He backed away in an instant. “Drop your trousers and place your hands against the wall.”
“Yes, sir,” I said through gritted teeth. I unlaced my britches and braced myself against the wall. The varnished wood felt cold against my splayed palms.
The sounds of a drawer opening and closing pierced my ears, and Grant walked over to me, each step sounding like the gong of a bell. He leaned in close beside me. “I will not tolerate insubordination on this ship. Nor will I tolerate slovenliness and laziness.”
Stick your laziness up your arse.
I let out a deep sigh and bit down on my sharp tongue. Something brushed up against my bum, small leather ribbons massaging my skin. Despite the darkness in his voice, his motions felt teasing, as if he relished the snaky trails it made and how it caressed my backside. The anticipation of the sting drew new sensations out of me, my body tingling and ready.
“Is that a flogger, sir?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said, swinging it against my bum lightly, snapping me with delicate nips. My body responded, wetness blooming in my core. I arched my back and let out a long sigh.
“Do not move,” he said. “You move and I will have to tie you up.”
The suggestion sent a thrill straight through me, and I recalled last night, how he held me at his mercy. A low moan escaped from my lips, and the flogger swiped one more time against my skin.
“You will count with me,” he commanded.
“Yes, sir,” I breathed.
The pain shot through my limbs, white-hot and flaming. My eyes snapped open, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Count!” he demanded.
“One,” I croaked. I swallowed hard, the pain enveloping me in a seductive trance.
“One,” I said again in a steadier voice.
He paused, letting the pain sink into my skin. The second slap came, harder this time. Merciless. I winced, trying to resist the urge to bolt.
“Two.”
He brought down the flogger again, and my knees buckled with a gasp. He fisted my hair and raised me to standing. “Stand up.”
I nodded, choking back a sob. Or perhaps a moan. I couldn’t tell which. Placing my trembling hands back on the wall, I widened my stance, as if I could somehow distribute the pain more evenly through my body.
The Captain chuckled low and dark, and the sound of it sent a bolt of fear and pleasure through my body.
“You think by showing me that delicious cunny of yours that I’ll be easy on you?”
“It had crossed my mind.”
The flogger came down on me again, and this time my teeth drew blood on my lip as I bit back a scream.
“Three!” I cried in a strained voice. My eyes swam with stars, the pain pushing me to a space outside my body. The next two slaps came fast and hard, my voice calling out the numbers. On number five, my body peaked, my folds swelling and aching with heat.
The Captain ran his hand gently across my bum, finding me wet and wanting with his exploring fingers. “You enjoyed that, I think.” He slipped a finger into my core, massaging the inside.
“Yes,” I gasped as he slid another finger in, but the pressure only made me ache for something bigger. “I’m sorry…for the boots… I won’t let it happen again.”
“See that you do not.” His fingers worked harder, and I arched my back, trying to gain more friction against them. “There is only so much of this sweet backside can take.”
“I think it can take a little more.” The words fell from my mouth, and they sounded so final, so complete, breaking some forbidden barrier between us. With a flurry of movement, Grant dropped his trousers and pressed against me, his hands digging into my hips. His swollen cock jabbed against my arse, but I rearranged myself until my folds engulfed him. His tip teased my opening, and he hesitated for a moment, his shuddering exhale burning the back of my neck. I dripped for him, my hips undulating across his cock. I wanted him inside me. Now. Nothing else would do.
With one long groan of resignation he thrust deep inside. I nearly came with the heat of him filling me, satiating me. He paused for a moment, and his heartbeat thumped against my back, furious and fast like a cornered animal. He brought his muscled arm around my stomach and positioned himself deeper. I gasped at the fullness of him, the sheer bigness of his cock impaling me. He moved slowly at first, my backside still raw from my punishment. The pain and the pleasure bled together, and I pushed back into him with my hips. He met my lust, thrusting hard, with a deep, masculine sigh.
“God, woman, you’re so wet.”
