The Jezebel (13 page)

“You will not force me to tell you my story,” she commented, when she caught his eye.

“No, I won’t force you....”

When he smiled at her, she echoed it, albeit slightly.

“And you,” she asked. “Why were you leaving Billingsgate docks so hastily?”

So, she can ask me and expect a response, despite her own stand.
Roderick had to fight back a sarcastic retort. “The excise men do not take kindly to merchant shipmen such as us, because we don’t abide by their rules.”

That seemed to amuse her. “You don’t pay excise on goods you carry?”

“We are a crew made up of Scots and Dutch. There is little love amongst any of us for the English soldiers, despite the supposed union with Scotland. We find ways to avoid the excise men.”

Maisie nodded thoughtfully. “You remind me of Scotland.”

“Because I hate the English?”

She gave a low laugh. “Not only that.” Eyeing him curiously, she explained. “You are barely tamed, and you answer to no one. Scotland runs in your veins. You carry it everywhere with you.”

Roderick had been about to deny her comment, but when he thought about it he realized she’d seen something deep in his character that he hadn’t even been aware of himself. It was uncanny. Yet he could not fathom her, except when she was on her back. He seemed to have a knack for handling her then.

A small mercy,
he thought, with irony.

“Would you avoid the law if you were on land, in Scotland, or is it because you are at sea?”

Her comment amused him. It was a topic they often debated aboard ship. “There are ways, even on land. In the border country the smugglers have trained ponies to follow a path along a low ledge on the cliffs. They carry smuggled goods inland for them, so that they won’t be spotted by the excise men.” Roderick grinned. “I’ve seen the clever beasts myself, from the sea. Quite a sight it was, too. They needed no man to guide them. They follow the path to their destination quite happily.”

Her mouth quirked and he could tell she was picturing it.

Roderick felt the urge to share more of his thoughts on the matter. “The truth of it is that men will sometimes do anything to feed their kin, and sharing what little coin they earn with the taxman is hard to do when their mothers are ailing or the bairns are crying for food.”

Maisie nodded.

“Does my lawlessness shock you?” He swiped up his ale mug, knowing already that it did not shock her at all. He wanted to hear her opinion on the matter.

“No. I have seen men even in high and respected places twist and control a situation purely for their own gain. Your tale seems almost noble in its cause in comparison to some of the things I have witnessed and heard tell of.”

There it was again. A curtain had been pulled back, briefly. What a strange comment it was, too. Did the things she had seen account for the wisdom beyond her years? Roderick thought about asking her what she meant, but quizzing her directly had brought nothing. Her comment had, nevertheless, revealed something about her. What it was he couldn’t immediately fathom, but he stored her words away in case they made sense in different circumstances.

“How do you avoid the excise men when sailing into the harbor?” she asked, turning the conversation back on him.

Roderick would rather have spoken more about the matters she had hinted at, but he acquiesced. “It isn’t easy, for they watch every move and are often in their rowboats and boarding before you have time to set down anchor. But there are ways.”

“There are?”

She was so much happier learning about him. Roderick felt torn. He liked to see her happy. “One is to create a diversion.”

“How do you do that?”

He loved to see the spark in her eyes. She liked to learn, he could tell. “Send men ahead in a rowboat or by foot along the coast. Spread a rumor that there are goods aboard another ship, and then dock and unload while the excise men are otherwise occupied.”

“How clever.”

Roderick found he enjoyed her interest in their seafaring ways. “It may seem unlikely, but there are even ways to hide an entire ship from view.”

“Hide a ship? Surely that isn’t possible.”

“It is. It’s about knowing the coastline as well as you know the back of your own hand. Canny seafaring men make note of every convenient bay or island outside the established harbors. There is one along the coast from here, for example, and if we had set down anchor there we would be within an hour’s walk of Lowestoft, but no ship here would be able to see the
Libertas
because of the shape of the intervening coastline.”

She sat back in her chair, obviously impressed. “That is most canny.”

It was common practice amongst free traders and merchant shipmen, but Roderick was glad they’d found a subject that did not irritate either of them.

“Yes,” he added, “if a seaman knows the coast well enough he can make a ship disappear from view—” he flickered his fingers in the air “—as if by witchcraft.”

