Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 15

Charlotte

Conks’s kind face was the first thing to greet me as I awoke the next morning.

The unwelcome rush of memories was the second.

I thought Captain Colt would be a quickly-following third, but he didn’t appear. Instead, I looked down in surprise to realize my clothing had been changed. I wore a man’s shirt and a lady’s skirt… though I bore no stockings beneath the skirt to cover my legs nor any apparel to guard my intimate regions.

I smoothed my hair into what few pins remained in an effort to maintain some dignity.

Hearing me stir, Conks entered the hull and this time, I gratefully accepted the tonic he proffered.

Drinking the contents, images of the night before flashed through my mind. Curiously, the later into the evening the memories progressed, the fuzzier they became. I recalled with clarity Colt stringing me to his ceiling and wielding that awful leather with precision upon my bare breasts. Each hit stung so dreadfully I’d slipped into a strange state of mind where they didn’t smart as badly.

For my own protection, as I’d done before. Clearly.

I’d gone to a place where, instead, it began to feel almost… pleasurable.

Curiouser still, I’d next travelled to a world where I hardly felt anything at all or barely even registered my surroundings. As I tried to recall what transpired toward the evening’s conclusion, it was as if a gray mist clouded my eyes, blurring out the picture of Colt’s cabin.

Released from my cell by Conks, I was once again free to amble The Dread Night alone, and the first place I headed was the galley. I wanted to see if I could loosen Miguel’s lips a little more, but when I arrived he grumbled something about being busy with his duties and politely -- but quickly -- escorted me out.

Someone had obviously instructed, or re-instructed him, not to speak to me about past events. Sighing, I instead headed above deck.

Low clouds hung in the sky and the seas were a bit choppy. Yet something about the crisp air and feisty waves stirred my soul. I made my way to the forecastle deck, wanting to feel the wind upon my cheeks. Crewmen whispered as I passed, but none dared approach. I wondered if the gray skies evoked a feeling of wistfulness in the men as well, because I heard a few begin a shanty that was quickly picked up by the rest of the crew as they worked. I didn’t want to turn around and let them know I listened, but I couldn’t help but tap my foot in time to the beat.

These men are murderers and thieves, I reminded myself. Your goal is to learn more of their ways and to perhaps coordinate a capture with Daniel. They are the enemy.

When the song repeated the chorus a final three times, it died down, and I heard footsteps behind me. I spun, expecting to see Colt, but it was Redhands. Nothing about Robert was actually red. His hair was brown, his eyes were blue, and his skin was as tanned as any sailor’s. Robert was tall and well-built, though not as muscular as Colt.

Though he seemed higher-ranking than the other men, nothing about his approach signaled any intent to act according to station. Robert moved closer to me in a slow manner, clearly meant to intimidate while at the same time, making it difficult for me to outright claim he did anything wrong.

“You think I don’t know?” he snarled between clenched teeth, then cocked a half-grin full of hate. “You always thought I didn’t have as much power as the captain on this ship, just because I don’t have the title.”

Yet, came the unspoken promise to the end of that sentence. I don’t have the title yet.

“I - no,” I stammered, unsure what to say to appease him.

“Of course I know about the Crimson Eye,” Robert said, cornering me against the ship’s rail. “And I want to know what you did with it. Sell it, eh? Find yourself a nice buyer with that pretty little face?”

Crimson Eye? What in the world was that?

Robert slid his dirk from its sheath with slow, intentional malice. “What if I cut up that pretty little face of yours? How many slices of my blade would it take before you started talking?”

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I cried, retreating into the safety of my act. “I know nothing of a Crimson Eye and I surely haven’t taken it. Good day, sir,” I declared, attempting to end the conversation and escape Robert’s threats.

“Don’t you dare dismiss me,” he snarled, grabbing my bicep and shoving his blade beneath my throat.

My stomach barely had time to drop before Colt appeared, smacking Robert’s arm away from my neck.

“Cut it out, Robert,” Colt ordered. “You’re the one who’s supposed to punish any men who touch her, not break the rules I gave you to enforce.”

“I’m done playing her game!” Robert spat, pointing angrily. “She flounces around our ship while taunting the knowledge?” Redhands tossed his head back, sneering. I realized his face might have been handsome but for the lines his continually hostile expression seemed to work into his flesh. “I’ve had enough. If she don’t start talking by the time we leave Nassau, I’m whipping it out of her. Or I’m tellin’ the men about the Eye and they’ll gladly do it for me.”

