Revenge of the Siren Song (Rogues of Sea and Sky Book 1)
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Authors: Michelle Stinson Ross
Revenge of the
Siren Song
Rogues of Sea and Sky Book One
by
Michelle Stinson Ross
REVISED EDITION FOR
AMAZON
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Caroline Street Press
Revenge of the
Siren Song
Copyright © 2010 by Michelle Stinson Ross/Caroline Street Press
ASIN: B01JD7IUPW
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Thanks to my draft readers.
Without their time and effort
there would be no
Siren Song
:
Alex, Annie, Sarah, Steve, and Lisa.
Revenge of the
Siren Song
The first time he woke up, Liam O'Shea was immediately aware of a bright light shining in his face. That triggered a throbbing headache, which in turn reminded him of all the rum he'd consumed while carousing with his crew the night before. He instinctively shut his eyes against the glare, grabbed his tattered excuse for a coverlet and tried to roll away from the sunlight, then froze, eyes still shut, when he felt a cold sharp blade against his exposed neck. A silky brush of hair tickled his face and the sweet scent of a woman tickled his nose.
A warm and sultry voice whispered in his ear. “Liam, your crew, to the last man, is passed out drunk. I could kidnap you and take that sweet little boat of yours and no one would so much as raise a hand to stop me.”
The hair brushed across his face again. Suddenly the world went black and sideways, and Liam's head felt as though it would split open before the blessed darkness claimed him again.
The second time he woke up, Liam became aware of his throbbing head before the light in his face. His mouth was sticky and dry, and the rest of his body ached almost as much as his head.
“Well, I see my guest is finally waking up,” cooed the same sultry voice from somewhere in the room.
Slowly Liam opened his eyes and saw that he wasn't in the dingy room he'd rented for the night but rather in the captain's cabin of a ship, a ship that was not his. He bolted upright and regretted the move as soon as he'd made it. Partly the regret was caused by his swimming head, but mostly the regret was due to the flashing cutlass blade that was suddenly at his throat.
“Don't be getting any bright ideas, Captain O'Shea. If you don't behave yourself as a proper guest aboard my ship, I'll be obliged to tie you up and treat you as my prisoner.”
Liam's head quickly cleared, along with his vision. Holding the other end of the sharp and deadly cutlass currently tickling his throat was a dangerously beautiful pirate queen. Shiny raven locks cascaded around her face and shoulders. Mysterious hazel eyes gazed penetratingly into his. A deliciously pouty mouth seemed to invite a kiss, were it not for the blade between them. Liam relaxed a trifle.
“I would be a fool indeed to threaten harm to a captain aboard her own ship,” he said.
“You have been known to be a bigger fool at times,” she snapped as she withdrew her cutlass.
He took advantage of the moment she turned her eyes off of him and grabbed her up in his arms. He kissed her hard, forcing her body against the bulkhead. Holding her there, he trapped her wrists above her head. He burned his kisses upon her mouth, and his eyes went dark with passion. She did the only thing she could to get him off of her. She bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He cursed and let her go, his instinct for self-preservation giving her the advantage she needed. She slipped away from him and pulled the knife from her belt; once again, Liam found himself on the wrong end of a blade.
“It would do you good to remember whose ship you are aboard!” she spat.
“You seem to be quite adept at threatening me with sharp objects, but what do you really intend to do with that?” he asked, licking the blood from his lip.
“Assert myself.”
“Really, now, and just what assertions would those be, lass?” he grinned, knowing he'd unraveled her a bit.
“Men of the watch!”
No sooner had she raised her voice than three huge men came bursting into the cabin.
“My guest has yet to learn his place. Put him in the brig until he cools off. And don't fail to use the robust irons,” she ordered them in a coolly confident tone.
“Oh, really, now,” Liam exclaimed, his Irish brogue growing thicker. “Do ye not have the nerve to face me one on one? Or are these to be our audience?”
“My ship, my rules,” she breathed in his face.
“I do not think you will have to hold me down to kiss me back, lass. And I doubt the likes of these could hold me long anyway,” he taunted, as she walked away from him. “Why, Jameson here still owes me a pint o' rum. And not that swill he's taken to drinking, either, a pint of the good stuff.”
