by Kimberly Nee
He broke the kiss sharply, his lips sweeping along her jaw, searing her throat, stroking downward as he tasted her inch by inch. Beneath his shirt, heat wafted from him to sink into her hands as they smoothed down over his back, up over his shoulders, to plunge back into his hair. She wanted to touch him, to feel every inch of him, to finally address the blasted curiosity that led her mind to wander down such impure paths where Iñigo Sebastiano was concerned. He flattened against her, and sent her senses roaring to life and her body screaming to life.
“Captain—”
He ignored her, lips scorching a path along her throat, into the hollow at the base of her neck. Releasing her, he gripped the front of her shirt in both fists and yanked, tearing it swiftly down the front.
Chapter Twenty-Three
She stared down at the jagged rip, unable to believe what he’d done. “Captain, my shirt—”
“It’s my shirt and I shall remove it as I see fit,” he rumbled, starting a tear in the linen bandage and ripping it in two. “And you will hush now. I’ve no desire to argue over a shirt. No woman has ever filled me with such fire, such need, as you do, Finn. We can do battle later. Now, we will make love.”
As he spoke, his hands roamed wildly, tugging linen, calico and whatever else blocked his path from her naked body. Her entire skin seemed to tingle with the slightest touch as the heat shrunk in size, but grew in intensity, dropping a bit lower than her belly now.
When he’d removed the last layer, he smiled, kissing her again, as he murmured, “Mi querida Finn,” in a husky voice.
She had no idea what he was saying, nor did she care overmuch. Not one bit. All she cared about was savoring more of his wonderful kisses. However, she did recognize her name in his whispered words, and a smile played at her lips as she whispered, “Fiona.”
Iñigo lifted his head once more. “What did you say?”
“Fiona. My name. My true name. Remember? I told you once before.”
“Ah…yes…you did… Fiona.” He repeated it slowly, as if tasting it.
She smiled. It sounded wonderfully lyrical, rolling off his lips in his lightly accented English. He brushed her lips with the lightest of kisses and replied, “A far lovelier name than the lad’s, my lady. Far lovelier indeed.”
He trailed kisses down over her collarbone, nibbling with teasing teeth and soothing with gentle lips. “Oh, love,” he whispered, brushing her still-grooved, chafed skin with gentle lips. “How could you bind yourself day after day?”
She sighed as his tongue dipped into the topmost groove, lightly moving along it, from left to right, his lips caressing her broken skin as if trying to heal her with his touch. “I had no other choice,” she replied, fighting to keep her eyes open against the wonderful sensations rising to the surface of her skin.
His hand slid up over her ribs to cover her left breast. “A crime, mi dama hermosa, the way you have treated such a beautiful breast. And to have smashed both beauties flat… A crime, indeed, my lady. A most heinous crime.”
She sucked in her breath as he plumped her breast with gentle fingers, his head dipping down as he offered it to his mouth. As his lips closed about her nipple, her fingers twisted in his hair, her back bowing as he teased her. It was quite delicious, the heated feelings tearing through her, causing her to shiver even as they left her limbs leaden and pliant. They filled her with a languorous sleepiness and tingling, and a rapidly growing need at the same time. The fog was back, swirling through her and growing thicker by the moment to make thinking almost impossible.
She smiled at his teasing murmur, shaking her head even as she shivered beneath his touch. “Think you I would have smashed anything lest it was absolutely necessary?”
He released her breast to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I certainly hope not. A shame, really, crushing such perfect breasts.”
He knelt above her, unfastened her calico trousers, and tugged them down. They joined the growing pile alongside the bed. He rocked back, a seductive smile playing at his lips as he unlaced his shirt and parted the silk. A roll of his shoulders, and the garment spilled from his body like water to display a broad chest, muscled and swarthy beneath a spread of black curls. Her gaze lowered automatically, taking in the defined muscles of his belly and without thinking, she reached for him, letting the flat of her hand smooth down over the solid slab.
