His Spoilt Lady (12 page)

Linnett was
amazed at her body’s traitorous reaction to the kiss and to her
husband’s arousing, exploring hands. She was on fire, the heat of
her bottom seeming to transfer to her sex, and she felt a wet rush
of roiling desire. John rolled her onto her back and took her hard
and fast he held her hands above her head and thrust deep, building
a tempo that pounded her senses. Linnett exploded with a powerful
climax, and John followed with shuddering release. Exhausted, he
pulled her to him, and he curled his body around hers, kissing her
on her temple and wishing her a goodnight. They both fell into a
deep satiated sleep, not moving or waking until morning.

Shortly after
dawn, John awoke, and slipping from the cabin, he went in search of
breakfast for them both. Linnett woke and, stretching languidly,
realised that she was alone in the cabin; she snuggled down and
dozed contentedly until a sharp slap on her sore rump awoke her
with a start.

“Come on you
lug-a-bed! I thought you would be up and dressed by now. I have
bought us breakfast.” John went over to the table where he had
placed a large tray covered in a white linen cloth.

“It obviously
escaped your notice, sir, that I had a very disturbed night!”
Linnett chided him saucily.

John looked
surprised and said, “Well, I thought riding always gave you such an
enormous appetite. At least, that is what you told me before we
left England!” Linnett looked suitably outraged and launched a
pillow at him.

After they had
eaten a delicious breakfast of eggs and salt bacon, washed down
with a strong aromatic coffee, Linnett began her toilette. She was
behind the screen washing when she heard John muttering oaths from
the other side of the cabin.

“John, is
something amiss?” she asked.

“My ruined
shirts, there is not one fit to wear. You have ruined them
all!”

“I will sew
them all back together. I am good with a needle, do not fear, and I
will have a shirt ready for you to wear for dinner tonight.”

Linnett jumped
as John’s glowering face appeared over the screen, “Make sure I
have all my shirts repaired by the end of the week or you will find
yourself across my knee again, young lady!”

“John! I was
going to repair every single one anyway…. really I was!” Linnett
replied hastily.

“My darling,
there is no a doubt in my mind that you will repair every single
one! Now, come over here,” John said patting the bed beside
him.”

Linnett
hesitated. “Now, Linnett,” he grinned, “I won’t bite.”

Uneasily, she
went over to him. John pulled her down beside him, and kissing the
top of her head, he put his arm around her. “Are you nervous of me,
Linnett?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Heat suffused
her face and she gave a brief nod before hanging her head. “Well,
be warned, fair wife, I won’t stand any more nonsense from you!” he
growled.

She was shocked
by arousing shivers pulsing through her, and thrillingly, Linnett
knew that he meant every word; last night had proved just that.
John was not a man to be trifled with, and Linnett discovered that
she found him exciting.

“I was so angry
with you yesterday. It was dreadful having to leave Papa like that!
Not saying goodbye to anyone at home, or to Pango. I blamed you,
can you understand? I wanted to hurt you, and then after last
night... well, I wished that I hadn’t damaged your wretched
shirts.”

John chuckled
and said, “I am sure you are extremely sorry...now! But I forgive
you this time, my love. However, you will have to sew all the
sleeves back together again because I meant what I said.”

Linnett nodded,
relieved at John’s lighter tone. She was a little put out at how
condescending that tone was, but she was determined John would
never ever spank her again. Indeed, her behind was so tender this
morning, she would have to start the sewing standing up!

“As soon as I
am dressed, I shall go in search of sewing materials,” she told him
cheerfully.

“I don’t think
so, not just yet,” said John, eyeing her soft cleavage. He pushed
her back onto the bed, his hands grasping her wrists. Holding her
wrists above her head with one hand, while his other roamed over
the swell of her breasts, he made Linnett mewl softly and sent
little shivers of pleasure up and down her spine. Tentatively,
Linnett’s hand began explorations of its own, making him gasp in
surprise as her fingers traced the rigid outline of his throbbing
phallus through the straining cloth of his breeches. She gave a
small sensuous chuckle as she deftly managed to extract his erect
manhood from the confines of material and then ran her hand over
the thick, smooth, velvety shaft. John curbed his desire to throw
her down onto the bed and plunge himself into her immediately.

