by Tina Donahue
Right now, he had to be patient and wait.
Above, someone cried out briefly and softly, followed by a thud.
One of her men had fallen to James’s forceful blows.
* * * *
Diana craved a bath, clean clothes, cool air, and conversation, needing to talk the most. Peter still hadn’t rewarded her for his rescue. If anything, his behavior had gotten worse. He laid on his mattress, his scarred back to her, and feigned sleep.
There wouldn’t be any rest for her tonight. She dreaded closing her eyes, fearing the moment she did he’d leave the cabin and help the others escape so they could return to piracy. Never in her wildest worries had she considered Peter would want to remain with those animals.
She rested her arm over her eyes and tightened her fist at the noise below. The pirates alternately swore and moaned like men facing certain death. Served them right. At least their misery would end. Hers, on the other hand, was about to begin.
Every time she considered Bishop’s carnal demands, her stomach rolled. Enduring his attention would be hideous. Refusing wasn’t an option. He’d made it quite clear he’d deliver Peter to the authorities if she didn’t obey immediately, wantonly, willingly. A fourteen-year-old boy would hang because she hadn’t done everything Bishop wanted.
Bloody beast. Same as all males. They always wanted, expecting women to submit.
No different from her father, a cold, indifferent man. His church had meant more to him than his own son, while his daughter had meant nothing at all. Her only good, he’d once said, was the comfort she could bring to his home by cooking, cleaning, sewing. Once she’d finished those dreary tasks, he’d expected her to work for his church and deliver her will to his.
Diana had obeyed but never agreed with his beliefs. Women hadn’t been born to yield. Women could yield. They might even enjoy doing so, but only with the right man. One they desired. First came desire. Respect and love followed.
She could only deliver her heart to a man like that.
Even if Tristan wasn’t facing the gallows, he wasn’t the one she needed. His skin was warm against hers but what of it. He was handsome as the devil, yet there was the rub, because he was also brutal, violent, taking what he wanted. His mouth on hers was something she refused to consider, though she could hardly forget how he’d spoken calmly when she’d railed. She insulted and he smiled. He claimed she wanted the same as him. Diana did not. She wanted to be home. She needed to be free.
Her eyes flew open. A sound or voice had awakened her. Reclined on her side, she faced away from the door. An oil lamp had gone out, telling her she’d slept far too long, recklessly too.
Oh my God. Peter.
Diana rolled onto her back but didn’t check his mattress, knowing he wasn’t there or in the cabin.
Tristan was. His long legs, muscular calves, and thighs blocked her view of the door. He’d placed his precious book on the table. The volume was safe. She was not.
Before she could push to a sitting position or think to fight, he straddled her, his hands circling her wrists, holding her arms to each side. His touch didn’t harm, at least not yet.
Her heart pounded.
He offered a smile.
How dare he be so smug. “Release me at once.”
He tightened his grip slightly and studied her mouth, then her eyes. “Violet.” Awe flooded his face. “I wondered about your eye color but never expected this.”
She pushed and writhed but did no good against his strength. Breathless, she stopped. “What have you done with Peter?”
Tristan stared at her eyes. “Amazing color, quite beautiful. Fits your dark hair and pale skin perfectly.”
She rammed her thighs into him.
He held her more firmly. “Stop that.”
“Not until you tell me what you’ve done with my brother.” She slammed into him.
He scooted down and trapped her legs. “Peter’s on the main deck with the other men.”
“He’s a child and proved it by helping you escape.”
“This wasn’t his doing, and you’ve no reason to fear for his safety. I have James, my quartermaster, looking after him.”
“A bloody pirate, you mean. The same as you. Perhaps even worse than you.”
“No. James is a good man.” A haunted look touched Tristan’s features before he shook off whatever had troubled him and became casual. “He saved my life. He’ll take great care to watch your brother.”
