Prisoner of Desire

by Mary Wine

  There was too much sensation, too many points where her flesh burned because it was in contact with his. She twisted in his embrace, her hands flattening on his chest. Hunger became a living thing inside her belly. It flickered across the entrance to her passage, burning its way inside her.

  She'd never been so aware of that part of her body, never realized it could yearn to be touched.

  A soft sound of distress passed her lips as she became overwhelmed by it all. She leaned away from her partner, seeking enough space to clear her thoughts for a moment. Her heart was racing so fast, she wasn't sure it could stand the strain. She broke her lips free, her neck arching away from the kiss. Warren trailed his mouth across her jaw and onto the column of her neck. But his kisses became softer, like the rain

  falling on them. The storm was blowing out to sea now, the full fury of it spent.

  But the one raging inside her hadn't lost its strength. Lorena clutched at the wide shoulders, her fingers curling into the thick muscle. He felt so good, their skin producing an amazing feeling of delight when it connected. Each spot on her neck that he kissed sent shivers down her spine. He still held the back of her head, his fingers gripping her hair. But the pulling only seemed to magnify all the sensations. She liked his hardness, enjoyed the contrast to her softness. The few sedate kisses placed on the top of her hand paled compared to the flickering heat raging through her now. She wanted more, wanted something deeper. The hand around her waist slipped lower

  until he cupped a single side of her bottom.

  It was too much. A harsh cry passed her lips and Warren raised his head from her neck with a snarl. His eyes were full of hunger and part of her looked at it eagerly. The hand clutching her bottom squeezing slightly while he battled against the urge to feed their hunger.

  "It would be worth it." His voice was cut with need. "I swear a taste of you would be worth a death at your feet."

  He pressed her lower body against his. She felt what the wool of his pants had veiled from her eyes. Concealed in those britches was an erection that was hard and swollen. Her passage begged for it, demanding to be filled.

  "But I meant what I said. I do regret taking you against your will." He leaned down, pulling her head back to expose the length of her throat. A soft kiss pressed against the tender skin that marked where her stitches were. He drew in a stiff breath before releasing her. She stumbled back only two paces before drawing herself up straight.

  "I won't take anything from you I don't need to protect my men and brothers."

  And he planned to keep his word. It was written on his face, clear, solid.. .determination. It made him far more attractive than anything she'd noticed about him before. He offered her the one thing no one in the civilized world ever had.

  Choice.

  Tibetha stood in one of her empty bathing rooms. No shame heated her cheeks while she

  watched the passion engulf the couple on her back beach. They were both too young to

  appreciate the gift they were to each other. With a chuckle she returned to her work. The sailors paid her good money for fresh-water baths and washing. She took a last glance out at her

  customers and watched Warren release the woman he held. Pure frustration covered the man's

  face, the sort only an experienced woman understood the danger of. He was fighting his urges, struggling to hold on to decency.

  A selfish man wouldn't battle himself to do the right thing. No, he'd take what he wanted in spite of knowing that it was innocence which allowed him to overwhelm such a girl. Warren's large body shook, his hands gripping his belt until the knuckles turned white.

  Never going to fall in love? Tibetha laughed. Only love drove a man to deny what he ached to possess. It was the only power on earth that could take a man like Warren Rawlins to his knees.

  Chapter Seven

  "I'm sorry to see you leave." Tibetha tucked a final braid into place on the back of Lorena's head and used a hairpin to secure it. "This island is a magical place. Not many women from your country appreciate it as you do."

  Her cheeks burned but guilt remained out of touch. Lorena sighed. Her mind was still suspended in that moment on the beach. Normal things such as getting dressed were hard to focus on now.

  She wanted to daydream and seemed to have no discipline to prevent her mind from doing

  Exactly what it wanted.

  "It is a paradise."

  Tibetha chuckled. The woman handed over Lorena's wool stockings that were clean and pressed flat with an iron. Tibetha's nose winkled.