Colt held up a hand, “Robert, calm down-”

“I ain’t calmin’,” he cried. “And I ain’t waitin’ another two years.”

Colt squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw, carefully considering Robert.

“As quartermaster it’s my duty to challenge you on these matters. And this is the deal I can offer you, Colt,” Robert said, low and even. “She confesses everything by the time we leave Nassau, or I’ll tie her to the whipping mast and bloody her back.”

My spine turned to ice at his words. I could tell from Colt’s hard expression he took Robert’s threat seriously.

No, not a threat. A promise.

“You know the crew will happily encourage it once they learn she stole their fortune and their future. Might want to whip you too at the point. Certainly won’t support your being captain no more.”

My heart beat furiously as I awaited Colt’s reply. Surely he’d protect me?

“You’re right,” the captain agreed in a voice both dark and conceding. “It’s a fair deal you’ve struck and I honor it.”

Wait… no.

Colt stepped into Robert’s personal space, intimidating him with his height. “But if you ever speak to me again in that manner, if your negotiations ever again turn to threats, I will tie you to the mast and whip you myself.”

Robert paled.

“Have I also struck a fair deal you can honor? Say the word and I can provide a sample of my intentions right now.”

“N - no, captain,” Robert stammered, contrition and anger warring in his expression.

“Scurry along to your duties. And remember -- until we leave Nassau, your job is to keep her from any who would do her harm,” Colt said. “I’ll get the truth from her before it comes to the lash.”

Redhands sauntered off the forecastle deck with a self-satisfied spring in his step.

I had no way of knowing what Colt next planned. But I didn’t believe he would seriously hurt me -- cut me or lash the skin from my back. Would he?

I gulped and whispered, “You’d whip a lady, captain?”

Perhaps a ridiculous question, considering what he’d done to me the night before. I knew he was thinking about those events as well from the heat in his gaze. The memory brought a flush to my own cheeks. No, the mere proximity of Colt’s body made a warmth spread all over my flesh. The recollection and the hunger in Colt’s stare made my breasts heavy and full, as if he willed it with his eyes.

This man, this stranger, could picture my bare breasts at any time. My naked arse. My exposed cunt. For the rest of his life, and mine, we were connected in this intimate manner.

And yet I had seen nothing of his form.

Ridiculous of course. I was glad for it. Not having him remove his breeches meant he couldn’t threaten me with the equipment beneath them.

Thick, stiff, and designed to bring such pleasure --

“You know I wouldn’t,” Colt interrupted my thoughts, dark eyes considering me. My brief relief turned to stomach-sinking fear when he added, “But Redhands would. Unlike the king’s navy, a pirate ship is a democracy. As you’re well aware. And you’ve given the entire crew just cause, especially if they learn what you’ve taken from them.”

“Their Crimson Eye?” I asked, as innocently as possible.

“Their future,” Colt said, eyes narrowed. “Though they’re not aware of it unless Robert tells them.” He cocked his head. “But we’re getting somewhere if you’re willing to address your theft. I’m pleased you’re finally starting to speak the truth. But if you don’t finish speaking it by the time we leave port, there’s nothing I can do to protect you.”

“You could release me,” I pointed out.

Colt’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly with alarm and he grabbed my arm. “Don’t think you can escape again. Nassau belongs to our kind. There’s nowhere you can hide where I won’t find you. No one you can ask for help who would oblige.”

Something in my face made Colt declare, “If you run from me again, so help me God, Lady Charlotte. You won’t be able to sit down for a week after I’m done with you. And you can spend the rest of your days with your ankles shackled. Do I make myself clear?”

Shockingly, his threat made me tingle between my legs. What was it about being the focus of Colt’s attention that I found strangely exciting? Heat and hate warred within me. Emotions battled on Colt’s face too, and I think they were a combination of dread and desire. The air between us crackled with something akin to the energy of the impending rain… of an impending storm between the two of us.

Gritting my teeth, I mocked, “Aye, captain.”

Colt dropped my arm and I felt oddly… disappointed.

But then he cocked his one-sided grin and declared, “I’ll see you this evening in my cabin.” Colt spun on his heel, but before leaving, he looked over his shoulder and added, “all of you.”

