Devil of the High Seas, page 14
“Sit.”
That was one command she was glad to obey. Perhaps now they would get to do the thing she’d been wanting to do from the moment she’d set foot on this ship. The excitement at the possibility had her spirits and energy rallying.
Gavin took a professorial stance as he stood in front of her. “Now, there are three sciences, or arts if you prefer, that define the core of a sailor’s life—or a pirate’s. They are seamanship, gunnery, and navigation. Each is a vital part of getting anywhere safely in a ship. Can you tell me what dead reckoning is?”
She nibbled her lip, thinking hard, but she was certain of her answer. Perhaps she could use her knowledge to her advantage somehow. As if he sensed her thoughts, Gavin spoke, his voice more seductive now than instructive.
“For every right answer you give me, I will remove one piece of my clothing,” he said. “For each incorrect answer, I will remove one piece of yours,” Gavin added with a rakish grin.
That was surprisingly motivational to Josephine. She liked the idea of seeing Gavin without his clothes, but if she lost hers she would end up tied to his bed again and something carnal would happen. While she liked that idea, she sensed that this was really about him maintaining his control somehow. He seemed to want to resist his feelings when it came to her, and she didn’t want him to control himself. If this time with him on the Pixie was all she was to have, she didn’t want either of them holding back. She needed him to lose his own control and be free with her.
“What if . . . the first one make the other lose all their clothing wins something,” she suggested with a mischievous grin.
Gavin’s eyes flared with interest. “Wins what?”
“Um . . .” She wished she knew more about lovemaking to know what would entice him. “Well . . . Whoever wins can kiss the other person wherever they want to.”
At this, Gavin’s eyes darkened. “An intriguing prize. I agree.” He held out a hand and they shook on it. “Now, to the test. Dead reckoning. What is it?”
“It’s a ship’s position from its headings and the distance traveled. It’s really a sort of educated guess that takes into account leeway and currents and other factors but is not as accurate as using a sextant or other navigational tools.”
“Correct.”
Grinning, she leaned back in her chair. Confident in herself, she pointed at his leather vest.
“Remove your waistcoat.”
He held her gaze as he unbuttoned it and slid it off, letting it fall to the floor.
“How is the position and distance traveled calculated?”
She searched her memory for those moments when she’d pestered her father about sailing. “It’s calculated by measuring the ship’s speed and adding it to the time traveled at that recorded speed,” she said hopefully.
Gavin gave a wolfish smile. “Close, but not quite. You multiply, not add.” He came toward her, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe as if deciding which part of her body he wanted to bare first. “Your boots, if you please.” He nodded at her feet. She pulled off her boots and stood barefoot before him.
“How do you use a ship’s log?” he asked.
“It’s a piece of wood . . . tied to a long strip of light cord. It’s knotted at precise intervals and the cord is wrapped around a freely rotating reel. You toss the log over the side and watch it run out from the ship’s wake. You count the number of knots that roll out from the reel against a log glass that drains sand in about twenty-eight seconds. If you count, say, six knots passing a particular spot in that amount of time for the log glass to run, you can estimate the ship at a speed of six nautical miles an hour.”
Gavin’s eyes widened. “Why . . . that’s correct.”
Josephine chuckled. “You seem surprised.”
“I am, a little. How on earth—?”
“A pirate doesn’t reveal her secrets,” Josephine declared. Of course, the answer was obvious—she’d read it in a book—but where was the fun in that if she couldn’t tease him?
He made a soft sound of disbelief in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
“Very well. Let’s make these questions harder.”
“Not so fast, Captain. You owe me a piece of clothing. Hand over your shirt, if you please.” She held out a palm and wiggled her fingers at him. He pulled the shirt over his head and handed it to her. She almost buried her face in the cloth to breathe in the scent of him, but she reminded herself to stay clearheaded if she wanted to win this game.
“How many points of sailing are on a compass?” he queried.
“Four,” she answered confidently, but when she saw him smirk, her confidence faltered. “Blast. It’s eight, isn’t it?”
“Try thirty-two,” he said. “There are four cardinal points, north, south, east, and west. Then there are cardinal half-points, northeast, northwest, southwest and southeast. The other twenty-four points are points in between, such as south-southeast or south-southwest.”
Josephine scowled at him. “That was a trick question.”
Gavin stroked his jaw, which made the muscles in his arms bulge. Lord, she liked his muscles. They made her delightfully dizzy when she looked at them.
“Pirates don’t play fair, lass.”
Then neither will I.
“Hmmm . . .” He studied her again, clearly enjoying making her restless as he pondered which bit of clothing to have her remove next. “Your trousers,” he declared, a little too smugly.
“Oh, these?” She turned away from him as she unfastened the trousers and shimmied out of them. She wore no underthings and knew she was flashing the side of her bare bottom at him. When she had stepped out of the trousers, she turned to face him. The borrowed white shirt she wore now fell down to midthigh. The look on Gavin’s face was worth the effort. His pupils nearly absorbed the brown of his eyes.
“Next question?” she prompted primly and flashed her thighs at him as she sat down upon the table.