When he could
no longer risk suffering her tormenting attentions, he pulled her
hand away and pushed her back onto the bed. Thrusting her legs
apart and then lowering himself between her parted thighs, he
mounted her. John took her fiercely, bringing them both to a rapid,
quivering release. Linnett rolled away onto her stomach and
stretched luxuriously.

“Hmm,” she
mused, “Perhaps I should chop off your jacket sleeves next
time!”

She shrieked as
a large hand descended with a resounding slap on her naked and
vulnerable derriere.

Later that day, they decided to take a stroll together
up on deck, where it was a relief to get out into the bright
daylight. Linnett gulped in lungful after lungful of the
invigorating, salty air. Her hair was torn from its pins by the
breeze and whipped around her face.

Linnett was
fascinated by the sea; far around them, the green waves dipped and
rolled, the occasional white foamy tip surfacing and breaking. She
leant over the ship’s rail, watching the creamy froth break at the
side of the ship as they ploughed through the swelling sea.

“It’s
wonderful!” she cried to John. I never imagined the sea to be like
this!”

John watched
her indulgently. Every second he spent with her, John was falling
more deeply in love with his captivating bride. With his arm around
her waist, he pointed out the salient points of the ship. He told
her that she must stay off the gun decks, and he pointed out the
mizzen mast and the bulkhead. John explained to Linnett that the
head was out of bounds to her, and once John had explained to her
that the crew used it as a chamber pot, Linnett readily agreed to
avoid the area!

They looked up,
shielding their eyes from the bright sun, to the crow’s nest. John
explained that a man was up in the tiny eyrie and that the sailors
took turns at shifts the whole time, looking out for danger. “What
sort of danger?” Linnett wanted to know. John, not wishing to alarm
her, forbade the mention of pirates. He told her of fog and the
danger of collision with other ships.

After an hour
in the bracing sea air, Linnett was starting to feel chilled, so
they returned below. John wanted to search out the captain to
discuss navigation routes, and Linnet had a shirt or two to sew.
John kissed his wife and left her to her own devices. Linnett
turned out the chest that contained her clothes and items for the
voyage but nowhere could she find her sewing box. Fairly certain
that the efficient Lottie would have packed it, Linnett sat back on
her heels and pondered for a moment on what she should do.

While she was
thinking, there was a tapping at the door and thinking it would be
Mr. Snow, she called out, “Please come in.” The door opened and a
scruffy individual, whose face was obscured by a large tray bearing
tea things, entered.

“Oh!” Linnett
was much surprised. “I thought you would be Mr. Snow.”

She felt rather
foolish sprawled on the floor, and scrambled to her feet. The tray
was placed on the table, the person turned around, and Linnett saw
it was a young lad.

“I be Pat,
missus,” he said. “I be the person what’ll serve you, run errands
and the like. Mr. Snow’s right busy in the day so he’s asked me
like.”

“Well yes, yes
of course, Mr. Snow would be,” Linnett said. She was amused by the
little ragamuffin. “Well, I am very pleased to meet you, Pat,” she
said, and looked the lad up and down; he was a skinny boy, perhaps
twelve, Linnett guessed. His whiskers had not grown yet, so she
knew him to be young. He was quite filthy; his nails, she noted,
were black, and so were his clothes. He wore a striped,
long-sleeved top and what had once been white, tattered
breeches.

Under the
grime, Linnett could see the boy had delicate features and pale
blue eyes. He stood waiting uncomfortably, first on one leg, then
the other.

He jumped when
Linnett spoke to him. “Pat, I need my sewing box; I believe it to
be in one of my travelling trunks. Do you know where they would be
stored?” The boy nodded vigorously. “Ay, in the storage
hold...shall I.... take ‘ee there?”

Linnett thought
quickly, deciding it would be nice to rummage through her things;
she could fetch other bits and bobs that she would need at the same
time.

“Yes please,
Pat. One moment, though, while I fetch my shawl.”

A second or two
later they were ready to go.

