by Mary Martin
Pirate’s Conquest
By Mary Martin
A kiss—soft and tantalizing—roused him from the misty depths of sleep. The woman came into his arms with a breathless sigh and a promise of exquisite ecstasy. Without even opening his eyes, he envisioned her perfectly, welcomed her. It was the same as so many other nights. Dream lover ... temptress of seduction, she was no stranger to him. She was a part of him in every way; his destiny, it seemed. Her cloud of ebony hair, the texture of the finest silk, swirled like a cloak around him, floating down over his powerful naked body. His hand involuntarily reached to grasp it... stroke it with a lover's sure touch, then lace his fingers through it and with a possessive jerk of his wrist, draw her over him.
Scorpio, fierce ruler of the vast, wild sea and a man of many legends, willingly surrendered all to this woman whom he knew only beyond his conscious thought. They were of one mind, one desire, and nothing could keep them apart.
The temptress pressed her lithe form against his long, hard length, and all reason left him. Tresses scented softly by roses floated down about her delicate, porcelain perfection. But it was her eyes that would bind a man to her for all eternity should he gaze into them. They were wide and beautiful, their alluring violet depths tinged with mystery and shimmering with promise. Her body, supple and sleek, as her legs lay entwined about his. He moved his hand to cup her breasts, caress their lush firmness and a slow, smoldering fire ignited within him. His long fingers moved over her, aroused her, and urged a quivering pink crest to his seeking lips. The sweetness of the taut, round bud began a trembling in his limbs. Desire, white hot and overwhelming, swept him into a spiraling vortex of passion. He lingered there in a haze of ecstasy, savoring the sweetness of her lips and the promise they conveyed. Persuasive and hungry they moved over his, their dew softness urging him toward shivering depths of pleasure. Elusive . .. wrapped within the mists of dreams .. . she invaded, taunted, and remained just beyond total surrender. Deep within the spiritual passages of their souls they had met many times. They were bound by their hearts, not by time. Love . .. that had yet to exist.
Later, he would awaken and find her gone, and he would be left with only a dream-haunted memory.
Dawn came. The tall sea captain awoke to emptiness. He pondered the wisdom of her presence in his dreams. Who was she? A part of his past that he had chosen to forget? Or a link to his future that had yet come to pass? He tossed restlessly on the tangled sheets knowing that somehow she was a connection to everything that he sought.
He knew he would never find peace until he revealed her significance in his life. And he knew also that she would somehow help him put to rest the demons within that made him hell-bent on vengeance, and were very close to destroying completely the man he had once been. He tried to remember his other life, so different from this one of pirating, the raiding and bloody battles upon the seas. He was barely able. He had walked on the other side for too long now—the dark side that was a part of every man should he choose to unleash it. An intense feeling of need suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. Scorpio cast the baffling emotion aside, knowing that for him such deep caring for anyone was impossible. He had only one single emotion inside him that he must concentrate on—hate. With single-minded determination he turned his thoughts—and his thirst for revenge was restored.
1843—the island Antare in the lost sea
Borne on the hushed breath of darkness, fragrant wood smoke from the Gypsies' fires drifted upward into the night. Wild music filled the sultry air, the Gypsies' beribboned tambourines and soulful violins blending in a pulsing rhythm of celebration throughout their encampment that graced the curving bay.
Overhead the moon was rising higher in the forbidding black sky, full and blood-red, its fiery light shining down on the colorfully dressed Gypsies who leaped and pirouetted about the flaming bonfires to the throbbing beat of the music. Heavy racing clouds pushed onward by ocean trade winds cast ominous shadows upon the whirling figures.
High atop a cliff overlooking the Sargasso Sea, a man stood on the veranda of a gracious old cottage observing the stormy emotion of the scene. He had deliberately sought solitude tonight for he was feeling overwhelmed by distant memories. Up here, alone, he was able to sort out his thoughts and contemplate the journey ahead of him. He was almost certain of his destination. His dreams had somehow charted his course.
