Big John cracked his knuckles. “Wouldn’t be doin’ that, mate,” he warned.
“Let the lass go,” Cocklyn said.
“Fraco won’t hurt me,” Catalina proclaimed. “Will you, primo? You hurt me and you will prove to your papá you cannot handle yourself under even the slightest duress, and that you let a woman govern your control,” she mocked. “You hurt me, and you will not be able to step out from the shadow of being half a man. Just as Tio Alvaro expects.”
“¡Cállate!”
Her features turned to stone. “Remove. Your. Hand.”
Fraco’s curled upper lip twitched, his nostrils flared. And then he sighed, heavily disgusted, dropping his grip from her neck. “Do not slap me again, Catalina.”
“No, of course not,” she said, her tone suddenly airy and cheerful. “Unless you are entitled to it again.”
Valeryn was taken aback by what had just happened. The wee lass handled all three men expertly. ’Twas not easy to subdue grown men with mere words, especially when one of those men was angry enough to try to hurt her. She was a savvy girl, that one.
He was beginning to understand she would not stop until she got what she wanted. Mayhap she did have the heart of a pirate. The smile that spread across his face at the idea soon dropped. She wanted him. Him. Though one head swelled with pride and the other with lust, he had to stop her advances. He had no stomach for fitting himself for the noose over a woman betrothed to Diego. ’Twas all very bittersweet. Perhaps when he was alone and drowning in his rum, he’d laugh at the injustice of it.
“Thank you for your company,” Catalina announced. “Tomorrow will be a most productive day, so I must bid you good night. Gentleman,” she said, excusing herself.
“Whadda ’bout the dishes?” Henri called after her.
Valeryn didn’t move as Catalina rounded the threshold. She pulled up short, startled to find him there. He crossed his arms, refusing to step aside to let her pass. Wide eyes immediately hit the floor. A moment passed before she mustered up the courage to scurry by. Her shoulder brushed his, followed by a waft of salty, floral fragrance. He squelched the need to grab her to him and accost her with a punishable kiss.
Nalda glared at him with her evil eye. More the reason to ignore his irrational impulse.
They disappeared down the companionway. His appetite gone and unable to trust himself from beating Fraco to a bloody pulp, Valeryn returned to the captain’s quarters and the only sure thing he could count on—a bottle of potent rack. He’d clean the sextant, check the barometer, sharpen his cutlass, anything to keep his pickled mind on menial tasks instead of on her.
Hot weather had been especially brutal today. Valeryn baked, his skin tightening even though the sun’s rays squeezed out sweat from his every pore. Perhaps ’twas the beach that made it unbearable. The sand he sat upon seemed to absorb the heat. More likely was the alcohol he imbibed the night before had come back to haunt him. That, and the raging inferno building inside him over Diego. The rat bastard had touched Catalina. Had claimed her. Had done the things with her Valeryn could only hunger for.
Just as well. When had he not deserved purgatory?
All morning, Catalina had been collecting samples from the reef—coral, sea plants, stars, and crustaceans—placing them in a bag she kept submerged. She planned to study them in more depth when they returned to the ship.
Valeryn had waited on shore for two reasons. The first, her insistence to keep his foot out of the water due to his injury, which he found absurd. But he used her demand to suit his other reason. ’Twould be much easier to remain in control of his faculties when in the water with her. What little clothing she wore offered glimpses of her curves, her flesh, her breasts. His mouth watered each time he closed his eyes and visualized the thin fabric in a fluid dance around her body. And he couldn’t afford to lose any more body fluid.
Midday was upon them. She must be getting hungry, as she waded into shore. Valeryn came prepared. He’d brought a blanket for her to wrap herself in so she could keep her modesty and he could keep his eyes and cock in check.
Catalina covered up and he produced the fish, cheese and bread. Between voracious nibbles on her food, she chattered on about what she had seen. He listened, watching her excitedly share her findings, but unlike before, Valeryn could not find interest in anything she said. He tried, but his thoughts kept returning to one singular gut-ripping thing. Diego. The bilge-licking scab had resided in his head like a cancerous sore since the night before.
