Right of Salvage

by Ashe Barker

  Six months later…

  “Captain! There’s a mast. To starboard and coming in fast.” The cabin door crashed open, and Billy hurtled through, agitated and breathless.

  “What? Are we under attack?” Rob sat up, remembering to pull up the coverlet to ensure Jane, his companion now for the last six months, remained modestly concealed.

  Her startled face peered up at him from within the bedclothes, her mussed hair spread across his pillow in a way that always delighted him.

  “Yes, sir, looks like it, sir. Quinn’s ordered the guns to be readied and he sent me to fetch you.”

  The lad was so flustered he was struggling to get the words out, but Rob gathered enough to appreciate the perilousness of their situation. He threw back the blanket and strode naked from the bunk. On this occasion he elected not to take the lad to task for bursting in unannounced, as the circumstances seemed to warrant a departure from the usual protocol. Still, he was glad they had not been interrupted five minutes earlier—now that would have been a shame.

  Billy hovered by the open cabin door, unperturbed by the sight of his captain’s nudity, wringing his hands in confused distress. He appeared to have no idea what to do now, his immediate errand completed. A sharp snap of Rob’s fingers brought the cabin boy’s wandering attention back to their current predicament, and the lad set to scurrying around the small space retrieving items of clothing. In a few moments, Rob was decently attired and ready to take command. Before leaving the cabin in Billy’s wake, he returned to the bunk, crouching beside it to brush his lips briefly over Jane’s. He’d intended a quick kiss, but her arms clinging to his neck delayed his departure.

  He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight against his chest for a moment before gently disengaging her hold, his smile for her one of regret. “I have to go, sweetheart. You need to get dressed as quick as you can, then wait here. I’ll send Billy back to tie you up.”

  He was adamant that, if they were ever captured, she should be discovered bound and helpless in his cabin, the perfect portrayal of an abducted, abused female. He was well aware she did not relish that prospect, and appreciated her good sense in not choosing that moment to debate the point. Her obedient nod was all he required from her, and he stood and headed out of the cabin. He turned, sent one last, sensual glance her way. A sense of foreboding spurred his final words to her.

  “I love you, Mrs Browne.”

  “I love you too, Captain Hawke.” She sat up now, the cover slipping back to reveal her breasts, perfect and full, the delicate pink tips still swollen and hard from his earlier attention. With a low groan, Rob dragged his admiring gaze back up to her face. He winked, and was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  My head still reeling from his unexpected declaration, I wait for the door to close behind him before I jump out of bed and start throwing on my own clothes.

  I’m surprised at his admission, though perhaps I should not be. I know he cares for me. He has protected me, and treated me very, very well in the six months since he removed me from the tender mercies of my husband. His every action speaks of devotion, but he never before said he loves me. I pray it might not be the last time.

  These last six months on board the Rose have been the happiest of my life. The crew were apprehensive around me at first, distrusting my presence. I gather some seamen are superstitious about having females on board. Their attitude soon softened, though, and according to Billy this was because they noted the change in their captain. I gather he’s mellowed a lot since I’ve been among them, has become a much calmer presence, less inclined to rebuke or find fault. They attribute this happy state of affairs to my influence, and I’m therefore viewed as a positive asset to the ship’s company.

  I plait rope. It’s hard work, but my fingers are nimble, my eyesight keen. I’m good at it, whereas I’m not much use for the heavier tasks on board the Rose. Rob has never asked me to do any work at all, but I prefer to. I like to feel that I’m more than just the master’s bed partner. But that is without doubt my main role in life, and not one I find any cause to complain about.

  I’ve learnt the art of submission well. I’ve come to love being spanked, especially with Rob’s bare hand. I now appreciate that he was incredibly gentle with me that first time, and I’ve since learnt that he has a heavy hand. I’ve also felt his belt, a cane and even a whip. Not one of those heavy, punishing whips, the sort that flay an errant sailor’s hide from his back. No, Rob has a special one just for me, designed to arouse rather than punish. It’s light, the lash fashioned from soft suede. It feels exquisite when laid across my shoulders.

