Sari 

 

© 2015 A. Jane 

 

 

The Borough

Present time 

 

Captain Jayd Lightning stepped into the pub with his first mate to discover some sort of noisy celebration within. He had just finished his business on the docks and thought a tankard of ale was in order to refresh from the early onset of summer. He was quite pleased with his decision.

 

He grinned seeing the clashing of tankards, hearing the cacophony of voices attempting to sing an off-tune bawdy ditty mixed with the arrhythmic thumping of drunken dancers. In the midst of all the revelry was a rather tall young woman dressed in a loud red jerkin. She was holding a tankard of ale high in the air and dancing in the center of a group, her dark honey hair swinging freely about her shoulders as she laughed. She was the only one to actually be holding a true and steady rhythm.

 

“Methinks she is more yer type than mine, Capt’n, but mayhap I will make an exception.” Master Gee Sharp gazed at the woman; his eyes alight with his intentions.

 

“Mine!” Jayd shoved Master Sharp back a step in emphasis. “Find another.”

 

“Suppose I do she be too young for the likes of me.” Master Sharp shook his head knowing his captain heard naught of what he said, his attention glued to the dancing woman as it was. At least his mind was now off the seamaid they had seen once more as they sailed into port that morn. He gave him a shove. “Do we head to the bar? Methinks there be nae booths or tables unoccupied.”

 

Jayd tore his eyes away from his desire, though ‘twas quite difficult, her legs splendid as she lifted them high with each stomp of the dance, the absolute joy on her regal face intoxicating. “Aye, to the bar. I would know what brings about such revelry.”

 

“And join in?”

 

He laughed. “’Tis the proper way after all.”

 

“’Tis indeed.”

 

The two men pushed through the crowd and made way to the bar, wedging themselves into various openings. Jayd waved the barkeep over and was surprised to find him handing over a tankard of ale without requesting it, though gladly did he take it. Who was he to refuse?

 

“My thanks.” He placed several silverin debloo on the bar in payment.

 

“Our Zhari pays this noonday,” the barkeep—a man by the name Tramp Steamer—spoke with the sharp, rough accent of one from the Northern Seas. He left the debloo where it was, and motioned towards the woman wearing the red jerkin. He whooped loud, his voice nigh lost in the raucous cheering of the rest of the crowd, when she leapt high in the air, spinning about, her body making two quick rotations before landing, and without missing a beat she continued her dancing.

 

“My appreciation she has,” in more ways than one, “but what be the occasion?”

 

“Celebrating she is the day of her friend’s birth. He stands in the back, keeping eye upon her antics.”

 

Jayd looked where the barkeep pointed with a quick stab of his prominent chin. Jayd’s brows rose seeing the handsome man, arms crossed over his chest, and definitely standing sentry. He looked as if he knew what he was about. “A couple then?”

 

“Nae, nae. Only are they friends, but a troublemaker is our Zhari and so her Cal makes certain that always is she capable of escaping any scrape she finds herself in.”

 

“Noticed I have her endearment to ye, does she oft fill yer pockets with debloo from so many rounds of ale?”

 

“Not in such an extravagant way. Attends she does Votive Collegiate and comes in on her off days to relax with a tankard of ale. Enjoys she does the company of our regulars, listening raptly to their tales of adventure. Times there are she buys one or two a tankard if they find themselves short of funds, mayhap a meal if times appear lean, and never does she expect to be repaid.” The barkeep offered the seafarer a stern look. “Quite protective of her we are in The Borough.”

 

Jayd nodded his understanding, a single abrupt bob of his head, but that would not stop him from his pursuit. “’Tis not the usual place for one of her obvious wealth.”

 

“Our Zhari be a different sort, and already have I mentioned her troublemaking ways. ‘Tis an art form for her.”

 

“’Tis sweet of you to say, my dearest Tramp; I do indeed try.” Sari slammed her tankard down. She found it rather adorable how the barkeep made the S in her name a sawing Z instead of the proper Tartyn Sh. “Methinks I won the wager. Not a drop did I spill.”

 

Jayd looked into the tankard. “And yet not a drop remains, love.”

 

“Of course not,” she offered a toothsome grin to the extremely sexy bit of man next to her, “I drank every drop. The dancing quite parched me.”

 

He laughed, ignoring the quickening of his body. Her misty gray eyes were direct in their perusal of him. He found he liked that. “’Twas quite exuberant the dancing I must admit. How did ye spin so? Surely magik aided ye to make it about twice.”