The man holding down Liam's right hand averted his eyes from his captain sheepishly. Liam took advantage of his distraction and embarrassment and, with a flick of a powerful wrist, took Jameson’s knife from his belt and threatened the other guard with it before giving a gust of laughter. “Nay, lass, as you have already pointed out, this is not my ship. I’ll go where ye bid me, as I’ve peaceably agreed to,” he said, flipping the knife expertly in his hand and handing it back to Jameson.
“Wise choice,” she growled.
“You intrigue me, 'tis true.” He flashed another smile her way.
“Watch and learn,” she said as she turned on her heels and exited the cabin.
The men dragged Liam out on to the deck right behind her. She was already barking orders to the rest of her crew, so his captors just stood on deck with Liam in hand until she gave them further orders.
“Helmsman, turn us to the south. I have a score to settle. And someone see to it this fool learns some manners.”
“South, eh?” Liam chuckled to himself.
“Hoist the mainsail! I want the wind in my face boys!”
“Lass, why are ye heading south in the warm coastal water off the Florida shore…” Liam began to ask a question but the captain cut him off.
“What is he still doing on my deck? Below with the bastard!”
After Liam had spent several rather dull hours sitting in irons alone in the dark, smelly bowels of the hold, the lovely captain of the
Siren Song
finally visited her prisoner, alone. This time her tone was blunt but not unfriendly.
“Liam, did you really think I'd tell you what was going on while you could still jump ship? That American bitch is making trouble for us all. And there's no way any of my crew would believe you'd come along willingly. Since you are the worst liar of any pirate I've ever met, you left me no choice but to kidnap you and explain later.”
“Stealing and sailing requires little lying, I'm afraid. And my eloquent, dulcet tones are lost on most,” Liam grinned.
“Trying them on me won't work either,” she scowled. “I assume your crew will eventually come looking for you?”
“Unless they suddenly don't want their part of the treasure I've buried, you can assume so, Captain O’Malley.”
“That hoard won't be worth a damn if we don't stop her.”
“I'm mostly all ears for you... Mostly.”
“And she will hang you from the yardarm and burn you as soon as look at you,” she continued without pause. “What you ever saw in her I'll never know. But now she's added my ship to her merry little game,” she fumed.
“Look, what do you want me to say, Grace? That I made a mistake? I didn't, not about her, anyway. I made a lot of others since then, more than we have time to count. We both have. But what can be done about it, now? What can we leverage to take vengeance?”
“She's been playing both sides. She thinks she's been so very clever.”
Liam nodded his head and asked, “So, what's the plan?”
“I'm not so sure I should tell you yet. I need to assess your loyalty.”
“Is this an attempt to get me to swear an oath? Or are you just going to let me voyage in irons till your suspicions of me wear thin?”
“Up to you, but I'm leaning towards the irons option.”
A smile spread across his face as his thoughts tumbled through the bawdy options the irons might provide. “Just how do you intend to assess my loyalties?”
“Now would be a good time to prove your devotion.”
He stood up. “And how would you have me do that?” he asked. He took as many steps forward as his chains would allow and stood so close a stiff wind would have made her touch him. “Do you want me to drop to my knees, look up at you, and give you lip service?” he asked with a sly suggestive smile.
“Dinner,” she choked. “We’ll talk.”
He walked back over to his tiny stool and sat down. “Dinner it is.”
Liam's stomach was growling by the time Jameson came below decks, wearing a scowl and carrying an armful of linens and a bucket of soapy water.
“It's about time someone remembered I was down here,” Liam growled. “What's with the bucket?”
“Captain says you have to clean up before dinner,” Jameson growled back. “She won't dine with smelly sailors, she says.”
“She wants me to bathe just to eat?”
“Aye, and she sent me down with clean clothes, too.”
“Clean clothes and a bath? I think I'd rather starve.”
“Her ship, her rules, sir.”
“So she's told me.”
“She's waiting, sir. And if she has my hide lashed because you kept her waiting, you can forget that pint o' rum I owe you.”
“I hate losing a good pint o' rum far more than bathing. Hand it over.”
