Capturing the Pirate's Heart (The Emerald Quest Book 1) (7 page)

“So you are able to look after
yourself? You are so capable you have no fear of coming aboard a pirate’s
vessel and being alone in the cabin of a notorious pirate such as I?” Sébastien
lowered his face to hers until he could feel the warmth of her quick breath
fanning his lips. It was time for her to see what foolish behavior could lead
to. She needed to be taught a lesson and he was prepared to take her in hand.

“You have caused me quite a
significant problem, and I must think of a way for you to repay me. Without
going back to New Orleans so you could do whatever it was you had planned.
Whatever your quest was.”

A rustle of stiff fabric
preceded the warmth of her body pressing into his and he lifted his head
slightly, surprised by her acquiescence. She pushed her body against his and
lifted her hands to his chest. Perhaps he was mistaken?

Perhaps she is not the innocent
I had taken her for?

As he gazed down at her, his
fingers on her slight shoulders, holding her close to him, her soft breasts
pushed against his chest and a lazy swirl of desire kicked into his groin.
Slowly he lowered his head and spread his hands across her back to hold her
even closer. Her breath quickened, and her emerald eyes widened as her lips
opened beneath his. He dipped his head down slowly, intending to briefly taste
the sweetness promised by them. Just one lesson to begin with; he would not
frighten her too much.

He felt her soft lips move to a
smile beneath his in the second before her teeth fastened onto his bottom lip.
She bit his lip with her pretty little teeth and pulled away from his hold.

Then a loud shriek escaped her
lips as she stamped on his bare foot. “Take that, you…you, pirate! And don’t
you ever put your hands on me again, or I’ll…or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what, you little
hoyden?”

Sébastien shoved her away none
too gently, and she fell back onto the bed as he crossed the room to the
pitcher of water, his hand pressed against his bleeding mouth.

***

Madeleine’s heart was beating so fast, for a moment she
thought she would faint again. She lay back on the bed and watched with a small
measure of satisfaction as the pirate dabbed at his lip with a piece of damp
cloth and she tried to calm herself. If he thought she was his for the taking,
he was in for quite a surprise. Her breath was still coming in quick pants and
she closed her mouth to focus on her breathing, waiting for him to come back
over to the bed. She would fight him to the death.

What would he do?
Dreading his touch, but in a
strange way anticipating the feel of his hands on her again.

What is going to happen to me?
She’d been brave enough when
she had been sure of her ability to find her way through the streets of New
Orleans and avoid being found by her uncle but now, she was in a much worse
position than trying to find some lodgings in a strange town. She’d hoped to
remain anonymous before she went looking for Aunt Josephine’s house. Now, not
only was she a captive, if the pirate was speaking the truth, they were out in
the ocean and the vessel was leaving New Orleans farther behind with each wave
it ploughed through.

Madeleine rolled over and pushed
herself to her feet before he could touch her again. She regarded him steadily
as he walked toward her.

He returned her gaze, but
strangely Madeleine felt no fear. For all his words and threats—and his
actions—she sensed that he would not go through with them.

Unless I am being naive and it
is only wishful thinking
.
Perhaps it was self-preservation that had dispatched her fear? Crossing the
cabin toward him, she spoke slowly and clearly to convey her calm.

“Tell me what you shall do with
me.” A memory of the horror stories that Jake had told her of pirates making
their captives walk the plank, or abandoning helpless souls on desert islands
flitted though her thoughts.

The man she now knew as
Sébastien Leclerc, the pirate, ran a hand through his hair. Madeleine was used
to seeing men in powdered wigs with their hair rolled back from their
foreheads. She examined him as he let out an exasperated sigh. His hair, as
black as a raven’s wing, was pulled back into a piece of leather and his skin
was deeply tanned. His eyes were a dark brown and ringed by long, dark lashes.
She looked at the loose, white shirt which was still unbuttoned to his waist,
and allowed her a glimpse of smooth skin on his chest which was as tanned as
his face and neck. Her gaze dropped lower and still he didn’t speak. A dark
pair of close fitting trousers molded the muscles of his long legs and a rush
of warmth filled her belly as she lifted her eyes back to his face.

His expression turned to one of
amusement as he noticed her close examination. The warmth that had coiled in
her belly now ran up her neck and onto her cheeks, as the gentle quivers in her
private parts reminded her of the unfamiliar feelings she had experienced when
she had read Aunt Josephine’s diary.

