Too Great a Temptation (19 page)

She ached inside for him. A burning need consumed her. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Damian, if you want me to forgive you, you’ll take me now.”

He groaned at her words. A groan of sweet surrender. No sooner had she made the demand than he slipped inside her in one piercing stroke.

Yes! she wanted to scream. But his mouth crushed hers, so she moaned instead. He moved within her. Swift and steady plunges. Hips grinding, he rocked her body in ecstasy.

Mirabelle sensed the tension building at her apex. She lifted her legs higher, taking in more of his eager thrusts.

“Oh yes, Damian. Don’t stop.”

He hooked his arms under her knees, holding her in place, so he could push deeper into her.

She groaned. Each hard thrust was more titillating than the last. The strain between her legs intensified, twisted. She could feel the explosion coming.

She cried out. A sound of gratifying pleasure as the muscles in her loins throbbed, squeezing him deep inside her. Damian gave a guttural cry of his own, shuddering, spilling his seed into her. He had never done that before. But it was such an intimate moment, to feel him climax inside her.

Slick with sweat, Damian rested atop her, supporting his weight on his forearms so as not to crush her. He remained imbedded inside her for a little while. She didn’t mind. She liked the feeling.

Heart still thundering in her ears, she could feel Damian’s stomping against her breast.

“That was wonderful,” she praised weakly, stroking his damp and mussed hair.

He kissed her softly. “You stubborn”—another kiss—“impatient”—another kiss—“demanding siren.” He slipped out of her heat and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “I wanted to take you slow.”

“And let me go up in flames?”

He gave her another tender peck on the lips. “I would have put out the fire in time, Belle.”

She snorted. “
Why
did you want to take it easy? You’ve never been slow about it before.”

He looked up at her, a pained and troubled expressions in his heavenly blue eyes. “I just didn’t want to hurry this one time with you.”

“Because it’s our last night together?”

He didn’t say anything.

Mirabelle sighed. He was going to let her go now, it seemed. But what else was there for him to do? He had escaped her brothers. He need not haul her through the countryside anymore. But she didn’t like the thought of being let go. It had a downright wretched effect on her, twisting her heart in the most wicked way.

“Where are you going, Belle?”

Squirming in his arms, she paused to look down at him. “To get my clothes. I have to get back to the ship.”

It hurt to say the words. It hurt even more to separate herself from the sizzling warmth of his body. But she had to go. The longer she stayed with him, the harder it would be to say good-bye.

The warm light in Damian’s eyes disappeared, a cold darkness taking its place. “I can’t let you go, Belle. Not yet.”

Her brow wrinkled. “But why?”

“I need you.”

“For what?”

He rolled out of the bed and stalked over to the window. He just stood there, in the buff, glowing in the misty candlelight. God, how she yearned for him. It was a pain in her breast she cared not to dwell upon, the thought of losing Damian. Of living the rest of her days without him. Even the allure of the sea and the soothing creaks of the
Bonny Meg
’s deck could not inspire within her the fierce emotions that Damian did. The more time she spent with him, the more she came to accept that truth. Did he feel the same way? Was that why he didn’t want to let her go? Did he want to be with her, here on land?

Her heart pinched at the thought. A thought not so unappealing.

She asked again, her voice fluttering, “Why do you need me, Damian?”

But he still didn’t answer her.

Perhaps he needed a little incentive…

Mirabelle scooted off the feather mattress and set about collecting her clothes. “Well, I’m leaving. You can roam the countryside all you like…whoa there!”

Well, her motion to leave had certainly provoked a response in Damian. Only not the one she had intended.

He grabbed her by the wrists, and with rope in hand, dragged her over to the bedpost.

She thrashed all the way. “
Damian!
”

But it did no good, her cries. Once more, she was secured to the bedpost. And naked at that!

“You bastard!”

Gathering her garb, Damian placed the bundle on a nearby chair. He then picked up a blanket and draped it over her.

He didn’t say a word. He just turned away and slipped back into his breeches.

It was suffocating, the turmoil inside her. A great welter of disbelief—and disgrace. She tried to pound the tears into submission. The fiend! He had tricked her. Made her think he was truly sorry for what he had said to her, that he cared for her. But no, he’d just wanted to rut about, to relieve himself of his burdensome lust. He was going to prolong the miserable abduction. But why? Did he hate her that much? Hate that she was a pirate?

