Chapter Eight
by Paula B and CJ
17 July 1564
Lagos Portugal
Late Night
The full moon flooded the courtyard outside the small barn. Webb urged the mule forward and then backed the two-wheeled cart close to the door. He nodded to Sarah, and she rose from the stall where she and Francesca waited. Pulling the young woman away from her uncle she softly demanded, "Come on, Franny. You know this is the best way."
"I want to go with him," Francesca whispered stubbornly.
"You cannot, miss. It will only endanger him," Tronada soothed. "Please you must go with Lord Clayton and Lady Sarah. They will get you to safety. You’ve heard the crowds."
Webb crept to the end of the alley and peered down the street. He could see the smoke from the flaming torches dirty the clear night sky. The fifty or so men who had followed them out of the slave auction had managed to rouse this very poor section of Lagos into an angry mob. Chegwidden had left the pit without paying for either Beth or Francesca. He had carried a little less than 100 gold pieces. Of course with each successive telling, the fortune had grown. By the time Webb had gone to find fresh water and food at sunset, not only had they not paid for their women, but they had also stolen all of Coleiro’s previous proceeds. After buying the mule, cart, water, food, cloth to bind Martyn’s wound, and a robe to cover his finery, Webb figured they had less than 20 pieces of eight - still a sizable amount to any of the men searching for them.
He helped Tronada lay Martyn in the back of the cart and then covered the unconscious form with a dirty blanket. Then the two of them piled hay on top. Webb prayed that they left enough air space for Martyn to breathe, but he really held little hope that Chegwidden would live through the night. <<<It would be best to get Francesca away.>>> "We’ll make for the port. You get him to the Trident. Do not wait for us. There will be less chance that they will stop you, than me." He sighed. "After all, what poor man walks the streets of Lagos with two such beauties?"
Tronada grasped his arm. "Be safe my friend. Take care of these two flowers." Webb returned the gesture but just nodded his head. "Go now. We’ll wait for a while longer." He dropped his voice. "If Rabb can take control of the Gorgon then all well and good. If not, we will all set sail on the Revenge. But only one ship is to remain in port. We cannot risk the lives of so many for just us three."
"You think that they will suspect the ships?" Tronada jumped up onto the small seat.
"I don’t know anything except what I heard when I went to get the food and water. Evidently Rendendo escaped his bonds and is insisting that the local magistrate help him find who is responsible for his attack."
"Then he will be looking for me." Tronada sighed as he picked up the reins.
"What? Are you the only Moor in the city? The robe I got you should cover your garb. We have no choice. Just go. Martyn needs to be settled if he is to have any chance at all." With that Webb slapped the rump of the mule, urging it down the narrow passageway. He turned to the two women. "Ladies," he sighed. "There is only one way to do this. You will need to pose as my mistresses. Walk three steps behind me. Keep your eyes lowered and your mouths shut." He threw them both bundles of supplies. Not that they would need them, but it helped to complete the picture. "Cover your heads and follow me."
Only Francesca’s hand on her arm kept Sarah from a sharp retort. She couldn’t understand it. She had felt the emotions arc across the slave pit as he had bid on her. She had never seen such raw emotion on anyone’s face. She finally knew for certain what she had long suspected. <<<He desires me. He loves me. He would die for me. But damn him, will he talk to me?>>> In the six hours they had hidden from the rampaging crowd he had comforted Francesca. He had helped Tronada bandage the wound in Chegwidden’s side. He had disappeared for several hours, returning with the cart and donkey, a discoloring bruise already apparent under his eye. When she had tried to clean it, he had jerked away and busied himself with gathering supplies they could easily afford to leave behind them.
She had no idea what money he had offered the landlord, but from the fearful looks that the man cast their way, she was fairly certain that a threat had been made along with the bribe. Whatever it was, she didn’t know because he hadn’t spoken ten words to her directly. He held himself in such rigid control; the green eyes reminded her of Loch Awe in winter.
He finally signaled for them to follow and they slunk out by the front of the property. She and Francesca kept their heads lowered. The rough wool scratched against their faces and sweat traced down her backs. Sarah bit down the urge to scratch or pull the cloth away from her skin. Her head was pounding with anxiety and fury at Webb.
Webb allowed his instinct and senses to lead them closer and closer to the water. They hid in the shadows several times to allow roving bands of fortune seekers to pass them by. Each time, Francesca huddled with Sarah, and he stood between them and any apparent danger. Once he had to push them tight into a narrow alleyway. Francesca against the far wall, Sarah sandwiched between her and Webb. He could feel her hot breath on his neck and shuddered at the contact. She seemed to vibrate against him and he was sure it was from anger rather than any emotion he could afford to consider right now. He knew she was hurt and angry with him. But he also knew that once they were safe he would have to deliver her to London, for the Queen’s judgment. He wondered if, even now, Lord Burghley was still trying to negotiate her marriage to the boy who held the key to Protestant France.
It was nearly dawn before they found the wharfs. There was a small band of men pacing up and down, keeping an eye on the ships moored there. He pulled the two women close so he could whisper, "Watch. See the activity on the Trident?"
"Oh! They must have gotten Uncle Martyn on board. They would never leave without him." Francesca breathed thankfully. Sarah was suddenly too tired to remain angry with him and softly asked, "Did you see the activity on the Revenge?"
Her lips were so close to his that he almost succumbed to his desire to kiss her but he swallowed and nodded. "Yes. The Gorgon has already left the dock, but I don’t know if Rabb and Roberts were able to convince Palmer’s crew to set sail for England or not. I just pray that Beth is safe."
Sarah touched him lightly on the shoulder. "I’m sure Beth will be fine. I can’t explain why but she is where she needs to be, Clayton."
It was the most intimate thing she had ever said to him and it hurt him to brusquely ignore the gesture. "Come. Watch as they turn and walk toward…look there is something happening at the other end of the dock. It’s our chance." Quickly they moved between the barrels and ropes littering their path.
They almost made it.
"There! Who goes there?" The cry went up and from several streets rough looking men came pouring out toward the shout. Men rushed to the side of The Revenge shouting and waving their weapons. Clay kept between the mob and the women and two men jumped down from the ship and pushed Sarah and Francesca up the gangplank just before several men, brandishing swords and pikes reached them. Clay had his sword at the ready and was lunging and parrying at whomever got too close.
"Rabb! We have them! Don’t turn back!" Galindez roared. Clay didn’t pause to look, but even over the noise of the crowd he heard the encouragement from the other ship. Somehow Rabb had convinced the pirate crew to side with him.
"What about…" he started but her cry interrupted him.
"Take care of Sarah, Clayton! She loves you very much! You there! Move faster, man! Haul in that rope." Beth’s cry floated across the harbor. A musket shot whizzed past his cheek and he started to fall back, but Galindez’s grasp kept him standing.
"Move back up the gangplank. We’re ready to set sail." Together they moved backward. Webb stumbled twice, but managed to get within reach of outstretched hands that pulled him to safety. "Cast off the last ropes!" Galindez shouted as Webb landed on the deck.
Webb pulled off the flowing robe and started to return to the rail but soft insistent hands held him back. "Clayton! Stay here. I beg it." He pushed her back.
"Get below." He cried. "You there, get them to safety." He crawled forward to peer through the gunwales. Men were working diligently, doing what needed to be done. Several crewmen were readying the guns on this side of the ship and Webb started to help. Stupidly, he stood to shout for a fuse when he felt a sharp pain in his head. The last thing he heard was Sarah’s scream.
17 July 1564
The Trident
Late Night
The Trident set out to sea with furious winds behind it, filling the sails as the ship sped out of the harbor. The crew looked at one another in wonder, noting that no wind stirred the other ships docked at Lagos. They had experienced many strange events on the Trident, but this was by far, the strangest. Tronada had taken the captain below to his cabin, and judging from the blood, the crew feared that they carried a corpse. "That would explain the winds behind us," the men murmured to one another.
