Moonlight on the Caribbean
Chapter Ten
The warm morning rays finally chased the clouds away and shone down on the ragtag group crowded into the small cabin. Brady's eyes blinked open first, although he had been the last to shut them, merely an hour before. He looked first at his sister, finally sleeping peacefully. Her fever had broken with the storm, and now she rested contentedly in his arms. He smiled and stroked some of the baby-fine blonde hair off her face. Despite the fact he had been unaware of her existence three months previously, he loved this fragile woman enough to die for her. He would protect her from all harm.
Such thoughts made him glance across the room to where Chloe still slept in the hard chair. Brady frowned. He should have at least covered her with a blanket, but his worry had been all for Belle last night. He watched the even rise and fall of Chloe's bodice and the way her dark hair flowed in waves over her shoulders. It was the first time he had been able to observe the lady without her awareness of it. She looked young and innocent as she slept, and he cursed himself for finding that appealing.
The sound of a throat being cleared brought Brady's attention sharply away from Chloe and to the late-comers of their little assembly. Sitting propped against the wall, Jason was watching him with amusement and disapproval while Mimi Lockhart's head rested on his shoulder as she slept. They had entered the room in the early hours of the morning, due to Mimi's worry for her mistress. She had been shocked to find her lady attended by the captain, but eventually both she and Jason had succumbed to their exhaustion.
Now, Brady found he wasn't the only one awakened by the sun. "What?" he mouthed ill-humoredly to his first mate as Jason's accusatory stare burned into him.
Jason jerked his head towards the door and then slowly began to extricate himself without waking Mimi. Sighing, Brady followed suit, gently lifting Belle and placing her back onto the cot. She didn't stir. By the time he turned around, Jason was waiting for him by the open door. Brady led the way out, bracing himself for an unpleasant confrontation. He waited until Jase closed the door before rounding on him with a defensive, "What?"
Jason didn't answer for a moment as he considered his friend. His calm demeanor was in direct contrast to Brady's already riled state. "You need to watch yourself around that girl. She's going to get you into trouble."
Brady snorted derisively. "That's why you called me out here, to give me relationship advice?"
"I don't care what you do with your personal time, Brady. We've both had our share of women, and it's never been an issue. But you've got to let this one go. Need I list the reasons why?"
Brady's jaw clenched at Jason's superior tone. He knew all the reasons: his promise to his father, her engagement to a business rival, their precarious position when Shawn caught up to them. But he'd be damned before he let his first mate lecture him, especially given Jason's current situation with his sister's maid. "I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Jase. You've already shown too great an interest in Belle's maid."
"Mimi," Jason returned just as fiercely. "That's different, and you know it. We're not going to be hanged over the virtue of a serving maid—not that I've touched her. I have too much respect for her. But you know I'm right. I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at Lady Wesley. It's got to stop now, Brady, before it goes—"
"It hasn't gone anywhere," Brady exploded. "And it's not going to. I have enough to worry about on this trip without bringing a troublesome woman into the equation."
Jason knew he had overstepped his bounds and backed away from the topic. "What about your family?" he questioned instead. "Have you told them yet?"
"No, and I'm not sure I'm going to."
Jason frowned at Brady's curt tone. "I don't understand, Brady. Wasn't the whole point behind taking the Dolphin to let you meet your family? What's the matter now?"
"First of all, the reason we took the Dolphin was to stop an English ambassador from being murdered by the Spanish. My personal motivations come second." Brady sighed as he once again thought of his predicament. When he began talking again, Jase had the distinct feeling his friend was sorting things out for himself more than he was explaining it to him.
"At first, I didn't tell him because to some extent I blamed my father for my mother's death. Now I see he clearly had no idea we survived the storm. So what would be the point in telling them? Simply to relieve my burden? My father would have to grieve for her all over again. My sister probably doesn't even know I exist. The entire family's reputation would be destroyed by the relation to a wanted pirate."
Jason reflected for a moment. "That's all true. I can't deny it. But on the other hand, you deserve a family, Brady. Your father and sister deserve to have you in their lives."
"What if they don't want me?" Brady spoke angrily, but the words voiced his deepest fear. "You've heard them. We're murdering pirates. Who would want to be related to a man like me?"
"Brady, I don't think—"
"No," Brady cut him off. "Enough. What right do you have to speak to me about family? When was the last time you spoke to yours?"
Jason's hand was on his sword hilt instantly. "Don't you dare bring them into this! You don't know half of what they've done to me." He actually looked ready to draw sword against his captain and best friend.
For his part, Brady seemed unperturbed by the change in his first mate. Truth be told, this was exactly the reaction he'd wanted. "What's the matter, Jase?" he taunted. "You've suddenly decided to intrude into my past after all this time. Why can't I do the same?"
Jason smiled ruefully, his rage failing as he realized Brady had led him into a trap—and he'd been foolish enough to fall into it. "Point taken, Captain. Consider the subject dropped."
"Good. Now, onto more important matters. Shouldn't you be relieving Kev's guard of Lord Black right now?"
"Aye, Captain," Jason returned respectfully. Even his insolence only went so far.
~~*~~
Belle blinked her eyes open slowly, cat-like, as a small smile crossed her face. "Papa?" she breathed.
Mimi was by her side in a moment, the merest sound from her mistress's lips enough to awaken her. Chloe wasn't far behind. "What is it, my lady? How are you feeling?"
Lady Black looked up at her friends in bewilderment. "What are you two doing here? Where's my father?" She attempted to sit up and survey the room, but Mimi restrained her.
