 
**The Captive Pirate**

By Alison Shaw

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Alison Shaw

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Chapter 1

Lady Letitia Howard was never going to get used to the tropical heat of the Caribbean. She lay in her bed, thin nightgown already soaked with sweat despite the fact the verandah doors were thrown open to try and let some of the night breeze into the room. The mosquito net surrounded her, necessary she knew but it just served to make her feel hotter, more suffocated, imprisoned.

Her late husband had brought her to this wild place, and now he was dead she was looking forward to returning to the cool civilized rooms of her London house. The man had been a fool. He should have known he wasn't strong enough to withstand the rigours of a long sea journey followed by a totally alien climate. He had succumbed to a fever within months of arriving. Letitia, on the other hand, had proven to be as strong as an ox.

However strong she was, the nights were long, lonely and unbearably hot. When the windows and doors were left open like this, the strange sounds of insects and night creatures were deafening.

At some point that night she must have dosed off, because she awoke with a jerk. The candles were still burning, casting eerie shadows on the white net surrounding her and she thought she had been woken by a sound; not an animal sound, the sound a person would make. She lay frozen on her back, nightgown twisted around her, trying not to breathe.

Then she heard it again; a shuffling, clothes brushing against skin.

"Is someone there?" she asked bravely.

And out from the shadows came a voice, a deep male voice, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.

"Don't move," it said.

It was an uncivilized voice, low and rasping and commanding.

"If you do as I say, you will come to no harm." He had an unmistakably refined English accent. A very small comfort.

She sat upright, defying his command not to move. "Show yourself," she said, sounding more assertive than she felt. "What are you doing in my room?"

She peered into the darkness beyond the netting and saw a shape moving towards the bed. He was tall and broad and she shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. Then there was a glint of steel and the netting was abruptly slit with a violent ripping noise and two sun-browned hands roughly tore the delicate material from the bed.

Letitia froze with fear and gazed up at her potential assailant. She had never seen him before but she knew who he was. She could see the infamous tattoo on the left side of his bare neck.

"The Black Orchid," she said staring at him with wide eyes.

"Thomas Ashdown at your service ma'am," he said smoothly, almost bowing.

She had heard so much about him even before she had come to Barbados, and to find him standing at the end of her bed in the dead of night was a surprising turn of events to say the least. Why he was named after a flower, she had no idea. He was tall, well over six feet. He was broad as well. She could see his wide shoulders straining the white linen of his shirt and from the way he was standing, hands resting high on the posts of her bed as he looked down on her, she could see his arms were muscular. But it was his face she found herself staring at. His head was shaven which accentuated his fine cheekbones and even in the flickering candlelight she could see his eyes were bright blue; unusual in a man so dark.

She was sitting in nothing but a thin nightgown, alone, completely defenseless, with a strange man looming over her, gazing at her with a worrying glint in his eyes. And to her horror, she felt a fluttering of excitement.

He continued to gaze down at her, a slight smile on his lips. In all her imaginings she had never pictured a smiling pirate. She had pictured pirates with long flowing hair, gripping cutlasses in their teeth, growling grim obscenities, but had never imagined them to be flesh and blood men, with well bred English accents. The Black Orchid sounded like he was from the Home Counties, but he most definitely did not look like he was, despite the grin.

"What are you doing in my room?" she eventually asked in a quavering voice. His silent unabashed regard of her was making her nervous.

"Your husband owes me," he said.

"My husband is dead. He died two weeks ago."

"I know, but he still owes me."

Letitia had a creeping feeling about what the repayment might be. "He had many debts," she said. "He left me with just enough to return to England."

"'Tis a shame," he said softly, smiling again. He had the smile of a wolf, slow and filled with self-assurance. His gaze travelled over her body. She felt like helpless prey and she shivered again, but not just from fear. He reached down and touched her bare foot and she jumped.

"You have very pretty toes," he whispered, running a finger across them.

He could not have shocked her more.

His blue eyes darkened as they ran across her body again and the room suddenly closed in on them as the candlelight flickered. It was just she and he and the bed and her breath caught in her throat. No one would ever know, she found herself thinking. She suddenly felt a desire to see him without his clothes, to find out what those muscles looked like uncovered and as if he had read her mind, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. His skin was dark from the sun and his chest was strong and defined. A slight covering of dark hair spread across his flat nipples and narrowed into a line down his belly disappearing into his britches.

"I am sure you can think of a way to repay your husband's debt," he said in his rich cultivated voice. The contrast between what Letitia heard and what she saw was creating a strange fire in her belly.

Then suddenly, the sword glinted in the candlelight once again and she was reminded that he was dangerous and according to legend, very violent.

His rough fingers grasped the hem of her nightgown and he gently thrust the sharp blade into the fine linen. She fell backwards and with a horrified gasp watched the pale material rip the entire way up her body slowly exposing the creamy curves underneath. His dark eyes feasted on her flesh as it was revealed to him and he yanked away the remaining shreds of her nightgown so she lay on the bed completely naked, frozen with fear and a strange kind of excitement. As he stared at her she could feel the stirring in her loins coil tighter. Right from the moment she had heard his rough voice come from the shadows, her loins had been hot and burning, and now she was squirming against the damp sheets, unable to control these novel sensations.

She looked down and saw that her nipples stood out impossibly erect despite the heat of the thick air, and when he noticed them too he licked his lips, the gleam of a predatory animal in his eyes. The light of the candles reflected in the sheen of sweat on his strong brown shoulders as he leaned towards her. She shuffled further up the bed, her escape thwarted by the mahogany headboard.

"Please," she whimpered, "What will you do to me?"

His eyes were almost black now and his hand strayed to the waist of his breeches. She could see how the rough material strained over his crotch and her eyes widened.

"You were married," he growled, "You must know," and his hand stroked over his huge bulge as he continued to stare at her nipples.

"My husband was ....a small man," she said, watching him slowly unbuttoning his breeches, her voice catching in her throat.

He laughed. It was not a joyous sound, but one full of experience and bitterness and some pain. "Did he pleasure you?" he asked, his hand gliding across his hard abdominal muscles, snaking along the scar that ran diagonally across his torso.

Despite her fear she was shamefully desperate for him to touch her. She ignored the question. How could she answer it when she had nothing to compare her husband to? She suspected the brief fumblings her and the Viscount had enjoyed in the dark every now and again were not what this man defined as pleasure.

Rather than answering his question, she merely looked up at him, helplessly aroused. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted to feel his mouth against hers. She wanted to find out what was beneath those straining breeches, but he continued to stand at the foot of the bed fixing her with an unreadable gaze.

Then suddenly he was gone. He stealthily pulled on his shirt and disappeared through the open verandah doors. There was the sound of rustling foliage, then a thump as he landed on the ground and then nothing. Just the loud whirring of the cicadas and the beating of her heart.

Chapter 2

The Black Orchid was back on his ship by the time the sun burst over the purple horizon. The crew were still asleep, some passed out on the deck where they had fallen. They did not come into port very often and they had clearly been enjoying the rare pleasures to be had in the taverns and brothels of Bridgetown. He irritably kicked one of them as he walked past, but the man just turned over and muttered something and immediately started snoring again, hand still gripping a bottle of rum.

Once in his cabin, he stripped off his clothes and stared at himself in the gilt mirror. He touched the intricate tattoo on his neck and tried to see himself through the Lady's eyes. He looked like a dark-skinned savage, scarred and shorn with hungry eyes. Even if wigs were no longer absolutely required, it was the accepted fashion to wear hair long and tied back with a ribbon. But he shaved his head so the bones stood out and his eerie blue eyes dominated his angular face. He wanted to look different, to look menacing and beyond polite society. So why had she looked at him with such need?

He had never forced himself on a woman. Contrary to the myths, some Pirates had a code and amongst his crew, he made it clear that it was forbidden to molest a virtuous lady. He had been raised as a gentleman and he could fight and steal and occasionally kill if necessary but he did not abuse a woman or child. He had had every intention of leaving the Viscount's widow unmolested. He had merely wanted to intimidate her a little, but she had not been easily subdued and when he had seen the fire in her eyes he had been lost. He should not have stripped her naked, but she had looked at him with such need; he had almost lost his legendary control. Almost.

He was hard again just remembering how he had exposed her to his gaze, how she had clung to the bedstead, her position showing fear, her eyes revealing something else entirely. Her round, pert breasts had thrust out at him, tipped with hardened, aroused nipples. How he had wanted to close his lips around them and make her moan! How he had wanted to sink his face into the soft curls between her legs and lap at her until she cried out! He could have taken the discarded nightgown and used it to tether her to the bed then thrust his aching tool into her and pound her all night. Oh God! His cock reared up as he imagined how her pale round arse would look under his dark calloused hands and his fist wrapped itself around his thick shaft and started to stroke. But he opened his eyes and in the mirror saw a man about to lose control and once again reined himself in. He whipped his hand away from his twitching member and reached for his drawers.

He would not think of her again. Losing himself in the soft curves of such a woman would only spell disaster.

There was a knock on the door. It was Hanson, his First Mate. Apparently the Navy had been spotted and they had to get out, quick. He sent him to wake the slumbering crew, and dressed quickly with relief. Out at sea there were many life-threatening hazards, but there were no hungry eyed women to make him their captive.

***

Letitia surveyed the dining table in front of her ladened with the usual lunch fare. The china was meticulously set out. The silverware gleamed. The mahogany table was polished to a perfect shine. A maid hovered behind her ready to leap to her assistance. Henry Lucas sat opposite her, straight backed in a pink silk coat and matching waistcoat, a dark wig on his head. This was a man she had spent months admiring hopelessly but now all she could think was he must be very hot.

In this climate, men should go without wigs and wear loose linen shirts, she thought to herself as she raised the fine china teacup to her lips. In fact, men should go shirtless, and she had a sudden memory of the Black Orchid's bare chest, his bronzed skin gleaming. She put down her cup, her hand shaking so much it rattled in the saucer.

"Are you alright, Letitia?" asked Henry, looking at her with concern.

She could feel the flush in her cheeks. "I am fine Henry. I didn't sleep well last night."

He continued to meticulously slice up an already small piece of ham, his hands elegantly holding the knife and fork. Why was he annoying her so? Up until today she had thought he was the most handsome man of her acquaintance. When her poor husband had been alive she had struggled to pay him attention when Henry had been in the room. She had found his every mannerism a delight, but now he was just annoying her. He suddenly seemed effeminate and overly dressed.

She knew why of course. Her head was full of visions of naked male flesh, rippling with muscles and covered in exotic tattoos. That morning, she had finally fallen asleep some time around dawn and had been tortured by dreams of strong hands exploring her, of hot lips against her skin. When she woke she could have sworn she could still smell him in the air, a heady scent of aroused male. How could she ever return to a time before? How could she continue to desire the buttoned up, bewigged man in front of her?

Chapter 3

It took them three solid days and nights of sailing to evade the Royal Navy frigates. On the fourth day they wearily limped into the hopefully safe haven of Nassau, almost crazy with lack of sleep and physical exhaustion.

This was the life The Black Orchid had consigned himself to and there was no room for women, even heartbreakingly beautiful women with fire in their eyes.

Before he could rest he had to go ashore and make sure the ship's supplies were replenished. There was a huge tear in one of the sails, and the cook had gone missing back in Bridgetown and needed replacing if any of them were to eat more than dry biscuits ever again. It was on days like this that Tom Ashdown really felt the ridiculous lie of the legend of The Black Orchid. He was just a man trying to do a job, one that involved far more running away than attacking. Currently a very tired man. And permanently a frustrated one.

Tom wore his plainest clothes and a battered tricorn hat over his distinctive head. He did not want to be recognised today. Sometimes it helped to be a living legend but today he was beyond weary and did not need to make anyone tremble in fear. He just needed to be left alone to get on with his errands. Even living legends had chores.

But he forgot to conceal the damned tattoo and was cornered outside a tavern by a ridiculously curvaceous whore intent on bedding a buccaneer. Her huge bosom heaved inches from his face as her hand over enthusiastically kneaded his unresponsive groin. He was too exhausted to fend her off. He just slumped against the wall with her eager hands practically undressing him. He was tempted to pull out his dagger, the steel variety that is, and put an end to her explorations by pressing it against her fleshy neck. He would like to hear her squeal but he summoned the energy to push her away instead. She landed heavily on her bottom with a cry of protest and he stalked off leaving her to find her pieces of eight someplace else. He hated this God forsaken town. Everyone in it was feverish for money and nothing else.

He asked around the taverns for a cook and was eventually directed to a place that was nothing more than a shack, down by the docks. As he pushed his way into the crowded darkness he had a feeling this was not a good place to be. There was a stench of rotting fish and body odour. The crowd of men was gambling, slamming cards down onto a crate in front of them.

Thomas saw who he was looking for through the dank gloom, a big sweating man with rotten teeth.

"Fergus Tuck?" he shouted into the tumult.

The man turned to him, flexing his bulky biceps threateningly.

This was the moment to unleash the legend.

Thomas took off his hat and drew himself to his full height, fixing them all with his piercing blue eyes.

"The Black Orchid," someone stated helpfully

"And who the hell is he?" the huge man bellowed. He really was very stupid.

Tom whipped out his sword and holding it steady, the sharp tip almost touching the cretin's bulbous nose, said slowly and quietly, "You are about to find out."

His words were enough to silence the crowd, and as one, the gamblers took a step backwards. The big man stared at the more imposing man in front of him, mouth agape. Thomas stood in assured silence for a while, sword poised, eyes piercing.

"Are you a cook?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes," the man gulped.

"Good, come with me," he said, lowering his sword and sweeping out of the room.

***

"You are not a sailor are you?" Tom said, as they walked across the deck of 'The Innocent.'

"No, Sir," the big man replied, unsteady on his feet.

"Then what brings you to Nassau?"

"A string of bad luck. I had a good living in Barbados, was cook to some toffs newly arrived, but the man went and died, and left his lady wife in the protection of a lilly livered coward."

He almost fell trying to negotiate a coil of rope. Tom nimbly stepped out of the way. He had no intention of being crushed by 250 pounds of landlubber.

"She was a looker, by God! Breasts like ripe melons, lips that could have sucked you dry. I'd have liked a taste of her cunny, but a gang of thieves got to her first."

He was coarse, but he told a good story.

"Dragged her off in the night and burnt the house down. No sign of the man who was supposed to be protecting her. I got out just in time. Got filthy drunk that night and woke up on a schooner bound for the Bahamas. Two days later here I am, shoved from pillar to post. Don't know which end's up."

Tom thought for a moment. "If you cook for us, I will pay you well plus a share of our booty. There are just a few rules; no gambling, no drink below deck, fights to be conducted on shore and..." he fixed him with his blue stare, "no women on board."

The man nodded, too intimidated to refuse.

"By the way," the Captain drawled, "The woman with the lovely breasts, what was her name?"

"Lady Letitia Howard, God rest her soul."

Chapter 4

Tom kept thinking about her toes, those pretty little toes with perfect nails. Were they now rotting in a shallow grave? Or lying at the bottom of the sea? Or even worse, were they contorted with pain, or left in a lonely place to starve? He so regretted leaving her that night. If he had carried her off, she would not have suffered at all. Instead, she would have been satisfied, repeatedly and thoroughly. The Black Orchid was not just a legendary fighter.

But he was not to know what was about to befall her. He had innocently thought he was saving her. And saving himself.

Could he return to Barbados and find out what had happened to her? Or was he better off forgetting her and finding their next ship to plunder?

Goddamn it, he would regret this! He ordered Hanson to turn the ship towards Barbados.

"But the navy?" Hanson asked puzzled.

"I'm not afraid of their bloated frigates," growled the Captain.

Hanson knew better than to argue. Tom was the Captain, and a stubborn one at that.

"I have some unfinished business," he said in the way of explanation and stared out into the ocean, his thoughts elsewhere.

***

Letitia opened her eyes and found a pair of soft blue eyes gazing at her with concern. She struggled to focus and thought she was hallucinating when she saw the blonde ringlets, and diamond choker around an elegant neck and realised this was a woman. A cool hand rested on her forehead and a gentle voice said, "Don't be afraid."

She relaxed back into the velvet sofa she was lying on, her head swimming, her limbs aching. The woman held a crystal glass to her lips and persuaded her to drink. The brandy was sweet and glided down her throat, warming her veins.

Her eyes began to take in more of her surroundings. The room was lushly decorated in shades of magenta. A huge ornate mirror covered one wall. There were others in the room, standing hushed in the shadows. A black man hovered by the woman, his expression anxious.

"Where am I? What happened?" Letitia whispered.

"We found you wandering by the road," the woman said.

Letitia just stared at her, confused.

"How did you get there?" the woman asked.

"I don't know," Letitia said honestly.

"Who are you?" the man asked in a deep and sonorous voice.