She wanted to retort but couldn’t reconcile her indignation with Tristan’s previous anguish and the mean scratches she’d left on his cheek. Dried blood had gone black, the surrounding skin swollen and red. “What do you mean he saved your life?”
“Just that, ask no more for I’ll give you no other answer.”
“The only thing I want from you is my freedom.”
He stroked her wrists. “You want the same as me.”
She pushed against him, straining with the effort.
He tightened his grip, proving she wasn’t a match for his strength. If he chose to take her now, she’d have no choice except to allow him what he willed.
She didn’t beg. Wouldn’t. Not to him or any man, including Bishop. They could conquer her body but not her spirit, never her heart. Reconciled to her fate, she grew limp as she could, pulse racing. “Take what you’ve come for and be quick about it.”
“I shan’t be quick, Diana. With you, I’ll never be quick.”
Heat stung her face and throat. “You won’t be the last, either.”
His gray eyes darkened as storm clouds do, danger building in them. “What do you mean?”
“When you’re finished with me, I go to the man to whom I truly belong. Nothing will change that no matter how long you intend to take raping me.”
Despite her harsh words, he didn’t flinch or frown.
“Who is this man with whom you’d willingly lie?”
“Willingly?” She laughed. “You believe I’ve chosen him any more than I’ve chosen you? The fact is you’ve driven me to him.”
“What do you mean? Who is he? Tell me.”
She turned her face away.
Tristan brushed his lips over her cheek and buried his face in her hair.
Her scalp tingled. She could scarcely draw enough air to speak. “I said, be quick about it.”
He took his time, his lips soft and warm against her temple and ear, breath heated and sweet.
She tensed even more, determined to resist.
“Why do you fight me when you want this as much as I do?” He kissed her jaw.
Pleasure rushed through her, delight making her come alive as she never had, the feelings new, troubling, far too exciting. Her lids slid down.
“Tell me who the man is.”
Tristan’s scent surrounded her, surprisingly clean, tinged with musk.
“Tell me, Diana.”
“Why?”
He suckled her neck.
She trembled, an unfamiliar ache building between her legs, tension mounting within her. Flustered, she fought his hold and failed, growing weak from his imposing size. However, she refused to surrender, wanting him to know what he’d done to her. “He’s a wealthy merchant who agreed to help me find Peter if I promised to become his mistress, which I shall.”
“Never.” His breath skipped over her skin. “No one will have you but me.”
She fumed, her previous weakness gone. “You’ll take me. You’ll never have me.”
“Nor will the wealthy merchant. He owns this ship? Is his name Benedict Bishop?”
Tristan kept surprising her, giving her no defense. She pushed against him.
He eased back. “Is that the merchant’s name?”
“Yes. He’s the man to whom I belong.”
“Not any longer.”
* * * *
Tristan brushed his lips against hers, teasing, testing. Diana softened beneath him, proving what
he needed to know.
Gently, he eased his tongue into her mouth. The world spun, her thrilling heat snatching his breath and thoughts. He explored her intimately, deepening his kiss. Her taste soon belonged to him, his to her. They were no longer separate. He hoped she’d suckle him and deliver pleasure.
She resisted briefly, then coaxed his tongue deeper into her mouth. Pleased beyond belief, he released her wrists, slid his hands over her palms, and laced their fingers.
She yielded fully, her rigid nipples pebbled against his chest. She smelled like an English spring, soft rain mixed with fragrant flowers. He didn’t finish their kiss until she smelled of him. Slowly, he withdrew his tongue, lifted his head, and struggled for breath. “Open your eyes.”
Arousal brightened them, her mouth still wet with him, lips slightly bruised from his impassioned kiss.
His spirits soared. “You desired that.”
“I did not.”
As a clergyman’s daughter, she was a poor liar and would never fool him. “Then I’ll have to continue until you do.”
He kissed her, tenderly at first, then hard and greedy. She whimpered in what sounded like pleasure but held back, not giving herself fully. Finally, she tore her mouth free.
