The Jezebel (20 page)

He was close to losing his mind. Then her cunt tightened. She had him so deep. He felt the heat of her climax sucking at him. He tightened his hands on her hips and began to slam home. She cried out in ecstasy. And again. He was there. He thrust again.

Her head rolled back, her body clutching at him, over and over. She bit her lip between her teeth, but being quiet was beyond her, for she whimpered and moaned. Roderick felt his spine turn rigid, his sac riding high, the urge to let loose inside her building, pounding right there at the base of his spine.

“Let me feel you,” she pleaded. “Don’t pull free.”

Those words made it impossible for him to do anything else but loosen his seed within her, his release barreling through him. He could scarcely stay upright, but when he saw the rich, magical glow in her eyes, and her body undulating as she accepted his seed, it held him to the spot, for he was in awe. A witch she was.

He had loved a witch, and lived.

He stayed inside her as long as he could, his cock painfully sensitive to each flex and ripple her body made. When he kissed her, her lips parted under his, defying her captivity to share the pleasure a moment longer. In the aftermath, he clutched her close to him, unwilling to break with the moment, to address the problems that surrounded them.

Roderick craved her as he had craved nothing before, and it broke him apart inside to have to keep her this way. Kissing her face, he held her gently against him, cosseting her the only way he could.

He lowered her to the floor. “You are safer here.”

When she started to deny him he covered her lips with his fingers. “The men are unhappy, and when they get like this they are a law unto themselves. I would lay down my life to protect you, Maisie.” He paused when she shook her head, but it was true. “I would. Please don’t disbelieve me.”

“I don’t. I’ve always been able to tell you were honest with me. It is your men you have been vague with since I came aboard.”

Clarity shot through his mind, and he felt a queer pain when he realized how wily she was. Every bit as wily as the men said, in fact. And yet he still loved her. Yes, it was love, he did not deny that. He had fallen for a troublesome woman indeed.

“Then you will believe me when I say that I’ll ensure your safe delivery into Scotland, as I promised at the outset.” Forcing himself to draw back, he continued with caution. “I will come down to check on you often, and when we near the Tay estuary I will row you to land myself.”

“You said you would hand me over to the magistrate.”

He shook his head, then pulled his breeches into place, securing them. “No. That is for the men’s peace of mind. I will free you before that time.”

For a moment he cradled her cheek in his palm, and she turned her face, kissing his callused hand. Roderick braced himself. “I’ll ask this question once more, because it plagues me most. Tell me the truth now, were you weaving spells when we bedded together?”

“No. But I cannot deny our match made me stronger. It is the way of my kind. We ally ourselves to the natural world and the powers incarnate there. These are particularly powerful in the act of lovemaking.”

Roderick remembered the first time, how hot the cabin had become. It was not just a virgin becoming a woman, it was a witch riding high on the magic she felt.

“It was strong because we are a...a good match.” She bent her head, growing silent.

At first he thought she had become suddenly ashamed of her lusty ways, but then he realized she was thinking of something.

“I told you that I’d been split from my kin when my mother suffered a cruel and horrible death.”

“Yes.”

“She was called out as a witch.” Maisie’s voice broke on the words, her lower lip trembling. “Much as I was, up there.” She jerked her head toward the decks above.

Roderick could not stand it when tears spilled from her eyes. He felt her pain. Why he felt it so intensely baffled him, but he wanted to ease it. He held her jaw in his hands, lifting her face, and kissed each salty tear away. “Hush, you are safe. I will not let my men hurt you.”

“I know.” She nodded. “And I understand you must keep me here.”

When she looked at him, Roderick drew away. He did not trust his own promises, when she might yet try to escape him by magic.

Dragging a sack of root vegetables closer, he stationed it behind her so that she might sit upon it and make herself more comfortable. Then he went to retie the blindfold.

He paused when she whispered his name.

“Roderick...” She shook her head then, as if she’d thought better of what she’d been about to say.

“I must cover your eyes again and keep you bound. It isn’t because I want it that way, you know that. But if I don’t the men will suspect, and they will turn on us both. Bide your time and I will come to you and take you ashore by rowboat. I will set your feet on Scottish soil, just as I promised the night we met. That has not changed.”

“Oh, Roderick.” She hung her head. “Forgive me for being angry.”

