Prisoner of the Island

by Terri Pray

  Yes, he would. Damn him for his stubborn streak, but he wasn't the sort of man that would just give up. Would he track her down? She couldn't be certain, but he'd at least try to. And what of Tearlach? Would he try to track her down as well?

  He might, if he was angered enough and she'd certainly pushed the right buttons, but did he have the connections to be able to track her down? She didn't know him well enough to figure that one out. He might have the connections, or the money, or both. He'd certainly had enough to be able to run a house in London and keep the staff in line through threats and information. But was it enough to track her down and find out where the ship had taken her?

  Who was she trying to fool?

  Tearlach would have known which ship she'd have headed toward, she'd only known of one Captain at the docks who might have spoken to her. He'd be able to track her that way, once he found someone willing to tell him where the ship had been headed to. Finding another ship that was heading this way— that would be the real challenge for Tearlach. Not so much for Davien though, she had no doubt that he would be able to hire a vessel himself, or perhaps even part-owned one.

  She ducked her head under the water, and growled, watching the bubbles play out through the bathtub before she sat up again. Water pearled across her breasts, spilling down her skin as she tried to think of other things. Anything but Davien and what he had done to her.

  But there were some things she couldn't forget. The way her body had learned to react under his touch. The sheer pleasure she'd known once she had made it past the pain. Heat flushed across her face. It wasn't supposed to be this way, pain and pleasure combining. Love was supposed to include something else, a tenderness Davien never showed her. So why did she think about him? Why did she love him?

  Love him?

  No, she couldn't. She didn't. It just didn't make sense. How could she truly love someone who had treated her the way Davien had?

  Yet she couldn't deny the way she now felt. Even last night, when she'd been with the slave, she'd known that something was missing. But what? No, she already knew the answer. Davien had been missing. The sense of— of completion— she'd known in his arms.

  But why him? Why a man who would do nothing more than hurt her, use her, abuse her and then leave her to sleep in a cage?

  Because he was the one.

  “No,” she hissed between clenched teeth. If he was the one she'd not even be able to come with someone else, would she? Unless he'd trained her to do just that. And he had done just that.

  Bastard.

  Oh he was that and more beside.

  Fine, she could at least use his memory to enjoy a few moments for herself. How would he like that? Knowing she was using him? It was a small, petty revenge and she was going to enjoy every minute of it. Just as long as she kept that voice of doubt quiet, it had an annoying habit it speaking up just when she didn't want to hear from it at all. Celeste took a deep breath, letting her thoughts drift to how her body felt after the play Davien enjoyed. The sense of warmth, contentment, the pressure that would roll through her body in the moment before she would finally scream out her release. Oh, she could remember it well, all the delights she had known in those few brief moments and then the way she would shudder in his arms, or the chains that held her to whatever she was secured to.

  Her breasts tingled, her eyes drifted closed as she leaned back against the edge of the bath, her hands trailing over her taut skin, teasing her senses with light caresses. Yes, this is what she needed, the soft pleasure that she now surrendered to. Her nipples tightened, throbbing, begging for her touch, her breath released in a low hiss from between clenched teeth. It would have been so very easy to slid her hand between her own thighs and tease her body to completion.

  Soon, she'd reach that soon enough. Her body already throbbed into life, her stomach taut, thighs tight, pleasure built between her legs and she arched softly beneath her own touch. She groaned even before her fingers slipped over her mound, not reaching between, just over the soft covering of hair. At least that had been able to grow back in the time she had been on the ship. She hadn't enjoyed the shaved look that Tearlach had insisted upon.

  Her fingers slipped between her thighs, parting her lower lips as the warm bath water lapped at her delicate flesh. She rolled, her body arching even at the light caress against her clit. She could feel everything that went on around her. The sounds of the slaves beyond the room faded into the background where they were meant to be. Water cupped her breasts, lapped between her thighs, the scents in the bath tantalized her, it all combined into a gentle caress of sensations.

  She was so close to this. So very close to surrendering as she tapped her finger against her clit, her body throbbing with the delights that rolled through her body. She could hear him, feel him close by, his presence claiming her. She groaned, her hips rolling, his touch against her throat all too real. His hand, she could feel it, closing about her throat, holding her in place even as her fingers danced between her thighs.

  His breath. His voice. The touch of his fingers across her throat, tracing down her chest, threatening to cup her breasts with his free hand. She could feel it all. Her womb tightened. Her finger slipped over her throbbing clit, following the beat of her heart. She groaned, her body writhing in the water. She didn't care that it was the memory of Davien that she used to bring herself to the point of pleasure. It was all he was good for. She was free, able to use whatever she wished and he couldn't stop her.

