Siren

Dear wonderful, lovely, patient readers. I'm back with chapter 7 and some news. I'll say more at the end plus footnotes as needed.

Without further ado:

Ch. 7

The flash of red hair distracted Roland for a moment, but as quick as she was there Kenna disappeared again. The rest of the collected party were either looking at the map or glaring at each other, and missed her transient presence altogether.

"Their ship is faster than ours," Dooley whined. "Sightings are more and more common."

"We are all well-aware that the bloody navy ship is in better shape than we are, thank you." Luke Stephens, the new boatswain, curled his fingers into fists as he leaned over the map only to be waved off by the navigator. Barnes tisked over the state of his map before looking up at the bristling pair.

"Well the same wind blows for us both, nothing to change there," Barnes offered. "But nigh two days with no light at our stern and perhaps they've departed paths with us."

Dooley shifted his glare. "Last week they nearly had us in range of their guns. You really think they won't find us again, especially with the rudder still drifting?"

"Toby says he'll be done with it today," Barnes snapped back, never one to let another sailor speak against the ship's carpenter. "You might know it if you ever bloody spoke to him you rank idle-headed lout. Your work giving you so much trouble you can't be bothered to do it?"

Roland resisted the urge to smile at Barnes' particular way of insulting others. "Enough," he said before Dooley could say whatever idiotic thing came to his head. "The rudder will take at least another day to do properly and Toby knows it. The weather to the west may help us diverge course but our best plan is still to get back to Nassau as fast as possible."

Dooley grunted, searching for another place to espouse his opinions. "We should pull in our sails. We can barely steer with the men working as they are. We could be sucked into this storm while they hammer away."

Roland shook his head. "That's not an option. Right now the winds coming off it are the only thing keeping us from falling straight into the Navy's path."

"It's also ripping the boat apart!" Dooley fumed.

"She's as solid as they come! No finer boards have found themselves held by stronger nails and you would do well to keep a respectful tongue in that hole you call a mouth!" Barnes shouted, once again rising to defend the absent carpenter.

"We've sailed through worse, Dooley, or have you lost your stomach for sailing as well as working?" Luke chimed in. He crossed his wiry arms across his chest and glared at his Quartermaster with sharp blue eyes.

"Say it once more, Stephens, and I'll gut you from—"

"Enough!" Roland said, louder this time. Dooley frowned, turning his round doughy face into an almost comical expression of anger.

"Perhaps, destroying

The Charon

is precisely the aim," a voice growled from behind Dooley. Stephens and Barnes looked surprised for a moment, as if they'd forgotten the presence of the fifth man, but Roland had not.

"Mr. Abbott, did you have something to add?" Roland asked, his voice clear of all disdain.

The older man came forward, his stiff leg more obvious as he leaned heavily on the other. His hulking, gnarled fist came down on Barnes's map but the navigator made no attempt to make him move it. Roland's face took on a practiced blankness that was sure to aggravate the man and waited. Abbott stared at him from under his riotous brows.

"Mayhap that a fellow begins to ask themselves about a captain who seems so willing to damage his ship for the sake of speed, who seems less than concerned about the Royal Navy creeping up his wake," the man paused to make his point, " and who consorts with those who would do his crew harm. One might get to thinking if that captain doesn't have other plans for his shipmates." Abbott spoke from behind a great beard he was incessantly proud of. He stroked the long greying ends that fell down to his stomach as he finished, and leaned back from the table as if to declare the conversation finished.

Roland looked at the man with a glint in his eye but he kept his voice even. "Mr. Abbott, I appreciate your loyalty to this ship." Captain Dougray was left unmentioned. "But if you ever question my interest in the welfare and survival of the men, I will be forced to prove you wrong. And that begins with weeding out those who sow discord amongst stout hearted soldiers to further their own agendas."

The threat could not have been spoken more plainly, and the three other men stood silent in its wake.

Abbott would not. "One might think those looking to sink the ship would be of more concern."

"If you, Mr. Abbott, a rational, grown man cannot see that Mrs. Bell offers no more harm than any other woman, then you are more a fool than most children." Roland had not intended to insult his Master Gunner, but Abbott was finding himself on the wrong side of too many lines.