Woman.
The sound of the word sang in my ears. Enough of playing his cabin boy. Enough of shining shoes, ironing shirts. I wanted to serve this primal need. Serve him. I gasped as he twisted his arm tight around my waist, bringing me closer to him. He pumped viciously now, his breath hot and panting in my ear. With his other hand, he brought his fingers to my tiny nub, rolling the center of my pleasure with his thumb, then flicking it hard. With every touch, my body inched forward to a precipice, until finally he pounded me without mercy, his muscles tight. He roared in my ear, and the sound of his passion pushed me over the edge. I smothered my scream into my arm as his cock flooded my core. He came endlessly, groaning with each long thrust, until he caged me in with his arms. My knees buckled, only his hands holding me upright.
He buried his face into my neck before dislodging himself. Then he swept me up and laid me gently on the bed, my stomach on the mattress. He ran his fingers down my spine, and I shivered, craving his caress, my body already heating up again from his touch. He reached over to the side of the bed and took out a jar from inside. As soon as he opened it up, the smell of mint filled the room.
“This will help with the pain,” he said.
“I like the pain,” I whispered.
Grant spooned a generous amount of balm in his fingers and spread it over my backside.
I hissed as the minty concoction stung for a moment before sending a soft warming sensation through my skin. I turned my head to face him, my Captain, but his eyes were fixed on the curve of my hip, the dip of my waist.
“Is that wrong?” I asked. “To like it?”
He shook his head. “There is no shame in it. A lot of men and women enjoy it like this. The pain.” He swallowed, his hands pausing. “And the pleasure.”
I buried my nose in the pillow, breathing in his smell. “Mmmmm…I didn’t know that.” I peered back up at him. “I am sorry,” I said. “For your boots. It won’t happen again.”
He flashed me a vague smile. “See that it won’t, boy, or else I will have to punish you again.”
I laughed, taking his hand in mine and kissing it. “Perhaps I may need to forget again.”
He made a low tsk sound. “You have not seen me at my worst.”
“I bet your bark is worse than your bite.”
Grant arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you think so?” Before I could dodge him, his lips came down and clamped onto my neck. I squealed, rolling away. A fleeting thought of how our lovemaking might result in a child passed through my mind, but I pushed it back. Johnny couldn’t plant a seed in me to secure my hold on Dunraven, so perhaps the Captain could. Sure Johnny would never figure it out. He was always terrible at math. I scrubbed my face, staring at Grant through my fingers, and a lump rose in my throat, thinking of the beautiful babies the handsome Captain would produce. My belly fluttered at the thought, and I pressed my fingers against my abdomen, burying my face into the Captain’s pillow, the linen cool on my hot face.
Have you no shame, Mary? No shame at all?
He patted my bum one last time and rose. “I am expected above, and you are probably late to meet the quartermaster.”
I scrambled to my feet, collecting my clothes, the beady eyes of our draconian quartermaster flashing in my mind. “Aye, sir.”
I had just finished dressing when Grant grabbed me around my waist and planted a deep, passionate kiss on my lips. His tongue slammed into my mo
uth, and his cock hardened against my belly. I rubbed against it, standing on my tiptoes. He broke it off and marched out the door, leaving me breathless.
Chapter Fourteen
My hands chafed against the jute rope as it ran fast through my fingers. I steadied myself on the mast, clutching the gleaming wood tight between my thighs as I trimmed the sail, the coarse canvas flapping in the wind, until it caught the blowing gusts of salty air, and they straightened stiff and true.
“Good lad, there, O’Brien!” McKellan roared below. “Secure it and come down!”
I smiled and my fingers ran through the complex series of knots the quartermaster had taught me, taking care to flip the rope in the right direction and pull it tight. I took a moment to gaze at the endless ocean ahead of us, sparkling aqua blue extending to a haze of shadows where it met the sky. Soft, feathery white clouds billowed across the bright expanse, and the warm sun poured over my shoulders. I sighed before crawling down off the mast. I could get used to the sea.
