Too Great A Temptation

by Alexandra Benedict

  “In the meantime, let’s see if we can scare her off,” said James. “Quincy, fetch me the Jolly Roger.”

  Mirabelle’s heart started to pound. “What about Damian?”

  “That’s right,” said Quincy. “You haven’t told him who we really are…and I don’t think he’ll be thrilled to find out.”

  “Why?” James demanded brusquely.

  “Oh, just a hunch I have.” Then hastily he added, “But remember, James, Damian saved my life. You can’t hurt him, even if he doesn’t want to join the crew. You’ll have to find some other way to keep him from—”

  “Lock Damian in the brig.”

  James and Quincy glanced at her, puzzled.

  “It’s simple really,” she said, heart pounding in her breast. She wasn’t sure whether the nausea swimming around in her belly was due to the thrill of a potential fight or simple fear. Fear of what, though? “Lock Damian in the brig and he won’t see anything. He’ll only hear the cannons. We can explain later how we were attacked and defended ourselves. He’ll never be the wiser about our true identity.”

  “Um, not that I disagree with your plan,” from Quincy, “but how will we get Damian into the brig?”

  “Leave that to me,” she assured him.

  “And how are you going to get Damian into the brig?” demanded James.

  Oh, I have my ways. “Just trust me, James.”

  After a thoughtful pause and much glowering, James gave a curt nod. “See to it.”

  Mirabelle scampered off the poop in search of the navigator, while Quincy headed for the captain’s cabin to retrieve the Jolly Roger.

  As of yet, the cry to arms had not been given. First Damian had to be tucked away. Though perhaps a battle cry would not be necessary, she thought. Once the pirate flag was hoisted, the other ship might balk and run. Unless, of course, it was the authorities chasing after them as Quincy had predicated. Then a battle was inevitable. She would soon find out.

  Scouring the ship, Mirabelle saw no sign of Damian and moved her search below deck.

  Her queasiness grew worse. What the devil was she so afraid of? Losing her brothers? Bah! The men had been through countless clashes and survived each one. So that couldn’t be it.

  Losing the treasured ship? Unlikely. The Bonny Meg was built like a rock. Mirabelle had confidence in the vessel’s strength. The ship had survived scuffles and storms alike and limped to sail another day.

  So what was it then? Damian?

  Her heart pinched at the thought of losing Damian to injury or to the sea. She had grown rather fond of the rugged bounder, if truth be told. She didn’t want to see him get hurt.

  But, really, all these jitters just for Damian? Impossible! Wasn’t it?

  Perhaps she was just anxious about participating in her first real conflict? That had to be it. Surely.

  Well, she would find out soon enough, once the ordeal was over.

  Mirabelle prowled the galleries below deck, looking for Damian. She turned the corner and smacked right into his chest.

  “There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Have you?” Powerful arms slipped around her waist. “Whatever for?”

  But he wasn’t waiting for an answer. Ravenous lips pressed hard over hers, twisting her insides into a knot, taking her words and her breath and her wits away.

  How she loved kissing him. It was never dull or predictable. It always felt like the first exhilarating time.

  Damian broke away from the kiss to whisper raggedly, “I need you, Belle.”

  She understood his meaning—and that this was her chance to get him safely out of harm’s ways.

  Flicking her tongue over his lush lips to entice him even further—for she’d discovered last night that he really liked that—she purred, “I know a place where we can go.”

  His dark blue eyes smoldered with a sensual look she had become all too familiar with. “Show me.”

  Mirabelle took him by the hand and steered him through the passageway. She hated lying to Damian, really she did. It had never bothered her before, telling a fib. She was quite accustomed to it, considering who her brothers were, but she disliked having to lead Damian astray. Over the last few days a bond had developed between them. Each night she had come to him and trusted him to do whatever he wanted with her, to show her all the pleasurable sides to lovemaking. He had never hurt her. He had never disappointed her. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, her trusting him. She supposed it had come on the night he’d confessed his past to her. She had realized, then, that his brooding façade was nothing to be suspicious of, that he was just another lonely soul…like her.

