Queen Of My Nightmare (Uncharted Secrets, Book 2): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories (2 page)

“Yes, I am sure. You have been asking me all along if I want some. Just hand it over already.”

He filled a glass for me. “Have you ever had a taste before?”

“Never.” I accepted the glass half full of red wine.

“Ye be warned, beauty. Wine is kind of awful.” He chuckled and gestured with his hand, signaling for me to go on and try.

So I did. And it was terrible. Nearly spitting out the strange flavor, I choked on the bittersweet taste. “Oh! Yuck. Bluck. My mouth is still dry. Did I even drink any? Did I miss my mouth?”

“Ha! You got it. The face said it all. Nasty shit, huh?”

“Terrible.” I took another drink.

Handling it much easier this time, I attempted to keep a sophisticated pose as I smiled. “Thank you for this wonderful evening, Master Bentley.”

We carried on with silly nonsense as I finished the glass, and once I finally got to my feet, I realized I was drunk. “Oh. Whoa. My body is buzzing like bee’s wings.”

“That’s why they call it a buzz, my sweet.”

“My, my. I think I rather like it.” I swayed in his direction, feeling as light as a daisy.

Standing up to meet me, he took me in his big strong arms. “No sword fighting tonight, eh?”

“Why in the world not?” I whined against his chest. We had been training all month and loving every minute of it, I did not want to miss a lesson.

“Because you’re drunk and you might stab me.” He arched an eyebrow.

“Blast it all. Sword fighting is more fun than drinking.”

“Ah, the little Viking’s world is full of such perilous choices.”

“Decision is made. I will never drink again.”

“The sober sea artist.” He twirled me around.

Dizzied by the spin, I slapped his arm. “Don’t do that! Oh, my, don’t do that.”

“How about this? Can I do this?” He wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust his hips between them.

Clearly remembering the magic that happened when those breeches weren’t in the way, I giggled, “Yes. You can do that anytime.” I kissed all over his neck as he carried me to the bed. “Anytime at all.”

Dropping me onto the fluffy, blue blankets, he quickly laid his big body on top of mine and ran his hand up my thigh. “Ah, but not at sea. And it’s going to be torture resisting you while we’re gone.”

Thinking of how much I would miss this kind of time with him, I whined, “Not even in your cabin?”

“No. Never.” He moved his hand between my legs. “Best way to keep up your disguise is to live it. Can you handle that?”

“I can. I had planned to go without sex for the rest of my days, anyway.”

“Ah, but that was afore you had sex with me.” He flashed a sideways smile that assured me of how true his cocky statement was.

As he rubbed all over the parts that made me woman, I sighed, “And you? Are you going to be able to follow your own rules?” I reached inside his breeches.

“I don’t know. Just have to lie well enough to believe it myself, I guess.” He tried to sound unaffected by my touch, so I squeezed tighter.

“But there’s no need for lying tonight.” He roughly yanked my dress off, pulled my knees apart, and let out a hungry groan.

The heat of his mouth ran down my belly, slow and warm like melted wax. Once his kiss landed between my thighs he went on to pleasure me to the point of madness. Twisting and turning in the wake of his passion, there was no way to keep myself afloat. No way to hold myself solid in the turbulent tide. Tangling my hands in his light brown locks, I sighed and squirmed under the magical movements of his mouth. With my eyes closed I saw the Northern Lights, and with them open I saw the best looking man I had ever seen. Either way I was living a dream, and when he slid himself inside of me, the fantasy intensified. Buzzed from the wine and high on the glory of his image, it felt better than ever to be filled with his love. While meeting his thrusts with my own, I told him that I could never get enough of him or of his love.

Kissing on my breasts and grabbing onto my thighs, he moaned against my chest. “I’m going to stay right here for the next three days.”

“I wouldn’t complain.” I sighed with what little breath I had left. “You can just keep doing this forever.”

