by Lisa Olech
The firm curve of her hip rested over the hard shaft of his erection. As the fire pulsed, so did he, but his were not the needs he would meet tonight. Not at first, anyway. His only desire was to bring her as much pleasure as he could. He owed her a night without a hint of “disappointment.”
Jocelyn traced her fingertips over his temple and along the line of his jaw. “Have I told you what I thought when I first saw you?”
He shook his head. He was busy with a lazy tracing of his own. One finger circled the rose-tinted tip of her breast until the nipple tightened.
Jocelyn sighed and arched slightly as if lifting her breasts to his touch. “Golden and handsome, I-I thought you looked like an angel.”
Ric teased the firm peak, rolling it slowly between his finger and thumb. “How wrong you were.”
She ran a hand over his shoulder and down his arm, urging him on. He purposely slowed his touches. Lightened the strokes. Jocelyn whimpered in protest. Her body moving against his. There would be no rushing tonight. No mindless release. Tonight he would make love to her the way he should have the first time.
He bent over her pulling that tightened tip between his lips. Cupping her breast, pressing the rounded flesh higher, he mimicked the motion of his fingers using the tip of his tongue before drawing it deeper with a gentle suck. Jocelyn’s fingers raked into his hair to hold him to her.
She gasped, “Tell me…”
Ric ran her sensitive nipple between his teeth before blowing a cool breath over the heated nub. “Tell you what?”
She shivered in response. “Ah… Y-your nickname. I…I’ve run out of guesses.” She clutched as his shoulder.
“You didn’t try very hard.” He concentrated on lowering his touch. Following the faint line between her breasts and over her stomach. Teasing her navel. Lower to the patch of dark curls protecting her sex. “Wasn’t the last guess Cabbage Head? Did you know your insult is what gave me the idea during the attack on the Dutch frigate?”
“I don’t want to talk about frigates,” she panted lifting her hips. “I want to talk about you.”
Ric kissed the crest of her knee before urging it wide. “You already know my nickname.” The skin of her inner thighs was soft and warm. Brushing it with his lips, his body pulsed with desire.
“Robbins?”
“No,” he nipped at her thigh, “you’re getting warmer.”
One finger parted her damp curls to dip between. Jocelyn moaned, opening her legs wider. Her hand covered his. “I can’t think…not when you’re doing…”
“But you’re so close.” Ric slid his touch over the slick heat. She was wet with anticipation.
“I surrender…” She gasped, rocking against his touch.
He shifted so he could kiss her and still caress her with sweeps of his fingers. “Never surrender.” Ric increased the pressure and speed of his strokes. Jocelyn bit at his lip, panting, writhing with a building passion.
When he plunged two fingers into her, she bucked against his hand. Head back she arched her back and cried out his name. “Oh God, Ric!”
Her release bathed his hand. He stayed with her, slowing the touches, prolonging her pleasure, until she lay limp and trembling in his arms.
Ric’s own body screamed for its release, yet he gathered her in his arms and kissed her panting mouth. “You guessed it.”
“They call you, God?” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Damp curls clung to her cheek.
Ric brushed them aside. “No, foolish woman. Ric. Short for Ricochet. Some day when we’re not so…busy…I’ll tell you the tale of how I got it.”
“What is your given name?” She caressed his arm, then his chest.
“You ask too many questions.” Ric watched her hand move boldly down his abdomen. He looked up to find her gaze on his face.
“I’ve always been too curious.” Her fingers brushed the head of his penis.
Ric closed his eyes against the painful rush to his already swollen cock. When her fingers wrapped around him he jerked his eyes open and pulled her hand away. In one swift move, he had her straddling his thighs, hands on his shoulders, her wet heat hovering over him.
His breath came shallow and quick as if he’d run a fair distance to rest in the heaven between her thighs. “If…if I tell you, will you cry it out, when I make you come again?
“Again?”
“Aye.” He held her hips as he pressed slowly into her.
“Oui..oh, oui.”