  Bloody hell. She was becoming too sentimental. She was on a pirate ship, remember? And while her dream of becoming a pirate had all but fizzled away, she should still act like one while she was on board, and do away with maudlin emotions that would only distract her. After all, her tryst with Damian would eventually come to an end. She didn’t want a lover or, perish the thought, a husband. She was just having a bit of fun with Damian. Exploring her passionate side. Her heart need not be involved.

  Down in the lower levels, she guided Damian toward the brig.

  He quirked a sable brow at the sight of the iron bars. “In there?”

  “Why not? No one comes down here.” Then she gave him a seductive smile. “It’s private.”

  Thick arms circled her waist. “You have very unusual taste.”

  She snorted. “After what you did to me last night on the table, you call my taste un—”

  Mentioning last night got her kissed—and him aroused. Damian was already backing her into the brig, and she had to reach over his shoulder to quickly confiscate the keys dangling from a little hook on the wall.

  Once inside, she let his lips roam over her a little longer, lulling his senses—and her own, apparently, for she had to force herself to remember the task at hand.

  She broke away from the kiss and pushed Damian up against the wall. “Don’t move,” she said in a smoky whisper, and started to back away from him, undoing the laces of her black leather vest. “Just watch.”

  He did, eyes burning, following her every move. Mirabelle kept his gaze occupied long enough to back out of the brig. Once beyond the threshold, she slammed the door shut and quickly locked it.

  Damian looked at her, bowled over. “What are you doing?” There was no anger in his voice. He sounded puzzled, really, like this was all part of a game and he had forgotten the rules.

  “I’m sorry, Damian.” She moved away from the bars. “Captain’s order.”

  His brow furrowed even more. “Why?”

  “Well, we have a bit of trouble topside and the captain wants you out of the way.”

  His expression slowly hardened. “What trouble?”

  “I’m not sure yet. This is just a precaution, Damian. The captain thinks you’re still not feeling well. He doesn’t want you topside in case we have to…man the cannons.”

  He was glowering now and took an ominous step forward. “Man the cannons?”

  She nodded. “It seems we’re being followed.”

  His hands gripped the iron bars. “By a pirate ship?”

  “The captain isn’t certain. But we might have to defend ourselves, and the captain needs all able hands to man the cannons. He didn’t think you’d listen to an order to keep out of the battle, and since he can’t be sure you won’t get dizzy and—”

  “Belle!” It sounded more like a bark, his tone. She had certainly never seen him so livid. “Unlock the door. Now!”

  “I can’t, Damian.”

  “Belle, you don’t understand. I have to be there. Now let me out.”

  “Captain’s or—”

  “Confound the captain!” He rattled the bars. “Now open the bloody door!”

  She shook her head, guilt and regret and all sorts of other unpleasant emotions swirling in her belly. “I’m sorry, Damian. I won’t disobey an order.”

&nbs
p; He was glaring at her, his chest heaving, a whole slew of emotions bubbling in his eyes. Emotions she had never seen before…dark emotions.

  “You tricked me,” he said in a low and unsettling voice, the thought evidently having just occurred to him.

  “I had to.” She stuffed the keys into her pocket. “Trust me, Damian. It’s for the best.”

  “Belle!”

  But she was already heading down the corridor and making her way topside again.

  It felt like a cannonball to her gut, the burden of emotions. So cumbersome. So lousy. She really hated having lied to him. The look of hurt in his eyes had been a blow she was unprepared to confront.

  She didn’t think it could wound so greatly, breaking a trust. A tentative trust, but still, the expression of disbelief in his eyes—before the fury had set in—told her plain enough he had never expected her to do such a thing.

  But it was for his own well-being, she tried to console herself. Damian could not know their true identity. Not yet anyway. It might put his life at risk, especially if he refused to join the pirate crew and keep their secret. And until the captain was certain of his loyalty, it was prudent to keep Damian in the dark about their piracy.

