He took Frederica’s hand, intending a handshake, but he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it instead. “To a change in our fortunes, my dear.”
The moonbeams turned her eyes shimmering silver, and gazing into them, he wondered if he could trust her.
* * *
When Humphrey saw Frederica the next morning, he screwed his eyes together in a snit. “What ‘ave ye done to yourself, girl? Ye look mighty peculiar.” He pulled on his grimy beard. “Can’t set me finger on it.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she responded and smiled sweetly.
“Hmmph,” he grumbled, then told her to clean the glass windows of the small cabin that imprisoned her and slammed the door closed. “I’ll think of it.”
Her hand flew to her ear. Just after the piercing it had throbbed, but this morning it was merely sore to the touch. She was optimistic it would aid her with her stomach troubles, but now realized it was the earring that had made Humphrey suspicious. Though he might not recognize why she seemed “different”—after all, men rarely noticed such details about a woman’s appearance—he would eventually determine it to be the earbob, and that would raise a number of questions she didn’t care to answer.
If he found out she’d been cavorting with Galette, there’d be hell to pay.
The magnetic Gaston Galette. Her thoughts went back to the previous evening. Oh, how he’d made her quiver and squirm—and with his mouth! The memory sent a tingle of lust to all her most private parts. Her nipples hardened as if he were magically playing with them from another room, and her cunt burned with the need to feel his velvet tongue licking her into delirium.
Setting her lust aside, she had to admit the man must be half mad to believe he could just come aboard the Neptune’s Damnation and take command. Stealing the keys for him would most likely turn out to be a fool’s errand, but on the off chance that he won over the crew and successfully usurped Humphrey, she wanted to be on the right side of things. She was too free-spirited to be kept in this floating cage for much longer.
That evening, the door opened with a creak. She feigned sleep as Humphrey stumbled around in the waning light of dusk. From across the room, the smell of grog wafted under her nostrils, telling her he’d drunk more than his fill. If so, he’d sleep like a child. The thought boosted her spirits.
Mumbling something unintelligible, Humphrey collapsed onto his bed fully clothed. Moments later, he turned on his side and began to snore, the sound of his labored breathing, disjointed by slurps and snores, making her aware of her own breathing—steady yet shallow. She waited for what seemed like a lifetime before she found the courage to stand up.
With every movement she kept her eyes on his massive form, constantly afraid he’d awaken, her nerves feeling as though they were on the outside of her skin and his earlier suspicion of her intensifying her dread. Slowly, she felt her way towards him. Since he’d fallen asleep with his clothes on, she fretted she’d have to search his person for the keys. Perhaps he kept them somewhere else.
Feeling around in the dark, she checked the tabletop, the nook above the door, and under the bed. She truly didn’t expect them to be under the bed, but she wanted to find them anywhere other than in the pockets of the jacket he currently wore.
She crept towards the sleeping captain and tripped on something. She clutched her chest as she almost fell onto him. Heart racing, she bent down to find what she stumbled over. Running her fingers over the object, she determined they were the captain’s boots. Grimacing, she stuck a hand into the foul smelling footwear and something cold and metallic bumped her fingertips. With a sigh of relief, she slowly retrieved the ring of keys from the stinky boot. Gripping them tightly in her hand so they wouldn’t jingle, she slipped silently out the door and onto the deck to find Galette.
One step closer to freedom.
Chapter Seven
The following morning, Gaston was enjoying the balmy weather and jawing with some of the deck hands when he glanced up and sensed trouble. Tiny, flanked by two men, strode towards him at a determined pace.
“This doesn’t look good,” Gaston muttered.
“You there, Galette, is it?” Tiny bore down on him.
“Why yes, it is,” he answered politely.
Tiny grabbed him by one arm while one of his henchmen held him by his other one. “Cap’n wants to see you.”
The third man wrestled Gaston’s hands behind his back.
Gaston decided it was best to cooperate. “Whatever can be the problem, gentlemen?”
Tiny tightened his grip and growled in his ear, “Ye can ask the cap’n about that, mate.”
The other two men burst into laughter. “You’re in for it,” one of them guffawed.
Sandwiching Gaston between them, the men paraded him across the deck. Most of the crew stopped what they were doing and stared. It was clear they were eager for some action to begin. The ship’s floorboards squeaked, signaling the arrival of the heavy-set captain.
Humphrey grasped the lapels of his jacket and scowled at his latest prisoner. “What do ye have to say for yerself, Galette?”
Gaston shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not sure I understand the nature of the problem.”
Humphrey pulled his ring of keys out of his pocket. “How’s about you stealing these, you rapscallion.” He nodded to Tiny, who produced Gaston’s pistol from his waistband and handed it to Humphrey. “How did this get into your bunk, I might ask?”
The previous night, Gaston had commandeered the keys from Frederica, opened the closet where the weapons were held, and retrieved his. He’d given the keys back to Frederica and hidden his sword and revolver behind a trunk in his quarters. It had all gone smoothly, no hitches. Yet somehow his plot had been foiled, and he wondered by whom.
