The Red King Page 21

  “You’ve given this some thought,” Rory said. His eyes were still hard.

  “I have, but there are still details unfinished, questions unanswered,” Andrew conceded. He was feeling apprehensive; angering Rory had not been his intention.

  Rory turned to Jack. “Well?”

  “Your pardon, Captain?” the man asked, surprised.

  “Is it possible?”

  Andrew saw their eyes meet and Jack nodded, slowly. “If Jan de Worrt’s vanity and madness is as complete as has been reported, he would never expect a direct assault. Aye, Captain, it could work.”

  “Would you be willing to put everything you have now at risk to do it?” Rory asked, looking at Yousef but speaking loudly enough to carry across the deck.

  “Ruaidhri, we all relish the chance to take our anger directly to Maarten. You have us at your disposal,” Yousef said, firmly.

  “Aye.” Jack agreed as he stepped forward. The rounding chorus of agreement returned and most of the men crowded closer.

  “You have us, one and all, Captain,” Malik confirmed, moving into the circle. “We follow you, whatever you should decide.”

  Breath bated, they endured an endless stretch of silence. Andrew shook, his hands fisted by his sides. He could feel the anticipation in the air, the current of excitement emanating from the men. It kept him breathless, made his heart race and his head spin. He’d been sure of the crew’s support but without Rory’s leadership it would never even begin, much less succeed.

  “It will take more daring than you realize,” Rory said, at last. “None of you have travelled so far north. The sea around Esbjerg is rough, icy, and requires a heavier hand. A larger ship, too, will be more difficult, and though I know some of you first sailed aboard a frigate or man-of-war you’ve grown accustomed to this lovely girl. Most of you have never fired anything larger than the guns on this ship. There is danger, too, in sailing the Channel, for the Navy still patrols the waters whether it be at Cromwell’s request or the King’s. They could halt our crusade with a single broadside.” Rory paused, looking in each of their faces, showing no sign of emotion.

  “The men we send inside -- if they can get inside -- will be doubly vulnerable, not only to oppositional forces but also to nature, herself. It will be no leisurely stroll through the gates. To enter from the unengaged battlements will require a lengthy climb from afar, in wind so cold it can kill an unprepared man before he walks a mile. There will be snow, possibly freezing rain, over rocky terrain. All it will take is for one man to spot us and the alarm would be raised. And then, we would get to walk back to the rendezvous.” He raised an eyebrow as he scanned the circle. “Are you still determined?”

  Rory turned on the spot to seek out each and every face. He stopped when he came to Andrew. “Your answer?”

  Andrew straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “His evil is pervasive, but in truth my need is to be rid of the hold this man has over my own happiness, Ruaidhri, and move on with my life.” Our lives, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. He put forth in his gaze only steady resolve.

  Rory took a great, heavy breath. “Malik!” he called, after a moment.

  “Aye, Captain!” the man shouted in reply.

  “Is the ship ready to sail?”

  “She will be before the next bell, sir!”

  Rory raised his eyes to stare at Andrew. “Then take her to Algiers and have her fitted for long patrol; stock provisions for the open sea and proper warm clothes for all. Men, seek any comrades you think foolish enough to join us, but keep the purpose behind your teeth. Jack, you keep your eyes sharp and find us a ship that will carry us to Denmark and home again.”

  At the last order, a cheer went up, carrying to the sky and setting to flight the birds perched on the masts and rigging.

  “I will need you to take a letter to Etienne,” Rory told his First Mate. “And I am serious that you should keep this venture to yourselves. Remind them, before you send them into the city.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Malik answered, nodding respectfully. When Rory was striding away to the cabin Malik went straight to Andrew. “Well done, little wolf!” he cried and lifted him high.

  “Malik! Please!” Andrew shouted, but he laughed, too. Malik was ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear as he returned Andrew to his feet. “We’ve done nothing yet. Rory is right, this will be perilous. It must be carried out with great cunning or we will all be dead.”

  “Or worse,” Malik agreed. “It is possible, but either way we’ll be done with the chasing and the fighting. I think,” he said, more gently, “that I would like to rest a while, Andrew.”

