Under Her Brass Corset (7 page)

“You do blend well with the scenery in every way.” He turned.

“Captain?” she called to him before he left.

“Yes?”

“I know I said I wanted you to kiss me again, but I wasn’t myself, and…”

“I’m not holding you to anything you said while drunk, Miss Thatch.”

His kiss had made her belly burn and her heart race. It also left her with a sketchy memory. “Was there something else I asked?”

“No.” A strange sadness shone in his eyes.

She frowned, relegating her vivid dreams to wishful thinking. Obviously, as they’d recently met, he’d have no cause or interest in taking care of her forever as she had imagined him saying.

“I had to land the ship and fix a broken cogwheel, but I’m going to check the wind and take us back up in the sky,” he told her. “Do you want to come and watch?”

Abigail looked at her bare feet.

“No shoes required.” He smiled.

She hated to be conventional. His never-shocked attitude appealed to her.

Jasper Blackthorn was bad for her in so many ways, and yet she couldn’t help feeling he was someone she needed in her life.

Jasper scratched his jaw and watched Abigail parade across the deck in her bare feet. She cut a fine figure in the red-and-white striped skirt and her brass corset. Even as she sashayed away from him, he spotted those small reminders of what he remembered of her as a child. The carefree disregard for propriety and the untroubled way she did as she pleased. The eagerness in her demeanor had shaped a youthful girl. He never imagined that when she reached adulthood, she’d retain those charming attributes.

“Shall I throw the piece of wood in now?” She climbed the steps to the quarterdeck.

He followed, looking at her slight ankles.

She whirled around at the top of the ladder. “Are you looking up my skirt?”

On the middle tread of the steps, he stood eye level with her feet. “I am,” he confessed, giving her a grin. “And it’s a wonderful sight, me beauty.”

She squatted down. Her skirt bunched on the floor, hiding her bare legs.

“It will take a lot more than charm to get under this.” She slid her hand slowly over the formed breast of the brass corset.

He took a breath and reached out, grabbing her leg beneath her skirt.

“Oh!” she squealed, plopping down on her bottom.

He remained on the steps and caressed her foot. “I can have you out of all you wear any time I choose.” He stroked around her ankle, up her calf and all the way to the sensitive area behind her knee.

Abigail blushed. He liked the crimson tint darkening her cheeks. It allowed him to think of the wide-eyed stare as the innocence of a virgin. Not a sound of protest passed her lips. Her eyes darkened, threatening danger or professing desire.

He grasped her other leg and tugged her forward. “Deny you want me to seduce you,” he challenged, pushing his hands higher.

The backs of her supple thighs tensed. He caressed upward, over her knickers, around her hips, then down, raking the undergarment with the intent to remove it. Her sitting position obstructed his effort. Her quietness halted him.

“Tell me to ravish you, me beauty.” He drew back and swirled small circles over her bare knee. “All it takes is one word from your sweet lips.”

“No.” Her voice trembled with an indecisive tone.

“Are you sure?” He ventured back up, between her slightly parted legs, and rubbed the crotch area of her knickers.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“Is that a yes to stop, or a—”

“Yes.”

“Or a yes to continue?” He pressed the thin cotton between the lips of her vulva.

“Please,” she whimpered as her head tipped back.

He stroked the fabric, and knew when she shuddered that he had hit a sensitive region. Unrelenting, he stepped up another rung on the ladder. He maneuvered his hand over the damp fabric and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers.

“Captain, please.” Abigail’s hips lifted as he palmed her mound.

Her legs fanned out, opening her. He brushed the dampened patch of tight curls and slid his finger into the slick channel. She rocked in rhythm to his thrusts, her soft moans conveying pleasure. He wanted to pull her upright, kiss her and devour the little pants of air sputtering from between her pursed lips. However, the way she had leaned back, propped on her arms, put her at a distance from him. Not that he minded. Her position gave him a good view of watching her enraptured by his hand.

He kissed the inside of her calf, trailing her silky skin up to her knee. Her panting escalated with a staccato of whimpers, and then her breathing slowed.

She lifted her head and stared at him glassy-eyed—sated. “How dare you take advantage of me.”

