by Mary Wine
She paused outside the cabin door. The stairs leading up the command deck had the hatch closed.
Grabbing a handful of her skirts, she braced her feet against the roll of the ship. The stairs didn't pose any difficulty at all. Lorena pushed the hatch open with a hard shove before climbing up and into the morning light.
Warren cussed.
She heard the profanity roll past his lips in that brassy tone she'd committed to memory. He turned to investigate who was behind him, his expression far from welcoming. She dropped the hatch, refusing to be intimidated. She wasn't entering a receiving parlor after all.
"Get below, Lorena!"
"I shall not."
He looked shocked, his eyes narrowing. "Get below deck now." His voice was deadly.
"As if that is any safer. I believe a cannon ball when driven by black powder can cut through the hull of a ship quite successfully."
Warren shook his head, as if he might banish the sight of her with the motion. He pointed one thick finger at her, clearly accustomed to obedience from everyone aboard his vessel. "I am the captain of this vessel, madam. You will obey my order."
Lorena stepped toward the back railing. She forced her spine to remain straight and her chin level. "There is the difficulty with hostages, they are not bound to obey your orders." She turned to stare across the water at the British ships. "Let them see me here. I want Mordaunt to see I am no coward who will whimper below decks."
"Lorena..."
She turned an angry glare on him. "Let his men see what manner of commander they serve. We British are not so cold blooded. Not all of us. I will place my fate in the good nature of my countrymen who shall not fire on a ship with civilians on board."
"And if they follow orders and light off those cannons? This command deck will be their primary target." He crossed the space between them and hooked her upper arm in a firm grasp. "Don't ask me to watch you be torn apart."
The emotion in his voice almost broke her resolve. Except for her sisters, no one had ever cared for her welfare. But she could not stand by idle. It chafed against every principle she held dear.
"Do not ask me to cower, Warren. It is not who I am and, God willing, shall never be. There is not a single man on board this vessel who is not standing firm in the face of this threat. Including those young enough to be considered boys. I shall take my place as well."
He bit back another round of profanity but his grip relaxed. "I didn't ask you. I gave you an order."
"One I have disobeyed. You may take issue with me later if I survive."
He pulled her forward, her feet sliding on the smooth surface of the deck. "I can easily force you below."
Reaching for him, she gripped his chin. Surprise flared up in his eyes and he froze in place. "You promised me choice, Warren."
Anger turned his complexion dark, but she didn't wait for him to argue with her.
"That is the only thing I ask of you."
The hand on her arm tightened, but he didn't resume dragging her toward the hatch. He wanted to.
She saw it flickering in his gaze.
"You may be sure I will take issue with you later, madam."
His voice was edged with admiration, the look in his eyes something she was sure to recall until her dying day. Lorena glanced out to sea and the ships off their stern. It was very possible today might be that day. Her last in this life. The brim of the bonnet allowed her to only see what was directly in front of her. She had not missed the restricting garment. It was something Mordaunt would have given his blessing to though. As his wife she would have died gasping for breath.
Turning around, she looked at Warren. He grasped the wheel once more, sure, steady and strong.
His attention was on his men and keeping the Huntress between the British and the Golden Dawn.
His hands drew her interest. Fingers that had stroked her last night in places which had
welcomed the touch.
She did not regret it. No shame colored her cheeks, only a regret that it was very possible today might end one or both of their lives.
"Commissioner Mordaunt, there is a woman on the deck of the Huntress"
Adam curled his gloved fingers around a telescope. It was polished to a high shine, exactly the way it should be. His grasp tightened on the brass exterior as undisciplined emotion surged through him. He knew there was a woman on the command deck of the American vessel; he
could bloody well see her and exactly where her hand was.
Her hand was on another man. His temper boiled, fuelling the rage that had begun to keep him company at night.
No one took what was his.
No one.
And certainly no woman upset his plans. Too many hours had been invested in securing the
correct bride. Her share in a shipping business would ensure his future once his commission was served out.
"Orders, sir?"
Mordaunt snarled. His junior officer ignored the sound, Exactly the way the man should if he wanted to see another promotion.
"Stand down, Mr. Rendal."
Relief showed on the man's face before he turned and issued the order. Mordaunt ground his
teeth together before lifting the telescope up once again.
She would regret it.
He swore Lorena St. John would regret the hand she'd place so familiarly on another man. She belonged to him.
"Fall back, Mr. Rendal. Let them think we've given up the prize."
His junior officer turned to face him. "Sir, we'll reach American waters in a few more days."
Mordaunt closed the telescope. "I am aware of that."
He turned and descended to the lower deck and his cabin. A boy was busy polishing the brass fittings around the windows. He jumped to attention, tugging on his hat the moment Mordaunt appeared.
"Leave me."
The boy needed no urging. Adam waited until the door closed with a soft snap before allowing his lip to curl. Rage burned through him, but he didn't allow it to take complete command of his senses. No, that would not serve his purpose. Order and focus were what won the day. It was time to plan. He would rather take the ship at sea and send its crew of thieves to a murky grave, but there were too many members of his crew who didn't have enough steel in their backbones for that.
