Love Aboard the Priam: Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer. I do not own Twilight.

Chapter Four

Bella’s POV

I flipped through the letter again, for what seemed like the thousandth time, but nothing had changed. There was no secret message hidden within the words that would tell me who had been writing to Peter all these years.

It did, however, clear up a few things.

Peter did know me, on a supremely deep level. He knew my favorite food, my favorite color, the name of my first horse, my first dog, my friends, my family, how I did in all of my teachings, and so much more. Every insignificant little detail of my life was detailed within these letters and Peter had read them all.

The last letter folded over easily, the creases worn from all the times Peter had read it. I looked over to find him sitting behind his desk, bent over a map, studying our route. A lock of hair fell into his face, tickling his scar at the corner of his mouth. My fingers twitched, wanting to brush the strand out of his face.

Sensing my eyes on him, he looked up, his grey eyes dark in the low candle light. I shivered under his intense gaze, my insides clenching as a tingling began in the pit of my stomach.

“Have you finished reading?” Peter asked, his voice low and gravelly.

I had to swallow before I was able to respond, my throat suddenly dry.

“Yes, but I can’t tell who wrote them,” I told him.

“I’m sorry, mo chroí. I wish I could help you,” Peter sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, shuffling the letters nervously.

The legs of his chair scraped across the floor as he stood to make his way over to me. His rescued the letter from my nervous hands, stacking them neatly before locking them back up in the top drawer of his desk.

I would never admit it to him, but I was secretly thrilled to find out the letter documenting my life were so important to him that he kept them locked away from curious eyes. He put the key in the empty cigar box on his desk and turned to me, his shoulders deflating as he sighed.

“It’s been a long day, mo anamchara. Why don’t we go to bed?” Peter suggested tiredly.

My nerves suddenly kicked into overdrive, terrified of spending the night in his bed again.

“Feel free to retire for the evening, sir, but I will remain awake a while longer,” I informed him.

He was silent for a while, simply watching me as I twisted my finger into my dress. I placed all of my focus on the way the cotton wrapped around the tips before I plucked them out. I shivered slightly when his boots thumped towards me.

“Isabella, it is late. You’ve had a difficult day. Come to bed,” Peter requested, his hands falling to my shoulders and rubbing gently.

As his thumbs worked my tired muscles, I deeply considered giving into his appealing request. I was tired, my body needing time to recuperate after the long day it had had.

“I do not promise leave my hands off your body, but your virtue will remain intact tonight,” Peter continued, his breath dancing across my ear.

I leaned back into his chest, my breathing slowly evening out as all my nerves disappeared under his skilled ministrations.

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept as soundly as I did last night with you in my arms. I’ve been waiting all day to be able to hold you again,” Peter admitted.

“Are you attempting to seduce me, Mr. Whitlock?” I asked, a small smile playing about my lips.

“Aye,” Peter answered, a smile in his own voice.

“I am a proper lady and proper ladies do not allow themselves to be seduced,” I mumbled weakly, still teasing.

“Proper ladies also don’t wear trousers and wield swords. Face it, mo chroí. You are no proper lady,” Peter grinned, laying a lingering kiss to the spot just below my ear.

“I can pretend to be one, though,” I argued back, my eyes already closed.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, mo chroí. I like the way you look in trousers and how expertly you wield a sword. I don’t think either Randall or Garrett have ever been vested of their swords before. I might have you train my men so it does not happen again,” Peter chuckled.

“You would trust me not to do them harm?” I asked, not bothering to hide my surprise.

“Aye, lass. I would trust you with my life. It is no large leap to trust you with my men’s,” Peter confessed.

“Even though you keep me here against my will?” I questioned.

“Even though you do not wish to be here,” Peter agreed.

“I cannot decide if that makes you brave or foolish,” I mused.

“It is not about foolishness or bravery. It is about my hope that you will learn to love my crew, my ship, my way of life, and me,” Peter divulged.

“And if I don’t? What are your plans, Captain, if you do not succeed?” I asked.

