The Jezebel

by Saskia Walker

  Beneath her, the flash of moonlight on the murky waters seemed an ominous warning. An unsavory stench rose from the dockside, invading her nostrils—the odors of rotting vegetables and excrement. Her stomach turned, and Maisie bit back the urge to shake her head and flee. Swaying unsteadily, she berated herself for being so weak, well aware this swooning attitude wouldn’t get her to Scotland. Why, the captain and his men surely tramped up and down this wooden plank all the time, and she was making a fool of herself. Suitably emboldened by that notion, she forced herself on. She couldn’t turn back. With a wry sense of her own unhappy situation, she silently admitted that she’d rather end up in the filthy waters below than have to go back where she’d come from.

  With that grim thought as motivation, she made it to the boat. Clamping her hands over the rough wood rail, she wilted with relief and gasped for breath.

  As she wondered how she was supposed to mount the railing, the board beneath her feet began to bounce heavily as the captain approached. Without further ado—and hoping that no one was in the vicinity to see her unladylike actions—she hauled up her skirts and flung herself over the barrier. Staggering, she clung to the railing again and stood upright on the deck. The smell of wood and tar was heavy in the air. Voices called out all around her—the shipmen in action.

  “Well mounted, my lady,” the captain said with some amusement as he vaulted easily over the railing behind her. He tossed her bundle to her, then bent to pull the plank onto the ship.

  Maisie attempted to get her bearings. Farther along the railing, the men had finished hauling the sandbags onto the deck. Beyond them a fearful rattling sounded as a sailor cranked a wheel. “Anchors aweigh, Captain,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  Captain Cameron shoved Maisie on ahead when he noticed one of the men who had pulled up the sandbags peering over at her, a hand on his hip. She couldn’t see the sailor’s expression, but supposed her unexpected arrival made him curious.

  “Stay here in the shadows,” the captain instructed, leading her to a sheltered spot beside a ladder up to another level. He jerked his head, nodding down to what looked like a doorway in the surface of the deck. “As soon as we’re on our way and out to sea, I’ll take you below deck to my quarters.”

  With that, he was gone, climbing up the wooden ladder quickly and shouting instructions as he went.

  Maisie pressed back against the boards behind her and held her precious bundle to her chest, for the ship’s movement on the water took her by surprise. She peered over at the odd hatch in the floor he had indicated, and wondered what he meant by ‘below deck.’ Was his cabin down there?

  Reference to his cabin alerted her to the fact that he intended to accept the offer of her virginity. Perhaps there was nowhere else to house her, if they did not usually take passengers. Either way, her virginity was something she had to be rid of, and the sooner the better. If she were returned to her master, he would claim it, and then she would never be free of him. It had to be a man of her choosing—a man who knew nothing of her secret nature and could not gain from it, unless she deemed it possible. Nevertheless, the impending event made her nervous. She tried to control her emotions. It was important that the coupling was done the right way, that she be the one who gained from the undertaking and became empowered by it, for it would take her abilities into a higher realm. If she was to escape and to survive, she would need every ounce of her potential power to do so.

  A bleating cry, like that of a child, made her jump and pulled her back from her thoughts. When she turned her head to seek out the source, she saw two young goats tethered nearby, their hooves planted widely on the boards for balance.

  Startled, she watched as men emerged from another hatch at the far end of the ship, scrambling out and darting about the deck. She pressed farther back into the shadows. At first it seemed chaotic, but she soon realized they were all set upon a particular task. Three of the men ran toward the tall wooden poles that rose high above the ship, and began to clamber up them, their legs and arms wrapped around the masts as they inched rapidly upward. Maisie stared, fascinated, as they untied the sails. The great swathes of material unfurled, dropping down with almost majestic grace. The sound of the sailors’ shouts was all but lost in the flapping of the canvas.

  She caught the captain’s voice from beyond. He was somewhere above and behind her, and she struggled to remember what little she knew of ships. The vessel’s wheel must be there. She strained to hear the content of the bellowed instructions.

