The locations, major events and certain characters in these stories are taken from Theah, the setting for the 7th Sea role-playing game (http://www.swashbucklingadv.com/). These particular stories are based on logs from my own role-playing adventures in this exciting world (http://www.btinternet.com/~s.mci/7thsea/7thindex.html).
Theah is (sort of, but not quite) a fantasy version of 17th century Europe. It is filled with daring swordsmen, dashing pirates and dread villains. These stories are set in Montaigne (sort of, but not quite, France) and Avalon (sort of, but not quite, England). A young sailor joins the Sea Dog privateers of Avalon to find a life of adventure.
Please send any comments about this tale to s.mci@btinternet.com
Introduction
The bearded sailor from the isle of Inismore drew his cutlass left-handed and held it defensively in a reverse grip, gleaming tip pointing vertically down before him. He continued to menace the three thugs with the sharp, now bloodied, sailor´s knife gripped defiantly in his right hand. He was breathing hard and shielded his gashed side, but smiled wickedly as he pointed to the figure slumped on the floor before him.
"That´s one of you who won´t be keeping his dinner inside his guts tonight. Do you still want to make an issue of this?"
The two remaining brutes glanced at each other and down to their fallen leader. They shook their heads at Sean and began backing off towards the tavern door.
"Take your mate with you," Sean shouted after them, "Our host doesn´t need any more blood staining his floors."
He slumped back in his chair when they had left and lifted his ale. His pretty blonde companion for the evening wrapped herself around him and started mopping his wound with her long skirt. He enjoyed her ministrations while the tavern returned to its business. Sean had spent enough coins here this week for the tavern owner not to raise a fuss over the fight.
The ‘Triple Crown´ was a large, lively tavern positioned near the docks of Surluse on the southern coast of Avalon. It sat well back from the stench of the water front and was clean and well lit. It normally had a reputation for a friendly, open atmosphere and was home to the fairest female company that coins could buy. Sailors considered it the height of refinement and even a few nobles came down from the city when they fancied a night ‘roughing it´.
Sean O´Brien had been enjoying the tavern´s hospitality for about a week since leaving the coastal trader ‘Lady Jane´. His purse, never too full to begin with, had become lighter while indulging in fine meals, wine and local Jennys. A few of the residents had taken exception to the Inishman throwing his money about and taking advantage of their women. They might be united under one flag, but the natives of Inismore were often scorned as the poor country cousins of their neighbours in Avalon proper and the wild Highland Marches. A bar room brawl was nothing new to Sean - all part of a good evening´s entertainment.
The sound of heavy footsteps made him break off from nibbling the young Jenny´s neck. A massive man stood before him. The stranger wore black knee boots, a loose white shirt tied with a black waist sash and had his long hair held back in a short tail by a black ribbon. He stood confidently, booted feet braced wide apart and hands folded across a broad barrel-chest. He smiled down at Sean and nodded a greeting.
"You handled yourself pretty well just then."
Sean kept one arm around his companion and lifted his cutlass from the table to point it at the new comer, "Please don´t tell me I´m going to be using this again. It´s getting so hard to enjoy a quiet evening´s drink."
The man laughed, "No, no need for that. I´m interested in those who can hold their own in a fight. Tell me, do you know how to work a ship too?"
"Aye, well enough. I´ve sailed the waters of these three islands."
"Good. Are you looking for employment just now?"
Sean frowned, "I may be. What´s your interest?"
"My name is John Reynolds. If you´re of a mind to make a fine profit while enjoying a grand life of adventure in service to your country then report to the ‘Kingfisher´ at sun-up tomorrow. I promise it´ll be worth your bother."
The tall figure gave Sean a final appraising look before nodding to himself in satisfaction and heading out into the port. Sean´s eyes followed him until he had left the tavern and then the Inishman turned back to the lass at his side, “Do you know anything about him?’
The girl looked up from her tickling of the sailor´s chest, “Hmm? Oh, Captain Reynolds? He´s a captain with the Sea Dogs - one of the Queen´s privateers. He checks at all the inns when he´s ashore, but there´s only ever a few that find a berth on his ship. They say that he´s some great lord or other, that his family owns several counties inland. Don´t know if that´s so, but any who have sailed with him say they´ve never had a fairer captain.’
