by Mary Martin
"I'm not so sure of that," he said softly, surprised that her tears should bother him.
She swallowed with difficulty, looking up into his face. "For sooner or later the passion will die, and we will be left with nothing."
He shook his head slowly. "That is the one thing that we will always have." He was watching her closely.
The room was suddenly confining to Starlin. She could not stand his nearness, or the way his eyes
caressed her in a way they'd never done before. Or was it just that she'd never truly taken notice before? What was the depth of feeling she saw within that jade gaze? And how could he expect her to choose, or why should she even want to so desperately when she knew that there could only be one answer. The words formed on her lips, trembled there. She was struggling with herself, torn between the truth about him, and the desire to forget it all and surrender to his touch. Yet, macabre thoughts danced in her head, and brought to light something she'd not considered until this minute. Her lips tightened to a thin line.
"You'd like for me to fall into your arms, wouldn't you? My money, my properties, and if I fall in love with you, assurance that I will never tell anyone that you are the outlaw, Scorpio."
Frustration, not rage, darkened his features. "I never planned this marriage any more than you did—and I don't recall ever requesting your love, madam. As you've told me time and again, love may be the one emotion that I can never feel.4 But for whatever reason, I did marry you—and you now belong to me. Moreover, as your husband, I did not kidnap you. I spirited you away in such a fashion in order to save myself a scene much like this one."
"Forgive me for mentioning that one word that you so detest," she said haughtily. "I'm quite certain that when it suits you, you will tell me what really prompted you to marry me—and kidnap me."
Rayne laughed in bitter contempt. "My beautiful Ice Princess, if you only knew how much you really need me." He halted momentarily, then added deadly soft, "And how easily I could have destroyed you at any time ... if I had chosen to."
"You're right about yourself, you don't have the ability to love anyone, for if you did, you could never have done such an awful thing and have left my grandfather to wonder what has happened to me."
"Did you ever consider the fact that perhaps he is not wondering?"
His calmly spoken words shocked her immensely. She shook her head fiercely from side to side. "He would never have agreed to this! He loves me more than his own life!"
"Yes, he does. And perhaps when a person cares that much they will go to any lengths, or make any sacrifice, to protect those who mean everything to them."
"You expect me to believe that this bizarre scheme was enacted to protect me?"
"The earl wanted you away from England for good reason. He asked me to see you someplace safe, and knowing how you would protest, I devised a scheme that would catch you off guard and attract little attention. The servants and the guests were simply told that the happy bridal couple had slipped away quietly to begin their honeymoon. It was all done without a fuss, and with no interference from you."
"I know that Grandfather's spill was no accident. And I'm puzzled that you truly seem concerned over it." Her eyes were glacial. "Who is responsible?'
"There are several who stand to gain much if he is out of the way."
"You included," she said bitterly.
He gave a mirthless laugh. "Your admirers tagged you proper, milady. You are a cold-hearted temptress if ever I've met one." His eyes stabbed her. He bowed mockingly. "It appears we have nothing more to say to each other. You may have the cabin to yourself. I shall bunk elsewhere, for I have no intention of taking an unwilling woman to my bed."
She pierced him with a malevolent glare. "Especially when there's a very willing one waiting back in London. You've tricked me, lied to me! I know you can hardly think of being shackled to me when you really long to go back to her."
"You have goaded me too far this time," he thundered, fury in his eyes. "And at this moment I damned well feel like saying what is on my mind. I regret having married you as much as you loathe being shackled to me. You may be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but never have I known a woman who is such a shrew."
Starlin trembled from the roiling emotions inside her. How could anything ever be right between them? He was heartless and unfeeling, and felt nothing but contempt for her. "God help me if I should be carrying your child," she said woodenly. "For I don't honestly know what I will do if I am."
The look in his eyes was almost demonic. "Nor I. You are right—I don't love anyone. But I do protect what is mine, and you do belong to me. I suggest you get used to it."
