Love Aboard the Priam: Chapter Seven

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

Chapter Seven

Peter’s POV

I looked down at the sleeping woman in my arms and felt the residual fear take hold of me once again. Night had passed and I had yet to succumb to sleep. Whenever I closed my eyes, I was plagued with haunting images of my Isabella being brutally raped by the crew of the Sea Serpent. My greatest fear had come true the previous night. Someone had taken her from me.

My arms tightened reflexively around her slight frame, attempting to pull her further into me. If I could, I would take her into myself in order to protect her and keep her safe from men like Phil Dwyer who would try to stake her from me.

She made a soft sound in her sleep, protesting the tightness of my arms around her. I tried to relax them enough to make her comfortable, but any loosening of my muscles resulted in a feeling of panic that she would slip away.

I sighed heavily, trying to relax as I buried my face in her hair. For the first time, I had laid with my back to the door, a second line of defense if anyone tried to come in. Her face was tucked into my neck, her hands brought up between our bodies. One of my legs was flung over hers, capturing her lower body against mine. We hadn’t so much as shifted throughout the night, despite the fact that my muscles began protesting well before dawn.

“What’s wrong?” Isabella mumbled, alerting me to the fact that she was now awake.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmured regretfully, stroking her hair.

“You didn’t. What’s wrong?” Isabella pressed.

“Nothing, mo chroí,” I sighed, pulling her closer.

“Don’t lie to me, Peter Whitlock,” Isabella warned, leaning back enough to glare up at me.

I smiled slightly, brushing the wispy strands out of her face as she blinked sleepily up at me. She gave a soft sigh of contentment, her eyes drifting close as she turned into my hand. Her lips pressed briefly against the calloused palm before her pressed her cheek against it. My thumb traced across her cheekbone as I became entranced by her.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered.

She opened her eyes to give me a concerned look, one of her hands coming up to caress my arm.

“I saw you, before Randall got to you. I have never felt such fear in all my years. You were so still, mo chroí. I thought…” I trailed off, unable to continue.

“You saved me,” Isabella reminded me softly, her hands traveling to cup the back of my neck.

I drew in a ragged breath, leaning my forehead against hers.

“You never should have been taken,” I practically growled.

“We cannot change the fact that I was. There are a lot of things that could have gone differently. Do not blame yourself for something you had no control over,” Isabella insisted heatedly.

“I shouldn’t have left you when we knew there was the possibility of danger. I should have brought you with me or had Randall come to us,” I argued, angry with myself for leaving her vulnerable.

“Stop it! I am fine. Randall stopped him before he could do much damage and you took care of him. He won’t hurt me again and you’ll make sure I’m safe from now on,” Isabella hissed.

I sighed, realizing I was working both of us into quite an emotional state. I relaxed my shoulders and dropped my head onto the pillow, closing my eyes tiredly.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, burying my face into her neck.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, stroking soothingly. The night’s long vigilance finally began to fade and I felt my eyes drift close. My Isabella started humming softly, cradling my head in her arms. With her arms around me, sleep quickly overcame me and I rested peacefully with her sweet voice filling my dreams.

I woke up around mid-day to the sound of laughter on deck. The bed was empty beside me, but I could hear her voice above, laughing with Randall. When I made my way onto the deck, it was to find the two of them going at each other with swords. The crew all watched on from their positions around the boat, some stopping in the midst of their chore.

Isabella had the hem of her dress tucked into her belt to allow her feet free movement. That tiny flash of skin was enough to get my blood pumping. The fact that she was actually challenging Randall’s skills just made her all the more desirable.

“That fancy footwork won’t work again, bantiarna. I’ve got my eye on ya,” Randall informed her.

“That fancy footwork, as you call is, is one of the few helpful things I learned while in court,” Isabella grinned, spinning away from his thrust.

“Oh, aye? And what is that?” Randall chuckled, swinging at her as he moved to face her again.

“Dancing,” Isabella clucked, blocking his blade.

“Dancin’? Poppycock. What good is dancin’ in a fight?” Randall snorted.

To prove her point, Isabella executed a complex twirl to avoid his sword, bending smoothly away from the blade before spinning once more to bring her sword under his chin.

“I would say dancing is a pretty good thing to use in a fight,” Isabella smirked.