“You were afraid.”

She nodded.

Roderick took one last look at her beautiful eyes, then covered them. He left the lantern where it was docked and headed for the door.

Before he stepped out he stared across at her, a tortured young woman, so slight, so feminine. Yet he had seen her power, and even though he believed she would not harm him, there was still so much he didn’t know about her. In the space of just a few days she had filled his mind, body and heart. That didn’t seem right, and he couldn’t shake the feeling it was just as the men had said, that he’d been blinded by her. That’s what women did, anchoring men to them, instead of to their own destiny.

As he looked over at her he had the strangest feeling he might never see her again, and it crossed his mind that she could vanish by magic. Would that be for the best? Maybe, but he couldn’t accept it.

As if she sensed his thoughts, she lifted her head. “I’ll never forget you, Roderick Cameron.”

“And I will never forget you, Maisie from Scotland.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cyrus lay on his back, staring at the damp wooden beams above his bunk, resisting the urge to vent his frustration on his meager surroundings. He could happily smash the lone wooden chair into a thousand pieces, the wait was so intolerable. All night he’d lain there, arranging his thoughts in order of retribution and justice, imagining how he would punish Margaret, and then bind her to him forever.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.”

A uniformed soldier stood in the doorway. “Begging your pardon, sire, the captain has asked me to alert you. The ship we seek is within our sights.”

Cyrus was up and pulling his boots on before the man had even finished delivering his message. He followed the young soldier up on deck, thoroughly delighted that this moment had finally come. Out in the chilly morning air, he searched the skies. It was blustery and gray, scarcely dawn, and mist clung around the ship. He stepped quickly to the rail and looked beyond to where the various naval officers were focusing their attention. At first he saw nothing, and craned his neck. Then he saw it, a much smaller ship moving along the coastline in the distance.

At last. She was almost within his grasp. Not long now, and he would have her, and he would make her feel his wrath. The need to do so heightened his senses, invigorating him, making his pulse race.

A voice at his side drew him from his thoughts. It was Captain Plimpton. “I have issued orders to our sister ship. We idle here awhile, until everything is in place.” Plimpton smiled. “We will have some sport with these vermin.”

“Excellent,” Cyrus replied.

He trained his eyes on the distant boat, thinking of her, and his appetite for power sharpened.

* * *

Roderick didn’t sleep that night, nor could he rest in his cabin. Instead he remained at the helm, watching the night sky, waiting for dawn. His ability to ensure Maisie’s safety wasn’t worrying him, for he would simply tell the men he wanted rid of her, and take her to land. It was as if he was already mourning her departure, though.

How could it be? He was a man of the sea, and no woman had ever called to him this way. It wasn’t even as if she were a normal woman, a woman he could wed and set up in a harbor somewhere, a woman he could visit like Brady’s Yvonne in Lowestoft.

No, Maisie was something strange; he admitted that to himself, now that he’d had time to think on it. He’d known that first night that she wasn’t a lowly sort, but he’d never imagined she would be so thoroughly shrouded in secrets, nor that she practiced the forbidden craft. Now he saw the immensity of the risk he’d taken bringing her aboard. A woman was bad enough, a forbidden passenger, but her secret nature made her sex seem as nothing in the scale of danger he had courted.

The image of her lowering her hood, with that beseeching look in her eyes, flashed through his mind. Her lips had trembled when she thought he wasn’t going to take the offer of her virginity. It had intrigued him, and now he knew why. There was a wisdom about her. She was young, but with eyes that knew too much, had seen too much. And yet there was an acceptance about her, too, for her pride was tinged with desperation. All of those things and her strange beauty had left him unable to turn away. If he had, he knew he would never have stopped wondering about her.

As dawn split the horizon, he peered toward land. They had kept the coastline in their scopes. He could take her to shore at any time, but he waited as long as he could, unwilling to say goodbye. They’d passed Saint Andrews, and now he was looking toward Fife. He’d been born in the Lowlands of Scotland, across the Tay from Saint Andrews, in a back room of a tenement in Dundee. Lurid tales of witches and their burnings had been part of his childhood. He’d never pictured one looking anything like the woman he had been consorting with these past few days, though. Despite his dark mood, Roderick gave a wry smile at that thought.

