Rescued by the Buccaneer (7 page)

He smoothed her cheeks with his palm, ignoring her pleas. “I do like the access this provides me.” He dipped his hand between her legs, caressing her inner thighs.

She took a deep breath and a slight moan escaped her lips as she exhaled.

“I can see that you’re wet,” he said, then whispered, “I knew all along you were a lascivious lass.”

“Take that back!”

“I shall do no such thing. It’s time for your punishment, no more stalling. A good spanking is precisely what you need, my girl.”

She shrieked in protest, but that did not stop his hand from landing on her bottom with a loud slap.

The blow jarred her, and she reached for his leg nearest to her. She grabbed it with the intention of biting him, but thought better of it. Instead, she clutched his muscular calf through his pants leg and closed her eyes.

He smacked her bottom again. Pain seeped across her skin and she tried not to cry out. It wouldn’t do to give the man the satisfaction of hearing the agony in her voice.

He swatted her aching rear over and over again, and her ass felt as if hot coals lay upon it. She longed to push his hands away, for the blows to cease, but she stubbornly refused to scream.

Then he stroked her buttocks, easing the discomfort. “Now, my little captive, can you behave?”

“I always behave,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

This made him laugh and he smacked her backside. “Do I need to move onto your thighs? We could be here all day, mademoiselle. I have nowhere else to be. You?”

“No,” she grumbled.

“No what?” he asked.

“What are you saying?” she asked, confused.

“I believe the appropriate response is ‘No, sir’. Once I save you from Humphrey and you belong to me, I’ll have you call me Master. How will you like that?”

She laughed bitterly. “And how do you expect to do that? We’re jailed, you imbecile.”

He smacked her hard for the insult. “You must remember your manners, my dear, and that is no concern of yours. I’m finished trusting you with my plots, you traitorous wench. Now, will you address me properly?” He slapped the top of her upper thigh to encourage her.

“Yes, sir,” she whined. “Now will you please let me up? All the blood is rushing to my head. It’s giving me a headache.” She released his leg to rub her throbbing temples.

He traced her bottom to the opening of her sex. She held her breath, wondering if he would touch her there. Part of her wanted him to enter her—the lusty part that he had awakened the previous night. At the same time, she tried to resist her sensual urges, hoping he would unhand her and leave her in peace.

His fingers grazed her pussy, teasing her, before flouncing her skirts back over her bottom, letting her go as quickly as he’d taken her.

Pouting, she found a seat on a neighboring crate and sat down gingerly. As she waited for the heat in her posterior to subside, she couldn’t help noticing how handsome he was. The patch over his eye made him appear dangerous, battle-scarred. Sexy. The space between her legs throbbed. Biting her lip, she wished he’d explored her further.

“You are wrong about me, sir. On numerous counts.” She clasped her hands in her lap in ladylike fashion and tilted her nose in the air. The man was clearly a barbarian, and it wouldn’t do for him to detect her lust.

He looked her up and down. “I guess that is possible,” he said, pulling on his beard.

“I expected you to be more chivalrous than to manhandle a lady,” she huffed arranging her skirts.

“You’re destined for disappointment if you’re expecting chivalry from a bloke like me. I’m a pirate, and you’re on a pirate ship, lest you’ve forgotten.” He tipped his hat to her.

“How could I have forgotten my circumstances?” she sneered. “I endure this bloody hellhole every day—savage men leering at me whenever I step out to take in a bit of fresh air or empty my chamber pot.” She sniffed. “Forgive me, sir, for thinking you might be different.”

His countenance changed, and his face grew serious. “I
am
different. I wasn’t always a pirate.”

She raised her eyebrows, interested but too peeved to engage in further conversation with the brute.

“No, I’m an educated landowner, a farmer to be precise.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “
You
are a farmer?”

“I was. I have a plantation in South Carolina.”

“In America?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes.”

“That’s where I was going when our ship was captured.” Forgetting herself, she moved closer, kneeling at his feet. Her thirst for knowledge about the land she’d been dreaming of made her temporarily forget her anger. “Please tell me about it.”

