Seducing the Pirate Queen: Cutlass and Lace, #3

By Bethany M. Sefchick

Being a pirate is all Emmaline Descoteaux has ever known.  However, if she wishes to avoid the noose, she must find another path in life.  Utterly bored with everything and everyone, Emme now spends her days in bed with her sexual servants while she attempts to become a respectable businesswoman.  That is until Queenie, Emme's most trusted advisor, makes a bold prediction that sends Emme out into the streets of New Orleans in search of information.

American spy turned diplomat, Alexander Pickering is in Spanish-held New Orleans attempting to obtain information about the future of the city and how his young country can use that information to its advantage as part of its plans for territorial expansion.  Now that he has that information, Alex is anxious to pass it on to the people who need it the most.  Before he can, however, he's attacked in a dark alley by men looking to kill him.

After Emme rescues Alex from certain death, they must go on the run together aboard her ship until help can arrive, even though trouble still follows them as they sail across the Gulf of Mexico.  Can Emme trust the crew she has known for years or are they, too, determined to see her hang, and can Alex convince her that he, above all others, can be trusted to guard not just her life but her heart as well?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany M. Sefchick
• Release date: Apr 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393572220

Bethany M. Sefchick

Making her home in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, Bethany Sefchick lives with her husband, Ed, and a plethora of Betta fish that she’s constantly finding new ways to entertain. In addition to writing, Bethany owns a jewelry company, Easily Distracted Designs. It should be noted that the owner of the titular Selon Park - one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, a.k.a. "The Bloody Duke" - first appeared in her mind when she was eighteen years old and had no idea what to make of him, or of his slightly snarky smile.  She has been attempting to dislodge him ever since - with absolutely no success. When not penning romance novels or creating sparkly treasures, she enjoys cooking, scrapbooking, and lavishing attention on any stray cats who happen to be hanging around. She always enjoys hearing from her fans at: [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter One

June 1799

New Orleans

Rising languidly from her bed, Emmaline Descoteaux glanced back at the two young men sprawled naked across the silk sheets, their enormous cocks still semi-erect even after hours of sexual play.  Lord above, but they were delicious, all sculpted muscles and handsome faces.  Not to mention extremely skilled in the fine art of sexual pleasure.  They were also both incredibly young, a mere two and twenty years of age.  Not that Emme was so very much older than they were, but at nine and twenty, in many ways, she had lived far more in her lifetime than these two men ever would, God willing.

Perhaps that was why, despite all of the inventive sexual play they had indulged in this evening, Emme was left feeling as if something was lacking.  Or, perhaps, she was simply becoming jaded.  After all, she had enjoyed a parade of handsome, naked, highly-skilled-at-fucking young men in her bed nearly every night for the last six years.  Could one grow tired of such a thing?  Emme hadn’t thought such a thing was possible, but perhaps she was wrong.  At present, it certainly seemed that way.

After all, at that precise moment, Emme would have rather been curled up with a good book than sucking on one of their cocks while the other man fucked her senseless.  Such pleasures felt good, she supposed, but only for a time.  The knowledge gained in a book lasted far longer.

The Emme shook her head as if to dispel those unsettling thoughts.

Lord above, what was wrong with her as of late?  Something must be for she surely wasn’t herself.  She had lost her innocence at a young age and had craved cock ever since.  This sense of melancholy was not like her.  Not like her at all.

Is there anything else you desire at the moment, mistress, or have we satisfied you well enough for now?

Emmy nearly cringed at James’ words though she was careful not to show her reaction.  James and his companion, Aaron, had both been trained as sexual servants under the renowned Lady Alazane at her hidden compound located deep inside the twisting streets and homes on the West Indies island of Tortuga.  They had also been instructed how to be subservient to their master, or in this case, their mistress.  Meaning Emme.

That had been acceptable once.  Probably even pleasing, but that had been so long ago that Emme no longer remembered when – or even if – she had found that sort of submission arousing.

For once?  She wished that the men who shared her bed would simply tell her what they wanted and what they liked.  She wished they would take charge or, at the very least, be a more active participant in deciding what came next.  Even just once.

Though that was not likely to happen anytime soon, Emme silently acknowledged.  Not as long as she continued to purchase her men from Lady Alazane.  The woman was skilled and thorough in her teachings, but she only knew how to teach the art of submission.  The art of dominance – or hell, anything other than complete submission – was a foreign concept to her.

