The Black Morass (Pirates of the Coast Book 1)

by Barbara Devlin

  “Easy, Mon Chou.” The leader laughed. “I know someone eager to make your acquaintance, so let us not delay.”

  It dawned on her in that single fragment in time, when a familiar address chipped through the chill of horror and shook her to attention, that the situation was not so grievous as it seemed. The scoundrel called her by Jean Marc’s favored term of endearment, and she knew, without doubt, her man had come for her. Somewhere, in the dark of night, he waited. At least, she prayed he waited.

  So she ceased her opposition and strolled to a group of horses in the drive. She resisted not when her primary subduer thrust her atop his mount and leaped into the saddle and set a blazing pace.

  She knew not how far they traveled, but the journey seemed endless, as she marked the moon’s path in the sky. At long last, they navigated a sandy dune, and she spied torchlight ahead. When her detainer reined in and jumped to the ground, she scanned the vicinity for some sign of Jean Marc.

  Instead, the fair-haired rogue yanked her down, brandished a knife, and cut the ropes from her wrists. She wrenched free of the gag and inhaled a deep breath. Just as she was about to voice a complaint, she spied Tyne amid a group on the beach and bolted in his direction. As she neared, the men parted.

  Splaying wide his arms, Jean Marc flicked his fingers. “It is good see you, Mon Chou, as I have missed you.”

  How many nights had he come to her in her dreams, only to disappoint her when she woke the next morning? Only two, but it was two too many. Fear mixed with anger and found a convenient outlet, as she slapped him hard.

  THE BLACK MORASS

  CHAPTER TEN

  Prepared for all manner of feminine hysterics, Jean Marc did not anticipate a wicked blow to his cheek. Neither did he expect the ensuing pummeling, as Maddie unleashed her aggression, mingling punches and kicks with various inventive curses, and he would have laughed had he not been the cause of her anguish. In seconds, his crew vacated the immediate vicinity, and he considered halting her tantrum.

  Instead, he stood there and took her anger, as it was nothing less than he deserved.

  After a few minutes, she collapsed against him, and he held her tight. “Shh, Mon Chou. It is all right. You were never in danger.”

  “How could you abandon me?” Crying openly, she wrenched his shirt. “How could you let go, after everything we shared? Am I nothing to you? Do you not care?”

  “Do you see me here? Look at me, Maddie.” Grasping the hair at the nape of her neck, he forced her to meet his stare. “I did not abandon you. I never departed Port Royal, because I could not bear to leave you. The Morass is anchored offshore, where she has been for the past three days.” Then he kissed her hard, and he gave her no quarter. “When I discovered your father’s plan, and his motivation, I made a deal with the devil to save you.”

  “Papa wants the Fair Winds.” She sniffed and nuzzled his chest. “He wants everything for his unborn babe. He never wanted to know me. It was all a cruel trick to lure me here, so he could commission my death.”

  “I know.” With his sleeve, he dried her cheeks and claimed another kiss. “But it will be all right.”

  “How?” She inhaled a shivery breath. “As long as I am alive, I am a threat to his inheritance, as I am the rightful owner of the Crawford estate, and my father is my beneficiary. He will stop at nothing to win the money.”

  “What if you had another beneficiary?” Jean Marc trailed the pad of his thumb along the curve of her jaw and then caressed her lower lip. “Your father could not prevail over the lawful authority of your husband.”

  “You want to marry me for the endowment?” The hurt in her expression tore at his heart.

  “No, Mon Chou.” Framing her face, he summoned pretty words and phrases, trying to find the right appeal, so she would understand what she meant to him. In the end, he settled on the truth. “I do not give a damn about your bloody legacy, as I have no need of your riches. But I love your dream, almost as much as I love you. That is why I would make you my wife, so I can protect you. So I can live out my days with you at my side. What say you, Maddie?”

  “Proposals are usually made on bended knee.” She pouted, yanked on his leather , and released it, such that it smacked his forehead. “And take off that infernal eye patch, as you know I detest it.”