Jameson handed the captured captain the bucket and clothes and stood a decent distance away. Once Liam was as respectable as he was ever going to be, Jameson unlocked the manacles and led him back to the captain's cabin.
Dinner aboard the
Siren Song
was served in a manner to rival any table in London or Paris. Captain Grace O'Malley's steward had cleaned and rearranged the cabin to accommodate the captain’s guest. Linens, china, crystal, and silver adorned the table. The steward lit the last of the candles and decanted a bottle of fine red wine when Liam entered. As the steward was seating the captive, the captain entered from an adjoining chamber. Gone were the practical trappings of a pirate captain able to hold her own among the men of her crew. The mistress of the
Siren Song
was dressed for dinner in a rich velvet gown and gold brocade bodice. Her wild raven hair had been pinned up, exposing the long line of her neck and the graceful curve of her shoulders. Around her neck was hung a handsomely crafted emerald necklace, and dainty gold earrings swung merrily from her ears. No lady in all her finery could match Captain Grace O'Malley for her beauty, and no man could defend himself against it.
“I think I like you better in your sailing clothes. At least I understand the rules of engagement under those circumstances,” Liam said as she seated herself across the table.
“Are you telling me that you do not understand the rules of good manners at a civilized table?”
“Since when have I ever been civilized?”
“Fair enough.” Turning to her steward she added, “You may begin serving.”
For a time, they sat quietly and ate. Liam followed her carefully step by step through the courses. Although not a word was said, the strategic contest had begun. Finally, she broke the companionable silence.
“You catch on quickly, O'Shea,” she smiled.
“Your ship, your rules, milady.”
She raised her glass to him, “Well said.”
“Would it be rude of me to ask at this point why I was shanghaied?”
“As I said before, I'm not certain I can trust you.”
“Then why involve me and my crew at all?”
She stared moodily at her wine glass. “Captain Elizabeth Shireland has managed to secure the protections of the British Royal Navy. I am loath to admit it, but I cannot protect myself from her and them without help.”
“So I am a necessary evil,” he smiled.
“It is to your benefit to stop her as much as it is mine.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Thus far she's left me well enough alone.”
“In the past. But now I tell you plain, the British agreed to this happy little arrangement with the scheming captain of the
Ocean’s Whore
because she assured them that she could bring them your head on a platter. It would seem you've taken a parcel of taxable goods off the colonial market lately.”
“Hell truly doth have no fury like a woman scorned, then.”
They both lapsed into thoughtful silence as they picked at the remains of the current course of their dinner. In his heart, Liam had no doubts; the fact that Captain O'Malley had gone to the effort to track him down and take him meant that things were every bit as dire as she had indicated, or worse. He had no real choice but to offer to aid her and her men in any way he could.
He looked up and saw her glass was empty. The steward had left the cabin to get the next course from the galley. “Would you care for another glass of wine, milady?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes, thank you.”
Liam rose and retrieved the decanter of wine from the steward's serving table, doing his best to pour out just as the steward had. Just as he had the glass half full, his eyes wandered to the creamy mounds rising from Captain O’Malley’s bodice. That steward was not only one of the luckiest men aboard ship, but he had to have nerves of cannon iron to carry out his duties in the face of such distractions, Liam thought to himself, as he allowed the wine to overflow her glass.
“O'Shea, there is nothing to see there that is worth wasting such fine Italian wine,” Grace broke into his reverie.
“Sweet Mother Mary and all the saints,” Liam muttered to himself, “I'm sorry, Grace. Did I spill any on you?” He started to reach for her lap to check when she slapped his hand away.
“Really, Liam, do you think I would fall for such a lubber's trick?”
“Not at all, milady,” he reverted back to formalities. “My mind was elsewhere.” To quickly cover himself, he added, “How did you know so much about my recent activities, anyway?”
“Simple, Captain O'Shea. I have found that a few gold coins spent on eyes and ears when I make port are a better investment than are rum and pleasurable company. As a matter of fact, more often than not, information now comes looking for me.”
“Clever.”
“What I cannot seem to get at any price, though, is the kind of detailed information that would only be found aboard the
Ocean’s Whore.
