Chapter 23

It was the most delectable, intense torment Devlin had ever experienced. He could not believe the speed and ease with which Eden had discarded her previous prudery. Having once been initiated into the delights of the flesh, she now seemed to revel in her newfound female prowess, flaunting her seductive powers with all the artfulness of an accomplished courtesan. He could only conclude that such talent must be inborn in some women, and once released, it was stunning to behold. And extremely erotic.

The woman was also ruthless, taunting him day and night. Everything she did, even the most innocent act, seemed to further excite his desire for her. The scheming witch was out to break him, and apparently would not cease trying until she got him to agree to her demands. Though the moment of his defeat had yet to arrive, Devlin was not at all sure how much longer he could survive this sensual onslaught. She was fast turning him into a blithering slave to her charms.

Each night, Eden crawled into his bed, buck-naked, to curl her soft, smooth body next to his. All night long, he lay awake and painfully aroused—feeling her, smelling her, yet unable to do a thing about it! Indeed, she had him completely at her mercy, and Eden did not seem at all prone to sympathy over his sad plight. Rather, she seemed to enjoy it immensely, to devise even more innovative ways to torture him.

He came to live in anticipation of those moments when she would rise to stretch the weariness from her body, arching up on her toes, her arms reaching far over her head. The elegant turn of her throat enticed him nearly as much as the forward thrust of her breasts and hips. And the supple gyrations she employed at such times was enough to get a rise out of a corpse!

She made an art of the simple act of dressing and undressing, her movements easy and graceful, her hands lingering on all the places he wanted so desperately to touch: stroking her stockings over her long, shapely legs; her fingers sifting through her cinnamon hair; shimmying into her petticoats and letting them slither over her slender curves.

Even while sewing or eating, she was a tempting baggage. The tip of her tongue would creep out to catch between her teeth, or to lick a morsel of food from her lips or her fingers. Simply to tantalize him further, she would often apply similar measures toward him, lapping and sucking crumbs from his lips and chin, even from his bare chest, and he would almost lose his mind.

When she wasn’t tormenting the daylights out of him, and sometimes while she was doing so, they talked. Once she had described to him in minute detail all the precautions she and Nate had taken to counter her presence aboard ship, Devlin relaxed a bit. Still, he didn’t feel absolutely comfortable about having her here. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, comfort wasn’t something he was frequently experiencing these days anyway. And they would simply have to wait to see how well the priest’s blessing would work.

“Explain one thing to me, Eden,” he requested one day. “If you don’t wish to wed me, then why have you gone to such lengths to try to convince me to apply for pardon? I don’t understand it at all.”

She gave him a long, contemplative look, as if deciding how best to word her reply. Then she said softly, “Because I want you to be safe. I don’t want you needlessly risking your life, with every navy in the civilized world bent on your capture. It would kill me to learn that you’d met your end on the gallows, your body left there to rot as a warning to other corsairs.”

“Sweetling, there are risks to everything in life. I wouldn’t have to be pirating to slip on a deck and break my neck, or to choke on a chicken bone, or to die of unknown causes in my own bed.”

“Aye, but those would be accidents, or effects of nature. As a brigand, you would be bringing about your own demise, don’t you see? And for what? A cache of jewels? A handful of gold? A few years of grand adventure? Even Nate sees the wisdom of quitting while he can, with his head still atop his shoulders.”

“Nate is becoming an old fuss-fidget. Besides, he has a good ten years on me, and I’m not so ready to settle into my rocking chair.”

“Age hasn’t a thing to do with it, Devlin,” she argued. “Nor has wanting to marry or raise a family. The plain truth is right before you, but you refuse to see it. Your days of roaming the seas and stealing to your heart’s content are numbered. ’Tis an occupation which is soon to be abolished altogether, by countries and kings and common folk all working hand-in-hand to see piracy stamped out, once and for all. I simply do not want to see you breathe your last along with it.” 