  There, so damn close, she could feel it, pleasure that would push her over the edge. His fingers, even in her imagination, tightened a little more, his voice a growl against her ear demanding that she come.

  That's all she needed to hear. Even though she knew it wasn't real. That he wasn't there, it was still enough to tip her over the edge. Her body tightened. Thighs quivered. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. Pressure coursed through her being. Then it hit. A wave of sheer pleasure that she had no control over. She arched, her heels pressing into the base of the bath, her body taut, water dripped from her glistening flesh as she screamed aloud.

  “Yes!”

  Only when the last of the trembles had worked their way through her body and Celeste finally opened her eyes again did she realize she'd called out. Heat touched her cheeks and she shifted, looking back over at the still closed door to the bathing chamber. At least no one had come in to check on her. This time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dressed, coifed and presentable at last, Celeste made her way into the throne room, her gaze lingering on the men and women around her. They didn't like her. She didn't have to hear it from their lips in order to see it in their eyes. She'd grown up with those looks from her own father and sister, so why would she miss it now? But they didn't know that, did they? They couldn't understand that no matter how they looked at her, how they viewed her, it was nothing compared to what she had grown up with.

  Cold looks.

  A shunning.

  The way they looked down their noses at her because of the Irish lilt in her voice.

  Did they really think they could hurt her after what she had been through, or the way she had grown up? They were amateurs. Davien on his worst day did more than they could ever comprehend.

  “Good morning to you, Celeste. You slept well I hope?” Jamezen's voice broke through her thoughts. “Yes, I can see that you did. That healthy blush across your cheeks and the glint in your eyes, they speak of a night well spent. But was it alone I wonder? Rumors have it that you had to call the guards to have one man escorted out of your room.”

  “I'm certain, as lorD of this island, that you know which is truth and which whispers are nothing more than vicious rumor, my Lord.” Celeste dipped into a brief curtsey. “I have little doubt that your guards report to you on such matters.”

  He laughed openly. “Fair enough, you have that right of course. I would not tolerate my guards hiding matters from me and they made it clear that you did not wish Nighthawk i
n your room.”

  “He left, at the guard's insistence.” Celeste admitted with a slight nod.

  “But not before— no, there's no need for you to add to that, I'm well aware of the situation. Steven Nighthawk has not broken the rules of the Island, as yet, but I'm less than pleased with the way he approached you. He and I will be discussing this matter in the coming days.”

  A discussion. One she would not be involved with, no doubt, but would his discussion with Steven cause more harm than good? Only time would tell. “Thank you for your aid in this matter, my Lord. I am certain that it will ease things.”

  The flash of humor in Jamezen's gaze warned her that he was a man she needed to be careful around. Yes, she needed to watch herself around this one, this man who ruled the island. “Be careful here, Celestial Blue. All it takes is the wrong word, step through the wrong door, and your life will change on my Island.”

  “Of that I have no doubt, my Lord.” She dipped once more and offered a polite, calm smile. “And I will keep my wits about me. I would not wish to make you regret your decision to allow me to stay in your home.”

  “No, that has not happened, as yet. Though I had a long discussion with Shaun before he left. He confirmed that you had only acted as a dominant with the men on his vessel. I had suspected there had been something else, but it would appear that I was wrong. This time at least.”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  “Jamezen.”

  “As you wish.” She accepted the change in address without argument.

  “So when will I find out the full story about Celestial Blue?” He spoke softly, reaching out to caress a stray lock of moon touched hair. “I know there is one. It beckons me. So is there a hope that you will tell me one day?”

  “There is always hope, Jamezen. That's what makes life so interesting.”

  “Indeed.” He pulled his hand away from her hair. “We will talk more later, no doubt.”

  “No doubt, Jamezen, and I look forward to it.”

  He nodded and finally turned away from her, leaving her to tender care of the envious onlookers. Did they think there was something going on between her and the ruler of the island? More fool them. There was something unclean about the man who called himself Jamezen. Something that left her skin crawling and fighting the urge to take another bath. Dirty. Unholy. Whatever words she used they wouldn't be enough to describe him and she knew it. She'd keep her distance from the man whenever possible and it would be a cold day in hell before she let him touch her sexually.

  “You look well this morning, Celeste, though I am quite upset with you for calling the guard.” Steven caught hold of her arm and all but spun her around. “There was no need for that, you and I had a discussion and... ”

  “And I had made it clear I was not interesting in holding it there and then.” Her voice dropped into an ice-touched whisper. “If you wish to speak to me it will be in public, Steven. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “You do not make the rules here.” He didn't release her arm. “I am not some servant that you can push around, woman.”

