Gaston must be swimming with her, for she felt no resistance from the chain that bound them together. Coming up for air, she took another look. From this vantage point it became clear that it was land she was approaching. She tucked her head and swam faster.
After about ten minutes, her energy began to give way. She let up, and floated for a few moments, allowing the tide to carry her closer to shore. Then she resumed swimming, pacing herself better this time. The next time she paused for a break a tugging sensation at her waist grabbed her attention, and she screamed. Please don’t let it be a shark, not when I’m so close…
Gaston’s head bobbed out of the water beside her. “What’s all the hollering?”
“Was that you?” What a bastard. Leave it to him to frighten her out of her skin.
“Why yes, it was me. Who else did you think?”
“I—I wasn’t sure what it was.” She turned her head so he couldn’t see her relief.
“My dear, you were right. Land ho!” He pulled her into an embrace, his eyebrows shifting mischievously. “Thank God for those eagle eyes of yours.” He pressed his lips to hers. They were firm, yet soft. Insistent. His tongue darted into her mouth, and she responded in spite of herself. She wound her fingers into his hair and relished the feel of his mouth on hers. He tasted faintly like the rum from the flask, and in his arms she felt safe. But she wanted more than safety. A tingle ripped through her, igniting a fire between her legs.
He ran his hands over the curve of her hips, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Then as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go. She watched him take off in the water, then resumed swimming, allowing him to take the lead.
Closer to shore, more sea life joined her beneath the surface. Colorful fish of various shapes and patterns swam in her midst. Deciding they must be too beautiful to be dangerous, she played among them, flipping herself and moving languidly through the water.
When she surfaced she heard her name being called. “Frederica!”
Lifting her head and starting to tread water, she stubbed her toe on sand. The grit between her toes became the most welcome feeling she could remember, and she found she was able to stand.
Gaston called her name again. He stood on a beach about thirty yards ahead of her. Having untied the clothes rope, he stood there, tether free. She waved an arm to him and grinned so hard it hurt her sunburned face, then rushed through the surf, waves breaking all around her. When she finally made it to the beach, she flopped down next to him on her belly, exhausted.
“We made it, Frederica,” he panted.
She rolled onto her side, shielding the bright sun with her hand. “We did.”
He crumpled back onto the sand and pulled her into his arms. Exhausted, she rested her head in the crook of her arm and they both fell asleep.
* * *
Hours later, she was awakened by Gaston stroking her hair. Her first thought was that they’d been saved by reaching land. With a sigh of relief, she opened her eyes and saw Gaston looking at her.
“By God, but you are lovely,” he said before finding her mouth with his. He claimed her lips, capturing them between his, the curve of his tongue in her mouth making her tingle all over. He tasted of rum and salt, and she wanted to devour every bit of him.
She pulled him to her and explored his body with her sandy fingers, his taut muscles rippling under her touch. Floating under her nose, his masculine scent was intoxicating as she ran her hand over his chest, then his stomach.
Without warning, he grabbed her wrists and immobilized them above her head leaving her at his mercy and panting for more.
His tongue skimmed her teeth and he sucked her bottom lip between his. He held her wrists in one hand and cupped her breast with the palm of the other. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she felt his tongue flick across her nipple. A moan escaped her throat, and she clutched him to her. This forbidden pleasure was an ecstasy new to her, but she wanted more of it.
He positioned himself on top of her and ground his pelvis against hers. Something hard poked into her lower abdomen. “What is that?” she asked, surprised.
Chuckling softly into her ear, he nipped at her neck and guided her hand between his legs. He wrapped her fingers around his erection.
Frederica pulled back and looked down at his cock. “It looks awfully different than it did this morning,” she said nervously.
“Aye, I’ll wager it does,” he laughed and went back to kissing her.
“And that will go inside me? Are you sure it won’t hurt?” She blurted out, alarm bells sounding in her head.
He leaned back and inspected her. “Damnation! I forgot you haven’t done this before.”
She shook her head.
“Just my luck to be marooned with a bloody virgin!” he cursed, then stood up and brushed the sand off his legs.
Sitting up, she tried to cover herself by crossing her arms over her chest, heat traveling from her sex to her cheeks. She blinked back tears, not wanting him to see her humiliation.
He rifled through the sopping wad of clothing, untying his breeches and putting them on. Taking a long draw on the flask, he handed it to her.
She took a sip and placed it back into his waiting hand.
“Untie the rest of these, set them out to dry, then find some kindling we may use for a fire.” He donned his boots and headed towards the palm-filled brush.
“Wait! Where are you going?” She slammed her fists in the sand.
“To scout the area. Find food.” He called over his shoulder, not even bothering to look at her.
Frederica yanked the knots out of the wet chain of cloth. It wasn’t her fault she was a virgin. What did he expect? Surely he’d known that. She’d told him as much. Now he’d gotten her all excited, and then left her there alone. The bastard.
All because her honor was intact. Because she was a virgin, which was precisely what was expected of her. What an insensitive scoundrel! She picked up a clump of wet sand and hurled it at the ocean.
