Birds of Prey by Wilbur Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

scoured his paint
pots to reproduce so faithfully the wondrous colour of her eyes – and their expression, which was at once both innocent and corrupt.
    ‘Do not wake my husband,’ she cautioned the old woman as she flung a gold-brocade wrap over her shoulders and tied the jewelled belt around her hourglass waist. Zelda’s eyelid
drooped in conspiratorial agreement. At Katinka’s insistence the Governor slept in the smaller, less grand cabin beyond the door that was locked from her side. Her excuse was that he snored
abominably, and that she was indisposed by the mal-de-mer . In truth, caged in her quarters all these weeks, she was restless and bored, bursting with youthful energy and aflame with desires
that the fat old man could never extinguish.
    She took Zelda’s hand and stepped out onto the narrow stern gallery. This was a private balcony, ornately carved with cherubs and angels, looking out over the ship’s wake and hidden
from the vulgar eyes of the crew.
    It was a morning dazzling with sunlit magic, and as she filled her lungs with the salt tang of the sea she felt every nerve and muscle of her body quiver with the impetus of life. The wind
kicked creamy feathers from the tops of the long blue swells, and played with her golden curls. It ruffled the silk over her breasts and belly with the caress of a lover’s fingers. She
stretched and arched her back sensuously like a sleek, golden cat.
    Then she saw the other ship. It was much smaller than the galleon but with pleasing lines. The pretty flags and pennants that streamed from her masts contrasted with the pile of her white sails.
She was close enough for Katinka to make out the figures of the few men that manned her rigging. They were waving a greeting, and she could see that some were young and clad only in short
petticoats.
    She leaned over the rail and stared across. Her husband had commanded that the crew of the galleon observe a strict dress code while she was aboard, so the figures on this strange ship
fascinated her. She folded her arms over her bosom and squeezed her breasts together, feeling her nipples harden and engorge. She wanted a man. She burned for a man, any man, just as long as he was
young and hard and raging for her. A man like those she had known in Amsterdam before her father had discovered her taste for strong game and sent her out to the Indies, to a safe old husband who
had a high position in the Company and even higher prospects. His choice had been Petrus Jacobus van de Velde who, now that he was married to Katinka, was assured of the next vacancy on the
Company’s board, where he would join the pantheon of the Zeventien .
    ‘Come inside, Lieveling .’ Zelda tugged at her sleeve. ‘Those ruffians over there are staring at you.’
    Katinka shrugged off Zelda’s hand, but it was true. They had recognized her as a female. Even at this distance their excitement was almost palpable. Their antics had become frenzied and
one strapping figure in the bows took a double handful of his own crotch and thrust his hips towards her in a rhythmic and obscene gesture.
    ‘Revolting! Come inside!’ Zelda insisted. ‘The Governor will be furious if he sees what that animal is doing.’
    ‘He should be furious that he cannot perform as nimbly,’ Katinka replied angelically. She pressed her thighs tightly together the better to savour the sudden moist warmth at their
juncture. The caravel was much closer now, and she could see that what the seaman was offering her was bulky enough to overflow his cupped hands. The tip of her pink tongue dabbed at her pouting
lips.
    ‘Please, mistress.’
    ‘In a while,’ Katinka demurred. ‘You were right, Zelda. This does amuse me.’ She raised one white hand and waved back at the other ship. Instantly the men redoubled their
efforts to hold her attention.
    ‘This is so undignified,’ Zelda moaned.
    ‘But it’s fun. We’ll never see those creatures again, and being always dignified