Too Great a Temptation (3 page)

But Quincy took that as an affirmation, and grinned. “Welcome aboard, Damian.”

Though he was not entirely convinced of his new appointment, Damian trailed after the brothers, stepping over the bodies of the three unconscious gaolers, and making his way through the foul-smelling passages.

Slowly, though, a prickle of hope spread through him. There was still enough time to fulfill his mission, he thought. It was only mid June. He could sail home and back before the winter gales hit the Atlantic, track the nameless rogue lurking along the American coast, and send him to a watery grave should he happen to be the murderous pirate Black Hawk.

That was the name the young cabin boy had uttered before he’d died. Black Hawk. It was a name Damian had dreamed about. It was a name that made the bile in his gut churn. The former “Duke of Rogues” would not rest until the day his brother’s killers were dead. The piratical fiends would not ride the waves, a merry lot, while his kin lay rotting at the bottom of the sea.

Damian would see to it.

Out of the darkness and rank dungeon air, the duke took in a deep, lingering breath, relishing the cool breeze ruffling his hair.

Quickly the men skulked through the courtyard, along the shadowed walls, through the imposing iron gates, slightly ajar, and on to liberty.

Not three steps later, a bullet whizzed by Damian’s ear, the blast so strident, he heard the bells of Westminster chiming in his head.

The men turned in time to see the hooded figure of a gaoler sink to his knees, clutching his bleeding hand, the pistol shot clean out of his grip and resting some yards away.

In unison, the bewildered men turned the other way, to see who had fired the bullet.

The vision rammed Damian in the gut.

She stood atop a boulder, the illustrious full moon illuminating the fine golden threads of her lengthy locks, lilting in the soft zephyr.

Her glistening eyes, piercing as a prowling cat’s, met his, mesmerizing him. There was something dark and primal in those eyes, something familiar…something Damian recognized in himself.

She was adorned in all black, breeches and boots, tight leather vest. That vest! How he envied it. Strapped around plump and magnificent breasts. To taste such a flawless pair…

A hint of panic brewed inside him.

She was devastating. A true siren, with all her wiles, and he ached inside just looking at her.

It had been ages since he’d had the satisfaction of a woman’s body. Nigh two years, in fact. While searching for the pirates, he had given up pleasure of all kind, lust and drink included. Pleasure only distracted the mind. But the stunning siren before him could foil even his hardened determination.

Damian closed his eyes, tamping the carnal yearnings into submission.

“Damnation, Belle, I ordered you to stay aboard ship!”

The blasted reproof brought Damian’s attention back to the temptress. Slowly, she lowered the smoking pistol to her side, and in a voice just as smoky, shot back: “Good thing I didn’t listen, James.”

The man growled. “Let’s get back to the ship before we’re
all
rounded up.”

His ears still ringing, Damian was sure he had misunderstood. The siren sailing home with them? Impossible.

But then Quincy said in his ear, “That’s our sister, Mirabelle.”

Sister? A sexy, curvaceous, golden-haired, keep-your-damn-hands-off-her sister?

Just his miserable luck.

“H
e’s
to be our new navigator?”

Mirabelle Hawkins stood atop the poop, staring at the formidable figure carting crates of supplies across the schooner’s deck. Even in the moonlight, it was easy to see the muscular body moving with grace. A surprise really, that such a hefty man possessed such elegance of form.

With his forearms bare, the cuffs of his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, she could see the strength of his physique, the muscles flexing under the weight of each crate he carried. His long, dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck, stray strands whipping across his strong and rigid profile.

There was an aura of secrecy around him, a profound darkness under that brooding façade.

“He’s to be
my
new navigator, Belle,” James interrupted her musing. Crouched over an open crate, he rummaged through the contents, checking to make sure all the supplies were there. “
You
are not a member of this crew.”

She gnashed her teeth at the umpteenth reminder. Captain James Hawkins was adamant she would never serve aboard the
Bonny Meg
. Mirabelle was just as adamant that she would. And the two butted heads on the issue constantly.

“Why do you trust Damian more than me?” she demanded.

Damian stopped mid deck at the mention of his name. A shudder prickled through her. Hell’s fire, but the man had a stunning pair of eyes.

“This has nothing to do with trust,” said James, still groping through the paraphernalia, oblivious to the couple’s exchange of heated looks.

Mirabelle shivered again and crossed her arms over her chest like a shield. She turned away, but Damian’s intense stare still pierced her skin. “It has everything to do with trust,” she contested, trying to dismiss the dazzling gaze of one dashing rogue sailor from her mind. “You think I’m incompetent.”

“I think you’re a woman.” The lid thudded closed, and James stood to confront his sister. “You have no place aboard this ship.”

