The Captain's Rebel (Irish Heroines) Page 17

  I peeked at him with one eye. “Just doing my duty, sir.”

  “I would punish you for putting yourself in harm’s way, but I suspect such a lashing would be pointless.”

  “You would be correct in that assumption, sir.”

  “I did not realize you could shoot a musket.”

  “I am a woman of many talents, sir.”

  “That you are, Mary,” he whispered, tucking the blanket up to my chin. “That you are.”

  …

  The rough rope slipped through my fingers as I twisted it into a tight knot, the salty wind blowing through my hair. For days now, the sense of anticipation aboard the ship had increased to a tipping point, all the sailors quick to anger, the quartermaster’s cane making its appearance for every tiny infraction. I brushed my curls away from my eyes and saw the strip of darkness in the distance at the same time the watch shouted, “Land ho!”

  The sailors dropped their tasks to peer into the distance, and a great cheer erupted on deck. The quartermaster’s roars quickly followed suit, and he barked instructions for entering the bay. I climbed down off the mast, and Keating came up to me, slapping me on the back.

  “First time in the West Indies, mate?”

  “Aye,” I mumbled in a low voice.

  Since Andrews’s death and the events on the gun deck, I had achieved a strange sort of respect among the crew. Whispers followed me wherever I went, and sailors slipped me extra rations. No longer an invisible cabin boy, they all knew me by name and accepted me as one of their own.

  “Don’t get too excited, lad,” Keating said, peering off into the distance. “Ye probably won’t be going to shore with the officers. They’re afraid of us running off, ye see?” A smile spread across his face, and he gave me a wink. “But there be women aboard the bum boats that come in from Port Royal, and there’s one what does this thing with her—”

  “Keating! O’Brien!” the quartermaster shouted across the deck. “Don’t let me catch ye idling about. Ye need to mend those sails before the wind picks up again or ye’ll be spending the night at the bottom of the sea!”

  We bent our heads down, taking hold of the ripped sail, but Keating whistled low and whispered, “Her name is Kylie.”

  “Whose name is Kylie?”

  “The one who does the—”

  The quartermaster roared at us again, and we tucked into our task in silence.

  Jamaica grew closer, expanding across the horizon. The water turned a crystal aqua blue and the wind quickened as night fell. Only the twinkling of torches from the base and the beacon of the lighthouse revealed the presence of the port.

  I raced down to Grant’s quarters to prepare him for dinner, but I found him in his chambers, already dressed. He flashed me a wide smile and kicked the door closed before grabbing my hands and bringing me close against his chest.

  “All that work up top has roughened your hands, Mary.”

  “Ah, now, Captain. Wouldn’t want to return to Ireland with nothing to show for all my sailing adventures.”

  “Aside from a husband, you mean.”

  I looked down, my face flushed. As the weeks went by and I spent my nights nestled with the Captain, I had almost forgotten about Johnny and Dunraven. The silence stretched out between us, and his heartbeat thudded against my ear, a death knell calling the end of our time together.

  “We’ll be in port in Jamaica for a few days before turning toward the South Atlantic. Tonight we will attend the Admiral and the local gentry so they can meet you and feel more familiar with you. You will, of course, attend me as my servant and then later you shall remain as their guest.” He reached back on the bed and pressed a stack of fresh clothes into my arms along with a pair of polished black shoes.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You must stay absolutely quiet.”

  “As the grave, sir.”

  “There will be no discussion of abolition or Jacobinism this evening.”

  I widened my eyes and gasped in mock surprise. “Why, Captain, I am scandalized you would even suggest such a thing!”

  He smirked and tapped me on the nose, patting my behind on his way out the door. He paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. “You might find the way of life amongst the aristocracy in the colonies very different than what you are used to at home.”

  Turning around, I arched my eyebrow, trying to puzzle his insinuation. “Different in what way?”

  He shook his head. “You shall see.”

  We traveled to shore in a small boat, and from there we took a carriage to an opulent house perched on one of the bluffs on the edge of the city. Descending from the carriage, my legs trembled and fell out beneath me. I stumbled, and the Captain clamped onto my arm, lifting me upright before anyone noticed.