"I don't know," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

***

Bridgetown was not giving up its secrets. Tom sent his men to every tavern, shop and tailors but no one knew what had happened to Lady Howard. Her house stood in the abandoned plantation, a charred wreck. The slaves had all run away and the few field workers still remaining knew nothing except the house had burned down one night and the mistress had disappeared. He found out that some gentleman had been charged to protect her, but no one had seen him since that fateful night either.

Tom spent hours pacing his cabin, battling with his conscience. He should accept that the trail was colder than a pirate's heart and be on their way. The ship's supplies were running low. It was too long since they had refilled the coffers. He had a ship full of men to support and worrying about some woman with fire in her eyes was taking up invaluable time and energy. He had to pull himself together and forget her. It was too long since he had enjoyed release between a woman's thighs, he must be going crazy with frustration.

He wrenched open his cabin door and yelled, "Hanson! We're going to Bella's!"

Chapter 5

Madam Bella Lafitte had a large house on the edge of town. It looked respectable enough with its painted shutters and lush well-tended garden, but behind the polished windows lay untold pleasures for the men who could afford it.

Madam herself opened the door to The Black Orchid and his first mate. She smiled a practiced smile of delight, her pearly white teeth shining like the diamond choker around her neck. "Captain Ashdown and Mr Hanson! Do come in."

There was a squeal of delight from two girls who at that moment were descending the stairs. The ladies all loved Hanson, with his thick blonde hair and generous lips. They would squabble over who would be lucky enough to spend a night enjoying his muscular, agile body. The captain, on the other hand was treated with caution. He was skilled in bed, the few women who had serviced him could vouch for that, but his blue gaze was too intense and too disapproving. He fucked with a frightening desperation and could leave a girl exhausted.

"We missed you when you last came into port, Captain," Bella lied.

"I was busy," he muttered.

***

Tom sat in the drawing room with his head in his hands. He wasn't going to be able to get it up, he could tell. His damned brain was messing with his body again, and he was damned if anyone was going to find out. The Black Orchid was not going to be a laughing stock, or even worse, an object of pity. But before he could move he heard the door open and someone enter the room.

"I don't need company," he growled, head still in his hands.

Whoever it was moved closer with a rustle of silk skirts. He smelled roses, an oddly familiar scent that went straight to his groin. He looked up and there in front of him stood Lady Letitia Howard. She looked different. She was fully clothed, for a start, and the last time he had seen her, her dark hair had fallen in waves over her shoulders. Now it was pinned up tidily. Where was the fire in her eyes? She looked at him blankly with no recognition at all.

"Don't you recognise me?" he asked her.

"They tell me you are The Black Orchid," she said, examining his face with a wary expression.

Was she acting? If she was, she was very good at it.

"I am," he said, "But we have met before."

She examined his face, "I don't think so. I think I would have remembered you."

Her eyes skimmed over his body in a way that made him harden. They rested on the bloodstain on his shirt.

"You are hurt!" she gasped and a warm hand rested on his chest, making him catch his breath.

"It's nothing," he croaked, "Not a fresh wound." It was true. He hadn't even noticed he was bleeding through the dressing. Some reckless fool had thought it was clever to tussle with the Black Orchid, fuelled by too much rum. Tom had taught him a lesson, but unusually come away wounded himself. Lately, he had been losing the upper hand more and more.

"But you are bleeding," she said, sitting beside him and gently unbuttoning his shirt to expose his bandaged chest. His head swam, as she leaned towards him. He inhaled her scent.

She trailed her fingers across the bandage and looking up at him asked, "Are you in pain?"

Yes he was, but not in the way that she thought. He dragged his eyes away from her lips and stood up, adjusting himself slightly.

"What is you name?" he asked.

"They call me Rose."

"What is your real name?" he continued impatiently.

Her brown eyes suddenly filled with tears, "I don't know."

He waited for her to continue, aware that he had to measure every word he said from now on.

"I have lost my memory," she murmured, " I remember nothing before I came here."

The responsibility was unbearable. He was possibly the only person in the world who could tell her who she was. Him and the ship's cook.

Then a truly nefarious thought came into his head. He could tell her she was his mistress. He could take her to his ship and claim her for his own as if she were salvaged treasure. He would think of how to silence the cook later. Could he do something so wicked? Well, he was the Black Orchid after all.

He sat down next to her and holding her face in his strong hands he brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb and then did what he had wanted to do from the first moment he saw her. He kissed her.

Chapter 6

Letitia had lost her memory but she somehow knew that this kiss was no ordinary one. The man's lips were hot and hard against hers, his tongue forcing her mouth open and plunging into her. It was not a gentleman's kiss. But then, she reminded herself, he was a pirate and they were in a brothel.

She tentatively touched his shoulders, which were broad and straining under the fine linen of his shirt, as his hands buried into her hair pulling out some of the pins. His mouth left hers and trailed searing kisses across her jaw and then down her throat. A groan was coming from deep in his chest and it frightened her. She whimpered slightly and tried to pull away from his firm hold.

"Oh my darling Marie," he groaned against her neck, "I thought I had lost you."

She froze. What had he just said? As his hand found its way over her waist towards her breasts, she feebly tried to push him away.

"What did you just call me?"

"Marie, that is you name," he said, his eyes dark with arousal.

"My name?" she stammered. "You know me?"

"Of course I know you! You are my fiancée!"

"But...?" she did not know what to say.

"You were kidnapped, practically from under my nose and I have been searching for you ever since."

"I am engaged to a pirate?" she asked incredulously.

"Secretly," he said, "No one knows yet."

She stared at his mesmerizing face. Even if he was the most compelling man she had ever seen, or thought she had ever seen, she could not believe she would entertain a pirate and certainly not be engaged to one.

But when he kissed her again and made her head swim with the intoxicating pleasure of it, she had to concede that maybe she had done this before.

***

Hanson was not happy. He had been dragged from the bed of a deliciously accommodating blonde who was at that moment asking him if her friend could join them.

"Have you gone mad?" he asked his Captain.

"Possibly," Tom replied, stroking a hand over his shaved head.

"It's your number one rule: No Women on Board Ship."

"Do you think we could disguise her?"

Hanson snorted, "Does she look like a boy?"

Tom pictured the lovely breasts that almost spilled over the neckline of her dress and imagined cutting the lustrous hair. "No," he said.

"Leave her here. Bella is a reasonably kind mistress."

"Her husband owed me and I am determined to have my debt repaid."

Hanson raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. He knew the Black Orchid too well to think that was his true motivation.

"She's not a whore," Tom sighed wearily, "She's a Lady and I feel honour bound to protect her."

Hanson laughed, "That would be a Pirate's honour, would it?"

His Captain looked wretched, as if he could hardly believe he was doing this. He was clearly being guided by powers beyond his control and Hanson knew all about the lure of the fair sex.

"OK. We'll tell the crew she's a hostage. Now give me half an hour," and he returned to bed to give the blonde a farewell she would not forget in a long time.

***

Back on board 'The Innocent' Tom could breathe a sigh of relief. It was the dead of night and they smuggled the Lady on board without anyone seeing. The explanations could wait until the morrow. Hanson was turfed out of his cabin and 'Marie' was left to enjoy her first night in a narrow berth.

Bella had been her usual accommodating self, although she clearly found it hard to believe that The Black Orchid was engaged to be married. She became less suspicious when a bag of gold coins was pressed into her hand. Letitia herself remained confused and doubtful but passively allowed them to lead her from her house of refuge. As she was led through the dark town, she wondered if there were two more handsome pirates in the Caribbean and if that had made this strange revelation a little easier to bear.

Tom lay awake in his own berth hardly believing what he had done. He had been ready to crush that nefarious thought that had come into his head but then he had kissed her and he had been lost once again. The kiss was not quite the same as he had imagined. He had been a little disappointed with how tentative she had been. When he had stood at the end of her bed on that sultry night and she had scorched that hot gaze over his body, he had imagined she would kiss with passion and an uncontrollable fever. But there was time to rekindle the fire.

For once, he had no real plan. He had some idea that he would keep her captive until they found a relative or someone they could hand her over to, maybe even win a ransom of some kind. In the meantime, she would be safe and not having to service greedy aristocrats and lascivious pirates. Yes, the irony did hit him, but he had no intention of forcing her into anything. He had no doubts about his self-control. By the time he had finished with her, she would come to him of her own free will and beg him to bed her.

Chapter 7

Hanson confronted his Captain across the scarred mahogany desk, littered with papers and maps and a barely touched breakfast. The Black Orchid glared back at him, his fingers angrily caressing a quadrant, his blue eyes stormy.

"I need to tell the crew about her." Hanson said. "We can't keep her locked up forever. They're bound to notice eventually. The cabin boy's already twigged. I had to threaten him with a flogging to keep him silent."

Tom threw the quadrant down angrily and pushing his chair backwards, stood up and paced the room. "And have them all after her like animals in heat? Not likely."

"Tell them she's yours then," Hanson said in his usual measured tones.

Tom's blue eyes fixed him with a sudden hope and then clouded over. "No! That wouldn't do, my reputation would be in pieces. I'm not having them think I've gone soft for some woman."

Hanson barely managed to suppress a snort of laughter but seeing his Captain's furious glare, he said instead, "Right then, we'll carry out our original plan of telling them she's a hostage, but you'll have to be prepared to keep them all away from her. They're a horny bunch and she's a pretty piece."

He backed off quickly as Tom launched himself towards him. "You'd better keep your hands off her yourself," he growled, inches away from his face. "If you lay a single finger on her, I shan't be responsible for my actions."

"I have no intention of laying anything on her!" Hanson protested, his hands held in the air. "I'm hardly starved of female attention, unlike some of the buggers round here. A couple of Madam Lafitte's accommodating employees saw to that quite nicely last night, thank you very much."

Tom slumped back down in his chair and sulkily stared at a map in front of him. Hanson knew his Captain well enough to not expect an apology. "Are you going to tell me who she is?"

"No."

Hanson crossed his arms and stood, waiting patiently. Tom took a deep breath. "She's the widow of an old acquaintance of mine. We went to school together and when he came to the Caribbean I leant him some money, but he went and died before he paid me back."

"And you're wanting some recompense?"

"Maybe. He was mixed up in something and I want to find out what it was."

"Ah," Hanson said, "The plot thickens. I must say it's a relief that you haven't just completely lost your head over some doxy."

Tom scowled at Hanson's retreating back and wished he could fool himself so easily.

***

Letitia sat on the narrow bunk and stared at her hands. They were small and delicate, with beautifully shaped nails and the tender pale skin of someone who had led a pampered life. When she closed her eyes, she could picture a well-appointed house with big high ceilinged rooms, tastefully furnished and tended by efficient whispering servants. It was somewhere cold and peaceful and far away from this overbearing humid climate. How on earth had she found herself in this strange place? And how on earth had she become engaged to a pirate captain? It seemed inconceivable.

She pressed her fingers to her pounding temples desperately trying to remember anything more substantial than these far away memories. Then suddenly there was the rattling of a key in the lock and the door of the cabin swing open.

"Marie," the man said in his deep voice as he entered the room, dominating the tiny space, making goose bumps rise on her clammy flesh. "Did you sleep well?"

She looked up at him, looming above her, his long legs clad in clinging britches, his white shirt billowing around his broad torso, and her whole body responded again to what an imposing man he was.

"Yes," she stammered in a small voice. "But why are you keeping me under lock and key if I am your fiancée?"

He ran his palm over his shaved head for a moment and then sat down beside her, his warm body radiating heat. He took hold of her hand. Her tiny hand looked impossibly small and white in his big brown fist. His thumb pressed against her palm and she shivered.

"It's for your own safety," he said in a low voice that wrapped around her. "Sailors are not known for their gentlemanly behaviour towards women, my love."

"But ... I am so alone...and there is nothing to do."

He gently lifted her hair away from her neck and his breath blew hot on her nape. "I would keep you in my quarters but we are not married yet and it would not be wise." His hand brushed against her breast, as his lips touched her bare skin. "I cannot trust myself around you, my sweet."

Letitia heard a moan escape her lips as his hot mouth moved over the heated skin of her neck, and his hand moved to gently cup the aching swell of her breast. A frightening pressure was beginning to build in the very centre of her that had her pushing against his hand and grasping a handful of his shirt. His thumb found the tight bud of her nipple as his lips closed over hers and possessed her mouth in a hungry kiss that had her twisting and writhing in his arms, but as soon as the kiss had begun he ended it, abruptly pulling away from her and standing up.

"No, my love. You will not tempt me so!" he said firmly. "I have a ship to command. I will send the cabin boy along with some reading matter, you will have to be satisfied with that." And with a slam of the door and a rattle of the key, he was gone.

***

Tom smiled to himself as he strode up to the decks. He had the Lady Letitia exactly where he wanted her, his crew was none the wiser, and they were on their way to Pearl Island where some questions might be answered. For once, things were going his way.

Chapter 8

Letitia tossed and turned in her narrow bed driven half crazy by fevered dreams of hard insistent hands ripping clothes from her body and hot lips searing across her flesh. She woke to find her own hands thrust between her legs and pulled them away with horror, appalled at her own wanton behaviour.

She was being subjected to the worst kind of torture, a torture she did not think she could bear for much longer. By day she was left entirely alone, locked up in this tiny room with nothing to do but read something called ' Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure' be a Mr. John Cleland which as the title suggested, turned out to be shockingly graphic and do absolutely nothing to cool her overheated imagination. By the time her supposed fiancée visited her once again that evening she was desperate for his touch, which he gave to her with his usual expertise and control, driving her to moan against him as he tantalised her with his mouth and his tongue, and touched her through her clothes but steadfastly refused to go any further no matter how much she breathlessly begged.

She had to get out of this cabin, to breathe some fresh air, see the sky, or she would go crazy! And here was her opportunity, she thought, as the key rattled in the door and the dirty face of the cabin boy appeared, struggling with a tray of food.

"Good morning Miss," he blushed, his gaze on the floor as he stumbled in.

"Jim!" she cried. "How good it is to see you!" She took the tray off him and balanced it on the bed. "What is happening on deck today?"

"Wind is finally up," he muttered. "Captain is full of temper even though we are making good. Should be at Pearl Island by dusk."

That was good news indeed. They might actually release her from her captivity for a while, but dusk was far too long a time to wait.

"So everyone is busy up above?" she asked. "No one down below?"

He just nodded.

"How about letting me out for a little while, Jim?" she asked softly, running a hand over his tousled head. "My legs are badly in need of a stretch."

"Oh, I can't do that," he said. "Hanson would give me a thrashing if he found out."

"He would never know," she murmured. "Just leave the door unlocked. I'll be careful."

Jim looked up at her shyly, his refusal caught in his throat and he quickly fled slamming the door behind him, but not locking it, Letitia realised with satisfaction.

***

Letitia could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps above but nothing down below, just the creaking of the ship, so she tentatively eased the door open a few inches and poked her head out into the narrow corridor. It was deserted. She tiptoed down the passage, steadying herself by resting her hands on either wall and wondered where the Captain's quarters were. Was she brave enough to enter his private world and try to find out something about this mysterious man? So far, he had given very little away. He had even refused to tell her how they had met and it made her feel powerless and vulnerable and she was increasingly uncomfortable with that sensation. It was bad enough to have lost her memory, but to be so beholden to him did not sit well.

She turned a corner and heard the splashing of water and a cheerful whistling. She was about to change direction when something caught her eye that stopped her in her tracks. It was Hanson, the man who had brought her to the ship that night, and he was naked, completely and utterly without clothes. He stood with his back to her and she was transfixed by the sight of bronzed skin stretched over rippling muscles, as he held a wooden bucket over his head and tipped it so water splashed over his head and poured in rivulets over his shoulders and down his broad back and ran over his tight, round buttocks. He shook his head and his thick blonde locks sprayed droplets around the room. Letitia had never seen a naked man before, not even her husband, and the word 'magnificent' popped into her head as she stared open-mouthed. Then she suddenly realised she had remembered her husband. She had had a memory of him, standing embarrassed in their bedroom, dressed in his long nightshirt, asking if he could share her bed.

She was suddenly roused from her thoughts to see that Hanson had turned round, and she had an excellent view of every inch of his perfectly sculpted chest, a tight belly ridged with lines of muscles that led down to ... oh lord, she had not imagined a man would look that fine, that tempting. His cock rose from a nest of dark blonde hair, much larger than she had ever imagined, thick and rigid and twitching. As she stared, his hand closed around the shaft and his thumb stroked along its length. A drop of some clear liquid oozed from the tip, which caused her to lick her lips.

"Do you like what you see?" Hanson asked in a rough voice.

Letitia jumped and her eyes shot to his face. He was staring at her, the empty bucket dangling from his fingers. She gulped, unable to move or look away.

"Come closer," he said quietly.

And she did, hardly able to believe what she was doing but pulled towards him by unknown forces. Her skirts brushed his bare toes and he dropped the bucket onto the wooden planks, as he took her hand.

"Touch it," he said. "I know you want to."