He thought she might chuckle, but instead she looked at him aghast, her eyes widening. What in God’s name had he said now?

He was about to ask what was wrong with her when she rose from her seat and turned away to stand by the fire, warming her hands. A moment later, she turned back and offered him an apologetic smile.

Roderick frowned. He would give anything to understand this woman, but her thoughts and actions baffled him. All that he could glean from this latest oddity was that she wanted to be closer to the fire.

He took action. “Come, if you are cold we will draw the chairs to the fireside and I will request a glass of port for us to enjoy there.”

“You are most thoughtful.”

“I attempt to put you at ease.”

“I know you do.” She smiled, as if to herself.

Was there some underlying comment there? He didn’t want to consider it, for it irritated him again. Instead, he reorganized the chairs. A moment later he called for service and requested a bottle of port. When it arrived they sat either side of the fireplace, each nursing a crystal glass filled with the potent liquid.

It took him back to a childhood memory he had long forgotten, of his parents sitting this way. Of course, they didn’t have fine crystal or port, but it was the notion of a man and wife either side of a warm hearth at the end of a hard working day that struck him and made him feel rather odd, as if he had been cast into a different life to the one he was currently used to.

I should be thinking of the tides and who is on duty on deck, not what passes between a man and his wife at the end of the day.
Such landlocked notions were irrelevant to Roderick Cameron, or should have been.

“Thank you for this evening,” Maisie said, pulling him back from his thoughts.

When he looked at her, he found she had her head cocked on one side, as if she had been watching him.

“You really are a considerate man, aren’t you?”

Was she teasing him now? “I try to be, even though I am not used to a woman’s company or the finer things in life.”

“That much is obvious.” Mischief flickered in her eyes.

Roderick raised his eyebrows.

She blinked at him in a languid, sensual manner.

How could such a simple thing affect him so? He had the wild urge to fling her over his shoulder and cart her off to the bedroom. Something about her made him lose rational thought from time to time. That was dangerous. No man, let alone a man of the sea, could afford to be so thoroughly distracted by a woman that he reacted irrationally. Roderick needed to be more sensible about this arrangement. It was imperative that he forgo his curiosity about her background and focus on his ship and the voyage.

He brooded on that fact awhile and stared into the flames.

When he looked back at her he realized she’d kept studying him from under lowered eyelids, and she had that certain glow about her that she got when they came together to couple.

“When do we have to be back at the ship?”

“Not until after the turn of the tide, at dawn.”

“Oh.” Her eyelids fluttered beguilingly as she thought about it. “Will we stay here at the inn?”

Her question was quite innocently delivered, but he saw that she was thinking on it, and her demeanor was considerably more agreeable than it had been during their meal. Was this a ploy to keep him from asking her more questions? It mattered not, for he knew he shouldn’t care about the woman’s origins.

She arched her neck and leaned toward him.

It quickly stirred his desires, desires that had been simmering steadily all the while. “I have secured a room for the night, one with a decent, roomy bed and a roaring fire.”

“I see.” Her mouth lifted at the corners.

Roderick decided she was a temptress. That part of her, at least, was no mystery. “Does that arrangement suit you, my lady?”

“Most definitely.”

The irony struck him. Now that they were talking of intimacy she was so much more agreeable and forthright. Moreover, she did not attempt to hide her interest, like most maidens might. A Jezebel she was indeed, just as Clyde had proclaimed, for she had cast aside her shame along with her virginity.

Nevertheless, it still rankled that she wouldn’t confide in him. “Yes,” he deliberately drawled, “we do seem to get on so much better in matters of a carnal nature.”

She gave him a quizzical glance. “Beware your sarcasm, sire, or I shall develop a headache.”

Roderick rose to his feet. “I do not intend to give you time to have one.”

Reaching over, he took her by the hand.

“It is a good thing I find your prowess as a lover makes up for your lack of good manners, Captain,” she said as she stood up. Humor shone in her eyes.

Roderick shook his head, not allowing himself to say any more, not with the serving girls hovering by the door, waiting to clear the table. But once he got her alone he would say and do plenty, and none of it would involve good manners.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Does milady need a maid to assist?” The innkeeper looked at the pair of them with barely concealed amusement.

“That will not be necessary,” Roderick replied before Maisie had a chance to speak for herself. “I am quite willing to assist the lady with her disrobing.”

