The Devil's Fire (14 page)

"Feisty little creature," she said, smiling faintly. "I acted dreadfully toward her and I'm making amends."

"She doesn't appear to be holding a grudge," he remarked. "Have you thought of a name?"

Katherine frowned. "Far too early for that. I'm not entirely certain I'll be keeping her."

Thatcher chuckled. "Whatever you say."

He kneeled beside her and took a closer look. He was sweating terribly, even at this late hour, and his stench dwarfed the kitten's droppings in the corner. Nevertheless, Katherine was grateful for his company. She took Thatcher for a kinder, gentler pirate, and thus far he'd given her no reason to think otherwise. In fact, the portly surgeon didn't seem much of a pirate at all. All of the pirates aboard
Harbinger
were lean and chiseled, and Thatcher was neither.

"Right," Thatcher said, "let's have a look at her."

Katherine hesitated. The kitten was fast asleep in her arms and she was afraid to disturb its slumber.

"Something amiss?" Thatcher asked.

Katherine giggled at her capricious emotions and shoved the kitten into the surgeon's arms. The animal woke up as Thatcher examined it. He set the kitten on the floor and she wobbled around on clumsy paws.

"Yes," Thatcher nodded. "This animal is indeed a cat."

For the first time since before her capture, Katherine bubbled with laughter. Thatcher must have thought her insane. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping water out of her eyes.

"It's quite alright," he replied. "Actually, it's a nice sound."

The kitten rubbed up against her leg. She scooped the animal up and held her close to her breast. She looked at Thatcher, who was watching her intently, and his eyes fluttered nervously away. "Why aren't you on shore with the others?" she asked.

He let out a puff of air that sounded like the popping of a balloon. "They fear I'd attempt an escape and deprive them of their surgeon. I haven't a clue where I might go on a pirate island. In fact, that's the one place I can think of worse than this ship."

"You're here against your will?"

He hesitated. "No."

She sensed that he didn't want to talk about it. She fought an urge to persist and instead obliged his silent request, quickly changing the subject. "I've been in this cabin for too long," she sighed. "I would love to get outside."

"Then now's your chance," he said as he stood. "Captain Griffith has left for shore and there’s naught but a few men in the decks below, last I looked."

It wasn't until well after nightfall that she mustered the nerve to venture outside. She peaked through a crease in the door to make sure no pirates roamed the deck. When she was satisfied the coast was clear, she carefully opened the door, so that it wouldn't creak, and stepped out into the warm Bahaman night air.

She shuffled warily past the mainmast, regarding it with a respectful eye. The anguish of the days she had spent there returned to her, the memory manifesting physically throughout her body. She shuddered and forced herself to turn away.

As she looked at the pirate colony, she forgot the ordeal at the mainmast as swiftly as she had recalled it. The view from the main deck was breathtakingly panoramic, as opposed to the blurry impression she had derived through the foggy windows of the cabin. The colony was bathed in an amber glow, contrasting the navy blue sky above. She heard the distant chatter of taverns and commotion in the streets. The beaches were speckled with bonfires and resounded with bouts of laughter and the occasional gunshot. Despite the colony’s beauty, she was happy to be separated from the aberrant pleasures that she the pirates were indulging at this late hour.

Her ears picked up a muffled, high-pitched yowl that emanated from the cabin. The little kitten was already pining for her affections, and her yowling, however faint, might have stirred the suspicions of the men below. Katherine felt a rush of panic.

She spared one last look at the island, and then she retreated to the sanctuary of the cabin.

Nathan's heart pounded as Livingston ushered him toward the hellishly beautiful building. The Strapped Bodice was constructed around two palm trees that jutted through the center of a spired roof, which was made of tattered sails that were illuminated by the orange glow of the candles within. Livingston shoved Nathan up the uneven stairs and through the small entrance. The door slammed shut behind them, and Nathan knew nothing more of the outside world.

The interior was simply a large open room with stairs in the back that led to a second floor. Candles were set in small circular patterns on the floor, and within each lounged a beckoning female, some loosely dressed, others bare as the day they were born.