He moved her trembling hand towards his cock and her fingers touched smooth skin, so unbelievably soft she gasped in surprise. He ran her fingers along his shaft and she felt him swell and grow harder, and when she reached the slippery head he moaned and gripped her wrist tightly.

Suddenly a loud voice thundered from above, "Hanson! Where the devil are you?"

"Go back to your cabin," he said through clenched teeth.

She looked up at him and he gripped her wrist tighter.

"I mean it. Turn around now and go back to your cabin and do not leave it again."

And Letitia turned and fled and flung herself down onto her narrow bed, her heart hammering loudly in her chest.

Chapter 9

At dusk, the Captain came for her. He stood in the doorway of her cabin, dressed in his usual tight britches and a clean linen shirt, open at the neck showing the tattoo on his brown skin. in his strong hands he was holding a thin strip of leather.

"I am sorry to have to do this to you," he said in a soft voice that made her tremble, "but if you wish to come aboard with us, I must bind your wrists. I have kept our betrothal a secret and the crew think you are a hostage."

Letitia eyed the restraints with a shiver of fear. "Why would you have told them that?" she asked, her voice a tremulous whisper.

He sighed and stepped nearer to her. She inhaled the salty scent of him and despite the fear of what he held in his hand, she felt a familiar quickening stir in the core of her. She breathed him in as he came closer, and goose bumps of both fear and arousal pricked her arms as he reached for her. She gasped as he took hold of her hands and turning her around, held them behind her back. His breath was warm on her neck as he murmured into her ear in his deep, refined voice, "It's for your own safety, my sweet. Women are not allowed on board ship." And she felt the cold leather wrap around her wrists as he bound them together.

"But you are the Captain," she said, her voice coming out in a slight moan, her back arching slightly as his hot mouth slid against her neck, and his strong hands pulled the restrains tighter.

"And I cannot be seen to be breaking my own rules," he sighed, running his hot hands down over her hips and grasping handfuls of her skirts as he pulled her against his hard body, "Even for my own fiancée."

Then he abruptly spun her around and grasping her chin in his rough hand, gave her a look so full of longing she almost swooned and his fingers clamped around her neck to hold her upright. "By God, you are so beautiful," he growled. "What I would like to do to you!"

Her mouth opened with a silent plea as his hand tightened around her neck, and he stared down at her with darkening eyes, his fingers digging into her delicate skin. Then suddenly his mouth was on hers, taking her with an untamed passion and she kissed him back, only able to touch him with her lips, pushing her whole body towards him with a wanton and furious need for more. His hand left her neck and grasped her breasts, pulling at her chemise, ripping at the buttons, and then he dragged his lips away from hers and found a nipple, sucking at it through the thin cotton of her gown, lifting her breast up with his hand. She threw her head back and whimpered with the pleasure of finally having him lose some of his control. A feral growl was coming from his throat as his tongue lathed her sensitive bud and a flood of desire tore through her body, straight to the very core of her. She felt a shocking rush of wetness and an overwhelming need to be possessed, here, now, tied up like this, as roughly as he liked, she didn't care, as long as he took her. "Please!" she cried. "Oh Please!"

Tom was on the very edge. He was moments away from ripping open his britches, shoving her legs apart and hammering into her, especially when she began to gasp, "Please," in a breathy little voice and he realised he had achieved what he had wanted; to have her begging for him. But then he tore his mouth from her luscious nipple and looked down at her face, and saw her gazing up at him with a look of mindless, passive arousal and he realised that he had seduced the wrong woman. This was not the same woman who had allowed him to rip her nightgown from her body and had looked at him with such fiery passion. The woman who had invaded his dreams ever since.

His hands went to her shoulders to both push her away from him and steady himself and he took a deep breath. He looked at her torn chemise. Damnation, he could hardly parade her in front of a crew of horny pirates looking like that. What had he been thinking? He pushed her down onto the bed and returning to his cabin found one of his own linen shirts.

When he returned, she was still sitting where she had left him, her hands uncomfortably tied behind her back, her beautiful black hair falling around her shoulders, a dazed look on her face. He tried not to look at the swell of her breasts escaping from the torn chemise as he untied her hands and helped her to pull the shirt on, then tied her wrists together again, this time in a more comfortable position at the front. The whole time, she gazed at his face, her eyes fixed on his mouth. He wanted to tell her whom she really was, it was on the tip of his tongue, but if he told her she would probably never forgive him and he did not think he could stand that. Maybe he should take her onto Pearl Island and just leave her there? Someone would pay a good price for her. That would be the cowards way out, but what a relief it would be!

Letitia stared at the Black Orchid's face in the dim light of the cabin. She had just had a sudden vision of him standing over her bed, his sword in hand as she cowered in a ripped nightgown. If he were her fiancée, when on earth had this scene taken place?

Chapter 10

The rowing boat rocked through the dark waters, packed with the rancid bodies of overly curious pirates. The particularly ugly specimen opposite Letitia was staring at her with his tiny porcine eyes and grinning menacingly, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth. She was suddenly glad she was covered by a voluminous linen shirt and she moved closer to Hanson who gently held one end of her restraints against his muscular thigh. He was dressed in a naval officer's frock coat, no doubt purloined from some poor victim, the gold brocade shining in the moonlight, one of the epaulettes torn and hanging of his shoulder, the linen shirt underneath undone, revealing the bare brown muscles of his chest. His shiny blonde hair was tied back with a red ribbon and he looked dissolute but also ridiculously dashing, especially against the hideous examples of manhood surrounding him. The Captain was at the other end of the boat, the broad silhouette of his shoulders outlined against the waves, his dark blue gaze fixed on the line of torches that ringed the edge of the island ahead of them, his tattoo glowing green and purple in the moonlight as he turned his head.

***

The Captain nimbly leapt from the boat, onto the sandy shore and strode towards the huge burly figure who was barreling towards him, flaming torch in his massive fist.

"The Black Orchid as I live and breathe!" the bear-like man boomed in an Irish brogue, his vast beard twitching, all its intricate plaits leaping in the fiery light like little snakes. "And to what do we owe this great honour?" he laughed, clapping his fist onto the Captain's shoulder. But as he leant into him all Letitia could hear was the word 'information' as the Captain slung his arm around the big man's shoulders and their words were lost to the night wind. In a moment they were walking back again and the big man was booming, "Come ashore my Pirate comrades! You are all welcome here! Come and enjoy the safety of Pearl Island for a night!" and there was a shout of joy from the sailors in the boat, as they wrestled to get onto dry land and stumbled over the beach towards a distant bonfire and no doubt the flagons of rum that awaited them there.

Hanson took hold of Letitia's arm and helped her to stand upright, then surprised her by easily lifting her into his arms. His stolen frock coat smelt faintly of gunpowder, and her hand curled around his neck and touched a strand of his soft hair as he carried her ashore and then gently set her down at the Captain's feet. The bearded Pirate was looking down at her and licking his lips.

"And what have we here? A pretty little missy!" he said, his lips red in the midst of his coarse black beard and reaching out, he looped one of her curls round his thick finger.

The Captain's fist shot forwards but he managed to check himself just in time. "A hostage," he growled. "My hostage," and he added with an unmistakable note of warning, "A lady."

The bearded pirate laughed, a big throaty chuckle. "It's like that, is it Tom!" and he turned and began trudging towards the bonfire, "You always did like a damsel in distress," he laughed. "Now leave her here with Hanson, and come with me to the cave and I'll see what I can find out for ye."

***

Letitia was not happy at the thought of being so near so many frenzied sailors swilling rum and fixing her with lascivious stares, but Hanson kept tight hold of her restraints and grabbing a flaming torch, guided her to a quiet spot away from the main bonfire. Thrusting the torch into the deep sand he then flung himself down, arms behind his head, long legs spread out, frock coat open, lazy smile spread across his face. Letitia crouched beside him, arms wrapped round her bent knees and tried not to look at him, although it was very hard not to, looking as he did and visions of his glorious nakedness still dancing in her head.

His eyes burned into her as he played with the leather restraint he held in his hand and tugged on it slightly so she could feel the pull against her wrists. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how tight his breeches were, straining over his crotch, his hard bulging crotch. Her eyes flicked up to his face and his smile was devilish.

"You've been thinking about me, haven't you?" he whispered, tugging on her wrist.

She gulped and looked away into the night, listening to the surf crashing against distant rocks, trying to ignore the yearning aching between her legs.

Then suddenly the spell was broken by an assertively strident voice, calling across the beach. "Mr Hanson!"

Hanson twitched and jerked upwards in a way that was most unlike his usual relaxed self.

"Mr Hanson!" the voice called again and a figure appeared out of the darkness, a surprisingly small figure considering the commanding tone of the voice.

"Dr Ferris," Hanson coughed out.

"Mr Hanson," the man said, "I wish to speak with you," and glancing at Letitia, added, "Immediately."

He looked extremely young to be a Doctor, Letitia thought. He was short of stature and slight, wearing a battered tricorn hat and barely filling his wool frock coat. He seemed to make up for lack of physical presence with a terrifyingly authoritative air, however. Hanson quickly got to his feet and calling for the cabin boy, ordered him to watch Letitia and then followed the Doctor off into the night with barely a backward glance.

***

Letitia gingerly stepped over the rocks. The moonlight was so bright, once her eyes had become accustomed to the dark she could see her way almost as easily as if it were daylight. Jim was waiting for her at the bottom of the slope, thinking she had merely gone to relieve herself, which had been her intention, but the she had heard voices and now she was trying to ascertain to whom they belonged. She heard a moan, and making sure her body was shielded by a rock, she peered around. She almost gasped from the sight she was confronted by.

Hanson had the Doctor in his arms. His mouth was hungrily moving over the other man's, his tongue plundering the Doctor's mouth. The Doctor was pushing Hanson's coat off his shoulders and running his hands over Hanson's bare chest. Hanson's hand was fisted in the Doctor's hair, desperately pulling it out of its pigtail. Letitia almost gasped out loud with the shock of what she was seeing and had to clamp her hand over mouth, thanking God she had persuaded Jim to loosen her restraints.

Then ripping at the buttons of the Doctor's coat and thrusting his hand inside, Letitia heard Hanson growl, "Show me those perfect titties, Gracie."

"No," the Doctor cried, in a distinctly feminine voice and pulling at Hanson's wrists said, "Do you know how long it takes to do these wretched bindings? Just kiss me Joshua."

And much to her relief Letitia realised that the Doctor was in fact a woman. Was it any wonder she had looked so young? She was a woman that Hanson was now kissing so ardently, Letitia felt herself grow wet and warm just watching them, especially when Hanson thrust his hand into the front of the Doctor's breeches making her cry out in surprise, and grind against him.

"Oh, Grace," Hanson moaned into her mouth. "You're so hot and tight."

The Doctor's legs wrapped around Hanson's hips and her small hands grasped hold of his tight buttocks as she gyrated against him and her moans escalated in intensity, almost as if she were in pain.

"Oh God, Gracie," Hanson gasped. "You're going to make me spend in my breeches!" he warned as the Doctor's cries spiraled into the night sky like an exotic bird, and Letitia pressed her hot cheek against the cold rock, puzzled by what she was witnessing but very keen to find out how it felt to be made to lose all sense like that.

Chapter 11

In the dim light of a dank and smoky cave in the cliff above the rocks where Hanson and his Doctor were still erotically entwined, a man called Wall-Eye Robinson was giving the Black Orchid some not wholly unexpected news. Apparently, Lord Robert Howard had not been entirely honest with his old school friend.

"I've heard tell," Wall-Eye said, poking the fire with a stick, "that the man was a gambler. 'e brought 'is debts from London and 'e found a way to pay them off 'ere. Apparently, he 'ad some lucrative kind of connection from way back and apparently, 'e was in deep with the worse kind of scum."

Tom raised his black eyebrows. Coming from a pirate, that could only mean one thing.

"A pirate hunter," The Bear confirmed, fixing Tom with a grave stare. "You need to be watching your back, my boy."

Tom stared into the flames, remembering how Robert had sought him out in the taverns of Bridgetown and pleaded him for that loan and how he had acquiesced so easily just because of their shared childhood memories, of those happy times spent playing by the banks of a river in Kent, of running wild through summer woods and the not so happy times shivering together in empty school rooms. He had so easily fallen into the trap. If anyone had found him at the house that night, if Letitia had cried out, he might be swinging from a gallows right now. His hand went to his neck.

"Who?" he rasped, his throat suddenly dry. "Who is the pirate hunter?"

"No one seems to know," the Bear said. "But he can't keep masked for much longer. We'll get the bastard, don't you worry. In the meantime, you be careful. Don't be taking any foolish risks."

Tom almost laughed.

"And that hostage of yours," The Bear said as an afterthought.

Tom looked up at him warily.

"I reckon you need to get rid of her as soon as possible. She looks like trouble."

Trouble was a kind way if putting it, Tom thought. He had the widow of lord Robert Howard captive and some unidentified pirate hunter who had been in collusion with Howard was somewhere out there hot on his trail. Trouble was a mild way of putting it.

He wasn't getting rid of her though, not yet. If Letitia regained her memory she might be able to tell him exactly who this pirate hunter was.

***

"You look familiar" Dr Ferris whispered to Letitia, peering at her through the smoke of the bonfire that had drifted down to the far reaches of the beach.

Letitia shivered slightly in the cool night breeze as the Doctor's clear blue eyes scrutinized her with a frank gaze. It was a pleasant change to be looked upon with detached inquiry rather than lust. The Doctor's hat was jammed back onto her head, but a strand of her blonde hair had escaped the hastily retied pigtail, and her cheeks were still slightly flushed. Letitia wondered for a moment whether to admit that she knew her secret, but something was holding her back from revealing too much.

"Apparently..." Letitia said, longing to have some kind of confidence, "I am betrothed to the Black Orchid."

Dr Ferris gave a sudden laugh and then quickly swallowed it, glancing over to where the Black Orchid himself had appeared and was deep in conversation with his First Mate.

"I'm sorry for my rather rude reaction," the Doctor said. "But it seems so unlikely."

They both watched the Captain towering above even Hanson, his shoulders broad in his dark coat, the long tails flapping in the wind that had suddenly strengthened.

"How did you meet?" she asked.

"That's the thing. I have no idea. I have lost my memory, you see. He tells me I was abducted and suffered a blow to the head and now I remember nothing since the night I was found wandering a country road."

The doctor brought her face closer to Letitia and seemed to be peering into her eyes, as if she could find what ailed her there.

"I have heard of such afflictions after a blow to the head," she said. "That part of the story is likely to be true, but Thomas Ashdown engaged to be married?" she said staring at the man standing tall in the sand. "That part is most unlikely." The Captain was turning towards them, so the Doctor quickly added, "It is obvious you are a Lady. How on earth would you have ended up involved with a reprobate like him?" Then she looked at the leather restraints still wrapped round Letitia's wrists, "At least not voluntarily?"

But the Captain had a reached them and all Letitia could do was stare at the Doctor open mouthed, realisation dawning in her foggy mind, the vision of the Black Orchid standing above her bed now beginning to slot into place.

"Time to return to ship," the Captain ordered, ignoring the Doctor and sweeping Letitia into his arms so suddenly she had no option but to cling onto his shoulders and grasp a handful of his wool frock coat to steady herself. His dark face was just inches from hers and he looked down at her, his long black eye lashes sweeping low, his lips full and sensuous, his strong chin shadowed with thick stubble. His hand cupped the swell of her breast and his tongue ran along his top lip as he grinned down at her and Letitia's traitorous body responded with a great leap of arousal, an unmistakable shot of pure lust that went straight to her groin. She closed her eyes and prayed for control.

He started striding over the sand towards the rowing boat they had pulled up the beach earlier. Letitia looked back to see Hanson nodding a hurried goodbye to the Doctor.

"He's coming with us," the Captain shouted, making Letitia jump.

"What?" Hanson had caught them up and was looking unusually flustered.

"I'm giving him passage to Nassau," the Captain said, gently placing Letitia in the boat. Letitia saw that the Doctor was standing just behind them with a carefully impassive expression on her face, but she saw the wicked gleam in her eyes as Hanson furiously stalked back up the beach to take his temper out on the crew.

Chapter 12

Grace watched the ship's First Mate agilely shin down the last few feet of the mast and leap onto the deck, landing lightly on his bare feet like a sleek blonde panther. He was shirtless and his white breeches stretched across his tight buttocks leaving very little to the imagination. The damned man was a fevered fantasy in the flesh, and Grace could still feel the wicked pleasure his hands could mete out on the most intimate parts of her. She clamped her legs together as her nipples stiffened under her taught bindings, and took a lungful of head-clearing sea air. But then he looked straight at her and grinned and her mind fogged again, unable to think of nothing but his mouth on hers, his brazen tongue thrusting between her lips.

"A good morning to you, Doctor Ferris!" he called cheerfully. "Did you sleep well Sir?"