“I do not entertain the idea, in all honesty. If I do, I will drive myself and my crew mad with doubt. There is not alternative for me, mo chroí. If I cannot succeed at winning your heart, I will continue with my cold, empty life, cherishing the little time I was able to spend with you,” Peter answered solemnly.

Feeling as though a heavy weight had just been placed on my shoulders, I leaned further back against him until my head rested against his chest.

“Come to bed, mo chroí. I am tired and my arms have missed you,” Peter encouraged.

I allowed him to pull me from my chair, but squeaked in surprise when he lifted me into his arms.

“I think you would be more comfortable without your dress on tonight, but I shall leave the decision to you. I will douse the candles while you decide,” Peter told me, placing me on my feet beside the bed.

I blushed as he turned to extinguish the flames, my fingers trembling as I fisted them in my dress.

At home, I never wore clothing to bed. The nights were warm in Shalolie, despite being up in the mountains. The idea of spending another night in all my clothing was suffocating. Stealing myself against the embarrassment I knew would come from this, I turned to look at Peter as he put out the last candle.

The room was plunged into darkness with only the moon outside offering light. Peter walked back towards me slowly, his steps sure as he maneuvered around the furniture. He said nothing as he came to stand directly in front of me, our bodies separated by barely an inch.

I turned, giving him my back, and pulled my hair over my shoulder, revealing the line of buttons. His quick intake of breath sent a shiver down my spine and I closed my eyes against the sensation.

Calloused fingers trailed across the base of my neck before gradually moving to unbutton the back of my dress. My hands came up to hold the material to my chest, giving me the illusion of privacy for a while longer.

“All done,” Peter rasped.

“Thank you,” I breathed, turning back to face him.

In the dim light of the moon, I could see him clenching his jaw and the trembling of his arms as he kept his hands fisted at his sides. I lowered my gaze and bit my lower lip, uncertainty flashing through me.

“Drop the dress, Isabella,” Peter order softly.

Swallowing my fear and trepidation, I allowed the material to pool at my feet, shivering slightly at his muttered curse. Before I had time to feel embarrassed, his arms branded around me and his mouth was pressed against mine.

My head reeling at the rapid movement, I brought my hands up to his shoulders, clutching his shirt in a desperate attempt to stop the spinning. His hands grasped my hips, pulling me closer to him as his teeth nipped at my lips.

“Isabella,” Peter moaned, pressing feverish kisses along the column of my throat before returning to my lips.

My entire body felt like molten lava, completely languid and warm. My lips opened to his perusal, eagerly following his lead as his tongue slipped past and into my mouth. I shuddered against him at the first brush of our tongues, delicious sensations shooting through my body.

I could feel something hard pressed against my stomach and it only intensified the ache building between my legs. I was no novice to the ways of the world, having two married women as my best friends. They had divulged their knowledge of the marital bed to me shortly after their weddings. I knew that the length pressed against me now was Peter’s body reacting to my presence.

Me. I had caused this reaction in a man.

Despite all my kisses with Edward, he had never held me this close, kissed me this deeply. I had never felt his body’s reaction to my nearness and it had disappointed me slightly. Peter had no such reservations as he lowered us onto the bed, his body hovering over mine.

“Mo chroí, do you feel how much I ache for you?” Peter groaned, thrusting his hips against mine.

I moaned in response, the feeling making the fire within me roar higher. I felt as though I was being burned from the inside out and enjoying every second of it.

“I need you, Isabella. I need… Oh, God! Just let me…” Peter trailed off as he attached his lips to my neck and sucked.

I cried out, my fingers clenching in his hair as his tongue laved over the area. His hips continued moving against my own, my body cradling his erection. With each thrust, the flames soared higher and higher until I felt as though my body was going to explode.

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” I chanted breathlessly, my head thrown back as I fought the flames.

“Isabella,” Peter hissed, his pace increasing slightly as he shifted his hips.

