Lock (13 page)

By the time he returned to the house, Sparrow was asleep on her blankets, her delicate lips parted, one hand cushioning her cheek. The dishes and laundry were washed and piled neatly beside the basin. He collected the laundry and hung it on a line outside then leaned against the wall and stared at Sparrow for a long time before flopping on the bed and gazing at the ceiling. He remembered the feeling of her body against his, her soft breasts rubbing against his chest. His cock swelled just thinking about it.

Damn the little bitch! She was supposed to be the one suffering and there he lay alone with a body scarred beyond repair and an erection so hard he could have used it to fight a duel.

Sparrow made a soft sound in her sleep, and he glanced at her. Maybe now that she was sleepy, she’d be easier to convince. He dropped one foot to the floor, then changed his mind. He was not about to beg sexual favors from a woman he had chained up.

He couldn’t believe he was having such difficulty. He’d spent enough years as a whore that he should have been able to seduce anyone.

Still gazing at her, he drifted to sleep.

* * * * *

The next morning, Lock arose before Sparrow. He left her food and fresh water before attending the farm work.

“I’ve known bitches in my life, but she’s the worst. Why? That damned sweetness. She makes it impossible to hate her completely,” Lock said as he squeezed Daphne’s udder, filling a pail. He paused and curled his lip. “Now she’s got me talking to a cow. I really have to think about getting out of here before I lose what’s left of my mind.”

When he finished milking Daphne, he turned her out in the field along with the horses. It was then he noticed the fence which kept the pigs and chickens was damaged. He decided to mend it before beginning any of the more time-consuming work.

He retrieved Sparrow’s box of tools from the barn and set to work. As soon as he stepped over the fence, one of the pigs, a fat grayish male, approached, grunting.

“What do you want?” Lock snapped, choosing a hammer and placing the rest of the tools aside. No sooner had he stood when his legs were knocked out from under him. He landed on his back in the mud, the pig staring at him from a short distance away.

“I’m going love eating you when slaughter time comes.” Lock sat up. When he rose, the pig took a step closer. Lock and the pig stared at each other. Lock put one foot forward, and the pig took two more steps, looking ready to charge.

“This is crazy.” Lock stood to his full height and the pig galloped toward him.

Lock dove over the fence and the pig dropped onto the mud, grunting with contentment.

I’ll be damned if I let a pig tell me where I can and cannot go.
Again he stepped over the fence and picked up the hammer. The pig charged, but this time Lock jumped on top of it, straddling the fat, muddy back and gripping the small, flopping ears. The pig fought worse than a wild stallion he’d tamed in his youth.

“Son of a swine!” Lock’s legs tightened around the pig’s slippery sides. He slid backwards off the pig, splashing in the mud and scattering the chickens. Lock pushed himself onto his elbows and blew at a chicken feather stuck to the tip of his muddy nose. He brushed it away and raised himself to a squat, facing down the pig for the second time.

When the animal attacked, he caught it in an unbreakable hold, clinging to the dirty body, half running, half dragging, until the pig finally tired.

Panting, Lock picked up the hammer and pointed it at the swine. “If your mistress is as easy to break, I’ll be a happy man.”

He suddenly heard Sparrow shouting for him from the house. Thinking more thieves might have broken in while he’d been fighting with the pig, he bounded over the fence, raced across the yard and burst into the house.

Sparrow stood, her hands on her hips, her eyes sweeping over him and demanded, “What in the name of the Goddess is going on out there?”

* * * * *

Sparrow stared at Lock, torn between disgust and laughter. From head to boot, he was completely covered in mud. He looked like he’d swum in it, and from the sound of his shouting and the pig’s squealing, she wondered if he’d done just that.

“What kind of a pervert are you?” she demanded. “What were you doing with my pigs?”

He pointed a finger at her, his eyes blazing. “Not what you’re thinking girl, even though the pigs would probably be more accommodating than you!”

“It didn’t seem that way two nights ago!” she snapped. “You seemed to thoroughly enjoy yourself at my expense!”