She managed to grimace slightly in an imitation of a polite smile. He knew full well she had not had a wink of sleep in that narrow hammock surrounded by snoring brutes and unable to stop thinking about his clever hands. He was beside her now, looking down at her with that infuriating grin, running his hand over the bronzed skin of his bare chest, over the tight ridges of his abdominal muscles, down further, down to the waistband of his breeches...Oh Lord, she had to tear her eyes away from him and think of something else.

"Will we make good progress today?" she asked, her voice coming out in a croak and sounding rather manly for once.

"Wind is good! Should be in Nassau tomorrow," he replied, not taking his eyes from her mouth.

She pointedly looked away from him and at the horizon. It was a glorious day, the sky a deep blue with a few perfectly fluffy white clouds. But she was distracted by the smell of Hanson's sweat; a deliciously fresh scent that made her want to reach out and lick him.

"We have a casualty for you to see," he added.

"Oh yes!" she said a little too enthusiastically. This was exactly what she needed to get her spirits back on an even keel.

"The cook has scalded himself quite severely. If you'll come down below, he's in the galley."

***

Grace recognised the cook immediately. Fergus Tuck, the ugly ingrate. Where had she last seen him? Barbados?

He watched her dress his wound in silence, grunting when in pain but bearing the whole procedure with reasonable fortitude. Hanson hovered in the background for a while, but much to Grace's relief soon got bored and drifted away.

"Little Grace Ferris," Tuck eventually muttered. "What you doing dressed as a man?"

"Keep your trap shut Fergus Tuck," she said, deliberately pulling the bandage a little too tight. "Don't you breathe a word to anyone."

"You have my word, but what are you doing, on board a pirate ship? You're putting yourself in terrible danger."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Your poor father must be turning in 'is grave."

"Don't you bring my father into this. He's the reason why I'm here. Now you just keep your trap shut," she said securing the ends of the bandage round his arm, "and I'll be fine." She was just about to leave him when a thought struck her. "What are you doing on a pirate ship Fergus? Weren't you on some plantation in Barbados?"

He grunted. "I was and right happy until the whole place was burnt to the ground. You remember that Lady Howard? You gave her a potion for her headaches? She disappeared, most likely dead, poor Lady."

Grace remembered Lady Howard vividly, mainly because she had been wearing an exquisitely beautiful dress, the kind of dress that Grace could only dream of wearing. It had been made of taffeta silk and the bodice had been so low cut her breasts had almost spilled out, her modesty protected only by a fringing of fine lace. Grace also remembered her glorious black curls that rather shockingly fell loose around her shoulders...oh Lord!

"What is it Grace?" Fergus asked, seeing the look of amazement suddenly freeze the Doctor's expression.

"Nothing," Grace stammered, hurriedly collecting her equipment and ramming it into her doctor's bag. "There's someone I need to speak to quite urgently."

***

The Black Orchid sat at his desk with the maps and navigation equipment spread in front of him but unable to concentrate on the task in hand. He could not tear his mind away from the hauntingly beautiful woman locked in a cabin mere feet away from him.

Last night, when he had scooped her into his arms, she had felt so soft and warm and so right against him that it had taken all of his strength not to just sweep her on board and straight into his bed and pour out the truth into her lovely ear. He wanted to unburden himself. He needed to unburden himself and to be damned with the consequences. He stood up and slammed a fist down onto the desk. He was going to tell her the truth.

Chapter 13

Tom's hand went to the door handle but before he could turn it, the door violently shot open and a small, dark figure whirled into his cabin, and before he could register what was happening, a hand struck him hard across the face. He instinctively lashed out and grabbing the spitting beast, wrestled it into the room and managed to kick the door closed behind him.

"You despicable bastard!" she spat at him, trying to struggle out of his strong grip, wildly kicking at his shins.

He managed to turn her around, so that her knees were kept well away from his precious groin, and held her tight against him, pinning her arms to her chest. But she still kicked at him, luckily her small bare feet made little impact.

"How could you?" she cried, ineffectually still thrashing around and blinding him with her whipping hair, but her struggling was already weakening. "As if it isn't enough to practically rape me in my own bed, you then lie to me, abduct me and try to seduce me!"

Clearly someone had told her the truth before he could. Who was the traitor? The ship's cook? It couldn't possibly be Hanson could it?

"Ah, I see your memory has returned," he said clutching her tighter and murmuring into her hair, taking the opportunity to cup his hand over one heaving breast.

"Unhand me, you villain," she hissed.

He laughed and ran a thumb across one of her ripe buds. It instantly tightened and hardened at his touch, he noticed with delight.

"Do you remember that night?" he asked softly and a little gruffly. "And how much you wanted me?"

She made a final effort to struggle in his strong arms.

"Oh you wanted it so badly, my Lady. You were desperate to be swived by my big sword. Your little quim was so wet for me."

"How dare you!" she cried, her breathing laboured. "I just knew you had to be a stranger to me. I knew I would never entertain a man such as you!"

"Oh, but you've been so desperate for my kisses, my sweet Marie," Tom murmured into her ear as his arms tightened around her and under his insistent thumb, her nipple hardened further. "You've been begging me for more. You've been writhing in my hands, all wet and ready for it." His mouth closed around her ear lobe and sucked it wetly into his mouth. He could hear her breathing become more ragged as he licked down her neck, and her struggling lessened as his tongue drew a hot path along her fragrant skin. "And now you can have it," he growled. "You can have what you've been wanting so badly," and he pressed his tool, now rigid with need against her round buttocks. A strangled gasp escaped her throat as he pulled her hips against his urgently questing cock, and his fingers tore at the front of her bodice, desperately seeking more access.

"Let me go," she said weakly, but her body slumped against his as he violently ripped apart the seems of her bodice and pulled it down to release her breasts, her nipples rosy pink and standing hard and erect. "You bastard," she sighed and his cock jerked in the confines of his breeches, desperate to be free from all the layers of clothes that were preventing direct contact with her soft skin.

He was about to lean down and clamp his mouth over a rosy nipple when instead he gasped as a hand suddenly grabbed him through his breeches, and a thumb ran up his throbbing length. "Oh Letitia!" he moaned in her ear, and he grasped handfuls of her luscious breasts, squeezing them together, the sound of her real name on his lips making her squirm in his arms, and stroke him harder.

"You are a lying curr," she said slowly as she released him and turning, pushed him down onto the narrow bunk, her nimble hands reaching to the placket of his breeches. "I'll teach you not to deceive me," she growled and a cool hand snaked into his trousers and clasped his rock hard cock, all sense immediately deserting him.

He liked Lady Letitia Howard far more than Marie.

***

A mere half hour ago when the doctor had broken her news to Letitia she had wanted to kill Thomas Ashdown but now all she wanted to do was strip the handsome brute naked. All that time ago, on that steamy night, she had been desperate to see what lay beneath his breeches and now she was getting her chance and she was not disappointed. His cock was huge and hard in her hand, oozing against the pad of her thumb. For a moment there, when she had first grabbed at his crotch her intention had been to excite him to fever pitch and then leave him high and dry, just as he had done to her for so many nights, but she suddenly found herself extremely reluctant to stop, especially when he reached up and held her heavy breasts in his hands, running his thumbs across her sensitive nipples. He groaned long and loud as both her hands circled his thick shaft, and she felt the core of her become instantly slick and wet. Her lips itched to kiss him, to feel his hot mouth against hers. She wanted to rip his clothes off him and caress every inch of his hard body. She wanted his big cock inside her, thrusting into her and pounding her until she was screaming. But she allowed herself just a few more caresses of the silky soft column that filled her hands so beautifully, and teasingly lowered her lips to barely touch the weeping tip then reluctantly pulled away, stood back and looked down at him. It was a satisfying sight; a legendary pirate captain, spread out on the bed, gazing up at her with glazed eyes, undone and abandoned to lust.

"Letitia," he groaned, his hand grasping hold of his throbbing prick. "Take me in your mouth. Suck me until I come!"

She smiled down at him stroking himself, at the desperate look in his blue eyes. "Not likely, you unscrupulous dog. I'm never touching you again!" she spat out with relish and then promptly turned and pulling her bodice over herself as best she could, left the room.

Chapter 14

The ship's First Mate was doing something unspeakably obscene with his mouth and his tongue. Oh God, his tongue! Grace's hand grasped his hair tighter and she clamped her eyes shut as his bare broad shoulders pressed her thighs further apart and his wicked fingers joined the torturous pleasure he was meting on her.

"Joshua!" she gasped, as two fingers sank slowly inside her and his hot tongue lashed over that unbearably responsive nubbin he seemed so familiar with. Her thighs began to shake and she pushed his face firmly onto her, hardly aware of what she was doing any longer. "Don't stop!" she cried as he sucked her into his mouth and his fingers found a spot inside her that made her whole body convulse around him, great waves of pleasure bursting from her core and engulfing her in shuddering pulses.

When she came to, she found she was still grasping his hair and he was looking up at her, his blue eyes dancing. He lazily licked her swollen folds one more time, making her twitch and then he stood up. His hair had come out of his pigtail, his lips were slick, his eyes were heavy and hot, his chest was bare, all gloriously smooth and muscular and he looked utterly beautiful. Why he would want her, plain little Grace Ferris, she had no idea.

He smiled again, his lazy languorous smile that always, without fail, made her heart give a little leap under her bindings, no matter how hard she tried to subdue it. Glancing down at his breeches he said, "Now I have a little problem."

She gulped and studied the considerable bulge straining the seems of his tight white breeches. As usual, very little was being left to the imagination. She could make out the shape of his tight testicles and the vein that ran the length of his shaft. She was a doctor after all. She was no stranger to anatomy. But when he touched himself and ran his hand along his length without taking his eyes off her she gulped again and felt a little hot. She also realised her legs were still spread and open to the elements and anyone who may care to stumble across them. She reached for her own breeches which were in a hastily discarded pool on the floor.

"No!" Hanson said rather roughly, and reaching forward he pushed her back onto the beam she was balanced on, gently opened her legs again and ran a finger through her wetness. "I want to look at you a while longer."

"Anyone could find us, Joshua," Grace said, her voice coming out in a whisper. "It's dangerous."

"Just a little while longer, Gracie," he murmured, stroking his hardness and gazing at her private place. "You are so beautiful there."

As if in a trance he unbuttoned his breeches and pulled out his cock. Grace was not surprised at how large it seemed in his hand, and how it seemed to grow in girth as she gazed at it.

"I would love to sink inside you," he said, his voice taking on a dark quality that made her squirm. "But you are so determined to stay a virgin."

"I am, Joshua," she said emphatically, although looking at him now she was closer than she had ever been to changing her mind. "My life is difficult enough as it is without the added complication of pregnancy." Her voice sounded priggish and frigid even to her own ears and she winced. "And who knows, one of these days I may have a normal life and want to marry," she added, an unexpected lump suddenly appearing in her throat.

Hanson's clear blue eyes suddenly became smoky and grey and fiercely taking her face in his hands he kissed her, a soulful kiss full feeling that went all the way to her toes. But as his tongue found its way into her mouth the kiss became more heated and Grace wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, so that his exposed member was grinding hard against her belly and then lower against her enticing wetness, and she could feel a growing longing to open for him, to open up and take him in. Then the slippery head of his cock was nudging into her and she had pushed his breeches down and had her hands on his tight backside and he was groaning into her ear, "Just a little way in, Grace. Just a little way." Her nails dug into his skin as he pushed a fraction of an inch inside her, and her whole body was screaming out for him to push all the way in, to fill that aching void, but something stopped her and she cried out, "No!" and sinking to her knees she wrapped her fist around his cock and stroked it up and down his shaft just as he had shown her before. She looked up at him as she worked him. He held onto one of the rough beams of the ship to steady himself as he gazed down at her, beads of sweat breaking out on the tight skin of his chest and belly. Her hand moved slickly over his steel hard shaft lubricated by the pre cum that leaked from the tip and his whole body started to tremble. "Oh yes," he gasped as he threw his head back. "Keep going, Grace," he moaned as she felt his cock pulse and leaps in her hand and streams of cum shot into the air and splashed onto the wooden boards. She continued to stroke him until every drop of sticky seed had leaked from the tip of his still hard cock and he was no longer shaking.

He took hold of her under the arms and dragging her up to him, kissed her hungrily, pulling her hair out of its pig tail and capturing her bottom with his big hands. "Joshua," she laughed against his lips, "We have to stop. We have to go ashore. Everyone else has."

"Nassau be damned," he growled into her mouth.

Grace pulled her mouth away from his and held his lovely face in her hands. "Look at me," she said. "You are a pirate, Joshua Hanson. One of these days someone is going to catch up with you and hang you from some gallows and I will be damned if I am going to cry over your corpse." His clear blue eyes gazed into hers, so deceptively innocent she could cry. She took a deep breath. "I am disembarking in Nassau. You are sailing off to God knows where on your pirate ship. That's all there is to it." And giving him one last kiss on his full lips she pulled up her breeches, tied her hair back into its pigtail, rammed her hat back onto her head and left the room, trying her very hardest not to look back at the naked God who was slumped against a beam stunned into silence.

Chapter 15

"Where in the devil is Hanson?" Tom muttered to himself as he pushed through the crowds thronging the narrow lane running up from the docks, his hand firmly gripping Lady Howard's arm. "Damn you, Letitia, stop struggling!" he complained.

"My name is Lady Howard!" she called after him.

"So you are speaking to me now," he pointed out and she petulantly snapped her mouth closed, making him laugh despite his bad temper. She did not look much like a Lady, with her loose curls falling around her shoulders and her torn stained gown. Yesterday, she had not behaved much like a Lady either when she had tormented him almost to breaking point. Today, he had not restrained her figuring she had no where to go, but he did not quite trust the edgy look in her eyes and the way she glanced around her, so he kept a firm hold on her arm as he pulled her up the hill and into the tavern he had been looking for. But she gripped the doorframe with a surprisingly strong clutch, dug her heels in and refused to move. With an exasperated sigh he turned back to her.

"I am not entering this establishment," she said, her pointed chin high in the air, her dark eyes flashing angrily.

Tom's annoyed blue gaze took in her torn bodice, the lush swell of her breasts heaving over her corset, her wild hair and its tangled curls and a certain part of him responded enthusiastically to the sight. His balls tightened and his cock swelled and yet again he was bewitched by the combination of her alluring curves and stubborn disposition. He ignored his eager prick and instead laughed heartily, throwing his head back with glee. "I assure you, you will not look the least bit out of place in this fine establishment!"

She fixed him with a vicious glare and his half hard cock leapt in his breeches. "That was not my concern, you mongrel," she said through gritted teeth. "And you know it."

"Oh get off your high horse my Lady and come inside," he laughed tightly. "You could do with a swig of rum, it might lighten your mood."

Surprisingly, she let him pull her inside the dim room. It was noisy and smoky and full of the usual motley crew of degenerates. A couple of them slapped Tom on the back as he passed and more of them avoided his eyes and turned their backs, not keen on capturing the Black Orchid's attention. He pushed Letitia down onto a bench in the corner and slid in beside her, deliberately jamming his leg against her skirts and forcing her towards the wall. Her shoulders pushed ineffectually against his as she wriggled on the seat and he managed to suppress a grin as he looked down at the creamy swell of her tits bouncing under the torn chemise. He was enjoying himself a little too much.

"It appears I am still your hostage," she said, taking a sip of the rum punch the bar wench eventually brought them and refusing to look at him.

"There you are wrong," he replied, casually looking around the room still wondering where Hanson had got to. Now he was actually hoping his First Mate would take his time, especially as he pressed his hip into Letitia's and felt her soft curves against his hard muscle. "You are a free woman Lady Howard," and he pronounced her name very carefully and with more than a hint of amusement, then looking down at her he added, "but I doubt you have anywhere to go. Your husband is dead. Your house has been burnt to the ground. You have no protectors or relatives in the colonies, no money." His finger took hold of one of the silky black locks that rested on her milky white shoulder and then he just couldn't help himself, he touched her cool skin and trailed his finger downwards feeling her tremble until her hand shot up and gripped his wrist. "I think you need me," he said, his voice a little lower than it had been.

"If I am no longer your hostage," she said slowly, her dark eyes boring into his, "then keep your filthy hands off me," and she released his wrist.

He smiled at her, a slow confident grin because despite her words he could see how her eyes had darkened and he could see the unmistakably erect nipples poking above her corset. His prick was so hard now he had to open his legs and surreptitiously adjust himself.

***

Out of the corner of her eye, Letitia could see the Black Orchid's enlarged crotch and could feel his muscular thigh pressed against her and could smell the overpoweringly male scent of him and it was all she could do to keep a hold of herself and not straddle him right then and there in the middle of a public tavern. Thank God the man was such a despicable specimen of humanity and she would never lower herself to do such a thing as bed him. He may be glorious to look at, but he had absolutely no character to speak of, and certainly no breeding so her base desires were going to remain just that, mere desires, unaccomplished and unspoken.

Then she felt his hand shockingly high up on her thigh and she froze. His fingers squeezed her leg so they reached towards the most sensitive part of her, the part of her that was already quickening and wet despite her resolve.