They were a stubborn brood, her brothers. James, the eldest, more mulish than the rest. At the age of thirty-six, he was the tallest and wielded the greatest brute strength. And with those ebony locks and riveting blue eyes, he always maintained a daunting appearance. Just one scorching look was often enough to put a disobedient tar back in his place. Not that Mirabelle heeded any of his attempts at intimidation. Certainly not. Her dream of being a seafarer was far too precious. Even James’s dark expressions could not dissuade her of her conviction.

Although she resented her brother’s willfulness, she at least understood it. James was worried a woman aboard ship would be too disruptive. Rubbish, of course, but that was his concern nonetheless. What did not make any sense was the opposition from the rest of her kin.

Her brother William, second eldest at thirty-four and serving as lieutenant, was the most rational and even-tempered of the lot. He could always see both sides of a story, and had a knack for settling a conflict before it got out of hand. But even he would not consider the idea of her remaining aboard ship.

And then there were her youngest siblings, Edmund and Quincy. Babies really, at the ages of nineteen and seventeen respectively. The duo were always at each other’s throats and didn’t give a hoot for propriety or order. But even
they
, reckless and impulsive fledglings, were against her joining the crew.

Mirabelle took in a deep breath to soothe her rumbling temper. She was older than half of her brothers at the age of twenty-one, more levelheaded for sure, and still her tenacious brethren refused to let her serve on board. All she wanted was a chance to prove herself. Just one measly opportunity to demonstrate her sex did not make her incompetent or a menace to stability and order.

“I deserve to be here, James.”

Her brother pushed the crate to the edge of the poop. “This goes to the galley,” he ordered, then looked back at her. “How do you figure that, Belle?”

But she didn’t answer him right away. Their spat postponed, Mirabelle studied the swaggering figure of an approaching tar with avid interest. Bloody big, she reflected. Almost as big as James.

Damian’s booted steps were heavy, the footfalls resounding in her ears like rhythmic drumbeats, hypnotizing her. He came to a stop by the poop, his dark gaze settling on her, raking over her in a thorough assessment.

The fine hairs on her arms spiked.

What the devil was the matter with her? Knots in her belly? Goose bumps on her arms? Was she daft? So the bloke was staring at her; he wouldn’t be the first. Mirabelle was used to such leering gazes. She was quite adept at ignoring them, too. So why couldn’t she turn her head away from the man? And why was her heart starting to thump so fast?

Damian quietly collected the cargo and moved off.

“Well, Belle, why do you deserve to be here?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at James, a bit dazed. “Oh, right.” With a quick shake of the head, she dismissed her bewilderment. “I’ve proven my loyalty, unlike Damian. That’s why I deserve to be here.”

There was something about the new navigator that made her uneasy. She didn’t trust him, and she was going to find out more about him. If he was hiding something, perhaps then James would see
she
belonged here and not some strange scoundrel of a sailor.

“I’m not worried about Damian’s loyalty,” said James. “He thinks this a simple merchant ship, delivering cargo to England. He knows nothing that might put our lives at risk. Besides, we need a new navigator, and
you
can’t navigate.”

Her reverie shattered, she glared at her brother. “That doesn’t mean I don’t belong here.”

“You
don’t
belong here,” he stressed in exasperation. “Look, Belle, Damian saved Quincy’s life, which speaks something of his character. I’ll learn more about him over the next few weeks, and if he navigates well and obeys orders,
then
I might ask him to join the crew.”

Her hands went to her hips. “And Quincy? The boy is a disaster. You’d prefer him over me?”

“Quincy’s young.”

“And foolish.”

“He’ll learn.”

“And I won’t?”

“You’ve already disobeyed an order, Belle.”

“But I
saved
one of you tonight.”

“That doesn’t justify your disobedience—again.”

She snorted. “Stowing away doesn’t count.”

A dark brow lifted.

“Well, it doesn’t,” she insisted. “You never ordered me
not
to stow away.”

He sighed at that. “Belle, you don’t belong here.”

“Yes, I do, and I’ll prove it to you.”

And she had the Atlantic crossing to do it. The voyage from England to America had been spent in seclusion, so she hadn’t had a chance to demonstrate her nautical abilities. But the journey home would be different. She didn’t have to hide in the galley anymore, fearing her brothers would turn the ship around and take her home too soon. She could now stroll along deck with everyone else, participate in all the chores and missions—well, some of them, anyway.

Needless to say, the Hawkins clan had not been pleased to find her on ship. She had foiled their main mission, for her brothers were not about to engage in their usual pursuits with
her
on board. After much haggling, it was agreed the
Bonny Meg
would stop in New York to obtain supplies and give the crew some leisure time before turning around to take her home. This was her one and only opportunity to prove to her blind brethren she deserved to be a member of the
Bonny Meg
’s crew.

“You know perfectly well I can’t have you on board,” said James. “You’re a distraction to the crew, and the men consider you a bad omen.”

“Bah!” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “Having a clumsy twit on board is unlucky. I’m no twit. I’m levelheaded, James. Father taught me everything he taught you.”