“Henry. My name is Henry.” He rocked his hips and plunged into her once more.
“Henri…” she sighed against his mouth. “A strong name, Henri.”
“Say it again.” He reached between them and slid his hand down the flat of her stomach as he continued to thrust upward. The need to reach his release driving him faster and faster. “I want… you to…cry it out.”
Ric’s thumb searched until he found what he sought. Swirling strokes soon had her clinging to him, matching his rhythm.
“Yes…oh…yes…”
“Say it…Jocelyn, say my name.”
“Henri, Henri, Henri!”
Ric dug his fingers into her hips, surging into her. He wrapped his arms around her holding her tight to him pressing her to him tighter still as he pumped into her body.
* * * *
Later they lay entwined listening to the rain, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.
“You broke your promise again.” Jocelyn kissed the dip at the base of his neck.
“Broke one…kept one.”
She snuggled close, laying her head on his shoulder. “Stars. Lots and lots of stars,” she murmured.
“Stars?”
“Mmmmm…”
He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but she felt too good in his arms for him to question.
Before long, the light of the fire had dimmed to coals. He left her side long enough to add the last few remaining sticks. “The fire is dying. We need to find some more dry wood.”
Jocelyn sat up, modestly covering her chest with her shirt. “I thought I saw some back toward that stand of stones.” She pointed.
Ric frowned as he got closer. In the flickering light of the fire, the rocks didn’t look like any he’d ever seen. Reaching out, he discovered what looked like a pile of rocks was actually heavy oiled clothes covering a pile of trunks and barrels. “Damn…”
Jocelyn slid up beside him. She still held her shirt to her chest and tucked in close to his side. “No wood?”
Lifting the lid to one of the chests, light caught the cache of gold, silver and jewels within. The facets of the stones winked in the flicker of the fire as Jocelyn gasped. “Is that…?”
“It ain’t wood.”
Ric returned to the fire and pulled one of the long sticks to use as a torch to add some light to their discovery. Holding it aloft, the chest of gold and jewels fairly glowed.
“Holy shite,” Jocelyn gasped.
Ric’s eyebrows pushed toward his hairline. “MacTavish has been a bad influence. Don’t let the good sisters hear you talk like that.” He pulled a long strand of pearls each as large as a ripe berry. Slipping it over Jocelyn’s head the creamy pearls dipped between her breasts and fell past her navel. Her standing naked in nothing but pearls was an image he would carry with him forever.
She slipped a gold and diamond bracelet onto her wrist and a ruby ring onto her hand. The stones flashed in the firelight. “Can you believe this? I’ve never seen a ruby so large.”
Ric handed Jocelyn the torch and pulled back another oilcloth. Two hog’s heads of brandy stood beside three of rum. Beyond the chest they’d first opened, there stood others. One held silver pieces--bowls, vases and the like. A small chest held nothing but coin. Gold pressed into eights.
When Ric opened the largest trunk, Jocelyn gasped beside him. Silks. Bolts of gossamer cloth. Rich hues of royal blue and regal purple. There was an embroidered kim
ono in black and gold. And a gown of red.
Jocelyn handed the makeshift torch back to Ric. She reached out to touch the dress as if in a trance, stopped, and wiped her palms on her thighs before lifting the claret gown out of its silken nest.
“Have you ever seen anything as beautiful in your whole life?”
Ric smiled at the reverence in her voice. “Perhaps one thing.”
She held the dress against her body, swinging the skirts, totally enamored.
He, however, was not thrilled at their find. “Do you know what this means?”
“I can rid myself of those horrible skirts?”
“Not quite. This is a cache. Booty. Which means whoever left this here will be back.” He examined the oilcloths. “No dust. It hasn’t been here long.”
Jocelyn laid the sleeves of the dress along her arms, and measured the waist against her own. “Doesn’t mean they’ll be back soon.”
