To Save a Fallen Angel (The Fallen Angels series Book 2)

by Julianna Hughes

  He laughed deep in his throat as Peggy explored the sinewy muscles of his forearms and biceps. She was happy he had continued wearing the less restrictive togs of the sailors. A thrill of danger and sexual excitement vibrated through her as his tongue slipped pass her lips and began to fence with hers; attack, lunge, parry, and redouble.

  One of his hands captured hers again, and then he twirled them around, placing her back against the wall once more. Her knees turned to water, and her body began to melt against his. A small, still barely functional, corner of her brain chastised her for her weakness. But the greater part, the part that was now fully committed to this sensual duel, celebrated with glorious abandon the sexual combat that had just ensued.

  And then just as Peggy was becoming completely lost to the warm glow that was blanketing her, his lips turned to stone, and his body tensed against her.

  "Tell them to back off, Captain, or I can assure you, you will have two less crewmen on this barge."

  The warning whispered across her lips, inflaming her desire with every brush of his skin. As such the deadliness of the order had taken precious moments to penetrate the sexual haze. Without warning, he released his grip on her wrist and whirled around, coldcocking a sailor just behind him. He then unmanned the second one with a swift kick to his genitals and an uppercut to his chin.

  At first Peggy was too stunned to react. She gaped at the two men on the floor, one writhing in pain and the other as still as the dead. Then he turned and she was scorched with the rage burning in his eyes.

  "Why?" he demanded again.

  Peggy's thoughts scattered to the four winds. Her confusion was quite genuine this time when she responded to his demand.

  "Why? What, Luc?"

  His eyes seemed to bore into her very soul and an unsettling shiver ran down her spine. And then after several nail-biting moments, he relaxed and his eyes softened.

  "Why the imprisonment?" he asked as his stance relaxed further. But she was not fooled; his burr had gotten stronger and he was still poised for battle. He nodded over his shoulder. "Why the guards, lassie? Were you afeared I'd attack you? Or were you terrified I'd be tryin’ to kiss you . . . again?"

  His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, indicating that he too was recalling the passionate kiss they had just shared.

  "Why, Peggy, why?" he asked with a much different tone of voice. One that reminded her of a young boy who had been unreasonably punished and wanted to know the reason. All her carefully constructed lies flew out the window, and the truth came out. At least as much as she dared to reveal.

  "It was for your safety, not mine," she blurted out.

  His eyes narrowed and he studied her as her heart pounded a relentless tempo in her breast. Then his head slowly tilted to one side and his right eyebrow rose ever so slightly.

  "My safety, lass? From whom?"

  Peggy felt her face flush red. She nearly blurred out "me" but bit back that morsel of honesty at the last moment. Instead she opted for the part of the truth she knew he would have no difficulty believing.

  "From my papa," she said and then added a lie when his eyebrow rose a little higher, "and the crew."

  A half smiled marred his face and twisted his scar. "The crew?"

  Her heart lurched and a warm glow caressed her skin. She returned his half smile with one of her own. "Some of them. Yes."

  A mysterious spark seemed to lighten his eyes. "Do ye mean those loyal to yer first mate and not to you?"

  His observation was true, but it still hurt, knowing that some of the men she had worked alongside for many years now resented her. Peggy lashed out "All my crew is loyal to me, Captain Stoughton. All - of - them."

  "Aye. Of course they are, Captain."

  His quick agreement disarmed her. She knew he was placating her, but she wasn’t about to challenge him on it.

  "I wasn't suggesting otherwise," he said as his eyes bore into hers in a way that told her that he was lying. For a second or two Peggy felt a sudden return of her uneasiness as he continued. "I just meant those that are more sympathetic with the plight of a first mate, whose ward was recently . . . compromised, shall we say. Or at least, compromised in their minds."

  That thought had not even entered her mind. As far as she knew, those that resented her did so for taking the captainship away from Joc. At least in their eyes she had usurped Joc because she now owned the Coral Sea.