Rebellion pumped through her. "I knew there was something darkly dangerous about you the first time I saw you. I won't be a victim of your scheming. I'll find some way to get away from you."
"No," he drawled, "you won't."
"I will find a way!" she screamed. Eyes flaring wildly, Starlin bolted around him and made a mad dash for the
door, never once looking back as she ran headlong up the narrow stairs not even considering that there was nowhere to go.
Rayne strode after her. With her bare feet and the deck slick with moisture, Starlin could very well be racing straight to disaster.
Even anchored within a sheltering cove, the tiny sloop, which bore the name Ice Princess, tossed and rolled in the angry sea. Up ahead, sprinting ghostlike across the top deck through the light drizzle, Starlin sought any means of escape from the man who had humiliated her so terribly. The small craft lurched crazily in the wind-whipped sea. Her bare feet slid this way and that on the slick teak and she had to fight to maintain her balance, hands grasping frantically at whatever was near in an effort to remain upright.
Starlin couldn't see through the gloom. It was black as the depths of hell and just as frightening. Overhead, the wind moaned a siren's song through the rigging. The sound of booted feet hurrying behind her drove her onward in desperate flight. There wasn't any way she was going to allow him near her again. She would brave death before she'd stay on this boat with him.
"Starlin!"
Rayne's voice reached her over the wind and she had to laugh at herself for thinking he sounded concerned.
Unexpectedly, the ship careened wildly and she was flung up against the rail. Her fingers gripped it like a lifeline. She spun about, eyes wide with expectation, knowing what choice she must now make. Through the fine gray drizzle she could barely discern the outline of the far shore—the English shore. Glancing back to the stairs, she saw him advancing toward her.
His golden hair was damp from the mists and clinging to his scowling brow. His white shirt was open to the waist, the full sleeves plastered about his thick, muscular arms. He looked like the pirate she remembered from Torquay, untamed, and dead set on breaking her.
"Don't come any closer, Rayne, I warn you!" she yelled, watching him warily.
He advanced cautiously. "Don't do anything foolish," he warned, yet by her wild eyes and tensely poised form, he knew that she was desperate enough to do just that.
He slowly extended his hand.
"If you so much as make a move . .." she threatened, glancing furtively over her shoulder first at the sight of land in the distance then down at the sea lashing angrily at the sides of the boat. They appeared to be anchored in some kind of cove. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, the rigging snapping and cracking over her head. She was scared to death. If she only had a minute to think she could consider how far she would have to swim to shore. But he was closing in on her, and she had no time to reason anything but escape. She was a strong swimmer, she could reach the beckoning shore.
"You'll not make the distance with the waves," he warned.
She lunged upward to swing her legs over the rail and sit on the narrow ledge. Her fingers gripped the rail tightly behind her.
Slowly, carefully so as not to frighten her, he moved closer. "Starlin," he called huskily. Her head swung arou
nd and their gazes locked. She regarded him with uncertainty. Against the explosive brilliance of the storm-lashed sky, she had never looked more beautiful.
Eyes of smoky violet spewed hatred at him. Her small chin lifted defiantly. Water ran in rivulets over her bare shoulders, her long hair clung wetly to the enticing curve of her breasts.
"You can't keep me prisoner. I won't stand for it."
"Even if I let you go, you'll still be my prisoner, and you know it."
Her eyes were enormous as her proud spirit struggled with the implication. She did not wish to acknowledge it, refused to. But still a little voice inside her would not be still. He has a powerful hold on you, and if you allow him to touch you one more time, you'll be lost.
"Damn you, Rayne Morgan, for ever coming into my life!" she blurted in frustration.
His face lay in shadow, but his voice was strong and sure. "Stop this, Starlin, and for once in your life, give in to someone else."
"You know we're no good for each other," she persisted, eyes imploring him. "Just let me go."