A captain with the Sea Dogs? Sean was impressed. The Sea Dogs were famed throughout Avalon. Pirates of the Crown who raided their enemies´ ships and returned home as heroes. Songs and tavern tales told of their daring exploits and outrageous feats of high seas theft. This was the life of adventure he had imagined when he left home, not transporting a hold full of sheep on some poxy ferry like the ‘Lady Jane´.
The Jenny stretched an arm around his neck and nuzzled into his ear. Her tongue darted out and she whispered in a husky voice, “When are we going up to your room? I´m getting bored.’
Sean grinned. He might be the paying customer, but it never did to upset a lady. He downed the remains of his pint in one swallow then grabbed the wench by the hand and dragged her towards the rickety tavern staircase. She followed with a squeal of giggles until they were standing before one of the many spartan bedrooms on the upper floor.
His slender companion danced into the room, spinning merrily with her arms outstretched. She stopped and pouted at the realisation that Sean had stayed by the door, “What´s the matter? I know you´re not shy, aren´t you coming ... ulp!’
Her words were silenced when Sean pounced forwards. One muscled arm seized the girl around the waist and pulled her against his body, his other hand wrapped roughly across her mouth, clamping her jaws closed. He locked his eyes on hers and growled playfully, “You´re not with some simple sailor looking for a quick tumble. You´ve just been kidnapped by one of the Sea Dogs, a notorious pirate who has raped and plundered his way across the Seven Seas.’
A spluttering giggle forced its way past his hand. Sean stifled a laugh of his own and made himself glare sternly, “Nobody laughs at the Sea Dogs! I think you need to be taught a lesson, wench.’
He stepped forward, his firm hold making his captive stumble backwards until her legs bumped into the end of the small bed. When Sean gave a shove, she fell back with a shriek and landed with her arms and legs outstretched. “Oh, sir,’ she laughed, “Whatever will you do with me?’
The ‘pirate´ grinned and joined her on the bed. He sat astride her splayed form, his knees by her sides, his bottom above her midriff. Removing the belt from his trousers, he grabbed one of her dainty wrists and dragged it to the corner of the bed frame, “First I´m going to tie you to this bed, and then I´ll use your voluptuous body in any way that pleases me.’
With her left wrist securely bound, he tore the corded belt from the girl´s own skirt and used it to bind her other wrist to the opposite corner. He glanced down at her struggling body and was happy to see the smile still present on her pretty face. She had become his favourite this past week and it was good to know that she was enjoying the game.
He sat across her again and now restrained her twisting head between his hands. He bent forward and their lips met in a wet and lusty kiss. When tongues had finished their intertwining dance, he leant back and ripped open the seams of her bodice. This girl´s body was indeed magnificent. Freed from the restrictive clothing, he was able to enjoy the full glory of her bounty. His hands roughly fondled her breasts, forcing whimpers of desire when he bent to lick at her nipples. The scratch of his trimmed beard added to the building sensation of the girl´s pleasure.
“No, you must not steal my virtue, you cad.’ The writhing female brought her thighs firmly together to reinforce her mock protests.
“Such resistance does you no good, my dear. You must learn to submit to my will.’ Sean slid onto his side and moved down the bed. He took hold of her skirt above the hips and pulled it down her legs, pleased to note that she wore no slip beneath. With the girl now lying quite naked, he ripped two long lengths of cotton from the bottom of the skirt. Despite her enthusiastic struggles he soon had her long legs spread and ankles tied apart.
His hands ran along each of those supple limbs as he moved slowly back up the bed. The young Jenny strained to raise her head, shivering in eager anticipation as he moved up her calves and thighs towards the quivering centre of her being. A quick kiss and probing tongue left her gasping for more, but Sean stopped there. He sat up and quickly stripped off his shirt and trousers, hurling them across the room and then kicking off his boots.
“You are the very devil, sir.’ The Jenny remained in character, but her greedy eyes were fixed on his body and she licked her lips hungrily.