Much as it was tempting to chastise him immediately, Maisie restrained herself until they were alone.

“I’m sure you are, sire,” the innkeeper replied, somewhat sarcastically, and then retreated.

As soon as the door was closed Maisie folded her arms across her chest. “You care nothing for any pride I might yet have maintained.”

“Ah, so you have abandoned your shame but not your pride?”

Maisie’s mouth opened. Then she thought better of saying anything, because he was right. It was the way of her kind. Those who were closer to nature did not see any shame in the act of lovemaking. It was a powerful, magical thing. Even more so when affection was involved.

“That innkeeper knows even less about you than I do,” Roderick continued, apparently relishing the taunt. “What is your honor to him or anyone we might encounter?”

There was truth in that, but she wasn’t about to agree, because it was obvious it stemmed from his annoyance that she wouldn’t confide in him. “You are a scoundrel.”

“I don’t deny it.” With that pronouncement he pounced, scooped her into his arms, carried her across the room and threw her on the bed.

Winded by his sudden action, she attempted to rise up and support her weight on her hands to glare at him. “No, instead you seem set on proving it.”

His gaze, heavy with lust, raked over her.

Maisie knew she should have been offended by his actions, but there was something deeply arousing about the way he handled her, as if he’d been harboring the need to strip her and make her his all evening. As much as she wanted to keep her private affairs private—and it was safer for him that way—she found it thrilled her immensely to have him so wild-eyed and possessive.

“You are a disagreeable wench when you want to be.”

“Why so,” she retorted, “because I know my own mind and don’t buckle under your questioning?”

He laughed and began stripping off his coat, neckerchief and waistcoat.

Maisie stared, unable to do anything else as he tore off each garment with speed, emphasizing his imminent intentions to bed her. When he lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, she almost forgot to breathe while she took in the sight of his bared chest in the candlelight. The way he stretched and moved made his muscles gleam, showing them to good advantage. No wonder he could lift her so easily, she thought. He was completely undressed before she had a chance to shift from the place he’d deposited her on the bed.

When he lifted his head and looked her way, his expression was both determined and roguish. His eyes glinted, and she knew he was about to pounce. When she tried to get up she was too slow, and hampered as she was by her rigid bodice and corset, he was on her in a flash.

“My intention is to pleasure you until you beg for mercy, but even then I don’t think I will be able to find it in me to give you a reprieve. You have driven me to distraction this evening and I intend to work off my lust most thoroughly, even if it takes all night long to do so.” He crouched over her on his hands and knees, like a wild hound that had pinned down its prey, his smile victorious.

Instinctively, she turned her face away, but her thighs squeezed together, her anticipation building all the while. How was it that it thrilled her to have him threaten her with a lack of mercy? She wanted to deny that, simply because he was so arrogant, so sure in his power over her.

“The idea appeals to you, my lady. I can see it in the flush on your cheeks.” With the back of his knuckles, he stroked the outline of her jaw.

The touch, gentle and subtly persuasive, inflamed her.

“You are so sure of yourself,” she taunted, then wriggled and rolled from beneath him, her aim to scamper away from the bed and make him wait a while longer, just to show him she could.

Roderick was up and after her before she’d left the bedside. One large arm locked around her waist and he hauled her back to him. She reached for something to hold on to, but he had her.

“I’m sure of what you need, Maisie.” He dragged her back to him, sat down on the bed and captured her in his lap. “I can tell you enjoy this tussle as much as I do.”

Before she could even try to resist, he’d reached around and was lifting her skirts.

The urge to spar with him did not decrease. “You flatter yourself, Captain.”

No matter how she tried to wriggle from his grasp, he was easily able to cage her in his arms, even while he hoisted her skirts up and bunched them at her waist.

His hands around the top of her thighs made her squirm again, but when she glanced down, she was mortified to see that her ungainly position on his lap exposed her private places. “Unhand me.”

“Oh, no,” he whispered close against her ear, “you are mine for the week. It is my fee, and if you kindly recall, those were the terms you yourself offered.”

The comment only served to arouse her even more, and the hard rod of his erection pressed against her bottom played its own part in making her want fulfillment. Maisie battled him, incensed that he had such a hold on her, in every way.

