The Pirate and the Puritan

by Howe, Cheryl

  “Not every woman. Just you.” He cupped her jaw, and parted his lips in anticipation.

  Want and anger flashed in swift succession across her features, but Drew was too far gone to care what the anger might mean.

  She backed away, flinging off his touch with a shake of her head. “Don’t. Don’t tease me. You are supposed to be truthful tonight.”

  “I don’t tease, Felicity. Do you?” He caught her by slipping his arms loosely around her waist. When she made no effort to push him away, just stared up at him and licked her lips in promise, Drew realized he’d miscalculated. A coaxing kiss or a gentle nibble on her shoulder would leave him with a much too eager woman. Drew’s body was already confused about the game they were playing, and any more encouragement would be followed by an all-out mutiny. If he truly wanted to scare her off, he needed to take his pirate guise a step farther. He just wished he didn’t find the idea so appealing.

  Without warning, he jerked her tightly against him and pressed his erection against the soft flesh of her abdomen. “See how honest I’m being right now?” He took advantage of her sharp inhalation to cover his mouth with hers. His kiss instantly demanded. He pushed his tongue into her mouth without the slightest whispery coaxing of his lips to soften the thrust. The unexpected brush of her tongue in return and the seeking hand that glided up his back incinerated Drew’s plan, along with his last shred of conscious thought.

  Her welcoming response to his raiding kiss softened his pressure on her lips. Instinctively, his body interpreted the subtle signals of her desire and gave in kind. He slid his hands lightly up her back. When he found his destination, his fingers tangled in the thick strands of her hair. He brushed the soft skin at her nape with his fingertips and swallowed a deep groan in anticipation of fulfilling a fantasy.

  He grabbed fistfuls of the golden-brown silk that had teased him from the moment he’d first gazed at her by candlelight. Gently he tugged, forcing her to tilt her head back.

  He slid his mouth from hers to glide across her soft skin, stopping when he reached the hollow between her jaw and earlobe. He tasted her vulnerability with his tongue. Licking down the length of her neck, he hesitated at the base of her throat to inhale the intoxicating mixture of rose and sandalwood radiating from her heated skin. Lost in ravaging the spot with an openmouthed kiss, he heard her soft moan like a cannon explosion in his ear.

  “Who are you?” he whispered between deep gulps of air. He felt as if he was drowning. His mind screamed: This is Felicity Kendall. You're not supposed to be touching her like this. But he couldn’t shake the sensation that the woman in his arms bore no relation to the puritanical Miss Kendall. The women he held seduced like a siren whose moan proved more damaging than any song. Jagged rocks lay ahead, and all he could think of was steering straight for them.

  He forced himself to loosen his grip so he could look into Felicity’s face. Surely the reality of her image would banish the nymph back to the sea. She gazed up at him, panting for breath. Her heavy eyelids intensified the murky green shimmering behind the liquid brown of her irises. She licked her lips, wet and red from his rough kiss. He groaned and lowered his head at her invitation, knowing or otherwise.

  “Felicity,” he mumbled against her lips. This was the real Felicity, the sexual creature who tempted and challenged him at every turn.

  Her return kiss buckled his knees. Ever-increasing urgency made him light-headed. All his blood raged to one part of his body. He’d begun to ache with his need to be inside her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, overpowering her teasing grazes.

  He released her hair and raced his free hands down her back, drawing her closer with demanding pressure. He slid his palms over her bottom, then cupped her, tilting her hips so he could melt into her. The sensation demanded immediate action. If not for the barrier of their clothing, their encounter would have come to an abrupt and premature end.

  A choked sound escaped her throat, muffled by their entwined mouths. He struggled for a grain of rational thought to tell him whether the sound was protest or encouragement. Her grip on his biceps and the fact that she didn’t try to push him away persuaded him she meant the latter.

