“You are not going to raid that ship,” said Daniel.
James lowered the telescope. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“I won’t let you.”
“Daniel, I love your tenacity, but really, what can you do to stop us?”
Daniel gaped a moment, staring around the deck for some sort of inspiration. “I—”
“Either go below deck or keep out of the way—don’t want you getting skewered.” James squeezed Daniel’s shoulder. “I certainly don’t want any harm to come to your attractive person.”
James marched away to talk to Brillack, leaving Daniel spluttering insults to himself unheeded.
The Opal began to pick up speed, the sails full with a fortunate wind, driving her toward a smaller ship which sat heavy in the water. The crew were excited, the men calling out to go faster, climbing up the rigging and the side of the ship to get a better look at their target.
“Her belly’s full, Captain,” said Carlos, delighted. “I wonder where she’s been.”
James slapped Carlos on the back. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Watching Carlos and James, Daniel thought that if he hadn’t witnessed James’s actions below deck minutes before, there would be no way of knowing that the two men had almost come to blows. They grinned, a look too intimate to be something shared by normal crewmates, and Daniel couldn’t help the anger that burned inside him at James’s seemingly fickle behavior.
The Opal was devouring the distance between herself and the Mirabelle, closing down on her prey with ease. They were almost upon her. He could see the Mirabelle’s crew begin to load their weapons.
James jumped up on the side of the ship, grabbing a rope to steady himself as he did. At least twenty other men followed his lead while several others took their place on the upper deck, one line of men with loaded muskets and another behind them busy loading the next set of weapons.
There was a sound of wood scraping as the cannon ports opened, and James let out the cry: “Fire at will!”
The Opal rolled at the discharge of her guns, and the smell of gunpowder filled Daniel’s nostrils. As they swung out on ropes to board the Mirabelle, the pirates yelled curses and shrill war cries, landing with swords held high and the musket fire overhead giving them cover from the crew of the Mirabelle.
Daniel watched as James discharged both his pistols into the foray and drew his sword, battling his way through the spirited defense with Brillack and Carlos at his back until he reached the quarterdeck. His men were making short work of the Mirabelle’s crew, many of whom were throwing their weapons aside and kneeling in surrender rather than continuing to fight.
James had cornered the Mirabelle’s captain, sword to his throat, and Daniel had to remind himself that he should not be willing a pirate intent on robbing a trading ship to survive in one piece. But James, he would admit, lived up to the dashing and romantic cliché of every pirate written, and he was beginning to understand why no one was willing to aid the British in his capture.
The Mirabelle surrendered. Her crew were rounded up and forced to kneel on the deck. There were a small number of casualties, but not as many as Daniel would have expected, and James was ordering his men to search the hold.
Within minutes gangplanks were in place, and the Mirabelle’s cargo was being transferred to the Opal. Case after case passed along a line of men. Daniel couldn’t tell what was in them, but some were heavy, judging by the grimaces some of the pirates wore. Along with the cases were numerous urns and bulging sacks. James stood proudly over the defeated captain, directing his men with a smile so blinding it almost hurt Daniel to look at him. The smile reminded him so fiercely of his younger days, the time spent exploring low taverns in Portsmouth in the evening and each other’s bodies in the middle of the night.
The raid a success and the crew of the Mirabelle subdued, James ordered his men back aboard the Opal. Everyone was jubilant, breaking out bottles of pilfered rum and wine and raising toasts to their captain. James laughed and joked with Carlos and Brillack as they set sail, leaving the Mirabelle adrift, the whole crew upbeat and boisterous.
“Now, gentlemen,” said James, taking a swig from a bottle of wine, “time to celebrate. To Plesmaya.”
THE stories that surrounded Plesmaya were so outlandish that Daniel had always believed them to be more myth than truth; the tales of easy men and women, of gambling and drinking all day and night were intermixed with stories of brawls and honor killings. He’d never been, the British Navy declaring it a no-go area after a number of aborted raids, and the attempts by the navy to clear the area of pirates had only added to the legend. As the Opal weighed anchor a mile off the golden sands of the small island, Daniel growled in irritation as James playfully smacked his ass, saying, “More of a paradise than Eden, Daniel.”
He’d not been given the option to stay on board, despite his protests that he’d be spotted straightaway as one the King’s men. James had merely laughed and promised to protect his virtue before all but dragging him into a small rowing boat.
Daniel sat next to James and Brillack as the rowing boat weaved around the other ships moored off the headland. From James’s fond remarks, it was clear that he recognized at least three of the ships. They cut through the waves due to the vigor of the men in charge of the oars, evidently as keen as their captain to reach the shore. They were heading toward a secluded beach away from the main trading routes, its white sand inviting. Daniel could see the bonfires raging, men and women dancing around the flames, and behind them large sand dunes where occasionally men could be seen sliding down the slopes.
Once in shallow water, James heaved himself over the side of the boat and dragged Daniel with him. Without being given the chance to gain his balance, he toppled over, landing in the water with a loud splash and pirates’ laughter.
