Little Lordie
Prologue
"He's a lovely little thing," she whispered and a lazy smile tipped her long lips to the side. "A pretty little lordie."
Beckett glanced up at the woman, the glare of the setting sun slashing his eyes like a cutlass. Her face could not be made out and shadows stained her coat an ugly shade of blood-red.
He rolled his shoulders once, wincing as pain touched his bound wrists and the rough ropes dug into his flesh.
She laughed.
"You had best get used to it. The pain, that is. We don't have much use for tea parties or finery aboard my ship."
"Ah and I had expected a grand frolic," Beckett replied with a low laugh. Despite the desperation of the situation, he wanted to vex her. Yes, he wanted to vex her terribly.
The pirate woman paced along the deck of her ship, a small but powerful vessel that cut through the waves roused by the Endeavour's sinking. And from out of the blackness he had been plucked and pulled on deck, a trophy for a madwoman to keep and toy with.
He almost wished he had been captured by Sparrow instead.
Beckett lowered his eyes and stared at the wide wooden planks beneath him. Humiliation. The word was a foreign thing to him, an oddity that he had heard of but never experienced…until now. He swallowed away an angry curse, raising his head belligerently to stare at his captor.
The woman removed her hat and let the wind stroke her hair. Proudly, her neck arched and her step was steady as she paced the tilting deck. Beckett envied her surety, her strength and longed for the power he once had.
"Stand up," she said at once. He listened to the drawling tone of her voice and recognized an accent. Scottish maybe. Yes, she was some Scottish bitch.
"On your feet!" she demanded, now more forcefully. And before he could pull himself up, she had grabbed his arm.
Beckett wobbled where he stood, still dreadfully exhausted from the peril he had been delivered from.
How very ironic, he though with a little smirk. He had been yanked out of the water like some fish, saved from drowning only to face brutality. The good Lord must have a morbid sense of humor.
"Why the smile?" she asked. For the first time, Beckett sensed some measure of insecurity in her voice.
"I smile because I am quite amused," he said, adding a chuckle for good measure. And for his troubles, he earned a hearty slap.
"Whelp," she spat.
"It's lord, actually."
Another slap was visited upon his burning cheek.
"Lord, eh?" she said, creeping close until her breath whispered across his brow and sent a shiver dashing up his spine. "Well you're mine now. Mine! My little pet, my little lordie. Are you frightened?"
Beckett found her eyes in the growing darkness, her two, wild, lustful eyes. Humiliation he may know, but never fear. Never.
"No," he said and continued to smile.
Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Please take the time to review and share your thoughts with me. Chapter one should be up shortly.