The Pirate's Bride Read online

  He managed an easy smile. Her lips curved upward in response as she lay her head down on her straw pillow, careful to maintain a distance between their two bodies.

  “They must.” She sighed, closing her eyes while the warmth from her out-blown breath ghosted over his overheated skin, causing his groin to tighten and create a cock stand worthy of a youth half his age. Shutting his own eyes, he mentally recited the various knots a pirate needed to know in hopes that his erection might abate before she looked at the covers and saw them tenting up over him. Just when he thought it might be working her voice came to him out of the darkness. “I’d really like to take a bath tomorrow, if I could have the cabin to myself for an hour.”

  His eyes shot open. “You just took a bath at my father’s. That was only, two, maybe three days ago. Think of the water you’ll waste.”

  Up she sat, the covers pulling her shirt tight enough for him to see her breasts outlined under the thin material. Jesu, he should be nominated for sainthood, thought, as dragged his eyes from her body up to irritated countenance, where that luscious mouth began spouting, “Limey brought my bath water barrel over the phoenix, so technically it’s not even your water, but mine, so I should not have to defend myself. Besides, now that we are sleeping together, you should be glad I take such pains smell. And you would do well bathe more often me, too."

  He was hard-put not to laugh at this farce of an argument. Pirates bathing. Bah. However, once he started thinking about bathing, and then Sophie bathing in particular, he pictured her naked, kneeling in the bath barrel, and sluicing water over her head with a bucket. Letting it drip over her wet, sleek skin. He saw himself step into the barrel with her, slowly run his hands over her glistening, nude body—

  “Well? Are you already seeing the benefits of frequent bathing? Or—”

  “Most definitely, Madam. You may bathe uninterrupted, and I guess I can also, after you, but make no mistake, Sophie. We are sleeping together in the most literal sense of the word. It is up to you to change that meaning.

  “Now, all this talk has wakened me considerably, so I am going to take a turn about the deck before retiring. You have the dawn watch again, so get some rest. I’ll inform your first mate about your bath request.” Andre managed to remove himself from the berth and head for the door, thankful for the breeze on deck to cool his heated senses and thoughts.

  ~*~

  After the cabin door closed behind her husband, Sophie settled deeper under the covers, pondering the wild-eyed glances she’d intercepted from him, as well as his comment about sleeping together. Her heart raced when she thought of being with him in that way. However, fear was retreating. In its place, unbelievably, was anticipation.

  When that had occurred, she had no idea. Most likely during one of the last three nights as she’d lain beside him. His uncharacteristic kindness and lack of pressure for his husbandly rights seemed to be doing what she thought would never happen—her fear was abating. Now when she attempted to maintain a proper distance from his warm body, all she secretly wanted to do was lay her head upon his chest and listen to his heartbeat under her ear, feel his arms wrap around her and hold her tight against him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Several days later, after leaving the Florida coast behind and pillaging a small, coastal community with much success, the crew of the Jade Princess came across a heavily laden merchant vessel. They plundered it with no casualties, which was always a bonus.

  By dusk, Andre decreed a celebration was in order. The rum barrel was rolled out, both cooks prepared a feast of local fruits, vegetables, and meats, and the revelry commenced. Roast chicken, fried plantains, and juicy guava and papaya filled their bellies. Those who finished first provided music for the rest. The hornpipe, banjo, spoons, and drums beat out carefree and lively shanties designed to start their feet to tapping and voices to singing.

  While sitting on the much-depleted water barrel from the Phoenix, swinging his foot in time to the music and partaking from his tankard of rum, Andre watched Sophie imbibe her third cup of the island liquor. He grinned when she professed it tasted like ambrosia from the gods. Her three crewmembers chorused their agreement, although Limey barely sipped his portion. Andre caught the youth’s measuring look, and wondered at his seriousness.

  “A play, mis amigos. Let us perform a play illustrating our fine conquest of the day, no?”

  Pedro de Gallo, well into his cups, stood in the center of the deck, swinging about with one arm raised in the air. The rest of the pirates hooted and hollered their assents, shoving various friends and comrades out into the middle to perform for the rest of them.