Then he planted one large hand over her exposed mound, cupping it tightly in his palm. For a moment she fell completely still, distracted by the rush of sensation there at the seat of her pleasure, where he squeezed and manipulated her without mercy. His other hand closed over her bodice at her breastbone, holding her steady against him while she wriggled in his lap.

“Yes, rub yourself against my hand, enjoy it,” he whispered, his tone heavy with humor and lust.

“No!” But Maisie was already rubbing herself against him, her hips rocking to and fro, her body responding of its own accord.

“What is it that you need?”

Shuddering, she moaned uncontrollably when he held her nether lips apart with his fingers and rubbed her.

“This?”

Awash with humiliation at her predicament, but desperate for relief, she nodded.

“Good girl.”

Between his words and actions, her body ached to be filled, to be taken roughly and ridden until they were both overcome with a hearty release. But she wouldn’t admit that.

“Oh, yes, I’ll have you after I feel you spill into my hand.” His voice was husky, indicating how aroused he was, how ready for her.

Anticipation coiled deep within her.

He stroked her more rapidly, until she was breathless and panting, almost to the point of pain in her tender, swollen nub, but still she met each touch, moving on instinct, seeking release.

He lifted his hand and licked his thumb, and when he returned it to her and thrummed her flesh once again, her body swayed in his grip. Feverish and restless, she moaned aloud. On he went, until her back arched and she cried aloud, her sudden spending making her hot and restless from the top of her head to her toes.

“You’re a lusty wench.”

A more powerful one, too,
she thought to herself, feeling her magic building inside her, a reserve that was being constantly stoked by his attentions. Everything she had been given to read on the subject was true. Her craft was invigorated by this. Just as two sticks rubbed together could create fire, the passion of lovers brought potency to her magic.

Before she could even catch her breath he rolled her onto her side, then placed his hand beneath her left knee and drew it up toward her chest, holding it there. Within the confines of her corset and bodice, her chest swelled. Her position meant that the base of her corset massaged her lower belly, and her sensitive inner flesh throbbed wildly.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to take her while he had her that way, but he knelt over her, one knee on either side of her prone leg. Shocked that he had her so thoroughly pinioned in that position, she could only brace herself for what was to come.

Then she felt the head of his cock at her entrance.

When he entered, it was at an angle that made the experience even more intense than on previous occasions, for his erection moved up along a particularly sensitive area as he fed her his length.

“Oh, Roderick, I might faint.”

“I will see to it that you won’t, by holding your attention.” Gruff and mocking, his tone assured her he meant to push her to her limits.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she watched his face as he eased his way in, his jaw tight, his eyes focused, his chest rising and falling. Copious juices dampened her thighs, and it was a mercy, for the girth of his manhood alone made her feel weak, as if with a fever. She panted for air, her skin misting with damp heat. As the walls of her channel were stretched apart, her head dropped to the bed.

He pushed inexorably on.

She mewed aloud when the head of his cock pressed against her deepest point, the sheer pressure of his erection there making her dizzy. Then he began to pump back and forth, and she could not withhold her vocal appreciation.

“You see, you are too busy enjoying yourself to faint,” he taunted, in between thrusts. “Admit it,” he urged, “you enjoy the tussle.”

“I will admit you’re a clever lover,” she managed to respond, her voice wavering as she received his rapid thrusts.

“That is good enough for me.” His grip on her was unforgiving, as if he had his own war to win, and she couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to.

Maisie was helpless beneath him, her entire nether region aflame as he rode her relentlessly, churning into her over and over until she spilled again, crying out as she did so.

“Ah, your grip on me is too good.” He paused and stroked her hair back from her face with one hand before he changed his pace, moving in more shallow thrusts.

Maisie clutched him again, and found her own pleasure was lengthened in the process. She reached around to touch him.

He meshed his fingers with hers.

The tender gestures, offered while he was so bound up in his quest for release, affected her strangely, and when he pulled free to spill his seed elsewhere, she found herself wishing he had not left her at that point.

Be careful,
she warned herself.

If her affection for him grew, it would be more difficult to deny his questions and keep her secret nature safe. Yet when he rolled her into his arms a moment later, so that she faced him and he could cover her in kisses, she melted anew, unable to pull away.