The winds began to die as they sailed beyond sight of the harbor and the other ships. The crew was surprised when Tronada sent them all below to their quarters. Tronada knew he would not need to wait long, and then he saw her. Cordelia came up through the waters, grabbing the rope as he threw it over the side. She pulled herself up, winding her tail around the rope and climbing hand over hand until she reached the deck. Tronada knew few men who could accomplish such a feat so quickly. He watched as she flung the water from her tail, then crossed himself as she began the transformation from tail to legs. As soon as she stood on the deck, he covered her with a cloak.
"Where is he?" Cordelia asked.
"Below. But there is naught to be done. The wound is severe. He is dying," Tronada was gentle as he spoke to her.
Cordelia stated defiantly, "Nay, he will not die." She followed Tronada below. When she entered the room, Martyn opened his eyes. Without a word from Tronada, she walked to the bed and began to peel the bandage off the wound.
<<<She knew where his wound was! But how? I did not tell her and Martyn did not speak a word.>>> Tronada marvelled.
"I will need fresh water and some of your rum," Cordelia said brusquely to Tronada. He left quickly and returned with a flagon of rum and a basin of water. Cordelia began to flush the wound with the water, then poured the liquor over it. Tronada watched as she tended Martyn. Tronada was amazed at what she did next.
Placing her hand into the wound, Cordelia leaned over Martyn and began to whisper. It seemed to soothe the man, and he rested quietly. <<<He is either healing or dying.>>> Tronada thought. When Cordelia removed her hand, he could see that the muscles knit together. <<<The wound became merely a flesh wound in a matter of minutes!>>> Tronada was confused. This woman both frightened and fascinated him as she healed Martyn before Tronada's eyes. Her hand lay upon the flesh long enough to stop the bleeding. When she lifted her hand, Martyn slept peacefully, color replacing the pallor in his face.
"There are many who know of his wound, so I must leave this much. It will heal as any cut." Cordelia smiled, "He will live."
"How did you do that? That's impossible!" Tronada exclaimed.
Cordelia crossed her arms. '''Tis not impossible, for I have just done it. It is a gift some of my people have, to heal. And mine is a far better treatment than those leeches and bloodlettings your doctors perform. Balancing the humors. Barbarians and madmen."
Tronada stared at her. "I thought you had come to claim him. He has made me promise to hurl him into the sea within an hour of his death, you know."
"I know he wishes it. And I am glad that he can trust you to do such a thing. I am more grateful than you will ever know. But now is not the time, he will live many more years. He is a strong man," Cordelia said, he fingers wiping across Martyn's brow. He smiled in his sleep.
"I will leave you alone with him and take the men on deck. Is there anything else you require?" Tronada asked.
"Only a pitcher of seawater every eight hours and some food for Martyn when he awakes," Cordelia whispered. "After he awakes, I will swim during the night. I will need you to make sure I am not seen as I leave the ship and return."
Tronada nodded, realizing for the first time that she meant to stay with him for the voyage. He noticed she had not asked for food for herself, and queried, "Will you eat as well?"
Cordelia shook her head, "If I eat your food I can never return to my home. But your offer is kind. Thank you."
Cordelia remained awake until Tronanda brought her a pitcher of seawater. She lay on the blanket as her legs became a tail. Then she placed a spare blanket over her tail and poured the water over it, wetting her scales before she fell asleep on the floor next to Martyn's bunk. She knew she would awake when he did, sensing his thoughts just as she had sensed his pain earlier.
18 July 1564
The Trident
Early Morning
Martyn stirred on the bed, shaking his head. <<<Such a dream I have dreamed. Francesca stolen away by pirates and Cordelia here aboard my ship.>>>
'''Twas no dream, my love. I am here, and your niece is safe aboard the Revenge," Cordelia whispered, stretching her tail into the air. Martyn watched, mesmerized as the shimmering scales faded away, leaving pale, supple flesh behind. Cordelia stood beside the bed, lifting the blanket to check Martyn's wound. "I hope it isn't healing too fast. Too many people know you were wounded, you need to have some wound left when we arrive in Cornwall."
Chuckling, Martyn said, "I've never had anyone worry about me healing too fast. But I think it's a valid point. There's no pain at all."
"True, but you have lost much blood." Cordelia wriggled her nose, "And you stink. You may be well, but you wear the smell of death, still. The blood, the sweat. Your friend will arrive soon with some water for me. I believe I shall use some of it to bathe you."
As if on cue, Tronada knocked. "Enter," Martyn called gruffly from the bed. Cordelia pulled the cloak around her.
The Moor opened the door quietly, and seemed shocked to see Martyn pulling himself up into a sitting position. He nodded gratefully to Cordelia and grinned at his captain. "You are more well than any dying man I have ever known."
"I'll not be dying for some time yet, thank you. But I understand I smell rather rank," Martyn laughed.
"Aye, sir, that would be true," Tronada nodded. "But not nearly as bad as a corpse would smell."
"I can take care of that, if you would be so kind as to bring some fresh bedding. And then I suspect he'll be ready for something to eat. Oh, and some sort of small cloth," Cordelia said, directing her words to Tronada, who pulled a folded square of muslin from his pocket and handed it to her.
"I'll tell the cook to fix him something before I pick up the bedding. Is there anything else you need?" Tronada asked. When Cordelia shook her head, the Moor turned to Martyn and asked, "What would you like Captain? A broth?"
"Oh, no, Tronada. Broth is for children and invalids. Save the broth and bring me some beef and a slice of bread," Martyn growled.
Tronada could not help but smile as he replied, "Aye, sir."
Cordelia dipped the corner of the muslin into the water and began to wipe the sweat off his brow. Martyn grinned as she stripped him and began to wash his body. "Aye, we could," Cordelia responded to his thoughts, "But what would your mate think when he returns in a few moments? I can hear him outside already."
Tronada knocked again, opening the door as Martyn called out, "Enter." In his arms he carried fresh sheets and a blanket, as well as a second pitcher of water, which he placed carefully on a small table near the door.
Cordelia stared at Martyn, then asked, "Can you stand, my love?" Tronada grinned as she called Martyn 'my love.'
Martyn flashed a glare at both of them, then flung his legs over the side of the bunk, standing naked in the cool room. Tronada gasped. The wound had healed more as Martyn slept. It was nearly gone now.
Cordelia tossed the soiled bedding on the floor of the cabin, then took the fresh sheets from Tronada's arms, spreading them across the bed and tucking them neatly in. "How do you know how to do that?" Tronada asked. Cordelia turned to find both men staring at her.
"I know how to make a bed. When the plagues came, some time back, I went with my friend Rive to the Sisters of Wisdom. We both have the hand of healing, and we did what we could. That is when Rive decided to stay at the convent and became Sister Marie Rive. She has been there almost two hundred years. The nuns think it is a miracle. They asked her to be the mother superior, but she refused. She knows that she will live for some time yet, and feels it would not be good to have the convent under her authority for such a long period," Cordelia explained.
"One of your kind is a holy sister?" Tronada was shocked.
Laughing, Cordelia nodded. "She is indeed. In fact, a number of my kind have given up the sea and taken holy vows with the Sisters of Wisdom. They have many convents along the coast of France and Spain. The sisters welcome them, although I suspect they do not realize from where my people come. The convents are wonderful places and the use of the gifts of my people is usually seen as a miracle."
Martyn smiled as Tronada shook his head and made the sign of the cross. Cordelia patted the clean bed, and Martyn sat, lifting the sheet to cover his nakedness. There was a knock, and Tronada motioned for Cordelia to step behind the door as he opened it. Martyn lay back on the bed. Tronada took the tray of food and closed the door with his foot. The smell of beef filled the room as he carried the tray to the bed.
