Authors: Jane Prescott
She leaned forward and their lips met. She found her hand was resting his knee and as they kissed, she felt a rush of excitement. As quickly as that rose, she found their lips parting.
“I’m sorry. Sorry. Mustn’t take advantage, you know.” Edgar backed off.
“Quite all right.” She tried not to sound too disappointed. It had been awkward, and she couldn’t place why it hadn’t felt right.
“Don’t know what came over me,” he muttered. There was something in his voice that wavered slightly. He was nervous, she realized.
The kiss hadn’t been good, but she felt like that might have had more to do with his fear than anything else. He didn’t want to harm her reputation. Yet- she wanted to try again.
“Dear,” she said, quietly.
“Yes?”
“Once more.” She didn’t give him time to think about it. Instead, she pulled him to her by the lapel and immediately began to kiss him, hard. To her joy, he began to give back and matched her excitement.
Sarah moved her hands over his chest, felt his broad shoulders, and fully embraced him. Edgar cupped her head and leaned her back, laying her down on the blanket. He started to draw back again, perhaps thinking better of it, but she gripped his arm. “It’s alright darling. We’re to be wed.”
“You’re- quite sure?”
Her response was to pull him close into and against her body and began unbuttoning his shirt. They were soon removing their clothes excitedly, rushing to feel one another’s skin against each other. She’d always wondered what it would be like and had imagined that surely this would wait until her wedding day. But fate had stepped in, giving her a chance to try out this pleasure as the storm raged about their shelter.
She found his muscular frame exciting and began to explore it with her hands. When she reached his manhood, she found that her touch was what he wanted. She stroked him and he kissed her neck and ears. When he began kissing and tasting her breasts, Sarah arched her back to meet his mouth.
Sarah let go of her hold on him, instead running her hands along his sides and back, feeling his build. Edgar’s own hand felt the hollow of her back.
“Touch me too,” she whispered. He took a hold of himself and began to tease her with his tip, building the pressure between them until he shallowly entered her. A bit at a time, they began to merge and he took his time. Initially there was some discomfort and she bit her lip, worrying. However, as they continued and went about raising their pleasure slowly, it came about more easily.
“It’s okay?” he asked her breathily. “I’m not going too fast, am I?”
She nodded as her mouth parted. “A little, but it’s okay. Stay slow for a bit. Let me get used to it.”
They adjusted and eventually he was in her as deeply as he could penetrate. The sensations became increasingly natural and enjoyable. She began to rise to meet his thrusts, closing her eyes and listening as he groaned.
As they began losing themselves into it, he leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I’ll finish outside of you… can’t be pregnant… yes?”
“Yes, yes,” she agreed.
Their urgency rose and they gave in to instinct and desire, deep in their passion. As their sex crescendoed, Edgar cried out with joy and removed himself. They rubbed themselves, no longer caring about anything but reaching a climax. She watched as he came, fascinated and excited, then found her own orgasm.
After a short breath as Edgar rested against her, she found herself wondering something and felt a bit afraid to ask. “Dear?”
“That was incredible. Incredible. Yes, what’s that my love?”
“I was wondering… I feel a desire to do that again. Can you do... that, the finishing part, again?”
“You mean- oh, no, that’s not something I’m able to manage. Men can’t repeat the end, at least, not that quickly. You mean you still want to do more than that?” He seemed a bit concerned.
“Well- no, I… I don’t have to.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I should think that would have been enough. I say, I am tired. We ought to try to sleep, don’t you think? Get a good rest and all that. When the rain lets up, we can carry on to the house.”
“I suppose so.” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a terrible sinking feeling overcoming her. She had enjoyed the sex, though it was her first time. She’d been raised to think it something that was limited to marriage and that anything even close to resembling touch was sinful and shameful. She felt none of that. Something had been missing, though and she couldn’t put her finger on it. She never felt fully connected to the man who she was meant to wed.
When they’d redressed and were lying next to each other, her thoughts began to spin relentlessly. He hadn’t wanted to talk, only to sleep. They had wanted each other, that much was clear. But was there love involved as well? She’d wanted to believe there was.
Yet she couldn’t help but feel that she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. If she didn’t step back soon, she might fall.
Chapter 5: The Barbary Pirates
The Moroccan Coast
November 12, 1816
The winds and storms that forced Sarah and Edgar to seek shelter weren’t prevailing off the coast of Africa, as fortune would have it.
The Duke of Norcastle
would endure enough of that morning.
Commander Harrison Hargrove was awakened by the smell of bacon and black coffee prepared by his steward, Reeves. He thanked the man tersely, as was his custom, and tucked in. He felt the ship move beneath him, noting the sway and movement. All seemed normal enough. It’d be another ordinary day at sea, he assumed.
Hargrove anticipated a stop at Casablanca for water and supplies before the final leg around Portugal and Spain to England. He preferred life at sea, naturally enough. That was his everyday element. However, it would be a welcome relief to return home and put his mind at ease that the girl who’d caught his eye in Wyecombe had married. To no longer be tormented by thoughts of her would be finally give him some peace of mind, at the least. Time enough to put her out his mind.
He was brooding over these dark thoughts when a sharp rap at the door grabbed his attention. “Enter and report!” he called out.