“Right… lead
on, Sir Galahad!” Linnett said grandly.

“What, missus?”
Pat looked bewildered.

“Oh, nevermind,
it is just a silly saying, that’s all,” Linnett replied.

Pat led the way
down dim passages and creaking stairways, and Linnett stumbled a
couple of times. She was still unused to the ship’s rolling
movement. Pat, at least, had had the foresight to bring a lantern
because most of the narrow galley ways were unlit. Occasionally,
they came across an unsavoury-looking sailor, who would stare at
Linnett with lewd interest; however, they seemed a harmless enough
bunch to Linnett, who swept past them with eyes straight ahead. One
or two, who knew Pat by name, made a playful gesture, cuffing his
head in a rough greeting.

After rather
too many narrow stairways, which were awkward for Linnett in her
full-skirted dress, they came to a dark but open space.

A few hammocks
were slung across the ship’s timber joists, and one or two hammocks
were inhabited by snoring sailors. The overpowering smell of
unwashed humanity hung in the fetid air. Pat led the way between
the rows of hammocks; on the opposite side of the “room” was
another dark and dingy galley. Holding the lantern high, Pat led
the way forward. At the end of this passage was a door, which Pat
pushed open and gestured for Linnet to follow him. They were in
quite a large open space that had a very low ceiling, and without
the lantern’s glow, it would have been pitch black. Pat held the
lantern up as high as he could, and Linnett was startled by
scurrying coming from within the deep shadows.

“Them’s rats,”
Pat told her matter-of-factly.

Linnett
shuddered, wishing now that she had waited for John’s reassuring
presence before venturing down here with only Pat for company.

“Where are the
trunks normally put?” Linnett asked Pat in a whisper.

“I don’t know,”
came the unhelpful reply.

Linnett,
resisting the temptation to clout his ear, ground out, “Well, let’s
start to look then. In alarm, she added, “But stay close to me!” as
the boy moved away with the lantern.

Linnett’s eyes
adjusted to the gloom and she started to make out large shapes in
the deep shadows and called softly to Pat. “Over here, boy, shine
the lantern here!”

Pat did as he
was bid and sure enough, a large pile of travel trunks were piled
up along the wall; it was not going to be as easy as she had
anticipated. Not all these trunks belonged to her and John. She
guessed correctly that the captain and his officers stored their
trunks down here as well. Linnett sighed heavily; there was nothing
for it- she would just have to sort through them all until she
recognised her own. At least hers had her father’s crest on the
side of the trunk, which would make it easier to identify.

“Stand the
lantern on the trunk at the end, Pat, please.” Pat duly did as he
was bid, and Linnett then began to slide the trunks forward one by
one.

“Come on, lazy
bones, help me!”

Pat pushed the
nearest trunk, and then there was a sudden crash, after which they
were left standing in complete darkness. There was a moment of
shocked silence, and then Pat’s high voice said, “T’ lantern
fell!”

“Well I am
quite aware of that,” snapped an exasperated Linnett. “What on
earth shall we do? Can you feel around for the lantern, Pat?” She
herself was feeling her way around the stack of trunks, heading
towards the sound of the boy’s voice.

It was totally
unnerving standing in this horrible place, unable to see without
the comforting presence of another person to hold onto. Her foot
knocked something solid yet yielding and it moved. Linnett’s heart
was thumping hard under her ribs, “Pat? Pat, is that you?” Her
voice sounded reedy and hollow.

Pat’s voice
came from her left. “Over ’ere, missus.”

Linnett tried
to swivel towards the direction of his voice, but as she did so,
she fell over a large mass of something warm and moving; Linnett
screamed, terrified.

A deep voice
resonated from where she had tripped, “
Mon dieu
!”

Pat called out,
“Missus, Missus?!” in a voice that betrayed his fright.

Linnett, more
terrified than ever, pulled herself to her feet and blundered
towards the boy’s voice; they collided with one another, and both
shrieked and realised what they had done.

Linnett gripped
Pat’s arm and hissed, “There’s someone over there, Pat!” She could
feel the boy shaking through his thin clothes.