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Either his demeanor or his comment urged the earl to action. Russell rested back in his ornate headrest in his chair. “Yes, I can see why you would be so concerned, and your plan to go after them yourself is admirable, of course.” He gestured magnanimously. “I will issue orders forthwith. It will serve as a good lesson to those who ignore the rules and duties of British waters. We will ensure the safe return of your ward and we’ll make an example of this corrupt merchant ship. It will benefit us both.”
“I am most grateful, and I am forever your humble servant,” Cyrus said, and bowed his head. He was thinking of much more than making them an example, however. If even one of them had so much as touched his precious Margaret, he would take them apart with his bare hands.
* * *
Maisie awoke from a deep sleep to find the captain gone, presumably up to the deck to take charge of his ship again. Sighing, she savored the satiated state she awoke in. As she did so it occurred to her that it might have been even better if she had awoken before he did. The satiated feeling gave way to a new hunger—a hunger for more. Was that how it would be now that she’d coupled with a lover? Startled at the way her body throbbed in response to the notion, she sat up.
Nearby, on the railed shelf close to the bed, she discovered he had left a small flagon of ale. She drank thirstily. Next to the flagon stood a wooden box, inside which she found some hard biscuits, oatcakes. They were surprisingly tasty despite their rough consistency.
Rising, Maisie located the pail the captain had pointed out to relieve herself in, then tentatively examined her body before she dressed.
Her breasts were tender and her nipples peaked instantly when she touched them, quickly reminding her of the pleasures she had experienced the night before. It filled her with wonder. Whilst she knew it would be an important change in her life, both as a woman and as a young witch whose craft would be enriched by engaging in carnal acts, she’d had no idea of the newfound awareness she would enjoy. She moved her hands over her body, testing here and there. Responsive, sensitive and eager, her skin tingled. Moreover, that sense of ability that bubbled in her belly when she was sure of her magic was greatly magnified. She had indeed been enriched, and she couldn’t resist exploring it.
Lifting her hands, she allowed her power to flow out from her uplifted palms, and marveled at the intensity of the heat and light that rose from her. For the first time, she truly felt that her magic came from within. The sensual fulfillment had anchored it within her. Previously, the magic knowledge that had been handed down to her was a starting point. It was something she initiated, as if she trickered the first in a chain of events. It felt very different now, as if she were the source itself, rather than the tricker.
As she stood there marveling at it, the ship encountered rougher waters and rocked this way and that in rapid succession. Tempted by that, Maisie put out her hands and channeled her vitality into the waves surrounding the ship. Whispering low under her breath, she bade the elements good day and requested calm waters. Closing her eyes, she absorbed every moment of the experience, noticing how she felt as if she were part of the ocean when it churned more gently, as if she were locked into it.
“It truly has altered me,” she whispered, scarcely able to believe it.
She pushed up her hair with her hands, securing it with several pins that she retrieved from the pocket of her gown, and even as she flexed her neck and stretched, she could feel her own power swelling within. It would be so much easier now for her to protect herself. It would be tempting to evoke change, and she knew she must keep a leash on her skills in order not to be exposed and ousted, as her mother had been.
It was little wonder Cyrus wanted to be in control of this moment, she reflected, for her power was already so much greater. She felt invigorated by the lovemaking she’d enjoyed, more confident in every way—in her magic, and as a woman.
There was great pleasure in that, too.
Moving her fingers lower, between the folds of her intimate place, she discovered that whilst she was tender there and somewhat swollen, it felt good. Pressing deeper, she found she had not been unreasonably rearranged, as she’d feared she might when she caught sight of the size of the captain’s engorged manhood. Apparently her body had not only accommodated it, but already craved it again. When she moved her fingers inside, she became aroused and thought immediately of being filled by the captain’s proud length.
Is this how it should be? She sat down on the bed and reclined, trailing her fingers over her sensitive folds. Standing proudly, her swollen nub reacted to the movement of her slippery fingers over it. Maisie pressed back into the mattress, her lips parting. She felt rich beyond wealth, decadent and womanly, and her powers simmered within. It was much more than she had expected, and as she massaged herself closer to release, she felt awed. Would it have been this powerful with another lover? Or was it because the captain had proved to be a skilled lover and a good match for her, once they had scrabbled through the strange arrangement and got down to the carnal act?
