He was stronger and his grip was firm. “Just take a bloody minute, will you?” he growled, and squeezed her back against his chest.
Any protest was muffled against him. Then, as the shudders slowly ebbed, his warmth seeped into her cold skin. Every muscle in her body melted. It was like sinking into a bed of cotton. She closed her eyes and forgot, for one precious moment, that she was in the arms of a pirate.
Luke’s hands were unsteady as he held her against him. He’d come down here to watch her sleep for a few minutes before waking her, so that he could see her without all the walls and barriers she hid behind. But he’d barely pulled up a chair to sit when she’d begun to thrash and cry out. The depth of pain and fear had shocked him. So had the urgent need to shelter her from it.
Women, up till now, had been either a source of pleasure or a sliver that got under his skin and irritated the daylights out of him. Never had one roused the torrent of feeling he’d experienced as she clung to him. He felt helpless, useless. Shaken.
He held her while she was still too weak from her dream to really put up a fight. Absently, he stroked her spine. The damp material that clung to her back made his jaw clench in anger. He had a fair idea what had caused the nightmare, and the truth of it sickened him. His hands curled into fists as the picture of Samantha suffering such a fate formed before his eyes. He pulled her a little closer.
A few minutes later her breathing slowed and her slender body sagged against his. Her smell was pure, and it made him want things he had no business wanting. A strumpet was one thing. Samantha Steele was another ocean altogether. She might be a pirate, but as far as he could tell, it was only work to her. It wasn’t in her soul, the way it was in his. He’d heard regret in her voice when she’d said Steele was a good pirate. Wasn’t she repulsed by the idea that he himself was one?
He knew the moment her sanity returned. Her perfect little body went rigid. Her voice cracked like a whip.
“What are you doing here?” She pushed Luke away and pulled the bedcovers to her chin. Ribbons of curls framed an angry face.
The knot in his stomach loosened as he took the chair he’d set beside her bed. The good captain was back. “I’ve come to wake you, fair lady.”
“You’re not welcome in my cabin. Get out.”
“Now that, luv, is not the way to make friends.” He crossed his arms over the gold chains. The color hadn’t returned to her cheeks, and even the yellow rays coming through the small window didn’t take away her pallor. Her knuckles, white as a virgin’s thighs, clutched the covers as though her life depended on it.
“Besides,” he added, “you wanted me here just fine a few minutes ago.”
The bedcovers fell away in her agitation. She rushed out of her berth. Her window wasn’t large, but it was well placed. As Luke stood behind her, the midafternoon sunlight flooded into the room and traced her form nicely. The curves beneath the white cotton gown left him breathless. A dip at her waist, a gentle rounding over the hips. Luke’s gaze feasted while his body heated. Though she’d revealed more in the gown she’d worn yesterday, there was something in the simpleness of her nightdress that sparked his blood. It shocked him just how much he wanted to drag her back into her berth, to lose himself in those curves.
“I was dreaming, and you took advantage!”
The chair scraped the floor. Visions of them together blinded him and made walking uncomfortable. “Luv, you haven’t seen me take advantage. Yet.”
She froze in place. “Try it, and you’ll be marooned on the most barren island we can find. If I don’t kill you first.”
“That’s the second time you’ve threatened me.”
He moved close enough to see her pulse leap in that inviting little curve at the base of her throat. She might be Steele on the outside, but he was getting another picture of what lay beneath. Fire. Lots of it. And damned if he wasn’t willing and ready to get burned.
Squawk. “Step away. Step away.”
Gold sparks flew from her eyes. “If you don’t like it, leave. This is, after all, my cabin.”
“That’s something else we need to discuss.”
She grabbed a pale blue bedcover and pulled it against her chest. “What?”
“I don’t like sleeping with your crew. And since I’m half in command of this journey, I should be allowed half the cabin.”
Her mouth gaped open. He was suddenly very glad the idea had come to him.
“You are not in command, Luke. You’re simply supplying the bearings.”