An image suddenly appeared from the deepest core of his memory, blurring his vision and stirring the anguish ever present within him. It was a woman, a madonnalike creature, lithe and lovely, with hair as dark as a raven's wing and eyes like glittering smoke-violet crystal.
"I await you, my dark lord. Come, seek your destiny in my arms and passion like you've never known. I am yours, you've only to reach out to me."
Within his head, he heard her siren's vow, and fought to remain strong. It was merely an illusion, nothing more, he told himself. Yet, he knew he could not dispel the image for long. For at night, when he slept, she would come. Somehow, she was inevitably linked to his future. As quickly as it had appeared, the vision narrowed and vanished. Sheer animal power emanated from him as his eyes, as green and restless as the sea, stared down upon the wildly dancing Gypsies. Lean fingers curled around a slim black cigar and brought it to his lips. He dragged deeply, then slowly released the pungent smoke through flaring nostrils.
"An outcast in paradise lost," he murmured huskily, "that is what I have become of late, and tonight must seek to change."
Tawny hair, thick and unruly, caught in the breeze and tumbled across slashing brows. Appearing like some dark angel fallen from heaven's grace he stood sentinel on that seaside bluff, certain that the night would yet yield what he was seeking. His hawklike gaze drifted to the willowy form of the Gypsy Queen.
Bettina, passionate and knowing, circling, spinning about the orange tongues of fire, red skirts swirling high about her golden legs, was the one woman who truly understood his purpose and his moods.
She moved like a lithe, young tigress, a fine sheen of moisture on her soft skin, her every gesture an expression of seduction. Long black hair tumbled down her back and about her half-naked shoulders. Full, high breasts threatened to spill from her low-cut blouse as she writhed and twisted to the sensuous music.
The tip of her tongue slipped between her sulky lips, ran suggestively across their fullness.
He could feel her eyes upon him now, hot and promising, roaming over him. She was dancing for him, he knew that, yet the realization gave him no pleasure.
Once, and not very long ago, they'd been very close. She'd been good for him then. But no more. His dream temptress was the only woman who moved him. He assessed Bettina's flushed face, the dreamlike expression.
He still thought she was lovely. She was not a classical beauty; her face was too long and her features too prominent, but her earthy sensuality exuded an untamed magnetism that could still fire his blood if he would allow it. And if she'd not married Salvador while he'd been away this last time, he'd be down there with her now, dancing, feeling the heat of her passion reaching out to him.
Instead, her husband was her partner, hopeful dark eyes trained upon her like an adoring puppy.
"Poor bastard," he exhaled, "soon, but still too late, you will discover that she is not the woman of your dreams. And Bettina ... you witch ... you'll break his heart without a single regret."
His mind drifted back to recall his conversation with Bettina after he'd returned from his voyage to find her in her bed, body entwined about Salvador's sleeping form. She'd looked up at him and had smiled in welcome—as if finding his friend in her- bed was nothing for him to concern himself over.
And after he'd gotten over the first shock, he'd had to agree. Salvado
r had always loved her beyond reason. And it was better this way, for everyone. So, with a wry smile and a shrug of his broad shoulders, he'd turned around and left without so much as a whisper exchanged between them.
Bettina had quickly run after him, firing off a rapid stream of explanations. He recalled her words.
"You are still my special man, Scorpio. This silly marriage need not come between us." She'd laughed lightly. "I did it on impulse, you know how I am. A bit too much wine and dancing ... and you'd been gone so long. I was lonely, that's all."
He'd kept walking, Bettina trotting along beside him, her lush body covered by only a thin white shift. Even now, he remembered how tempting she'd looked standing there in the moonlight. "And so you just decide to marry him to help fill in the long hours until my return. Is that it, Tina?' he'd drawled mockingly, laughing harshly.
"Well. . . and perhaps to make you just a bit jealous, my handsome brigand," she'd purred, arms already slipping through his, seeming to delight now in telling him how Salvador was a disappointment as a lover, and that she hoped they could continue as before .. . without her husband knowing, of course. "Please," she'd purred. "I've missed you so."
