Annalise rolled over as her grief crested like a wave. Those fears were of the darkness in the night and spiders on the curtains. They were the naive terrors of a sheltered childhood. Now alone and adrift in a cruel world, she craved the embrace of a pirate to ease her fright. How had it come to this?
Her heart ached, remembering the last time she stood within the perfect circle of her father’s arms. It was the night of the ball. How could she have taken all that for granted?
A careless ash, they said. A flicker of smoke and flame that grew and feasted on her life. The fire stripped away every feeling of security and happiness Anna had. She came to glimpse such graces again with Uncle Herbert before they, too, were erased. Snuffed out.
Before the fire, her life had been a bright sparkling ballroom. She wore a dress the perfect shade of blue, with gold ribbons, and shoes dyed to match. How she complained about those damnable shoes. They pinched her feet. She would give anything to see those horrid shoes again.
Her father came to her room to escort her downstairs dressed in his finest waistcoat, in every color of a peacock’s tail and his ugly wig that hid hair the same color as hers. Then he gave her a locket, her beautiful locket with an ‘A’ for Annalise ringed in tiny perfect pearls. She vowed never to take it off.
But what use were vows when you were running for your life?
Smoke filling her bedchamber woke her. She could still smell it, and the wet wool of the cloak she wrapped about her and Alice to get them through the flames. She ran her thumb over scarred fingers where the key to the door blistered her skin as she frantically worked at the lock. The hem of Alice’s nightgown caught fire and burned her. Screams of the horses in the barn and the stunned silence of the survivors would echo in her mind for the rest of her life.
Anna curled into herself. Tears came from a pain so deep she was powerless to stop them. A sob escaped her. Clamping a hand over her mouth, her body shook with the effort to be silent in her suffering.
Strong arms circled her. “Shhh, lass, ’tis only a dream.”
She startled and turned to stare over her shoulder into the depth of Jaxon’s eyes. His expression told her she’d surprised him.
“If this was truly a dream, I could wake up.” She trembled.
“There, now,” he whispered. His hand cupped her cheek.
She should have pushed him away, left his embrace and his bed at once, but she needed the feel of arms about her. His arms. Needed to find solace if just for a moment. She buried her face into his shoulder.
He tightened his hold and eased her closer, holding her as the sobs wrenched themselves from her. Jaxon stroked her back and ran his fingers into her hair. She trembled at his touch. He kissed the top of her head and whispered her name, reassuring her all would be well, telling her she was safe.
Annalise lay within the sturdy expanse of his arms and let herself succumb to the feel of his hands upon her. Even though her weeping began to subside, he continued stroking her back. The sweep of his hands making a delicious heat spread over her. Through her. She laid her cheek against the crisp linen of his shirt. He smelled of salt air, spice, and sunlight. She breathed him into her lungs.
Anna laid an innocent kiss upon the warm skin of his neck. Teased there with the tip of her nose. Skin upon skin. He stilled. She kissed him again, this time in the tender hollow at the base of his throat. His heartbeat pulsed beneath her lips. She tasted the saltiness of his skin. Was he holding his breath?
Lifting her head, she softened at the dusty blue of his eyes in the dim light. She studied the shape of his mouth. Reaching out, she fingered the gold ring he wore in his ear, brushing the curve of his ear. A muscle jumped in his jaw. She soothed it with her hand. The roughness of his day’s beard tickled her palm and sent tiny sparks racing up her arm. Still studying his beautiful mouth, she watched his lips part. Slowly, shyly, she bent to lay a whisper light kiss there. Her newfound boldness was heady.
He didn’t kiss her back. Cold fingers of doubt clutched at her. She pulled away to stare into his eyes again. Had she done something wrong? Did she need to ask his permission for a simple kiss? In the shadowed alcove, she couldn’t read the expression in his gaze. “Jaxon?”
