The Black Morass (Pirates of the Coast Book 1) (5 page)

“Like this?”  Inexplicably charming in her attempts, she furrowed her brow as she followed his instruction.

Soon, Jean Marc retreated, and Madalene drifted on her own.  Arresting in her excitement, as she made numerous laps, she never hesitated when he encouraged her to hold her breath and venture underwater.  And that yielded more glorious sights than the sea life, because the chemise shifted and swayed, providing all manner of enticing views of her luscious landscape, and he recalled his true purpose for the outing.

As the sun sat low on the horizon, he collected palm leaves and branches, to start a fire.  From the sack, he pulled a blanket, which he spread, and a few other necessities.  “Are you hungry,
Mon Chou
?”

“Indeed, given you have exercised me for most of the day.”  Poor thing had no idea how he intended to employ her, in truth.  “The saltwater is so harsh, and my skin may never recover.”

“Well, I need you to work a little more, so we can eat.”  With her hand in his, he walked her to the beach and just into the water.  “Have you ever dug for clams?”

“No.”  She sported a look of confusion.  “Yet I gather you will show me, but who will prepare them?”

“Do you think me incapable, Maddie?”  Ah, he treasured her countenance of shock, given he had her exactly where he wanted her.  “As I have been told I am an excellent cook.”

#

So the former pirate fancied himself a chef?  How absurd.  While Madalene hid behind the rocks to strip off her wet chemise and don her dress, garters, hose, and slippers, Jean Marc pulled on his breeches, a gesture she appreciated, and retrieved various items from his bag.  For a few minutes, she studied the fascinating captain.

After filling a pot with the clams they collected, he uncorked a bottle and poured some liquid over their fare.  Then he placed the covered container on the fire and glanced straight at her.  “You are watching me,
Mon Chou
.”

“Why do you call me by a term of endearment?”  To dry her hair, she removed the pins.  Yes, it was shocking to let down her coif before a man who was not her husband, but she had no real choice.

“Because it suits you.”  In light of his actions, noble in their own way, she wondered whether or not she had been to quick to judge the captain, as he patted the spot beside him.  “Come and sit with me.”

“In the event I forget my manners later, I will thank you now for the wonderful day.”  Scooting close, she studied his profile.  “How did you injure your eye?”

“In a sword fight.”  He lifted the lid and stirred the clams.  “We are almost ready.”

“Why do you wear the patch?”  For some reason she could not quite fathom, she ached to comfort him, and she reached for him.  “May I?”

“You want to see it?”  When she nodded, he snickered.  “All right.”

With the swipe of his hand, he whisked off the leather patch, revealing the full length of the scar, which cut a jagged path from his forehead, through his left eye, which was milky white and ghostly in appearance, and arced across his cheek.

“I like you better without the patch, as it strikes me as rather banal for a former pirate.”  Trailing her finger along his marred flesh, she smiled.  “And you seem far more menacing with it.”

“Perhaps I need it to keep the crew in line.”  From a different bottle, he poured two mugs of rum.  “Take a drink with me, Maddie.”

“Of course.”  As opposed to the first time she consumed the none-too-elegant intoxicant, she sipped with care and managed not to choke.  “What did you put in the clams to steam them?”

“Ale.”  After another check of the clams, he set aside the lid and transferred the fare to a large wooden bowl.  “Close your eyes.”

“What for?”  She blinked.

“Do you suppose you can ever do as I ask without questioning my motives?”  His scowl chastened her, given his gallantry of late.  “Close your eyes.”

Despite lingering reservations, she abided his request, and he fed her a morsel.  The texture was smooth and chewy, and the taste was a tad salty mixed with other flavors she could not identify, but it was delicious, and she hummed her appreciation.  “Jean Marc, that is truly delectable.”

“Eat your fill, as you fished them, and there is plenty.”  How amiable was her host, when away from his ship.  “Would you like some more grog?”

“Yes, please.”  Indeed, she favored the rum, as the more she consumed, the more she enjoyed it.  And it emboldened her.  “From where do you hail, and what of your parents?”

“I am from a small town in western France, on the
Seuil du Poitou
, called Poitiers.”  He gazed into his mug and sighed, and she regretted posing the query.  Just as she was about to rescind her question, he lifted his chin.  “My mother loved to sit along the banks of Clain River and read to me.  I was seven when she died of a fever, and my sire sold me to pay a debt.  It was more than a decade before I met him again.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Her stomach rebelled in that moment, and she drained her mug.  “Did you say your father sold you to pay a debt?”

“I did.”  He uncorked the bottle and refilled their mugs.  “The man who owned me was a merchant with a fleet of ships, and he sent me to work loading cargo.  It took me eleven years to work off my father’s account.”

“Oh, Jean Marc, I am so sorry.”  She could not begin to imagine the horrors he endured, and her heart bled for him.  Now she understood the rough exterior and crude language, as that was all he knew, and she vowed to show him kindness.

“Why do you apologize?  You did nothing to me.”  He shrugged, yet she suspected he harbored invisible wounds.  “The man was an unholy bastard who loved to beat me for no reason, and his was the first life I ever took.”

“But that does not mean I cannot extend a measure of sympathy, and I believe your cause just.”  Considering what he survived, she viewed him in a completely different light, and she could only imagine the tales he could tell.  “In truth, I admire you, as you suffered such adversity at a young age, yet you improved your circumstances, and now you captain your own ship.  You must be very proud of your accomplishments.”

“What good is pride?”  The fire cast shadows on his face, and she noted the angular lines and chiseled cheekbones.  “I am still here, and that is all that matters.  And I have memories.”

