Defying a Pirate

by Camille Oster

  Crawling into the bed, she fell asleep as soon as it grew dark.

  Gemma woke when she felt James join her in the bed. The barest light of dusk was shining through the window.

  “Are we safe?” she asked.

  “Yes, we lost them during the night.”

  She felt his warmth immediately and it was both comforting and disturbing. She wanted to feel and explore the comfort of it, but she absolutely forbade herself. Still she wanted to seek out his body and wrap herself in his arms.

  She also wanted to ask him where they were going, but he was already asleep. She’d grown familiar with his habits and knew that his change in breathing patterns meant he was sleeping. There were things she should not know about him, things she should only know about her husband.

  She’d never had high hopes for her relationship with her husband; she’d grown to expect that he would be older than her and a landowner, maybe even a widower. She hadn’t actually thought much more about it, particularly about them lying in bed together as she was now. The idea that she would want her husband like she’d wanted the pirate back at the swimming hole was both thrilling and confronting. She’d never expected anything out of the marriage-bed but duty. She also felt guilty thinking that she would marry someone and not feel such want—to know that she had at one point wanted a man so much she had thrown reason and caution to the wind.

  She refused to allow the call he had on her and the wantonness she felt, but it was still there. She desperately wanted to know what it would feel like, to have her person invaded such, to feel him come into her and command her body.

  She got out of the bed—she had to before she started thinking further about the things he could do to her and what that would feel like.

  Noting that her nightgown smelled nice and clean, she dressed for the day, but couldn’t leave the cabin. She tried to be quiet to let him sleep. There was nothing to do and her gaze would return to his sleeping form. She knew all of his features well now; she knew the curves of his muscles and the planes of his face, his golden skin, and even that pulse point of his neck that would move when he laid certain ways. She dismissed a thought wondering what it would feel like to place her lips on that point. Studying his hands, she saw they were firm and strong with long fingers that were capable of such violence and such tenderness. They’d roamed her body, making her feel like she was on fire.

  A knock on the door made Gemma jump as if she had been caught studying the sleeping man on the bed. It took her a moment to realize it was midday and the cook was here to deliver the meal.

  “Come in,” James croaked without opening his eyes.

  The cook came in and placed the tray on the table. The smell of the food permeated the cabin.

  “I’m famished,” James said and got out of the bed. He was still half-dressed, still wearing his breeches, but nothing above. Still a bit unstable, he walked to the table, seemingly still half in the grip of sleep.

  They were having a meal of crustaceans, large tails filled with white meat. There were also fruits and some vegetables that must have been gathered from the island.

  “I see the boys went diving,” James said as he sat down. “Neptune’s bounty.”

  Taking a tail, he placed it on his plate and Gemma did the same. She’d never eaten out of a tail before, but the meat was sweet and buttery.

  “We will reach Martinique soon,” he said.

  “Where I must be doting.” She felt a stab of uncertainty. She had no idea what to expect from a pirate haven. It was likely it would be rough and dirty. She hoped James would protect her. He’d said he would, but hopefully his allegiance would not be put to the test. Deep down, she suspected that he would, but she didn’t want to be put in a position where she could potentially be disappointed.

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  Jack watched the girl as she ate the meat daintily. It wasn’t a meal that could be eaten with decorum, but she tried. He watched her place pinches of white flesh into her mouth and to delight in the taste.

  He’d been impressed with the calmness she’d displayed as they were chased by the British. She hadn’t seemed to wish for their capture as she’d said the previous day, which made him feel better about discovering the passion within her. She’d almost burned him up with it and he still felt the effects of it. The British could not have come at a more inopportune time—just one more reason to hate them.

  She was guarded today, not acknowledging him with her eyes. She’d done her hair too—perhaps another attempt to put a barrier between them. She looked different from the day before, when she had been wild and free in the swimming hole. Her hair had been flowing around her shoulders and she’d looked like a mermaid brought to flesh in front of him—tempting with shining and compelling beauty. He tightened thinking about it. Her body had been so sweet and giving, and he’d just about been welcomed into the heaven that lay within it, only to be denied at the last minute.

  He’d taken his frustrations out on the ship, driven her for every ounce of speed she could give. It hadn’t been difficult losing the British as they’d had the dark as their advantage, and they knew these waters well.

  Looking at Gemma, he knew she would not give of herself now—likely she was shocked at her own acquiescence. He felt pride at bringing her to such a state and he would do it again. He would kiss her further to yet again reveal the passion he’d uncovered. He would present her as his tomorrow night. The idea was in actuality less onerous than he’d expected. He’d expected that it would rub fiercely to have to acknowledge her as his, knowing it was an action that was forced on him. Still not something he would do if there was no reason for it, but it wasn’t quite as acrid an idea as he’d anticipated. He actually looked forward to it, if only for the amusement of watching her having to be doting to him. If she struggled, he would kiss her—no-one would fail to see the passion in her, just as he could not fail to feel it.

  Chapter 15

  “There it is,” James said pointing at a spot along the coast of an upcoming island. “Current Cove.”