  Limey was one of the ones pushed forward, shaking his head and laughing while de Gallo threw a brocade fabric at him with the order to dress himself like a “fair damsel.” Even Sophie giggled and applauded, weaving on her barrel next to Andre.

  “You may want to slow down on that beverage, mon amour, Andre leaned toward her and cautioned. “It goes down smooth as velvet but kicks like a mule. Trust me, I know." He cheered her, but sighed as she disregarded his warning slurped the remainder of cup in one large gulp, wiping mouth on sleeve shirt. it was an unmistakable gesture defiance. shrugged turned back to entertainment getting underway. vowed pick up pieces when rum took over all rational thoughts later.

  Out in front of them Limey had managed to drape the garish material over his tall form kimono-style and was now taking simpering steps forward. He wailed in a high, falsetto voice like the women had on the ship they’d attacked, and his audience broke into gales of drunken, gleeful laughter. Even Andre found his competition for his wife’s affections a laughable, pitiful excuse for a woman.

  Mincing forward on tiptoe, Limey covered his mouth with his large hand, squealing as one of the other acting pirates mimed hip thrusts at the tall youth. Shooting a glance at Sophie, Andre realized she was too far gone to see the allusions to rape this little performance made.

  The next moment she leaped off her barrel, slapping her mug onto it and weaving her way to Limey. Flapping her arms like a drunken windmill, she interrupted the bawdy performance. “Let me sh-show you the righ’ way t’ walk.” She stripped Limey of his dress, threw it over her head and started to sashay across the deck on wobbly legs. She headed toward Limey, swinging her backside to the whistles and catcalls of the pirate spectators.

  Once she’d stepped close to him, she squealed in mock fright, letting the material fall back from her head as she stared up into Limey’s half-smiling face. She exclaimed, “Oh, iz the big, bad pirate. ‘E’s goin’ to ravish me.”

  She wailed more convincingly than Limey had. All the pirates guffawed and slapped their knees, elbowing each other. Andre narrowed his eyes on her. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him—she was acting out a scene of ravishment by pirates, when in reality it had been a so-called gentleman who had raped her.

  Then he looked at Limey, and interpreted the youth’s solemn expression. He’d also made the connection that art mimicked real life in regards to Sophie. Deciding to intervene, Andre jumped up off his barrel and sauntered over to her as she stumbled. Catching her around the waist, he pivoted, raising his tankard. “Let’s hear it for our two fine actors.”

  Everyone yelled, stomped, and clapped while the soggy musicians struck up another tune. Andre tightened his grasp on Sophie and led her back to her perch. She scowled and dragged her feet. “I didn’t ge’ t’ do everythin’ I wan’ed to.”

  He grinned at her little girl pout, and then bestowed a quick kiss on her exposed forehead. “You did just fine, ma chérie. You’re a veritable Shakespeare."

  As if realizing he was patronizing her, she yanked out of his grasp and staggered to the food table made up of two rough-hewn planks. Left to watch her retreating back, Andre stood hip-shot, smoothing his drooping mustache with thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

  “She’s getting sopping drunk, y’know. Or is that your plan?”

  Limey had moved up beside h
im, also studying Sophie as she chose juicy pieces of fruit while holding onto the makeshift table for balance.

  Suddenly irritated in having to defend himself, Andre straightened to his full height and snapped, “It’s none of your damn business, mon ami. She belongs to me, no matter how much you lust after her, and I’ll be the only one bedding at my discretion.

  The impertinent cub didn’t back down. “Just make sure it’s at her preference as well, sir.” He touched his forelock in scornful deference before making an about face to return to the celebratory pirates.

  Andre curled his lip in response to Limey’s truthful admonishment. He then headed over to Sophie to make amends and steer her clear of the alcohol. No mean feat since she appeared to have developed a tendre for the sauce.

  Slipping an arm about her waist and removing the mug from her lax fingers, he nuzzled her neck. “Time to lay off the juice, love. You have the dawn watch, and I guarantee ‘twill be hard to muster with a head full of cotton.”