"My lady, you've been ill. We were afraid you would not survive. You must have been delusional in your fever, for you father is still held elsewhere in the ship."
Belle frowned, shaking her head. "No, he was here. I'm not delusional. I remember being sick. I thought I was going to die. But then Papa came and made me well. I remember he held me and told me I was going to be all right, that he would protect me."
"That wasn't you father, Belle," put in Chloe. "It was Captain Blackheart. He took care of you all night long, and he gave you some drink that broke your fever."
Mimi couldn't help but notice there was a trace of awe and something else in the lady's voice as she mentioned the mysterious captain. With her usual observance, she detected some spark of feeling in Lady Chloe towards the captain she had never seen in her before. Of course, she was hardly in a position to judge. Her own feelings for Jason Masters were frighteningly powerful.
"No." Belle shook her head vehemently. "I know my own father, Chloe. He was here. I looked into his eyes, blue as the sea. It was my father's hands stroking my hair. I felt the same safety I did when I was eight years old and Papa held me all night long because I had scarlet fever. I knew I was going to get well because my father would never let anything hurt me."
"But how could that—" Chloe's words came to an abrupt halt, and her face went white. Mimi and Belle watched her curiously as a thousand emotions crossed her face in an instant. As suddenly as the state had come upon her, it was gone. Her expression was carefully wiped clean, and she continued to speak as though she'd never stopped. "—be? Your father was down in his cell all night long. As a matter of fact, when the captain returns, ask him to bring us to your father. You can see for your own eyes."
"Is everything all right, my lady?" Mimi asked as she noticed the still preoccupied look on Chloe's face. "You don't look well."
"Everything's fine, Mimi…except you have to stop calling me 'my lady' all the time." There was a forced quality to her cheerfulness, and rather than opening herself up to more questions, Chloe turned to the lone mirror in the cabin and began trying to make some order of her rumpled appearance.
Mimi turned to Belle, a question in her eyes. Belle shrugged. She had never understood how Chloe's mind worked. Why should today be any different?
At that moment, the cabin door swung open, and the intimidating captain stood before them. Chloe, who had undoubtedly spent more time hitherto studying him than the other two, nonetheless watched him with shrewd eyes. His tall, muscular frame, broad shoulders and narrow hips. The classic features, strong jaw, and above all, the blue eyes. She surveyed him from head to toe, searching for—and finding—striking similarities to Lord John Black.
"How are you feeling this morning, my lady?" he was asking Belle when Chloe forced herself to pay attention to the conversation.
Belle practically cowered before him. This was her first encounter with the captor where she was required to speak, and she found him terrifying. She pulled the blankets up to her chin modestly. She couldn't believe any man had the indecency to enter a lady's room without knocking. Her reputation would be ruined forever. No man was supposed to see a lady in her petticoat unless he was her husband—and Belle wasn't entirely sure it was allowed even then.
Seeing her mistress incapable or unwilling to speak, Mimi spoke for her. "She's much better, Captain. Thanks to you." Her own gratitude colored her words. The formerly terrifying man had increased a hundred fold in her esteem since she had been witness to his ministrations on Belle's behalf. Anyone who could care for her mistress with such gentleness could not be all bad, she decided.
The captain shook his head, frowning. "Don't thank me. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in this position in the first place. I wish—" He stopped, apparently believing he'd said to much. "Is there anything I can for you ladies? Your breakfast should be brought to you shortly."
"Is it true?" Belle surprised them all by asking.
"Beg your pardon? Is what true?" the pirate queried in return. His manners were perfect, Mimi discovered. If not for the telltale mask, clothes, and cutlass, he could have passed for English royalty.
"Did you…did you make me better?" she squeaked out, still hiding under her blankets.
A surprisingly soft smile crossed the hard man's face before being purposely erased. "Only God heals, my lady. I merely administered the necessary medical aid."
"So then…I owe you my life." A frown marred the sweet young features as she considered being in the debt of a murderer. She didn't believe her mother would approve at all. And what would Shawn say…assuming she ever saw him again?
"You owe me nothing, lady. As I said before, I am responsible for your jeopardy. I am pleased to see you well, but do not waste your gratitude on me. I wish to assure your comfort for the duration of your stay; that is all."
"She'd be more comfortable if she saw her father," Chloe interjected hastily, drawing the attention of all in the room. She silently cursed herself for blushing the moment his piercing gaze settled on her, but she couldn't seem to stop that reaction. At least she didn't faint this time. It took her a moment to collect herself, but she persevered. "We were discussing that before you entered, Captain. Belle would feel more secure if she was assured of the safety of Lord Black."
He frowned, envisioning all the difficulties inherent in such a visit. "I'm not sure—"
"Oh please," Belle added her please, turning her watery blue eyes on him. "I know I'm strong enough, and we'll follow any rules you give us. But please, let me see my father…"
~~*~~
Two hours later, having dressed and breakfasted, the two ladies and their maids—Jan emerged form the second cabin only when food had arrived and expressed no apology for her long absence—were on their way into the hull of the ship to see Lord John Black, with Captain Blackheart and Kev Lambert as their guides and protectors. Respectfully, Mimi stayed towards the rear of the entourage, only Kev trailing behind her.
As always, she studied the behavior of those around her, making copious mental notes. The masked captain walked beside her mistress, offering her his arm for support. Strangely, Belle seemed to trust him. She was placing most of her weight on his strong shoulders. Chloe walked on Belle's other side when the passageways permitted and a little behind when they were too narrow. Yet her eyes seemed glued to the pirate with a strange, suspicious fascination. Jan, on the other hand, strode a little in front of Mimi, her eyes glaring lethal daggers at both her lady and the captain. Mimi frowned. She should keep a better watch on Jan. She had been disappearing far too often since their abduction. It didn't make sense.