  In that instant, he laughed. “Oh, how I missed you, my fiery society lady.” Glancing over his shoulder, he prepared for the hailstorm of jokes at his expense, but he would do anything for Maddie, so he knelt before her, took her hand in his, and pulled a bauble from his pocket. “So you have me where you want me, Mon Chou. I am yours to command, as I the man who loves you. I want nothing more than to share your dream and ride your beautiful round arse, until the day I die. What say you, Maddie? Will you marry me?”

  “Well, that is not the most romantic proposal I have ever heard, but I suppose it will have to do.” Then she pounced on him. “Yes.” Showering him in sweet kisses, she giggled. “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.”

  #

  Beneath the silvery moonlight and a blanket of stars, and amid the audial tapestry of the incoming tide, the beachside wedding featured a cluster of tropical blooms as a hasty, improvised bouquet, and the groom sported black leather breeches and a flowing white linen shirt, his customary attire, along with two pistols tucked in his waistband, but she pretended not to notice. Surrounded by the surliest, most well-fortified bridal party in history, battle-hardened creatures bearing countless knives and swords, Lady Madalene Davies stood beside ex-pirate Jean Marc Cavalier, as a stodgy and proper parson read from the Book of Common Prayer. With Tyne acting as best man and maid of honor, it was an interesting contradiction, to say the least.

  Focusing on the vows, she faced her soon-to-be spouse, held his hands, and pledged, “My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”

  Then it was her buccaneer’s turn, and he infused his words with various inflections she understood too well. Never had she found anything sacred so humorous.

  The parson closed the tome and cleared his throat. “By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Cavalier, you may kiss your bride.”

  Just as she anticipated, her marauder swept her into his embrace and favored her with a thorough expression of his ardor, which set the tone for their union, and she encouraged him with additional flicks and darts of her tongue.

  When they surfaced, she gasped. “Where did you find an honest man of the cloth to perform the ceremony, or is it not legal?”

  “Mon Chou, for good or ill, you are mine by law.” The barbarian raider surfaced with a snicker. “And Mr. Boone’s parsonage requires a new roof, which I was only too happy to pay for, in exchange for his services.”

  “How resourceful is my husband.” She squealed when he bent and hoisted her over his shoulder. “Oh, Jean Marc, what are you doing?”

  “It is time to seal our promise in the customary fashion.” In a few strides, he carried her to the jolly boat, where the pirate leader who took her from the Fair Winds lingered. “Maddie, meet the Iron Corsair. He conspired to help me liberate you from your bastard father.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” From her odd perch, she extended her hand, and the rogue winked and pressed his lips to the back of her knuckles.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Cavalier.” He clucked his tongue. “And it was worth it, as I never thought I would see the day that Jean Marc took a bride, but stranger things have happened.”

  “Enough talk.” Jean Marc deposited her on the middle bench and then eased behind her, so that she perched between his legs, as when he taught her to fish. “Now make yourself useful and give us a heave-ho.”

  With a loud whistle, the Iron Corsair summoned the crew, and amid well wishes and congratulations, the men pushed the small skiff into the tide. As her husband rowed them to the Morass, she rested against his chest and caressed his thighs.

  In exchange, he licked and suckled the sensit
ive flesh at the base of her ear, and his breath grew ragged, when she took his hand and pressed it to her breast. She needed no warning to know their coupling would be neither gentle nor quick, as the rock-hard erection resting against her derriere beckoned, even then.

  At the mainsail hull, he held steady the Jacob’s ladder, as she climbed to the waist. When he joined her, he swept her off her feet and kissed her, as he navigated the lower deck of the ship.

  “Where is everyone?” She noted the eerie quiet of the usually bustling and noisy vessel.

  “They will sleep ashore, tonight.” In his cabin, he slammed shut the door and threw her none-too-softly on the bunk. After stripping off his shirt, he doffed his boots and breeches. Naked and aroused, he pleasured himself and smiled. “And now that I have spoken the vows, I am bloody well going to enjoy the consummation.”

  And so it commenced.