He groaned in the back of his throat, his eyes closing as his groan became a sigh. Feeling braver, Finn trailed her fingertips along the narrow trail of hair, coming to hook in the waist of his breeches. He caught her by the wrist, lifting her hand to his lips before releasing her to rise from the bed. A moment later, and he shed those breeches.
She was afraid her eyes might actually pop free from their sockets. Captain Iñigo Sebastiano was every inch as glorious as she’d imagined. There was no feeling of shyness, no searing embarrassment as she finally laid eyes upon his naked form. Instead, she kicked herself for turning away all of those times when he undressed before her. If a man could be beautiful, he was. Beautiful. Masculine. She fairly ached to let her hands continue to roam over his body with the same slow curiosity as he’d explored hers.
Iñigo smiled as he covered her once more. He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, tasting her and showing her the proper way to taste him in return. He coaxed her hesitant tongue forth to capture it and draw it deep into his mouth. All the while he kissed her this way, his hands cupped her breasts, robbing her of all reason leaving her with only wildly churning, hot pleasure.
An insistent pressure against her inner left thigh sent a thrill screaming through her. Iñigo. Solid, Steely. An unmistakable desire mirroring her own. She shivered as he pressed his hips into hers, and then pulled away, only to repeat the motion. Each touch set off a blazing ripple of pure desire and she was most eager to discover what came next. His breath was hotter still against her already overheated skin. Hot, but silken—as much a caress as any other. She slid her hands up over his smooth back, more than a little surprised to find his skin damp with sweat, despite the cool breeze wafting in from the window. Her surprise grew as he shuddered against her, his breath suddenly hitching.
She sampled whatever she could of him, her lips skimmed over one shoulder, down over the solid swell of muscle banding his upper arm. Moving back up, she did to him as he had done to her, kissed his neck, flicking out her tongue to dance over a cord that tightened at once. He groaned again as she nipped his earlobe, bringing another smile to her lips.
Gone was her fury, her horror at losing her weapon, the anger from badly bruised pride. They would return, to be sure, but she’d tend to them later. Now, red-hot desire filled her, her need as powerful as his. She didn’t care about Honoria, didn’t care about anything other than that maddening desire. It was hard to believe, but those were her hands roaming over his every inch, seeking him out and finding how her touch affected him.
“Gently, my lady,” he murmured breathlessly as she sought him out and her fingers stroked him with no shyness whatsoever.
“To the devil with gentle,” she whispered back hotly, her lips devouring his neck, down over the rise of his chest. “I want you, Spaniard.”
His groan was the sweetest of sounds and Finn sucked in her breath as his hands came up to grip her breasts. She couldn’t hold back her cry of delight, her back arching toward his not-so-gentle touch, to the sensuality of the moment. Her skin burned against his, her legs parted to accommodate his hips, and she let out a husky sigh as his manhood, swollen and hard, pressed into the apex of her thighs.
Excitement coursed through her. At last, she would discover what it was that made Iñigo Sebastiano magical to her. Anticipation smoked through her as he settled between her thighs and silken heat caressed her flesh. A long, low sigh billowed forth as he entered her with a delicious slowness. Though the pressure was foreign, she welcomed it, unable to hold back her groan. That groan became a heavenly sigh as his lips seared a path up her neck to her ear, ca
tching her earlobe in a playful nip. Everything inside her seemed to roll over to make room for him, to accommodate him. The pressure steadily increased until it dissipated with a slight pop. It returned a moment later to snatch her breath.
She shivered as he groaned deeply and thrust. Pleasure, hot and sweet, tore through her with his movement, her back arching, snapping taut as he went still against her. His breath was short, sharp, and his heavy-lidded eyes spoke of sensual delight as he murmured, “A virgin, Finn? You did not tell me.”
“I did not know I was supposed to,” she managed to reply, though also somewhat breathless. “I apologize for my lack of experience.”
It looked as though it took some effort, but he shook his head. “Do not apologize, love. I find no fault with that.”