They finally arrived to the makeshift prison Mimi had stumbled across the day before. Jason, forewarned of their visit, stood waiting at the door of the cell. He bowed and allowed the ladies to enter. It would have been impossible for all of them to fit inside the small room. In the end, Belle, Chloe, and Blackheart approached John's prison, while the rest waited outside the open door, silent and listening intently. Mimi studiously avoided Jason's gaze, even though he stood so close to her she was warmed by his solid body.
Despite her still fragile state, Belle flew to her father's side, her small, soft hands enclosing his on the bars. "Papa! Are you all right? Have they hurt you? Have they beaten you? Are you getting enough to eat?"
John chuckled at his daughter's needless concern for him. "I'm fine, sweetheart. You never need to worry about me. They're taking admirable care of this old man. But you've been ill." His astute eyes took in her wasted form, and he cursed again the cruel fate that would bring his remaining child to this. "You shouldn't have come here. You need your rest."
"I could not possibly have really rested without seeing you, Father. Besides, I feel better seeing you than I could if I slept for a hundred years. And I'm quite recovered today. Apparently, the captain gave me something which saved my life." She dared one small, grateful smile at the grim-faced man.
John followed her gaze with a wary one of his own. "You saved my daughter's life?"
The captain's stern expression did not change. His arms were still crossed against his chest, the white, billowing sleeves of his Holland shirt in direct contrast to the black mask obscuring his face. "I promised Your Lordship the ladies would be safe. I never go back on my word."
Though she spoke not a word, Chloe watched the interchange with interest, observing every look that passed between the men. There was a wary trust between them, a mutual strength. If the bond went deeper than that, she could not tell, but there was something about the two that jumped out at her. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. Could it be…? Could she actually be witnessing a reunion between Belle, her father, and the long lost Brady Black?
~~*~~
Mimi let out the last wire of the enormous petticoat so the garment fell against Lady Wesley's legs and pooled in yards at her feet. During Belle's conversation with her father that morning, Mimi had finally remembered to ask Jason about needle, thread, and scissors for taking in the dresses. Now, while Belle slept the afternoon away and Jan watched over her—though Mimi suspected it had more to do with avoiding sewing than any concern for Lady Black—Mimi was transforming the monstrously large Spanish dresses into something more manageable. Chloe, out of sheer boredom, had agreed to help her.
"You've been uncharacteristically silent today. Are you sure nothing is troubling you?"
Chloe grimaced at Mimi's unexpected comment. The truth was her mind had been dwelling on Captain Blackheart all day long. First she would contemplate the possibility of him being the presumed-dead heir of the Viscount. Then her thoughts would rebelliously turn to how godlike he had been climbing that rigging, how strong his arms had been as he carried her, how intelligent his words had proven him, how gentle he had been with Belle, how cunning he had been with Captain Reed. The list went on and on. She was quickly becoming obsessed.
Chloe bit her lip. She was well-known as the world's worst liar. What could she tell Mimi that wouldn't give away such a humiliating truth? "I…of course, I'm troubled. Aren't you? We're captives on a pirate ship, Mimi. I believe we have a right to be troubled."
Mimi laughed aloud as she began cutting away the excess material. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that, Chloe? Let's face it. You would be just as happy if we were never rescued." Her face turned red the instant the words left her mouth. She had overstepped her bounds, and she knew it. This informality with Lady Wesley was making her too loose-tongued. "I'm sorry, m'lady. I didn't mean—"
"Mimi, calm down," Chloe stopped her frightened apology. "I want us to be friends, so I'm certainly not going to hold what you say against you. Besides, you're wiser than I used to give you credit for being. You're wiser than most people I know. You see through me. You see through everyone, don't you?" She smiled softly, feeling a burgeoning affection and respect for a girl she had previously dismissed as being nothing but Belle's little maid.
Mimi shook her head. "That doesn't me the right to speak to you the way I did. I forgot my place. You're a lady, Chloe, whether you want to acknowledge all that means or not."
Chloe groaned and abruptly stepped out of the shorn pile of fabric at her feet, crossing the room restlessly. "I'm not, Mimi. Not in my blood, my temperament. Not the way it counts, the way Belle is. It's merely an accident of birth that I'm me and you're you. As far as I'm concerned, you would make a much better lady than I do. You would be far happier being one than I am, as well." She momentarily stopped her pacing, giggling guiltily. "Don't tell Belle, but when we were at school, on warm nights, I would sneak out, run to the lake, strip off all my clothes, and jump in naked. I taught myself how to swim, Mimi."
Mimi's jaw dropped, and her cheeks turned even redder. She expected that kind of wanton talk and behavior from people of her own class. Hearing it from Lady Chloe Wesley was a different matter entirely. "You should not say such things," she hissed.
Chloe sighed, flopping down on the cot. "See? That's what I mean. You have as much virtue as Belle—maybe more. She was raised to be like she is, but you have that goodness inside of you. I don't have it. From before I could read, I was taught right and wrong, what a lady should and should not be. I was taught exactly as Belle was taught, yet there's something inside of me that refuses to be what I am expected to be. What is wrong with me that I'm like this?"
The maid stared at the animated, almost feverish look on the other woman's face. "It's just the heat, m'lady. It's making you antsy, and you are saying things you don't mean."