  The first time he worked his cock fully inside my arse was perhaps the most difficult thing he has ever asked of me. But I did it, for him. And I came to love that wicked sensation of stretching, of near impossible fullness. I love it when he sinks his cock into my arse from behind, then sits me up, straddling his lap, my legs wide apart while he strokes my clitoris. And he knows how much I adore that, so he makes me beg for it. Which I do. Unashamedly.

  As I wriggle into my clothes now, my arse is still tingling from our games earlier this afternoon. My pussy too. This is not at all unusual. I am almost always pleasantly sore.

  I wait for Billy to return, but there is no sign of him. Our cabin lies on the port side of the ship so I can’t catch a glimpse of the approaching vessel, but from the sounds of running feet, shouting, the crash of guns being rolled into position, I gather the newcomers are hostile and closing in on us fast. I perch on the edge of the bunk, sick with fear. I’m not afraid for myself. I have my letter to the governor of Antigua tucked in the bodice of my best yellow dress. My fears are for Rob and for Billy, Quinn, the rest of the crew who have become my friends. I’ve been happy here. I knew it couldn’t last forever, but I’d hoped for longer than six months. Much longer.

  The deafening roar of a cannon discharging confirms my worst fears. Then the terrifying, splintering shudder as the Rose sustains a direct hit. I’m hurled from the bunk to arrive in a bruised ball beside Rob’s heavy desk. I’m glad the furniture is secured to the floor, otherwise I’d be crushed beneath flying debris. I might still be, if I stay here.

  I drag myself to my feet and reach the door of the cabin before the next direct hit. This sends me crashing to my knees, but I manage to cling to the door handle. I drag the door open and stagger out onto the companionway, only to be sent hurtling the length of it by the next salvo. The air is ringing with ear-splitting din now, the crash of wood upon wood, and I know the other ship must be alongside us, ready to board. If they have not already. I climb the stairs toward the deck, just peeping above the hatch to survey the scene of mayhem and chaos around me. Rob’s crew are putting up a valiant fight, but the other ship is towering above us to the starboard side and their crew are streaming aboard. Slithering along ropes just as Rob’s men swarmed onto the Golden Star the day we met. The Rose’s main mast is broken, that must have been the first crash I heard, the one that sent me flying across the cabin. The Rose is crippled, motionless in the water. The struggle is hopeless, but the pirates will not give up their lives without a fight.

  I clamber right up to crouch on the deck behind a stack of barrels, now teetering ominously. They are better than no protection at all, though not much. I peer around desperately, seeking Rob. I locate him in moments. He is at his usual station on the upper deck, wrestling with the wheel as he shouts orders to his crew. He turns, his eyes meeting mine. I see the brief flash of desperate fear there, fear for me, for my safety not his own. Foolish man. He gestures me to get back below, to remain out of sight. I am not accustomed to disobedience, but I can’t hide now.

  Then, all thoughts of my own future are shattered as Rob crumples to the deck. He seems to go down in slow motion, his knees buckling first, then the rest of his body crashing onto the smooth planks. The attacker who felled him is standing over his prone body, sword in hand. He reaches across him to grab the wheel and steady the ship, taking up w
here Rob left off, issuing curt instructions, directing operations from the helm.

  I scream, lurching across the deck toward the stairs, my only thought now to reach Rob, to help him. To protect him. The fighting is stopping and the attacking crew are rounding up Quinn and the other pirate survivors, herding them toward the stern of the Rose. I’m only dimly aware of any of this as I rush to clamber onto the upper deck, crawling over the heaving boards to where Rob still lies. I look for blood, for a mortal wound, but see none. I lay my cheek on his chest, and hear his heartbeat. It sounds strong. His chest is moving, he’s alive, without doubt. But for how long? Even if he survives this, he’ll be a prisoner. He’ll be hanged. Or worse.

  I raise my eyes. Ready to plead with his attacker. Maybe I can find some sort of deal, a compromise. I’m ready to offer anything.

  The eyes laughing down at me seem familiar, though I swear I’ve never met this man before. Tall, dark hair, a grin which seems to me altogether too wide given the circumstances.