  All he had to do was turn her a few inches, set her on the edge of the table, pull the tie of her robe and he could be inside her in the time it took to unlace his breeches. They wouldn’t even have to unlock the maddening kiss fueling the urgency between them. He released her to contemplate the situation before lust and instinct ruled irrevocably. His fingers disagreed and roamed up her rib cage of their own volition. The moment he captured the weight of her full breasts, she arched into his touch.

  Rational thinking appeared beyond either of them. He returned one hand to her lush bottom while his other continued its desperate groping. Her nipple burned through the red silk and teased his palm with an unspoken promise. With another woman, her obvious arousal would be consent enough. With Felicity, he needed to hear her say she wanted him as he wanted her.

  “Open your eyes and look at me. Is this what you want?” He guided her hand to the straining beast in his breeches. If that didn’t scare her off, nothing would. With held breath, he stared into the hazy wonder in her eyes as she measured his length with the flat of her palm. Drew leaned his head back and let his eyes drift shut, reveling in her touch. He took that as a resounding yes.

  Solomon’s abrupt opening of the door forced Drew from drifting ecstasy with a violent shake. Drew turned his head to stare, stunned and blinking.

  “You were supposed to keep the door locked,” accused Solomon.

  At the pressure of her hands pushing against his shoulders, Drew relinquished his bone-crushing hold. She continued to struggle in his arms, but he didn’t let her go.

  “Men who give a damn about their lives should learn to knock.”

  With one arm wrapped tightly around Felicity’s waist, he forced her against him, shielding her from Solomon’s gaze, even if she didn’t want his protection. Solomon was one of the few men in the world he trusted, but still, Drew didn’t want another man to see Felicity in her flimsy robe.

  When her thrashing grew more desperate, he let her go only to shove her directly behind him. He faced Solomon, blocking the man’s view. He let his impatient stare speak to the fact that he wanted Solomon to leave immediately.

  “What?” he demanded, breaking the prolonged silence.

  Solomon stared back, immovable as a brick wall. “We are ready to set sail. I thought you would want to be on deck, Captain.”

  Drew gave up his battle stance and ran his fingers through his hair. The black satin ribbon holding it in place had come loose. He glanced over his shoulder at Felicity.

  She stood a few steps away with her back to the door and her head bowed. Bloody hell. What had he done, or better yet, almost done?

  He returned his attention to Solomon. “I’ll be there shortly. Just give me a minute.”

  With a curt nod, Solomon retreated from the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Drew moved behind Felicity. He reached out to lay his hands gently on her shoulders, but stopped. Instead, he balled them into fists and dropped them to his sides.

  “Felicity,” he said softly.

  She turned to face him, then took a step back. The flush in her cheeks a few moments earlier had faded. Her lips, still swollen and wet, were an inviting contrast to her pale skin. Unfortunately, the coldness in her gaze told him the invitation existed only in his imagination.

  He searched his fogged memory, hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted any of her other messages. “Are you all right?”

  Her breathing sounded ragged. She responded with a silent nod and clutched the opening of her robe together with both hands. The way her fingers clenched the red silk disturbed its smooth beauty. She stared down at the floor as if she were ashamed.

  Not for the first time, he sensed he should apologize, but felt too muddled to do so with any sincerity.

  “I have to go,” he said instead.r />
  He turned and searched for the key he’d absently thrown down when he’d entered the cabin. Both keys rested among the dirty dishes from their meal. If Solomon hadn’t stopped him, he was sure he would have been deflowering Felicity in a spray of broken dishes and spilled wine at this very moment. Almost simultaneously, the thought shamed and aroused him all over again. He dropped one key in his vest pocket and tore his gaze away from the table. After straightening his rumpled shirt, he glanced at Felicity.

  Bloody hell. Was she crying? He cocked his head, inconspicuously trying to catch a glimpse of her face. Her cheeks remained dry. He didn’t know what he would do if he’d made strong-willed Felicity Kendall cry.

  He strode to the door, assuring himself he would apologize if necessary when they had both calmed down. Of course, that was assuming he could calm down. His heart still thumped against his chest and his unfulfilled arousal thrust painfully against his breeches.