  “Steady as she goes, boy,” he whispered in my ear. “You will need to learn how to walk on land again.”

  I nodded, following the Captain up the wide marble steps to the expansive palace, the white columns standing tall as sentinels as we marched into a large receiving room. Our footsteps echoed across the hall as a servant opened a door to a smaller parlor. A peel of feminine laughter cut through the air, followed by low, masculine voices raised in a bawdy song about an unfortunate chambermaid with red hair.

  Grant looked over his shoulder and flashed a worried glance. “Stay close to me,” he whispered.

  “Captain Richard Grant,” the footman announced before retreating back into the shadows.

  The Captain launched into the room with the same domineering, confident air he had onboard the Elizabeth, and I trailed behind him.

  “Richard!” a woman screamed, and I lifted my eyes and had to stifle a gasp at the strange tableau.

  A young woman lay naked and hogtied on the table, her mouth occupied with the cock of a leering soldier, his hand fisted in her hair as he forced himself deeper down her throat. I blinked, trying to register the scene, shaking my head at the sight of the flagrant display. The smell of wine and sex hit my nostrils, and I coughed, edging toward Grant with weak knees.

  “Bloody hell,” I whispered beneath my breath.

  “I see they have started early.” He placed a firm hand on my elbow. “Stay by me, and for God’s sake, do not let anyone touch you.”

  Soldiers milled about the room, drinking and laughing. In the corner sat a young couple before a piano, the man shirtless and reeling drunk, his hands cupping the breast of the piano player, a giggling naked woman whose fingers danced across the keys. She threw her head back and opened her mouth, and the soldier poured wine down her throat, red rivulets dripping down her chin and neck.

  The woman who had called Grant’s name stood on the other end of the hogtied woman, a riding crop in her hand, clearly in the middle of abusing the poor lady’s exposed cunny with it. She gave it another swipe and scolded her. “Oh, Lady Jane, I do not recall telling you to come, you naughty thing! We have company!”

  I blinked again, swallowing hard. Grant had said that some men and women like the sort of games we played, but it shocked me to watch it as an outsider. Even still, warmth bloomed in my core as the beautiful brunette woman on the table quivered beneath the strokes of the riding crop, and I flexed my fingers, trying to steady myself.

  The woman with the riding crop glided over to Grant, the magenta satin of her skirts rustling around her. “You are just in time for the party!”

  “Lady Catherine.” The Captain bowed, nonplussed. “I am here to see Admiral Endsworth.”

  Lady Catherine laughed and grabbed Grant’s arm, leading him toward the hogtied Lady Jane in the middle of the room. “Oh, Charles should be back soon. Lord Edward had a very naughty footman to discipline.” She threw back her blond curls and giggled, slapping her riding crop in her hand before spanking Lady Jane with it again.

  I glanced up at the soldier positioned in front of her and watched as he pulled her hair tighter, his face flushed red with passion as he came into her mouth with a groan. My stomach twisted even though I
blanched at the sheer wrongness of it all. I wanted to be both the soldier and Lady Jane. The one using and the one being used.

  Grant leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Do not be alarmed. Lady Catherine and Lady Jane have what you might call a special friendship.”

  “A special…friendship?” I kept my voice low.

  He chuckled beneath his breath. “They enjoy these games, and their husbands have their own arrangements.”

  My eyes grazed over Lady Jane’s naked body, bright red welts flaming on her backside. “So she likes it like this. In front of everyone?”

  He shot me a heated glance. “She loves it.”

  Lady Catherine inserted her fingers into Lady Jane, humming along with the tune on the piano. “I think Lady Jane is hungry for a big cock,” she said, batting her eyes at the Captain. “What say you, Richard?”

  “No,” I blurted out in a firm voice.

  Grant placed a warning palm on my shoulder.

  My stomach did a flip-flop, and my teeth ground in my skull. The flame of jealousy caught me off guard, and I forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath. Before Grant could answer her, she squealed and sidled up to me, wrapping her thin, perfumed arms around my neck.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You brought a boy! What fun!”

