Jon’s weight shifted behind her and she could feel his erection jutting into her buttocks. The size and thickness of the captain’s manhood robbed her of breath, made her gasp, frantic with longing.
And then he was inside her, entering her from behind and she had to close her eyes to contain the feeling.
Jon’s voice was in her ear and the sound of his passion released a wild response within her. She reached behind her, cradling his neck and he pounded her sex with force, gripping her hips and breasts, imprisoning her in his strong arms.
A moaned escaped from her lips. Her womb answered each powerful thrust of male penetration with a deeply felt orgasm. She was so wet and ready that his great size pumped her slick vagina painlessly this time.
Jon found her lips again and kissed her with scorching desire. His mouth was marvelous, intoxicating—what a fool she had been to insist on no kissing! She could kiss him for hours. Bronwyn gave herself to the pirate captain without question, without restraint. His thrusts came faster and harder. She felt bruised, crushed as a rose petal, broken in two. She cried out Jon Stag’s name when he exploded deep inside her womb. He had drowned her in his passion; she was overcome by the pirate lord’s will.
Jon Stag had won. She was his. She could never belong to another.
He clutched her tightly, his lips pressed to her hair, murmuring endearments that sounded deep within his chest. Bronwyn pulled his arms tighter around her, unwilling to let him go. Her teeth were chattering and her body shuddered as their shared orgasm began its slow withdrawal.
Jon cradled her protectively in his arms and a tear slid down her cheek. This was happiness. After two years of loneliness, fighting and constant fear, Bronwyn was blissfully happy.
She had been taught to reserve her tears for the suffering of others but that night, she cried from the sheer joy of finding love.
§
THE BOY was fast asleep in the hammock. The sound of the sea coming through the open window covered the noise Bill Hawkins made upon entering the room.
He searched the floor and meager furnishings for the valise Lady Gage was carrying when she boarded the Black. Hawkins did not dare light a candle and risk waking the boy. The room was so blasted dark. He held out his arms to feel his way around, touching various objects as he went.
Nothing.
Where had she hid it?
Hawkins examined the berth, running his hands under the mattress. The bunk was not meant to be used as a sleeping bunk at all, but was a storage hold for caskets of rum. There was a gap of some six inches off the floor.
He dropped to his creaking knees to stick his arm under. Not a pretty task. Likely to be bitten by a rat as find what he was looking for.
His fingers touched smooth leather. Billy gripped it and eased it noiselessly out from under the bunk. Her ladyship was in the captain’s quarters again. This time, she’d likely stay the night. She had the lad completely bewitched, he groused inwardly as he flung open the leather flap.
“What do we have here...?” Billy opened the Bible and read the inscription.
Given to Bronwyn Barlow on the occasion of her Fourteenth Birthday.
§
“WELL? WHAT did you find out about the lady?”
Jon was hanging off the prow of the ship, the spyglass pressed to his eye. The look-out had spotted a ship in the early morning hours and he was endeavoring to identify the colors she was flying before making an approach.
“You’re pushing the limits of my patience with this line of inquiry, my friend,” Jon replied.
He scanned the view ahead. The morning was dawning fine and pure. Blue sky and yellow sunlight dazzled on the horizon. The sea was as gentle as a lamb and the wind did not fail. Jon inhaled deeply and lifted his face to the sky. In all his years, he had never known such fine sailing conditions. “She’s not a jinx, I can tell you that much.”
“Not a jinx,” grumbled Bill, “but she’s up to no good. I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t have cause, Captain. But I’ll not speak a word against her if she’s told you the whole story and you’re satisfied with her explanation.”
“I’m satisfied. Her French is poor—she is a poor student. And she has been learning rigging from the crew in order to be of use on board. I advised her to wear gloves from now on. So, Lady Gage is either very clever or she is who she says she is. I’m inclined to believe the latter.”
“She’s got you dancing to her tune. That’s the way of it but I’ll not argue the matter further since it displeases you so very much.”