His name sounded pleading to her ear. That single word held her sudden, almost desperate need for him. If he should push her away…
A low moan rumbled deep in his throat as he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. Gone was the shy flutter of her timid kisses. This was his kiss. It didn’t begin gently with a brush of his lips. No, he laid claim to her. He pulled at her lower lip, tasting it, nipping at it with his teeth. Boldly running his tongue between her lips, he urged her to open her mouth to him. When she did, an anguished groan escaped him.
His hold upon her tightened. Slipping the satiny warmth of his tongue into her mouth, he deepened the kiss, teaching her, guiding her to follow his lead. Her tentative beginnings soon heated into searing kisses of her own.
Jaxon rolled her onto her back and pinned her to the mattress, his mouth ravishing her lips as his hard body covered hers. He urged one knee between her legs and moved his hand over her hip to the curve of her bottom, raising her hips to press her tender core against his firm thigh.
His knee moved higher, spreading her legs, pressing against her sex. The sensation made her gasp with pleasure. Strong fingers caressed her breast as his mouth burned a trail down her throat.
“Jaxon…”
The utterance of his name stopped him as if someone extinguished a lantern. He broke their connection. His rapid breath fanned her cheek as he looked at her. He pushed away and left the bed. His kisses robbed her of her sanity. Was that anger on his face? Revulsion? His abrupt reversal confused her.
Jaxon moved to his desk and poured a healthy measure of rum. He drank it in one swallow and then hurled the empty glass to smash against the side of the ship.
Annalise jumped to her feet. “Are you mad?”
He sighed and dropped his head. “Blast,” he muttered while he gathered his things and moved to leave the cabin.
“Tell me what’s wrong. I don’t understand,” she whispered.
He spun on her. “No, woman, you don’t understand at all. You fail to realize kissing a man like that is a bloody invitation. You can’t understand how damnably desirable you are. I am mad. I’ve lost hold of my mind.” He leveled a finger at her. “And you play at something you know nothing about. Another man wouldn’t have stopped as I just did. What would you have done then?”
“I just thought--”
“Nay, you didn’t think,” he snapped at her.
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Stop speaking to me as if I were a child.”
“You are a child.”
“I’m no such thing.”
“No, pardon me,” his eyes slid over her. His hot gaze like a touch upon her skin. “You’re not. But you are an innocent. I have rules, dammit.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “Two hard and fast rules regarding women. I never sleep with another man’s wife, and I don’t take virgins into my bed, even if they are beautiful, desirable virgins whose kisses leave me senseless.”
“I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
“It’s not anger I’m feeling, Annalise.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
He raised his gaze to the ceiling and groaned. “I’m leaving because even though my mind is screaming I mustn’t take you, my body doesn’t care to listen. My hands want nothing more than to tear the clothes from your body and caress every curve and contour of you. My mouth wants to kiss and taste you, suckle at your breast, and give you the most intimate of kisses.”
“Most intimate of kisses?”
Jaxon groaned again. “I’ll leave that question to be answered by your future husband.”
“What if I don’t care about my virginity? What if I want you to rid me of it?”
“I ravage and plunder merchant ships, my lady, not tender w
omen.”
“If I weren’t a virgin, would you have stopped just now?”
He growled and turned away. “Why torment me with such a possibility.”
“I need to know.”
He stopped. “What are you asking me?”
She hesitated before responding, holding tight to his gaze. The air crackled. “If I weren’t an innocent…would you have stopped?”
Jaxon stared at her for a long time. Her question hung suspended in the room. Time stood still, waiting for his response. He spoke in a hushed voice. “If the circumstances were not as they are, an armed crew of thousands wouldn’t have stopped me.”
He snatched his coat, grabbed his cutlass, then left.
* * * *
For the next three days, and nights as well, Annalise wandered around the cabin. Twelve paces from the door to the bed. Sixteen from the desk to the windows. Each shining window had more than twenty precisely cut diamonds of glass held together with wide strips of lead. Annalise knew how many trunks lined the wall and what each shelf and custom carved drawer contained. She knew each board in the floor intimately and had traced each bit of carved trim framing every wall and cabinet.
Anna hadn’t seen Jaxon since he stormed out, leaving her confused and…and what? She spent hours trying to put words to what she was feeling. Want? Frustration? Need? What was happening to her? It was as if he’d lit a fire in her she couldn’t extinguish.
