“Oh, my love, it is so good to see you.” Then she noted the iron manacles, frowned, and cast a wicked glare at the soldier. “Is this necessary?”
“Afraid so.” The redcoat clutched Jean Marc by the elbow. “Let us go inside.”
In the courtroom, the judge spoke with two gentlemen, one of whom Jean Marc recognized. “What is Sir Ross Logan doing here?”
“Shh.” Maddie held a finger to her lips. “Sit down, and smile, as I would rather you not seem so menacing.”
The proceedings continued for several minutes, and Logan gestured wildly on a couple of occasion. Every now and then, the judge peered at Jean Marc, and he adopted his best pose, in obeisance of Maddie’s request. Then Sir Ross strolled past Jean Marc and sat beside Madalene.
The judge pounded his gavel. “Let us come to order.” He removed his spectacles and steepled his hands. “In light of recent evidence in support of the former pirate known as Jean Marc Cavalier, hereafter referred to as the defendant, it is the court’s opinion that the defendant should be set free to continue the terms of the pact sworn by an agent of His Majesty, with the understanding that any future crimes committed will not be subject to the terms of the pardon, and the defendant shall be remanded into custody to be tried under the law, as would any citizen. The defendant is free to go.”
In that moment, Maddie squealed with unabashed delight, and he turned directly into her arms. “Thank you, Mon Chou.” Then Jean Marc extended a hand in friendship. “And I owe you a debt, Sir Ross. But how did you know to come here?”
“You must be joking.” Logan laughed. “It appears you married a woman every bit as strong-willed as mine, and I am not sure whether to congratulate or pity you.” To Maddie, Ross said, “And you can stop writing to the Crown Court, the Ambassador, the Crown, and anyone else you were badgering, as your husband is liberated.”
“Thank you, so much, for helping us.” She bit her bottom lip. “And the accord remains in effect?”
“It does.” Ross gathered his papers.
“How is Lady Elaine?” Jean Marc inquired.
“I am pleased to report she is with child.” Ross rolled his eyes. “And it was all I could do to depart London without her, but I wager she will meet you in the Atlantic, when the year is ended, as she is dying to meet your bride.”
“Will you give her our regards?” Maddie sidled close to Jean Marc, and he wrapped his arm about her waist. “And I am equally anxious to make her acquaintance.”
“I will do so.” Ross slapped Jean Marc on the shoulder. “Now, if you do not mind, I have a ship to catch, as I would return home with all due haste, as I am sure you can understand.”
“Indeed, I do, as there is something that requires my attention, and I aim to be about it.” Slowly, he skimmed his palm to his wife’s hip, and she tensed. Ah, she was just as hungry. “Shall we depart for the Morass, Mon Chou?”
“Actually, I have taken a room in a hotel, as we cannot depart just yet.” Grasping his wrist, she dragged him to her carriage. “My father is to vacate the Fair Winds in a sennight, as he has exhausted all appeals, and the judge ordered Papa to return to England. I would ensure neither he nor that wench he married take anything that is not theirs. It is bad enough Lady Prudence stole Mama’s cameo, and I fear I shall never see it again. Given my hasty departure, against my will, the last time I dinned there, I have no idea what became of my personal belongings, which remained in my room at plantation house.”
“You will get them back.” He made a mental note to arrange a midnight raid, as he settled into the squabs. “So what shall we do in the meantime?”
Maddie lowered the shades and perched in his lap. Pressing her lips to his, she sighed. “Perhaps I can inspire you.”
#
By the time they reached the room at the hotel, Maddie was ready to burst. When Jean Marc engaged the lock, she kicked off her slippers, hiked her skirts and chemise, bared her bottom, and bent over the footboard of the large bed.
“I wore the hose with the little blue bows, just for you, my love.” And then she waited.
Laughing, he gave her a playful smack. “How I missed this sight, Mon Chou.” Then, to her surprise, he pulled her upright and tugged at her laces. “While you tempt me with your succulent arse, there is something else I prefer, just now.” In minutes, he stripped her bare of any clothing, and he pulled the pins from her coif, letting her long brown hair spill about her shoulders. “You have put on some weight, my dear, and I like it.”