  Spearing his fingers in her hair, he led her to his chair, where he sat, spread his legs, brought her to her knees, and took her mouth. For the next few hours, he bent her over the washstand and claimed her bottom, pinned her against the wall and sailed her honey harbor, rolled her on the bunk, until they fell to the boards, and started all over again at the little table where they took their meals.

  Given the emotional events of the day, Madalene heeled his flanks, taunted him with her body, slapped his arse, and spurred his base desires, if only to remind herself that he was with her. And he was hers.

  By the time they collapsed on the mattress, spent and sated, there were no more secrets or fears between them. Indeed, they were one.

  “Are you hungry, Mon Chou?” Jean Marc stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “I can fetch us something from the galley, and then you should rest, as we cast off in the morning.”

  “Where are we going?” She sat upright.

  “Wherever we want.” He shrugged. “The world is ours, my wife. You need only name the destination.”

  For a few minutes, she pondered the day’s events and her father’s dastardly plan to steal the Crawford estate, and an idea formed in her brain. “My cherished husband, I am famished, and I will eat whatever you can manage. But as to your proposal, thank you, but no. We are not leaving.

  THE BLACK MORASS

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “This hearing shall come to order.” A bailiff dressed in a peacock uniform and a powdered wig hammered the floor with the friendly end of what appeared to be some sort of medieval battle-axe, in the main courthouse in Port Royal. “Please rise for the Honorable Judge John Abrams.”

  The attendees stood.

  The repetitive hammer of the gavel brought the proceeding to order, and Madalene’s father loomed beside his solicitor as the jurist read several documents.

  “We have come here, today, to discuss the petition by Lord Nigel Davies, Earl of Livingston, to declare his daughter, Lady Madalene Davies, missing and presumed deceased. And in the matter of the Fair Winds plantation, as well as Lady Madalene’s estate, I hold an order for probate and immediate transfer of all assets into Lord Livingston’s care, custody, and control.” The judge removed his spectacles and wrinkled his nose. “Are there any witnesses present to provide into evidence any reason why I should not forthwith grant Lord Livingston’s request?”

  “I shall swear testimony to that effect.” In a proud moment he would never forget, Jean Marc trailed in Maddie’s wake, as she charged the bench, along with a solicitor, Mr. Holcomb, she engaged to represent her cause.

  “And who would you be?” Judge Abrams inquired.

  His haughty society miss thrust her chin. “Lady Madalene Davies.”

  And all hell broke loose.

  With fingers pointing in every direction, and accusations flying, the judge convened a small gathering of the interested parties and their attorneys, to which Jean Marc was not invited.

  Pacing in the courtroom, he laughed as Livingston’s voice reverberated from the inner chamber, and he scowled at Lady Prudence, who also remained in the gallery. Then four redcoats entered from the rear, and Jean Marc tugged at his collar. When the soldiers assumed positions at either side of him, he nodded once and smiled.

  After almost half an hour, the parties emerged, and Maddie’s glow declared her victory. “My love, it is too wonderful. While Papa thought he won the day, the judge reviewed the parcel of documents I brought from Boston, which bore my signature. To prove my identity, Judge Abrams bade me sign my name, which I did, and of course it matched, perfectly. But I must write my attorney in America for additional support, and Father has been given a month to prove his case.”

  “That is wonderful, Mon Chou.”

  The judge brought the courtroom to attention and cleared his throat. “Given some discrepancies in Lord Livingston’s petition, I shall defer any final ruling pending an appeal. Lord Livingston may maintain the residence hereby designated as the Fair Winds Plantation, until such time as he has exhausted all appeals. And the party identified as Lady Madalene Davies shall produce, in one month’s time, additional verification of rightful ownership of said property. All other holdings in the Crawford estate shall remain in their current state.” Then Judge Abrams pinned Jean Marc with an icy glare. “It has come to this court’s attention that the criminal known as Jean Marc Cavalier, forthwith known as the defendant, is present. I hereby direct the bailiff to take the defendant into custody, to be charged for crimes against the Crown.”