“I think you have said enough,’ Sean untied the large bandanna at his neck and twisted it into a thin band. It quickly became an effective gag, the red cloth contrasting brightly with her fair skin and blonde hair.
With the damsel now completely at his mercy, Sean turned his full attention to the delights of ravishing her body. His hands skilfully ran across her flesh, stroking, kneading and pinching as needed. His tongue moved from nipples to throat, before his beard and lips finally nibbled on one soft ear. The pleasure was felt by both captive and captor. The bound girl moaned past her gag and strained against her bonds, all the time trying to force herself more closely to Sean´s growing firmness. Her fingers clenched and she pulled in futility at the belts tied so effectively at her wrists. If her hands had been free they would have been clawing at his back by now.
Their bodies joined at last and the passionate love-making intensified. He pressed into her and raised himself to gaze on her flushed features. Her gagged head was turned to one side, eyes tightly closed as she panted past the cloth between her lips. The girl arched her back and gave a muffled cry as the peak of her excitement matched the young Inishman´s final thrust. He collapsed beside her, their trembling bodies coated in a light sheen of sweat from the shared exertions. He tugged the gag from her lips and they joined in another deep kiss.
The Jenny smiled and snuggled as close as her bound limbs would allow, “You´ll make a fine pirate. Feel free to plunder my treasures any time you´re in port.’
Sean grinned and wrapped his arms tight about her. If the reality of life as a pirate was anything like the fantasy then he could hardly wait to begin his new career with the Sea Dogs.
Chapter One
Michel LePrev sat in a chair outside le Directeur´s office and contemplated his surroundings. The walls of the long hallway were still covered in rich scarlet wallpaper but, here and there, they bore marks showing the empty spaces where great paintings and tapestries once hung. Sunlight streamed through the tall window at one end of the hall, although the absence of the massive chandelier which used to hang from the high ceiling would make the corridor a place of dark shadows at night. Thick carpet still covered most of the floor, but now servants were busy trying to remove the stains of blood where men had died. Until a few months ago this building had been a palace belonging to l‘Empereur du Montaigne, now it was the provisional headquarters of the citizens´ National Parliament. The Revolution had not been without cost, but it was a price which Michel believed was worth paying.
The door opposite opened. A short, balding man dressed in a fraying longcoat gestured for Michel to join him. Michel entered the room and closed the door behind them. The balding man, le Directeur of provincial security, took his seat behind a large desk. He flicked through a few sheets of paper before addressing Michel.
"Ah, Michel. A successful trip to Tamis I see."
"Yes, citizen. The new mayor is in place. The last of the royalist sympathisers have been removed from the city council."
"Good, good. I understand there was some trouble from the Musketeers."
Michel shrugged, "Nothing worth worrying about. I believe they have closed their barracks and relocated to other cities. Has the Council made any further plans to disband their order?"
"Not yet. The Council has many matters to address." Le Directeur picked up a slim file and passed it across the table, "This is your next assignment. An agent in Avalon has planted the bait for a trap which you are to close. There is a man named Reynolds whom we wish to ... question."
Michel read through the file, "A pirate? Why is he of interest?"
"Reynolds is one of their queen´s despised Sea Dogs, a privateer of the crown rather than free pirate, but he is also of noble blood. It is believed that he may have knowledge concerning the location of our own former nobility."
"Are we sure that Reynolds himself will go after this bait?"
Le Directeur gave a thin smile., "Quite sure. Our agent is very well placed. Reynolds' own ship, the ‘Kingfisher´, has been sent and I have guarantees that Reynolds himself will be on board."
"I understand. I will depart for Crieux immediately."
"One more thing," le Directeur added as Michel rose to leave, "We only wish to question the captain. What happens to his crew is of no concern."
Michel nodded, "I understand, citizen. I shall plan accordingly. Au revoir."
Behind a thorny hedge in northern Montaigne, Lizbeth Belle-Fleur du Vraise crouched and waited impatiently. She raised the collar of her long riding coat against the drizzle of light rain and stamped her booted feet to ward off the cold. The weather wasn´t yet bad enough to dampen the powder of her muskets, but it did nothing for the young highwaywoman´s mood. She cursed again at the events which had thrown her life upside down.