A pity.
He tapped the tabletop, his gaze looking at the chart of the American coastline. A slow smile formed on his lips. He would simply have to outsmart the Americans and do what they didn't
expect.
"Mr. Rendal!"
There was a scamper of boots in the hallway outside his cabin. The young boy stationed there ran up to the command deck to fetch his lieutenant. More steps bounced off the hull of the ship when the man descended to answer the call. A quick rap on the cabin door and it opened to admit him.
"Set a new course."
Mordaunt tapped a small dock on the map just outside Boston.
"Yes, sir."
If the junior officer had an opinion about the change of course, he kept it to himself. Exactly as it should be. There would be order. He would prevail against the rebel who had stolen his prize.
"You could have been killed."
Lorena jumped. Warren didn't appear until well after sunset. The cabin was dark and she'd left the lamp unlit. The day had dragged on endlessly. She'd spent most of it searching the horizon for sails. Darkness was a welcome cover, shielding the Huntress and her charge. But not lighting the lanterns had allowed Warren to appear like a spectre once again.
"A risk you shouldered as well. I see no need to place any higher value on me."
She heard him growl. The sound sent a tingle down the nape of her neck, all of the tiny hairs standing up. She didn't see him move. But her belly tightened because she swore she could feel him closing in on her.
A hard arm snaked around her waist, jerking her into contact with his solid frame. A startled sound passed her lips, but the hairs on the back
of her nec
k relaxed. She knew this body. His scent filled her senses, granting her a feeling of security that no amount of logic could ever provide. It wasn't something she had talked herself into doing. It was something she felt.
"I place a higher value on you."
His mouth captured hers, his kiss demanding. One hand covered her lower back, pressing her
against his larger body. His other hand traveled up her back, pausing when he encountered the coil of her hair where it was pinned to her head. He plucked out one hairpin, and two more, before lifting his mouth away from hers.
"You want to choose, Lorena? Then choose me."
Her hair came loose, uncoiling when he pulled the last pin from it. There was a faint tinkle when he dropped her pins on the table behind her. He plunged both his hands into her hair, combing his fingers down the length of it. Sweet sensation rippled through her. It wasn't soft or slow to build as it had been before. This time her body knew what delights might be hers, and it heated up instantly, responding to his touch.
"Invite me to stay the night here with you."
A soft gasp was her answer. Her throat clogged with tenderness because he meant it. His entire body shook with need, but he would not remain without her invitation.
She rose up onto her toes, seeking his mouth as a reply. He waited for her to press the kiss against his mouth, his lips slowly mimicking her motions instead of leading. But she felt his hands shake. Just a tiny amount when she trailed the tip of her tongue across his lower lip.
The response filled her with confidence. Sliding her hands over his chest, she became bolder, kissing him with the same demanding motion he'd shown her. A harsh catch in his breathing
made her even more daring and she
reached higher to touch his shoulders. She wanted to touch him. Not merely be touched.
He jerked when she reached his erection. His fingers tightened in her hair. He took command of the kiss, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth in a smooth motion that drew a shiver from her.
But she wasn't willing to float away on the waves of delight. Her fingers spread over his cock, stroking him through his pants.
"You're bolder than you appear, Lorena." She recognized the raspy tone and it pleased her greatly.
"Because I want to give as good as I get?"
He chuckled. "Be careful, Lorena, you tempt me to treat you like the sort of woman who lives boldly."
"And how is that?" Her voice didn't sound familiar. It was husky and laced with hunger. Her fingers moved once more over his hard flesh and he jerked. He gripped her hips, lifting
her off her feet in one quick motion. She didn't have time to gasp, only reach for him. Her arms twisted around his neck, the only solid thing she could find.
"By placing your back against the wall instead of laying you down in a bed."
Her back connected with the wall in the same instant he spoke. He lifted her up, his body
pressing her thighs apart so he might settle against her sex. It was raw and uncouth, but
excitement raced through her, the nub at the top of her sex throbbing insistently.
"I think I might enjoy it."
In the dark she was almost sure she saw his eyes glow. Such a thing was impossible of course, but she felt the intensity of his stare, felt it burning into her own gaze. His mouth landed on top of hers and all teasing fell aside. There was only hunger now. His lips demanding complete
surrender, but she refused to yield. She kissed him back, turning her head to press
her mouth more completely against his own. His clothing frustrated her, she tore at the buttons, seeking his skin. Her passage was already hot and needy. The hard bulge of his cock too much to bear with the layers of their clothing separating them.
"Hold on to me."
It was a command she didn't mind obeying. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he pressed her firmly against the wall with his wide chest. Her skirt was swept aside in one sure motion, the front of his breeches taking a moment longer to unfasten.
