Hawke's Lady

Lady Sabrina Whitley hated dark places. Dark, damp and dangerous places were particularly unnerving for her after a horrifying childhood experience. Yet here she was in the dark bowels of a pirate ship. Tucked behind a stack of casks of drinking water in the main ship's store, her legs were cramping from crouching for nearly an hour while one of the crew members ever so slowly went about doing whatever it was he was doing. Just how much longer is the silly man going to be?

She winced and nearly bit her tongue in two when a muscle in her right calve tightened. As quietly as possible she eased her leg out and frantically rubbed at the painful knot. She'd been hiding in various parts of the lowest deck for three days now, ever since they had sailed away from a secluded cove off the coast of England. When she'd snuck on board the ship, she'd been desperate to escape her father. At the time she'd thought it not only a miracle to spot the ship, but also managing to get aboard unnoticed. She'd waited until most of the crew had gone off for a night of carousing in the city. Then she'd swum through the dark, cold waters to the ship and scrambled aboard. For a few terrifying moments she'd thought someone had noticed her. Yet no one had followed her below decks. She hadn't known at the time that it was a pirate's ship, although she supposed she should have suspected it since the ship was not at the normal port. She had thought only to get away.

Glancing down at the grimy and ragged breeches she had "borrowed" from one of her father's stablehands, she chided herself not for the first time about being so feather brained. It seemed that all her life she had gotten herself into one bout of trouble or another. Something that her father had yelled at her about all too often. Although she was pretty enough to have man after man vying for her attentions at one ball after another, none of them had been willing to consider marriage to a young woman known for her wild spirit. Devil's spirit, her father claimed. She had suffered much punishment at his hands over the years, as well as long sessions in which he had ranted and raved until he was purple in the face. But he had never broken her spirit. Her heart, yes, but not her spirit.

Sitting here, watching the sailor wander around the storeroom, she almost wished she were back home at Clayborn. Almost. Perhaps she had been goose brained in her decision to stow away on the Maiden Anne, but she had never felt such desperation before in her life.

The sailor continued to crawl about, weaving around stacks of barrels and rows of battered trunks for who knew what. Never for a second did she consider that he was searching for her, because surely if they had sensed a stowaway, someone would have looked thoroughly long before now. No, he was probably hunting down one of the many rats that scurried endlessly around these many crowded storerooms.

Sabrina shivered and wondered what would become of her. She had not thought about what she would eventually do once she had gotten safely away from her father. She could not suddenly waltz out of here and onto the main deck, although she would give her very soul to do just that. Whenever she made any kind of appearance, or was caught, she would face the wrath of all the pirates aboard. Especially the captain's wrath. Stowaways�as she'd overheard a scruffy pair of men discussing only yesterday near where she'd been hidden�were dealt with harshly. The men had talked about such a person being tied to the main mast and then treated to a taste of the cat o' nine tails. They had even spoken of stowaways being slit open with a sword and gutted, then fed to the sharks.

She shuddered at the horrible idea. Still, she was more than happy to put miles of water-filled distance between her and her father. What he had intended for her was, in her opinion, much worse than being caught by some pirates and flogged. Finally fed up with a daughter he could not tame, the fearsome Earl of Clayborn had arranged to marry her off to a decrepit man of ancient years. A man whispered to be well known for cruelties to his servants, and suspected to have sadistic tendencies with women. No, she'd rather suffer a quick death at the hands of pirates than a slow, torture-filled life with Lord Percius Preston.

So here she was. Miserable after three days and nights scurrying from one hiding place to another in the stale smelling, dark ship's stores. She was also getting weaker with each passing day. Feasting on the limes she'd discovered and biscuits hard enough to be rocks, her body begged for better food. Maybe she wouldn't have to worry about being caught, whipped or tortured by the pirates. Maybe she would simply starve to death first.

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble and she pressed her shaking hands to it. Her heart pounded. Had the wretched sailor heard the sound?

She tried to shrink even farther into her hiding place.

Footsteps. More than one set of footsteps headed her way. God help her!

Suddenly the top box shielding her from view was lifted high into the air. Flickering light after so much near darkness almost blinded her as she stared in horror at a nearly toothless man with long, tangled hair. A few steps behind him stood a tall, powerfully built man holding a lantern. She couldn't fully see his face, but his stance alone warned that trouble had once again found her.

"Take her to the spare cabin and lock her in," the tall man ordered brusquely in a deep tone echoing with authority. He sat the lantern down and strode on long legs toward the ladder to the next level up.

