Adair shook his head. “Greer hasna spoken a word since it happened, but she pointed him out to me…and she doona lie.”
That silken voice could make an angel weep. And this man was her captor? Somehow, she had yet to be frightened of him. “Then why not bring it to my father’s attention and let the matter be settled in front of the laird?”
“The damage has been done,” Adair said with a grim look, “and ’tis a mute lass’s finger against a lord’s son. I think my way is better.”
“Your way?”
“Aye. Your father and brother will find out how it feels to have their only daughter and sister dishonored.”
Kaitlin repressed a smile. If he meant to deflower her and take her maidenhead, who was she to complain? Just imagining him tearing her shirt off made her breasts heavy with desire. She had caught one of her brothers taking a serving wench’s breast in his mouth, and the thought of Adair’s sensual lips covering one of her nipples and suckling it made both of them bud hard. “Are you planning to rape me, then?”
He moved closer until she could feel his body heat. Slowly, he stroked the side of her cheek gently with his finger. She sighed instinctively and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile, making him even more appealing.
“I doona rape women, lass.” He bent his head and brushed his lips lightly against hers. “Although I think a good romp is what ye may be wantin’. Tell me, are ye a virgin still?”
How dare he think she was not? Landed gentry did not just allow their daughters to get tumbled in haystacks. And this is different? Her inner voice sounded amused. Yes! I’m tied and quite helpless… A strange pulsation began between her thighs. Her lips pursed in a pout. “Of course I am.”
“Ah, good.” He straightened and brushed a silken strand of hair from her face. “Ye’ll bring a good price, then.”
She stared at him as he walked to the door. “Price? What do you mean?”
Adair turned and for a moment she thought she saw pity in his glance, but it was quickly replaced with a determined look.
“Aye, lass. My ship trades your Welsh wool for Eastern spices and silks. There is an elderly sultan—Ali Stafa—in Constantinople that has asked for a blonde woman to add to his harem for years. I doona believe in human trafficking, so I’ve declined. Until now. I intend to use the gold I’m paid for you for my sister’s dowry. Since she’s been ruined, the price will be high for a man to accept her. Mayhap when your father realizes what ye’ve been forced to become, justice will be served.” With that, he turned and walked out.
Kaitlin heard the key turn in the lock. Sexual slavery? To an old, decrepit man? She would not lose her virginity that way. How could Adair MacDouglas be so cruel? It wasn’t her fault his sister was raped! She tugged desperately at the silk scarves, but they held fast. How could such flimsy material be so strong? Frustrated, she sank back on the bed.
Somehow, she would escape this ship. She eyed the porthole. She could probably slip through if she could wrest the heavy bronze latch open. Then another thought came to her, and she allowed herself a small smile. A virgin, he’d asked. A higher price. Mayhap, if she lost her virginity, the sultan would not want her. Somewhere, in her boring history lessons from the private tutor her father hired, she’d read that Eastern culture held an even higher regard for virgins than did the Western world. She just might interfere with the handsome Highlander’s plans. She shivered briefly, thinking about his big naked body sprawled over her own equally nude one. That had to feel good. Somehow, she’d have to convince him to loosen her bonds…and once she had her hands free, she’d let him know exactly what she wanted.
Except, did she really know? The small voice inside her head niggled, leaving her with a question she couldn’t answer. “Go away,” she mumbled. Her only reward was faint laughter as the unrepentant siren in her mind drifted into nothingness.
Chapter Two
Adair leaned against the starboard rail, contemplating the woman he’d just left in his stateroom. A halyard slapped against the mizzen mast and he listened to one of his sailors curse as he pulled in the sheet to lift the sail.
He should be at the helm. The three-masted frigate was a fast ship, but if the blonde lassie’s father decided to pursue—and he had no doubt the man would, once Kaitlin’s guards returned without her—he would have to hold fast to a tight course and not be letting any of the sails luff. Once he’d turned her over to the sultan, there wasn’t much any Englishman could do.
