Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (35 page)

She was on the ship. There was nothing he could do about it. So he might as well accept it. Besides, as he’d lain awake beside her on the cramped bunk, he’d decided he could use her help.

Not ashore at St. Augustine, of course. But he’d heard her speak Spanish, and she had a fair knowledge of it. Perhaps she could teach him enough so that he could get by in the town. If only he’d tried to learn the language earlier, when he was a prisoner of de Segovia, he wouldn’t need lessons. But he’d so despised anything Spanish that he’d closed his mind to the foreign tongue. Now he could see the advantage of communicating with the enemy.

“Ain’t no hard feelin’s, is there, Cap’n?”

Jack shifted to see Phin standing beside him. A pale pewter glow separated the sky from the sea, and threw a wash of light over the older man’s worried face.

“I know we didn’t handle it good, but we—none of us wants any man leadin’ us but ye.”

Jack stared at him a moment before shrugging. “I appreciate that, Phin.” He turned back to watch the ribbons of dawn streak across the horizon. “And I’m not angry.” He had been at first, but thinking about his men was something else he’d done last night. Considering he was dealing with a crew of independent freebooters, he decided he was lucky they only wanted him to accept help fighting de Segovia.

“Ye know we wants that bloody Spaniard as much as ye do.”

Jack seriously doubted that, but grinned and clasped Phin across the back.

“I know’d ye wouldn’t hold a grudge, Cap’n.” Phin smiled his snaggle-toothed smile. “You’ll see. We’ll be doin’ great once we head out for the Indian Ocean. Did ye hear tell how much them pirates from the
Amity
took on her last voyage?”

From there Phin launched into one of his favorite subjects: the wealth to be made, with very little effort, from the Moguls. Jack listened politely. But in truth, his heart wasn’t in it. Every once in a while, he nodded, or made some remark that expressed interest, but he really didn’t care.

And it bothered him that he didn’t. The life of a buccaneer had suited him since that day he escaped from the Spanish. At least he thought it did. But he’d been so filled with the need for revenge. Now, with the promise of retaliation at hand, he worried that he lacked the desire to rush off to the Indian Ocean.

Jack shook himself mentally. ‘Twould do no good to bother with it now. He still had to find his sister and avenge his parents. And to do that he needed to learn some Spanish. Excusing himself from Phin, Jack went below and toiled over his charts until he thought his wife might be awake.

“You want me to do what?” Jack exclaimed.

He couldn’t believe his ears. He came down to his cabin to ask his wife a simple favor, and she... she shocked him. Lord knew, he was no prude, but this... Jack raked his fingers back through his hair and paced to the window.

Sighing, Miranda scraped the chair back across the floor and stood. She hadn’t expected him to react like this, really hadn’t given much thought to what he would think of her request. But seeing him so agitated, she realized it would do her well to remember that the pirate wasn’t as enlightened as some.

She reached over and closed the book she was studying. “You really needn’t become so unsettled about it. I simply thought, while I was tutoring you in Spanish, you could do something for me.”

Jack stopped pacing. “I’m not unsettled,” he stated with more assurance than he felt. “ ‘Tis simply that your request surprised me.”

Miranda smiled. “You don’t mind, then? I’ve done a fairly good likeness of your chest and arms, but lower than that I just don’t know.”

“Miranda,” Jack groaned. “You do know. I mean, we’ve... we’ve made love in the daylight. Surely you’ve seen...” He was as tongue-tied as a youth, and Jack didn’t like it one bit.

“I’m only interested in your musculature.”

“My what?”

“Your muscles. They are truly a fine example of what I’ve studied in—”

“You only wish to sketch my muscles?”

“Of course.” Miranda lifted the charcoal drawings she’d done and showed them to Jack.

“This is me?” How could she think he looked like that with little wriggly lines all over his body?

“Your muscles, yes. At least most of them.” Miranda bit her bottom lip. “However, if you feel uncomfortable—”

“Nay, ‘tis fine. I’ll do it. That is, if we can study Spanish at the same time.”

“Certainly we can.” Miranda settled into the chair and positioned the parchment in front of her on the desk. “I think we should begin with some simple questions, don’t you?” She glanced up. “You can disrobe.”

“What type of questions? Do you mean take off everything?”

“You wouldn’t be nude otherwise, would you?” Miranda asked logically.

“Right. And you did say you wished me to pose for you in the nude.” Jack yanked his shirt over his head.

Miranda waited. He toed off his boots, and her mouth went dry. She had to force herself to remember she was doing this for science.

When he reached for the waistband of his breeches, Miranda squirmed in her seat. She searched her mind for a Spanish phrase to teach him, but the most illogical thing had happened. She couldn’t remember a thing.

Miranda looked down at her sketch and grabbed up the charcoal; but her hand was damp, and it slipped to the desk top. She heard the whisper of fabric against skin, and her lashes lifted. He stood before her like a golden god. She could barely breathe.

“Well, go ahead and draw,” Jack commanded. He had never before done anything so stupid in his life, and if his men found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it.

“Draw...? Oh, yes, draw.” Miranda swallowed and clutched the charcoal. Determined, she bent her head toward the parchment and began to sketch. She could do this... she could.

But each time Miranda glanced up to follow a ridge or plane with her eyes, her concentration slipped a little more. Until finally she could do naught but shut her eyes.

“Is something amiss?” Jack resisted the urge to cover himself with his hands. He was trying to stand here and let her draw him—to not think about his state of undress—but he couldn’t. And as he watched her work, watched the curve of her cheek and fine crow’s wing hair at her temple dip forward when she bent over the parchment, he couldn’t stop wishing she were unclothed as well.