  Grant’s face darkened with anger. “Please leave him be. I promised his mother I would look after him.”

  Lady Catherine nuzzled her face into my neck, her wine-drenched mouth planting sloppy kisses behind my ear. “Oh, but he’s so adorable,” she purred. “I’m sure his mummy will not mind if he comes out to play.” Her hands grazed down my abdomen in search for my assumed cock, but Grant’s hand clamped onto her delicate wrist.

  “I said leave him be,” he commanded in his deep, throaty, Captain’s voice. The sexual congress in the room paused for a moment, the pianist hitting a flat note before stopping. Everyone stared at the tall, dangerous-looking man beside me before resuming their play.

  “Oh, Richard. You are such a prude.” She dropped her arms from my neck and flitted back over to him. Placing his hand on her waist, he settled it dangerously close to her ample bosom spilling out her bodice. I forced my face to remain blank, but inside my chest tightened with rage.

  “I bet the poor lad has never even touched a woman before,” Lady Catherine said. “And you know what they say…practice makes perfect!”

  She took my hand and led me over to Lady Jane. I looked back at the Captain, who stared in disapproval but said nothing, making an almost imperceptible nod in my direction. Both of us knew I had to play along with Lady Catherine’s games. A fourteen-year-old lad who refused to touch a woman? Anything else would rouse suspicion.

  “And what is your name, little one?” Lady Catherine caressed my chin and flashed me a dazzling smile, a small beauty mark dancing above her thick red lips.

  “Michael O’Brien, mum.”

  “Oh, Michael, you are a handsome little thing. I am sure you have plucked a few girls back home, have you not, my sweet lad?”

  “No, mum,” I mumbled, trying to avoid her scrutinizing gaze.

  She grabbed my hand and gestured over to the Captain. “Come here, Richard. Show this poor boy how to touch a woman.”

  “Lady Catherine,” Grant said in a dark voice, “I find these games highly inappropriate. The boy is barely fifteen.”

  “Oh, don’t be like that. I was married to Lord Edward at fifteen.” She tittered, but I could sense a shard of ice on the edge of her words. “Come, Richard.” Lady Catherine pursed her lips and squeezed her deep décolletage suggestively. “I know you are the expert here.”

  She circled around to Lady Jane and held up her chin with her index finger, gazing with loving eyes at the woman. “My little princess, would you like the young boy to touch you?”

  Lady Jane glanced over her shoulder, her sharp stare looking me up and down before she winked. She looked back up at Lady Catherine. “Yes, mistress. If it pleases you.”

  Lady Catherine gave her a peck on the cheek and whispered something in her ear that sent Lady Jane’s hips writhing, her back arching with pleasure.

  Lady Catherine turned to me. “And Michael O’Brien, would you like to touch my princess?”

  I stared up at Grant, and we exchanged a private look. Shaking his head, he took hold of my hand. Hidden from view, his thumb glided back and forth in the center of my palm, and I shuddered at his touch, heat flooding between my legs.

  “Would you like to know how to touch a woman, Michael?” he asked.

  “If it pleases you, my lord,” I said in a low voice. The thought of touching Lady Jane in front of Grant thrilled me beyond imagining. I wanted him to watch me, study me as I did this forbidden thing.

  He caught my hooded stare and heat blazed behind his jeweled eyes. He turned to Lady Catherine. “I believe the young lad would enjoy the pleasure.”

  Flashing me a smile, he guided my hand to Lady Jane’s exposed lips, glistening in the candlelight. “The trick to touching a woman is teasing her until she thinks bedding her is her idea.”

  Lady Catherine let out a tittering giggle, and she swiped at the Captain with her riding crop. “Oh, Richard!”

  Grant ignored her and guided me up through Lady Jane’s folds until our fingers found her clit, the small nub like a tiny bead beneath my thumb. “Do you feel that, boy? Do you feel how it swells beneath your touch?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  Lady Jane squirmed beneath my hand, her ankles straining against her bonds. The spent soldier at the other end of the table stroked her shoulders, and she moaned.