And then the dreadful truth came to her. Damian intended to escape her brothers
and
torment them by kidnapping her. A reprisal, of sorts, for the time he’d spent confined aboard the
Bonny Meg
, immured in the brig.

Mirabelle took in a deep and shuddering breath, careful to hide her face in the blanket so the black devil would not see her grief.

Bloody hell, it hurt. Squeezed at her heart and crushed the bones in her chest, the betrayal…but it also made her cold.

Soon the tears stopped coming. Soon the pain was numbed. And as Damian lay quietly on the bed beside her, she vowed the bounder forever her enemy.

I
n the faint light of the breaking dawn, Mirabelle sat on the bed, her legs curled and tucked under her chin, her eyes fixed on the devious navigator. Still strapped to the bedpost, she could do little but watch Damian scrape away the last vestige of stubble from his chin. It was such an intimate moment. So private. Something a doting couple would do.

She snickered. A doting couple? With her tied to the bed like a slave?

Damian set the shaving blade aside and dipped his palms into the washbasin. Splashing water across his fresh-trimmed face, he then patted it dry with a towel. Decked in riding gear, he sported a close-fitting, double-breasted coat, copper brown in hue. Black leather boots, scuffed and smeared with mud, cupped strong, thick calves, and supple suede breeches masked hard-muscled thighs. Thighs that had moved against her last night and given her incredible pleasure…

Mirabelle took in an unsteady breath. Shame still burned in her belly. She couldn’t believe she had considered opening her heart to the bounder. Of spending the rest of her life on land with him. What the devil had happened to her last night? She had vowed to keep away from the scoundrel. He had betrayed her brothers by escaping. Of course he would betray her, too. So why hadn’t she realized that last night? Why had she accepted his hollow words of contrition?

Because she was a sentimental fool, that’s why. She had wanted Damian to have feelings for her. To need her…as she needed him.

What rot! Feelings of caring only brought pain. Her mother was proof of that. Mirabelle should have guarded her heart better.

“We have to go, Belle.”

No mushy words of remorse from him. Last night he’d espoused regret…but last night he’d had an itch in his pants.

Damian moved across the room, gathering her clothes. He placed the garments on the bed beside her. “Get dressed.”

She didn’t budge, even after he tugged the binding rope loose. “Why? So you can watch me? Humiliate me even more?”

Mirabelle gasped as a hard and handsome face swooped in to press close to hers. The soapy scent of him swirled around her, arousing her senses. And that look in his sea blue eyes, so scorching! Her nipples turned stiff and pointy under his ravenous stare.

“Get dressed, Belle. Now! Or I’ll dress you myself.”

He headed for the door and rested a sturdy shoulder against the barrier, blocking her escape route. But he also turned away from her, giving her privacy.

The blackguard! How could he
still
make her feel all warm inside? Aroused, even? Could hate and lust really live in harmony? Apparently so.

Mirabelle snatched her apparel. With the blanket still draped around her shoulders, she sprinted to the corner of the room. There, by the window, stood a rickety changing screen.

She busied herself getting dressed, peeking around the partition to see if the bounder was still facing the door. He was.

She snorted. A little late for chivalrous conduct, wasn’t it? Where was the rogue in him now?

Oh, blast him! He had ruined everything. Even her dream of becoming a pirate was dashed to bits. James was surely beside himself with worry. He would never let her join the crew now. He would never let her near any sort of danger again. She was doomed to live a lonely life on land. And all because of Damian.

The rotten scoundrel! Well, if he wanted to get even with her brothers for locking him in the brig, she wasn’t going to help him.

Mirabelle eyed the window in assessment. A snug fit, but still, she reckoned she could wiggle her posterior through the opening.

Quietly she inched her way over to the window, shuffling about to make it sound as if she were still getting dressed. A clandestine peek through the glass revealed a thatched roof one floor below, protecting the main entrance. It wasn’t the softest spot for a landing, but it was better than the ground. She could easily clamber down from there, and be off. Damian would never get his wide shoulders through the narrow slit in the wall. He’d have to storm through the inn to get outside. And by then, she’d be gone.