During his years at sea, visiting many strange lands, he’d heard stories of people with magical powers, and oftentimes those people were revered and respected, not put to death as they were in his homeland. Maisie’s mother had been one of those victims. That was a harsh realization for him. No matter how humble his beginnings—and they had been humble, hampered by poverty and misfortune—he hadn’t had such a dark history as Maisie. No wonder she’d looked so afraid when she was brought above deck and the men had threatened to end her days because of her forbidden craft. Roderick couldn’t blame them, for he couldn’t claim to understand her, either.

Witchcraft. He never would have guessed it. There was something strange about her, but not that. He’d never been a believer, but there was no denying what he’d witnessed, and in matters of their joining, yes, there had been much that was not easily explained. He’d been so taken with her, it had been easy to ignore. At first.

Once again he looked at the distant shoreline and at the sky. They were almost within sight of the Tay estuary. It was time to set her feet on dry land. She could go where she was destined.

Roderick decided it was the right thing, no matter how wrong it felt. While the majority of the men still rested, he would instruct Clyde to lower a rowboat. He could trust the sailor to do it without question, he knew, because Clyde had been wary of her, but had not called for her to walk the plank. The old man had been wise about her from the outset, and had made good points about her. Clyde knew she meant them no harm. He watched Roderick even now, a glint in his eye as if he was running a wager with himself on how this matter would play out.

If any of the men argued with Roderick, he had a perfectly good reason for escorting her away from the ship. Depositing her on dry land would rid them of the burden of carrying a witch, well before they reached their destination.

He called to Clyde, and was about to instruct him to lower the rowboat and prepare Maisie to leave the ship when a whistle sounded above their heads.

The watchman pointed at the horizon. “Ship ahoy, Captain.”

Roderick reached for Clyde’s eyeglass and focused it in that direction.

A large vessel was headed their way. At the top of the main mast a familiar flag was flapping. “It’s a navy ship. If they’re patrolling the waters, they wouldn’t be headed straight toward the coastline.”

He approached the starboard railing, looking back over their wake at the tossing waves. “They have come in from a distance. If we were closer to Saint Andrews, I’d think them headed there, but we’re almost at the Tay now.”

Brady ran up the steps from the main deck. “The ship appears to be making ready to engage. They are coming for us, Captain,” he added in an alarmed tone.

For me, no doubt.
Roderick frowned. But would they go to such trouble for the taxes owed on a small merchant ship? Perhaps they would pass by.

Brady called out for all hands on deck. The order was passed quickly, men relaying it along the chain of command.

Roderick strode to a wooden trunk that was built in close to the wheel. Unlocking it, he pulled out his cutlass and sword belt and wrapped it around his hips. When he returned to the wheel, men were pouring out on deck, hiving off in all directions. Several clambered onto the rigging, shifting into positions on the spar above, ready for his instructions.

“Full sail, veer hard to port. They are coming up fast and if we cling to the coastline they might pass us by.” The instruction was passed and the crew set about adjusting the angles of the spars, rolling up sails to change direction at speed through the turn.

Roderick clenched his jaw while he watched through the spyglass. The navy ship was fast. It had the advantage, and wouldn’t take long to come up on their stern.

It was a command ship, and in the distance he saw another ship behind it. Scanning the horizon, he caught sight of a third vessel, approaching from the north. Roderick lowered his eyeglass and looked Brady’s way. “There are three vessels. They have us surrounded. Even if we gain speed, that third ship will block our passage north.”

“A carefully planned entrapment,” Brady commented.

“Indeed.” Roderick frowned. “And yet when we docked at Lowestoft we were not approached by navy officers.”

“It is a puzzle.”

Roderick and Brady studied each other a moment.

“Guns at the ready, Captain?” Clyde asked.

Roderick pressed his lips together. It would be a token gesture for his men, nothing more. There was little they could hope to do against three naval ships that had dominance in these waters. “Aye, but not visible.”

Safeguarding the ship and the crew was his priority. The navy vessel was coming up on them, but before he had a chance to issue any more instructions, a loud boom sounded.

It was a warning shot, for it was not followed by another.

“They wish to board,” Brady said.

The command ship approached with its cannon at the ready. Uniformed naval soldiers lined up on the nearside, guns trained on the
Libertas.
A brazier flamed on the deck, men standing by with bows and arrows held aloft.

