The Jezebel (10 page)

All eyes were upon them.

As they walked, Roderick issued orders to the men nearby, sending them scurrying back to their tasks. Maisie noticed that most of them were barefoot, as if it was safer to be that way as they went about their duties on the decks or clambered up the poles and ropes.

Grappling for an appropriate comment, she gestured at a man pacing up and down the deck, dragging a broom covered in a wet cloth over the boards. “I could assist there,” she said. “I’m able to clean floors.”

Roderick shook his head. “It isn’t cleaning. He’s wetting the planks to keep the caulking tight.”

As she had quickly gathered the night before, seafarers seemed to have their own language, much as those who practiced witchcraft did, using words passed down from generation to generation, understood only by their own kind.

“It keeps the ship from leaking,” Roderick added, when she gave him a questioning glance. He gestured at a slender lad who stood at the far railing. “Come, if you wish to help, you can work alongside Adam. He is a young Dutchman only on his fifth month with us. It will be a blessing that he has someone to focus him. He is a mite too eager to get beyond himself and set about tasks that he is not yet ready for, but if you are by his side I warrant he will not stray.”

Roderick made a gruff introduction, gave her a last lingering glance, then left them and resumed his duties on the deck above.

Maisie attached herself to the young lad, who was shy and awkward and much younger than she. His face flushed regularly while in her company. His current task was tackling a pile of filthy clothing. Maisie watched with curiosity as he tied items to a rope and then lowered the laden line over the side of the ship until it was immersed in the water.

She leaned over the railing to observe. “How clever.”

Adam grinned.

Holding tight to the rope, which was obviously no easy task, he let it drag through the waves alongside the ship in an effort to rid the clothing of dirt. Maisie watched what he did, and then assisted by lifting the garments from the pail he dropped them in after their dip, and squeezing them out. The hard work felt good and she was glad to be useful, though her hands became red and sore. It was no easy life being aboard ship, but at that point in her young life the work felt honest. And the basic conditions and presence of many toiling together aboard the vessel appealed to her because of her previous isolation.

Every once in a while a bell was rung. “What is the bell for?”

“It marks the half hour, so that men know when their watches end and they can rest.”

“Ah. Thank you.” She smiled at the lad.

Once again, he blushed.

Maisie estimated he was no more than sixteen. Roderick had picked her a good companion to work with. The other, older men were less friendly, watching her with suspicion that aroused a sense of foreboding in her bones, the wariness that Cyrus had taught her to feel whenever attention was on her. It made her think that the shipmen might know the truth about her, but she reminded herself of the captain’s warning, that the men simply did not want a woman aboard. There was no reason they would think her anything other than a normal young woman who wished to travel to her kin.

When she occasionally craned her neck she could see men moving about on the level above. Roderick was there. She noticed how he checked the wind, the sails and the waters every few moments, acting on instinct, it seemed. When he called out for a sail change, he watched as the sailors leaped into action. His crew trusted him, and he didn’t want to put that at risk. He’d said he was responsible for everyone aboard, herself included. Maisie gained new, deeper respect for him as she watched him at work.

Later, she helped Adam gather rainwater from a barrel for the crew to drink as they came to the end of their watches. When she asked him a question, he often spoke in a foreign tongue before translating, the language of his own country.

“There is not much here,” she commented as the lad clambered almost wholly over the rim of the barrel to scoop out another flagon’s-worth from low inside.

“
Ja.
There was no time to take water on in London. Is bad.” He shook his head. “Three days out of port, there is only rum and grog to drink, but we will call at Lowestoft tomorrow and there will be new water then.” He grinned.

“Lowestoft?” Roderick had mentioned it. She had also heard the name before that, perhaps in her lessons, perhaps elsewhere in conversation. It was a port on the east coast of England. Maisie did not know how far they had traveled, so was unable to gauge how much farther it was until they reached Scotland. The captain had said they would be in Dundee within the week. That was pleasing enough. It would have taken her much longer by coach.

Adam nodded his head at the captain’s first mate, the man called Brady. “He visits with his woman there every time we pass this place, Lowestoft.”