Her nights were a jumble of disjointed dreams. She spent her days reliving each moment of the last time they were together. Jaxon’s mouth on hers, tender and gentle then, at once, punishing and demanding. His hands soothing one minute and then grasping her, claiming her, suckling at her breast, urging her legs to part. Her maiden’s imagination could only envision so much, but it was enough to drive her mad.
He’d been here these three days. Clothing had moved. Parchment went missing. The washstand showed evidence of his being there. He slipped in during the wee hours of the night.
She tried to stay awake, but exhaustion finally claimed her and in the brief hour or two she slept, he came and went. Anna knew as soon as she awoke he’d been there. Sensed him, smelled him. She rose and touched the damp drying cloth he left behind, feeling more and more like that discarded towel as each day passed.
Cookie proved to be no help at all. She questioned him when he brought her meals, but he only chuckled and shook his head. Her requests to speak with his captain fell on deaf ears. And what would she say to Jaxon? What could she say? They should have left her in that miserable hold to die.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she thought of Alice. Was she well? Safe? Had she made her way to Port St. Maria? Would she be overcome with worry when she arrived and didn’t find Annalise? If only there were a way to get word to her, but that was impossible. The whole situation was impossible.
She retrieved the ring from the desk drawer. It was her only tie to reason these past few days. “Oh, Uncle Herbert…Father…I wish you could tell me what I’m to do.”
The lump in her throat threatened to strangle her. If she began crying, she’d dissolve into the sea. She closed her eyes tight, seeking solace, praying for guidance, but all she could see was the anger on Jaxon’s face as he cast her aside.
Try as she might to deny her feelings, when he kissed her, everything slipped away. All the worry, hurt, and anguish. In that passionate moment, the only thing that mattered was him.
Maybe that was her answer. Him. Annalise paced some more, worrying her lower lip. She’d been praying for a solution, and perhaps one was staring her right in the face. Jaxon.
What if she proposed a marriage of convenience to him? According to father’s solicitor, she, by virtue of being a woman, could never inherit the estate. The laws would hold the lands in abeyance until she married, and then all would pass to her husband. Would the payoff be prosperous enough to tempt a pirate? The stones in the ring sparkled at her. Would it make him reconsider her passage to Port St. Maria to reunite with Alice?
If she were married, the threat from Wolfsan would disappear like sea mist. The duke couldn’t claim her if she were already claimed. He wouldn’t dare challenge a pirate.
She’d be free to go back to England and live out her life in quiet solitude. Once Jaxon saw to her safe passage, he could take his prize, sail away, and never have to bother with her again. That part of the bargain would probably please him the most, given his obvious revulsion toward her. He admitted he wanted her. A thousand men would not have stopped me. Although, were the last few days a more accurate showing of his true feelings?
Her father would turn over in his grave at the thought of a pirate assuming his title, but what choice did she have? Jaxon could be obstinate and boorish, but he was a good man underneath. Strong and responsible, and she glimpsed genuine kindness from him.
Who knows, Father? He might make a fine lord.
Tonight. She would ask him tonight. Even if she had to pace this floor all day and wear down the floorboards long into the night, she would. Annalise held her ring to her heart and prayed her father would forgive her.
CHAPTER 13
“If I weren’t a virgin…” “If I weren’t a virgin…” Those five torturous words followed one another in step with his boot heels as Jaxon paced his deck. For three long days and nights, he’d besieged himself with exactly what he would like to do to the fair Lady Annalise if she weren’t a virgin. He would start at the tips of her glorious hair and kiss all the way down to… Then he’d slide his hand between her soft… Run his tongue across the tip… Dammit all. Why didn’t he listen to his first inclination and throw her over the rail. Bloody hell. He’d be better off if he just stopped fighting his urges and threw himself overboard.
