Once Upon a Pirate: Sixteen Swashbuckling Historical Romances

by Merry Farmer

  “Ye can stop yer gapin’ lad,” the surgeon admonished. We ’ave a job ter do.”

  “What? Oh, yes.” Will accepted the rebuke and took hold of the woman’s elbows to help her remain upright. “How do we do this?”

  “She needs ter lean forward, like that. Yes.” The woman leaned her weight against him. “You support ’er. An’ you, miss, can ye lift up yer arms an’ wrap ’em around the captain’s neck?”

  “I am not quite sure if I…”

  “Ye may need ter ’elp ’er, Captain.”

  Will took hold of her hands, taking extreme care over the injured one, and raised them as high as his shoulders. “Can you hang on to me?” he asked.

  She nodded and grasped his shoulder with her left hand. The other just rested against him, immobilised by the splints.

  “Tell me where it hurts the most,” Old Sawbones instructed and proceeded to run his fingers down either side of her ribcage.

  Will watched her features contort in pain, and she let out a sharp cry when the surgeon touched one particular spot.

  “Right, there then.” Old Sawbones continued and identified two more points where the pain appeared most severe. “I suspect three cracked ribs, but mercifully they do not feel to be displaced, so the danger of further damage is not high. They are painful, however, and the binding will help with that, as will the laudanum I brought with me. Now, miss, all I need ye ter do is breathe in an’ ‘old yer breath while I get this strapping on nice an’ tight, see?”

  The surgeon proceeded to wrap the linen strips around the woman’s torso, starting just above her waist and finishing beneath her pretty little breasts. He secured the bandage with a pin, then slanted a glance at his patient.

  “There, how does that feel, miss?”

  “I think it is a little easier,” she replied. “But I feel dizzy. I think…”

  “Back into bed, right now,” Will determined, and without further ado lifted her in his arms and set her back on the bunk.

  She was very pale suddenly, and he wondered if maybe they should have left strapping her ribs for another day.

  “She will be fine, lad. Just overexerted herself. But it will ha’ been worth it ter reduce the pain, I reckon. Let ’er get some sleep now. Later, when she wakes up, ye can try ’er wi’ a drop o’ that broth. An’ if ye’ve a spare shirt or something of the like that ye could lend ’er, I daresay she’ll be grateful.”

  “Thank you, Old Sawbones.”

  The surgeon grinned at him. “It makes a fine change ter tend a pretty wee thing. Now I shall be off, but I shall leave ye this phial. The laudanum is strong, so try just one drop in a mug o’ wine. No more, see? An’ only if she needs it.”

  Will took the small glass bottle and held it up to the light from the cabin window. It was half full of clear liquid. Soft, regular breathing coming from the direction of the bunk was enough to assure him she would not be requiring a dose any time soon. His mysterious guest was already sound asleep.

  Chapter 5

  The broth was delicious. Elisabeth could not recall how long it had been since she’d last eaten…days, probably. The pirate captain helped her to manage the bowl one-handed and gave her bread to mop up the last drops.

  She concentrated on her food and tried to ignore the yawning emptiness where her memories ought to be. For a while it worked, but all too soon she found herself sinking into that black pit of nothingness again.

  Who am I?

  Where is my home?

  Has anyone noticed I am gone?

  What do I do now?

  The final question was the most pressing since it did actually require an answer. She had decisions to make, and absolutely no basis upon which to make them. She found herself adrift, placeless, nameless. She was no one, robbed of all semblance of self. Her only anchor in this bottomless and endless sea was the handsome pirate who joined her in the cabin for brief periods before rushing off again to see to whatever duties he must perform in commanding this vessel.

  She missed him when he was absent, although much of the time she slept. It was better that way. Less terrifying than thinking about her predicament, searching for a solution when nothing was within her grasp.

  But now, sleep eluded her. She had been on board the Falcon for, as far as she could recall, four or five days. It had been two days since the surgeon had strapped up her ribs, and though they ached, the sharp, stabbing pain no longer troubled her. And as long as she did not knock it, the pain in her hand was bearable. She suspected that the edge had been taken off by a drop or two of laudanum, but not for the last day or so since she’d asked him not to give her any more. This was, perhaps, why she was awake at last and more alert than she had been for as long as she could remember.

  Elisabeth was bored. And discontented. She felt filthy, her hair especially. She tested with her good hand and found her locks to be matted and tangled, dried blood still encrusted in the strands. She longed for a bath but knew it to be impossible on board a ship where every drop of fresh water was precious.

  She started when the door opened, and her pirate entered.

  When did I start to think of him as mine?

  He paused to cast a smile her way. “How do you feel today?”

  “Better. Thank you.”

  “Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “Only if you have water I could wash in. Just a little…”

  “I believe I can manage that. Your hand must remain dry, but I could remove the strapping around your ribs and allow you to take a bath.”

  “Really? Is that possible?”

  He picked up a chart from his desk under the only window in the cabin and tucked it under his arm. “I have to talk to my helmsman about a change of course, but I shall be back soon.”