"How long do your people live, if I may presume to ask?" Tronada said hesitantly.
Cordelia smiled, "My kind live for hundreds of years. My grandmother is more than two thousand years old."
"How old are you?" the Moor asked.
Martyn grinned as Cordelia blushed. "I am a little more than five hundred years old. Young, by the reckoning of my people, but ancient by those of your kind." She sighed, "But it doesn't seem to bother Martyn."
"Leave us, Tronada. I will put the dishes outside the door when I have eaten," Martyn dismissed him making it clear he did not wish to be disturbed again.
As Cordelia watched Martyn eat, she retrieved the pitcher and transformed her legs. She covered her tail with the blanket, pouring the water along the ridge.
"Cori, if I die an old man before I come to you, what will you do? You may be more than five hundred years old, but clearly you age more slowly than I do. Are you sure that you will want me to come to you if I am old?" Martyn asked sadly.
Cordelia sighed, "We have spoken of this before, my love. It will not matter. 'Tis you I love, and so long as you are you, then I shall love you." With that, Cordelia raised her tail, stretching as it became legs once more, then stood and removed the tray. She carried it to the door, listened for anyone outside, then opened the door and quickly slid the tray outside into the dimly lit hallway. She closed the door quietly behind her.
"Now my love. Are you sure you are up to what you were thinking about earlier?" She dropped the cloak Tronada had given her the night before.
Martyn grinned as he pushed the sheets away from his body, "I am up for a good deal more, and I suspect I shall feel even better before the day is over."
Cordelia approached Martyn, running her fingers over his chest and down his torso. "I see you are certainly up for something," she whispered before her lips closed over his erection. Martyn wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her to the bed, parting her legs and placing kisses on her thighs. She squirmed against his body, pressing against him. He relished the caress of her lips on his cock, revelled in the brush of her hard nipples against his belly. Cordelia moaned as his tongue explored her, circling her clit before dipping inside her. Her moans sent tremors through his every nerve ending as her wet mouth and hot breath travelled over him. She ran her fingers up his thighs, cupping his testicles in her hands and squeezing them gently. His tongue touched her clit again and she shuddered against him, climaxing just as he came, his low groan rolling over her body.
Martyn pulled Cordelia back, lifting her up. His hands ran over her breasts and she leaned back against him, sliding down his body. Martyn held her, marvelling at the coolness of her flesh against the heat of his muscles. He lifted her hair to kiss the back of her neck and a shiver ran down her spine. His fingers traced her vertebrae, and she arched her back to his touch, then turned to face him. He traced her jawline, then ran his hand down her neck. His eyes fell upon her breasts and he circled her aureolae, tracing their dark rims before he lowered his lips upon her flesh. He flicked his tongue over one nipple, bringing it to a stiff peak, then began suck her breast, making the other nipple rise hard against his tongue. Cordelia moaned as his hand played over her belly and his finger slipped into her slick wetness, plunging inside her just as had he had done earlier. Martyn's thumb pressed gently against her clit, strumming against her burning nub as she writhed in his arms.
Cordelia felt his hardness against her thigh and whispered, "You are feeling fine, indeed, my love." She wrapped her fingers around his cock and wriggled under him, taking him inside in a fluid motion. Martyn sighed as he felt her tight walls closing around him and thrust deeper. She met each movement, crashing into his body with the rhythm of the waves. He lifted himself above her and she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, then pulled herself against him, pressing her body against his. He felt her shuddering as he exploded. He felt her flesh warm where he had spilled inside her and ran his hand over her belly.
"It fascinates, you, doesn't it, my love," Cordelia whispered. "The way you make me warm inside amazes you almost as much as my tail."
Martyn grinned and nodded, "Aye, my love. Everything about you fascinates me. I know that your body is cool all the time; that is how you can stand the cold of the ocean. To feel that warmth inside you and know it is my seed that gives you such heat, it awes me. And your tail, well, I have never know another of your kind, so it is different, beautiful, all shimmering in the light. Sometimes it seems to glow. When you change forms, I always wonder at which point does it turn from one into the other, but I can not tell the precise moment, no matter how many times I watch. I can not feel it, even when my hand touches you. ''Tis strange and beautiful, and it does excite me."
"I feared, at first, it would repulse you," Cordelia said quietly.
"I know. You tried to hide it, and it made me all the more entranced." Martyn kissed her. "I love you, and I matters not to me if you have tail or legs."
Cordelia grinned slyly, "''Tis true, you rather like them both."
They were quiet for a moment, and then Martyn spoke, "You have never come aboard my ship before. Even when you healed Tronada, I brought him to that cavern in Spain. It seems strange to be with you here, in my bed."
"I had to come to you. I knew Tronada would bring me aboard, but he does not know our secret places, so he could not bring you to me. He sent the men to their beds so they would not see. Then he put a rope over the side for me to climb. He brought that cloak for me to wear, though none would see me but you and him." Cordelia smiled, "Although I think that was as much for you as for anything else. I know it bothers you that others might see me naked. But that is a natural state for my people." She laughed, "Although it is for yours as well. Even when you are warm, you wear clothes. It seems very strange to me."
"Your kind wear seal skins in the northern climes," Martyn chided.
"For warmth, not modesty!" Cordelia protested with a smile. Martyn kissed her and they lay side by side in silence.
"He thought you were dying," Cordelia said quietly.
Martyn looked at her thoughtfully before he spoke, "I do believe I was, until you healed me."
"Yes, I fear you would have died. You had lost much blood. You are still pale," Cordelia grinned, "Although not weak." Martyn laughed, and Cordelia continued, "He thought I had come to claim you. He told me that you made him promise to bring you to me within the hour of your death. He does not understand, but he would have done it. He is a good man. I am glad you have such a friend. Although he is not quite sure what to think of me."
"He calls you my guardian spirit," Martyn said with a chuckle.
"A spirit?" Cordelia laughed. "He will be rethinking that idea after bringing me aboard last night. He held the rope while I climbed aboard and lifted me over the railing. He should know better than to think I am a spirit."
"How did he contact you?" Martyn asked.
Cordelia held Martyn's gaze, then chided, "He did not need to call me, I felt your wound when it was given, just as I felt your blood draining from your body. I only hoped I was not too late."
"I am sorry to have caused you such pain," Martyn said sadly.
"Pain and joy go hand in hand when one loves," Cordelia whispered. She climbed over his body, straddling him. "And now I am ready for a little more of that joy." She reached for his shaft, rubbing it against her sex before impaling her body. Martyn shuddered as he slipped inside, surrounded by her soft flesh. The suddenness of her action surprised him, and he lost control as she pulsed over him. Cordelia felt the tremors in his thighs and watched the muscles of his stomach ripple like waves as she felt his heat inside her once more. He reached to feel the warmth through her belly, then rubbed his thumb over her clit as she continued to ride him. He watched her breasts rise and fall and waited for her to arch her back and cry out. He met her lips with a kiss before she could voice her pleasure and they fell against the bed together.
19 July, 1564
The Revenge
Late Afternoon
Anxiously watching her Uncle Martyn's ship, Francesca refused to leave the deck. Even the crew had retired, save the barest skeleton crew. Captain Galindez steered the ship into the horizon, glancing at his beautiful charge from time to time. In the heat of the afternoon sun, Francesca had finally succumbed to sleep. Galindez motioned to the man on watch to take the wheel and slipped away to carry Francesca below. He was using the first mate's cabin. It was smaller with just a bunk and a small table and chair, but she could rest there. She stirred briefly in his arms, frightened at first. He whispered, "You are safe, Fran. It’s Victor."
Francesca whispered, "I don't want to go below. It scares me. What if one of the men --"
"None of my men would dare lay a finger on you. But I am taking you to the cabin that I am using. It will be cool and quiet and no one will disturb you there. You need to rest," Victor reassured her. Francesca leaned against his shoulder and fell back into slumber before he had time to place her gently on his bunk.
