The Devil's Hand

--Chapter Eleven--



    They passed the western shore of Hispaniola on the third day out from Trinidad. By now, Nicola had given up all pretense of staying in her cabin, though some of her things were still there. She woke late and dressed quickly, finding Jack on the main deck, going over his maps in the late-morning sun. The crewmen gave her knowing looks, but no one actually commented on her staying with the captain.

    "So we were all the way over here?" she asked, indicating Trinidad on Jack's map.

    He nodded. "Here is Aruba, where you were taken. We couldn't repair the Pearl there, so we had to go back to Tortuga, here."

    She sighed. "It's rather a miracle you got to me in time."

    "The Blood Storm was slow," he told her. "Bigger, heavier, especially with a hold full of cargo. There's only one ship faster than the Pearl in existence."

    "And what's that?" she inquired curiously.

    He took a drink from his ever-present rum bottle. "The Flying Dutchman."

    Nicola laughed. "That's a myth."

    His black eyes flicked to her face. "It's not."

    The laugh died. "It isn't?"

    "I've seen it," he said shortly, and stood. Jack rolled up the maps and went back to his cabin.

    Nicola made a frustrated noise and followed.

    Jack shoved the maps into a leather tube and dropped the paperweights onto his desk, before he dropped into his chair. She perched on the edge of the desk and studied him.

    "I won't ask," she said finally. "If it was bad enough to put that look on your face, I won't."

    Jack scrubbed along his jaw with the heel of his hand. "No man should see it and live," he said darkly.

    She didn't like seeing him disturbed, so she decided to distract him.

    "We'll reach port soon," she said.

    "Hmm." He picked up his quill, dipped it in the ink pot, and made a few notations in his log.

    She pulled the quill from his hand and stuck it in the inkwell. Jack raised a brow at her.

    "Did you want something?"

    Nicola scooted over so she sat directly in front of him. "I said, we'll reach port soon. And then we'll have Will present and . . . in the way. And this may be our last chance."

    She lifted her skirts and put a foot on each arm of his chair.

    "Are you suggesting, Nicky, that we make use of what time we have?"

    "Of course. And I know you're not the type to let an opportunity pass him by."

    "Certainly, I am opportunistic," he said slowly.

    Jack kissed the inside of her thigh, by her knee. He ran a finger up to her womanhood, delving in with tormenting slowness. She sighed and leaned back, lifting her hips to give him better access. He used a second finger after a minute, applying his tongue to her clit as he did. Nic dug her fingers into his hair and moved her hips in time to his mouth and fingers, no longer completely naive when it came to obtaining satisfaction.

    "Mmm. That's so good, Jack," she murmured.

    "I am to please," he said with a grin.

    When he inserted a third finger, Nicola let her head drop back, revelling in the pleasure Jack was giving her.

    After some time, he rose and reached for his belt buckle. "I want you," he told her.

    She smiled wickedly. "Then take me, Jack."

    He freed himself from his breeches and entered her sharply. She gasped and sat up, reaching for him. Jack pulled at her hair as he pounded his hips against hers.

    "Yessss," she cried. "Jack!"

    It was quick and explosive, over too quickly as Jack spilled himself inside her and then used his fingers to bring her to completion, still buried to the hilt in her heat, reluctant to pull away and break the illusion that they had all the time in the world. She panted, her hands running absently up and down his chest.

    She was so tempted to tell him she loved him, but felt a quick pang in her heart, knowing that nothing would make him run faster. He wanted her body, which she was willing to give, but a pirate had little use for a woman's devotion.

    Someone knocked at the cabin door, and Jack finally pulled away. Nicola rearranged her appearance as the captain went to consult with his first mate.

    They had reached Tortuga. Their time was up.

 

-----

 

    Will was, understandably, angry when they reached Tortuga and located him, but his relief at seeing Nicola alive and well overrode that swiftly. In the end, he was grateful to Jack, taking somewhat at face value the pirate's tale that he hadn't wanted to delay finding and saving his young cousin. That it had given the two of them time together without Will on board was purely serendipitous, and something Will wasn't aware of, anyway.

    "Did Roccelli hurt you?" Will asked when he had Nicola alone.

    "No. Aside from a few knocks and scrapes," she amended, showing him the bump on her brow. "Jack got there in time, barely."

    "I hate to say it, but I owe him," her cousin growled. "At least he has an honourable streak in him."

    Nicola, who had trysted with said captain barely two hours before they made port in Tortuga, said nothing.

    "Have you considered what you'll do now?" Will asked his cousin. They stood at the bow of the ship, waiting for that sliver of land at the horizon. "Roccelli is dead and you're free. You needn't go back to England."

    Stay aboard the Pearl with Jack, she thought, but didn't say it aloud. It wouldn't happen. "I don't know. Become a seamstress? I loathe needlework, but I'm good at it."