"A woman?" Dooley cried, picking up on Abbott's behalf. " That woman bewitches the hearts of your crew with song. She stabbed our captain in the neck! And who was it, pray tell, that placed her so advantageous-like in Captain Dougrey's hands?" Abbott had turned his dark look to Dooley who finally trailed off.

"Now see here," Barnes started. His seniority on the ship was second only to Abbott's and he had never liked Dooley, but this was Roland's fight and he stayed the navigator's tongue with a subtle move of his hand.

"Mr. Dooley, are you accusing me of murdering Captain Dougray by handing him a captive siren I somehow colluded with while she was on a merchant ship from Belfast? And Mr. Abbott, am I to understand that you believe I am currently scheming with this magical creature in order to sink a boat I also happen to be on with the aim of killing all those on board?" Dooley had the good sense to look abashed to have his nonsense laid out in such plain language. Abbott, never one to give in on anything, continued his stony glower.

When neither offered a response Roland continued. "You will return to your work for now. I assume I will hear no more of this. But do keep in mind that I take the welfare of this ship and those on it quite seriously."

Dooley looked like he was going to say something until Abbott landed the back of his formidable hand in the middle of the younger man's chest. The two of them stalked out of the chamber, Abbott grumbling something as they departed.

Luke Stephens spoke up as soon as they were out of earshot. "You've got to shut him up, Captain. Dooley's a sea anchor in bad winds and he's going to take us all down with that lug-brained Abbott."

Roland nodded at him. "I will consider it. For now we need to make it back to Nassau without the Navy getting to us first. If he wants to call for a failing vote when we get there, let him. I'll happily shed the weight."

Barnes nodded. "Though not all of 'em are convinced of your lass's status. You might find a bit of sense in concerning yourself with their nonsense spreading through the crew."

"Where do the men stand, Luke?" Roland looked to the boatswain who had been keeping his ear close to the boards since the first whispers of Abbott's opinions had made their way around the ship.

The older man shifted weight as he spoke, his wiriness matched only by the impression of great energy coiled tightly inside him. "Mostly the same as it ever was, Captain, though some on the second gun crew have gotten a bit shiftier of late. Abbott's still no better at making friends and Dooley isn't doing their camp any favor by spending most of his time with his boots up but the men do like him all the same."

"They like his dice and his whore stories," Barnes grumbled.

"Do keep me informed. Their rumors are no less ridiculous but they are increasing the stakes." Roland turned to Barnes. "Tell me, given the storm gathering to starboard, could we get closer, use the winds to our advantage?"

The man sucked air through his teeth. "That's a risky move Captain. Given that she isn't in the most favorable of conditions and these here winds are pushing us along prettily enough, if

The Charon

comes about in these conditions we might not be able to hold her out of the worst of the storm."

"He's right," Stephens added. "At the very least we've got to wait till the rudder is back in shape. After that, we might consider it, if the Navy springs up to port again."

"Luke, check in with Toby on those repairs. I'll be up at second watch," Roland nodded to the two men as they gathered the maps and left. He sat down in one of the chairs, refraining from rubbing away the pounding in his head. Abbott was worse than a dog shifting masters, and Roland was only too aware of how much damage a rumor could do when spoken to the wrong men on his ship.

Her soft footsteps drew his attention. She stood just inside the door, her hair plaited down her back against the wind. The sun had kissed her skin pink across her nose and cheeks and the dark shadows below her eyes had abandoned their posts. She shifted closer to him at his gesture, her bare feet steadier than they had been.

"The second gun crew?" he asked, as she stopped just out of reach.

She nodded. "Mr. Arnold, Mr. Fisher and Mr. Schmit are no longer attending their watch's shows. Mr. Butler left during a tale in the mess. Mr. Schmit seems the most regretful but he is also prone to fearful episodes. You might see to Mr. Stephens shifting his watch." The music in her accent helped dull the persistent throbbing at his temple.

In as far as gathering information on the crew, Kenna had proved to be the most invaluable of the three. Once he secured her cooperation, her survival the first and possibly-only consideration she had, she had been free to move about alone. She sang on deck and below, spending time at meals spinning tales. The men left their dice to hear her, giving her time to observe the crew more thoroughly than anyone else could have.

