In a Pirate's Arms Page 13

  Lancaster gazed dubiously at the soldier with the young face and the old, zealot eyes. “I am still in command, lieutenant,” he said, dryly, “and any course change is my decision.”

  “There’s no decision.” Dee’s eyes burned with dark fire. “Catch him, and the world will call you hero. Let him go, and...”

  Lancaster’s face turned thoughtful as Dee’s voice faded. Damme, the man had a point. In times of war action was frequent, and promotions, swift. Lancaster had come to command after the battle of Trafalgar, however, when the British navy had proven to all its superiority. His war had been spent in the relatively tranquil Caribbean, with little action and thus little chance of promotion. Why, he still captained the same fourth rater he’d begun with, when it should be clear to all that he could handle a first-rater superbly. It was due to his enemies at the Admiralty, he thought, darkly. But if he captured a prize such as the Raven—”Lieutenant Burke!” he barked, and Burke, his second in command, standing on the main deck, jumped.

  “Aye, sir?” he said, looking up at Lancaster, on the quarterdeck.

  “Change course to due south.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  “We’ll get him, lieutenant,” he said to Dee, smiling grimly. “Don’t you doubt that.”

  “I don’t, captain,” Dee said, and he smiled, too, a smile that made his eyes burn even more fiercely. “We’ll get him.”

  The pewter dish slid back and forth on the table in the captain’s cabin, in rhythm with the sway of the ship, spilling some of its contents with each move. Only the railings around the edge of the table kept it from slipping off altogether. Rebecca, head resting on her hand, watched it without interest. In the morning light her resolution of the night before seemed futile. Nothing had changed. She was still a captive; she still was who she was. She could resist him all she wished, but one thing remained the same. She was attracted to a pirate, and if that didn’t prove the basic wantonness of her nature, she didn’t know what would.

  The door opened, and she looked up with the same lack of interest she’d shown her food. Tyner, of course, but behind him was— “Amelia!” she gasped, rising and forgetting everything, the food, last night, the past.

  “Becky.” Amelia stood just inside the door, biting her lips. “I’m so sorry! Can you forgive me?”

  “Oh, Melia.” Rebecca flew across the room, catching her sister up in her arms and barely aware of Tyner going out again, locking the door behind him. “Of course I can. You were upset. I can understand—”

  “No.” Amelia pulled back, shaking her head. “I was wrong. He made me see that.”

  “He? Who?”

  “The Raven. Oh, Becky, when he came into my stateroom this morning I nearly swooned, he looked so fierce! I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Rebecca demanded, caught up in Amelia’s dramatics in spite of herself. Of course Brendan wouldn’t hurt Amelia.

  “No.” Amelia looked down at her feet. “But he did read me a terrible scold.”

  “A scold?” Rebecca frowned and took her arm. “Come, sit here by the window. Why did he scold you?”

  “Well.” Amelia settled onto the bench beneath the stern window. “About how I treated you. I daresay I deserved it.”

  Rebecca stared at her in astonishment. “About how—no.” She looked away. “Everything you said to me was true.”

  “Oh, no.” Amelia leaned forward, brow wrinkled, clasping Rebecca’s hands. “He made me see how wrong I was.”

  “What did he say?” Rebecca asked, still unable to face Amelia. Why in the world had the Raven gone to her defense?

  “He told me that you’d moved in with him to protect me.”

  “I told you that, Melia.”

  “Yes, I know.” Amelia’s eyes were averted. “He also said you’d resisted him at every opportunity. Oh, Becky!” Amelia’s eyes came up, huge with tears. “How brave of you!”

  Rebecca’s mouth opened and then closed again. Mercy, why had he told her that? She had certainly responded to his kiss. If she had resisted him, it was only because he hadn’t tried very hard. Lowering thought, and not just because of what it said about her. Apparently even a pirate didn’t find her attractive enough to bed. “I don’t know about brave,” she said, slowly, knowing she couldn’t tell her sister the truth. “‘Tis what I had to do. But, you!” She turned to face Amelia. “Are you well? Have you been treated all right?”