  “What would…what will you do, when it’s over, Malik?” Andrew asked, noticing for the first time Malik’s tired, wistful eyes.

  Those eyes looked past him, to the horizon. “I don’t know, so long as it is not fighting and running I could find some peace in it. Perhaps I will go to Scotland, to see if I still have a home there. More likely I will seek me widow with soft curves and a fiery heart, who finds me acceptable despite my plain face and my size.” He smiled, turning back to Andrew. “I will follow Ruaidhri for as long as it takes, but a bit of quiet wouldn’t be amiss.”

  Andrew put his hand on Malik’s, who in turn covered that one with his other. “It is richly deserved.”

  “What will you do?” Malik asked him after a moment.

  “I will follow Rory. I desire nothing else,” Andrew answered.

  Malik squeezed his hand, sympathetically. “I don’t share the inclination that leads one man to another, but I do envy you your love. You are well matched. I will pray for your happiness.”

  Andrew felt his throat tighten, unexpectedly. “Thank you,” he whispered, blinking away sudden tears. He took a breath and smiled. “There are still more details to consider. I should go to work.”

  “Make it a good plan, Andrew. We are all due,” Malik said, his voice low, before he strode to the quarterdeck.

  It was Malik’s quiet desperation that Andrew carried with him into the cabin, distracting him from the buzz of excitement that now pervaded the ship. His contemplation so absorbed his thoughts he did not expect the arm that circled his waist, nor the heavy press of Rory’s body against his as he was pushed into the wall. He let out a startled cry but did not struggle, only looked up into Rory’s face.

  “You went to my men, without my knowledge or permission,” Rory said. He did not sound angry, but there was an edge to his voice that Andrew could not define.

  “Yes, I felt it was necessary,” Andrew answered, trying to keep his tone undisturbed, but his heart was thudding in his chest.

  “It is insubordinate, at the very least.”

  For a moment, Andrew feared he had truly offended Rory until he saw the gleam in those green eyes. He worried his bottom teeth with his tongue, lips parted to speak, and saw Rory’s attention drawn there. “My apologies, Captain. It was not my intention to usurp your…” he paused, lowering his eyes, “power.”

  Rory’s other hand rose, holding a bright red apple. Andrew licked his lips. Rory opened his mouth and took a large bite, chewing slowly and contemplating Andrew’s face. The crisp, sweet smell hit Andrew’s senses and the white flesh was visible in flashes behind Rory’s lips. Andrew felt his mouth water.

  When Rory spoke next, the aroma grew stronger, and Andrew inhaled deeply. “I could ration you; take your food, your wine…other luxuries. It would be my right, as captain,” he said, slowly, licking his own lips to clear any stray sweetness. Andrew could not take his eyes off of them, now pink and damp from his tongue.

  “I will, of course, readily accept any sort of reprimand you require,” Andrew told him, breathlessly. Rory lifted the apple again and took another massive bite, leaving only the smallest bit of flesh on the core. Andrew eyed it, reached out for it, but Rory tossed it away. He gave a mournful sigh.

  “I suppose the punishment starts with apples,” Andrew quipped, his eyes returning to Rory.


  Fingers slid into his hair, holding and tilting his head back. Slowly, Rory bent to him, fitting his mouth onto Andrew’s. When he parted his lips, he tasted and felt soft bits of apple, slipped to him by Rory’s tongue. He moaned; the feeling, both physical and emotional, of being fed the flesh and juice from Rory’s mouth was powerfully erotic. He slipped his hands up to rest on Rory’s chest and let him, each tiny morsel was licked into him with tickling attentiveness. By the time the apple was gone, Andrew was making soft, desperate sounds in his throat, his hands clutching Rory’s shirt and his hips hitching up Rory’s thigh.

  Rory moved down his chin, leaving red, stinging marks with his teeth as he traveled down Andrew’s neck and back up to his ear. “Tell me, from the beginning, about your plan,” he murmured, his breath hot when he spoke.

  “Now?” Andrew asked, fingers twitching.

  “Now,” Rory repeated, pressing his knee up higher between Andrew’s thighs.

