How To Please a Pirate

by Mia Marlowe

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  “My shirt.” His smile glinted silver in the soft light.

  “Oh! Yes, of course.”

  “If your fingers are too cold and stiff, I’ll be happy to do the unbuttoning for you,” he offered. “Anything for a lady, you know.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think being unbuttoned by you will be conducive to my remaining a lady.” Her fingers flew down the front of the shirt, tugging at the horn toggles lest he step in to help. She peeled the shirt off and held it out to him at arm’s length. “Thank you.”

  “And is that what you really want, Lyn?”

  She frowned quizzically at him, rubbing her arms with her palms for warmth.

  “To remain a lady?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “Just because we’ve tumbled into bed together in the past, there’s no need to repeat the error.”

  “It didn’t seem an error to me,” he said his tone growing ragged. “Mayhap not a seemly pastime for a gentleman and a lady, but for a man and a woman, I can’t imagine a better occupation.”

  “I assure you I do not want to bed you,” she said, trying to remember whether Father Eustace had named lying as one of the seven deadly sins.

  “Well, then you won’t mind putting that notion to the test. Lie down with me.”

  “What?”

  “You’re still shivering. Your bed is cold and I’m throwing off heat like a galley fire. Dragon Caern will certainly suffer if you catch your death of cold,” he said. “Let us climb beneath your covers long enough to put the old Vikings’ example to good use. As shipmates, as friends, we’ll share my body heat.”

  “That’s prepost—”

  He covered her mouth with his hand. “Then once you’re warm, I’ll rise and leave you, if that’s still your wish. I give you my word.”

  “Your word as a pirate?” she scoffed.

  Gabriel shook his head. “My word as a gentleman.”

  “All right,” she said warily. “But only until the bed is warm.”

  His wide grin did not give her comfort. Neither did the fact that he began to unfasten the drop front of his breeches.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Undressing. It’s a well-established scientific fact that bare bodies warm together faster than clothed ones.”

  “Did Mr. Meriwether tell you that, too?”

  His smile was evil incarnate. “No, experience taught me that.”

  A fizz of irritation sizzled through her. Jacquelyn knew the man was no monk, but the thought of him in bed with another woman made her feel prickly all over. She supposed she should thank him. His artless comment was all she needed to stiffen her spine enough to withstand whatever seduction he might be planning.

  And he was no doubt planning one.

  No matter. She would use his heat and then toss the lout out of bed on his ear. She pulled back the coverlet and began to climb in.

  “If you’re still clothed this will take longer,” he warned.

  “Do you believe me simple?”

  “No, I believe you cold.” He lowered his breeches, but she forced her gaze to remain riveted to his dark eyes. “Trust me, Lyn. I only want to warm you.”

  She glanced southward on his big frame. His body told a different tale.

  “If you want me gone sooner, you need to strip, too.” Gabriel pushed past her and climbed into the fluffy feather tick. He settled on his side, propping his head on his hand.

  It would serve him right, she reasoned. If she was able to lie naked beside him and still order him away, it would settle once and for all that their misbegotten entanglement—she wouldn’t use a more tender description, even to herself—was irrevocably at an end.

  “Very well,” she said. “Turn your face to the far wall.”

  “Now where’s the fun in that? It’s not as if I haven’t already seen—“

  “Would you like to leave right n-now?” The chill caused her to stammer.

  With an incoherent grumble under his breath, he rolled over, making the whole bed shake. She swept the room with a quick assessing glance to make sure there were no more strategically placed looking-glasses as she toed off her slippers. Satisfied he couldn’t see her this time, she peeled out of her robe and nightshift and climbed under the coverlet with him.

  She settled into the mattress, the sheets cool and smooth on her bare skin. Gabriel didn’t move.

  “I’m here,” she said in a small voice.

  “Believe me, I know.”

  Jacquelyn trembled, whether from cold or something darker she wasn’t sure. He still didn’t move.

