by Hilly Mason
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he got down on his hands and knees, slightly worried that he would be too big to crawl through the tiny gap in the floorboards. He’d rather not have the cook slather a bunch of butter on him to try to pry him out.
But he proved to be able to fit through the hole. He slid down and fell with a loud thunk on the floor beneath him.
Jack barely had time to push himself off the floor before a wiry arm wrapped itself around his neck. He pushed his body forward, bending at the waist and threw the man over his shoulders, listening to the satisfying thump as the man fell hard to the ground. Another man came at him to the right. Jack stuck out his elbow, which caught the man in the throat. He went down easily.
But the first man was already back on his feet. He came forward underneath the stream of light above them and Jack caught a glimpse of his face, and the deeply set scar that marred it.
“You were going to hurt Miss Isla,” Jack growled.
The man shrugged. “Yeah, so? Who are you, her brother?”
“I’m her husband.”
The man’s yellow teeth glinted in the darkness. “Don’t worry, we weren’t going to deflower the bitch, just hurt her a little.”
Jack growled and lunged himself at the man. He went down easily—of course he would, the man was no more than a scrawny street rat. The breath escaped from the rat’s lungs as Jack pinned him down.
“Say that again,” Jack said, his voice surprisingly calm. It felt like the blood in his veins was crackling like bolts of lightning.
“I said the woman is a bitch.”
Jack took a deep breath to calm himself. As he stood up he planted his foot on the man’s chest, so that he had no way of getting off the floor. He then took off his shirt and ripped it in shreds. First he tied a piece of the fabric around the man’s mouth. He then flipped the man over and bound his legs and wrists.
He did the same for the other man, who was still unconscious. Satisfied that they weren’t going anywhere, he climbed up the crates that led him back to the kitchen pantry.
Roger was standing outside of the pantry, his mouth hanging open with surprise.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked.
“Get the captain,” Jack ordered. “I found the remaining men who attacked my wife.”
Roger nodded and quickly took off, returning a few minutes later with the captain and two other men.
The captain peered into the hole dubiously and then nodded to the two sailors. “Well, go ahead,” he told them before they jumped down into the hidden room to arrest the criminals.
Later, as they took the two other men away, Isla made sure to watch. There was a satisfied smirk on her face that make the hairs on Jack’s arms rise. She wanted these men dead—he could see it clearly in her eyes.
“They were stowaways,” he told Isla later that day. The storm had already arrived and they were standing outside their cabin, letting the rain fall down on them. It was a warm storm, and the rain felt good on their travel-wearied bodies. Golden was tucked away inside the cabin, sleeping. “That Mark fellow was a friend of theirs, and he let them on the ship, knowing there was a safe place for him to stash them.”
“It should have been me who tied them up like hogs,” Isla said softly.
“It’s all right to have someone else take care of things every once in a while.”
He thought he saw a glimpse of tears in her eyes. She hastily turned her head away before he could confirm it.
“I hate how most people think women are weak and helpless,” Isla continued. “I hate feeling powerless, I hate losing.”
“That’s not something only women feel, you know.”
Isla’s eyes shone with fierceness. “Ye have no idea what it’s like being a woman, Lord Craig.”
Jack shrugged. “No, you’re right. I don’t. But I still have my pride, like you.”
“I am not prideful.”
“You bristle up like a cat whenever something doesn’t go your way, or if someone says something you don’t like. If you had fur it would be standing on end.”
“I do not!” She then opened her mouth to say something else, but then laughed instead. “All right, maybe I do act prideful. At times.”
“Yep, only at times.”
“Not all the time.”
“Of course not.”
She gave him a sideways glance and then stared ahead. “I always feel like I need to prove to people that I am worth something. Maybe it comes from being alone and lost for so long. It’s difficult to allow others to help.” She shrugged. “I’m babbling.”
“I don’t mind you talking.”
Isla sighed and squared her shoulders. She then abruptly turned to Jack and took a deep breath. “Thank you for catching those bastards,” she told him quietly.
“You’re welcome.” And I would do it again in a heartbeat, he thought.
The corners of Isla’s eyes crinkled and her face broke into laughter. “You’re the strangest man I’ve met, d’ye ken?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re one of the few I’ve met whom I actually kind of enjoy being with.”
“Well, that’s quite an honor.”
“Oh, ‘tis the best honor ye’ll ever receive, I promise ye that.”
“Duly noted.”
She grinned, her teeth flashing bright, and then she took a step closer to him. He could smell the floral scent of her sun kissed skin from the fancy soap she used. It was a scent that he had gotten used to during the weeks at sea, but never grew tired of. She reach up and brushed a damp lock away from his face. Her own hair was darkened into an auburn hue from the rain.
“I want ye,” she told him plainly.
A surge of desire jolted through him. He swallowed forcibly as he reached out to slowly trail his fingers across Isla’s sharp jaw. Her gaze was penetrating through the heavy rain that separated them.
A fire shone in her eyes and she gave him a smirk. “But ye gotta catch me first.”