Adair pushed aside any fleeting thoughts of guilt—even if it was the season to be forgiving—that he might have. His sister deserved to be avenged; she was barely fifteen, and had been violated. What should be pleasure for a woman came to her in a cruel, painful way.
Rumors he’d heard of Ali Stafa swept through his mind: that the concubines that did not please him were publicly scourged and basely defiled by brute force of his guards. The image of the lovely blonde lass submitting to the aging, callous sultan was not a pleasant one. Mayhap she deserved better, but so did his sister. Justice would be done.
He pictured Kaitlin on his own bed, her arms spread slightly—he’d left enough slack in the scarves so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable—and totally helpless. By God, he wanted her. Had wanted her ever since that sweet, rounded ass kept hitting his cock on the slide down the cliff to his ship. He’d been tempted to slip his arm up from her slim waist to cup a breast on that ride.
Indeed, when he’d put her over his shoulder to stride up the gangplank, her breasts had bounced against his shoulders, and he’d allowed himself to stroke her glorious rump. And it was only natural that he’d held her body in place with his on the bed while he fettered her. Her struggle to slip out from under him had only enhanced every one of her treasures. He could still feel her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips wiggling against his groin, making an already-hard erection turn to pure stone. And she’d felt it; he knew she had by the way her huge green eyes had widened when he thrust against her belly. It had been a manly effort to push himself off of her. Had he been wearing his kilt, he had no idea of what he would have done.
How he longed to undo her shirt, one button at a time, allowing himself to savor slow glances of her. As fair as her complexion was, her nipples were bound to be a delicate pink. Ah, to bend his head and tease one of them with his tongue, circling it lightly, then flaying it from side to side and finally, ever so slowly, to cover the hardened bud with his mouth, kissing and nipping gently until she begged for him to suckle her hard. And he would. Long and hard and slow. Just like he would take possession of her mouth, his tongue exploring and thrusting, his lips slanting against hers, light and teasing, then harsh and demanding. Alternating between licking her lips and sucking them and then he’d move to…
“Captain!” The boatswain perched high up the main mast in the crow’s nest called down. He had his telescope trained on their stern. “Three sails on the horizon.”
Adair swore under his breath. So soon. He hadn’t expected the guards to be found or able to walk home until the ship was well underway. The laird, Kelvin MacDonnell, owned brigantines, which were slower and heavier than his frigate, although armed equally as well as his own. If the prevailing wind held, they should be able to outdistance them in twenty-four hours. What he was worried about was the light schooners the laird also owned. They could make headway quickly.
He strode aft toward the wheel and checked the compass in the binnacle. “Two degrees into the wind,” he told the helmsman and then gave the order to harden the sails. The ship heeled gracefully as her sails filled a fraction more and she gathered speed. Satisfied, he went below deck to gather some food for his beautiful captive.
She was just as he left her, propped up against the headboard, her gorgeous cat eyes watching him as he came to sit down beside her, balancing the bowl of stew on the tray. She didn’t seem to be scared of him, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He wouldn’t have minded holding close against him and s
troking her back to calm her down. Fool. He shouldn’t fall for a hostage. That’s all she was. He was avenging his sister, something he needed to remember.
“I’ve brought ye something to eat,” he said, and dipped the spoon, then held it to her mouth.
She turned away. “I can eat by myself. Untie me, please.”
“Och, no, lass. I canna.” He touched the rim of the spoon to her mouth. “Open.”
“No.”
Stubborn lass. He always had liked strong-willed women. Adair pushed the spoon between her lips, forcing her to swallow. Some of the juice dribbled down her chin. He picked up the napkin and slowly, sensuously wiped it away, admiring the curve of her cheek and her wide, full mouth. Lips just needing to be kissed. He forced himself to concentrate on the food. She clamped her mouth closed and again he wiped the juice from her chin.
“Doona fight me. I can force ye to eat,” he said, and demonstrated by placing a thumb on one side of her jaw and his middle finger on the other. With gentle pressure, he pried her mouth open. “Ye see? Now swallow like a good lass, or I’ll be licking the remains off your face myself.”
