With only the light of a single candle in her hand to show the way, they stood at the cabin door without witnesses, and Miranda handed the candle to Sandy. She pulled at the laces of the top of her bodice and ripped it open, allowing that bit of her which hadn’t already been exposed, to catch the glow of the candle before Sandy dropped it to the floor and then scrambled to retrieve it.
Miranda turned the key in the lock and pushed in the door. The room was alight with at least a dozen candles and smelled of lavender. A basin of clean water and a fresh washcloth was sitting on the dresser and the bunk bedding was turned down. “What the…?”
“Well, ye sure went ta’ a lotta trouble,” Sandy said, holding her from behind.
“I’d take the credit if I’d have done it, but I didn’t. However, I’m fairly certain I know who did.” She laughed.
Sandy turned to the wash basin and began to clean himself up while Miranda fell back on the bed and unlaced her bodice the rest of the way, tossing it aside. Her brown peasant blouse fell loosely from her shoulder, and she pulled the pins from her red hair and threw them to the floor. Sandy watched her over his shoulder in the reflection of the wall mirror and picked up his pace washing.
“Clean enough yet, there?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be clean enough for ye lass but I’ll do me best.” Sandy unbuttoned the top of his shirt and whipped it up and over his head, revealing the body of a man who’d worked hard for a very long time. His well-muscled stomach and thick, round pectorals were covered in a rich layer of reddish blond man fur, and his back rippled in waves of strength when he turned away and washed his underarms and neck.
“Allow me,” Miranda said as she slithered from the bed to her feet and sashayed to Sandy, taking the washcloth and soap from his hand. She rinsed the cloth and filled it with lavender soap. She began to gently wash over Sandy’s shoulders and down over the waves of his arms and back. His head fell back and his arms hung limp at his sides as she continued on her journey, dragging the washcloth over his chest and up and down the peaks and valleys of his form. She knelt before him, unbuttoned his knickers, and pulled them down slowly past his hips until they fell to his ankles.
“Oh dear Lord. Oh dear Lord,” he repeated.
“What’s wrong?” Miranda whispered, looking up at him.
“I was thinkin’ I may be dead and gone up ta’ heaven so I wanted to say me prayers quick,” he sighed, looking down at her.
“Is this where you were shot?” Miranda asked, taking the tip of her finger and tracing a scar almost an inch wide, and nearly as deep, on his thigh. Sandy only swallowed hard and nodded. She leaned in and kissed it softly as she brushed the washcloth up behind his thigh, over his right buttock and back down again.
“Dear lord, you’re goin’ to be the death a me,” he moaned, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders and then grasping them when she once more rinsed the washcloth and this time came right up between his thighs, gently washing him there. “Holy Mary,” he said as his legs trembled and his semi-arousal became fully prominent. Miranda wasted no time now finishing her task, and when she was satisfied that he was clean from head to toe, and having found no blemishes other than his scar, she brushed her face against his belly.
“Good God!”
“Are you alright! Did I hurt you?”
“Enough o’ this already!” Sandy shouted, pulling her from under her arms to her feet and scooping her up. “How much do ye think a poor man can take, woman?” he exclaimed, tossing her onto the bunk and taking a deep breath before climbing atop her and pulling the peasant blouse up over her head.
“Now, it’s time fer me to have me fun!” Sandy laughed, burying his face between her breasts, growling and nipping at them as she laughed hysterically and squirmed beneath him.
“Ouch! Easy!” she shouted, all the while still laughing as he groped and pawed at her, until she climbed to her knees in front of him and he pulled at her tied sash. “Come on! We don’t have all night,” she said laughing as he was finally able to untangle it and get to the buttons of her breeches underneath.
“Ye know, there aughtta be a law against women in pants!” he declared, pulling them off along with her under-breeches in a single hard tug and throwing them across the room. “Oh goodness, Madame, there aughtta be a law against ye wearing anythin’ at all!”
