Sophia twisted her fingers together. She kneaded her palm with the pad of her thumb, pressing against the muscles, the veins.
She strutted away from the private box. She moved against the shadows in the passageway, searching for light.
There was an alcove. She spotted the lamp inside. She slipped between the walls. There was a bench and she settled against the cushioned pillows.
She breathed deep and hard to soothe the thrumming pulses that afflicted her senses. The islanders’ jeers and lewd comments still resounded in her head. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her head to quiet the vulgar tongues, the crude laughter.
“You really are like one of them.”
She gasped. Something ugly, something vile churned in her belly at the cutting words. Slowly she opened her eyes and confronted the brigand’s towering figure. She flinched under the man’s scorching glare.
“How is Imogen?” she whispered.
He rumbled, “Do you care?”
“Damn you, Black Hawk.” She stood and confronted him. “You don’t understand!”
He was a man. If he bedded a hundred women, still society would invite him to parties and balls. But she was a woman. She was chained. And she refused to discard the manacles that ensnared her. She wouldn’t let them laugh and sneer at her again—as they had laughed and sneered at Imogen.
“I understand, sweetheart.”
He approached her. She shuddered as he placed the pad of his thumb against her warm cheek. The tender strokes soothed her wild heartbeat like no other touch or word or balm.
“I understand you once had a heart…but now you’re a cold bitch like the rest of them.”
She slapped him.
His head veered to one side.
Slowly he looked at her again. “A little harder, sweetheart. You know I like it rough.”
She slapped him again. Hard. Her fingers pulsed with pain.
The edge of his teeth cut across the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He wiped the red drops from his mouth. “Was it worth it?”
She was shaking, sweating. The fire in her belly bounced and burned with renewed energy, the fleeting tranquillity quashed by his vicious taunt. “Striking you?”
He snorted softly. “You don’t hurt me, Sophia.” There was an icy sparkle in his deep blue eyes. “Not anymore.”
She fisted her palms. She ached for his tender touch again. But he was a black-hearted devil. He stirred pain in her breast; he always would.
“Leaving the island?” he said coldly. “Was it worth it?”
And leaving me? Was it worth it?
She heard the words in her head.
He glowered at her. “Are you happy here? With them?”
“Yes,” she hissed, the word quivering.
He offered her a dark look. It crushed her soul. “I have a ship to catch.”
Slowly he walked away from her.
Sophia waited for the man’s robust figure to round the corner before she crumpled against the bench seat, weak and alone.
Chapter 13
She was beautiful. Her wide belly rested in the still waters. Moonlight pierced her white sails, unfurled and heaving.
James longed to set foot on the sturdy deck. He headed for the three-masted schooner like a lover in need, wending through the bustling port. He ignored the rabble and thick movement of bodies. He dismissed the dockside wenches and sidestepped the grimy rats.
He fixed his eyes firmly on her: the Bonny Meg, mistress of the sea. She was everything right in the world. She was home.
Unlike Sophia.
He hardened. The spectacle at the opera house circled in his head. He listened to the derisive laughter and haughty snorts. He envisioned the poor girl trapped between so many cruel smirks, weak and defenseless.
It burned in his breast, the venomous treatment. It disgusted him, the abuse. But it dismayed him even more to know she was like one of the ruthless members of the peerage. She had warned him she had changed. He had not believed she had changed so much.
James crossed the pier and climbed the scaffolding. He boarded the vessel. Boots hit wood. He was filled with renewed energy. There was harmony in his soul once more. Every muscle and bone shuddered with delight.
“Ahoy, Captain!”
He moved with the ship. In sync. In balance. He crossed the deck, saluted the tars in return. He approached the poop and mounted it. There the sea stretched before him. There the black and endless waves welcomed him.
Water lapped against the hull. It slapped and caressed the ship’s belly. And James sensed every playful movement. He heard it, too. That seductive call, a siren’s song.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. He inhaled the rich and briny air. It was brimming with life, the gusting sea breeze. It filled his empty lungs and chased away the dark and stirring sentiments choking him.
“You’re late.”
William ascended the poop, too.
“I know.” James stripped the noose, the coat from his body. “I was at the opera.”
He frowned. “What were you doing at the opera?”
“Watching a tragedy.”
William humphed. “We have to wait in queue.”
“How long?”
“An hour maybe.”
“Fine,” returned James.
“Do you want to change?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
The very idea sounded absurd. He was the captain. He commanded the vessel. She sailed under his word, bared her guns at his order. The Bonny Meg was more than a home, she was a part of him.
“You look like you’re dressed for a funeral in that black suit,” said William. “It makes the crew uneasy.”
James snorted. “I’ll be back in an hour then.”
“Aye, Captain.”
James swaggered off the poop and headed belowdecks. He yanked the shirt up over his head, eager to be rid of the confining apparel.
“Easy there, Captain.” Quincy strolled through the corridor, chuckling. “Anxious to get your breeches doused?”