19 July, 1564
The Revenge
Evening
Galindez left the wheel in the hands of his first mate while he took some time to eat. He checked on Lady Sarah and Lord Webb in his cabin, and found them both asleep. Going into the galley he filled a trencher with food. He placed it, with a bottle of wine, on a tray. <<<I'll eat in the cabin, the quiet will do me good.>>> He remembered Francesca sleeping in his bed, and opened the door quietly. The noise did not disturb her. <<<Poor thing. What an ordeal this has been for her.>>>
The captain sat at his table and poured a glass of wine. The food was good, a meaty beef stew with vegetables and bread that was still fresh, baked the morning of the escape. He turned to look at Francesca, only to find her gazing quietly at him. "I did not mean to wake you," he said quietly. "I will leave you in peace," he added, remembering how frightened she had been. He stood quickly and walked toward the door.
"You did not wake me," Francesca whispered from the bed. Images from her dream flittered through her mind. <<<Could it truly be like in my dream?>>> She looked into those eyes that she knew so well from her visions. "You do not need to leave."
Galindez stopped at the sound of her voice and turned when she spoke again. "I do not want to disturb you," he murmured.
Francesca looked around the cabin. "How long have I been asleep?" she finally asked.
Walking to the chair, Galindez sat again. "Several hours. It is dark now. Are you hungry?"
"No, not hungry." Francesca wrinkled her nose. "But I would appreciate a drink of your wine."
Galindez picked up the glass from the table, poured more Madeira into it, then held it out to Francesca. Her hand trembled as she placed it over his on the glass, pulling his hand near her face. She took a sip of wine and looked into his eyes. He was entranced. <<<It is as if she can see inside my soul.>>> He looked down. <<<If she could see inside my soul, she would know what I want. And that would frighten her, after what she has been through.>>>
Sighing quietly, Francesca held back the tears. <<<He knows. He may not think me a whore, but he doesn't want me. He can not even bear to look at me. He is not like my dream.>>> Her lip quivered and the tears began to fall. She wiped her hand across her face, to hide the tears. The motion caught his attention and he looked at her once more.
Seeing the tears concerned the man. He fell forward out of the chair on his knees. "What is it, Francesca? Why do you cry?" he asked. One arm went around her shoulders and the other placed the wineglass on the floor, then held both her hands in his grip.
Francesca shook her head and pushed him away. "I do not want your pity. There is nothing you can do."
"If I could take you back to before they captured you, before they hurt you, I would. But I can not change what has happened," Galindez whispered hoarsely. <<<I would change so much.>>> His arm went around her protectively, and this time she did not push him away as he sat beside her on the bed.
"I know there is no going back." Francesca stopped crying and her voice grew steady, "But I don't want men to look at me with such pity. Or to look away, as you do. But I supposed that is the best I can expect, after what has happened, and I shall simply have to learn to face it." She looked him squarely in the eye.
This time Galindez did not lower his eyes. "I did look away, but not for the reason you think," he said. "I saw those men looking at you hungrily. I saw how much they frightened you. I looked away because I did not want you to think me like them."
Francesca stared at him. "Why would I think you like them? They were beasts and cruel." A bitter laugh escaped with a sigh. "They wanted me."
"I want you. From the moment I saw you. Even before I saw you at the slave market," Galindez spoke, his lips close to her ear.
Something about his statement haunted her. <<<The moment you saw me, before the slave market.>>> She remembered her dreams. "I saw you before the slave market, too," she whispered.
"What? What did you see?" Galindez asked.
"I saw you." Francesca swallowed and continued, "You loved me, and nothing else mattered."
Galindez felt a shudder run through his body. "Then you are not afraid of me?" he mouthed, barely able to speak.
"Afraid of you? You rescued me! My Uncle Martyn and Tronada trust you with my safety. How could I be afraid of you?" Francesca gasped.
Galindez held her, speaking low, "I thought that after you had been hurt that all men would frighten you."
"You are not all men, Victor," Francesca looked into his eyes and spoke with confidence. "And I am not afraid."
Cupping Francesca's face in his hands, he kissed her. She met his lips with hers, her tongue running over his lips before exploring farther. He held her until she pulled away. <<<I have scared her.>>>
Francesca began to unbutton his shirt, and he stared in disbelief as she touched his chest. She was less certain as she reached for his breeches, and his hands closed over hers to lower the leather pants over his hips. It surprised him when she laughed, but then she pointed to his boots and he understood and laughed as well. She pulled one of his heavy leather boots off and he removed the other. He watched as her eyes roved over his body, appreciating his strong shoulders, muscled chest, and taut stomach. She reached for him, but he caught her hand. "Wait, slowly," he said. He leaned her back on the bed, lifting the muslin shift over her head as she lay back. He sensed she was tense and rubbed her shoulders gently before allowing his hands to rove over her body. He touched her breasts, cupping them gently in his hands, barely touching her nipples. He could feel her flesh respond, hardening under his caress. She began to spread her legs to either side of his body, and he leaned back. His hands slid over her hips and down her legs, lifting her ankles to his mouth. He kissed one and then the other.
Galindez could see the last vestiges of the bruises, darker patches of skin against her pale flesh. Anger flashed through his mind. <<<The beast.>>> He pushed the thought aside. <<<Be careful of the bruises, but otherwise don't think about them.>>> He reminded himself. He kissed ankles again, his lips moving up to her knees as he lifted her legs to his shoulders. He held her hips in his hands, softly caressing them, then gently stroked the soft folds of her sex. He felt her hot, wet center and she gasped as he dipped his finger inside. He paused, making sure he had not hurt her, then slid another finger inside. With his other hand, he found her clit and rubbed it gently. She gasped again and moaned, but this time he knew it was from pleasure. A smile flickered across her face as she struggled for breath in the midst of such pleasure. When he knew she was ready, he lowered his body carefully over her, placing the tip of his penis just inside her entrance, and thrust gently, slowly as he slid into her an inch at time.
This was not what she had expected. <<<This can not be. This feels so...so good.>>> Francesca moaned and called his name softly. He felt her breath tingle against his ear as her walls closed around him. He moved, his body brushing against her clit and felt her quivering response. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him inside, squeezing him so tightly, he could hold back no longer. The tremors of his climax rumbled through her body as she shuddered against him.
Galindez held her, rolling onto his side so his weight wouldn't crush her or make her feel pinned down. <<<Nothing to remind her of what happened.>>> He needn't have worried. She lay beside him, her breath hot against his chest.
"Is it always like that?" Francesca asked.
"It should be," Galindez whispered. The slow, regular rhythm of her breathing told him she had fallen asleep in his arms.
20 July, 1564
The Revenge
Late afternoon
She knew every knot in every plank in the cabin’s floor. The spider in the corner had been named Lady Walden at first, but as day descended into night and the bright dawn woke her three times, she grew more and more fond of the ugly thing and renamed it McDoughal after her father’s oldest friend. Yesterday morning she had demanded thread and needle and mended the tear in the corner of the curtain. Francesca would come in to keep her company, but Sarah knew the girl’s heart lay elsewhere. It was totally unacceptable, of course, but she hoped that the girl’s father would approve. She liked the captain of the Revenge. It had been especially nice that he had given up his cabin so that she could tend Clayton.
Tears threatened but she brushed them aside. For three days and nights he had either lain there deathly still or thrashed in throws of horrible nightmares. She touched the bruise on her cheek. He hadn’t meant it, of course. He had been fighting Wallace and Palmer for her. She prayed he would wake. His fever soared and broke and soared again. The musket ball had grazed his head just above his temple. A bit one way and he would dead, and she realized that she couldn’t stand that thought. Sighing deeply, she picked up the bowl of fresh water that one of the men had brought a while ago and sat it on the stool next to the bunk. Sitting down next to him, she rang out the cloth and began to wipe his brow. At least the fever was down again. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to listen to his confession again. She clenched her jaw to keep the tears at bay.