  “How will this warm me?” she finally asked.

  “Well, we can let my body heat make its way slowly over to your side of the bed,” he said without the twitch of a single muscle. “Of course, that will probably take the rest of the night.”

  “What’s the other option?” A shiver raced through her.

  He rolled over and raised himself on one elbow. “Or you can allow me warm you in a more active manner.”

  “And when I tell you to stop?”

  “I stop.”

  “And when I’m thoroughly warm?”

  “I will quit your sheets upon your command, Mistress.”

  “Very well,” she said.

  “Huh-uh.” He made a soft negative sound. “You haven’t said please.”

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you always telling me that politeness is a thing to be cultivated? Lord knows you’ve corrected my manners often enough.” He cocked a brow at her. “Ask me nicely.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  “Then I wish you joy of your exceedingly cold bed,” he said as he threw the coverlet back.

  The fresh wave of night air sent her into a spasm of shivering. “Oh, all right. Please.”

  He pulled the bed linens back up over them and leaned on his elbow again. “Please, Gabriel,” he prompted.

  She drew her lips together in a tight line.

  He lifted the linens and started to ease out of the bed once more.

  “Please . . . Gabriel,” she said softly.

  A smile spread across his face. “That is my every intention, Lyn. I shall not rest until you are . . . pleased.”

  Chapter 22

  Jacquelyn had the sinking feeling she’d just made a deal with the devil.

  Gabriel pulled her close, tucking one arm under her neck and draping the other across her waist. He hooked a leg over hers, the small hairs on his legs tickling her in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. Every inch of his skin was warm, but his enraged cock at her hip was like a live coal encased in smooth, hard male flesh. Her shivering stopped as his warmth enveloped her.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Of course, for a deep chill friction is best.” He rocked his hips in a slow knock against hers as his leg moved up and down. His splay-fingered hand wandered over her belly in a languid circle.

  Against her will, she shuddered with desire.

  “Now if friction doesn’t work, more intense measures are warranted,” he said before he disappeared beneath her bed linens.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Warming you,” he said. “Lay still, Lyn.”

  He didn’t touch her, but his breath slid over her breasts, hot and moist. Her nipples tightened and she fisted the bed linens, fighting against the urge to arch them into his mouth.

  Lay still, the man said, she reminded herself. She could do this. She could accept his heat without succumbing to his wiles. It was merely an exercise of her will over her wayward body.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to feel nothing but the blessed warmth of his exhalation.

  The linens shifted around her as he moved down her body. His breath slid over her ribs and hovered near her navel. His open mouth had to be mere finger-widths away and yet he never grazed her prickling skin once
. Her entire body thrummed like a plucked string, but—drat the man!—he wouldn’t pick up the bow and play the whole tune.

  It was positively maddening.

  The short curly hairs over her sex swayed in his hot breeze and she shifted, opening to him almost without conscious thought.

  Almost.

  The ache between her thighs was back with a vengeance. Pounding. Relentless.

  With supreme effort, she pulled her legs together and crossed her ankles.

  A muffled snort came from under the linens.

  “Something vexes you?” she asked.

  “Only you, Lyn,” his voice rumbled up to her. “Only you.”

  Undeterred, he continued his trek downward. He spread the warmth of his breath over her tightly clamped thighs and lingered at her kneecaps.

  His heat swirled around her, his essence engulfing her.

  “You know, only last week Father Eustace was regaling me with a bit of academe I thought I’d never have use for,” he said, his voice ragged.

  “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “He says the ancient words for breath and spirit are virtually the same. Maybe that’s because our breath comes from deep inside us. Sharing it is like giving life.” Gabriel chuckled. “Imagine he didn’t have this sort of sharing in mind.”

  As Gabriel poured out his spirit on her, her spirit struggled to answer him.

  Along with her thoroughly roused body, which she fought with every ounce of her battered will.