“Well, I would not get used to it, as it is temporary.” There was so much she wanted to share with him. So much she needed to say, yet the right phrasing eluded her.
“What do you mean it is temporary?” He snorted. “Do you intend to reduce, as you are beautiful, Maddie?”
“Actually, I will increase before I lose anything.” She swallowed hard. “But the period is relatively short, in the grand scheme.” She shrugged. “You know, the usual nine months?” He sobered and opened his mouth but quickly clamped it shut, and she wrenched his shirt. “Tell me you are happy, as I desperately need to hear it.”
“Mon Chou, in truth, there are no words to adequately describe what I feel right now, so I suppose happy must do.” He kissed her softly, inexpressibly sweet, as he framed her face. “I love you, Maddie.”
In that instant, she collapsed in a fit of tears. “Oh, Jean Marc, I am so sorry I put my family’s estate before you. If we had departed Port Royal, as you wanted, none of this would have happened. Your incarceration was all my fault, and I beg your forgiveness.”
“No, you are blameless.” Setting her apart, he ripped off his clothes and boots and then drew her into his embrace. “I committed those crimes long before I ever met you, and I, alone, must atone for them.”
“Then you are not vexed with me?” She held her breath.
“No, Mon Chou.” Again, he kissed her. “Never could I be angry with you, when you saved me.”
Confused, she searched her mind but could not discern his meaning. “But—how?”
“I would not have made it this far, had we not met.” He led her to the bed and pushed onto her back. In seconds he covered her. Nose to nose, he teased her flesh. “But you shared your dream, and somewhere on our journey to Port Royal, your fantasy became mine. I want more, and I want it with you.” With his legs, he spread wide her thighs. “Enough talk, and I will ride your pretty arse tomorrow. Right now, I want to make love to my wife.”
THE BLACK MORASS
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In the wee hours, Jean Marc kissed Maddie’s forehead and then withdrew from her arms. Since adjourning to bed, it had taken three rounds of rigorous coitus to satisfy her and put her to sleep, so he could enact his hastily sketched plan. Given the revelation of his impending fatherhood, he had to act on his wife and his unborn babe’s behalf.
It was a rare thing to care for someone, to know that Maddie’s happiness depended on Jean Marc’s ability to keep the smile on her beautiful face. In his lifetime, he had confronted every manner of evil, yet nothing scared him more than the powerful but delicate bonds of love and the chance that he might fail her. The commitment he made, the most important of his existence, defined him in ways he could not have foreseen, and a consuming desire to protect Maddie drove him into the throes of an unquenchable thirst for violence. To his amazement, he struggled with an insatiable bloodlust. In order to guarantee his wife’s future, he had to delve into his brutal past.
As he tugged on his breeches and boots, she shifted and sniffed, and he held still until she quieted. In the dark, he fumbled for his weapons, collected his pistols and dagger, and pulled on his shirt. After searching his trunk, in the dark, he located the item his wife found so offensive, because she claimed it gave him an air of menace—and that suited his purpose.
Stretching upright, he donned the familiar black patch behind which Maddie argued he hid his true persona, and she could not have been more correct in her assertion, as only his highbor
n wife glimpsed the side he concealed from the public. But that night he required the ill repute of the meanest, most villainous pirate to sail the seas.
When his lady mumbled, he grabbed an extra blanket from the footboard, draped the swath of wool over her form, and tucked the cover beneath her chin, to keep her warm until he returned. Responsibility for another offered a new and unsettling experience he did not quite savor, as husbandly duty brought with it a palpable fear when he pondered Madalene’s fate should he disappoint her—but he would not founder. After a final check to ensure her comfort, he stole another kiss and slipped from their room.
Posted in the hall, two of his men remained on watch.
“Cap’n.” Boyle came alert. “We did not expect to see you until morning.”
“Or afternoon.” Riggs elbowed the tar, and they laughed.
“Wake Tyne, and summon the six best riders in the crew.” To Boyle, Jean Marc said, “Guard Maddie with your life, and no one is permitted to disturb her. If I am not back by dawn, take her to the Morass and set sail for Boston.”
“Aye, sir.” The sailor nodded.