“Ya win this round, bantiarna, but next time, ya are mine,” Randall mock glared, using his sword knock hers away from his throat.

“We’ll see about that,” Isabella teased, twirling away from him.

She spotted me then, leaning against the stairs to the Quarterdeck. Her smile completely lit up the deck, knocking the breath out of me like a kick to the stomach.

“Peter,” she greeted easily, coming forward to place her hands in mine.

“Isabella,” I smiled, kissing one of her hands.

“Haven’t you taught your crew that it is impolite to challenge a lady’s word?” Isabella asked, her eyes laughing.

“What can I say, mo chroí? They are barbarians, the lot of them,” I sighed regretfully.

“I heard that, ya bastard!” Randall hollered from a few yards away.

Isabella giggled delightfully as she tugged me further onto the deck, her hand firmly clutching mine.

“Do you try to deny it, Randall?” Isabella asked saucily.

“Nay, bantiarna. Not one bit,” Randall answered, his face breaking out into a wide grin.

Her laughter filled the air again as she pulled me over to the side of the ship, bringing my hand up with hers to rest on the smooth wood.

“Are you feeling better?” Isabella asked softly, staring out over the ocean.

“Aye, but you should not have let me sleep so late,” I chided gently, bringing her hand to my lips.

“You needed the rest,” Isabella shrugged.

“Thank you for taking care of me, mo chroí,” I murmured, threading our fingers together.

“It was the least I could do after you saved me,” Isabella insisted, giving me a pleased smile.

“I wish you had not needed saving,” I frowned slightly.

“Don’t. Just let it go, Peter,” Isabella pleaded, her face falling as she closed her eyes against memories.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, kissing her forehead.

She sighed, her warm breath fanning across my neck and collarbone. My arms were around her before I realized it, her body pressed against mine. The embrace was purely for comfort’s sake as I rubbed my rough, unshaven cheek against her hair.

“You have ruined my happiness, Captain,” Isabella scolded lightly.

“My apologies, my lady,” I smiled into her hair.

“As you should be. What do you plan to do about it, though?” Isabella asked indignantly, pulling back enough to look me in the eye.

“Anything you wish,” I vowed, spreading my arms out wide.

Her eyes sparkled and I knew, whatever it was she had planned, I was done for.

“Dance with me!” Isabella demanded, grabbing my hands.

I was standing in the middle of the deck the next instant, my crew surrounding us, all of them grinning slyly.

The things I did for my girl.

Bella’s POV

Peter’s face as I demanded he dance with me was priceless in its shock. I had clearly surprised him with my request, at least enough that he allowed me to lead him to the middle of the deck for us to dance.

I had never been a very good dancer at court, paling in comparison to my friend Emily, who was the epitome of grace. I was a swordswoman, used to fast paced movement and violent sounds. The gentle and easy steps of the waltz and similar dances were completely beyond me.

However, I had found myself to be very adept at the dances found in saloons and pubs.

As the crew clapped and sang along with Garrett’s playing, Peter and I swung around the deck, our boots stomping across the wood. The drinks were passed around by Vladimir and everyone was soon stomping along the line, falling over themselves as they danced the steps.

Throughout the whole evening, Peter kept me close to his side, his grey eyes softer than I had ever seen them. His hands were the gentlest I’d ever felt as they led me across the deck. I found myself falling a little bit more for him when he asked Garrett to play a waltz, just so he could hold me close. And, despite the fact that I stepped all over his feet, he never stopped giving me that warm smile.

“Come with me,” Peter murmured after Garrett finished the last note.

He took my hand in his and led me back to the cabin, his steps unhurried. His thumb brushed along the back of my palm, the calloused pad sending shivers through my body.

Once the door was shut behind us, he brought my body close to his, our fronts pressed tightly together.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” Peter asked, his voice breathless.

I nodded, my own voice getting caught in my throat as his hands spanned my waist.

“And I would do anything for you,” Peter continued, brushing my hair off my shoulders.

I nodded again, my eyes fluttering closed as he placed open-mouthed kisses along my pulse point.

“I know how much you were looking forward to a bath in Rasop, so I had Vladimir prepare you one,” Peter explained, nipping at my neck.

My knees buckled and I moaned softly, falling against him. His arms banded around me, holding me up as he continued his assault.