Lord help him, when she stared at him with those tear-filled eyes, and pressed those petal-soft kisses to his throat, then whispered his name… He wasn’t made of stone. Although, he felt certain parts of him would never be soft and pliant again. Wouldn’t that be a fine legacy to leave upon the sea? Captain Jaxon Steele of the Scarlet Night with the scarlet…“Balls.” He pounded his fist on the rail and gave a bitter laugh.
“Are ye well, Capt’n?”
Jaxon spun. “Robbins.” He laughed again. “Fancy you asking me that. I’m standing here wondering the same thing.” He leaned toward the lad and lowered his voice. “I should be asking you. You’ve been feeling poorly of late.”
“I be feelin’ a mite better. ’Hap we both got cups dipped from a barrel of bitter rum.”
“Bitter rum.” He nodded. “That could explain it. I’ll see the rum checked from now on. It won’t do having two fine seamen such as ourselves toppled by such a thing.”
“Nay, Capt’n.”
Jaxon thumped the boy on his shoulder. “Off with ye.”
He considered the lad as the boy left him and headed toward the bow.
“Robbins?” Jaxon stopped him. “When we make port, I owe you a taste of fine, sweet rum. I’ll see to it there’s an extra eight in your wages.”
A smile graced the lad’s grubby face. “Thank ye, sir.”
Jaxon waved him off again.
“What Robbins thankin’ ye for?” Cookie limped up.
“A bit of sanity.” Jaxon shifted his gaze toward the sea.
Cookie rubbed at his nose, hiding a smirk. “At least his spirit’s been quiet.”
“Aye, she’s much quieter since you poured her into Robbins’ trousers. Only makes her haunt me now.”
Cookie chuckled.
Jaxon glared at him. “You’re lucky I still need a cook, but I’m going to owe you something when we get to port as well, and it won’t be a slice of extra gold in your purse.”
“Maybe ye’ll decide to give her a rough tumble and ye’ll be thankin’ me.” He shot Jaxon a sly smile and a wink.
“I’ll thank you to hold your tongue. She’s a lady, not some used harbor wench. She’s untouched. And I’ll see her stay pure, even i
f I have to protect her from myself.”
Cookie rumbled with another chuckle. “Might have to name ye Capt’n Blue Balls by then.”
Jaxon grumbled low, “I was thinking more a bluish shade of scarlet.”
“Ship off the port bow.” The man in the crow’s nest bellowed down to the crew.
Jaxon and Cookie looked off to the south.
“Glass,” barked Jaxon.
Another crewman nearby handed him a large telescope. Pressing his eye to the brass, anticipation rushed through his veins, but it quickly turned to the rigid stone of defense. Pirates.
“She’s too far to make out, but she’s flying a black and not passing. Call all hands. Drop the red sails. Let her know we’ve seen her.” The order shouted from man to man and the deck sprang to life with activity. Jaxon kept his eye on the ship in the glass. Once he recognized her, the tension left his shoulders. “It’s the White Witch.”
Cookie chuckled. “Wonder what Fin Willy’s up to.”
“We’ll know soon enough.” Jaxon lowered the glass. “He’ll want to sit in my quarters and drink my best brandy.” He met Cookie’s stare. “Best see to it the finest is hidden from him.”
Cookie nodded in understanding. “Ye ken count on me, Capt’n.”
“Good man.”
Captain Finnegan Williams, called Fin Willy by anyone who knew him, and Jaxon knew him well. They served together when Jaxon first became a crewmember on the Scarlet Night. He was an ally and a friend. There were too many battles to count where he and Fin fought side by side. Their usual greeting, since Fin was captaining the Witch, was a flash of fire and a dip of the flag as the ships passed one another, but today Fin must be in the mood to say more than a cannon-blast hello.
“Ahoy, Scarlet Night.” A call carried across the waves. “Permission to come aboard”
“Come ahead, White Witch.”
Minutes later Fin Willy Williams dropped over the side and bent in a dramatic bow, sweeping his wide-brimmed feathered hat over the toes of the ugliest boots Jaxon had ever seen. “The infamous Captain Steele, ’tis a pleasure to be in the presence of such greatness. I am most unworthy.” The sarcasm dripped from his smirking mouth.
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