Two months ago Lizbeth had been proudly riding towards Charouse, her nation´s great capital city. She had carried a letter from her local militia captain which would mean the fulfilment of a childhood ambition. For all of her life Lizbeth had dreamed of becoming a Musketeer, protecting her country and royal family from danger and peril. Then the Revolution had started. With the fall of the monarchy and l´Empereur´s death, the nation was plunged into turmoil and it was uncertain if the corps of Musketeers would even have a future. The young girl had turned away from Charouse with her dreams dashed.
The full bloody extent of the revolution had become clear as she rode alone through the countryside. The sight of once beautiful homes lying in smouldering ruins was a shock, but the stories of so many deaths carried the true horror. The peasant mobs had turned on their aristocracy and all those who served the upper classes. They continued to bay for blood even after the declaration of the new Parliament. Lizbeth had reached a decision. She might never wear the tabard of a Musketeer, but she could still serve alone. For the past weeks she had been travelling the ports and borders of Montaigne, listening for rumours of fleeing nobility and striking along the highways to slow any blood thirsty pursuit and thus aid their escape into exile.
It was this quest which had brought Lizbeth to the road out of Muguet on this miserable morning. A grateful Viscount had told her of a daring Avalon noble, a sea captain who was assisting those seeking a new life in neighbouring Eisen. Apparently the new government had also heard of this captain, for his ship had been attacked and boarded only a few days ago. A handful of coins to the less zealous guards in Muguet had learned that the captain would be transported along this very road around noon, destined to be hanged on the hill outside of town. It was Lizbeth´s intention to stage a rescue.
A low rumbling and the rhythm of hooves alerted her to the prison wagon´s arrival. She lifted the black triangle of silk hanging at her neck and pulled it up over her nose to conceal her feminine face. Shuffling to a less cramped position, she double checked her earlier preparations for this ambush. A heavy log had been dragged across the road just beyond the bend to her right. Two loaded pistols were tucked into the wide leather belt around her bright waistcoat and a loaded musket rifle rested comfortably in her arms. Provided that she wasn´t too badly outnumbered, things should go fine.
There were only two guards sitting at the driving position when the wagon came into view and the enclosed wooden cabin behind them didn´t seem large enough to hold more than its prisoner. Lizbeth held her breath when they rolled to a halt before her improvised roadblock. The driver produced a pistol and scanned their surroundings, his gaze passing Lizbeth´s hiding place without reaction. His companion jumped down, drawing a sword as he approached the log. Lizbeth lifted her musket and took careful aim - she would have only one chance to get this right.
A loud crack rang out when she squeezed the trigger. The driver gave a cry, dropping his own gun and pitching out of his seat. He fell onto the muddy road and scrambled to his knees, a hand clamped over the wound at his shoulder. Lizbeth sprang from the foliage and drew her two pistols, one pointed at each of the guards.
“Drop your sword,’ she gestured at one, “And both of you step over here.’
The swordsman by the log hesitated, contemplating the distance to the masked attacker. Discretion won over valour. He dropped his weapon and then moved to his injured colleague at the side of the road.
“Good. I presume that one of you has the keys for the wagon.’ Lizbeth´s heart was still racing, but by now she was smiling behind her silk scarf. The heady combination of excitement and victory almost made her laugh out loud. The two guards glared at her, but one produced a large iron key and threw it at her feet.
“Excellent. Now, one last thing. Pull down your trousers, remove your belts and bootlaces and then take a seat in the mud.’ The guards glanced at each and then stared back at Lizbeth incredulously. “Do it,’ she commanded, “Unless you would prefer a lead ball between the eyes.’
With her opponents suitably humiliated and inconvenienced, Lizbeth put away one pistol and bent to scoop up the key. They may have chosen different sides, but these men were still her countrymen and she had no desire harm them more than necessary. She stepped to the rear of the wagon and slid back the cover of the small grilled window. A single male prisoner sat inside, bound and blindfolded, his head shifting as he strained to learn why his journey and been disturbed.