The rain came down hard and fast outside, beating against the side of the ship as Sandy made an inspired effort to keep Miranda satisfied and entertained. He knew he was in a competition after seeing the angry, but strapping, young Tommy, and he prayed silently at his red-haired fiery temple of worship, as he passionately gave everything he had to her. Unbeknownst to him, Tommy Boston hadn’t crossed her mind once since she’d dropped her wrap. He had, however, crossed Sandy’s mind, and the knowledge that Tommy had been where he now lingered disturbed him more than he cared to acknowledge.
Miranda was finally sated. Sandy was more man than she could have imagined, and as much as she enjoyed giving her lovers nicknames, nothing immediately came to mind. After over an hour of him tossing her about like a rag doll and taking her from every angle known to man or beast, his stamina left her breathless and exhausted. She was, however, pleased that what she imagined was his one thousandth, and final, thrust came as he was face to face with her, whilst stroking her hair and looking deeply into her eyes.
Sandy collapsed on top of her. He was breathing so hard that each blast of air from his lungs blew the hair away from her face, like a bull. At last, he pushed himself off of her with his massive biceps and hung over her, sweat running from behind his ears down through the fur covered valley between his expanded chest muscles. “Sorry,” he said, separating from her at last, physically spent.
“Sorry for what?” she panted, sliding onto her side to face him.
“I’m no lightweight, lass. I didn’t mean ta’ crush ye. I just needed a moment ta’ let it sink in…that you were indeed there, and a moment more ta’ find me strength ta’ move,” he said laughing. “If I’m tellin’ the truth, I’m not accustomed ta’ spending time with a lady such as yerself. Most a’ the ladies I’ve been with…” Miranda silenced him, placing her fingers over his lips.
“I really don’t need to know about that,” she said with a smile, as she rose onto her elbow and then shuddered at the lightning as it filled the room. Sandy reached out and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, stroking her arm several times to comfort her. Unable to keep his worries to himself, and at the risk of wasting time allowing looming fears to follow him once they parted, he asked, “What about Tommy? I’m not so sure he’s goin’ ta' take this well. I mean, I know I wouldn’t.” He smiled a little, as they shared their most somber exchange to date.
“Who?” She smiled back.
“Yer young fella. Ye know who I’m…” Miranda silenced him again, but this time she used her lips and pulled him closer, until she again brought forth the passion that drove everything and everyone she’d ever known from her thoughts.
Chapter Sixteen
Carbonale awoke sometime in the middle of the night from a horrific dream. Sweat soaked sheets and what felt like a burning fever covered him until he was able to focus his eyes on the last candle still burning on the candelabra. He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bunk, pressing the soles of his feet down easily on the cool wooden floor.
He swiped his hands through his damp hair and stood, a chill falling over him. He embraced himself and rubbed his arms briskly to warm them. Precariously, he stepped in the dim light until he reached the window and noticed the sea was calm and the rain had stopped. He continued rubbing at his arms until he reached the bed again, where he pulled the blanket off and wrapped it around his shoulders.
Everything was as he remembered leaving it before he fell asleep, and his cabin door was still locked. The dream lingered but a few moments in his memory, but it was long enough to cause him to rush to the desk, drink the remainder of the rum he
’d left in his cup, and pour two fingers more. After placing the cup back on the table, he tossed the blanket on the bed and filled the wash basin to splash the cool water on his face, again and again. Finally, he was wide awake, and the nightmare faded from his mind into the night.
He pulled a fresh candle from a box on his dresser and lit it from the candelabra. Then, he walked back to the mirror and stared, expressionless, at his reflection in the flickering glow. “Nightmares, again?” he asked himself and pierced the candle onto a holder before him. “You, sir, must gather yourself and do what is best.”
A soft and muffled sound came from just outside of his door, and his head snapped to the right. He lifted the candle holder and walked to the door, unlocked it slowly, and turned the doorknob. A moment later, he remembered who he was and pulled the door wide open to find Richard sleeping on the floor just outside, tossing and talking in his sleep. Carbonale shook his head and turned back into the room. He was just inches from closing the door, when he again peeked down at Richard and noticed the ring of keys lying next to him on the floor.