  He halted in his tracks with a sickening thought. What if he had frightened her rather than merely embarrassed her? That had been his intention in the beginning. Her passionate reaction to his advances had not made sense with what he knew of Felicity, but he’d been well beyond reasoning. He fished into his pocket and removed the only other key to the room besides the one lying on the table.

  “Felicity,” he called. When she looked up, he tossed the key in a shimmering arch. She caught it in one hand, while she managed to keep her stranglehold on her robe with the other. He wondered if she would ever cease to amaze him. “Lock the door behind me.”

  Chapter Eight

  A dark obstacle loomed over the hatchway, eclipsing the night sky. Drew didn’t need the aid of a lantern to identify the barrier between him and the fresh air he desperately needed to clear his head.

  Ignoring the ladder leading down into the cabin, Solomon pounced from his perch to block Drew’s path. “Would you explain what I just witnessed?”

  “Has it been that long, Solomon? You need to get off the island more often.”

  Drew felt a sneer tug at his lips rather than the smile he intended. Irritation roiled through him, replacing the lust that had almost sucked him under. Actually, he should be thanking Solomon for interrupting his headlong descent into madness, but right now he wanted to punch something, and Solomon eagerly offered a target.

  “I don’t need to prove my manhood to every woman who crosses my path. I would never taint Marguerite’s memory by mimicking your behavior,” Solomon countered.

  Drew couldn’t remain angry in the face of Solomon’s heated gaze. This was no good-natured lecture on Drew’s excessive and sometimes dangerous romantic escapades. Solomon was serious, or he never would have mentioned Marguerite. His devotion to his deceased wife was nothing to make light of.

  “I’m sorry I got you involved in this,” Drew told him.

  Instead of defusing the situation, Drew’s comment brought Solomon a menacing step closer. “Since I am involved, I want to know what you were doing in there. I never would have agreed to bring Miss Kendall along if I thought you intended to abuse her.”

  “Abuse her? Hell, Solomon, you met her. I was only taming a hellcat.”

  Solomon balled his hands into fists. “By forcing yourself on her? Have those rumors about El Diablo inspired you?”

  A blow from one of Solomon’s ready fists could not have done more damage. “I wasn’t...forcing her to do anything. At least, that wasn’t my intention. That woman makes me crazy.”

  Drew smoothed back his loose hair, wishing he hadn’t lost his ribbon or his control in his dealings with Felicity. She’d wanted him just as much as he’d wanted her. Drew glanced at Solomon, who didn’t appear any more convinced.

  “I gave her my key to the cabin. She can lock herself in and me out if she wants.”

  Solomon relaxed his fighting stance, but worry lines pinched his features. “Felicity Kendall is trouble. Avery and Red have already questioned me about your mysterious guest. They won’t tell the others yet, but if you don’t get rid of her quickly, they’ll begin to grumble. After all, you’re the one who instigated the no-women-on-board rule.”

  Drew slapped Solomon’s unyielding shoulder, relieved they were again on the same side. “I take full responsibility for anything that happens while Felicity’s aboard the Rapture. What choice did I have? I couldn’t very well leave her on an uninhabited island.”

  Solomon shook his head and scowled. “No, we wouldn’t want to scare any poor pirates who might happen by.”

  “She isn’t that bad.” Drew didn’t know why, but he took Solomon’s criticism of Felicity a little personally.

  Solomon molded himself against the wall of the narrow companionway to let Drew pass. “Isn’t that bad? She was ready to cart me back to Barbados in the name of freedom and turn you in with any information I would tell her—all for our own good. The woman is rash. She doesn’t understand the ways of the world.”

  Drew reached for the ladder. Solomon’s complaints echoed his own sense of foreboding.

  His friend clutched the back of his shirt before he could escape. “Did she ask about Hugh?”

  Drew’s fingers tightened around the varnished slats. “No.”

  Anything else he might have added stuck in his throat. He never lied to Solomon, though Solomon knew he lied to everyone else. Felicity had not mentioned Hugh by name, so his answer didn’t misrepresent the facts entirely. He never should have told Solomon she had seen the documents Marley had created.