I shivered as Colt left me alone to consider my fate, and there was much to consider.

Had I truly stolen gold and a gem of some kind? What did a gem have to do with the crew’s future? It must have been quite a large stone if finding a buyer was a problem, as Redhands suggested. Perhaps I’d only stolen the gem in order to return it to its proper owner, I reasoned.

Yet… where was it now? If I’d escaped this awful pirate ship with a key piece of their treasure, where had I stashed it? Had I been attacked and injured in my quest to return it?

More importantly, what was I going to do now? Redhands would never believe that I didn’t know.

Balling my hands into fists, I stared at the choppy sea and fought the tears welling in my eyes.

I’d thought that if things turned out badly enough, I could confess the truth about my memory loss. It was the one hope I held onto, giving me some sense of comfort and safety.

But now… would the crew even believe me? Would Colt?

Why should he when I’d been lying to him the entire time?

No. Somehow, I needed to escape when we reached Nassau. I believed Colt when he vowed to punish me if he caught me.

If he caught me. And anyway, the promise of Colt’s belt was better than the threat of Redhands’s lash. I gripped the railing, dizzy from the thought.

He’d whip me until I died, I thought. Because no matter what I said, I’d never be able to confess to that which I did not know.

#

That evening, I planned to sup with Miguel once more, but he told me I’d be dining later with the captain, in his quarters. Conks and Johnson were already in the galley, making it impossible to have any candid conversation about my past with the quiet cook.

Instead of a meal, I was offered ale, and I drank it all quickly to steel my courage. It wasn’t long before the spirit worked its soothing magic on my limbs. Meandering the ship, I once again heard the rest of the crew dining above, singing and laughing, and it evoked in me a feeling akin to wistfulness. I didn’t know what to call the sensation; it wasn’t quite a memory, but it was more than just a longing. When their voices rose in song, I felt a familiar yearning.

Troubling, indeed.

I made my way above deck and watched the men from a distance. After they finished eating, someone brought out a fiddle and they clapped and danced together. Had I another glass of ale, I might have joined them -- counter to my very vow to bring down these corrupt men from within.

Well, maybe not all the men are evil, I reasoned. They were subject to Colt’s whims, same as I. It’s really just the sinister captain I need to bring to justice. And Redhands, I added.

Too quickly the sun set into the sea and a taunting moon shone above. All thoughts of revelry were wiped from my mind when Colt came to collect me. Even in the moonlight, I could see the lust shining in his eyes, making me blush.

What is he going to do to me now?

Like the previous evenings, Colt marched me to his cabin. Each time that door slammed, my fate was sealed. I knew within these walls whatever happened would be whatever he decreed. No one would come to my aid, and I couldn’t overpower Colt.

He knew it too. As soon as I turned to face him that strange sensation ran between us, linking us, quickening my breath, and his.

Unlike other evenings, the table had been laden with a meal I could scarcely examine without feeling like I might be sick. Who could eat under threat of Colt the Cruel?

The captain strode leisurely to the table and sat, eying me with expectation. I did not move. He could make me do all sorts of sinful, wretched things, but I refused to turn around and dine at his table with false civility.

Colt raised his eyebrows and I didn’t like the satisfaction gleaming on his face. It felt like the drop of some handkerchief, calling a game to begin. A game in which I was an unwilling participant.

“Lift your skirts and sit down,” Colt drummed his fingers against the tabletop, casually, while my face heated with fury. “Legs spread. Do not close them.”

I wanted to scream at how easily he’d said such horrific things.

“No.”

“You can spread your legs and bare your cunt of your own free will or I will belt your cunt until it hurts too much to close your thighs.” Colt leaned back, languid, expectant. I wanted to throttle him yet it didn’t stop the throb between my legs.

“How is it my free will if you threaten me otherwise?” I spat, hands balled into fists. I was doing that so much lately that I was probably digging half-moon dents from my fingernails permanently into my flesh.

Colt flashed a half-smirk. “Fair point. I stand corrected. But the choice remains. You can bare your cunt while we dine, free of pain, or I can bare it for you, throbbing from my lesson.”

Tears of humiliation pricked my eyes. I clapped my hands over my ears in an almost laughable manner, but I couldn’t help myself. “Stop saying that word!”