I screamed at the new angle, the fires flaring out of control as my body exploded into a thousand pieces in the span of a second. Everything inside of my clenched as I clawed at Peter’s shoulders, my body trembling. Peter gave a hoarse cry before stilling completely, his body trembling as he braced himself on his arms.

As I came down from my high, embarrassment and shame crept upon me, causing me to turn my head away from him.

“Don’t. Don’t turn from me, mo chroí,” Peter murmured, turning me back to look at him.

“How can… What… We just…” I stuttered, tears threatening to fall.

“Shh, hush now. Everything is alright, mo chroí. You are safe. I have you,” Peter soothed, lowering his body over me.

His soft words calmed me and I took in a shaky breath.

“We have done nothing wrong, Isabella. What we just did was… powerful and magnificent and beautiful. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Your virtue is still intact, like I promised,” Peter reassured me.

“Why do I feel so much for you?” I asked, my voice oddly calm despite my inner turmoil.

“Because it is right. Because you belong to me, just as I belong to you. I recognized you as mine nine years ago. You are mo chroí, my heart, and I have loved you since that day,” Peter admitted passionately.

“I wish I was as sure as you are,” I sniffled.

“Give me time. I will show you we are meant to be,” Peter vowed.

I nodded, unable to do anything else as a bone deep tiredness settled over me.

“You are all I will ever want or need. Sleep now, mo chroí. Tomorrow, I will begin to show you just what I mean by ‘meant to be’,” Peter whispered as I slipped into the peacefulness of sleep.

The sound of men grunting was the first thing I noticed as I walked out onto the deck of the Priam, Peter by my side. My eyes sought out the source of the sound, finding to men going at each other with swords. I grinned, recognizing one of them as Randall and the other as the guy who had tried to touch me on the Infamy.

“Curse you to hell!” the man shouted, swinging his sword at Randall.

Randall laughed and countered his swing with one of his own, easily besting the man.

“Do they do this often?” I asked Peter, still watching the fight.

“Aye. Randall enjoys taunting the crew and Collin has a short temper,” Peter grinned.

“Do you think he would parry with me?” I asked hopefully.

“You want to fight Randall?” Peter questioned, surprised.

“No, I want to fight Collin,” I glared.

Peter was silent for a few moments, looking between me and Collin.

“Any particular reason?” Peter asked.

“He tried to put his hands on me,” I reminded him, still glaring at the young man.

“I’ll kill him,” Peter snarled, striding forward.

“No!” I cried softly, grabbing onto his arm and swinging him back to my side.

“He knows the rules of sailing under my flag. Women and children are never to be harmed,” Peter spoke through gritted teeth.

“You promised me justice for the man who killed my father. Will you not offer me the same option for the man who dared try to touch me without my consent?” I asked coldly.

Peter stared at me for a long while before nodding once and stepping back.

“Just leave some of him for me,” Peter grumbled, offering me his sword.

I took his sword, trying to resist the urge to lean across the limited space between us and place a kiss on his scar that was whiter than usual in his anger. The look his in eyes darkened as they stared into my own and I had the sudden feeling that he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

“Go. Now, before I take you back to my cabin and lock the door,” Peter growled, leaning forward slightly as he spoke.

Tearing my eyes away from his, I strode towards the dueling men purposefully. Randall looked up and grinned as I came to stand beside them. Collin, seeing his chance, lunged, sword extended.

His sword clanged against mine as I intercepted his thrust.

“It is poor swordsmanship to try and attack an opponent when they have stepped back from the fight,” I informed him haughtily.

“Get out of my way,” Collin demanded, barring his teeth in anger.

“No. If you want to fight someone, you will fight me. I have to repay you for your wandering hands a few days ago,” I reminded him.

“As if a lass could defeat me,” Collin sneered.

“Then you have no problem crossing swords with me?” I questioned.

“Aye, caili beagán. Let us duel,” Collin agreed, sliding his sword along mine.

I ignored the outraged sounds from the men near us, not understanding what they were protesting.

I allowed him to make the first move, wanting to witness his form before I went on the offense. Within five minutes of our fight, I had him pegged as one who feints to the right before striking left, favors his right foot, and always spun left out of the way of a sword.