“Minx,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “Very well. Celestial navigation. How do you accomplish it?”
“Hmm, it depends.” She frowned, but when she saw the light of triumph in his eyes, she took a strand of her hair and began twisting it in her fingers, swaying slightly, drawing him into her.
“It depends on the measuring of the angle of the sun relative to the horizon. You use a sextant to take a sighting each day at noon when the sun is at its highest point. When you know the height of the sun above the horizon, your ship’s latitude can be determined.”
“Bloody hell,” Gavin growled. “I didn’t think you’d know that.”
She walked up to him with a confident smirk and ran a hand down his chest to his belly. “I think I shall take your trousers.”
He hissed softly, catching her hand before she could touch the bulge in his trousers. “I warned you, lass,” Gavin said in a quiet, dangerous voice.
“About what?” But she knew exactly what. He’d warned her about playing with fire when they first met in Cornwall, and he was burning now. She could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t speak, so she reminded him of her command.
“Your trousers, Captain,” she said him as she leaned in, kissing him softly. He grabbed her forcefully, but without hurting her, taking control of her body. He spun her around and bent her face down over the table. He swiped a hand around her on the table, sending sea charts rolling onto the floor.
“I was winning—” she protested, but her words were silenced by the sound of his palm landing on her bare bottom.
Smack! She shrieked more from surprise than any sense of pain. He delivered a few more light smacks before he leaned over, kissed the shell of her ear, and with his free hand parted the wet folds of her sex to stroke her with his fingers.
She whimpered, unable to think coherently enough to make a sound.
“I owed you that spanking, lass,” he said as he continued to penetrate her with his fingers, moving them swiftly in and out of her. Her legs quaked as he drove her toward passion. She was both relieved and disappointed, however. She had wanted to tease him, not be teased, but he knew just how to touch her. She moaned as he stretched her with three fingers now. She was so close to—
Abruptly, he withdrew his hand and picked her up. She was turned around to face him as he set her back on the table. He cupped her face, then leaned in, kissing her leisurely for a long moment until she could only gaze up at him in wonder and desire.
“Lie back and let me show you the stars, Josie,” he said, his voice as soft and dark as the scotch she’d once stolen from her father’s liquor cabinet. It was forbidden, it burned and made her feel dizzy and wonderful. She knew in that moment that if she saw stars they would guide her back to him.
She lay back on the table, having only her shirt to cover her body.
He bent over her, spreading her thighs wide. But before she could close her legs and hide herself from his gaze, his mouth was between her legs, his lips and tongue conquering her. She had never experienced anything like this in her life. The way his tongue dragged against the most sensitive parts of her was a sensation beyond words. She closed her eyes, bathing in the glow that seemed to come from within her as she let him taste her. The pleasure built, like the growing waves of an incoming tide. And then she was flying, that exquisite pleasure a burst of stars behind her closed eyes.
She screamed as the climax hit her like a wave sweeping the decks during a squall. Gavin reached up, silencing her cry with a palm over her mouth. He licked and sucked and drew out that exquisite moment until she could take no more and lay quivering on the table beneath him.
Gavin licked his lips as he straightened. His body still leaned over hers, making her feel captive to him and the intimacy of what they’d just shared. He could do whatever he liked to her. He had full control of her body, and once again he had given her pleasure without taking any for himself. Why? Didn’t he feel what she felt when they came together? What if she wasn’t good enough, or too inexperienced for him? Perhaps he wanted a woman who knew what men liked in bed. Her lips trembled as she turned her face away and closed her legs against him out of shame and embarrassment.
“Josie?” He spoke her name with a hint of worry. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She shook her head. “Did I frighten you?” Again, she shook her head and tried to pull away from him. If he touched her now, she would know it would be out of pity.
“What have I done, lass?” His voice was rough and low.
“I’m fine. Please, just give me some time alone.”
He got up but didn’t leave the room. “No you don’t. You’re not closing yourself off from me.” He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, where he sat down with her in his lap.
“Talk to me, lass. Tell me what I’ve done.” He gently stroked the shiny strands of her hair. “I know that having a man’s mouth between your legs might be a bit shocking, especially when it’s your first time . . .”
“It’s not what you’ve done—it’s what you haven’t done.”
He looked baffled. “What haven’t I done?”
She buried her face against his neck, hiding from him. Her hopes of seducing him had come to a crashing end.
“Josie, love, what haven’t I done?” He gently rocked her, yet his tenderness only made it worse somehow. She was no brave pirate—she was only playing one like she played at everything else in her life.
“You won’t make love to me,” she finally confessed.
“Oh . . . that.” He breathed the words heavily against the crown of her hair, almost in relief.
“Am I undesirable?” she dared to ask. “Too inexperienced?”
His lips pressed soft kisses to her forehead.
“Quite the opposite. You’re too desirable, Josie. ’Tis my fault. I wanted . . .”
He halted on whatever he’d been about to say, so she pressed a kiss to his chin to encourage him to continue.
“I wanted to take my time with you. The best things in life are not rushed. They are savored.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Would you be patient with me?”