"But I do mean them, Mimi," Chloe protested. "I admit it may have something to do with the heat, and the ship, and the sea that is allowing me to express it now, but I've always felt this way. Since I was a girl at school, and even before. There's something wicked in my very blood. And when we get to Jamaica, I am going to be bound forever to a man who wants to stifle me, who wants me to keep living this lie. Why? So I can raise another generation of children who spend more than they earn in an attempt to fill the void inside of them? It's a void that comes from suppressing everything you are, ignoring everything that makes you different from the masses. I don't want this emptiness anymore, Mimi. I won't have it."
An almost devilish light came into Chloe's eyes and frightened Mimi with its defiance. She watched as Chloe picked up a swath of discarded black fabric and folded it, tapping it against her hand. "My lady, what is it?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"I'm not going to let them suffocate me," Chloe murmured, still staring down at the black satin in her hand. "I am going to be free and to hell with the consequences."
Mimi turned away from the fiery lady, a look of sorrow and pity on her face. In a voice so low she knew Chloe could not hear her, she whispered a benediction. "Then may God have mercy on your soul."
~~*~~
Her bizarre conversation with Lady Wesley was still replaying itself in Mimi's mind as she retired for bed that evening. Not wanting Jan to take her preoccupation as a wish for conversation, she turned towards the wall and pretended to sleep, all the while dissecting Chloe's words and finding her thoughts inexorably brought back to Jason Masters and her own feelings for him. She tried to pull them straight, tried to remind herself that unlike Chloe Wesley, she had no desire to flout the laws of decency. Yet Jason's green eyes and gentle, yet electrifying, touch kept arguing against her supposed morality.
She was still fighting her internal battle when she heard a rustling to her side and the sound of shuffling feet. Without turning around or stirring at all, she listened to Jan dress in the darkness. Only once she heard the creak of the cabin door opening and closing did she sit up, wide awake. Where on earth could that traitorous wench be going? She grimaced as she imagined Jan sneaking off to warm some sailor's bed. Yet something inside her bade her follow the other girl.
Quickly, she rose and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. She didn't have time to waste dressing and instead pursued Jan out the door. The glow of a lantern was fading around the corner, and Mimi followed behind at a safe distance. Her bare feet made no noise on the wooden planks, and she looked as an unearthly being floating along in her white petticoat and light blue wrap. She should have been more frightened, especially given her close call the night before, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew with Jason's claim on her no one would touch her.
Always remembering to keep out of sight, Mimi trailed behind the dark-haired woman. Jan seemed to know exactly where she was going, and Mimi soon realized she knew as well. This was the same path they had taken earlier that day. It led down into the hull of the ship. Could Jan be going to visit Lord Black? But why? Was there perhaps something else down this corridor? Perhaps the galley was here or—more likely, Mimi mused—crew quarters.
Jan's footsteps came to a sudden halt, and Mimi stepped back into the shadows, her ears pricking up to listen. She was astonished to discover the cool tones of Jason Masters.
"What are you doing out of your cabin so late, Jan?" Jason barked. From her hiding place, Mimi grinned. Obviously, this was not Jan's intended meeting. She also couldn't help but notice the difference in the pirate's tone when talking to the cunning vixen than the kind way he spoke to her.
"I was looking for the galley, sir," Jan replied smoothly. There was not a moment's hesitation in her voice, and if Mimi knew her less, she might have believed her.
"You're going in entirely the wrong direction then, mistress. At any rate, all the cupboards have been locked at this late hour. Breakfast will be served in the morning. Until then, I suggest you return to your cabin at once. I cannot vouch for your safety wandering the ship alone at night."
"That is strange, sir, seeing as you had no problems protecting Mimi when she was in the same predicament only last night." Jan's words were filled with venom, barely covered with a sugary innocence. "But I suppose we can't all expect to be claimed by such an honorable man as you. Tell me, who is to have the right to me? The captain has already taken my mistress. You've had your way with Mimi. Who's next in line?"
"I suggest you watch your filthy tongue, Jan. Vicious slander might win you esteem with your employer, but it is hardly going to earn you friends aboard the Vengeance."
"My employer, sir?"
"Do not underestimate my intelligence, Mistress Spears. I am well aware you work for Philip Kiriakis, and not Lady Wesley. Report your gossip to him when you see him again, but in the meantime, consider yourself deaf and dumb. And bound to quarters."
"You cannot be serious, sir," Jan protested. "If the others are allowed free range aboard ship, I should be given the same privilege."
"You have abused that privilege. The only way you could have known about Mimi's attack last night was if you were watching. You're a spy, Jan. A petty one, of course. Everything and everyone involved with Kiriakis is petty. But still, I will not have you running heedlessly about this ship, stumbling across information that is none of your business. From now until your return to Port Royal, I do not want to see your face again. You are to be in one of the two cabins or in attendance of the ladies at all times. If I do see you wandering anywhere without supervision, I will have you locked in the hull for the remainder of the voyage. Do I make myself quite clear?"
Mimi barely restrained a cry of joy at Jan's well-deserved punishment. Oh, what she wouldn't give to see Jan's face at that moment! "Fine, sir. Although if I am being sentenced for an eavesdropping crime—of which you have no proof—you might as well administer the same justice on Mimi Lockhart, given that she is hiding right around the corner."
Cursing her own stupidity for thinking she could remain unnoticed, Mimi deserted her hiding place and emerged into the light—and Jason's view. She refused to look at him however and kept her scathing glance on Jan Spears' smug face. "I freely admit to following you, Jan, but only because I don't trust you. I know as well as Jason does that you are more trouble than you're worth. I know you're lying about the galley, Jan. Where were you actually headed?"