He heard the swishing of her skirts behind the captain. So Humphrey had allowed Frederica to come on deck to watch his downfall.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” He stalled for time while he tried to piece together exactly what had gone wrong.
Humphrey pulled Gaston’s cutlass from a scabbard at his waist. In a swift movement for a man his size, he stabbed the air between them, the blade stopping on Gaston’s left cheek, just under his bad eye.
Slowly, he carved something into Gaston’s skin. Gaston remained stoic, ignoring the sting of his cheek.
“What do I mean?” the captain repeated Gaston’s words. “You imbecile. How did you get back your weapons?” He threw the sword to the ground angrily. Everyone on the ship was silent, the sound of the cutlass clattering onto the deck reverberating throughout the ship.
Gaston shrugged again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw drops of blood on his shirt. His plan was sunk.
Humphrey stepped aside and pushed Frederica forward. “She helped you, didn’t she?”
Frederica must have informed on him. A knot formed in his gut. He’d trusted her, and she’d betrayed him. That witch with those piercing devil eyes. Inside, his blood simmered, but he showed no outward signs of distress. In his line of work, once men observed you had a weakness—you were done for.
When Gaston didn’t answer, Humphrey persisted, “What were ye after anyways Galette?”
Confused, Gaston was unsure how to answer. “I intended to take over your ship, and she wasn’t involved. I acted alone.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered why he said them. It was clear that she’d gotten them caught. Why try to save her from trouble?
“Mutinous bastard are ye?” Humphrey scoffed, then jerked his head in Frederica’s direction. “She’s been nothing but trouble since the day she came aboard. Seize her!” Humphrey ordered his men.
“Leave the girl alone!” Gaston shouted.
“The girl!” Humphrey mocked him. “What about the girl? She’s no business of yours.” He spit a plug of tobacco on the ground.
“Aye, Cap’n. That may be, but apparently she’s no business of yours either.” His eyes swept over the crew, garnering their attent
ion. “Seems you’ve not been bedding the lady.”
Tiny seized Gaston from behind and pressed the blade of a curved knife to the base of his throat, and a cry of surprise arose from the crowd of men watching the spectacle.
Humphrey blustered, “What’s this nonsense ye be rantin’, Galette?”
“Your girl there.” Gaston nodded at Frederica. “Your crew thinks you’ve been givin’ her the whatfore. But to hear her tell it, ye only slap her around a bit.” He snickered, ignoring the knife at his throat.
Frederica wobbled. It appeared she might faint, but no one came to her aid. The captain glared at her as if she were a monster with seven heads.
The crew erupted in shouts of disbelief and confusion at Gaston’s assertion. Humphrey’s face turned scarlet, and he looked as though he might explode.
“Seize her, I told ye!” Humphrey ordered his crew. Two men grabbed Frederica’s arms and held her up. She stared directly at Gaston, the blue of her eyes deepening as she flashed them in anger.
The captain stood in front of Frederica and asked in a raised voice, “Is this true, lass? Ye’ve been telling tales ‘bout your ole cap’n?”
“No sir! I would never do that!” Frederica protested.
“Never, eh? I should’ve never sent you down to conspire with that devil of a man. Me own mistake.” He nodded thoughtfully. He then snatched her up by her hair. “But you should never have betrayed me, you miserable wench! Me who saved ye. I could have let you die on that ship. Seein’ how ye repays me, I should have sent you to Davy Jones’ locker with the rest of ‘em.”
Her eyes rounded in fear.
“Take these mutinous traitors to the brig!” Humphrey bellowed.
* * *
Tiny and his sidekicks tossed Gaston and Frederica in a damp, dark cell below deck. Then they locked the small cage and left them alone.
“How dare you!” Frederica glared at Gaston.
“Excuse me?” He glared back and dabbed at his bleeding cheek with the hem of his shirt. “Me? I believe you are the one who has gotten us into this mess.”
“Me? I’ve done no such thing. You’re the one spouting off to everyone about Humphrey not bedding me. You’re the reason I’m in here, you rapscallion!” Fear and anger bubbled over and she launched herself at him, beating her fists against his chest. “This is all your fault!”
Grabbing her wrists, he stopped her blows and pulled her to him. “It is not! He suspected you from the beginning!”
“He did not. He was testing you, don’t you see?”
Gaston sat on a crate in the corner and twisted her body over his knee.
“Stop! What are you doing?” she shrieked.
He pulled up her skirts. “Punishing you.”
“For what?” She struggled under his grip, but he was stronger than she was, and her efforts did little good.
“For being such an insolent brat.”
“Don’t you dare!” she squealed, kicking her legs. “Unhand me this instant!”
He laughed. “Why? What will you do?”
“I hate you!”
“Clearly. Why else would you rat me out to your captor?” He threw her skirts and petticoats up over her torso and ran his hands from her thighs up to her naked bottom.
“I did no such thing.” She felt her face redden as she realized he must be gazing upon her bare bum.
“Frederica, I must say, you have a lovely derriere.” He sounded amused.
“Stop this impertinence at once! Turn me loose, you scoundrel!” She attempted to get up, but he held her down. The dank, musty odor of the cell accosted her nostrils.