James paused and glared after the kid. Was Quincy drunk? He’d clock the pup’s head against the mast if he was. He knew damn well he wasn’t supposed to tip the bottle before a mission.
James snarled and opened the cabin door. He stepped inside the refuge and tossed the disgusting garments aside before he reached for the buttons of his trousers.
He paused at the sound of tsking.
“Willy was right; you are in need of a good bedding.”
James glanced up. Moonlight entered the cabin through the small window. There was enough light to make out the shadows in the room…and the sultry figure resting on the bed.
He sighed. “Cora.”
The buxom wench slipped off the covers and approached him, hips swinging. She had painted eyes, so dark and seductive. Red lips, too. Even in the dimness he eyed the woman’s plump and rosy mouth. The color matched the bright, scarlet locks that coiled across her ample breasts, thrust high in a tight, low-cut corset.
“You don’t sound too happy to see me, Capt’n.”
No, he wasn’t. Not when the blood in his veins still screamed for an island witch. Even now the mark on his cheek pulsed with the imprint from her hand. His whole body pulsed, in truth.
Curse William! He had orchestrated the whole blasted affair, thinking a good fuck would put the captain’s head to right…maybe it would.
“The ship is about to set sail, Cora.”
“A quick tumble, then?” She pressed her big breasts against his belly and whispered hotly, “I’ve missed you.”
He scoffed. “You’ve missed my money.”
She smiled. “That, too.”
She was honest. That’s what James liked about her. She didn’t pretend to be a lady. She didn’t act with airs. She wanted a gold coin from him. That was all. She didn’t want to depend on him or form a family with him. She offered no false expressions of love. She was cold. He liked that abou
t her, too.
She cupped his cock. “I see you’ve missed me, too.”
He gritted, “Easy, woman.”
She winked. “Aren’t I always?”
Slowly she dropped to her knees. James closed his eyes. He let the heat in his bones and muscles cool and settle as the woman deftly fingered the buttons of his trousers. She was strong. She could take a rough bedding. A good thing, too, for he needed one right now.
The cabin door opened.
James lifted his eyes, muscles seizing.
Sophia took one look at the prostrated wench—and snapped.
The knife glistened in the moonlight. Sophia had grabbed it from the sheath between her breasts so fast, he had nary a second to reach for the blade before it sliced at the mistress screaming at his feet—and his cods.
James roared, “Blimey!”
Sophia had almost nicked him.
Cora jumped on the bed, shrieking.
Sophia lunged after the other woman again.
James grabbed Sophia’s wrist, her midriff. “Drop the knife!”
A hysterical Cora scrambled from the bed and dashed from the cabin.
Sophia was wild. She thrashed and slammed her body against James, disrupting his balance and sending him crashing into the wall. He then hit the ground with her in tow. He winced as he smashed his hip against the flooring.
“Damn you, woman!”
James wrestled with her. He pressed her against the planking and wedged his knee between her kicking legs. He then grabbed her wrist, squeezing.
She hissed.
The knife popped from her hand.
He reached for it before she scooped it back up again, and hurled it somewhere across the room.
“Hold still!” he barked.
He pinned her against the flooring. He clasped both her wrists, the threads of her reticule curled around his fingers, and stretched them high above her head before he pressed the rest of his weight against her belly.
She gasped for breath.
“Cease, Sophia!”
She stilled.
He was breathing hard, his hip throbbing. As soon as she quieted, he eased his belly away from hers; he offered her room to breathe.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he growled.
She was panting. There was a feral look in her eyes. She had a jealous streak, even a violent one. But he had never seen the woman like this before.
“You’re a bastard,” she charged between heated breaths.
“And you’re mad, sweetheart.”
The heat in his bones and muscles returned. The pulsing pressure in his limbs surged. He was wrapped between her skirts, her legs. Trapped. It felt so bloody good.
He looked into her eyes, heart pounding. Such bewitching eyes. Even in the shadows, she snared his senses with that wicked look. The fire that burned in the dark brown pools scorched him, filled him with deep desire.
“What do you want from me?” she said, lips flushed.
He pressed his brow against hers, wet and hot. “You came looking for me, remember?”
“Damn you, James! What do you want? One last fuck good-bye? Take it! Take me! And then get the hell out of my life. I don’t want to see you ever again!”
He gnashed his teeth at the brutal assault. She had used his name. She had said it after seven bloody years—only to dismiss him again, to cast him aside like soiled laundry.
James let go of her wrists and lifted to his feet. He fastened his trousers. Blood filled his head, making him dizzy; his hip still ached. “Get out.”
She struggled to her feet as well. “Not before we finish this.”
“I said get out!”
“No!”
He pressed his nose against hers. “This ship is about to set sail.”
“Not for another hour. I heard William.”
She was still wearing the same dress she had sported at the opera. It was a deep umber brown with a sweeping décolletage trimmed with lace. Another garish jewel marred her seamless bustline, an amber stone sheathed in gold. So fake. She looked ridiculous. He spotted her thick hair, the dark locks mussed after their heated roll across the floor. That was Sophia. Free. Wild. He ached for that spirited woman. He cursed her, too.
