by Mary Martin
The sea breeze eddied about the room tantalizing her nostrils and bringing with it the faintest scent of lime. She thought surely she must be imagining it, certain that she was wishing it so. A sudden chill coursed down her spine.
Self-reproach replaced passion, and brought tears to her eyes. You stupid fool, she chastised herself. Can't you see what this man is doing, what Rayne prompted him to do? He's playing a game with you—sport for his kind—clearly in retaliation for all the contempt you previously directed at Morgan. No doubt her husband was back in England spending their wedding night with his ladyship, Susan Ellendale. She recalled the conversation she'd overheard in the gardens. Starlin's mouth curled in bitter contempt and she tore free of her captor.
"My husband is behind this horrid scheme, isn't he?' she lashed out.
There was nothing but tense silence. Starlin took a tremulous breath. "You don't have to answer me, I know he is. And I imagine he encouraged you to enjoy your perverse game to the fullest. Well, I say bloody hell to you, and him!"
A husky laugh danced on her ears. The wretched beast found her an amusing plaything, did he? she thought with rising ire. She swung outward with her closed fist, missing him, but feeling some measure of satisfaction when she heard him take a step backward. Her mistake was in reaching upward to grab the blindfold. Her wrists, first one then the other, were immediately grasped between strong fingers. She tried to resist but her strength was no match for his. With persuasive pressure he slowly spread her arms wide, and held them there. Neither of them moved for several moments. He stood so close to her that the heat of his body seemed to envelop Starlin's in dark, sensual, promise. He wanted her. She could feel his desire in the room, reaching out to her .. . drawing her to him.
One hand released her wrist, trailed long fingers across the soft skin of her inner arm.
Burning ... luring ... Starlin jerked backward.
"Don't touch me!" she cried.
He ignored her plea and grabbed her wrist again.
She felt his gaze and knew just by the iron grip of his fingers that it would be arrogantly commanding. She sensed those mysterious eyes moving over her, dwelling on slightly parted lips, the pulse throbbing rapidly in her throat and lingering heatedly on the rounded outline of her breasts visible, she knew, through the delicate ivory chemise.
Starlin thought desolately that she had goaded him too far, and that he would take her now, completely, and with little mercy. Desperation pumped through her veins and made her body tremble.
A plaintive message, unspoken yet somehow understood, seemed to pass between them and suddenly he made a harsh sound under his breath. Before she could think to draw away from him he'd spun her slight form about and bound her wrists behind her back with some sort of cloth. She flinched as he tied the knot, and although snug, it did not bite into her flesh. He led her over to the bed, sat her down, and methodically removed her shoes and stockings. When he'd tossed them aside, he nudged her.
"Lie back," he demanded in that whispery voice that gave her goose flesh.
"No!" she replied.
Her body came in contact with the mattress so fast that she gave a startled gasp. A firm hand held her there. "You do what you're told with me, my dear," he said harshly.
"If you try and . .. and .. ."
"Fight me again, and I might," he warned in a threatening voice.
Starlin swallowed over her fear and slowly lay back. She gave a strangled yelp when he flipped her rather indifferently onto her side. Something comforting fluttered down around her. A cover—tucked in around her legs and gently draped about her shoulders.
"Get some sleep. You're going to need it."
She heard him moving away. The door opened then closed. At last, she was completely alone. And with that, came the doubt. A frightening sensation assailed her. It reminded her of how she'd felt after her parents had disappeared. Visions wavered like somber ghosts behind her eyelids, intensifying her despair.
As the hours slowly passed, she mulled over her predicament a thousand times, yet found no solution. She was his prisoner—bound on a journey she knew not where. She was filled with hurt and confusion, and just before she fell into a troubled slumber, she thought of how ruthlessly her husband had betrayed her. He had not wanted to risk the chance that she might be pregnant, an annulment out of the question. Now he was free.
