Silas was silent, giving my question more contemplation than I thought it deserved, before he said, “No, I don’. I ain’ proud of everythin’ I did, but I don’ regre’ it. I ain’ much about livin’ in the past. What ma’ers is the here an’ now. An’ fer now, I’m ‘ere wif you. An’ I gets ta cook, e’en if it ain’ a gourmet meal.”
“I think your cooking is fantastic,” I said in full honesty, and Silas ruffled my hair again.
Chapter Seven
WhilemyrelationshipwithSilas was easy-going and comfortable, every time I saw Captain Ambrose, my stomach would tighten and my breath would catch in my throat. He was a man of poise and impeccable taste, with a learned elegance about him. He was not a man born to wealth and power, which led me to think he had acquired it in some way. If others were as entranced by him as I was whenever his dark eyes met mine, it would have been quite understandable.
When I was not helping Silas, I’d find reasons to be near Ambrose as he went about his duties on the ship. The rest of the crew were an odd bunch of fellows, some with a worn, haggard look about them, all of them a little rough around the edges. More so than I would have expected, considering Ambrose seemed to be a man of refinement. More than once, I overheard the crew laughing about how Ambrose was too big for his pockets, but then, almost none of them had more than two shillings to rub together, so I thought it may have simply been jealousy over his acquisitions.
Much of the crew tended to ignore me, young pup that I was in their eyes. A few made lewd comments or gestures toward the start of the voyage, but Ambrose heard about them, and while I don’t know what happened, those actions toward me stopped. For that, I was quite grateful. The idea of being on a ship at sea with a bunch of burly men might have enticed some who favored that sort, but I was much too inexperienced and naïve to know what was authentic and what was not.
One thing I did know to be genuine was that Ambrose was always watching me when we were near one another. He found reasons to brush past me, just a little too close for it to be an accident, and I would feel the warmth from the swish of his coat and smell the salty sea air, enveloped in whatever expensive oil he had used on his person that day. The smile he gave me would warm me all the way to my toes, and I suspected I looked like a besotted schoolgirl when I would blush and duck my head.
Our first week of the voyage had us never alone, as Ambrose would often meet with the squire or Mister Kearns when he was not with the crew. But by and by, the novelty of being in his presence wore off for them, and sometime in the second week of our voyage, I delivered dinner to his quarters to find Ambrose entirely alone, save for Bosun perched on his shoulder, nibbling at the gold ring in his ear. He had not yet discarded his black jacket, only his hat, and his smile warmed me as I entered with the tray, which I placed on a nearby side table. He set aside the paper he had been writing on and motioned for me to come over to him. I did, my heart quickening in my chest.
On his desk was a map of the island, with the latitude and longitude marked out upon it, but it lacked the directions or the red X that indicated the treasure on the one the squire had. His fingers traced it idly as he gazed up at me. “I feel as if I have not had a moment’s peace,” he said.
“It’s a big job, captaining a ship,” I managed, giving him a smile that I knew was shyer than I meant it to be.
“It is,” Ambrose said with a slightly dramatic sigh. “I am quite ready to be done with it.”
“Done with it?” I asked in surprise.
Ambrose waved his hand around airily. “I don’t care about a life at sea, Jamie. I’ll be happy to settle on land, in a large house.”
“With lots of closets for your fancy clothes?” I teased, and he grinned at me.
“Of course. I like the finer things in life,” Ambrose said, before his hand slid up, and his fingers trailed lightly down my arm. Realizing we were alone in the room except for Bosun, the touch suddenly felt much more intimate than any other touch we had exchanged, and my cheeks warmed. I stepped back a few paces, wondering if I had broken out in a sweat as my skin prickled. And then my back hit the wall, pinning me in place under his gaze like a butterfly.
Ambrose rose from his chair, and Bosun hopped off his shoulder with a whistle, flapping onto his perch. “Dash my buttons, Jamie. Every time I look at you, I feel it like an arrow in my gut,” Ambrose said, reaching up a hand to brush his fingertips lightly down my cheek. Certainly he took no pains to hide his thoughts, and certainly I read them like print.
My own breath caught as I stared up at him, licking my lips. I tried to form words, but they stuck in my throat like so much sugary candy. I felt my heart pick up several paces.
“Tell me,” Ambrose said, leaning an arm over me, suddenly engulfing me in his shadow. “The squire I understand, but why are you here? What made you want to come along?”