“Daniel,” said James, once he’d stopped laughing, “if you’re that eager to get out of your clothes, none of us would mind—there’s no need to go swimming in your Sunday best.”
Daniel struggled to his feet and, without answering, waded toward the beach. James splashed along with him. “Oh, come on, I’m just teasing. You’ll be dry in no time under this sun. Do you remember that time in Portsmouth?”
“What? When you ended up in the brine after mistiming a simple maneuver?”
“Hardly simple; it was a great nautical feat, and if I remember, it took me hours to get dry.”
“Portsmouth in November is not renowned for its warm climate.”
“I could have caught my death.”
“I doubt that, and I seem to remember helping—” He stopped talking, not wishing to encourage James further, but it appeared it was too late for that.
“Oh, yes… that was the afternoon you first allowed me inside.”
Daniel was saved from further reminiscence by the whoop of excitement as James’s men raced past them. James had taken the hint and chased after his men, but as Daniel watched them run ashore, he suddenly realized he wasn’t happy that James had been so easy to dismiss.
James had been greeted warmly by an attractive blond man in his late forties, and as Daniel finally set foot on dry land again, he noticed the newcomer was staring in his direction and that James’s expression was hard, even angry.
“Daniel,” said James. “I want to show you my home.”
James gave him no room to argue, already leading him away from the beach toward a small town not far in the distance. “You’ve already been recognized as a navy man,” he said, almost hissing, “and although your neck is safe, you won’t like what I have heard about your crew.”
“What?” Daniel stopped on the rough path, resisting James’s urges to continue.
“Walk and talk, Daniel. I know you can do it.”
“Not until you tell me what is going on.”
James sighed dramatically but, seeing Daniel wouldn’t budge, started to explain. “I asked Philippe for news of the British. You’ve not exactl
y been forthcoming on what actually happened, but what he heard was that the pirate-hating bastard who was the captain of HMS Expedience was killed while engaging the French.”
“Killed?”
“Yes. The new captain, Nichols, produced a body.”
The hatred for his ex-subordinate left him speechless. Daniel clamped his jaw shut, angry at both Nichols and his own impotency.
“Come on,” said James, gently coaxing Daniel along the path, “we’ll go to my house.”
The beauty of the surroundings was lost on Daniel. He ignored the local fauna; the wild grasses passed without notice as they swayed in the sea breeze. The sweet smell of large colorful flowers didn’t catch his attention, and the glorious weather could have been tropical storms for all Daniel cared.
They entered the narrow lanes made up of taverns and hostels that crowded together and provided all the entertainment a pirate might need. Whores—young, old, male, female—hung around on every street corner, offering a good time for a modest outlay. Brawling men spilled out of inns, swinging their fist and crying for vengeance. Daniel dodged out of the way of a large bald man who was screaming he had been tricked out of his money, clutching a fistful of playing cards, all of them aces.
Daniel was happy to leave the heaving streets behind, letting James lead him to a large house on the outskirts of the rambling town. James’s home was more like a small mansion, a scaled-down version of one of the Merriston family’s properties back in England. Its white front and grand staircase were ornate and screamed of wealth, and only then did Daniel understand how lucrative a career as a pirate actually was.
“Welcome to my home, Captain Horton.”
A butler in livery greeted them at the main door, and James requested tea in the library.
“Tea in the library?” asked Daniel. “Hardly a barrel of rum on a dead man’s chest.”
James snorted with amusement, leading Daniel into the library. “There’s nothing wrong with a little civilization now and again.”
Daniel sat in a wingback chair positioned in front of a wall-to-ceiling bookcase. The butler delivered and served the tea with minimal fuss, leaving James and Daniel alone once more.
“You’re looking well for a dead man,” said James, watching Daniel carefully.
“A different turn in the tale than I expected. Nichols had told me I’d be the one facing mutiny charges.”
“But they are difficult to concoct. Your whole crew would need to corroborate a story like that, not just the handful of men that it would’ve taken to throw you in a rowing boat. A body damaged from cannon fire could be anyone.”
Daniel knew James was right. “I must get back to St. Kitts immediately; send word back to England—to my father.”
“I promised I’d get you there, but my men have earned their shore leave. You won’t get there any faster, so just take a few days to recuperate.”
“But—”
“A few days here will do you the world of good.”
Daniel could see there would be no arguing with James. Even if he left, he had no means of transport, no faster way of getting back to St. Kitts. “Perhaps you are right.”
James smiled fondly. “Good. Let my staff take care of you. Take a nap, and then this evening I’ll show you my favorite tavern.”
THE tavern didn’t have a name, and to Daniel it didn’t look any different from any of the others in the center of the town. He’d had to duck his head to clear the doorway, and due to its low ceiling, he was only just able to stand to his full height and avoid the beams. The minute James stepped through the door, there had been a roar of welcome. At a table in the corner away from the bar were Brillack and a handful of the other men from the Opal, and James managed to steer them both through the crowds toward them.
Brillack poured Daniel a measure of rum from a jug and immediately dealt him into their card game. James sat down, busy talking and laughing with the other patrons in the bar.