Squawk. “Damn Luke. Damn Luke.”
Samantha turned the same red as her parrot’s head. Luke resumed his chair and propped his boots on the berth. The fact that the parrot knew his name put some wind in his sails. It meant she was thinking of him. And talking about him.
“You lied to me, got me here under false pretenses. The least you can do is share your cabin.”
He toyed with his mustache, a grin on his lips while he watched every emotion, from disbelief to outrage, flit across her face. While she stewed, he enjoyed the cooler temperature of her cabin. He chuckled. It must be a sin, he figured, to be having this much fun.
“Besides, your parrot likes me.”
Suddenly she stilled and smiled. It was a serene smile. And he didn’t trust it.
“All right. You may share the cabin.”
“You’re smiling; that’s not good. What’s the catch?”
“I don’t sleep at night. That’s when you may have it. During the day, you’re not allowed here.”
Damn! He hadn’t thought of that. He stood up again, not ready to accept defeat. “Fine. But one night, Samantha, you will be here. With me.”
Her chin shot up. “Not on your life.”
The fear from the nightmare still lurked in her eyes. But he also saw something else. A wise man, however, knew when to play his cards.
“Why? Seems to me we have a lot in common.”
She threw the cover at him. “Get out! You’re nothing like me, and it’s daylight. It’s my cabin now.”
His gaze wandered over her one more time. She ducked behind the screen.
“You’ll want to be getting dressed, Samantha.”
“Captain Steele, for the last time,” she growled from behind the screen.
Squawk. “Sam Steele. Sam Steele.”
“Carracks!” she ordered.
The bird quieted and dipped his head into his feathers to scratch.
“By the looks of the sun, I couldn’t have been asleep more than a few hours. Are we there already?”
The surrender in her voice surprised him. She’d agreed to use Tortuga as a starting point for Dervish’s trail. Why, then, did she sound as though she’d rather wade into shark-infested waters?
“Yes, luv. We’re coming up on Tortuga.”
The mood, when Sam climbed on deck, was boisterous. Men sang raucous songs about warm rum and hot women, stamping their feet or clapping to the fast-paced rhythm. Sam knew, from past experience, that it was what they’d be doing until dawn the next day. It was always with a heavy heart that she chose to anchor in Tortuga. But as much as she despised it, the crew needed the break from the monotony at sea. And their spirits, as well as their pockets, were always much lighter after a night on the island.
Since they’d been there less than four weeks ago, Sam had hoped not to see it again anytime soon. A good day was when she could put the blasted place to her rudder. But there it was. Named for its shape, which resembled a large sea turtle, Tortuga was anything but serene and innocent. The island was a festering pit of debauchery.
Though no more than twenty miles long and four miles wide, what it lacked in size it more than made up for in vigor. And that was what Sam hated. It was also the reason she was about to take the wind out of a young boy’s sails. Again.
Aidan had worked under Mr. Grant, and he’d been the first Sam had sworn to save. There’d been no taking away the brutal slash marks on his eight-year-old back, but she’d vowed h
e wouldn’t accumulate any more. His face, so brave despite the pain she’d witnessed him endure, reminded her each day that she’d done the right thing by becoming Steele. She wasn’t about to ruin him all over again by sending him onto Tortuga. Though he’d never begged, or even asked, she knew he wanted to go ashore. To be part of the men. Longing was etched in his every feature as he leaned over the gunwale.
His cheeks were pink, partly from the Caribbean sun but mostly from the anticipation of going ashore. His hands, growing with approaching manhood, held fast to the ropes. Hair the color of straw and just as matted clung to his head. She was certain he’d overheard the men recounting their stories, no doubt creating longer and more colorful tales with each telling. It was no surprise he’d want to see it for himself. At twelve, he was bound to be curious.
The lines creaked as the lifeboat was lowered into the blue-green water. A few blue fish fluttered beneath the surface and disappeared under the Revenge. The breeze was soft and carried with it the smell of roasted pig. Her mouth watered. There was one good thing about Tortuga.