  All the blood in my head swept down to the space between my legs, and the steady ache of desire began to pulse there even as I felt Lady Jane’s slick flesh. She was so soft, so delicate.

  The Captain forced my thumb to flick faster against Lady Jane’s clit and her hips jerked against the table. The other revelers gathered around us, intrigued to watch a young boy’s education. My cheeks flamed, and my stomach clenched, but I didn’t want to stop.

  “See how hot you are making her, boy?” He came up behind me, caging me in, my fingers working on Lady Jane’s button even as he rubbed his secret erection against my backside, hiding his arousal from Lady Catherine. “She loves your attention.”

  Lady Jane’s slit overflowed with arousal, and Grant guided my fingers down to her wet, aching quim, pausing on the edge of her opening.

  “Do you see how tender she is? How tight Lady Jane is right now?” The Captain leaned in close to my ear and whispered in a throaty voice. “Your goal is to open her up. Tease her, make her bloom like a flower so you can taste her sweet honey.”

  He grasped onto my hand, and I inserted one finger a hairsbreadth inside of her. Lady Jane could barely contain herself as she thrashed against the table.

  “Oh, Lady Catherine,” she cried. “Please let me come!”

  My hand hesitated, startled by her sudden outburst.

  Lady Catherine brought her riding crop down on Lady Jane’s swollen mouth with expert precision. She grabbed the woman by the hair and kissed her hard before slapping her again. Lady Jane cried out, even as wetness gushed across my probing finger.

  Lady Catherine stroked her cheek. “You will come when I tell you to, my sweet little slut. I want to watch this little boy finger fuck you until you beg for some soldier cock.”

  Lady Jane moaned again, burying her flushed face into the table.

  “Go on, boy,” Lady Catherine said through thick, fluttering eyelashes. “She will not cry out again, will you Lady Jane?”

  “Go on, O’Brien,” the Captain said. “She will say a special word if it is too much for her.”

  I let out a long exhale, and all Lady Jane could do was make a long, desperate noise in the back of her throat as my finger wandered deeper into her slit.

  “Take your time,” Grant warned. “She’s hot, but you need to learn how to draw her out, make her want it.”

  I slipped my fi
nger back, almost completely retreating from her opening before entering her again, establishing an achingly slow rhythm. The Captain’s breath scorched my neck as he studied my movements, and the dizzying desire to please him, to seek his approval came over me. I would make Lady Jane come with my hands like she never had before. I wanted it for him, not for anyone else.

  “Well done, boy,” he whispered in my ear, his tongue flickering inside for a millisecond while everyone’s attention remained on Lady Jane’s swollen folds and my small fingers moving in and out.

  “Now, insert your other finger.” He grabbed my hand tight. “Slowly now, surprise her a little.”

  My other finger unfurled into Lady Jane, and she jerked her hips up to meet me. She felt so warm and wet on the inside, and a surge of power flowed through me at having her tied up and so ready for my touch. With Grant’s cock edged against me, I wanted to come right there, but I bit my lip, forcing myself to remain in control.

  “Excellent work, boy,” Grant breathed. “She wants it so badly now. Can you feel it?” He rubbed his erection against my backside in a movement so slow and imperceptible, only I would be able to sense it.

  “Yes, sir. She’s so ready.” My inside ached for him, but I could only seek satisfaction through Lady Jane. Her moans. Her cries.

  “Good. Now you will want to find the little spot of pleasure on the roof of her cunt.” He tilted my hand down ever so slightly, and Lady Jane let out a high-pitched yelp.

  Lady Catherine clamped down on the back of her neck and swiped at the woman’s mouth again. “Hush. You are breaking the boy’s concentration!”

  But my entire body remained focused on Grant’s hand as he glided my fingers in and out of Lady Jane’s opening, and I watched in fascination as she creamed around me, soaking my hand.

  “Oh, she is so close now, boy.” Grant forced my hand out until it rested just on the edge of her slit. “But we are going to play with her a little more. Give me your other hand.”

  I placed my shaking hand into Grant’s palm and he brought my fingers to my lips.

  “Suck on them,” he demanded.