“You would not dare!”
He grinned, set the bowl down, and cradled her head in his hands, keeping her still.
With the lightest of touches, like a butterfly lighting on a leaf, he ran his tongue over her lips.
She pushed back against his hands to no avail. “That tickles.”
“Does it now?” He brushed her lips again and then slid lower, his mouth cupping her chin, sucking on it gently until he heard her moan. Ah. If he could that reaction out of something so simple, what would she be like in bed, lying under him naked? He felt himself grow hard at the thought of her bare skin against his, hands kneading her soft, full breasts while he thrust himself into her. What pleasure he could give her, slowly withdrawing, and then filling her completely. He’d keep it simple and easy until she got used to him, and only then would he bring her to that peak where the world would shatter. He wanted that.
And couldn’t have it. The sultan would pay much gold for such a beautiful virgin.
And as much as Adair wanted her, he longed to lay a fortune of gold at his sister’s feet. Greer deserved that much.
Reluctantly, he released Kaitlin and stood. Better to put some distance between them.
“I’ll be back with some soap and hot water so ye can tend to your needs.”
Never, in all the days since he’d first bedded a girl at thirteen, had his knees felt weak when he left a room. But they did now. What in blazes was wrong with him?
****
Hot water had been brought for Kaitlin to wash with, and a chamber pot now stood behind a dressing screen. Adair had finally untied her with the admonishment that he would be close by. She searched the room frantically, opening drawers as softly as she could, looking for a weapon before he came back.
She had no intention of being handed over to an old man she didn’t know, and she certainly was not going to become part of some harem: to be at some monster’s beck and call. If she could just find something—a dirk would be good—she could hide it and cut her bonds that night and slip out. If she couldn’t lower a lifeboat, she could swim. Kaitlin was sure they hadn’t rounded Cornwall yet. The Atlantic Drift would keep the waters reasonably warm near Penzance.
She struggled with the clasp of an old sea trunk. Adair would be back any moment. She was running out of time. With a raspy noise, the clasp gave way. Kaitlin held her breath, but there was only silence outside the cabin. She lifted the lid. Brightly woven tartan in blue and red and green met her eye: kilt, sash, glengarry, white linen ruffled shirt. Carefully, she slid her hand beneath an argyle jacket and hose, a leather sporran, silver belt buckle. She was nearly to the bottom before her fingers encountered a slim object of wood and steel. She pulled it out slowly and gasped. The knife’s handle was made of black bog oak, and the steel of the blade had been forged and honed to sharpness that could cut on either side as well as the tip. A sgian dubh, the concealed knife Highlanders carried.
Quickly, she closed the trunk and slipped the knife under her pillow. She straightened just as Adair opened the door.
For a moment, his large, muscular frame was silhouetted in the bright sunlight behind him. He seemed to be inspecting the cabin, even though he did not move. Did he suspect what she’d done? Kaitlin moved toward him, away from the bed. Mayhap she could talk him into not tying her again.
“I need some exercise.” This close to him, the man was intoxicating. Well over two hundred pounds of solid muscle, his body barred the door. And his scent surrounded her. The very essence of man.
He shook his head. “I canna be responsible for the sailors if ye be walking around on the deck, lass, and ye need to be a maiden still when I give ye over to Ali Stafa.”
Infuriated, she glared at him. Her first idea was to swim to shore while they were still skirting the English coast. The alternative plan was to lose her virginity before they got anywhere near Constantinople. Mayhap then Adair would drop her off at some other port if she were no longer worth a lot of money. The problem was, Kaitlin had no idea of how to go about seducing a man. She forced herself to smile.
“Mayhap you could walk with me tonight, when all is quiet?”
He looked surprised, then as wary as the wolf he resembled. “I doona—”
She threw caution to the winds and lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her fingers in his long, dark hair, pressing her lips against his in what she hoped was a passionate kiss.