Pity that.

You have pleased me greatly, James.  Emme kept her voice low and seductive as she turned her head to make certain that Aaron felt included in her praise as well.  You as well, Aaron.  In fact, you have both worn me out to the point that I require a moment or two of rest.

She reached for her silk banyan and hesitated only for a moment before sliding it over her shoulders.  She fucked often enough that being naked around a man should not bother her.  However, after all this time, Emme still felt uncomfortable at the sight of her naked body.  Allowing others to see her that way was worse.  Even men like James and Aaron, who were both well-paid to serve her needs.

These two men, in particular, had seen her naked body, including all of the scars it bore, every night for nearly a year now, and if they were disgusted by what they saw?  They hid it well enough.  Still, there was no reason to tempt fate, she supposed.  Especially when she was already feeling the seeds of unrest deep inside of her soul.

The Fates were restless tonight.  Emme could feel it in her bones.

Meaning that Queenie would be restless as well, and a restless Vodun priestess was not a good thing to have under your roof.  Especially if that roof happened to be located in New Orleans.

Go now and rest yourselves.  Emme made a shooing motion with her hand when neither man seemed all that anxious to depart for their own chambers.

Would you have us read to you, perhaps, while you recover your strength?  Aaron was always a bit more eager than James to please her, likely because he had no desire to be released from her care after another year had passed.

No, thank you, Aaron.  Emme shook her head and, for effect, toyed with her still-swollen nipple, acutely aware of how both men’s eyes followed her fingers.

They were still hungry for more pleasure, it seemed, but she wasn’t certain she could accommodate them any further this evening.  Still, she did not want them to think they had displeased her, either.  Those sorts of thoughts led to rebellion, and the last thing Emme needed was two rebellious sexual servants on her hands.

At least not at the moment.  Emme did her best to temper her words when Aaron appeared crestfallen.  Perhaps later this evening.  When I am far more rested.  I am not so young as either of you, remember.

And yet you are still beyond magnificent.  Aaron was being far too effusive with his praise, but Emme didn’t correct him or scold him for his boldness.  Actually, she couldn’t be bothered to muster up the energy any longer.

At one time?  Emme had enjoyed verbal sparring as a prelude to physical coupling, but at present?  She couldn’t find a man to fill that role to her satisfaction.

If a man fought with her verbally, he typically had no wish to fuck her.  If he simply wanted between her legs, he was always far too simpering and courteous in his dealings with her for fear that she might refuse him.  All of which left her feeling indifferent about sex these days.  Even with men like Aaron, who at least pretended to adore her.

Emme could tell the young man held genuine affection for her and, should she decide to fully settle into a new life here in New Orleans, she would need a permanent companion.  Aaron would serve nicely in that capacity.  She could do so much worse than this young, South Carolina-born-and-bred young man who had the misfortune of being on the wrong dock at the wrong time and directly in the sights of pirates looking for human captives.

No, Aaron was sweet enough, and he deserved at least a modicum of praise to hold him over until Emme was willing to be bedded again.  Especially if she eventually planned to keep him as her companion.

You are too kind, but do not think for one moment that such words mean you no longer have to pleasure me, Aaron.  She offered him a wicked smile, though she didn’t truly feel very wicked just then.  Instead, she just felt tired.  When I am ready, I shall call you both, and you shall present me with your delightful cocks.

A faint blush crept up Aaron’s cheeks.  We would never deny you, mistress.  Never.

Emme winked at him, finding his blush endearing.  I know.

James, she noted, had remained silent through the entire exchange, his eyes guarded and watching.  Was that a portent of things to come?  Emme didn’t know, but she made a mental note that her newest sexual servant would bear watching.  She did not abide by traitors.  Especially not when they were in her bed.

Finally, Emme pinched her nipple again and gave them both a wink, hoping that would satisfy them for the moment.  If it did not?  Well, she was still mistress of this house and in her bedchamber especially, one played by her rules.

Rules.  It was peculiar for a pirate – or should she say former pirate? – to love rules, but Emme did, and she adhered to them rather rigidly.  As did those who served her.

Every man who serviced Emme as a sexual servant did so knowing the rules of employment with her.  Sexual servants – for Emme much preferred the word servant over that of slave – trained by Lady Alazane would service Emme in the bedchamber, however she liked, for a period of two years.  At the end of that time, they would be given the pay they had earned over that time, along with a small stipend for an additional six months until they were settled in a new life.  Hopefully, a life where they could be productive and not simply dependent upon another mistress.

