The Jezebel (8 page)

He smiled roguishly. “Now that your maidenhood is gone, you find that you enjoy the bed tousle?”

Her hips rocked of their own accord, and she gripped his hip with one hand, eager to be undone while he was inside her again. “Sire, you know I cannot deny that. You are surely jesting.”

“A lusty wench you are.” He gave a low chuckle. “Lady or no, you cannot deny your nature.”

It was impossible to reply, because his comment said more about her than he realized. How strange it was, Maisie reflected. But it was more than empowerment. She had expected that, the enrichment of her magic. She felt it swelling within, powerful and ready. What she did not expect was the desire, the delicious desire for ravagement and completion.

“I cannot deny it, but you would not want me to, for you are also ready, are you not?” She nodded down at his engorged cock.

“Brazen, too,” he responded, then wrapped his fist around his erection, moving it up and down while she watched.

The action made her wild, the longing she felt doubling instantly. Moaning aloud, she lifted one knee, resting her foot flat to the bed, exposing herself.

“Oh, yes.” He ran the fingers of his free hand over her bared folds.

“Captain...” she pleaded.

His fingers stilled. “You must call me Roderick, or I will not answer.”

“Roderick,” she breathed. “Please.”

He smiled. Moments later he obliged her.

Moving over her, he arranged himself between her open legs, then kissed her mouth passionately. Lifting her easily with his hands beneath her bottom, he eased inside and filled her again.

His cock slid against her sensitive flesh more readily this time. For a moment there was soreness and pain, then she was flooded with pleasure. Clinging to him, she had never felt more grateful. He was a good lover, and Maisie knew she’d made a lucky bargain.

When he pushed deeper still, his hard length stretching and kneading her at her deepest point, she met his gaze. He stared down at her, admiration shining in his eyes, while he stayed still for the longest moment—right there at the place where she seemed to feel most sensitive to his manhood.

Emotion welled in her. She fought it back, focusing on the act, the carnal act and the joy and enrichment it would bring.

This man is someone I have done a trade with, nothing more.

Then she flung her arms around him, and urged him on.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was not long after dawn when Cyrus Lafayette’s carriage arrived in Mayfair and he requested an audience with Edward Russell, the first Earl of Orlford, a former member of the cabinet and first admiral of the British navy fleet. Cyrus and the earl were well acquainted, and Cyrus went to his London residence meaning to use that acquaintance to his advantage.

Because of the early call, he waited for almost an hour before he was granted an audience. Frustration drummed at his temples.

“I trust this is important, Lafayette,” the earl said as he received Cyrus in his chambers. He was hastily dressed and scowling.

“I am most grateful for your time and attention.” Cyrus bowed his head, but was unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. It was almost impossible to act appropriately, given the night he had passed, the information he had gained and the fact he’d been kept waiting. Margaret was in the hands of a lawless merchant seaman. If Cyrus didn’t act quickly, she might be injured or exposed as a witch. Her precious powers might be spoiled, or worse still, aligned with someone other than Cyrus himself. “It is a matter of great urgency, and of a personal nature.”

Russell gestured languidly with his hand, urging Cyrus to continue while he flapped out the full skirt of his coat and took his seat.

“There was an incident in Billingsgate last night. Your men were there together with representatives of His Majesty’s revenue collectors. They were in pursuit of a merchant ship that sailed on the tide.”

Russell neither confirmed nor denied the matter, which was as Cyrus would have expected. The news might appear in reports the earl looked over, but it would be a menial matter for one such as him. Cyrus hurried on. “Eyewitness accounts of the ship’s departure reported that a young woman was taken on board the ship. I have reason to suspect that young woman is my ward.”

Russell raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Margaret?”

“Yes. I trust you understand my concern and my reason for raising you from your bed at this ungodly hour.”

“She has been kidnapped?”

Cyrus had anticipated the earl’s response. “I can only assume that is the case. She has no acquaintance with disreputable people such as they must be, and neither have any of her personal belongings been taken.” That was a lie. The most precious fetish items of her craft were absent from her chamber. He had discovered that himself before dawn. The knowledge had torn him asunder, for it indicated she had been prepared to go. Why? Why had she gone? Had someone forced her? If it was a foolish whim, it was out of character for her, but it could happen. His deepest concern was that she would be too afraid to protect herself by means of magic. It was his fault. He had drummed it into her often enough. Trapped aboard a ship with a bunch of superstitious, ill-educated shipmen, she would surely know it was not a wise place to unleash her magic. “She was due to meet me at the theater last night and never arrived. I can only assume she was waylaid.”

“Have you received a demand?”

“Not as yet, but I am not willing to wait until I do.” Cyrus took a deep breath. “I’m taking a great liberty here, but I wondered if I might request your assistance.”