He surprised her and she couldn’t hold back her squeak as he suddenly grabbed her around the waist and rolled to bring her atop him. His fingers bit into her hips as he lifted her and let go. Her eyes snapped open at the sudden feel of him deep inside her and her innards went to mush at the fire in his blazing amber eyes, at the sensual grin on his lips, at the delicious, shivery pleasure filling her to twist everything into aching knots. It was wonderful, the amazing bliss burning through her—the most exhilarating feeling in the world, actually. The hot, tingling tension snapping through her was unlike any sensation she’d ever experienced.
“Oh, beautiful vixen,” he growled, his hands skimming up to cradle both breasts at the same time. “So sensual, so brazen…” As he spoke, he squeezed, his thumbs slowly circling her nipples until they became beaded points and she mewled, her head falling back as the familiar, delicious heat swirled through her. His voice was husky, raw, as he murmured, “Ah…so beautiful, mi Fiona…”
His hands slid down over her waist, gripping her hips to move her against him. He groaned deep in the back of his throat at the first motion, matching her as she did the same. It wasn’t like anything she ever believed possible to feel, and as he showed her how to move, her natural instincts took over at once. He was patient with her, allowing her to take the lead, to move as fast or slow as she desired, watching her with those sinful eyes. A sensual smile lifted his lips as he released her hips and let her assume complete control.
“Captain?” The single word took the greatest of effort to form.
His hands swept around to catch her backside, gently kneading as he murmured, “You are doing fine, love… Dios mío, you set me on fire…”
He thrust, meeting her as she lowered against him. She increased her pace as he repeated the motion, each thrust sharper and deeper than the last. Words fled her mind, heat filled her body and she couldn’t help but throw her head back with a cry of fulfillment as she hit the blindingly sweet peak of her first climax.
Iñigo arched his hips as her release brought on his, grinding her against him as he groaned long and low, a muscle bulging in his jaw as he shuddered against her. He fought for air, wrapping his arms about her and dragging her in for a fierce kiss as she sank into him.
“Mi dama hermosa…” he whispered, his lips brushing hers again as he cradled her against his chest.
Lifting her head, she asked, “I’ve heard you say that so often. What does it mean?”
His grin was sensual and teasing. “My beautiful lady.”
She shivered against him as he stroked her hair away from her face. Little by little, she lost her grip on her anger, no longer cared about the loss of her weapon. It was gone now, replaced by absolute contentment as she lay in his arms, her head resting peacefully on his chest.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, her lips brushing his warm skin.
“Do not be sorry, Finn,” he told her, trailing his fingers lightly up and down her back. “I commend you for your bravery. Foolish as it might have been, I commend you all the same.”
She lifted her head. “You do?”
“Certainly.” He smiled at her. “I know many men who would not dare, never mind a delicate slip such as you.”
“Delicate?”
“Delicate.”
“No one has ever described me as delicate before now.”
He tucked a wayward lock of ebony hair behind her left ear. “As my Fiona, you are the most delicate woman I have ever held in my arms. I care not what the rest of the world sees or thinks. I know the sensual woman beneath the disguise.”
She sighed as his fingers lingered along her neck. The heat was gone from his eyes, leaving them a soft amber—eyes she could lose herself in if she didn’t take care. “Captain, I—”
He tightened his arms about her, flipping to trap her beneath him. His lips brushing hers, he whispered, “Iñigo, love. When we are in bed, I am Iñigo to you.”
“But, I—”
“No buts and no protests, my lady, for I wish only to love you again.”
Someone thumped on the door and Diego called, “Captain, shall I fetch leather for a new cat?”
Iñigo grinned down at Finn, before turning to call over his shoulder, “That’s not necessary, Diego. The situation has been dealt with and Finn's behavior corrected. He has groveled sufficiently and begged me my forgiveness.”
She scowled at his devilish smile, hitting him with one of the fluffy pillows. Choking back his laughter, he continued, “I think we’ll not have another episode.”
“Captain, are you certain?”