Her captor saw to her every need. For the next day or so she did little but doze fitfully and try to guess by the monotonous motion of the ship how far out to sea they'd traveled.
Whenever she could summon the strength, Starlin. worked at the knot securing her bindings. To little avail; it held fast.
Endless hours went by. Night or day? She had no concept. He had brought her two day's worth of meals, she thought. After she'd promptly thrown the first plateful in the direction she thought him to be, he kept her hands tied and fed her himself. It was not a time either of them appeared to enjoy. She would eat only what he could pry into her mouth, and could not know that with each spoonful he would move backward a step or two.
Although the blindfold stayed over her eyes, he allowed her to pace when he was in the cabin. He didn't converse with her, only ordered her about. She assumed he only sat with her then because he didn't want her bumping about the cabin without someone to look out for her. Bruised flesh did not bring as high a price as a creamy, unmarred body. By this time, Starlin was certain this was her fate.
She would be sold, might have been already, to the man who now sat across the room from her.
When was this nightmare journey going to end? she brooded angrily. She spun about a bit unsteadily to face the direction she felt his eyes watching ... watching . . . always staring.
"You really are the worst kind of coward, you know," she could not help but snap at him. She cocked her head, a tumbled mass of raven hair falling over one shoulder to spill across her heaving breast. "Are you afraid of me? Is that why you keep me bound so securely?" When there was no response, she goaded further, fury pumping through her.
"I believe you've rightfully earned your place in hell for this evil thing you've done—right beside my husband."
Starlin almost regretted her words, certain he meant to snap her neck upon feeling those now familiar fingers close around the back of the slender column. He tightened his grip and propelled her foward. Just as abruptly, she was stopped short, a firm hand clamping on her shoulder.
The binding around her hands was removed, her stiff wrists chafed by his competent fingers before he whirled her around and she felt those eyes once more.
She was pleasantly surprised to feel a cool, wet cloth upon her arms. It was soothing, and must have been
scented by attar of roses, for the pleasing scent wafted about her.
"I thought you'd like this," he said throatily.
"The bath, yes. Your hands upon me make my flesh crawl," she retorted bluntly.
He chuckled, seemingly unaffected by her insult. "We both know that's a lie."
"You—"
The soapy cloth touched her lips. "Ah-ah, ladies shouldn't use bad words! And stand still, or I'll leave the rest of you unwashed."
Seething, yet willing to bear his hands upon her if it meant she would feel clean again, Starlin gritted her teeth and submitted to his brisk ministrations without protest until she felt his fingers on the ties of her chemise. Her hands immediately came upward to clasp his.
"No." She put her volatile emotions into the single word, and he must have understood how strongly she felt, for he did not force the issue.
Instead, she felt him take her hand and fold her fingers around the cloth. "Then you do it," he said in that muffled tone.
"I'd like to." Eagerly she allowed him to lead her, dip her hands downward into a cool bowl of water. It felt divine.
With a sigh she splashed some on her arms. She used the cloth to scrub every inch of her that she could reach without having to remove the chemise.
Down her arms once
more, over the tops of her breasts, her throat, and unable to bear thinking of leaving her bare feet dirty, accepted his hand on her upper arm as an anchor so that she might wipe them clean, wiggling her toes and smiling for the first time.
It wasn't until she'd quickly swiped along her calves upward over her legs, the cloth disappearing beneath the hem of the chemise, that he released her with an indiscernible mutter and grabbed her hand. It was rigid as steel and his breathing uneven.
As though anxious to leave, he quickly rebound her wrist and sat her upon the bed. Starlin smirked when the door slammed. The knot was loose. She began working on it frantically—and was still tugging on it when night fell.
It was the low, rolling sound of thunder and the gentle patter of rain overhead that awoke her. She couldn't recall when exhaustion had claimed her, but she had fallen asleep.
