by Mary Martin
Ely nodded grimly.
Starlin recalled the ring that Rayne now wore on his little finger—the clear red ruby with the strange, black swirling design within the stone. "Carl gave it to me just before he disappeared in a boating accident along with my mother. He was off on some wild search in the Triangle." She swallowed. "Carl had told me the ring had been given to him by a very special person—that I should remember love would always guide me, as it had him."
"You realize what that means, don't you?" Ely asked quietly.
"Yes, that Carl was your mother's lover—the man my husband swore to kill." Starlin sighed despondently. "To think the ring belonged to your mother."
"It did," Ely replied solemnly.
"Yes." She thought back aloud. "I knew the ring was the key to this mystery. Yet, when I once asked him about it, he replied that it reminded him of another— one he would have given to his wife if it had not been lost to him."
"And now you are his wife," Ely stated quietly.
"Yes, but I have no right to wear it. Don't wish to, in fact. He cannot truly love me—he wants me only for revenge. It's obvious to me now."
"I think you're wrong," Ely stated emphatically.
Starlin was suddenly most grateful for this man's sincere gesture of friendship, and it was just after he took hold of her hand to squeeze it gently that she noticed the tall, dark form of her husband stride unexpectedly around the bow of the longboat. She could not help her guilty expression even though she had done nothing to feel ashamed.
Rayne favored Ely with a brief searching look, his eyes turning to ice upon fixing on Starlin.
"Get below," he ordered curtly.
"I beg your pardon," she returned icily, hating him for trying to bully her in front of his brother. "I like it here." Her eyes were bright with threatening tears.
"I wasn't trying to steal your wife," Ely said lightly. "We were just getting to know each other a little better. After all, she is part of the family now."
"I do not blame you, Ely." Rayne faced Starlin. "When are you going to learn to do as I ask7' he inquired tersely.
"Perhaps when you learn to ask properly," Starlin lashed back.
"I have tried, yet you still defy me at every turn."
Starlin's eyes glittered with indignation. "If being bullied about by you is your idea of how to treat a wife, then might I suggest you take a few lessons from your brother!"
Starlin spun on her heel and stalked off.
Ely's lips twitched suspiciously.
Rayne glowered at him, then whirled about to storm off in the same direction as Starlin.
Turning back to the expanse of deep blue sea, the humorous expression on Ely's face faded to one of thoughtf ulness. He reviewed the conversation he'd just had with Starlin. He was confident he'd judged her feelings accurately. She loved Rayne—he was certain of it—and his pig-headed brother loved her. It was good that he'd told her some of the story. He smiled. Well, he had done what he could to force Rayne and Starlin's true feelings to the surface. And thinking of Malcolm Wells and his interest in the devil's treasure, Ely felt certain that it was best Starlin no longer had the ring in her possession. Obviously she had no idea the ring was a link to a treasure. He hoped that would help to keep her safe.
He was relieved that their ship was bound for Antare. Starlin would never be discovered there. At first, he'd thought Rayne meant to take her with them to the Keys. A quiver raced through him. Key West—and the final confrontation. The end was near. He was glad.
Starlin reached their cabin and slammed the door behind her. She shoved the bolt home. "You have tried to bully me for the last time, Morgan," she said angrily. "I won't stand for it."
"Starlin—open this door."
"I will not," she called out bravely.
"I warn you, madam."
"Don't try to browbeat me, Rayne. You have tried from the beginning to break me ... strip me of my pride as punishment for something you believe my family did to yours. Well, it's time you realize that I am not to blame," Starlin yelled back at him.
Silence prevailed for a moment and then Rayne swore even louder.
"Open the door, or I swear by all that's holy I will kick it in!"
"It is your door," she returned with icy disdain.
She immediately jumped backward as the door was delivered a vicious kick, then another, splintered wood flying as the door swung violently inward to bang against the wall. Rayne stepped into the room, obviously in a furious temper.
Involuntarily she moved backward. Tensely, they eyed each other. She was not surprised to notice the expression in his eyes change, become smoldering and heated, their silent message quite clear. He closed the door, then advanced slowly toward her.
"Get away from me!" He advanced another step. "I will not stand for it." She meant what she said, yet even as she heard herself utter the words, she felt her limbs grow weak and the first stirrings of desire awaken inside her.
The hard, chiseled slant to his lips gave way to a sensual smile. "I think it's time we straightened out some misunderstandings between us," he murmured silkily, a strong surge of lust rushing through his loins.
Her back came up against the table, one hand automatically reaching out to grasp for something, to make him stop for just a moment so that she might think. Her fingers touched something smooth and cold.
"Don't come any nearer!" she commanded.
His dark menacing face bore a wolfish smile. "Or you will do what—stop me?'
"Yes!" she cried in desperation, swinging her hand forward to point a knife at his chest.
Surprise flickered momentarily in his eyes, then vanished. "The cabin boy was careless when he cleaned up after our breakfast." He reached out one hand. "We both know you cannot stab me. Now hand it over like a good girl."
"First you must listen," she said. "This personal war you have been fighting against my family is destroying us, don't you see?"
The cabin became deathly quiet.