The adventurous girl inserted the key into the heavy padlock on the wagon´s door. When it swung open, she frowned and examined the prisoner more carefully. His hair was cropped short and a stubbly beard graced his weather-bronzed face. The clothes that he wore were thin and tattered, the shirt sleeves cut short and the boots badly scuffed. He had the appearance of a sailor, but certainly not that of an Avalon lord.
Sean O´Brien blinked at the sudden return of light when his blindfold was removed. He squinted upwards and found himself staring at the muzzle of a pistol. The pistol was held in the leather gloved hand belonging to a masked highwaywoman. She looked down at him with some puzzlement showing behind the lashes of large brown eyes. Long chestnut curls fell over the black silk scarf tied around her lower face. A delicate eyebrow was raised in question as her light Montaigne voice spoke from behind the mask.
“I don´t suppose that you are a brave captain fighting the forces of injustice? Or maybe a deposed noble fleeing persecution?’
“What?’ Sean tried to work out what was going on. He edged forwards to perch on the steps of the prison wagon, his hands and feet still tightly bound. Behind the highwaywoman he could see two of the local militia sitting on the ground with their trousers pulled down around their ankles.
Lizbeth sighed, “No, I didn´t think so. Who exactly are you?’
“Um ... my name´s Sean O´Brien. Are you going to untie me?’
“Not sure. Care to explain why you´re being taken to the gallows?’
“Ah ... well, those two would tell you piracy, but I wouldn´t like to use that term myself.’
Lizbeth tutted and turned away, swearing under her breath. This is what came of buying information from a half drunk man in a tavern. She had obviously come after the wrong sailor, this scoundrel clearly knew nothing of the revolution or its victims.
“Excuse me,’ Sean called, “Could you speed this up? Only I may have to rescue someone myself.’
The highwaywoman looked back at him, “What? Who?’
“My captain. We were captured together during the attack. I need to go after him.’
Lizbeth stepped closer, “Nobody mentioned two prisoners to me. Is your captain high born? Would the Charouse Parliament have interest in information he might know?’
“He´s a noble lord, yes. The gentleman in command of the frigate which intercepted us certainly was showing some signs of interest. He ignored the ship and half our crew to ensure that the captain was seized.’
“Do you know where he has been taken?’
The pirate paused, “I may do. Can we talk again about untying me?’
A sword was drawn and slipped between Sean´s bound ankles, “If I free you will you help me find this captain of yours?’
“Of course,’ he gave her his brightest, most charming smile.
Lizbeth held his gaze for a moment before seeming to make up her mind. She was glad that he couldn´t see her own amused smile. He really was a handsome rogue and she couldn´t help admiring his bravado despite his current helpless predicament. Her sword cut through his ankle ropes and she reached behind to do the same at his wrists.
“I better not regret this ...’ she began, but no sooner was the sailor free than he surged to his feet and shoved her to the ground. Something whizzed past her head and struck the wagon with a shower of splinters.
The pirate bounded past the fallen highwaywoman towards the two militia men. One of them had recovered the pistol dropped earlier in the encounter and was now frantically trying to reload. Sean seized the man by the shirt and threw the full force of a punch into his jaw. As one opponent crashed to the ground, he turned towards the other. The poor fellow was trying to flee, but kept tripping on the trousers caught around his feet. With little regard for a fair fight, the pirate grabbed a solid hold at the back of the man´s jacket, bending him over and then hurling him head first into a conveniently solid tree.
Sean turned back to Lizbeth with a grin, “Sorry about that, but I couldn´t have you being shot when we´ve only just met.’
“How about helping me up?’ Lizbeth raised her hand, still seated on the ground where she had fallen.
The bearded pirate came across. He took the girl´s hand and pulled her half way to her feet before suddenly kicking her legs from under her. When she dropped back to the ground he followed her down, settling his weight on her thighs and pinning her arms bent at her sides.