Downstairs, he gathered his band of buccaneers for one last raid.
“My friends, my wife is with child, and her sire presents a very real threat to her safety, which I cannot ignore.” As the sea dogs offered congratulations, Jean Marc paused to collect his thoughts. “What I ask of you is dangerous.”
“What is new about that?” Tyne snickered. “And I knew of your good news, given I fetched the doctor, but your delicate bride vowed in a not-so-delicate manner to cut off my Jolly Roger if I told you.”
The men guffawed.
“All right.” Jean Marc silenced his men with a sweep of his hand. “Given her condition, I cannot let Lord Livingston’s attempts to kill Maddie go unanswered.”
“Cap’n is right.” Tyne chucked Jean Marc’s shoulder. “Lady Madalene is one of us, and Livingston’s attack demands a response.”
“Let us pay a visit to the plantation.” Randall smacked a fist to a palm. “We will teach that arrogant English bastard a lesson he will not soon forget.”
“Then we ride.” Jean Marc waved a pistol, and the sailors cheered.
Outside, they gained their mounts and set a course for the outskirts of Port Royal. The journey, an endless torture comprised of hideous visions of Maddie in her father’s charge, plagued Jean Marc, and he was grateful when the sun-washed gate of The Fair Winds came into view.
In the trees that lined the grand drive, they secured their horses and skulked to the main house. As the cool breeze drifted from the ocean, most of the windows had been shut and latched, but he made entry via an unlocked terrace door.
The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, as he inched into the residence. In the dark, he reached with outstretched hands and skimmed the wall with his fingers. A hallway led to the rear of the home, and based on Maddie’s description, he sought the chamber she briefly occupied and collected her bag of keepsakes, which remained where she left them.
At the end of the passage, he turned the knob of the double-door portal and signaled his crew. On the count of three, which he whispered, they rushed their prey. Surrounding the sleeping couple, the men grabbed Livingston and his young bride.
“Make no sound, Lord Livingston.” Jean Marc lit a bedside taper and then stretched across the foot of the mattress. “If you scream, you die.” To Randall, Jean Marc commanded, “Gag and bind the lady, as I have no patience for her.”
When Livingston moaned in protest, Tyne slapped the nobleman on the side of the head. “Shut up, as you are lucky that is all we will do to her.”
And then silence fell on the master suite.
“That was a cunning maneuver you devised, hiring a pirate to kill your daughter, making her appear a hapless victim of high seas treachery, so you could inherit the fortune bequeathed to her, by a family you considered beneath your estimable English heritage.” Jean Marc drew his dagger from the waistband of his breeches and toyed with the blade. “How many casualties did you deem acceptable to accomplish your goal, so you could line your pockets with money you neither earned nor deserved?” He arched a brow. “Fifty or sixty innocents?”
Tyne snickered. “And they call us callous blackguards.”
The pampered scoundrel shook his head.
“I should kill you,” Jean Marc declared, in a low tone.
Wide-eyed, Livingston groaned.
“But Maddie would not like that, so I shall spare you.” With the knife, Jean Marc pointed for emphasis. “However, your fate is predicated on Madalene’s survival. Should she slip and fall on her tea, should she drown in her bath, should she suffer mortal injuries from an accidental collision with a runaway carriage, or should she meet some strange and unexplainable misfortune, you will die.”
Again, the aristocrat protested.
“But you will not meet your demise by my hand.” Now Jean Marc sat upright, as the time for polite pleasantries had ended. “Oh, no, as that is too easy. First, I will give you and your fetching bride to my men, as some prefer ladies, while others enjoy the unutterable defilement of the firm male arse, particularly a pale, highborn English bottom. At my discretion, they will use you, until your back breaks from the strain, and then I will cut you, for sport, because I want you alive when I toss you into the sea, that you may suffer when the sharks take the first bite of your flesh. So you had better pray your daughter is blessed with a long and healthy life, thus I have no reason to call upon you.” He shifted, crawled to Maddie’s father, and perched nose to nose with the spoiled sot. “Do we understand each other, Lord Livingston?”
Livingston nodded.