“Ready to go ashore, Captain.” Willy said.
Willy was wiry, with a beard that must have weighed nearly as much as he did. His arms weren’t much bigger than hers, but she’d seen him lift heavy beams and barrels, and knew his stature was deceiving. One of his front teeth had rotted away, and he often spit through the gap where it had been. Nevertheless, he kept the sails in order, the masts upright, and the ship afloat.
The light in the crew’s eyes had little to do with the sun they were facing. Gone were the drab clothes they normally wore. In their place were brightly colored sashes, long coats that were far too warm to wear on such a day, and fancy hats with a flock of multicolored feathers protruding from around the rims.
“They make a lovely sight, don’t they?” Luke asked from behind her.
The scene in her cabin sprang to mind, and she bit down on the wave of embarrassment. Since she couldn’t change what had happened, she would pretend it meant nothing.
She turned. He hadn’t changed a stitch. The sight of him, with his pistols tucked into his sash, and that insufferable grin on those full lips, left her feeling restless and out of sorts. It was the island, she concluded. It always affected her this way. If a part of her brain screamed she was a bloody liar, she ignored it.
“They do at that.” She forced herself to smile. “Gentlemen, you may go.”
They cheered and fought as to who would go first. It would take two trips to get everyone ashore. Those who’d pushed and shoved their way into the boat shouted insults at those left to wait. Among them was Aidan.
Sam sighed. She was doing this for the boy’s own good. Even if he’d never see it that way.
“Aidan?”
He turned, the look of wanting still ripe in his eyes even if his voice was heavy with disappointment.
“I’m to stay on board, Captain?”
The “again” was left unspoken. It was seen, however, in the droop of his narrow shoulders. She’d never explained to Aidan her reasons for keeping him away from the men. He assumed it was because she considered him too young. That was only part of it, and she didn’t know how to tell him the rest. It was cowardly, but she’d always found excuses not to talk about it. And now, with Luke hovering behind her, she latched on to another way out.
“Actually, I won’t be staying on board this time, Aidan, and I need you to man the Revenge for me. Can you do that?”
Despair turned to hope in a heartbeat. His brown eyes sparked like flint, assuaging the guilt that was brewing in her stomach.
“By myself?” he asked.
The boy was all but dancing in his worn boots. His hair was wild and in need of a brush, his teeth were desperate for a scrubbing, but he looked like she’d handed him the moon.
“Well, Trevor wasn’t keen on a trip and he’ll be below, but you’ll have full rein on deck.”
“Oh, right,” he muttered.
“I’m trusting you to take care of my ship for me,” she said.
He nodded, kicked the gunwale, and turned away.
The lifeboat returned, and Sam’s attention shifted to the remaining crew who were practically leaping overboard to get in. When only she and Luke were left to board, she moved toward the ladder. In his usual lazy manner, he ignored the curses of the crew yelling for him to hurry, and stepped in front of her.
“What’s the real reason you’re coming with me? Tortuga doesn’t seem as though it would agree with you. Besides, I hardly need a keeper the way the lad does.” He gestured to Aidan. “I’m capable of finding Dervish’s destination without you.”
“And leave you to your own devices? I’m not that foolhardy. You’re likely to vanish.”
“Hurry up! We don’t have all bloody day!” Willy called from the water.
“You’re forgetting something,” Luke said, creeping closer to her side.
“And what might that be?”
“If I leave now, I’ll lose the chance to own this ship.” His lips curled into a grin. “Not to mention I’d miss the opportunity to seduce you.”
Sam glared. “Watch your step, Luke. I can always change my mind and shoot you.”
He laughed, then stopped her heart when he leaned in and his breath caressed the sensitive area behind her ear.
“I look forward to you trying,” he said, and climbed down the ladder.
Muttering very inventive curses, Sam followed.
“Yer sure about this? I can go with ye, as we’ve done before,” Joe said to Samantha once they were on the beach.
