by Tamara Gill
How the wicked man knew her thoughts, she had no idea, but he turned slightly toward her. His hand moved over, under and along his length while he lathered. The cloth trailed over hairy stones before returning to his shaft, which grew subtle inches, whether from his touch or her presence and regard, she couldn’t say.
“Oh, my.” She remembered what Brax had said about Adrian pleasing the ladies and another round of flutters broke free in her belly. What must relations with such a man be like? He filled the room with his form and personality. She couldn’t imagine what he’d be like joined with her. Feeling as if she’d burn to death if she looked at him for much longer, Sarah turned onto her side once more and stared intently out the windows at the inky waves. But oh, how she wanted to feast her eyes on his glorious appendage once more.
“Have I offended your virginal sensibilities?” A copious amount of splashing accompanied the statement, but she ignored every urge that told her to regard him once more.
Had he? “No.” Exactly the opposite had occurred. Seeing him in his naked state had ignited a desire deep inside. Her nipples had hardened into tight buds. Her breasts were heavy with a need she didn’t understand, but wished to explore—with him. “I merely watched out of curiosity.” At least she’d spoken the truth, and if she were honest with herself, she wanted to do more than peek at him, to find out why gazing upon his naked flesh made her own feel so gloriously alive.
“I’d be willing to help you with any other issues your curiosity has run into.” Footsteps thumped on the planking, and then a bureau drawer opened and rustling clothes commenced. “Sarah, look at me.”
Tingles of pleasure shot up her spine to hear her name pronounced so intimately, but the old familiar ire swept in to dilute the nicer emotion as she recalled her situation. “I have not given you permission to address me by that name.”
“Just as I hadn’t given you the same when you made use of mine earlier on deck.” Adrian’s weary sigh seemed sprung from the ages. “This is a pirate ship, not a drawing room. And might I remind you, I am in command? If I want to address you, you will answer to whatever I choose to call you.”
The frustration from his high-handedness never came. Instead, resolve settled heavy on her chest. There was no escape, no way off the ship unless she wanted to brave the sea and death by drowning. Already they were no doubt hundreds of nautical miles from land. If she wanted to live long enough to reach their next destination, she’d need to call a tentative peace with him. Heaving her own tired sigh, Sarah flipped over and regarded the pirate, a tad disappointed to find he’d donned a pair of fawn-colored breeches, yet in his state of semi-dress, he was no less menacing or attractive. “You may call me Sarah.”
“Thank you. In return, please call me captain, master, or Adrian, which is what I prefer.” He planted his palms on the mattress and leaned toward her. “Although, when in front of the crew, you will need to keep it formal and call me Captain Westerbrooke.”
“Agreed.” Heat radiated from his body and flowed over hers. Her gaze fixated on droplets of water that still clung to his shoulders. She knew an insane urge to touch a finger to them, but tamped it. “I think, if we will be in close quarters with each other, we should at the very least begin to understand one another.”
“Go on.” He eased backward in order to rummage on a silver tray reposing on the dresser top.
She struggled into a sitting position. “You are far too educated and cultured to be a pirate by choice. How did you come to this pass?”
“That is not up for discussion.” Adrian dropped into a leather wingback chair near the foot of the bed and smoothed a fine-tooth comb through his hair.
His shift in moods left her breathless. One of the many things she’d need to acclimate to. “On what would you prefer to converse?”
“Your past.” He furrowed fingers through his damp hair. “You represent a conundrum. Your desire to plunge a knife into my heart notwithstanding, the fact that you seem to hold fast to morals that defy the impulse to kill bears investigation.”
It had been years since she’d told anyone her story, years since she’d been judged for it. How would he react if she shared it with him? She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she stared. The mat of golden hair covering his pectoral muscles called to her like a siren. Resisting the lure, she said, “What will you give me for the story?”
Adrian laughed, the delightful sound filling the cabin with rich timbre. “Corrupted already, Sarah? You’ve not been with us for a day yet.”