“Excellent.” Jean Marc glanced at Tyne. “See? I told you the English were a sensible lot.” Leaping from the mattress, he snapped his fingers. “Now where is Maddie’s cameo, as I will not leave without it?”
After a quick peek at the lady, Lord Livingston responded, “In the jewelry box on my wife’s vanity.”
In seconds, Jean Marc located the item, which he secured in his pocket, and then he sketched a bow. “Lord Livingston, it was a pleasure.”
With the nasty bit of business behind him, Jean Marc led his men back to their mounts, and they set a course for town. It was a quiet ride in the solitude of twilight, and during that time he considered his unborn babe.
At an imaginary crossroads, he had a decision to make, the outcome of which would impact not only Maddie but also his heir. In a moment of stark clarity, he realized he was past due for a change. He wanted to attend the birth of his child, to teach him to fish, to respect women, and to earn an honest living. More than that, he wanted to grow old with Maddie, to sit on a porch in a creaky wooden rocker and watch the leaves turn and fall. And he could not do that as captain of the Black Morass. In that moment, he doffed the black patch and tossed it alongside the road.
So he would start anew, in more ways than one.
After securing the horses and his crew, Jean Marc tiptoed, yes, he bloody well tiptoed, into the room he shared with his wife. In seconds, he stripped naked and joined her beneath the covers. Almost immediately, she turned into him, inched near, kissed his chest, and sighed.
“Is something wrong, my love?” She sniffled.
“No, Mon Chou.” Wrapping his arms about her, he pulled her closer into his protective embrace.
As he settled in the down mattress, the bone weariness abated, and he found comfort in the steady beat of her heart and her rhythmic exhalations, which slowed their accompaniment as she returned to the land of dreams. For a long while, he rubbed his lips to her forehead, savoring the warmth that was uniquely Maddie’s, reassuring himself that she remained very much alive and well and would persist at his side for the rest of his days. At last, Jean Marc smiled to himself and slept.
#
The subtle sashay of warm lips to the crest of her ear brought Madalene awake, as she rested on her side. Yawning, she stretched long on the blanket, as Jean Marc trailed
a series of kisses along the curve of her neck.
“Do not tell me it is time to return to the ship.” Opening her eyes, she blinked and then admired the calm surface of the little cove, her favorite place, and smiled. “It is still light, so we can indulge in another swim.”
“I thought you were in a hurry to arrive home, and at this rate, it could take another fortnight to make Boston.” With care, he spread her bottom cheeks, withdrew his length from her body, and then pulled her to recline on her back. After a vast deal more than thorough kiss, which stirred her in an altogether different manner, he nipped the tip of her nose and caressed her bare breast. “I love you, Maddie.”
“And I you, my love.” As usual, when she invoked the term of endearment, he blushed, and she adored him for it. Naked, she giggled, rolled free, leaped to her feet, and ran into the water, with her equally nude husband on her heels. “You cannot catch me.”
“Oh, I believe we both know I will, and I will have my way with you, when I do, Mon Chou.” With a wicked grin, he dove into the blue depths, and she followed suit.
Together, they engaged in a graceful ballet, of sorts, legs twining, arms reaching, hands groping, mouths merging in a communion of souls, until they broke for air.
With her arms and legs wrapped tight about her husband, she grazed her teeth to his chin. “Please, I want you.”
In silence, he cupped her derriere, carried her to the blanket on the beach, knelt, and pushed her down. And so his voluptuous assault commenced, as he rode her hard and fast, just as she liked it, until he collapsed, spent and sated, atop her. Then the true coupling began, as Jean Marc loved her with his lips on hers and caressed her face. He whispered sweet praise and told her what she did to him, how she made him feel, and it was in those tender moments that she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she was right where she belonged.
Since departing Port Royal, the tenor of his passion had changed. While the intensity of their lovemaking had not waned, how he achieved the heights of desire now relied less upon physical aggression and more upon the invisible connections unrestrained by the mortal shell. And the devotion Maddie thought had reached the limits of its breadth grew beyond her wildest expectations. The resulting ties bound her to her bawdy buccaneer, such that she knew not where he began and she ended.
The Black Morass (Pirates of the Coast Book 1) Page 9