“And I suppose you nearly squeezed me to death with your legs just because you wanted the exercise?”

Sparrow felt heat rise in her face. If she hadn’t been chained, she would have clawed his beautiful blue eyes out. “It would take a deep sea octopus to squeeze you to death, you oversized lout!”

“Why did you call me in here? I have work to do on my farm.”

“This is
my
farm! You’re
my
slave! And I didn’t buy you to ruin my hard work!”

“I’m trying to repair your damned fence and that devil’s swine thinks he owns the run out there!”

“Giving you trouble, is he?”

“Like everything else on this bloody farm. I’ve made up my mind we’re going to the Archipelago.”

“This is my home! I’m not going anywhere.”

“So you’re rather stay and be tortured?”

“All I know is that I’m not going anywhere with you, least of all to the Archipelago where I’ll have to suffer as your love slave!”

“Suffer? Those sure as hell weren’t moans of pain I was hearing the other night.”

“You’re a boor!” Sparrow’s fists clenched so tightly her hands ached. He made her angrier than she’d ever been in her entire life. Still, she forced herself to feign calmness as she said, “I suppose it’s not your fault. How would someone of your ill breeding know how to treat a lady?”

“Still think you’re a princess?” He stepped across the room and yanked her into his arms, his muddy lips covering hers.

Sparrow punched his shoulders, but he grasped her arms and forced them to her sides. She felt mud drenching her clothes. His were plastered to his body with the grimy brown liquid. In spite of the smell of pigs and dirt, Sparrow couldn’t help thinking the sensation of his slippery skin and hard muscles was incredibly arousing. He loosened his hold and she shoved him as hard as she could, frustrated that she didn’t move him a bit. He smiled, his teeth gleaming against his muddy face, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the door.

“You make sure you go swimming again before you come home!” she bellowed after him. “Filthy pig!”

Sparrow did her best to clean her own soiled body with the leftover dishwater, but she had no fresh clothes to wear, and soon the mud dried to a hard shell on her tunic.

“Damn him,” she muttered, glancing at the dirty garment. It was the only dress she had. There wasn’t much use for dresses while working a farm, but she kept one for village gatherings. Now it was going to be filthy and tattered from use, as Lock gave no sign of providing her with fresh clothes. She’d have to ask for them. The other night, when they’d slept together, she thought she was falling in love with him. Now she almost hated him. Almost. Why couldn’t she hate him completely? What was it about him that lured her like a cat to cream?

When he came home that evening, he was clean, his hair damp from swimming.

He stepped halfway across the room and paused, wrinkling his nose. “Smells like a pigpen in here.”

Sparrow felt anger twist her stomach and she said, “I wonder why? Look what you did to my dress!”

He approached, his arms folded across his chest, and studied her with a shrewd expression she had come to know all too well. “We can’t have you reeking, can we, Princess? How about a bath and a change of clothes?”

Sparrow hesitated. “I don’t trust you, Lock.”

Ignoring her, he began carrying in buckets of water, heating them, and filling the tub. She watched the tub with longing eyes, more cautious than ever about his sudden kindness.

When the bath was ready, he opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and searched through her bag of soaps. He sniffed one cake which she knew to be rose-scented and asked, “This one?”

Sparrow shrugged, wishing to appear indifferent though it was her favorite.

“You’ll have to unchain me so I can take off this dress and bathe,” she said.

He laughed. “Just like you unchained me and gave me privacy?”

“What do you care about privacy?”

“That’s beside the point.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “How am I suppose to bathe, then?”

He took up a cooking knife, and approached.

“No!” she screamed. She hadn’t been so fearful of him in days, but she’d been a fool to think he—the worst pirate of the SothSeas—could ever change. He still had the heart of a murderer, not matter what she might have felt for him. “Lock, no! You don’t want to kill me!”

“Kill you?” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. She kicked at him, but he caught her foot. She clutched a handful of his beard and pulled hard, but he grasped her arms and wrenched them behind her back, holding them with one hand while he used the other to slice off her dress.