A watery laugh escaped her. “You wish for me to be patient while you take your time to seduce me?” she asked. “I thought pirates took what they wanted?”
“I am a pirate, through and through, but ’tis different with you. You aren’t like any woman I’ve ever met. Your first time in a man’s bed should have meaning to you as well as the man. Call me a romantic fool, but with you, that matters. I do not want you to come to my bed out of a need to rebel at the restraints life has put upon you. Come to me because you want me and for no other reason.”
Oh, but she did want him. If only he knew how much. She had wanted him from the moment he’d fallen beside her bed that stormy night. But she sensed he would not believe her if she told him.
“I’m not simply some prize you stole?” she asked, her cheek nuzzling his. She wanted to hear him say that he loved her madly, that he’d cross every ocean to be with her, but that was a dream likely out of her reach.
His wry chuckle made her burrow closer to him. “I think we both know that from the moment I saw you it was always more than that.” He kissed her cheek. “When I stole you from your home, I wasn’t quite prepared for what you make me feel. I don’t wish to rush into this, not with you.”
She stared up at him. His brown eyes were so warm, so soft with tenderness. Yet his face still held a hint of his piratical fierceness. He was looking at her the way she imagined a pirate would upon stumbling into a cave of golden jewels that had been hidden away from the rest of the world for more than a century. It was a look of wonder, obsession, and longing.
“How did you become a pirate, Gavin?”
He blinked at the change of topic. “Pardon?”
“I mean, I know you left home at nineteen, but how did you end up here?”
Gavin settled deeper on the bed, still holding her in his lap as he laid his head against the headboard.
“It is neither a short tale nor a happy one,” he warned, his eyes darkening with an old pain.
She stroked his face with a fingertip, tracing his lips. “Sometimes those are the stories we need to hear the most.”
He rubbed her back with his palm as if by soothing her he would soothe himself.
“When I was seventeen, I met Charity. She was the first woman I ever loved. But as you know, she choose to marry Griffin, when were nineteen and I decided to leave Cornwall. I took only a small bag of belongings to St. Ives Bay, where I booked passage on a merchant ship and sailed for the Carolinas. From there, I knew I needed work and was able to get hired aboard a private vessel. It wasn’t until we were two weeks out to sea that I learned the captain and the crew were actually pirates.”
“What? Why didn’t they tell you? I thought pirates had codes they lived by?”
“They do, but needs must, as they say. Captain Harding had lost a third of his crew to malaria a month before he hired me and the newest sailors on board. He was in dire straits, needing to replace his crew quickly to man his vessel. Pirate ships carry fewer men than navy vessels, but even they cannot get by indefinitely with a skeleton crew. Each time a pirate ship takes a prize ship, they must send men from the original ship over to the captured vessel to crew it. Harding explained to me and the others that we were now pirates, and as such we might as well officially join the crew. We would be allowed to leave at the next port if we wished, but it would be a month before we would make berth in a pirate haven.
“I was reluctant at first, but I soon realized that Harding and his crew were good men who’d been driven to desperate measures to support their families and themselves. They chose to live outside the bounds of the law, but they didn’t kill unless they had to when they captured prize ships. You have to understand, lass, pirates have more rights, more freedom, more money, and more food than most men who live on the sea. I took to pirating quite easily. Harding targeted heavily laden merchant ships that we oftentimes knew were headed our way, ships owned by wealthy merchants. He kept us clear of the Spanish and British navies. I lived that way for three years and worked my way up to being his quartermaster.”
“And how did you become captain of your own ship?”
“We plundered many good prizes from the sea, and I saved my share. I was determined to claim my own vessel one day, but none of the prizes we’d taken felt right to me. They didn’t feel like my ship. We paid a brief visit to the Carolinas in my fourth year at sea, and that’s when I saw her, the Lady Siren—or rather, the ship that was to become her.”
Josephine heard the joy in his voice, the love for the ship that would be his. She was envious. A captain’s bond with his vessel was a sacred thing, and she wished she could have seen him on his beloved ship. She had secretly longed for a ship of her own. As a woman, everything she possessed belonged to a man. The clothes on her body, the food in her belly, even the bed she slept in. What would it be like to have something that was hers and hers alone?
“The Siren had never belonged to any man. She’d never even been sailed before. She was shiny and new. The colonists have a knack for building ships that are sleek and fast. They don’t use English oak. Most are built from white oak of the north, but mine, she was made of North American live oak from the south. Few shipbuilders like to use it, but I knew the moment I stepped on her decks that her oak was superior to anything English oak could ever produce.”
He smiled as fond memories softened his rugged features. “I could almost hear the shipyard echoes. The rhythmic thuds of the shipwrights’ adzes, the clatter of hammers, and the hoarse grind of long ripsaws as they shaped the oak and spruce into frames and planking to build my beauty.”
“How did she become yours?” Josephine asked.
“I paid all of what I’d saved over the years and bartered my soul for the rest.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. It felt good to be held by him like this, to feel the warmth of his touch long after the heat of their passionate moment had cooled.
“And what of Captain Harding? Did he let you go?”