With that knowledge, I switched tactics and began playing on his weaknesses and predictability. It was a sad showing and the longer it went on, the angrier he became. His moves became chopping and his mistakes increased, making it extremely easy for me to divest him of his sword and position my sword at the base of his neck.

“Whorish wench! Return me my sword!” Collin shouted, his face red.

“I think not. Our duel is finished and I am the victor. Your sword, by law, is forfeit,” I glared.

“The Devil take you! Captain! Ya will allow this wench to remove my sword?” Collin demanded to know, his fists clenched in anger.

“Aye, Collin. You’re lucky I don’t remove your sword myself,” Peter answered icily.

The men around us winced, some of them sucking the air through their teeth with pained expressions.

“You will remain below deck for the remainder of our journey and will no longer be a part of my crew once we reached Bearsalei,” Peter informed him.

“Ya would allow a wench to come between us? Captain, there are thousands of them around the world! What’s so special about this one?” Collin gaped, clearly outraged.

“This one is mine,” Peter spat.

“Never thought I’d see the day when Captain Peter Whitlock chose a woman over his own crew,” Collin scoffed before spitting at my feet.

Before I even wrinkle my nose in disgust, Peter had his hand wrapped around Collin’s neck, his other hand coming up to punch Collin right in the mouth. Peter didn’t make a sound as Collin wailed, throwing punches back. In a matter of minutes, the two of them were rolling around on the deck, blood covering most of their faces.

I stood by Randall, his arm around my waist to restrain me. All my attention was on Peter and I winced with each new hit Collin managed to get in. I was shaking by the time Peter drew back his fist and landed the last blow, knocking Collin unconscious.

In that moment, something clicked inside of me and I realized Peter had been telling me the truth. He really would kill anyone who tried to hurt me. As that realization took place in my brain, my heart clenched painfully and I was suddenly terrified of this man who held me at night, teased me during the day, and smiled whenever he saw me.

Oh, God, save me.

Peter’s POV

I stood up slowly, mourning the loss of a good crew member. No matter how furious I was with Collin, he had been a good sailor, even if he was a bit cocky. It didn’t matter how good of a sailor he was, though. As soon as he disrespected my Isabella, all bets were off.

I looked up to see her with Randall, her eyes wide as she watched me. I waited, uncertain what was going through her mind, worried I had scared her off.

She didn’t let me think on that too long as she rushed forward, her eyes fastened on my hand.

“Stupid, foolish man,” Isabella mumbled, her soft fingers trailing over the open skin.

“Easy, mo chroí,” I winced as she passed over a sensitive spot.

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat before dropping her lips to my fingers. The heat from that simple gesture went straight to my cock, making it ache for her.

“Come with me. We’ll clean and bandage them,” Isabella frowned, tugging me towards our cabin.

I followed her easily, pleased that she wanted to take care of me.

“Randall, see to the scum,” I called over my shoulder.

“Aye, Captain!” Randall shouted back.

Isabella didn’t stop until we were in the cabin, pulling me over to my desk and sitting me down in my chair.

“Where’s the salve you put on my wrists?” Isabella asked.

I reached over and opened the top drawer, handing her the jar needed for my cuts. She took it, her hands trembling slightly. Concerned, I covered them with my own, stilling the shaking.

“What is it, mo chroí?” I asked softly.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so angry,” Isabella hissed.

“Don’t be. He will be locked below for the remainder of our voyage and once we reach Bearsalei, he will be taken off the ship,” I assured her.

“He shouldn’t have hurt you,” Isabella frowned.

“He barely touched me,” I chuckled, stroking across the back of her hand.

“Your hands,” Isabella mumbled.

“I did that to myself, mo chroí,” I pointed out.

“Very well. Then I shall be mad at you,” Isabella huffed.

“Not while I’m injured,” I pouted.

“As soon as you have healed, then,” Isabella decided, removing her hands from mine to unscrew the lid.