"Is this the filthy hand you mean Letitia?" he murmured in her ear, his hand easing her legs apart and his fingers finding her bud even through all her layers of clothing.

She gasped. He rubbed her more firmly. She closed her eyes and felt his tongue lick her ear lobe. She moaned. His fingers began to move in insistent circles over her, his breath ragged in her ear. His thumb joined the assault as she began to writhe under him. Somewhere she had the thought of stopping him and just as she was trying to muster the energy to lift her hand, his fingers suddenly whipped away from her and opening her eyes she saw Hanson standing there.

"You've taken your time!" the Captain growled at him.

Hanson just shrugged in his usual nonchalant way and Letitia noticed with relief the presence of Doctor Ferris just behind him. She was glancing at Letitia from under her hat with a look of guilty apology, and so she should. If she had accompanied Letitia off the ship as arranged, she would not have been subjected to the Black Orchid's special brand of torture, and she wouldn't be sitting here now in an uncomfortable puddle of unwanted lust. Now all she had to do was work out a way of getting the lecherous beast away from her side, even for just a minute and her problems would be over.

Chapter 16

Luckily, it seemed the Doctor had not completely forgotten their arrangement, it also seemed she was resourceful and good at thinking on her feet.

Letitia had almost given up all hope of escape. She was still jammed against the wall by the Black Orchid's big shoulders, the only consolation being that he was ignoring her now that Hanson was seated opposite him and they were deep in conversation about some rival crew who had been spotted in port and the suspicions they had of their planned booty. She could see Dr. Ferris on the other side of the room drinking from a beer mug that seemed almost as large as her and attempting to seem interested in the old man beside her who was showing her the large boil on his hand, but her eyes were steadily fixed on them, and Letitia suspected on Hanson in particular, especially when the bar wench approached them and gave Hanson special attention, almost thrusting her ample bosom in his face. Letitia had to admit that he was a beautiful looking man, so graceful and blonde and as she well knew he was even more breathtaking without clothes. It was such a pity he was an immoral criminal, he would make a fine gentleman to grace the most elegant of ballrooms. Unlike his Captain, she thought, glancing sideways at the feral muscular beast. She pondered, not for the first time, where the Black Orchid had acquired that cultivated accent of his. She had never met anyone so far removed from polite society yet he spoke with intelligence and even occasional eloquence when he was not uttering obscenities or deliberately shocking her. No matter. If the Doctor fulfilled her bargain, she would be far away from him soon enough.

And right on cue, a sudden commotion roused her from her thoughts. It appeared Dr. Ferris had clumsily knocked into a rough looking character and spilled most of her mead down his breeches. She had cleverly picked a drunken young oath to drench and he cursed loudly and grabbed her by her carefully folded neck cloth, but before he could proceed any further with his attack, Hanson had leapt from his seat and launched himself across the room, his fist landing squarely in the surprised man's jaw propelling him into the neighbouring table, knocking tankards and plates flying. The Black Orchid had automatically risen from his seat to follow his first mate and he eagerly threw himself into the fray as the tavern immediately erupted in an enthusiastic scrum of drunken brawling.

Dodging a flying pewter tankard that hit the wall behind her, Letitia quietly slid off the bench and out of the back door where she found Dr. Ferris laughing breathlessly in the filthy alley behind the tavern.

They ran through the lanes, all the way out of town until their breath gave out and they stopped on the very edge of the shore falling down to sit on the sand, both struggling for breath, Dr Ferris still laughing girlishly.

"I know you're a woman," Letitia gasped.

Dr. Ferris abruptly stopped laughing and pulling her hat off stared down at the sand.

"And I know your name is Grace," she added.

"How?"

"I saw you and Hanson together on Pearl Island."

"You mustn't tell anyone," Grace pleaded, suddenly very serious.

"Why would I? And anyway with luck I will never see those villainous Pirates again."

"If the Black Orchid found out...If any of them found out..." Grace whispered.

"But Hanson knows," Letitia pointed out. "Surely you can't trust him!"

"Joshua is...I don't want to talk about him."

"And you are your own person," Letitia added. "You don't need those scoundrels."

"Unfortunately I do from time to time," Grace said. "They can be very useful."

"For what? Why are you disguised as a man? Why do you need the assistance of pirates?"

"The Caribbean is a lawless place, Lady Howard. It's not a place for the feint of heart or those who wish to abide by society's rules. And it is especially hard for women who have no protection. We have to throw ourselves at the mercy of men or use our wiles. I have chosen to do the latter."

"Then so will I!" Letitia said with determination.

"And how exactly are you going to do that my Lady?"

"I have absolutely no idea," she replied and they both laughed so hard they fell into the sand, tears rolling down their cheeks.

***

The Black Orchid was seething with a murderous fury. The navy had killed two of his men, there was a blackened hole in the deck of The Innocent and he wanted vengeance. Not just on the navy either. Someone was giving them information and he was more determined than ever to find out who it was. He had a nagging feeling that somehow it would all lead back to Lady Letitia Howard. He had always known he had not done with her yet, no matter how hard he had tried to convince himself otherwise. She had slipped away from him that evening in Nassau never to be seen since, and the traitorous Dr. Ferris had made himself scarce too. It was no wonder either. He was intelligent enough to know what would befall him if he ever crossed tracks with the Black Orchid again. His first mate was none too pleased either. Every time Tom mentioned Ferris's name, Hanson would react with a most uncharacteristic violence, taking his temper out on any poor crewmember who happened to be in striking distance. Currently, The Innocent was not a happy ship to be sailing on.

They had made a reluctant retreat to Pearl Island and now Tom crouched by the fire and glared into its embers as Hanson attempted to reason with him.

"We must leave The Innocent behind, Tom. She's in too much disrepair and the navy is hard on our heels wherever we turn."

"And what of the crew? What will become of them?"

"We will have to leave them here under the Bear's watch, but it's ultimately their choice. Either they wait for our return or they find employment elsewhere."

"It's all my fault, Joshua," Tom said darkly. "I should never have brought a woman on board."

Hanson looked away guiltily knowing that Lady Howard was not the first woman to be allowed on board The Innocent, and she was not the first woman to cause heartache either, and a momentary vision of Dr. Ferris's cool gaze clouded his thoughts.

"Didn't you once say Lord Howard might have had connections with the pirate hunter?" He eventually asked, once his head had cleared.

"I thought he might but that bitch of a widow of his would never tell me anything. She thought I was beneath her contempt," and he laughed bitterly. "She didn't seem to know her precious husband very well."

"We found her in Bridgetown did we not?"

"Barbados. It seems like an age ago now."

"Then let us return there and see what we can uncover."

A smile crossed the Black Orchid's face for the first time in days. His eyes glinted sapphire blue in the firelight. "We will hunt the pirate hunter!" he grinned through the smoke. "Play him at his own game!"

Hanson grinned back and gave a wild laugh. It would be like the old times, before life weighed them both down and they could roam free and unfettered looking for their next adventure.

Chapter 17

Port Royal was crawling with soldiers and officers and mercenaries and all manner of men out to make a quick name for themselves. Everywhere Tom and Hanson looked were the dark blue and gold coats of the Queen's navy and they were glad that they had dressed themselves up to look like merchants from the American colonies, Tom's tattoo covered by a neck cloth that itched him and made him sweat. He kept his blunderbuss tucked in a specially fashioned sling concealed under his arm and it gave him a small comfort as he edged through the streets, brushing past naval officers armed with muskets.

The last time they had been in Jamaica it had been a haven for villains of every persuasion with more drinking houses crammed into the 51 acres than seemed possible or indeed necessary. But now it was clear that word had reached London and Paris that the Caribbean protectorates were in need of policing and the real money was no longer in piracy but in apprehending said villains. The Crown was desperate to bring an end to lawlessness and they were willing to engage the assistance of almost anyone.

Within an hour or so of disembarking, Tom and his First Mate were well aware that they could trust no one in this heightened atmosphere. They skulked in the shadows of one of the most popular taverns and surveyed the drinking masses, noting the changes in dynamics caused by the overbearing presence of so many uniforms. The Black Orchid kept his eyes on the men coming and going. He was looking for one man in particular, one man he had been told was somewhere in Port Royal. A man he was keen to introduce himself to.

But Hanson had already spotted a person of interest. Across the crowded room his gaze had zeroed in on a pair of cool blue eyes that were staring back at him with alarm.

"Damnation!" he hissed, not tearing his eyes away from the achingly familiar face.

The Black Orchid followed his gaze and immediately flexed his muscles in reaction and stood, knocking his tankard over. "That double-crossing..."

But Dr. Ferris had already recovered from his paralyzing shock and had darted away and out of the tavern, with Hanson hot on his heels.

***

Hanson caught up with Grace by the docks and cornered her in a blind alley where he backed her against a wall behind some sacks of coffee beans. She had the sense to look frightened for once as he laid his hands on the wall on either side of her head and waited for some response.

"I was a fool to ever trust you," he eventually said when she had still said nothing.

"Don't say that, Joshua."

"Why not? What have you ever done to prove otherwise?"

She lifted her hand and tried to stroke his cheek but he jerked away.

"All you've done is use me and deceive me. Remember when you helped Lady Howard get away? Well straight after that the navy came after us. They almost caught us too. I could be dead now. And here you are in Port Royal when it's heaving with Pirate Hunters. Can't be a coincidence, can it?"

Her blue eyes stared back at him steadily but her lip trembled at his stony expression and the unfamiliar coldness in him.

"I would never betray you," she said softly.

"Never? Not for a large sum of money?"

"Not for all the money in the world." Now her eyes were filling with tears and her voice was breaking but he remained unmoved and unconvinced.

"Don't try that, Grace," he said harshly. "It won't work. Not any longer. I'm onto you."

One large tear spilled from her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. Her lips parted softly as she was about to speak and despite himself he leaned closer towards her, his eyes drawn helplessly to her mouth. His groin pressed hard against her.

"I love you," she said so quietly he barely heard her.

"What did you say?" he asked, so close to her mouth now, his breath caressed her lips.

"I love you, Joshua!" she cried. "I've always loved you. I love you so desperately I can hardly stand it. I would never betray you. Never."

He looked into her face, deep into her eyes, and saw his Grace, the clever stubborn Grace, the Grace who was determined to protect herself and not be beholden to any man, the Grace who kept secrets, but the Grace he could trust and had always trusted. And he bent his head and kissed her so hard he pressed her into the wall, and she gasped and clung to his back, making his head spin with joy.

When Hanson came up for air, he managed to gasp out an important question before things got any more out of hand. "What are you doing in Port Royal?"

"It's a long story," she said, her hand playing with his neck cloth, a silky smile on her face.

He ran his finger along her full lips and murmured, "If you come to be bed with me, you will have all night to tell me."

***

Hanson trembled with excitement as he undid the bindings wrapped around Grace's chest. Only once before had he seen her without these bandages and it was so long ago now that he sometimes thought he had dreamt it. The memory of her perfect round breasts tipped with delicate pink buds had stayed with him through countless lonely nights since and here he was about to see them again, and he could hardly contain himself. His hands shook so badly he fumbled with the wrappings and his cock was so hard in his breeches it was painful. Grace just laughed softly at his agitation, and laid a cool hand on his bare shoulder, running it down his arm to feel his bicep bunch as he worked.

"You are so beautiful," she sighed.

"No, you are," he said reverently as he finally pulled the bindings away revealing her naked torso and feasting his eyes on the perfection of her bosom. His memory had not been wrong. Her skin was smooth and pale and flawless like alabaster. "So perfect!" he gasped and then gently took one nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it until she was making breathy little moans and her nails were digging into his skin. His cock rose even harder and more rigid in the confines of his breeches but he was determined to take this slow. He moved to the other nipple and continued his attentive ministrations, this time making her arch her back and cry out his name. His hand trailed down her soft belly to her breeches where he pulled at the buttons and pushed his hand under the waistband. She was writhing now under his lips and his hand and he pulled his mouth from her nipple and kissed the skin of her breast slowly to calm her. It would be over too soon if they kept this frenzied pace up, but she grabbed his wrist and assertively pushed his hand further between her legs making an amused gasp burst from him.

"Touch me!" she cried.

So he did, pressing the heel of his hand between her legs, feeling the wetness that was already seeping through her thin drawers.

"Oh Joshua," she cried, desperately tugging at her breeches and drawers and pulling them down her legs as his fingers sank into her and his lips met hers in a hot tangle of tongues. "I need you inside me now," she gasped into his mouth as her hands delved into the back of his breeches and gripped his buttocks with a determined strength. His mind went blank as he struggled out of his breeches and spreading her legs found himself pressed against her heat, her hands urging him closer.

"Slow down Grace," he managed to gasp. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Now, Joshua, now!" she cried, gripping his backside, and he felt the head of his cock push inside her. He pressed his hands down on the bed and looked down at her, so lovely and perfect and his, and her back arched and her breasts heaved upwards and he gave a gentle surge forward and her heat closed around him as he entered her, sliding into her so easily he gave a great sigh of relief and he heard her hum with pleasure.

"Oh Grace," he said with tears pricking his eyes, his cock buried inside her soft warmth. Then he began to pull out and great shocks of pleasure shot down his spine and tightened his balls as he gasped and thrust back into her. She threw her head back as he began to quicken his pace, her hands running up and down his back as he slid in and out of her, the mounting pleasure making them both moan and cry until he could feel her orgasm build round him and with a huge effort he pulled out of her and released himself against her thigh while she continued to come round the fingers he thrust inside her.

***

"I am looking for a man," she said as he lay his head on her chest and she ran her fingers through his silky blonde locks.

"Well, you have found one!" he said.

She laughed. "No, that's why I am in Port Royal. I have been looking for someone for a long time now and I think I am close to finding him. He killed my father, or at least he ordered his death."

Hanson sat up, serious now. "Is that why you have been travelling the Caribbean disguised as a man?"

"Partly, but also because it was the only way to learn more about medicine. My father taught me the methodology but I want to learn as much as I can."

"You are an unusual woman Grace Ferris." He said, smiling down at her, his hair curling over his shoulders, his skin glowing bronze in the candlelight.

"And you are an unusual man, Joshua Hanson. I do hope you won't soon be a dead one."

His eyes were fixed on hers, suddenly serious but then he asked, "Who is this man you are looking for, Grace?"

"He is called Henry Lucas, and I think he may be in Port Royal."

Hanson's blue eyes widened. "What are the odds? That man is popular. Did you know he might be our pirate hunter?"

"That is not the only coincidence, Joshua. If we do not find him here, I think Letitia may know where he is."

"Lady Howard?"

"Yes, he was an associate of her husband's and I think he is now her protector."

"Well he didn't do a very good job of protecting her! Where is she now?"

"She returned to Barbados to see if there was anything left of her plantation."

Hanson thoughtfully ran his hand through his hair and just then there was a great pounding on the door. He leapt out of bed and pulling on his breeches wrenched the door open to find Tom standing there, looming over him in the dark corridor.

"Did you find the Doctor?" he asked and looking past him into the room added, "Ah, I see you did, and I see you are in bed with him."

"Dr. Ferris is a woman, Tom," Hanson said patiently.

"I know that," The Back Orchid said even more patiently. "Do you take me for a complete fool?" and then he called through the doorway, "Good evening Dr. Ferris, I do hope you are not planning on hoodwinking us again."

"I would not dream of it, Captain," Grace called, the sheet pulled up to her armpits.

"Come in," Hanson said. "Grace has some intelligence I think will be of interest to you."

Chapter 18

Letitia was exhausted. She had spent the afternoon with Mr. Parker, the gentleman she had persuaded to help her sort through her husband's muddled finances and create some order from the chaos. The situation had initially looked dire but there now seemed to be some light at the end of the tunnel. When she had first returned to the Howard plantation, she had expected to find nothing but a charred wreck of a house but had been surprised to find the majority of the house, at least the central rooms still intact. Much of it had been looted, but most of the furniture was still there and some of the servants returned once they heard she was alive and well. There was no money of course, Robert had gambled all that away long ago, but her jewelry was still locked away in the bank vault in Bridgetown and the sugarcane crops had not withered and died yet. She had spent the last two months purchasing field slaves, helping to clean and restore the house and she had hardly had a moment to stop and think of anything, let alone herself or any of the strange events that had occurred.

Only at night would she sometimes wake alone and sweating under her mosquito net and be assailed by sudden vivid memories, visions of a pair of indigo blue eyes in a hard sun browned face, of searingly hot kisses that melted her bones, of clever knowing hands. But those were sensations that belonged to another world and another woman, feelings that had never really been hers to own. They had been stolen from her through deception. Now she was her own master and that kind of passion was far too dangerous to ever feel again.