Maisie was intrigued. Brady was the one who had given her the most suspicious looks of all the night before, and yet he had a woman of his own, something she did not imagine many of the other men had. Back at Billingsgate he’d shown his disapproval of her quite openly.

She watched as Roderick ambled over to Brady, and cocked her head to hear his voice.

“Pray for an east wind,” he told his first mate, “otherwise it will take the best part of a fortnight to reach the borderland.”

Pray for an east wind.
Maisie turned away quickly, lest he see her furrowed brow.

Staring up at the skies, she observed what he had—endless blue skies strewn with wisps of cloud that did not move. It was her fault, because of her earlier experiment stilling the rough waters. She had inadvertently slowed the passage of the ship in her moment of exaltation. Her belly churned as she realized her mistake. Now she would have to rectify that. It was not her intention to create magic anywhere she might be observed, but it seemed she must correct her earlier error and be quick about it.

With her head turned to the waves, so no one might observe, she beckoned the east wind to them, quietly chanting the ancient words that harnessed the elements. A moment later, her hair swept up, lifted by a dramatic change in the breeze that pulled it free of its pins. It was exciting to see the clouds scudding across the sky once more. Her magic had always been powerful, nurtured as it was by her guardian, but she had been able to contain her reaction. To see her gift realized out here on the open seas caused her to be elated. The ship swayed dramatically, but Maisie was quickly able to adjust her stance, moving in rhythm to counter each pitch and toss.

She didn’t dare turn back and see Roderick’s reaction. She heard him nonetheless, commenting on it and referring to their luck. When his voice faded, she glanced quickly and saw him stride back toward the place he had called the helm. The deck rolled and pitched, and more sails were unraveled to catch the wind on his order.

Then she heard another voice, close by. “I recognize that tongue. It was Pictish.”

Maisie spun on her heel.

“Those words were Pictish, were they not?”

Her heart beat wildly. She’d been observed making magic.

The man before her was aged, his face deeply wrinkled, his hair and beard full and white. Maisie recalled him from the night before. He’d been one of the three men who stood waiting for the captain to return from town, and he’d scaled the nets almost as fast as his counterparts, despite the fact she could now see how bent over he was.

There was a watchful, suspicious look in his wily eyes.

The fear and caution that Cyrus had bred in her thundered back tenfold, stripping her of the pleasure that she’d had in the magical moment, unnerving her once more. “Always protect yourself,” Master Cyrus had instructed. “Never let anyone know, never let anyone but me see what you can do. If you do, you risk facing what your mother faced.”

It was every bit as dangerous as her master had warned. She was barely two days away from him, and someone had observed her making magic.

“Words my mother taught me,” she replied. That much was true. “From an old song about the Highlands.” That part was somewhat embroidered, but she was eager to deflect his attention.

“A song from the Highlands?” He cocked his head. “Now that would be most pleasing to hear.”

The man was barely as high as her shoulder, crooked as he was. Yet when he peered at her, Maisie felt his scrutiny. Had he recognized the words? He knew their origins, but did he know their meaning? It was hard to gauge how much danger she was in.

She offered him a smile, hoping it might sweeten him. “I know some songs.”

“All Pictish?”

She shook her head. “I know only a few lines of the old tongue, but I also speak Gaelic and Scottish. I can sing a song from the Highlands for you in English, if it pleases you.”

He stared at her still, waiting on the song, beady eyes narrowed.

Maisie took a deep breath. She did not sing often, but she was well trained in protecting herself by any means necessary. Master Cyrus had taught her she should fear for her life on such occasions and do whatever necessary to avert suspicion.

She cast her mind back. Their mother would sing to them about their birthplace in the Highlands whenever they were unsettled and afraid, and her voice had made the three Taskill children calm and happy. Maisie didn’t know if she could sing that way, but she thought of her mother—of the time before her life was so cruelly ended—and she heard her mother’s voice in her mind. It wasn’t often that Maisie went back there in her memories, but when she did they were so vivid. She saw her mother’s face as she had been—hopeful in her quest to find her errant husband, the man who had left them because he didn’t understand his wife’s witchcraft and could not come to terms with magical bairns. Their mother’s love for him still thrived, and it drew the family in his wake to the Lowlands, where they were torn apart by the death and destruction that followed.

