Captured

by Ann Jacobs

  Declan began to pace. "Bloody right. The Brits refuse to deal. Christ! What kind of animals are they? A child's life is at stake. An heir to their shagging throne, for God's sake! And they won't bargain."

  Laura stared at him. Didn't he see the irony of his own words?

  "That's just it," Sullivan said quietly, his eyes cold. "They don't really believe the lad's life is at stake. We must do something to make them realize we are serious."

  The three men stared at each other as a cold dread filled Laura's heart.

  "A finger might do," Sullivan said softly. "Or perhaps an ear."

  The blood roared in Laura's head. She took a step toward the bedroom door, her eyes fastened on Declan's impassive face. "The only way you'll get a finger or an ear from that child is after you've killed me, Declan. You promised me you wouldn't hurt him, and I won't let you do it."

  Declan glanced at Cian whose expression was as blank as a freshly cleaned chalkboard. His eyes returned to Laura. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. She thought she saw desperation etched on his handsome face, and something else. Fear? Regret? But whatever it had been, it was gone now, masked by a shrug and his customary charisma, which he seemed to don as easily as pulling on his favorite black leather jacket.

  He turned to Cian. "Laura is right. We cannot harm the lad."

  "Aw, Christ!" Sullivan snarled, shooting daggers at Declan. "What are ya, Fagan? A fookin' pansy?"

  "Shut your filthy mouth, Sullivan." Cian glared at his underling, and the icy look in his flat brown eyes made Laura's blood run cold.

  Sullivan was sinister and bloodthirsty, but Cian Slughan, despite his calm exterior was undoubtedly even more dangerous. Even though his voice had been soft, she hadn't missed the effect it had on Sullivan. He'd immediately clamped his jaw shut, and his ruddy face had become the color of parchment.

  Cian turned back to Declan. "You were saying?"

  Declan shrugged. "Just that if we harm the lad, we'll lose support even from our own people. The IRA cannot afford to earn a reputation for maiming children. Even if they are royalty."

  Cian stared at him a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose you're right. For now, anyway. So…what do you propose to do?"

  Declan seemed prepared for that question. "I'll get a tape recorder. We'll have Harry send a message to Mummy and Daddy that will have them crying buckets…assuming, of course, the Brits have hearts beneath those icy exteriors. Sometimes, I wonder…"

  Laura breathed a sigh of relief. The crisis was over.

  This time.

  * * * * *

  The boy's voice rang out in the room with a chilling cheerfulness that was quite obviously false. "I am being held captive by the Irish Republican Army. My captors are demanding the release of ten Republican prisoners from the H-Blocks at Long Kesh. This demand must be met by midnight, August 8th. In exchange, I will be released unharmed. If however, these demands are not met within the deadline, my captors will execute me."

  At these words, the boy's voice faltered. He looked up from the paper in his hands, his blue eyes wide and startled. "Will they really kill me, Laura?"

  "Mother of God! Stop the recorder, Laura." Declan glared at the prince. "I told you, just read what is on the bloody paper. And yes, we will kill you. But don't worry, we won't have to. Our demands will be met."

  The tape was re-wound and the prince read the last line again. Then, as instructed, he began his message to his parents. "Hullo, Mum. Father. I am being treated well. The woman is especially kind. She taught me to play Black Jack…"

  "No personal rubbish," Declan interrupted. "Just tell them to urge their government to meet our demands."

  The prince nodded. "Mum, I want to come home. Please do as they ask. They have not hurt me, but I believe they are quite desperate to get what they want. I am sure they will kill me if you do not do as they demand."

  "That's enough." Declan stood and ran a distracted hand through his black hair. "Rewind it, Laura. I'll have a courier get it to Buckingham Palace straight away." His eyes met hers. "This is going to work, love." Then, to her growing apprehension, he added. "It has to."

  After he'd left the room, Prince Harry looked at Laura, his blue eyes solemn.

  "Shall we play some Black Jack, miss?"

  Swallowing hard, she nodded, and moved to take her seat opposite the prince.