He still gasped for breath. “You were spying on me?”
“Eavesdropping.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I’m not going to report the conversation…unless you stay away from me.”
“You witch.” He chuckled darkly. “Is that why you’re here? To make more threats? I thought you didn’t flout convention anymore. What would the harridan think to know you were standing here?”
She was winded, too. “I’ll see you hang, Black Hawk.”
His nostrils flared. He was Black Hawk again, was he? “Not before I see you disgraced, sweetheart.”
She fisted her palms. The veins that stretched from her fingers to her throat throbbed. “You’re determined to ruin me anyway.”
“The hell I am.”
“That’s what you wanted to do at the opera, isn’t it?”
“Ruin you?”
“Torture me!”
He grabbed her by the arms and pushed her against the wall. “You torture yourself, sweetheart.”
“I hate you.”
The muscles in his cheek twitched. “I know.”
She pounded against his chest. “Leave me alone!”
“The way you left Imogen alone?”
She stilled, weakened. She drew in a deep breath of air. He heard it pass through her nose. “I couldn’t help her.”
“Liar!”
She flinched. “What could I do?”
“You and the harridan, that idiot and his sister could have saved her.”
“How?”
“You could have gathered around her. The four of you could have stood beside her and killed the rumors.”
Fat tears filled her eyes. “It was impossible. She was ruined.”
“Horseshit! If respectable members of society band together, the gossip ends. If noble lords and ladies associate with the girl, then others will associate with her, too.”
“No.”
“Yes! This is my world, Sophia. I know rumors can be squelched if enough people refuse to listen to them.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No. No!” He let her go and walked away from her, his temples throbbing. “You didn’t want to help her.”
“She’s my friend.”
“Poor Imogen,” he sneered. “Cursed with friends like you and your bloody fiancé.”
“He’s not my fiancé—yet.”
She still wanted the saphead? Of course she did. She wanted him because he was a saphead. He was too daft to see past her frilly wardrobe and fancy jewels. The woman wanted to be a countess. And she needed a foolish lord to wed her.
“I want you to stay away from me, Black Hawk.”
“Why? Do I upset you? Do I make you look at yourself; see yourself for who you really are? Does it disgust you?”
“You disgust me!”
He crossed the cabin again. He cupped her cheeks. “You and I are the same, sweetheart.”
The woman’s eyes widened.
It’s true. You and I are one.
She clasped his wrists and tugged at them. She stepped away from him. “Will you promise to keep away from me?”
“No.” He combed his fingers through his hair, disheveled. He pulled the leather cord away, let the locks fall free. “I’ve already vowed not to betray our past. If you want something more from me, you can take out the ivory and jade players and as soon as I return to shore. Now get off my ship.”
She stared at him. He sensed her eyes drop and caress his naked belly, his ribs before she slowly lifted them again. “I hope you drown.”
She crouched. She searched the shadows for her knife, he presumed.
James was hot and hard. The hairs on his arms, his chest stirred. She had stabbed him, cut him with her eye
s. But she had ravished him, too. Heat pumped through his veins at her sultry admiration.
“I hope lightning strikes the rig,” she griped.
She brandished her plump arse as she groped in the darkness. He stiffened even more. “There’s no storm.”
“A storm is coming.”
“And how would you know that? Did you cast a spell, witch?”
She snorted. “Are you daft? Can’t you feel the rough waves?”
“What rough waves?”
But the ship was shifting with more vim. James crossed the room and looked out the scuttle—the port lights flickered in the distance. “Shit.”
She had found the knife. She dusted the luminous blade, winking in the moonlight, before she slipped it back into the sheath between her breasts. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re at sea.”
She balked. “No.”
She skirted across the cabin, shoved him aside and peered out the glass. “Damn you, Black Hawk!”
He growled, “I told you to get off the ship.”
“But William said—”
“I know what William said.” He swiped the shirt off the floor. “Wait here.”
James slipped the white linen over his head and stalked the corridor. He ascended the steps. Once topside, he searched the deck for his brother.
“Lieutenant!”
A dark figure stirred. “Aye, Captain.”
James eyed the shadow and headed for the helm. He dismissed the quartermaster. William took control of the vessel then.
“What the hell are we doing at sea, Lieutenant?”
William maneuvered the wheel. “Are you still in a foul mood? I told Cora to bed you well.”
James fisted his palms. “I don’t need you to tell me who to fuck…now answer me!”
William shrugged. “I gave the order to weigh anchor.”
“You gave the order?”
“I’ve given orders before. I’m the lieutenant, remember?”
“You can give orders when I’m dead.”
“Or incapacitated.” William looked at him with reproach. “You’ve been distracted lately. Cora was supposed to help you focus again, but once she’d left the ship there was no reason to delay our departure. I gave the order to set sail.”
“There was no queue?”
“I wanted to give you some time with the wench.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you spend the whole hour with her?”
The Infamous Rogue Page 15