A Kiss in the Wind (15 page)

No. She had all she could take of him, at the moment anyhow.

Before he could stop her, Marisol twisted around, not near as graceful as he with her trousers at her feet, and knelt to the soft grainy floor before him. The backs of his thighs constricted under her grasp to keep him from backing away. She looked up the stratum of his firm body. “I
desire
to show you how much I want you.” Marisol wrapped a hand around his rigid shaft. “Please, do not try and stop me this time.”

A rakish dimple flashed at the corner of his smile.

She took him into her mouth, all of him, slow and easy. His zesty flavor tasted warm and rich upon her lips. Blade growled low as she pulled back, withdrawing her mouth from his crown. She swept her tongue over the tip and dragged her mouth down the side of his velvety cock. His shaft jerked under the path of kisses on her way back to the top. The muscles in his thighs bunched when her lips reached the end. She flicked her tongue across his tip, stimulating him with erratic licking.

Marisol glanced up as she took him whole into her mouth again. He flung back his head and moaned, a most wonderful sound.

More than anything, she wanted to give him all the indulgence he could handle. She wanted to be the one to control his pleasure. She wanted to bring him peace and set him free. Do to him as he had done to her.

She suckled him with shallow pulls and groped his ballocks.

“Perish me,” Blade hummed.

Gradually her nursing built to greedily tapping him dry. She held him tightly, stroking him as he pumped himself into her mouth. Quicker, harder she drew upon him. His rapid breathing stopped, his muscles coiled. Blade roared. Hot juice spurted into her throat, but she held fast, swallowing every drop of him until he fully relaxed.

Blade pulled her up and kissed her deep. Her thoughts scattered with his zeal. How she loved that he wasted no time taking back control. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cast adrift in desire.

He whispered into her lips. “Why did you not stop me, dove? Why?”

She didn’t know how to answer. What did he expect of her now? Sharing this intimacy, sharing their bodies, how did he play this out in his mind? Did they just knock about or had they made love? She couldn’t be sure. Either way, she didn’t want to know. Whatever the truth, whichever way the pendulum swung, it terrified her.

“Capt’n?”

Sam’s throaty tone carried in from outside the cave and Blade let out a heavy sigh of frustration.

Marisol’s sigh was more out of thankfulness. She tussled with unexpected feelings again. Something was different, strange, and yet, tangible. This she knew. Her relationship with Blade, it confused her. Did she despise him? Yes. He had treated her like an unwanted chattel. Dallied with her heart and caused her untold crestfallen misery. Did she covet him? Yes. He had given her comfort when there should have been none to have. The libertine proved masterful in bestowing indulgences of the flesh. He made her feel like a woman unlike any other, had taken the time to see to
her
pleasure. He tested her strength and lingered nearby during her weaknesses. And he had trusted her with his most guarded secret. The man stirred emotions she didn’t know existed.

Was she the one guilty of merely making merry with him? Was there something…more?

“Give me a moment, Sam,” Blade called.

He swept a strand of hair from her face. Those green eyes cauterized her composure. Oh blast. It
was
something more.

She shook off the disturbing thought and looked away. “Um. We should get dressed.”

“Too bad,” he teased. “I was hoping to quench my insatiable thirst for you.”

That sounded divine…and unwise. She should find the strength to sort out her feelings before she did any more damage. Courage eluded her. Standing there half-naked while the wolf licked his chops called for immediate action.

In a clumsy fashion, she tugged her pants on, stepping on the cuff and hopping in place. The drawstrings would not cooperate; her fingers must have grown to an inexplicable size for the task of fastening them into place.

Blade, however, pulled up his trousers in one sinuous movement. Damn, he handled the most awkward moments with manly poise.

“Come,” he said. “There is work to be done.”

Work? If the man only knew how much
work
he put her through already.

She joined him at the entrance. Blade grabbed her by the back of the neck and crushed his mouth against hers in a soulful kiss. Her head whirled with his quick capture and release.

He held open the vine door and followed her out into the humid afternoon.

Sam took one look at them and his eyes dropped to the sand. Horror tightened her chest. Did he know what she and Blade had been up to? Were her trousers on right? Maybe her face was flustered. Her fingers flew to her lips. Were they swollen from his kisses? It was then she realized Blade had left his tunic untucked. Why, he practically announced their copulation.

Blade smirked.

Rake.

