His Pirate Seductress (Love on the High Seas Book 3)

by Tamara Hughes

  Catherine touched the sensitive bump on her head and sucked in a breath. A small price to pay, considering she could have died. Thomas had saved her life. Even after she’d set his ship to blaze. And yet, somehow his actions didn’t surprise her. He was an honorable man. Although he teased and annoyed, when he’d had his chance at retribution with her tied to his bed, he hadn’t taken advantage. He’d walked away. Men like him were a rarity where she came from.

  Movement outside the door drew her attention. Thomas, escorted by two crewmen. Still covered in soot and a wary expression on his face, he stepped through the doorway, his gaze measuring her intentions.

  “Let him go,” she told the crewmen.

  They glanced at each other with questioning looks, and one spoke up. “Are you sure, Cap’n? He’s unchained.”

  “Aye.” She stood and pulled her dagger from her belt, the cross safely hidden away. “I can defend myself, if need be.” Her brother had trained her well. “Now wait outside, both of you.”

  Although hesitant, the crewmen nodded and left.

  She passed by Thomas and closed the door. “There,” she sighed. “Now then. Are you hungry?” She almost winced, remembering how she’d taunted him with those same words. She pointed toward the table laden with stew, bread, and cheese. A basin for washing sat on a small table nearby. “Please, clean up and eat.”

  His wariness remained, but he made use of the water and towel, cleaning the remains of the fire from his skin. “Why are you offering me food?”

  “You saved my life. The least I can do is provide a decent meal.” After all, she’d starved him for days.

  He shrugged. “I acted purely on instinct, I assure you.”

  His words stung, pricking something soft inside her chest. She held back a frown. What had she expected after all she’d done to him? “Even so”—she tucked her dagger into her belt and joined him at the table—“thank you.”

  Thomas sat and tasted the stew, then scowled. “Venison.”

  How could he find fault with the choice of meat? She’d eaten a bowl of stew herself, and had found it quite tasty. Aye, venison was a meat few could afford, a luxury.

  He sniffed the contents of the mug provided, and his scowl grew darker. “Ale… How kind of you to offer me food and drink stolen from my own ship.”

  Oh. He was right on that count. Still, the prisoners in the hold weren’t eating nearly as well. “I can call someone to take you back to the cell if you wish,” she bit out. On any given day she’d dreamed of such food and had gone hungry far more often than she filled her belly.

  He ripped off a chunk of bread. “That won’t be necessary.” Now that he’d had his grumble, he tore into the food like he’d been starved. Which he had. Poor man. She should try to remember how he’d been wronged. The cross was rightfully his, obtained by legal means. Or so she assumed. “How did you come to be in possession of the Ruby Cross?” Maybe he wasn’t as innocent as she’d thought.

  “What does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t, except…”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Except what?”

  “How do I know you didn’t steal the cross?” She gestured toward him. “For all your griping about your circumstances, you may be a thief yourself.”

  A spark of anger brightened his green eyes. “A friend of mine in Jerusalem discovered the cross in a small crumbling church.”

  “And he simply gave you a priceless relic?”

  “He’s a merchant I’ve worked with before. We’ll split the profits as we always do.” He dropped his spoon into the bowl. “I’m nothing like you,” he spat. “I’m no thief.”

  She bristled. “Not like me. I would agree with you.” She crossed the room, no destination in mind. The furnishings around her, no matter how sparse and worn, were far better than what she had at home. “You have wealth and position. Hell, you grew up with it. Your children will have everything they need to be successful, whereas my son…” Dear Jonas. “Such an unlucky boy to have me for a mother,” she muttered. “I can barely provide for him. And aye, I have resorted to thievery when all else has failed.”

  Each day she had prayed for a miracle. She wanted nothing more than to ensure his future, one far away from St. Giles. A future in which he didn’t need to worry he’d have to forgo a meal or wear ill-fitting clothes until they were nothing but rags.

  The sympathy washing over Thomas’s aristocratic features only roused her anger ever more. Although he wasn’t at fault for her station in life, he epitomized everything she wished she had. “Eat your meal.”