“I appreciate it. Now, cheer up! I know how much you love a good hunt and your bitterness is ruining this one.” Jon grinned with good humor and pressed his eye to the spyglass.
The line of sea and sky shimmered in the pearl light and almost concealed the curved white sails from view. Jon was used to watching the open ocean, and trained to spot shapes that didn’t belong—shapes that inevitably signaled the presence of a ship.
There on the edge of the horizon, Jon caught sight of the mighty Dauntless in full sail.
“It’s her! Blessed luck, we’ve got her! She’s flying the Union Jack. That fool, Treacher, is practically taunting us to take her,” Jon gloated under his breath. “Aye, there she is—as bold as you please. We’ve got her, Billy! By God, she’ll be ours before the end of the third watch.”
Jon handed down the spyglass and saw Bronwyn walking toward the prow wearing her boy’s garb and her hair unbound. His expression softened the moment their eyes met and a small smile quirked about his lips.
Bill Hawkins turned to see what had distracted the captain and scowled at the sight of the lady’s approach. He might have guessed. She paused in her step a few feet away as though waiting for Stag to come to her and well he might. The captain was besotted; any fool could see that. Hawkins was sorely tempted to inform Jon that the girl was an imposter right then and there, but he could not risk being on the wrong side of the man, not when they were so close to the Dauntless.
The young beauty lifted her eyes to the captain and Bill’s scowl deepened. Oh, she knew what she was about, all right! Twisting young Stag in knots, tempting him into betraying the Black and the whole damn crew!
Bill could no longer hold his tongue. “Remember the nature of our business, Jonny. We are a pirate vessel—never mind the blasted letter of marque! We’ve escaped capture thus far by trusting our crew and keeping outsiders on the outside. Keep your wits about you. If the girl proves to be working for the enemy, are you prepared to put a bullet in her skull?”
The expression on Jon Stag’s face turned to flint. He turned slowly to fix Bill with a hard threatening stare. Hawkins knew he had stepped over the line but something had to be done to wake the captain out the spell he’d fallen under.
“If anything happens to Bronwyn, I’ll kill the man responsible,” Jon said with the deadly calm he was famous for right before the storm. “You’ve said your piece, now I’ll say mine. Lady Gage and her cabin boy will board the Dauntless without a scratch on them or you will forfeit the prize for all of us. Harm our hostage and you rob us all. Do you understand, Mr. Hawkins?”
Bill licked his lips. The Dauntless was in view. “So, you still mean to use her as leverage?”
“I do. Nothing has changed.”
“I only hope it comes off as well as you hope it will. I have my doubts and for good reason too—but I’ll not say a word about them until this business is done. If she’s a spy, you’ll know soon enough. I’ll not be the one to wound your heart. The girl will do that herself in due course. The Black is all we have. The Black is all we’ve ever had.”
“The Black is all you have, Bill, and you’ll say anything to keep it. That makes you untrustworthy.” Jon Stag placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Consider this my final warning, old friend. Speak another word against Lady Gage and you will be relieved of your duties. I am master and commander of this vessel. If you have lost confidence in my judgment, I shall leave you on the Dauntless
instead of Lady Gage. I am less willing to part with her than I am with you at the moment.”
Shaken and white with fury, Bill replied with stiff formality. “I have not lost confidence in my captain. I regret causing offense to either you or the lady. I shall serve out my time with you to the end.”
Jon squeezed his bony shoulder, imparting a quiet threat. “I’m glad to hear it. With that out of the way, kindly inform Mr. Frame we have the Dauntless in sight and give the helmsman the bearings. I’ll be along shortly.”
Bill pulled on his forelock and bobbed his head in a gesture of obeisance that he had never done before. The gesture was an empty one but he doubted Jon Stag would notice. If the captain had lost his bearings, it was up to the first mate to bring the ship back on course.
Chapter Seventeen
BRONWYN LIFTED her eyes to see Jon Stag walking toward her at a rapid pace. His long legs cut like scissors, closing the distance between them. She could have flown at him and jumped into his arms, she was so happy.
