A Pirate's Heart (St. John Series) (11 page)

Samuel began to see the error in his actions. He turned to nervously face Max. Before he could reply Kristina interjected, “It’s alright, Max. He was concerned for my safety. And if it had not been for Samuel, you would have never seen or stopped that man.” She watched as one of Max’s dark brows shot upward. “He
will
be welcomed here and will not be tossed out. But he is right, Samuel. Please ask permission before you barge in here again.” She saw anger at the embarrassment build in Samuel’s eyes. He was at the age where he did not fit into a man’s or child’s world. “Now don’t give me that look. I might be in an inappropriate state of dress for your eyes.”

The realization of what she was trying to present became apparent to Samuel and a blush spread up his face. Being raised in a tavern, he knew things most boys his age didn’t and he had seen things most men shouldn’t, so what she was implying was evident, which upset him. He reluctantly nodded his head and turned to leave.

“Tell James to help you finish in the galley tonight. I believe Kristina has had enough stress for one day.”

“Oh, Max.” Kris stood and walked over to him, placing her hand on his chest. “Really, I’m fine. I’ve been pawed worse by the men in the fishing village.” Which was a lie, but she was trying to calm the dark giant before her. She placed her hand on Max’s arm. “Do you really want to go back to eating James’s food?” she asked as she looked at him innocently. “Besides, cutting the heads off chickens is great therapy.” Before he could answer, she quickly followed Samuel out the door, leaving Max staring after her with confusion on his handsome face.

Chapter Twelve

After that first bath in the storage room and the memorable night that followed, Max told Kristina that the storage room would be for her personal use and changing for the remainder of their voyage. When she asked if she would be sleeping there as well, she was answered with a gruff “No” from Max. Apparently, from what she could gather, he still didn’t completely trust the new crew and would feel better is she was close to him.  He did gallantly sleep on the floor, which she found odd considering what had transpired between them that night. But she kept her thoughts to herself on the matter.

When Kristina returned to Max’s quarters from her nightly bath, she smiled as she sat on the bed. She started brushing her long black hair. As she brushed, she studied him. He was sitting by the small table reading. The light from the oil lamp dancing on his face caused dark shadows to appear, giving him an eerie look. She could see how this man could strike fear in others without saying a word. He had an authoritative presence to him, a presence that oozed with danger. But there was also a sense of overpowering confidence and she found that extremely attractive.

“Why do you not sleep in a hammock instead of on the floor?”

Max peered up over his book and gave her a questioning look. “What?”

“A hammock? Why is there not one in here? The captain has one in his quarters and the other crew sleep in them . . . well, that’s what Samuel has told me. I have never been to the forecastle, but then again, I don’t want to.”

Max closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking back at her. “Are you wanting to sleep in a hammock?”

“Well, no. But since you so graciously gave me your bed, I thought a hammock would be more comfortable for you than the pallet on the floor.”

Max rubbed his lips together as he watched the inquisitive beauty before him. “I don’t like them.”

“Why?”

“You ask more questions than a child.”

“Why?” she asked with an impish expression as she crinkled her nose at him.

“If you must know, I cannot tolerate the motion.”

She laughed. “Really?” she asked with skeptical surprise.

He took a frustrated breath. “Yes. They move entirely too much. I never could tolerate them, even when I was younger. The motion makes me nauseous and—what’s so damned funny?” he asked as she interrupted his explanation with her outburst of laughter.

“The ship moves all the time and you can’t handle a little swinging?”

He gave her a fierce look. “The sway of the ship I have grown accustomed too. Hammocks sway in a different manner and much worse during rough seas, which is why most sailors sleep in them instead of beds . . . beds they would roll out of. I am on deck at all times when the waters are rough or storms are brewing. I stay up, all night if need be, monitoring the crew and ship until the danger has passed.”

“I see. But the floor is so hard. Surely you could accustom yourself to it until we reach Nassau?”

“I am more tempted to climb into bed with you to sleep. But I know the second I get into that bed, your enticing body close to mine, that sleep would be the furthest thing from my mind,” he huskily replied.