“Now, I know why I want to rescue Captain Reynolds. The man has given me a chance for fame and glory, shown me parts of the world I might never have known and saved my life on more than one occasion. I owe him my loyalty and will do anything to save him. But what´s your interest?’
Lizbeth squirmed in the pirate's grip. By Theus, the brute was strong. She was fighting with all her strength and he hardly seemed to notice, “I think your captain has been helping innocent nobles to escape our revolution. If he is interrogated by agents of the new government it could put many lives in danger.’
“Are you sure? We´re members of the Sea Dogs. He has been preying on ships from Montaigne ports for years. Why would the captain be taking such risks for his enemies?’
The highwaywoman sighed as if addressing a slow witted child, “Our countries have warred on and off for several centuries, but that´s just politics. Privately many Avalon and Montaigne families have close ties of friendship and cooperation in matters of trade and such. If this Captain Reynolds is an honourable man then he has every reason to oppose the execution of our aristocracy.’
“Fair enough,’ nodded Sean. “The captain certainly keeps a few secrets, I know that much. Now, let me get a better look at you.’
He easily lifted Lizbeth´s arms above her head and held both her wrists in the grip of one hand. With the other he reached down and pulled her mask loose. His eyes widened in admiration and his roguish grin grew broader, “You really shouldn´t keep such beauty covered. Would you mind very much if I stole a kiss from those lovely lips?’
An angry retort rose to the highwaywoman´s lips, but it died unsaid and she flushed in embarrassment at the sudden realisation that she would very much like to taste this pirate´s kiss. The feeling of his body pressed so closely to hers wasn´t helping her concentration either.
“I would rather not,’ she stammered.
“No? Not even as a reward?’ He nodded to the unconscious guards, “You might be dead if it wasn´t for me.’
“And your head would be hanging in a noose if it wasn´t for me.’
Sean laughed, “That´s a very good point.’
He released his grip and rolled to one side, settling himself on the ground beside Lizbeth, “So, you´ve saved me and I´ve saved you. I want to rescue the captain out of loyalty and you want to rescue him for what he knows. I know roughly where to find him, but you know your country much better than I.’ He held out a hand and smiled, “Truce? And maybe you´ll tell me your name?’
Pushing herself onto her elbows, Lizbeth considered the man beside her. There was no doubting that he was a pirate and a scoundrel. But there was something about his eyes - a gentleness that belied the strength of his body, an innocence beneath the arrogance of his words. She smiled and accepted his hand, “A truce then. My name is Lizbeth Belle-Fleur du Vraise and I´m very pleased to meet you, Sean O´Brien.’
The two adventurers stole the horses from the wagon and rode north towards the coast. Sean sat astride his mount uncertainly, more used to the roll of a ship beneath his feet than the movement of a skittish horse between his legs. Lizbeth hid a smile every time he gripped at the creature´s mane as though it would bolt from below him.
She nudged her own horse a little closer, “You still haven´t told me where we´ll find your captain. Or where we are going now, for that matter.’
The young pirate continued to focus nervously on his mount´s steps, “We were both brought ashore in Muguet, but yesterday Captain Reynolds was taken back onto the frigate. I saw them sail out of port and head north-easterly along the coast.’
Lizbeth thought about this for a moment, “They´re probably headed for Crieux. It´s a much larger port with a proper military harbour. If they already have a day´s start and are travelling by sea, we´ll never catch up over land - especially not the way you ride.’
Sean grinned at that comment, “I don´t plan to be on this beast any longer than I have to be. Look.’
They had reached a breezy cliff top overlooking the sea. Sean dismounted and pointed to a sheltered cove below. A lone ship floated in the shallow waters, a small merchantman with its sails tucked in. Its raised aft deck bore obvious scorch marks and men hung from lines near the rudder to make badly needed repairs.
Lizbeth stared at the battered ship then turned back to Sean, “You came in that thing? You´re braver than I thought.’
“Nice,’ Sean ignored the implied insult, “There´s more to the ‘Kingfisher´ than first sight. That extra fore mast gives her an impressive turn of speed and half of those port holes are actually concealed gun ports. With her low draft she can easily hug coastal waters to hide from pursuit. I thought that the crew would probably lie low here.’