  "Those things will give you sunstroke in this climate. Better you store them in a sack than put your legs in them."

  Lorena bent one knee and forced herself to stick her pointed toes into the scratchy wool. She felt Tibetha's disapproving glare on her. But that was nothing compared to the way her skin

  responded when she began sheathing her leg. It was almost unbearable. Lorena actually gritted her teeth to endure it. Every inch of her skin protested.

  "The captain is going to have to carry you down to the boat, just like he done when you arrived."

  Lorena yanked the stocking free. She curled her fingers around it, caught between the need to stay out of contact with Warren and suffering the scratchy wool against her skin. Choice was a double-edged weapon. It was amazing to discover that the one thing she had longed for under Godford's rule was now sitting in her hands and making her tremble.

  "Does that mean you are going to leave those stockings off?" Tibetha sounded a little gleeful, but Lorena decided the woman was due her moment of gloating. It was ridiculous to dress in English clothing while sitting in the tropics. It was time to be reasonable. Wool stocking were all well and good in a chilly rain back in Northfleet. The church would frown on her thinking, but there were no clergy in sight.

  And she would choose the lesser of two evils. Heat was still swirling through her belly. It stroked over that place between her thighs society would rather she ignore. Being near Warren made that impossible. His kiss was intoxicating. The surface of her lips still tingled. Being hoisted up against him again, while she was still so needy for his touch, was too much temptation.

  "Yes. I believe leaving my feet bare will be the best way to get to the boat."

  "I wouldn't say that." Tibetha winked. "But it's been a few years since such a handsome man swept me off my feet. There's still a girl locked up right here." She thumped her chest. "Time don't erase that. You will always be the girl you are in your heart."

  Lorena laughed. She couldn't stop the amusement from crossing her lips. "And here I was thinking a bit of your experience would be very welcome to have."

  "You listen to Tibetha, girl. Some men in this world are mean. Their heart is cold and no woman ever going to change them. They have their money and they do horrible things to get more of it, but they are the poorest men because you can't never buy yourself love. A man can beat those around him until they show him submission, but that is only a lie."

  Tibetha stopped, her body shuddering. She closed her eyes and muttered words in a language

  that didn't sound like any words Lorena had ever heard. Tibetha's dark eyes were bright when she opened them. She stared straight into Lorena's and a shiver went down her spine.

  "You listen, young one. Stay away from the cold-hearted men. Your spirit is like the rain, renewing and life bringing. Follow your heart and you'll never dry up even in the hottest times."

  Lorena should have laughed. Such words were the things of fortune-tellers and circus

  entertainments. But Mordaunt's face flashed through her mind. The way he'd raked her with his gaze. Head to toe the same way he would a mare. His heart was cold. Warren was so different from him.

  Ohhh.. .she looked away, fate was having a jolly time with her.

  Tibetha muttered some more in her foreign language. "Don't be letting those missionaries teach you to frown on all the pleasure life has to offer. There will be plenty of times to cry, trust Tibe
tha on that, girl."

  The sun was touching the horizon. It turned the surface of the ocean orange and scarlet. A

  scattering of clouds remained overhead, going dark against the night sky. Outside the bathhouse, torches were lit. Large poles with rope wound around the tops of them. Oil was brushed onto the coils, the hemp rope soaking it up. It was a far cry from the gas street lamps of Northfleet.

  Warren stood at the edge of the walkway. His men were already standing in the surf. They held on to the boat as the waves tried to take it back out to sea.

  "Thank you, Tibetha."

  "I hope I see you again, child."

  Lorena doubted it and that saddened her. Casting a look over the huts and torches, she tried to commit them to memory. How many hours had she sat reading about the tropics? Drawing in a

  deep breath, she savored the scent of sea and sand.

  Warren eyed her, a hint of worry crossing his face. The man was actually worried she would

  make him force her back onto his ship.