”
“You mean the kind of information that would convince the British authorities that a certain ally was double crossing them?”
“Exactly.”
“And you have designs on how to get such information?”
“Have you ever known me not to have a plan?”
“Milady, you are the finest schemer your fair sex has yet to produce, but have you thought it completely through?”
“Watch that you don't turn your bow right into a storm, O'Shea.”
“My apologies, Captain, if I have run afoul, but I do recall many planning sessions full of passion and energy, give and take. I was merely endeavoring to recall those days, mistress.”
Captain O'Malley drew a slow calming breath. She had missed those days herself of late. The strain of operating her normal business and avoiding her new enemies was taking a toll on her. She had begun snapping at anyone that got in her way like a foul-humored sea turtle. She needed to unwind and relieve some of that tension.
“If I may be so bold, I do recall a trick or two that always inspired you,” Liam purred through his thick brogue. “Often times a pleasant distraction from the thoughts tumbling through your head is just the thing to sort them all out,” he continued, and lightly stroked her hand as it rested on the table.
She closed her eyes and drew another deep breath. She did not move or speak to stop him. He trailed his fingertips gently up her hand, across her wrist, and all the way up her arm. She did not move, but sat there very still, eyes closed, taking in every slight sensation. He stood up and walked around the back of her dining chair, making certain not to break the physical contact he had established. Drawing his fingertips across her shoulder and onto her neck, he began to stroke and massage the tight little muscles he found there. Her warm sweet scent lingered around her like the heat of a candle flame. One deep breath of her stirred his desire for more than a chaste touch. With both hands resting on her shoulders, he bent down to her and kissed the base of her neck. A soft sigh escaped her. He trailed kisses and nibbles up the column of her neck into her hairline and then back down to the other shoulder. As a measure of tension left her body, her head lolled forward and to one side. She was becoming warm clay to be molded in his hands.
The pile of warm hair atop her head drew his attention. He ran his fingers from her neck up into her hair. To his rough and calloused hands, it was like a soft pile of fine silk ribbon. He gently pulled out each little pin he found as he stroked her head, until it all came tumbling down in a cascade of midnight waves washed in the shimmering moonlight of a cloudless night. She released a deeper sigh and relaxed her back against the chair.
He pulled her chair away from the table. She looked up into his face, and he was lost in the mysteries of her hazel eyes. As their eyes locked, he leaned closer to her face and she wrapped her small hands around his scruffy jaw and pulled his mouth to hers. They shared a long sweet kiss, before he pulled away from her.
He sank to the floor and removed her soft brocade slippers to pay homage to her feet. At first he just rubbed and caressed, drawing more of the long held tension from her body. As she grew more relaxed, he drew a foot up to his face and began to kiss and suck at her toes. Once he had satisfied himself with that, he hiked her heel up onto his shoulder and began to kiss and lick and nibble his way up the inside of her leg. As he worked his way closer to her knee, he continued to push and roll the soft velvet skirt ahead of him, exposing more and more of her legs.
The steward returned to the cabin and could hear her softly moaning on the other side of the door. He was loath to enter, but he was carrying two large platters of fresh fruit and cream and could not return to the galley without explanation, so he quietly entered the cabin. To his mortal shame, he realized that he would not be able to traverse the cabin and set down the fruit without disturbing them. He feared he had no choice but to stand quietly in the shadows of the nearby bulkhead and wait.
Then the lady found her words again. “Oh, yes, that's it,” she purred. “Oh, yes,” she sighed as the relaxing warmth of release began to radiate through her. “Oh . . . ,” and then she paused, for out of the sweet oblivion came a spark of thought. “Oh, yes, that's it!” She suddenly bolted upright, exclaiming “that's it, that's it!” as a bewildered Liam sat up on the floor, confused and mortified. Then she spotted the steward waiting in the corner of the cabin.
“We are done here. Please clear away the dinner and show Captain O'Shea to his quarters. I have work to do.” With no further words to either man, she stalked back to her adjoining cabin.
The steward shrugged, put the platters down on the table, helped Liam to his feet, and led him, head still abuzz from wine and frustrated lust, to his sleeping quarters down below.