He recalled how she'd stomped her foot in aggravation when he'd smiled into her face, then kissed her thoroughly that last time before calmly turning away, and calling over his shoulder.
"Salvador is a good man. You'll have a fine life together. Just give it some time, Tina."
Bettina had screamed in indignant fury, her scorching epithets mingling with that of the gulls soaring overhead.
He had left her shouting after him, and had not looked back, nor touched her again. And she was miffed, of that he was certain. He studied her expression now. It was obvious by her flashing eyes that she was deliberately trying to lure him back to her bed.
His mind turned to more urgent matters, to the sight of the moon rising higher in the sky. He snarled softly. "Hurry, wench. Dawn will soon be upon us. I have no time to waste on these games of yours." He knew she was deliberately making him wait. Bettina could be such a spiteful bitch when it suited her.
As if she'd somehow heard every word, Bettina suddenly glanced upward, her night-black eyes glinting wickedly meeting the smoldering jade of his. Her primitive dance became more frenzied, her movements teasing, promising as if she were searching for some dizzying pinnacle as yet out of reach.
She was a whirlwind of passion with her uninhibited dance, dark hair tangled wildly about her face, arms like slender reeds in swaying motion. Wispy tendrils of smoke curled about her, caressed her dusky form, then soared upward through night's haze to drape about him like a flirting lover.
Bettina smiled into his narrowed eyes, her coral-tinted lips mouthing his name, appearing to whisper through the wind. "Scorpio, come, it is time1."
She spun away, leaping gracefully before the fire, bare feet skimming across the sand as she clapped her hands over her head, the wind whipping her sweeping skirts high about her sleek thighs. The music built to a crescendo. Bettina swayed upon her feet, then suddenly crouched low, her jet hair cascading around her as she bowed her head. A graceful chimera of seduction, he thought, but for him, there was only one thing to lure him this night. The music ended abruptly and the dancing ceased.
Knowing that the time had come, he strengthened his resolve, and with little difficulty, set aside nagging doubt. Everything was going to go just as he'd planned for so long. With careful plotting and cunning, he would seek his revenge on those few that were left. He might not be certain who they were as yet, but he would find out. Retributive justice—and by his hand. Lips full and generous suddenly lifted at the corners in a cynical smile. Revenge, bittersweet, thrummed within his chest and hardened his heart to the task ahead. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that his plans would succeed. His self-assurance came easily, borne by years sailing the seas facing all that man and nature could hurl at him, continually emerging unscathed and undaunted by it all. So many events ... so long away from his homeland.
A footstep came, a shadow fell. He was already down the stairs and waiting. Overhead, gray clouds swept onward by the ever-changing zephyr drifted lazily through a twilight haze, the persistent breeze tugging at the hem of his cloak, sending it swirling about his lithe frame.
Suppressing a tremor of excitement, he breathed deeply the salty aroma of the sea. It soothed him. He respected its power. It was the only thing that he could not readily predict, or control. Perfectly calm now, he greeted the young girl who had been sent to escort him.
"Hello, Jamie," he called to her. "Your sister is ready for me?"
The young girl nodded shyly. "Yes, she will be waiting for you."
He took her hand and smiled affectionately at her. Looking charming and fresh in a yellow patterned skirt with a scarlet sash tied about her tiny waist, Jamie returned the gesture. She was a sweet girl, fresh and innocent, nothing like Bettina. Perhaps, he reasoned, because they'd had different mothers. Jamie's mother had been an English captive who had never truly been converted by the Gypsies, and who'd secretly taught her daughter the ways of the "gorgios."
"Lead the way, little princess."
Jamie's blue eyes twinkled and then suddenly lost their sparkle. Her voice trembled when she spoke. "You will be careful, Scorpio, and will take good care of your brother for me? You know I have not looked forward to this time."