Oh no.
She would not let these strange
feelings take her mind off her quest. Madeleine put her hand to her mouth. Her
desire to evade Uncle Titus and now the worry of being on a pirate’s vessel and
leaving New Orleans were uppermost in her mind, and would stay that way. She
must figure out a way to get back to the New Orleans in order to find the
heirloom and, more importantly, restore Bellerose for the friends she had left
behind in England.

Frustration filled her and she
dropped her chin to her chest. Determined she may be, but how she would achieve
that was now out of her hands.

And in the hands of a pirate.

“You are quite the innocent,
aren’t you, Madeleine Bellerose?” He reached out and took her hand, his clasp
strong and warm, yet still she felt no fear.

“Please?”

“Please what? Tell me how I may
please you? Is that what you ask?” His deep voice washed over her and she
closed her eyes.

“What will you do with me?”

She lifted her head again and
brushed the back of her hand impatiently at the tears that spilled onto her
cheeks. She met his hooded gaze. She would not appear as a lily-livered sissy.
Father had always taught her to face adversity head on, and she allowed herself
a grim smile. One thing she was certain of, when Father had been teaching her
that, he would never, in his wildest dreams, have imagined her being orphaned,
on the other side of the world and a captive on a pirate ship. But the lessons
he had taught her had made her the person she was.

The pirate lifted his hand and
wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb and his kindness opened a flood
of tears. Madeleine sank to her knees and put her hands over her face as she
gave into loud sobs that wracked her body.

“Come now.” His voice was kind
as he lifted her to her feet and led her back to the bed, but Madeleine couldn’t
stem the flow of tears. “I promise I won’t hurt you. You are quite safe with
me.”

“I am not frightened.” She
hiccupped. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, then, compose yourself
and we shall decide what is going to happen.” The bed dipped beneath his weight
as he sat next to her. “I can certainly tell you what to do.”

She strained to hear as he
muttered beneath his breath. “I should turn the vessel around now.”

“What shall I call you?” The
sobs had subsided and she sniffed, again using the back of her hand in a most
unladylike manner.

“You can call me Sébastien. That
is my name.”

“Where are you from?” Finally
she could speak without crying. Madeleine straightened her shoulders and looked
to the man sitting beside her. “Where is your home?”

“Where am I from?” Smile lines
formed around his eyes as his lips tipped upward in a wide smile and a warm
watery feeling ran through her. “I am from many places. I consider no place on
land more home than another. Why do you ask?”

Madeleine sensed he was trying
to calm her with conversation. “Your words? Your accent? You speak like no one
I have ever met before.”

“I was born on an island called
San Domingo, but for the present my home is on this vessel.” He held
her gaze and that funny feeling crawled back into her belly. It was not
unpleasant and she filed it away to examine later.

“My mother was the daughter of a French settler…and my father? Well
that’s another story for a time when we are bunkered down in a storm. I
consider myself neither French nor American.”

Madeleine swallowed. “Are you really a…a pirate?”

Sébastien’s white teeth flashed against his tanned skin as he
laughed. “I need to explore this assumption a little further. I believe that
you watched my vessel from yours as we moored at the quay?”

Madeleine nodded.

“And did you see a skull and cross bones flying on our mast? Were we
wielding cutlasses?” His grin got wider and she knew he was enjoying teasing
her. “Did you see the fair citizens of New Orleans running away in fear as they
beseeched us not to murder them in their beds?”

This time she shook her head slowly and it was hard not to smile at
the playful tone in his voice. She bit her lip.

“So tell me, why do you think I may be a pirate?”

“Jake…the cabin boy told me stories of Sébastien Leclerc who is a
pirate feared across the oceans.”

“Ah, did young Jake, indeed? Perhaps I will have to have a word with
him.” He tapped a long elegant finger against his cheek and Madeleine watched
fascinated as his tongue ran around his top lip. Then she realized what he’d
said.

“Jake? How can you have a word with him?”

“Young Jake has come on board the
Maiden
for our voyage and
by the sound of things he may be as pleased to see you as you may be to see
him.”

Relief coursed through Madeleine as she realized she may have an
ally on board, and then it was quickly dispelled by his next words.

“You shall see him in the morning. Now we must get some sleep, but
until I am sure I can trust you to stay below deck in my cabin, you will share
my bed.”