  * * * * *

  The forced celibacy was getting to them. It was agony for Laura to look at Declan and not be able to touch him the way she wanted to. And she knew it was the same for him. But their situation was untenable. The bedroom was off-limits because of the prince. Sullivan and a younger man, Liam Clancy, were always in the living room and combined kitchenette. The bathroom, even if they could manage to sneak away for a few moments without the embarrassing knowledge of the IRA men, was too small, and the walls too thin, to do more than steal a heated kiss. The few times they'd done just that, they'd been greeted by sly grins and raised eyebrows by Sullivan and his minion. It had made Laura feel sullied, and had cheapened their love affair.

  What did these ruthless gunmen know of the kind of love she felt for Declan? To them, she was just his little whore. His little American plaything. They could never understand that what she and Declan felt for each other went much, much deeper than lust. Lust wouldn't hold her prisoner here. Lust wouldn't make her an accomplice in what was sure to be the crime of the century-the kidnapping of a British prince. Only love could make her take such an insane risk.

  As the days passed, the frustration of their forced separation began to reveal itself with frayed tempers and impatience from both of them. On a morning a few days after Cian's visit, things came to a head when Laura stepped out of the bedroom and into the kitchenette to prepare Prince Harry's porridge.

  "Harry is sick of porridge," Laura said, taking the oatmeal container out of the cabinet. "And I don't blame him. Can't you buy a little variety the next time you go to the grocery? Maybe some more fresh fruit. We'd both love some fresh strawberries, maybe a melon."

  Declan, who'd been reading the newspaper at the table next to Sullivan and Clancy, slammed his coffee mug onto the table and glared up at her. "What do I look like? A bloody errand boy?"

  Sullivan smirked and Liam grinned, apparently delighted about the possibility of a row between Declan and his woman. Laura gaped at Declan, startled by his anger.

  Regret washed over his face. "Aw, Christ, Laura. I'm sorry, love." He dropped his face into his hands for a moment, then tunneled them through his hair. He scooted back from the table and stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "I'll be back directly."

  But he didn't return to the flat for several hours. Laura had just stepped out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchenette to make herself a cup of tea while the prince napped. Sullivan was slouched in front of a portable TV he'd brought into the flat on the first day of his "occupation," guffawing to "Absolutely Fabulous." Laura was stunned to discover the man could actually smile, much less laugh at the antics of a couple of flaky Brits. The teenager, Liam, was stretched out on the frayed rug on the floor, a pair of headphones clamped to his head. He was singing along with a rock band whose bass thumped so loudly that Laura could hear it across the room. God, she couldn't wait until these two were out of her flat, and she and Declan could go back to the way things were. Would that ever happen? Could things ever be the same?

  Just as she put on the teakettle and started to turn on the gas, the door of the flat opened, and Declan strode in, a black scowl on his face. His eyes skewered her. Then he glanced at the two IRA men, a look of sheer disgust crossing his features.

  "Is Harry napping?" he asked abruptly.

  Laura nodded. "Just now fell asleep."

  Declan gave a terse nod then walked over to Sullivan. The IRA man didn't acknowledge his presence. His eyes were glued to the TV.

  "Hey." With the toe of his boot, Declan nudged Sullivan's pant leg.

  The older man dragged his gaze away f
rom the TV and looked up sullenly at Declan. "Yeah? What is it? Can't you see I'm watching the bleedin' telly?"

  Declan drew out a wad of Irish punts from his pocket and tossed them into Sullivan's lap. The IRA man's eyes widened. "What the fook is this?"

  "A bribe," Declan said shortly. "I want you to take Liam here and get the hell out of the flat for a couple of hours. Go down to the pub and buy yourselves a few pints."

  Laura's heart tripped into overdrive. Sullivan opened his mouth to protest, but the dangerous gleam in Declan's eyes made him hesitate. "Just do it," he said. "And don't worry. I'll make sure Slughan knows nothing about it. I just need some time alone with my woman."

  Sullivan's cruel lips stretched into a lewd smile. "Ah, I get where you're coming from, Fagan. The old boat needs to be docked. The tube needs to be lubed. The wheel needs to be-"

  "Shut up, you old fuck!" Declan grabbed Sullivan's arm and wrenched him to his feet. The paper currency fluttered the floor. "Get your money and get out of here. Now!"