    "I'm sure you can stay with Elizabeth at the manor until you decide," he said. Will put an arm around her shoulders. "It's been good to see you again, Nicola. You were always my favourite cousin."

    She laughed. "Needless flattery, Will."

    "Land ho!" the man in the crow's nest bellowed far above them.

    Sure enough, Jamaica had appeared in the distance. Nicola felt her heart sink.

    "I'll go and make sure my things are packed," she said.

    When she reached the cabin she'd occupied before her stay with Jack, she found the necklace Roccelli had given her on the bed. Nicola picked it up, held the heated gold in her hands.

    I wish I could stay, she thought. I love him.

    The ruby eye seemed to wink. Sighing, knowing it was her imagination, she thrust the necklace into the bag, with the rest of her belongings.

    But at the circular stair that led from below decks to the captain's cabin, she paused. Nicola wanted to say goodbye, at least, in private, without Will there. Will wouldn't understand, couldn't know, what had passed between her and the pirate captain. And she couldn't just leave Jack without something said.

    The door at the top of the stair was unlocked and she let herself into the captain's quarters. Jack sat at his desk with a bottle of rum and his maps, but he didn't seem to actually be doing anything with either.

    "After we reach Port Royal, we'll go our separate ways."

    He looked up at the sound of her voice, noted the bag. Dimly, he recalled hearing that they were approaching land.

    "I wanted . . . to say goodbye, and to . . . thank you. For everything."

    "You're most welcome."

    The silence stretched, somewhat awkwardly. She set her bag down and smoothed her skirt, looking everywhere but at him. Jack could admit to himself, if not aloud, that he was going to miss Nicky, and not only for the bedsport she'd provided of late. "You'd make a good pirate, lass, but I think Will would kill me if I led you down that path."

    Nicola shrugged. She didn't want to leave Jack, but knew she had to. She put on a brave face, not wanting to let him see just how much she'd come to care for him. "I'm not certain any path is right for me."

    She'd drawn closer, and he stood as she approached. Jack couldn't resist bending his head to kiss her, just once more. She responded eagerly, pressing her soft and womanly body to his.

    "Nic," he rasped. "The things you do to me."

    "One last time," she breathed. "Ravish me, Jack. You're a pirate. Ravish me as a pirate should."

    He chuckled and one corner of his mouth lifted. "Who am I to deny a last request?"

    Jack kissed her passionately, demandingly, his hands tugging at her clothing. Spinning her in his arms, he bent her over the edge of the desk, urging her forward until the worn corner pressed against the juncture of her thighs and she had to part them and brace her hands on the wood as she tipped headlong over the scarred surface. Nicola gasped as this rubbed the sensitive bud of her clitoris.

    "Jack!"

    He swept her hair over her shoulder, letting the honey-coloured locks tumble over her exposed breasts. Jack rubbed a hand over the curve of her buttocks, enjoying the sight of the wet, pink folds waiting for him. He ran callused fingers over his erection, tapped the head against her opening to tease her, then slowly pushed into her enveloping warmth.

    Nicola let her eyes close as Jack pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. Her mother and grandmother had told her this was a chore, a duty to be endured. As Jack thrust into her, she splayed her hands over the map on the desk and bit her lip, wondering how anyone could consider this a chore.

    "Jack, please," she pleaded. Nicola was entirely at his mercy like this, and didn't think it quite fair, even as she felt the pleasure build higher.

    He reached around and cupped her breasts. "Almost there, love. Just a bit-"

    Suddenly, the cabin door behind them burst open. Nicola gasped and Jack quickly moved to shield her with his body.

    Will stood at the door, looking completely dumbfounded. Then he began to look very angry. He drew his sword and pointed it at Jack.

    Nicola managed to get her bodice rearranged into some semblance of decency, and moved to stand beside Jack. "Will, put the sword away."

    "He compromised you," her cousin protested.

    She rolled her eyes. "I compromised myself, thank you very much. I appreciate that you would like to defend my honour, Will, but that ship, ah, not only has weighed anchor, it's sailed."

    Jack grinned. "I like the analogy."

    "Thank you."

    Will's sword point wavered. "You," he said to Jack. "You will . . . make reparation for this."

    The captain tried to decide if his urge was stronger to make a witty remark, or admit Will had a point. Because, sword aside, the young man did.

    "Reparations," Nicola echoed. "You don't mean . . .?"

    Will's frown shifted to a slightly malicious smile. "You marry her, or I'll turn you in to the Navy myself."

    Nicola gaped at him.

    "Might I point out, young William, that if I do not and you turn me over to the British, that will most certainly consign me to my death, which would solve nothing?" Jack stopped when the sword point found his throat.

    He raised his hands, conceding defeat.