Free The Jezebel's Daughter by Juliet MacLeod Page A

secret love, like Susannah and I had giggled over just a month ago. He would be tall and handsome, with kind blue eyes and a noble bearing, a soldier in His Majesty's Army, or perhaps a commander in His Navy. He would be intelligent, generous, never cruel, and he would make me laugh. It had been a very long time since I had laughed.
    The time seemed to creep past. I refused luncheon, then tea, and then dinner. I watched the Jezebel off-loading until sunset, then I listened to the streets below my window come alive. They seemed louder than normal; there was more drunken laughter and arguing, and more than a few fights broke out. Perhaps the Jezebel and her crew had had a particularly lucrative few months on the water and now the sailors were spending their spoils in the taverns and brothels of Nassau. It seemed as though they would have been better off depositing their money with a goldsmith, as my father did in London. But I supposed that being a pirate didn't exactly lend itself to smart investing or money management.
    Finally there was a knock at the door and Ben's head poked in. His eyes went wide when he spotted me and he smiled. “Don't you be pretty as a flower,” he said as he stepped inside the room.
    I blushed and looked down at my hands, which were folded together demurely in my lap. “Thank you,” I said softly. At least he noticed.
    “Captain's here,” he explained as he stood next to me. “ Jezebel took a rich Dutch merchant and he be looking to spend a lot of reales . He be wanting a meal—roast pork and lots of wine.” He paused and laid his hand gently on my shoulder. “Drink it. Drink a lot of it. It make the night go faster.” I nodded and he left, closing the door behind him.
    A few moments later, he came back with Tansy at his heels. They brought in platters and plates and bowls and a soup tureen and a bread board and wine bottles and two good wineglasses. They set out the meal carefully, stoked the fire, and lit all the candles in the room, while they avoided looking at me and speaking to each other. I suddenly felt as though I was a condemned man having his last meal before being taken to the headsman.
    I could feel tension creeping into my neck and shoulders and stood up to pace while they worked. I fidgeted with my ring, turning and twisting it on my finger, and the ribbon around my throat suddenly felt too tight. I stopped at the windows and flung them open to the night, desperate for air. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing and trying to block out everything around me.
    I would survive tonight. I had survived the first night with Graves, and according to Tansy and the other girls in the brothel, the first time was the worst. It wouldn't hurt as much with each successive act. This knowledge was a relief, but I vowed that despite what the girls and Tansy had all said, I would never, ever enjoy it.
    A man cleared his throat behind me and I turned to find Graves standing in the doorway, studying me. He was dressed in his trademark black, though hints of gold were in his waistcoat and sash. I curtsied for him, trying to be demure while at the same time hiding my terror. He entered the room and then closed the door behind him. He crossed to the table and drew out a chair for me. I sat down carefully, using my best courtly manners as he pushed in the chair and then sat next to me.
    He poured us both glasses of wine, his eyes never leaving me. They moved hungrily over my face, my breasts, my gown, even my shoes. “Is this one of the gowns I bought?” he asked at length.
    “Yes, sir,” I answered. “Do you... Do you like it?”
    “I told you—blue suits you.” He sipped his wine, still studying me.
    “Th—Thank you,” I managed before sipping from my own glass. The wine was delicious, sweet and strong. The alcohol went straight to my head and Ben's advice came back to me. I was willing to try anything to make the night go faster. I had only been drunk