“Hush now,”
her mother’s voice said in her mind,
“never fear. We must be what we are, come what may, and not be ashamed.”

Maisie smarted with pain. She had been taught to live differently since her mother was put to death. She’d been taught to hide and be afraid.

But now she heard her mother’s voice raised in song, proudly singing a song of the Highlands, and breath surged in Maisie’s lungs.

CHAPTER NINE

“My love, I could sing of the whispering sea,

In the calm of a winter’s night,

My love, I could sing of the trembling stars,

And the flickering northern light,

And the moon, and the winds, and the barren isles,

With the clinging mists of rain,

But my soul doth flee, over the moaning sea,

To a lovely Highland glen.”

* * *

Roderick stared across the deck at his unexpected passenger and found himself utterly entranced.

Her voice was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. The very air seemed to be shot through with it, making every one of the shipmen cease work and turn her way.

Roderick could not bring himself to order them back to their tasks, for the words she sang touched him deeply, and he strained against the elements to hear every one.

“My love, the restless surges moan

In the gloom of the ocean caves,

My love, fast falls the waning moon

Beneath the glittering waves.

I could dream of isles in the tropic seas,

Where Winter’s ire is vain,

But my soul doth flee, o’er the moaning sea,

To a lovely Highland glen.”

Roderick glanced at the men around him and saw that they were as moved as he was, seafaring men one and all, but they kept the memory of their homeland—whether it be Scotland or Holland—close to their hearts, and the song made them think of the place they carried in their own hearts.

“Oh, give me the breath of the moorland wide,

On the breast of the azure ben,

Oh, give me the boundless sky above,

And the golden burn in the glen.

Show me the birch and the rowan tree,

And the land in sun or rain.”

Across the deck she looked his way, and Roderick could see that even while she sang, she was fretful. Why? What had Clyde said to her? Moreover, why did her mood call to him, forcing him to her side, no matter what the consequences?

On she sang.

“Oh, the heath and the bracken call to me,

From that lovely Highland glen.

May I linger there with you, my love,

On a future summer day.”

When she reached the final words her glance lingered on him a moment, then she looked about. Roderick could see she was startled to find the entire crew had paused to listen to her. Once again she had drawn their attention. He could not blame them. However, what he should be doing was telling her more sternly to go below deck and stay there, out of view of the men. Sight of her would only cause grievance amongst the men, for her presence broke the ship’s rules. Yet when he’d set eyes on her earlier, nothing else had seemed to matter.

Gone was the deeply solemn air that she’d had about her when they first met the evening before. He was glad of that. Was it familiarity with her that made him look upon her in a different way? No, she
was
different. For a moment pride leaped in him, when it occurred to him that he had brought it out in her. Roderick could scarcely turn his gaze away. How beautiful she was, with her hair drifting on the breeze, her cheeks glowing and a smile on her face that seemed only for him—a secret smile that told him she was thinking about what had passed between them. That made him crave her again.

It was more than that, though. Moments after she had set foot above deck it was as if the day became brighter. The sun gleamed on the crests of the waves. And when she stood in the prow, chin lifted to the breeze, he could see the thrill on her face as the wind tugged at her hair. Even the wind had turned in their favor when she smiled.

He strode across the deck to her side, gesturing to the men as he went, indicating they should get back to their duties now.

She watched him close in on her and there was trepidation in her expression.

“You have the voice of an angel,” he commented, eager to put her at ease.

Visibly relieved, she wilted against the railing at her back. “I’m glad you liked the song.”

“The voice of an angel sounds every bit as sweet on a Jezebel.” It was Clyde who had spoken.

“Jezebel?” Maisie repeated in a shocked tone.

Roderick shook his head.

Clyde gave her a toothless grin.

Roderick frowned at the old man. “You have been treated to a song. Do not cast aspersions.”

“Aspersions? What aspersions? I haven’t yet decided whether this particular Jezebel is a good woman or a bad.”

Roderick noticed how distressed she became on hearing that, lifting her hand to her throat as if she feared for her life. He frowned. “Clyde, I forbid you to jest about our passenger.”

