amber in his eyes became burning embers, scorching her skin. Clamping his fingers around her neck, he led her to the door, then stalled. Grabbing the dress on top, he thrust it into her chest, without releasing her neck. “Put it on!”
Unable to bend down and step into the garment with his hand still around her throat, she stepped in with her right leg first, holding that side up. She repeated the same struggle with her left leg. His grip only tightened if she swayed. Whoever wore the dress matched her endowments in the chest area, but unlike her, they carried the same generous portions in the waist and hips and were much shorter in height. Lacing the front, she yanked it as tight as she could to close the opening, concealing her legs as best she could. Without a petticoat or stockings, they remained bare and fairly visible.
Directing her out of the cabin, he guided her down the corridor, down two small sets of steps, into a kitchen. The still, hot air made it hard to draw in a breath. Pots hung in every direction. “Bird. I’m putting a special guest back here for the time being. Not anyone, not a single soul is to enter,” he yelled out.
She scanned the area, not finding another person, nor a ‘bird’. Had he lost his mind? Could she push someone to that extreme? Her mother thought so.
“Yes, sir. I will not.” An older man hobbled out from beside some stacked barrels.
Pressing her forward, her alluring abductor opened a small door in the corner. Forcing her inside, he took her to the back wall. A set of shackles hung halfway down. Forcing her to the floor, he caught her right wrist, lifting it up and into the contraption. “No. You can’t be serious. You can’t do this,” she pleaded. His intentions clear, she panicked. Tears threatened to flow, but she refused. How dare he? Swinging her left arm, she slapped him before he caught it. “Stop it! This is wrong.”
Both hands chained, he crouched in front of her rocking back on his heels. Almost as if he took great satisfaction in his restraint of her. Holding her chin, he held her to look at him, she closed her eyes. His lips crashed onto hers, moving them over hers. He smashed them into hers roughly. After the initial surprise of him mistaking her closing her eyes for an invitation to assault her lips faded, the same warm, uncomfortable feeling surfaced. The feeling made her want to succumb to his attentions, trusting somehow that he held the secret to alleviate her unfamiliar, but heavenly discomfort.
Resting her head against the wood, she allowed him access to her mouth. The more she submitted, the more she found she liked it. He reduced his aggression, licking and sucking her top, then her lower lip. Lifting her right leg, she bent it, rubbing against him. Feeling something hard, bulging from between his legs, she opened her eyes. It stretched the material and lay up against his lower abdomen. She realized what it must be. Shoving her leg back down, she turned her face away from him. She knew about the anatomy of men but hearing and experiencing were two different things. The reality of how close she came to engaging in sex with a stranger, a pirate, distressed her.
“What’s wrong, Angel? Did you think you were the only one enjoying our interaction?” he asked.
Keeping her face turned, she didn’t have a response. She stumbled way out of her comfort zone in his presence. Her mother and the women she kept company with detested their marital obligation, what if she did too? Here she thought she wanted this, believing so anyway, but what if she hated it?
“I’m thinking you may think twice before lying to me in the future. If I was nothing but a dishonorable man, I would take it from you, not caring if you received any enjoyment. Priscilla.” Hearing him address her by name, not Angel, she turned her head back, looking at him. “When you give me the gift of your virginity, I will take it not only with my pleasure a priority, but yours as well. As I plan on repeating it.” Rising to his feet, he left her, left her to reflect on all that occurred since she left the protection of her father for a peaceful stroll on the beach that morning.
One would think he indulged in a day of rum and ale with his mates, but he couldn’t blame either on his irrational decision. He got lucky Archer didn’t call him out when he took notice of a woman on deck and the sails lifted. To make it worse, he had to go and rescue her from the crew under the watchful eye of their captain.
He needed to figure out how he planned to handle this without losing his dignity, and the respect of Archer and the men. He couldn’t blame the crew for noticing her and wishing to enjoy the sight of her. Hell, that’s what got him in this predicament to begin with.
Passing the beach, her hair caught his eye. The mass of radiant gold hung to her waist, and it sparkled in the sun. Dismounting, he snuck up in the thicket admiring her. The sea rushed her ankles and witnessing a woman of such beauty appreciating the sea, of something he loved as he did, fascinated him. Retaining it, her, dominated him. A woman never intrigued him as the sea did—until her.
Once she turned her head and he got a glimpse of the curiosity and enjoyment on her face, he wanted to be the source and reap the rewards of such gratification. He thought he appealed to her too. With her trapped in his arm at the beach, she looked into his eyes. She didn’t shrink away from him in fear. And after their encounter in the cabin, then below, she proved it. Her reception to his physical attentions fueled his desire, but he feared he stole a lady, not a local of the island, and he planned to treat her as such. To a degree. When he ridded himself of her, he hoped she held some fond memories. He knew he would.
If he couldn’t control her and her mouth, his intentions may fail. It was her choice.
Chapter 2
Fingers in her hair stirred her from a restless slumber. Her eyes flew open and she retreated pinning her back to the wall. The man from the kitchen stumbled backward landing on his bottom from a kneeling position in front of her, pulling some of her hair with him. “What are you doing?” she shrieked.
He trembled and stuttered. “I… am sorry, so sorry. Please don’t tell, Spoon. Um, the quartermaster… Master Davies. Please.”
Quartermaster? Master Davies. She figured he held a position of importance, but quartermaster? The poor old man looked more scared of her than she imagined ever being of him. “Well… answer me. What were you doing?”
Reaching behind him with shaking hands, he held out a tray with a cup of what she assumed was water, and a chunk of some form of bread. “I… I thought you may be thirsty. Hungry?”
Opening and closing her palm, she indicated she would take it, if she could. Her chains limited her range of motion, but she could touch her face so drinking shouldn’t be an issue. “Put the cup in my hand. Please.” Setting the tray down, he did as she requested, and she drained it. “Are you going to tell me why you were touching me?”
Lowering his eyes, his head followed. He clasped his hands together, wringing them in his lap. “You are… are just so beautiful. Your hair is like, like, some of the sands I seen. I apologize, Miss. Honestly, I do.”
“What is your name?”
“They call me Bird, ma’am.” Peering at her, with his head still lowered, she noticed the cloudiness in his left eye. She wondered if he lost sight in it.
“Bird? That is your birth name?”
He chuckled. “Oh no, Miss.” Unclasping his fingers, he pointed to his nose. “They call me bird because of this beak.” He chuckled again. “They claim I descended from some ancient bird form because of my large nose.”
Though she thought it rude of anyone to laugh at another’s birth given physical traits, she couldn’t help herself. His nose did remind her of a bird. She shared a laugh with Bird. He seemed harmless enough. She worried they didn’t treat him right. An elderly and fragile man, tasked with cooking for the ship, in that sweltering kitchen. “So, Master Davies is the quartermaster of this ship?” she probed.
Glancing behind him, towards the door, he lowered his voice. “This ship, the Valiant, is captained