  “Make haste!” It was his voice.

  “The tide is barely on the turn, Captain,” a man replied.

  “There’s no wind,” another added. “It is not a good time to sail.”

  “We must away,” the captain replied. “I was followed, I’m sure of it. I saw a man lurking and watching as we came aboard ship.”

  Maisie’s right hand went to the silver clasp on her cloak and she clutched it for comfort. Followed. The captain thought it was him that was being followed, because of the goods he carried. But what if he was wrong and it was she who was being pursued? She pressed her eyes tightly shut and hoped that the captain was wrong and that no one had seen them depart.

  Another shout from above made her look up. The men who had undone the sails were busy clambering down, but one of them signaled to the captain and then shook his head. The sails fell flat. They needed wind to fill them.

  Maisie heard the captain grumbling. She felt a sense of danger as the vessel floated close to the dock, barely tipping in the turn of the tide. That had to change.

  This would not do. She pulled her hood low over her face, concealing it in case anyone noticed as she whispered a spell to encourage the wind to fill the sails and aid them in their escape. An echo of her magic, when she drew on it, often shone in her eyes, the depth and color reflecting the emotional nature of her quest. However, in the gloom of this overcast night, she might not draw the attention of the men around her. It was worth the risk.

  Inhaling deeply, Maisie readied herself. With one hand still clutching her bundle to her, she drew her free hand over her heart and then opened her fingers to the sky, whispering an enchantment. Breathing deeply, she pictured the clouds shifting faster, willed the air to swirl in around them and push them out to sea.

  “Captain!” A startled voice rang out.

  The ship lurched, and Maisie gasped in alarm at the sudden, vigorous motion, pressing into the corner where she was hidden, and clutching the wall. When she glanced up she saw the sails flap, then bow out, filled with a steady gust of wind. Relieved, she smiled, thanking her lineage for her gift.

  A cheer rang out behind her.

  “You have the luck of the devil on your side tonight, Captain,” the same voice commented, with a disbelieving tone.

  Maisie’s smile faded.

  The luck of the devil. That’s what they thought it was.

  It was crucial they didn’t discover she had aided them by magic, for they would think her one of the devil’s own. Just as the villagers had thought her mother evil when they’d stoned her, forced her to the gallows then burned her corpse.

  Maisie shivered as the memory ran ice through her veins, reminding her of the pain, as well as the constant danger of discovery. She was alone now, no longer protected by her keeper. It was the way it had to be. She could not regret leaving, but danger abounded for a woman like her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The captain’s quarters were surprisingly comfortable for the cabin had the look of a small parlor. The only difference was that the room also contained a bed, a wood-framed affair secured to the wall and the floor by solid carved plinths. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets filled with goods. There was also a large table that took up a good quarter of the space, maps and tools set out upon it. Maisie noticed that the maps were anchored with weights. Would the roll of the ship increase when they were farther out at sea? It was already rather dramatic and had set her belly in a quandary. She took a deep
, steadying breath, sensing she would soon find out whether she liked it or not.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” the captain said, and cast off his hat. “You’ll be accommodated here for the journey.”

  Maisie got her first good look at his face, illuminated by the glow of a glass-covered lantern fixed on a shelf at his side. Thick red-brown hair fell over his forehead. He was a robust seafaring man, largely built, with an attractive mouth, stubbled jaw and brown eyes. He would not be considered handsome, Maisie decided, not by the young ladies of London, but there was a rugged quality to his features that drew her attention. It made her think of her birthplace, the Highlands. Perhaps because he was a Scot, and she had not been in close quarters with a gentleman from her homeland since she was a child. It stirred her in a way she had never thought it might.

  When she nodded at him, he studied her with a brazen stare, his gaze raking over her appreciatively. “What is your name?”

  “Margaret,” she answered, cautiously. The less he knew the better.

  “Margaret, eh? And what do they call you? Meg? Maggie?”