The old sailor gave him a knowing glance, but did not respond. Nor did he move away. It was as if he truly didn’t trust the woman. What grounds did he have for that? True enough, not one of them knew anything about her. Roderick had wondered about her origins several times himself that day. That was no reason to make her afraid. With a disparaging glance, he barked out an order. “You have duties to occupy you elsewhere.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Clyde limped away, but with frequent glances back over his shoulder, as if he meant to keep watching.

Maisie watched him as he went, and she looked concerned.

“What did he say to upset you?”

Her head jerked up. Studying him with surprise in her eyes, she denied it. “He didn’t upset me. I think he heard me humming to myself and he asked for a song, that’s all.”

“You were nervous to sing?”

She nodded. “I have not sung that song since I was a child.”

“Now that you are Scotland bound it has come back to you.”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “I was discouraged from thinking of my homeland for many years.”

“Why was that?” As soon as he’d asked, he knew he shouldn’t have.

Pressing her lips together tightly for a moment, she turned her face back out to sea. “The people I lived with, they didn’t want me to go back there. But it’s in my blood and I must see the place again and find my kin...come what may.”

Roderick knew he had intruded, but her puzzling comment made him want to know more, and he decided that he would discover her hidden story by hook or by crook. Curiosity had ahold of him. It was neither the time nor the place, though, for she was still in sight of the crew and he must remedy that quickly. “The men will accept you now, now that you sang so sweetly to them.”

Her head lifted. “Thank you for your kindness. I hope that is the case.”

“Don’t ever repeat this, but your song was much better than what the men roll out to make the time pass more readily. A worse noise you have never heard, especially when there is rum involved.”

A soft laugh passed through her open lips and her eyes twinkled at him.

Roderick was pleased he had shooed her fretful mood away.

Then something in her expression reminded him of that point the night before when her fear of their coupling had turned to pleasure, and his whole body responded, the need to hold her growing once more. It seemed that would be the case whenever she was near. Roderick groaned beneath his breath, for it was a dual-edged sword. As captain he could not afford to lose his faculties to lust every time he saw her, and yet it did feel exceedingly good when he was put in that state.

As she looked at him something in her expression changed. Had she sensed his increased need to hold her? Her lips curved, and her chin lifted as if she was ready to accept a kiss. What he saw there in her eyes reflected his desire.

“You have a canny way of capturing my interest, my lady.”

“Do not let me distract you from your duties, Captain.”

“It is too late for that. The moment you stepped on deck I could think of nothing else but claiming you again.”

Her eyes widened and a flash of color lit her cheekbones. “Truly?”

“Could you not tell?”

“I did wonder.” How beguiling she looked, now that she was sure. Her eyes grew dark and her lower lip pouted, as if in expectation of a kiss.

Her gaze lowered to his chest. “You are a fine lover, Captain Cameron, and I remembered every moment of it this morning while I dressed. As soon as you came close to me on deck, the memory was rekindled once more.”

Roderick’s loins heated. Her candidness lured him. “I am close to you now.”

“And I find myself ready for you again.” Her eyes shone, and her bosom rose and fell rapidly as she breathed.

Roderick put his hand to the small of her back and guided her back below deck.

It took all his restraint to proceed at a leisurely pace. What he wanted to do was lift her in his arms and cart her off with the utmost haste. Once they had descended the ladder and he’d closed the hatch behind them, Roderick let loose his yearnings. Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her toward him and covered her mouth with his.

She hummed in approval, returning his kiss.

How soft and supple she was, and how she arched against him, pressing her hips to his. Every bit as eager as he was, she plucked at his shirt with her hand, suggesting through touch that they disrobe. He had to feel her wrapped around him.

Barely breaking their embrace, he maneuvered her to the door to his quarters, and grappled for the handle. Inside, he lifted her in his arms, put his hands around her buttocks and pressed her back to the door, closing it in the process.

Sighing, she clutched at him and her legs shifted around his hips.

“Aye, this is a good fit.” Thrusting his hips to hers, he felt charged, exhilarated as never before. Was it because she wanted him so, that they shared this pleasure so joyously? Bending to her exposed neck, he rained kisses on the soft skin that led down to her collarbone.