Sébastien stood and reached behind Madeleine and pulled the coverlet
down on the soft bed. She stifled a gasp as he shrugged his shirt from his
shoulders and her vision was filled with a bare chest.

“Although if you do go above deck, there is nowhere for you to run
to.” He pointed to the far side of the bed that was tucked into the side of the
hull. “I shall sleep on the outside and if you need to get out to use the
privy—” the heat filling her already hot cheeks increased “—you will have to
wake me. But rest assured the first attempt to escape my cabin and I shall be
forced to tie your hands to the bed.” His voice softened. “I do not want to go
to those lengths, Madeleine, but trust me, I will. It is for your own safety.
Now can you sleep in that ugly black dress or would you like to take it off?”
The grin was back and her face burned.

Madeleine turned her back and scurried over to the far side of the
bed and pulled the coverlet over her chest and up to her chin as Sébastien
walked over to the lamp. The muscles flexed in the smooth golden skin of his
back as he reached across and snuffed the wick. The room was immediately
immersed in pitch darkness as the sweet smell of oil permeated the small space
and she held her breath as the bed moved beside her. Rolling over, she turned
her face to the wall and presented her back to him. A low chuckle near her ear
preceded the warm hand that settled on her hip and she closed her eyes waiting
for what would surely follow. Madeleine had some idea of what to expect when
she married and she squeezed her eyes shut, preparing to be ravished.

But Sébastien’s hand stayed there without moving and his soft voice
filled the tense silence. “Now try to sleep and we shall talk more in the
morning.”

Madeleine lay beside him, her body rigid and her heart thudding
against her rib cage. She tensed as the bed moved once more.

What was he going to do?

“Oh, and Madeleine. I’m not really a pirate, but I would appreciate
it if you don’t disillusion young Jake on the morrow.” His laugh sent heat
spiraling though her body and she squeezed her legs together to try to capture
the exquisite feeling that consumed her as the pressure of his hand weighed
through her dress onto her skin.

“I think young Jake is quite chuffed to think he is a cabin boy on a
pirate vessel.”

The bed creaked as he lifted his hand and turned his back to her.
Soon only his soft steady breathing could be heard over the creaks and groans
of the boat as it pushed through the waves, taking her farther from her
destination with each gust of wind in the sails.

She would not give in to sleep. Another escape must be planned, but
Madeleine suspected that the man lying next to her was going to be much harder
to hoodwink than Uncle Titus.

Madeleine dreamed of emeralds and diamonds, and Aunt Josephine who
was repeating the words which Madeleine had imprinted in her memory. Aunt
Josephine was walking beside a row of graves and Madeleine shivered in her
sleep.

What new passions will my lover
find me today? What pleasures unheard of, undreamed of?
A wavering old voice said the
words she had read in the diary.

Madeleine
woke slowly, reached up and stretched before she opened her eyes. She frowned
and twisted in the bed; the long skirts of her stiff, black dress were caught
around her knees. She reached down to untangle herself. A gasp escaped her and
her eyes flew open when her hands were captured and held above her head. In her
dream, she had been safely in the garden at Bellerose, and then in a cemetery
looking for Great Aunt Josephine, but when she
opened
her eyes, she encountered a pair of dark brown eyes examining her closely and
the events of the last day came rushing back to her.

“Good morning, Madeleine.” Sébastien’s voice was husky with the
remnants of sleep but his eyes were alert and full of interest as he
scrutinized her. “I need to go above deck very soon but first we shall set some
rules for you.”

He set her hands free, rolled to the side of the bed and stood, all
in one quick fluid movement.

A good thing for me to take note of
. His
eyes were keen and he moved quickly. Not that there was anywhere for her run to
while she was on the boat, but she filed that quick, feline movement away for
future reference.

“Stay there.” He disappeared behind the curtain beside the door and
Madeleine sat up to take stock of her surroundings. During the night she had
been too focused on finding a hiding place to notice the cabin and then when
she had been discovered, her attention had switched to preserving her safety.