“I wonder how the little fish are not bothered by the stinging arms of the flowers...”
How could she talk on and on about her damned specimens knowing what, or rather, who waited for her in Matanzas. Shit! He should not care that she was to marry Diego. She would be able to figure a way out of the arranged marriage. She proved she could stand up for herself. Why was he letting this bother him? Won’t she shut up about those goddamned fish? Did she fuck Diego?
Son of a bitch, he had to stop. He didn’t care about her. All he cared about was getting this damned commission over with so that he could get Rissa back and the men could be free again.
He let his gaze linger upon her mouth. What part of Diego had those lips touched?
“Did you prig Diego?”
Catalina’s hand holding a piece of cheese stopped halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she set the slice back upon the plate. She didn’t meet his gaze, choosing instead to look out upon the blue horizon, shaking her head. “How dare you,” she whispered.
She was angry. Good. He let a caustic chuckle boil over.
“Diego is no concern of yours,” she spat.
“No concern? You jest, puss. Ho, ho.” He jabbed his finger at the scar under his eye. “You want to tell me again he is no concern of mine?”
“That had nothing to do with me,” she countered.
“Did you, Catalina? Did you prig him?”
“You have no right to ask me that.”
“Don’t I? You have made it no secret you want to bed me. Even knowing the consequences. Shouldn’t I know every consequence you’d bring if I bury myself into you? Every. Damned. One?”
She scrambled to her feet, as did he. Both of them fit to be tied.
“’Tis my private—”
Valeryn snatched her arm a bit too rough. “You beg to have a pirate claim you, and nothing, nothing between you and him will be private.”
Catalina leaned away, her pupils constricted, her face red. She seemed to beat him with the fury in her eyes. “No, Valeryn. I have not prigged Diego.”
The use of his word from her lips jarred him. Bloody heat had to be getting to him. His grip loosened and she yanked her arm away.
“But you have been up in the boughs.” He challenged her. There was much more two people could do involving fingers, mouths, and tongues than quiffing.
She flung off the blanket. Her shift still wet enough to cling to her curves was its own challenge. “When I landed in Matanzas, I was wounded. My heart wept daily. I had but a distant dream clouded by the gray skies of betrayal and loneliness. You know of love’s betrayal, no?”
Joelle’s smiling image appeared in his mind before fizzling into nothingness. She’d left a hole in his aching heart. Catalina’s arched eyebrow dared him to argue otherwise.
“And then I met Diego. ’Twas glorious to have a man’s affection, to whisper the right words, when I needed to feel wanted again. Persecute me for indulging in bawdy behavior with him. You won’t be the first.”
With that, Catalina spun around and waded back into the water. She stopped a few feet in, and without turning, lobbed one more taunt. “I had a life before you. Just as you have had before me. I have made peace with my failures. Have you, pirata?”
She dove into the sea and swam to an outcropping of rock that submerged into reef, leaving him with his thoughts.
Aye, he failed with Joelle. He wasn’t the man she needed him to be. He fought for her, alongside her. But though she loved
him, he never completely won her heart. Had he fought hard enough? Hell, he fought harder for her than anything else in his wretched life. ’Twasn’t enough. He was never enough.
Sitting back on the sand, he watched Catalina dive under the water again and again gathering her samples. He couldn’t fault her. He tried, but, damn all, he couldn’t. The emptiness left behind from a broken heart was maddening. He used to think pining after a lost love was a weak, womanly emotion, until he experienced it himself. Everything he knew of love was shred to worthless tattered pieces, and he’d become less of a man. The need to find comfort in another’s bosom was overwhelming. Hadn’t he run into the open arms of Kate? But a brothel owner wasn’t the same as a bugger like Diego.
Was Fraco telling the truth? Was Catalina betrothed? How would she get herself out of that predicament? Assuming she wanted to. Willing or not, the food in Valeryn’s stomach churned with the thought of the bastard driving himself into Catalina. If she did not want to marry Diego, he would make sure it did not happen.