She embraced his head with her hands, holding him close, her hips rocking against him. “Oh, Roderick, you have made me this way.”

“No.” He kissed the swell of her bosom. “This was in you, but I’m glad it is myself who is discovering that.”

“As am I,” she whispered against his ear.

That was a whole new encouragement and he had to be inside her. Holding her against him with her legs around his hips, he turned and carried her over to the map table, lowering her to its edge.

Confused, she stared down at the map on the table below her. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Having you.” He unlaced his breeches and his cock pitched out. “Lie down. You will be higher here and I will be able to see you better while I bring you off.”

With a whimper, she submitted and reclined, her arms twined over her head as she stretched out on the table, staring at his cock. Passion flashed in her eyes—passion so intense that for a moment it looked as if candle flames were flickering there in her eyes, and Roderick’s cock jerked eagerly in response to her heated stare. Wrapping his hand around his girth, he held himself in check while he nodded at her, indicating she should lift her skirts for him.

“Here, on the map?”

Roderick gazed down as the layered skirts lifted and his quarry was exposed. “While you are mine, I’ll have you wherever and whenever I think it necessary.”

“Captain, you are increasingly demanding.” Her eyes glowed, and she rested her booted feet on either side of his hips.

“I do not hear you complaining.”

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “I should not let you take advantage of this bargain we struck,” she murmured. But she did not relinquish her hold on him, the sturdy heels of her boots embedded in his flanks as he prepared to mount her.

“Pull your skirts higher.”

She obliged him, gathering the material at her waist, her eyes locked with his. She tried to hold his gaze, but he wanted to see the rest.

“Ah, yes, I am able to bear witness to your state of readiness now.”

“Please, you tease me.”

“No, I admire you.” He smiled her way. “You will be filled soon enough.”

Soft, dark hair feathered around the opening of her beautiful cunt, and he marveled at the look of her. Displayed the way she was, arranged at the edge of the table, her plump mound stood proud. Beneath it the pink folds glistened enticingly. The sight of her so slippery and inviting made him ache to be there, and he had to stem his cock, an action that drew her gaze.

It made him unaccountably proud when she looked at him that way.

He pushed the thumb of his free hand inside her, testing her, and found her slick and hot. Alluring and mysterious both, the dark channel called to him. Easing his thumb in and out, he groaned when he felt her grasp at it, her inner walls closing tightly on him. “That is quite the invitation you’re offering me.”

“I trust you intend to accept it.”

“Rest assured I am.” He withdrew his thumb and spread her silken arousal on his crown. Then he directed his cock to that hot spot, and when he did she bucked eagerly.

“Fill me, please,” she cried out.

Stunned at her wild demand, Roderick wondered for a moment if he was dreaming. How lusty she was, as if it was her true nature he was witnessing now. Then she shifted her hips and her flesh gave way under his, sucking him in.

“Dear God, you are a treasure indeed.” He clamped his left hand over her mound, and then thrust his cock fully into her.

Her body arched and her head rolled. She looked so eager for him. That in itself assured Roderick that he would spill in moments if he did not level his head.

He moved his hands to her thighs, stroking up and down, savoring the feel of her soft skin against his palms. That seemed to inflame her and she wriggled, her body tightening rhythmically on his cock.

“I warn you, my lady, I will fill you with my seed forthwith if you don’t allow me a moment to gather my senses.”

She stilled, then stared at him from under her eyelids.

“That’s better. Now let me look at you, and then I will give you everything you want and more.”

Her lips parted, and he thought she was about to object, but instead she watched him, waiting. It was hard not to move, hard to force himself to simply burn the sight of her into his memory—this wanton with her brazen breasts and dewy cleft, so eager for him. She made him want to hold her tight in his arms forever—a ludicrous notion for a man married to the sea.

When he glanced down to the place where their bodies were locked together, it almost undid him to see his cock buried in such a delicious place. Her swollen tickler was just visible, and he stroked it with his thumb. When he did, she tightened around his cock, her mouth opening. She whimpered loudly, then he felt her grow hotter and damper still, and she bucked against him.