6
I helped Mark out of his coat and onto the bed that Jack and I shared. His face was pale and covered with sweat. I began unbuttoning his shirt.
He grabbed my hand. “Annie, I’m fine. Leave me be, I just need to rest.”
“Claptrap,” I said, pushing his hands away. “You’re still bleeding.”
I popped another button. He gripped my wrists firmly, stilling them. His eyes held mine and, again, I felt our connection. That pull. Tugging me towards him from deep within my centre. I wondered briefly if he felt it as well.
I searched his eyes for an answer, leaning into him. He was so close I could see tiny golden flecks, like stars, in his ever-darkening blue eyes. His cheeks were flushed with colour. I dropped my eyes to his mouth, captivated by the way his lips swelled and parted.
“Annie –”
We were both breathing heavily. The air between us was charged, alive with energy. And then the only thought I had in my head, the only possible thing I could do in that moment, was to bring my mouth to his.
I had been kissed by many men before, but never had it felt like this. Melting, pillowy softness; feather-light, delicate, breathy kisses – slowly, tentatively exploring each other. As I moved to deepen the kiss, he brought his hand between us and gently pushed me away.
“Annie…there’s something you should know.”
My eyelids fluttered open. Dazed and breathless, I tried to focus on him. Blood roared in my ears.
“What is it?” My voice did not sound like my own. The words seemed to come out from somewhere very far away. I felt entirely disoriented, like my head was underwater; heavy, yet floating. “Is it Jack? You don’t need to worry about him,” I mumbled, dipping my head to kiss his neck. “I’m not his only paramour, you know.”
“No, I –” He sat up straighter, wincing with the pain from his cut. He took a deep breath. “I think it’s easier if I show you. Just…don’t kill me, all right? Remember…I’m still me.”
His hands moved to his shirt and he unfastened the last few buttons. Then, slowly, he pulled it open.
His skin underneath was smooth and milky white in contrast to the deep tan on his face and neck. My eyes moved lower and settled on two small, but unmistakeable breasts that heaved in and out. The breasts were tipped with rose-pink nipples, tight with arousal.
I sucked in a breath. “You’re – you’re a woman?”
Aghast, I clapped my hands over my mouth and stumbled back off the bed, onto the floor. She tried to swing her legs round to come to me but cried out in pain. A stream of blood seeped out of the cut on her ribs. I went to her, covering the cut with a bandana and pressing hard. We frantically searched each other’s eyes for some understanding, a reconnection. She must have read downright confusion in mine because she reached for my hand and pressed it to her chest. With a deep, shuddering breath, she began to tell me her story.
“Annie. My real name is Mary Read. But I have lived as a man for as long as I can remember.” She looked at me in earnest. “I never lied about who I am, just who I started out as. My mother disguised me as a boy when I was very young to guarantee my grandmother’s support. And so, I became my elder brother Mark, who died just before I was born. I have been him all my life. I was in the military for nine years before I boarded that sloop. Then I met you. Please understand…I never meant to hide anything from you. You know me better than anyone. This is who I am.”
She lifted her hand slowly and brought it to my face, cupping my cheek and swiping a single tear away with her thumb. I instinctively turned my face into her hand and kissed her palm. Her eyebrows rose slightly, and she gazed at me, waiting for me to respond.
“So…it’s Mary, is it?” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“It’s anything you like, Annie.”
Her expression was so sincere, so loving, that I found myself overcome with emotion, and wondered briefly at this strange, new, soft person that I had become.
I leant in and kissed her shyly, exploring her again, almost as if it were the first time.
Gentle, almost chaste kisses quickly made way for more. I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss and she moaned, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Her fingers moved up into my hair to clutch a fistful of curls. We moved together instinctively, pushing and pulling at each other with increased desperation, as if we were the only things holding each other up.
More. All I could think was, I need more.
I wanted to breathe her in, to consume her.
I sucked her bottom lip in between my teeth, bit along her jawline, and kissed hungrily down the smooth column of her neck. I was just moments away from unbuttoning her breeches when approaching footsteps broke us apart.
Mary pushed me away quickly and closed her shirt, settling back onto the bed, her face flushed, her chest heaving. I grabbed the bloody bandana and pressed it to her, trying to calm my own ragged breathing and pounding heart.
The cabin door was thrown wide open and Jack strode in. “How’s the patient?”
“He’ll survive –” “I’ll live –” we said in unison.
We stared at each other, our eyes wide. We could barely conceal our amusement at the situation, like two children caught with their hands in the gingerbread pot.
“Glad to hear it, Bucko.”
Jack tossed a sack of what sounded like coins onto the captain’s table and leant up against the bedpost, oblivious to our flustered state.
“You can patch me up next, Anne,” he said, pinching the bridge of his bloodied nose. “I’ll forgive you for this, by the by –