“Sam. You take Miss Castellan to gather water.” He looked to Marisol, all business now. “There is no fresh water on this island,” he explained. “We lost our rain barrel to the hurricane and it will take us some time to reach San Juan. Clean water is a priority. The two of you will collect the rainwater from the storm that has gathered in pools among the rocks and from large plant fronds. Anywhere you can find clean water, pour it into those jugs.”

He pointed to a dozen jars tied in pairs at each end of long strands of rope.

“There are only a few more hours of daylight left. Fill as many as you can and get back before it gets dark.”

She looked up the steep embankment. Did he expect them to climb up the wall like a couple of human spiders?

“There’s a foot trail around the bend that will take you to the plateau at the top.”

Why did he always have to be one step ahead of her?

“Watch out for holes,” Blade said. “This place is teeming with iguanas and they build tunnels for nests everywhere.”

Sam lumbered to the jars and slung them around his neck. He picked up the remainder and held them out for Marisol. She put the ropes around her. The jars were light and knocked together when she moved.

Blade walked toward the beach, pausing to put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Keep her safe, mate.” He then left.

Marisol let Sam lead the way. Tiny rocks shifted under her weight, making the scale up the embankment slippery. She relied on her hands in some places, digging into the loose dirt to help keep her moving in the right direction. Pebbles jabbed into her palms sending shots of pain to her wrists. Her knees banged against the jars that dragged along the ground. She chanced a glance behind her once, only once. How they planned to get down without plummeting in a landslip to certain death, she had no idea.

The top of the trail leveled out onto flat terrain. Brush and trees grew despite the rocky and arid ground. Out of breath, she licked the tangy perspiration from her upper lip. A gusty breeze shoved her from behind. She turned to meet the wind and let it cool the sweat on her brow.

“Saints.” She was unprepared for what she saw.

They were high above the sea. Emblazoned across the turquoise water, the shadows of the reefs fanned out. Shades of light and dark swayed with the sun-dappled currents. The beauty of Mona’s coast stole her breath.

She tried to look down, but the beach was nowhere in sight. Her head spun from the dizzying height and her vision blurred. They were much higher on this cliff than any ship’s mast she had ever climbed.

“Come away from t’e edge, ma’am.” Sam guided her back to the trail. “T’e rocks t’ere come loose.”

“Yes, of course.” The island was indeed beautiful, but she had no wish to become a permanent part of it.

They walked along taking the path deeper into the isle, collecting tiny amounts of rainwater wherever they found it. She cursed at the tedium of finding even the minutest drips of water. She began to think Blade had sent her out on the wild goose chase to torment her. The terrain varied from dry, filled with scraggly brush and cacti, to clusters of lush forests. The forests yielded the most spots for finding water. Much would be trapped in patchworks of large glossy leaves.

True to form, Sam didn’t chat with Marisol. At times, he would tell her not to fall behind or to stray too far ahead, but nothing more. She tried to strike up a conversation on several accounts, hoping to ask about his captain, but she found the iguanas more talkative.

With their water jugs only half-full, Sam decided to make for the clearing ahead and then turn back to camp. Marisol couldn’t be happier to hear it. The weight of her jars cramped the muscles of her neck and back. She rolled her head and rounded her shoulders to relieve the aching strain before stepping out of the copse.

The trees opened up to large flat boulders. Many contained crevices brimming with rainwater. Marisol rushed forward, leaving Sam still emerging from the forest, her excitement almost too much to bear. Get the jugs full and get back to camp. Get back to Blade. Her emotions ran amok when he was near but she had decided within a space of half-glass from scaling the island mountainside that she enjoyed his company. She yearned for nightfall and the seclusion of the cave where they would
sleep.

A large pool glimmered at the top of a rise. Marisol scrambled up, already uncorking her jug. Her head in Blade-marinated clouds, she bent hastily to dip her jar in the cool water and jammed her arse into a barbed cactus arm. She yelped and shot up. Tears sprang from her eyes as the needles injected spikes of pain.

Sam ran to her aid. “Stop bouncin’ ’round. Hold still!”

“Get them out! Get them out!” She hopped wildly in place. The hopping helped alleviate the pain, so she thought. Every move seemed to sink the thorns farther into her fleshy cheeks.

“Ya gotta hold still.”

“All right, all right. Just get them out.”

Sam kneeled behind her and gingerly plucked out a spine.

“Ouch!” She swatted at him.

“Miss Marisol.”

“Sorry.”

