Pirate's Intent

by Sky Purington

  She had urged her sister to embrace the persona of one of the characters from the endless books she read. From what Hannah saw before they went in separate directions, she had too. Quite well at that.

  Yet, what would they do with a deaf, dumb, and mute girl? What would they make of such a helpless creature? She shuddered to think. What could she do, though? How could she help? Especially bound like this.

  “Bloody hell,” she cursed, using one of Luke's more colorful phrases. She tugged at her bindings, but they were tied fast.

  The crowd grew rowdier outside, but she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Please don't let it have to do with Rose.

  “Put it from your mind,” she whispered, refusing to get teary. “Focus on what you can change, not what is set in stone. You will get things back in order. You always do.”

  It was something she had told herself time and time again over the years when she could not control a situation. When she could not keep her sister safe. The control would return. She would find a way.

  Honestly, it grew exhausting.

  She was the older sister, though, and had sworn to always protect Rose, so that was that. For the most part, she didn’t mind either, just sometimes she grew tired of worrying. Not that her sister made things all that difficult with her nose buried in a book half the time. Regardless, Rose was her responsibility. Though their uncle provided for them, he was no worthy protector but a monster.

  Eventually, the hooting and hollering quieted outside, and the day wore on, giving her far too much time to think. Which frankly, she never much enjoyed. Not unless she could share her thoughts with others. Quiet reflection was Rose’s device.

  The sun was nearly set when a woman entered and sauntered over with a bottle. Though probably a decade older than herself, she could admit the woman was attractive with thick auburn hair and a curvy body. One that really should be contained beneath stays at the very least. Instead, little was left to the imagination beneath her long, form-fitting gown. If that were not enough, she highly suspected the shameless woman wore no undergarments.

  “So ye’er her, aye?” The woman eyed her over with reluctant appreciation. “I suppose I can see it.”

  “See what?” She frowned. “Who are you?”

  “Ye wantin’ a sip then?” The woman ignored her question and gestured at the bottle. “He said ye might need somethin’ to calm yer nerves.” She winked. “Loosen ye up a bit before he takes ye.”

  “Takes me?” she managed. Focus, Hannah. Focus on what you can change. What you can control. Might this woman provide her such an opportunity? “I have money. A lot of money. See that my sister and I are freed, and it is yours.” When the woman hesitated, she went on, grabbing at whatever she could. “If it is too difficult to get both of us out, then just her. Please.” She shook her head. “She will not survive here.”

  “And ye think ye will?” the woman drawled, running her finger languidly along Hannah’s arm. “He said ye had a heroic streak along with being stubborn, foolhardy, uppity, and irritating.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He? Who was she talking about? That litany of descriptions seemed awful specific. Perhaps a smidge too specific.

  Her heart leapt.

  Could it be?

  Was there hope?

  Such as it was.

  She nearly said his name but bit her tongue lest he was disliked in these parts. Because the good Lord knew it was a possibility when it came to him.

  “Who are you talking about?” she said curtly. “Either tell me or be gone.”

  “Be gone?” the woman mouthed then chuckled. “Do ye really think ye’er in a position to be talkin’ to me like that?” Her finely plucked brows fluttered up. “Especially when moments before ye wanted me to help ye escape?”

  Something about the woman’s tone caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes. “He is here, isn’t he?” She kept things vague. “An old friend of mine.”

  “Friend?” The woman snorted. “He has never used that word when it comes to ye.” She whispered in her ear, “But aye, he is here and comin’ for ye, my sweet.” She trailed her fingers along Hannah’s thigh now. “All ye have to do is be a good girl for him, and he’ll see ye taken good he will.”

  “You mean taken good care of.”

  “Oh, nay.” The corner of the woman’s mouth shot up. “I mean what I said. Taken good.”

  She swallowed hard, recognizing his words in the woman’s message. The promises, and threats, he had made over the years.

  Now here she was completely at his mercy.

  Blazing heat flared under her skin, and an all-too-familiar ache blossomed between her thighs. Hell and damnation, this was bloody perfect for him, was it not? Almost too perfect. Had he planned this somehow? Had he caught wind of her ship being in these waters and set her up? Even as she thought it, she knew it a bit far-fetched.

  Yet some might say it was a long time coming.

  “Mark my words, Hannah McCullen,” Luke had warned when she haughtily walked away from him rather than watch him go off to war. Rather than feel the pain she tried so hard to ignore. “The next time I see you, you will pay for all your long years of taunting me. You will, at last, give me everything your eyes have promised.” Then, because as a rule, he cared naught for common decency. “And you will do it on your back with your thighs spread wide.”

  Though she had appreciated his discretion because God knew he could have said a great deal more, that didn’t stop her temper from flaring.

  “The nerve,” she had exclaimed, spinning on him only to find him striding away. “You will not walk away without apologizing you,” lout, swine, arse, none of which were proper, so she yelled, “Englishman!”

  “Sip then?” The woman offered the bottle one more time. “Because if ever a wench needs one, it's ye with what ye’ve got comin.’”