And so that was how Sabrina came to be whiling away her time in a tiny cabin with only a scarred wooden table bolted to the floor and a narrow bed attached to one wall for company. She'd paced the eight-by-eight room for what seemed like hours. She'd bounced back and forth from cursing her stupidity for daring to hide away on a pirate's ship to cursing the men who had found her and locked her away.

Someone turned a key in the lock interrupting her thoughts. She stiffened, stomach knotted. Would they drag her kicking and screaming�for she would not go willingly�to the mast now and whip her to death? Would they hold her down, draw and quarter her, then feed her to the fish? Or would she be raped by each and every one of the crewmembers? Oh God!

A redheaded man so tall he had to bend over in the doorway looked at her with obvious curiosity. He made no threatening moves. He didn't have to. His size alone would intimidate most people, and yet strangely she didn't feel intimidated.

After having endured years of abuse at her father's hands, her strong sense of survival rose to the surface. Along with her tendency to speak first and think later. She raised her chin and planted her hands on her hips. "What now? Am I to be put in shackles? Dragged before the crew? What?" she challenged in the same willful tone that had so displeased her father. But she could not, would not end her days by meekly giving in to their evil plans.

To her surprise he laughed, a deep rolling laugh. His lips twitching, he said, "'Tis a bonny lass you are, with the sass of a devil's maiden or a dockside doxie."

In spite of the dirt that covered her from head to foot and the fact that her waist-length golden hair hung in disarray, Sabrina bristled. "I'm NOT a wench! A doxie. Or a devil's maiden. I'm Lady Sabrina Whitley, and I demand to speak with your captain."

A thick red eyebrow rose. "Demand, do you?"

The amusement ringing in his comment fed her aggravation made worse because of her fear. She snapped her shoulders back and stretched as tall as her meager five foot two inches would go. "You can't just keep me locked in here. There's little air and no water. But then maybe the lot of you are hoping I will wither away in here and you won't have to deal with me."

One side of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. Before he could respond, though, another man equally as tall and broad of shoulder stepped behind him. Sabrina didn't have to fully see the new man to know this was the same growling pirate who'd helped find her. The one who had ordered her to be imprisoned here in this cabin.

"I'll take over now, Malcolm," he said in that velvety deep and commanding voice she well remembered.

The redheaded giant shot her a silent warning to mind her tongue. Then he moved aside to let the other man into the cabin. "Aye, Captain." The men shared a quick look before Malcolm closed the door behind him as he left.

Sabrina's stomach fluttered nervously. Alone, so very alone, with the famed Captain Hawke, who was whispered about along the English coastline by women of all ages. The daring and accomplished pirate cursed by men whose ships he'd stolen from, and admired by other men who would give their very souls to be him. With shoulder-length raven hair held back by a strip of leather and a ruggedly carved face, he was handsome as sin. Handsome and dangerous.

He stood there on long, muscled legs planted firmly against the swaying of the ship. Pride and confidence radiated from him. Dark eyes captured her attention, eyes that revealed nothing but seemed to miss nothing as well. She felt as if he had looked her over thoroughly even though she hadn't seen his gaze move from hers.

She shifted uneasily. Then she caught sight of the worn-looking razor strop he held in one hand and her knees nearly buckled. Her throat became suddenly too dry for her to even swallow.

Tapping the strop against the side of a muscled leg, he said flatly, "Turn and lean over the table."

"What?" she choked out, unable to take her gaze from the strop.

He stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him. His expression brooked no arguments allowed. "You've earned yourself some stripes for stowing away." Watching her steadily, he added, "After you have been suitably punished, we will discuss just how you will pay for your fare."

"Stripes?" she squeaked. "You're going to thrash me? With that � that strop?" She wasn't a stranger to the fierce bite of leather. Her father had wielded it with skill many a time. She would not accept a lashing easily and called upon what little courage she still had.

"But you can't! I'm Lady Sabrina Whitley, daughter of the Earl of Clayborn. He's a very, very good friend of the Queen." Even though her father had meant to betray her with his intentions, she still hoped to sway this pirate with the Earl's power.

The odious man appeared unimpressed. He merely moved closer, making the small cabin feel even smaller. "And I'm Hawke, the pirate captain who cares not who your father is. The captain who means to give your bottom a thorough leathering."