Pulse thumping loud in her ears, she carefully lifted the pane of glass…

Bloody hell! The squeak echoed like a trumpet blast. Without pause, she threw up the sash and dove out the window.

But two robust hands clasped her booted ankles and roughly yanked her back inside the room.

Stout arms circled her waist, crushing her ribs. And a livid face dropped to mesh ominously with hers.

“Going somewhere, Belle?”

He kept one hand secured to her hips, and used the other to shut the window. It slammed closed, the glass splintering.

Her heart missed a beat. “You have no right to keep me here, Damian.”

“Oh? I wasn’t aware a pirate had any rights.”

Confound him! He was going to make her suffer all the more. Keep her near him, make her remember over and over again how wonderful it’d been to be in his arms. And how devastated she had been to learn it all a ruse.

With a sharp edge to her voice, she charged, “I know why you’ve taken me, Damian.”

He seemed startled by her assertion, then demanded darkly, “Why?”

“You want to get back at my brothers for locking you in the brig, don’t you?”

A dark flame burned in his delft blue eyes. He didn’t confirm her assumption, though. He didn’t have to. The truth was evident.

“Just let me go!” She struggled in his embrace. “You’ve punished my brothers long enough by keeping me all night.”

He gripped her tighter. “Not nearly enough, Belle.”

She stopped flailing to demand, “How long are you going to hold me? Days? Weeks? Do you intend to drive my brothers mad with grief?”

He hauled her across the room and laced the rope over her wrists again.

“You bloody scound—”

He pressed his lips close to hers, his warm breath bathing her skin, sending shivers dancing down her spine. “Do you want a gag, too?”

She fell quiet, then gritted out: “I hope my brothers find you and thrash you soundly.”

“Until then, why don’t you come along quietly, like a good little girl?”

She kicked him.

He growled. “Fine, then.”

“Damian!”

Whisked in the air, she found herself slumped over his sturdy shoulder and carted out of the chamber.

She made a fuss all the way to the kitchen, then hushed once she realized the two of them were not alone. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She didn’t want to risk her pirate identity being revealed.

Her tousled mane in her eyes, Mirabelle blew at the wisps of hair to better see who was in the room.

A serving maid. And she didn’t seem the least bit stunned. What, did this sort of barbaric behavior happen often at the inn?

The girl handed Damian some freshly cooked fare bundled in a cloth. He nodded in acceptance of the baked goods, which Mirabelle eyed with only mild interest, her thoughts preoccupied with a certain rogue navigator holding her captive.

But her fury was forgotten when the serving maid bobbed a curtsy.

What the devil did she do that for?

“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” said the girl.

Mirabelle’s brows stitched together, but before she could ask the girl what was going on, Damian hauled her out the door and over to the stables.

“What was
that
all about?”

“Nothing,” said Damian curtly. “A mistake in identity.”

Bloody hell, he should have known this would happen. Once he had shaved his beard, it was more apparent who he was, and being so close to home, it wasn’t unreasonable to suspect the locals might recognize him. Hell, he might have wandered into that pub at some point in his drunken existence, even met the serving wench, without realizing it.

“She mistook you for a
duke
?”

“Humorous, don’t you think?”

His steed ready and saddled by a rather drowsy stable lad, Damian mounted the beast, hoisting Mirabelle into his lap.

He set out quickly, impatient to leave the Drunken Horse tavern and inn behind. He didn’t want anyone else to recognize him. He didn’t need this abduction to go even more awry. If Belle discovered his true identity before it was time, she would only fight him all the more, struggle even harder to get away—and warn her brothers.

Belle cocked her head to the side and eyed him shrewdly. “You don’t look like a duke. Why would she think you one?”

He shrugged, trying to sound dispassionate. “Perhaps the girl was half asleep and didn’t see me very well.”

Belle snorted but didn’t say anything else. Good. He needed a silent moment to correlate his wayward thoughts.

He had done it again, bedded Belle. The memory of it burned in his blood. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have given in to his despair and sought comfort in Belle’s arms. Now he wanted her all the more. And it would hurt all the more to lose her.

