The Pirate's Bride

by Skendrovich, Cathy

  She looked down. He’d told the truth. She could see him through the clear water, swimming away before breaking the surface under the waterfall. He came out waist high, shaking water from his long hair like a shaggy dog. Again, she went on the verbal attack.

  “That wasn’t right, Andre. I never learned to swim. Why would a gently bred woman need to swim?”

  “But a pirate does, no?” he queried before gliding like an eel to her side. He stood, smoothing his wet hair off his forehead, the water gumming his lashes together and dripping from his mustache. She tried to glare at him, but the warmth from his body, his golden nakedness, weakened her knees. She hid her budding desire with surliness.

  “I’m too old to learn.”

  “Bah. Come, listen to me. I can teach you today.”

  He held out both calloused hands toward her, palms up. Curious, she placed her smaller ones in his, awestruck at the trust he inspired. He’d proven he would never hurt her physically, and he would make sure no one else did, as well. He would probably give his life in that regard. She knew it in her heart.

  However, it was in matters of the heart she realized he had the ability to hurt her quite well, and that was where she needed to come to terms. However, not at this moment. At this moment, she wanted to be in his company. If it was during a swimming lesson, then that was where she would be.

  ~*~

  “Hold on and let your legs float behind you.” Andre began to walk backward, pulling Sophie along in the water as she let her bare legs drift behind her. She never once looked away from his face.

  “Now, kick your feet gently. No, keep holding my hands, I won’t let go.” He smiled as she obeyed, her bare bottom popping up out of the water when she did so. With his eyes on that delectable derrière, he pulled her around the pool while she kicked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

  He stepped on a shell and cursed, and then righted himself. “Let go of one hand now and swing your other arm forward like this, cutting through the water like a knife. And remember to hold your breath.” He pantomimed with one free hand while she floundered, clutching his other hand. Kicking out of sequence for a few moments, she at last managed to stretch out her body and regain control.

  “Now the other arm. Good, that’s good.”

  It took her several moments before she realized he was no longer holding her hands, and was instead moving under her own power. She followed him as he stepped backward little by little, but panicked, swallowing water before standing quickly. “I did it. I did it,” she exclaimed, flopping back in the water.

  She created quite a splatter as she paddled and kicked, standing in between attempts before resuming her practice attempts. Satisfied with his tutelage, Andre dove below the surface, swam about her, blinking as water droplets plopped into his face from her exuberance whenever he emerged.

  Content to watch her practice her new skill, which was quite safe to be doing in this shallow watering hole, he flopped onto his back and floated. He was pleased knowing she trusted him enough to play this way in the water. It seemed what that salaud Gilbert had done to her was fading into the background, and he took pride in the fact that he was the cause of it.

  “Ooh, teach me that. That looks so relaxing.” Sophie burst out of the pool next to Andre, causing him to sink. Resurfacing, he spat excess water from his mouth and swiped his eyes clear.

  “Mon dieu, ma loutre, you startled me. what do want to learn? To float?

  “Yes, yes. Please?”

  His heart tipped in his chest as he looked at pleading Sophie, with her hair slicked back, her lashes all spikey, and new freckles crossing the bridge of her nose. He might be able to swim like an otter, but he had a sneaking suspicion that at this moment his heart was in danger of drowning in some emotion he refused to name. It scared him while at the same time summoned him to take that plunge with her. For her.

  “Lean back on my hands. I’ll hold you up until you get comfortable. Point your chin to the sky. No, higher. That’s it.”

  He ignored his heart’s counsel and concentrated on teaching her how to float, how to be free and in control of her surroundings at the same time. Yet the notion hovered in his subconscious.

  “Oh, this is delicious. I could do this all day,” she gushed, chin pointed upward with long-lashed eyes closed against the Caribbean sun’s strong rays. Her pink tongue peeped out to lick sun-dried lips while her naked, relaxed body floated near the waterfall.

  He removed his hands from beneath her. She floated on her own, and he admired all that sun-kissed nudity laid out before him. Two pertly tipped, water-slicked mounds bobbed within his reach. Perhaps a stronger man could have held out against temptation, but he was not that man.