  He paid no heed to her suggestion, his lips thinning. “Now that you have the Ruby Cross, I’d imagine your life will become even better than mine.”

  “Perhaps, if I sold the piece, but I’ll be using it to free my son and my mother.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You were telling the truth about why you needed the cross?”

  “Aye.” If only that weren’t the case. “Finally, you believe me?”

  “The Ruby Cross is in your possession now. You have no reason to lie.” He met her gaze, the look in his eyes sincere. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry to hear your family is at risk.”

  As was she. A familiar ache tightened her chest. She thrust her rising sadness aside and headed to the old trunk in the corner. “You can have some clean clothes. These might be a bit large, but they’ll do.” Despite his poor luck as a pirate, her husband had managed to put on weight.

  “More gifts? You must be feeling terribly guilty about sinking my ship.”

  “Hardly,” she lied. She’d had no choice but to do what had to be done. A motto she proved true every day.

  Thomas stood and walked toward her, no doubt to claim the fresh clothing. “Tell me. How did you know I would hand over the cross instead of letting it sink with the Argo Navis?” he asked.

  “I’ll admit, it was a risk. But after talking with you these last days, I believe I’ve come to know how you think.” She rifled through the trunk and procured a pair of breeches and a shirt.

  “Is that so? And how do I think?” he asked from close behind her, his low, smooth tone sending a shiver along her spine.

  How could this man affect her so readily? She thrust aside the notion and faced him, holding out the garments. “You admitted you care more for the cross than the watch your father gave you, even though it’s apparent the piece means much to you. Add to that your competitive nature…” She stifled a laugh. “Even now, you most likely believe you’ll find a way to get the cross back.”

  Annoyance burned bright in his green eyes for an instant before his lips twitched into a smile, the annoyance replaced by challenge. In a movement as quick as a flash of steel, he pulled her close, his mouth on hers demanding and possessive. The contact jolted through her, making her pulse race and her legs wobble.

  The clothing she held slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor unheeded as she became immersed in the heady sensations he inspired within her. Warmth radiated from her chest and spread through her limbs, desire inflaming her entire being.

  He drew away, his arms around her waist, and she groaned at the loss. A smug grin widened his tempting lips. “Are you sure you know me as well as you think? It seems I can still surprise you.”

  So it appeared. She stiffened. He’d kissed her solely to prove a point? She peered more deeply into his eyes. No, the heat she saw there had nothing to do with reason. Hell, she didn’t care his reasons. With a swift movement of her own, she launched herself onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his, eager to let the feel of his kiss carry her away from reality again. He didn’t disappoint. His arms about her tightened, his hands delving beneath her surcoat to roam over her back. Only the thin layer of her linen shirt separated those hands from her skin. His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue tasting and teasing. She circled her arms around his neck and held on to him as excitement sliced through her like a well-honed sword, leaving her breathless.

  He raised his head, a
nd his eyes smoldered. “You’ve teased me for days and haunted my very thoughts,” he growled, the admission inspiring tingles to spring forth deep inside her. “This once, you will be mine.”

  She should deny him. He was her prisoner, and she couldn’t… All logic faded as his hot tongue delved into her mouth and the scent of wood smoke and man overpowered her senses. His rough whiskers lightly scratching her skin only added to his allure.

  His hands at her waist, he flung her onto the bed and followed, prowling up her body on his hands and knees like a predator about to devour his prey. He ran his palm along her hip then grasped a handful of her shirt, tugging it from her breeches. “I long to see your bare flesh,” he whispered as his fingers found the exposed skin at her middle.

  She reached out to do the same, taking hold of his shirt, but he caught her wrists and raised them over her head, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’ve dreamed of this for days.”

  A flicker of alarm penetrated her dazed mind. Would he hurt her? Exact his revenge?