“You bastard!” He had no respect for her at all! None! She willed herself not to shed tears of rage and frustration.

Lock threw the knife aside and picked her up. Sparrow’s arms looped instinctively around his neck. Her heart pounded with rage and desire. The sensation of her naked curves pressed against his hard body made her insides riot. Lock dropped her in the warm water, and tossed her the soap. Then he dragged a chair in front of the tub and straddled it backwards, his eyes fixed on her. “Better wash before it cools, girl, because you’re not getting out of there until you’re clean.”

“I hate you!” she seethed. “I hate the sight of you! I wish you were dead!”

He smiled. “That’s more like it.”

“If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d pity you! You’re pathetic! Blaming the whole world because you’re scum! Not all women are your mother, Lock, and not all men are bounty hunters!”

His smile faded as he stood, kicking the chair aside. “If you’re not going to clean yourself, looks like I’ll have to do it!”

“Touch me and I’ll rip out those demon’s eyes of yours!”

“You can have fun trying.”

He squatted behind her, one arm snaking around her shoulders, holding her arms immobile while he used his free hand to search for the soap in the heated water. He felt beneath her breasts and stroked her belly, circling her navel with the tip of his finger. “It’s not here.”

He cupped her buttocks and squeezed, then gently prodded the soft flesh between her bottom cheeks. Except for her pounding heart and agitated breathing, Sparrow remained stock still as his finger poked the tight little hole and slipped partway in. “Not there. Where is that elusive soap, Princess?”

“You’re an animal!” she snarled as the finger slipped out and his hand dipped between her legs while he nipped her ear.

His palm slipped over her inner thigh as he found the scented bar and ran it over her belly. He soaped her breasts, paying careful attention to her nipples. His touch was incredibly gentle. As he washed her skin, his lips and tongue traced her shoulder and the shape of her ear.

Sparrow felt herself weakening in his grasp. She wondered if he’d stop if she told him too. She was almost afraid to find out. If he didn’t, then her worst fear would be confirmed: he was capable of rape. If he did, then his carnal ministrations would stop and she’d be left again with unfulfilled passion.
That’s crazy, Sparrow!
If he was a rapist, he wouldn’t bother fondling her. His touch was clearly intended to arouse, an inclination no rapist would have.

“What is it, Princess?” he whispered against her ear, his beard tickling her neck. “You want to wash yourself instead of having me do it?”

“And if I did?” She felt something cold against her back and remembered the key he kept around his neck. If she could only steal it back without him noticing. Perhaps she could engross him so deeply in pleasures of the flesh that he wouldn’t know or care if she took the key. Damn! The pirate’s lecherous ways had infected her. The means of her plan seemed even more satisfying to her than the end!

“If that’s what you want, as long as you’re clean.” Lock dropped the soap and began moving away.

“Wait!” She turned, grasping his wrist and tugging him closer. He squatted beside the tub and she kissed him, her tongue circling his mouth and parting his lips. “You have such a marvelous mouth, Lock.”

He glanced at her warily, but she tilted her face to his again, and his mouth covered hers. When he broke the kiss, Sparrow felt his reluctance and her stomach fluttered, both from the knowledge that she was luring him and from the lust he inspired in her. Lock moved from the back of the tub and again found the soap beneath the warm water. He lathered his hands and ran them over her shoulders, under her arms, across her breasts. Sparrow tugged off his open shirt and tossed it aside, splaying her wet hands across his chest. Leaning forward, she circled his nipple with the tip of her tongue, tentative at first. He sighed, murmuring her name. Sparrow’s fingers gripped his ribs while she used the flat of her tongue to lave his nipple then taste every inch of his hard, hair-roughened chest. By the twin goddesses, she could touch him all night! However she had a more important agenda than attaining personal pleasure. She traced the rope around his neck, pressed the key to his breastbone then, to avoid suspicion, continued her caresses.