Smiling at his obvious pride in the ship, Lizbeth pointed to the damage, “Is she in any state to sail?’
“She should be. The damage doesn´t look too bad. Like I said, our attackers only seemed interested in taking the captain. They disengaged as soon as they had him. Well, had the two of us.’
“Let´s get down there then. We can´t afford to lose any more time.’
“Um ... there may be a slight problem.’
He began to shift his feet uneasily and avoided Lizbeth´s eyes. The highwaywoman swung from her horse and stood in front of him with hands on her hips. Why did she know this wasn´t going to be easy? “What sort of problem?’
“See, some of the men down there aren´t as trusting as me. They´ve been raiding your shores for years, they´ve just been attacked by a Montaigne warship and they´ve lost their captain. I´m guessing they´re angry and in the mood for revenge. They might not be best pleased if I just happen to turn up with a Montaigne beauty, especially one who is armed to the teeth, and they may not believe your claims to want to rescue a captain of the Sea Dogs.’
“So what do you propose?’
Sean grinned, “Well, it may go down better if we go on board with you as my prisoner. I can claim that I captured you during my escape and that I´m forcing you to reveal the captain´s location.’
Lizbeth arched an eyebrow, “Did that sound like a good idea before you said it out loud?’
The young man shrugged, “It´s your choice. That ship´s your best chance of catching the captain. Maybe you know a better way of convincing a dozen suspicious, bad tempered pirates with a thirst for violence.’
Shaking her head, Lizbeth removed her sword, pistols and musket, “You better know what you´re doing.’
“Trust me.’ Sean´s green eyes sparkled. He moved to one of the horses and returned with several lengths of rope, “Hold out your hands.’
Still doubting the wisdom of this plan, Lizbeth reluctantly complied. She watched Sean pass four turns of rope at her gloved wrists. He tied a simple knot and then fed the ends of the rope between her hands, crossing the first loops twice and drawing them secure before making a final, more complex, knot.
“Ow,’ she complained, “Does it have to be so tight?’
He smiled, “Those are seasoned sailors down there - they know their knots pretty well. They won´t be fooled by sloppy work.’
He took a longer piece of rope and wrapped it around her slender waist, passing it beneath her riding coat and above her restrained wrists. When it was tied off, her hands were firmly fixed before her body with no way to raise her arms.
The roguish pirate took a pace closer and reached his arms around his prisoner´s neck. Her pinioned hands were forced to press against the firm muscles of his stomach and she could feel his breath ruffling the tight curls of her hair.
She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat, “What ... what are you doing?’
When he had finished undoing the knot of her black scarf, Sean pulled it from her neck and stood back with a wink. He folded the silk into a narrow band and stepped closer again, “Open wide.’
Lizbeth clamped her mouth shut and shook her head, staring up at him with wide eyes. She wasn´t sure if her nervousness was because of the ropes or simply due to the nearness of his strong body. She couldn´t deny that his confident handling of her own body while he tied her had left her flushed with unexpected excitement.
Sensing the apprehension of his captive, Sean met her nervous gaze and smiled tenderly, this time showing nothing of his usual cocky boldness. He lifted a hand to gently stroke Lizbeth´s cheek and then tilted her chin. He bent his head and placed a single soft kiss on her trembling lips, “Trust me?’
The bound girl nodded slowly, eyes still wide, and opened her mouth. Sean placed the band of silk between her teeth and reached back to knot it over her long, chestnut locks. The gag wasn´t tight, but it prevented her from fully closing her jaw. Its unwanted presence reinforced her helplessness more than any of the other restraints.
Sean brought out a final rope. He tied one end around her bound wrists, but kept hold of the other, using it as a guiding leash. His usual impudent grin returned when he tugged her towards a cliff path, “Don´t worry. I promise to free you when we´re safely on board.’
Lizbeth stared at Sean's broad back as she followed him down the steep trail. He moved with long, confident strides and she was forced to trot to keep pace. Half way down, her foot struck a rock and she stumbled forward with a gagged shriek. Her bound hands were useless to maintain her balance, but somehow she managed not to fall. Sean only turned with a wink and tugged on his leading rope, clearly amused at her distress.