  Because her feet were so cold, he rubbed them with his hands as well as caressing them with his breath. Life roared painfully back into them, then for a blessedly long while, her feet basked in the tender ministrations of his hands. He massaged the balls of her feet and rolled her toes between his fingers one by one. He caressed the delicate bones of her ankles. Gently, he uncrossed them and spread her legs wide.

  She was too blissfully relaxed to care.

  When he took her toe into his mouth and sucked, a streak of desire shot up her leg to quiver in her groin.

  Her breath caught in a gasp.

  And he heard it.

  Pressing his advantage, he moved between her splayed legs. He trailed his mouth up along the inside of her leg, pausing to dally with the crease behind her knee. Jacquelyn knew she ought to protest, but for the life of her, she couldn’t bear to stop the shivers of ecstasy that replaced her shivers of cold.

  His warm breath was on her crotch now, her secret folds moist and hungry for him. He nuzzled her with his nose and lips, softly, tentatively.

  Then he devoured her.

  She thought she might die.

  Not of embarrassment. Jacquelyn was far beyond shame. If it were possible she’d die of pure white-hot pleasure.

  She moaned. She writhed. She twisted her fingers in his hair and whispered incoherent encouragement to him.

  The world was bunched in a tight fist and threatened to shatter at any moment.

  Gabriel moved up her body, leaving her throbbing mound. She arched herself against him, pressing a wet trail down his chest and flat belly. His mouth was at her breasts, paying skillful homage to her aching nipples.

  The tip of him teased her wet folds.

  All thought of restraint fled. Need crowded reason to a dark corner of her mind and Jacquelyn eased herself down, trying to impale herself on his hard shaft.

  His head popped from under the linens and the full length of his body covered hers. A mere inch of him pressed through her swollen folds and stopped. Frustration tore at her throat, but she resisted the urge to squirm under him as he gazed down at her.

  “I believe I’ve warmed you thoroughly,” he said. “Shall I take my leave?”

  “Do you think you can?” she asked incredulously.

  “No,” he said with a wicked smile as he slid his full length into her.

  He held perfectly still and she reveled in the sweet sensation of fullness. Jacquelyn groaned and draped her arms over his shoulders. She tipped her chin up and offered him her lips.

  He took them.

  And took them. The joining of their mouths was less a kiss and more a conquest. She put up only the slightest of defenses, which he battered away with heart-stopping sweetness. Then she began a campaign of her own, teasing him with her tongue and stealing the breath from his lungs.

  Then his hips began to move.

  She arched into each thrust, raising her hips to meet him. Tension clenched her gut. As she neared a point of collapse, he held her tightly and rolled so that she was on top of him.

  “Sit up straight,” he urged.

  She did, blood coursing through her body rendering her suddenly oblivious to the room’s chill. One of his hands teased her breasts. The other found the exquisite little point of pleasure between her folds and played a lover’s game with that quivering bit of flesh. Jacquelyn threw her head back and growled with pleasure, astounded at the sounds coming from her own throat, but powerless to stop them.

  Then Gabriel grasped her hips and pressed her down hard on his groin. His body stiffened and shuddered. She felt him pulse like a fountain inside her and she answered his release with her own shattering completion.

  Body convulsing in waves of pleasure, she collapsed onto his chest. His heart pounded beneath her ear like a battering ram slamming against a castle’s stout oak doors.

  That’s it exactly, she thought drowsily.

  He was driving himself into her heart through her body. And she’d just proven she was powerless to stop him.

  Strangely enough, Mistress Wren didn’t give a tinker’s damn.

  Oh, she was vaguely sure she’d care most vehemently later, but for now, she’d have sooner lopped off her right hand than sever the sweet connection of their flesh and the warmth of his breath on her crown.

  * * *

  Her breathing grew slow and even. Gabriel felt the last knot of tension slip from her as her hand went slack on his shoulder. Lyn was boneless as a cat lying on his chest.