And what a cabin it was. He said he was not a pirate, but Madeleine
was sure that the captain’s cabin on the frigate on which she had spent the
past month would not boast a cabin as luxurious as that which she was
observing. She had not seen what a huge space it was; it must run half the
length of the vessel. She turned her head and her gaze followed the solid
timber beams which lined the base of the deck above her. The dark beams were
richly oiled and the bedclothes and the curtain were ruby red and shot with
gold thread. A second table she hadn’t noticed last night held a bowl filled
with some sort of purple exotic fruit which she did not recognize. Eventually
curiosity and hunger got the better of her. She climbed from the bed and her
bare feet encountered a deep, soft carpet. It was richly patterned and of the
same deep red as the curtain across the room. Shaking her head, she allowed her
gaze to wander over the furnishings. The contents of this cabin were more
suited to a Duke’s drawing room and were far more elegant than anything that
had filled Bellerose Hall even before Uncle Titus had sold most of it. If
Sébastien Leclerc was not a pirate, as he said, he appeared to be a very rich
sea captain. She padded quietly over to the table, lifted the unfamiliar fruit
and turned it around before sniffing it.

“Are you hungry?” The deep voice came from close behind her and she
twirled around. Sébastien stood beside her. He was as sure-footed as a cat in
the dark. She had not heard him approach.

She nodded as her stomach emitted a loud grumble and heat flared in
her cheeks. He gestured to the curtained area. “Perhaps you may care
to…er…freshen up? You will also find a table with a pitcher of water and a bowl
in there.”

Madeleine walked past him, keeping her head high, but she was aware
of his eyes on her as she pulled the curtain down behind her.

***

                                                                                                                      
Sebastian had feigned sleep in the early hours until he had been sure that
Madeleine Bellerose had fallen asleep herself. He had lain there in the dark,
until her soft breathing had fallen into a regular pattern and her body had
relaxed against his. For an hour he had lain there, his mind ticking over, and
it had been almost light before he’d allowed himself to drift into a light
sleep. Now he sat at the table, waiting for her to come out from the privy. He
had formulated a plan before dawn and she must agree to it. He suspected,
however, that she may be reluctant to fall in with his idea. If she wanted the
freedom of the vessel while they were out at sea—when they were at Barataria
Bay, it would be a different matter—she was going to have to listen to him and
agree to what he proposed.

                                                                                                                      
She will have no choice but to agree—for her own safety.

Madeleine stepped from the privy and dropped the curtain and walked
slowly over to him. Again he was struck anew by her innocent beauty—a virginal
beauty, he was sure. Her face was still rosy from sleep and her long auburn
hair was loose, and hung over her shoulders hiding the neckline of the ugly,
black dress. Her hair was thick and of the richest auburn he had ever seen. He
stared at her for a moment longer before pointing to the chair opposite him.
The contrast between her alabaster skin, the deep green eyes and her auburn
tresses was breathtaking and he found himself almost bewitched. If she was any
other woman—apart from an innocent virgin—he would have had a most pleasurable
time with her in his bed during the voyage.

But
it was not to be. He hoped it would not be difficult to convince the crew that
she was his woman—so long as she would agree to go along with his plan. It was
the only way to keep her safe; and that he must do. Only Mr. Abrahams would be
aware of the truth of why she was onboard. But she could not appear on deck in
a mourning dress if they were to convince the crew she was his wench. He hoped
that she would not be recognized as the young woman who had laughed down at him
when he had fallen from the rigging into the Mississippi River. But her bonnet
had hidden her features and the two ships had been far enough apart so that the
crew would not have seen her face. Once she was out of that ghastly black dress
and left her hair down, she would not be recognized as that same young woman at
all.

“I assume you are wearing the only clothes that you have here?”

She nodded and her expression was wary. “Yes, the rest of my clothes
were in my bag that Jake threw overboard.”

“Jake? The cabin boy?” Sébastien frowned. He would have to bring
young Jake down here before it was known that Madeleine was on board. But first
things first; something had to be done about her attire.

“Do you have any seamstress skills, Madeleine?”

Before she could answer, there was a tap at the cabin door.

“Yes, who is it?” Sébastien followed it by a yawn so that whoever it
was would think he was still abed.

“’T is Crawford, Captain. I have heated some porridge for the crew
and brought some for you.”

“Wait there. I will be with you in a moment.” It was time to put his
plan into place but it was a shame that he had had no time to tell Madeleine
what she was going to do.

Sébastien put his finger to his lips as he stood and walked around
to where she was sitting. Lowering his head, he lifted her hair away from a
delicate shell-like ear, ignoring the jolt of warmth that ran up his arm as her
hair brushed his skin.

“You are going to have to trust me. All right?” he whispered as he
grasped her arm and pulled her across to the bed, before he gestured for her to
climb back in.