Rayne's eyes narrowed. "How much do you know?"
"Can't we talk about it like two sensible people?"
"Who told you? It was Ely, wasn't it? That was why you had your heads together. How much did he tell you?"
"He is so worried about you, Rayne. He does not wish to see you come to harm any more than I do."
"It is not me that you fear for. It is your brother Benton, and yourself."
"I am concerned for him, yes. But for myself, it is a totally different kind of fear."
He stared at her with that cold, ruthless look glittering in his eyes that she remembered so well from the time in the cave. She had been foolish to believe she could sway the pirate leader in him from his quest.
"Use the knife, then, if you can. But you'll have to kill me to keep me from you," he said menacingly.
She thrust the knife forward an inch, her grip on the handle light but dangerous, earning grudging respect from him.
"I am impressed by your obvious skill."
"I was taught years ago how to wield a knife as good as any seahand."
"Is that supposed to scare me?"
"I doubt that anything I do would accomplish that."
"Put the knife down. You know I'd sooner cut off my arm than harm you." He was watching her face intently, the expression in his jade eyes shadowed by thick lashes.
"I won't submit to you again," Starlin ground out.
The hard slant of Rayne's lips curved upward in that taunting smile. "Is that what you call your response— submitting?" His mouth twisted mockingly. "When we are in each other's arms, Starlin, you give everything to me. Everything. You hold nothing back."
"Damn you! Can't you see how you seek to belittle me?'
Rayne moved so swiftly that she had little time in which to react. Starlin knew she didn't want to hurt him, but blind instinct made her strike out. The sharp blade caught him on the forearm, slicing through his shirt-sleeve. He yanked her into his arms.
"I never thought you h
ad it in you," he murmured just before his lips crushed down upon her half-open mouth, kissing her, drawing from her as if he were a drowning man seeking her as his lifeline.
Starlin tried hard to deny him—and the need deep within her body that made her ache for him. Stubbornly, she fought him and herself, sobbing with frustration, yet unable to use the one thing that would keep him from her. She gripped the knife tighter, determinedly raised it upward behind his back. One small part of her threatened to send it plunging downward and end this torturous agony once and for all. It was then, with the tip of the blade poised, that she realized even if she killed him she would never really be free. He would always be a part of her, even in death. She dropped the knife.
The slender legs beneath her tangled skirts ceased to thrash, became supple and clinging. Her blood sang through her veins and her heart beat with excitement. Her hands moved over him, stroked him, and told him what was in her heart.
Lost in the throes of passion, Rayne thought he had never wanted her, needed her, more than at this moment. He lifted his head, and through slitted eyes watched the play of emotions on her lovely face as he slipped his hand inside her dress to cup one full breast, tease a silk-soft nipple with a calloused palm. It rose hard and impudently, seeking the pleasure to be found in those long, stroking fingers.
"My beautiful Ice Princess," he whispered, his lips inches above hers. "No matter if you flee to the ends of the earth to try and escape me. You never will, for I'll find you."
His heated words, softly spoken, sent the last of her will rushing from her.
"Make love to me, Rayne, I need you so," she moaned, caught in the grip of mindless desire from which there was only one escape.
He was quick with the fastenings on her gown. The cloth slid with a whisper down to the floor. A sudden jerk of his wrist left her naked body shivering in his embrace. Her breasts responded to the coolness of the sea air, her nipples taut and eager for his touch. His gold medallion was the only thing that she wore and it gleamed like his own personal brand against her skin. His warm lips moved over her face. Every fiber of his being was inflamed by her sweet surrender, wanting so to join his flesh to hers and lose himself within the silken warmth between her legs. Sweeping her up into his arms he carried her and tumbled them onto the bed of furs.
Wild, uncontrollable pleasure seized Starlin. With a moan of submission she came fully to him and knew she could deny him no longer, even knowing each time he made love to her that she died a little more inside.
For although he was a skilled and ardent lover who pleasured her completely before seeking his own, Starlin knew there could be no love for her in his heart. It was only physical hunger for her body and his relentless pursuit of revenge that drew him. As her arms went eagerly around his strong neck and her fingers brushed the tawny curls long against his collar, she thought perhaps she had one last weapon that she might yet bargain with—to save her stepbrother's life, and the soul of the man she loved with all of her heart.
Harsh, angry words were forgotten and whispered words of desire filled the room. Slowly, sensuously, she undressed him, kissed lightly each area of bronzed skin that she uncovered. She nipped at him, tasted him, and at last moved over him to impale herself upon him and become one with him in the most beautiful way that a woman can make a man part of herself. Her sleek golden legs held him prisoner, her hips moving in an age-old rhythm.
Breathless, quivering limbs and feverish lips sought in every way to please. Furious, wild abandon gripped them both and drew them into each other. Bending over him, cloaking him in a maelstrom of rose-scented hair, she whispered huskily in his ear, "Show me with your body what you cannot put into words," she whispered, sensing what he held within.
Moving her hips in an erotic motion that brought a soft cry of exquisite pleasure to his lips, Starlin arched and swayed .. . faster . . . faster, seeking to draw everything from him and force him to face the truth.