Letitia tidied away the last of the papers and placing them back in the desk drawer, poured herself a fortifying glass of Madeira. She picked up Henry Lucas's letter and read it again. It was such a relief that he was still alive since he was the only person left who could offer her any real support. Yes, she had Dr. Ferris, but Grace was busy fighting her own battles and who knew where she was now. Madam Bella had also been helpful since she had returned to Barbados but there was only so much company a Lady could keep with the owner of a brothel, however high class that establishment may be. She was looking forward to Henry Lucas's return, and the implied interest in his letter. It seemed he wished to reawaken their special relationship and she found herself feeling quite open to the idea. He was, after all, a very well bred and attractive man.

Then she caught a look at herself in the mirror and stopped short. It was easy to forget how much she had changed, but if Henry Lucas saw her now he would hardly recognise her. Her skin was tanned from months of exposure to the sun, her hair hung in curls around her shoulders and her dress was her oldest and most simple. The regal Lady Howard was long gone.

She took a sip of the Madeira as she stared at herself and lost in thought did not hear the slight creak of the study door behind her.

"Hello Letitia," said a horribly familiar voice behind her.

Her blood froze. It was as if her whole body had gone into shock. Her heart hammered furiously in her chest, her throat constricted, her head swam. She closed her eyes and prayed that she was having some kind of hallucination brought on by exhaustion.

But the voice spoke again. "Have you missed me?"

She forced herself to open her eyes and turn round and there he was, standing in her dead husband's study, as confident and nonchalant as ever. He looked more respectable than he ever had before, dressed in a conventional coat, waistcoat and a necktie, a hat covering his shorn head. But his blue eyes were the same, glinting at her from under the brim of his hat.

Her shock was suddenly replaced with a wave of red-hot fury as he grinned at her.

"What are you doing in my house?" she said, trying to keep her composure.

"I thought I would pay you a visit."

"And you decided to walk through the front door this time?"

"Well as you can see, I am a respectable merchant now," he said, gesturing to his costume.

She gave a cynical snort and he took a step nearer causing her to flinch. The way his eyes were grazing over her did not look respectable and her body felt uncomfortably hot.

"Pardon me for not giving you a warm welcome," she said, "but correct me if I am wrong, are you not the scoundrel who kidnapped me?"

"I am the scoundrel who rescued you, Madam," he said, taking one more step nearer, his body tensing.

She gave a bitter laugh. "Rescued me? Is that what you call it?"

He was up close to her now, so close she had to look up to him as he said, "You have no idea what your husband was embroiled in, do you?"

"What do you know about my husband?" she gasped.

"Plenty, and if you are a little nicer to me I might tell you all about it," he said softly, pressing her against the wall, the heat of his big body turning her raging bones to liquid.

Letitia could feel a familiar throbbing of need as he plastered his overwhelming hardness against her and she gritted her teeth against the unwelcome sensation. She gripped the collar of his jacket and staring up at him, spat out with all the venom she could muster, "I prayed that I would never see you again. I hate you. I will always hate you."

Chapter 19

The Black Orchid took hold of Letitia's arm and roughly pulled her across the room, into the hallway and up the staircase, yanking her arm so hard she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder and cried out in protest. He ignored her and heaved her up the remaining stairs, with absolutely no regard for her comfort or her safety as she ricocheted into a wall, her elbow slamming into a doorpost.

"Let me go!" she screamed. "What in God's name are you doing?"

Still keeping tight hold of her, he kicked open the door in front of him with one of his big boots and dragging her into her bedroom, hurled her across it and onto the four poster bed, where she fell in a panting heap, legs flailing in the air, skirts up round her knees. He had ripped her bodice as he had manhandled her up the stairs and her shoulder was bare, one sleeve hung low on her arm, her breasts almost burst from her corset. She looked wild-eyed, wild haired and wanton. He stood over her, breathing heavily, looking the picture of an enraged potent male. He threw off his jacket, then he was unbuckling the heavy belt he wore over his waistcoat.

"Tom," she gasped. "What are you doing?"

"You remember my name now, do you?" he growled, slinging the belt across the room and tearing off his waistcoat and his neck cloth. He kicked off his boots and then his hands went to the buttons of his breeches and her breath caught in her throat. Maybe she had pushed him too far.

"I'm going to fuck you in your bed and there's not a damn thing you can do about it." He advanced towards her, his fingers still working the buttons of his breeches and she tried to back away from him, but he grabbed one of her ankles, and then roughly pushed her knees apart.

"No!" she yelled, suddenly coming out of her trance and grabbing handfuls of his shirt, and with a loud sound of ripping seams it came away, shooting buttons across the room, revealing a wide expanse of taught chest and stomach. She was suddenly transfixed by the sight of his rippling muscles and sun browned flesh, and the line of dark hair that travelled down his hard belly to where his breeches gaped open. She stared at the large bulge his hand was stroking and her legs involuntarily spread wider.

He grinned down at her evilly. "The Lady likes what she sees."

"I do not consent to this. I will not bed an animal like you," she said slowly and with deliberation, her voice betraying a tremble of need.

He just laughed silkily. "We'll see about that," and he shrugged off the torn shirt so his top half was completely bare and open to her gaze. Then he took hold of her torn bodice and yanked it apart so the whole thing ripped down the centre and her breasts popped free of her corset. She tried to kick at him but his big hard body was now jammed between her legs and there was very little she could do but helplessly lie on her back and look up at him.

"Look at those lovely titties," he sighed. "The finest I have ever seen."

How dare he treat a Lady this way, as if she were a common prostitute! She was appalled by his behavior but she was also appalled by the way her own traitorous body was responding, because somewhere in the centre of her a slick heat burnt and looking down at herself she could see her nipples were sticking out in hardened little buds.

The dangerously virile man above her stared at her nipples and licked his lips. She clutched a handful of sheet as he grabbed at one of her breasts and said, "What shall I do to you first? Shall I suck these beauties?"

"You are disgusting," she hissed through gritted teeth.

He leaned down and smiling against her mouth said, "I think you like it though," and then kissed her hard and forcefully, his tongue driving into her so powerfully she felt her legs go weak and her hands let go of the sheet and found themselves clawing at his back and mindlessly gripping his shoulders. Their mouths hungrily met and their tongues tangled hotly and soon he was grinding himself against her and she was wrapping her legs around him and they were both grabbing at each other and gasping out loud.

"Oh God!" Letitia cried with obvious pleasure as she felt his fingers slip inside her and he moaned against her breast and sucked her nipple into his hot mouth so hard she yelped. Four fingers stretched her open. Her back arched. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes stormy. "Tom," Letitia moaned as she grabbed at his breeches and dragged them over his backside. His hand went to his excited prick and he spread her juices over the smooth head and then rubbed himself over her folds. She moaned his name again and lifting his hips slightly he growled, "Are you ready for this?" and then he drove into her with one ruthless thrust, so hard and thick it made her gasp. He went in all the way, thrusting fast and deep with a low satisfied moan. She spread her legs wide as he filled her and her pelvis shot upwards to encourage him to thrust even deeper, to plunge his entire length into her, to grind against her and stretch her to capacity. He moaned long and loud as he pulsed inside her then he pulled out slowly and rammed into her again, shaking with the effort. She felt the exact moment he gave into instinct and began to pound her in earnest, his breathing coming in loud gasps above her, the tight muscles of his backside clenching under her hands until his cock surged inside her and with a great animal cry, he pulled out and pumped big globs of his thick cum onto her thighs, his whole body shuddering with the delicious release. He stayed there for a while calmly caressing his cock, wringing every last drop of cum out if it, gently stroking it over the creamy skin of her thigh, and she watched his face, gentle now and relaxed for once, his navy blue eyes smoky and tender.

He kissed her and she felt so boneless and lightheaded she let him, but once he had pulled away she managed to murmur, "Depraved wretch."

He just laughed and gazing down at her said, "Do you know how beautiful you look right now?"

"I look like a Lady who has been violated and treated like a common whore."

"You look beautiful," he said, kissing her again. "I want to keep you like this forever, all sweaty and half naked and covered in my seed."

"You are vile."

"I am going to fuck you again now."

"Already!" she gasped looking down at his cock, which was rising enthusiastically in its nest of dark hair.

"Turn over," Tom ordered and pulling her gown and under drawers off but keeping her corset on, he flipped her over onto her front.

He took a moment to run his hand over her luscious arse, appreciating her creamy curves. Then he took his hardening cock in his hand and rested it in the valley between her cheeks. He smiled to himself as he noticed she had ceased protesting all together now. In fact she had relaxed into the mattress and draped her arms above her head and presented her arse to him quite happily. He gave it a little slap just to see how tamed she was. She yelped, a feminine little yelp of pleasure and his cock leapt and his balls tightened. He had tamed the wild beast all right, he knew he would and he felt a surge of masculine pride, and taking his shaft in his hand he pressed it between her legs finding the stretched wet opening and then he leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "Is this what you want Letitia?"

She muttered something into the sheet and pressed her arse up towards him.

"Say it Letitia. Tell me you want it."

She moaned as he nudged a little way in and her arms stretched up the bed as her back arched.

"Say it," he demanded. She pressed her arse higher as he gritted his teeth and growled, "Say it!"

"Just do it!" she yelled. "And make me come this time!"

He laughed and wrapping his arm around her middle so he could pull her up onto her knees, with one great surge of his hips he slid into her so hard he pushed her up the bed and she had to hold onto the bedpost to keep upright while he pulled out and thrust into her again. He was so hard he could pull all the way out and then ram back into her, his fingers digging into her backside, the mind numbing pleasure of it making him moan unintelligibly as somewhere in the distance he could hear her screaming for more. His hips began to piston uncontrollably into her over and over again and then he felt her whole body begin to shake under his hands and she erupted around his cock, her ecstatic cries leaving no doubt of the pleasure she took from his deep thrusts, her quim clamping around him so tightly his balls swelled and before he could even think he released himself inside her with an explosive force filling her to the brim with endless streams of his seed. When he pulled out, it was still leaking from his hard cock in seemingly never ending spurts.

He had had her twice now and he was not nearly finished. It was going to be a very long night.

***

The open verandah doors let in the sweet morning air and growing cacophony of bird call as Letitia opened her weary eyes and surveyed the mess around her. Clothes were strewn all over the floor. The sheets of the bed were in crumpled disarray, stained with the ejaculation from countless furious matings. And a naked pirate lay spread eagled on his front, his arms and legs stretched out, his face turned to one side, relaxed and beatific in its repose. She examined his face for a moment and was surprised not to feel any anger at all, but then she surveyed his body and realised why. Here was a prime specimen of manhood in top physical condition, naked as the day he was born and in her bed. This is what the Greek Gods must have looked like, she thought, as her eyes ran over his muscular shoulders and back and down to the perfect round globes of his backside, and his long lean legs. She felt aroused just looking at him even though she was so sore from his exhaustive ministrations of the night before she could barely open her legs. Then she remembered a moment from the night in vivid sensual detail and a rush of heat flooded her still sensitive core. Dr. Ferris had been right, Letitia realised; pirates could be useful.

Then he opened his eyes and smiled. His eyelashes were long and black against the deep indigo blue of his irises and Letitia's heart skipped a beat. He stretched and flipped over onto his back, her eyes going straight to his cock, which was lying thick and hard on his taught belly. He was still smiling at her, a wolfish grin that went straight to her groin.

"Good morning, my Lady," he said, his voice husky and slow.

She could feel a curl of anger now, working its way around her heart. How dare he be so irresistibly gorgeous? But at the same time so uncivilized and completely unacceptable.

"You must leave," she said, even more coldly than she had intended.

He just fixed her with those implacable eyes. "So you use my body all night and then throw me aside like a cheap whore," he smiled, his hand stroking his prick as he spoke.

She gulped. There was something about his relaxed demeanour that made her a little scared.

His eyes grazed over her body. "What if I haven't finished with you?" Then he suddenly uncoiled like a wildcat and she found herself pinned down to the bed, his erection grinding into her belly.

"Tom!" she cried in exasperation. "Don't! I am too sore!"

He laughed wickedly and then lowering his mouth onto hers kissed her with surprising tenderness. "I could stay here with you and be a farmer," he murmured, his fingers tangling in her curls. "We could toil together in the fields all day and then you could use me every night. Strip me naked and have my big cock, all for your pleasure," and he stroked himself against her, rubbing his rigid shaft along the smooth skin of her belly just to demonstrate what she could have.

She breathed in the musky scent of him and shuddered with the promise of it. A sudden vision of dark haired blue-eyed children came to her and she quashed it, blushing at her own unconscious mind. "Ridiculous fancies," she said, pushing him away. "As if the Crown would leave you in peace to grow sugarcane!"

"As if I would become a slave master," he said, his face suddenly serious." Farming is an honourable pursuit Letitia, but not when it is done with the labour of bonded slaves."

"Is it less honourable than piracy?

"Yes. At least pirates are free men."

"Free men who steal and kill."

The pirate who held her in his arms was silent for a moment and merely gazed at her steadily then said, "I think we should leave it at that," and slowly withdrew from her. She felt the loss of his heat like a physical blow.

He was tugging on his breeches with his back to her. The muscles of his shoulders were pulled tight. She shifted towards him and laid a hand on the brown skin of his back, making him flinch. She laid her cool cheek on his hot skin and he stilled.

"Will I see you again?" she asked.

"Who knows," he replied. "I am a wanted man. I am hardly free myself," and he turned and took her face in his hands and kissed her with such passion and longing she knew she would have his taste on her lips for days to come.

Chapter 20

Tom fled Letitia's rumpled bed feeling dazed and more than a little disorientated. He should be feeling triumphant since he had finally spilled his seed between her creamy thighs, but instead he felt as if he had been set upon by a gang of marauding thieves, particularly beguiling thieves, knocked unconscious and left fighting for his life. His breath was shallow in his chest and his head swam, and he did not like the sensation one bit.

He arranged his neck cloth as he stomped down the staircase, attempting to clear his head, but before exiting the house he paused briefly and made a sudden, deft detour into the library. The letter was still lying on the desk where Letitia had left it when Tom had surprised her. He picked it up, immediately noting the signature of Henry Lucas and read it, his blood boiling as a he deduced the obvious message in the unctuous lines. It took all his control not to storm back upstairs and pin Letitia down under him, ordering her to make love to no one but himself. Damn her to high hell! She belonged to him! Henry Lucas could not have her! He would be damned if another man, least of all a pirate hunter, was going to go anywhere near his woman!

Then when he had calmed down a little he realised that the important information that he had in his hands was the whereabouts of Henry Lucas, at least his whereabouts in the very near future. And he must not say anything to Letitia because he wanted Henry Lucas to come for her, and he wanted her to receive him, so he must make himself scarce and wait for his moment, no matter how painful that might be.

***

Letitia's world had changed. She still worked herself to the bone from dawn to dusk to keep her house running and her plantation barely afloat but instead of suppressing haunting memories of captivity she now allowed herself to indulge in more pleasurable thoughts. How easily the axis had shifted from pain to pleasure, from resistance to submission. She trembled every time she remembered the sensation of being possessed so completely, of having a man with such confidence take her with such determination. How she missed his firm touch. How she yearned for his strong body. Her bed felt so empty at night she wrapped her arms around herself and curled up tightly and wept. Where was he? Why had he not returned?

Then Henry Lucas came back. He marched into her dining room while she was having breakfast one morning, unexpected and unannounced which meant that she was dressed in one of her most simple gowns and her hair was loose around her shoulders. Letitia saw the startled look cross his handsome face, but he composed himself almost immediately and gave her a practiced smile.

"Letitia! You look as lovely as ever."

Proof that he's a liar, thought Letitia. She looked him up and down. He had changed too. Gone were the elaborate pink tailcoats and waistcoats and powdered wigs. He was dressed in more simple attire, his dark hair tied back in a pigtail under a tricorn hat. He looked manly and more handsome than before. There was a shadow of beard on his chin and Letitia noticed his thighs looked strong and muscular in his tight breeches. She felt a surprising stirring of awareness as he smiled at her.

"Henry," she said coolly, determined to at least behave like the old regal Lady Howard. "Welcome back. Please sit and have some breakfast."

He took the seat next to hers and boldly took her hand in his. "Letitia, we have both been through so much since we last met. It is so good to see you!"

"Yes," she replied. "I have been waiting to ask you about that terrible night, Henry. You see I have no memory of it. What happened? Who attacked me?"

"My darling," he replied, keeping tight hold of her hand. "Prepare yourself for terrible news. I do believe it was pirates. As you know, I managed to escape and in my subsequent travels I gained some intelligence. The man responsible was a particularly vile individual who goes by the name of The Black Orchid."

Letitia went cold. She pulled her hand from Henry's and clasped it in her lap, her whole body trembling. "No, that cannot be," she stammered.

"I am afraid it's true. You were fortunate not to have been abducted by them." Then looking at the stricken expression on her face, he said, "My God! You weren't were you? They didn't abduct you my sweet?"

Letitia gathered herself together enough to say, "No Henry. A kind neighbour found me and I stayed with them until I was well enough to return home."

"And you were left...unmolested?" he asked, Letitia noticing his eyes darkening as he said the word.