“They are ready to take out our sails, Captain,” Clyde called out.

“Drop anchor,” Roderick instructed. When no one moved, Roderick repeated the instruction, louder.

He looked at Brady, who rolled his eyes. “No other option,” the first mate agreed.

“Not a good time to have a store crammed with illicit French wine,” Roderick commented.

“Nor an angry witch tied up in the hold.”

Up until that point Roderick had not made a connection between their passenger and the trio of ships that had ambushed them. Neither had Brady.

They frowned at one another.

“You don’t think it’s her they are coming for?” Brady asked.

Roderick swayed, his concerns growing rapidly.
Witch hunters?

“She was eager to leave London. Perhaps this is why.”

Roderick nodded, but he looked away, focusing on the command ship, and prayed that was not the case. If it was, he wouldn’t let them take her. They would find her, though, even if they only came to search the ship for contraband goods.

Brady, however, brightened at the prospect. “If they truly are after the Jezebel, we will be rid of her sooner than expected.”

Roderick didn’t acknowledge his comment.

Clyde caught his eye and the old man shook his head.

The command ship set down anchor nearby and two rowboats were lowered. Six men bearing arms accompanied a commanding officer in the first. Two more men followed in the second.

Roderick watched as the rowboats closed the distance. As he did, he tried to plan for every possible outcome, but until he knew what had led them here, he could not even begin to decide how to act.

The naval officer stood up. “Captain Cameron of the
Libertas,
” the officer bellowed.

“We’re behind you, Captain,” one of his men called out to him. “Just say the word if you want us to take action.”

Roderick approached the railing with a deep sense of misgiving. Something was badly amiss. The number of men and vessels was unprecedented for a simple case of excise evasion. As he pondered it, his thoughts went to Maisie. Had they come to try her? Was she known in London, and was that why she had to leave so hastily?

“I am Captain Cameron,” he shouted down.

The officer stared up at him, sour-faced and disapproving. “We believe you have a passenger aboard, a young lady by the name of Margaret.”

Roderick’s heart sank. He would rather they’d come for him.

“They have come for the witch,” one of the men close by said to another. Whispered conversations began and Roderick’s tension grew as he realized his men were pleased. He was not. “We do not carry passengers,” he announced.

“You were observed taking a young woman aboard this ship in Billingsgate,” announced the officer. “Her guardian seeks her safe return, and if you deliver her to us unharmed, we will be lenient when addressing the extensive list of excise charges against your name.”

Roderick was relieved that no mention of arresting her on a charge of witchcraft had been made. However, if this guardian of hers was well-meaning, why had she run away? Was it the same man who wanted to keep her? He tried to recall if she had referred to him as her guardian. If only she had confided more in him, he would be able to judge and know how best to respond.

Meanwhile, at his back, the men were already taking action. “Fetch her up. Let them take her and we’ll be rid of her and her twisted ways.”

“Stand your ground,” he instructed, shooting the order back over his shoulder.

“If you do not hand the young lady over,” the naval officer continued, “a charge of kidnap will also be listed against your name, and no mercy will be shown to you or your men as we come aboard.”

“Look at the trouble she has brought upon us,” a shipman spat.

“She is a crime against God, that woman,” another one agreed. “Let them deal with her.”

Roderick’s heart thundered against the wall of his chest. He was trapped. There was no way they could escape the navy. Neither could he decide whether Maisie would be safer with them than she would be with his own men, who had turned against her.

If only he’d managed to get her to dry land before this occurred.

He addressed the officer below. “The woman you seek is safe and well.”

“So, you do have the young lady. If you do not take passengers, we must assume that you have indeed kidnapped her.” His sour expression altered into a sly grin.

Roderick’s mind raced. From what little Maisie had revealed, he had been able to glean that the man who wanted to keep her had wealth and influence. Influence enough to set the Royal Navy on them? If that was the case, then they intended to take her back to London. Torn, he considered the dilemma. She would be safer with the navy—who apparently were unaware of her forbidden craft—than with his own crew. But could she escape the master from whom she had run before if the navy took her back to him? Roderick could only hope.

He had to be sure they were not acting on behalf of witch hunters. “I have a duty to ensure the young lady is safely delivered onto land. Are you charged with the same duty?”