  Never were truer words uttered, and they had nothing to do with an island full of filthy, lecherous pirates but just the one. The filthiest of them all she suspected. At least when it came to what could slip off his tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to imagine what else that tongue was capable of. The things it could do to her.

  “A sip then,” Hannah relented on a sigh. She ended up taking several long swallows, bracing herself for the worst. “Where is he then? When should I expect him?”

  “Soon enough.” The woman licked her lips and winked. “Chin up, poppet, ye’re a lucky tart being at the mercy of that one.” She sauntered out, calling over her shoulder, “He always did ride me the best.”

  “Dear Heavens,” Hannah muttered when the door shut.

  She tried not to envision images of him with the woman. Whore. Because that was what she was. A woman of the night. Yet no matter how hard she tried not to see it, images kept flashing in her mind. First of him taking the woman then taking Hannah. Riding her with as much zealousness as he had threatened. Her denials turning to groans of pleasure.

  In fact, she was so lost in the fantasy that she had little time to fear when a pot-belly man entered, seen only by the candle he carried. He had just set it down on the table, when someone snuck in behind him, closed the door quietly, then wrapped his arm around the man’s neck.

  Moments later, the brute hit the floor, out cold, and another man altogether faced her.

  Luke had always been too handsome for his own good, but something about the way he looked now turned the ache between her thighs to a raging inferno. Gone was his Royal Navy uniform. Now he wore black breeches, boots, and a loose-fitting white shirt that left his tanned, muscular chest bare. His longish black hair was pulled back, his chiseled features harder somehow, his strong chin unshaven and his eyes the exact shade of the Caribbean waters.

  “There is my little tease,” he murmured, moving so stealthily she barely heard him. But she saw him just fine. Tall and broad-shouldered, he stood over her with a roguish grin, the dark promise in his eyes unmistakable, his words without quarter. “At long last, it is
time for you to pay up.”

  Chapter Two

  IT SEEMED LIKE EVERY second of every minute of every day since last he saw Hannah had led to this moment. How many countless times had he envisioned her sprawled out like this completely at his mercy? How often had he fantasized about the look on her lovely face?

  Hannah had always been a stunning beauty with delicate features, and the years did nothing but add to that. Her pale blonde locks offset her large, almond-shaped bright green eyes, and her body though small was surprisingly voluptuous. It seemed every fantasy he’d ever entertained came rushing back as he eyed the length of her from her sinfully full lips to her lush breasts to her slender thighs.

  “Luke,” she replied hoarsely, then cleared her throat, ignoring his statement about her paying up. “Thank goodness you are here.”

  “Yes, thank goodness,” he drawled, enjoying what was at his disposal. “To a point, anyway.”

  Her brow swept up, her bold haughtiness as alive as ever. “Surely, you are going to behave like a gentleman and get me out of here.” She frowned and did as she always did. “Do you know Rose is here? You must see to her first. Make sure she is all right.”

  While tempted to keep her in suspense as she had done to him for so long, he knew better when it came to her sister. Rose had always brought out one of Hannah’s more redeeming qualities. Fierce devotion and a protective nature few could match.

  “Rose is fine,” he assured. “My brother is seeing to her.”

  “Your brother’s here too?” The relief in her voice was genuine. Irritatingly genuine, actually. “Rose is in good hands then.”

  Thomas had always enjoyed the kinder side of Hannah. Not to say Luke hadn’t too, but it was always swiftly followed by the other side. An aspect of her personality she reserved solely for him. Something he understood well enough in their youth, but through their various correspondences over the years, understood even better now.

  Or should he say he understood the woman she kept hidden underneath better? The one who had often needed him to be her battering ram, then at other times something far more complex. Far more intense.

  “Luke.” Her tone was a bit curter this time. “What is that look in your eyes?” She tugged at her bindings. Her eyes flickered to the obvious erection straining against his breeches. “Untie me. Right now.”

  “You know precisely what the look in my eyes is, Hannah,” he murmured. He knelt on the bed and ran the back of his thumb along her soft jawline, pleased to see both defiance and quickly masked pleasure in her gaze. “Abigail told me how eager you were to see me again.”

  “I said no such thing,” she gasped when he trailed his fingers down her slender throat. “I would never!”

  If possible, his cock stiffened even further, so ready to claim her, he knew he would not last long.

  “It was less in what you said to Abigail,” he trailed a finger between her breasts, “but more in the sensual flare of your eyes. The way you could not breathe quite right when you knew who was coming for you.”

  “Well, of course, I could not breathe right!” Her voice was too raspy, her traitorous chest rising and falling quicker by the moment. “I am in danger. At the mercy of these lewd miscreants. Bound to be used until there is nothing left of me.”

  The way she said it and the deviant light in her eyes that only he understood, tortured his poor cock even more.

  “You always did have a way with words,” he said softly. “Do you have any idea the state your letters left me in?” Seconds away from ripping her dress down the middle and finally feasting his eyes on her, he trailed his fingers lower until he dusted the juncture between her thighs. “How I could almost feel your heat as I sank into you and at last took what belonged to me.”