“I…” My voice came out shaky, and I licked my lips again. “I suppose I have been wanting to explore the world, go on an adventure.”
“Did you find the adventure you were looking for?” Ambrose purred, and suddenly his hips were pressed firmly to mine against the wall, the slight stubble of his afternoon shadow brushing the outside of my ear.
All ability to speak left me as his warmth enveloped me, and I felt the hardness in the front of his breeches press against my own through paltry fabric that suddenly seemed like both too much and not enough layers between us. His chocolate-brown eyes gazed into mine before he caught my chin lightly in his hand, as if about to reprimand me, before his lips pressed to mine in a searing kiss.
I had never kissed anyone besides the butcher’s son before, and that had been a few inexperienced kisses that were more wet than pleasurable; this one was different. Ambrose’s lips were soft, the touch of his hand on my face gentle but holding me quite firmly in place as the press of his mouth intensified. I let out a sound, not of protest, but surprise, my hands coming up to his black-coated shoulders, gripping the lapels that my scrabbling fingers found. He pulled back for just a moment, only enough for me to take a breath, before his mouth was on me again, harder, firmer, and I felt a gentle nip of his teeth on my lower lip. I jerked under him but was unable to move, my entire body pressed back against the wall and held in place by his. His hips suddenly ground against me, his pleasure obvious against mine, and my hips struggled to thrust back of their own accord.
One of his hands leaned against the wall to brace him as the one on my chin trailed down my throat, tracing over the collar of my shirtsleeves, before his fingers slid down my chest and found one of my nipples, rubbing his thumb over it through my shirt. I couldn’t stop the moan against his mouth as a new sort of pleasure rocked through me. His thumb moved in little circles around the hardened nub, and each one made me squirm more than the last.
He finally broke the kiss between us but did not pull back, and I could feel his breath on my cheek. He suddenly grasped my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a pinch through my shirt, and I admittedly let out an undignified squeak. His laughter rumbled low in his chest, like the distant sound of thunder on the horizon. “Innocent as a newborn kitten,” he teased, and my cheeks burned.
His hand slid down and grasped at my waist, tugging my shirtsleeves from my trousers so the shirt flounced and caught where our groins were still pressed together, before he reached up to undo the buttons of my waistcoat with more deftness than I would have expected from the refined man. The vest fell open and slid off my shoulders to the floor. And then his hand slid up under my shirt, trailing over my stomach with a touch that scorched my skin like hot coals before his fingers found my other nipple, and he brushed over that one too.
Pleasure shot through me, and I mewled, nearly knocking my head against the wall as I tipped it back. And then his mouth was against my neck, kissing it with feather-soft brushes as his fingers closed over my nipple and rolled it lightly. My hands still gripped his jacket, tugging fiercely as my inexperienced body shuddered with pleasure. He found a point near my collarbone and began to nibble it, his fingers switching to my other nipple, and I thought for a moment the floor might have fallen out from under me. I gave a moan, then realized how loud it sounded in the stillness of the cabin, and I quickly clapped my hand over my mouth.
Ambrose laughed and drew back from my neck, grabbing my hand and pulling it away. “No one will hear you, lad. The door is thick, and the sea covers a multitude of sounds.”
My face colored bright pink at that, sure my freckles were standing out over the blush. Ambrose’s fingers fell from my wrist to slide down my chest, stopping at my waist where our hips met and my shirt bunched. My need against his was aching, but I was unable to find the words for what I wanted, not even completely sure what I thought he might do. Ambrose’s fingers found the lacing of my breeches, and he began to undo them. My heart picked up in my chest. He intended to take them off, something that I had not even had the opportunity to try with the butcher’s son, or anyone else. He loosened the laces, then stepped back just a bit so he could get his hand in between us, his fingers sliding into the waist of my trousers, past my belly button and over my straining cock.
I gasped sharply, my hands sliding from his lapels up to grip the back of his neck. His fingers enclosed my shaft and started to stroke, ever so gently, as the hand supporting him against the wall came down to work my pants over my hips, and they slid down my legs to puddle around my bare feet. My fingers tangled into the soft, dark hair at the base of his neck, my face burning.
Ambrose suddenly pulled back, his warmth leaving me entirely. My shirt fell down, mercifully hiding my twitching cock under its folds, but I couldn’t stop a moan of disappointment, my legs trembling a bit. “C… Captain?” I asked softly.
