Sexual Hunger

by Melissa MacNeal

  “You…you make a very enticing point, Palladino.”

  “Of course I do,” Rubio replied with a soft laugh. “And enticing will be our method for bringing Jason back, when Maria shows herself at his hideout. Have you ever seen tastier bait?”

  Eric exhaled as though someone had punched his stomach. “I’d best not reply to that, sir,” he remarked as he eyed Maria. “But again, you make a valid point.”

  “So what are we waiting for? Maria and I will assist with whatever you need, Officer. Your wish is our command as we take you to Johnny Conn’s hideaway.” Rubio glanced behind him. “Shall we pull up the gangplank and be off? The sooner we find the lost Lord Darington, the sooner you claim your reward.”

  26

  As the Fortune’s Opportunity slipped away from the pier in the Charleston harbor, Maria’s pulse pounded. Her brother—who knew nothing about navigating a steamship—had convinced Eric O’Keefe to follow his sketchy plan for finding Jason! With only a whisper of suggestion, in that voice that had made thousands believe, Rubio had commandeered a steamship for their private mission.

  “How did you do that?” she murmured as the ship’s bow swung slowly around to point them toward open water.

  Rubio chuckled smugly. “Why do you still doubt my powers of suggestion, sister? Did I lie to O’Keefe? Or put him in a compromising position?”

  “Well, that remains to be seen!” She looked back, to search the pier for men the size of clothespins waving their arms or calling after them. But it seemed her brother had gotten away with another caper.

  “O ye of little faith,” he quipped. “O’Keefe was having thoughts about you as surely as he was listening to me. I had a sudden vision of him…has he exposed himself to you, Maria?”

  She nearly choked on a laugh as the incident flashed in her mind. “He was with Jemma, as I told you. I just happened to be…standing nearby when she coaxed him out of his pants.”

  “And now he adores you like a puppy, for remaining silent to his superior officer. Tell me again that this was coincidence, rather than a fortuitous playing-out of events.” When he grinned, the gold ring in his nose sparkled like his dark eyes. He was damn proud of himself for accomplishing this mission—especially since he was once again proving Yosef Polinsky wrong.

  Maria couldn’t be peeved at him. He hadn’t earned his reputation as the star medium for Queen Victoria’s court by blathering nonsense at his clients; the proof was in his predictions. And he was rarely wrong.

  A smile warmed her face like the setting sun, the first true happiness she’d felt since they’d left London with unexpected guests. “Thank you, little brother,” she murmured. “Now, let’s hope Jason cooperates with your vision of our happy ending.”

  In the moments before dawn, Maria rubbed her eyes and gazed at the muted fuchsia sheen on the water around them. The Fortune’s Opportunity had sailed through the night, and Maria felt sorry for poor O’Keefe: with only two other sailors he’d found snoozing in their berths, he’d kept the steamer on the course Rubio had suggested. Now the three of them occupied the wheelhouse, where the table was covered with maps of the tiny islands comprising the Outer Banks chain that followed the coastline of North Carolina.

  “See there? It’s the Cape Lookout Light Station.” The officer raked his dark hair back from a face that looked exhausted yet resolute. “If you’re sure Jason’s on Ocracoke, we’ll steer in closer as the light increases. That harbor’s a devil to get in and out of: captains are advised to hire local pilots or avoid it altogether.”

  “Lifeboats.” Rubio gazed at the black-and-white checkered lighthouse tower ahead of them, his hands still on the wheel. He’d been steering by instinct and his guides, those times O’Keefe needed to tend other functions on the ship, and his keen delight shone on his face. “Just as Jason fancies Ocracoke because it was Blackbeard’s haunt, we can use his pirate’s sense of adventure to our advantage.”

  Maria’s inner muscles clenched: oh, but that name “Blackbeard” was a reminder of a body part she held near and dear—and longed to hold again! “He loved to play swashbuckler even before he was shanghaied,” she mused aloud. “What are you thinking?”

  Her brother shrugged, covering his rising excitement. “Why not anchor the Fortune’s Opportunity in plain sight, to catch his attention? Whet his appetite for another attack? Meanwhile, if we slip over to the island in lifeboats before daylight, we might catch him off guard.”