The pirate's veneer of bravado was firmly back in place. She wondered again at the wisdom of her actions. She had allowed herself to be tied up by a man that she had only met an hour ago. A man who had been sentenced to death for piracy. Who knew what crimes he had committed? How many men had he killed? How many women had been ravished by his powerful body?
Then she remembered his kiss. A simple meeting of their lips that had caused her body to melt inside. Lizbeth had certainly kissed other men, but none had elicited such a response with so light a touch. His gentle caress of her cheek had been all it took to calm her doubts and fears. And those eyes! Dark emeralds that showed a soft and caring soul. Which was the real Sean O'Brien, she wondered. The gentle romantic or the brash buccaneer?
They had reached the shore by now. Sean waved and called out to the men on the ship. The greeting was returned and a small row boat was lowered over the side. A sailor clambered down and pulled on the oars. Lizbeth began to fret. She longed to speak to Sean and gain his reassurance, but her gag rendered any questions useless. He pressed his finger to his lips, winked at her once more and then stood with his back turned. He ignored her further plaintive mewing, except to tighten his grip on the rope attached to her bound hands.
When the row boat reached the sandy beach, its occupant grinned at Sean, "We didn't expect to see you again. What were you thinking by swinging onto a deck of soldiers?"
Sean stepped nimbly into the boat and dragged Lizbeth after him, "I thought I was leading a rescue party. Where were the rest of you?"
"Cutting their grapples and getting the ship away. You know that the vessel's more important than any one crew member - even the captain. Who's this pretty thing?"
"A wench who knows where the captain might be held. I still haven't given up on his rescue."
Lizbeth swayed unsteadily when she set foot in the rocking boat. Sean took hold of her arms, but instead of supporting her, he pulled her down and pushed her onto the floor of the small craft. She found herself lying in a puddle of sea water which quickly soaked the side of her coat and breeches. The oarsman leered down at her curvaceous body as he guided them back to the ship. The bound damsel ignored his lecherous stare and glared in irritation at Sean, but his eyes remained fixed on the horizon as though she didn't exist.
A rope ladder was dropped down when the row boat nudged into the ‘Kingfisher´s´ hull. Lizbeth was hauled up and thrown over Sean´s shoulder. Even with her extra weight and one hand keeping her braced in place, he swiftly scaled the side of the ship. Her hair had tumbled forwards, but Lizbeth could still see the dark surface of the sea far below - she prayed that Sean wouldn´t let her slip. With his shoulder and her own pinned hands pressing into her guts, the jostling ascent and inverted position soon left her dizzy and breathless.
She was flipped upright, but left disoriented, when they reached the main deck. A small crowd of swarthy sailors quickly huddled around. They gathered close to ogle the captive and rough hands reached out to push her back and forth.
“What a beauty! You´ve a fine prize there.’
“This will make the voyage home more enjoyable.’
“I´ve always said that Montaigne women look best in ropes.’
This was starting to become frightening. Where was Sean with his promise to release her? Lizbeth screamed abuse past her gag and tried to fight her way through the bodies pressed about. The sailors just laughed louder.
“Bring her to the mast, boys. Let´s make our guest more comfortable.’
A sharp knife appeared and sliced through the rope binding her hands to her waist. She was shoved and dragged across the deck and then pushed backwards against the main mast. A thicker rope looped around her still bound wrists and then disappeared into the rigging above. A sudden pull hoisted the girl´s hands high above her head, wrenching at her shoulders and almost lifting her feet from the deck.
Lizbeth screamed again, now in fear as much as anger. She struggled violently within the ropes and kicked out with her boots. Where was Sean? This wasn´t the plan. Had he tricked her into this fate? She kicked out again and caught the nearest pirate in the shin.
The man stepped up and seized Lizbeth by the chin. His large fingers squeezed cruelly and he glared at her in hatred as he addressed his mates, “Looks like we have a lively one here. Bring me the cat o´nine tails. Maybe a few lashes will teach this strumpet some manners.’