  Laura watched as Declan strode over to Liam who was still engrossed in his music, eyes closed. Declan jabbed at the kid's leg with his boot. "Come on, get up!" he snarled when a startled Liam looked up at him. He reached down and hauled the teenager to his feet.

  Bewildered, Liam took off his headphones. "What's happening?"

  Declan eyeballed him, his jaw tight. "You're going to the pub with Sully here for a wee pint. Three or four wee pints. Whatever it takes, as long as you're gone for two bloody hours. Now, get…out!"

  Laura stared in astonishment as the two IRA men hauled ass out of the flat. It was the first time she'd seen Sullivan move at a pace faster than a lethargic cat. The door slammed behind them, and Declan turned, his eyes a turbulent shade of blue in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

  "Come here, Laura," he said quietly, his Irish accent thicker than ever. "Come and see how hard I am for you."

  She caught her breath, and immediately felt the liquid heat pooling in her nether region. Declan's gaze scanned her body, undressing her, peeling away her cotton Irish sweater and slim-fitting blue jeans. And Declan…oh, God. Laura's tongue moistened her dry lower lip. He had never looked sexier. Dressed in snug jeans and a blue-plaid shirt, his black chest hairs peeping out from his collar, his black hair attractively ruffled, he looked good enough to eat. And oh, God, how she craved him.

  She walked toward him, smiling, stopping a few inches away. Then before he could touch her, she reached out her hand and cupped him through his jeans. He drew in a sharp breath, watching her. She met his eyes, her fingers tracing the outline of his huge erection.

  "You feel so good," she whispered.

  With a groan, he cupped her buttocks and wrenched her against him. Burying his face in her hair, he growled, "Christ! I want to do everything to you all at once. I don't know where to bloody start. I want to lick your beautiful tits and make your sweet little nipples stand at attention. I want to bury my tongue into your honeyed cunt, and lap up your juices. I want to plunge my cock into your warm, wet pussy, all the way to the hilt, and bring you to a screaming orgasm, over and over and over…" Grasping the back of her head in one palm, he anchored his mouth on hers, his tongue stealing inside in a plunging imitation of what he'd just described.

  Hot fire licked through Laura's body as she clung to him, feeling the imprint of his erection branding her stomach through their jeans. He dragged his mouth away from hers, imprisoning her head in his hands. His eyes met hers. "So much to do," he muttered. "And so little time."

  Laura smiled lazily at him. "Then we'd better get started." Her hand went to his zipper, and seconds later, she wrapped it around his hot-white heat. He moaned, and his penis seemed to jump and swell in her hand. She stroked it from base to tip, watching the muscles tense in his face. He bit his lip, his eyes stormy as they stared into hers.

  "You know just how to drive me crazy, don't you, woman?" he gasped.

  Still holding his rigid shaft, Laura kissed him-a slow, leisurely kiss. "I've been going crazy wanting you," she whispered, drawing away.

  "Me, too. Ah, Laura, you don't know how much I need you right now."

  "I think I do," Laura whispered. "But first I need to taste you."

  She dropped to her knees in front of him, and gently guided his cock into her mouth, sucking and licking and pulling and nibbling. He groaned, fastening his hands on her head, guiding her rhythm. Heat was building into an inferno between her legs, and she knew she couldn't wait much longer to feel him inside her. She slipped a hand down to his scrotum, cupping the heavy, velvet weight of him.

  "Oh, God," he growled. "Oh, yeah."

  Suddenly, he fastened his hands on her head and nudged her away. "Jesus, Laura, it's going to all be over if you don't stop."

  She released his glistening knob and gazed up at him. He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. Holding her eyes with his own, he efficiently unzipped her jeans and tugged them down over her hips. She pushed his hands away to take over undressing, and he used the moment to discard his own jeans. Laura drew her sweater off and tossed it aside. Declan undressed quickly, and in seconds, was standing before her, naked. Laura caught her breath, her gaze traveling over the black mat of hair on his chest narrowing in a vee toward his groin. He was breath taking!

