LITMIR.BIZ

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on the boy’s forehead.

      “End up dead, he will.”

      Quinn crouched next to the young orphan lad he’d pulled from the gutters of Port Royal. “What’s happened here?”

      “Good ole Bump,” Jessup spat. “Came close te havin’ his skull cracked in two. Again. Block got te swingin.’ Dinna hear the shouts. Why we got a deaf cabin boy aboard, I’ll ne’re know.”

      “He’s a good lad. Works ’imself to draggin’, Capt’n.” Robbins wiped the grim off the boys face. “Needs time te adjust, is all.”

      Quinn tipped the small pinched face to check the growing knot on the side of his head. “Keep an extra eye on him. Have a man be his ears when the boy’s topside. Teach him to keep a sharper eye. Be a shame if we saved him from Port Royal, only to kill him at sea.”

      “I’ll see te him, Capt’n,” volunteered Robbins.

      “Good man. Mind your duties first. Bringing Bump aboard was my decision alone, but another pair of watchful eyes may just save the lad.”

      Quinn remembered the day Bump had crossed his path. He had tripped over the lad in the muck of the street. He was filthy, half starved. A woman older than any being he had ever seen had struggled to pick up the child. Quinn gave her assistance and learned about her dear William. How they’d both come to live in a pirate’s den and because William was deaf he was often the victim of brutal treatment. A “fever when he be only a babe stole his ears.” Barely able to stand on her own, she pleaded with Quinn to help. He decided then and there to take the lad aboard and find him some place among the crew.

      He pled momentary insanity when Bellamy questioned him. Through the lad’s seasickness and finding some way to communicate with him, Quinn repeatedly asked himself “why?” but he knew the answer.

      “Robbins, one more favor if you could.”

      Robbins rose, and ruffled the thick, unruly hair on Bump’s head. “Sir?”

      “Mistress Tupper is in need of some clothing. You’re a slim lad. Might you have a spare set of britches?”

      Robbins shook his head and muttered, “Aye, Capt’n.” He rolled his eyes at Bump. “Another damn woman in me pants and nothin’ to show fer it. Ain’t fair I tell ya.”

      Chapter 4

      When Quinn entered his quarters, he found their famous guest curled up upon his bed fast asleep. She wore his shirt, which tucked beneath her and pulled tight to her body. A length of smooth, pale thigh stretched out beneath. He fingered the breeches in his hands and could picture her legs and the curve of her bottom clad in the snug buff fabric.

      It had been a long time since he had a beautiful woman in his bed. And Alice was beautiful. The realization threw him off guard. She’d scrubbed her face and let down her hair. Chestnut waves caressed her pale cheek and caught the lantern light.

      The ties at the neck of the shirt hung loose, exposing a tempting shadow between her breasts. He closed his eyes to the sight, willing his body to squelch the sudden flare of heat that pooled in his crotch.

      His disobedient mind envisioned another fine-milled, garment from long ago, with its row of tiny white shell buttons. Each slipping in turn from their assigned loop from neckline to waist. Parting the fabric, he slipped a hand beneath to stroke the impossible softness of her breast. Was there anything to compare with the silk of a woman’s skin? Warm, round. He could still smell the rosewater she used.

      Pushing aside the fragile fabric, he kissed his way down to take her tightened nipple into his mouth. Circling the firm tip with his tongue, he swept her nightshift off her shoulders and cupped the opposite breast. She trembled at his touch. Moaning when he began to suckle. Pushing her hand into his hair to hold him to her, she begged him not to stop and covered his kneading hand with her own, urging him on. Arching into her pleasure, she sighed his name. He could almost hear her. “Gavin…”

      Hands curled into fists. Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades. The pain in his chest competed with the surging ache in his cock. When he opened his eyes, Alice Tupper lay in his bed staring at him. Her bright green gaze held his.

      Turning his back to her, he grasped at the shreds of his control. Black anger dimmed the edges of his vision. He pulled a great breath into his lungs. His jaw ticked. It wasn’t her fault her eyes weren’t blue.

      * * * *

      Alice woke to Quinn watching her with a queer look about his face. She knew that look. Having seen it on more than one occasion, it was usually followed by her fighting for her honor with some man intent on rutting between her thighs. But then another look flitted across his face before he turned away from her.

      “Captain Quinn?”

      “Put these on.” He tossed her a pair of tanned breeches and kept his back turned. When he glanced back she had started to roll the ridiculous sleeves of his shirt past her wrists. The tails hung to her knees. “They will serve for now. You’re still in need of proper clothing. I have a man working to gather things to fit you.”

      She nodded. “I’m grateful.”

      He hadn’t looked at her. Alice couldn’t read him at all.

      “The Delmar is away.” He stated most matter of fact. “We left the remainder of the crew to their dead.”

      Alice hesitated. Worry made her ask, but she was afraid she didn’t want to know the answer. “What of the other women?”

      “They were lost.” His answer was clipped. The sudden lump in her throat silenced her response. He gave her a sharp look. “Add some seventy slaves and crewmembers, I’d say you are lucky to be standing here. Even if it is in borrowed pants.”

      The faces of those poor women swam before her vision. Milly. Her sickly companion. So many dead.

      “It’s been voted. You’re to stay aboard the Scarlet Night until we can deliver you to Virginia. Many of my crew have heard the story from Port Royal. They’re pleased to have you aboard. Some will tolerate your presence, but there are a few whom you should be wary of. You’ll earn your keep tending the sick, as well as any other duty I deem suitable. Tonight you bunk here. Come tomorrow we’ll have another spot for you to bed down.”

      He planted his hands on his hips. “We’ve brought aboard those slaves left alive, some are fighting to stay that way. The ship is crowded; space is limited. You’ll be given whatever considerations we can, but I warn ye not to expect grand accommodations. Neither I, nor any member of my crew will be your personal traveling companion. You’ll do your chores, stay out of the way, and make no trouble. Do you understand?”

      Alice’s head was spinning. Her emotions ran from despair to relief to indignation with each passing second. She’d always known a life of servitude, but being ordered about like this rankled her. What did he think she was going to do? Become some demanding shrew? Cling to him like a pampered, sniveling mollycoddled twit. Was he afraid she’d open a brothel and start charging by the hour?

      “Aye, aye, Captain.” She tapped her forehead.

      He narrowed his eyes. “While you are not now, nor will ever be a member of my crew, you will show me the respect due the captain of this ship.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw. “Evidently such respect only extends to you.”

      Quinn shot her a warning glance as he began gathering up his logbooks and several personal items. He made a point of taking his closed razor and pointing it at her. “You’d do well to sheathe that tongue, as well. When you’re among the men, you’ll keep your head down and your mouth shut.” Quinn donned his coat before planting his hat upon his head.

      Alice notched her chin. “Do I have no say at all?”

      “No. You do not. Not unless you think you can make it to Virginia on your

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