He loved her. He wanted her. He had said so last night when, in the throws of his delirium, he thought Palmer had killed her. Before this trip she couldn’t image what dark awful things he must see in his travels for Elizabeth. Now the ugliness of the world was clear to her.
She ran the cool rag across his bare chest. The black doublet had been shed. Galindez himself had carried Clay down to the cabin. The white undershirt shirt had been soaked with his blood and that too had been discarded. What did she care for propriety when she wasn’t sure he was going to live. A light sheet covered him from mid chest down. She had seen men’s bare chests before, but this was the only one she could remember that she wanted to touch.
Sarah gently wiped the sweat from his chest. His body shook and he groaned. This time though there was a decided difference in the timbre. Her breath caught as his lips moved. She dipped the rag again, squeezed out the excess water and held it to his lips. Greedily he sucked at the moisture.
"Clay? Can you hear me?" She whispered. Fully expecting another groan or a hoarse whispered plea, she turned to wet the cloth again. This time when she brought the cloth to his mouth she found herself falling into deep green pools. For the first time since they had carried him down to the captain’s cabin, his eyes were clear and focused. She gasped and started to stand to call for Galindez but his hand snaked out from under the cover and grabbed her wrist.
"Sarah?"
"Oh, Clay. Are you really awake?"
He pulled her until she was sitting next to him. "Where?" The word cost him much.
She raised their hands until her lips could touch his fingers. "Let go for a minute my love." Her intimate endearment shocked and thrilled him and he loosed his fingers. She filled a heavy gold goblet with water and returned to hold it to his lips. "Slowly, Clay." Never taking his eyes from her face, he took some of the cooling liquid. Some of the water ran down his chin to pool in the hollow of his throat. Sarah stared at it for a long moment wanting to lower her lips and lap it up.
"Where are we?" He took her free hand and laced his fingers with hers.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. "The Revenge, Clayton. Do you not remember? You saved us, Clay, you and Captains Galindez and Chegwidden. We are all safe because of your bravery, though both you and Captain Chegwidden nearly died in the rescue."
Webb closed his eyes as the memories crowded in on him. Reaching up he lightly touched the bandage around his head. "How?"
She reminded him of the fight on the dock. She told him about the bullet that nearly took his life. Assured him that Fran was safe aboard the Revenge. She smiled as she told him of being able to look across the water and see Beth standing next to Rabb on the bridge of the Gorgon. "I swear it, Clay, she looks like she is home there."
"You think she is safe though?" He groaned as every ache and pain fully awoke.
"I think she is very safe." She cringed as she watched the pain skitter across his features. She was glad her hands were occupied because she wanted nothing more than to soothe the muscles bunching across his chest.
He strained to sit up, but the near blinding pain held him against the mattress. "Damn me, I feel like a herd of wild ponies has danced across my body."
"You were very sick, Clayton." She whispered. She would not tell him of his nightmares or the hard words he had spoken. "You’ve eaten nothing in four days. I’ll go tell Fran and Captain Galindez you are awake and see if I can get you something edible." She ran out of the cabin and was relieved to see the cabin boy coming down with a tray. "He’s awake. Please go into him and help him in any way you can."
"Of course, Lady Sarah." The boy smiled. He really liked her. She had spoken kindly to him each time he brought her food or water.
Sarah found Galindez and Fran, as always, together at the helm of the ship. Galindez was pointing to something to the starboard side. Glancing to where he pointed Sarah gasped in surprise. She had heard tales of the giant fish, but had never expected to see one, let alone so many. Spouts of water shot high in the air, catching the last of the dying light. Fran dressed a pair of fawn trousers and flowing white shirt, stood so close to the pirate that if she looked up at him, he could kiss her by tilting his head just a breath. An easy camaraderie had grown between the two and Sarah prayed that all would be well for them.
"Ah, it must be very good news by the look on your face, Lady Sarah." Galindez gently moved Fran away from him. "He wakes?"
"Oh yes. Please, I would like to feed him something. Something very light, captain. I didn’t stop to see what the boy brought me for supper, but if you could have the cook make a broth?"
"Billy!" Galindez moved to the rail overlooking the deck.
"Aye, cap’n." The wizened sailor looked up from where he was working on some rope.
"See if Cookie made that broth like I asked."
"Aye-aye, cap’n." The old man carefully put chore aside.
"Thank you, captain and…" She hesitated to ask. Water was precious on a seafaring vessel. The smell of the crew attested to that. "Perhaps another pitcher of water?"
"Of course, my lady." Galindez grinned. "Billy."
"I’ll get the boy to bring other pitcher, cap’n." Billy grumbled. Women on board were bad enough but these two brought strange ideas with them. In Billy’s opinion if God wanted you clean then he would make it rain.
When Sarah returned to the cabin, the cabin boy was helping Clay back into the bunk. "What did you do?" She cried. Water from the pitcher splashed as she slammed it down on the table.
Webb glared at her as he slowly pulled the covers over his hips. She blushed as she realized what the boy was carrying out. Before she could say anything else the door swung open and the ship’s cook brought in a large covered tureen. "Made this special for his lordship, miss. Good hearty beef broth. We picked up the side from Lagos ‘fore all the troubles broke out. Cap’n tries and gets the men some good grub least once a trip."
She let him put the heavy crock down and waited until he left before she dipped a heavy mug into it. Wiping it clean she carried it over to the bed. "Can you manage to sit for a bit, Cl…Lord Clayton?" She bit her lip and refused to look at him. She tried to hold the mug to his lips standing but couldn’t manage the angle.
"Wouldn’t that be easier if you sat back down, Lady Sarah?" He grinned at her discomfort. He was feeling much better now that he had emptied his bladder and stretched a bit.
"I…it wouldn’t…I shouldn’t…" She stammered.
"You were here with me the whole time, weren’t you?" He whispered.
"The cabin boy told you that!" She gasped.
"No. The boy said nothing except how much he admired you." Webb positioned himself so that he was as far from the edge as he could manage. "Please, Sarah. I would try to do it myself but I fear I am too weak." He lied.
"Oh. Well, of course." She wanted to admit that she wasn’t some shy blushing maiden. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hold him until they both slept. She had done that yesterday when he was in the throws of yet another nightmare. The memory of the way his hard body had felt against hers made her blush. Taking a deep breath she carefully balanced her hip on the bunk and held the mug to his lips. She was thankful that she hadn’t filled the cup full because the way her hands were shaking she was sure she would scald him. She watched as his mouth held the lip of the cup and wished that she were the cup. It didn’t help to drop her gaze to his chest. No that was a very bad idea. Resolutely she raised her eyes to meet his and saw amusement and fear there.
His hands came to cover hers, steadying them. He sipped some of the steaming broth but he didn’t taste it. Didn’t feel the heat soothe his throat. Nor did he notice that the headache was gone. All he heard was his heart pounding in his chest. All he felt was her soft skin and her heartbeat that seemed to match his own. He wasn’t sure how he did it but he took the cup from her hands and placed it on the stool next to the bed. Never breaking eye contact with her, he took her hands and pulled her closer. Closer until her lips hovered near his. "You stayed with me the whole time. You never left me. Was it a dream, sweet Sarah? Or, did you really hold me last night."
She couldn’t have answered him if she had tried. She closed the gap and pressed her lips against his. She had meant it to be just a brushing of lips, but a wild passion overtook her and she pressed closer. Pressed his hands to her breasts. As he released her fingers his hands cupped her firm orbs for just a moment before encircling her, drawing her tight against him. His mouth parted and his tongue demanded entrance and she could not deny it. Two years of careful flirtation and two weeks of fear and uncertainty evaporated in that kiss.