Devlin hated to admit it, but some of what she said held more than a grain of truth. Military vessels were becoming more numerous and their men more vigilant all the time, as well as more determined and skilled. Even the port authorities were less prone to accepting bribes, and stolen goods were harder to unload, bringing lower prices than in years gone by.

Perhaps, whether he wished it or not, the time had come, to consider his future more carefully, to decide what he might want to do with the rest of his life if sailing beneath his own flag, under his own rules, was no longer possible. But he wanted the choice to be his, made in his own way, in his own sweet time—for his own reasons.

Not that he didn’t appreciate Eden’s brand of persuasion. Truth be told, he was relishing most of it. Despite his constant discomfort, he was curious to see how long she would continue with it, and how far she would go to gain his agreement. And he was becoming more intrigued by her with each passing moment.

He simply wanted the decision to be his own.

Three days into their voyage, Devlin managed to badger Ethan, his cabin boy, into loosening his bonds. The lad had come in to clean the cabin, as was his assigned duty. Eden had gone for her usual mid-morning stroll on deck and was not there to witness the threats and curses Devlin heaped upon the poor boy’s head. Fortunately, Ethan was too well-trained, and too loyal to his captain, to disobey for long.

“But I promised Mr. Hancock I wouldn’t untie you,” he protested, even as he bent to the task of setting Devlin free. “He and Miss Winters will know ’twas me, and I’ll get my ears boxed for sure.”

“Then we won’t tell them, and they’ll be none the wiser,” Devlin replied, pulling his wrists free of the slackened restraints and flexing them. “You just leave the ropes looped loosely, and I’ll slip in and out of them as need be. Just remember what I said. Nate will be in to see me each day and will surely tighten the knots again. You must come in after him and ease them once more. Forget, or disregard my orders, and ’twill be more than your ears you’ll have to worry about.”

A short while later, after having stretched his muscles and indulged in an excellent cigar, making sure the smoke drifted through the open window, Devlin slipped back into his ropes—just a heartbeat before Eden came through the door. His lips twitched with a desire to laugh; his eyes sparkled with deviltry.

Hers did too, for an altogether different reason. “ ’Tis time you had a good washing, Devlin,” she stated in a no-nonsense tone, placing a jug of steaming water on his desk.

“Sweetling, I really don’t think now is the time,” he told her, after first recovering from her bold announcement. Though the idea of having her bathe him was a novel one, rather like having one’s fantasy come true, Devlin didn’t want to test his endurance quite so fully as yet. With freedom a mere twist of his wrists away, he wasn’t sure he could keep from ravishing her, and he didn’t want to give the game away just now.

Eden had retrieved the washbowl, filled it with hot water, and was approaching him, washcloth in hand. “Now, you just lie back and enjoy this,” she said.

He would try. He just hoped he could succeed.

Eden peeled his clothing from him. Again, his shirt caught at his wrists, and for the first time, Devlin considered this a boon. Perhaps it would help him to remember to keep his hands where they belonged, away from Eden. Somehow, with much tugging and pulling, she succeeded in dragging his breeches nearly to his ankles. Well, if the shirt was aiding him, the breeches were doing twice the trick. Even should the leg restraints slide over his feet, his trousers would hobble him admirably. For all intents and purposes, he might as well still be bound.

She started with his face, which should have been a safe enough place to begin. But this was to be no ordinary scrubbing. Devlin soon discovered that his lips were extremely sensitive, and she really didn’t have to breathe into his wet ears that way, did she? Lord, he was so riddled with chill bumps that if anyone could see him now, they would take him for a plucked goose!

She swathed his chest with soap, creating a mass of frothy bubbles amid his chest hair. Then she spent an inordinate amount of time weaving intricate patterns through the lather with her fingertips, before tormenting him a second time with a rinsing. Though Devlin had never considered himself ticklish, when she washed his sides and his armpits, he almost leapt from the bed. Only by holding firmly to the loosened ropes did he keep from jerking free of them. Even the bend of his arm, his palms, his fingertips—when she finally got round to them—were amazingly attuned to her touch.

