Chapter 16

The bright light and the urge to piss woke him from his drunken slumber.

With a moan, he slowly turned over onto his back and exhaled a long guttural groan then reached for his thumping head.

Noticing the lonely sensation in the bed, he looked to his side slowly expecting to meet the little hellion's eyes filled with contempt. Grumbling under breath he looked slowly around the cabin. His heart stopped. He blinked to clear his eyes.

"Tempest?"

He sat upright with a curse holding his head "Bloody hell!"

He looked around. Where the hell can she be? He swallowed hard.

Clamoring off the bed, he looked around for his boots frowning. He did not take them off. Did he? With another curse, he bolted for the door and stumbled down the hall towards the upper deck.

In no time as he cleared the last step, he could hear the raucous laughter and singing. As if they did not sleep. With a gruff oath, he continued on towards the quarterdeck and stopped mid-stride. His mind was deceiving him as he watched from afar his men sitting and drinking...

Along with her!!!!...

“When I was a little boy my mother always told me…That if I did not kiss the girls, my lips would grow all moldy.” they sang in an off-key tone.

He shook his head in disbelief.

He watched in stark shock as she raised a mug to her lips.

In no time he was before her pulling the cup away and set it aside. The singing stopped. 

She swayed a bit before peering up into his grim face.

A small giggle escaped her as she looked at him. 

Sloshed- the poor girl was absolutely soused.

His glare went up straight to Quinn that was at her side. The fool gave a coy look and tried to shrink away.

"Have you lost your mind? You don't give grog to a young lady you idiot," he hissed.

Immediately, he turned to face her, the dreamy, glazed look said more than he guessed...

She was way past her cups.

Her cheeks were flushed with a warm pinkish hue. Severely Flushed.

"D...ddo not be upsset with them," she slurred sadly.

He remained quiet staring down at her. "I was hhhungry," she hiccupped. Dainty fingers cover her lips.

"I tried to offer you supper last night, but you refused to talk to me," he pointed out.

She frowned and lowered her head.

With a sigh, he looked towards Quinn.

"Did you at least feed her before you plied her with all this rum?" he whispered in agitation.

"Ay cap'n. We...just had nothing for the poor lass to drink. She was thirsty," Quinn explained shying away from Justin's ominous glare.

Shaking his head, he turned to look down at her again. His heart was sinking to his stomach with the realization that she was alone, drunk and in the company of his men. 

"Are you going to...," she hiccupped. " Toss me o..or board?" she covered her lips.

Then looked up at him with worry.

He clenched his jaw.

"No," he murmured. " But I should throw the lot of them overboard for such a careless act," he turned to them before bending to pick her up in his arms.

She slumped into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. He turned then to face his men. 

"Clean all of this up and all of you find something to do," he ordered in an exasperated tone.

Shaking his head at the scene before him. The majority of them tossed about on deck while the few that remained standing stumbled about.

"Aye, Cap'n" they yelled in unison.

As he turned, she picked her head up just in time to wave sweetly to the men that watched them leave. A beautiful smile formed on her face as Justin left with her because they all waved back.

Now in the privacy of his cabin, he lowered her to the floor and quickly grabbed her to steady her as she slowly teetered forward. 

"I fear rum drinking is not your strong suit," he murmured clearing her hair from her face.

"Not at all," she giggled shaking her head.

She sobered for a while. Her gaze observed him, and he observed her.

His gaze combed over her landing on his boots. The corner of his mouth curved. "I see where my boots have been put to better use."

Aquamarine eyes lifted to his. Their depths, dreamy and glossed. "You're not upset, are you? I did not mean to take them," she whispered. "I had nothing to put on my feet." 

Tempest's lips, bright red from nibbling them began to quiver. Justin gently tipped her chin up and peered down into her watery gaze.

"Nay," he wiped away a falling tear.

He realized at that moment he was in danger of losing himself in those eyes.

He swallowed hard and averted his gaze and looked towards the bunk.

"I think it is best you sleep off the rum," he gently urged her towards the bed. 

Instantly her watery gaze and frown turned into a pretty frown.

"But I'm n..not sleepy...silly," she shook her head.

Seeing that she swayed more, he bent and lifted her in his arms.

"True...but you have passed your cups and you can barely stand lass," he tried to make her understand as he placed her on the bed.

Before he could pull away, she scrambled up and knelt on her knees and reached for him. "Please don't go," she pleaded.

He stopped long enough to hold her up as she slouched into him. "Stay." she pleaded.

He gently held her gaze.

A brief silence passed. Then suddenly her fingers glided up to touch his cheek. He stiffened and held his breath.

"Why do you not smile more often?"

"What makes you think I do not?"

"You are not smiling now," she pouted.

He held her gaze in silence. "Is it because...you are angry with me?" she murmured.