  Before she could think much more about his intentions, his mouth descended on hers, obliterating all worry. He settled his weight on top of her, his pelvis pressing intimately between her thighs. Her hands held firm by one of his, he lifted her shirt, the bottom edge teasing her skin as he slowly revealed her breasts. Thomas’s hungry gaze took her in, and an appreciative smile tilted his lips. He tugged the shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, then captured a nipple in his mouth. A noise halfway between a groan and a gasp sprang from her throat at the sudden assault, and pleasure shot from her breast to the apex of her thighs.

  The desire to restrain her hands apparently all but forgotten, Thomas caressed one breast as he laved attention on the other, leaving her free to touch him at will. She delved her fingers into his blond hair, the texture soft and thick. Each stroke of his tongue generated sparks within her, inflaming a need she’d suppressed for far too long.

  She seized his shirt and yanked it from his breeches, but he stopped its progress up his torso, and pinned her with his stare. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” What was he waiting for? She wanted to touch him just as he was touching her, and if he wouldn’t let her bare his chest, then… Catherine reached down and laid her hand against his erection, sliding her palm along its length.

  His green eyes widened, then gleamed. “Fine. As you wish.” He rid himself of the shirt, but her mind had strayed to a new prize. She freed the buttons of his breeches with a desperation she didn’t know she possessed. How long it had been since she’d lain with a man, since she’d allowed herself a respite from the harsh realities of life? She’d forgotten how good it felt to be held so intimately. She didn’t stop once his erection sprang free. She tugged the breeches lower still.

  Thomas did the same, undressing her until they both sat naked on the bed. They studied each other before she pushed him onto his back and kissed him with all the passion she’d kept at bay for six lonely years. He responded in kind, his demands as fervent as her own. His hands aroused and teased until she could stand no more. She reached for his erection, eager to appease the needs she’d suppressed for so long, but once again he stopped her.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she nearly screeched in his ear.

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  Was he mad? “Thomas, let me—”

  Clasping her to him, he rolled with her until he lay on top, and the tip of his member grazed over her core. “Say it.”

  A tremor raced through her, her body begging for release. Why was he making this demand? Because she’d stolen the Ruby Cross from him? Because she’d stolen his pride? Men. “I want you,” she admitted. You competitive bastard.

  He plunged home in one sure stroke that pushed all further epithets from her mind. He filled her so completely, she couldn’t want for more. She met him thrust for thrust, her hips rocking with his, luxuriating in his weight pressing down on her, his strong arms on either side, his lips grazing her throat.

  “Ah, God. You feel so good,” he groaned.

  She couldn’t utter a word. The building pleasure barely allowed her to breathe, much less speak. Instead, she urged him faster with her hands on his backside. Her nails scored his back, and her gasps turned into cries as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. With a hoarse cry of his own, Thomas pulled out and shuddered his release, then collapsed beside her.

  Their eyes locked, the passion still burning, but with it a silent admission that they were adversaries. She studied his handsome face, his slightly crooked nose, his tender lips, wishing they’d met under different circumstances. But alas, if wishing did any good, her life would be entirely different. She smiled and allowed herself to enjoy a moment or two more. “Are you satisfied? Have I made up for all my teasing?”

  His grin tickled her insides. “Not entirely.” He nuzzled her cheek, his lips brushing her ear. “Maybe if we do it again.”

  Tempting, but… “We probably shouldn’t have done it the first time.” That said, she smoothed her hand over his prickly cheek, no regrets troubling her.

  “Why not? Whom have we hurt?”

  No one. That much was true. “You know the deed changes nothing between us.” Thomas was still their prisoner. One whom Barnet hated. Dear Lord, if Barnet ever found out about this, he’d be furious. Then what would become of Thomas?

  She made a move to rise, but Thomas clasped her waist and pulled her back down. “Don’t go yet,” he said.

  With his arm around her and his warm breath tickling her neck, she almost relented, but the pragmatic voice in her head wouldn’t be silenced. He was her captive, and she was a thief. And if given the chance, he would take the cross from her. What’s more, there was no doubt in her mind that if the opportunity arose, he would turn her over to the authorities as soon as they reached London. Setting aside his arm, she sat, a sudden sadness eating at her insides. “You should finish your meal. It’s getting cold.”