Stay out of it. Not your fight.
He scanned the water’s surface where she’d been diving. She’d been under a long time. Had she moved? Had he been so absorbed in thought that he lost track of her?
Valeryn stood, searching the glittering cove. ’Twas dangerous as it was beautiful. Calm water was deceptive water. Something wasn’t right.
He waded out into the warm, peaceful surf. Where was she? Undulating ripples grabbed his attention near where he last saw Catalina. Instinct clubbed him in the gut. His fingers fumbled on his belt. He removed his weapons, shrugged out of his tunic, and tossed them all back onto the beach. Seagulls took flight as he raced in, kicking up water. The deepening brine hampered his speed. He cursed and called her name, hoping she’d hear, that her head would pop up, and he’d feel foolish for panicking.
But she didn’t.
“Catalina!” He dove into the water, cool at first, blasting him with the gravity she was in trouble. Pushing and kicking through the weight of the sea, he swam with all he had, rejecting the briny sting of his eyes, his clothing and boots slowing his progress even further. She came into blurry view, struggling with something. Her arm was stuck in a jagged crevice just a couple of feet below the surface, too far under to come up to breathe. Ribbons of blood from gashes along her forearm coiled and swayed in the currents before diluting in the water. Gulping in more air, he dove in beside her. Fear bulged in her wide eyes, her cheeks taut and bloated. Catalina was running out of air. She would drown if he didn’t do something.
Valeryn snatched his gulley knife from his boot. He dug the knife into the coral, chipping off bits. More. He had to break off more. ’Twasn’t enough. Fuck! It was never enough. The blade found its way into a cleft. He buried it deep and rocked the handle back and forth, glancing at Catalina. Her features were beginning to relax, a bubble slipped from her closed lips.
No!
Back and forth, back and forth, he jerked with as much force as he could, until a large chunk dislodged. Valeryn ripped the ridge away. Dropping his knife, he pulled her arm free, tucked her into him, and pushed up, breaking the surface.
He gasped, his lungs and eyes burning. But she hadn’t drawn a breath. “Catalina!” Wrestling to keep her head above water, he jerked the arm he held her with across her chest, trying to get a response. The thrust must have forced water from her lungs. She sputtered, choked, swallowing down mouthfuls of air. Thank the gods!
Within moments he had pulled her from the water and laid her down on the blanket where they had eaten their lunch. He swiped her wet hair from her face. Droplets glistened upon long eyelashes as she blinked up at him. Tiny coughing fits shook her body.
“’Tis all right. You’re safe now.” He fussed while examining her. “Take slow deep breaths, belladonna.”
Bright red runnels of blood ran down her arm. But there were more spots of blood on the blanket. Only then, he realized he was bleeding, too.
He scrambled to where he’d thrown his tunic and ripped the shirt into strips. Haphazardly, he wrapped a strip around his frayed fingers and palm. He’d properly tend to his hand later, but for now, he had to prevent getting his blood all over Catalina.
A quick swipe with a clean piece of cloth over her gashes revealed the cuts were small, but they bled as if they were fatal. Though they were superficial, they’d leave nasty scars.
Catalina rested her uninjured arm across her eyes. “I feel so foolish,” she said.
Valeryn swathed several strips around her forearm to staunch the blood flow. “What the devil were you doing?”
“I—I do not know. I saw a shiny crustacean or shell and I reached for it.”
“You stuck your hand in a hole for a shell?” he asked, knotting the strips.
She chuckled. “Uh, sí, I suppose I did.”
Valeryn frowned. “You nearly drowned,” he scolded. “And for what?” He was angry. She could have killed herself. The whole of the trip would be for naught. He and his men would be held accountable, and so, too, would the Spanish crew, if Catalina were to perish. They would have to desert, not being able to return without facing execution. He was already a dead man. But the Rissa and her crew back in Cuba would be destroyed. “You put yourself, all of us, in danger for your silly whims.”