“The thing is, I was also looking forward to bathing in Rasop,” Peter sighed regretfully.

My hands fisted the fabric at his shoulders, trying to gain my balance as his scent flooded my senses.

“So, I was thinking, we could conserve water and bathe together,” Peter suggested.

My clouded mind cleared slightly at those words and a shiver raced down my spine as my stomach clenched.

“What do you say, mo chroí?” Peter asked, his breath fanning across my ear.

“Yes,” I hissed, my fingers tugging at his shirt.

The garment came easily out of his trousers and I threw it to the floor, my hands eagerly exploring his chest. My fingers skimmed across the numerous scars, trembling slightly at the one across his chest, stopping just to the right of his heart. One of his hands captured mine, bringing it to his lips.

“Isabella,” Peter breathed, leaning forward.

I met him halfway, pulling him to my lips. Our hands ran across each other frantically in our need to get closer. The tearing of fabric was nearly drowned out by our heavy breathing. My dress fell to the floor in a heap, leaving me in just a shift. His hands lifted the hem up around my hips in order to gain access to my skin. His calloused fingers caught at my softer skin, scratching across my bottom.

“Peter,” I gasped as he lifted me against him.

My legs wrapped around his waist and he walked us to the bed. Our lips reattached as he fell onto the soft mattress, me beneath him. My hands moved to his trousers, impatiently undoing the laces that kept him confined. He grunted when I finally pushed them past his hips, freeing his arousal.

I pulled back from our frantic kiss to look down at him. He panted above me, watching me watch him. He was thick and long, beautiful as it strained towards me. The small tuft of hair at the base had me wondering if it was ticklish.

“Touch me,” Peter insisted, kissing down my neck.

Licking my lips nervously, I reached out a hand to grasp him. He jerked above me, his entire body tightening.

“Dea-Dia!” Peter gulped.

I froze, uncertain whether or not the expression was a good one or not.

“Please, mo chroí. Please,” Peter gasped, his hand moving to wrap around mine.

I watched, completely fascinated as he moved out hands up and down his length. Heat spread through my palm as he moved us, surprising me in its intensity.

“You are so beautiful,” Peter murmured, licking up my neck.

My head fell back with a groan to give him more room as our hands continued moving over him. My free hand came up to grip the back of his head, pulling his lips back to mine. His tongue entered my mouth eagerly, licking along the roof. My entire body erupted in flames and I pressed my thighs together in an effort to ease the quickly growing ache.

Peter let go of my hand and I faltered briefly before resuming my pace. His hand slipped between my thighs, probing at my swollen lips. I moved against him, eagerly seeking my climax. I was moaning with each pass of his fingers and cried out as he slipped two inside.

“Isabella,” Peter groaned before biting my shoulder.

I cried out and jerked against him, the sting of his teeth a painful compliment to the intense pleasure he was creating inside me. He removed his fingers quickly, making me jerk again in disappointment.

“No,” I moaned, reaching for his hand.

“I need to be inside you,” Peter panted, removing my hand from his heavy length.

Anticipation thrummed through me as he spread my thighs to accommodate him.

“Easy, mo chroí,” Peter breathed, kissing my eyelids.

I could feel him, positioned to enter me, and tried to relax. I slowed my breathing and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“I love you,” Peter murmured right before he plunged forward.

The pain surprised me and I screamed at the intrusion. Emily and Angela had told me the first time was often painful, but in no way I had been prepared for this.

“Easy,” Peter repeated, his entire body tense above me.

I tried to relax and allow him further entrance into my body, but my muscles would not unclench.

“Bella, please,” Peter whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to hurt me.

“I-I c-can’t,” I sniffled, shaking slightly.

“Alright, alright. Just… let me,” Peter swallowed, lifting one of my legs higher.

The angle allowed him to enter me fully and I cried out again, this time from the intense pleasure of having him fill me so completely. My fingers clawed at his shoulders as unintelligible sounds erupted from my throat.

“Move, move, move,” I pleaded, rolling my hips against his.

“Shit,” Peter growled.

I whimpered as he started to pull out and screamed when he slammed back in. He settled on a frantic tempo of thrust and retreat that I matched eagerly. The sound of skin slapping and our moans echoed around the small cabin.