  Despite all that sound reasoning, she still felt miserable. But her morose mood didn’t linger too long. The muffled blast of cannon fire, aimed somewhere off the rig’s stern, snapped her from her pensiveness and sent her sprinting.

  Topside, the commotion was under way.

  James was strutting across the deck, shouting orders. The other ship was attacking astern, trying to avoid a broadside, aiming for the Bonny Meg’s rudder.

  It looked like the Jolly Roger hadn’t inspired the fear the captain had hoped for.

  James was hollering for the helmsman to bring the ship about. The Bonny Meg was returning fire, but placed in such a precarious position, it was difficult to aim for the other ship, and most of the cannonballs landed well off their mark.

  It looked like a bloody mess, the deck. But everything was in order. Every hollering pirate, every musket firing was designed to distract and intimidate the other vessel’s crew.

  It was also deafening, the thunder of cannon blasts. Potent, too, as the sting of sulfur invaded her nostrils. Mirabelle choked back on the smoke and fumes. Her ears were ringing. This really was more vivid than she had ever imagined it would be.

  “Get off the deck!” James shouted at her.

  She ducked as a bullet hit the mast behind her, the wood splintering. Mirabelle did as she was told and got out of the way, but below deck, she was arrested by a tar, who stuffed a powder chest into her arms.

  “Fill it with gunpowder!” the pirate ordered. “Get it to the gunners!”

  Mirabelle didn’t hesitate. She had been asked to help. This was her one chance to redeem herself, she suddenly realized, in the eyes of the crew. Show them she could be of use. That she wasn’t a bad omen or a slouch or any other such rot. That she could work with them and help them. And if her brothers and the crew could just come to accept that, then maybe her seafaring dream wasn’t dashed after all.

  A quick powder monkey, Mirabelle clambered down to the ship’s belly where the gunpowder was stored. There were other men already there, each in turn filling their chests and rushing back to the gun deck.

  Mirabelle entered the room, lined with copper sheeting to prevent the powder from igniting accidentally. She swiftly filled her chest and secured the lid. Out the door and scrambling back to the gun deck, she headed for the pirate closest to her, who was hollering for more powder.

  The man gave her a brief look, as though wondering what she was doing there. But then the blast of a cannonball, tearing through the ship’s hull, sending shards of wood flying, snapped him from his reverie.

  He grabbed the chest from her and emptied it into the cannon. “More!”

  When the chest was shoved back into her midriff, Mirabelle grinned. The crew might just come around and accept her, after all.

  Chapter 16

  D amian slammed his boot into the iron bars.

  Blast it! The cage was secure. With a growled oath, he swung around and prowled the narrow width of the cell.

  He couldn’t believe Belle had done this to him. That she had lured him into the brig. And why? Because the captain thought he might get dizzy and faint? Horseshit! He was fine. He should be out there right now, aiming a cannon at that bloody pirate ship.

  A fist went into the wall and he let out a frustrated roar. To have traveled so far and so long, and then to fail at the end of his journey was unbearable. He had vowed to sink the pirate ship responsible for his brother’s death. And there she was, just off the stern, blasting her guns in a frenzy.

  Was this what it had been like for Adam and Tess? A hail of deafening cannon fire before the ship slipped under the waves, the couple’s screams forever silenced?

  Damian smashed his heel into the bars again. The door would not budge, but he needed something to vent his fury on.

  A thought struck him then. A hopeful thought. Perhaps this wasn’t the pirate ship that had attacked his brother. Perhaps it was another pirate vessel and he hadn’t lost the chance to avenge his kin…or perhaps he was just being an idiot.

  Damian knew, deep down in his gut, the cursed ship and crew guilty for his brother’s demise was out there right now—and he was locked away in the brig.

  He was a blundering half-wit. Lust had muddled his senses, distracted him from his goal. He had always known that it would, yet still, he had given in to it. He had surrendered to his weakness, granting Belle power over him. And she had used that power by manipulating him into the brig. If only he hadn’t succumbed to his old wants and desires. If only his selfish side had not prevailed.