I watched her as she attentively put the salve over my busted knuckles, her bottom lip held between her teeth as she worked. I smiled slightly as she wrinkled her nose against the smell.

“Why does it smell different?” Isabella asked.

“Because it’s a mixture of aloe and thyme,” I told her.

“It’s so much better than the first one,” Isabella mused.

“This one is used for open wounds. You needed something to soothe your bruises,” I explained.

She hummed in response, wrapping a cloth around my knuckles to keep the salve on and stop further bleeding.

“I think you should refrain from fist fights in the near future, sir, to keep from agitating your knuckles again,” Isabella instructed.

“Aye, lass. I’ll agree to that,” I grinned, standing up and placing a kiss on her temple.

She sighed softly and leaned further into my chest, a small victory won.

“Thank you for helping me,” I murmured, rubbing my nose along her hair.

“You’re welcome,” Isabella breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

I smiled wider as she went about putting away the salve and bandages, purposefully keeping her eyes from mine. When she had finished, I held out my hand, intent on returning to the main deck.

“Come, mo chroí. Let us go make sure Randall had no trouble scraping that village rat from my deck,” I insisted.

She slid her hand into mine without any hesitation, blushing prettily when I lifted her hand for a kiss. I marveled briefly at the change in character. She was completely ruthless when fighting Collin, but as soon as the swords were put away, she turned shy and timid, feminine. She made me want to wrap my arms around her, protect her from anything and everything, and at the same time stand back and watch her beat some poor whelp into dust. She had me completely mesmerized.

“What’s this I hear about a fight, Captain?” Garrett asked, coming up beside us as we walked onto the deck.

“Isabella and I had to teach Collin a few things about how to treat a lady. Not to worry, old friend. He’s been taken care of by your brother,” I smirked.

“Good God! I swear, I don’t know why you promoted him to boatswain last year. He was a much better gunner. He still does half of Ben’s work as it is,” Garrett scoffed.

“Who else knows the boat and all the roles as well? He’s a good boatswain. Ben’s still learning the trade,” I defended.

“Randall is the boatswain?” Isabella questioned beside me.

“Aye, my lady. We may not have as straight laced a pecking order as the royal Navies, but Randall does oversee most of the more specialized matters,” Garrett nodded, grinning widely.

“Talking about me again, brother? And to our bantiarna, no less. Listen to nothing he says, lass. It’s all lies,” Randall grinned as he walked up to us.

Isabella gave him a weak smile in return, her brows brought together.

“What is it, mo chroí?” I asked, knowing she had a question.

“Oh. It’s nothing. Randall just reminded me of what Collin said while we were dueling,” Isabella shrugged.

Randall’s smiled slipped as anger took over his face. Garrett was clearly confused and threw his brother a look.

“He called her caili beagán,” Randall muttered.

“In a duel?” Garrett asked, his brows raised.

“Aye, right before they began,” Randall practically growled.

“I don’t understand. What did he call me?” Isabella asked, flustered.

“It means ‘little girl’, but that is not why the crew is so outraged. He used the Language of the Sea, a sacred language amongst pirates and sailors. We never use to language in battle and it is only used on good terms. The language is meant to show favor, peace, and agreement, not hatred and mockery,” I explained.

Isabella said nothing, but the blush on her cheeks told me exactly what she was thinking.

“Aye, mo chroí. This entire ship cares about you, because you are mine and, as such, you are theirs,” I murmured, kissing her temple.

“Captain’s right, bantiarna. Ya’re a right member of the crew now,” Randall grinned.

Her blush seemed to darken even further under the high praise.

As I led her away from the two brothers, I allowed myself to hope that she would decide to stay with me. I couldn’t imagine ever being parted from her after getting to know her personally. There was no doubt in my mind that she was the one for me.

Bella’s POV

I looked up at Peter, smiling as he walked me around the Priam, his grey eyes shining and came to a sudden realization that made my heart beat incredibly fast.

I was falling in love with a man I’d only known for three days, but worse than that: I was falling in love with a pirate.

Oh, God, save me.