“Hmm … not unless they knew exactly where we’d be goin’ this time,” Lewrie replied, slowly mulling over the possibilities. “Else, they’d have to cruise the whole coast from Málaga to Alicante, lookin’ for us, and that’d require that they manage t’slip past the blockadin’ squadrons, first. To cruise in search of us would put them at risk of bein’ spotted by our other ships, brought to action, and taken before they discover us.”
“Well, keep a sharp eye peeled, no matter,” Mountjoy cautioned.
“Aye, I shall,” Lewrie promised, though he was quickly coming to see the odds of the Spanish sailing, and finding him, quite low.
For now, I’ll eat, drink, and be hellish-merry with Maddalena, he told himself on the way down the stairs, past Mister Deacon’s faint leer as if he knew exactly where he was going, and who he would be with. Damn all sneakin’ spies, he thought; And what they must think o’ me. And the Dons? Tomorrow’s another day!
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Māe de Deus,” Maddalena cooed with her head resting against his shoulder, still a little breathless from their last bout of lovemaking, with one slim leg cross his. “Maravilhoso.”
“My stars,” Lewrie said with a chuckle of delight, sprawled on his back with his arms loosely embracing her. “Damned right, it was! Ye deserve a reward for that, me girl.” Which statement made her laugh deep in her throat, snuggle closer, and make purring sounds. She had slipped atop him and had ridden “St. George”, this time, abandoning her earlier reticence and modesty, spitted upon his lance, pierced to the heart and dying the “little death” as the mythic dragon had, hair swishing, strong fingers clutching his shoulders, rocking, thrusting mindlessly, and crying out ’til the moment she’d broken. He had not reached his release, and after a long moment, had thrust upwards and had driven her to a second effort, even more frantic than the first. Lewrie had taken hold of her wrists and had leaned her back, feeling how she’d grown snugger and snugger, savouring her wee yelps and gasps ’til the moment he’d exploded as hot and as fiercely as a great gun, and she had quivered and cried out as she’d found a second, searing wave of utter bliss, almost at the same instant as his, which had left them gasping and completely spent.
“That was my reward, Alan,” Maddalena whispered close to his ear, a pleased-beyond-measure smile curling her lips. “I please you?”
“God, yes! You please me right down to me toes, Maddalena,” he assured her, turning to share a long soul kiss, eliciting a long, happy groan from her before they snuggled up, again, eyes closed in exhaustion, and sighing. “Every time, in fact,” he murmured.
“Sim, me too,” she vowed, reaching up one hand to stroke at his cheek. “Such a wonder I never know…’til you,” she said with a wee giggle. “Uhm … pardon, but I have to…”
She rose, slipping away from him, trailing her hand down his out-stretched arm as she left the bed to go behind a Chinese-looking folding screen to use the chamber pot. “Play with Precious,” she said.
Lewrie rolled over to her side of the bed and lifted the waiting kitten up to the sheets. “Spyin’ on us, are ye, kitty?” he said.
Precious was Maddalena’s latest acquisition, found in one of the local markets, though paying even six pence for him, when Gibraltar Town teemed with strays, Lewrie thought silly. He was a ram-cat, only three months or so old, wide-eyed and white-furred, with random splotches of ginger. As soon as he had all four paws down, he gave out a wee Mew and pounced on Lewrie’s wiggled fingers, and his tiny fangs and claws were sharp! Before Lewrie could pull the sheets up to cover his groin, Precious discovered the ribbons which bound his cundum on, and the kitten made a pounce in that direction!
“Oh no, ye don’t!” Lewrie cried, scooping him up.
Maddalena returned from behind the screen, her dressing gown on but unbound, and the sight of her marvellously pleasing and delightful body made Lewrie beam at her. “Here, you manage this wee beast whilst I take my turn before he claws me ‘wedding tackle’.”
“Oh, never do that, Precious,” Maddalena cooed at her kitten, picking him up and cuddling it to her breast. “Some things are precious to me besides you,” she added, looking teasingly at Lewrie.
Here, that sounds damned promising, Lewrie thought as he took off his cundum and stowed it in a linen draw-string bag, then let go a stream of pee into the chamber pot, quickly putting the lid back on, regretting that fetchingly good-looking young women’s shite smelled as disagreeable as normal people’s. “Whew!” he whispered, wrinkling his nose, before returning to the bed-chamber.
Maddalena had tied the sash of her dressing gown, so he felt that he should don his long-tailed shirt, at least, which might protect his groin should the kitten go exploring, again. He stretched out beside her on the bed, propped up on one elbow, gave her a short kiss, and accepted a glass of wine that she’d poured for him in his absence. A neutral American merchant ship, still allowed to trade with France, had come in with lashings of luxury goods including champagne, and he had purchased a case of twelve, and had brought two of them along for their evening together. Even warm, it still tasted very good.
“You must leave before midnight?” Maddalena asked with a little pout.
“Not tonight, no,” Lewrie told her, with a gladsome sigh and a laugh. “Thought I’d take an ‘All Night In’, and go back aboard round sun-up.” He grinned again, recalling what had passed last year when he’d had the Reliant frigate, when his ever-randy First Lieutenant, Geoffrey Westcott, had wished for an “All Night In” ashore in Buenos Aires, and their Sailing Master at the time had quipped, “All Night In in what?” Should’ve asked “In Whom!” he thought.
“Bom, good!” Maddalena said, leaning close to brush her cheek upon his. “I do not like when you leave me in the middle of the night. I like sleeping with you, the waking up, and seeing you off with coffee and some bread and jam.”
“That pleases me, too,” Lewrie muttered fondly. “It’s hellish-hard t’leave your bed for me … your warmth, your sweet aroma?”
“You like my perfume?” she teased in a soft, promising voice.
“All of you and your perfume,” he cooed back.
Maddalena scooted up the bed, plumped up the thick feather pillows, and lolled against the headboard, giving out a glad sigh.
“Ah,” she said, cocking her head to one side to listen. Far off, there was a rumble of thunder. A breeze stirred the chintz drapes by the open doors to the balcony, and a patter of rain could be heard as a late autumn storm blew up. “Good!” she declared. “You cannot go to sea tomorrow. I pray it rains all week!”
“Won’t last that long, more’s the pity,” Lewrie said, getting up to pad to the balcony for a look, then returning. “We’ll be back at sea in a day or two. Gone for a fortnight, perhaps. About that,” he added, getting back in bed, up by the headboard near her. “When I do sail, on the rare off-chance, I’ve made arrangements for you if … something happens to me. Don’t look so distressed, Maddalena! It is only prudent. The branch offices of Coutts’ Bank is holding a sum for you, and a letter of instructions. If I don’t return, your rent will be paid for a full year beyond the six months. I already paid, and you’re t’have ten pounds a month to live on. If ye wish to take passage somewhere else, you can exchange the year’s rent for…”
She set aside her glass of wine and threw herself upon him to clutch him close and squeeze. “Do not say that, Alan! Do not tempt Fate! Por Deus, you give me more happiness than I know in years, so kind and generous, so gentle with me, so funny you are, so merry with me…!” She broke off in a choked sob, and he felt tears wetting her close-pressed cheek.