“And what about this?” He twisted me onto my side. With his hand in my hair and my face on the pillow, I screamed into the fluffy feathers as he melted me into the bedding. Would I ever be able to resist him at sea? No. Knowing he had the power to do this to me, I would always revere his sorcery. I would always crave his touch.

Pulling me ever closer, he lifted my leg up on his shoulder. “Have I told you how much I love this view?”

Oh, my God, I loved it too. This was freedom at its finest. The man who all the wenches desired was here with me, lighting my fire. Burning, and twirling, and raging with a devilish heat until the passion conspiring between us erupted inside me.

Oh, no, no, I could never get enough of him. As his sweat-covered body collapsed on top of mine, I held him tight and ran my hands through his hair.

“I love you, Hannah. My little bird of paradise,” he whispered in my ear.

What a sweet pleasure it was to see this side of the man whom everyone else feared. “I love you, too, Mason. And I love being your one and only.”

“I like it, too.” He kissed my forehead. “And I like being the secret keeper of the Ocean Eyed Witch. It’s a bit thrilling.”

Slapping his arm, I cooed, “Oh, stop it. I might not be able to cast a spell, but I can throw a punch.”

“A mean one at that.” He bit at my neck.

Thinking of how hard it would be to resist his affection for months on end, I got on top of him and hummed. “Again.”

Chapter 2

Midnight Breeze

C
andleligh
t
reflected on the dull sheen of his blade as he took a wide swing at my side. Resisting the urge to let out a girlish yelp, I focused my strength, balanced my footing, and parried the blow in the nick of time. Short of breath, and covered in sweat, I took a step back and offered a swing of my own. Just as he did every time, he dodged it. Spinning out of the way like a fanciful dancer, the shirtless ox of a man laughed, “You’ll never get me, woman. But you’re good enough to take a lesser man. And most of them are.”

“Oh, you cocky bastard.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Big and bulky as you are, I can’t believe you can move so swift and gracefully.” I slid my cutlass into its scabbard, happy to call it my own.

“I’m just showing off.” Mason flexed his arms then set his cutlass on the table. “There isn’t much room for grace in a real sword fight, though. It’s brutal as hell. Most of what I’ve learned is from experience, but all the fencing techniques I’ve been taught have come in handy as well.”

“You studied fencing?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, uh,” he scratched his head. “I did some work for a blacksmith once, and uh, she taught me some things at her shop.”

“She? A lady blacksmith?” I squinted with my hands on my hips, annoyed by the visuals my mind conjured up. “Oh, I bet you learned more than just fencing with a sword.”

His laughter said it all. “Don’t worry about it, Hannah. All that matters is this: the more you learn, the better, in all subjects,” he winked, “but nothing beats life experience. Now, let’s get going.” He put his shirt on.

Since I was already dressed in my masculine attire, I leaned against the table and peeled an orange as I watched him dress. He hadn’t worn more than a light pair of breeches since our hideaway began, and though he also looked amazing in his expensive clothing, I was going to miss the sight—and especially the feel—of his bare body.

While he rambled on about things on his mind, I reminisced about our time at the inn. We had spent the last three days here tangled together in a sweaty ravel of passionate love. On the bed, on the sofa, even in the bath, and after loving me on the tabletop in broad daylight, Mason told me I was the best feast he’d ever devoured. I had never been so close with anyone, and though he’d had other women, lots of them, I believed it when he told me he’d never loved another before me. This secretive romance we shared was so much bigger than the confines of the walls we shared it in, and though he never mentioned marriage, I knew that I was more than just his favored girl.

Lacing up his waistcoat, he looked me over as I sucked the juice out of my last slice of orange. “You look like a boy now.”

“That’s good, right?” I threw the peel away.

“It’s just odd. Because I know you’re a woman, a saucy one at that, and the fact that I want to rip your boy clothes off and stick it to you on that table again messes with my head. Makes me feel like a ghoul.” He shook his head in disgust.

“That
is
odd. How the hell are we going to survive this strange arrangement?” I walked over to the mirror.

“We just are. Because we have to.”