“Yer a good climber, lad,” McKellen said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“I climbed my fair share of trees, sir, back where I’m from.”
His weathered face cracked in an unexpected smile. “Ye work hard, O’Brien, and you could go far as a sailor.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, averting my eyes, fearful of being noticed. My gaze rested on a herd of officers in discussion on the other side of the deck. Andrews lifted his head and met my stare, his eyes narrowing into dark slits.
Ice water rushed through my veins, and I looked away, my heart pounding.
“Ye best run along now,” the quartermaster said. “I’m sure the Captain will be wanting his supper soon.”
“Thank you, sir.” I bowed and raced toward the lower decks. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Andrews had followed me, but he had disappeared from the group of other officers. I turned, marching toward the galley, and charged right into Andrews’s chest. I backed away with a start. His hand clamped over my wrist and he dragged me down into the hold, pointing to a cut on his forehead.
“You owe me, you stupid cunt!” He shook me, spittle flying in my face. “I should have known Brighton’s whore would have followed us.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m no whore!”
The Lieutenant gripped my arm tighter. “Oh, Brighton told me all about you. How you spread your legs for him.” He breathed against my ear, and I could detect the faintest whiff of alcohol on his tongue as he ran it behind my ear. I repressed a shudder of revulsion.
“Shut up, you bastard. Brighton is a gentleman. Unlike you!”
Andrews threw his head back and laughed. “Your man Johnny is many things, but he is not a gentleman. You should have seen what we got up to with the women in Gibraltar—”
“Shut up!”
The smack hit me before I could even register, and my ears rang, stars dotting my vision. Andrews grabbed my chin and forced me to face him.
“The way I see it, you are in no position to tell me what to do.” He ran his hand down the length of my trousers and dug into my crotch. “You are at my mercy.”
A wave of panic washed over me, and I searched Andrews’s cruel dark eyes. “What do you want from me?”
Andrews smiled, showing a line of perfect white teeth. “I can tell the Captain now who you are, who you really are. At best, you will face a hundred lashes. Then perhaps he’ll have you arrested, thrown into a Jamaican prison, and leave you there to rot. At worst, he throws you overboard. Happens all the time. No use feeding a stowaway.”
Blood roared in my ears. If Andrews made a production about it, forced the Captain’s hand, Grant would have to dole out some sort of punishment to save face in front of his men. There would be no way around it.
Andrews slammed my hand against the wall. My knuckles bled from the force of it, and I winced.
“But I am not going to do that to you,” he whispered. “I am, after all, a fair man.”
“If you were a fair man and a friend to Johnny, you would keep this secret and let me go on my way,” I spat.
Andrews’s fingers dug deeper into my wrist. “I want something from you.”
“I don’t make bargains with the devil,” I hissed.
Andrews smiled and he released my wrist, turning on his heel. “Then I best seek out the Captain, then.”
“No!” I screamed, grabbing his arm. Flashes of Dunraven, its crenellated towers dark against the sky, sped through my mind, and I dropped to my knees. “Please. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”
The Lieutenant ran his hands through my cropped curls. “You look so pretty there. Like a fresh little lad.”
He smiled and the sight of it curdled my insides.
“I will keep your secret quiet. For now.” Andrews leaned down close to me. “But you need to do something for me.”
“What?” I frowned.
He ran a finger down my cheek and grinned wider, stepping back. “Grant has a series of maps. You have seen him staring at them.”
Some hint of recognition must have flared in my eyes, because he nodded, a wide smile spreading across his thin face.
“I want you to copy them and bring them to me,” he said.
“What do you want with them?”
Andrews sniffed, ignoring me. “I will signal to you, and you will bring them to me in the hold after he falls asleep.”
I narrowed my eyes at the Lieutenant. I had no idea what he wanted with these maps, but if Andrews were involved in the plan, it couldn’t be good.
“And if I refuse?”