Nearly everyone in New Orleans knew that Emme, who was renowned for being obscenely wealthy and just as obscenely vicious when crossed, paid far more than other mistresses for similar sexual favors, so it was hardly surprising that most men she took as servants wished to remain for far longer than the original two-year contract.  However, none of them ever did.  The rumor was that it was because Emme bored easily, which was partially true, but it was also true that she could not tolerate seeing someone – anyone, really – in servitude.  Not even to her, no matter how well she paid or how well the people in her care were treated.

These men in her bed tonight had become sexual servants because, for one reason or another, they had no other choice.  Emme was acutely aware that, save for her father, she might have shared their fate, so she did what she could to employ as many of these unfortunate men as possible before finally settling them free in a way that would not raise undue suspicion about her true motives.

After all, she was already the most notorious female pirate in all of the West Indies and beyond.  Why would she wish to make her life any more difficult than it already was?

As you like, mistress.  James rose, and Emme had to bite her lip to stop herself from reaching for him, his tight arse looking particularly delectable just then.  But no.  Emme could not and would not.  Not when such a coupling would leave her feeling more wretched than she already did.

Fucking was supposed to be enjoyable.  It was not supposed to be boring or guilt-inducing.

Do not dress.  Either of you.  She waggled her fingers in the direction of the hallway that led to the men’s suites of rooms.  As I said, I merely require rest, and when I am of a mind again?  I would prefer to find you both just as I left you.

That was a lie, but her words seemed to make both men happy, and together they ambled off down the hallway, discussing new ways they might please Emme when she called them back to her chambers.

For a long moment, Emme watched the two men depart.  They were young and full of life and hope.  Those were things she had not been for a very long time now – if ever.

You can enter now, Queenie, Emme finally called out when she heard a distant door slam, indicating that both young men had retreated to their own chambers.  Aaron and James have left, and I’ve heard you pacing outside in the hall for the last ten minutes.

Seconds later, Emme’s main chamber door swung open and an older woman came bustling inside.  Light from the wall sconces in the hallway filtered into the dim room, casting shadows on the wall.

In the daylight, Emme’s bedchamber sparkled with gold gilt and gilded wallpaper.  The piles of jewels on her dresser glittered, and the rich, dark furnishings spoke to wealth and taste.  Now, in the half-light, everything took on a slightly darker air, though Emme did her best to ignore the growing sense of danger that seemed to creep in from the corners.

You do know how to kill the mood, Queenie.  Emme crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, but it had always been difficult for Emme to stay angry with Queenie.

The other woman snorted and waved away Emme’s words.  As if de be givin’ you pleasure, an’way.  Boys de be, with men’s bodies.  She snorted.  Doan know how to use what de been given.

Emme pinched the bridge of her nose.  She and Queenie routinely disagreed about this topic and it was becoming tiresome.  Mostly because Emme knew that Queenie was right.

Queenie.  Enough.  But Emme didn’t really mean that.  She never did when she attempted to scold the older woman.

"Dose men.  Dey not for you, bebe mwen.  Is time you find a real man what can satisfy you.  Mebe even wed you.  And I don mean Brodeur.  That man be mean and evil to his core."

Smiling now, Emme adjusted her banyan before cinching the belt tight.  Leave it to Queenie to get to the heart of the matter.

First, Henri Brodeur disgusts me, Emme scoffed with a dismissive flick of her fingers.  Fellow pirate or not, I would likely gut him before the end of our first night together.  Secondly, despite my excellent education and manners, I am still a notorious pirate queen of mixed blood who might yet one day hang for all of the slave ships I have raided over the years if the fine members of the New Orleans establishment change their mind about me.  I am hardly the sort of woman most proper gentlemen would desire to take to wife.

Emme had given up on the idea of marriage long ago, actually.  Long before she had become known throughout these waters as The Emerald Queen.  From the time she was old enough to understand the concept of one’s station in life, Emme’s father, who was himself fully of European nobility, had drummed into Emme’s head that she should not aspire to grandeur.

No, her father, Jacques Descoteaux, had been born in New Orleans to a disgraced French comte and his rebellious English, blue-blooded wife.  Their marriage had been a scandal that had rocked parts of both France and England and driven a wedge between them and their respective families.