  #

  Madalene almost fainted.

  When they traveled to the courthouse that day, all she thought about was her inheritance. Never did she consider the threat to Jean Marc, given his history. How could she have been so blind?

  “Have Tyne take you back to Boston, as it is over for us, Mon Chou.” After Jean Marc calmly kissed her, he faced the advancing soldiers and held out his hands. “Gentlemen, I have to wish to cause any trouble. Indeed, I surrender into your safekeeping.”

  “No.” When she tried to reach her husband, a redcoat stepped in her path. “You are mistaken. He has changed.” In a panic, she attempted to shove the soldier, but he stood his ground, as Jean Marc was led away. “Please.” She approached the bench. “Judge Abrams, my husband is a good and decent man. I know he made mistakes in the past, but he is no longer a pirate.”

  “Be that as it may, the defendant owes a debt to society, and it must be paid.” The judge pushed from his chair and frowned. “I recommend you retain the services of your solicitor, as your husband will need representation.”

  “Wait.” In blind desperation, she grabbed his arm. “I beg you, a word, sir. There are extenuating circumstances that I am not at liberty to share in public.”

  “I have no time to waste, Lady Madalene.” He shifted his weight. “You will tell me, here and now, else we are done.”

  Given her father and Lady Prudence lingered, Madalene bent and whispered in the judge’s ear, and he gasped in surprise. “As a servant of the Crown, you must acknowledge my husband’s newfound status, sir. Pray, give me ample opportunity to gather proof of what I say and witnesses to speak on Jean Marc’s behalf.”

  “If you speak the truth, then I am compelled to do so.” Judge Abrams furrowed his brow. “In light of the requisite travel associated with your claim, you have two months, Lady Madalene.”

  “Thank you.” She clutched her hands to her bosom. “Thank you, so much.”

  And then dashed outside. At the road, she glanced left and then right. Lurking beneath a shade tree, Tyne chuckled and slapped a member of the crew on the back. When the first mate spotted her, he lurched upright.

  “What is it, Madalene?” He peered over her shoulder. “And where is Jean Marc?”

  “He as been arrested.” She swallowed hard. “And I need you to take me to the Black Morass.”

  THE BLACK MORASS

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Cavalier, you are commanded to appear before the magistrate.” A redcoat unlocked the cell, and the door creaked and groaned in protest, as he set wide the ba
rs. “If you will follow me, you are to bathe, shave, and dress for the appointment.”

  Since Jean Marc did not think the English washed and cleaned their convicts before they hung them, he supposed it was the final meeting, whereupon he would be sentenced for his crimes. Resolved to meet his date with destiny in the spirit in which he lived, he did as his jailer bade.

  To his surprise, he found a pair of black leather breeches and a white linen shirt draped on a chair, and new boots, polished to perfection, rested near the hearth. By the razor on the washstand, he located a thong, which he used to pull back his hair. Looking more like himself, he lingered by a window and gazed at the yard, where prisoners took their exercise, and wondered if he would ever hold Maddie in his arms again.

  In the two months since his arrest, her visits were limited to a few short conversations through the bars of his confinement, and it was the separation that tormented him most. But in the solitude of his captivity, he realized he had to prepare her for the worst.

  He had committed some horrible deeds in his lifetime, and the ferryman called for his due. If he had known what fate had in store for him, that he would happen upon a beautiful society miss in distress, and she would rescue him, he would have tried harder to redeem himself. But it was too late to undo the crimes of his youthful ignorance and adult vengeance.

  “Are you ready, Cavalier?” The soldier stood at attention.

  “Aye.” He nodded once. “Let us get on with it.”

  A narrow passage led to the processing room, where the redcoat paused to sign a document.

  “Hold out your hands.” A jailer shackled Jean Marc.

  A black carriage with iron bars on the windows conveyed Jean Marc and the lobster to the courthouse, and Maddie, along with Mr. Holcomb, waited on the stairs. When Jean Marc disembarked, she framed his face and kissed him.