  He folded at the waist and closed his salivating mouth over one of her plump, beckoning breasts. He sucked the beaded nipple. She sank at his touch, and his delectable snack popped from his mouth. She thrashed about, regaining her footing and standing upright. Water poured from her hair and down her face.

  She opened her mouth, most likely to chastise him, but snapped it shut when their gazes met.

  He closed the gap between them, watched as her chest heaved with shallow breaths. He noticed how she clenched and unclenched her hands beneath the water’s surface. He felt his body respond when she bit into her plump, lower lip.

  Even before his submerged hands finally anchored upon her flaring hips, her skin was quivering. He drew her close, until she was nestled against his erection. Mon dieu, she felt so good, all wet and slippery. When she lifted trembling hands to his chest, held his gaze with her desire-filled one, he nearly stumbled at the want saw there.

  She leaned into him, pressed all those soft, pliant curves against his taut, hardened body, and he felt his head swim. He was drowning in her presence, yet still able to breathe. When she raised her face upwards he bent his head, took her lips with a blazing kiss. Their bodies rubbed together in a slippery embrace.

  Whimpers exploded from her as he crushed her lips with his. He fed at her mouth like a starving man, greedy for the taste of her. He grabbed her bottom and pulled her up tight against his arousal. He ground himself against her, grunted when her hands tunneled into his slicked back hair.

  She responded with a primal lust he hadn’t witnessed from her before. Her fingers dug into his scalp, holding his head immobile while she pressed her mouth against his, plunged her hot tongue between his lips, repeatedly. She was devouring him from the inside out, and his passion surged. He grabbed her buttocks with bruising force and hauled her up his body. She cried out, the cry becoming a moaning gasp as he impaled her on his shaft.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist as he ravaged her mouth with wet, carnal kisses. Never stopping his dark, dangerous attack upon her swollen lips, he spun them about into the outer cascades of the waterfall.

  He was losing control. The smell of her, all musky and feminine, and full of desire, overwhelmed his senses, crowded out his surroundings, his memory, his every thought. Even the guarded recesses of his heart were in danger from her sensual assault. Yet, fool that he was, he welcomed her in, received every hitching breath, each stroke of her fingers through his hair, all the drugging kisses she planted on his mouth. And wanted more.

  As the waterfall cooled his heated skin, his hunger for her exploded. Kissing was no longer enough. He grasped her flanks, lifted her with trembling arms, and then rammed into her with the force of his unleashed lust.

  “Oh. Mon. Dieu." She cried out with every slam of their bodies. Again and again he thrust, deeper, harder, their grunts and groans keeping time movements. Her inner thigh muscles clenched around him, and his vision grayed. She was tightening like a violin string, tauter tauter. Ready to be plucked.

  Her control snapped, arms tightening around his neck, and he felt the climax overtake him. There was no way he could prolong the moment. They teetered on the edge for an instant, a brief second in time, and then the orgasm washed over them like the waterfall.

  She scr
eamed, a raw, high-pitched wail that made him come long and hard. He barely had time to feel her inner walls pulse around him before he pulled her off his throbbing cock, spending himself in the swirling water.

  She fell against him and he staggered, his legs weak. Her body shuddered, the aftermath of their wild coupling. She hid her face against his throat as she gasped for air. He cradled her in his arms, smoothed her hair down her back with one unsteady hand, and kissed the top of her head with gentle lips.

  The tumbling waterfall flowed over their heated bodies. He continued to hold her curled against him, unable to release her. At that moment he realized that Sophie Bellard Dubois had become more dangerous to him than the pirate warrior Junjie Zheng. That man might take his life one day. However, the woman he held in his arms could possibly take his heart.

  ~*~

  “It’s time to go, mon amour."

  Andre whispered in Sophie’s ear the following morning as they spooned within their makeshift shelter near the waterfall. She didn’t stir. He smiled while stroking aside her tumbled tresses, knew he was the cause of her exhaustion.