Again, her name on his lips provoked a shiver in her core, but she shrugged. “I cannot trust you.” Knots twisted her stomach as she waited. No matter that she was aware of him as a man, he was also a ruthless pirate, capable of nearly anything.
Finally, he nodded. “I will grant you water to bathe in, a bar of lavender soap and clean clothes—or at the very least, garments that belong to you since you seem to have helped yourself to mine.”
Her cheeks warmed. She hadn’t asked permission to wear his shirt, but what else could she have done? Knowing he waited for an answer, she cleared her throat. “A bath?” She hated how the humidity-laden air caused sweat to dampen her back, and hated how wonderful and homey the concession made her feel.
“It can be arranged. Beyond that, gifts will only be given upon favors from you.” A wicked twinkle appeared in his eyes. “Paid privateer aside, I am a pirate at heart. My currency is whatever you have to trade. From the tantalizing bits of flesh I’ve already seen, I’m willing to wager you have much to offer me.”
A chill crashed down her spine. She couldn’t forget the look in his eyes as he’d gazed at her nakedness. “How can I believe what you say is the truth? I saw the disgust when you caught sight of me.”
A flicker of embarrassment lit his eyes, but was gone at his next breath. “Truth be told, that disgust was for my behavior toward you.” He rubbed a hand along a thigh, which only served to recall her attention to the slight bulge at the front of his breeches. Quickly, she transferred her gaze to his abdomen, but the natural contours of his flat stomach played havoc with her insides. “My opinion of your womanly assets is very high indeed. Only the bid for a modicum of civility between us is keeping me from sampling your charms as we speak.”
Heat swept over her skin. She pressed her thighs tight together when tingles invaded her core and wetness tickled her folds. He’d be trouble, but his devil-may-care attitude intrigued her. Perhaps the time had come to test her wings and see if she could fly on her own, away from society’s stifling rules and judgment, and into a future she could design for herself. Perhaps she’d even enjoy the living of it. The only question now was, if she followed Adrian for too long, would he lead her into hell, and would she care if he did? There was only one way to find out.
“I am the daughter of a missionary.”
Chapter Four
“Ah, that explains your talk of prayer and God’s forgiveness.” Adrian leaned farther back into the chair. “What it does not illuminate is your penchant for trying to end my life at every opportunity. Aren’t those two subjects at cross purposes from one another?”
A tiny smile curved her lips. “That is a separate issue and one I will arrive at in due course.” She tucked her legs beneath her. The hem of the shirt she’d donned rose higher up her hip, baring the delectable curve of her arse.
He stemmed the urge to haul her into his lap and smooth his fingers over her creamy skin. Soon.
“Shall I begin?”
“Most definitely.” He flicked his gaze back to her face. The pleasure he derived from knowing she’d chosen his shirt continued to warm his insides. Of course, he’d given her no other option, except… there were the bed sheets, and she hadn’t made use of those. “You are a study in contrasts.”
“I suppose my penchant for the fight is because I detest being perceived as boring, or worse, pegged as forgettable.” Worry clouded her eyes. “My father used to tell me I had entirely too much spirit for a
woman, and no man would want me because of it. He told me no respectable man would want a woman with too many opinions.” Her shrug caused the yoke of the shirt to glide down one shoulder. The ivory slope of one breast came into view. “This was probably why he kept me under his thumb for so many years. I thought what he’d said was the truth.”
Adrian fought off a grin. “That must have been quite a feat. My dealings with you have not been easy.”
“I have never been fond of overbearing males. I have too much self-respect to allow another person control of me.” She plucked at the hem of the shirt. “We lived in Philadelphia for many years while my father decided where he’d like to minister. Finally, he realized the city of New York held more heathens per capita than any other area, so we embarked the very week afterward.”
“Your tone belies an agreement. Did you not share his foresight?”
“Only at first. I thought he had amazing vision and fortitude to live his beliefs above everything else—no matter what. And why should I not believe in him? He was all I had.” She met his gaze. Sadness misted her expressive eyes. “My mother died in childbirth when I was small. My brother did not survive. This put me in the care of my father, who because of his dream, left me to my own devices. He had always been driven by God’s dictates, but the flock in Philadelphia was too established, too set in their ways for him to be an effective change.”