The honest answer was not simple. The dishonest answer, however, was easy. "Yes Henry, despite my memory loss I am fairly certain they left me untouched. Apart from a blow to the head that is."

"Thank God! If they had abducted you or abused you, I would have seen them hanging from the gallows. Now enough of this unsettling talk, is that a pot of coffee I spy?"

Henry reached over the table to grab the coffee pot and Letitia sat rigid in her chair attempting to absorb this shocking information. Oh Tom! She thought back the tears. He had told her he had found her with amnesia at Madam Lafitte's brothel. She thought he had finished with his nefarious lies. A leopard doesn't change its spots. A lying dog is always a two faced curr. She couldn't believe how easily she had succumbed to Thomas Ashdown's persuasive kisses. She ought to have known that a man who goes by so many names should not be trusted.

***

Tom swung his leg over the wooden balustrade and silently as possible eased the verandah door open so he could steal into the room. He nudged the mosquito net aside, no need for theatrical brandishings of swords any more, and resting his hand on one post he looked down at Letitia's sleeping form and thanked the lord that Henry Lucas was not yet sharing her bed. If he had found them lying together who knows what his temper would have made him do?

He watched her for a while, bathed by the moonlight coming through the window. It was a warm night and she was clad in just a thin nightgown, a white linen sheet barely covering her legs. Her hair was longer, her wild curls covered the pillow and her dark lashes fluttered on her cheeks. She had freckles on her nose and he was seized with a sudden desire to kiss them and then kiss her red lips and her long neck and carry on down to the collar of her nightgown where he would undo all those little buttons very slowly and kiss the skin he would expose... Then he saw her toes lying inches from his hand, those pretty perfect toes that had once refused to leave his mind. He smiled and reached out and touched them. She was so fast asleep, she barely stirred but when he ran his hot hand over her foot and gently clasped her ankle, a soft moan escaped her and her foot quivered. He smiled. She was so responsive, even in her sleep. He slowly slid his hands up her inner thighs, pushing up her nightgown as he went, her legs parting invitingly until he found her fragrant centre, already slick and wet for him. He was so hard now he was biting back the urge to leap on her but he wanted to wake her gently, preferably with a glorious climax brought about by his mouth and his tongue. He would remind her what she had been missing. He carefully parted her lips and lowered his mouth, barely touching her bud with light flicks of his tongue until she began to squirm under him and he pressed more firmly down on her and lapped, and when he pushed a finger inside her a small hand suddenly clamped down on his head.

"Oh, Tom!" she moaned and then she abruptly stilled, the hand on his head pulling away and the air was suddenly split with an ear piercing scream. It was so loud and so unexpected he was left immobilised with shock as she tore herself away from him and the door of the bedroom suddenly slammed open and the next thing he knew he was pinned to the bed with a musket jabbed in his chest.

"Are you alright Letitia?" the man asked, as Letitia cowered behind him. "Did he touch you?"

"No," she stammered. "I mean...Yes Henry, I am alright."

Tom stared past the gun and the man, straight at Letitia, completely dumbfounded at her behaviour. What in the hell was wrong with her? The man was staring fixedly at Tom with an excited glint in his eyes. He was staring at his neck.

"Well, well. The Black Orchid!" the stranger sneered . "I've been hunting you for months and here you turn up, right on my doorstep."

Tom managed to tear his eyes away from Letitia. "Henry Lucas," he growled. "I've been looking for you too." Yes, Lady Howard, he thought, that will give you something to think about.

"Well isn't that nice," he slurred. "We meet at last." Then jabbing the gun further into his chest he barked, "Letitia, go to my room. You will find a black bag. In it are some handcuffs. Bring them to me."

Much to Tom's disgust, Letitia did as she was told and when she came back she even put the cuffs on him as Lucas directed. He noticed, with slight satisfaction that her hands were trembling and she was completely unable to look him in the eye.

Once he was cuffed Lucas withdrew the gun and leaning towards him asked in an intimidatingly quiet voice, "What were you doing in Lady Howard's bedroom in the middle of the night?"

Tom looked at Letitia standing by the door. She seemed smaller and more vulnerable than usual in her thin nightgown and bare feet. He could have his revenge on her, he realised. He could tell Henry Lucas exactly what he had been doing in Lady Howard's bed, and exactly how much she had been enjoying it and exactly how much she had enjoyed it in the past. But she was staring at him with such a frightened look in her beautiful dark eyes, with such supplication, and he had to face it, he was already done for anyway.

"I am a pirate. What do you think I was doing?" was all he said.

Henry Lucas swung his gun and struck him across the cheekbone with the heavy butt. Tom heard Letitia cry out as the agonising pain tore through his skull and he fell back on the bed, darkness engulfing him.

Chapter 21

Grace burst into the rented room in Port Royal, roughly grabbing Hanson's shoulders and shaking the far too relaxed and naked form that was spread-eagled across the rumpled bed.

"Joshua, wake up! They've got the Captain!"

"What?" he slurred, barely managing to open his eyes or focus, let alone form a lucid thought. He had fallen asleep just two hours previously and he really was not ready to welcome the day. Grace lightly slapped his cheeks and when that did not work she straddled him, gripped his chin, stared him straight in the eyes and said very slowly, "They have captured Tom. I have just seen him taken to Fort Charles in chains. They are going to hang him."

This time he opened his eyes fully and they flashed with comprehension. "Bastards!" he cried and leapt from the bed, dragging his breeches and boots on and searching everywhere for his blunderbuss.

Grace watched him for a moment, her heart heaving with love and admiration for the foolish man. "Joshua," she eventually said in a low, calm voice. "You can't go anywhere near Fort Charles. If anyone should recognise you..."

"Shit!" he said, sitting down heavily on the bed and holding his throbbing head in his hands. He looked imploringly up at Grace, his face irresistibly lovely. "You'll have to go Gracie. You must get in and see him. We have to do something!"

"Of course I'll go!" she said. She had every intention of going to Fort Charles. She was going even before Hanson had asked her to. She had been horrified by the sight of The Black Orchid being led from the port bound in chains, his face bruised and battered and his clothes ripped. But another person she had seen had prompted an altogether different emotion. A visit to Fort Charles was suddenly very necessary for more reasons than one.

***

It was easy enough to get in to the Fort to see Lady Howard. Grace just told them that a doctor had been called for and taking one look at Letitia's pale drawn face she wondered if a doctor was needed after all. Letitia's hands felt cold and clammy as she gripped Grace's much warmer ones.

"Are you sick Letitia?" Grace asked. "You do not look well at all."

"I am fine. It was just the stress of the journey here."

"Why are you here?"

"I accompanied my fiancée," she said and added much more quietly, "for the trial."

"Your fiancée?"

"Henry Lucas. We are to be married."

"Henry Lucas," Grace repeated. "You are marrying Henry Lucas?"

"Yes," Letitia said letting go of her hands and sweeping across the room, returning to the chair she had been sitting in originally.

"But Letitia, you said that you would use your wiles rather than be at the mercy of men."

"I am tired, Grace. So tired. The plantation takes so much work and there is still no money, and I am tired."

"And what of Tom?" Grace asked quietly.

"What of him?" Letitia snapped. "He is about to reap the consequences of his actions! Theft, arson, kidnap...rape. He will no doubt rot in hell for his crimes."

Grace stared at Letitia. The Back Orchid was no angel, that was for sure, but the picture Letitia painted of him was not an accurate or a fair one. Letitia had spent days with them on the Innocent and not once had she witnessed behaviour worthy of hanging, and rape? Tom was no rapist. Grace would rather label him a gentleman than a rapist. Letitia had never been Tom's greatest fan, but what had made her suddenly so irrational? Then Grace cursed herself for her slowness, it was suddenly perfectly obvious.

"Letitia," she said. "I have many things to tell you. You may find some of them rather upsetting."

But just then a man swept into the room and Grace's usual cool composure completely deserted her as she was faced with the tall, elegant figure of Henry Lucas himself. He was making straight for Letitia with a predatory gleam in his eyes when he noticed she had company and stopped, only perfunctorily taking in the young man's scruffy attire and battered tricorn hat.

"Letitia," he snapped. "Make yourself presentable. The Governor has invited us to tea."

It was then that Grace turned round and now that she had gathered herself together once again, she took off her hat and fixed him with her cool grey eyes.

He visibly started, and Grace smiled slightly at his discomposure.

"Henry," Letitia said. "This is Dr. Ferris. He is an old friend of mine."

Henry Lucas's voice seemed to have failed him. He coughed and managed to say, "Delighted," then turned to Letitia and said, "You need to get ready now."

To Grace's surprise, Letitia dutifully nodded goodbye to her and left the room.

Henry Lucas immediately turned to Grace and in an overly oily way said, "Little Grace Ferris, it's been too long. " He looked her up and down. "And I can see even in those ugly clothes that you may not be that little any more. 'Tis a shame to cover it all up."

Grace glared at him, her hands squeezing into fists by her side.

"How I remember your lithe little body," he continued, "twisting under me while you fought. What happy memories!"

She summoned every ounce of her will to stay still and not attack him like she wanted, pummel his smug face until it was black and blue, kick him and scratch him and bite him until he bled. She bit her bottom lip and stayed standing, rigid with the tension.

His voice suddenly became threateningly quiet. "Stay away from Lady Howard," he said. "Cause trouble for me Grace, and there will be consequences."

Chapter 22

He was damned right there would be consequences, Grace fumed to herself as she stomped back through the town, her heart hammering with pent up fury. She was not going to allow that evil bastard to intimidate her. She had come too far now and cared nothing for what he could do to her. Letitia and Tom, on the other hand, she did care about and now their fate lay in her hands. She was not going to let Letitia marry an abusive bully, and she was not going to let them hang Tom for crimes far lesser than the crimes committed by the crown itself and the unprincipled men they paid to perpetrate those crimes. And then there was Joshua, Oh God Joshua! He was not safe now her cover had been blown! Now Lucas knew she was in Port Royal, Joshua must not be seen with her. She must persuade him to leave on the next available ship.

But when she returned to their room above the tavern he was gone. There was just the empty bed, the sheets still rumpled, the indent of his head still in the pillow, his blunderbuss missing from the sideboard. She sat down heavily on the bed, her chest clenching in panic. Where in hell had he gone?

***

"I do love a pirate trial," a pretty young lady said to Letitia as she handed her a plate of dainty cakes. "It provides such an exciting distraction," her blonde ringlets dancing around her blushing face as she giggled. "And I've heard this Black Orchid is a mighty fine specimen."

"Arabella!" her chaperone, a portly middle-aged lady gasped.

"Oh hush, Aunt Gussy, you've heard it too!" and lowering her voice in a conspiratorial fashion, she informed her Aunt with great relish, "Lady Howard is betrothed to Mr. Lucas. She travelled on the ship that brought the captive to Jamaica!"

"Is that true?" the Aunt obviously could not help herself asking, turning to Letitia with open fascination on her face.

"It is," Letitia said, desperately wanting an excuse to leave this appallingly uncomfortable line of conversation.

"My maid Mary saw him brought from the Port," Arabella continued. "She said she had never seen such a big strong man, even bound by chains," she giggled. "All muscle and proud broad shoulders, she said. Enough to make you swoon!"

"Oh my!" her Aunt sighed, fanning her heated face.

"To think that right this minute, he is in a cell somewhere below us."

Letitia gritted her teeth as she watched the silly girl blush. She, herself, had thought of nothing else since they had arrived at Fort Charles. The entire sea journey from Barbados to Jamaica all she could think of was Tom, bound and bruised somewhere below deck, and now all she could think of was him in some lonely, filthy cell within the same walls as her but under such different circumstances. Here she stood in her brand new gown sipping tea and holding a china plate laden with cake, listening to girlish gossip, while he languished in God knows what condition somewhere below her, maybe mere feet away, waiting for a noose to be slung around his smooth brown neck. The knowledge was torturing her more than she dare acknowledge.

"Are you alright Lady Howard?" asked the Aunt. "You have gone terribly pale."

Letitia glanced across the room and seeing Henry deep in conversation with the Governor she had a sudden desire to escape this stifling place. Her new corset and gown felt unbearably tight around her chest. The pins in her hair dug into her scalp. She could not breathe.

"I have a headache," she stammered. "I think I need some fresh air," and placing the plate on the table with shaking hands she fled the room.

***

Outside, the midday sun was high in the sky and the air was still and hot but Letitia felt better already as she walked across the Fort's courtyard, just about stopping herself from breaking into a run. The guards at the gate gave her a curious look but they let her pass without comment and then she was out in the bustling port, surrounded by ordinary folk going about their business.

As she aimlessly wandered through the town with no real idea of where she was going, she remembered the last time she had been in these streets and who she had been with, how his strong hand had held onto her arm and guided her and how she had struggled against him so ineffectually. She remembered the exhilaration of escaping him, of running to the beach with Grace and laughing at their cleverness. How long ago that now seemed, and how strange it was that she missed that wild freedom, considering that at the time she thought she was being held captive. There were different kinds of captivity she now knew, not all of them obvious.

She stopped for a moment and found herself outside a tavern, one with a very familiar doorway, and a sudden memory assailed her, an overpoweringly physical memory of a man's hot body and hands and how they could so easily prompt her to lose control.

Then suddenly she sensed a presence behind her and an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. She tensed as a voice whispered in her ear, "Do not struggle."

Her breath caught in her throat as she froze, but something told her to obey.

"Do not draw attention to yourself," the soft voice said, and the hand was slowly withdrawn.

Letitia turned her head and was not surprised to see a pair of familiar blue eyes inches from hers.

"Hanson," she said, and he smiled.

Chapter 23

Hanson opened the door of a little room above the tavern and ushered Letitia inside.

He had not said a word since he had grabbed her in the street but despite his silent urgency Letitia had gone with him willingly. Ever since she had left the confines of the Fort all her previous suspicion and anger had mysteriously evaporated and from the moment she had looked into Hanson's blue eyes she had only felt an overpowering relief. It was like going home and a strange passivity had overcome her. She knew she would do anything for this man and had no inclination to examine the reasons. So she blindly followed him up the narrow staircase and into the room.

She sat down on the unmade bed as he stood in the middle of the room and contemplated her with a guarded look, his blonde hair hanging over his forehead, his eyes raking over her body.

"You look different," he eventually said in a low voice. "Like a Lady."

"You haven't changed a bit," she said, taking in his broad shoulders in a loose linen shirt, the open neck revealing a tempting glimpse of his bronzed chest. "You still look like a Pirate." A very temptingly gorgeous one, she thought to herself, as she remembered how he looked naked and the feel of his silky smooth cock under her fingers. It had been too long since she had set eyes on her wild pirate kidnappers, and it was so good to see The Innocent's first mate again she had forgotten why she should hate him. She thought for the hundredth time that day of his Captain chained and hurting in a dark jail and tears suddenly came to her eyes.

"Have you seen Tom?" he asked.

She gulped down a sudden surge of guilt and looked away, unable to meet his penetrating gaze.

"Why would I have seen him?" she stammered.

"He went to Barbados to find you, and now he is a prisoner in Port Royal awaiting a hanging," he said calmly, " And here you are too. It's a strange coincidence."

Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor, her voice caught in her throat.

"By God Letitia," Hanson growled, "if you had anything to do with this I will not be answerable for my actions."

She looked up at him then and saw an untamed fury on his normally controlled face. He seemed to take her silence as a confession and he took a step towards her and a jolt of fear shot through Letitia, but just before he reached her, the door swung open and Grace burst into the room, a sheen of sweat on her pale forehead.

"Joshua!" she gasped as she rushed towards him. "What are you doing?"

Letitia had crossed her arms protectively around herself and she hugged herself tightly as Grace pulled Hanson away from her and held his face in her hands.

"Look at me Joshua," Grace said firmly, pulling his angry gaze away from the cowering Letitia.

Hanson's eyes cleared as he looked down at the anxious face of the little Doctor, and he swayed slightly as she gripped him.

"Letitia can help us," she said, and glancing at her friend added, "You can can't you?"

"Yes," Letitia surprised herself by whispering. "Yes, I think I can."

"Oh thank God," Grace cried and sat down beside her on the bed, peeling her hand away from her chest and grasping it tightly. "I didn't have time to tell you at the Fort," she said in a rush, "But Henry Lucas is an evil man, Letitia. You must not be afraid of Joshua and Tom. They have done nothing wrong. It is Lucas you must be afraid of."

"But they kidnapped me and burnt my house down," she said, glancing at Hanson who was now standing immobile in the middle of the room.

"I think you know that is a lie," said Grace.

Hanson suddenly seemed to come to his senses and he sat on the other side of Letitia and gently placed one of his hands on her back.

"The very first time we ever laid eyes on you was at Bella's house, Letitia. And that is the truth," he said softly. "Tom couldn't bear to leave you there. I knew it was wrong to take you, but he was under your spell from the very first moment he saw you."

"But that was not the first time," she said so quietly they barely heard her. "He stole into my bedroom, before I was attacked. He came to my house and he wanted my husband's debt repaid."