Jan kept her lips tightly pursed and refused to say a word to the other woman. Her gaze remained locked on Jason's face. "If you'll excuse me," she gritted out, "I've been ordered to my cabin. I'll leave you two to…whatever." Her glance shifted over to Mimi for the first time, giving her a derisive once-over. She roughly pushed past her and back the way she had come.
Jason carried a light of his own, which he placed carefully down on a hook in the ship's wall, before turning to inspect Mimi's appearance. He found her state of undress enticing, though he tried not to show it. The shawl had fallen off one of her shoulders and trailed behind her on the ground. Her hair was loose, and the light of the lantern shone upon it, making it shine like burnished bronze. The petticoat, freshly void of its cumbersome hoops, fell in a graceful outline of her voluptuous body. The material was damn near invisible in the strange light, and he forced his gaze back up to her angelic face, now blushing crimson under his perusal.
"Jan was right about one thing, Mimi. You shouldn't be out of bed this time of night. My protection counts for only so much, given the temptation you present."
Her cheeks flamed even more, and she yanked the shawl tightly around her upper body, wishing for nothing more than to turn and flee. "I'm sorry, Jason. It won't happen again. I heard Jan leave, and it made me suspicious so I followed her. I wasn't thinking."
"No, you weren't." His tone was sharper than he intended, a reaction to the effect she was having on him. He sighed, running a hand back through his hair to gain control of his emotions. "Look, you have to realize these are not the kind of men you've been around before. They're used to taking what they want, and they—"
"Stop with the lectures, all right?" Mimi exploded. "I know exactly what kind of men they are. I've been around men like you all my life. I know what you want, and how you get what you want. And I sure as hell know how to keep you from getting what you want."
Jason frowned, surprised and concerned by her outburst. "Mimi, I don't know what you think, but I'm not like them. I'm not about to…that is to say, I would never…"
"Spare me. Unless you can stand here before me, look me in the eyes and tell me you have never been with a woman, then you have no right to separate yourself from them." She paused, and Jason averted his eyes guiltily. "See? But what, I'm supposed to feel like it's different with me? That what you feel for me is different than what you felt for the other women you have been with? I am not a fool, Jason."
"I never thought you were, Mimi. I would never think that. But what I feel for you is different, whether you believe it or not. That said, I have no intentions of taking advantage of you. I told you last night I won't touch you until you give me your permission."
"Of course you did," Mimi retorted cynically. "Because you think eventually you will wear me down. Trust me I have seen it all before. Maybe you're right, but I hope to God you're not. I refuse to be like her, damn it! I refuse."
Jason's frown deepened to one of confusion. Mimi did not even seem aware of the words that had left her mouth. She was still a pillar of righteous indignation before him. Why was she still so attractive? "Like who, Mimi?" he asked quietly.
"What?" Mimi's face echoed his own confusion.
"You said you refuse to be like her. Who is 'her?' Who were you talking about?"
Mimi's eyes widened, and she turned away, refusing to let him see her guilt and shame. "No one," she mumbled.
"Obviously, you meant someone, Mimi," Jason prompted. Without thinking, he crossed the short distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders, turning his around to face him. Still, she would not meet his eyes. He tipped up her chin, demanding her honesty. "Who, Mimi?"
She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to shrug him off as well. It didn't work. He continued to silently challenge her with his eyes, peering deep into the windows of her soul. She tried to duel him away. Her eyes clashed with his and tried to force out his penetration of her heart. In the end, it was impossible, and meekly she whispered her answer. "My mother."
Jason pulled away from her, stunned. "Your mother? But she was…" He reflected back to his conversation with Mimi the first night aboard ship. She had been surprisingly short with him when discussing her past. She had merely mentioned she was born and raised in an English port town. Suddenly, the pieces fell together. "Oh my God, she was…"
Mimi felt his instant abandonment of her the moment she spat out the words. Even a pirate felt her unworthy of him once he knew the truth. She smiled bitterly. She should have known. It was the rejection she had been faced with throughout her childhood. It was the reason her mother's name and history had not crossed her lips since the moment she was brought into the Black household. "Go ahead and say it. She was a whore."
His shock fell away from him at her caustic words, and Jason was once again aware of the woman in front of him. When he had first seen her, he had marked her as innocent, unscarred. Now, he knew better. Like himself, she had her own past, her own wounds to deal with. Yet somehow, the revelation that she was less than perfect made her even more remarkable in his eyes. "You grew up on the docks?" he pressed gently.
Mimi nodded. He might as well know the whole sordid history now. Nothing could make it any worse. "Yes. My mother was a trollop, and like all trollops, she went where the sailors were. But also like all trollops, she didn't start out with the intention of being every man's woman. She was in love when she first came to Portsmouth, in love with her own special sailor. He made her the usual promises. They would marry when he got a little bit ahead. He had to make his way in the world first, of course. And his way was a different way from hers the moment he found out she was pregnant. He jumped the next ship out of the country. That wonderful specimen of a man was my father. Feel like hearing the rest?"
Jason winced at the resentment in her words. "Only if you feel like telling it."
She laughed, a hollow excuse for joy. "I think it's a little late for that, don't you? Anyway, there isn't much more. She had to support herself someway. No respectable place would hire an unwed mother, so she went to work lying flat on her back. We lived in a one-room shanty right by the docks. She used to lock me in the closet whenever the ships would come in, and she would have men over to the house. But I could still hear. I could hear the promises they made her, and she believed them! She was a fool." The look of repugnance on her face told the rest of the story, what else she heard kept away in the darkness.