Nathan's heart felt as though it was on the verge of rupturing. He looked to Livingston for refuge, but the quartermaster had already fallen into the arms of one of the whores, burrowing his nose into her ample bosom.

Nathan considered fleeing, but quickly dismissed the notion; Livingston would announce his cowardice to the entire ship, and he would be a laughing stock yet again.

All of the women called to him, whistling and smiling flirtatiously.

"Come here, boy!"

"He’s a young one."

"Hard as an ox, I’ll wager."

"Fancy a suck?"

Despite his trepidation, his breeches suddenly felt snug at the crotch. There were blondes, brunettes, and redheads. Some were skinny, others were more exotically built, and some, like Livingston's, were plump.

Nathan, however, had no interest in the large strumpets. He eliminated the plump whores first, and the emaciated whores second. Left with only five choices, he decided to narrow them down by breast size. He dismissed the small-breasted whores immediately. Two remained.

He chose the girl whose eyes brilliantly ensnared the candlelight. She was Spanish, with thick black hair, copper skin, and full lips. She wore a loose fitting bodice and petticoat, and he knew she would look splendid without them. He managed to keep his hand from shaking as he held it out to her. With a deceptively shy grin she took his hand and pulled him toward her with surprising strength, until his chest was pressed against her breasts. She seized his lower lip with her teeth. When she allowed him to catch his breath, he asked her name.

"Annabelle," she replied sweetly.

"Nathan." He smiled, the muscles around his mouth and chin twitching nervously. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. She slid her hands around his waist.

"Would you like to come upstairs with me, Nathan?"

He swallowed. "I would. Very much."

"Good," she said. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "Because I would very much like you to come upstairs with me." She took his hand and guided him toward the stairs. Nathan glanced around for Livingston, but didn't see him or his plump whore anywhere.

He followed Annabelle, hypnotized by the swishing of her hips as she moved up the stairs. She glanced back to make sure he was still following. She curved a smile at him.

The second floor was much like the first; a large room without walls. However, this room was separated into partitions of draped hemp that displayed silhouetted bodies, masculine and feminine, cast from candlelight in endless motion.

Annabelle took Nathan to an empty partition with a bed of thick, raggedy blankets. She closed a drape behind her, turned to him and started unlacing her bodice. The edges of the garment pushed outward with every loosened lace. Unable to contain himself any longer, Nathan reached out and grasped her bodice by the strings, ripping them apart and freeing her breasts. He gathered them into his hands and squeezed, licking one of her nipples. It hardened on the tip of his tongue.

She pulled away and he watched from the bed as she finished undressing before him. His eyes drifted to the curly black hair between her legs. She knelt before him and unlaced his breeches, sliding them to the floor. She eagerly took him into her mouth. He clutched her hair and climaxed far too quickly. She rose up and pressed against him, her breasts mashing his chest. Her raven hair shrouded his face as she kissed him. Her tongue tasted salty. "I’m sorry," Nathan gasped between kisses, embarrassed.

"It’s fine," she shrugged. "We have all night."

He woke in the early gray hours of dawn to a breeze that swept through the window and riddled his bare skin with goose bumps. Annabelle was fast asleep, her body fitted into the curve of his, with her back to his chest. He brushed strands of hair away from her cheek and she stirred in her sleep. He moved his hand to her hip and let it rest there. In the dim morning light he could see for the first time how glaringly white his skin was compared to hers.

He slid his hand beneath the sheets and slipped his fingers between her legs. Her inner thighs were hot and damp. He slid a finger in and out of her. She moaned softly and tilted her head. "Good morning," she whispered.

"How long were you awake?" he asked sheepishly.

"That depends," she replied. "How have you been doing that?"

"Not long enough." He gently bit her neck.

Beside the bed sat his cutlass and pistol. She reached out and ran her finger along the shiny blade. "What's it like?" she said wistfully.

"What?"

"Being a pirate?"

He shrugged. "The money is nice."

She grinned suggestively. "And the women?"

"The women are unmatched," he declared.

She turned to him and sat up, distracting him with her breasts. "I'll wager you've matched with many."