Unable to help herself, she drew Gaston’s name in the sand with her index finger. He must be accustomed to prostitutes. After all, he was a pirate, so it was foolish of her to expect him to behave like a gentleman.
But a few moments ago the last thing she’d wanted was for him to be a gentleman. She’d wanted him to ravish her, take her virginity, and show her the carnal ways of women and men. She crossed out his name vigorously.
Instead, the infuriating pirate had turned her down flat.
Chapter Eleven
Damn that woman!
Gaston pushed aside a trio of hanging vines and delved deeper into the jungle. He noted some coconuts he could retrieve later and continued his search for water. As he moved further into the island, he was swallowed up by lush vegetation, which meant there should be a water source nearby.
His mind went back to Frederica. Why did she have to be a virgin? In his fantasies she’d been more worldly, but that had only been wishful thinking. He’d allowed his cock to lead him, ignoring the warnings in his head. In Gaston’s experience, women had a tendency to fall in love with the men who deflowered them, and he had neither the time nor the inclination to have a woman in his life. What would he do with one? He’d purposely orchestrated his life to not include women, and while he made a yearly pilgrimage to a whore house in Port Royale, for the most part he had shut down those types of urges.
His dalliances with the fairer sex had cost him dearly, every time. And Frederica Beauchamp was the most dangerous kind of woman there was—the kind who could get under his skin, the kind who could creep her way into his heart. Oh no, not again. He’d keep his britches on and his heart blocked.
After hours of searching, he found a fresh water pool at the foot of a waterfall. Underneath it was a small, hollowed out grotto, not quite large enough to be considered a cave, but a spot that could serve as a potential bunker in case they needed to find shelter off the beach.
He waded into the shallow water and t
rudged over to the stream rushing down from the ledge fifty feet above. Immersing himself in the shower, he drank and drank and drank. If the water was suitable, he would suffer no ill effects and he could bring Frederica here. Energized with the thought of sharing this beautiful discovery with her, he began the trek back to the beach.
Along the way he found a shredded piece of old, rotted netting. He hoped it wouldn’t disintegrate in the water and could be used for catching fish. Now that he’d quenched his thirst, he had awakened his belly, and it grumbled for something to eat.
He cut down several coconuts with the intention of bringing them to Frederica as a peace offering. While he did not mean to become romantically involved with her, they did need to exist peacefully. An unhappy woman complaining in his ear day in, day out would ruin the utopian setting in which they were marooned.
He exited the jungle and the ocean came into view. The sight of the lovely sun-kissed girl playing on the sand stopped him in his tracks. She knelt on the sand, the surf lapping at her feet, and she poked at something with a small twig. Clad in her ripped dress, her hair whipped in the wind and her face brimmed with sheer delight as she played with the crabs, their antics captivating her.
His heart pitched in his chest. Her haughtiness, defensive posture, and clenched fists had all disappeared. The girl playing on the sand was carefree and happy. He decided that this was the Frederica she had been before death, violence, and heartbreak entered her life.
He watched her for a while, memorizing her image, a lump forming in his throat. As much as he rejected the idea of falling in love, he wondered if it might not be fate that he and Frederica met on the Neptune’s Damnation. Why, of all the ships in the ocean, had he happened to be picked up by hers? It was possible the whole thing was a coincidence, but something deep inside told him it was more than that.
After all, most people who ran across pirates sailing under the Jolie Rouge usually perished. Yet he and Frederica had not. Instead they’d been stranded in paradise together.
Tilting her head upwards, she squinted at him, the sun’s rays beating down on her. “Oh. The pirate has returned.” The joy drained from her face.
Not to be baited by her mood, he said cheerfully, “I am. And I come bearing a peace offering and good tidings.”
“Really? What?” Her bitter tone disappeared.
“Coconuts.”
She stared at him blankly.
He let the coconuts drop to the ground and knelt beside her. “Have you never had a coconut, milady?”
She shook her head.
“A delightful treat, courtesy of the island and yours truly.” He pounded one with his knife until he finally poked a hole in it. Lifting it to his lips, he threw his head back and sipped the juice. He handed the coconut to her. She took it with both hands and inspected it skeptically.
“It has a sort of milk inside. After you drink it, I can cut it up and we’ll eat the meat. It’s actually delicious.”
Hesitantly, she drank from the fruit.
“Go on. Drink all of it. The island is full of them,” he encouraged her.
She gulped it down, then wiped her mouth with her forearm. “It is rather good, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “I told you.” He prepared another coconut for her, then began chopping into the first one she’d drained. While she drank, he told her about the waterfall. “We’ll camp here tonight, but I thought you might like to get out of the sun for a while.”
“It’s lovely here, but I would. My skin is torched.”
He nodded and handed her a white strip from inside the coconut.
“Mmm. I’m starving,” she said, munching down on the meat.
“I found this too.” He showed her the frayed piece of netting. “Think I might be able to catch some fish with it.”
She licked her lips. “Yum, food!”
He chuckled and glanced over at a small pile of twigs and sticks. “Is that the kindling for the fire?”