Unable to live peacefully in either country, the pair eventually fled across the Atlantic Ocean to French-controlled New Orleans in hopes of starting a new life.  They had succeeded, for a time, before scandal followed and left the family’s fortunes in ruins, forcing Emme’s father to turn to a life of piracy in order to support himself and his aging parents.

When he was not out plundering ships, sometimes merely for fun, Jacques remained close to home even after his parents passed, and it was there in New Orleans where he had met Emme’s mother.

Marie Moreau was a Creole born in the city to a French nobleman and a slave of low birth from some forgotten island in the West Indies.  Marie was also far more beautiful than any woman Jacques Descoteaux had ever laid eyes upon, and he claimed her for his own the first night they met.  Marie, however, had her eyes set on a man with much deeper pockets and a dying wife that was, in Marie’s opinion, taking too long to depart the earth.

However, the woman did finally pass into the next life, though not until well after Marie became pregnant with Jacque’s child.  When Marie finally gave birth to a daughter, she had simply handed the babe over to her father, suggested he hire a wet nurse, and went off to be with her lover, a wealthy plantation owner from Georgia who had promised Marie a life of luxury and leisure once he was free of his wife.

Emme had never learned what happened to her mother after Marie left New Orleans.  As a Creole rather than an African, Marie might have been accepted into local society back in Georgia.  Or she might not have been.  Actually, Emme, whose own skin appeared to be only extremely tanned from the sun and not of African descent, likely would have been able to pass better in society than her mother did.

Assuming Emme ever tried.  Which she hadn’t, for any number of reasons.

So, no, Emme did not believe in marriage.  Nor did she believe in love or trust or any of those foolish notions.  She also knew very well that, given her past and her reputation, she would not make a suitable wife for anyone other than a pirate or a man so desperate for coin that he didn’t care about her reputation.  It was simply too bad that the one pirate who wished to marry her disgusted her so completely that she hated to even be near him.

Unfortunately, over the years, Emme had never been able to convince Queenie that she had no plans to marry.  It had also become a point of contention between the two women.

"Der is a man out der for you, bebe mwen.  Queenie nodded in affirmation.  You jes haven’ met ‘im yet.  But you will.  I ken see him.  Not clear, but I ken see ‘im.  He a comin’ sooner then ya think.  He be da one ya marry."

It was on the tip of Emme’s tongue to contradict the old woman, but she didn’t.  After all, this was Queenie, and over the years, Emme had come to believe as many others did that the old woman had what the local practitioners and followers of vodun called The Sight.

More than that, it would also rip out Emme’s heart – what there was left of it – if she knew she had hurt the other woman, especially on purpose.  Emme loved Queenie with a fierceness that ran deep.  Deeper than she had ever or would ever love another person, most likely.  Queenie was also the only person Emme trusted completely, right down to her very life.

The former slave was also the closest thing to a mother that Emme had ever known.  When Marie Moreau had handed off Emme to her father, Jacques had done what any good pirate with a bad reputation would have done – he launched a raiding party on a slave ship coming into port in New Orleans looking for someone to serve as his daughter’s wet nurse, just as Marie had suggested.  Jacques hoped that if he freed the entire ship, there would be some woman aboard capable of serving as Emme’s nurse who would also be grateful enough at being freed to take on the job.  Because working for a pirate wasn’t exactly the type of job a person longed for.  Not even those destined to be slaves on a plantation.

Still, when Jacques had raided The Mary Kate?  He had discovered Queenie, a vodun priestess recently captured on Haiti with a child of her own at her breast.  And, as Jacques had hoped, she was grateful.  Very grateful, especially when Queenie learned she could bring her child with her into Jacques’ employ.

In Haiti, Queenie had been a powerful leader of her people.  Here in this strange land?  She was at the mercy of others, but under the protection of Jacques?  She would be safe enough, even though he was a pirate.

She couldn’t risk returning home, Queenie had once confided to Emme because it was highly likely she would be recaptured and sent off to a worse fate.  Therefore, Queenie was content to remain in New Orleans, educating herself about her new home, her new life, and her new position.  She might no longer be a leader of people, but she was free.  She was no man’s slave.  That was more than most women like Queenie could say after such an ordeal.