  Looking out, Gemma could hardly see much of anything other than jungle and waiting ships, but as she looked harder, the buildings were starting to take shape. It looked like nothing more than a fishing village. There was a jetty, a few storage houses and some cottages. It was nothing remarkable, certainly nothing that would identify it as anything more than a fishing settlement.

  “So this is what a pirate haven looks like. Somehow I expected...more.”

  “Well, there isn’t much there, really—just some drinking holes and some general merchants selling provisions. It is quite recently established.”

  Gemma turned to look at the man next to her. His dark eyes were on the village ahead of them and she had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. He didn’t look like he felt the joy of being home.

  “Why do you want to live like this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you said that you lived with complete freedom, but is it complete freedom living in a little village in the middle of the ocean? It seems a heavy price—excluded from society in every way. You have wealth, but nowhere to spend it.”

  “You underestimate the importance of freedom—you’ve never been without it.”

  “And you have?” The turn of the conversation surprised Gemma and she wondered if he’d been imprisoned at some point. If he had, he’d managed to escape punishment for being a pirate.

  “I was an indentured servant,” he said quietly. “Treated not much better than an animal.”

  Gemma frowned at the unexpected answer. “Is that where you got the scars on your back?”

  He didn’t answer, instead moved away from her to shout an order to the sailing master. He didn’t answer the question when he returned to her side either and Gemma knew that he wouldn’t even if she pressed. She also knew that it was true—his silence confirmed it. It made her see his value in freedom within context. She didn’t quite understand what indentureme
nt meant. She knew people entered such contracts in exchange for passage to the colonies. She hadn’t realized there was whipping involved, or that there was bad treatment.

  “You will have to stay within my sight while we’re here,” he warned. “This is not a place where someone like you is safe.”

  Gemma felt her concern rise, along with the reassertion that she was completely dependent on his good behavior and honor.

  “I am serious,” he continued. “Don’t slip out of my sight.”

  She nodded. If the pirate was giving her warnings on personal security, she had no reason not to listen—or to doubt him.

  They sailed into the jetty and a plank was placed to allow them to disembark. James let her go first and Gemma felt her stomach drop as she stepped over the surprisingly deep void down to the water. She noticed immediately that it was much warmer in Current Cove than out to sea where the sea breezes cooled the air.

  They started walking toward the cluster of cottages and Gemma noticed an old man on a crutch standing in their way. As he held out his hand for alms, James gave him some coins. The man was obviously pleased with his bounty. It seemed not everyone fared well out of this life, she noted. The man was missing a leg and most of his teeth. Gemma felt intensely sorry for him—no doubt a retired pirate for which fate and fortune had not been so kind and he ended up old, crippled and poor.

  The town revealed itself more inland, being much larger than she’d seen from the water. The buildings were made of some kind of plaster and brick, with most of them single storey. They were built to be completely functional with no heed being paid to their beauty. Some of them not even looking entirely stable.

  James’ men seemed to scatter as they arrived into the main township.

  “Do you live here?”

  “No,” James said. “This is where pirates meet—typically not a good place to live.”

  Gemma noticed that there were women, some of them selling things. Gemma lowered her eyes as one woman approached wearing a bright blue dress that was much too tight for her, making her breasts try to escape out of the top. Gemma was certain that the dress had been made for some thinner, less endowed woman. She had blond hair that had been curled and she was quite pretty even though her beauty was overshadowed by her escaping flesh.

  “Marie,” James greeted her calmly and Gemma was surprised that he knew this woman; although she wasn’t entirely sure why she was surprised.

  “Hello darling,” the woman said teasingly with what Gemma could only be described as a leer. “Been a while since we’ve seen your face in these parts.”

  “Oh, you know I can’t stay away for too long.” He was flirting with this woman. Gemma felt a stab of jealousy, but dismissed it as soon as it appeared. She had no right, and absolutely no cause to be jealous.

  “It will be a good night now that Jack Mallory is back in town to liven things up. It’s been a bit quiet of late.” The woman eyed Gemma, letting her gaze slowly and unguardedly travel up and down Gemma’s form, before returning a questioning look to James. Gemma immediately wondered if these two were involved in some way. Surely they were not involved presently, in light of the things they’d done the day before under the cover of flowing water. Surely, he couldn’t be involved with this woman. The idea of it made her feel nauseous.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Marie said biting her lip with her finger hooked around the one of the buttons of James’ shirt. Gemma could only stare at the bold proposition, before blinking and looking away. She’d never seen a woman act like that before—an obviously private moment being conducted in the middle of the street.

  Gemma watched as the woman walked away, turning and smiling back at James at one point. The direction of the woman’s intentions was not hidden in the slightest.

  Gemma turned to James and noted that he didn’t look particularly enraptured by the woman’s advances. “Are you two meaningful to each other?”

  “No.”

  “No? I suspect Marie might argue with that assertion. You seem to be quite meaningful to her.” Gemma felt the accusation fired her own guilt.