Her face fell, tears filling her bloodshot eyes as she turned her head away. “I know,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving me.”
There she was again—vulnerable. She was such a strange mixture of force and femininity. And blazes, was she feminine laying on the beach wet. So wet. The soaked shift clung to every inch of her body, affording him a splendid view of her body as if she wore nothing at all. He greedily took her in. Dusky nipples, puckered from the persistent breezes, were transparent through the fabric. Over her belly button, the material made a small divot. Inspection further down revealed the dark triangular patch at her juncture. His anger with her transferred into something entirely basic. Instantly, his cock grew to attention.
Dear Neptune, help him. She lay before him like a king's feast. A feast for the taking. How many times had she offered herself to him? How many times can one man say no? He'd either been a damned eunuch or a damned fool.
He gently set her arm down. Her head rolled back and her soulful eyes speared him. Her shallow breathing increased, the rise and fall of her blessed bosom momentarily distracted him. A pink tongue rolled over her bottom lip and teeth bit down. She was stunning, even as a wet mess, and he wanted her. Just like this—vulnerable. Not willing herself upon him. Not trying to seduce him. Not pushing him to be the obedient, servile one.
Take her. Do as you have always done. Take what you want. To hell with fucking consequences! To hell with Montoya's threat. You're a dead man, anyway. Take her!
Valeryn cupped her cheek in another momentary lapse, to feel her smooth, angelic face against his palm.
Take a piece of heaven before you go to the pits of hell. Take your due from what's left of your life. Goddamnit, you deserve it!
He bent, grasping both her shoulders, hovering above her face searching her pleading eyes. Aye, he deserved it.
CHAPTER 15
In a rush to stop the voice shouting in his head, he kissed her fast, hard. That one kiss he delivered rough, punishing her for driving him to the brink, forcing him to finish himself off after each of her siren attempts, dreaming of what she would feel like, how she would taste. He demanded entrance into her mouth, ravished her once she complied.
Catalina grasped his neck with both hands, holding him to their kiss. He wasn’t going anywhere. He fed upon her as if she was his wellspring of survival. If he didn’t lap, suck, swallow her kisses, he’d die. Too soon. Not until she delivered him to her promised land. Not until he satisfied the beastly animal clawing him from the inside out. Blood raced to his cock, the building pressure damn near unbearable.
Firm peaks, soft crooks, warm flesh. He generously explored the dip of her throat down to her breasts, fingering
over the ridges of her ribs to her tiny waist. She was so small, he could easily break her. Mayhap cleave her in two. How would she feel as he buried himself inside her tight warm heat? He hardened further.
Thoughts of morality fought to the forefront of his brain but were consumed by a heady fog. He was losing control. Hell, he’d already lost it.
Valeryn ripped his mouth from hers and leaned back on his haunches. “Get naked,” he demanded.
Brown eyes darkened, lashes fluttered. For a moment he thought he may have mistaken her passion for fear. She didn’t move for what seemed an eternity. Everything felt like an eternity with a rod ready to explode.
“Are you sure?”
Now she was concerned? After all she’d done to get them this far, and she was thinking about him? Shit. The woman was becoming insufferable. “Get. Naked.”
The innocence of an angel transformed into delicious, excitable wickedness. Catalina sat upright and shimmied her shift up and over her head, discarding it as if it were on fire.
Bronzed skin glistened in the sunlight. Stray sun-dried strands of hair curled around her heat-kissed cheeks, skimming along her smooth shoulders. Divine nipples, sculpted by the hands of God, perched upon perfectly rounded mounds. Mounds that overflowed in his large hands. Mounds atop the slope of her torso from which a faint contour ran down to her belly button and beyond, right into her short dark curls.
His cock twitched, bringing him from his stupor. “Glorious,” he murmured. In an instant, he shed his boots, relieved from the chaffing, damp leather aggravating his injured foot. He forced himself to not jump out of his trousers like a young, eager whelp. Steady and sure, he peeled the breeches off.
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