"Mimi…" Jason couldn't find the words to say and instead reached out for her, longing to hold her in his arms and soothe her pain.
She jumped back the moment he touched her. "No!" she screamed, backing away. "I told you. I won't be like her. I won't let you or anyone else touch me. I won't be the fool. I refuse to be used and abused and then thrown away like yesterday's garbage. I won't listen to your promises, Jason. You're wasting your breath. I've heard them all."
Jason could only watch in silent pity as she turned away and retreated to the safety of her cabin, scarred yet strong, broken yet untouchable.
~~*~~
Brady left the small cell as Kev came for his watch. Sitting in the presence of his father, day after day, hour after hour, was harder than he could ever have imagined. They rarely spoke, and yet every word proceeding from the mouth of his sire made Brady respect him more. How different his entire life would have been if not for that shipwreck! He could only imagine the joy he would have felt growing to manhood under the loving care of his mother and the steadfast example of his father. He certainly would never have ended up like this, a wanted man, a fugitive, a murderer.
He could still feel upon his heart the stain of every life he had taken. His self-justifications were wearing thinner by the day. Having his innocent sister in his life was proof that there was still good and purity in this world. He had thought those things had died with his mother. He felt tired, soul-weary. At his young age, he had already seen enough suffering for a lifetime. He wanted an escape from it all, and he knew there was none forthcoming.
Seeking temporary respite from his tortured thoughts, Brady made his way topside. The soothing sounds of the sea had a drugging effect on his spirits. For a few moments at least, he would be able to forget the painful memories and simply fill his lungs with the salt air. The Caribbean did not care what he had done, what secrets he carried. The Trade Winds blew over him the same as they did over every other man, reassuring him that he played but a small part in the history of time. He would be gone soon and forgotten, like all men.
The moon was half-hidden by a cloud as he climbed the ladder and walked onto the deck, yet it still shone purer light than the sparse lanterns dotting the passageways of the ship. Its silvery glow reflected upon the water, upon the deck, and in the dim radiance, everything blended into a muted bluish-gray. Everything but her.
The lone figure on the deck, she stood as he had found her the first night aboard, her hands upon the rail, her head lifted in some pagan worship to Diana, goddess of the moon. Tonight, her dress was white satin, and under the moon's careful reflection, it shone silvery, the garment of an ancient prophetess or some virgin sacrifice. Gone were the atrocious hoops of the Infantata's dresses, the piles of lace, the bell-like waving with each movement. The dress hung about her perfect form, highlighting her profile and curves, falling in a graceful waterfall of fabric at her feet. Her hair did not hang in a cascading river as it had the first night. Instead, it was pulled backed, curled and twisted in innumerable ways, until it seemed the crown on her perfection, the final blessing from her creator. She looked otherworldly, a legend come to life.
Sensing his presence, she turned finally, slowly. Brady nearly choked as he saw her eyes obscured by a black satin mask, the ties of which were lost in the mounds of her hair. She seemed neither frightened nor surprised by his being there, and indeed her first words confirmed that she wasn't. "I knew you would come." The words were softly-spoken, her tone was musical, yet in her voice, there was something else, something more intoxicating than fine wine.
Without even realizing it, Brady was walking closer to her. His footsteps echoed across the silent deck, yet he heard nothing but the lapping of the waves against the ship's side and the deep breathing of the muse before him. The lace around the collar had been removed, and the neckline was a dangerously low square. He could see the even rise and fall of her breasts with every breath she took. From all outward appearances, she was cool, composed, totally in control. Only once he was near enough to touch her did he notice the rapid beating of her heart, the quick pulse evident in the long lines of her neck, the flushed appearance of her cheeks in the moonlight. Still, he saw no fear in her, only a heady desire in the sapphire eyes, even more brilliant surrounded by the sheer black mask.
Chloe felt her heart would stop at his nearness. She had never felt such a rush of anticipation and yearning before. Her eyes devoured every inch of him in the white drawstring shirt, the tan breeches, the concealing mask she had come to love. He exuded a masculine virility she had never come in contact with before, an attractiveness that drew her despite everything she had been taught. His hand reached up to play with the lining of her mask, and a bemused smile tipped the corner of his mouth. "What is this? A sign of solidarity?"
She withdrew slightly from his touch, only a coy look on her face revealing it was not from fear but flirtation. "Not quite, Captain. You wear that mask to hide your identity, to pretend to be something you're not, to disguise who you are from the world. Tonight, I hide who I am, what I know, what I believe. Tonight, I am not Lady Chloe Wesley, any more than you are Brady Black."
He tensed the moment the name left her mouth. His hands like iron wrapped around her bare arms, and he pulled her towards him, suddenly seeming as threatening as the first time she saw him. "What did you call me?"
Chloe willed herself not to be afraid. She refused to cower. Her suspicions were confirmed in his immediate reaction, and she had nothing to feel guilty over. Her flashing eyes met his, as she repeated, "Brady Black. Did you think you could keep it a secret forever? You are Lord Black's long-lost son. I cannot believe it took me so long to discover the truth."
"And what truth would that be, my lady?" he gritted out, his hold on her as intense as ever, warming her to her very bones.
"Ah, ah, ah," she responded, a mysterious smile on her face. "I am not your lady tonight. I am not any kind of a lady."
"I'm not in the mood to play games." Brady pulled her even closer to himself, until her lush body was pressed against his, with her arms tightly grasped by his side. It was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake the moment her eyes looked up into his, tempting orbs of blue. Her eyes drifted down to his lips, and she consciously moistened her own in readiness.