With his ankles and wrists bound to each other, she was able to nudge him onto his side. Whereupon, she proceeded to give his back equal attention. She’d scarcely begun when Devlin was groaning in appreciation, his eyes closed to savor the pleasure, hard-put to remember when he’d enjoyed anything more.

Suddenly his eyes popped wide. The woman was clutching his bum! By damn if she wasn’t! And sneaking her slippery fingers between his legs to feel at other parts of him as well!

By the time she had washed and rinsed his legs, missing not one sensitive spot along the way, Devlin was ready to die of pure bliss. It seemed not even the soles of his feet or his toes were to be spared. Then, inevitably, her hands were caressing his upper thighs, his stomach. Finally, his pulsating manhood. It rose and fell in tandem to her touch, like a cobra entranced by a flute.

Teeth grated, Devlin forcefully reminded himself not to grab for her, not to roll her beneath him and plunge into her. There would be time enough later to pay her back for her playfulness. If he survived this interlude!

Sweet heaven! Now she was licking at him with her warm tongue, lapping at him like a kitten at a platter of cream! Any minute now, he was going to lose control, and surprise the devil out of her!

Then she was settling herself astride his hips, her skirts pulled up and out of the way, her lips caressing his chest. “Tell me how to do this, Devlin. Please!” she entreated, breathing unevenly.

He obliged eagerly. “Close your hand about me, pet, and guide me into yourself. Lower yourself upon me, as slowly and easily as you must, and as far as you can.”

For a moment he thought she might stop, even at this final stage—and if she did, he would strangle her! But his fears were unfounded. In the next second, she was sliding down upon him, her hot, wet sheath wrapping itself tightly about him. It was so heavenly that he almost failed to hear her whisper, “Devlin! I’m so full with you! But I need to move. Oh, hurry! Tell me how!”

“Ride me, sweetling, as you would a horse. Up and down. Brace your hands on my chest, and ride me hard.”

For someone who’d never spent much time astride a horse, Eden was more than adept at riding her man. Soon both of them were bucking and arching and colliding in perfect rhythm, writhing against one another in search of the ultimate ecstasy. Their cries blended, as together they found it at last, glorious waves of splendor washing over them, drowning them, hurtling them toward rapture’s shores.

“Why?” he panted afterward, as her head rested over his thumping heart. “Why did you give me all of yourself now, when I’ve yet to bend to your wishes?”

She raised her head and smiled at him through the veil of her disheveled hair. “This time was for me, Devlin Kane. You might have gained your pleasure as well, but I know that this time was mine.”

He answered with a wry grin. “Then I can only hope you want your own satisfaction again soon, vixen. Very soon indeed.”

Another confrontation of no small import arose when Eden decided that Devlin’s hair could use a trimming. At that announcement, his face clouded ominously. “Nay!” he exclaimed. “Try it, woman, and there are no bonds which can hold me.”

He was so adamant that Eden backed away, scissors still in hand. “Devlin, why are you getting into such a snit over such a small matter? Heavens! I have cut it for you several times now since we’ve met, and I’ve yet to do it badly.”

“Aye, but those times were ashore, not aboard ship.” 

“Pray, explain what difference that should make.”

“It makes all the difference, as Nate or any of the crew will verify. To trim hair or pare nails aboard ship when the weather is fine is sure to bring a storm.” 

“Oh, of all the rot!” she huffed. “I swear, you sailors have more silly superstitions than anyone I’ve ever heard.” In an aside, she added, “I cannot recall Mother ever telling me that Grandfather believed so foolishly.” “Your grandfather?” Devlin echoed. “What has he to do with anything? Did he also sail?”