  “Mrs Browne, I presume?”

  I’m astonished. How does he know me, my name?

  “So, here she is. My precious little wife. The pirate’s whore.”

  Ah, so that’s how. I whirl, my heart lurching as I hear that sneering, cruel voice behind me, a voice I’d hoped never to encounter again. And that mocking leer, my husband’s vicious mouth twisted in distaste as he strides cockily across the deck.

  “So, we meet again, my dear. And how nice, our reunion is complete. Your thieving pirate lover as well. I have unfinished business with him too.” He turns to the giant standing over us, who seems to be regarding proceedings with a degree of amusement. Giles is not done with issuing his orders yet.

  “I’ll have the skin flayed from him, like the dog he is. Tie him to the mast.”

  “No! You can’t.” I’m sobbing now, appealing to the tall stranger who, despite Giles’ attitude of authority, does seem to be the one in power right now.

  “Come now, Giles. The man’s unconscious. Seems like a waste of a decent flogging.” I’m relieved that Rob’s attacker seems to share my view.

  “I’ll soon wake him up.” Giles pulls his foot back, clearly intending to land a kick in Rob’s undefended ribs. I lose my slender hold on reason. This I will not have. I launch myself at my husband, determined to prevent him from inflicting further injury on Rob, whatever the cost to me.

  His initial surprise at my reaction quickly quelled, Giles grapples with me, asserting his greater strength with ease as he drags me over to the rail.

  “This time, bitch, you will feed the sharks.”

  He intends to throw me overboard again.

  “Let go of her, Browne.” I hear the angry yell from Rob’s assailant.

  “Fuck off.” Giles’ grip on me tightens as he forces me back against the rail. He reaches down to grab my flailing feet, intending to topple me over. I go limp, allow him to lift me, but as he turns to hurl me over the side, I grab him around the neck and, finding purchase with my heel on the top of the rail, I propel the pair of us into the sea.

  Rob’s careful attention to my swimming lessons has not been wasted. We hit the water together, a tangled mass of limbs. My skirts whipping around my legs hamper my movement, but I don’t panic. I just allow myself to sink, my descent into the cool depths slow and deliberate, waiting until Giles lets go of me as he seeks to save himself. The moment his grip loosens, I kick away from him and head for the sunlight above me. My head breaks the surface just as the small boat lowered from the Rose hits the water, the four sailors in it straining against the oars to reach us. Giles is splashing frantically behind me. I turn, and despite everything he’s done, I know I can’t just leave him to drown. The shouts of the sailors in the boat, and on board the Rose, reach me, but I don’t hear what they are saying. Cautious, I start to swim toward Giles, wondering how to help him without being drowned myself in his mad frenzy.

  And suddenly, he’s gone. He hasn’t sunk, that would have taken at least a second or two. No. One moment Giles is there, his futile thrashing not six feet from me, then he just isn’t. Even as I gape, bewildered, a cloud of red surfaces just where I last saw him. Blood.

  Oh God. Sharks! I use my arms to maintain my balance in the water, slowing my legs so as not to attract attention from below. Seconds later I see them. Three, then four large triangular fins. Circling me. I start to edge back in the direction of the small boat. Can I swim that far? How long do I have?

  I’m seized from behind. Strong hands haul me out of the water and into the boat. I’m flung, gasping, into the space between their feet as they turn and row back toward the Rose.

  “Is she alive?” The strong voice from the upper deck, demanding a report.

  “Aye, sir. And intact. We got to her just before the sharks did. Couldn’t get the other chap though.”

  The commander of the other ship seems unmoved by Giles’ fate. “Not to worry. Natural justice has prevailed. I doubt he’ll be greatly missed. Probably simplifies matters in any case. Bring Mrs Browne back on board.”

  A few minutes later, dripping wet but by some miracle unhurt, I’m once more crouching over Rob. He is beginning to regain consciousness, his groans and muttered oaths heralding a depth of displeasure yet to be fully expressed. At last he opens his eyes. His gaze meets mine first, and he smiles. A smile of welcome, of relief. Of love. He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek before turning his head to regard his attacker.