  A beautiful, naked cat.

  Gradually, his erection settled and he slipped from her moist cleft. He sighed. For a few blinding moments, they shared one heartbeat, one breath. No longer. They were separate beings once again.

  This woman was the closest to heaven a pirate like him was ever likely to come. Who knew when, or if, he’d ever breach her defenses again?

  One of the muscles in his calves spasmed in a cramp, but he didn’t want to move for fear of waking her. He pointed and flexed his foot to work it out.

  He inhaled her sweet, well-satisfied womanly scent. There were other things he needed to work out as well. Like how in hell he’d be able to marry another when Jacquelyn was all he craved.

  He chanced a kiss on her tousled crown and was pleased when the rhythm of her breathing didn’t change.

  The future was a fog. Whenever he’d run up against a moist gray curtain while he captained his pirate corsair, he’d felt his way through the low lying cloud. He sounded the depth at regular intervals, trimmed his canvas and ran silent, hoping for a break in the miasma.

  Somehow, there was a way through this mist that would keep Jacquelyn by his side.

  He’d just have to find it.

  Chapter 23

  A ray of sunlight shafted through the window and teased Jacquelyn’s eyes open. Her first conscious thought was how wonderful her bed felt this fine morning, all toasty and comfortable with the linens and coverlet bunched perfectly. Her second thought was how splendid a thing it was to wake beside a gloriously naked man.

  She sat bolt upright.

  “What are you still doing here?”

  Gabriel stretched his limbs and yawned hugely. “Sleeping. Trying to, at any rate.” He laced his fingers behind his head and cast her a lop-sided grin.

  Their heart-stopping lovemaking rushed back into her with a brush of remembered passion. A low drumbeat in her belly thumped once or twice.

  “Well, you can’t stay here,” she said, frustrated that she must force him f
rom her bed. “You must begone and quickly.”

  “Really, Lyn, you need to stop ordering me about.” He made a ‘tsk’ of disapproval while giving her a mock stern look. “Did I miss something or am I no longer Lord of Dragon Caern?”

  “You are yet lord.” She rolled her eyes at him. “But that doesn’t give you leave to sleep in my bed.”

  “No, seems to me last night you gave me leave to sleep in your bed.” He ran his fingers up her arm and past her shoulder to slide his hand around the nape of her neck. “Along with certain other liberties.”

  “Gabriel, please . . .”

  His smile grew more wicked by the moment. “Those are the magic words, Lyn.” He pulled her down and kissed her thoroughly.

  Gasping, she tore her mouth from his, her fingers splayed on his bare chest. His smooth skin felt so good beneath her palms, but she forced herself not to dwell on it.

  “What if someone goes to your chamber and finds you missing?”

  “They’ll think I’m someplace else?” he suggested unhelpfully.

  “No, they’ll start looking for you from one end of Dragon Caern to the other,” she said, “and it won’t do for us to be found naked in my chamber.”

  “The secret passageway is still open. How about if we’re found naked in my chamber?”

  She swatted his shoulder. “Why do you insist on making things so difficult?”

  “Oh, Lyn, give it a rest. This early in the morning, I’ll wager none are about but Mrs. Beadle who’s more interested in making my breakfast than where I make my bed.” He drew her beside him in a way that brooked no refusal. “Don’t spoil a perfectly lovely interlude by borrowing trouble. Can we not enjoy a moment’s peace?”

  With her body flush against his, peace was not the first thing that leaped to her mind. But she laid her head in the crook of his shoulder and let his warm masculine scent wash over her. She didn’t have the will to fight him any longer. In fact, last night had proven she had very little will at all.

  Come disaster, come calamity, come a rabble at the door bearing certain ruin, she wouldn’t leave this man’s side.

  He stroked her spine and let his fingers draw lazy circles around the dimples above her buttocks. A tingle of arousal fizzed through her, but she was satisfied for the moment just to let him hold her.