  He felt her stiffen in his grasp, though she didn’t pull away. Was it the liquor lessening her fear, or was she getting accustomed to his constant presence? He hoped it was the latter. She surprised him more by relaxing against him and saying, “Goin’ t’ bed soun’s good t’ me, now. Wanna come?”

  Her bleary gaze told him she had no idea what she was saying. Nevertheless, he answered, “I thought you’d never ask, ma coeur, before hollering to the audience at large, “goodnight, gents. me wife and i are retiring continue party in private. amidst guffaws laughter, he steered her past rollicking crew his cabin, not all feeling guilty for implying more than what two of them were going do alone.

  She was soused, no two words about it. When he finally got her naked beneath him, he wanted sweet Sophie to be a willing participant. Not drunk and unable to remember anything. However, his crew didn’t need to know any different.

  He guided her into his cabin and shut the door while she staggered out from his embrace. Pulling her baldric and belt off and letting them clatter to the floor in a jumble, she reached up to her shirt ties and yanked on them. “I’s your nigh,’ husban.’ Ye wore me down. Le’s get this over with.”

  She started to pull her shirt over her head, baring a bit of pale midriff. Recovering his mobility, Andre glided to her side, stilling her hand with his larger one. Then he raised her chin so he could meet her unfocused, sapphire eyes. And there was the ever-present fear, banked within her cloudy gaze. He let out a disappointed sigh. With a chivalry he hadn’t known he possessed, he shook his head. “Not tonight, ma bichette maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.

  She frowned and cocked her head, swaying at the motion and forcing him to reach out to push her down on their berth. She sat with a plop, staring at her lap, so he knelt at her feet and began removing her boots.

  “Let’s just sleep this off, mon ange, and see where we are tomorrow, hmmm?" Placing her boots on the floor, he picked up feet swung them onto bed, pulling light coverlet over then drawing back.

  “You surprise me, husban.’ You’re sweeter than I thought.” With eyes fluttering, she fell into a drunken stupor. Andre returned to his feet, stared down at her in consternation. Yep, that’s who he was, Captain Andre Dubois, the sweetest pirate of all the Caribbean. He snorted, wondering once more, where this gentleness came from that he now felt for this innocent young woman.

  ~*~

  “I think I’m gonna vomit.”

  The words, whispered beside him in the dark, brought Andre out of a deep sleep. The bed rocked from the force of Sophie’s abrupt departure. The pat of her bare feet across the floor and the subsequent creak of the cabin door told the whole story. Sophie couldn’t hold her liquor and intended to heave her guts out over the Princess’ rail. Sitting upright and yawning, he scrubbed at his face before slipping out of bed and following in her wake.

  Rounding the corner of his cabin, he found her hanging over the rail, upchucking as she’d predicted. He swallowed a grin. He’d been there a time or two. Her hair looked in danger of swinging in front of her mouth, so he reached out and grasped her thick tresses. Pulling them back from her face he whispered, “Pauvre petite chose. Such a harsh lesson to learn. Shh, soon you will be finished. You’re almost empty now, oui, ma fille chérie?”

  A sickly groan was his only answer. That and more dry heaves. He wrinkled his nose above her downturned head, not as immune to the disgusting scene as he pretended. Yet still he smoothed her hair away from her face until her retching slowed. With one hand, he fished out a kerchief from his breeches’ pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her mouth before standing upright.

  “Oh, mon dieu. I’ve sunk so low. I’m so ashamed."

  She shuffled back toward their cabin, keeping her face averted. He followed behind her. “’Tis no reason to be ashamed, mon amour. We’ve all done it at one time or another. I’m glad I was able to make easier for you. Just, next time, please listen me, oui?"

  She raised bloodshot eyes to his. “There won’t be a next time.”

  He smiled. “C’est ma fille. that’s my girl."