“Ah, he was a leader in his field, yet never happy with what he had.” Adrian raked his fingers through his damp hair. The quick hand bath had gotten off the worst of the grime, but exhaustion hounded his heels. Listening to Sarah’s lyrical voice calmed him.
“Perhaps. When I turned sixteen, we settled into our life in New York. Years passed, and he seemed happy, consumed even. He worked long hours with his parishioners.” Her eyes took on a faraway gleam. “I saw the change in him almost immediately. He had a fervor about him, as if the church had taken over, stolen his personality, his hobbies, even his desire to be at home.”
“It’s understandable. He’d lost his wife and son. Perhaps his hours in residence brought him more sorrow than joy.” Adrian pictured her life in his mind, a vibrant young lady of the middle class, only clinging to that position on the goodwill of the church family. “Did you have no friends of your own age with whom to pass the time?”
“No. I always wondered if I was too high-strung or imaginative for other girls. After a while, I came to understand I was perhaps an outsider because of my father, not to mention my handicap made them uncomfortable around me.” Sarah stared at the flickering candle flame. Tracks of sorrow filled her face. “It was a lonely existence. Books and embroidery only took me so far, and Father had deemed routs and parties unacceptable for a daughter of God, as they might corrupt my soul.”
He doubted she’d managed to forget that feeling of abandonment. In a small way, he understood exactly what she went through. “But you are not like him. You understand each person has been given a mind and an imagination to think for themselves, not to follow a flock like sheep. I do not think you gave in without a fight.”
The smile returned, stronger this time. “In this you are correct.” She shifted position, this time stretching her legs out before her. When she caught his eye, a blush colored her cheeks and she pulled a portion of the bedding over her lower limbs. “I rebelled. I snuck out to attend musicale evenings at the neighbors’ or on occasion walked about the area, if only to assure myself others did indeed exist without the constant worry of the devil’s temptation. I enjoyed the freedom.”
“Your father found you out.” All too well he imagined the ensuing argument.
“Yes.” Her brilliant smile vanquished the sorrow in her expression. “He sent me away to a finishing school with other… recalcitrant girls of my station. When I returned, I was three years older but not necessarily wiser. In fact, my anger toward him and his selfish dictates had grown. I didn’t understand how to let it go. Didn’t have the chance.”
“Why?” Her story intrigued him, and much like a fairy story, he couldn’t wait to hear more.
“Two days after I came home, my father introduced me to a young man. This particular gentleman was in training with my father, his assistant if you will. They both shared the religious zeal.”
“And once more, you were relegated to the corner, to be seen but not spoken to, and never allowed to be more than a pretty adornment to the home.” Adrian leaned forward, planting his arms on his knees while clasping his hands between them. “That is no life.”
“Right. He either spent endless days treating me like an invalid, incapable of taking care of myself, or reminding me that I should be grateful for any attention I reaped in this life. In his eyes, I suppose I was broken, an unfit example of what God’s love should be.” Her voice wavered. “To this day I’d swear he was disappointed that his faith, or mine, hadn’t healed my limp.” She shrugged again and the shirt slipped another inch, dangerously flirting with her nipple. “In retrospect, I would have preferred that life to what was to come.”
His heart constricted as if squeezed by an invisible hand. It had been long years since anyone’s story had made him feel pain beyond his own. “You are under no obligation to continue if it’s distasteful for you.”
She uttered an unladylike snort and slithered off the bed in order to pace about the cabin. “I choose to reveal all to you in the hopes you will understand what drives me.”
“Ah, you seek pity or sympathy.” The knowledge rankled. He thought she’d be different.
“Absolutely not. I merely thought you might want to know.” Her eyes narrowed into the familiar glare. “I assumed you might be human enough to show an interest, a bit of empathy.”