Sébastien reached across to her dress and tried to look apologetic
as he took the fabric on her shoulders between both hands and ripped it,
exposing her bare skin. He tucked the loose fabric down so it barely covered
the soft swell at the top of her breasts.

“Now lie back, muss your hair and try to look wanton.”

“Wanton?” At least she kept her angry response to a whisper. “How do
I look wanton, pray, captain?”

“Pinch your cheeks and bite your lips to redden them.” He lifted his
fingers to his bruised lip where she had bitten him. “You need to look as
though you have been tumbled in my bed all night. Now get that sour look off
your face and smile.”

Comprehension dawned in her expression, and she did not need to
pinch her cheeks as the color flooded into them.

Definitely a virgin
. He would put a
wager on that assumption.

Sébastien was pleased to see Madeleine follow his instructions as
she lifted her fingers and ran them through her thick, loose tresses. As he
walked slowly across to the door, he unlaced his shirt and pulled it from his
breeches.

Grasping the wooden door handle, he stood to the side and opened the
door, allowing the ship’s cook to enter and place the wooden tray he was
carrying onto the table they had just vacated.

“Thank you, Crawford.” He feigned another yawn and gestured to the
bed. “I had not realized it was so late in the morning. I am surely a layabout
today. I have had little sleep.” He winked at the man and inclined his head to
the bed. “Please tell Mr. Abrahams I will be on deck shortly. If Madame lets me
leave.”

Crawford glanced across to the bed and his grin exposed the gaps
that missing teeth had once filled. “Aye, aye Captain.” His gaze lingered a
little too long on Madeleine’s chest for Sébastien’s liking and the protective
instinct that rushed through him brought back thoughts of Lisette. He stepped
between the man and the bed to block his view, and pointed to the door. The
cook had seen enough for the assumption to be made.

“Thank you, Crawford.”

The door closed behind him and Sébastien put his finger to his lips
as he held Madeleine’s gaze. When the sound of the cook’s footsteps had
receded, Madeleine jumped from the bed, clutching her torn dress to her chest.

“My question was timely.” Sébastien leaned against the door and
watched as Madeleine’s chest rose and fell as she tried to contain her anger.

“What question?” She glared at him and he stifled a smile. He didn’t
need her angry; she must be receptive to his plan, which thanks to the cook’s
timely visit, would be well under way by now. The presence of a woman in the
captain’s bed would be spread round the crew like wildfire.

“About whether you have any seamstress skills?”

She walked across to the table and sat on the chair, still clutching
her torn dress together in front of her breasts. “So you intended to tear my
dress all along?”

She has courage
.

“No, that was necessary in the circumstances; however, we do need to
find you some suitable clothes.”

“What do you mean suitable?”

Sébastien crossed the room and crouched beside her. “By now, the
word will be spreading above deck. The captain has a luscious wench below and
the crew will be salivating to see what manner of woman has caught the
captain’s eye this—” He broke off before he could finish. Madeleine narrowed
her eyes.

“This what?”

“Nothing.” She did not need to know that occasionally a woman would
accompany him on his voyage. Although it had been a few months since he had
given passage to the dark-haired beauty who had needed a berth from Antigua to
New Orleans. The fact that she had ended up in his cabin was of no concern now;
of prime importance was keeping Madeleine safe from harm. He had never taken a
woman on any of the governor’s missions; that would have been foolhardy. He had
yet to give thought as to what he would do with Madeleine when the mission was
over and they returned to New Orleans. That was in the future and if her uncle
was still in port—which he doubted—Sébastien would hand her over.

“Yes, I can sew.” Her quiet voice interrupted his musing.

“Good.” Sébastien took her hands in his and examined them. There was
no doubt she was a gentlewoman. Her hands were soft and white, and he held them
gently as he lifted his gaze. Her green eyes were fixed on his and a pulse
fluttered in her slender, white neck.

“Being a lady, I would not expect you to have much knowledge of life
aboard a vessel?”

She shook her head. “I have knowledge. Do not forget, Captain, I
have just travelled across the ocean from my home.”

“On a British frigate with a chaplain on board? A very different
proposition to a pirate vessel, my dear.”

A gasp escaped her lips and she pulled her hands from his grasp.
“You lied. You said you were not a pirate.”

“I’m not…exactly. But there will be some…shall we say…action while
we are at sea. That is why it is imperative that you must listen to me and do
everything I say.”

He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers down the side of her soft
cheek and her eyes widened.

“Everything,” he repeated softly.