"Who's playing?" she murmured seductively, before summoning up the courage to place a tentative kiss on his collarbone. She had never been so brazen in her life. She doubted her mother had ever done such a thing, or her grandmother before her, even to their own husbands. She had no concept of ever having learned such a behavior, but in this moment, with her body molding into his, it felt right. She was determined to follow her instincts for once in her life and hold nothing back.
Shocked by her overture, Brady almost succumbed to the temptation to take her in his arms. But then Jason's warning from this morning made itself heard loud and clear, and he abruptly disentangled himself from her. "You have no idea what you're doing, little girl. You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."
"Good," she returned defiantly. "I need trouble. However, you're wrong about one thing. I am not a little girl."
Brady's eyes raked over her, despite every impulse from his brain telling them to stop. He took in the oh-so-womanly body slowly, savoring every curve. When he finally met her eyes again, he found no trace of an embarrassed blush in her cheeks as he had been expecting. Rather a satisfied smile was spread across her face. She knew she was winning. "Very well," was his cool reply. "You're not a lady. You're not a little girl. What are you then?"
It was the question she had been waiting for him to ask. "Tonight, I am a Siren, calling a sailor to his doom." There was a lilting quality to her speech, and Brady found the comparison more than apt. Her voice itself was singing to him, trying to push aside all he knew to be wrong about this. Seeing him weaken, Chloe approached him again, her every step saying volumes about her plan for the evening.
It might have worked had not Brady's brain screamed out a warning, reminding him of her earlier surprise declaration. "Enough, m'lady. I need to know why you assume I am Brady Black, whoever he may be."
Annoyed, Chloe frowned. She should have mentioned that later. She would never know what it felt like for him to kiss her if he spent the whole night obsessing over her deduction of his identity. "I don't assume; I know. You gave it away yourself in your reaction when I said your name, Brady. Before that, I had only suspicions from observations of you and Lord Black. You confirmed them for me."
Brady sized up the lady in front of him, suddenly finding her formidable beyond the passion inside of her. The woman was obviously intelligent beyond the average. "I applaud your detective work, Lady Wesley. May I ask what you intend to do with your knowledge?"
"Do?" Chloe asked, perplexed. "Nothing. I assume you have your reasons for keeping silent, and you will tell Lord Black in your own time."
He stared at her, astonished by her flippant attitude. "You don't have questions? You don't want a list of reasons or a history of my life until now?"
"Yes, I do…eventually. When you're ready to tell me and your family, of course. For tonight, all I want is to be here." Her voice had again dropped into that breathy whisper as she approached him once more. He watched without moving as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close to his. "I want to live, Captain. I want to feel the way I feel and not feel guilty about it and not need to repress it or fear it. I want…I want you, Brady."
She had made her position impeccably clear, and still he made no move to hold her. For a moment, she nearly gave up; one look in his eyes convinced her she had to keep trying. Nervously, she wet her lips again and then placed them ever so gently on his chin. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. She saw his inward struggle, between what he knew to be right and what he felt at that moment. She knew she had only to tempt him a little farther, and he would break. Her lips trailed along his jawbone, planting light kisses over his rough skin. She felt the heat of his skin against hers, heard the throbbing of his heart, shivered at the warmth of his breath on her neck.
Slowly, Chloe worked her way back to his lips. She placed a brush of a kiss against the side of his mouth and then pulled back. Her eyes showed for the first time her uncertainty and inexperience. She knew she wanted this. She knew deep in her soul that the undefined restlessness inside of her had always been a yearning for this man. Yet she was still, despite her wild heart, an innocent in the ways of the world. Her only kiss had come from a man who asked permission to kiss her and then seemed to view it as a sign of possession. What did she know of what real passion was supposed to feel like?
Her uncertainty lasted only a moment, only until one more glance in the bright blue eyes confirmed her connection to Brady. Without another thought or worry in her head, she laid a tender kiss upon his lips. It was the merest flicker of butterfly wings. Her lips flirted, brushed, and then pulled away. She took a step backwards, not abandoning her position in his arms, but unwilling to do more. Not when he stood before her an immovable object.
Brady saw the passion in her eyes. He felt the trembling of her body. He heard the sharp intake of her breath. And he knew his battle was lost. As she was prepared to turn around, to leave in defeat, his arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her inexorably closer to him, until her willing body was meshed with his. His hands buried themselves in the rich depths of her hair, and she found her face tilted upwards as his eyes looked down at her, the struggle over, only desire apparent now. "God forgive me," he groaned in surrender, before lowering his head to feast himself on her waiting lips.
Lips blended, pressed, and demanded more from each other as they both gave into the urge they'd been fighting since the moment they laid eyes on each other. There was a desire to learn every facet of each other. They challenged and fed off of each other, until finally Brady broke through her defenses and plunged his tongue into the rich depths of her mouth. Rather than objecting, rather than pulling away in mortification as a good lady should, Chloe found herself falling deeper into his arms, encouraging his advances. She felt light-headed. Heat was swirling in her belly, and as his tongue expertly flicked over her pleasure spot, she groaned into his mouth, only providing him with more reason to continue his assault. Then, drawn by some unknown instinct, she was warring with him for supremacy. The kiss had turned into some primal struggle of wills, of strength versus passion, of control versus desire. It went on and on until they could not even remember who was supposed to be representing what, and they both yielded to the overwhelming flood surrounding them. They were drowning in each other.