“Would you share one?”  She inched closer, as she needed to be near him, but she knew not why, and he draped an arm about her waist.

“At night, after
ma mère
tucked me into bed, she used to sing to me.”  Narrowing his stare, he compressed his lips.  “It went something like,
Plaisir d’amour endure qu’un moment, chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie.
”  As he continued in his rich baritone that would make many a lady swoon, she joined him for the next verse, and their voices coalesced into a single mellifluous harmony, as together they sang,
  “Tant que cette eau coulera doucement vers ce ruisseau qui borde la prairie
.”  Surprise evident in his countenance, he grinned, and her heart skipped a beat.  “You know ‘
Plaisir d’amour
,’ Maddie?”

“Indeed, I know ‘The Pleasure of Love’ quite well, as it was Aunt Eileen’s most cherished composition.”  Stunned to discover a connection to her errant buccaneer, she revised her opinion of him, as anyone who could recite one of her spinster relation’s melodies could not be all bad.  “You are a strange creature, Jean Marc, and I no longer believe you are as intimidating as I previously thought.”  Fondling the soft and supple leather thong, she humphed.  “Contrary to your brutish exterior, you gave of yourself to teach me to swim, thereby undermining your repeated threats to throw me into the ocean, you cooked a savory meal as would a beau for his sweetheart, and you crooned in a timbre as smooth as well-churned butter.  Indeed, I would argue you wear this patch as a shield, of sorts, not that I blame you, but you are not what you seem, when you drop your guard, and I prefer this side of you, if you permit me to extend the compliment.”


Mon chou
, that is a pretty sentiment, but I should caution you that your newfound ability will not save you from the sharks.”  Leaning over her, his nose mere inches from hers, he laughed, and a chill coursed her spine.  “So I would not test your supposition, if I were you.”

“Of course.”  Faltering, she slumped her shoulders, gulped, and sought to change the topic.  “Have you ever been to Boston?” she inquired in a high-pitched shrill.

“No.”  Still he loomed, and she pondered how he might respond were she to kiss him.  Not that she wanted to kiss him.  But she contemplated his reaction were she to enact such a gross breach in polite decorum.  At last, he sat upright, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  “Why do you ask?”

“Because I think you would love the city.”  Settling her skirts, she regained a position of relative comfort.  “There is a lovely little café on the wharf, and they serve the best sea scallops.  We could patronize the teahouse on Blackstone Street, which is the center of the Haymarket, where we could shop.  And we could take long strolls along Newbury Street.”

“We could?”  His lazy smiled mocked her, and it was too late when she realized she had spoken of him as a suitor.

“I apologize for the unintended inference, sir, as I meant no offense.”  When he pinched her bottom through her dress, she slapped his hand.  “Stop that, Jean Marc.  I am not your lady, and you are not my—”

“Husband?”  Now he guffawed, and she fought tears, but why she knew not.

“That is quite enough.”  In a huff of indignation, she scrambled to her feet, dusted the sand from her skirts, and sniffed.  “Is it not past due for us to return to the
Morass
?”

“Ah, I have ruffled your feathers,
Mon Chou
.”  Despite his observation, he exhibited no sign of remorse, as he restored his patch.  “Alas, I do not court, but if I did, I would pursue you, Maddie.”  After emptying and rinsing the pot, he rolled the blanket, returned everything to the sack, and smothered the fire.  “Now let us walk back to the windward side, where Tyne awaits.”


Walk
?”  With naught but the silver glow of moonlight to guide her, Madalene panicked.  “What of the snakes?  How can we avoid them if we cannot see them?”


Merde
.”  Grumbling to himself about frivolous females, Jean Marc grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward a large rock.  “Step up, Maddie.”

“What for?”  When she tarried, he lifted her atop the boulder and then gave her his back.

“I will carry you, now weigh your anchor.”  He bent at the hips.  “Wrap your arms about my shoulders.”

“You cannot be serious.”  In the dark, she rolled her eyes.

“You prefer the snakes?” he stated, haphazardly.

“Hold still.”  Never in her life had she imagined committing such an egregious infraction of etiquette, but her finishing governess never said anything about pirate attacks, sinking ships, randy buccaneers, and reptiles, so Maddie improvised to survive the situation.  When he shifted, she squealed as she hopped aboard her contrived mount.  “Oh, how did this happen to me?  My mother and Aunt Eileen are probably tossing in their graves.”

“Quit complaining, or you may fend for yourself.”  After retrieving the sack, he braced her legs behind her knees and trudged forth, into the thick jungle foliage.

At some point during the trek, she noted an altogether foreign but beguiling sensation that built slowly, at first, but quickly erupted into an equally alluring but unfamiliar yearning.  Given their respective positions, he rubbed her, albeit unwittingly, in ways no man had ever touched her, and a rush of derring-do bolstered fledgling confidence.

With each advancing stride Jean Marc took, he bounced her, and on the next jolt, she grazed her lips to his ear.  A firebrand of heat scorched her veins, and she clenched her thighs about his waist. Beneath her, he flexed his muscles, and she thought she detected a sharp intake of breath.

Was it possible she affected the fascinating former pirate as he affected her?

To test her conjecture, she replicated her strategy in a series of delicate sneak attacks, marveling at each successive response, and she tightened her hold.  Resting her chin to his shoulder, she dropped countless accidental kisses on her captain, until he ground to a halt.


Mon Chou
, if you wish to seduce me, you should wait until we gain the privacy of my cabin.”  He chuckled low in his throat, and she felt it all the way to her toes.  “Otherwise, if you do that again, you will lift your ankles for me, here and now.”

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