 

“No one likes a cheater, sir.” She returned her attention to Tramp and tapped the bar with her hand. “Pay up, my friend. Know I do you have the goods; I saw the shipment arrive myself.”

 

“Mercenary ye be,” Tramp grumbled.

 

“Tramp…” Sari could feel the seafarer’s gaze on her and kept from smiling. She would deal with the incredibly fuckable man in a moment—already had she checked his wrist and knew he was unmarried.

 

At least he appeared quite fuckable with his beautiful and deliciously masculine looks. There was a certain…wildness, a sense of the uncivilized, within his bright blue eyes and she would wager two bags of gold debloo that he was a pirate. A quick spin of her magik confirmed it, and her excitement from just being in his presence trebled. It was causing her neathwear to dampen.

 

And who was she to deny her desires.

 

She wanted to use that long braid of his to tie him to her bed as she explored, what she was certain to be, a well-kept body. She wondered if those fascinating patches of silver at his temples were just as long as the rest of his hair. With another quick perusal of his form, she noted the hair peeking out from the opening of his shirt and that which covered his exposed arms—his sleeves were rolled to his elbows—and had to stop from embarrassing herself with a quick gleeful clap. She liked her lovers to have hair upon their body, finding it quite disconcerting when a man had little or none.

 

Then again, all of this could be for naught. For all she knew, he could be a complete ass. Which would truly be a shame and just her luck if she were to go by her past choice in lovers.

 

She hated the reminder.

 

“Aye, the goods I have.” The barkeep reached under the bar and placed two fancy-wrapped bars of chocolate in front of Sari. “Much debloo did I pay for those.”

 

“And earned it back you have twofold from this day’s celebration.” She grabbed both bars and held one out to Tramp. “For Asha, unless a stash you have given her?”

 

Tramp laughed. “Of course I have. A right I have to spoil my daughter.”

 

“’Tis indeed your right.” Since he was not taking the bar, she sent it home to be savored later with a quick flare of magik and unwrapped the other. Taking a bite—spun caramel dripping from the center in a long string of sweet goodness—she moaned. “’Tis ecstasy this.”

 

Jayd thought it ecstasy just watching her. He had to stop himself from touching her, still trying to gauge his welcome, but found it quite difficult. He wanted to pull her against him and take that mouth, lick the caramel off her lower lip.

 

His hand flexed on the handle of his tankard.

 

She broke a piece off the chocolate bar and held it against the pirate’s mouth. Shivers ran up her spine as he accepted the bite, his lips briefly closing about her fingers, his tongue just touching the tips. Her voice was breathy as she asked, “Ever have you tasted aught more divine?”

 

He had to admit it was delicious, but he bet that the taste of her would rival it. A pirate’s grin curled his lips and he watched color fill her cheeks, desire brighten her eyes, and she sent the remainder of the bar away as if in anticipation. But before he could make a move, she laughed and ran off to rejoin the dancing.

 

“It seems she likes ye.” Tramp took away Sari’s tankard and placed it with the others to be washed, motioning to his youngest son to take care of the matter; the tub was piling up.

 

“She rushed off.”

 

“Not much of a pirate ye be then if there ye stand instead of giving chase.” He laughed when Jayd’s eyes narrowed at the insult. “And still ye stand here.”

 

Jayd looked over his shoulder, seeking the woman in question. Why was he not chasing her? He wanted her, did he not? Seeing another start to dance with her, he downed his ale, slamming the tankard on the bar, and then waded into the crowd, determined to have her. He grabbed her about the waist and lifted her high, offering that same pirate’s grin when she looked over her shoulder at him. His body quickened further when she returned the grin with one rivaling in trouble.

 

She spun about once her feet touched down, now facing him, and changed the dance, laughing when the seafarer’s brow furrowed. ‘Twas not long before he figured out her rhythm and joined her.

 

“Not bad, sir.” She waited a beat, hoping he would fill in his name, but he did naught except raise his brows. “Do you wish to remain anonymous then? If that is so, mayhap I will just call you… Rogue. Yes, indeed, ‘tis what…”

 

“Nae, ‘tis Jayd, Capt’n Jayd Lightning.” He once more lifted her high, grinning when she released a shout of laughter.

 

“Very well, Jayd, Captain Jayd Lightning. A quick study you are, but mayhap not.” Again she changed the rhythm, offering him an expectant look to see if he could keep up with her.

 

Instead of doing what was expected, he picked her up, arm snug about her waist and, ignoring the cries of foul, found a quiet corner in the back of the pub. Putting her down, her back to the wall, he leaned over her, hands braced on either side of her shoulders.

