Free A Captive of Chance by Zoe Blake

Turns out Ol’ Salt knew his way around a boiling pot.
    “Eat up you scurvy lot!” groused Ol’ Salt as he slammed a pot of salt pork stew on the rough-hewn table. A cabin boy followed closely behind with a platter of biscuits and stewed vegetables.
    “Vegetables!” said Chance with a raised eyebrow.
    “Ah, your Lucky moniker served us well. The ship must have stopped for fresh provisions and were foolish enough to spend good coin on vegetables!” commented an amused Drake.
    “I got a tray for your lady friends,” said Ol’ Salt as he passed Drake and the captain. Despite his fierce appearance, he always had a soft spot for a gentle maiden. “There’s fresh butter for their biscuits.”
    “Why, Ol’ Salt, you old softy!” teased Chance.
    “Nothing about it,” grumbled the old man. “Be foolish to waste good churned cream on this lot. Might as well give it to the women.”
    Drake and Chance smiled, not the least bit fooled.
    Reaching into a nearby crate, Drake grabbed a bottle of rum with one hand and the tray the cook extended with the other. “Well, there’s no point talking with you two hairy beasts when Gregor and I have a pair of lovely thighs to get between,” he chuckled, walking away with his small feast.
    Chance tossed his head back and laughed. Grabbing the other tray from Ol’ Salt, he chose instead to grab some red wine before heading back to his cabin. Smiling as he wondered what state he would find his little spitfire in. Temperate or in a temper, either way she would be entertaining, he thought with a grin as he whistled a bawdy shanty on his way down the passageway.
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Six
    His Move
     
    Chance entered his darkened cabin and immediately ducked… just in case. It was a needless gesture. Belle was still fast asleep in his bed. Brushing aside the feeling of contentment at seeing her sweet form tangled among his bed linens, Chance crossed to the table and laid down the tray and wine bottle.
    Belle felt a warm hand on her waist.
    “ Vete Quiero dormir ,” she murmured before turning on to her stomach, giving Chance a view of her pert backside, which still bore the mark of his punishment.
    Giving her a playful swat on her bottom, Chance said smugly, “I can see your desire to lounge about in my bed, hoping for more of my cock, ma petite , but you really should eat something before we have another go at it.”
    With an indignant shriek, Belle flew out of the bed, only to quickly realize she was still bare as the day she was born. Grabbing the linen, she hastily wrapped it around her body and then over her shoulders as best she could.
    Chance just laughed as he gestured to the table.
    “Your knight errant has brought his fair maiden a feast!” he said with a theatric gesture.
    “You are hardly a white knight, sir,” she responded sharply.
    “And you are no longer a maiden,” he said with a strange gentle look in his eye that only served to confuse Belle further.
    Deciding it was not worth the fight, Belle raised an indifferent shoulder and crept closer to the table, drawn by the savory scent and inviting steam wafting above the dishes.
    “Come. Sit. I shall serve us both,” offered Chance, who was in a very content mood.
    “Could I have something to put on?” asked Belle shyly.
    “And rob me of the lovely visage of your ample bosom? No, my Belle.”
    Acquiescing, Belle sat at the table and watched from lowered lashes as he spooned great heaps of the tantalizing stew into her bowl. Hunger out ruling decorum, Belle picked up her spoon and sampled the savory dish before Chance had even taken a seat. She had swallowed several large spoonfuls before remembering herself.
    Sitting back, she apologized for her unladylike behavior. She may be the captive of a pirate, but that was no excuse to act like a heathen at the supper table!
    “If you do not continue to attack that stew with the same amount of relish, I will bend you over my knee,” replied Chance with