He shook his head matter-of-factly. "You're the first."

Her jaw dropped open. "You lie!"

"Never."

"You're far too experienced."

Now he was certain she was being facetious. "Not at all."

She lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Am I to trust the word of a pirate?"

"No more than I the compliments of a strumpet."

She clutched her left breast, feigning injury to her heart, and collapsed onto the bed. He chuckled and fell on top of her.

After a leisurely morning, she accompanied him to Sassy Sally's, where they shared a plate of turtle eggs. Nathan summoned all of his courage and swallowed the first soft, milky egg. His apprehension was forgotten in the superb flavor, and soon he was shoving turtle eggs down his throat without a care.

Annabelle, who had far more familiarity with turtle delicacies, was genuinely amused by his initial reluctance. "A pirate who's afraid of turtle eggs," she laughed.

"I fear nothing, Miss . . . what is your last name anyway?"

"Don't know."

"No last name?"

"Don't know," she replied with an innocent shrug. "Is it important?"

Nathan frowned. "I suppose not."

When they finished the eggs, they sat back and regarded the harbor. It was a beautiful day, as always, and the cool breeze that washed off of the water helped keep the temperature down. There were more children playing on the beach than the day before, many with their mothers nearby. A dozen men were sprawled out in hammocks that they had fashioned between the trunks of palm trees.

The harbor was still packed with ships, some of them sailing away, several more sailing in. Two of the ships that had been careened yesterday were gone, and a few others were now turned on their opposite sides and being cleaned. Not far off, another ship was running aground in preparation for the same procedure. Like the majority of the ships in the harbor, these ships were small and easily careened.

In the distance,
Harbinger
's great hull and reaching masts stood apart from the crowd. When Annabelle asked Nathan which ship he belonged to, he had no difficulty pointing it out for her. She threw him the same skeptical look she had earlier that morning.

"I tell you true," he insisted.

"She's a fine ship, that's certain," Annabelle said with a smirk. "She even stole the eye of many townsfolk as she was mooring to, especially with her dreadful black flag, big as can be. No doubt she stole your eye as well. Now, stop putting me on and tell me which sloop is yours."

"I'm generously paying you just to break your fast with me," he said. "Is it so hard to believe I'd belong to so fine a ship?"

"All men pay me well," she replied, "with far queerer notions than breakfast in mind."

He felt a stab of jealousy, and it must have shown on his face because she recoiled indignantly. "I see."

"Nathan, please don't start that already."

He smiled, feeling instantly silly. "Apologies."

"Don't be sorry, either. You're not the first man to lie about your ship."

Her cheerfully dubious nature left him debating whether he might strangle her to death or smother her with a kiss. It was an alien emotion, and he wasn't certain if he enjoyed it or despised it.

Annabelle sighed luxuriantly, oblivious to his internal quarrel. "What shall we do now?" she asked. "Has your money given out yet? Or does that hole in your pocket have no end."

"Does yours?"

"No," she said with a flirtatious smile and a lick of her lips.

Nathan peered over the railing and scanned the bazaar, which was busy with pirates and women. "I should like to take you shopping," he said.

"Really?" She seemed genuinely impressed. "And what would we buy?"

Nathan spotted a merchant offering brightly colored dresses, with many women gathered round. "A dress."

The gown Annabelle fancied was made of green brocaded satin, which Nathan thought an appropriate match for the island milieu. It didn't take her long to pick out the garment; she spent most of her time making sure Nathan was content with buying something so expensive for a girl he barely knew. He insisted. The garment was so lovely that she eventually gave in.

They left the bazaar and headed back to Sassy Sally's, where Nathan rented a room for the two of them.

The fitting of the gown perplexed her. Nathan offered his help, but the workings of the garment were more complicated than anything he had encountered at a mast. When he appeared to be doing more bad than good, Annabelle slapped his hands away and insisted that she be allowed to figure it out on her own. She informed him that she wanted him to see her wearing the dress, not putting it on, as that would spoil the surprise. He relented and faced a window as she continued to tussle with the gown.