And then reality crashed in, returning her to the hopelessness of her predicament. Finding happiness in the arms of his lordship was the height of folly. Tonight would be their last night together and there was nothing she could do about it.
Not so, Bronwyn chastised herself as Jon came nearer. She could tell him the truth.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Captain.” She blushed and looked away. “You are looking well this morning.”
“As are you.” His fingers furtively reached down to touch hers. “You are still wearing the dead boy’s trousers. What’s happened to your gown?”
“James tells me it will take some hours to dry even with this lovely sun and wind.”
“You’ll have to put it on by noon, dry or no. We’ve caught up to the Dauntless. We’ll make our approach and I’ll send out a launch with a messenger asking permission to board. Treacher will expect to see a lady, not a disarmingly pretty tomboy.” He smiled but the jest was hollow. They would not see each other after this.
Bronwyn’s stomach dropped. “Noon. As soon as that. I hoped we would have one more night together.”
“As did I.” Stag’s voice was deep and silky. Bronwyn leaned into him so that their bodies brushed together. His fingers entwined with hers and even that slightest touch filled her with unimaginable bliss.
“You’ve changed me, Bronwyn. The Dauntless was all I wanted and now I hate the very sight of her. I have been troubled by a question that only you can answer.”
“I thought we lay bare our souls to one another last night.” She gave him a wry smile.
He bent his lips nearer. “We bared plenty, including our souls.”
Another blush! Bronwyn tried to cover her pleasure with a mocking laugh. He could not have won her so easily as that, could he? This feeling she suffered when he was near—was it mere lust as she supposed? Or was it something more?
She was on fire to kiss him. The restraint they were under was torment. “I fear I shall never overcome the horror and thrill of six bells,” she said softly. His gray eyes met hers. “Aboard the Dauntless tonight, I’ll recall the terrible delights I knew in that hour with Captain Stag.”
“Don’t,” he pleaded in a half-choked whisper. “Tell me you hate me. Call me a bastard. Hurl abuse upon my head and make this parting less agonizing. For God’s sake, do not give me reason to think that you could like me a little.”
“But I do like you, Jon,” she cried in a furious undertone. “I like you more than a little. You are Jon Stag to me—not a viscount or a pirate! You showed yourself to me as you really are and—and I have come to like you a vast deal.” She could barely get the words out without tears but Bronwyn would be damned if she spent the remainder of the voyage weeping. “I like you too much to feel anything but deep misery right now. Blast the Dauntless and her slow lumbering hull that allowed the Black to catch up with her!”
Jon’s laugh was bitter. His gray eyes settled on the horizon ahead. “We should have left well enough alone. We should not have started talking to one another.”
Bronwyn wiped her streaming eyes with her sleeve. “You cannot blame me for that. I said no talking, no kissing and you broke both rules. There was no future for us in any case.” Now it was she who sounded bitter. “I’m glad we are forced to part before the situation became dire.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You are a viscount; the day will come when you will have to return to your family’s estate.”
This time his laugh was sincere. “And here I thought you were going to say it was because I was a pirate. My title is not an impediment. You’re the daughter of a governor. You grew up with the same round of parties, balls and dull society dinners that I did.”
Bronwyn fell silent for a few moments and then she risked asking the question that had been tormenting her all night. “Do you like me better because I am a member of your class? Would you like me as much, for instance, if I told you I was a housemaid?”
She held his gaze steadily. His eyes and expression would reveal the answer, not his words. Did Jon Stag truly care about her or was she a passing fancy that he would forget with the next sailing? She would tell him the truth about herself if he loved her. If she felt she could trust him (that is if she could ever trust a pirate, even one who was a lord) Bronwyn would let down her guard for Jon and Jon alone.
“I don’t know the reason for the connection we share, Bronwyn. Could I feel this way for you if you were a housemaid? It is not a question we need worry about,” he said dismissively. “I said I have been troubled by a question that only you could answer.”