“About what? My plantation?”

“Oh, that too, but tell me about America. I would so love to hear you tell of it. They say it is amazing, the land of opportunity.” She rested a hand on his knee.

His eyes rolled towards the heavens. “Ah, do not believe everything you hear, Mademoiselle,” he said, shaking his head.

She frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean that bad things, tragic things, can happen anywhere. Even in America.”

“What sort of tragic things?” She pursed her lips.

“Never mind. Let us discuss how we’re going to get out of here.” He searched the dark dungeon-like space.

“Fine, but there’s only one exit.” She pointed to the guarded door.

“Thank you for your optimism,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know why you’re being so rude. There is no need for sarcasm,” she chided.

“Woman! You are nothing less than infuriating.”

She sat back on her box. “I might say the same of you,” she said primly, crossing her arms over her chest. After calming down, she tore a bit of fabric from one of her underskirts and approached him.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re still bleeding,” she said and pressed the cloth against his cheek.

He softened and allowed her to clean the cut with the small amount of water they had. Then she held the rag to his face and asked, “What do you think they’ll do to us?”

“Kill us,” he said cavalierly.

With that, she gave him the rag and went back to sit on her box.

Gaston set his hat over his face and settled in for a nap.

* * *

Hours later Frederica slumped on the cold, wet ground. She’d given up sitting on the crate and had slunk to the floor to stretch out. What she wouldn’t give for a blanket, a pillow—anything soft. Everything in her world felt hard.

When she was growing up, her family had more prestige than wealth, but she’d always known comfort. Each night she’d slept in a comfortable bed, had plenty to eat, and a suitable, if not grand, home in which to live. She’d never imagined a place as foul as this. Perhaps she should just accept her fate, that her life would end on this wretched boat—a slave. That or she would perish at sea. That last idea frightened her more, and she unintentionally let out a low groan.

“What’s the matter with you?” Gaston asked.

“This place is just so awful,” she whined.

“Not the luxurious chamber to which mademoiselle is accustomed?”

“Are you this nasty to everyone, or only your fellow prisoners?”

“Are you this whiny all the time, or is this a special performance for yours truly?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Do you?” he spat.

“You’re insufferable!”

“You have no idea.” A tightness crept into his tone that sent a chill through her.

She recognized that it might be unwise to trifle with this man. “You must believe me that I did not tell the captain of your plot,” she pleaded with him.

He stared at her with cold, dark eyes. “I am weary of your protestations, wench. Make certain you don’t cross me again, or I will make damned sure you regret it.”

She gulped.

“I fear you underestimate the dangerousness of your interference in this business, foolish girl.”

His tirade was interrupted by Tiny, who opened the door and jerked Frederica to her feet.

“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” Frederica cried.

Tiny silenced her with a slap across the face. “Capt’n wants to see ye.”

Trembling, she rubbed her stinging cheek and allowed herself to be led to Humphrey’s quarters.

“Here she is, Capt’n. Ye wants I should stay?”

Tiny seemed eager to remain, but Humphrey declined his offer. “No, but stand outside until I’m finished with her.”

Bowing his head, Tiny left and closed the door behind him.

Frederica noticed the captain held a large cup of grog in his hand. Normally the sight would have pleased her, for it meant he’d be sleepy soon. But in this instance, she didn’t have much hope of that occurring.

“You little witch! I ought to wear out your bottom for betraying your ole captain like that.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “You’re too late.”

“Too late? What do ye mean?” he growled.

“Monsieur Galette has already seen to spanking my bottom.” She huffed in disgust. “Honestly, I don’t know which of you is worse.”

“You don’t, do ye?” His beady black eyes sparkled. “I’m about to change that.”

A cold draft blew through the room, and a shiver passed through her. It reminded her of when Cassandra used to say it felt like someone walked over your grave.

With speed she hadn’t known he possessed, Humphrey lunged forward, grabbed her by the waist, and hurled her over his lap. He held her fast against his cot with one hand while he yanked up her skirts with the other. “Let’s see the damage that bastard Galette did to ye.”