  Andrew swallowed back a moan. “Sail to Esbjerg, allow a small group of men to go ashore before the k-k-keep,” He stuttered as Rory’s hand gripped and lifted his leg, pulling their hips closer. “And approach it from the land bound side. Ah!”

  Licking where he had just bitten, Rory told him, “You will have to concentrate during all manner of distractions, Andrew.” He rocked forward and whispered, “Continue.”

  “All attention will be on the engagement, allowing the group to enter through the unrepaired south end. It will be a…ah, matter of finding Maarten’s chambers and eliminating his guards…oh, Rory, please,” Andrew groaned when Rory lifted him by using the arm at his waist and held him against the hull. His toes were nearly off of the deck, his hands gripping Rory’s shoulders for balance.

  “Concentrate.”

  Andrew bit his lip. “Kill Maarten and make our escape.” He tried to gain purchase on the wood, to find the leverage to push his hips forward into Rory’s, but could not.

  “That’s all?” asked Rory, incredulously. “I believed you had put more effort into your thoughts.” As he stressed the word, he obligingly tightened his arm, nudging Andrew closer so that their cocks rubbed together.

  “Oh, I, ah, I need more information. I did ask,” Andrew managed to say through clenched teeth. His arms wound over Rory’s neck, holding tight. His pulse was racing madly and his thoughts were scattered, but he closed his eyes and forced the questions again. “By all accounts the fort is ruined on the south end, was it ever sealed off? How large is his force and how loyal are they? Does he keep vessel, a ship, for travel or escape? How in God’s name are you doing that?”

  Andrew had to ask, for Rory had found a place between his legs, up beneath his sac and before his hole, and the pressure Rory put there with his knee sent warm waves of pleasure thrumming through Andrew’s body.

  Rory laughed. “The Taibhse cannot sail that far north, she is not rigged for the rough seas nor could she carry enough guns.”

  “If the Taibhse cannot be fitted with the necessary firepower to attack the keep, another ship should be acquired. By force, if need be.”

  “And escape?” Rory’s mouth was ghosting over his neck, his jaw, not touching.

  Andrew sighed and went slack. His head fell back against the hull with a soft thud. “I don’t know.”

  When he felt Andrew relax in his grip, Rory lowered them both, kneeling with Andrew in his lap. “A strategy such as yours relies upon a quick, efficient attack. If we enter as quietly as possible, while the ship blazes its guns, escape would depend on exiting the same way. Coming at the slott from the broken side is clever.” He took Andrew’s mouth in a short, passionate kiss.

  “It must be timed perfectly, but I believe in these men. I would trust my life with them.” Andrew’s words were soft, heartfelt. Still slack in Rory’s grasp, he rested back against the wood and let his arms fall away. It was a totally submissive position, allowing Rory to dictate what would come. Andrew read Rory’s face and knew he had made the right decision.

  “It’s a good plan,” Rory whispered, the dark center of his eyes spreading to blot out the pale green.

  “I need more,” Andrew said, licking his lips, “to make it complete.” He waited, leaving everything to Rory’s control.

  Rory shuddered, moaning a little under his breath. “You shall have it. You will have it all.”

  Then it was a hurried, frantic tearing at clothes. Rory had Andrew’s breeches unlaced in the blink of an eye. With nothing more than spit he pushed his fingers into Andrew and without error found and stroked the nerve until Andrew was groaning, saying his name over and over. Then it was Rory’s cock pressing, demanding entrance, and Andrew gave it with a gasp and a shout. Rory took him roughly, bent awkwardly against the wall with one strong hand covering his mouth so that Andrew could cry and groan at will. He spoke into Andrew’s ear with every thrust, a litany of filth and praises, poems and taunts. They stirred his body, moved his heart, had him twitching and tensing with climax as Rory found his own.

  Andrew was still trapped, caught between the hull and Rory’s body, his breeches at his thighs and knees pressed up under Rory’s arms. He panted into the palm against his lips, did not struggle to right himself though his back was strained and aching. He could feel Rory’s mouth against his ear but still had to hold his breath to hear the words Rory spoke.