His groan broke the spell and she pulled back in fear. "Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"
"Oh, my dearest Sarah." He laughed softly. "Hurt. Nay. Come here." He reached for her but a brusque knock on the door made her stand up instead.
"Come in;" her voice was a harsh rasp.
Galindez strode into his cabin and eyed the prone flustered Webb and the red-faced Lady Sarah. Hiding his smile he gruffly cleared his throat. "You are feeling better, Webb?"
"Yes. Actually, quite a bit better I should judge, though the boy told me I was out for nearly four days."
"Si. And the lady got very little sleep during that time."
It was Webb’s turn to blush. "Sarah?"
"I slept very well." She met their disbelieving looks. She pointed to the large overstuffed chair in the corner. "That is very comfortable, Captain, as you well know."
"Si, senorita. It is very comfortable, but only if you use it. But twice I checked on you and twice I found you in that chair." He pointed to the heavy oak straight back chair. "Your head resting against the mattress." He did not tell them that he had found the two of them in a close embrace earlier that morning. Webb’s head had been resting on her breast, his arm thrown carelessly across her stomach. "You will allow me to provide you with a pair of my trousers and a shirt as I have Miss Chegwidden?"
Sarah looked down at the thin muslin gown she had worn at the slave auction. It was beginning to smell but the thought of wearing men’s clothes was somewhat shocking. "Very well, Captain Galindez, you are very kind."
"No, senorita. If I were kind I would stop in Marsailles and buy you and Fran dresses worthy of such beauty." He sighed. "But Francesca will not stand to lose sight of the Trident. She is very worried." He sighed again and went to stand at the aft windows. "Try as we can, I cannot bring the ship closer than a league away from her uncle’s ship. The Trident is the fastest ship afloat. But…" He pointed to the ship just off their starboard side. "The Gorgon is not as fast as The Revenge."
"It would be dangerous to try and transfer her anyway, would it not?" Clay demanded.
"Oh no. We would send her in a very sturdy boat, but it would take all afternoon. Tronada has signaled that he will not slow for anything. Which is a good thing. We are still three days out of England and storm clouds are building to the south. If they overtake us it will slow us even more."
He turned and walked to the bunk. Picking up the mug still half full of broth he hand it to Webb. "Drink this. You have fresh water. Clean yourself and shave. I will escort Lady Sarah to the cabin where Francesca is sleeping. Lady Sarah can clean and change there. Have no fear. No man on this ship will hurt her."
She was thrown from the bunk in the first mate’s cabin. Standing, she looked around wildly. At first she thought she was back on the Gorgon, Palmer’s prisoner. She finally remembered coming here to bathe and change into the soft trousers and shirt. She had meant only to lie down for a moment but she must have fallen asleep. Pushing open the cabin door she heard the muffled but still loud roaring of the wind. She stumbled down the corridor until she reached the hatch to the deck.
She was immediately soaked to the skin. Her hair plastered to her face and she could barely see three feet in front of her. She knew she had to turn around, but just as she did a large wave crashed over the bow and she was thrown away from the safety of the bow structure. She couldn’t see and she blindly reached out, praying she would be able to grab hold of the mast. The ship lurched again and she fell to the deck.
Clay was sitting in the comfortable chair staring at the flame in the lantern swinging widely from it hook. He felt much better but wished that Sarah were here with him. Francesca had come and sat with him for a little but when the storm kicked up she had wanted to be closer to Galindez. Webb just hoped that the pirate had locked her in her cabin. Hopefully with Sarah, at least until the storm played out.
Even though he hadn’t been very sleepy a moment ago, he felt his eyes grow heavy and they had just closed when he was seized by a vision. He saw her thrown from the bunk, watched in fear until she picked herself up. As soon as her hand touched the latch of the door the fear grew. "No!" He cried. He was out of the chair instantly and at the door before he realized that he wore only a pair of breeches. He didn’t dare turn back though and pushed the startled cabin boy out of the way. He climbed the three steps leading to the hatch and put his shoulder to it. Water streamed down into the corridor and he vaguely heard the boy cry, "are ye daft, yer lordship!"
He was just in time to see the wave crash over her, sending her tumbling toward the rail. He threw himself toward her, but he missed her. Crawling on his hands and knees he struggled closer, but she was rolling dangerously close to the side. He prayed she could hold on. Prayed that he could save her. Swore he would follow her over the edge if it came to that. Taking a deep breath he bellowed, "Sarah!"
She was almost paralyzed by fear now. She could barely breathe and when she did it seemed like she was inhaling water. The only thing she saw was the dark outline of the rail, the only thing she heard was the howling of the wind. Her foot sharply hit something but instead of jerking away from it she struggled to gain a foothold. Anything to brace against. She arched around and saw him stretching toward her. Her other foot managed to make contact with the hard surface and she pushed off of it, reaching out her hand to him. She shouldn’t have reached him. She knew they were too far apart but she felt someone push her toward him and their fingers, then their hands finally locked together.
There was so much water everywhere he couldn’t see anything but her reaching for him. To the day he died he would remember the way she practically threw herself at him. On his deathbed he would finally remember the bright green tail as it disappeared over the side. But at this moment he had no other thought but to get them to safety. Clutching her to him, he rolled them toward the closest wall – whatever wall that was. He didn’t pray often but now he did and as if in answer to his plea the ship pitched again and they were hurled against a gangway door. Struggling to stand he managed to get it open and push her through into the corridor leading back to the captain’s cabin.
"Cor’ yer lordship. Let me help ye."
"Get back to your pallet, boy. I’ve got her now."
"Ya need anything, sir?"
"No go on now, get to safety."
"Aye, sir."
She was coughing and crying and clutching at him. Her shirt was torn and tattered but she didn’t care. He gently pushed her into the cabin and over to the bed. "No. I’ll get it all wet." She cried and sank to the floor burying her head in her knees.
Now that the danger was over and she was safe with him a blinding rage struck him. "What in God’s name were you thinking woman!" He bellowed.
His fury jerked her out of her misery and she glared up at him. "I thought you were in danger, I had to get to you."
"I was where you left me. Damn it all, Sarah! I nearly lost you, again." He sank to his knees beside her. Gripping her by the forearms he pulled her until she was crushed to him, her face inches from his. "I could not have saved you this time, Sarah. We would have died in the sea."
Her eyes widened at his admission and her heart began to pound again. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain some little bit of control. "You did save me, Clayton. But…"
His anger spent, he released her and pulled himself to his feet. Pulling a blanket off the bed he held it out to her. She didn’t move but continued to stare up into his eyes. He sighed. "But, what, Sarah?"
"Can you save me from Elizabeth’s plans?" She whispered.
"No. But that is where our duty lies, Sarah." He choked out. "If it were just the two of us, then I would gladly run away anywhere you wanted. But could you be happy with your clan’s name in disgrace? What of my mother and father?"
He was right. Duty to her clan had been the one constant since childhood. She nodded and stood and clutched the heavy wool to her. The ship was already rocking less and she found she could walk, albeit unsteadily, to the window. "It is a lonely thing, duty. But you know that better than I don’t you, Clayton."
"Yessss." The hiss was bitter but he turned away from her and reached for a cloth to dry off.
"Yes. I will return to court, curtsey politely, assure the queen that my virtue is intact and please majesty, might I marry a boy half my age, nay better than half, I think. I will remain a virgin until Jeanne decides we should bed." She choked out a cry. "Sold after all. Though not for money. Not much money anyway. Will that be better than…"
He strode across to her and spun her around. "Better than being bought by a whoremonger? Better than having your virginity ripped from you by some pig, in a filthy sty of brothel? Is that why Chegwidden lies dying on his ship? Shall we ask Francesca…" Her slap shut him up and he found himself holding her again. "Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry." He held her shivering body to him. The cold shirt chilled his bare skin but the heat of her warmed him as no roaring fire could. He tried hard to think of a way out.