  Although a flicker of disappointment passed over his features, he nodded and began to dress. “I suppose it’s back to the hold with me.”

  “Afraid so.” She retrieved her shirt and pulled it over her head while Thomas finished buttoning his breeches.

  “Well, if you have need for another go…” he offered, “you know where to find—”

  A knock rattled the door a mere second before it was thrown open. Barnet stood in the doorway, a dark frown on his face and murder in his eyes as he took in the scene in front of him. “Someone thought they heard…” He ground his teeth together, the scar across his lips whitening.

  Damn. Her cheeks burned, and she froze in place.

  His steely gaze swept over her bare legs, then slid to the mussed bedcovers. “It appears they heard right.”

  She hurried to don her breeches and belt while the hair at the nape of her neck prickled and rose. The malice in Barnet’s eyes… He looked as if he hated the very sight of her.

  “Why?” Barnet snarled. “Why him?” He took a step toward her.

  Although she held her ground, she had no answer. Well, none that made sense. By all rights, she shouldn’t be attracted to Thomas. They had nothing in common and from the first had been enemies rather than allies.

  Barnet’s face flushed a bright red. “Explain this to me,” he shouted, advancing another step, then two.

  “Calm yourself, man.” Moving swiftly, Thomas placed himself between her and Barnet. A sweet gesture, but Barnet would never hurt her. Would he?

  Barnet drew his pistol from his belt and cocked the hammer back, aiming the weapon at Thomas’s bare chest. “You! You should have gone to the bottom of the ocean with your ship.”

  “Wolfrie, no!” The childhood nickname came unbidden, and she cringed when Barnet’s glare returned to her.

  Thomas eased away from her, his hands held up, watching Barnet’s every move. The barrel of Barnet’s pistol followed. As did she. “Barnet, put down the gun,” she insisted. Thomas wou
ldn’t allow her to get too close. For each step she took toward him, he took another away. Didn’t he understand she could protect him? Barnet wouldn’t fire with her in the shot’s path.

  “Why?” Barnet spared her a glance. “You have the cross. You don’t need him anymore. Unless you plan to dally with him again.”

  “No.” She hadn’t planned to dally with him the first time. It had been a rash, impulsive act. A rather enjoyable rash, impulsive act, but one she wouldn’t repeat. Aye, like a drunk in a gin shop, she hadn’t thought about the future when she’d made love to Thomas, only about the pleasure to be had. At the memory of the pleasure Thomas had given her, heat rose to her cheeks again, and Barnet uttered a foul oath. He pulled the trigger.

  Cursing, Thomas dove to the side, the shot barely missing him, and her heart jumped to her throat. “Enough of this nonsense.” She raced toward Barnet, determined to send him on his way. “You’d best leave. Now.”

  His attention fixed on Thomas, Barnet let out a bellow and barreled forward.

  “Stop!” She moved into his path, but he pushed her aside and slammed full force into Thomas, who’d braced himself for the blow.

  Thomas grunted as they crashed into a wall, his head bouncing off the wood. Sweet heaven! Barnet clasped a hand around Thomas’s throat. She’d never seen Barnet so filled with rage. He attacked as if Thomas were the very devil himself.

  Thomas punched Barnet’s ribs and belly until Barnet released him, but Barnet recovered quickly and struck Thomas in the nose and jaw.

  Her pulse pounding a frantic beat, Catherine pulled her dagger from her belt and approached them. Thomas staggered from a blow to his chin, but his gaze darted to her. “Stay back,” he yelled before he rammed his fist into Barnet’s side, doubling him over.

  Stay back? But I can help.

  Barnet snarled and seized Thomas about the legs, yanking hard. Thomas fell to the floor, and Barnet leaped on top of him, raining blows down on Thomas’s chest and head. Thomas attempted to defend himself, but Barnet landed punch after punch. Barnet would kill him!