He squared his shoulders at me and lifted his chin. “Maybe before running to the Captain, I will throw you to the crew first. Teach you what they do to female stowaways.”
I glared at Andrews, my fists clenched at my sides.
“The maps,” he said with a mock bow. “And be ready when I call for you.”
He turned and walked away, and I let out a long, shuddering exhale. A wave of bile rose up in my throat, but I shoved it down, along with the sobs of helplessness threatening to wrack my body. Now was not the time for womanly tears. I was in the service to his highness’s Royal Navy, and I could take my punches.
…
The Captain dined alone that night, and he invited me to join him. I shoved my food around my plate listlessly, my thoughts far away, back at my safe little fire in the lodge near Dunraven, with Da snoring lightly in the chair beside me. The poor old man must be sick with worry, and a pang of guilt rushed through me as his stern face flashed in my mind. How I wish I could write to him, let him know I was all right, that everything I did, I did for him, for us, for the O’Malleys. For Ireland. I imagined myself riding home on a white stallion, like a princess in a fairy tale, with Johnny at my side, all decorated in ribbons for his valor. Yet, even as the vision took shape in my imagination, my thoughts returned to the Captain across from me, his strong, capable hands. His confident, commandeering manner. Being married to Johnny would be like being married to some doleful farm animal.
But at least a rich farm animal.
Of course, all of this was contingent on Andrews not blowing my true identity, and his words still echoed in my ears.
Be ready when I call for you.
Was I prepared to do what he says? Take these maps from the Captain and copy them out? It would just be a small stack of papers. He probably wouldn’t miss them.
Don’t be dim, Mary.
I stabbed my fork at a potato, circling it in a pool of butter. Andrews wanted those maps for some terrible reason, and I had to figure out why, discover a weakness, a secret. No matter how much I wanted to find Johnny, the thought of betraying Grant made me sick inside. But if I told Grant the truth and he went after Andrews, the Lieutenant would bellow from every corner of the ship that the Captain had a woman holed up in his cabin. I thought of the rough sailors working on the deck above us and the way they gazed upon Grant with a mixture of respect, awe, and genuine trust. A single word from Andrews co
uld destroy everything Grant had built, and he would have no choice but to condemn me in order to save face, proud man he was. I had to do what Andrews said, even if it meant going against the one man trying to protect me aboard this ship.
“Is something troubling you, boy?”
I jumped at the velvety sound of his voice. It had an immediate effect on me, my abdomen fluttering at the sound.
“No, sir.”
“You have not eaten anything.” He paused, then continued in a softer voice. “You need to eat.”
I looked up at his sharp blue eyes studying me, and I swallowed hard. I knew I should tell Grant what happened between Andrews and me today, but the words caught in my throat. I had disturbed the man enough by coming aboard this ship, and I didn’t need him fighting my battles for me. I had to figure this out on my own.
“Are you ill, boy?”
I cleared my throat as my face flushed. “No, sir.”
“Then eat, or I will have to feed you myself.”
Even though he spit out the words, his concern for my welfare sent a flush of heat to my cheeks. Shaking my head, I returned to my previous mission—understanding what those maps were worth.
“I was wondering,” I said in a too high voice. Remembering myself, I resumed in my lower range. “I was wondering about those maps you’re always studying.”
The lines of his face sharpened. “What do you want to know about them?”
I shrank a little in my chair. “Are they helping you lead us to Willaumez’s ship?”
Grant stilled. “Those maps are none of your business.”
I nodded. “I know. I just thought—”
“What? What did you think?”
“Nothing. I don’t know.” My leg hopped nervously beneath the table, and I bit down on my lip. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind learning a bit about navigation, and those maps might—”
“You need to put those maps out of your mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
We ate together in awkward silence. Rain pelted against the window, and the beams groaned with the rising storm. Swallowing another bite of bread, I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject from those bloody maps.
The Captain's Rebel (Irish Heroines) Page 11