"And I mean NOT to get it." She shot him a smile, hoping it appeared even the tiniest bit sensual, tempting. "I'm a mere woman, Captain. A woman who was desperate and perhaps acted rashly in hiding away on your ship. But surely we can discuss . . ."

He held up a large hand. "Enough! Were you a man you would have been tied to the mast and whipped long and hard on the first day you were discovered. 'Tis past lenient I have been these last three days."

"You've known all along that I was on board?" Fury, foolish fury, surged through her. "You let me hide away in that awful dark hold. Dodging rats. Stealing nibblets of food. You're even crueler than my father."

Hawke felt more arousal than anger at her careless words. The pint-sized female was not only fair enough to steal a man's breath, but filled with spirit. It snapped in her defiant blue eyes. He imagined such sass and fire would make her a handful in bed. Passionate, hot, daring. Oh, yes, she would no doubt be all of that and more.

He had watched her in secret ever since Malcolm had reported spotting her right after she scrambled aboard looking like a pitiful drowned rat. They had discussed whether to drag her out of hiding in the stores and toss her overboard before they even left the cove. But both men had known that no woman would do what she had done without fearing something far worse than facing a ship full of pirates. They might be hard men in society's eyes, but neither of them had the heart to confront her and get rid of her so quickly. So he had waited and watched, until Hawke had begun to worry about her health and safety down in the stores. He had not worried about danger to her from any of his crew, because all knew of her presence and that their captain was developing a fondness for his little stowaway. None of them were foolish enough to risk his wrath. No, he'd worried about the rats getting to her when she slept. Of course he had a guard watching over her and keeping real harm at bay. Still, it was finally time to end this bit of nonsense. Time she must face the consequences of her foolhardy yet desperate actions.

A good foot shorter than he and quite a bit lighter, she stood her ground with him. Dared to challenge him. He wanted her more in that very moment than anytime before. It didn't matter that she needed a good scrubbing and clean clothes, preferably more feminine clothing. He would take her to his bed right now if he could, but now was not the time. She needed to be disciplined. She expected to be disciplined. What if she had boarded another pirate's ship? The thought had horrified him for days now. Her fate would have been far worse than what he intended, far worse.

"Turn around and bend over the table." When she just stared at him, he added, "Or I'll strip you bare and tie you down. Your choice."

He watched her seethe, even though the color drained from her dirty but delicate face. Scared down to her bones but equally as stubborn. What a minx! For a second he thought she would refuse to obey. Then, lips thinned, she glowered at him and spun to the table. He sensed the extreme effort it took for her to stretch over the battered top. Admiration spread through him. She would make him a fine mistress.

"Satisfied?" she asked, her voice only slightly trembling. Her mane of wild, blonde hair tumbled around her slender shoulders.

He wanted to lift that mass of silky strands and nuzzle her neck. He wanted to kiss those tempting pink lips. He wanted to . . . No! He had to stop thinking this way.

"Satisfaction will come only after you have had your punishment." He watched her stiffen as she lie draped over the table. The movement pulled the fabric of her breeches taut across well-rounded buttocks. And when she gave the slightest wiggle, he felt like the one being punished because his entire body ached for something he could not have. Yet.

When he just stood there for a few seconds too long, she bit out, "Are you going to have at me or not?"

Hawke groaned under his breath, feeling his own breeches tighten. She was an innocent; he knew that to his dark soul. She had no idea what that reference meant to a womanizing man like him. He shoved down the nearly paralyzing desire that was trying to take over his body and reasoning.

"You'd best hold on tight, My Lady. This is going to hurt like the fires of hell." He lightly caressed her quivering buttocks with the strop. "If you fight me, I will lower your breeches and stripe your bare bottom."

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed.

Dare? He wanted nothing more than to see her bare, all over. "I'm a pirate; I dare much."

She remained silent, which he suspected was quite a task for her. His little stowaway was not someone who chose the right time to battle or chose her words wisely. Again he found himself wanting to forget the leathering and just take her to his bed.

But he couldn't. While his men had developed an amused respect for the woman who had hidden away on a pirate ship, they expected her to be punished. Yet none of them would tolerate him actually whipping her as would happen with a man who had stowed away. Still, the rules they lived by demanded that she not get off free.

Resigned, he raised the thick leather strop to shoulder height. He steeled himself and brought it down hard across the middle of her buttocks with a resounding THWACK! He could well imagine a line of red on what would otherwise be a creamy bottom.