  He’d lost count of how many times they’d made love the night before. All he knew was they’d almost depleted his supply of capotes anglais. They’d feasted upon each other and now she slept from sexual exhaustion. He took pity on her and kissed the nape of her neck once more, repeating his whispered command while receiving same lackluster response.

  He rose to his feet, comfortable in his nudity. She uttered a complaining mewl at the loss of his body’s warmth.

  “We have a ship to sail, ma princesse. Our time together is over."

  She sat up, shoving her hair out of her eyes. Her breasts bore the markings of his lips, her flesh the whisker burns that proclaimed his desire for her. He hardened at the sight of all that alabaster skin, and marveled that he could still do so. However, when he looked into her face, he saw violet shadows under her azure eyes, and his growing lust gentled. He’d worn her out.

  She dragged her tunic on, and reached into the pocket of her discarded breeches. Andre held his breath, for she pulled out the annulment. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her he would accept whatever decision she made. She gripped the document with her fingers, those fingers that kindled fire wherever they touched, and ripped the paper in half. And again. He swallowed. Hard.

  “I do not want an annulment, mon mari" I will not let you off that easily. We are married, and will remain married. I want this. You made the decision to get annulment. Now it is my turn to decide to keep the marriage. You will have accept it." She raised her chin, and he saw worry she tried to hide.

  In response to her challenge, he reached out for the torn paper, took the pieces from her hand and flung them away, the trade winds carrying them aloft. He took her hands in both of his, pulled her upright to stand before him. She bit into that plump lower lip. He leaned forward until his mouth hovered over hers...

  “I accept, mine wife. By God above, I accept.” He closed the gap between them.

  ~*~

  Limey knew when Sophie and her husband returned to the Jade Princess, even though he was in the hold rearranging the remaining supplies. The acceleration of footsteps above, the shouting of crew members readying to set sail, all were clues. He even heard the captain, the male Dubois, bellowing orders in that commanding tone of his, as well as his purposeful strides across the boards overhead.

  Limey scowled, snapped orders at the men working for him. He wished he were anywhere but here, on this ship, with that man, that pirate, knowing what they’d done while on that island.

  Slamming his fist into the bulwark above him, he ordered the pirates to go above, yet took his time before returning to the deck and his own particular hell on Earth. Of course, Sophie was the first person he saw as he climbed out the hatch. She knelt on the deck, looking at the parchment the youth Luis had been writing upon since she had gone ashore.

  She was more beautiful than ever, glowing, and he wasn’t naïve enough not to know why. Damn Dubois’ eyes anyway. If she wasn’t already in love, she was well on her way, and that made Limey’s decision easier to swallow. Remaining on board was unacceptable under the circumstances. He just had to get his captain alone to tell her his decision.

  That opportunity didn’t present itself until dusk, when he found Sophie alone, sailing the Princess full and by. All afternoon he’d watched the couple in their mating dance, stealing kisses and touches when they thought no one was looking. He always seemed to be a witness, and the looks on their faces disheartened him even more.

  If Sophie glowed, Dubois was the earth to her sun, always in orbit around her, his dark eyes following her even if he couldn’t physically be near her. It sickened Limey, knowing he had lost.

  She looked up at his first footfall, a wide smile creasing her face. It faded when he gave no answering response. Blinking, she shook back her braid, and returned her gaze to the horizon tinged with orange and purple.

  He paused six feet away, broadening his stance while folding his hands, and cleared his throat. “Captain, after much thought and consideration, I wish to tender my resignation as your first mate, and request to be relinquished of all such related duties. If you will grant this, I’ll also ask the captain of this vessel to drop me off at our next port o’ call. Beggin’ your pardon, Ma’am.”