She nodded. “I got a bit distracted by the crabs. I hope it’s enough.”
“It’s a good start. We’ll gather more on our way back from the falls.”
“I dried our clothes too,” she added.
“Good. We’ll have to do something about that dress.” He pointed at the bodice where Captain Humphrey slashed a hole in it. “Let me cut that away and you can wear it as a skirt. I’ll give you my shirt.”
“But what will you wear?”
“I have my waistcoat and my britches. That will do.”
She removed her dress and donned his white shirt with the voluminous sleeves. He cut away the bodice and handed her back the skirt and she put it back on.
“You’ll need something to hold it up with,” he said unclasping one of the chains that hung around his neck and cinching it around her waist.
“There. You look lovely.”
She curtsied to him, batting her dark, long lashes. “Thank you, kind sir.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the jungle.
Frederica had lost her shoes in the ocean, so they had to tread carefully and Gaston took care to avoid areas that would hurt her bare feet. Fortunately, the floor of the jungle was mostly made up of sand, with the occasional seeds and palm husks to avoid.
Before they reached the falls, Gaston covered her eyes with his hands. “I want it to be a surprise.” She’d have to trust him to go along with the idea of him restricting her vision, and it astonished him that she so willingly allowed him to do so. He guided her several steps further.
“I hear water running. Can we drink from it?” He detected a note of excitement in her voice.
“You may drink from it, swim in it, whatever you like,” he said unveiling the lush tropical scene.
“Oh!” Her eyes darted around her, drinking in the majesty of the waterfall. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She ran to the edge of the water and drank copious handfuls of the spring water.
“You said we could swim in it?” She looked to him for reassurance even as she began to strip out of her clothes.
“Um, yes, but… well, feel free to disrobe, mademoiselle.” Who was he to prevent another glimpse of her nubile body?
“Hush your teasing! It’s not like you haven’t already seen me naked.” She was down to her shimmy and corset. “Here. Unfasten me.” She presented her back to him so he might release her from the whalebone prison.
His hands shook as he unlaced her—whether it was from hunger or pent up passion, he was not certain.
Once freed, she launched herself gleefully into the spring. Twirling in circles, she skimmed the surface with her fingertips and splashed the water as far as it would reach. He smiled to himself, watching her cavort like a mermaid, her lithe body gliding gracefully through the water.
“Join me!” she shouted over the crash of the water from the falls.
He remained still. He’d come to a crossroads. Unsure which direction he should take, he hesitated.
“Don’t tell me you’re frightened by a little ole girl like me,” she baited him with a coy expression that told him she had more feminine wiles in her arsenal than she’d let on.
A dark laugh sprang from his throat. This young maiden had no idea with whom she was toying. It had been a long time since he’d dominated a woman, and while he usually had no use for virgins, this one was entirely too enticing. He wondered what she would do if he took her up on her flirtations. She was apt to get more than she bargained for, but it would serve her right, the little vixen.
She slid under the water into a flip, reminding him of a playful river otter. When her head popped up again, she beckoned to him. Her ripe, full breasts rose above the water, the small pink buds erect. Then she tossed her hair behind her shoulders, improving his view.
His cock strained against his breeches, making the decision for him. With a conscious effort, he set aside all his misgivings and doubts about the situation and peeled off his clothes.
Stripped naked, he captured her gaze. With
out breaking eye contact, he walked slowly, purposely into the pool, the cool blue-green water invigorating him. When he reached her, he planted his hands on her hips and kissed her, exorcising his pent up passion. She returned his kisses with an unexpected ardor. Perhaps there was hope for his little virgin yet.
Breathless, she pulled away. Taking his swollen cock in her dainty hand, she whispered, “Show me.”
He chuckled. “What it is you’d like me to show you?” He intended to embarrass her. If she was woman enough for the task, let her ask for it outright. That way there could be no question of it later.
Her cherubic face was all innocence when she replied, “The ways of love” She swallowed hard, then added, “Master.”
“Did you just call me Master?” He smiled in disbelief.
She frowned and punched him on the bicep. “Stop making fun of me. I’m serious. I want to know. Teach me.” She stood on her tippy-toes and pressed her lips to his. “Please.”
The ‘please’ was what sent him over the edge. “Alright, my dear. You win.”
He took her by the hand and led her to the base of the waterfall, the fragrant scent of plumeria thick in the wet air. “Kneel,” he told her.
Running her hands down his torso, she knelt before him, her hands clutching his thighs.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he commanded.
She did so willingly.
“Wider,” he said and passed the tip of his penis between her ruby red lips. “Use your tongue. Try not to scratch too much with your teeth as that can hurt.”
She followed his directions well, boldly locking eyes with him. A shiver raced up his spine. Damn, staring into those haunting eyes as she pleasured him drove him wild.
His fingers dove into her hair and massaged her scalp. Holding her head tightly, he began to move in and out of her hot little mouth, pushing inside until he hit the back of her throat, her soft gurgles spurring him on. He loved her servicing him with her mouth, offering up that intimate part of herself to do with as he saw fit.
Rescued by the Buccaneer Page 8