 

“Doubt I do yer name be Zhari, but perhaps more of the Tartyn: Sharree,” he exaggerated the pronunciation to make his point.

 

“Very good, Jayd, Captain Jayd Lightning. You said it perfectly first try. Do you hail from about Tartyn?”

 

“Nae, but family I have in Vyksen and Berja.”

 

“’Tis lovely the ale from Vyksen with its hint of citrus. And the ale from Berja,” she hummed softly, “a delicate taste of lavender does it leave on the tongue. Methinks ‘tis from the acres and acres of lavender fields betwixt and around the plots of the amber grain. At least that from the northern part of the country. Ale from Berja’s southern dales, ‘tis a hint of clover I experience.” She rested her hands against his chest, slowly slid them up until her arms were draped about his neck. “Now, ‘tis the ale from Mylo I like best with its heady flavors of spice and berries, but the king is a fool, and needs a boot planted hard against his ass. He makes it most difficult to gain a casket of the brew outside Mylo’s borders and truly ‘tis a shame that. Much trade could be had if he would do so. Mayhap you know of a way?”

 

He laughed. “The barkeep was right, trouble ye be.”

 

“Thank you for noticing.”

 

‘Methinks he may be trouble,’ Gillam murmured. He scratched his chin, his lips pursed as if in thought. The pirate held a familiar look. ‘Though ‘tis naught that you would mind I am certain, but try not to put yourself in a situation you cannot escape.’

 

She shot the spirit of her grandfather a quick glare for butting in. Why would she wish to escape this pirate? And her look said so.

 

Standing in The Inbetween, Gillam was only visible and audible to Sari, which had caused her untold amount of trouble growing up, and could cause her trouble then—she had yet to learn to ignore a spirit when one spoke. Times there were she thought Gillam lucky she loved him.

 

Of course she loved him; he was a troublemaker.

 

Gillam grinned, unrepentant. ‘I will inform Cal all is well so he offers no interruption. Worry not, ‘twill only be a minor flickering, no one will see me.’

 

Jayd looked over to see what Sari glared at, but her hand on his cheek brought his attention back to her. “What…”

 

She smiled up at Jayd. “Is there point to stealing me away?”

 

He leaned down and hovered his lips over the left corner of her mouth. “Methinks there is.”

 

“You think to steal a kiss?” She turned her head just slightly hoping for contact, but still his lips hovered. Her eyes were upon his and being that close allowed her to see flits of light glittering through the blue of his eyes almost like…well, lightning.

 

“Mmm, I do.” He waited, wanting to see what she would do. Would she kiss him, or would anticipation continue to build?

 

“And if I object to the blatant thievery of my kisses?”

 

“Why would ye mind losing a kiss? Ye gain one back in return.”

 

“An exchange of kisses then?” she murmured.

 

“If one chooses to look at it so.” Yeryl and Zasara! This moment with her was beyond erotic. The scent of her was going to his head. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe, to taste her skin, but he would have her lips first. “I get a kiss, ye get a kiss; I see nae thievery.”

 

“Then why have you yet to kiss me, Jayd, Capt…”

 

He kissed her, finally taking what he wanted. He groaned softly when she kissed him back. What was it about this woman that made him rush so? Need so? She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, but she held an old fashioned appeal, her looks and bearing regal, like that found upon an old Berjan debloo. It suited her oval face: the slightly too long nose, the full and wide mouth…

 

Her thigh brushed the inside of his, a deliberate move on her part he was certain—this woman acted not the maiden and he thanked Yeryl and Zasara for it. He leaned his body into hers, pressing her fully against the wall, let a hand fall to her hip.

 

She turned her head and moaned as he dragged his lips over her cheek and down to her neck, gasped when his teeth scraped along her skin. “Do you…” Another moan. “Oh it matters not, just continue please. Fuck, never stop.”

 

He chuckled though the sound died quickly when her thigh slid against his once more, moved and pressed delicately up against his testicles. His cock began to drip, his desire to fuck her growing rampant. “This is not the place…”

 

“No, ‘tis not.” There was something about him that was causing her to act recklessly. At least more reckless than was usual. Never did she bed a man she had only just met, but this man, she was willing to strip bare and mount right then.

 

If only they were not in public.

 

He brought his lips back to hers, kissed her deep, tangling their tongues together, taking the taste of her into him. He could barely breathe; he cared not. He could not stop kissing her. He needed to be within her in some fashion.

