed no urging to part his own. Her soft breasts pushed into his chest. When he entered her, her eyes closed and he saw the soft sweep of her lashes and heard the soft pleading moans as she cried out for him in a sweet pinnacle of release.
How much more entranced could he be? Devon exhaled and glanced at the sky framed through the doors. Night still lingered in the west where the dark purple strip was studded with stars, but eastward the upper lobe of the sun peeked over the horizon. From now on, with his wife sleeping next to him, he would love to see the sun come up over the horizon and spread across the water.
Claire had always been his and their lay a certain male satisfaction of pride in that fact. She was his wife in every word and deed. The vows were spoken, and consummated. In fact, the way they couldn’t get enough of each other, it would not be long before she came to him and announced she would have their child. His child. The belief and joy of that occurrence lie beyond his wildest imagination. All her barriers of fear had faded away, and now she embraced him with a delight that filled him with a tenderness so deep he ached inside.
Then why this bothersome doubt that ran frigid along his spine?
He didn’t know, nor did he care. He curled against her, holding the woman he cherished tight against him.
Claire opened the small makeshift jail. She detested this errand and hated going against Devon’s orders to stay strictly in the house. But Cookie who normally took the prisoners their food had begged this one small favor. Bloodsmythe had planned a special outing. Cookie was walking on clouds with the expectation of a proposal. Who was she to stop Cupid’s arrow?
Claire shoved open the door of the prison, a small building cordoned off into two parts that included a barred cell. Her uncle blinked, the wavering sunlight made him appear more inhuman than ever. He wore no wig, and his bald pate had the luminescent quality of a cadaver. Sir Teakle, his silk and lace filthy and drooping fared no better.
“It’s my dearest niece come to feed us,” Jarvis sneered. “The world would call you a fool to keep company with a devil like that.”
“I would think in your current state, you’d be appreciative of the kindness given to you by Devon. I remember how well you treated him.”
“You throw away a chance to be a countess?” Sir Teakle snorted, his huge bulk winnowed down from his incarceration. “But you’re not the sort to put great store in rank and coronet.”
“Never would I desire to be your wife. You are as contemptible as my uncle.” Claire moved into the cell, eager to deposit the food and leave to seek out her husband.
“You think I know nothing?” Jarvis spat. “He’s a damned pirate, a cut-throat villain. I’ve known plenty, and they never change. It’s in his blood. He’ll have many women besides you. Would you be happy when he tires of you, to be cast aside? He only has the hangman’s noose awaiting him and disgrace for you.”
Claire seethed. “I will not listen to you disparage Devon. He is kind and noble, far from what you could claim for yourself. Never will I be in your power again. I love Devon and will never leave him.”
“So you play the whore with that pirate thief.”
That comment jerked her to attention, and she laughed in Jarvis’s face. “I am his wife!”
“His wife?” Jarvis exploded. “You think you are so smart. I’ll have you know that I plotted to have your family killed. Paid a heavy sum to have my brother’s carriage sabotaged, the wheel breaking precisely, rounding a bend, casting you, and your mother and father over a cliff. That’s right. I killed your father and mother. My entire life, I hated my brother and everything he represented. He had the beautiful wife, family
, success in everything he accomplished. I was the poor younger brother with nothing, always in his shadow, and I hated him for it. Yet his brat survived. I couldn’t wait to throw you out. I burned the will that left the majority of assets to you and seized everything for myself,” he laughed. “You even own the plantation in Jamaica.”
Numb with shock, Claire inched to the door. The demonic gleam in Jarvis’s eye rattled up her spine. He was mad. She moved to the door. “You paid to have my father and mother killed?” Claire reeled from the revelation. A warning voice nagged her. “Where is the guard?” She barely uttered the words when Sir Teakle grabbed her from behind. “How dare you do this on Devon’s island? You’re fools. You have no place to escape. Devon will hunt you down.” She opened her mouth to scream. Filthy lace was thrust into her mouth. Claire gagged. She fought and bucked. With her free hand, she swung and hit Teakle in the eye. He swore. Her uncle pressed a knife at her throat and she stilled.
“Now my lovely,” Teakle breathed into her ear. “You will do exactly as we say.” He laughed, his voice stayed absolutely emotionless and it chilled her. She kicked at him. He wrenched her arms behind her and tied her hands.
“That’s better,” her uncle said. “You have been nothing but a bitch that needs to learn obedience. I’ve made an arrangement for our freedom. To think I can exchange the treasure dearest to the Black Devil.”
He flung her out the door. Claire stumbled over the guard. Young Johnnie lay bound and still. A large red lump swelled on the side of his head. Was he dead? Jarvis kicked him and he moaned. Claire closed her eyes, thankful he was alive.
The Winds of Fate Page 27