  Really, life would be much easier if the man was less likeable. Leaving her fiance behind wasn't troubling her conscience at all. Every time she faced Warren she discovered he was a man of principle.

  That certainly wasn't helping her any. Just being in his company was enough to ruin her. It should matter to her but the truth was, it didn't.

  "Miss St. John?"

  His tone was grim. She watched his features tighten before he flexed his fingers.

  "Yes, Captain Rawlins?" She couldn't resist teasing him. Her voice dripped honey and innocence.

  Warren scowled. He drew a stiff breath, his eyes narrowing with his annoyance. "If you would be so kind, my men are waiting."

  "Oh. Dear." Lorena cast a long, slow look down the beach. "You simply must forgive me for being tardy. I am unaccustomed to shipping schedules."

  The man bristled and Tibetha smothered her amusement. Warren snorted before striding toward her.

  "I shan't need any assistance, Captain Rawlins."

  He didn't stop but she was already on the edge of the soil. Stepping forward, she strode across the sand. The tiny grains were still warm from the sun and moist from the rain. Delicious ripples of sensation went up her legs, making her wish she might leave her shoes off more often. The night wind blew in from the ocean, teasing the tops of her feet and swirling up her legs.

  She reached the beach where the water washed up onto the shore. Her feet sank into the sand.

  Grabbing her skirt and petticoat, she raised her hem as she walked into the water. She kept her chin level, refusing to cringe over a little bare ankle. Only a decade before, fashion had not held everyone in its fist. Dresses were hemmed shorter to allow for the dirt in the street. Every man watching her now had seen his share of ankles. So she would not behave as though they hadn't.

  That isn 't the reason. ..and you know it.

  That little voice inside her head needed a good shaking. But it persisted, nagging her with the true motivation behind her bare feet. She didn't need to be close to Warren right now. In fact, she doubted her ability to remain poised if she ended up touching him. The hot need that had filled her during their kiss left her weak.

  But her plan wore thin when she reached the boat. Bobbing on the incoming surf, it was much higher than she'd anticipated. Lifting her foot so high would be cumbersome with her skirts and petticoat all bunched up in her hands. There was also the added burden of her shoes and socks.

  She looked at the side of the boat trying to decide what to do.

  Warren scooped her up before she came to any conclusion. He sat her in the boat with a gentle touch. There was little light now, but she could still see the look of appreciation on his face. Her throat tightened as the men pushed the boat toward the open water. They dug into the sand,

  moving forward quickly to get over the breaking waves before the boat was swamped. The two

  at the bow jumped in first. They worked hard with their oars, helping to pull the

  boat up the swells. Their britches shimmered in the moonlight, wet from the sea.

  So now she was a willing captive.

  Well, better than humiliated by being hauled aboard like cargo once more. It was not much of a choice. At least this way she preserved her dignity.

  She would simply tell herself that. It was preferable to admitting that she didn't want to part company with the man who had kissed her on the beach. She wasn't ready to think such a thing.

  Choice. She had longed for it most of her life.

  But now that it lay in her grasp, what to do with it?

  "Thank you, Lorena."

  Warren kept his voice low. He looked relieved when he swung his leg over the rail of his ship.

  He studied her for a moment but hid his thoughts behind a pensive expression.

  "Such an odd comment, Captain Rawlins."

  He scanned the deck, his attention setding on the men as they made ready to sail. Several men began turning the wheel that would draw the anchor. The heavy chain ground against itself as it was pulled up. One sure hand cupped the upper portion of her arm when the ship pitched.

  "You find it difficult to believe I would be grateful you did not make it necessary for me to strong-arm you back aboard my vessel?" His attention returned to her face. "Or that I would rather it was much more amiable?"

  Heat surfaced in her cheeks that quickly flowed down her body. It was almost instant, her nipples drawing taut at just the idea of more contact between them.

  "I would not have enjoyed hauling you aboard in chains," he assured her.

  "Not as much as I would have disliked it." Her words were coated in the frustration that had kept her company since meeting him. "I believe it best we avoid one another, Captain."