A fortnight had passed since she'd stopped fighting to hold back her pleasure, and he'd enjoyed the change. But though she hid it well, he could still see the moment she warred against him and chose complacency. She was softer this way, but his work was far from done.

"Mr. Abbott speaks for the gun crews," Roland said, reconfirming for himself that he had never hated a garment so much as the ones that swamped her body now. His eyes crept up her form as he spoke. "But perhaps Toby can use a few more hands with the rudder."

She gave him a small smile at his solution and he held his hand out to her. An instant of tension and then her palm was against his. He pulled her into his lap so she was seated sideways. There was no flinch as he brushed the stray hairs from her cheek, though there was no lean into his touch either. Something about it challenged him, and as far as distractions went it was his favorite.

"Do you think Mr. Barnes and Mr. Stephens will be able to help?" The nervous tongue on her lips undermined the steadiness with which she spoke.

He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and onto her back and watched her breathing shift. "I assume so, Kenna, though even they are not quite as helpful as you manage to be." His other hand cupped her bare calf, feeling the firmer muscles there and running his thumb underneath the cuff of her breeches. "That story you told about the village baker's deceit seemed rather timely."

Kenna shifted slightly as his fingers traced her scars softly. "It seemed a fair warning to beware the fantastical beliefs of old men who hold their own interests paramount to all else."

"Your impression of me has improved," he whispered against her neck before kissing her there.

"The Mayor was a good man, trying to save the village from the foolishness of the Baker's schemes." She swallowed as his hand began to move up her thigh, his nose brushing the bare skin behind her ear. "In no way based on anyone here, I assure you."

"Oh no, Kenna?" He did so enjoy the way she moved when he said her name. "Seems one might draw a different conclusion given your skill."

"All art is at the mercy of its observer. I cannot control how another might chose to interpret my stories." Her voice grew more strained as his hand cupped her heat and his mouth was more insistent at her neck.

"I do believe you are beginning to enjoy swaying the crew with your songs." Roland spoke as he pushed his hand against her core, drawing the desired gasp from her. "The life of a pirate suits you."

There were certain challenges he knew she could not resist and his girl did not disappoint.

She swallowed her moan as his fingers went back to work. "Is that how you will alleviate your conscience at abducting me?" The hand at her back slid around the lower border of her ribs, drawing her in closer. A small smile she didn't see pressed against the back of her neck when she took up his lure. "I dare say the courts will not accept such a defense."

Roland growled into her ear as he pinched her nipple, making her back arch towards his hand. "You know I have never suffered from anything so pedestrian as remorse." He ran his tongue over the pulse on her neck as he pulled her nipple farther drawing a whimper from her. He pushed her further, "And any dreams of court houses you have are distant fantasies, Kenna."

"I should resign myself to being prisoner to a man who has claimed me like chattel." He pulled her shirt off, drawing her back against his chest so he was free to roam her breasts with both hands.

"Such protest." His hands covered her breasts, nipples hard against his calloused palms. His lips hovered close to her ear. "Are you so eager to return to the society of those who traded you away? Was life as a wife so different than this meager offering?"

"I would be no man's wife again." She groaned as he pinched both nipples, rolling them as she arched prettily in his lap. "But I would have my life, however bleak or pointless it may be in your estimation."

"Hmm," he murmured against the skin of her cheek. One hand delved lower, running across the smooth skin of her stomach and under the waistband of her last remaining clothing. "Yes, proper society seems a better choice. You could be trapped in your sister's home, draped in black, some glorified nanny for her children. One might see how that life could be preferable to one at the cruelty of a pirate's whims." He found her, wet and spread for him. "Do you ever wonder how you will do with the absence of this?" His finger sank into her as he spoke and her hips moved to press against his entry.

He swirled a finger against her clit and she writhed for him. The other curled inside her and her head fell to his shoulder. "Lust is not a life," she gasped, stubborn as ever at having her say. His cock pressed painfully into her bottom, her resistance never failing to make it all the more satisfying to break her down. "Do you imagine that I relish the opportunity to have my choices limited by you rather than by propriety?" Her voice caught as he slipped her hard bud between two fingers, pressing gently back and forth on the slippery flesh. "Shall I prefer this prison?" That she could maintain her argument as her pussy spasmed around his penetrating fingers never failed to impress him.