He plucked out another. She gritted her teeth, scrunched her nose and closed her eyes. She refused to think of Sam down there eye-level with her backside. He held on to her hip to keep her from squirming. Thank the Lord no one around would bear witness to her mortifying predicament. She wouldn’t be able to handle the humiliation.

He plucked out another and then another until all were gone.

“T’ere. Done.”

Marisol pried her eyes open. The pain faded and she rubbed her sore behind.

“Thank you, Sam,” she said.

He stood, failing to conceal his grin. She smiled too and they shared a laugh. The kind of laugh reserved for friends.

All too soon, her laughter died. Beyond Sam’s shoulder, for the first time, she noticed the outcropping of rocks overlooking the sea below. And there, anchored offshore, was a ship.

“Miss Marisol?”

A lump lodged in her chest. “Is that the
Sugar Lady?
”

Blade paused just outside the cave door. He smiled at Marisol’s melodic laughter wafting through the leafy vine door. His heart tripped at the image of her cheerful face. Turning his mug to the sky, he gazed at the stars filtering through the tree canopy swaying to the sea breeze. Puffs of the gentle wind tingled against his skin, reminding him of her soft touch.

All his anger toward her vanished the moment she stepped onshore that afternoon. Every bit determination, every bit spirit, she surveyed the beach for her enemy, for him. She was lovely and dangerous. He couldn’t help himself. His attraction to her baffled him and made him mad as a March hare. The frustration eating him triggered an instinctual reaction. He seduced her.

Blade had given her a chance to stop him. It wasn’t fair what he had done, to get her aroused and then give her the choice. Thankfully, she didn’t turn him away. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop anyhow. That she readily accepted him was more than he could have hoped for. He needed to finally prove to her he truly relished every inch of her tawny skin, every word fallen from her luscious lips, every glorious moment with her.

And then the little nymph changed the course. No other doxy had ever quite made him feel the way she did. Her succulent mouth on his…

Flog me.
He had shuddered like a red jack flying top mast in a tumultuous gale.

To embrace her again, that was all he wanted. Tonight, he would make things right and ask for a truce.

He pushed through the verdant opening into the cave. Marisol and Sam sat on broad boulders along the wall. The same boulders among which Blade had made love to her. Remnants of their fish supper were piled between them. Willie sat near the opposite side and passed across a flagon of rum.

“What say you, Capt’n?” said Willie.

“I’ve sent three men to scout out that stretch of the island. We’ll know soon enough if the ship Marisol and Sam saw is the
Sugar Lady.
”

Willie stuck a pinch of tobacco under his lip. A small bulge appeared above his chin as he worked the leaves down with his tongue. “We gonna take ’em by surprise?”

“Before sunrise.”

Willie nodded, satisfied with Blade’s answer.

Blade leaned on the craggy wall beside Marisol. “How’s your arse?”

Marisol’s mouth dropped open and she looked to Sam.

“You told him?”

Sam took hasty purchase of the rum and swallowed, avoiding eye contact with her. Marisol punched him in his arm. Blade laughed at the priceless sight of the duo. His mirth bounced off the stone. The echoes intensified when Willie joined in. Her horrified expression traveled from Sam to Willie to Blade and back to Sam, serving to make Blade laugh harder. Still gulping the liquor, Sam grinned, snickered and choked on the rum.

Marisol laughed then. “Serves you right.” She slapped him on the back to help ease his coughing.

“What’s all this?” Henri ducked inside.

“Ah, Henri,” Blade said. “Just the old tar I’d like to see.” Blade motioned him in. “Play us a tune on your flute, will you. A spirited ditty perhaps.”

The little man always beamed when Blade asked him to play. “I reckon I could.”

Jubilant, Henri sat on a rock next to Willie. He tightened his red bows in his beard and pulled out his broken pipe, pride pumping his chest as he blew into it.

The sound filled the cavern in a merry harmony. The highs and lows of the music whistled along at the perfect tempo—not too lively, but enough to get the toes tapping.

Perfect.

Blade took off his sword and leaned it against the wall. He extended a hand to Marisol and bowed. “Would you give me the honor of a dance, dear lady?”

She squirmed in her seat, her eyebrows creased and her brown eyes clouded with fear.
She’s so lovely when she’s flustered.

“Come.” He said it loud enough for her ears only. “I’ll teach you.”

Indecision skipped across her face and she gnawed her bottom lip. Blade wiggled his fingers for her. Finally, she nodded and took his hand.

Plucking her up, he led her to the center of their very own sandy dance floor.