“What?”
He reached out for her, but he only managed to grab air and water. The woman was slippier than a fish and was already well on her way down the dock.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he muttered. Then, cursing under his breath, he scrambled to follow her before she ran out of his sight. They ran past the sailors who were struggling with the mast during a particularly strong gust of wind and then continued down to kitchen storage room. Roger wasn’t in there, and the room was dark, save for the soft glow of the lantern from the sailors working outside.
“Isla, where the bloody hell are you?”
“I’m right here.”
Jack turned and froze. Isla was standing before him, naked in the flickering light. Her legs and arms were thin but muscular, and her hips graciously curved. Her breasts were small and high on her chest, half hidden by her red curls, but he could still see pointed tips of her nipples, and the rosy pink that surrounded them. The hair between her thighs was just as fiery as the hair on her head. His heart beat hard against his chest, and blood began to pool below his waist as he felt his member harden. He made no effort to hide it now.
“Well, Lord Craig, it looks like ye finally caught up to me. What are ye gonna do now?” She put her hands to her lips and parted them slightly. “Well, I know what I want ye to do,” Isla said hoarsely. “I want ye to kiss me. Like ye did that one night. Can ye do that for me?”
“Yes, I can.” And he did.
Chapter Nine
Just as Jack forgot about his scruples, Isla forgot about hers.
She forgot about her promise to never fall for another man again. She forgot about staying faithful to Patrick’s memory.
She was too busy enjoying the moment, the feel of Jack’s soft lips against hers, his hands holding her body, warming against the cool dampness of her skin. Her hair clung to her neck and her shoulders, small ringlets of fire, matching the fire that consumed her body.
She used her tongue t
o pry open Jack’s mouth and explored his own tongue, tasting the sweetness of the rum they had shared earlier. Then, coaxing him down onto the floorboards, she straddled his hips and ran her fingers through his thick hair. Jack leaned his head back and groaned as she lowered her lips to the bristly skin under his jaw. His hands went to her firm buttocks and pressed him closer to him so that she could clearly feel his erection behind his trousers.
“Do ye want to make love to me, Jack?” she asked him, leaning back to look at his face.
His mouth dropped open, and even in the dim room she could see his blush.
“Yes,” he finally replied.
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” she asked, struggling not to smile.
“Of course not,” he muttered.
His boyish innocence was gone and a certain lust crossed his eyes, making Isla squirm with a new and fascinating sensation. She wanted this man, there was no denying. He was sweet yet powerful at the same time. He had nothing to hide, like some men, who hid their insecurities behind their perceived manliness. With Jack she could see him and nothing else.
“You know, at this point you’re supposed to ravish my body, press my breasts against your chest and whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”
“Can I just look at you for a moment?”
She swallowed. “A-aye.”
Now it was her turn to blush hotly as she sat next to him, his eyes trailing slowly across her body, from her head, her neck, and her small, round breasts, to the muscular arms and toned abdomen. There was something completely erotic about it all. Patrick never took the time to just sit and stare at her like she was something to be savored.
He never saw her naked, either.
Her body ached to be touched and she huffed impatiently. “You make it seem like you’re studying a painting at the British Museum. What about you, then?” She reached out and unbuttons Jack’s shirt before pulling it over his head. He was as muscular as she imagined. Solid pectorals, and bulging biceps, and his abdominal muscles hard and rippling in neat rows.
She resisted the urge to reach out and touch his body but instead did the same thing he did: she assessed him.
“Exquisite,” she finally said. “Like a Michelangelo sculpture.”
Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow.
She grinned at him in response. “I can’t stand it any longer. I must touch you.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
She put her hands on his chest, and he immediately put his own hands around her waist. He bent his head and nuzzled the sensitive area between her neck and shoulder. Isla shivered, feeling as though her body was melting into his. Her nipples hardened, and she gasped as his mouth lowered to her breasts.
“Hmm… you’re right, this can’t be your first time,” she teased, and then gasped again as she felt teeth gently bite at her nipple.
Jack pulled away. “You make it seem like this is your first time, talking the way you do.”
“It is not,” she insisted hotly. “I did it plenty of times with…” she trailed off. She didn’t want to even think of Patrick. She refused to feel guilty for feeling good.
“I can tell you’re lying,” Jack remarked.
“How?” she asked indignantly.
“You wrinkle your nose when you lie.”
“I do not!”
“See, you’re doing it again.”
“All right, well. Maybe it is my first time. But I have kissed a man before.”
Jack planted his lips on her. “I can tell,” he whispered. He then gasped softly as Isla took hold of his member in his hands.
“Well, that doesn’t mean I can’t be bold, does it?” she asked mildly as she began to stroke his sex from behind his trousers. “It’s my name, after all.” He groaned softly, his hands around her rump tightening, making Isla pressed down even harder on top of him. Isla noticed his increase in arousal and smiled in response.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jack panted.
She nodded and grinned. “I’ve actually never seen it before.”