“I shall do no such thing, at least not until you’ve been properly reprimanded for your betrayal.”
She exhaled loudly. “I did nothing, I tell you! Now let me go, you letch!” She wriggled again, this time with less gusto.
He smoothed her cheeks with his palm, ignoring her pleas. “I do like the access this provides me.” He dipped his hand between her legs, caressing her inner thighs.
She took a deep breath and a slight moan escaped her lips as she exhaled.
“I can see that you’re wet,” he said, then whispered, “I knew all along you were a lascivious lass.”
“Take that back!”
“I shall do no such thing. It’s time for your punishment, no more stalling. A good spanking is precisely what you need, my girl.”
She shrieked in protest, but that did not stop his hand from landing on her bottom with a loud slap.
The blow jarred her, and she reached for his leg nearest to her. She grabbed it with the intention of biting him, but thought better of it. Instead, she clutched his muscular calf through his pants leg and closed her eyes.
He smacked her bottom again. Pain seeped across her skin and she tried not to cry out. It wouldn’t do to give the man the satisfaction of hearing the agony in her voice.
He swatted her aching rear over and over again, and her ass felt as if hot coals lay upon it. She longed to push his hands away, for the blows to cease, but she stubbornly refused to scream.
Then he stroked her buttocks, easing the discomfort. “Now, my little captive, can you behave?”
“I always behave,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
This made him laugh and he smacked her backside. “Do I need to move onto your thighs? We could be here all day, mademoiselle. I have nowhere else to be. You?”
“No,” she grumbled.
“No what?” he asked.
“What are you saying?” she asked, confused.
“I believe the appropriate response is ‘No, sir’. Once I save you from Humphrey and you belong to me, I’ll have you call me Master. How will you like that?”
She laughed bitterly. “And how do you expect to do that? We’re jailed, you imbecile.”
He smacked her hard for the insult. “You must remember your manners, my dear, and that is no concern of yours. I’m finished trusting you with my plots, you traitorous wench. Now, will you address me properly?” He slapped the top of her upper thigh to encourage her.
“Yes, sir,” she whined. “Now will you please let me up? All the blood is rushing to my head. It’s giving me a headache.” She released his leg to rub her throbbing temples.
He traced her bottom to the opening of her sex. She held her breath, wondering if he would touch her there. Part of her wanted him to enter her—the lusty part that he had awakened the previous night. At the same time, she tried to resist her sensual urges, hoping he would unhand her and leave her in peace.
His fingers grazed her pussy, teasing her, before flouncing her skirts back over her bottom, letting her go as quickly as he’d taken her.
Pouting, she found a seat on a neighboring crate and sat down gingerly. As she waited for the heat in her posterior to subside, she couldn’t help noticing how handsome he was. The patch over his eye made him appear dangerous, battle-scarred. Sexy. The space between her legs throbbed. Biting her lip, she wished he’d explored her further.
“You are wrong about me, sir. On numerous counts.” She clasped her hands in her lap in ladylike fashion and tilted her nose in the air. The man was clearly a barbarian, and it wouldn’t do for him to detect her lust.
He looked her up and down. “I guess that is possible,” he said, pulling on his beard.
“I expected you to be more chivalrous than to manhandle a lady,” she huffed arranging her skirts.
“You’re destined for disappointment if you’re expecting chivalry from a bloke like me. I’m a pirate, and you’re on a pirate ship, lest you’ve forgotten.” He tipped his hat to her.
“How could I have forgotten my circumstances?” she sneered. “I endure this bloody hellhole every day—savage men leering at me whenever I step out to take in a bit of fresh air or empty my chamber pot.” She sniffed. “Forgive me, sir, for thinking you might be different.”
His countenance changed, and his face grew serious. “I am different. I wasn’t always a pirate.”
“No, I’m an educated landowner, a farmer to be precise.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You are a farmer?”
“I was. I have a plantation in South Carolina.”
“In America?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes.”
“That’s where I was going when our ship was captured.” Forgetting herself, she moved closer, kneeling at his feet. Her thirst for knowledge about the land she’d been dreaming of made her temporarily forget her anger. “Please tell me about it.”
“About what? My plantation?”
“Oh, that too, but tell me about America. I would so love to hear you tell of it. They say it is amazing, the land of opportunity.” She rested a hand on his knee.
His eyes rolled towards the heavens. “Ah, do not believe everything you hear, Mademoiselle,” he said, shaking his head.
She frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean that bad things, tragic things, can happen anywhere. Even in America.”
“What sort of tragic things?” She pursed her lips.
“Never mind. Let us discuss how we’re going to get out of here.” He searched the dark dungeon-like space.
“Fine, but there’s only one exit.” She pointed to the guarded door.
“Thank you for your optimism,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know why you’re being so rude. There is no need for sarcasm,” she chided.
“Woman! You are nothing less than infuriating.”
She sat back on her box. “I might say the same of you,” she said primly, crossing her arms over her chest. After calming down, she tore a bit of fabric from one of her underskirts and approached him.
Rescued by the Buccaneer Page 5