“Quite. You may leave now.” He turned back to Finn and swept his lips over hers. “We have more important matters to which we must attend.”
“You are a bastard, Spaniard,” she muttered.
“And we both know you speak not the truth,” he murmured, drawing her close once more. “And besides, I have rectified the situation. You are no longer scratching and spitting, but rather soft and purring once more.”
Her protest died on her lips as he caught them in a fierce kiss. A moment later, and she couldn’t remember what it was she’d been about to protest in the first place. Instead, she wrapped her arms about his neck and surrendered herself to the wickedly delightful sensations he brought screaming to life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The island jewel of St. Philippe did little to raise Finn’s spirits as she stood at the forecastle, watching the pale white sands of the island’s beaches grow larger as the María drew near. It was a beautiful morning, with clear azure skies, warm ocean breezes, and the shriek of seabirds overhead.
Freedom was within her reach, and yet graying mists of depression seeped into her body. She was happy to know she would be free to leave if she desired, but it offered very little comfort. Especially now, after what had happened between her and Iñigo. She sighed, wondering how it was she had no inkling of how drastically things could change, all the while remaining the same.
Despite their one night of passion, she returned to the role of cabin boy and he did not hesitate to order her to mingle with the others each evening before supper. It was confusing, to say the least, especially as he did not seek her out again. Of course, she was fairly certain Honoria received no invitation either, but it did little to ease her flagging spirits. She never knew how torturous it could be, becoming intimate with a man with whom there could be no future. She hadn’t expected her feelings to run the gamut from absolute joy to sheer, utter hopelessness, or that she would breathe a silent sigh each time her eyes fell upon Iñigo Sebastiano, which they did quite often in the five days following their one magical night.
She shook her head to clear it, forcing herself back to the present. Beyond the foamy breakers, the cove was tranquil, waves lapping at the white sand. The cove’s entrance was by far rougher, María tossing wildly as they slipped past the rocky promontories guarding the inlet. Once beyond those breakers, the water was as smooth as polished steel and a beautiful sapphire shade Finn had never seen before.
The island was not quite as she expected. There were no grand plantations, or large manor houses, such as the ones on Barbados. Instead, small cottages, with brightly tiled roofs dotted the lush green
countryside. There were less than a handful of ships moored in the cove, and all flew the same flag as the María. All sailed for Iñigo Sebastiano, much to her surprise.
As they neared land, there was what looked to be a thriving, if small, harbor. There were only a few empty berths, and Iñigo wasn’t hesitant about sailing straight for them. Apparently one was his and only his. Beyond it was a small marketplace. It also looked to be thriving, as people strolled along the docks, emerging and disappearing behind the stalls with canopies of turquoise, coral, orange and red. The shouts of the vendors carried out over the water, but it was impossible to make out what they peddled, as their voices were muffled and blended into one distant hum.
The sun was high overhead when Iñigo approached. There was no sign of the pirate Captain Sebastiano in the man crossing toward her. Instead, he’d transformed himself into a surprisingly believable gentleman, dressed in buff-colored breeches and a billowy white shirt with a midnight blue silk sash tied about his waist, an elegant plumed hat atop his head, and his saber fastened at his hip. He smiled as he stepped up to her. “Ah, Finn, ready to take your leave of the María?”
“What will become of us? Of Kittles? And Honoria?” she added as Diego escorted the Englishwoman across the deck, toward the gangplank.
Iñigo leaned up against the railing, crossing his arms. “Kittles will be given to the island authorities. Those who choose to remain with me will become members of my crew. Those who choose to leave are free to leave.”
She looked up at him. Rather than cheer her, his words left her feeling even emptier. “Is that so?”
“I do believe I have misled you, my dear Miss Fiona.” His smile grew smug as he swept one arm before him. “I am not what you see. You call me pirate and I’ve yet to correct you. But now I feel I must because I certainly cannot have the natives of this island think ill of me.”
She frowned. “Must you always speak in riddles?”