Behind him the rest of the crew raced through the white sand. Sprays of it shot up in their haste. Their singing floated along with the campfire smoke.
“I’m sure. Besides, we can’t all be hovering around Luke or we won’t learn anything.”
Joe cast Luke a warning look and moved down the beach, his boots sinking in the pearly sand.
“So what’s the rest of this plan of yours?” Luke asked, toying with a piece of driftwood he’d picked up.
“I plan on staying close to you, Luke.”
He stepped near enough to touch, but didn’t. The wind gently tugged her hair and swept it across her shoulders. His fingers quivered to reach out, to feel the silkiness slip between them.
“As my woman?” he asked, letting his voice caress her the way he wished his hands could.
Her hesitation wasn’t long, but it was enough to encourage him.
“As your shadow,” she corrected. “I want to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain.”
“Ah. Well, as you’ve told me, you’ve tried this direction before and weren’t able to gather any useful information. What makes you think they’ll tell me with you lingering about? You may not realize it, but you’ve a face no man with blood in his veins could possibly forget. Not to mention your—”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not the same dress, Luke. I’m wearing my hair differently. Last time I had on a large hat and spoke with an Irish accent.”
He couldn’t resist her. Her mind worked in the same way as his. How could he not be drawn to that? His boots shuffled in the sand and he brought his toes to hers.
“Tell me, Samantha, does anyone ever get to see the real you?”
“No.”
Lord, he wanted to touch her. Her skin glowed a soft bronze color; her hair was unbound and grazed the delectable swell of her breasts. The breath that whispered against his face was uneven and seductive. He leaned in.
“I will,” he said, a whisper away from her lips. “I’ll see all of you, have all of you.” He hovered, though it cost him. He wanted to sink into her, to taste and devour. But he’d learned enough about Samantha to hold back. If he forced her, he’d be no different from the man in her nightmare. Still, it was a bittersweet pleasure to be so close, to feel her quick breaths on his lips, to smell the freshness of her skin.
She shivered when he pulled back. His vanity soared.
“Disapp
ointed?” he asked.
Her face turned the color of the sinking sun. “Not on your life,” she answered.
“I told you before, we’ll be getting personal. Before this little venture is over, you won’t only be asking for my touch, you’ll be begging.”
He marched away, lust fogging his brain. Sand pulled at his boots but didn’t slow him down. He’d let himself get caught up in her. Now he had but a few seconds to clear his head before she caught up. A few seconds to figure out his strategy. For as much as Samantha thought this little jaunt was about finding Dervish and getting revenge, it was about so much more to Luke. The key remained keeping Samantha unaware of just what that was.
Oliver never came to his own beach, to this far section of his land where the crystalline waters folded into a small bay, because it reminded him of all that had been stolen from him.
He shouldn’t have come. Truthfully, he had no idea why he had. Except that the last few times Nathaniel had come back with another of the treacherous slaves, he’d never been left with such an unsettled feeling afterward. The Jewel of the Sea was close. Dammit, he couldn’t explain how he knew, he just felt its nearness.
The tiny bay was calm and empty. His ship. He could envision her frolicking in the warm surf, waiting for him to take her to sea. Lord, he’d missed her. And he’d have her, he vowed. The Jewel and the whore. He’d take Samantha at least once before he finished with her. The need for revenge clawed through him, a hungry beast starving for blood.
The pain came fast and savage, and clamped around his heart. He gasped, staggered. With a shaking hand, he gripped one of the posts that anchored the pier. Leaning heavily against it, he concentrated on regulating his breathing. In and out, nice and steady, just like the tide.
The pain lasted longer this time, and his face was wet with perspiration before his heart was able to function without agony. He forced himself to calm down. He hadn’t spent a week unconscious and months learning to walk and talk again only to die now. That had been years ago, four to be exact. But he remembered it like yesterday. And it still had the power to infuriate him.
What a Pirate Desires Page 5