“Do not even entertain the thought,” he whispered to himself, as Richard tossed again, rolling on top of the keys. “There’s your answer, you fool.”
However, no matter how he tried to convince himself the answer was easy, the door wouldn’t close. It was as if there was an invisible wedge holding it open and a huge hand atop his head, forcing him to look down at Richard and wait for the boy to again toss in his sleep. Carbonale held his breath, and when he exhaled, he did it with such precision as to make almost no sound in fear he’d somehow wake the boy. Seconds felt as hours, but it happened—the boy rolled back.
Carbonale suddenly realized he was wearing nothing, and quickly snatched his pants from the chair, pulling them on and nearly tipping over. When he turned back to the door, he was relieved to find Richard hadn’t moved. He knelt down and grasped the keys in his hand instead of the ring, to keep them from clanking against each other.
He still had no idea what he was going to do, but just as he was about to step away, he heard Richard’s voice, “Something ye need, Cap’n?”
“Shhh…no, boy. Go back to sleep.”
“Cap’n?”
“What?” Carbonale asked in a raspy whisper.
“It’s the one marked with an X,” Richard whispered back and then rolled back into a ball.
“What on earth?” he mumbled to himself, as he carried the keys clenched in his hand the short distance to Ivory’s cabin.
One could have heard a pin drop but for the splashing waves and occasional footsteps on deck. A few seconds later, he again stood at Ivory’s cabin door. He raised his hand to knock lightly, but realizing the hour, his hand ended up in his hair instead as he stood there, looking the fool yet again. He knew this time she wouldn’t hear him in his bare feet, and although his breathing was deep and filled with sighs, he believed there was no way she knew that anyone, let alone he, was standing just outside of her door.
“Sir? I told ye it’s the key with the X,” he heard Richard say from the darkness behind him. He spun around and grabbed the boy, covering his mouth, but knew it was already too late when he heard Ivory’s voice from the other side of the door.
“Richard? Is that you? What are you doing out there?”
Carbonale leaned down, his eyes wild and his lips mouthing something at the boy.
“Um, nothing, Madame.” The boy was trembling with fear as Carbonale held him. He looked into the boy’s face and mouthed the word, “sleepwalking.”
“I was walking in me sleep, Madame.”
“My goodness, boy, it’s a wonder you don’t end up in the sea. But since you’re awake, would it be too much trouble to fill my pitcher? I…can’t sleep, so I might as well wash up, and some fresh rain water would be lovely—that is if you have any.”
“Yes, Madame, straight away—no wait, I can’t. I’m not allowed to enter without the guard, and he’s asleep,” Richard said, motioning to Carbonale for the keys. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Sir, you best get away now, Cap’n…sir.”
Carbonale sneered and decided enough was enough. “Go and get the water. I’ll stand guard,” he hissed.
“But the pitcher, sir?”
“Get the pitcher. I’ll stand guard. I’ll keep to the shadows.”
The boy’s hand shook as he searched the keys, and once he’d found the one marked with the X, he slipped it into the lock and turned it hard until it clicked. “I found someone to guard the door, Madame, so please don’t try to escape.”
“I promise I only want the water. Where would I go if I ran, anyway?” she asked, brushing her hand across the top of his head as he picked up the pitcher and rushed out of the cabin.
“Here…lock the door, and I’ll be back as fast as I can,” Richard said, dashing off to the rain barrel on deck.
Carbonale stood in silence and waited for Richard to return, listening to Ivory as she hummed softly on the other side of the door. He laid his head back against the door and closed his eyes, still asking himself what he was doing there and why he’d awakened from one nightmare only to end up wide awake in what could be the middle of another one. He thought, perhaps, he simply needed verification that she still lived.
“Richard?”
Upon hearing Ivory’s voice again, Maddox could no longer restrain himself. Richard raced toward him in the darkness and he pulled the pitcher from the frightened boy’s hands. “Unlock the door, and after I enter…lock me in.”