From that moment on, Queenie had been Emme’s nurse, substitute mother, friend, and confidante.  Emme had also learned not to underestimate Queenie when she had one of her visions.  All of which was why Emme held her tongue regarding Queenie’s prediction of marriage.

Well, if this mystery man of yours is coming, Queenie, I hope he arrives soon.  Emme nodded in the direction of the hallway.  I need…more than they can provide for me.  You are right about that.

Hmm.  First time ya admit I be right, den.  Is puzzling, dat is.  Queenie had made no secret that she disliked the process Emme used to set Lady Alazane’s sexual slaves free.  She had no problem with the practice in general.  In fact, she often praised Emme for her ingenuity, saying no man or woman should be enslaved to another.  Queenie just didn’t understand why Emme had to fuck all of them for a few years before she could release them.

It had been a point of contention between the two women for years, and Emme doubted that it would ever change.

That aside, what is so urgent that you needed to see me this evening? Emme asked as she tightened the belt on her banyan.  She hoped it was nothing serious regarding the staff here at Duval House because she didn’t have the strength to deal with such matters just then.

Emme had purchased the stately old mansion on the far western end of Dauphine Street several years ago.  It might have been otherwise unheard of for a woman to own property, but when the place was falling apart, and the would-be buyer was a notorious pirate?  Well, the seller had been properly motivated by Emme’s reputation to sell the house, especially when Emme smiled her wickedly toothy grin at him and fingered the large emerald necklace that hung about her neck.  That grin and that necklace were often viewed as clear hints of retribution if Emme was denied what she wanted.  And Emme always got what she wanted.  On that particular day?  She had wanted Duval House.

It really was a marvelous old place of French design, one of the few that had escaped both of the great fires that had swept through the city.  Everything that had been rebuilt after the fires had been heavily influenced by Spanish culture, but Duval House stood as a reminder of the city’s French colonial past.  That was also one of the reasons it held such a special place in Emme’s heart.

The spirits are riled this evening.  Queenie’s voice was grave, and immediately, Emme stilled her anxious hands.  This was serious if Queenie was speaking about the spirits, something she typically didn’t do.  "Somethin’ bad a comin’ dis way, bebe mwen."

Much as Emme believed that Queenie had The Sight, she also understood that Queenie was extremely powerful in the ways of vodun.  The older woman was considered one of the leaders in the vodun world here in New Orleans and many people – from Creoles to the English to the Spanish and even the French – sought out her counsel on any number of occasions.

Therefore, if Queenie said there was trouble brewing?  Then there likely was, and it would be in Emme’s best interest to be wary.

Coming for Duval House in general or me specifically?

Queenie shook her head and frowned, her lips twitching.  Don’ know.  Can’t see.  She squinted at the ceiling and waved her hand.  Change be comin’ fo the city, too, but dat?  Dat’s different.  Dis one?  Dis change be comin’ for you, I tink.  We need information, Emme, lest we all meet a bad end.

This was not good news.  For the last year or so, Queenie had been predicting that New Orleans was headed for an enormous political change.  The old woman had repeatedly proclaimed that the city would soon be under the control of America.  Not French.  Not Spanish.  But American.  Emme couldn’t see how that could happen, but she did acknowledge that it was possible.  They occupied the same landmass, after all.

This warning, though, was different.  This warning was directed either at Emme herself or at her household.  Either way, that was not something she wanted to consider.  Emme had worked hard the last few years to try to establish herself as a reputable businesswoman, spending more time on land and less at sea.  She was, she thought, doing everything properly.  But was she?  Or was someone still carrying a grudge against her?

No matter the reason why, if Queenie said trouble was brewing, then it was.  Which meant that it was time for Emme to slip back into her old ways and go out seeking information.  It wasn’t what she wished to do this evening, but she supposed it would be better than allowing James and Aaron to fuck her again.

With a sigh, Emme pressed her head against one of the windows that looked out over the small back garden.  It was coming into bloom now, the spring rains and the warm sun combining to make the world fresh and green again.  That was part of the reason why Emme loved Duval House.  There was peace here, along with beauty and joy.  She hadn’t known any of those things in so long.  Therefore, she would not allow them to be stripped away from her either.  Not if she could prevent it.

Pulling away from the glass, Emme gave Queenie a small nod.  Very well.  Send in Molly.  She can help me dress.  You know I can’t manage that blasted corset on my own.

At