"Aaahhhhh," she cried, bowing her back and pressing against the table.

He dealt out two more biting lashes, one on each cheek. She stamped her small feet.

"My father will . . ." she hissed.

"Your father would no doubt give you a thrashing himself, if he knew what you have done." The strop continued to strike her wriggling bottom over and over and over.

She bucked and writhed until finally she scooted out of his reach, her hands moving to rub at the sting. "You will stop this now!"

Hawke tossed down the strop and grabbed her arm, tugging her to him. "No, My Lady, what will stop is your resistance."

In a blindingly quick movement he jerked her breeches down and found her without underdrawers. He sucked in a harsh breath, staring at her flat stomach, at the patch of honey blonde hair. God in heaven, he needed to sink into her warmth.

She slapped him, jerking him from his momentary lapse into fantasy. Then tried to pull her breeches back up.

He would have none of that. Swiftly he moved to the bunk, making her shuffle along with him. He sat down and before she could protest further he tossed her over his knees. She scrambled to steady herself by flattening her hands on the wooden floor. In the next instant she tried to roll off his lap.

A sizzling spank to her bare bottom stopped that bit of nonsense and she yelped in pain and fury. "I will not tolerate defiance when you have earned some disciplining. All that will happen, My Lady, is that you will suffer more." He landed a quick half dozen spanks while tugging her back into place. "Do you understand?"

Stubborn minx refused to answer him.

He prompted her response with a sharp half dozen spanks. "I said do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand." She reached back her hand to protect herself.

Hawke shoved the hand away and gave her a dozen even harder spanks, making her legs flutter and the breeches slid to her ankles. "Never, never do that again. Each act of interference or disobedience when you are being punished will only add more stripes or spanks."

"I cannot simply lie still," she hissed.

He continued reddening her bottom. "Perhaps not, but you will try very, very hard to do so." He pushed her shirt higher onto her back, giving him more bare surface to deal with. "You have earned a sound spanking on top of the leathering you will still receive."

Then he gave her just that: a spanking she would not soon forget. When her bottom blazed and his hand ached as well, he stopped. She had not lain docilely but had squirmed and kicked, hissed and cursed him. She did not tame easily, and he liked that about her.

He let her rest for a few minutes, not at all opposed to having the time to admire the lovely red bottom in front of him. When her breathing returned to normal, he stood her up. There was still a certain amount of defiance in her eyes. His Lady was indeed a tough one.

"Let us finish this," he said, standing and leading her back to the table.

"Wasn't a spanking enough? My bottom flames even now." She voiced her protest, but did not resist following him.

"The spanking was for resisting what you had already earned. The original punishment must still be given." He helped her lean over the table, then reached down to rid her of the breeches. "Do not defy me again."

She gave a grunt of agreement and gripped the table edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. He wanted to punish her, not torture her by making her wait any more. He picked up the strop and lashed three red lines across her hot bottom. She arched down against each one, sucking in sharp breaths. He would temper his strength, but he intended on giving her the full thirty lashes he had decided on earlier.

THWACK! His arm rose and fell steadily, laying the lashes firmly. Her slender legs danced about on her toes.

Ten, twenty. Her head was lowered to the tabletop in submission, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. "Almost done."

"Please," she squeaked, "please stop. I. . . I have learned my lesson. Please."

He hesitated, wanting to give in, but he couldn't. Instead he made the final ten lashes as light as he could but still hard enough to make her feel them. It was a relief to be done with the chore and he tossed the strop across the room in distaste.

Sabrina's bottom throbbed. She had received worse beatings from her father. But the pirate had disciplined her well. Sitting would be painful for at least a day if not longer. Actually, movement, even to get off this table, was going to hurt.

She was so lost in trying to deal with the pain that she barely heard Hawke say, "You're going to be a wild one in my bed."

"What? What did you say?" It suddenly remembered the position she was in, exactly what she was showing him. While he had been punishing her it was different, but to be so exposed to this dark, dangerous and commanding man now made her extremely nervous. She started to push up and away from the table.

He stayed her with a gentle hand to her back. "Let the pain ease up a bit first."

The hand that had spanked her so soundly now soothed, caressed. She trembled. "Please let me up."

He didn't. But there was no force behind him holding her down with one hand and touching her heated bottom with the other hand. Ever so gently he stroked the damaged flesh and she heard his breathing deepen. She tried to resist, knew she should resist, couldn't resist. She'd never been touched this way. Never felt such a heat building, building inside her. A heat that filled her with a need for something she didn't understand.