  “Yes, and yes. But I’ve been so scared, Becky.”

  “Yes, I know.” Rebecca gathered her close again. “So have I. But I don’t think there’s any reason to be. I think—”

  The door opened, and Tyner came in. “Be ye wantin’ more breakfast, miss?”

  Rebecca glanced blankly from him to the table and realized that she hadn’t touched her food. “No, thank you, Tyner. May my sister stay with me?”

  “Aye, miss, for a time. Are ye sure ye don’t want more breakfast?”

  “No—yes!” Rebecca said, suddenly ravenous. “Oh, thank you, Tyner!”

  “Me, miss?” He looked startled. “Nothing I had to do with it,” he said, and whisked out the door.

  The day was almost pleasant, spent in catching up with her sister. Brendan didn’t return to the cabin all day, for which Rebecca was grateful. That she became a little lonely in the evening, when Amelia was back to her stateroom, was something she refused to dwell upon. Being lonely for a pirate was absurd, she told herself as she readied for bed. She should be grateful he was leaving her in peace; she should be giving thanks that he had yet to take her up on her offer. What she should not be doing was fighting off sleep, waiting for him to return, but that she couldn’t seem to help.

  The lock clicked, and then the door opened, very quietly. Five bells had struck not long ago; ten-thirty at night. Rebecca willed herself to stay still, feigning sleep, but then, as she heard tinder striking flint, rose up on her elbow. “Hello.”

  Brendan glanced over at her in surprise. His hair was disordered from the wind; his shirt, as usual, was open at the neck. A feeling almost of pain went through her. Pirate or not, he was the most appealing man she’d ever met. “I thought ye’d be asleep, lass,” he said.

  “I tried. I’m restless tonight.”

  “‘Tis late.” He made his voice gruff as he turned away. Of all the sights he had expected to encounter upon coming into his cabin, this was not one: Rebecca, looking sleepy and tousled, her face relaxed and her prim ruffled nightgown buttoned high, while her hair—the devil take it! She hadn’t bound up her hair. “Go to sleep.”

  “I will.” She flopped down on the bed, and he couldn’t help himself. He looked back at her. Oh, God, her hair was all he’d thought it would be, spilling over the white linen like liquid fire. “You didn’t braid your hair,” he heard himself say.

  “Didn’t I? Oh.” she sat up, her hands reaching to her hair. Her breasts swayed with the movement, and he hastily glanced away, swallowing hard. “Of all the silly things—I forgot, there was so much I was thinking of. I have to thank you, Captain.”

  “Don’t.”

  She looked up, surprised. “Don’t thank you?”

  “Don’t braid it.”

  Her hands stilled. “Is that an order?”

  “Aye.” His voice held a husky note of tenderness that appalled him. Devil take it, but he couldn’t let her affect him like this. “And on a pirate ship, disobeying an order carries severe punishment.”

  Her smile stretched wide. “You talk a lot of nonsense, Captain,” she said, but her fingers combed through the hair she had so recently plaited. His eyes followed every movement. God help him, but he couldn’t help but watch that glorious hair, or the rise and fall of her breasts, unfettered beneath her nightgown. He wondered if she were aware of the effect she had on him, if her first lover had taught her—

  Abruptly he turned away. Devil take it, but he didn’t like to think of her with another man, even in the past. That it had happene
d, he could accept; after all, who was he to judge? But that someone else had touched her, run his hands through that hair, kissed her full, sweet mouth—no. That he could not accept. Devil take it, she was his, he thought, and swung back towards her. “You’re playing with fire,” he said, bluntly.

  She blinked. “I am? Why?”

  “Sitting there in your nightrail with your hair down, waiting for me. Is that how you always behave?”

  She stared at him, eyes huge, clutching the quilt to her chest. “I—I’m sorry. I know I’m not very attractive, and I thought—”

  “Not attractive!” It exploded out of him, and she flinched. “Ah, lass, don’t.” Swiftly he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch her cheek. She edged back, but he continued with the caress, needing to do something to ease the pain in her eyes, in his heart. “‘Tis me. I’m that sorry. I should never have said such a thing.”