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” I gasped, his name a benediction on my lips.

Peter grunted, his fingers bruising on my hips as he thrust harder. I could feel my climax spreading quickly and arched further against him, hoping to bring the wave crashing over me. Seeming to know what I need, Peter slipped his fingers down between our bodies.

“PETER!” I screamed as his fingers worked the small bundle of nerves.

My body flew in a thousand different directions in the blink of an eye and I cried out, digging my nails into his back.

“Isabella, mo chroí,” Peter growled right before slamming his lips against mine.

I clutched at the back of his head, eagerly accepting his bruising kiss. His hips continued snapping against mine once, twice, and then stilled. I gasped softly as I felt him release inside me, the warmth spreading throughout my stomach.

He sighed softly, his breath fanning across my neck from where his face was pressed against my shoulder. I stared at the ceiling, amazed at what had just happened.

“Isabella?” Peter called softly.

“Hmm?” I hummed, looking at him.

He raised himself on his elbows over me, his grey eyes sparkling in the light of the fading sunset.

“You are so perfect for me. I love you, mo chroí,” Peter whispered, kissing me sweetly.

Unable to say the words back to him, I could only smile and wrap my arms around his neck for another kiss.

“Let me clean you up,” Peter insisted gently, leaving the bed.

I winced as he pulled out, just now becoming aware of the tender throbbing.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Peter frowned.

“It’s okay. It was worth it. You are worth it,” I assured him, my voice husky.

I couldn’t give him the words he wanted, but I could give him those.

He kissed me once more before moving to grab a cloth. I laid there as he knelt between my leg, gently cleaning the mess of our lovemaking. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax further under his careful ministration.

Peter’s POV

I smiled slightly as my Isabella fell asleep. With all the stress from the previous day and her first time, I had no doubt she was exhausted.

A soft knock at the door had me quickly covering her up and donning my own trousers before striding across the floor to open it.

“Capt’n? Will ya be wantin’ the tub now?” Vladimir asked.

“Nay, Vladimir, but if you could keep the water warm, I am sure the bantiarna will enjoy having a soak after she wakes from her nap,” I smiled, stepping outside the cabin.

“Aye, I’m sure the lass is tired. The whole crew could hear the screamin’,” Vladimir winked.

“Speak of it again, old man, and you’ll find yourself at the end of my sword,” I warned with a wry grin.

“Ya know none of the crew would ever talk that way to the bantiarna,” Vladimir claimed, affronted.

“Aye, I know. But I don’t want her to overhear it, either. The lass is finally starting to trust me. I don’t want to lose that,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“Ya shouldn’t worry so much about the bantiarna. She’ll come ‘round when it’s time for her to,” Vladimir assured me.

“I hope so, mo chara. I hope so,” I mumbled, clapping my hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Capt’n. I’ll buy ya a drink,” Vladimir offered.

“Buy it, will you? And here I thought I was the one supplying all the drinks,” I chuckled, walking with him towards the galley.

I was making my way back to Isabella after having many drinks with Vladimir and the crew when I heard the screaming.

My heart pounding, fearing the worst, I sprinted the remaining distance to the cabin and threw the door open, sword ready. Inside, there was nothing but shadows and my Isabella screaming from the bed.

“Isabella!” I called, hurrying towards her.

“NO! No, no, no! LET ME GO!” Isabella screamed, thrashing upon the bed in her sleep.

I grabbed hold of her arms, bringing her into the sitting position and held her against my chest.

“No… please… don’t…” Isabella whimpered, continuing to struggle.

“Shh, mo chroí. I have you. I’m here. You’re safe,” I whispered again and again.

I began rocking us, hoping to calm her further. Her whimpers eventually stopped and her shaking slowed, but she remained asleep. I brushed the hair back from her damp forehead, kissing her temple lingeringly.

“Isabella,” I sighed into her hair, continuing to rock her.

“Peter,” Isabella breathed back, her entire body going lax.

“I love you,” I told her, burying my face into her neck as I laid us on the bed.

“Love you,” Isabella murmured, snuggling closer.

I froze, my entire body reeling from her words. Was she simply saying them because I had? Had I affected her dream by speaking of my love for her? Or did she truly love me?

Had I finally won her heart?