“You make everything sound so easy.” I hid my distinguishing white-blonde hair beneath a black cloth.

Once my eyes were lined with kohl, and we each had all of our weapons in place, I sighed, “I suppose it’s time to say goodbye to my tower room at the castle.”

Wrapping his arms around me, he chuckled, “I already can’t wait to see my princess again.”

He kissed me, deeply, wholeheartedly, and for a long time. Knowing this would be our last kiss for some time to come, I relished every minute of it. Once he finally let me go, I said, “I love you so, Mason.”

“I love you, too, Hannah, my sweet.” The way he spoke my name weakened me in the knees. It was the softest, sweetest thing that tumbled across his deep and powerful voice.

He slapped my arse and sent me out the door. The sound of it shutting behind me assured me that I would not be his
sweet Hannah
for some time to come.

Mason had already returned Feather to the ship, and without having his fluffy fur to cuddle into and hide behind, I did my best to keep my face shielded beneath the brim of my hat as we walked down the stairs and into the lobby. I already felt like everyone had to know. They had to see right through my ridiculous disguise, I worried to myself. But not a man, woman, or child inside the walls of The West Wind Inn seemed to notice anything unusual about me.

Rather than heading toward the door to the main street, Mason led me out the back door. There, in the dim, lonesome alleyway, he stuck his hand in a planter and pulled out a wad of dirt. To my unpleasant surprise, he rubbed it on my cheeks. “You’re still too pretty. Got to be dirty and nasty like the others.”

While I stomped and sputtered in protest, he said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and reached down to fix his boot.

Though I thought he was done defiling my already awkward image, he stuck his hand into a disgusting puddle and splashed the ill smelling water on the knees of my clean breeches.

I wanted to scream like a woman.

“It’s better this way, believe me. Smelling like flowers and wine, you’ll be alluring the few who prefer to sail up the Windward Passage.”

My heart froze in my chest. “What does that mean?”

He scratched his head and awkwardly expressed, “Some men like men.”

I gasped in horror. “As if I could be more mortified about the terrible things that could happen out there! What if they…I never thought…You mean I’m not even safe as a man?”

“Ah, they learn real quick who swings that way and who don’t, so every now and then make mention of your favored wenches. Here are some helpful tips: Rebecca will scratch you up like a wild cat, Mary will pull your hair out if it isn’t tied back well enough, and Ruth will only moan in pleasure if you pay her extra to do so.”

Horrified by the words that were spewing out of my lover’s mouth, I stood there with my jaw agape.

He fanned his hand towards the lantern-lit sign of the inn. “It isn’t too late to change your mind.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get me to the ship.”

“All right, then. Now, straighten up your shoulders. Don’t let those saucy hips sway so sweetly, and put a little grit in your voice.”

I growled at him.

“Very good.” He smiled and tugged me out to the street.

Following alongside one of the most feared men who sailed the seas, holding my shoulders as straight and proud as his, I realized something. I was no longer the woman in his shadow. No longer did the men eye me like a prize to be won, and the women were not scowling at me with bitter dissension. So it seemed that the crowd I once feared was now in awe of me. One of Mason Bentley’s buccaneers. I could get used to this.

Once we came upon the dock I inhaled a deep breath of musty night air and took in my surroundings. The lanterns were dim, the men were foul, and the smell of the salt, sweat, and tar never seemed more prevalent. I was no longer just watching this show as a victim or a prisoner. I had chosen this dreadful path as my very own, and I liked it much better this way.

Reaching the ill-lit deck of
Esmeralda
, I was overwhelmed by the presences of the men who had gathered around their captain. Hardly dressed, covered in tattoos, and impaled with golden piercings, the words they spoke and the way they laughed reminded me of the demons on Lucifer’s crew. My heartbeat intensified and my gut tumbled as my mind swirled with the horrific visuals of the things I had endured on that ship.

No
. I tried to chase the memories out of my mind. I had to stay composed. I had to.
This is what I wanted, and
Mason is with me. I am safe,
I told myself over and over. Yet, the way he joined in their vile conversations made me wonder if I knew him at all.