Damian pressed his arm firmly against her belly, holding her snug, inhaling the heady musk of her sea-doused locks. She stiffened in his hold. She was back to hating him. He supposed it was better that way, but still…

He gave an internal sigh. Nothing had gone as planned, not even last night’s coupling. His slow seduction had turned into a wild romp in bed. He had spilled his seed into her, too. That had not been his intent. Not at first, anyway. But once he was buried deep inside her, rocking against her pulsing core, the consuming need to possess her, to brand her as his overwhelmed him. He’d poured himself into her with exuberance, cherishing the earth-shattering moment as divine. Now she was his. In some small way at least.

And if he got her with child? He had not considered the consequence last night…or perhaps he had. Perhaps the thought of her enceinte had had some appeal. For it would truly make her his—forever. No matter how much she came to loathe him after the deaths of her brothers, there was one eternal part of him she could never resent—his child. Damian sensed in the bowel of his gut she would never hate his child—their child. He would be with her always then.

And that was the only way he could ever be with her, for now he had a mission to complete. And he needed Belle as bait. He had to stop looking at her with a tender eye. He had to stop being a hen-hearted ninny, as his father would say. Emotions made one weak. Already his shifty little pirate had tried to escape him. She’d almost succeeded, too. He had to keep a better watch—and hand—over her. He had to be strong for Adam’s sake. Cold, even.

“Damian?”

He gathered his resolve, abrupt in his reply. “What is it, Belle?”

At his brusque query, she paused. He could hear her teeth grinding. She was annoyed with him. And rightly so. After all, he had kidnapped her. What right did
he
have to be in a dark mood? she likely wondered. Little did she know he
had
to be in a dark mood just to get through the rest of the journey. He was growing too soft, too fond of Belle. And such feelings posed an intimate threat to his mission.

After a short rest, she said, “Why don’t you want to be a pirate?”

“I don’t care to be a cutthroat.”

She scoffed. “My brothers aren’t cutthroats and you know it.”

Was she daft?…Of course not. She adored her brothers. She thought them “honorable” pirates. And they, scheming brigands, would not disabuse her of that belief. Why, Damian himself had at one time supposed James a fair and righteous captain, the crew a merry lot of brotherly tars. How wrong he was! So it was no great mystery, Mirabelle’s devotion to her kin.

“Admit it, Damian, the real reason you don’t want to be a pirate.”

She wanted truth, did she? Fine. He’d give it to her. “I made an oath to my brother.”

“What? Not to become a pirate?”

“No, I have a vow to fulfill. And I can’t do it trapped aboard the
Bonny Meg
.”

Especially with you on board!
he thought.

She humphed.

“You don’t believe me, Belle?”

“Well, what were you doing in
New York
then?”

Looking for your brothers
.

“Like I said, Belle. I had an oath to fulfill.”

“In a gaming hell?”

“I was cleaned out. I needed the money.”

A snort from her. “You were prepared to spend the night wagering, deep in your cups, weren’t you?”

“I don’t drink, Belle, or gamble for pleasure.”

“
You
not drink? And you
don’t
have fun gambling? What kind of a rogue are you?”

“A reformed rogue.”

That had her snickering. “Aye, I see how well you’ve reformed. Kidnapping me and all.”

“You, a pirate, expect fairness? I think your moral compass is a little off.”

“As is yours. So you see, Damian, you would make a fine pirate. Which brings me back to my first question: why won’t you join the crew?”

“I already told you.”

“Sticking to the oath story, are you?”

“And what do you want to hear, Belle?” He pressed his lips to her ear, to whisper roughly, “Spit it out, for I’m tired of this inquisition.”

But she wouldn’t tell him her mind. Not that it mattered. Just then, Damian was held rapt by the distant figure on horseback that appeared over the hilltop.

He squinted at the dark shadow, but could not make out the face. One of Belle’s brothers already? No, it couldn’t be. James was a clever captain, but still, it would take more than a night—a stormy night, at that—to pick up their trail. A highwayman maybe? At the crack of dawn, though? Damian didn’t think so. Then who?

But Damian didn’t get to study the mysterious figure very long, for soon the shadowed horseman disappeared back behind the hilltop.

The sparring with Belle had to stop. It was too great a distraction. Potential danger lurked everywhere, and he’d best remember that.