  O’Keefe tapped the map with his pencil. “It sounds better than running aground. If we’re playing this game, we might as well keep the sport in it rather than becoming a sure target. Have you a feel for where Conn might be?”

  Rubio motioned for O’Keefe to take the wheel. “Let me get some fresh air. See what I see. Meanwhile, Maria, I want you to put on your most provocative clothing. Less of it rather than more. Pirates don’t fancy modest women.”

  His raised eyebrow made her laugh even as tingles of anticipation danced up her spine. “You think I don’t know what catches Jason’s attention?” she countered. “This is the moment—the role—I’ve prepared myself for since we decided to sail.”

  As she went to her cabin, Maria felt a surge of exhilaration: today she would see Jason! And touch him again! And feel his strong arms around her, as she’d dreamed of so many nights since his abduction. Would he recognize her? Would he still want her, even if he didn’t remember who she was?

  What if he never regained himself? Would this entire journey be for naught?

  She couldn’t allow the thought of such a possibility. She rummaged through her trunk to find the lovely unmentionables from her trousseau: a black camisole that tied in the front, made of sheerest French lace, and a matching garter belt to hold up silk stockings—all part of the ensemble she’d planned to wear during their honeymoon. Maria slipped the stockings over her legs, savoring the whisper of the silk…the way the black lace patterned her calf in such a wicked way. She left off her corset and wore only the strapless camisole, pulling its black laces so the filmy fabric fit like a second skin and her breasts bulged until they nearly spilled over.

  Her tiny cabin had no mirror, so she yanked the crimson skirt and its matching jacket from her trunk and scurried to the room Dora and Jemma shared. The shaving mirror on their washstand was barely adequate but Maria saw enough to suck in her breath.

  She looked like a whore.

  The camisole’s black lace peeked up where the red jacket’s neckline plunged to the single button…a garment easily removed—or ripped off—when Jason saw her unfettered breasts beneath it. Without a chemise, the skirt clung to her legs when she walked, so unladylike as to present the perfect picture to Jason Darington. Her upswept hair had loosened during her night of keeping watch on the deck, and she left it messy: the dark tendrils hanging haphazardly around her face added to the wanton expression shining in her eyes.

  The bejeweled butterfly pendant rested at her collarbone, in plain sight above the lace camisole. It was an emotional straw she clutched: she hoped to jog Jason’s memory with every possible reminder of the life they’d enjoyed before he was shanghaied.

  Was she pretty enough? Provocative enough? Her body thrummed with the visions running through her mind…Jason grabbing for her, ravenous and randy…

  As Maria stepped out of the cabin, she noticed that the dull rumble of the steam engines had stopped, and the ship no longer moved through the water. O’Keefe and his sailors manned the winch that lowered the anchor, while on the bridge Rubio assessed the island directly ahead of them.

  She imagined the flamboyant Blackbeard in his frock coat, with his many braids sticking out beneath his tricorn hat—smoldering, to scare away any who would deter him. Her next thought brought Jason’s own Blackbeard to mind, tall and thick and crimson, throbbing to be inside her…mightier than any pirate’s sword, in its way. Maria shivered with an urgent inner need. She took the old spyglass from Jude’s room and then descended the stairs to the deck.

&
nbsp; Eric O’Keefe flushed and grabbed himself. His two assistants gaped openly at her—proof to her wayward heart that she possessed the power to seduce Jason Darington, or Johnny Conn, or any man who crossed her path.

  “I—I’m ready, gentlemen,” she said as Rubio joined them.

  “I’ve done been there and gone,” one of the sailors groaned, while O’Keefe put on his best attempt at a businesslike expression.

  “I daresay, Miss Palladino, that if Johnny Conn doesn’t come rushing out to ravish you, he’s a blind man.”

  “And I should surely love ta take ’is place,” the second sailor asserted. “With all due respect, o’ course.”

  “Respect isn’t what my sister’s trying to attract. Obviously.” Rubio teased at a tendril dangling at her temple, his expression a mixture of admiration and wariness. “Can you do this alone, Maria? Or shall I shadow you from a distance? We can’t predict Jason’s reaction, in his present state, and I will never forgive myself if I’ve put you at risk.”