Colt tilted his head and stood slowly. Such a slow rise made quick work of racing my pulse. It was better when he sat. Safer.

“What word is that?” Grabbing my waist too fast for me to react, Colt pressed my body against his. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispered, “Cunt?”

I shivered.

“Your bare cunt, Lady Charlotte?”

His breath warmed my neck as Colt continued, “I suggest you get used to hearing the word. I’m about to do much more than say it. I’m about to see it.”

That hot feeling rose in my chest again as Colt drew the tip of his nose along my neck, inhaling. Me? Soft lips and prickly stubble rubbed my skin as he said, “You’re going to reveal that cunt to me. At my command. For my pleasure.”

My hands hung limp with indecision -- slap him… or curl my fingers around those biceps and plead for him to move his hands lower, to relieve the ache in my…

No.

What was wrong with me?

Abruptly, Colt released me, making me angrier for some reason. He returned to his chair, leisurely slung one arm over the back, and cocked a brow.

“I’m waiting.”

Scowling, I stormed to one of the chairs and plopped down.

“Back up,” Colt commanded, lifting his chin. “Stand, raise your skirts, then you may sit.”

If I could have burned him to char with my stare, I would have. Jaw clenched, I rose, bunched my skirts at my waist, and re-sat.

Colt and I held each other’s gaze, knowing what was to come next. The tension permeated the air like the moment before a curtain’s rise on opening night. Me, the player behind the stage, preparing to give a good show. Colt, the patron, demanding to be entertained.

Odd that a power raced through my veins at that moment. Was I helpless to Colt’s commands or was he helpless to my charms? Part of me wanted to turn my head away in shame as I spread my legs. But another part of me couldn’t tear my gaze from the thrall on Colt’s face. His dark, hungry eyes slid downward to my open sex. I knew better than to obey in halves and I widened my legs to either side of the chair, causing the lewd spreading of my folds.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, drinking his wine, never taking his eyes off me. Well -- my nether regions, specifically. After a few moments, Colt occasionally shifted his eyes up to my face, as if taking stock… as if reassuring himself of something and, once satisfied, he lowered his gaze back where he desired.

Agonizing minutes passed. Or were they seconds? Hours? Who knew? I was too acutely focused of the feel of Colt’s black eyes on my… cunt… to feel the passing of time.

His husky voice broke the silence. “You’re dripping onto the chair, Lady Charlotte.”

I felt the blush I knew he wanted.

“While an unfortunate lady might find herself subjected to unspeakable horrors at the hands of a captor, would such a lady soil the chair with her own lust?”

Waves of shame hit me so hard they dizzied me. I didn’t know if he expected an answer but I had none. My mouth had gone completely dry. Every part of my body felt hot, feverish. My face, my neck, my breasts, and especially the region below my waist. And he hadn’t even touched me.

Colt placed his wine back upon the table, grinning saucily. He picked up a piece of saltbeef and took a bite.

“Go on,” he commanded. “Eat. You’re free to enjoy as much as you like.”

You know damn well I can hardly eat a bite like this, I thought, narrowing my eyes. But I wouldn’t be defeated. Meeting his challenge, I grabbed my own saltbeef and took a large bite.

Unfortunately, the meat was tougher than I expected and I bit off more than I could chew, literally.

The next thing I knew I coughed and wheezed as my throat was robbed of air.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

Gripped by panic, I wasn’t even embarrassed when Colt’s arms wrapped around my waist, squeezing.

Oh dear God, I can’t breathe.

His strong hands smacked my back in an attempt to dislodge the meat.

I can’t die like this, I thought, wildly. Tears welled. Choking on saltbeef at a pirate captain’s table.

On a particularly rough cough, the meat finally shot from my open mouth, landing on the table in a vulgar display. Relieved tears spilled down my cheeks and I took great, greedy gulps of air. When I refocused, Colt was kneeling before me. He brushed my hair from my face and gently grabbed it, studying me.

“You turned purple,” he declared, brow furrowed. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that, Charlie. Our kind meets our doom at the end of a sword, not a rough bit o’ bull.” Something strange crossed his face, setting his mouth into a line. “Though I suppose you were never truly our kind.”

I didn’t pay much attention to that last part.

Charlie?

I blinked. He’d never called me that before.