"All right! Jump if you're so all fired set on doing so," he snarled suddenly, tired of it all. Inwardly he reasoned how quickly it would all be over with then. Revenge would be his. All that he had to do was stand back and let her jump. He saw her move, and lunged forward. Damn! The little hellcat was going to do it.
Starlin wasn't prepared for his quick movements. She screamed in frustration as he'd caught her about the waist in an ironlike grip and pulled her over the rail into his arms. Her anguished sobs echoed across the crashing waves.
"No! Don't touch me ... don't hold me," she panted. "We're poison to each other." Bare wet legs, lithe and shapely, tangled about his thickly muscled calves in an effort to stay his movements.
Even when the schooner began to pitch, threatening to toss them both over the side, Starlin continued to struggle. But there was no breaking his grip. Suddenly, Rayne's head snapped up and his point of concentration fixed on the motion of the vessel. He was certain the wheel had broken free of the line he'd tied fast and was now spinning freely. If he did not secure it they would end up battered on the rocks. Geysering spray boiled upward over the side of the boat and pelted them with its stinging lash.
"I must reach the quarterdeck and secure the wheel," he told her. He forced her along with him.
She did not go willingly, but at last Rayne was able to reach the helm. He quickly grabbed hold of the wheel and gripped it firmly. The schooner ceased to lurch violently.
Rayne drew the exhausted girl into the curve of his body where she fit perfectly against him. She was rigid at first, but after a while her head lolled back onto his chest and she dozed.
Dreamily, she felt the sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt each time that he spun the wheel through his fingers, and tried hard not to envision the agile movements of those well-remembered hands. But in the end, she did exactly that. Her eyes flew open. She watched him play the wheel with effortless ease, and her body responded.
Strangely, the recollection, and the feel of him pressed so near was not unpleasant. She nestled further into his arms, arched her buttocks against hard, unyielding flesh. He felt wonderful, even smelled wonderful. The scent of him was so very familiar to her now.
Standing behind her, Rayne bent his head close to hers to shield her from the wind.
"Are you cold?"
"No," she replied softly.
She could not see him smile. In spite of everything, he thought she was the most exciting woman he had ever met.
The storm eventually blew itself out to sea, and by the time a few sprinkling of stars could be seen in the sky, Rayne had maneuvered the schooner deeper into the cove next to towering bluffs.
A shaft of moonlight pierced a lingering cloud and suddenly it seemed to Starlin as if there had never been a storm at all. How strange the tempests that blew in from the far oceans: intense, violent, they would rage as though they might tear the world asunder and then pass with the same unexpected swiftness and all would be calm, a night of uncommon beauty left in its wake.
The girl emitted a small sigh of pleasure as she watched the scene unfold. The waves ceased to pummel the boat, the wind shifted, and the air warmed. A moist breeze caressed her face and stirred her cascading mane, fine tendrils of her hair curling in wisps about her forehead and cheeks, the sweet perfume of it like a drug to Morgan's senses. She watched his every move as he left her just long enough to tie off the wheel once more, and then he was enfolding her within his arms and urging her body against his. A thrill shot through her as her slim thighs came up against the hard muscle of his.
"We'll be fine now," he said huskily near her ear.
"I have been standing here remembering the night I first saw you. It was you who guided the ship so easily into the cove at Torquay, wasn't it?"
"Were you watching the entire time?" he asked in surprise.
"I couldn't have turned away if I'd wanted to. It was as if... you had somehow known I'd be waiting there for you."
"Perhaps I did," he whispered into her hair.
She wasn't certain whether she willingly turned in his arms or if he drew her around to face him. Suddenly it no longer mattered who had made the first move, or that only a short while ago she'd been trying to escape him. The only thing at the moment that truly mattered was that he was looking at her in the way that made her knees feel all watery.
She eagerly reached upward, her hands clinging to his broad shoulders. A gleam of desire was there behind those long dark lashes that shadowed emerald eyes staring hotly into hers. Starlin felt a need so great within her that it brought a small moan to her lips. Fully aware of what she was doing she laced her fingers behind his head and drew his lips slowly down to hers.