"Aye, I will, young friend." He ruffled her shining locks. "I'll never give those that pursue me the pleasure of seeing me swinging from a British yard-arm, have no fear of that."
She paused for a moment to delve into the large pocket of her skirt. "I have something for you." She handed him a black raven's feather.
His fingers unconsciously caressed it. It was soft and silky, and he found himself comparing its texture to the hair of the temptress in his dream.
"Bettina says it is a powerful charm that will enable your ship to skim swiftly over the water like a bird and easily escape your enemies," Jamie added as they continued onward.
"It pleases me very much, thank you."
As they approached the secluded cottage of the Gypsy Queen, Jamie halted and looked up into his intense face. "Scorpio, no one really knows what awaits you when you leave here again. Already, in just a few short years, your name has become legend in every seaport. I know there are those who swear you are responsible for many crimes, yet most of it is untrue, is it not? You are seeking to uphold your family honor in what you do, correct?'
"Yes," he replied quietly.
"I thought as much." She placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "May your path be guided in the right direction, my friend. Godspeed."
Bettina's eyes slitted like a she-wolfs upon stepping forward from her tent and noticing her little sister embracing Scorpio. Honest affection was not something she understood.
"Jamie!" she yelled. "Go help Salvador with the fishing nets that need to be set out... now!"
The young girl sensed her sister's hidden fury and spun quickly to hurry along the path that led to the sea.
Scorpio fixed a narrow-eyed glare on Bettina. "That was uncalled for, Tina. She was only telling me goodbye."
Bettina laughed harshly. "You do not see what is right before your eyes. I hope your vision is decidedly more accurate with your enemies."
They stood staring heatedly at each other. With a stiff nod of her head, Bettina indicated a place before the campfire. "Come, sit down, for I wish to see if the leaves can help chart your path."
The alluring Gypsy sat with Scorpio upon the sand surrounded by the misty darkness of the night. Between them a fire hissed and crackled, silhouetting Bettina's form in harsh shadow as she stared intently at the lacy-patterned leaves forming unusual shapes in the earthen bowl cradled in her hands. Her dark eyes bore a faraway expression.
Scorpio watched her closely, observed the play of emotions on her face. Something about her expression made his heart beat faster. The full moon shone brightly on the white sand
around them as she began to speak in a trancelike voice. Lulled by the sound of her voice and the crashing of the surf against the boulder-strewn shore, Scorpio sat motionless, captivated by the spell of the moment. He closed his eyes and Bettina's voice was everywhere.
As before in the dream, a rainbow of colors danced behind his eyelids, swirling like an artist's brush, graceful lines forming, merging, becoming a single image: the woman's face from his dreams, beautiful and spellbinding. Why did her image fill him with such unease? Quickly he opened his eyes to dispel the vision.
Displaying no outward sign of emotion, he listened quietly to Bettina's words.
"You are torn between two distinct worlds, two separate identities. Soon, the two must merge if your soul is ever to have peace. I... I can see your ship traveling a great distance—to a place you know well. Here, you will meet an ally—and an enemy." She hesitated for a brief moment, her silky brow furrowing. She shook her head. "It is very confusing . .. and I am not certain ... yet I feel that you must walk carefully in their midst for danger surrounds both."
"What sort of dangerT'
Bettina's black eyes bore a veiled expression as they fixed upon his. "1 do not know." Slowly she closed her eyes and turned her face upward, her arms reaching toward the starlit sky. Echoing across the waters of the Sargasso Sea, her strong voice splintered through the hovering shadows.
"Upon this island we have all lived free, and have been happy—yet one among us is not. Ever restless, his heart has room only for vengeance, even as his soul longs for peace. His search has been long, but shall soon come to an end."
Suddenly, Bettina trembled and cried out softly. She bowed her head. "I see a ring of brilliant colors ... and within the circle is a woman. Outside that ring is a man with two faces. Love shines on one face, hate distorts the other. The man must penetrate the brilliant aura and temper the anger within him, for this woman is the answer to many things."
"Who is she?" Scorpio urged. "I must know."