“In what way?”

“I know from my investigations that your men already have good cause to pursue this ship. If you were to sign an order for a British navy ship to hunt down the vessel, and I were allowed to go aboard, I might gain an advantage, and in doing so rescue my ward before she comes to any harm at their hands.”

Russell reached out and rolled his blotter back and forth on his desk while he considered the request. “It is more than we would normally undertake in the matter of revenue and governing law.”

“I would be most grateful, and my allegiance will be yours in your future endeavors, should you need it.” The promise of backing in government matters was always tempting, and Cyrus felt sure that the earl would claim his return several times over in the future. But Cyrus was willing to do anything in his pursuit of Margaret. He had to have his precious commodity returned to him. He hadn’t groomed her all these years for her to slip away from him just as he was ready to reap the fullest rewards from her.

Russell cast a diminishing look in his direction. “I am the head of the admiralty. Whyever would I need your assistance?”

Cyrus twitched. It was what he might have expected, however. Russell wouldn’t want to be seen to acquiesce too easily. “It is often useful to sway men by means of the written word. I am adept at offering subtle, persuasive opinion in my discourse. Should you wish to gain power, my support in the written word would be one way to achieve it.” He paused, adding weight to his final comment. “On any matter, from this day on, the nature of my discourse would be yours to command.”

Russell considered him at length, then rose to his feet. “I will summon one of my best captains. He will know how easily we can purloin one of the ships ready to set sail on His Majesty’s business, and rearrange its voyage about this new task. While we await his arrival, we will breakfast.” Russell flicked his fingers and nodded at the servant who waited by the door.

The man disappeared immediately.

“Quails eggs today, if memory serves. Does that suit you?”

Cyrus felt his patience falter. He wanted to see orders given, people leaping to action on command. That was not the way with this man, so he nodded as graciously as he could.

Russell led him to the dining room, where the table was being laid out for breakfast.

Cyrus could neither eat nor drink, and when the naval officer arrived and he, too, was encouraged to sit and dine with them, Cyrus’s frustration only grew. Captain Giles Plimpton seemed a capable man, but Cyrus wished his case was being approached with more haste. Every moment that passed was squandered because it took Margaret farther from his grasp.

As the earl ate heartily, Cyrus summarized the situation for Captain Plimpton and ventured further suggestions about how the matter might be handled. “I’ve had several men investigating my ward’s disappearance overnight. We’ve already established that the ship in question was bound for Scotland.”

“Ah, yes,” the captain responded, heaping his plate. “I recall news of a recent sighting, the ship known as the
Libertas,
yes?”

“The very one.” Cyrus was relieved the officer was aware of the ship.

“The captain and crew are well-known to us.” Plimpton nodded sagely. “A heinous, sully bunch they are. They slink in and out of harbor under cover of darkness and without even a nod to the harbormaster or the customs man. It would be a pleasure to go after them to collect the ship’s dues. Alas, it is not a navy priority to chase a lone ship to Scotland for unpaid taxes alone.” He offered Cyrus a quick smile at that juncture.

Cyrus took it as a good sign. Kidnap together with tax evasion made pursuance more tenable. The mention of Scotland, however, made him restless and eager to press on. Margaret was a clever young woman and she often asked about visiting her kin in her homeland. That would not be wise at all, for Cyrus might lose her to them. But he had assured her he would arrange a visit, one day. If that was her motivation, Cyrus rued the fact he had made even a vague promise to take her back there. He’d been concerned that she might stray if she were shown her birthplace. Now it seemed as if she might have strayed, anyway. With hindsight, he knew he should have stomped out any desire to do so by reminding her how many had been ousted by the witch hunters north of the border. Had this happened because of some wild notion about finding her kin? If it was, she had put herself in great danger because of it. A shipful of rowdy, uncivilized seafaring men... Cyrus could barely stand to think of his precious toy in such hands. She was his instrument of power, his divining rod, and he intended to get her back.

The earl pointed at Cyrus’s plate. “The first rule of the sea, Master Lafayette, is to eat heartily whenever you can, for you do not know how long you will be out at sea, and rations aboard ship are far from savory.”

So that was their excuse for filling their bellies while urgent matters were dallied over. The comment did, at least, seem to indicate his request to go aboard the navy ship had been approved. “I beg you to understand my dilemma, sire,” he said, with false humility, gesturing humbly at his untouched plate. “I’m afraid I cannot eat. Nor can I rest, not until I know my ward is safe and unharmed.”