“It could mean anything. If they’re Spaniards or Dutch riding into French territory, they could have stowed this here instead of risking the French finding it.” Ric dropped the cloth he held. “Come first light, we need to be out of here. I’m not taking any chances on unexpected guests.
“Does it mean I can’t keep this?” She swished the dresses skirts once more. “What do pirates know about fine dresses anyway? They can keep their heavy pearls. I want this.”
“As long as you can wear it while you help row the skiff.”
Chapter 21
“Jocelyn, wake up.”
Jocelyn ducked her chin and snuggled closer to Ric’s warmth. She laid her cheek on the smooth plane of his chest and reveled in the sheer scent of him. His skin smelled faintly of wood smoke and…them.
She smiled as the delicious aches of her body reminded her of their night together. Jocelyn had barely recovered from Ric’s initial lovemaking. Or should she say, Henri’s.
Oh, yes, she’d touched the stars, and somewhere beyond. She never imagined it could be so…so wonderful.
After finding the stash of treasure, Ric had draped her naked body in jewels. Gold and silver with sapphires and emeralds. Strands and strands of pearls. Rings on each finger. Then he had stripped it all from her. Piece by piece, kissing each bit of skin he exposed before lifting her and carrying her into the pool where he made love to her yet again.
The warm water was heaven. Moving to the side of the pool, the shock of the chilled rainwater falling from the shaft sent them both back to the fire and into each other’s arms until their touches heated them once more.
Jocelyn sighed. She’d not forget last night even if she lived to be one hundred years old.
“Jocelyn,” Ric pushed at her shoulder moving her aside. “Wake up and put your clothes on,” he hissed. He shot to his feet and pulled his breeches on. “We’ve got company.”
“What?” She snatched at her clothing.
“As quick as you can,” he whispered, shaking the dirt from her skirts and handing them to her. He put a finger to his lips. Drawing his knife from its sheath, he moved toward the opposite end of the cave.
Jocelyn strained to hear anything past the pounding of her heart. Ric was back before she finished slipping into her shoes.
“I count five. Narrow sloop. We haven’t much time. Without my pistols, we’re no match for them, but there may be a way.”
He rushed to the pile of goods, and grabbing handfuls of coins tossed them amongst the scattering of jewelry from last night. Grabbing a short barrel of liquor, he wrenched out the bung from its side with his knife and dumped a good amount of rum near where they had slept.
With an armful of items scooped from several trunks, he headed out of the cave the way they had entered last night. “Follow me. Stay close.”
As they moved through, items fell from his arms, and Ric dropped fistfuls of coins as if laying a trail. Once out of the cave he spoke, “Get yourself hidden.” He pointed to a crop of bushes. “I’ll be right back.”
Jocelyn clutched at his sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“Need to give our visitors a wild goose to chase. Stay down and keep quiet.” He must have sensed the panic she was feeling, because he dipped his head and planted a quick kiss upon her lips before he told her not to worry and nudged her toward the hiding spot.
Jocelyn did what he asked alternating furtive glances back toward the cave and down the path where Ric had disappeared. After what seemed like a year, Ric ducked in next to her panting. Sweat glistened across his chest.
“Now we wait,” he huffed. “If they take the bait, they’ll be chasing after the skiff.
“Chasing the skiff?” Jocelyn tried to follow his thinking.
“Aye,” he whispered. “I cut it loose.”
“But, the skiff is the only way to escape.”
He shot her an impish grin. “Not the only way.”
“I don’t under--” Sudden shouts and yelling could be heard coming from the low entrance to the cave. Ric covered her mouth with his hand, pulled her to him and murmured against her ear. “Trust me?”
His voice rumbled through her and settled in her thighs. She nodded behind his hand. His breath tickled the side of her throat before he kissed that tender spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. Her nipples tightened.
“Went this a-way!” The call sounded close.
Jocelyn could only gasp as Ric pulled her lower, crouching out of sight.
“Fire still be warm.”
“Drank half a head o’ rum.”
“Can’t be far ahead.”