  ~*~

  She’d slept until mid-afternoon, waking disoriented and feeling like a ball of cotton wool had taken up residence inside her head. A curious lapping sound outside her weary brain, different from the waves on the sides of the Princess’ hull, nagged at Sophie. She lifted puffed, heavy lids to squint around the cabin. There, in the middle of the room, sat a plate of food next to the bathing tub, from whence the lapping noises emanated.

  A bath. Already drawn. Most likely ordered by that pirate husband of hers.

  He was her knight in shining armor. She leaped toward the tub, only to clasp her head and shriek in pain. It felt like a hundred miners were pounding on her brain with pick axes and shovels. She sank onto the rumpled bunk, moaning.

  This, then, was a hangover. She’d heard women whisper about it in regards to their husbands and beaux, usually on the eves of their weddings. Naturally, she had to experience it firsthand. Mon dieu, what an idiot she was.

  Rising much more slowly this time, she minced over to the tub, found a folded note under an empty tankard on the floor. He had a sick sense of humor. Bending like an old woman and feeling the pressure behind her eyes, she opened the piece of paper to Andre’s familiar script.

  Bonjour, Madame. Or, is it bonne journée? Whatever the part of day, I thought you might enjoy a bath after last night’s mishap. This from my own precious water supply so please, put to good use. Do not worry about your watches. The crew commiserates with you and has taken up the slack. I will see at dinner. Enjoy you bath.

  Andre.

  Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, whether because of her husband’s kindness and gentle humor, or because she was hung over and hungry, she didn’t know. But with last night’s embarrassing memories of him refusing her drunken offer of her body, along with his tender care until she slept, she realized it might be time to leave the past behind and embrace her nebulous future.

  ~*~

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Andre came up from the hold after taking swag inventory with his purser to find a nut-brown, dark-haired boy of about twelve years of age polishing the brass fittings around every mast and tie-down. The boy looked up at him, dropped his rag, and stood at attention in his ragtag knee-breeches and patched shirt. Not quite Negro, not Islander, the half-breed youngster stood ramrod straight before him. Andre hadn’t hired him at their last stop. Was the child a stowaway, wanting to see what being a pirate was like?

  Before the boy could speak, Limey strode forward, answering for him. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I brought the young man on board.”

  Andre swiveled his baffled gaze on Limey, someone he really was beginning to like less and less. “Whatever for?” He clasped his hands behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, awaiting an explanation.

  “He was left homeless in that last community we raided, sir. Kinda like when I was his age. I figured we could use a cabin boy, o
r powder monkey. Beggin’ your pardon again, sir.”

  The “sirs” were starting to grate on Andre’s nerves. He shot a glance at the boy. “Powder monkeys don’t last long, that’s true. Keep him out of my way.”

  He headed to his cabin, mind already on his absentee wife. After knocking twice, he swaggered inside, closed the door behind him. “I’ve heard of people disappearing for days while on a drinking spree, but they usually make an appearance after one. Care to explain?” He leaned against the door and studied Sophie seated before his table, orange juice shining on her chin.

  She appeared different somehow. Her dark hair hung loose down her back, but he’d seen that often enough. Before the brain cogs in his head could make a complete rotation, she rose and edged around the table, into the sunlight from the open windows above their berth.

  He swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet cabin.

  She stood before him in a lawn nightgown of the finest material. The flimsiest, thinnest material that, when worn in the early evening sunshine, rendered itself transparent. Her body, the body he’d slept next to for days, the body he lusted after, was completely visible.

  She wore nothing underneath. He could see the shape of her breasts, their dark centers, and even the indistinct shadow at the juncture of her thighs. He dragged his disbelieving gaze from the torment before him, felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He pondered what her choice of clothing meant for him.

  She broke the lengthening silence. “My...my curiosity outweighs my fear.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds, and then he bolted from the cabin, letting the door bang close behind him. He didn’t think of how it might look to her. He simply knew the moment had come. She was sober and ready to consummate their marriage, a marriage that hung in the balance. Whatever the outcome, he was damned if he would be interrupted by anyone or anything. He hastened to his first mate and told him to take command tonight. Then he returned to the cabin and his wife, before she changed her mind.