Certain they had sailed into the depths of hell and envisioning all manner of wretched souls prowling about, she jerked upright in terror at the sound of the door crashing open against the wall. The wind rushed into the room.
"Who's there?" she murmured breathlessly.
She sat up, ears straining to pick up any sound. To her amazement, Starlin realized she was very much alone.
As the tempest moaned and the wind howled, she envisioned a fierce storm that would certainly dash the boat upon jagged reefs, leaving her to fend for herself trussed up like a Sunday goose! The blackguard! he was probably busy saving his own neck. The least he could have done was send someone to untie her.
She struggled with her bindings, and eventually undid the knot.
With a vengeance, she tore off the blindfold and sat blinking in the shadowed room. There was no light, only that which spilled through the doorway and porthole. Scooting quickly off the mattress she sprinted toward freedom.
What she was going to do once she reached topside she had not contemplated. But surely, she thought, there would be someone on the boat who would help her. And if all else failed, perhaps she could bribe them with promise of money. The floor lurched beneath her bare feet. She was tossed about like a feather in a windstorm and several times she bumped into furniture. She stifled an outcry, the fresh sea air luring her onward. A quiver of hope ran through her upon reaching the door. And then, without warning, her body came up against a hard, immovable object.
"Going somewhere?"
The voice was not muffled. It was distinct. And she was dazed by the sound of that all-too-familiar drawl. Some inner voice had been telling her all along who it was that held her prisoner, and why his touch should instill such burning desire within her. Every muscle she possessed suddenly froze. She found herself staring down at dark Hessian boots that gleamed even through the shadows. Her wide eyes traveled slowly upward, over thickly muscled legs in tight-fitting breeches, skimming past a broad chest covered by snow-white linen, coming to rest on a granite hard face. Her eyes widened.
"Morgan! You ... you bastard!" she hissed.
"I take it you're not exactly thrilled with my little honeymoon surprise," he replied dryly.
"I should have known only you could do something this despicable!"
Before she could think to move, he'd taken her chin between unrelenting fingers and gripped it tightly.
"Enough, Starlin," he ordered gruffly. "I don't have time to listen to any of your childish tirades. I have my hands full just trying to keep us secured in this cove until the waters calm. I only came down to make certain you were all right." He whirled her about, a lean finger prodding her between her shoulder blades. "Go back to bed. It's the safest place for you right now."
She turned on him so quickly that he almost looked surprised.
"As if I would do anything you told me to do, you bloody pirate! I have no intention of staying down here... and I insist that you return me to my grandfather this instant!"
"You may insist all that you want. But it's not likely to happen," he replied in a cold, dispassionate voice.
"You no good conniver," she hissed, her eyes rounding in fury.
One of his thick eyebrows quirked upward. "If I were you, I'd think about curbing that sharp tongue, my dear. If you don't, I just might have to gag you again."
Starlin's eyes darkened to smoky violet. "I don't have to do anything! You and I are finished, and I never want to see you again." She glared at him like some wild untamable siren bent on destroying him.
"You haven't realized yet, have you?"
"Just what is that supposed to mean?" she glared before searching the room frantically for some clothes. She thought about wrapping up in a sheet if she had to. "I'm getting out of this cabin, and then I'm certain I'll find at least one person on this vessel who will listen to my plight and help a lady in distress."
His mouth twisted upward in a broad smile. "I rather doubt that."
"If I offer them money, they will. For undoubtedly they are all just as corrupt as you and can be persuaded by the promise of gold," she told him with a look of triumph.
"That might have been true if ..."
"If what?' she demanded tersely.
"If there was anyone else on board this boat but you and me."
Starlin stared up at her husband's face. Tense emotions quivered through the room.
"We are alone?" Her voice was hoarse with dread.
His mouth curved into a nasty smile. "The happy couple sailing off to begin their new life."
"What is that supposed to mean, Morgan?"
"It's quite clear I would think. It's just you and me, and miles and miles of ocean."