 

“Sari,” his voice was a rough growl, “leave with me, now.”

 

“Come to me this eve.” She wrapped her arms about his chest, dug her fingers into his back.

 

“Not soon enough.” He pushed against her, his body shuddering at the pleasure. His cock jerked, threatened to spill if it was not soon gripped tight within her hot, wet pussy. Especially when one of her legs wrapped about his hips and she rubbed against him.

 

“’Tis my offer. This eve, and ‘twill be one that never will you forget.”

 

“Deny not yer need for me; I can feel the heat of ye.”

 

“I deny naught, but much is there left for me to do this day and do I go with you now, never will any of it get done. Do you come to me this eve, I can spend it fucking you, no interruptions until the sun rises on the morrow.”

 

“Woman…” He continued kissing her, wanting to change her mind.

 

“Do you or do you not accept my offer?”

He growled low, frustrated, but he was not going to pass up the opportunity just because he needed to wait a few hours to indulge. “Where is it I come to ye?”

 

“Potter’s Cottage upon Lonely Hill. ‘Tis the only cottage overlooking the Sound.”

 

He stopped, his lips still pressed to Sari’s. His eyes opened and found himself staring into hers, nigh drowned in the misty depths. “The white one sitting atop the lone hill and a small cove below?”

 

“Yes, ‘tis why it holds the name: Lonely Hill.”

 

“Do ye swim in that cove, wave to the boats as they sail by?”

 

“Only am I aware of one boat that I wave to.” She suddenly grinned. “The Stormfront, she is yours?”

 

He leaned back and studied her face. His lips tilted seductively. “So finally we meet. Ye look much different fully dressed and dry, my lovely seamaid.”

 

“A seamaid am I?” How exciting.

 

“Thrice has my first mate kept me from diving into the water, certain I would be swimming to my doom did I answer yer sweet call. A superstitious one is he.”

 

“Afraid that I would devour you after I had my way?” She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth.

 

“Aye, but methinks ‘twould be worth every moment.” He started kissing her once more. His dreams had tormented him from the first time he spied her emerging from the water wearing naught but a thin cotton bathingshift clinging to her every curve the year previous. He lied not when he said that Master Sharp had kept him from diving over the railing and swimming to her. There was naught in the world that would stop him next time.

 

* * * 

Cal looked at his timetell and sighed. The celebration had run its course. He could already hear the lecture the princess was to soon receive from her father. Not that a lecture ever gave Sari pause or changed her troublemaking ways. She would just smile at her father, give him a kiss upon the cheek, and then continue on as she was until the next lecture where once again she smiled and kissed her father on the cheek. He knew that His Majesty was uncertain how to truly feel about the matter. The king and queen had raised Sari to be independent and yet when she was independent His Majesty claimed she would turn his hair prematurely silver with her antics. Cal thought the king secretly enjoyed all the trouble his daughter caused and why he continued to allow her such freedom, considering as king he felt he had very little.

 

Pushing away from the wall where he had planted himself after watching the seafarer carry off the princess, refusing to lose sight of her on the off chance she needed aid in extricating herself from her latest adventure, Cal made his way through the throng of drunken seafarers to where Sari and her pursuer were locked in an intimate embrace.

 

He cleared his throat and then cleared it again. When neither party acknowledged the attempted interruption, he crossed his arms over his chest, contemplating his options. He disliked addressing Sari by her Royal Title when she was about the village, especially within the pub, wanting her to keep as low of a profile as possible. Which with Sari’s ability to make trouble was difficult, but he would rather not bring attention to her social standing if he could help it. Especially not in front of a man he believed to be pirate. He needed not for the princess to be taken and ransomed.

 

He opted to clear his throat a third time, but when they still did not respond, he decided to just start speaking. “Do we not leave soon, poppet, we will be late. When last you were late, Mistress fym Boja worked you twice as long and in need of aid you were to leave class, your toes bloody and heels blistered. That we have spent the afternoon indulging in ale, already can I hear her lecture. And, if memory serves, her lectures are far worse than the ones you receive from your father. You cannot just smile and kiss her cheek.”

 

Sari pulled herself from the drugging kiss, the name of her dance instructor and the threat of lecture seeping through the haze of passion and ale. She looked at Cal and blinked several times before her brain began to focus, though it was hard to maintain with Jayd’s lips at her neck. “Is it time to leave so soon?”

 

“’Tis indeed. I know you enjoy yourself…”

 

“You should be enjoying yourself, ‘tis your birth celebration.”