The night air brushed along her bare thighs, touching her spread sex a moment before he closed the gap, the head of his cock pressing against her opening. Her grip tightened on his neck, the first thrust sending prickles of pain through her. But it was only a pale echo from last night. Her passage quickly stretched around his girth, eagerly gripping what it craved. He froze deep inside her, gripping her hips and shaking with the effort.
"Am I hurting you?" His voice was so soft she almost didn't understand the words.
"I'm in agony every second you remain still."
"Lorena..." He sounded exasperated but his hips flexed, giving her the motion they both craved.
"I'm sick of being correct. Do you really want me to say something sedate?"
He thrust forward, sending delight up into her belly. Then thought became difficult and
unnecessary. Her entire life had been about thinking. She wanted to feel instead.
"No."
His voice echoed with the same need that pulsed through her veins. Need was red hot, glowing and radiating heat that burned away everything else. Her partner moved faster and harder with each thrust.
She met him eagerly. Her hips straining toward him, the stress of the day driving her into a frenzy. She needed to feel alive. Needed to feel his heart hammering against her own. But what truly fed her hunger was the hard thrust of his cock driving into her. Deep, hard and over and over again until pleasure flooded her. She clung to him while it ripped through the hours of tension which had gripped them both. The white-hot sensation forced a ciy from her, and he
pressed a hard kiss against her mouth while his entire body strained against hers. His muscles corded beneath her fingers while his seed pumped into her passage.
"I didn't mean to take you like that."
Disgust edged his words. But his hands were gentle. He cradled her against his chest for a long moment before setting her on her feet. Once again, he swept her clothing from her body without a single protest from the fabric.
"I swear to God I know better."
Reaching up, she stroked his jaw. He froze, that single touch commanding his complete attention.
"So do I."
It was a soft admission, one that humbled him. She felt his body shake, emotion rippling along the hard length of his limbs. He shed his clothing before he settled her in his bunk, the moonlight washing over his satisfied grin.
"This time, we'll have to curb our impatience and savor the journey. Most of the enjoyment is found in getting to the destination."
Warren held true to his word. Hours later, she collapsed against him, every muscle limp with exhaustion. Ripples of delight echoed throughout her body.
It was too hot.
Lorena frowned and kicked at the layers of bedding. Her mouth was dry and the bed too warm to endure. She rolled over, fighting her
way into the corner. A soft sigh passed her lips when she found a cool section of sheeting to lay her cheek against. Relief went through her, so she rubbed her cheek against it some more, trying to absorb the coolness.
A large hand landed on her shoulder and her eyes opened instantly. Memory returned but she
shrugged, trying to dislodge Warren's hand.
"It's too hot." Her throat didn't want to work either. It was parched and dry from the heat. It was sweltering, all she wanted to do was sleep. There was comfort in that. She let her eyes close and shrugged once again to get Warren to lift his hand away.
"Lorena?"
Warren wasn't willing to let her sleep. The bunk shook and the hand on her shoulder rolled her back into the center of it. But her eyelids felt heavy. It was still dark in the cabin, only a faint pink on the horizon. She groaned. If it was this hot before sunrise, the day promised to be dismal indeed.
"We lost the wind again," she groused.
"No, we didn't."
Lorena opened her eyes to glare at the man. He disagreed with her just to be obstinate. His blue eyes watched her, hi
s brow furrowed for some reason. Well, heat soured everyone's temperament.
He reached out and she could actually feel the warmth of his hand before it touched her.
"Warren, it's too hot."
His hand settled on her cheek in spite of her words. She stiffened and the furrows on his brow deepened.
"You're too hot."
She snorted and turned her face away from his touch. "As if you aren't." It seemed impossible to control the sharpness of her tone. The heat was hellish and her head ached
because of it. She knew she was surly but was too uncomfortable to care.
"I'm not, Lorena."
Confusion swept through her, but her mouth remained dry. "How can I be hot and you not?
We're in the same cabin, aren't we?" The question made no sense but she had to ask it anyway.
Her brain wasn't willing to work and the look on Warren's face disturbed her.
He left the bunk. A soft sigh rose from her chest because it was cooler now. She kicked the last corner of bedding off her lower legs, muttering in relief. Light illuminated the cabin and her bare skin. Her eyes grew round when she looked down her length and found nothing but skin. She
wasn't wearing a stitch.
And she was burning up.
The truth exploded through her brain and she reached up to finger the line of stitches still in her throat. The edges were swollen and weeping.
"Damn it." Warren tipped her chin up without asking. Fury danced in his eyes.
"You swear rather often."
He released her chin, confusion crossing his features. "I what?"
"Use profanity. Didn't you have a mother who taught you to avoid harsh language? It's ever so disrespectful to her to swear so much."
He grunted in reply. "Can we discuss this another time, Lorena? I rather think getting Ronan in here is more important."
"The Huntress doesn't have her own surgeon?"
Warren reached for his clothing. "Ronan is better."
And he needed the best. Lorena was burning with fever. He likely had the three days of
sweltering heat to thank for it, but what tore into his gut was the fact that he'd failed to notice sooner.