  Just a few minutes after he left, she was startled by a knock on the door. Unsure what to do, how to respond, she was spared the trouble when it opened, and a ruddy face peered into the cabin.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, miss. The cap’n, he telled me ter bring this down.” The sailor entered the cabin, dragging a wooden bathtub behind him which he deposited in the middle of the small room. “I’ll jus’ be gettin’ some water, miss.” He offered her a small salute and scuttled back out of the door.

  Four times he returned, and on each occasion a bucket of water dangled from each of his hands, He poured them into the tub, then went for more. By the time he’d finished, the tub was well over half full, and even more joyous, the water was steaming.

  I am to have a warm bath.

  For the first time in as long as she could recall, Elisabeth felt happy.

  The pirate captain entered the cabin, his chart under his arm. “I see your bath is ready.”

  “Yes. I was not sure if I should—”

  “We will need to remove this.” He tugged at the sleeve of the loose shirt she now wore, one of his. “Then the strapping around your ribs. Then, I shall lift you into the tub.”

  “I do not want to keep you from your duties. I am sure I could manage for myself.”

  “And I am quite sure you cannot. Are we to quarrel about this, madame?” His smile never faltered as he spoke to her, but the gritty resolve in his tone was unmistakable. He expected to be obeyed.

  “No, Captain. No, of course not. I appreciate all you have done for me, but I do feel somewhat better today. I am stronger now, so I—”

  “I agree, and I am glad of it. Even so, I shall assist you. The shirt, madame?”

  “Right. Of course.” On the previous occasion she had bared herself before him, she had been too befuddled by pain, too confused by her circumstances to pay much heed to modesty. Not so now. Elisabeth was profoundly conscious of her nudity when she slowly pulled the shirt over her head, and embarrassed by it, too. For some reason she could not quite fathom, she was convinced that he would not find her body to be attractive. She was not pretty. She was sure of it, though she could not have said where that certainty came from. She want
ed this handsome pirate to like her, and he would not, not once he had seen her naked and realised how skinny and angular she was. She had the body of a boy, not a grown woman.

  “I know what you are thinking,” she murmured, “but please, do not say it.”

  His grin was lopsided. “Madame, if you knew what I was thinking, you would slap my face.”

  “I would not dare, sir.” She was quite convinced she had never slapped anyone in her life, not ever. She was certainly not about to start with a dangerous pirate twice her size.

  “Here, let me…” He released the pin which secured the strapping and began to unwind it.

  Her breathing became more painful as the pressure was eased, but not as much so as it had been. She could manage.

  Without further ado, Captain Falconer bent and swept her into his arms. He carried her to the tub, then knelt beside it and slowly lowered her into the water.

  “Keep your injured hand well clear,” he advised. “Just relax and allow me to do the rest.”

  “I am not sure what you mean, sir.”

  “I mean this.” He leaned in close behind her so that his breath feathered across her cheek when he spoke. “You will tell me if I hurt you, but otherwise, you will be quiet and enjoy your bath. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Yes, I think I do. But—”

  “Shh.”

  She fell silent and leaned her head back against his shoulder. Really, there was nothing she could do to prevent anything that might happen to her, and Captain Falconer had thus far been a perfect gentleman.

  Too perfect…

  He produced soap from somewhere and started to work lather into her shoulders. His fingers were gentle, unhurried, and the warm water soothed the residual bruising. Under his ministrations, Elisabeth relaxed. The tension in her muscles slid away; she felt lighter, freer. A contented sigh escaped her.

  “It is rare that I would take issue with Old Sawbones, but he was wrong,” the pirate murmured.

  “Sir?”

  “Your breasts are exquisite, quite, quite perfect, and well capable of driving at least this man into a frenzy of lust.”

  “Oh.” She could think of nothing more erudite to offer.

  Captain Falconer cupped both her breasts in his hands and ran his fingers over her nipples. They stiffened and swelled. Elisabeth arched her back, her response instinctive. She wished she really was as beautiful as he made her feel.

  He continued to work the lather into her skin, his hands reaching lower but always careful not to press too hard on her injured ribs. He moved around and lifted first one, then the other leg from the now foamy water to bathe each limb. Elisabeth closed her eyes so was not sure if she imagined it but fancied he had kissed her toes.

  Lost memory or not, she was perfectly convinced that no one had ever kissed her toes before. That was not the sort of thing any woman would forget.

  He completed his washing of her body, even down to slipping his hand between her legs to caress the most private folds there. He said nothing, kept his touch light…too light…merely ensured that she was thoroughly cleansed.

  “Does it hurt you when I touch you here?” He slid his fingers through her folds again.

  “N-no, sir.”

  “That is good. Had you been the victim of a brutal rape just days ago, I cannot believe there would be no tenderness still.”

  “I see. Yes, I suppose…oh…” She sighed when desire curled and rose from deep down in her groin. His touch was so pleasant, so exquisite. She wished he would…what? “Sir?”

  “Mmm, what, madame?”

  “If he had… I mean, had you not been in time… I wonder, would the damage not have been more apparent…inside?”

  “Inside?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Would you like me to check?”

  “Please, sir. If you would…”

  Good heavens, what am I saying?