Either his demeanor or his comment urged the earl to action. Russell rested back in his ornate headrest in his chair. “Yes, I can see why you would be so concerned, and your plan to go after them yourself is admirable, of course.” He gestured magnanimously. “I will issue orders forthwith. It will serve as a good lesson to those who ignore the rules and duties of British waters. We will ensure the safe return of your ward and we’ll make an example of this corrupt merchant ship. It will benefit us both.”

“I am most grateful, and I am forever your humble servant,” Cyrus said, and bowed his head. He was thinking of much more than making them an example, however. If even one of them had so much as touched his precious Margaret, he would take them apart with his bare hands.

* * *

Maisie awoke from a deep sleep to find the captain gone, presumably up to the deck to take charge of his ship again. Sighing, she savored the satiated state she awoke in. As she did so it occurred to her that it might have been even better if she had awoken before he did. The satiated feeling gave way to a new hunger—a hunger for more. Was that how it would be now that she’d coupled with a lover? Startled at the way her body throbbed in response to the notion, she sat up.

Nearby, on the railed shelf close to the bed, she discovered he had left a small flagon of ale. She drank thirstily. Next to the flagon stood a wooden box, inside which she found some hard biscuits, oatcakes. They were surprisingly tasty despite their rough consistency.

Rising, Maisie located the pail the captain had pointed out to relieve herself in, then tentatively examined her body before she dressed.

Her breasts were tender and her nipples peaked instantly when she touched them, quickly reminding her of the pleasures she had experienced the night before. It filled her with wonder. Whilst she knew it would be an important change in her life, both as a woman and as a young witch whose craft would be enriched by engaging in carnal acts, she’d had no idea of the newfound awareness she would enjoy. She moved her hands over her body, testing here and there. Responsive, sensitive and eager, her skin tingled. Moreover, that sense of ability that bubbled in her belly when she was sure of her magic was greatly magnified. She had indeed been enriched, and she couldn’t resist exploring it.

Lifting her hands, she allowed her power to flow out from her uplifted palms, and marveled at the intensity of the heat and light that rose from her. For the first time, she truly felt that her magic came from within. The sensual fulfillment had anchored it within her. Previously, the magic knowledge that had been handed down to her was a starting point. It was something she initiated, as if she trickered the first in a chain of events. It felt very different now, as if she were the source itself, rather than the tricker.

As she stood there marveling at it, the ship encountered rougher waters and rocked this way and that in rapid succession. Tempted by that, Maisie put out her hands and channeled her vitality into the waves surrounding the ship. Whispering low under her breath, she bade the elements good day and requested calm waters. Closing her eyes, she absorbed every moment of the experience, noticing how she felt as if she were part of the ocean when it churned more gently, as if she were locked into it.

“It truly has altered me,” she whispered, scarcely able to believe it.

She pushed up her hair with her hands, securing it with several pins that she retrieved from the pocket of her gown, and even as she flexed her neck and stretched, she could feel her own power swelling within. It would be so much easier now for her to protect herself. It would be tempting to evoke change, and she knew she must keep a leash on her skills in order not to be exposed and ousted, as her mother had been.

It was little wonder Cyrus wanted to be in control of this moment, she reflected, for her power was already so much greater. She felt invigorated by the lovemaking she’d enjoyed, more confident in every way—in her magic, and as a woman.

There was great pleasure in that, too.

Moving her fingers lower, between the folds of her intimate place, she discovered that whilst she was tender there and somewhat swollen, it felt good. Pressing deeper, she found she had not been unreasonably rearranged, as she’d feared she might when she caught sight of the size of the captain’s engorged manhood. Apparently her body had not only accommodated it, but already craved it again. When she moved her fingers inside, she became aroused and thought immediately of being filled by the captain’s proud length.

Is this how it should be?
She sat down on the bed and reclined, trailing her fingers over her sensitive folds. Standing proudly, her swollen nub reacted to the movement of her slippery fingers over it. Maisie pressed back into the mattress, her lips parting. She felt rich beyond wealth, decadent and womanly, and her powers simmered within. It was much more than she had expected, and as she massaged herself closer to release, she felt awed. Would it have been this powerful with another lover? Or was it because the captain had proved to be a skilled lover and a good match for her, once they had scrabbled through the strange arrangement and got down to the carnal act?

Shocked at herself, she pushed two fingers inside, imagining his cock probing there. Immediately a radiant sensation sprang free in her groin, and her hips rose on instinct, her fingers sliding deeper. The lingering sensitivity of her flesh was quickly eased by a surge of hot juices. It was good. It was also undeniably bound to the occurrences of the night before. When she had touched herself there before, tentatively, in her virginal state, there was yearning, and sometimes sudden flashes of pleasure, but this was different. Her mind locked on the captain’s image and the way he had been so determined, so manly and virile, as he thrust inside her. Each stroke she made along her supple flesh was encouraged by imaginings and memories.