  Maria’s grin flickered. “If I’m taken hostage—hauled off as a pirate’s prisoner—it’s an improvement over living in that town house without Jason, isn’t it?”

  “It leaves Jude and his mother in an untenable position, if Lord Darington can’t carry out the duties of his title…the responsibilities Jude seems reluctant to assume.”

  “That’s Jude’s problem, isn’t it?”

  The words rushed out and took Maria by surprise. Yet life with a pirate sounded much more fascinating—and more satisfying—than dealing with Dora and Jemma Darington if she returned to London without the man she loved. And, despite her deep feelings for Jude, her relationship with the Darington twins was much more enjoyable when they were both enjoying her. Jude, the family artiste, would never be happy overseeing the family’s affairs. He would become peevish and tiresome faster than she cared to think about. “What’s our plan, then, gentlemen?”

  Eric O’Keefe raised his binoculars to survey Ocracoke Island, its harbor and the huddle of houses beyond that. “I like your brother’s idea of using a lifeboat. He and I shall row you to shore on the far side of the island—”

  “That’s where I sense the presence of an abandoned shack. Abandoned, but not unoccupied.” Rubio’s voice sounded distant, connected to an unseen source. “Johnny Conn has remained at large this long by not attracting attention to himself. By using the hills, trees, and caves to best advantage.”

  “And in the meantime,” O’Keefe continued, “Rubio and I shall remain at the ready with ropes and a pistol—”

  “You’d shoot him?” Maria’s stomach lurched. “The idea is to bring him back alive!”

  “But under our control. We need proof, for the Darington Shipping partners, that we have indeed rid the American coastline of this marauder,” the chief officer pointed out. “Jason will also be Jude’s ticket out of jail. And if the Darington heir is to take over when you return, he must be bodily present even if he never…regains a true sense of himself. English law allows no assumptions of an heir’s death, you know.”

  “Which would place Wildwood and the other Darington properties in limbo, because Jude won’t assume the title unless his twin is deceased. And that’s the last thing we want, of course.” Rubio squeezed her shoulder. “All of this frightening talk aside, however, I sense we’re on our way to a successful venture! Shall we go?”

  Maria waited for O’Keefe to swing himself over the edge of the ship, to the narrow iron ladder, so he could assist her into the lifeboat that bobbed below. She was glad she’d left her extraneous garments behind: petticoats and shifts might have caught on the ladder’s edges or wrapped around her ankles as she stepped into the unsteady vessel, with Rubio close behind her.

  As the two men rowed, she studied Ocracoke through Jude’s spyglass. The activity in the harbor, with its bobbing boats and flagged masts, gave way to a more undeveloped side where trees and underbrush had taken over. The rugged sand beach looked desolate in the pale morning light. Not a place for a lady in fine shoes.

  “Are we getting closer?” O’Keefe removed his uniform jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows. He kept his gaze trained on the landscape—except when he stole glances at her.

  Maria sensed a totally different reaction than this man had experienced with Jemma, even at the height of the pleasure she’d given him. That gratified her, even if she didn’t intend to do anything about his randy inclinations.

  “The sensations are…muted, at best.” Rubio let his oars rest as he closed his eyes and faced the rising sun. “Perhaps our pirate is away from his hideout. Or asleep. I get no sense of Jason’s energy, even though my guides tell me we’re on the right path.”

  Silence then, except for the lapping of the water as they dipped their oars. Maria strained forward, determined to find the man she loved. Their efforts on Jason’s behalf would not be in vain! The spyglass made her squint, and its ancient lens rendered everything smudgy and indistinct, and yet—

  “Wait! Is that a shanty?” she whispered. “On the other side of those trees?”

  Her brother and Eric stopped rowing. Rubio inhaled deeply, his eyes closed. “I think—yes! Someone is there, although a deep stupor veils the signals an active spirit might emit.”

  The medium opened his eyes, returning to his present time and space. Then Rubio grinned: he never allowed limitations or obstacles to block him when he was close to a goal. “Might as well go ashore and see if Conn sniffs the bait—with great appreciation for being our bait, Maria.”

  Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears. It was her turn to win the day, to convince Jason Darington to follow her into the lifeboat, back to the Fortune’s Opportunity—and then to London. As the little vessel rode a wave to the beach, Maria reminded herself what was at stake. The Darington heir should assume his rightful title, of course, just as he should see to his mother’s and sister’s welfares in the wake of his father’s passing. But those things paled compared to the huge hole in her life—her heart—that only Jason could fill. Jude might look like his brother, but the imitation was never as good as the original, was it?

  “Good luck and Godspeed, Miss Palladino.” Eric O’Keefe offered his hand from beside the beached boat.

  “We’re with you all the way. You’ll never leave my sight, dear sister.”

  Nodding, Maria gazed at these two men one last time. They believed in her. They acknowledged that she could accomplish what they could not. She faced the wooded area then, contemplating her strategy: Jason had been her lover for years, but who knew what his memory and mental state were like? Better to play for keeps, devil be damned, she mused. He’ll never fall for it any other way.

  Maria took two faltering steps in the deep, loose sand and fell flat on her face.

  “Maria! Are you all right?”

  “Perhaps we should go along to—”

  “Stop it! Leave me be!” Her face flushed the color of her suit as she struggled to her feet. Not even away from the lifeboat, and already she’d floundered! Sand had filled her pumps and crept down her cleavage, and her upswept hair felt so loose it might come unpinned at any moment. Why would the dashing Jason Darington—or the swaggering Johnny Conn—even look at such an incompetent, sand-matted woman who’d sprawled on the beach when there was nothing to fall over?

  Because she’s a damsel in distress. What man can resist such a helpless, vulnerable creature?

  Maria blinked. Perhaps appearing confident and in control wasn’t her best ploy.

  With a naughty chuckle, she tore open her new jacket, trying not to care that its mother-of-pearl button flew askew, to be washed away by a wave. She speared her fingers into her hair and mussed it more. Kicked off her pretty pumps and tossed them back to the perplexed pair of guardians who watched her warily. Afraid for her sanity, no doubt.

  But what good was sanity? If she didn’t take Jason home with her, unhappiness would eventually lead her down the lonely road to dementia anyway. A laugh escaped her as she wig
gled her toes in the wet sand. Then she lifted her skirt, focused on the shanty, and slogged awkwardly toward it. “Ahoy, there!” she cried in a husky voice. “Anybody home?”

  She negotiated a few more yards of the beach. A pair of sandpipers eyed her, snatched at a morsel worth sparring over, and then skittered farther down the beach.

  “Anybody here?” she repeated more urgently. “I—I’ve washed ashore! Lost my way! Help me, please! Anyone?”

  Was that the clinking of bottles she heard? The sorry little shack had glass left in only one of its windows, and the wooden steps leading to its weathered door sagged to one side. If Johnny Conn had plundered three laden ships, why would he be holed up in such a dilapidated place? Maria stopped a short distance from the shack’s entrance and glanced over her shoulder.

  Rubio, O’Keefe, and the little boat had vanished. She was on her own.

  If her brother had mistaken the vibrations from this place, what did it matter if she hollered? If Jason wasn’t here—

  What if someone else is? Some shiftless vagrant you’ve awakened with your noisy approach? By now he’s had time to grab his gun and—

  A shot rang out. Maria screamed.

  “Halt in yer tracks! Who goes there?” A scuffling noise came through the gaping windows, along with a cantankerous amount of cursing.

  This wasn’t how she’d planned it. Should she turn and run?

  “Answer me, damn it! I knows yer out there, and I knows yer up to no good!” The shack’s tenant fired a second time and the remaining pane of glass shattered. He swore some more, and then two forearms poked out of the empty window frame on the far side of the door.

  Such ragged, dirty shirtsleeves should have warned her what she was up against, but it was the pistol dangling from one hand that held her attention.

  “Drop yer gun, fer chrissakes!” she cried, mimicking his thick, antiquated speech. “If ye’ve not got a spot o’ rum fer me parched throat, then ta hell with ye, man! Plenty o’ other places fer a lady the likes o’ me to find what she needs!”