  A grin curved his lips. Hunger flickered in his eyes as his expression turned rakish. "Your opinion seemed to be different this afternoon."

  Lorena frowned, shrugging off his hold. She drew herself up as staunchly as any puritan in the front pew.

  "Indeed." She made the word haughty, pressing her lips into a hard line.

  Warren laughed. A deep rumble of male amusement which awoke the urge to hit him. Slap her

  hands down on his chest and beat the devil out of him. He reached out and stroked his hand

  across her cheek before she figured out his intention. It was a soft touch, a devastating one.

  Tenderness washed over her temper, drowning it in sweet delight. He leaned close so his words didn't drift.

  "You kissed me back."

  He pressed his thumb against her lower lip. Tenderly, sweetly. It felt more intimate than any single touch she'd ever felt. Need clawed its way across her mind, making it hard to remember why it was wrong to enjoy his touch. Tibetha's words rose to the top. Men did seek their own gains above all other things. For the moment that was the wisest thing to remember.

  "It is quite unfair of you to mention such a lapse of discipline. I have no experience in dealing with advances. Since you claim to have brought me aboard only as a last resort, it falls to you to conduct yourself with honor."

  The moonlight cast half his face into silver. He looked like some hero from legend, strong, undefeatable and irresistible. He sighed.

  "Go below, Lorena, before I forget how correct you are."

  "Sails on the horizon!"

  With the windows open in the cabin, Lorena could listen to the orders on the deck above. She heard men running across the deck. Whether it was in excitement or fear, she wasn't sure.

  Long moments passed, and after an hour, she couldn't resist knowing what was going on.

  Pushing the cabin door open, she peered into the hallway. No one was in sight. A set of stairs led to the sunlight above. Grasping the handrail, she took care not to step on her skirts while she climbed.

  Warren hadn't told her she couldn't appear on deck.

  That was not the same thing as being granted permission, but sitting below wasn't going to tell her what was happening
. Had Mordaunt found them? Icy dread locked its grip on her. She froze on the stairs. Truly, she hoped never to set eyes on the man again. His treatment of the men constructing the walls of his fort sickened her. Without a doubt, she would not many him.

  Lorena finished climbing the stairs, leaving the matter of just what she would do instead of marrying Adam Mordaunt. There would be time enough for contemplating that after she

  discovered what ship was in sight.

  The small hatch led to the command deck, in a very similar fashion to Captain Connelly's ship.

  But the men crowded around the large wheel didn't keep their backs to her. Warren turned the second he caught movement behind him. His powerful body tensed, twisting around to

  investigate. The look in his eyes made her shiver. Just for an instant she glimpsed the warrior he was. There was no hint of weakness, no hesitation. Nothing save pure intensity burning in his eyes. One hand automatically moved to clasp the butt of the pistol tucked into his wide belt.

  This was the man who had placed a knife at her neck.

  He was hardened by battle. She recognized the determination in his eyes. It was the part of him which prompted him to kidnap her. That hardened core made him into the sort of man others

  followed when their lives were on the line.

  It was only a momentary glimpse. One he covered quickly once recognition dawned on him. The men beside him looked at her curiously, several nods being directed at her. They watched and waited to see what the captain made of her presence. Lorena stepped all the way onto the deck, firmly planting her feet while staring straight into his eyes.

  "Good afternoon, Miss St. John."

  "Captain Rawlins."

  She kept her voice cool but didn't miss the heat in his. It was almost undetectable, but her memory offered up those stolen moments on the beach. There was a hint of husky male interest that was hard to ignore.

  A lifeboat hit the water, shattering the silence. Looking across the deck, Lorena stared at another ship. A hundred yards off, it sat anchored in the protective cove of a small island which looked deserted. She could see all the way across it, to the opposite shore. A few trees grew up in the center of it, but nothing else. The ship looked fragile, as though one good storm might swallow it up.