“Yes, I remember.” Her spirits were sinking moment by moment. His reply was not definitive enough to offer reassurance.
“What I want to know is this: why did you give yourself to me? A cabin boy is not reason enough. You could have told me to go to hell.” Jon awkwardly turned away, and she sensed his vulnerability. “I must be mad to care one way or the other.”
Bronwyn looked up in surprise and yet she knew why he was troubled. She felt the same way; it was madness to care about Jon Stag or what he thought of her.
“Deep down, I wanted to lie with you,” she admitted weakly. “Not at first, but after it happened and my virtue was lost, I felt oddly free. It was a relief to act upon the darkest wishes of my heart and hang the consequences. At sea, far from shore and society; the Black is a nation unto herself. I’ve forgotten how to conduct myself like a lady. I ought to have been more reserved and temperate with you. There is no noble explanation for my behavior.”
“So, the Black Adder is responsible for your passion.” Jon said with a roguish wink, but Bronwyn could read the disappointment on his face and she was caught by surprise. He was the most difficult, complex, beautiful man…
Her mind froze, struck down by one overpowering flash of illumination.
She had fallen in love with Captain Jon Stag.
Bronwyn stared at him in unblinking awe, taking in his dark unkempt hair that hung over his handsome troubled face, his broad shoulders that were hunched under the white shirt as though bracing for a blow. His sleeves, rolled up to his elbows from the morning labor; strong forearms and equally strong hands that could take the helm or climb the rigging on a mast.
Lord Stagholt was Captain Stag and there was nothing he could not do on sea or land. He was a miracle and her heart pounded like the very devil to be with him.
“My passion is not entirely down to the Black Adder,” she stammered. Her face was hot and her mind was a blank. She was in love with Jon Stag. That one sensation obliterated every other. Bronwyn grimly forged ahead, trying valiantly to sound natural. “But out here, cut off from the world, I can express myself without fear of censure. I don’t have to watch my language or monitor my temper or alter who I really am.”
“And who are you, Lady Gage?”
“What do you mean?” Her heart jumped to her throat.
“I know so little about yo
u. I wish we had more time together.”
This was her opportunity to tell him the truth about everything. What he would say or do, she didn’t know, but she was a curate’s daughter and if there was any hope of securing his heart, Jon Stag had to hear the truth.
“I wish that too, Jon. You don’t know how much. I want to tell you everything.” Bronwyn opened her mouth to say more when a small scruffy boy approached.
“Begging your pardon, Captain, sir, Mr. Hawkins waits for you with Mr. Frame.” The lad was one of the boys pressed aboard the Black in the sweep of Penzance. “He says the Dauntless is within easy distance of the launch and we ought to row out to her now, sir.”
She stumbled back, suddenly recalling where she was, how she came to be here and why she had fashioned the lie in the first place. Her stomach clenched. She felt dizzy as though she had been watching the sea rush past for too long and was back on solid ground.
“We’ll talk later, Captain,” she said stiffly. “You have duties to attend to. Please, do not let me keep you.”
Jon gave a short bow. He appeared puzzled by the change in her manner but was content to leave her, the questions between them unresolved. The Black Adder came first with Captain Stag and always would.
The Dauntless swelled on the horizon. They were coming ever closer and this game would soon come to an end one way or another. This was a factor she had not calculated when she assumed the identity of Lady Gage—Jon Stag would stop at nothing to get the payroll gold on board that ship.
For all her imposing size, the Black Adder was only made of wood. Her hull could be pierced by the great guns of the Dauntless and she could be sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic. Would Captain Treacher show mercy and save Jon Stag’s crew? Bronwyn doubted it.
Her stomach filled with a thousand anxious butterflies. When she began with this lie, she had no thought that it would come to this—the lives aboard the Black Adder were in her hands. She had no choice but to stick to the ruse and see it all the way through to the end.
The Pirate Lord: Aristocrat. Rogue. Spy. Page 11