  Her face fell. She seemed anguished at the thought of him leaving her for good, and her tone reinforced that. “Why, Limey? I can’t—”

  “You know why, Sophie. Don’t pretend otherwise. Seeing you two together, day after day, knowing what you do at night.” She had the grace to blush as he barreled on. “Don’t ask me to stay. I’m not that good a man. Not that strong a man. It will...it will be better this way, trust me. I’ll make it back to New Orleans. Perhaps sign on with one of Le Commandant’s crews again.” Taking a deep breath, he noticed tears in her eyes, felt his resolve weaken. He chastised himself to remain strong. Nevertheless, he gentled his voice as he continued.

  “This is best for you right now, Sophie. After all, maybe he is the one for you, though I’d rather think I am. Either way, I have to be out of the picture. Get on with my life. Let you get on with yours. Just remember, if he treats you badly, if you need help no matter the reason, notify me by way of Le Commandant. I’ll reach wherever you are by next tide, I promise. Just, don’t ask me to stand by and watch.”

  They held sorrowful gazes until she let go the helm to throw her arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you so, Limey. You’re...you’re a part of me. It will be like losing a hand, or an arm.”

  He gave a quick brush of his lips across her temple before stepping away, nodding at the wheel. “Steady as she goes, Cap’n. Remember that.

  “Now, I’d better notify your husband of my intentions. Don’t forget, I’ll be here any time you need me.” He turned away, and spied Andre across the deck with de Gallo, pretending to be shooting the breeze with his first mate, but Limey knew better. The captain was protecting what was his by his proximity. He had to admit he’d do the same in Dubois’ place. He wouldn’t let anyone near Sophie either, if she were his.

  On his way toward Andre, he passed a concerned Luis carrying his parchment with a troubled frown. Limey paused. “Leave her be, Luis. Cap’n Sophie needs a few moments.” He forgot the boy as he approached Dubois.

  “Well, well, Master Limey. That was quite a tête a tête with my wife you had there. Lucky for I’m confident of my position in wife’s affections, or might find yourself strung up by your ballocks, eh?" Andre’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he raised the rum bottle held to lips, took generous swig before wiping mouth with sleeve.

  Limey didn’t back down, glanced across at Sophie as she spoke to the youth Luis. He’d buttonholed her despite Limey’s directive, and was standing with her at the helm in the setting sun. Limey returned his attention to Dubois. “Relax, Captain. Your wife’s affections are safe from me. I, too, understand exactly what your position is with your wife.
”

  The pirate grinned at the double entendre, shifted his stance while dangling the bottle by two fingers. “Do tell, master Limey."

  “I’d like to disembark at our next port o’ call, Cap’n. I trust you don’t have any problems with that choice?”

  Andre’s eyes narrowed on him. Limey wondered if he had enjoyed their rivalry, was disappointed that he, Limey was giving up. Maybe it had all been a game to Dubois, but Limey’s heart had taken a trouncing.

  Some sort of shout came from the direction of the helm, interrupting his introspection, and a gunshot boomed from that location. He and Dubois both spun about. His jaw dropped open and Andre’s rum bottle crashed to the deck. Glancing at the pirate, Limey saw the same confusion on his face as he knew was on his. They tried to make sense of the tableau before them.

  Luis pointed a smoking pistol at Sophie, who clutched her stomach with a shocked expression on her face. She looked down, as did Andre and Limey, at the spreading bloom of scarlet dripping over her splayed fingers. She lifted her chin, her eyes rolled back in her head, and, like a felled tree, her body hit the ship’s rail and toppled over it, into the dark waters far below.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Long live the honorable Zheng. Retribution is his—”

  Boom!

  Without taking aim, Andre pulled his pistol from his belt and fired upon the youthful assassin shouting praises for his leader. Luis dropped like a stone where he stood. Arm still outstretched, smoke curling from the mouth of his weapon, Andre glanced about at the crew in disbelief.

  Limey came to life. “Bring her about, man overboard! Bring her about!” He started yanking off his baldric, belt and weapon bare seconds before Andre began doing the same, as the Princess started coming around.

  “Not too close, imbéciles! Do you want to run over her? Crétins.” Andre dragged his boots off, saw Limey take a running jump at the taffrail, and dive ship’s side. He was right behind, while more pirates followed suit, all intent on his saving wife.