  Luc's brain was on double time, trying to catch up with the rest of him. He had meant the kiss as a lesson. No, he had never meant to kiss her at all. Not yet, anyway. The notion that he was doing it as a form of punishment had just been a fleeting thought. A way to justify what his body already knew was going to happen. But it shouldn't have occurred. Not now. Not like this.

  His body, however, wasn't paying any attention to his wishes. And he knew if the lady had shown the least hesitation, he would have stopped it before it had begun. But no, the lust and desire in her eyes matched his own. And the fire that had been simmering since he first saw her ignited into a wildfire of passion that could not have been stopped or contained.

  It burned red hot until her men had interfered. Whether that interference was fortuitous or not was a little hard to tell. At least it was a bit hard to tell while his cock still throbbed from the passionate kiss they had shared.

  Unfortunately, the haze of passion had been instantaneously replaced by a burning anger from being betrayed by the woman in his arms. That had been harder to contain than his desire for her.

  Luc could see the vulnerability in her cerulean blue eyes when he questioned the loyalties of her crew. It helped to cool his anger and restore his equilibrium. In the back of his mind lurked the understanding that no matter what, he needed this woman's help to complete his mission. He could not afford to alienate her. Thanks to his years as a spy, Luc was able to quickly mask his warring emotions of desire and resentment and redirect them in a more productive façade of indifference. Now that he had her fooled, or at least confused, he needed to take control of the situation.

  Peggy wasn't fooled in the least by Luc's sudden change in attitude. She knew he had seen her flounder a bit when he questioned the loyalty of the crew. And she wasn’t sure why she had lied about the riff in the crew’s allegiance, other than her own pride.

  But this was what she had come down here to do, and she wasn't going to stop now. She knew she could control the volatile emotions raging between the two of them. The trick to a successful seduction was to allow the other party to believe they were in complete control. The first Captain Peri had taught her that years ago. But using it on Luc now just seemed wrong.

  In the beginning she had argued with herself that he was nothing but a means to an end. It was the reason she had gone to England in the first place. The reason she had sought out the help of Sir Walter and the Home Office. And it was the reason, against her better judgment after reading Luc's file, she had agreed to include him in her plans.

  But all that had been before she had actually met the man. Before she had discovered there was more to admire and respect. And before she had realized Joc wasn't wrong about her feelings for the English army captain. She was not in danger of falling for him. She had already fallen under his sensual spell. Peggy just had to make sure that she didn't lose any more of her soul to Lucien Stoughton.

  Forcing a smile onto her face that she had used in the past to befuddle men, "Luc," she purred. "This isn't about my . . . about Joc, or my crew."

  She slid forward, stepped over the crewman writhing in pain, and then stepped over the one that was unconscious. "This is about you . . . and me . . . and this . . . this thing that is between us."

  Luc knew the moment Lady Margaret, the seductress, had taken control over the Barbary pirate by the change in her cerulean eyes. Maddeningly, despite his intentions to play up to the heartless hussy and gain the information he needed, Luc found himself unaccountably hurt and repulsed by the changes.

  It shouldn't have mattered. Th
anks to his time as a spy, he had played the willing dolt to a number of faithless and heartless seductresses. But it did hurt. And for the first time since he had been a small child, he couldn't seem to conceal those emotions. Without thinking he lashed out at her.

  "Is this how you gained the loyalty of yer crew, lassie? Trading yer favors for their loyalty?"

  Chapter 20

  As bad tactics went, this had to be one of the worst Luc had ever used. It was a blunder of monstrous proportions. He hadn't just tugged on the tiger’s tail, he’d stomped on it, jerked it with all his might, and probably cut the damn thing off along with his worthless nose.

  He knew the lady was a little sensitive about her crew. And she was damn protective of her annoying guardian. So what evil spirit crawled into his mouth and made him utter those hateful words?