  His eyes widen, he stares for a few moments. Then, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  His attacker laughs. “Good to see you, too. Sorry about clubbing you on the back of the head, but I needed to get your attention.”

  “It fucking worked. Bastard.” Rob is struggling into a sitting position.

  I reach for him to lend my support, as does his assailant. I’m baffled by the exchange.

  “Do you two know each other?”

  “No we fucking don’t.” Despite his denial, Rob’s scowl suggests otherwise. The tall stranger seems more inclined to attend to the social niceties.

  “Madam, please allow me to make the introductions. I am Richard, Viscount Heslington. At your service. And this”—he indicates Rob, still sitting on the deck, rubbing the back of his head gingerly as he tests for dire injury. “This surly individual is my cousin, James Robert FitzPatrick, the Earl of Langley.”

  I gape in bemused confusion as Rob glares at his so-called cousin, growling his response to this revelation. “You were always an idiot—now I know you’re deranged. You seem to be confusing me with my esteemed brother.”

  “You certainly look a bit of a mess, Jamie, but Edward, your ‘esteemed brother’, has been dead for six months and I expect his appearance is even worse than yours at this precise moment. No, I do definitely have the honor of addressing the current earl.”

  This latest seems to silence Rob. But not for long.

  “Dead? Edward’s dead?”

  “I’m afraid so. Thrown from his horse. And with you also presumed dead as no one had heard from you for years, that leaves me as the only remaining heir to the Langley estate. So, you’ll appreciate my predicament. I’ve no wish to be encumbered with your bloody responsibilities as well as my own, so I thought it best to come and find you. It’s time to come home, cousin.”

  “I am at home. Now fuck off and leave me to fix my bloody mast. Christ, what a mess you’ve made of my ship. Couldn’t you have just run up a flag if you wanted a word with me? That usually works.”

  Undaunted by Rob’s less than enthusiastic welcome, Viscount Heslington drops to his haunches beside us. He leans against the wheel, looking from one to the other of us.

  “I can see why you thought me a trifle ham-fisted but it seemed an effective way of putting a stop to your games. There’ll be no more pirating, not without a ship.”

  Rob scowls, rubbing his head as he surveys the ruination of his career. The viscount grins, clearly satisfied with his day’s work, and turns his attention to me.


  “You’re an ugly sod, Jamie, but Mrs Browne seems very fond of you all the same. Can’t imagine why. Are her sentiments reciprocated then?”

  “Mind your own business.”

  The viscount shrugs. “It’s just that, you’ll be requiring a countess. And she does look the part. And now that the lady is so conveniently a widow…”

  “What? A widow? How? When…”

  “Just now. The vicious bastard took it upon himself to give his wife another dipping, but this time she took him in with her. The sharks got to him before our boat did. We managed to salvage your lady for you, though, and it does seem a shame to let our efforts go to waste.”

  Rob’s looking at me now, for the first time realizing I’m dripping wet. He reaches for me, drags me into his arms, before turning to the viscount. “What the fuck was he even doing here? Did you bring him?”

  “In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did. I was in Princetown, asking around for word of you, when I met up with Giles Conrad Browne, ranting about the barbarian pirate who abducted his wife. From the description he gave I suspected it might be you, so I allowed him to hire my vessel for his pursuit. Once I had a real lead, you weren’t that difficult to track. Then, having caught up with you, all I had to do was subdue you long enough to talk some sense into you. Hence the lump on your head.”

  Rob rubs the back of his head again, his growl menacing as he glares at his kinsman. There’s no doubt that the first part of the strategy worked. As for the sense…

  Rob’s more concerned about me, though, just at this moment. “Christ, Janie, are you all right? That bastard! I knew he’d try it again if he got the chance.”

  “Well, you were correct. But this time I was prepared. You taught me to swim. So I swum.”

  “Indeed she did. So, are we all headed back to England then? The Queen’s looking forward to seeing you again.” The viscount’s indomitable certainty regarding our future plans seems infectious, as at last Rob starts to catch on.