With a nod, I exited the alcove and made my way toward the tavern at the edge of Port Royal. My faithful crew of miscreants would be stirring up mischief with their bellies swimming with ale.
Reynolds trailed at a distance as to not draw attention to me. This wasn’t Boston or St. Augustine, where the streets overflowed with English soldiers. But the governor of Jamaica was known for his terror against my kind. His men hunted and hanged pirates with ruthless enthusiasm.
Up ahead, light spilled from an open doorway, illuminating the dirt road between the buildings. Boisterous laughter and the off-tune clanging of a piano announced the merriment of hard-drinking patrons.
I stuck to the deepest shadows and slipped behind a wagon that sat across the road from the tavern. Peering around bags of grain, I had a direct view of the activity within.
The structure was a story and a half high with bedrooms on the upper floor. The ground level connected to the buildings on either side and served as an inn, trading post, courtroom, and post office.
But tonight, its only purpose was entertainment.
Customers shouted, and tavern wenches heckled back, sloshing quarts of ale and trading coins. The tables overflowed with all manner of freeborn life, from lords and navy sailors to scoundrels and doxies.
I marked the familiar faces of my crew. Most of them bewhiskered and unkempt, they clustered around the bar and pawed at the courtesans like a legion of grinning, belching, rough-talking demons.
A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I’d kept them at sea too long. Six months on this last stretch. They needed this. They’d earned it.
So had I.
From my hiding spot across the street, several strangers caught my eye. Roguish, virile young men, who would eagerly spend a few sweaty hours with a flamboyantly dressed woman.
I glanced down at the round flesh that threatened to spill over my bodice. Perhaps I was pretty enough, but I knew naught how to flirt or seduce. It had been two years since I’d tried.
Two years since I’d been kissed, touched, or brought to the acme of pleasure by a skilled hand.
The last time I’d succumbed to the spell of a man’s charm, it ended in devastating agony. A tragedy I should have avoided but now credited as a necessary life lesson. The next time I fall into someone’s bed—no matter how clever, potent, or irresistibly handsome he might be—I would not involve my heart. Never again.
A blond sailor stepped into my line of sight, lingering just inside the tavern. His eyes glimmered in the overhead candlelight as he watched the crowd and sipped his drink. There was an innocence about him, a harmless curiosity in his expression. Perhaps it would be easy to fuck him with no recoil or attachment after.
Footsteps advanced, and Reynolds appeared at my side, ducking his tall frame behind the wagon.
“Your crewmates are enjoying themselves.” I kept my gaze on the blond man, imagining the feel of his lean body moving against mine. “We should stay a few more hours. I could use a drink.” And a dark corner with an attractive sailor.
“There’s a flush upon your neck, Captain.”
I cupped my hand there and ground my teeth.
“I know what beckons you, and it isn’t ale.” His voice lowered, hesitant yet assertive. “I would help you with that. We could return to the ship, set her a-sail, and I would come to your cabin and provide what you need. It’s safer than what you’re considering here, with a stranger.”
“I appreciate your concern—”
“You’re not the only one who goes without. It’s been too long since I indulged in a woman’s favors.”
Because he never left my side.
Overprotective idiot.
Exceptional quartermaster.
“Go indulge, then.” I gestured toward the tavern. “I’m not stopping you.”
“I won’t leave you out here unguarded.”
I expelled a sigh. “What do you need? Five minutes? Ten? If it’s been as long as you say—”
“With you, I would take my time and tease it out. Every lick.” His eyes remained fixed on the perimeter, even as his voice turned to gravel. “Every bite. Every stroke. I would make it last long after eight bells of the mid watch.”
Heat rolled through me, arousing a quiver in my thighs. It was potent enough to silence the objection on my lips, to make me pause and actually consider his offer.
Meddling with a quartermaster wasn’t the worst idea. I was Charles Vane’s first mate when he bedded me. I could give Reynolds the same thing I gave Charles.