Her gaze stuck to him as he pulled his fingers free and licked them.

“I don’t think anyone takes advantage of you against your wishes.” He touched her legs to bring her closer. “Now tell me how you want me to ravish you.”

She pushed upright without answering. It wasn’t good enough. He needed her to ask for what she desired. She had been right about him taking advantage.

“I know you’re of a clear mind today to tell me how you want me to explore your body,” he reminded her. “How you want me on you, in you.”

“No,” she replied sharply. A look of astonished embarrassment spread over her face.

It wasn’t the answer he was anticipating. Had he gone too far, said too much, believed too heartily in her inebriated declarations?

“It’s what you asked of me last night.” He grinned, not giving up from pursuing everything under her brass corset.

“I was drunk. I could have said a thousand things I didn’t mean.” She jerked back her leg and kicked out, apparently in an effort to stop him from petting her leg.

Her aim hit him square in the chest. He lost his footing and fell back. A hard thump echoed around his head when he landed on the deck below the ladder. The collision knocked the wind from his lungs.

“Captain?” Abigail’s panicked voice rushed to him.

He watched her scramble down the steps to him. A horrified expression on her gorgeous face showed regret. He laughed to ease her concern, and her irritation showed in the puckering of her brow.

“Serves you right.” She stood up and turned away.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and watched Abigail walk to the railing.

“You wound me with your coldness, Miss Thatch.” He shook off the tingling heat mending his bruised body. He had suffered worse.

“Captain, you should come here right away.”

“Ah, I knew you’d change your mind, me lovely.” He got to his feet and rushed to join her.

Faced away, she collided with him in her retreat from the sight on the horizon. “Are we in trouble?” She stayed against him.

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked beyond her at the ship coming their way.

“Do you see the flag?” she asked. “Isn’t that the Jolly Roger, the same one which Blackbeard flew on his ship the
Queen Anne’s Revenge
?”

“Yes,” he whispered, surprised she knew it, glad she recognized the danger.

“Who would fly it?”

“That cocky bastard, Eric Teach.” It angered him at how bad that boy had become. He had known him all his life, and yet his influence never fazed the incorrigible nature of Blackbeard’s prodigy. Eric Teach had inherited everything rotten about that old pirate.

“I still don’t understand. Why would he fly a pirate flag? He could get into a lot of trouble if an English ship comes along.”

“Not only English. French. Spanish. American. No country will find humor with his stupidity.”

“What could he possibly be thinking?”

“He wants to make a name for himself, make his mark on the world.” Jasper recalled the feeling of power he had as a pirate. He and others did what they wanted, went where they would and stole what wasn’t theirs. He’d left that way of life, moving in a different direction after his initiation into the brotherhood of immortals. Rules of honor, though he bent many of them, made him a better man.

“As what? A lunatic?”

“As a pirate.” Jasper knew all too well how hard Eric had tried to be a bloody cutthroat. It didn’t matter that Blackbeard’s reputation was more fictional than fact. Eric wanted the notoriety.

“How absurd. There aren’t pirates anymore.” Her quaint innocence touched him. How nice to be so unaware of the evils in the world.

“Technically, they still exist, just not in abundance and certainly not as colorful. In Eric’s case, he’s a man born long after the era he’d like to be a part of. And unfortunately, crazy makes dangerous.”

“What are we going to do?” She looked up at him.

A sparkle of faith shone in the depths of her brown eyes. It warmed his soul. They hadn’t yet managed to get on an even keel with each other, but the foundation of trust was there. He had to believe that.

“You can’t let him take the Crystal Compass,” she said.

“I don’t think he knows about the Compass. That’s mine. Only a handful of people are aware of its existence, and I trust them to keep it a secret.” He rubbed her shoulders. “No, he’s just after you to get the map.”

“Over my dead body.” She stormed back over to the railing and paced back and forth.

“I don’t think he’ll have any sentiments of long-lost family getting in the way of making that happen. By the way, where is the map?”

“I folded it and put it in my boot.”

“Tie it to something weighty and throw it overboard,” he said, thinking how Eric would know the area it outlined.