“Help yourself,” he told her. His eyes were pleading. His breath caught in his throat as she unbuckled his belt. He helped her slide his trousers down, freeing his erection.
She eyed it appreciatively, and then, with surprisingly hesitant fingers, she stroked the silky flesh, and trailed her fingers up to the smooth tip.
“Impressive,” she said. “I don’t have much experience in assessing such things, but yours seems more than adequate.”
Jack bit back a laugh. “Much appreciated.”
Isla then yelped as Jack’s hands found her waist and flipped her over so that she was on her back.
She felt a bit strange at first for the release of control. But this was Jack. He had promised to take care of her and she knew that she didn’t need to fight him.
His body was a mountain over hers, but his gaze was soft, and his hands even softer.
It was a refreshing change to let him explore her body. He was achingly sweet, but his caresses and kisses were urgent. His erection still was stiff and hard as he gently pried her thighs apart. With gentle fingers, he began stroking the thicket of red curls as he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her ear.
With his lips he made a trail down to her chest, between her breasts, to rest at her navel before sliding his fingers into her tender folds.
“Oh!” she gasped. And for the first time in a while she was at a loss for words. She allowed her body to melt into the hard floorboards, ignoring the fact that she was leaning against some bags of flour and something mildly sharp. Her sex flooded with warmth as Jack’s fingers slipped in and out of her. Her body jolted with pleasure, and her breath caught in her throat as the pleasure burst into euphoria. Taking her by surprise, she grabbed whatever was closest to her, which happened to be the sack of flour, and yelled loudly enough to echo in the storage room.
“Are you all right?” Jack whispered hoarsely. His skin was slick with sweat and his breath was quick.
“God, yes. Jack, I want more. I want you inside of me.”
“It might hurt,” he told her. “It being your first time and all.”
“Ye think I care about a bit o’ pain?”
Jack pressed the tip of his member against her sensitive flesh and entered her. She tensed at first from the unfamiliar sensation, but relaxed her body as the hard flesh entered deeper inside of her. Any discomfort she felt was overwhelmed by a deepening sensation of all that she was where she needed to be. Jack pulled his hips away, and before she could object, he thrust himself deeper into her body. She gasped and wrapped her legs around him.
“You feel so good, Isla,” he moaned, his lips pressed against her neck. “I could just stay this way forever.”
She still couldn’t find words to respond. Her back arched from the sensation, and she shuddered from the rising pleasure. Her body was taking her back to her climax and she was more than ready for it. She tightened her legs around his back as she pressed her hips out to meet his continuing thrusts.
“Jack,” she whispered. It seemed to be the only thing she knew how to say as her body convulsed in blinding ecstasy. “Jack! Please, don’t stop.” She squeezed him tight with her legs.
Jack moaned, and his body tensed, and she thought she could feel every muscle in his body contract as he finished inside of her, his seed spilling into her womb, warming her entire body like a blanket.
Suddenly, the door to the cargo room opened, causing Jack to freeze like a statue. He then quickly pulled out of Isla. Isla fumbled for her clothes as they both rolled away behind a wooden crate.
The sailor was whistling to himself as he rummaged around the room, looking for something. “Ah, there they are,” he finally said, and carrying two large tankards he wandered out, closing the door behind him.
Isla let out a breath and started laughing. “How embarrassing if we were caught!” She fell heavily beside Jack, and then curled up against him, resting her head against his shoulder as he put his
arm around her.
“Why don’t we head back to our room, where it’s more comfortable?” she suggested.
Jack gaze her a reluctant nod, and they quickly changed into their clothes.
“Golden, stay outside,” she told the lion once they returned. Golden walked outside the cabin, spun around and lay down on the ground.
“That’s good. I’d rather not see her watching us,” Jack told her.
“Oh, aye? I thought ye liked a bit of an audience.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can tell ye liked it when that man walked in on us.”
“You’re lying.”
“Oh right, I forgot ye can tell when I’m lying,” she said sarcastically. She then broke into a grin as she began to undress again.
“I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” Jack said. He seemed to be in a daze.
“Why not?”
Jack opened his mouth to say something, and then looked like he had thought better of it. He turned his head aside and closed his eyes. She watched him swallow, like he had a lump in his throat.
“This is a one-time thing, ye ken?” she said.
“Hmm? Sure it is,” Jack told her.
“Ye don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
They made love again that night. And later, when they were both exhausted, Jack slept in her bed. He was a warm, comforting presence, especially in the midst of the relentless storm that was still howling outside. The light of the candle caught something on Jack’s skin. He had a scar just above his right pectoral, close to his shoulder. It looked like a puncture wound.
“Jack, where did you get that scar?” she asked him.
“Hmm?” He was half-asleep. Or was he dreaming already? He did not open his eyes. “Bunny… stabbed me.”
Isla froze. Bunny was the name the bullies used to call her at Cameron. At the time she had just lost a few baby teeth so her two fully grown front teeth were undeniably prominent. She never told Jack about the name—how would he have known about it? He didn’t seem to catch his slip: he was idly tracing his fingertips along the planes of her body.