  “I—I didn’t mean to be wanton,” she whispered, looking down at her hands, knuckles white where she grasped the quilt.

  “You’re not, leannan.” He covered her hand with his, painfully aware of her soft breast beneath. “‘Tis me.”

  She hesitated. “Why?”

  “Because I do not like to think of him,” he said, and rose, restlessly pacing the cabin.

  “Him?”

  “Your lover.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why should that bother you?”

  “I don’t know, but it does, lass.” He turned to face her. “It does.”

  “How very strange,” she murmured. “‘Twas long ago.”

  “I know.”

  “More than seven years.” She opened her mouth, as if about to say something, and then appeared to think better of it. “I do have to thank you, Captain.”

  “For what? For insulting you?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. For letting me see my sister.”

  “Aye, well, ye won the wager.”

  “And for telling her what you did.”

  “Only the truth, lass. That I haven’t touched ye.” He swung towards her. “But I didn’t tell her how much I want to, no, that I didn’t.”

  Her eyes grew round with surprise. “Oh.”

  “Devil take it, Rebecca, what have you done to me?” he demanded, facing her with hands on hips. “Do you know what I thought about today, when I should have been concentrating on my ship? You, lass. Don’t laugh,” he growled, as she bit her lips. “It’s been hell. Thinking of how you look now, yes, right now, thinking of how your lips tasted, how you felt in my arms, how you would feel in my bed. I’m telling you, don’t you dare laugh.”

  “I—I’m not.” She was staring at him now, her eyes huge. “But—I don’t know what to say. We did make a bargain—”

  “The devil take the bargain!” he roared, and stalking across the room, hauled her into his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  Rebecca made a little noise, an mpf! of surprise, but after a moment’s initial resistance she came willingly into his arms. Ah, and she felt good there, her breasts soft against his chest, her lips parting under the relentless pressure of his. No gentle kiss this, but an act of need, of possession, to drive all thoughts of the other man from her head, from his. Boldly he thrust his tongue into her mouth, and felt her hands clutch at his neck, felt her arch up against him. She was his! He felt it in his heart, his soul. His, and no other’s. His kiss gentled, became almost playful, nibbling at her lips, her cheeks, her nose. “You’re mine,” he said, his mouth tracing a path down her neck, suckling softly on her white skin. “Mine.”

  “Yes,” she gasped, arching her head back to give him better access.

  “Say it.” He reared above her, staring into her eyes. “Say it.”

  “I’m—yours.”

  “Aye, leannan.” His mouth swooped down upon hers again. “That you are.”

  Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as his hand slid around from her back, gently cupping her breast. “I—oh!”

  “You like that, leannan?” he said, his voice low, his thumb stroking over her nipple.

  “I—yes—I didn’t know.”

  That made him look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face was washed with color. “What, lass?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No?” He caught her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and her breath drew sharply in, making him feel absurdly pleased. Whoever he had been, that other man, he must have been remarkably clumsy, not to have taught her the joys of lovemaking. It meant that, in a very real way, he was the first. “Didn’t know what, lass? That this could feel so good?”

  “It—it shouldn’t.”

  He leaned back to watch her, to see his hands, both busy pleasuring her now. The sight of her, dazed and flushed with passion, was enormously satisfying. “Aye, lass, it should.”

  “A good woman shouldn’t feel such things.”

  “Rebecca.” His hands stilled. She made a little noise, of protest, perhaps, and her eyes fluttered open as he reached up to frame her face with his hands. Aye, he’d been clumsy indeed, that other man, and a fool. “You are, in every way that counts, a good woman.”

  Her eyes were dazed, darkened by passion to the color of a stormy sea. “Word of a pirate?”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed and caught her to him, rocking her back and forth. “Aye, word of a pirate. You are a delight, Rebecca.”

  “It has been my dream in life, to delight a pirate,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest, and he laughed again.