“Just relax and follow what I do.”

Facing her, he grasped her hand and lifted it out in front of them.

“Ready?”

She flitted a timid smile.

“We’ll go slowly.” He pulled her close then stepped back and brought her around to switch sides. He drew her in again, closer this time. His arm fit neatly into the curve of her waist. Her tiny fingers dwarfed in his extended left hand. “Watch my feet,” he said. “Side step, side step, side step.”

Leading her in tight circles, she caught on quickly to the movements. He separated from her to take her one hand and faced outward. Not letting go, he said, “Spin.” She made one revolution and he brought her back into his embrace to lead her in another circular whirl.

“Good. Faster now.”

They picked up speed, and he urged her along into a skip. She bungled a few steps and trampled on his boot.

Her cheeks flushed a charming rosy color. “I…I’m so sorry.”

“’Tis all right, dove.” He winked. “Let’s do it again.”

Soon, Marisol had the dance down pat. Henri played his flute livelier, his stubby fingers flying over the instrument’s holes. Sam and Willie kept beat by tapping their heels and clapping along. Blade spun her quicker and quicker around the cave floor. She squealed in delight, laughing, skipping, hopping and twirling. Blade’s heart sung in tune with her harmonious glee. Her happiness meant his happiness. As he spun her close, he reveled in the wafting hint of salty sun-kissed skin blended with an exotic scent of the white island flower that she wore tucked behind her ear. Dancing with her and sharing this moment wreaked rapturous havoc upon his soul.

All too soon, the song ended. Marisol collapsed into him, her laughter sweeter than any melody. How glorious to wrap his arms around her, to feel the gentle rumble of her giggles against his body.

Blade took a step back and bowed. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Nay.” Her chest heaved from shortness of breath. “Thank you, Captain Tyburn.” Her eyes sparkled with her enjoyment. “What merriment! I should think to try dancing more often.”

“Is it the dancing you find sprightly or perchance is it you cannot deny your desire for your dance partner?” A wicked thing to suggest but her allure made it difficult not to toy with her.

“Oh, the dancing, for sure.”

He raised his eyebrows at the speed with which she tugged on her earlobe. Any fool could argue her sincerity. She lied like a sunken Spanish treasure fleet in the Straits of Florida.

“You give yourself far more credit than you deserve,” she said.

“Duly noted.” He presented her a crooked grin. “I would be honored to dance with you again, Marisol.”

* * *

How could she ever say no? His persuasive dimples and spellbinding eyes made it impossible to refuse even if she had wanted to. At the moment, with the way her feelings soared, she doubted she would ever say no to him again.

Blade had taught her many new things. He had more to offer, no doubt. His company, his imminence, the trust she placed in him, it was like a strong bottle of the finest liquor. Too much of him and she could become drunk, a slobbering, moon-eyed drunk.
Hear, Hear! To a plentiful cup of Tyburn.

Marisol curtsied to Blade. She took his extended hand and he nodded to Henri. Henri drew a swig from the rum before piping another hardy jingle. Again, Blade led her around in a whirlwind. She followed his lead easily enough, skipping on her toes in circles of gaiety.

She didn’t need a few half pints of liquor, either. Not as she did a few nights ago in port. What a debacle that had been. And she was glad for her dancing disaster now as Blade held on to her.

Willie began to sing an old familiar song she had long since forgotten. Sam thumped his knee with the rhythm.

The song brought back happier memories of happier times with her brothers. Those times disappeared when Alain left Monte behind at Matanzas, and with her brothers gone forever, she had found it difficult to believe she would find happiness again. But with Blade, things were different. This bliss felt more…whole.

She could dance with him all night.

“Excuse me, Capt’n.” A swarthy buccaneer stood in the cave entrance.

The music died. Willie broke off in mid-chorus. Sam stood. Blade let go of her, his smile wiped clean.

“What is it, Cromby?”

“The men, they haven’t made it back,” Cromby said. A look of concern creased his frown. “But there is a glow in the sky, northwest of here, over the ridge. Maybe a large fire.”

Blade snatched his sword and tied it back on to his waist. The urgency of him rearming himself skittered curdling dread down Marisol’s spine. Something was very wrong.

“And the
Rissa?
” Blade said. “What’s the word?”

“Repairs are done, sir.”

“Good. Willie, make the ship ready. Chances are we will sail sooner than planned. Sam, Henri, get the men on alert and ready for any action. Cromby, grab a few hands. We’re going to see what’s going on.”