She licked her lips nervously as heat flooded her cheeks. His statement caused a fluttering sensation deep within her. She blinked rapidly several times.  “What are you reading?” she asked in order to change the topic, knowing what the outcome would be if she didn’t.

He laughed at her nervousness, knowing her innocence made her unaware of the fact of how much he wanted her. So he obliged her change of topic and controlled his stirring passion by saying, “It’s a book about Africa.”

“Isn’t that where they kidnap people and make them slaves?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But this book is about the wildlife.”

Kristina turned her head the opposite direction and brushed the other side. “Do they have something different than we do?”

Max gave a short chuckle. “Yes. This chapter is about elephants.”

“What’s an el-e-faint?”

“It’s pronounced elephant. They are great gray beasts with long noses . . . trunks I believe they’re called,” he said as he looked back down at the book. He took his finger and skimmed the book. “Yes, trunks. They have massive heads and when frightened or angry they flare their wide ears outward to appear larger than their already enormous size. From what I have read, they are bigger than two men standing on each other and weigh several tons.”

“Tell me more,” Kristina pleaded as she moved to the edge of the bed.

“Would you like to read it?” he asked as he held out the book.

“No. You are already reading it. I do not want to interrupt where you were. Also, I can only read in Spanish. I’m assuming it’s written in English. But even if I could read English, the only time I could enjoy the book would be at the same time as you.”

The corner of his mouth curled upward as he listened to her babble. “So you can read?”

“
Si
. My mother taught me.”

“Would you like me to teach you to read in English?”

A warm look came over Kristina. “That would be lovely.”

Max stood up and walked over to the bed. He sat down beside Kristina, opened the book and began to read. He would move his finger on the page under each word as he read. He didn’t know the first thing about teaching someone how to read, but he remembered Alex’s mother doing this to him when she was teaching him how to read, and he had learned.

Kristina moved closer to Max and laid her head on his arm as he read. His deep voice resonated as he read, creating a calming effect. She watched as his fingers moved along the words and studied them. She slowly began to memorize the words. His willingness to teach her to read warmed her heart. Surely, he must have some type of feelings towards her if he agreed to teach her to read. She knew he did not possess much patience and that this would be a trying job.

For the next three nights, they would assume this same position. Max would read and Kristina would wrap herself around his strong arm, listening and watching as his fingers ran under the words. She would sometimes interrupt him when she recognized one of the words and blurt them out in her excitement. He would give her a crooked smile at her interruptions. Her enthusiasm at knowing the words brought him happiness.

After the reading lessons, he would teach her something of an entirely different nature. He educated her on the hidden passion she had buried deep within her body. Night after night he taught her about passion, how to please him as well as herself. After fulfilling their sexual desires, he would hold her close to his body as they both drifted off to sleep.

Kristina was sitting on the bed brushing her damp hair, waiting on her “lessons.” Max was sitting in his chair thumbing through the pages of a new book to make sure it would be something that Kristina would enjoy. As she studied him, she furrowed her brow. His past was unknown, which bothered her. She had told him every intimate detail about her life, but she knew nothing of his except he had a terrible mother.

“Was your mother really that horrible?” she asked before thinking.

He didn’t move his head as his eyes peered up over the book, a slight slant to them. She could tell she had broached a subject that he didn’t want to discuss, but she had to know.

“Well?” she pressed.

He looked back down at the book and gave a one-word reply, “Yes,” but said no more.

“Why?”

“She just was.”

“How?” she pressed.

She could hear his frustrated sigh. “Who are you? Samuel? I thought he was the only one who couldn’t figure out that one word answers mean to leave the hell alone.”

She just kept staring at him, brushing her hair, with a determined look to her eyes. “You know my history. I think it’s only fair that I know yours.”

“Drop it.”

“No,” she insisted.

He didn’t say another word, but he could feel her eyes on him as he surveyed the book. He slammed the book closed and glared at her. “Alright, you want my life story, fine. I’m the bastard son of an English Lord and a whore. The end.” At that, he reopened the book and continued to study its contents.

“And?” she asked inquisitively as her brows rose.

He glared at her through slanted eyes. She was determined to find out more. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“No. I can do this all night. Being raised by nuns makes one very patient,” she said as she leaned her head over and began brushing the other side of her hair.