She pushed away from him and looked into his eyes. Reaching out she caressed away the sting of her assault. "Could we not tell the queen that it was I, not Francesca who was raped?"
He gasped at the thought. It was a small thing, but he shook his head. "No my love. Coleira said they had checked and verified you were a virgin. Do you think that Elizabeth will not insist that her doctors look at you and Beth."
"She wouldn’t da…" Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes in pain again. "Yes she would." He started to turn away from her but she held him tighter. Her fingers dug into his shoulder.
"Sarah?" He saw the idea flit across her face. "Sarah, no." He gasped.
"Why not? If her doctor checks me, let him see that I am no virgin." She stood straight, her head held high. "What matters it to me if they think that some pirate ravaged me. As long as you know the truth." Never taking her eyes from his, she pulled the tattered shirt from her. Holding it out between them she waited.
His breath came in ragged gasps. The sight of her standing there was more intoxicating that any spirit he had ever tasted. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders; so long that it brushed her erect nipples. He shut his eyes, a shudder took his body and he did the only thing he could think of to keep from falling. Pulling her to him, he claimed her smiling, willing lips. He held her face in his hands and gently moved his lips over hers. Her lips opened to his and he let his hands moved down her neck and over her shoulders until they were once again embracing.
Her back felt so soft to his touch and he took his time exploring every inch of it until he came to her bottom. Pulling her tightly against him, he broke the kiss and buried his lips in the hollow of her shoulder.
She had never felt this way before. No man had ever touched her like this. She threw back her head, as his lips burned their way lower. The mere touch of his tongue against her nipple sent her soaring and she had to arch away from him.
"Sarah?" He asked.
"Please, Clayton. Please, even if this is to be the only time." She stood away from him and studied him. "If this is to be our only time, make me remember it when I’m old and alone." She held her hand out to him.
Taking it in his he brought it to his lips and kissed each finger. Then he placed his mouth on her wrist and sucked at the pulse point.
"Oh." She exhaled and her eyes fluttered closed.
He had spent a great deal of time in the courts of the Medici in Florence and the Borgias Rome. Women there used their favors to gain power for themselves. They were very adept in the art of love. He had his share of some of the most beautiful women in Italy and he knew that, contrary to English propriety, women enjoyed the act as much as men. If this were to be their only time together, then he WOULD make her remember how it was supposed to be.
Gently he led her to the bunk and sat her down. She watched as he pulled the shirt over his head before reaching down to untie the belt at his hips. He kept his eyes on hers as he let the pants drop to the floor.
Her eyes grew round as she beheld him.
Sarah stood up and started to pull at the sash holding the pants to her waist. Clay took her hands in his. "Let me." His whisper sent a shock to the pit of her stomach. Gulping she could only nod her approval. He took her face in his hands again and kissed her, moving his lips across hers. His tongue snaked out and probed until she opened for him. When she groaned low in her throat he grinned and stepped back to survey his work. Her eyes fluttered and a rosy hue covered her chest and neck.
"Clay?" She whimpered.
"Slowly, Sarah. I don’t want to hurt you."
"You could never hurt me, Clayton, please."
Kneeling before her he worked the knot out of the sash. His fingers shook with emotion and he swore softly when it didn’t loosen immediately. Finally it fell to the ground, followed by the pants. He sighed reverently as he gazed upon her nakedness. Leaning forward, he buried his face in the valley between her legs.
Gazing down upon him she shivered in shock and passion. Without even thinking about it, she caressed her fingers through his damp hair. She had long heard whisperings of wedding night obligations and duties. <<<If this is duty then I will gladly submit.>>> His lips moved to her belly button but his eyes were riveted to hers and she found herself swaying from the love she saw there.
Gently, he pushed her back until she sprawled across the bed. She tried to close her legs. She was so exposed; so embarrassed. But, he wouldn’t let her. Pausing to place soft kisses on the inside of her thighs he stood up and laid down next to her.
"Please, Clay." She murmured when his lips left hers. He stroked her smooth skin. Alternating light kisses with feathery touches he watched in awe as she responded to him. She arched up to kiss his lips and he pushed her back into the mattress, deepening the kiss until they both groaned. Breaking the kiss he stared down into her eyes and knew he would have to find a way to have her forever. Softly, he ran his finger over her nipples and then down her belly.
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to touch him, or if she should. So she just lay there letting the beautiful sensations wash over her. His lips trailed down her neck and his fingers began to caress between her legs. While his hand was gentle, his lips were demanding and rough. His tongue flicked across a nipple held firmly between his teeth and she shuddered as butterflies danced in her belly. Stroking her fingers through his hair she tried to pull him back to her lips but he played on.
She was so wet. His fingers parted her folds and began a slow almost teasing exploration. His thumb rubbed across her swollen, throbbing nubbin and she bucked against him completely overwhelmed by what he was doing to her. Carefully, he inserted a finger and began to prepare her for his cock. He knew he couldn’t spare her the pain of that first penetration, but he wanted to make the memory of the pain fade in the pleasure.
"Please, Clay." She panted. "Now, I cannot stand it. Oh…" Her breath caught as the delicious, incredible surge overtook her. She cried out his name as he pushed another finger deep within her. This is what the old woman had done. This is what Elizabeth’s doctor would do but this felt nothing like that rape. She felt him move over her. Opening her eyes she saw his intense gaze.
"Are you sure, Sarah?" At her nod, he positioned himself over her. She felt his cock nudge at her opening. She started to close her eyes to prepare for the pain that all the married women talked of. "Look at me Sarah." He demanded. "I’m sorry, my love." He whispered as he stroked into her.
It hurt. But he bent and kissed away the tears that filled her eyes. He didn’t move for a long time but finally sighed. "It is done. Should I stop."
"Will it still hurt?"
"Nay my love, but if you wish it…"
"Please, Clay." She whispered as instinct took over and her hips moved up to take him deeper. The ancient dance began slowly as he rocked into her. He tried to hold back his passion but soon he was thrusting harder and deeper. Remembering a trick that the youngest daughter of Francesco Gonzaga, the Prince of Mantu, had showed him, he knelt away from her and began to worry her clitoris even as his thrusts increased.
Her nails dug into his arms as she gripped him in the throws of her second orgasm. She arched back so far that only her hips and her head touched the bed. She didn’t even see him as he thrust one last time and buried his seed deep within her, but she heard his shout of release and was glad that the storm still ranged around them. As she settled back onto the bunk, he fell forward to cover her with his body, supporting most of his weight on his hands braced on either side of her head. She marveled at the way he gasped for breath, reveled in the way the sweat tracked down his neck. Reaching up, she ran her fingers over his lips. He kissed them and then collapsed next to her.
She turned to nestle into his arms but he leaned over her again and kissed her on the nose. "Wait a moment, my love." Standing up he went to the pitcher and bowl and thoroughly rinsed the cloth he had used to wash with earlier. He would have preferred warm water but he returned to the bunk and lying next to her again, he worked his arm under her head. "Lay still, dearest and let me clean you." She shivered at his touch but spread her legs for him. When he was done they saw the rag was red with her blood. "Oh darling, I’m so sorry." He groaned.
"Clayton, this I know. All virgins bleed. ''Tis a little thing. But, not all virgins are deflowered by such a caring and gentle man. Thank you for that, my love." She sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t hear his sorrowful sigh; didn’t see the tears fall as he held her.
23 July 1564
The Trident
Early Afternoon
A knock at the cabin door woke Cordelia and Martyn. "Tronada?" Martyn asked, pulling the sheets around Cordelia. The answer was affirmative, and he said "Enter."
The Moor opened the door carefully, and carried a pitcher of water to the side of the bed. "It has been eight hours since I last brought you water, otherwise, I would not have interrupted," Tronada said. He appeared a bit embarrassed.