"What . . . what are you doing?" she questioned, looking back at him.

His eyes were even darker, his look intense as he met her gaze. "Giving you something you need."

She would have questioned him further but her gaze shifted to watch him trail a finger slowly up and down the crease between her still stinging buttocks. Her face flamed, but she couldn't look away. Her buttocks quivered. The heat inside her flamed higher.

His fingers moved down, down, down until they found their way to her woman's place. She pulsed, ached. For what? Then he eased one long finger inside her and a wild tingling filled her, making her inner muscles clench tightly around the sensual invader

"So responsive, just as I'd thought," Hawke muttered, smoothing one hand gently over her heated bottom while moving his finger ever so slowly back and forth inside her. She moaned, tightened around him even more. He knew this was all new to her, knew she was yet an untried maiden and unaware of what was happening to her. He had only been with experienced women until now. This was as new to him as it was to her.

Determined, he found and flicked her hardening bud. She writhed on the table and gave frantic moans of awakening desire.

"Ooooohhhh please," she pleaded. Her legs shifted further apart as if her body begged him for something it didn't truly understand.

His heart pounded, as did his throbbing cock pressed so tightly inside his breeches. "You're ready for the claiming."

Continuing to gain pleasure from the skillful movement of his finger, she gasped, "Claiming?"

"Yes, My Lady. I mean to part your legs wider and then mount you from behind." He found the nub again and toyed with it until she squirmed nearly as much as when he'd spanked her. "I will take you quickly, firmly. When at last my seed fills you, you will be mine."

She trembled. "You . . . spanked me." She pressed against his hand, desperate for something. "You leathered my bare . . . bottom."

He stroked that heated bottom, then leaned down to kiss one cheek. "Aye, I did."

"Now you mean to . . ." Her weak protest was cut off when he brought her to such completion that she cried out, "Ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh!"

While she recovered, Hawke removed his boots and breeches in a flash. He was rock hard and throbbing when she looked his way. As her gaze locked on him and widened, he hardened even more. "Spread your legs, My Lady," he ordered huskily. Her first time should be in his bed, but he needed her too much right this very moment to even think about moving that far away.

For the first time she obeyed him without question. He stepped behind while she watched him uncertainly. He encouraged her cooperation; built her desire by lightly stroking the sides of her bare legs, and then her inner thighs. She trembled all over, and pressed instinctively against him, seeking the mastery he would soon give her.

"I've never �"

"I know, Lady Love, I know." He gripped her hips, guiding himself to her warmth. "'Twill be a dab of pain this first time." Carefully he slid into position, and then not wanting to prolong her worry, he thrust through her maidenhead.

She gave a small cry, but didn't fight him. He remained deep within her, standing still until he sensed she was ready for more. It was one of the hardest battles he'd ever fought, this waiting, for he'd wanted her too long, been aroused too much during this thrashing to hold back any more than necessary.

The instant she moved, silently asking him for more, he gave her what she sought. He rode her well, pounding steadily into her until both were sweating, shuddering. She cried out lustily, pressed frantically against him. He thrust hard and long seeking to satisfy them both until finally he shot his seed in nearly painful spurts deep inside her. He moaned in completion and collapsed on top of her; she sighed in intense pleasure and sank bonelessly on the tabletop.

It was several minutes before he could calm his breathing enough to find the strength to pull out of her. She remained limp and still. Finally she eased off the table, faced him, and smiled sassily. "Would the price of my fare be sharing your bed?"

Imp, he thought. "Aye. Plus obedience to my rules for the rest of our voyage to Jamaica."

Rubbing her tender backside, she said matter-of-factly, "I suppose it'll be more of the leather should I disobey."

Unable to keep from it, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. Then he cupped one hot bottom cheek. "More often than not, I imagine you will feel the flat of my hand in a spanking."

She sighed and then nestled closer. "While I'm not overly fond of your spankings, My Captain, I shall attempt to endure them." She grinned up at him, placing a hand on top of his where it lay on her reddened bottom. "As long as you do the same kind of wonderful things you did a few minutes ago once you've properly punished me."

Hawke tugged her against the arousal that was building again. "Saucy minx. You are going to make a very interesting pirate's woman, I think."

"Pirate's Lady," she corrected, wriggling until he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed.

He tumbled her onto the bed and followed her down. "Thank the Lord in heaven you dared to stowaway on my ship."