  “I do not belong—”

  She gasped with pleasure when he cupped his hand more firmly over her mons and rubbed her sensitive flesh with the heel of his palm. It mattered naught the clothing in between. He knew his way around a woman better than a pirate did treasure.

  Especially this woman.

  “Oh, but you do belong to me now, my little tease,” he murmured in her ear, pleased when she bit back a low groan and struggled to keep her eyes open.

  Though it took a tremendous amount of effort, he had promised his brother he would see to this without getting distracted. Their plan was too risky to do otherwise. More so now because of Hannah herself.

  “Why?” he murmured before he could stop himself. He continued rubbing the area between her thighs, drawn like a moth to a flame to the pull and push of Hannah fighting her pleasure.

  “Why what?” she whispered, licking her lips, looking for a voice she would find soon enough if he kept at this. If he said to hell with risky plans, hiked up her skirt and finally took her like she secretly wanted to be taken. Like she needed to be taken.

  “Why did you keep them when I told you to dispose of them?” What he would not give to at least thrust his hand under her skirt and feel her soft folds then bury his fingers in her hungry sheath. “Why did you keep my letters?”

  That was why they needed to get the women out of here sooner rather than later. The blasted scrolls. They not only spoke of the extremely expensive family brooch Thomas had given Rose but that she always wore it. Of course, the brothers knew it was still in her possession thanks to Thomas’s informant, hence their plan, but it wasn’t information they wanted known. Now they could count on Big Devil getting a hold of such and pursuing Rose.

  Something—because they’d anticipated several scenarios—they had planned for.

  Though things had become riskier, the fact that Hannah had kept the scrolls meant more to him than anticipated. Moreover, that they looked worn as though read often.

  “I...” Hannah began. Her breathing came harder. Her pleasure near peaking. Her half-mast gaze locked on the obvious bulge between his legs.

  “You what?” He met her eyes, close enough that he could kiss her lips if so inclined. But he preferred them gasping. He liked watching the way they fell open as he brought her higher and higher. “Did you touch yourself like this while reading them, little tease? Did you imagine me tying you up like you are now and sinking into you? Ripping away all the control you hold on to so tightly?”

  She tried to respond but was too caught in his web of desire, her pleasure almost on her. Close, close, then she went over the edge and bloody hell, did she look good doing it. She arched, straining against her bindings. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she released a long, ragged groan that had his cock throbbing painfully.

  He cursed under his breath and pulled away abruptly.

  They had no time for this.

  “We need to go,” he muttered. “Those blasted letters made things riskier.”

  She blinked several times, still caught in an erotic stupor before she finally found her tongue and realized how far he had taken her. “You swine!”

  Luckily, any sounds she made could be attributed to the man passed out on the floor. Still, he put his hand over her mouth and leaned close in warning. “You will want to keep your mouth shut until we are in the clear.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you understand?”

  When she nodded, he narrowed his eyes further. “I find that hard to believe.”

  Yet he had to remove his hand to untie her bindings.

  “You bastard,” she seethed when he left her mouth and untied her feet. “How dare you!”

  “How dare I what?”

  “How dare you take me against my will!”

  He smirked. “That most certainly was not against your will.”

  “I did not give you permission,” she stuttered. He masterfully dodged her knees as he untied one hand, catching her wrist before she slapped him.

  “You gave me permission aplenty in those letters over the years,” he reminded. “And trust me what I just did to you was but a sampling. One, might I remind you, that you clearly enjoyed.” He untied the other wrist then pinned both hands to the bed before
she attacked. “When I do take you, Hannah, you will very much know, and it will not, any more than it just was, be against your will.”

  “You were in the wrong, and you know it,” she spat. “Just like you have always been in the wrong.”

  “Have I then?” He leaned down a little closer and searched her eyes. “Do you remember the things you said to me in Yorktown? The things we did? Then what you have said since in your many letters?” Hell, even now, he wanted to kiss her. Taste her again. Relive those fleeting moments in the woodland. “Because I remember every word. Every stroke. Every lick. How you hated me one moment, then loved me the next.”

  “Love?” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Never.”

  Yet he knew as her eyes stayed with his in challenge that she felt it back then and did right now. He saw it in the vulnerability that flashed in her eyes and the stark relief she tried to bury at seeing him again.

  “Why did you save my letters?” he murmured. “By the looks of it, every single one.”

  “Why are they making our escape riskier?” she countered.

  “Tell me, and I will tell you.”

  “No.”

  “Then you shall remain in the dark.”

  Their eyes narrowed on each other before she relented. “Tell me, and I will tell you, Luke. You have my word.”

  “Which is not worth all that much as I remember.” Yet his need to know got the better of him, so he explained the enhanced risk of their escape. “We wrote about my mother’s brooch. The one Thomas gave Rose.”

  Thankfully, he never used his name, so his anonymity remained intact.

  “Oh, blast it!” Her eyes went wide as saucers. “My sister has the brooch right now, which means she is very much in danger.”

  “No more than any of us.”

  He told her of their plan to smuggle the women off the island. Thomas and Rose would leave via ship, and Luke and Hannah would follow after a time.

  “Why would we not leave together?”