"Aye, I am," his unreadable glare disconcerted her so, that more tears formed in her eyes. His chest tightened.

"I am because you are drunk and were in the company of cut-throats, Tempest. Men that are dangerous," he held her chin.

Her eyes widened. "But they are not," she shook her head in protest.

She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze. "They were gentleman-like. Especially Bellamy," she smiled. Then it disappeared. "They were not like those vile men on..." her voice cracked.

"Like those vile men?" he frowned and lifted her chin.

"You are a pirate?" she looked up. Averting his question.

"Aye, that I am," he said softly.

"But you are not...." her eyes smoldered as she shook her head. "You are not like them." she took in a deep shaky breath.

"You are not like..him," she frowned with distaste.

Quietly he listened. His face warmed with her words and his jaw tightened with what she said next.

"He tried to..." she trembled recalling the gruesome night Cuthburt took her aboard his ship. "His men..." she could not finish.

"Did hurtful things to my Nana," she whispered.

Sad, embarrassed eyes raised to his filled with tears briefly then looked away.

"Did they touch you, Tempest?" not aware now that his grip on her has slightly tightened.

Possessively....

Her large bluish-green eyes filled to the brim with tears lost in the moment comes back to him.

"He kissed me," she whispered raising her fingers to her lips. The look of nauseated dread on her small face only angered him more. A twinge of rage slowly pushed his thoughts towards the man a few doors down. The urge to make him suffer for what he put her through was so close.

He takes a struggling calming breath.

"You did not kiss me," she mumbled as it just occurred to her.

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips with her observation. Sobering from the amusing thought, he raised his palm to her cheek.

"No. I have not."

"But you're a private," she whispered then frowned. " A pirate," she corrected.

"You pillage and plunder, you take what is not yours...You are the Black Scourge of the Sea" she informed him. He chuckled.

"True, that I am," he held her gaze with a twinkle of amusement.

He grinned when her cheeks turned pink, a sort of look of disappointment was there.

"You have not stolen a kiss from me," Accusation light in her tone for not ravishing her tickled him.

"Do you want me to steal a kiss from you, Tempest?" his gaze settled on hers as she nervously shifted and fidgeted.

Filled with rum in her body, he realized she wasn't the spitfire that boiled his blood with her defiance.

"Yes..." she whispered. "I will no longer be haunted by his lips on mine," her tears fell and each one that fell gripped him, soul, deep.

He lifted her chin. His thumbs gently wiped at the warm stream flowing down her cheeks.

Anticipation of his next move hung in the air as his gaze drowned in the depths of her tormented eyes. They lowered to her soft red lips. A frisson of desire rolled through him as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

His heart leaped with the tentativeness of her response. The aftertaste of the mixture of rum and the sweetness of her lips pressed to his, became a savory exchange of desire.

He would erase Cuthbert’s assault and he did so thoroughly, deepening the tender kiss. His fingers tightened around her petite form, resting on her back caressing it, and pulling her oh-so-tight against him. The dangers of being lost and drowning himself in her soft flesh was so close and at this point, he could care less for the lifeline being tossed for his salvation.

She trembled in his hold. Delicate fingers grazed through his hair and drove him insane.

She grew weak and pliant in his powerful embrace and his will as she was lowered to the bed. His groan was rewarded with her sweet whimper.

Her soft curves, a beacon of heaven beneath his fingers inflamed him to the ends of his toes. They glided beneath her blouse and rested on firm but soft pert breasts. Her gasp and sweet whimper against his lips stopped him.

He lifted his head up and looked down at her. She was intoxicatingly innocent, pure, vulnerable, beautiful and....drunk...he had gone too far. Regardless of how enchanting she looked beneath him.

Breathless and flushed she lay heavy-lidded and yielding beneath him. The warmth of his palm remained in place on the delicate softness of her breast. He dared not move but he was slowly sinking into the abyss of her now trusting gaze.

"You need to rest," he told her. He felt relieved that she did not protest. Carefully removing his hand.

Her fingers raised slowly to his lips. "Thank you," her voice trailed off drowsily. His features taut and his body tingling with a sweet ache of need reluctantly shifted to stand.

His gaze lowered the length of her, taking in her disheveled flushed look as if she were a properly bedded nymph.

"Justin?" she called to him. He waited for her to speak. "I was wrong about you. You are not a ruthless pirate," she yawned.

He nodded his head. The short minutes after her words total unconsciousness took her. He shook his head and a chuckle escaped him. He was amused she held up this long.

He turned away slowly and left closing his door. The tension in his neck and heat in his veins from an unsatisfied release had him swearing under breath as pressed his aching head to the door. 

The softness of her pliant body beneath his was a mocking image.

"No lass," he muttered.

"I'm a bloody Saint."