  Her cerulean eyes locked with his as she slowly bent down and retrieved one of the cutlasses the useless guards had dropped. Just as slowly, he had stooped down without taking his eyes off the avenging angel in front of him and picked up the other one. He then began a slow, deliberate retreat until he was out of the cabin and standing in the much larger wardroom.

  A chilling grin marred her perfect face as she followed him into the wardroom, her eyes turning colder with each step. Eyes of a killer. Luc had seen similar looks in the eyes of many of the men he had faced during the war. Dread gripped his heart as the lady began her attack with a quick lunge at his chest. Luc barely parried the attack as he put some distance between them. This was not going to be a friendly fencing match. This was a fight to the death.

  And three seconds into the sword fight that ensued after his blunder quickly convinced him he might not live long enough to rectify his mistake. The lady wasn't just good with a sword; she was the best he had ever faced.

  Peggy was not going to kill the man, she told herself even as she made her initial attack by lunging at his heart. Her mind balked even as her body instinctively thrust, redoubled, and lunged once again at a kill spot on the man in front of her.

  Joc and Uncle Edward had begun teaching her how to handle a sword as soon as she had been old enough to hold a rapier in her hand. And being the idealistic pirates that they were, they hadn't taught her "civilized fencing." No, they had taught her how to survive and kill an enemy as quickly and efficiently as she could. Her body and muscles now subconsciously fought to survive despite her mind and heart rebelling at the idea of actually hurting, much less killing, the man she was fairly sure she was starting to care about.

  Peggy's heart lurched at what she had just done and withdrew a quarter step to recover. Her eyes locked with her opponent’s, and a cold shiver washed over her and suddenly warmed her from the inside-out. His blue eyes, so like her own, reflected the disbelief and pain her attack had caused. She also thought she saw regret as well. But regret for his hurtful words or the fight they had caused she couldn't tell.

  His attack when it came was answer enough.

  Lunge, parry, thrust; the words echoed in Luc's mind as he beat back Peggy's first attack. Like most of the young boys of his class he had been educated and learned to fence at an early age. Unsettling for the seriousness of the moment, his mind suddenly recalled some of his more immature classmates and their habit — need — to equate everything they did to the mysterious act of sex. Including, unfortunately, a number of euphemisms for intercourse being likened to the art of fencing.

  Raucously his mind returned to those highly inappropriate metaphors as Peggy's blade pressed in and then withdrew. He strongly suspected that the memories were being triggered by the fact that seconds ago he had been seriously contemplating taking the lady to his bed.

  His training and years of combat screamed to attack, attack, attack. But a queasiness he had not felt since his days

  as a subaltern assaulted him and restrained his hand. No matter what, Luc knew he could not harm this woman. Even if it meant his own life was forfeited.

  A calmness settled over Peggy with each touch of Luc's blade. She knew she could beat him in an all-out sword fight. But her calm was not due to the confidence she had in her abilities as a swordswoman. It was due to the defensive tactics he was employing against her. She had read his personnel file and knew his war record by heart. Luc was a competent soldier and outstanding swordsman.

  Bizarrely and gratefully, his restraint helped to return some of her own scattered emotions. The anger his comment had caused cooled in an instant and was replaced by a nagging sense of imbalance. A state Peggy was becoming all too familiar with since meeting the enigmatic Englishman.

  Luc felt the change in his opponent upon her next engagement. Gone was the intensity of her first attack. He saw the change in her eyes and face. The anger and pain also were gone. Or at least he hoped they were. Still she lunged and thrust with her blade, but no longer at his vital organs. This was a dance now. A pairing of two people in a dance as sensual as the crude puns his school day friends had joked about during their fencing practices.

  He parried her last lunge in the conversation, and the back-and-forth play of the blades began in earnest. He circled her blade in an envelopment maneuver, trying to seize it. She disengaged. He passé. And on and on it went.

  As the two of them paused to breathe, Luc heard a clamor of hoots and howls behind him. Many of his detractors were there, belittling his skill with a sword, and encouraging the captain to put an end to him. Edgar and the one other seaman he had befriended were cheering him on, but not to kill their captain, just to disarm her.