It was short work to remove her breeches, a bit more to loosen his own. He wasted no time lifting her up and impaling her, groaning as her wet channel yielded to him. She called out, her peak so close but out of reach. He took the thick plait of auburn hair in hand and used it to pull her head back onto his shoulder, so he might see down the plane of her body. She moaned deliciously with the tug at her scalp. He rocked inside her, feeling the clench of her cunt around him.

His other hand came to the angle of her jaw and he tipped her face towards him till her green eyes focused on his own. "You forget Kenna." He moved faster, bringing her to the edge and then backing away. "I do not care what you prefer." He stroked her cheek and down her neck. His hips moved against hers more roughly; another lovely sound came from her throat. "This," he emphasized with a forceful thrust, "is mine." His hand returned, running over her clit in ever-tightening circles. "Come for me Kenna. Show me how painful it is that I own you."

He sealed his lips over her compliant ones. Her kiss spoke of the desperation of being so near that precipice, and the torment she felt at wanting to fall over it. Her body tightened as the peak came. Her hand found its way into his hair, pulling him further into her with every ripple he felt against his cock.

His hands ran down her body greedily, coming to rest on her hips as he moved her against him. She was so supple, so acquiescent in her body, but never in her mind. "You will say it, Kenna." He lifted her up only to move their bodies back to joining again and again. A dark possessiveness drove his movements as they gained in intensity. "You will come to see that you have no choice left but acceptance."

Her second orgasm hit her then, pulling his control apart with her sounds, the tremors of her muscles beneath his fingers, the pull of her cunt and its vice grip. He grasped her ribcage, moving her faster and harder until he came. Her noises changed; he could hear it even as his seed gushed inside her but he had been too far to hold back.

He pushed her forward so he could see her back. Her scars could not be sensitive enough to make her whimper like that. He moved his hand off a dark purple patch of skin on her lower ribs. Her body jerked away from his hand when his fingers returned to trace the sharp edge of the bruise.

"What is this?" his voice was studiously bland.

Kenna fidgeted but did not get off his lap even as he softened inside her. "It appears I haven't taken to this life as well as you might suspect."

He was not interested in sparring now. "Tell me now." The blank edges of his tone were rubbing off.

She stilled for a moment, her face hidden by their position so he could not see what she was thinking. He stood up, pulling himself from her and reestablishing his state of dress before she turned around on her shaky legs.

There was no fear in her face when she looked up at him, her hair haloed around her head after he'd mussed it. She was searching him in a way he was not entirely used to.

"I fell against the gunwale when the ship was rocked yesterday. The inclement weather has tested my sea legs and I did not live up to a sailor's standards." He did not appreciate the way her eyes fixed on his, or the impression that she was discovering something he had not allowed her to. Her bright green eyes flitted over his face and then back to stare directly back at him. "This disturbs you," she said at last.

"Your clumsiness does not affect my emotional state." Even as he spoke he heard how defensive it sounded. She had him off balance. "However if your failure to find proper footing leading to injuries such as these, it seems they warrant informing me."

She kept looking at him with that strange piercing look. He quelled his anger. The only way to keep the balance was never to step too far off it. "The shackle as well," she said softly, as though thinking aloud, "and by your own words you have no interest in my pain."

Roland had enough of her consideration. He turned to the table, taking up the last of the mead left from his midday meal. When he turned back to her she hadn't moved. She stood, nude and unashamed, her head tilted to the side and her eyes fixed on him.

Roland broke first. "What is it that has captured your attention so completely?" He could feel it, the shift in power. For all her resistance and fighting for the past month she had never been more effective at subverting him.

A hint of a smile crept onto her lips, his discomfort clear to her. Roland turned to face her completely but didn't approach. Reacting to her strongly before she disclosed her revelation would only serve to increase her conviction that she had rattled him. He gave her a look his favorite tutor had used often. Her lips split into one of her rare smiles and he was disappointed he could not enjoy it.