Cordelia looked at him gratefully, "Thank you. It is good of you to take such care of me."
"What ever you may be," Tronada hesitated, "Or not be, you have saved my friend. He trusts you, he loves you. I do not understand your kind, and I suspect there is more there than even the most learned of men can understand. I have called you demon, spirit, and in truth, I know not what you truly are. But I know now that you are not demon or spirit. Here is your seawater. I will leave you in peace." He turned and quickly made his way to the door.
"Tronada, wait, please," Cordelia called. Tronada stopped and looked over his shoulder. Cordelia spoke again, "When darkness falls, I should return to the ocean. Can you see to it that the men are below?"
"It will be done. Do you need anything else? Some food, Martyn?" Tronada asked softly.
"I will eat later, when Cordelia is gone," Martyn murmured.
But Cordelia nodded. "He needs to eat. And something to drink, perhaps some wine." She turned to Martyn and said, "There is no reason for you not to eat. You still need to replenish your body."
Martyn sighed and caught the Moor's smile, "You heard her, Tronada. I will have some food and some wine."
"Aye, captain," Tronada said as he slipped out the door.
Cordelia stepped out of the bed and sat on the floor. She ran her hand over her leg as it seemed to shimmer and grow scales. She grinned at Martyn, who watched from the bed as she pulled the blanket over her tail and poured the water along the ridge.
"You will leave tonight them? You can stay on board no longer?" Martyn asked quietly. He knew the answer. She had spoken, she would leave. <<<But she was here. She has taken such a risk for me.>>>
Nodding, she reached for his hand. "It is better this way. I must leave the ship before we are too near the land. The winds and waters have been very cooperative," she smiled knowingly. "We will reach Cornwall soon. Day after tomorrow at the latest. It is better I leave the ship in the open ocean than take the risk of being seen by another ship if I wait until we are closer to land."
Martyn agreed reluctantly. A few moments later Tronada knocked at the door with his food, and Martyn called for him to enter. Tronada carried the tray to the bed, glancing at Cordelia wrapped in the blanket on the floor. "I brought an extra pitcher of water for you," Tronada said, taking the pitcher from the tray.
"Such kindness. Thank you," Cordelia said, gratefully accepting the pitcher.
The Moor walked silently to the door. "I will call on you when it is dark," he said as he slipped out of the cabin.
"How do you get off the ship?" Martyn asked with a worried tone.
"Why Martyn, I dive into the water from the bow. I can swim, you know," Cordelia grinned and winked at him.
23 July 1564
The Gorgon
Early Evening
Harmon Rabb walked the deck and observed the setting sun. The men had trimmed the sails and were cleaning up the last of the debris from the storm. It was one of the few times when she hadn’t been on deck with him, but he smiled as he remembered how he had finally figured out a way to exhaust her. Standing watch with him hadn’t done it. Standing over his men for hours, learning every minute detail of the ship hadn’t done it.
She slept only a few hours every night during the storm. She did what needed to be done, when it needed doing. When one of the men was injured, it was she who ordered him to the first mate’s cabin so she could tend to his wounds. When several cannons broke free he had tried to stop her but she jumped into the middle of the chore. Getting the breeches and shirt he had given her completely soaked, she helped tie the guns back down using knots that Mattoni, his newly appointed first mate, had carefully shown her.
Finally he had handed over the wheel to Mattoni and pushed her toward his cabin. "Come Beth. We both need to eat and you need to sleep." He was almost surprised that she let him lead her.
The cook brought the meager rations. Rabb vowed that he would make sure that the men were never again subjected to the mean fair that Wallace had served.
"This is truly awful, Harmon." Beth picked at the bread and cheese before her.
"I am sorry, Beth." He sighed. He wanted nothing more than to please her.
She pushed the plate away and stood. "''Tis no matter." She smiled at him but he stood and walked to the window to stare out into the sea.
"Harmon?" She was suddenly afraid that she had truly upset him. She came to stand beside him and touched his arm. "I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, ''twas a good meal captain."
"Nay, my lady. Nothing fine enough for you," he whispered to the sea behind them.
She was angry that he misunderstood her. "Captain Rabb. How dare you say such a thing? I am sorry that I offended you. But all I meant was that the men deserve better than this."
He turned and studied her for a long moment. "I believe you really mean that. You are a strange woman, Lady Elizabeth Hawkes. I have never met your equal."
"Oh bosh!" She turned away to hide her face. A most unladylike smile kissed her lips. She had flirted with dukes and princes and none had made her feel as free as this sea captain did. He had truly been impressed by her abilities in Lagos. He never once disparaged her for showing an interest in the way the ship was run. She wanted very much to feel his lips on hers but she was afraid. Afraid that he would want more. Afraid that he wouldn’t.
She felt his hands on her shoulders and looked up coyly only to find a very serious look on his face. Before she could question him, he lowered his lips to hers and claimed a kiss. She gasped in delighted surprise but when his tongue accepted the invitation she was thoroughly shocked and stepped away from him. He blushed and hung his head. "Your pardon, my lady." He started to leave her but she reached out for him.
"No. Stay. I pray thee. You do not understand."
What’s to understand my lady? I took advantage.
"Oooooooooo!" She cried. "You did not take advantage. I was just surprised. Please." She whispered. "Kiss me again." She approached him, her arms held out in a pleading stance. "Please."
He stared down at her. She saw she would have to do it herself this time and reached up and pulled his head down so she could reach his lips. Her kiss was demanding and she parted her lips not in surprise this time but in invitation. When he didn't take it she flicked her own tongue against his closed lips. She was surprised that he parted them and she tentatively probed his mouth.
It was too much for Rabb and he quickly took control. Holding her tight to him he ravaged her mouth until the pleasure of it caused her to groan. Finally he pulled back to study the look in her eyes.
"Please," was all she said and he kissed her again.
Her hands shyly began to rove over his back, pulling him closer until she felt his evident passion hard against her belly.
When he broke the kiss she would not let go of him. "Beth? Are you sure?" He had to know soon because he wasn’t sure how long he could stand being this close to her without continuing to touch her.
Fear and desire warred within her. "No. I don’t know. Oh please. Harmon."
Gently he pulled the clothes from her. Moving her to the bed he lay her down and undressed. She lay there; desire and curiosity were outweighing her fear. All the years of flirting and teasing had led to this and as much as she wanted this, she prayed he wouldn’t hurt her.
He saw the fear in her eyes and thought for a moment to stop but he also saw the longing and hunger there. Lying down next to her, he began to stroke and kiss her face. When he moved lower he lavished long wet kisses against her neck, biting the smooth delicate skin. When his lips met her breasts she found herself arching up to demand more. "Please." She begged. But, he would be rushed.
Finally his fingers reached her core. She was embarrassed at how wet she was but it felt so good to have him there. To have him touch her. When he began to softly probe her, she stiffened in memory of the old woman’s verification of her virtue.
"Easy my love." He whispered. "I would not hurt you to take my pleasure." His thumb found a very interesting spot to caress and soon she was lost in sensations she had never imagined. Her stomach clinched and her breath came in short pants until she found herself soaring, crying out in ecstasy.
He covered her body with his and parted her legs until he could rest between them. His manhood began to nudge at her opening and she bit her lower lip as he gently invaded her. Tears filled her eyes at the pain but he bent down and kissed each one. "Sorry, Beth. Truly I am sorry for hurting you." When he was past her barrier he stilled and let her adjust for a moment. Slowly he began to rock in her and she found the sensation pleasing, found that her breath was coming in pants again.
The sight of her, a lady of the court, moaning under him was too much for the newest captain of the Gorgon and Rabb began to thrust deeper and harder until he couldn’t hold back. He came in her long and hard.
The feel of his hot seed pulsing into her sent her soaring again and she held onto him for dear life.