  “Drape your legs over the sides of the tub, yes, like that, as wide as you can. I will go very slowly, and you will tell me if there is any pain.”

  She leaned back, her head resting on the rim and her legs splayed wide. He moved around and used the fingers of one had to part the lips at her entrance, then slowly pressed one long digit into her slick channel.

  He was as good as his word. He went very slowly, inch by inch, until his finger was fully inside her.

  “Am I hurting you, madame?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I just… I…oh! Oh, that is really very nice indeed.”

  She could not be certain what he was doing, but bolts of pure pleasure seemed to shoot from wherever his fingers touched. He rubbed, found one particular spot, and…

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Her body convulsed in a crescendo of delight so powerful that for a few moments she was quite overwhelmed. The heady rush of pleasure was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived, leaving her breathless but strangely sated.

  He slid his fingers from her body. “Look at me, madame.”

  Elisabeth did, embarrassed that he had witnessed her rather odd loss of control. “I am sorry, I never meant to…”

  “Now that we have that out of the way, I trust you are feeling even more relaxed.”

  “Yes, I believe that I am.”

  “And going by your healthy response just now, I believe it is safe to assume that you were not raped aboard the Marlin.”

  Elisabeth nodded. Surely she could not have experienced what she just had, and at the hands of a man she barely knew, if something so horrendous had happened to her just days earlier. “You are right. I… I am grateful, sir.”

  “My pleasure, madame. And now, it only remains to wash your hair. I will take care not to open up the wound again. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, sir. I do. Most definitely.”

  He rose and went out into the corridor, to return with two more buckets of warm water which he set down at the end of the tub, behind her.

  “If you can tilt your head back…”

  She did as he asked, and the captain lifted the mass of her hair and dunked it in the warm water. He used a small cup to pour it over her scalp, gently working soap in to create a lather which he then rinsed away. He repeated the action three times, using the clean water from the final bucket to do the last rinse.

  Later, back in her bunk, a clean shirt covering her, her ribs once again tightly strapped, she lay and stared blankly at the ceiling above her.

  She was clean. She tingled everywhere. Now, all she needed was a name.

  Will regarded the woman asleep in his bunk. Her hair, now glossy and free of tangles, cascaded across the pillow in a riot of brilliant reds. Her skin hue was healthier now, and he even fancied her frail frame might be filling out slightly, though perhaps he imagined that. Without doubt, her bruises were fading, and the lovely woman beneath was revealed.

  She exuded sensuality, though he was convinced she was unaware of the effect she had on men. Well, one man in particular. His cock twitched at the recollection of her climax in the bath. She had appeared shocked, surprised even. He wondered if the experience was one she had not enjoyed often, though he was reasonably certain that she was not a virgin.

  Married? Almost certainly. A widow? Children? He had no idea, and neither did she. The answers, he was sure, lay in New Orleans, but that was a place he had steadfastly avoided since his overly close acquaintance with the hangman there. He did not relish the prospect of returning, though he began to wonder if it was inevitable. And in any case, he had a sister in New Orleans who he had not seen for the last five years or so. It would be good to see Paulette again, if nothing else.

  The woman sighed in her sleep and rolled over to face him. Her eyes opened, and she smiled.

  “Good day, Captain.”

  “Good day….” He came to crouch beside the bunk. “I cannot continue to call you madame.”

  “I wish I could remember.”

  “You will, eventually. In the meantime, you require a name, something to suit you.�
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  “What do you suggest, Captain?”

  He took a lock of her hair between his fingers, brought it to his nose, and inhaled. “You have beautiful hair, so soft and glossy, and the colour…so vibrant.” Inspiration struck. “I shall call you Ruby.”

  “Ruby?” she repeated the word as though testing it, trying it on for size. “Yes, I like that. I can be Ruby.”

  She landed on the floor of the cabin with a dull thud and proceeded to roll across the floor as the ship listed. Her ribs screamed in agony, her right hand throbbed when she banged it against the leg of the captain’s desk, but she managed to grab a hold with her left hand to stop herself being hurled about any more.

  Rain lashed against the window, and the shrill howling of the wind outside was testimony to the violence of the storm. Terrified, she hung on to the desk and prayed for it all to stop.

  “Let me help you back into the bunk.”

  She had not heard him enter, but she knew as soon as the captain’s strong arms encircled her that she would be safe. She allowed him to prise her fingers from the desk leg and carry her back across the cabin. He was somehow able to keep his footing despite the mad swaying of the deck beneath his feet.

  “I need to tie you in place, to stop you falling out again.”

  He produced a spare sheet and ripped it length ways, then folded it to make it narrower still. He wrapped it around her waist, then tied the ends to the frame of the bunk.

  “You can free yourself, once the storm has passed. I must leave you now as I am needed on deck.” He kissed her on the forehead and was gone.

  She dosed fitfully during the remainder of the night, as the rain lashed down and mountainous waves hurled the Falcon about like driftwood. Her world swayed dizzily as the ship listed, first to starboard, then to port. She would have been flung from her bed a dozen times but for the captain’s makeshift restraint which held her safe.