  Luc found it odd that they seemed content to stand, or sit as the space permitted, and allow their captain to engage in a sword fight without interfering. It either spoke of their contempt for the captain, or their confidence in her abilities.

  Under normal circumstances Peggy wouldn't have been the least bit bothered that her crew had gathered to watch her in a sword fight. She’d had to prove herself as an outstanding fighter on more than one occasion. But for some unaccountable reason, her face flushed red with embarrassment. Fortunately, the crew would presume the heightened color was due to the exertion of the fight and not the tingling in her loins. At least she hoped and prayed they wouldn't know the real reason for her flushed face.

  Regardless of their audiences' awareness, or lack thereof, her growing discomfort with the fencing match grew. She nearly disengaged from the fight when she realized how the match had changed, but the nagging sense of being seen as a quitter compelled her to continue.

  However, it wasn’t just not wanting to surrender to Luc that kept her going. Once her anger had dissipated, she found herself admiring his skill with a sword. Only Eddie had ever been able to match her own skills.

  Ironically, the fight had undergone a transformation during the match, from death to admiration and finally to a sort of foreplay between the two of them. She could see it in his eyes and feel it with each pass of his sword. And it was the very reason her stomach was aflutter and her loins tingled.

  The realization popped into her head with devastating effect. Overwhelming to her equilibrium at least. She was both appalled and enormously aroused at the thought she and Luc were in effect having a mock sexual encounter in front of her entire crew.

  Peggy's eyes flickered to the end of the wardroom and spied Joc leaning arrogantly against the open doorway to his cabin. He knew her abilities and apparently fully expected her to dispatch the "hated Englishman." Not likely. At least not any longer. But there was a perverse pleasure in continuing this sensuous dance in his presence. And she knew it wouldn't take Joc more than a second or two to realize she was not out to kill him.

  It would enrage Joc, and Peggy felt that was well worth the embarrassment she would feel in acting out this scene in front of him and her crew. Joc needed a reminder that she was her own person and her own woman. A woman fully grown and completely responsible for her own actions. Including taking a lover, if she chose to do so. Even if said lover was one of those "hated English."

  Luc
knew the moment the lady joined him in the sensual dance. A dance of lovers. A waltz of sensuality. A conversation very different from the one of the sword, the rapier, or the foil. This conversation was one as old as time itself.

  Their blades came together and held as their gazes devoured each other's. Then his blade slid slowly, sensuously down hers. Their hands nearly touching. Her lips puckered enchantingly as she repressed the smile of pleasure she was obviously trying to hide.

  She advanced a step, her blade starting an equally slow coulé up his. Upon reaching the tip of his blade, she circled his cutlass in a slow sensuous envelopment, that in no way was meant to seize his sword but to stimulate his senses.

  Luc stepped past her in a flèche more in line with a waltz than a fencing move. She turned with him, their bare arms gliding against each other's. Peggy’s arm trembled and he could feel the goosebumps the caress caused. His heart lightened and a warm glow washed through his body, settling in his groin and his ever-hardening erection.

  Jeers and cheers penetrated his sexual haze as the shuffle of bare feet and boots echoed around the room. His eyes flashed past Peggy's head to catch the last vestiges of the retreating crew up the wardroom's companionway. But Luc could barely comprehend the crew's abandonment for the one remaining member of the crew, the lady's papa.

  The man stood poised halfway in his cabin’s door, a white bandage covering the top of his head and the side that had taken the force of the blow from the yardarm. His eyes now clear, and boring into Luc’s. There was a strange look on the man’s face. As if he was making a huge decision. His eyes then slid over to Peggy, and his brows furrowed in consternation.

  "Papa?" she said from beside him. A note of challenge in her voice and maybe something else.

  The two continued to watch one another for several heartbeats and then the man's hard eyes turned on Luc and scorched him. Luc calmly awaited his decision. He did not want to fight the man, but he would if he had to.