Eden glanced at him in surprise, only now aware she’d spoken aloud. “Aye, Devlin, he did. To hear Mother speak of him, he was a wondrous man to know. Many times, I’ve wished he would have lived past my second year, for I scarcely remember him. My single recollection is of sitting on his lap and yanking at his beard, which I must have found immensely intriguing. He laughed heartily and patted my head.”

She smiled at the memory, then asked softly, still caught up in her thoughts, “Do you think mayhap that is why I’ve not been prone to the usual malaise at sea? Might I have inherited his sea legs?”

Devlin shrugged. “That is beyond my reckoning, Eden. But you may consider yourself fortunate to be so blessed. However, we’ve had fine weather and smooth seas thus far. You might still experience a few ills should we encounter a storm. Therefore, regardless of your own thinking, twould be wise to heed my warning and apply your shears solely to your sewing.”

Eden was to discover that many more things were forbidden aboard ship. One of these was whistling, which also brought storms and was considered mocking the Devil. But since whistling interfered with, and was often mistaken for, the piercing tones of the bo’sun’s pipe, used to signal various activities on deck, this superstition made some sense to her. Killing seabirds was also forbidden, and eagles, hawks, and falcons were often brought along as tokens of good fortune, which explained why Zeus, visible or not, was still revered among the crew. They’d even delayed sailing from Charles Town until the bird had been retrieved from Eden’s home and installed once more aboard the Gai Mer.

She also discovered why sailors, pirates in particular, so often wore an earring, some men donning two or more. The tradition hailed back to a time when doing so was thought to improve eyesight, a definite benefit at sea, especially useful in spying other ships and avoiding treacherous shoals. Very vaguely, almost as if she wished it so, she recalled that her grandfather had sported a glint of gold in his ear. She would have to ask her mother to be certain, but it was not at all unlikely.

On a whim, more to test the theory than for purposes of adornment, Eden donned a pair of garnet ear bobs she’d packed into her valise. With their inner fire, garnets were considered objects of good luck, and Eden was curious enough by now to want to test them.

When she foolishly admitted as much to Devlin, he laughed uproariously. “Ho! Not so ready to poke fun at the rest of us now, are you, pet?” His dark gaze strayed to the slight bulge in her pocket where her little sack of codfish stones rested. “I know about the stones also, so you may as well admit that you’re every bit as drawn to charms as the rest of us.”

Her lips protruded in a fetching pout. “I am simply conducting an experiment, Devlin. To see if any of this has even a morsel of validity.”

“Aye, sweetling,” he agreed on a chuckle. “But if nip should come to tuck, I’d wager you’d swallow those stones to stay afloat rather than risk losing them.”

Devlin was alone and unbound in his quarters, with only Zeus for company. With his keen hearing, the big bird had taken to alerting his master of approaching footsteps, well in time for Devlin to resume his supposed captivity. Suddenly the ship’s bell rang out the alarm. From on deck, shouts arose. Without a thought of continuing his ruse, Devlin dashed to his sea chest and quickly retrieved his broadsword and pistols. On the run, he checked their load and shoved the guns into his belt.

Aside from Eden, no one seemed surprised at his abrupt appearance on deck, though a few hastily crossed themselves at the sight of their captain’s bodiless clothes rushing toward the helm. “What goes?” Devlin queried, assuming immediate command.

Nate nodded toward the starboard horizon, handing Devlin the spyglass. “We’ve company, Dev. Two ships with sails full and gainin’ on us.”

Devlin peered through the lens, his brow furrowing. “They sport no colors,” he mused. “Likely, brigands such as ourselves.”

“Aye,” Nate concurred. “But we ride high in the water, with no plunder fillin’ our holds. Seein’ this, they surely know we’ve nothing to steal. Why, then, are they so intent on catchin’ us?”

Devlin’s eyes narrowed. “A good question, old friend. What say we discover the answer? Give the order to swing about. We’ll meet them straight on, and if ’tis a fight they’re wanting, they’ll have it shortly. Even with but two-thirds of our normal crew, we can still give ’em a challenge they won’t soon forget.”