Shocked at herself, she pushed two fingers inside, imagining his cock probing there. Immediately a radiant sensation sprang free in her groin, and her hips rose on instinct, her fingers sliding deeper. The lingering sensitivity of her flesh was quickly eased by a surge of hot juices. It was good. It was also undeniably bound to the occurrences of the night before. When she had touched herself there before, tentatively, in her virginal state, there was yearning, and sometimes sudden flashes of pleasure, but this was different. Her mind locked on the captain’s image and the way he had been so determined, so manly and virile, as he thrust inside her. Each stroke she made along her supple flesh was encouraged by imaginings and memories.
How good it had felt to have him arched over, to admire the way he pivoted as he thrust into her, bearing his weight on his strong arms as he pushed them both into ecstasy. His erection had seemed indomitable, and when he had erupted it was with barely controlled power, his pursuit of pleasure visible as he stroked his fist up and down his length.
Then her memory took her to that later encounter and the image of his head between her legs. Recalling his thick, unruly hair beneath her fingers, she felt an echo of his mouth on her, the way he had brought her to fruition with his tongue and his reverent kisses. It had been wildly passionate, shocking and undeniably pleasurable. Mimicking his actions, she remembered the way he had manipulated his hand and stroked her inside and out at the same time. While she recalled his eagerness and his smile when he brought her off, she spilled anew. Startled and delighted, she closed her eyes and her lips parted.
She could have dozed, but she was curious about him, Roderick, and what he was doing. When a creak sounded nearby, she glanced at the door expectantly. No one entered, so she arose.
Once she was dressed, she sat patiently on the edge of the bed and studied each and every item in the cabin from her perch. When she was done with that, she concentrated on the noises the ship made, those creaks and groans that sounded alarming at first, but became an almost harmonious musical performance as the hours passed.
Then her patience began to wane.
From the time they could stand on their own two feet, both she and her sister were forever running about, with a distinct lack of patience. Their mother used to comment on it often. They were easily bored, and their mother said that even Lennox, who was older and used to running about by himself, was more able to sit quietly if need be. That didn’t make it any easier for Maisie to sit still now. She couldn’t help it.
Besides, she had no idea what time of day it was, and longed to see the sun and the sky so that she could work it out. The captain had ordered her to stay in the cabin below deck, but Maisie could not resist the call to go above, to take the air. She might even make herself useful, which would be better than sitting here trying to gauge the time of day while the greasy candle spluttered in its lantern. Buckling on her boots, she made ready to leave the captain’s quarters.
The narrow walkway outside was dank and dark, and she put a hand on either wall to make her way along it. At its end, the wooden ladder that led up to the deck was as she remembered it, rickety and treacherous. Determined not to be put off by her strange surroundings, she carefully climbed the ladder and stepped out into the elements on deck. Closing the hatch from which she emerged, she made her way to one side. As she had the evening before, she took shelter in a corner close to the deck above, where she could hear activities going on.
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Inhaling the damp, salty air, she breathed in gratefully. Out here on the ocean the elements wound their way into her, lighting her spirit. They called to her vividly as the ship drifted over the waves, freed of land and the trappings of civilized life. It made her harken back to her early life in the Highlands, where people lived in harmony with the elements and with the seasons, moving within the rhythms of time and tide.
Maisie peered across the water at the distant shoreline. It was too far away for her to make out the details, but she saw the colors of the cliffs and the changing height of the coast, the occasional bay marked by a blur of cottages. She tried to gauge how fast they were traveling. It was so hard to tell, but she knew it was faster than traveling on land by coach. That’s why she had tried to find a ship to take her. Besides, the ship continued to travel through the night, aided by the tides and the wind in the sails, making progress, where a coach and horses would have to rest at an inn overnight. A break in her journey like that might mean her master would find her.
A dark shiver went through her as she considered what Cyrus’s reaction to her absence might have been. She tried not to think upon it—tried to convince herself that he would not pursue her. But she knew it was futile. He had invested many years in her, nurturing her craft, using it to further his progress in government matters. Now that she was a grown woman his plans had evolved, and the hints that he had given about his ambitions—aided by her, of course—frightened her. His plans had been a long time in the making.
She knew now what he’d done. Cyrus had hunted high and low in Scotland for a suitable young girl, a magical child that he could bring up as his ward. Following rumors of witches and news of oustings, he’d traveled a trail that would also be marked by funeral pyres. Hunting down the orphans, he’d examined them for magical ability, potential and appeal. He’d wanted a child who would rely on him for her safety, a child who would be grateful enough to weave spells at his command. Maisie shuddered to think about how mercenary he had been and how he had duped Mama Beth into thinking it was her need for a child that had led him to such extreme measures. Cyrus had promised his wife that a child who had been brought up under such trying circumstances would be grateful and loving. In this twisted web of lies, hope and fear, he kept them both under his control.
Now Maisie had broken free.