There was no stopping the fear that gripped her. She had suffered all of this because of him!
"I have never hated you more than I do at this moment." She was almost weeping with frustration, and to add to her agony, Starlin observed his handsome features come alive with amusement.
"By your tone, dear wife, am I to take it you are disappointed to find it is your husband who you've allowed to sample your delectable charms?"
"I never consented to your vile touch!" she said defensively, a telltale blush staining her cheeks. "And for you to think that I was enjoying your disgusting actions only proves once again how crude a man you really are."
Insolently, he looked her up and down, his easy expression slowly fading. His eyes smoldered now, twin beacons of fire in the dim room. "Believe what your conscience tells you. But know this. In the beginning, I had no intention of touching you. Your desire reached out to me, drew me to you."
Starlin clamped her hands over her ears. "No4 It's not true!"
"You know it is," he growled. Before she could protest he'd cupped her face in his hands, his lips searing down upon hers so fiercely that he took her breath away. She wanted him to go on kissing her forever, yet knew she could not. He was only playing games with her emotions again, cold, cruel games that she must make certain he did not win. She had to protect herself, place a barrier of ice around her heart as she had always done, and never again allow him to penetrate it. She was terribly frightened at the moment by the intensity of her need for him. Even blindfolded, her body had known his touch, had surrendered to it unhesitantly. Starlin fought against the overwhelming desire inside her. It was useless.
She molded her body against him, seeking more of his warm mouth and those sure, stroking fingers that were sending shivers of delight wherever they touched. With a move so sudden her head snapped backward, Rayne broke the kiss.
Her eyes slowly opened and met his. She saw his flash with triumph.
"So you don't want me," he drawled in that mocking tone she hated.
"I'd rather die than suffer your lovemaking again," she stated emphatically.
A grin slanted his mouth. "You can stop the melodramatics," he said with quiet firmness. "And when I decide to make love to you, you know you won't stop me."
Her hands curled into claws and she swiped outward to catch him along the side of the neck.
"No man has the right to my bed unless I want him," Starlin cried.
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His eyes went black with fury. "I have the right. I am your husband."
Having almost forgotten their bizarre wedding day, which at the moment seemed like part of a dream, Starlin's heart twisted in acknowledgment. She was his chattel to do with as he chose.
"By law," she said tightly. "But it does nothing to alter my feelings of hate and contempt for you. You are a liar, a womanizer, and if my suspicions prove correct, a thief. If you bed me against my will, I shall hate you forever."
"I have challenged men for slurs to my name that were less than yours."
"You do not frighten me any longer." Her words were brave, yet seeing his mouth tighten and a nerve pulse in his jaw, she felt her courage begin to fade.
A thin smile split his lips.
"That is the last thing that I wish to do," he said tauntingly. "I prefer to elicit other emotions far more pleasant to the senses. And when I take you, Starlin, it will not be by force."
"You told me there would be an annulment!" she lashed back.
"I lied." Mesmerized by the creamy vision of femininity before him, Rayne was not prepared for the hot rush of desire that suddenly overwhelmed his common sense. He met her wide gaze with cool eyes.
"I despise you," Starlin hissed.
He was upon her again, so fast that she only had a moment to cry out softly as he yanked her to him.
"You planned all of this from the beginning, didn't you?" she gasped.
"I know that's what you want to believe," he returned, eyes glittering in that way which made her feel as if a storm had just raged through her.
Rayne suddenly wished an end to the bickering and longing, wished for the fury to turn to passion, the night to be spent making love. His hand slid down her arm to grasp her waist, tug gently.
"Stop fighting me, will you?'
Her eyes sought his, searching for truths there but seeing nothing. She bit her lower lip, a trace of hurtful tears in her voice. "What do you expect? You've taken me away from everything that I love. I have no idea where we are going, or why? And I can't help thinking how easy it will be for you to ... get rid of me when you become bored. And you will... I know it."