Nate gave him a queer look. “I’m not gonna bother askin’ how ye got yerself free so fast, but I am wonderin’ if ye intend to greet the challenge dressed as ye are. To be sure, ye’d likely scare the bejesus out o’ every last man, if that’s yer purpose.”

Devlin cursed in frustration. “Damn me, but I’d love to enter the fray as a normal man again! While this business of being a half-spirit has some merit, I find no sport, and little honor, in wielding my sword against an enemy who cannot see me.” Finding no help for it but to change into his ghostly attire, he was intent on returning to his cabin when he nearly collided with Eden.

“Which one of your men untied you?” she demanded heatedly.

He grabbed her arm, propelling her alongside him. “I’ve no time for petty squabbles now, Eden. We’ve ships to meet, and likely a battle forthcoming.”

He shoved her ahead of him into the cabin, again making his way to his chest. Locating his invisible clothes, he began to change into them. “I want you to remain here. Lock the door behind me and open it to no one until I send word that ’tis safe to do so.” From his belt, he tossed her one of his pistols. “Arm yourself with this, and if anyone breaks through that door, shoot them. You do know how to fire a gun, I trust?”

She nodded, too caught up in watching him dress to notice much save the excited gleam in his dark eyes. “You are looking forward to this confrontation, aren’t you?” she accused. “Fairly relishing it.”

He flashed her a white-toothed grin. “Aye, Eden. I do enjoy my work—nearly as much as I have fancied these last few days at your tender mercies. When the battle is won, mayhap I can return the favor, sweetling. In the interim, ’twill give your agile mind something to dwell upon besides your fears.”

“Devlin,” she said hesitantly, “I overheard what you told Nate. Does it truly bother you so, to meet your enemy unseen?”

“Aye, Eden, it does. ’Tis unscrupulous to hold such unfair advantage over an opponent, and I detest it to the marrow of my bones. When I pit my wits and my sword against another, I want to come away knowing ’twas a fair fight I won.”

She gave a miserable nod. “I think I understand what you are saying, and I suppose if I were a man I would feel much the same.” On a defeated sigh, she rose to fetch a length of black cloth from her sewing material. “Change back into viewable clothing, Devlin. I think I have a solution to your problem.”

He stopped in the midst of fastening his sash about his waist. His startled gaze met hers. “You do?”

“Aye.” She held the cloth out to him. “Your hood, Sir Pirate,” she declared somberly. “If we cut eyeholes in a square of this, as one might do with a mask, and drape it properly over your head so that your vision is unimpaired, it should serve the purpose. Of course, you might also want to secure it with a neckerchief, to keep it from slipping out of place, and mayhap wear your hat atop it as well.”

Devlin stared at the cloth in consideration. “With gloves over my hands, and visible weapons and clothes, my body will be totally discernible,” he marveled. “This is wonderful, Eden!”

She wasn’t so certain. However, she kept that thought to herself and told him, “You do realize that this hood will be suitable only under circumstances such as this. ’Twould not be appropriate attire for a stroll down the streets of Charles Town, lest you send people screaming in fear, and ruin all the goodwill you have striven so hard to gain with the citizens there.” 

“Nor wise to wear for an audience with Governor Rogers?” he added with a querying look. “Is that why you have not suggested such a fine disguise until now?” 

“Nay, Devlin. I simply hadn’t thought of it before. I wish I hadn’t thought of it now.”

“Well, I am overjoyed that you have,” he admitted. He quickly changed clothes again, and with her aid, donned the new hood. Viewing the result in his looking glass, he was well-pleased with the intimidating image reflected there.

He turned to her, his eyes aglow. “I’d love to kiss you just now, but ’twill have to wait until the battle is won and my mouth is free of this covering.” His gloved hand came up to stroke her cheek. “Fear not, Eden. Lock the door after me, and stay safe. I shall return soon, and together we will celebrate the victory.”