The Butcher and The Beast
Can a pirate and a doctor find love on the seas?
John is a pirate captain, master of his fate and used to getting what he wants. And he decides he wants Stephen, even when the good doctor wants nothing more than to run away from him.
Can the beast convince the doctor who the sailors call the butcher to stay with him?
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of BDSM, non-consensual sex and dubious consent during captivity.
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“Elizabeth, please. I’m not going to Hades to fight the devil himself. I’m taking my constitutional. Simply wait tea until I return.” Stephen shook his head at his sister and her swollen eyes.
Ever since the damnable rumors about pirates attacking their fair isle, the woman had been an unbearable worrywart. The entire scenario was pointless, ridiculous—bloody childish. Admiral Lippincott was the finest in Her Majesty’s fleet, keeping them all safe and supplied. There wasn’t a pirate alive foolhardy enough to attack Santa Maria.
“Brother…Stephen. Please. Mary Ann said—”
“Mary Ann is a twit and a gossip—a child trapped in a woman’s body.” He stood, glaring down at her. “Now, honestly. Calm yourself and I shall be home before you know it.” He loved her dearly, he did, but damned if she didn’t drive him batty.
He stormed out of the drawing room, nodding to George as he passed. “Tea will be late.”
“Yes, Doctor Grey. Have a good walk.”
Yes, good man. This was why Stephen kept the old man on the payroll. He knew when to agree.
Stephen wandered down the cobblestones, nodding to the random people he met, heading to the long stretch of planks by the docks. His boots thumped against the wood. The sound of the water against the dock was quite relaxing.
There was a soft splash and two men appeared before him, in the shadows. “You’re the doctor, eh?”
“I am.” Hell’s bells. He started backing away, gripping his cane firmly. He was ready for any trouble a pair of layabouts might try to visit on him.
“Good.” They each grabbed one of his arms and went over the side of the pier, landing in the water with a splash.
“Unhand me! Help! Constable!” Stephen struggled, trousers and shirtwaist soaked through and heavy immediately, the water cool and slick. Oh, Elizabeth was never going to let him forget this nonsense.
One of his captors turned to glide through the water on his back, tugging Stephen along, hand over his mouth. In moments he was being pulled up into a rowboat.
He still had his cane and as soon as he could find his balance and pull away from the fiends, he swung, hoping to make contact. “What wickedness is this?”
There was a yelp from in front of him and a laugh from behind him, and the cane was yanked from his hand and unceremoniously tossed overboard.
“We’re taking you to a patient, Doctor. This how you treat all of ‘em?”
“I beg your pardon? The governor sent you?” Did they think him a fool?
They laughed. Not the polite titters he was used to, either, but full out belly laughs.
He looked around, judging the distance to the shore, the weight of his clothing. He was not the strongest swimmer on the isle, but he could survive. Stephen tensed, diving for the edge of the rowboat. His hopes were dashed as one meaty hand wrapped around his arm, holding fast.
“Now, now, sawbones, don’t be thinking of going anywhere before you see the Cap’n.”
“Captain? Captain of what? Captain who? I know everyone on the isle.” His mind could not imagine it, could not come to terms with this insanity.
“Not taking you to anywhere on the isle, now are we?”
“Shut it, Dawson.”
“You shut it!”
“Both of you shut it,” came a third voice as they drew up next to a large ship.
“I am here under duress! I insist upon being taken back to shore!” Stephen despised ships, the rocking and rolling.
His words brought another loud round of laughing and he was unceremoniously hauled on board.
smut fixes everything