  “Are you chiding me on my morals again? I commend the effort if you are trying to reform me, because you have picked a task that will defeat you—not that I don’t welcome your attempts. Your indignation on Marie’s behalf, however, would likely not be appreciated by Marie. The only morals that Marie subscribes to is coin.”

  Looking back, Gemma studied her leisurely walk that exaggerated the sway of her hips. “You mean...?”

  “She’s a doxy.”

  Shock washed over Gemma’s face; she’d never met a prostitute before—a segment of society that should be avoided at all costs. The only thing that Gemma knew about prostitutes was that they were disease-ridden, pitiful creatures—a representation of how far one could fall and that their mere presence tainted. Marie wasn’t quite the pitiful creature Gemma had expected.

  James kept walking and Gemma had to follow whether she liked it or not. She had no doubt that she wasn’t safe here. None of the people looked respectable and knowing that they were all pirates or their consorts—even prostitutes—wasn’t helping. He entered a building which didn’t look like it was built by someone who knew what they were doing. Parts of it looked like it had come from a ship.

  Inside were rough tables and benches stood on bare earth. This was some kind of tavern and it was full of people—not people—pirates and women who were similar to Marie in their demeanor. It was raucous in the tavern even though it was still daytime. Some were clearly drunk, while others were playing cards—and that included the women. Gemma took a step closer to James.

  The people greeted James heartily; he was obviously well-accepted in this place. She wondered if this was where he spent his time.

  “Listen up all,” James said coolly, loud enough so everyone could hear. “This is Gemma—she rammed my ship and stole my heart, so I sailed up the Thames and stole her. Make her feel welcome, but if you touch her, I will rip your hearts out of your chests still beating.”

  A hearty cheer filled the large room. The noise and the movement were overwhelming. A man, who looked deceptively like a kind grandfather, grabbed her hands and pulled her further into the room.

  “So this is the girl who left Captain Jack Mallory cowering on a sinking ship?” the man said loudly with clear mirth. “Ho, ho, not a day I expected to live to see.”

  “This is her,” James said with obvious pride. “Now mine.”

  “Pretty thing,” someone called. “Can I have a go?”

  “Only if you seek to perish where you stand,” James shouted. He didn’t sound angry; his threats sounded good-natured like he was enjoying the banter. Gemma found herself being turned around and avoided the hands that were touching her.

  “Don’t be such a brute, Jack,” a woman said and pushed over one of the men who was standing too close to Gemma as she gagged on the smell of someone’s sour breath. “Take a bath, Rory,” the red-headed woman roared. She was a little on the larger side, with loose shoulder-length hair. “There is water everywhere; there is no reason on God’s green earth why you should smell like that.” The insult made the people laugh, while the man—Rory—grumbled at the insult.

  The woman pulled Gemma along to a table and swatted away a couple of younger men. “Did he really steal you?” the woman asked, but didn’t sound overly shocked.

  “Out of her bed as I live and breathe,” James said from where he stood. Gemma had never seen him like this; he was animated and lively beyond anything she’d seen before. He was performing, she realized. These were his peers and he was boasting in front of them. This was how he would restore his reputation from the insult she’d caused by defeating him.

  “A mere slip of a girl brought you down,” a deep voice said from across the room.

  “No mere girl,” a man Gemma recognized from James’ ship said. “She fought like a lion and the British Navy relinquished command to her.”

  The room grew q
uiet. Gemma knew instinctively that this was someone whose judgement mattered to these people. He was an older man with a scar down his cheek. He was chewing on a stick as he considered James. Gemma noted he had the air of someone in charge, another captain perhaps—James’ competition. The man turned his attention to Gemma. “And what manner of girl are you?” His eyes were piercing her—sizing her up.

  Feeling the pressure of this man’s scrutiny, she suspected that this was a person who could make things difficult for James. She realized that she didn’t want to make things difficult for him—who knew what difficulty she would land herself in if she did, she told herself. She looked back at James, noticing his cool regard. His reputation was in her hands and it was a strange notion.

  “I am a girl who was raised on military tactics,” she said after a while. She surprised herself how steady her voice was. She didn’t feel like it would be, but it came out well enough. “I know the decisions and reasons for victory of every known battle of the last millennium. It would take a very lucky man to execute unknown tactics on me.” The last statement was pure bravado, but she’d gathered that bravado was the stock and trade of this place.

  Noticing a slight relaxing of James’ shoulders, she knew she had pleased him with her statement, like she’d passed a test. She felt disturbingly pleased with her achievement. She shouldn’t be pleased, but she was. For a moment she felt part of a team. The other man was still scrutinizing her, but the crowd started cheering and talking again—signifying that the confrontation was over.

  The woman standing next to Gemma seemed to finally spring into action. “You leave her alone, you sons of whores. She’s quality, she is—too good for the likes of you.” Gemma wasn’t thrilled the woman chose to share those exact sentiments and wondered if this crowd would turn more aggressive toward her, but they seemed to ignore it completely.

  Someone fell and shoved Gemma, and the red-headed woman pushed the man hard until he fell on the floor. “Can’t behave if their lives depended on it,” she said and placed a glass of dark liquid in front of Gemma. “Drink.”