Frederica screamed, “Let me go, you beast! Let me go this instant!”

Humphrey merely laughed. “I’ll do no such thing. Ye’ll not be doing the orderin’ around here, lass.”

She held her breath while he inspected her behind, strumming his fingers over it as though he were playing an instrument.

“Aye, the man knows how to redden a bottom,” he said, then gave her already bruised fanny a wallop.

“Stop! Please stop,” she cried.

“I’ll do no such thing, Freddie. Now hold still or I’ll beat ye ‘til ye faint.”

She stilled, and a gripping white fear threatened to overtake her.

Strike after strike, he blistered her sensitive backside until silent tears trickled down onto the floor, forming a dainty little puddle beneath her. Next, he hauled her from his lap and threw her across the bed before fetching the dreaded leather strap.

The first whack sent a white wave of agony through her hindquarters. This was nothing like what Gaston had done. Gaston had been attempting to teach her a lesson, but Humphrey simply enjoyed beating people, torturing them.

She lay still as he punished her ass, lash after lash, her body too shocked too even flinch at the blows. Thought escaped her, the pain blocking out everything else. She bit down and focused on surviving his onslaught.

When he was satisfied with himself, he dumped her unceremoniously on the dirty floor.

“Yeow!” she screeched, having fallen on her inflamed posterior.

“Quiet down, wench,” he barked without a hint of sympathy. “Now see here. I’m going to do you a favor.”

She wiped her tears and glared at him. “What sort of favor?”

“I’m going to give ye a choice of fates. Ye can either perish with the bastard Galette…”

“And the alternative?” she asked.

“Or ye can stay here on this ship as the crew’s whore.” His lips curled into a devilish grin, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You must be joking.” Frederica shook her head.

“Neigh. I am completely without jest.” He eyed her the way a cat stares at a cornered mouse.

“But—but I am no whore, sir. I am a virgin,” she sputtered.

He laughed and whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t think they’ll care.”

She gasped. “Why would you think I would agree to such a thing?”

“Whoring or death…” He pretended to consider the matter. “Hmmm, some might find the former preferable to the latter.”

“Not me. There must be one hundred men on this ship!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t let them all have ye at once,” he laughed. “I’d make ‘em take turns, but I’d watch.” He licked his lips and rested his hand on his crotch.

“You, sir, are despicable! I will do no such thing,” she said with a bravado she didn’t feel.

“Aye, suit yerself. Tiny!” he turned and downed some more grog.

Tiny entered the room.

“Take ‘er back. She can rot in there for all I care.”

Tiny hustled her below deck and threw her back into the cell with Gaston, who thankfully was asleep.

Frederica curled into a ball on the moist floorboards. She had never felt more alone in her life. Laying her head down, she wanted to cry but found she was beyond tears. Instead, she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Chapter Eight

Endless days of monotonous work with only the rolling sea surrounding them for entertainment meant the crew was easily excitable. If Gaston knew anything it was that boredom could overtake a crew of seamen, and a failed mutiny attempt would stir their attention. Even though Gaston’s plot had been foiled in its early stages, the fact that he’d been caught meant there would be a reckoning, and most pirates loved nothing better than a reckoning.

While they may not have been fervent supporters of Humphrey, the crew seemed bloodthirsty. It had been over a month since their last battle, and the men were eager to see some action. They talked of little else. In the short time he’d been aboard, he’d seen several skirmishes between the men, a clear sign of boredom in the ranks.

That morning, Gaston and Frederica had each been given a bowl of gruel. They washed it down with warm grog before Tiny and his men came for them. Gaston watched helplessly as the men bound Frederica’s wrists behind her, her hair a tangled mess and a streak of dirt smudging her face. Yet, she looked beautiful standing there, holding her head up proudly. Seeing her independence turned into helplessness made him desire her in the worst way. His cock snapped to attention, and he silently cursed the inappropriate timing of the reaction.