Max slammed the book down onto the table and picked up the bottle of rum off the floor by his feet. He took several long drinks from the bottle. If he was going to discuss
that
woman, he needed something to help ease the hatred he had for her.

“Her name was Sybil. She was a whore at one of the upper end brothels at Governor’s Harbour. She always claimed I was the son of a very well off English Earl. He came to Governor’s Harbour in hopes of starting a shipping company. Apparently, he visited Sybil quite frequently until he met the woman who was to become his wife and then he stopped. Sybil became jealous and tried to convince him to marry her instead.” He took another drink from the liquor before he continued. “According to her, she presented me to him and told him I was his son. He didn’t believe her, naturally. Who would blame him? It wouldn’t be the first time a whore tried to better their station in life by trying to pass off their bastard as a rich man’s child.”

Kristina watched as bitterness flooded Max’s eyes. “The brothel had mountains of gambling debts. The owner sold the brothel to save his hide from the debt collectors. The person who purchased the establishment closed it down, leaving the women on the street, with no place to go, no place to live. So my mother began working at Red’s Tavern. It was a deplorable place.

“From what I was told, when I was two or three, she broke her leg. One of the other whores gave her opium to help ease the pain, but she soon became dependent on the drug. She added whiskey to the mix and became a monster. They say she tolerated me until her addiction, but I was still a burden to her.”

He took another drink of the rum before he continued. “She would always take great pleasure in telling me how my father didn’t want me. How she didn’t want me. I believe her exact words were that he ‘didn’t want a whore’s bastard tarnishing his good name’.” He made a half snort sound. “She blamed me for his refusal of her and took great pleasure in reminding me. Every time I behaved ‘like a child,’ as she would put it, she would drag out her strap and beat me. Anytime I found a discarded toy or trinket, she would take it and destroy it in front of my eyes, telling me I was undeserving of pleasure. Since she could have no pleasures in life, neither could I.”

Kristina watched the turmoil cross Max’s face. How could a mother be so cruel, so heartless to her own child? She watched as Max clenched his jaw. An evil laugh came from deep within his chest. “Anything I ever possessed I had to steal—clothing, medications . . . food. The day I met Alex, I had stolen a toy ship. I had seen him playing with one like it the day before and wanted one for myself. In my mind it just wasn’t fair that other children had toys, but I was allowed none. So, I snuck into Alex’s father’s store and stole it. Alex spotted me and gave chase. When he caught me, we fought, but a passerby stopped us and took us both back to the store. Alex’s father was going to turn me over to the authorities, but the Earl stopped him.”

“Your father?” Kristina fearfully whispered.

Max nodded his head and resentfully replied, “The one and only. He paid for the toy.”

“Why?”

Max just shook his head. “I don’t know and I didn’t stick around to ask. I ran out of the store as fast as I could. By the time I got back to the tavern, Sybil had found out. She took great pleasure in beating me . . . telling me that if the Earl quit sending money for my care, she would sell me. I couldn’t even lie down for the next several days afterwards. Anyway, Alex and I kept running into each other after that and soon became friends. But my mother’s cruelty never ended.”

“So if the Earl sent money for your upkeep, why didn’t he take you away from your mother?”

“I asked myself that daily when I was a child. I convinced myself that what she said was true . . . I was an unwanted embarrassment he wanted hidden away and out of sight. It made me very bitter as a child. I came to hate the Earl and his other children. As I grew older, I began to realize why he chose not to believe her. As I said earlier, many have tried to increase their station in life by lying to the wealthy and titled.”

“So you have siblings through the Earl?”

“Eight brothers and a sister,” he answered with disgust. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he continued, “Anyway, I found a kitten one day in the alleyway behind the tavern. She killed it before my eyes, telling me I didn’t deserve anyone’s or anything’s love. Anytime I brought home anything, she would take it from me.” He took a long slow breath, the hurt evident.

“I’m so sorry Max. I . . . I . . . ” She stopped, unable to express her sorrow. She laid her brush down on the bed and walked over to him. She knelt down in front of him and placed her hands on his knees. Her heart was breaking for this strong man before her.