Brady's hands were slowly wreaking havoc on her precise curls, until they were tumbling in wanton disarray down her back. Her own hands had made their way to his back, pulling his body taut against hers before slipping underneath to feel the hard muscle and the heat of his skin. He was walking her backwards, and she felt the sturdy wood of the railing press into her back, offering her support as their endless combat went on. Every time their mouths were forced apart, they found their way back to each other with even more feverish intensity.
Chloe could no longer even hear the roar of the sea over the pounding of her heart. The blood was swirling in her ears, and she was swept under in a tidal wave of lust and desire. Brady's hands had finally left her hair only to travel in a searing line down the sides of her body. Her mouth left his on a gasp as he first caressed and cupped her full breast. She had never been touched in such a way in her life, and it was a shock to her system. His hand abruptly dropped as he looked into her eyes, as if to assure her it was all right. They could stop.
Chloe only smiled and shook her head. Reaching down, she took his hand in hers and lifted it to kiss each of his battle-scarred knuckles. Time seemed to slow around them, as the passion fled momentarily to be replaced by something infinitely more terrifying, something neither of them had a name for. She lowered his hand to place it over her throbbing heart. Her hand covered his for countless moments until the silence grew deafening, and he was forced once again to claim her lips.
The world changed again, until instead of immobile, it seemed to spin around them, swirling both of them down into its madness. Lips met in charged longing or trailed across the other's skin, committing bodies to memory like a treasure map. Unsure where her brazenness came from, Chloe yanked his shirt off and discarded it thoughtlessly on the rail. It didn't matter where it went, as long as it was gone from his perfect form. Drawn by basal instinct, she gave in to the urge to plant kisses along his solid chest and abdomen. His skin felt like heaven beneath her lips, beneath her fingers, as she asserted her claim on every part of him.
With a groan, Brady pulled her lips back up to his, gorging himself on the taste and feel of her. The tightly drawn laces on the back of her dress were being loosened by his agile fingers, and still she had no objection to make. This felt right. If the world was to crumble down around them at that moment, they would not have noticed. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered beyond the one goal of completion. Chloe wasn't even sure where they were headed, except in the vaguest sense, but she knew she wanted to be there.
As the stays holding her in gave way and the ripe swell of her breasts overfilled, she was introduced to a new feeling of pleasure as his lips sought out the perfect orbs. Perhaps she should have felt embarrassment, but there was none. There was only the electrifying bliss of his mouth circling, teasing, and finally suckling her breast. She found herself arching into him, her hands digging into the mask still obscuring his face. When the cry broke from her lips, she couldn't have been more shocked. No proper lady had ever made a sound like that, she was quite sure. But to hell with ambiguous social law. Nothing had ever given her this much pleasure before. She knew as Brady's ministrations moved to her other breast that her virtue was irredeemably gone, but it didn't matter. Now she knew this was what she had wanted all along. This was why she had come up to this deck. This was why she had worn the mask.
The mask. It had acted as a catalyst to allow her to act the way she did, and it also spelled her doom. When Brady rose once more to capture her lips, his hands dug into her hair once more and inadvertently slipped the clasp holding it to the Siren's face. The mask fluttered towards the deck and then fell, fluttering into the sea. And lo and behold, Lady Chloe Wesley stood before him, awakening all his previously silenced warnings.
"You have my word of honor." He had promised his father the ladies would be safe in his care. He had promised they would reach Port Royal with their virtue still intact. He had lied. He had broken his word, his lifeblood. With awakening horror, he saw the disheveled girl in front of him. She looked confused by his sudden withdrawal and eager to continue what they had started. Part of him—the lower half, still throbbing with need—wanted desperately to oblige that wish. He wanted her enough that a moment before he was willing to take her in the middle of the Caribbean Sea on an exposed deck of a pirate ship. But…
"We can't do this," he murmured throatily. The betrayed look that sprung instantly to her eyes was almost his undoing. "I'm sorry, m'lady. I should never have let it come this far in the first place. I was…I mean, we were…I'm sorry." He could think of no words that would make the rejection she was feeling now any less painful.
Tears pooled in her eyes, as Chloe struggled to comprehend this sudden change in her passionate would-be lover. "I don't understand. I thought…"
Brady shook his head, silencing any further words. "It's not your fault, m'lady. It never should have happened."
Humiliation came rushing in as sanity was restored, and Chloe's tears turned to rage in a moment. For the second time in their short acquaintance, she slapped the pirate across the face with all the strength she could muster. "Don't ever come near me again," she commanded, in a voice she hoped didn't shake. "I never want to see you again."
Face ringing from her slap, Brady nodded his agreement. Her reaction was completely justified and undoubtedly for the best in any case. Being near her was not possible if he was to keep—at least technically—his promise to his father. "As you wish, m'lady." Chloe's arms closed around her exposed breasts, as she tried and failed to restore her dignity. He scooped his discarded shirt off the rail and held it out to her, carefully averting his gaze. "Here, m'lady. Take this."
Refusing to meet his eyes, Chloe reached for the shirt. As both were so determined to avoid looking at each other, their fingers ended up brushing mid-transfer. That was the last she could handle. With a cry of betrayal and humiliation, she pressed the shirt to her chest and ran below decks. She didn't stop until she was safely locked away behind the cabin door.
Chloe sank against the sturdy wood, muting her sobs in the shirt so as not to awaken Belle. They were right. They were all right. Mimi, and her parents, and Belle, and Philip. There was a reason women were supposed to be locked up in ivory towers. At least when they weren't allowed to feel love, they couldn't feel heartbreak either.