  “Good,” said Solomon, letting go of him. “One more thing. Avery mentioned you spent most of the voyage from Barbados locked away in the great cabin. You mustn’t let your attraction for Felicity show in front of the others. The crew has been too long in hiding and is eager for a fight. I don’t want it over who will be the new captain.”

  “I can handle the crew.” Drew climbed onto the main deck, eager to busy himself with doing just that. Commanding a band of half-civilized men was easier than handling one headstrong female.

  If Solomon insisted on drowning her, Drew couldn’t intelligently argue against it. Though he’d promised to take responsibility for Felicity’s actions, he agreed with Solomon. Trouble accompanied her as faithfully as the moon rose over the Caribbean night. Despite knowing better, Drew’s clandestine meeting with disaster in the form of Felicity Kendall tugged at him with more power than the strongest current in the sea.

  ***

  Another lurch from the ship ground Felicity’s knees into the wooden deck. Her search for a section of uncarpeted planks on which to kneel in prayer proved fruitful. A slow spasm tightened her lower back. Pain was a good sign.

  Surely an hour or so of serious repentance would erase the giddy grin she’d had on her face upon waking that morning. Dashing Captain Crawford wanted her and wanted her badly.

  He’d been successful in disguising more than just his identity, though. The self-centered swindler he played turned out to be as false as his name. His aid of runaway slaves revealed his true character. He might sway toward the wrong side of the law, but that proved easy to do with the unfair edicts issued by the crown.

  She tried to focus on the screaming protest of her stiff joints, but her mood remained as cloudless and sunny as the warm day flooding through the open portholes. So she told herself the redemption of Drew’s character didn’t change the fact that their mutual lust went against everything she knew to be right.

  She sighed. Why did his dishonorable intentions have to make her feel young and pretty again? After years of accustoming herself to being soiled, she could not whole-heartedly see the harm in feeling desirable, though the harsh voice in the back of her mind told her she should. She chased the voice away. After all, the real damage had already been done. She was no longer a virgin and would never have the opportunity to marry. Being in Drew’s embrace reminded her of how much she’d given up. In the confines of Drew’s cabin, all the reasons she should be chaste slipped away in favor of being truly alive. After all, he wa
s a confessed rogue and she a vulnerable woman at his mercy. No one would expect her to emerge from the situation unravished.

  A rattling sound at the door abruptly stopped her dangerous thoughts. She uncurled her abused limbs and got to her feet. On the other side of the door, a metal object scraped inside the lock as someone tried unsuccessfully to turn the latch. Drew must have forgotten he’d given her his key.

  A glance at the neckline of her bodice confirmed the borrowed garment exposed more than it concealed. The lavender and raspberry brocade gown pushed her breasts up to her chin. The clothing did more than flatter her figure; the frivolous apparel rendered it almost impossible to remember why she was supposed to restrain her natural impulses. She found herself dashing to the door with a foolish grin on her face. If she could steal just a little more time in Drew’s arms, she’d repent even harder tomorrow. It seemed a small indiscretion compared to a lifetime of loneliness.

  Before her courage escaped her, she flung open the door, but found the companionway empty. Movement at the level of her waist caught her eye. She looked down into the wide-eyed face of a child.

  “You’re not a cabin boy. You’re a wench.” The small boy stomped past and into the cabin.

  His curly black hair sprouted wildly about his head, forming a tangled halo. A scowl furrowed his brow, reminding her of Solomon despite the child’s slender build.

  “This place looks like pigs lived here.” He pointed to the table that still held the remains of last night’s dinner. “I hope you know the captain won’t like this.”

  “Thank you for the warning. And who might you be?” She suspected she already knew his father.

  “Do you know what a waggoner is? Or a quadrant?”

  “I’ve seen a quadrant, though I don’t know how to use one. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a waggoner.” The fact that Drew had a child on board his ship surprised her almost as much as the child’s hostile manner.