For a moment, he stood frozen and then his arms came around her, crushing her to his chest as his mouth claimed hers, his lips hard and demanding as his tongue sought entrance. Kaitlin parted her lips breathlessly, as heat seared through her body like a fiery sword, slashing her veins into gushing rivers of molten lava. She felt his erection hard against her belly as his thighs pressed to hers and he walked her backward toward the bed and laid her down.
The weight of his body on hers lit another primal urge. Kaitlin’s hips undulated of their own accord and Adair groaned, his tongue deep inside her mouth. Deftly, his hand unbuttoned her shirt and he moved down, licking circles around one breast, his fingers firmly kneading the other. He nipped lightly at the hardened bud and Kaitlin gasped. Never, in all her wildest fantasies, had she thought anything could feel so good. Her breasts felt full and heavy, and the tips ached with need. Adair began to suckle, gently at first and then with increasing urgency, tantalizing first one breast and then the other. The flames which had swept Kaitlin’s body returned like a raging inferno.
He pushed a well-muscled thigh between her legs and pressed against her mound. Kaitlin felt a throbbing pulsation center itself at the contact, and instinctively she wrapped her thighs around his. His hands slid behind her back and he cupped her buttocks and lifted her to meet his demand. Her whole body began to tremble as he rocked with her and then suddenly, he was still.
Kaitlin opened her eyes to find him watching her, his weight now supported on his elbows.
“What are ye trying to do to me, lass?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. He sat up abruptly and shoved her away.
Kaitlin clutched her shirt, angry and hurt. She’d offered him her body and he didn’t want her! How could she have been so stupid? Or, maybe, she was just clumsy and didn’t know what to do. But he felt so good. Why did he stop? Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes.
Adair had moved to the door, but he turned now. “Why are ye crying? I dinna do anything to claim ye. Your virtue is intact.”
Kaitlin sobbed louder. Damn her virtue. She wanted him and he didn’t want her. He wouldn’t have stopped if he did. “You do not care about my virtue. You are planning to sell me to a barbarian. An old one.” Oh, God. If Adair wouldn’t take her and he wouldn’t let her anywhere near the sailors, she might very well end up in the harem. A virgin. She sat up suddenly, her green eyes blazing. “You are a bastard. You have abducted me, you plan to sell me into slave
ry for something I did not do, and now…now…my last few days of freedom…you will not even let me get some fresh air! Here.” She thrust her wrists toward him, unaware that the shirt had fallen open, partially exposing the rounded orbs of her breasts. “Tie me again. I do not care anymore.”
Adair inhaled sharply. “All right, lass. Ye’ll get your fresh air. It’s the least I can do. Tonight.” He spun on that and went out the door. Kaitlin heard the key in the lock and then his footsteps on the wooden deck.
****
By the Saint Brighid! He’d almost done it. Taken Kaitlin’s virginity. Adair scowled at his foolishness as he stomped aft to speak to the helmsman. Better keep his mind focused on sailing through St. George’s Channel without being attacked by Irish pirates. If only his brain could convince his cock about that. It seemed he had a permanently hard bulge in his trews since he’d brought the lass on board, and the pain in his groin wasn’t making his disposition any better.
He swore again as he almost tripped over an uncoiled line lying on the deck. By God, he’d find that sailor and flog him. The sea was a tough mistress who brooked no mistakes, and crew could not afford to be slip-shod.
Kaitlin had tasted so good. First, her sweet mouth, those soft lips pliant and eager under his, her tongue hesitant at first and then meeting his, playing tag. The smooth silkiness of her throat and neck as he trailed kisses toward her breasts, lush and dulcet, begging a man to suck on them. How he wanted to feast at that table. And he must not. Once there, he would not stop himself…and she must remain virginal. He'd sworn an oath, and he owed his sister. Better to get this done.
He looked up at the boatswain, high in the basket. “What news?”
“They’re still trailing us, Captain. No closer, but no farther away, either.”
Adair considered. By nightfall, they would be rounding the peninsula if the wind held. They were on a close haul and would be running toward the Mediterranean Sea. When they made the turn, the frigate would literally fly in front of the wind.
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