  He reached out and unhooked her front-closure bra, and immediately flattened his hands on her breasts. "Ah, yeah. You're so lovely, Laura. I love your breasts." He knelt in front of her, and taking one nipple in his mouth, tongued it until it was a hard pebble. Laura moaned, threading her fingers through his silky black hair. She was burning, on fire, a living torch to his touch.

  Declan's tongue slid down the firm flesh of her belly. She writhed against him, desperate with need. Then finally, his tongue lapped at the heart of her womanhood, curling around her clitoris, flicking and sucking until she was close to madness. The climax slammed through her, and she cried out, her fingers entwined in his hair. He didn't give her time to recover. In one smooth motion, he drew her down to the floor on top of him. His engorged penis reared between them, and then, he was positioning her down on it, impaling her on his pulsing shaft. Gasping with pleasure, and still quaking from the orgasm, she rode him frantically, her nails digging into his shoulders. Incredibly, she felt herself close to the edge again.

  But then, he stopped her, holding her waist firmly, restricting her movements. His eyes gazed into hers. "Wait," he said.

  He eased her off him, and she thought she'd go crazy. She chewed her bottom lip in frustration as the heat in her womanhood smoldered. Holding her hand, Declan moved to the chair Sullivan had been sitting in. He sat down and then drew Laura between his spread legs. She understood. Holding his gaze, she eased herself onto his lap. She gasped-short, shallow bursts of air-as she felt his erection probing her sensitive vaginal lips, seeking entry. She closed her eyes and held onto Declan's shoulders, biting her bottom lip. With one slow thrust, he slid inside her, as smoothly as a sword slips into its sheath.

  "Oh, yeah, love," Declan murmured against her ear, one hand sliding up and down her back, the other holding her bottom, guiding her movements. "Work with me now. Let's take it sweet and slow."

  He plunged again, and a low scream rumbled deep in Laura's throat. It was too good…too, too good. Something about the sitting position seemed to take him deeper inside her, grazing a spot that sent currents of intense pleasure shimmering through her. She knew she couldn't stand it like this for much longer. He knows…she thought, when she could still think. He knows just what to do.

  In to the hilt, he rotated, once, twice, then withdrew almost his entire length, holding her there, waiting, his tip imbedded just inside her entrance. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

  "No," she whimpered, "Declan, please."

  He smiled, eyes holding hers. Then his hands gripped her waist, and he guided her down, thrusting in his entire length in the same motion.

  "Oh, yes!" Laura screamed, urging hi
m on. "Yeesssss!"

  He began to thrust in earnest now, his mouth twisted in passion, eyes glazed. Laura rode him frantically, nails scratching, teeth biting her lower lip. One more hard, knife-edged thrust, and she was over the crest, and tumbling down the abyss, her vaginal walls quivering. She screamed. Declan groaned, and clamping his mouth over hers to silence her cries, he ejaculated into her, still grinding and throbbing for moments after his climax.

  Afterwards, they clung to each other, Declan breathing raggedly into her ear. Laura rubbed her face across his stubble, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex, feeling the heavy thud of his heart against hers. He still felt huge inside her, and she wanted to keep him there. As long as she could.

  This is the last time.

  As the thought went through her mind, the sun passed behind a cloud, and the room darkened. A shiver crawled over her skin. Oh, God. Where had that thought come from? Was it a premonition? She slid her hand over his shoulder, down to his hard bicep, brushing the Na Fianna tattoo of the armed gunman just below the ridged scar of his bullet wound. How could she be so in love with this man? A man who believed in violence to change the world he lived in. What kind of person did that make her?

  She sighed. Not a good person, that was for sure. But she loved him. It was as simple as that, and nothing was going to change that.

  His hand slid over her head, stroking her hair. "Promise me something, love," he whispered, his lips inches away from her ear.

  "What?"

  "Promise me that no matter what happens in the next few days…weeks…promise me you won't give up on me. Trust me, love. I need to know you're with me. Can you do that, Laura girl?"

  Laura closed her eyes, feeling the burn of tears gathering. "I do trust you, Declan. I trust you not to let anything happen to that little boy. You're a good person. I know you are. But I'm worried about Cian and Sullivan."

  Declan didn't speak for a long moment, but his hand tightened on the small of her back. Then he said grimly, "You should be."