“Are ye certain, sir?”
“Absolutely,” he whispered. “I’ll be no more than a few minutes. Stay here, and when you hear me knock three times, unlock the door and let me out…immediately.”
Richard nodded hard and fast and unlocked the door. Maddox pushed the door open and found Ivory, as he’d seen her several times before, in nothing but a sheer robe.
“Your water, Madame.”
Ivory gasped upon seeing him. He was bare to the waist and disheveled and looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. “Do you have any idea of the hour, Captain?”
“Unfortunately, I do, but something woke me and…”
“And you decided to visit me at half past three in the morning?”
“Well, you are awake, no?”
“Unless you’re still dreaming, then yes, I suppose I am awake. I just can’t imagine why you suddenly decided this was the proper hour to give me your precious time.”
Ivory walked to the cot and sat down. She still looked lovely in the low light of the single candle, and yet something was different. It was as if the light he’d previously seen that emanated from her eyes had extinguished.
“Are they treating you well?”
“What do you think?”
“If I had an idea, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m still alive, aren’t I? I’m not being starved or abused. I have Richard to fetch me water, and apparently you took pity on me and saved me from complete darkness. I suppose things could be much worse—and they have been.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing here other than to see for myself that you are alright. I’ll just be going now,” he rambled, turning to knock on the door.
“Maddox, wait…” Ivory said, jumping up from the cot and placing her hand on his arm. “Is that really the only reason you’re here?”
He turned back to her and looked down at her upturned face. Her eyes were sad, but he believed he saw a slight glimmer of her own light now that she was this close. He couldn’t move. Every muscle was rigid, and his heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his head. “Regardless of whatever feelings we may have Ivory, there’s no way in hell we can make this work. If I were to turn this ship around now and take you back and release you, do you honestly think I’m foolish enough to believe you wouldn’t run back to Port Royal and abandon me? You were right, you know. I suppose at one time I was capable of love. What a fool I was to be so happy, only to have it taken from me in a single shot…”
“Maddox, I know about Elsebeth. I know about all of it—well, most of it anyway. I know enough to see how much you must have suffered. Don’t you think I understand? At least you had love once. I’ve never had it. I was never as brave as you were.”
“Brave enough to love, when all the while you knew it was dangerous and you’d end up with your loved one’s blood on your hands?”
“How could you know that?”
“I should have known!”
“Alright, so you knew there was a risk, but how happy do you think Elsebeth was for that time? Probably happier than she’d ever been, just as you were.”
“And here I stand, ready to betray her memory by wanting you.”
“How does wanting me betray her? She’s gone. Don’t you believe she loved you enough to want nothing more than your happiness… and Zara’s as well?”
“The only certainties I’ve ever had were winning at any cost, and believe me when I tell you it has cost me a great deal.”
“We’ve all paid a price.”
“Then why love at all? Why bother, when at any moment, it can be ripped from your hands? Now…gold, jewels, money—they can all be easily replaced. One’s heart cannot.”
Maddox pulled away from Ivory, but she placed herself between him and the door. “I don’t care.”
“What do you mean, you don’t care?”
“I don’t care if they hang me. I don’t care if I die!”
“Stop this! You do care. You don’t want to die. Don’t be ridiculous, Ivory!” he shouted, holding her by her upper arms as he stared down, shaking her.
“No, you don’t understand! Last evening when I spoke to you through the door, I could feel you on the other side, just as I believe you could feel me. I knew you’d never tell me how you really felt. And if you did tell me you didn’t love me, or care even the slightest bit, I’d just have to go to my death satisfied with that answer, but…something else happened. I had a dream tonight, Maddox—a nightmare. Something woke me as well, and what came over me was the understanding that even if you don’t love me, or want me, or wish to spare me, the other night with you was the happiest, most passionate night I’ve ever known. I can go to my grave knowing that at least for one night of my miserable, violent life, I was vulnerable and I gave myself permission to be human.”
The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) Page 13