“First Officer Woods’ compliments, Captain, your presence is requested on deck.” The man sounded breathless and excited. Something was definitely up.
“Thank you, I shall be there in a moment,” he replied, taking a last drink of his coffee. As he had done so many times before in similar circumstances, he wondered if it would be his last. The long war with Napoleon was over, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t change. In their time at sea, it was always possible England was fighting some new enemy.
When he’d gone topside, he immediately spied the issue. “How many are there total?” The first officer he noted was Mann, his Second Officer. The tall, dour man handed the spyglass over to the ship’s captain.
“Three of them, sir. We outgun them, as far as I can say, but their lot are fast. They appear to be in pursuit of that merchant ship.”
“Ours?” He suspected he knew the answer already.
“Aye, sir, she’s British all right.”
“Bloody Corsairs,” Hargrove muttered, but his officer shook his head. “No?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, I should reckon them to be Berber Pirates.”
“Aye, though they serve the same Ottoman masters. No matter. If they insist on testing their abilities against the British navy, we’ll cut them down to size.”
“Aye, sir,” Mann agreed. He was a pessimistic fellow, but utterly reliable. All of his men were. Hargrove had requested his top officers and received nearly all of them without a problem. He felt certain they’d perform well.
The ships came closer into range of the merchant. As the crew of
The Duke of Norcastle
watched helplessly, one of the pirates drew up alongside the merchant. A volley of cannon sounded and soon the merchant was forced to strike her colors.
“Mr. Woods!” The first mate had found the Captain and was standing alongside him. “Take us alongside that vessel leeward.” Woods relayed the order, which was soon carried out by the crew.
They soon closed the distance. As they neared, Hayward bellowed out, “Hard to port! Ready the cannon with grapeshot!”
The ship slowly began to come about. The pirate was quicker, turning and raking the side of
The Duke
with shot. Fortunately, the ship’s sides were too solid, the distance too far, and the cannonballs bounced off harmlessly.
Hargrove laughed. “Bad luck for you, my lads. Mann, relay to the gunner that we’re to hold our fire. I want to come up right alongside.”
They did as he bid, and soon they were close enough to the pirate that they could see the other men on deck. The pirates lifted rifles and took aim at the crew of
The Duke
.
“Fire!” Hargrove ordered. The grapeshot blasted the deck, fairly sweeping the pirates clean off their feet. The carnage complete, the British ship passed her by. The pirate ship was largely undamaged, her vast majority of her crew lay dead, unable to sail her.
That was enough for the third, more distant ship. As
The Duke
rounded towards her, they watched it come about, turning tail and fleeing. That only left the pirate ship trying to plunder the merchant.
“Break off. Let her go,” Hargrove ordered, allowing the third ship to escape. “We need to rescue the merchant.”
They turned to face the remaining ship. The enemy spotted them and fired a chaser, soaring high and tearing through
The Duke’s
sails. The ship was forced to slow. A glance and a nod from the Captain and Woods was giving the order to strike the most damage sail and replace it as fast as possible.
Still they moved forward and eventually came within cannon’s reach of the pirate’s starboard side. The pirate was running out her guns as
The Duke
showed her own side.
“Show her British resolve, Woods,” Hargrove demanded. The cannons fired. As they hit their mark, the pirate’s guns were largely obliterated, her exposed side battered by the shot.
“Come alongside,” the captain ordered. They did so and brought out grappling hooks. The ship that had been the boarder was now becoming the boarded.
Pirates from Tripoli and Algiers hurried to meet Hargrove’s men with pistols and blades drawn. They surged across the deck and Hargrove found himself forced to shoot a man in the chest. Another set upon him with his blade and very nearly killed him where he stood. A last minute instinct to duck saved his life, and he drew out his own sword to do battle.
They exchanged blows for a time, steel clashing against steel. He forced the man back and weighed his next actions when a sudden blast from his own ship felled the man and many of the other pirates about them.
Hargroves’ marines were reloading as the pirates tried to gather their bearings. The carefully coordinated shots quickly overwhelmed and cowed the remaining pirates, leaving only a few casualties on Hargove’s side.
One, unfortunately, lay at his feet. He knelt down to turn the man over. Second Officer Mann had been shot between the eyes.
“Blast,” he murmured. “A good man lost. Too many this voyage.” Woods was by his side once more, his sword wet with blood. He’d led the charge onto the pirate ship.
“Mann’s dead?”
“Afraid so.”
“Carter, Brown, and Davies fell as well. There are about a dozen losses,” Woods explained. As he spoke, he looked to his own right arm, where a tuft of cloth was sticking out awkwardly. The coat began to grow wet. “Damn. Shot in the arm.”
“Have the surgeon see to it. Now, Woods, no dawdling!” he insisted when it appeared that Woods was going to try to object. “Third Officer Hanson will fulfill your duties while you’re taken care of. Off with you now.”
“Aye sir.”
Hargrove and his men carefully crossed from their ship to the pirate ship, then on to the merchant ship. There they found the majority of sailors for the merchant still alive and immensely grateful for their rescue. When Hargrove found the captain, the man quickly saluted, and then vigorously shook his hand. “We owe you our lives, sir, very much so.”