  His voice, a deep rumble with a Scottish burr that took her back to her childhood, appealed to her senses immensely. It also made her respond by giving the name her kin would call her. “Maisie.”

  “Maisie.” He broke into a grin. “You are a Scot.”

  “That I am.” Despite her wariness toward him, something unfurled inside her: the tight fist of concern that surrounded her escape. Now that she was truly on her way, she thought of the destination instead. Scotland. It was a journey she should have undertaken many years before. But her master had promised to take her himself, telling her she would enjoy a reunion with her siblings—and she had believed him. Once she found out how many lies he had told her, she knew that a reunion would happen only if she were to pursue it herself.

  “Come now, take off your cloak.” The captain nodded at her, then turned to his table. He was so broad and tall that he seemed to fill the space, yet he managed to move around it easily. Familiarity, she supposed. He exchanged the map that was currently laid out with a different one, swapping the sheet of parchment for one he retrieved from a stack of rolls in a recess above.

  Maisie set down her bundle and reached for the clasp on her cloak. As she took it off and folded it neatly, she had an odd feeling, sensed an echo of familiarity with her surroundings—which could not be the case. Looking about, she frowned. She ran her fingers along the sideboard, and something touched her mind, like a memory trapped within. When she laid her hands upon various objects in the cabin, the connection grew stronger. It was as if she knew someone who had traveled here before.

  For a moment, she was aware of her twin sister, Jessie. Maisie sensed her in a way that she had not for many years. It was rather like times when they were children and they would turn to each other, state the same thing and chuckle. Maisie had felt that connection rarely in the years they had been apart, but when it happened, she could sense Jessie thinking of her, too. Could it be her sister had also traveled aboard this vessel at some time? Was that it? “Have you carried a woman aboard before?”

  The captain was busy disrobing. He’d thrown off his greatcoat and set about unbuttoning the waistcoat beneath. Maisie stared at him as he shrugged off the garment, revealing the broad expanse of his chest when he stretched. Surely he did not mean to undress fully and claim his fee from her right at this moment?

  He glanced her way, and as he replied, reached for a cloak that was tucked in a gloomy corner of the cabin. A momentary sense of relief passed through her as she realized he was changing his shore garb for this odd dark cloak, coated in some thick substance akin to oil pigment. The odor of linseed came from the garment, along with something else that smelled like sap or tar, Maisie observed with curiosity.

  “We carried a female passenger once before. My men vowed they would mutiny if I tried it again.” His stare raked over her, the implication heavy in his sensual smile. He had risked the wrath of his men taking her on board, and he meant to be well rewarded.

  The hungry look in his eyes sent a shiver through her. It was a clear statement of intent. He meant to have her. That in itself was no surprise; it was what she had arranged. But the way he looked at her, with his mouth pursed, as if he was thinking lewd thoughts... The very intimate and suggestive nature of it made her wonder what it would be like to be bedded by a rogue such as this—a man who thought nothing of giving her a sound slap on the rump if he chose to. It made her heart beat faster and let loose a flutter of anticipation between her thighs. She would experience his passion, and soon, by the eager look of him. That made the tingle in her intimate places grow wilder still. Heat flooded into her face.

  Forcing herself to ask, she pursued that strange echo in her mind. “Did your passenger look like me?”

  He shook his head. “Not in the least. She was a grumpy dowager who ordered my men about as if she were queen and captain both.”

  His expression indicated the extent of the trouble the woman had caused, and Maisie found she could not help being amused. “Now I see why you were reluctant to take me.”

  “You’d better not cause me as much grief as she did.”

  Maisie lifted her chin. “I will endeavor not to.”

  She thought he was about to leave. Instead, he approached her, and again there was hunger in his eyes.

  Maisie felt her nerves flutter. Anticipation pulled deep within her, for she’d been thoroughly prepared for the moment her deepest, most powerful magic would be unleashed through carnal congress. This man would be her lover. He would make her both woman fulfilled and witch empowered.