  “It is a good plan, Andrew, but on one condition I must be firm.”

  Turning his head, letting the hand stay pressed against his cheek, Andrew sought Rory’s mouth with his own. “What is that, my king?” he asked in a whisper.

  “You must not go.”

  The pleasant lethargy left Andrew in an instant. “What?”

  “You are advancing quickly, but you are in no way ready to face such a mission. You must remain here. Or with Etienne, though that would cause me more distraction than is wise. Either way, there will be no ‘we’ in this.” Rory ceased using his seductive whisper and spoke normally, sounding every bit the captain.

  “So, this show of dominance was not merely for pleasure, it was to assert your will over me?” Andrew asked, pleasantly, even though he could feel his anger heating his face.

  “Do not challenge me on this, Andrew. Please, I would not cease to worry about you and it could jeopardize everything, cause more harm than good.”

  Andrew took a deep breath and tried to straighten. Rory took his wrists and pinned them behind his back, pulling him forward and off the wall. They were nose to nose, eyes locked. “I would think, Captain, that you would know not to threaten my freedom,” Andrew said coolly, as if they had not just shared their pleasure.

  “Listen to me, Andrew, please. Think on my words. You barely know how to swing a staff and you have yet to learn a sword. What good will you be in taking a ship, or raiding a castle? You would be in danger on all sides and I would be unable to focus on the task at hand for want of protecting you.” As his words ended Rory’s voice lost the calm tone of a captain and became impassioned, even fearful. “It would fail and we would be killed.”

  Andrew felt him trembling.

  “Or captured. And that I cannot bear to consider.”

  “I see,” Andrew said, understanding at last. It did not quell his anger, but it did make his next words more temperate. “Then we will continue my training. I will not be left behind on this, Rory. I refuse to play the part of fainting maiden or bloodless child and will lend my hand and my heart, gladly. You cannot stop me from coming, but you can teach me to survive.”

  “Damn it, Andrew, must you argue every point?”

  Andrew could feel his frustration and echoed with his own. “In some matters, it seems I must.”

  Rory sighed, loosened his grip on Andrew’s wrists and rubbed them tenderly with his thumbs. “And yet you were so soft, so submissive for me a moment ago. Would that you could relinquish all control to me in this.”

  “I think you enjoy the fight,” Andrew said, lips curling in a small smile.

  Smiling back, Rory shook hi
s head, slowly. “Perhaps, but your surrender today was sweet.”

  “If I surrender too often it will cease to be so. It will be a battle to the very end.”

  Rory chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. “So be it.”

  There was nothing left to do but send the Taibhse to Algiers and await its return. Rory wrote a lengthy letter to Etienne, explaining all. He did not expect an answer, but was sure he would receive one. “I would not be surprised if he returned with Malik and demanded to be included,” he told Andrew as he sealed the papers.

  “He’s quite brilliant. His input could be useful,” Andrew replied from his place in the small bed. He reclined on one elbow, legs stretched out and dangling over the edge. He had offered what words he could to the letter, Rory had declined any wish to ask for help from the man, but Andrew hoped that unspoken request would be there for Etienne to see. “Could he not find out more of the current state of Maarten’s forces, his slott?”

  “He could, and he may yet, but I do not wish him to put himself in unnecessary danger. He would be more exposed to harm than any of us,” Rory explained, turning to face him.

  “Isn’t he already? He is a known associate of Ruaidhri, The Red King,” Andrew said.

  “Only so much as in business. Our…personal relationship, such as it is, is still unknown to all. Except you,” Rory said, putting up one foot on the bed’s frame.

  “Why do you fight your affection for him, Rory?”

  Rory leaned back in the chair, quietly thoughtful for a moment. “Etienne is a businessman. His motives are purely for profit.”

  “That’s a rather harsh opinion, especially in light of his relationship with Fleming,” Andrew said, sitting and paying very close attention.

  “He passed on information that led to a raid and the decimation of an entire village,” Rory continued, setting the chair back on its four legs. “The information he got from Charles, after a particularly vigorous fuck.”

  Andrew paled. "Did you hold Charles responsible for the lapse, as well?"