"Did he threaten you or attack you?" Grace asked.

"No," Letitia admitted and then blushed at the memory of what he had done.

"Well then," Grace said. "There is absolutely no evidence that it was him who attacked you that night. And it would have been totally out of character, you know that don't you?"

"Yes," Letitia said, knowing full well that the Black Orchid used far more gentle and pleasurably persuasive methods than bashing her over the head.

Hanson's hand stroked reassuringly over her back as Grace held her hand tightly, and Letitia admitted to herself that she trusted them both and felt safer, sitting here in a cheap rented room above a rowdy tavern, than she did in Fort Charles with Henry Lucas controlling her every move.

"I'm so sorry," she said as hot tears spilled from her eyes, and she buried her face in Hanson's warm neck and cried with great sobbing gasps as he held her tight.

Chapter 24

The Black Orchid opened his eyes to one more day of captivity and the first thing he saw was a large grey rat regarding him with cold beady eyes as it chewed on the remnants of the dry bread that had been pushed through the hole in the door. He stretched his stiff muscles and the rat did not even flinch. It just continued to impassively chew as he tentatively pulled himself up from the cold floor.

He had dreamt of innocent times when he had been young and free and more importantly had no knowledge of women and the kind of trouble that always followed them. In his dream he was lying in a field of wild flowers with the kind English sun shining on his freckled upturned face. But that peaceful dream had soon transformed into something more feverish as he felt again the sensations of being buried deep inside Lady Letitia Howard as her soft hands dug into his taught biceps and her dark eyes burned with untamed arousal. His cock pulsed hard in his filthy breeches and he closed his eyes tight, willing away the too painfully vivid memory that the dream had aroused. He cursed the day he had fallen captive to that woman's eyes. She had brought him nothing but misery.

Then suddenly there was a rattling of keys in the heavy wooden door and he tensed, stealing himself for another beating. Or maybe this was the moment he would be dragged from this prison into the morning sun of the courtyard to have a noose slung round his neck? He almost welcomed it. It would at least be a release from the torturous thoughts that plagued him.

He squinted in the light that came from the corridor, his eyes focusing on a pale blue silk dress, and upwards to a smooth white neck, carefully arranged curls and a pair of intense dark eyes.

"Tom," she gasped as he continued to stare at her, countless emotions flooding his exhausted and confused brain. "Oh Tom," she said as she stepped into his cell and fell onto her knees in the filthy straw.

He remained motionless, his whole body tense and wary, his jaw rigid with shock.

Her small hand reached out and tenderly stroked his cheek, his skin burning under her soft touch. "What have they done to you?" she whispered.

He could not find his voice. His throat was too dry, his thoughts too fractured. He just stared at her face as her eyes filled with tears.

"What ...what are you doing here?" he eventually managed to say, his voice coming out in a low croak.

Letitia could not tear her eyes away from her previously proud pirate's battered face. There was an angry swelling round one of his eyes and his cheeks were pale and hollow. Her heart clenched at the cold and guarded look in his blue eyes.

"I am so sorry," she said. "I am so sorry for what I did. It is inexcusable."

"Why?" he croaked, his body becoming even more rigid as she leaned towards him.

"Henry Lucas lied to me and I believed him. I am so sorry."

She reached out and touched his cheek again and this time he turned his head so his lips brushed against her palm. The contact seemed to break something inside him and he suddenly reached out and pulled her to him, upsetting her balance and making her fall against him, her body slamming against his as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, his lips grazing her ear as she felt him sigh against her, a great shuddering sigh that swept through his whole body.

"Letitia," he groaned into her ear. "You are killing me."

"Oh Tom!" she cried as she clung to him. "It broke my heart when I thought you had lied to me. I gave myself to you entirely and then to be told it was you who had attacked me and almost destroyed my home. I couldn't bear it!"

"I want to kill that bastard," he said. "I want to tear him apart with my bare hands."

"I should never have been so quick to believe him. Will you ever forgive me?"

He drew away from her and held her face in his hands, tracing her lips with his calloused fingers, his eyes raking over her face as if to memorise it.

"It would be foolish for a condemned man not to forgive, Letitia," he said and he pressed his mouth hard over hers, his tongue possessing her mouth, pouring all his longing into her until she was writhing in his arms and moaning, desperate to be joined with him once again, to feel the hard planes of his strong body as he took her.

With a loud groan he pulled his mouth away from hers and rasped, "Are you still with him?"

"Yes, but only for as long as it takes to get you out of here."

Chapter 25

Henry Lucas regarded Letitia across the dining table, and she could not help shuddering under his cold gaze, but she managed to lift her chin and smile back at him, fighting to keep her revulsion in check. His eyes flicked over her, settling on her heaving bosom and he returned her smile, raising his napkin to prissily wipe the corner of his mouth. How had she ever found him attractive? Her skinned crawled to look at him now.

"Are you well, my darling?" he said in his smooth cultivated slur. "You look ... troubled."

"I am fine," she replied, avoiding his penetrating stare.

"Where did you get to this afternoon?" he asked coolly. "Your disappearance from the Governor's tea party was noted. It was most impolite of you to leave so abruptly."

"I needed some air," she said.

His eyes stayed fixed on her and he eventually said, "I will require your company tomorrow. It is the day of the trial and you must attend the court with me. Your absence will cause tongues to wag even further. I will not endure that kind of talk. My fiancée must be seen to be dutiful."

She just stared at her plate, not trusting herself to speak.

"And I am sure you are eager to see that common criminal hanged for his crimes against you."

She glanced up at him to find his eyes full of a chilling excitement.

"But he must be found guilty first," she stammered.

"Oh you must not worry yourself about that. The trial will be nothing but a brief formality." He abruptly stood, pushing his chair back from the table. " I have business to attend to tonight. I will call for you in the morning."

As he opened the door, she caught a glimpse of one of his burly henchmen standing in the corridor, and he spoke briefly to him as he left. The man gave her a meaningful stare as he closed the door on her. She had a feeling that Henry was ensuring she stayed just where she was until she accompanied him to the trial in the morning. She scanned the empty room desolately and prayed that Grace and Hanson would somehow come to her aid.

***

Grace nervously waited for the knock on the door that she knew was coming. She could feel the cold steel of the dagger she had tucked beneath the waistband of her breeches and it gave her a small comfort as her stomach heaved with the horror that she was about to face. "Come alone," she had said in the note and she hoped that his vanity would mean he would do just that, presuming she harboured desire for him rather than the intense hatred she actually felt. He was a man who expected women to fall at his feet, regardless of how he treated them and she had played on this delusion. She had left her breasts unbound and her bare skin pricked with fear beneath her thin shirt as she waited. It was almost nine and he was still not here. She did not think she could stand to wait any longer.

Then the knock on the door came and she bid him enter in a voice that hardly sounded like her own.

He walked into the room dressed more soberly than usual, his dark hair tied back, his handsome face fixed in its usual haughty expression. His eyes darkened as he saw Grace sitting on the bed waiting for him, her shirt open to reveal the swell of her unbound breasts.

"Grace Ferris," he said almost licking his thin lips. "I have waited a long time to have you again."

She kept her expression blank as she leaned back slightly and regarded him with what she hoped looked like desire, despite the anger that was boiling in her. How could he possibly think that she had forgotten the circumstances of their last encounter? How could he think that she had found his rough assault pleasurable in any way? That she would want to repeat the experience? He was far more dangerous than she had ever thought. And to think that she had resisted Hanson and lied to him for so long, telling him she was a virgin. She wanted to pull the knife out and sink it into his evil heart, but she just curled her fingers into tight fists and smiled at him silkily.

"Come to me then," she said. "Show me what it's like to have a real man again," and she almost winced at the words as he advanced towards her, desperately controlling the instinctive reaction to back away from him.

Her eyes were fixed on the door as Henry Lucas's hands touched her shoulders and she stopped herself from flinching. "Now Joshua! Now!" she pleaded silently, but with a growl, he roughly pushed her down onto the bed and rammed his knee between her legs and then at last the door burst open and before he could react, the man looming above her felt the cold, hard muzzle of a blunderbuss pressed into the back of his skull.

"Get your vile hands off my wife," Hanson snarled.

Chapter 26

"Henry Lucas," Grace said calmly, pressing her dagger against the pale skin of his neck. "I have waited a long time to kill you."

Hanson jabbed the gun into the back of the man's skull and beads of sweat started to form on their captive's high forehead. His breath came fast and ragged.

"You will pay for this," he snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes dark and terrified.

"I am sure we will," Grace said lightly, "But the fact of the matter is, we don't care."

Hanson laughed tightly and gave Lucas's skull another prod of his gun. "That's the thing about Pirates, Mr. Lucas," he said. "We are immoral scoundrels without conscience. We will kill at the drop of a hat, just for the fun of it!" He slowly stroked his gun over Lucas's cheek. "And we will do anything for money," he said much more quietly.

"Is that what you want? Money?" Lucas said, his eyes revealing the newfound hope.

"No," said Grace. "You are the pirate, Henry Lucas. You are the one who hunts down your fellow man. You are the one who kills for money." She pressed the dagger more firmly against the skin of his neck. "You are the one who rapes defenseless girls."

Hanson put a warning hand on her arm. They had to keep him unmarked.

"I have killed no-one," he said.

Grace took a deep breath, wanting so badly to break his skin, to slice the dagger deep until his blood drained from his body. Instead she leaned close to his ear and hissed, "What about my father?"

Lucas actually had the gall to laugh, a nasty little sound that made Grace's entire body tense. Hanson's hand returned to her arm and stayed there as she fought her instincts.

"I had nothing to do with your father's death," he said. "He was a foolish old man who got into debt. Some ruffians clearly thought they would teach him a lesson."

"Your ruffians," Grace said, her whole jaw tense with the effort of holding back. "And what about Lady Howard? You almost killed her."

"Letitia? Don't be ridiculous. She is my fiancée."

Hanson suddenly gripped a handful of hair and yanked his head backwards so he could see his face. "You told her it was us, you bastard. And I know for a fact it was not. We do not attack defenseless women."

Henry Lucas remained silent. He merely stared unblinking into Hanson's angry blue eyes.

"Why did you do it?" Hanson asked. "Tell me or by God, my wife will slash your throat and you will bleed to death like a stuck pig."

"I believe the robbers were after something known to be on the property," he said slowly.

Hanson gripped his hair tighter and snarled, "What were they after?"

"Apparently, Howard was in possession of some valuable jewels. Diamonds, I believe. When he died, they were not part of his will."

"Did they find these diamonds?"

Lucas coolly stared up at him. "What do you think? Now, if you are going to kill me can you please get on with it. You are testing my patience."

***

The nights were interminably long. Once total darkness engulfed the cell, Thomas was left alone to nothing but the sounds of scrabbling rats and dripping water, his head echoing with endlessly spiraling thoughts. He pictured Letitia asleep somewhere above him in a soft feather bed, her glossy curls spread on the pillow, tears glistening on her cheeks. If only he knew she was safe and protected and happy, then he could go to the gallows in peace. But as long as she stayed under Henry Lucas's control, he would toss and turn in this cell, anxious and tormented.

At some point in the night he must have fallen into a restless sleep, because he was awakened by the sound of footsteps and the rattling of the key in the door. He pulled himself upright and tensed in the dark. This was it. They had come for him. The gallows were beckoning.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, holding a lamp. Tom could not make out his face, but he recognised his lazy, refined voice as he said, "Get up."

Tom tried to push himself upright, but his legs did not seem to want to obey him. Days of being huddled in a cell and fed on nothing but stale bread would do this to a man, but he cursed his normally strong body for disobeying him at such a crucial moment.

Someone pushed past Henry Lucas and grabbing Tom under the arms heaved him upwards, propping him against the wall. Tom momentarily had a faceful of silky hair and a familiar scent assaulted his nostrils. It smelt like the sea.

"Hanson?" he croaked, hardly believing his own senses, but his first mate's face was indeed smiling at him in the gloom.

"Hello Captain," he grinned. "Long time, no see."

Someone pushed Henry Lucas into the cell so roughly he stumbled and fell against the wall and Hanson said, "Give me the gun, Grace. Wait for us by the dock."

Before Tom could even register her presence, she was gone. Hanson pointed the blunderbuss at the rigid Lucas and said, "Strip."

***

Tom shivered despite the fine wool frock coat he was wearing. It was a tight enough fit to keep him warm, he was much larger than Henry Lucas after all, but his entire body was trembling in the cool night breeze.

Hanson was pacing nervously and staring fixedly into the distance where they could just make out the high walls of Fort Charles. "Where the devil is she?" he muttered. Then at last, they could make out two small figures running towards them, lit by the moonlight.

Grace reached them first, gasping for air, bent down double until she could talk and when she lifted her head, Hanson saw the angry cut across her cheek and the swelling that had started around her eye.

"By God!" he cried taking gentle hold of her chin and examining what he could see of her face in the dark. "What happened?"

"I had a slight altercation with one of Lucas's ruffians. It's nothing," she gasped.

Gently kissing her on the forehead, Hanson said, "You are one hell of a woman, Dr. Ferris."

Tom barely noticed their touching exchange because his eyes were fixed on the woman who was still running towards them, her curls flying loose around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

She reached them and threw herself at him, landing heavily in his lap, her lips meeting his, her laughter sweet and uplifting.

"What about Lucas?" Grace was asking. "Did you kill him?"

"No. I am a man of my word, unfortunately," Hanson replied.

"We will never be free of him," Grace said darkly. "He will want revenge."

"I know my darling, but I am no murderer. Let him hunt us. We are very good at hiding," and he firmly kissed her.

Chapter 27

Tom lay on the warm sand by the glowing fire, the familiar silhouette of 'The Innocent' visible in the distance and replied to The Bear's question.

"We must leave the Caribbean," he said. "We are wanted men and there will be no rest for us in these waters."

"'Tis a pity, my boy. Where will you go?"

"The Americas. I have a yearning to become a farmer," he laughed pulling Letitia more closely to him and smiling down at her.

"But first we have some diamonds to find!" Hanson's voice declared loudly out of the darkness.

Tom groaned and said for what felt like the hundredth time, "Are you asking to get caught?

"Don't tell me your incarceration has turned you into a coward?" Hanson asked throwing himself down into the sand.

"A coward? No, but I have responsibilities now," he said, kissing the top of Letitia's head, his hand wrapping tightly around her waist.

"You certainly do," she said, taking hold of his hand and moving it over her midriff.

Tom was surprised to feel a taught swelling under his palm. He looked into her eyes suddenly so full of emotion as he caressed her rounded flesh.

"Letitia," he exclaimed. "You are... Are you...?"

"Yes," she said with a shy smile, her eyes shining. "I am having a child."

"And it is...?"

"Of course it is yours, Tom!" she cried, kissing him and then added, "But I won't have that scum Henry Lucas finding my poor dead husband's diamonds. And let's face it, we could use the money."

Tom laughed and returned her kiss, his tongue finding its way between her lips, her hands clasping his biceps.

Hanson coughed loudly and said, "Have you thought of returning to England, Tom? Those diamonds would pay for the passage."

Tom reluctantly pulled away from Letitia's luscious lips. "I can hardly return when there is a ransom on my head."

"And there's nothing for us in England," Letitia said. "My house has been sold to pay off my husband's debts. I have no family. There is no reason for us to return."

"Have you not told her?" Hanson asked.

Tom glanced down at Letitia and shook his head wordlessly.

"Told me what?" she asked.

"My name is not Ashdown," he said quietly.

Letitia looked at Hanson for some explanation. The Black Orchid and his first mate exchanged looks and then Hanson said, "His title is Thomas, Earl of Chatham."

Letitia gave a surprised laugh but then saw that Hanson was entirely serious. "You are an Earl?" she asked.

"Yes. Apparently, for the last five years, since my father died, I have been a peer of the realm, and that baby growing inside you is my heir. My bastard heir, it is true, but that can be quickly rectified."

Letitia just stared at him, lost for words for once.

"I went to school with your husband, Lord Howard," he said. "Our fathers were close friends."

"But how on earth did you become a pirate?"

"That is a very long story," he said, "one that I am sure Hanson will enjoy telling you during the long evenings on our farm in the Carolinas."

Letitia continued to stare at him. "To think I once thought you had no breeding," she said quietly.

In a hushed voice, The Black Orchid replied, "I do not blame you for thinking so. I hardly behaved in a gentlemanly fashion."

Hanson was laughing. "I hope you do not find him less attractive now, Letitia. I know that you have grown to rather like your wicked pirate."

Letitia smiled as she gently stroked her lover's handsome face. "As long as he continues to shave his head and forgo a neck cloth, I think I can cope with him being an Earl." Her lips met his in a gentle kiss. "And do not even think of making me live in some vast stately home. I much prefer a ship's cabin or a beach."

And her wicked pirate promptly swept her up in his strong arms and carried her away to his cabin where he was happy to keep her for as long as she wanted.

~The End?~