“I’m not going to get rid of the map.” She shot him a resolute glare.

He didn’t bother to argue with her. His best option was to keep Eric from ever getting to Abigail.

“I’m not sure I understand how he would even know about the map…Unless you told him.”

“I didn’t tell him.” He skipped getting into the debate of his acquaintance with Blackbeard. Knowing him as he did, he suspected Blackbeard might have unwittingly told Eric about many things he shouldn’t have.

Jasper looked down at the water. “We don’t have the speed to catch the wind,” he informed Abigail as he ran to the passageway.

“Can’t you make the ship go faster on the water?” she yelled to him. “I would think with all the steam and hardware on this vessel you could—”

Jasper hurried down to his storage cabin. “Damn.” He shoved objects out of the way to get to a trunk in the corner.

Abigail flew into the room, out of breath. “You didn’t answer me. Can’t we go faster?”

“No. Ironically, we’re too weighted by everything that makes this ship fly.” He swept the gadgets off the trunk lid and flipped it open.

“That makes no sense. If we’re too heavy to go fast in the water, we should be too heavy to float in the air.”

“Air has currents to carry us. Water resists.” Jasper tossed coats, gloves, rubber hoses and other items out of his way in the trunk.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Get your boots on and make sure that map stays hidden. And put on a coat just in case something happens to me.”

“Happens to you? And what does a coat have to so with hiding the…He’ll take me, won’t he?”

“I have to believe he wouldn’t be cruel enough to leave you on my ship alone. And I don’t want him getting any lewd thoughts about you in that attire.” He grabbed the heavy leather gloves first and tugged them on, aligning the concealed built-in pistols for easy extraction. A shake and twist of his wrist hit the slider and sent the barrel out of its sleeve, exposing the loading chamber. One shot each. Not sufficient weaponry in a battle, but good for the defense of up close and personal danger.

“Do you really think those are necessary?” Abigail stood at his side.

“Would you please do as I ask?” He retracted the guns, stooped down and pulled out small pistols, swords and knives, making his way to the bottom of the trunk. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Abigail not moving. He got up and put his gloved fingers against her cheek. “Don’t fret. I won’t let him take you. Just get your boots on and a coat to give me less worry.”

She nodded and hurried away. He watched for a second as she rummaged in the cabinet.

“Is this all right?” She swung his cloak around and draped it over her shoulders.

“Yes.” He gave her a confident smile and went back to the weapons in his trunk.

“What’s that?” She sat on a stool and worked stockings onto her feet and up her beautiful legs.

“A modified multicylinder gun, working much like the American Gatling.”

“Huh?”

“The Gatling gun was a weapon used in the American Civil War. Its rapid-fire mechanism makes it very useful for one man to outnumber a few. I’ve made modifications that allow me to hold it.”

“Can’t we reason with Mr. Teach? Explain to him my claim to the map is more legitimate than his?” She hooked and drew the laces tight on her boots, then stood. “What if we just lie and tell him I lost the map?”

“You can’t reason with Eric. He won’t care about your claim, and he certainly won’t believe you lost the map.”

“Then why did you suggest I throw it in the water?”

“Whether he believes you have it or not is one thing. But if he gets his hands on it—” He said no more and handed her the small, double-barrel derringer he had confiscated from her when he’d put her to bed. “Put this in your pocket and only take it out if your life is threatened. You do know how to fire a gun, don’t you?”

“Of course I know how to use it. It’s
my
gun. I’d ask how it is you got it, but I don’t want to remember that whole incident with the cat food leading to my inebriation.”

Jasper carried his weapons and prodded Abigail to the steps.

“Wait.” She went for the stairs to the lower level. “I need to get my father’s watch and my house key.”

He understood her sentiment in regard to the watch. The house key baffled him.

“Why?” he asked.

“My mother gave the watch to my father. Her words are engraved on the back. I can’t lose it.”

“And the key?”

“If I don’t lose the house to the bank while I’m away, how will I get in upon my return?”

If their circumstances weren’t so dire and Abigail’s expression not so serious, he would have laughed. Instead he grabbed her by the arm. “They’re safer in the cabin.”