Adrian wanted to laugh, but stifled the inclination. Delightful honesty. It’d been a long time since he’d encountered that in anyone. “Then by all means, please tell me the rest.” He swallowed, yet there was not enough moisture to assuage his dry throat. Every time she passed in front of the candle, the thin cotton of the shirt went nearly transparent and revealed her tantalizing curves. He fisted a hand, forcing himself to calm while leaning back in the chair. “Continue.”
“Days later my father announced to a small company of his friends during a dinner party that his assistant—Harold—and I were engaged. I found out the same time they did.”
“And this was unsavory to you? Isn’t that the pinnacle of success for young women everywhere?”
“It wasn’t expected, and no, I didn’t wish it with him. Harold grew up near the docks where his family held shipping interests, which could open my father’s ministry to even greater heights. He went on to say that with our wedding, his church family would grow more than he could have imagined.”
“He used you as collateral.”
“Yes. What was more, Harold treated me much the same way my father did. I often had the feeling he agreed to the engagement out of obligation, even as he used my father as he himself was used.”
Silence reigned for several seconds. “Why did your father do it?” Adrian couldn’t help but ask the question. What had been in it for her affianced as well?
“Harold’s family is moneyed. Funding is a valuable resource in a missionary’s life. It also puts food on the table.” She reached a hand to her hair, felt it and frowned. “I had no leverage to counter.”
“Yet your father had not gone out in the field per se.”
“No, but with easy access to wealth, he had the means for expanding his ministry. As soon as the engagement was a month old, he and Harold began the next plan for their church. They went out and canvassed the city for days.”
“And for Harold? What did he want from the union and a partnership? You are quite charming and pleasant when you aren’t wielding a knife. Perhaps he had no ulterior motive. Perhaps he genuinely held you in high regard.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” That brought a relaxed smile to her lips and smoothed the deep worry line from her forehead. “I suppose for Harold, I
was part of the parcel. There was no affection between either of us. He assumed that once my father passed, the ministry would go to him, and what better way to make an impression and further a career than to lead an already established flock?”
“With a docile, well-trained woman by his side who was content to do nothing more than have his children and tell him how wonderful he was.” Adrian’s gut clenched as if he’d been punched. He had treated her no better than the other two, yet what else could he have done? Piracy left little room for small talk and permission.
She paused parallel to the candle, and for many heartbeats, Adrian’s willpower was tested as the dusky peaks of her nipples beckoned to him. With each inhalation of breath, they poked the fabric, teasing him. “Weeks later, they both arrived in the parlor, their eyes shining with adventure and fervor.”
“Why?” The word croaked from his throat, but he kept his attention at her breasts.
“They’d apparently met a genuine pirate at the docks, who’d issued an invitation onto his ship. Father saw this as the preeminent way to gain a foothold on the missionary field. Converting the most unsavory of characters would give him the chance to leave an indelible mark above his peers. Of course this meant I’d, once more, be left behind, unimportant and forgotten in the face of God’s plan.”
“I can imagine that didn’t sit well with you.” From what he recalled of the Independence, they’d briefly docked in New York’s harbor for routine repairs and supplies before sailing to Florida in order to trade their ill-gotten bounty within the pirate community. The captain had probably been amused at the missionaries and invited them onboard for entertainment value only. Chances were high he never had plans to keep them alive once their novelty wore off. After all, emissaries of God were plentiful and men of all sorts had need to be close to the Creator when in their cups. Upon sobering, those same lectures became bothersome. “You put up a protest?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course, yet neither of them thought a mere woman could have an ounce of sense in her brain. Once again, I was swept into a corner as if I didn’t matter. They left.” She shrugged and resumed her brand of uneven pacing, this time faster and more agitated. “Four months later, I received my father’s Bible in the mail with a note of apology from the pirate for the inconvenience of his death. At the age of twenty, I suddenly found myself alone in the world, a victim of religious fervor and neglect, yet where was God when I needed him? Where was He when I lost my home due to unpaid taxes and was forced to beg mercy from distant relations?”
