Her Pirate Master (12 page)

“I have seen men who covered their wounds and those who did not and the hurts of those who did not always healed faster.”

She nodded, deferring to his experience. After Arsinoe and her brother’s uprising against Cleopatra had failed, the Romans had speared the dying and rounded up the rest to ship them to Rome. No one had tended the wounds of the captured. Thankfully, neither she nor Arsinoe had been hurt, though they had both been in the thick of the battle.

“Do we go now to Ephesus?” Imi asked.

“It is what I promised you. Do you think I would break faith with you so easily?”

Imi’s breath caught in her throat.

“Seleucus.”

“Come.” He drew her to the bed.

“I thought . . . I thought you wouldn’t find me . . . and then. . . “ Her tears flowed hot and fast. “And when you gave them the casket, I felt like the world was ending.”

“Hush, darling, hush.” He rocked her gently. “I couldn’t say anything to you or the priest might have guessed my plans.”

“But, later,” she protested. “When I was back on the ship.”

“You wouldn’t talk to me,” he teased, relenting immediately when she shot him a reproachful look. “I didn’t want to tell you in case. . . “

“In case what?”

“Well, it was just possible, not likely but possible, that Corman’s ship would outstrip mine. He set sail almost as soon as the priest turned the box over to him. I needed to wait at least until dawn so the priest could light no beacons to warn him we were giving chase. I did not want to raise your hopes only to dash them to the ground later.”

“I still think you should have told me.”

“And would you have been less angry with me for giving them away in the first place?”

Imi considered the question.

“Perhaps not,” she said reluctantly.

“So, see.” He gave her a small shake. “You are a stubborn little thing.”

“And you are hard–headed. I really would rather anything to have happened to me, to have been killed, even, than to have let the relics fall into the hands of any of Cleopatra’s agents.”

Seleucus chuckled. “Maybe you can afford to be so careless about your life or about what happens to you, little goose, but I find that I cannot.”

Imi’s heart skipped a beat, and she heard a rushing sound in her ears. She tried to ignore the sensations and said lightly “I have been your slave. What does it matter if I become another’s?”

She had meant it as a joke, but it was the wrong thing to say. She knew it as soon as the words left her mouth. Seleucus stiffened and rose to his feet.

“I have things on deck I must attend to,” he said, his face tight and withdrawn.

Before she could say anything, he was gone. She stared at the closed door, her mind a jumble of thoughts. He loved her. Seleucus loved her. He did. How could she not believe it after what he’d done, what he’d said. The man had as good as told her so, but how had she responded? As if she didn’t understand, as if she were a young girl, green in such matters, a girl who would toy with a man’s heart. She wasn’t. She wanted to rush after him and tell him so, but no, she had to wait. She needed to give them both time to sort out their feelings, and she needed to be careful what she said to him, because he might mistake her love for mere gratitude. He had done so much for her. But what she felt was much more than that, though she was grateful, too. Of course she was.

“We are halfway to Ephesus now,” Seleucus said much later that evening in the cabin. “The winds are good.”

“How long . . . ?”

“We should be there by tomorrow morning unless the winds die.”

She nodded, and he stole a quick glance across the table at her. She was staring at the wall opposite, and his heart softened as he drank in the sight of her profile, the neat head, her soft lips. He dragged his gaze away and stared at his wine instead. She had no idea the torment he’d gone through when he’d realized she was in danger. The strength of his feelings had taken him by surprise. He’d been wild with worry, but if she had any inkling of how he must have suffered, she hadn’t shown it. He remembered her comment earlier. She might be ready to serve as another’s slave, but it would only be over his dead body. He grunted sourly at the thought, rousing her out of her reverie.

“Seleucus?”

“Yes?”

“I . . . “ Her eyes searched his. “I wanted to say . . . “

“What? That you are grateful for your rescue. Sorry, I mean for the rescue of your relics? They are all you really care about, aren’t they?”

“No, I mean, well, yes. Of course, they are important to me.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“It’s what I was sent to do. I . . . I had a mission. You must understand that, Seleucus. I had a duty to perform. I . . .”