He pressed his lips to her neck. Her breath spilled out on a contented sigh, telling him what words never could. “I’ll not deliver you to Bishop. You belong to me.”
She went rigid. “I’m not yours to give. I’ll go to Bishop myself. I’d lie with the devil to save Peter from the life you’ve forced him into.”
She still believed he’d abducted the boy, refusing to listen to what really occurred, the monster Bishop was. Tristan wasn’t going to argue the point now. He trailed kisses from her throat to her cheek to her temple, tasting her dewy, achingly soft skin.
She whimpered. “Stop it.”
He did, though not because of her words. Diana wanted him, had from the start, her desire evident in her kiss. Contempt didn’t fuel her resistance, but worry over Peter’s safety, the boy’s future. Tristan wasn’t about to cause her more pain. She was his to protect. “No harm will come to Peter.”
She laughed, the sound remarkably derisive and cruel. “Indeed, as he’ll be away from you.”
“He’ll remain with us.”
Diana scowled. “I’ll not have Peter become a common criminal. You believe reading a fancy book makes you a gentleman?”
“You believe wealth and position makes Bishop one? You’ll not return to him. You’re coming with me. I’ve had enough of this life, and a ship’s no place for a woman and children.”
Her eyes rounded. “You think I’ll bear your bastards?”
His chest tightened. He strained to breathe. “If you were a man, you’d be dead for saying such a thing.”
“Whether I die here with you or with Bishop matters little. Do your worst, Captain.”
To what end? Tristan craved her pleasure and acceptance, not heartless disdain. He loosened his grip. “Do you need to wound me so badly, Diana?”
Embarrassment flooded her features. She averted her gaze.
He squeezed her hands gently. “You’ll not bear my bastards.”
His children wouldn’t go through what he had. They’d have a name, respect, and her as their mother. He couldn’t do anything less.
“Why won’t I be bearing them?” She looked at him. “Has the task already gone to the island girl you enjoy?”
So, Peter had told her about Canela. Pity the boy didn’t know Canela wasn’t a rival for Diana.
“I have no children, legitimate or otherwise. I’ve taken great pains to avoid them. Peter’s been telling you things, hasn’t he? It appears you’ve been listening. Good. Proves your interest. Or would it be desire?”
“Neither. But believe what you will. Whatever I say won’t change matters.”
Only because he already knew her better than she did. He unlaced their fingers, straightened, and eased Diana’s shirt up, baring her breasts. The soft mounds were ripe and snowy, her nipples pale pink. A deep flush stained her throat and face, but she didn’t stop him.
Delighted, he cupped her exquisitely soft flesh. Primal need gripped him. He fought for control against taking her, what should have been an easy matter, but was far more complicated because he wanted her desire, not obedience. Better to wait. If frustration didn’t kill him first. Her nipples were erect against his calloused palms, skin heated and moist, her arousal undeniable.
She struggled for breath, color tinted her cheeks, and lust hooded her eyes.
He squeezed her breasts and thumbed her nipples.
Her lips parted. She blinked slowly, looking drugged.
He was beyond intoxicated. “I see you desire this.”
She blew out a breath. “No.”
“Pity. You’ll have to go through this and far more. The acts delightful, I can assure you. How else will you ever bear my children, with them having my last name the same as you?”
Confusion, then surprise flashed across her lovely features. “Wed you? Never.” She cuffed his wrists as well as she could but didn’t shove him away. “You’ll hang the moment you return to England.”
“We’re not going there. We’ll remain here.”
“No.” She pushed.
He captured her wrists in one hand, kept them above her head, and stroked her nipples. They couldn’t get tighter. He drew one into his mouth and reeled at its faint salty taste, her musky skin.
She moaned. He suckled, then enjoyed her other nipple. She arched her back, delivering herself to him, approving his intimate attention.
He could have kept at this for days, but needed air, and eased back. “Look at me.”
She stared at the wall behind him, lingering arousal, then dismay on her face. “Do what you want in this cabin. I haven’t the strength to fight you. But know this, I’ll not allow Peter to grow up in this barbaric land.”