His hands reached out to touch her breasts, squeeze the high, firm flesh so perfectly sculpted it took away his breath just to gaze upon them. He felt her pleasure, heard her speak to him of love, even though no words were said, and knew it would always be this way with them. In every way, they were lovers.
It wasn't until much later, when the fires within them had cooled and they lay peacefully at rest within each other's arms, that Starlin fully realized what had passed between them. He had given all of himself to her this time. Never would he share with any other woman what they had shared this day.
As they neared the Bahamas, moist tropical breezes hinted of an approaching storm. The smell of rain hung heavy in the air. Starlin was standing on the quarterdeck near the wheelhousing chatting with Ely, who was splicing strands of rope together. Rayne was at the great wheel, his full attention on guiding the Tempest safely past the ship-eating reefs so prevalent in the area. He no longer appeared to mind the friendship Starlin and Ely shared, nor cared that she spent considerable time with him, the two of them laughing like children most of the time. She seemed to enjoy Ely's seafaring tales, and the stories of their childhood and family.
Yet Rayne did not mind. In the past two weeks he had felt an easing of his bitterness. Starlin was teaching him how to live again. And how to be gentle. He remembered how tentatively, and yes, with fear in her eyes, she'd told him yesterday that she was not to bear him a child.
"I had thought as much," she had murmured with a catch in her voice. "It was just the upheaval of late that made my time overlong." Her shining eyes were misty. "I will not hold you any longer. You are free, if you so desire."
"Free," he groaned, pulling her slender form into his arms and laying his chin upon the top of her dark head. "I can never be free of you. You have bewitched me from the first day I laid eyes on you."
He had gone to tell her that he would be staying on Antare with her for a while to see to necessary minor repairs for the ship. Starlin had been elated. They had shared an intimate supper and a long bath, and he refused to believe that her freely given love was perhaps only a ruse to gain her freedom.
A sharp cry from the crow's nest commanded Rayne's attention.
"Land ho! Off the starboard bow!"
Starlin hurried to stand beside Rayne. "Antare?" she questioned in eager anticipation. Rayne had told her that many of the crewmen were married, and their wives and children were living on the island. She was looking forward to talking with other women. She had been too long in the company of men.
Rayne had described the cottage that he maintained on the island. It sounded like paradise. She could hardly wait to see it.
Rayne held the wheel steady on course. "It will be an hour or more before we arrive. Why don't you go below and pack what we'll be needing."
"All right, darling." Starlin smiled. "I'll have us ready to go with time to spare."
"Then go to my cabin and gather my things, will you, Starlin?" Ely called out in a teasing voice.
"One man is enough for any woman to look after, Ely. Sorry, but you'll just have to find yourself a wife," she chuckled just before she descended the narrow stairs leading down from the quarterdeck.
Once inside their cabin, Starlin set to work gathering up their belongings, packing their bags. Setting what she wished to take ashore by the door, all accomplished with little effort, as if she'd been a sea captain's wife for years instead of just weeks. She was humming a jaunty tune that she'd heard Ely sing while he worked about the ship. Deciding that she'd best take Rayne's leather jerkin, she walked over to the sea chest and lifted the lid. While she was leaning over the chest, one of her earbobs came loose and fell down among the garments. She knelt and rummaged through the contents. It was then her elbow struck the side of the chest and a secret door fell open.
She was almost afraid to look. Something inside her warned her to slam the lid on the chest and forget what had happened. But she could not. With her heart beating rapidly, Starlin reached her hand inside the compartment and drew out a black cloth
pouch with a gold scorpion on one side. With trembling fingers she loosened the drawstring and dumped the contents out on the floor.
Jewels, brilliant and glittering, lay before her eyes. And all were very familiar.
"They're all mine," she gasped in disbelief, and knew with a sickening sense of loss that she must have been right about her husband all along. He was the one responsible for all of the awful things that had happened! And she had been such a fool to allow him to sway her thinking otherwise.
She remembered her vow of several months ago to learn everything there was of the Marquess of Sontavon. Well, she had almost accomplished that. But she had not even begun to scratch the surface when it came to Scorpio. And what did he really have planned for her? Perhaps he really was going to take her to Antare and keep her there forever, make her family and friends think that she had died at sea? She sat back, devastated.
Starlin gathered up the jewels and put them into the pouch, then placed it back in the secret compartment. Her fingers closed around another find—a jeweled dagger, slim and deadly looking. She shut the secret door and closed the lid on the chest before rising to her feet, still holding the dagger.
"You haven't bested me yet, you black-hearted devil," she hissed softly. "Just you wait and see."
Starlin would always remember her first glimpse of the island Antare. She stood on the quarterdeck beside Rayne and viewed the lush, tropical paradise through the haze of amber mists swirling around it. White sand formed a crescent beach up to the thick, green foliage and jagged seaside cliffs. Colorful, exotic birds swooped about from tree to tree and the air lay heavy with the scent of perfumed flowers.
"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Rayne asked as he adjusted the black baldric over his shoulder on which rested the broad sword.
"Like nothing I've ever seen before," Starlin replied.