  The demons in his head laughing at him, Damian brought his fingers to his temples in an attempt to quell their ribbing. But it did no good. The fiends guffawed and hollered and condemned him for his failure to avenge Adam…and all because of Belle.

  It was perverse, really. She had trapped him in the brig. He shouldn’t give a bloody fig about what happened to her anymore. But he did. He cared more than he should, that was for sure.

  A horrifying image soon consumed his thoughts. Belle’s limp body drifting in the water, maimed and bloody—and dead.

  He suddenly wanted out of his cage for a whole different reason: to save Belle.

  The derisive laughter grew louder in his head, reproaching him for his attachment to Belle. Another weakness. Even so, the drive inside him to protect her was stronger than the impulse to abandon her to fate.

  Demons be damned, he would not allow her to disappear under the waves as Adam had done. Now if only he could get out of the blasted brig!

  The cannonball that ripped through the hull just then, sending splinters shooting in all directions, also made a dent in the door.

  Having ducked at the sound of the blast, Damian slowly rose to his feet, coughing at the fumes and examining the twisted iron bars.

  With one robust kick, he sent the rest of the mangled metal swinging on its hinges.

  Free.

  Damian shot out of the brig. First, he had to find Belle and get her out of harm’s way. Then he’d help sink that filthy pirate ship.

  Blood pounding in his head, Damian made his way topside.

  Clouds of smoke rolled across the deck of the Bonny Meg. A sudden gust of wind cleared the area up ahead, revealing William at the helm, the helmsman down and motionless next to the wheel.

  Heart thundering, Damian scanned the sea of sailors for a bright blond head. But there was no sign of Mirabelle.

  He started to stalk across the deck, amid the roaring cannon fire and pungent stench and whizzing bullets. Searching through the chaos for Belle, his heart throbbed with each second that passed and he saw nothing of her.

  The captain shouted an order Damian could not hear, but the sudden lurch of the vessel beneath his feet confirmed it had been a command to bring the ship about.


  Damian landed on his back with wicked force, the breath knocked clear out of his lungs. He squinted for a moment, vertigo brushing over him, but it quickly passed, his vision returning.

  As the blurry images high above his head sharpened, Damian narrowed his gaze on one black scrap of fabric whipping violently in the wind.

  Bewildered, he rolled onto his knees and strained his eyes over the starboard rail toward the other ship, thinking for one brief and ludicrous second he had been blown clear off the Bonny Meg and onto the pirate vessel.

  But no. He was not looking at the Bonny Meg from a pirate ship. He was on the Bonny Meg.

  The world around him faded into oblivion. The bellow of cannon blasts, the bitter scent of sulfur, the holler of men. Damian saw and heard none of it anymore. He sensed only the blood rush through his veins, the roar deafening.

  Convinced his imagination had gone awry, Damian glanced back up again. But the skull and crossbones still flapped in the mighty gale…as did the winged hourglass. Belle’s ring!

  Damian suddenly wanted to vomit. He staggered to his feet, the pain in his head throbbing. He caught sight of James strutting across the deck, and for the first time he took notice of that long dark hair, black as pitch, billowing in the wind.

  The Black Hawk.

  “No,” Damian moaned. “It can’t be!”

  James paused, dictating an order to a tar. No, a pirate. A bloody pirate!

  The captain pointed in Damian’s direction and the pirate scurried off as bidden, but James’s gaze lingered for a moment, connecting with Damian’s.

  Captain and navigator locked eyes briefly, a silent understanding passing between the two. The Bonny Meg’s true identity had just been revealed. Neither was pleased by that.

  James looked away, the battle at hand demanding his attention.

  But Damian stood rooted to the spot. He could scarce breathe, never mind move, the emotions inside him suffocating.

  He was on a pirate ship. The very one he had been looking for. The men he’d shared quarters with, dined with, worked with, were pirates…the pirates who had killed his brother.

  Muscles hard, rage pounding in his chest, Damian thundered back below deck. So he was on a pirate ship instead of firing at one? Fine. It changed nothing. There was still Adam to avenge, and he would do this one thing right, he vowed, even if it cost him his life.