"I want you . . . now," she murmured throatily. She felt a quiver race through his body.
"Do you know what you are saying?" he asked, his voice hoarse with suppressed desire.
There was no need to reply. Starlin kissed him with all of the pent-up longing inside her. Hazily, enfolded in passion's warm glow, she pushed aside the fact that he had a mistress he planned on returning to after their annulment.
She knew he'd take her whenever she let him. And that she wanted to let him—again ... and again ... and again.
And even knowing that he would leave her in the end, did nothing to dissuade her from his arms.
Hands that would always capture her will with effortless ease moved with exquisite delight up and down her spine, gripped her rounded buttocks, and pressed her hips to his. She could feel the heat of him luring her through the thin satin of her chemise and moved her hips feverishly against him.
Her uninhibited passion surprised him and banished all thoughts save one from his head. Ally or enemy? Of a sudden it no longer mattered. He knew it should. He wanted it to. But there was something about this woman that made him lose all sense of reason each time she was near. Damn, her witch eyes had surely cast him in their spell. Deep within the dark recesses of his soul primeval passion awakened and all thought of everything, including revenge, vanished. Just looking at her was enough to make desire flare within him. She was a beautiful temptress who threatened everything he believed in. And he knew that soon he would have to let her go. They were only together to protect common interest. When all quieted in London, he would leave her.
But here tonight, far from civilization, bounded only by a canopy of stars and the restless sea, Rayne's tenuous control had snapped, and with a muffled groan, he surrendered to the coiling fire in his loins. His lips moved over hers, his tongue pillaging her sweetness, seeking the honeyed warmth within. Sleek limbs molded to his broad form, drove all sanity from his mind. He wanted her, like he'd never wanted another woman.
Just as mindlessly, Starlin returned his heated passion, wanting so to drive all the demons from his soul, and needing more than ever just to hear him say they were not enemies. She returned his ardent kisses, her tongue entwining with his, hands exploring hi
m boldly, making him think then of taking her here, wildly and passionately beneath the stars with the dark cloak of night around them.
She did not protest when he slipped the straps of her chemise down her shoulders. A breathless sigh and a slight tremble and the chemise lay in a wisp of ivory satin at her feet. Her body quivered as his lips found that erotic place at the base of her throat that set her soul on fire.
"I want you so damned much," he murmured against her satin skin.
She placed a finger to his lips. "Shh ... don't tell me ... show me."
His lips slanted hard across hers. Desire rose in sweeping waves to blot out every other emotion save for one. Here, far from the crush of responsibility and what was right and wrong, he was free to express himself. This was his element, where he felt the greatest peace—and he would at last allow her a glimpse of the man he'd once been.
The storm had abated, but within the two lovers a storm of desire raged. Rayne was kissing Starlin passionately, his hands moving over her curves, tantalizing her with delicious promise. The sea breeze whispered through the rigging, lulling her drugged senses. She felt the balmy caress of the ocean wind, like warm velvet against the coolness of her skin. She shivered in anticipation. He raised his head slightly and asked huskily, "Are you cold ... we can go below?'
"No," she replied in a throaty whisper. "Out here, with only the sea and the sky to shelter us I feel free. And for the rest of this night that is how I wish to be."
Unable to resist her intoxicating allure and innocent beauty, Rayne felt his soul accept her sweet surrender.
Her eyes met his, smoky colored from desire, before her thick lashes dropped and she hid her deepest feelings from him.
He studied her with leisure, pleased that she made no move to stop him, but stood, shoulders held proudly, rose-tipped breasts so perfectly formed, beaded with droplets of sea spray and inviting his lips to taste of them. She tossed her head proudly, as if impatient, sending her riotous mane spilling over her shoulders, a night-black veil shielding the twin mounds, prompting his fingers to reach forward and brush it aside. His eyes feasted upon her.