Amidst the fearful reunion of captain and crew, I noticed a tall, lean man with broad shoulders coming across the gangway from the ship next to us. He was dressed as well as Mason was, and the way the hideously joyful crowd parted to make room as he passed, proved that he was just as revered. Those brave enough to acknowledge his fearsome presence saluted him as Captain Reid.

Captain Reid approached us with a dreadful scowl hiding behind his dark black beard. Once he came within arm’s length, Mason—looking unaffected by the man’s intimidating stature—slapped his own knee. “Looky here boys, Little Jimmy’s come over to play.”

Though I was terrified that the fearsome man would react adversely to the comment, the glint of an enticing smile lifted the waxed tips of his mustache as he reached out to shake Mason’s hand. “I save my playtime for your mother, and after the way she wore me out last night, this visit is strictly business.”

In the lantern light, I noticed that Reid was also a good looking fellow, and the playful way he and Mason insulted each other helped to ease my weary nerves.

Reid paused and looked Mason over. “You've gotten fat,” he sniffed, “and you took to bathing? Eh! Nothing like a good woman to keep a man in line.”

He winked at me then whispered to Mason, “I know a woman when I see one. Or smell one, should I say.”

My heart sank into my gut. I was discovered already! What the hell would happen now? A few other men drew near. The scent of rum adrift on Reid’s breath ignited a fire of fear in my soul. While trying not to shudder, I heard Mason laugh casually. “The only line I walk is the one that keeps me rich and free, and that has nothing to do with a woman.”

“Rightfully so.” Reid slapped him on the back. “Women are like anchors and we only need those when we’re in port.”

Apparently, he was in on our secret.

While I contemplated the terrors that could come of this early unveiling, Shark broke the icy layer of tension which had taken hold of my being by happily greeting his captain. “Ah, good to see you again, Captain. We thought you’d never come out of that warm hole you been hiding in.”

“Aye!” The one named Gruff grumbled. “I never saw her face, but I saw Captain drag her down the docks after he rode her in on that horse. And I’ll tell you boys, if a body like that was riding my cock, I wouldn’t have come back.”

Perk, a young man not much older than Shark, laughed, “I never saw her face either, but I heard those rowdy screams that same night! Wooo! I’d ride below the crupper with that white-haired wench till Jesus himself came back and pulled me off o’ her.” He bumped his hips and moved his hands like he was slapping the wench he spoke of.

As if all the lewd commentaries about me weren’t bad enough, Mason happily affirmed, “Ah, the night moves have never been better, boys. Best workout I ever had, in fact.” He patted his flat, hard abdomen. “Got to keep that gut flat, makes your dick look bigger.”

All of them laughed like that was so funny.
Dirty dogs.

They continued to banter with their bawdy comments and repulsive reenactments concerning Mason Bentley’s faceless whore, but eventually he fanned them off. “What? You boys didn’t make any memories of your own worth telling?”

Just like that they forgot about me and started telling worse stories about what they stuck where during the months ashore.

Soon enough Reid headed back to his own ship,
Broken Shell
, which apparently would be consorting with
Esmeralda
. Just when I thought the worst had passed, a tall, shirtless, African man with war paint design on his face asked Mason, “Who’s this little fellow?”

“Ah, Ziare, glad you asked.” Mason playfully punched my arm. “This is our new sea artist. Midnight.”

Ziare looked at me with his head cocked to the side like a bird. “Does he talk?” He poked my arm.

“Not much.” Mason cupped his mouth and whispered to the war-painted giant loud enough that I could hear him. “He’s one of those knotty-pated mutes. Smart as paint, he is, but quiet as the night. He isn’t much for fun, but his maps will make up for his lack of good company.”

Mason and I hadn’t discussed this plan of me being a
knotty-pated mute
, but while eyeing and smelling the terrifying men who had already offended the hell out of me, I figured it would work. The less I had to speak to them the better.