“Stop,” he interrupted her, closing his heart to the pain on her face. “I am tired. I need to rest.”

“Oh, of course.” Her expression became all contrition and shame. “I am so sorry . . . I should have thought.”

His stomach twisted into knots.

“Imi, whatever happens at Ephesus, I want you back.” He blurted it out as if he had no more control over his tongue than a man drunk to the gills. He frowned at her, determined to brazen it out.

“You . . . I don’t understand.” She looked at him wide–eyed.

“After you have given up your relics, I want you to come away with me. I will not leave you behind there.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but every word was true. “I have a house on the Cilician Coast. You’ll like it, Imi. It’s rough, but clean and comfortable. You would want for nothing.”

Until he’d spoken he’d had no idea he was going to tell her about his house, much less invite her to live there. Three years ago he’d berthed his ship for six months and built the house all by himself in a sheltered and isolated promontory near the foot of the Taurus Mountains. He’d built the furniture as well, but had stocked it with rich carpets and cushions that he’d either purchased in markets across the Mediterranean or carried off as booty. He still didn’t quite consider it finished, but every time he went there it was as if a weight lifted from his shoulders. He felt at ease there as at nowhere else. No one knew about it except for a shepherd and his wife who lived in the mountains and who looked after it in his absence. Now he’d blurted it out to Imi, a woman he’d known less than a month. But it didn’t matter, he realized. He already knew she was the woman he had waited for.

“You . . . but . . . I belong with her, with Arsinoe.” Even as she said it, he saw the dawning realization on her face, a puzzled, half–pleased look as if she’d suddenly discovered a sweet in her mouth. He knew what it meant, what it had to mean, and felt a wild exultation. The heat of his triumph was like wine in his belly. She knew he was right, and fight it as she might, she felt the same way about him. She might not want to admit it, but it was there, written on her face.

“You know you cannot stay with her,” he said, firmly. “You belong with me now. If necessary, I will abduct you again as I did before.”

She gave him a ferocious glare.

“I’d rather have you in my life, angry, than not have you at all.” He grinned. “Anyway, you will not be able to remain angry at me for long. I’ll not let you.” He jumped up, pulled her to her feet, and swung her into his arms. How light she felt, how right, as right as the weight of the knife at his waist, a pressure both familiar and comforting. “Imi, you are mine, now and forever.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked about to argue, so he kissed her. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Just let it be.” He carried her to the bed, his desire for her unfolding inside him like a scarlet rose.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his breathing growing ragged. He pulled aside her robe and undid the brooches holding her tunic together. Her body glimmered ebony in the lamplight. He bent reverently and kissed her nipples, swirling his tongue around one, then the other. The nipples puckered, and the flesh hardened instantly. He breathed in deeply. She smelled of amber and sandalwood. In a dream the night before, she had come to him naked, smiling, her scent like a heady cloud about her, and when he touched her between her legs, her moisture silkened his fingers. The memory almost made him spend. He had to close his eyes and will himself to calm.

He sucked her nipple and stroked the soft skin of her other breast. She murmured and shifted under him, opening her legs in an unspoken invitation, her hands moving over his hair. Seleucus drew a trembling breath and pushed himself down on the bed. He pressed a trail of kisses on her belly, at the place where a thin line of fine hair led to the curly, coarser hair of her pussy. He smoothed the hair down and circled her clit softly, slowly. She quivered, hummed deep in her throat. He marveled at her pussy. How pretty it was, like a flower. He dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to her clit, tasted her with his tongue. She arched her back, and he slipped a finger inside her. She was wet already, just like in his dream.

She grunted softly, and he smiled to himself. She might have made an oath to her goddess, but she liked this, liked the feel of something hard sliding into her secret parts. She grunted again, and he kissed her inner thighs. Her smell was different here, stronger, more intense, filling his senses. Her clit was swollen now and reddened. Imi pushed her legs further apart, offering herself to him.

He looked at her in the lamplight, her secret place completely bared to him. She was staring at him with a wild, hungry look in her eyes, her lips parted, and her breasts rising and falling with her heightened breaths.