“You’ll get nothing out of him tonight,” said Brillack, nodding in James’s direction. “Best play some cards and have a drink.”
After losing several hands and drinking far more than would be advisable, Daniel could see that there was still no respite from James’s throng of admirers. A young barkeep placed a flagon of foaming ale in front of James, his hips canting in invitation, and James’s appreciative gaze traveled the length of the young man’s body. Pushing away from the table, James patted his thighs, and the barkeep settled happily onto James’s lap, leaning in to capture James’s mouth in a deep, messy kiss.
Daniel seethed.
Almost unthinkingly, he got to his feet and stalked over to James, stopping to stand over him. “A word.”
James broke the kiss and looked up at Daniel with a mixture of smugness and taunting. “If you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of something.”
“Now.”
Daniel saw James’s hand stroke up the back of the young man, who rested his head on James’s shoulder and stared at Daniel with resentment.
“Then go ahead.”
“Outside,” said Daniel, his eyes narrowing even further as James gently pushed the young man off his lap, giving him another messy kiss.
Daniel grabbed James by his upper arm and hauled him to his feet, pulling him out of the bar into the evening air. Uncaring of passersby, Daniel pinned James to the wooden side of the bar with a sharp shove, his forearm across James’s chest, holding him in place. He leaned forward, their faces mere inches apart.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
James had the audacity to smile. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m enjoying myself, Daniel. Just because you’re not interested in sex doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be celibate.”
Daniel violently pushed himself away. “Fuck you, James. Your insincerity appalls me.”
James’s arms closed around him in an instant. The move surprised him, and, unable to prevent it, he toppled backward, landing heavily with James sprawling above him.
There was no mistaking the intent that shone in James’s eyes. “It seems you still have the spark of passion in you. I was beginning to fear that fire in your belly had been extinguished.”
Daniel struggled, trying to wriggle free from underneath James, but the other man held him firm. “Let me go.”
“I don’t think so. You’ve rebuffed my advances time and time again, but the minute I show interest in someone else, your hackles rise so quickly that I can almost smell your desire.”
“You’re delusional,” said Daniel, still trying to escape, but James used his heavier frame to keep Daniel in place and captured Daniel’s flailing arms, pinning them above his head.
“I don’t think I am.” The words were softly spoken, almost whispered into his ear, and Daniel couldn’t stop his traitorous cock from responding to having James above him, his breaths ghosting across Daniel’s overheating skin.
James pulled back ever so slightly so their gazes met. Daniel didn’t resist the soft lips that met his, didn’t struggle as James kissed him, sense memory bringing back the encounters of his youth. James knew how to kiss, all lips and a coaxing tongue that left Daniel powerless to do anything but allow James access and to return the kiss.
They pulled apart, panting slightly. “Not here,” said Daniel, conscious they were only a few feet from the main thoroughfare and only moments away from giving the locals an erotically charged show.
James nodded, rolled off, and they rose to their feet. “Home.”
Daniel didn’t argue and let himself be guided back down the narrow path to James’s house. Again he paid no attention to the white sands or the exotic smells and plants along the way, his sole focus on James’s hot hand that had wormed its way under his shirt and rested on his waist. No one who passed them could mistake what was happening, James’s arm wrapped possessively around him, their gait determined, almost falling over each other to get back to the house.
They crashed through the front door, and Daniel let out
an undignified squawk as he was lifted off his feet and thrown over James’s shoulder. “Put me down, James Merriston. I am not some wench for you to manhandle.”
“Calm yourself, Daniel,” said James playfully, racing up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. “This is solely for expedience—I know you’re no woman.”
Deciding that struggling further would just risk them both falling down the stairs, Daniel stopped thrashing. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it—I’ll get you back for this.”
“Now that sounds like the kind of promise I’d like you to keep.”
Daniel let out an annoyed oomph as he landed heavily on James’s large, soft bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching with a mixture of arousal and amusement as James stripped off his shirt, then hopped on one leg, then the other to remove his boots. But all thought of humor fled as James straightened and stalked naked toward the bed, his shirt and trousers abandoned on the floor. With his broad shoulders and muscled chest smattered with blond hair, the sight of James made Daniel’s mouth water.
The small voice in the back of his head finally silenced, Daniel sank back into the mattress, opening his arms wide in invitation.
James crawled over the bed, his knees on either side of Daniel’s thighs. The rough calluses on James’s fingers made Daniel gasp as they skirted over his skin, pulling his shirttails out of his trousers and pushing the shirt up over his chest as if desperate to touch him. James made what sounded like a frustrated growl as he attempted to unbutton Daniel’s shirt, the sound of ripping fabric and displaced buttons bouncing off the wooden floor following moments later as James’s impatience got the better of him.
The fingers were replaced by lips as James kissed his way from Daniel’s navel to his neck, stopping to worship each of Daniel’s ribs en route, licking a wet stripe over each nipple and blowing a warm stream of air across the damp skin.
Daniel moaned in appreciation, unable to maintain his disinterested mask any longer as James peeled away his trousers. He dragged James close and kissed him fiercely; hot, wet and desperate, as if he might never get the chance to kiss the man again.
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