 

Cal grinned. “A fine time I had and my thanks I give, but still do we need leave.”

 

Jayd looked over wanting to kill the one who dared interrupt. Sari was his seamaid and… Sari was pushing at his chest? “Nae, love. Stay with me. I would kiss ye longer.”

 

“I need go, Jayd, Captain Jayd Lightning. ‘Tis most unpleasant when Mistress fym Boja lectures and if I can avoid at least part of her ire, ‘twould be a fine thing.” She pressed a smacking kiss to his lips. “’Tis not as if this is the last you ever see of me. Forget not my invitation; I look most forward to your company this eve.”

 

He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and run off with her, take her to his boat and weigh anchor. He let her go, grudgingly lowering his arms and stepping back, but grabbed her arm as she started to move away, pulling her to him for one last taste of her lips.

 

“This eve, my seamaid.”

 

He watched her leave, his body screaming to chase after her. He could only wonder what sort of madness had come upon him to want her so. Was it the lure of a seamaid, a song so seductive that no seafarer could resist it?

 

Master Sharp stepped to his captain’s side, brow deeply furrowed. “What is this, allowing another to take yer pretty bit without a fight? Never say so.”

 

He crossed his arms over his chest as if trying to hold himself back. “Only are they friends…so claims the barkeep.”

 

“Oh? So why does she leave with him.”

 

“He keeps her from trouble, again so claims the barkeep. Were they couple doubt I do he would have been pleased that I was kissing her so. He acted unconcerned about our embrace, only worried of the time.”

 

Master Sharp snorted. “Unless the sort he is who enjoys being humiliated so.”

 

“Or the sort who has an open arrangement.” Jayd’s hands fisted at the thought. Never had he been the type of man able to share his lovers, and never would he share his eventual treasure.

 

He would not share his seamaid.

 

“And still ye say not why she left.”

 

“Methinks a class she has this noonday. At least ‘tis what I gained from their conversation, though not the type of class she attended, other than it bloodied her toes and caused blisters on her heels. Enrolled she is at Votive, that I do know.”

 

“Fascinating. Those who are enrolled at Votive, the usual individual to come into a pub they are not.”

 

Jayd smiled. “A troublemaker is my seamaid.”

 

“Seamaid? Then the woman she is from the cove, the one I need keep ye from swimming to yer doom for?”

 

“Aye. And ‘tis this eve I go gladly to my doom.”

 

* * * 

With the barkeep whistling a happy tune, his till nigh overflowing with debloo for all the ale drunk, Sari and Cal left the pub, making way to Votive’s ballroom where the dance class was taught.

 

“Never have I seen you so reckless.” Cal spread his magik out, keeping eye on their surroundings. Most about the village adored Sari, but still was he her guard and there was always the possible threat that one might wish to kidnap the princess.

 

“I know. Only can I wonder what came over me. Well,” she grinned, “he is the captain of The Stormfront and know you how I am when she sails by.”

 

“I sense no spell he may have placed upon you.”

 

“No spell, other than he is the sexiest man that ever have I laid my eyes upon.” Which she thought made sense, since she considered The Stormfront the sexiest boat upon water. She looked over her shoulder grabbing a last glance at the pub. She narrowed her eyes, for a moment thinking she saw Jayd following them.

 

“And because of this, you invite him to the cottage for a night of carnal abandon?”

 

She clapped her hand over her mouth, but spurts of laughter slipped out. “Terrible you are.”

 

“Terrible I am? I am not the one who invited a pirate over for a tryst, and think me not unaware of such.”

 

“No danger did I sense about him and neither did you, for had you, certain I am that you would have kept me from his embrace.” And what an embrace; her neathwear was quite wet.

 

“That may be so, but does your father learn about…”

 

“No plans do I have to tell Papa about who I bring to my bed, unless you plan to do so?” She looked up at him, her look pointed, eyebrows raised high.

 

“Yet have I to betray such things and no plans do I hold to do so now, but ‘tis reckless.”

 

“Already have I agreed ‘tis so.”

 

“And yet still you hold plans to bed him.”

 

“Oh yes.” And fuck him well.

 

#

Princess Sari (pronounced Sharree) will allow no one to stand in the way of her adventures. Not the possibility of inheriting her father’s crown. Not even a deliciously sexy pirate.

 

Jayd Lightning happily goes to his doom when he makes the acquaintance of a trouble-making seamaid. Except he refuses to fall for a princess. Even if she is his trouble-making seamaid.

 

Mature Content 

 

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© 2007-2017 by A. Jane. All Rights Reserved