Seleucus bent. He kissed her pussy, an open–mouthed kiss, closing his eyes to inhale her scent, giving himself up to the feel of her under his mouth. She lifted her legs, rested her ankles on his shoulders, her knees splayed. Seleucus dipped his finger in her secretions and sought her back hole as he curled his tongue around her clit. He heard her surprised gasp and waited to see if she would make him stop, but she didn’t. Carefully, gently, he thrust his finger in and out of her tight little anus while licking and sucking her. Imi’s breaths became quicker, shallower. Her body shook, shook again. She drew her legs together, imprisoning his head between her thighs. Under his tongue her clit jumped.

“Seleucus. Ah.” Her body contorted, held it, then sagged to the bed. Seleucus kissed her again between her thighs then pushed himself up to hold her in his arms.

The wind whipped Imi’s hair around her face as she stood at the helm, her eyes narrowed and focused on Ephesus.

“In a very little while, you will be home,” Seleucus said, behind her.

“No,” she responded fiercely. “Alexandria is my home. Alexandria.” Her breath caught on the name. Soon the relics would be in Arsinoe’s possession and nobody could gainsay her right to rule. Yet, uncertainty remained. If more of Egypt’s priests rallied to her cause and if, once persuaded, they could, in turn, sway the generals who backed Cleopatra, the United Lands would once again be Arsinoe’s. If. Such a small word to have such huge consequences. But Arsinoe’s victory would mean Imi’s own exile would end and she could go back home.

Alexandria. Her memories of the city fell on her like rain in winter, sharp and stinging. The cries of the water sellers in the streets, the scent of the spices her mother liked to use in her cooking, the soft splash of water in their courtyard fountain and, above all, the faces of her family.

“You will see it again, my love.” Seleucus wrapped his arms around her, and she turned to lean into his solid presence, taking comfort from the feel of his hard body, burrowing into his chest.

“Arsinoe will defeat her. You think so, too, don’t you?”

“For your sake, I hope so. You are loyal, and I admire that, but, at some point, you must consider your own life. Will you always defer your own dreams to follow another’s?”

Imi closed her eyes and didn’t answer. She would have liked to have stayed there forever, held tightly against him, inhaling his musky, salty scent. Safe.

“Look at that.”

Seleucus straightened, and Imi opened her eyes. He was staring in the direction of the harbor, shading his eyes to get a better view.

“What?” Imi turned to look.

They had drawn closer to Ephesus, and now she could make out the sails of scores of ships.

“Roman,” Seleucus said, tersely.

Imi’s throat dried.

“Marc Antony?” she whispered.

“It could be no one else.”

A grim silence descended on the pirate ship. If a Roman saw them, recognized them for what they were, and gave the alarm, they might not escape. The men knew they could expect no mercy from any Roman general, much less Marc Antony whose hostilities with Octavian appeared to have left him with little mercy for other enemies.

The pirate ship threaded its way past the quadremes, quinqueremes, and even bigger warships. Imi’s eyes widened as she realized their decks were empty except for a few sailors on each.

“They are ashore,” she whispered to Seleucus.

He nodded.

“He has gone to Arsinoe.” Imi’s knees felt weak. A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind, none of them good.

“Calm yourself. Perhaps he has come to treat with her, to make her an offer of peace.” He suggested it more to reassure her than because he believed it himself. Would the Roman have come so heavily armed if he meant the princess and her supporters no harm?

“She will accept no offer that does not involve the return of the throne of Egypt.”

Seleucus did not respond to this. Both Imi and her princess had lost so much in the last few years. Had Marc Antony come to take away more or would he find compassion in his heart for the proud, young girl who wanted back the kingdom his lover ruled? Seleucus had his misgivings. A man would do much for the woman he loved, and it was said Marc Antony was mad for the Egyptian queen. He had turned his back on his powerful Roman wife, Octavia, risking the wrath of many Romans. What more might he not do for the Egyptian?

Seleucus had his men secure the ship as close to the wharf as possible. He selected six to accompany him on shore and whispered quietly to them for a few minutes before allowing them to change their clothing.