  “Aye. You do, Rebecca.” He nudged her chin up with his hand. “I think—devil take it!” he yelled, as a knock sounded on the door. “Who is it?”

  “Tyner, Cap’n,” Tyner said from the other side of the door, sounding not the least perturbed. “Lookout’s spotted running lights due north.”

  “Damnation.” He rose, raking a hand through his hair. “All right, Tyner. I’ll be right there. God knows why this has to happen every time we—”

  “Lights?” Rebecca interrupted, looking up at him, tumbled and tousled and utterly desirable. Devil take it, but it was probably just as well. “Another ship?”

  “Aye. There’s been one chasing us all day,” he said absently, tucking his shirt into his breeches. Ah, now he remembered her hands frantically pulling at it, and the thought sent heat surging through him. “A damned good thing it’s dark, after what you’ve done to me.”

  “What I’ve done?” Her gaze followed his down his body, to where his desire for her was obvious. “Oh!” she exclaimed, quickly looking away, color flooding her cheeks.

  “Aye. What ye’ve done.” He took her face in his hands, planting a swift kiss on her mouth, red and swollen and very sweet. “Ye might as well go to sleep. No tellin’ how long this will take.”

  “But—”

  “Go to sleep, lass,” he said, and closed the door behind him.

  In the passageway Brendan took a deep breath. If the situation weren’t so serious he’d turn around and join Rebecca in bed, making her hers in all ways, every way. Devil take it, but he was like a randy boy, ready to explode at the touch of his first woman. And that wasn’t good.

  His grin faded as he emerged onto deck. “Due north?” Sam nodded and handed him the spyglass. There she was, dim lights in the distance. Damnation. Who was chasing him? He returned the glass to Sam, shrugging. “Nothing we can do but keep on,” he said, and turned away.

  Hands tucked into pockets, he ambled aft towards the helm, casting a shrewd eye up at the sails. Drawing well, making maybe eight knots. Good speed, but not good enough, not with another ship on his tail. It worried him. An ordinary trader would have been about its business by now, but this one continued to follow, closer than before. At the same time, he was glad of it. Strange thought, but there it was. Had he not been interrupted he would be making love to Rebecca by now. Pleasurable though that would have been, it would also be a mistake. For seeing the other ship reminded him painfully of who he was, and who she was. He wanted he
r. Lord knew he did, with a hunger that demanded appeasing. But she was his hostage, to fate, to his enemies. He couldn’t allow himself to get close to her. He couldn’t hurt her in such a way.

  Muttering an oath, he took the wheel, as always feeling better with his ship under his direct control. He could outrun the other ship, of that he had little doubt. It wasn’t that which troubled him. How was he going to outrun Rebecca, and his yearning for her? For the life of him, he didn’t know.

  Rebecca turned over in the bed and snuggled her head against the pillow. Early morning light flooded the cabin, and silhouetted against it she could see Brendan, his back to her, just pulling up his breeches. Not quite awake, she closed her eyes, but as if of their own volition they opened again, to see that he was now fastening the buttons. “Enjoying the view, lass?”

  “What?” She blinked up at him. “Oh! As if I would!”

  “You did,” he said, and though his back was to her she could tell he was grinning. She burrowed her head deeper into the pillow. If it were possible to die of embarrassment, then she would. “Turning missish on me?”

  “Go away,” she said.

  “Soon enough, lass.”

  His back still to her, he picked up his eyepatch and tied it in place. Embarrassment forgotten, Rebecca watched. What did he look like without the patch? “The other ship?”

  His lips thinned. “Distant, but there.”

  That roused her. She leaned up on her elbow, pushing her hair out of her face. Mercy, it would be a job to comb it this morning. “Who is it?”

  “Can’t tell.”

  He was worried. His voice sounded clipped, and he was frowning. “British Navy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good.”

  That made him look at her. “Good?”

  Rebecca pounded the pillows and sat up, pulling the covers modestly about her. “Yes, of course.”

  “Are ye hoping I’ll be caught?”

  She nodded, very seriously. “Caught, and hung.”

  “Bloodthirsty wench, aren’t ye?”