“I’ll see to the Queen Anne and deal with the crew. I’ll tell ’em the cap’n is indulgin’ himself, takin’ a well-deserved respite from his duties while enjoyin’ his private stock of rum. Beggin’ yer …uh…ladyship’s pardon, I may let slip he’s enjoyin’ other pursuits as well, and there’d be the devil to pay… pardon again, ma’am… if he were to be disturbed afore he’s had his fill of all he’s been hungerin’ for. If ye get me meanin’.”
Though his speech was rough, his eyes were shrewd. Mercy nodded. “Thank you for your frank words, Mr. Sprague. I agree with your assessment of the situation, and I understand the need for your course of action. I’ll ask Le Bon Dieu to bless you, monsieur – and I’ll do my best to restore the captain to you, hale and hearty. Oh, Mr. Sprague,” she added as he was turning away. “You needn’t refer to me as your ladyship or ma’am. Call me Sister Bertilde. And as for the other part, no need for an apology. I, too, would hate like the devil to be around him when he loses his temper.” She shot him a conspiratorial grin then bowed her head. “May Le Bon Dieu forgive us both.”
Before he left, she asked for hot water, along with bowls to prepare the necessary potions. Once he’d delivered the items, and she was sure she wouldn‘t be disturbed, Mercy latched the door and set to work.
The captain was still shivering violently. In such a tropical climate, his bedcoverings did not include heavy blankets. The thin coverlet wasn’t enough to keep him warm.
Mercy never hesitated, stripping off her heavy woolen robes and veil then tucking them around his body. She rummaged in her satchel and pulled out the thin white garment Sairy made for her. Sleeveless, with a low neckline, it was designed to be worn under any style of gown.
Brushing a tear away at the memory of her beloved nanny, Mercy slipped it on. The bodice tied under her breasts and the fabric draped softly over her curvy frame, stopping short of brushing the deck. She ran her fingers through her matted curls, grateful to be freed of the weight of the woolen veil, and began brewing the potion.
Selecting a handful of herbs and flowers, she crushed them with the small mortar and pestle Sairy had packed. Mercy considered her supplies then added the black scorpion carcass to the mix, grinding it into a powder.
Relying on instincts she possessed from years of Sairy’s training in the Old Ways, she chose other ingredients as well, bits of animal and insect parts unidentifiable to almost anyone else. As she worked, Mercy sang in a low voice, chanting a spell she learned as a child. Asking all her angels to gather round and bring their blessings to add to the power of nature’s remedies. Then she dumped the contents into a deep bowl filled with hot water.
She stirred the foul-smelling potion until her long incantation reached its end. Pouring a small measure into an empty tankard from the cupboard, she lifted the captain’s head and roused him enough to swallow a few drops. Within a short time, he quit shivering and fell into a deep slumber.
Mercy spent the long night at his bedside, dozing in the chair, waking whenever the captain tossed and turned. Each time she managed to get him to take a few sips of her potion before he lapsed once again into unconsciousness. With a cloth soaked in the same brew, she bathed his face, along with places on his wrists and neck where she could feel the coursing of his blood just below the skin. All the while, she murmured ancient words of healing.
Once the fever took hold, it raged mercilessly. Mercy never left the captain’s side. Days and nights became a blur, the long hours broken only by a knock from time to time as Mr. Sprague brought food and water, leaving it outside the door. Occasionally, when Teach was resting calmly, she curled into a ball and dozed at the foot of his bed for a few hours.
Early on, Mercy had stripped off the captain’s sweat-soaked garments. As the fever raged, she cooled his skin after every dose of the potion, bathing him all over with cool water then covering him once again.
Mercy was familiar with the male form. She’d seen an unclothed man while assisting Sairy as she cared for the workers on the plantation, binding wounds and treating illnesses. But the sole male she’d helped nurse was an elderly man, and he didn’t have powerful muscles rippling under his skin at her touch.
Hours became days, and she found herself daydreaming as she ran the cloth over his body, imagining him awakening and drawing her into his arms.
One morning, as dawn’s light broke on the horizon, Mercy once again prepared to sponge down the captain’s feverish body. She stripped away the heavy nun’s robes covering him, planning to wash them and let them dry later in the heat of the day.
As she ran the cool cloth over his chest and moved lower, her long hair brushed his naked thighs. His manhood began to stir. She glanced up, startled, but his eyes were still closed in sleep. Though she felt guilty doing it, Mercy slid the cloth farther down, stroking his member. Fascinated, she watched it swell and grow longer under her touch.
Suddenly, his hand shot out, gripping hers tightly. Startled, she dropped the cloth. He pulled her hand back to his now fully erect manhood, wrapped her fingers around it then covered them with his own. Slowly, he guided her hand, sliding it up and down from the base to the head.
Mercy trembled. The captain was apparently deep in a dream, brought on by her shameless caresses to his private parts. She dared not stop him, embarrassed at what she’d done and afraid he’d awaken. Mercy didn’t know which she feared more, having him furious with her for taking such liberties, or, overcome with lustful passion, claiming her virginity then and there.
His breathing quickened, and his hand moved faster, still holding hers captive. Her fingers stroked up and down the full length of his cock. She was amazed at how thick and hard it had become. He reached up with his other hand, burying it in the tangled mane of her hair. Suddenly he groaned. His whole body shuddered, and his fist tightened in her hair as his seed spurted out.
He kept his grip around hers, tightening her grasp, thrusting his hips up to meet her every stroke until his ardor was fully spent. Then his hands dropped to his sides. He let out a deep sigh, and his body relaxed once again into slumber.
Heart pounding, Mercy hurried to wash away the evidence then pulled the coverlet lying crumpled at the foot of the bed over the captain’s naked body. Shocked and aroused, she sat down on the chair by his bedside staring down at his hands. Reliving the thrill of his strong fingers taking control of hers, forcing her to curl her whole hand around his raging manhood. She felt her pussy clench when she remembered the way his hips had flexed as he thrust upward, exposing every inch of his cock to her soft palm. Making her stroke the hot hard shaft over and over.
With lustful cravings filling her mind, Mercy thought she’d never fall asleep. When she finally did, it was to dream of the captain suddenly awakening the next time she bathed him, yanking her down onto the bed with those strong hands and then burying his rigid member deep inside her with one thrust of those powerful hips.