Her trust wouldn’t be won easily, though he had to try. “I offer my word I’ll have him educated as a gentleman, even providing the tutor, while you give me what I’ve missed most during these last years. A taste of home. An Englishwoman. Pure, virginal. You are a virgin, are you not?”
She blushed worse than before.
He didn’t dare smile. “It would appear you are. So rare in these parts, the same as your lovely eyes and pale skin. I’m not about to deliver you to Bishop, nor allow you any freedom from me. You’ll wed me, lie with me, bless me with many children, and never know another man’s touch, save mine. You’ll not only desire that, you’ll surely be lost without it.”
Something slammed into the door.
Diana flinched. Tristan looked over.
On the other side, feet shuffled, men muttered.
Chadwick Vincent’s voice stood out. “She must be in there.”
Tristan pulled down her shirt, pushed to his feet, and helped Diana to hers.
Voices rose. “Captain better not think he’s getting all of her.”
Vincent chuckled. “We each get fair shares in this prize, just like any other.”
Someone kicked in the cabin door. Ten faces looked inside for Diana, the prize, Tristan’s other men joining them.
Chapter 3
Diana locked her knees to keep from collapsing.
Pirates crammed into the cabin, leaving little room and not enough air.
A short man sporting a huge belly squeezed past the others. His front teeth and left ear were gone, his cheeks pockmarked. “We’re here for our share.”
Another man and then the rest demanded her flesh, everyone talking at once, each new pirate more horrible than the last.
Her legs went watery at what the coming moments would bring. No matter what Tristan had said about her never knowing anyone else’s touch, he couldn’t fight his entire crew.
She’d vowed to hate him, but didn’t, couldn’t, not even with his piracy and her belief he’d abducted Peter. Tristan coul
d have easily raped her earlier. He’d offered marriage instead. He was a curious man, good and bad, hard yet tender. She didn’t understand the paradox, but no longer wished him dead. A distinct possibility given how these animals leered, shouted, laughed, and jostled each other.
She shrank back and grabbed his arm.
“What are you doing?” He pried her hand off. “Hope you don’t think I’m going to save you.” Laughing, he pulled her in front of him. His hands fell so heavy on her shoulders she swayed. His fingers trailed casually to her nipples. “We take a vote on who gets her first.”
Horrified, she looked over. Tristan shook her roughly, forcing her to face his men.
Her skin prickled at his unexpected betrayal, her foolishness in having believed in him after a few kisses and kind words. He’d proved he was no different from any man, caring only about himself.
Her throat ached at the painful truth, her rage mounting. “Coward.”
He pulled her into him, making certain his stiffened shaft pressed against her buttocks, letting her know the male power he’d use to bring her to her knees.
“Best you watch what you say, Miss Fletcher.” He stroked her neck.
She jerked away.
He yanked her back into him. “I say James Sullivan gets her first.”
The crew complained loudly.
A pirate wearing a bright yellow scarf on his head shoved the others away. “Why him?”
Tristan dipped his hands lower, touched her nipples, and then held tight so she couldn’t move. “He saved your necks. If not for James, we’d still be in the hold, not preparing to have our pleasure with this woman.”
Some grumbled. Most laughed, then voted James the first share with Tristan getting the next, as captain. After him, the others would draw straws to decide their turns.
The pirate with the pocked face shook his head. “Excepting for young Peter. He’s her brother.”
“That right?” This man smiled wide enough to show his rotted teeth. “Well, miss, best you not scream. If Peter was to find out how much pleasure you was bringing us, we’d have to kill him. Understand?"
Bile rose to her throat, but she nodded.
Another man, near Tristan’s height, worked his way through the others to where she stood. His hair was longer than Peter’s, dark red threaded with gold. Freckles covered his bare chest and face. He appeared slightly younger than Tristan, but wore the same hard look in his brown eyes.