  “In fact, you must stay here, safe in my quarters and out of the men’s way, or there’ll be trouble aplenty.”

  Maisie did not like the sound of that. She could not survive long without seeing the sky. “How many days will the journey take?”

  “We’ll dock in Dundee inside a week. We break at Lowestoft, where the first officer must visit with his family for the night, but we’ll be gone with the tide in the morning. The pause will not hamper us much.” Captain Cameron nodded at the bed. “Rest awhile.”

  “You must go back to your men now?” she asked, finding herself eager to know her host a little better, keen to listen to his gruff voice and have it stir her deepest memories and her anticipation both.

  “Alas, I must, although I would rather stay and bed you now.”

  Inhaling sharply, Maisie reflected that it would take time to get used to his frank manner. He gave a low laugh in response, the rumbling sound vibrating through her.

  “Let me look at you, so that I may relish the thought of returning to your side.” He put one hand on her waist and pulled her body closer to his.

  He leaned into her, his face so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. His large figure looming over her all but shrouded her in darkness, making her instantly aware of his male strength and power. She could scarcely control her erratic breathing, for his proximity and boldness overwhelmed her and made her feel light-headed.

  His stubbled jaw brushed against her cheek, a gesture brusque, but oddly tender.

  “You smell good,” he whispered, breathing against her hair, his hands moving over her as if measuring her outline. From arms to waist and then up they went, his thumbs moving toward her breastbone, while his palms cupped her breasts through the barrier of her bodice, corset and under things. Squeezing her flesh through the hindersome garments, he murmured approvingly.

  Then his hands moved around her back and down. Cupping her bottom, he drew her against him. With effortless strength he lifted her feet from the floor, and she was barely on her tiptoes as he fondled her flesh through her skirts. So determined was his touch that Maisie gasped in astonishment.

  “Oh, yes, I will enjoy mounting you, my lady,” he said, a wicked smile on his face.

  Looking down at her with heavily lidded eyes, he appeared to her the embodiment of male prowe
ss, sheer animal lust spilling from him as he arrogantly stated his intention. His comment teased, as if he were touching her all over, making every part of her tingle with awareness, and deep between her thighs she grew hot and slick. Nevertheless, Maisie was overwhelmed by his basic, arrogant ways, and even while her body responded to his advances, she trembled.

  His eyes glinted, and she knew that he had felt her shiver in his arms.

  Maisie swallowed. She did not want to annoy him in any way. Would he find her gaucheness unappealing?

  It seemed to have the opposite effect. A wry smile lit his expression. He put one hand around the back of her head. Grasping a fistful of her hair, he looped it around his fingers and used it to draw her head back. With his other hand on her waist, he held her tightly against him.

  Seduction was his aim, and she wanted that. The nervousness she felt subsided somewhat but did not ebb away entirely.

  “Do not look so afeared, Maisie from Scotland,” he said with a chuckle. “I will use you well, but I will not break you. You have my word on that.” He sealed the promise with a kiss, his hard mouth on hers relentless.

  Instinctively, Maisie put her hands to his chest to push him away. Then his mouth moved and the sensual brush of his lips took the strength from her entire body, melting her. Moments later, she found that instead of pushing him away, her hands clutched at his strange oily cloak and her lips parted under his. So sensual, so arousing... Maisie had never experienced anything like it. When his tongue touched hers and thrust into the heat of her mouth, her groin flooded with sensation again, arousal swamping her.

  Unbidden, a low moan rose inside her, escaping into sound as the kiss broke. Instantly, she was aware of what her deflowering would bring to her magic, for her spirit flared within.

  When he freed her mouth, the captain still held her by the skein of hair looped in his hand. It didn’t hurt, but his grip was tight enough to show that he meant to master her. Why did that make her legs falter? Maisie could scarcely breathe. The layers of clothing between them did nothing to hide his intention, for his hips were pressed firmly against her and the hard rod of his erection was all too apparent.