Chapter Nine
The long dark hours passed in a blur of sensual pleasures. Every kiss, every caress, every whispered endearment was a thrill to her body and a balm to her battered soul. After leaving her home and losing those who were dearest to her heart, Mercy felt the Universe had given her a reason to go on living.
The moments when she made the tough, virile man in her arms lose control and surrender to his passion were a thrill like no other. He had taken her to the peak, brought her pure ecstasy. Finding out she could make him surrender his iron control with her hands and her lips and her tongue gave her a dizzying sensation of power and pride.
* * *
As for the captain, if before he had been enticed by what was forbidden to him, now he felt as if he’d been bewitched by one of her strange spells. Mercy was an eager student of the art of love. She opened herself to him fully, and he responded, showing her sensual delights that were all new to her. But the wench seemed to derive the most enjoyment from discovering ways to bring him pleasure.
When dawn broke, they lay drowsily in each other’s arms. James idly stroked the curve of her hip.
“You do realize you made a wretched nun,” he said, grinning.
“I did not! I said my rosary every day.”
He shook his head. “I think there’s more to a nunnery than that. I don’t know much about their vows and such, but I don’t think they’re allowed to strip men naked and tease their cocks until they get hard as stone.”
“That was…I mean, that wasn’t…Oh, bloody hell. You’re right. I shouldn’t have given in to temptation.”
“I threatened to punish Sister Bertilde soundly. But since you’re not a nun after all…” He arched an eyebrow, took her hand, and guided it to his manhood, smiling wickedly. “Can I tempt you into doing it again?”
When Sprague knocked to announce his arrival with breakfast, James told him to leave it outside the door and go away.
“I’ll eat later, Mr. Sprague. Right now I need my rest. I barely slept last night,” he added, winking at Mercy. “I leave the Queen Anne’s Redemption in your capable hands for a few hours more.”
Though his strength had returned, over the next few days James put Sprague at the helm more often than he’d ever done before, spending most of his time in the cabin. Mercy was a fascinating companion, both in bed and out. He’d never entertained the idea of carrying on a serious discussion about commerce or the fate of humankind with a woman, assuming the fairer sex had no head for business and no knowledge about theoretical concepts. But Mercy had strong opinions on every issue he raised, whether it be which crops were most profitable to grow or the political philosophy of John Locke. And she could hold her own in a debate on those opinions as well as any man he’d ever met.
He’d abandoned his plan to set her ashore at the nearest port.
“Please, James, will you take me to Haiti?” Mercy asked. “The governor there was a dear friend of my father’s. Sairy told me to go to him in Port au Prince and ask for his protection. She’ll send word there when it’s safe for me to return to St. Thomas.” She lifted a hefty sack of coins out of her satchel. “I have the funds to support myself while I’m there and pay for my passage.”
Though he’d originally been anxious to get rid of her, the thought of leaving Mercy alone, putting her in the hands of a man he didn’t know, roused James’s ire. Still, he knew he couldn’t keep her locked in his cabin forever. He’d heard the old superstition about a woman on board bringing bad luck.
It was easy to figure out where the myth came from. If his crew ever saw Mercy as she was now, half-naked in his bed, with a soft lock of long hair curling around her bare breast, they’d fight to the last man over which one would get to fuck her first.
Days passed, taking them closer to port in Haiti but bringing him no peace over the old woman’s plan.
***
Mercy lay on her side facing him as James stroked her hair, his expression peaceful, when an outcry arose outside the cabin door. She saw in his eyes the moment he left the role of ardent lover and became once again the stern commander of his ship.
By the time Sprague pounded on the door, he’d thrown on his trousers and was reaching for his weapons.
“Pirates, Cap’n! There be pirates attackin’ portside!”
James grabbed Mercy in a fierce hug. “Stay here. And bar the door,” he added, striding out.
For Mercy, the minutes passed like hours. Unable to see, she could only imagine the scene outside her door. She heard James shout the order to ready the guns. She felt the shudders in every timber of Queen Anne’s Redemption as a volley was unleashed from the cannons lined up at the gunwale. Cheers from the crew told her they’d scored a hit on the other vessel.
Through the cabin window, she caught sight of a longboat nearly upon them at the stern. It must have been launched by the invaders when the crew’s attention was diverted.
Scrambling in the cubbyholes built into the cabin walls, she found a pair of trousers and the captain’s long dress coat. She dressed quickly, hoping in all the confusion the oversized coat would disguise her female form. Hastily gathering up her hair, she stuffed it under a headscarf fashioned from her discarded veil, like the one worn by Mr. Sprague. Mercy grabbed the dagger James used as a knife from the dining table and dashed out the door.
Chaos ruled the decks of the Queen Anne’s Redemption.
Invaders had already scaled the port side and were locked in hand-to-hand combat with Teach’s crew. Screams and curses of dying and wounded men filled the air. They’d scored a direct hit on the marauder’s vessel, right at the waterline, and Mercy could see their ship was sinking. The desperate crew members still aboard had tossed grappling hooks into the rigging of the Queen Anne and were making their way along the ropes hand over hand, frantic to save their lives.
Above the din, Mercy heard a faint noise coming from the bowels of the doomed vessel. It sounded strangely like a hymn, sung in the high-pitched voices of an angelic choir.