Blade spat out his orders in rapid fire and his crew rushed in a flurry of excitement to do what was required of them.

He turned to her and, in an instant, stood inches from her. Taking her hand, he planted a firm kiss to it. The warmth of his lips branded her skin. Intense eyes rose to meet hers. “We will dance again, dove. I promise.”

The low timbre of his words, the force of his stare, melted her insides. Quite suddenly, panic reared up. She didn’t want to be apart from him. The very idea constricted in her breast.

“Stay here, in the cave.”

She expected him to say that, but she shook her head. “I want to come with you.”

“You’ll be safe here.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“The cave’s well hidden. No need to worry.”

Worry? Did he not hear her? “I said I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not. You’ll stay here where it is safe.”

“But—”

“That’s an order.”

“An order? You can’t order me—”

“I can and I did.” His impatience built in the hemming of his brow. “Have you forgotten that I bartered for you? You are mine to do with as I wish.”

“I’m not a possession to be owned.”

“I say you are.” His jaw squared and grim gloom tinted his darkening eyes. “And if I have to spend you like a piece of eight to keep you safe, I will.”

A snap of rage exploded within her and she swung at him. He caught her wrist before making contact. She snarled and spit in his face.

With eerie calm, he dabbed at his cheek. “This is not child’s play, Marisol. You
will
stay here.” He turned and left her standing in the middle of the grotto.

She called after him. “Bastard!”

She sank down on a hard rock. The corked pitcher of rum lay nearby. Just what she needed to clear her mind and sulk. If it had been Alain ordering her to stay put, by now she’d be making her plan to disobey him. Perhaps she’d already be out the door. Why wasn’t she doing the same now? She simmered. There wasn’t much she could do but wait. The beach swarmed with his men. It would be foolish to set off on her own. If she caught up to Blade, he’d probably send her back with an escort, or two. And that was a big “if.” With the dangers of the island at every turn, and those damned cacti, she couldn’t possibly find her way in the dark.

“Damn him.”

* * *

Half the rum was gone when she first became alerted to a noise outside. Leaves rustled like crumpled paper and the vine curtain shook. She plugged the bottle.

“Sam? Is that you?”

No answer.

The leaves stirred again. Marisol reached for her knife tucked in her waistband. But she’d forgotten Blade took it.
Damn him! Twice!
Raising the flagon above her head, she moved toward the entry and steadied herself, ready to deliver a crunching blow to any unwelcome guest.

A man burst through the vines, flourishing a pistol. Impulse kicked in and she smashed the flagon over the intruder’s head. The ting of the metal reverberated in her hand, causing vibrations to tickle her fingertips. The man swiveled his head and fell to his knees.

“Monte? Oh dear Lord, Monte!”

His eyes rolled around, wavering in a dizzy fog. “Ooh. Whaddya do that for?” He rubbed at the top of his head.

She helped him to his feet. “You’re not dead.”

Her little brother stood before her, alive and well. Maybe not
well
with the big knot growing on the crown of his head, but as sure as the sea was deep, there he stood living and breathing. She squeezed him in a hug, hardly able to believe it.

“You tryin’ to suffocate me? Let go.” He shrugged away from her embrace, bristling something fierce.

Monte was much like their father. He kept his hair shorter, of course, a mop of unruly curls. He had a slighter build, too. But the similarities didn’t come from appearances. Rather, their likenesses emerged in their mannerisms.

He straightened his jacket and gave her the same reprimanding look Alain did every time her father had to clean up any mess she’d created. She dismissed Monte the same as she dismissed Alain—come what may.

“I thought you were dead. The hurricane. The
Gloria,
it was destroyed. How? How did you survive? How is it you are here?”

A grin slunk up one side of his mouth. “It takes more than a temperamental briny drink to take me down. I’m invincible.”

Arrogant. Just like Alain. She crammed down the urge to chuckle, but her smirk gave her away.

“Don’t mock me, sister.”

Marisol had not heard him speak with such malice before. His icy words sent a chill surging through her blood. She read the rancor in his murky eyes and could not recall them being so dark, almost black. In the dim light, long shadows lengthened across his angular face. He was too much like Alain and his threat alarmed her.

“Of course not.” She fumbled to regain poise. “It’s only that you used to say you were invincible when we were children. You remember. You’d stand on ole James Mason’s fishing house with your wooden sword—” she paused, grinning, “—fighting pirates.”