Miranda pushed away from the desk. “ ‘Tis the light. It’s not sufficient for me to see.” She glanced up. “I mean, I can see.” Her eyes drifted, over Jack, widening when she noticed his arousal. With a jerk of her head she looked away. “It simply isn’t bright enough for me to sketch.”

With that she edged around the desk, her back to Jack, and began sorting through the papers there. “Oh,” she said. “You can put your clothes back on.”

She was as embarrassed as he, Jack thought. Except, he wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Silently he moved up behind her, smiling when her gasp of breath accompanied his touch. He pressed against her, sandwiching her body between him and the desk. His arms stole around, her, crossing over her chest, and he bent to nuzzle her ear. “You didn’t teach me any Spanish,” he said, before nipping gently at her lobe. “For instance.” His hands crept up. “What’s the Spanish word for these?” They closed over her breasts. His thumbs drew delicate circles around her tightened nipples.

Miranda moaned and leaned back into his hard body. “I doubt you need to know that.”

“ ‘Tis possible you’re right.” His mouth skimmed down the side of her neck, taking tiny love bites as he went, and Miranda leaned her head to the side, allowing him better access. “Then, what about this?” One hand slid down between her legs.

“Jack.” Miranda could, barely catch her breath. “ ‘Tis daytime.”

“I know.” He bunched up her skirt in front, sighing and rubbing his hardness into her buttocks when he felt the smooth warmth of her naked thigh.

“Oh, Jack.” Miranda arched, driving herself more firmly into his palm. His fingers wove through her tight curls, then delved deeper. Miranda’s strength abandoned her. Her knees buckled, and she would have slipped to the floor if not for the strong arm binding her to the captain.

“Lean forward.”

“What?” The question was a low moan. His finger stroked her, driving any semblance of reasoning from her mind.

“There.” With one swipe of his arm, Jack sent charts and papers flying. Miranda was quivering too near the brink to question when he gently pushed her forward. Cradling her cheek on her bent’ arm, Miranda lay across the desk.

Standing behind her, Jack ran his hands down the slender sides of her rib cage. When he reached her hip, his fingers fanned, then dipped down to flip up her skirts.

His manhood throbbed, hot and heavy, pulsing as he leaned into her. Controlling the urge to slam into her, he caressed her rounded flesh. He kneaded, then slipped lower, gently spreading her entry. His penetration was slow and deliberate, and Jack thought he’d lose his mind before he was fully sheathed in her.

She was so hot and tight, so unbearably sensual, that he hesitated before resuming his thrusts. When he could stand it no longer, his body moved. He grabbed her buttocks, digging his fingers into her, and arched forward.

His movements became frantic, spurred by his own lack of control. She called out his name, and Jack leaned over her. “Give me your mouth,” he groaned, brushing her hair aside when she turned her face toward his.

His open mouth covered hers. His tongue speared into her, and he held her while she climaxed. The tightening of her flesh around him ignited his own long, searing release.

When Miranda opened her eyes, she was face to face with the pirate, their heads resting on the hard oak desk top. She hadn’t noticed till now how hard and uncomfortable it was. But she forgot her discomfort when his golden lashes lifted and he smiled at her.

His grin deepened. “God’s blood, I don’t know what came over me,” he whispered, before levering himself up. He gave her bottom a teasing pat before lifting her around to sit on the desk.

Miranda shifted her skirt down around her ankles. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “What... what did we do?”

Jack’s laugh made Miranda flip back the long strands of hair which had come undone. Intently, she peered at him.

“We made love.” Jack chuckled, brushing a kiss across her swollen lips before reaching for his breeches.

“But... but it wasn’t like before.”

“Ah, Miranda, there are lots of ways.” Jack slid his arms into his shirtsleeves. “And I intend to show you as many as I can, but first I need to learn some Spanish.”

Miranda sighed. “Say it again. This time let it roll off your tongue.” She turned toward the pirate and demonstrated.

This attempt was as poor as his last. Jack leaned his head back against the bulwark. “God’s blood, why can’t they just speak the King’s English or Celtic. I have little trouble with them.”

“Or Indian,” Miranda reminded him. “I heard you speaking with the Indian in the forest, and I had no idea what you said.”

“Nafkebee is Cheraw. I learned the language when I was a lad, before the Spanish came.” He frowned. “I don’t know why I can’t seem to pick up this heathen tongue.”

Miranda settled down on the window seat in the captain’s cabin. They’d been working at this for nearly an hour, ever since they’d made love, and were making little progress. “ T’would not be so much of a problem if you’d only allow me to accompany you.”

“M i r a n d a.” Jack drew out her name in warning.

She threw up her hands. “You wish to go ashore at a Spanish settlement and find your sister when you do not speak the language, nor do you look particularly Spanish. And even if you did, and sought out de Segovia, he would probably recognize you.”

“I doubt that.”

Miranda glanced up. “You’ve changed so much since your sixteenth year?”

“In actual appearance nay, but there is naught the same about a free man and a slave. De Segovia will not know me until ‘tis too late.”

“For you or him?” Miranda sighed when her comment earned her a stormy scowl from the pirate. “You are being stubborn.”

“Me?” Jack jumped to his feet. “You’re the one who stowed away and won’t give up this crazy notion of coming ashore with me.” Shutting his eyes, Jack forced himself to calm down. She was exasperating—no question about that. But he’d known that from the beginning, and he seriously doubted he’d ever change her.