“That was Father’s mistake.”

She took in a sharp breath, stung.

“Be sensible, Belle,” he said softly. “You belong on shore. Why not get married and raise a family?”

“You’re my family. I belong right here with you.”

“I’m sorry, Belle, but I won’t change my mind.”

She would just have to see about that. The trip home would take a few weeks at least, enough time to convince her pigheaded brothers she’d make as good a pirate as any of them.

The
Bonny Meg
sliced through the black, velvety ocean.

Damian stood at the stern, hunched over the rail. He watched the bubbling waves, mesmerized.

A woman aboard ship? He had never heard of anything so daft. Who could think with a stunning siren strutting across deck? Not Damian, that was for sure. Warm blood rushed through his veins at the thought of Mirabelle. She was a bloody temptation. And she would destroy him if he wasn’t careful. Just a short while ago she had said his name, and like an adolescent mooncalf he’d been completely bewitched. He had paused right in the middle of the deck—an obedient sailor heeding the siren’s enchanting call.

Bloody idiot. Any more mishaps like that, and he was bound to find himself in the frothing water. If the brothers suspected he had any wicked intentions toward their sister, he’d be tossed overboard.

“Damian?”

She had a sultry voice. One that stirred the carnal heat in his belly. A sudden vision gripped him, an image of her lush and bare body writhing beneath him, as she cried out his name again and again in wanton desire.

Damian closed his eyes, banishing the erotic dream. “Yes, Belle?” Her name did her justice. She really was beautiful. Too beautiful.

“The captain wants to speak with you.”

“About what?”

“Our course, I suspect.”

He glimpsed at her sidelong. She had a dry wit…and a devastating figure. Curse it,
why
was the woman here? It just didn’t make any sense, the peculiar family union. To risk the welfare of one’s own sister on the treacherous sea? The captain seemed the strict sort, certainly not the kind of man to allow any frivolity or a laxness of rules. So what the devil was she doing here?

Damian crammed the lustful yearnings deep down inside him. “How long have you been a member of the crew?”

She paused for a moment. “Not long. Why?”

“It’s unusual to have a woman aboard ship.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my being here,” she said, a tightness in her voice. “You’re the intruder, remember?”

“I was asked to join the crew.”

“For
one
voyage. Don’t get too comfortable here.”

He had ruffled her feathers. For some peculiar reason, he liked the thought of that. And he wasn’t sure why. Feisty females had repulsed him in the past. He had always preferred an obedient woman, one to satisfy his carnal appetite. But the spark in Mirabelle was oddly fascinating. And that was treacherous. He could not let her stir his dormant demons of lust. He had a mission to complete.

To soothe her temper—and the heat in his belly—he deftly inquired, “What happened to the previous navigator?”

“Thomas?” She snorted. “Love drove him to shore.”

“Love?”

She propped her hip against the rail and crossed her arms under her splendid breasts. “So it would seem. Thomas had a ladybird in port, one he visited each time the ship moored. He hadn’t seen her for a few months, though. Imagine his surprise when he came to call and she had a squalling infant in her arms.”

A surprise indeed. Even more of a surprise was Mirabelle’s candor. She behaved like a man, coolly chatting over delicacies like a mistress and a by-blow. Something a dainty maid would never do…

“Thomas decided to do the gentlemanly thing and marry the wench,” she said.

There was enough emphasis on “gentlemanly” that Damian recognized the sarcasm. What, she didn’t believe in love? That was odd for a woman. And speaking of odd…

“You speak your mind most freely,” he murmured.

“Shouldn’t I?”

He delved deep into her catlike eyes. “It’s not something a proper miss would do.”

Did she just shiver? He couldn’t be sure. He was too enraptured by the shimmering strands of her honey blond hair lilting in the wind. Like streaks of moonbeams, he mused.

“And what do you know of a proper miss, Damian?”

Something glinted amid her breasts. A ring dangling from a thin gold chain. The bauble rested on the sleek curves of her folded arms. He reached out for her; the impulse to do so too great to ignore. He trailed a finger over her wrist. So soft. So warm. Was she a virgin? he wondered. She didn’t act like one. “I know enough to suspect an innocent maid would never speak of things lustful…which leads me to believe you might not be a very innocent maid.”

In the bright night, he could see the goose bumps dot her arm, sense the fine hairs on her skin spike under his touch, envision her nipples hardening…

She brushed his hand away. “Who I am is none of your affair.”

Well said.

Damian straightened, the hypnotic spell shattered. What the hell did he think he was doing, flirting like that? Had he taken complete leave of his senses?

“But
you
are my affair, Damian.”

He bristled. “What do you mean?”

“Who are you?”

“The navigator.” And he’d best remember that. He had not come this far in his quest for pirate blood to falter over a pretty face. And before she could grill him for more details about his identity, he moved off and said, “I’ll go and speak with the captain.”