“Looks te be, he left in a hurry.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Jocelyn prayed to become invisible as she heard the men thrash their way through the underbrush.
“Back to the cave,” hissed Ric as he stood and pulled her to her feet. “Fast as you can. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Go.” He gave her a small shove.
She could still hear the other men’s voices. If they should see them… Scrambling into the low entrance, she heard the first gun shot.
Ric was right behind her. “Move, move, move.”
Once inside, he grabbed her arm. “Go to the far end of the cave and wait for me. I’ll be right there.” He let her go and rushed to drag the larger of the chests back to block the entrance.
She raced past the pool. The morning sunlight shafted into the water turning it a brilliant aquamarine. Had she not been running for her life, she would have stopped to gaze. Instead, she followed the glow coming from deeper in the cave.
The floor began a steady slope downward. The glow grew brighter until at last she reached the end. This side of the cave was markedly different from the other. Where the north side of this place led in from a wide pale beach, this coast mirrored the mainland with its craggy landscape separated by what looked to be a deep channel.
Below her, a ship sat anchored close to shore, planks lowered from its rails balanced on a slender shelf of flat land. With its white hull, it nearly glowed in the sunlight of the morning.
It was small compared to the Scarlet Night. Tiny compared to that Dutch Frigate. With no knowledge of ships, she couldn’t begin to guess what kind it was, but with its single mast, the ship sat like a life-saving beacon on the water. Not waiting for Ric, Jocelyn began the steep scramble down to the precarious ramp.
One step onto the wide planks had them tipping beneath her weight. She looked down between the crude boards. Water ebbed and flowed around more rocks. It wasn’t a long fall, but it was not one she wanted to make. Closing her eyes and lifting a prayer, she ran.
Jocelyn dropped down onto the cluttered deck. Ropes, wood, and broken barrels were trashed about. A huge cargo bay hatch took up most of the deck area. She shot a glance back hoping to see Ric behind her. He wasn’t there. Worry for him choked her, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the possibility he’d been captured. He’d be there. She trusted him.
Finding the anchor chain, Jocelyn was stymied for a moment.
The device attached to raise and lower the anchor was nothing like the Scarlet’s capstan. It more resembled a toothed, geared spool. She grabbed the iron handle on the side and pulled before realizing she was working it in reverse.
It took all her strength to push the wheel in the opposite direction. Sweat ran between her shoulder blades as the gear inched forward.
“Jocelyn.” Ric called out to her.
She stopped only long enough to shout back. “Get on.”
The anchor began to lift. The faster she pushed the mechanism, it seemed to double its effort. Jocelyn could sense the ship starting to move with the wind.
“Hold fast.” Ric called as he closed in on the ramp. He threw a wrapped bundle across the span to land on the deck.
“I don’t know how to stop?” She cried.
Looking back, Ric had begun to cross the planking, but the ship was sliding away. He jumped as the planks lost their hold and fell to the rocks below.
The ship picked up more speed. Jocelyn locked the gear before rushing to the rail.
Ric hung off the side of the ship.
“Oh God,” Jocelyn reached over the rail. “Grab my hand.”
Ric shook his head and held tight, shooting an anxious look down the side of the ship. “Find the tiller. Hurry. Steer us to port. Away from the rocks.”
“You’ll fall.” She pulled on his sleeve.
He made another nervous glance forward. “I won’t, but if we hit the rocks…”
“I don’t know what a tiller is,” she cried.
“The stick. In the stern. To steer the rudder. Shove it hard to the right. Damn it, hurry.”
Jocelyn raced back to the ship’s tiller and swung the bow toward the middle of the channel as she willed Ric to use the strength of those muscled arms of his to pull himself up and over the rail.
Angry shouts sounded from the entrance of the cave followed closely by pistol shots. Splinters from the top of the rail, near where Ric still hung, exploded before showering the deck.
“Get down, Jocelyn!” Ric yelled over the gunfire, but instead she turned the ship to position it away from the firing.