  “No, I am a woman who is not a slave, nor servant, and I have a choice. Release my arm.”

  “Are you giving me orders, Celeste.” he growled, meeting her gaze.

  “In this, yes I am. Release my arm or I will cause a scene that you will regret.”

  “Are you sure I will regret it.”

  “Yes, completely. You see I remember one of the little laws of this island. A man, or woman, who attempts to force submission from a free member or visitor to the island will, in turn, face the iron locked about their throat. What you're doing is attempting to force me to submit in some way. I am not yours, Steven. Is that clear?”

  He blinked and let go of her arm, his gaze narrowed. “Perfectly.”

  “But.”

  “I'm not about to give up and walk away, Celeste.”

  “I know.” She met his gaze, knowing that any sign of weakness would only cause further problems. “But you will abide by the laws of the Island unless you truly do want to face the consequences of your actions.”

  His gaze darkened. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Promising, the word you're looking for is promising, Steven.”

  “You're messing with the wrong man, Celeste.”

  “You started the fight, Steven. I'm simply finishing it.”

  He growled and took a step back, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line as he looked her up and down. Anger flashed in his eyes, his hands clenched and unclenched tightly, but for several long minutes he didn't say a word. The world drew to a halt around them. She was barely aware of their existence, neither was he, they focused entirely on each other as they both stood there in the throne room.

  “You're playing a very dangerous game,” a new female voice broke through Celeste's thoughts. “Steven is not the type of man who likes being told no by a woman. Believe me, I know. But then again giving into him can be delicious.”

  “This isn't the time, Darcy.”

  “It never is, darling.” Blonde, vapid with an overly pouting bottom lip the woman instantly set Celeste's teeth on edge. “But you've been ignoring me recently. I don't like that.”

  “Since when did I care what you liked or didn't like?”

  “Well, there is that.” Darcy shrugged and turned her attention to Celeste. “You arrived yesterday from what I remember. The court's been buzzing about you. Some Irish tramp they call you.”

  “And I suppose they call you the court whore?” Celeste smiled sweetly.

  “You little... ”

  “If you think that I'll stand and take being insulted without responding, then you have a lot to learn about me, Darcy.”

  “The only thing I need to learn is how to slap you down. I've been here long enough, bitch. I know how this place works. I'm not going to let you walk in here and... ”

  “And what?” Celeste arched one delicate eyebrow. “Take over? If that's what you think I have planned, you're sorely mistaken. All I want to do is settle in and be left alone. I've no interest in Steven, or any other man here. Is that clear enough for you, or do I need to paint it in mile-high letters?”

  Darcy's jaw dropped.

  Steven coughed.

  Celeste just shook her head, turned her back on the couple and walked away to the other side of the room. What was it with people here? Did they all assume she wanted to fuck her way to the top? Well, whatever it was they could leave her alone and find a new target. She wasn't interested in their petty politics. She wasn't even certain that she'd stay on the Island. Yes, for now she was safe, but that was changing. Rapidly.

  Steven. The way Jamezen looked at her. Now this Darcy. It wasn't going to remain safe here. Sooner or later she'd say something, push the wrong person because they were pushing her and it would all go down hill.

  Why was this turning into such a source of pain?

  People, she didn't understand them.

  Then again other than her family and the few people she'd interacted with in the village she'd barely been around others. Until Davien. Now what was she supposed to do? She could use the slaves, keep to herself, continue her studies and then leave in a month, or less if things didn't work out.

  Where would she go?

  Ireland?

  No, he'd look for her there.

  What about the new world? The Americas?

  She had to make some decisions before she moved on again. Rushing into a decision wasn't a wise idea and she'd need money in order to travel. Not something she could lay her hands on quickly. Not just for traveling, but paying for a roof over her head at the end of the trip. The Americas wouldn't be cheap to travel to either. God, where would she go? What would she do?

  Her life had been in turmoil since the moment that Davien had grabbed her. She'd tried to cope. Find ways to adapt to life as it had thrown her from one set of pain to the next. Now she had a chance to sit and think, to figure out what she wanted in life, where sh
e wanted to go or who she wanted to be with.

  Celeste settled down on a padded window seat and peered out of the window. Storm clouds raced across the sky, the wind howled and lashed at the waves threatening to bring down the wrath of the elements onto the island. How would they react to the storm here? Would they hold up and hope it passed? Or shiver and whimper each time the thunder clouds cracked?

  She leaned against the glass and closed her eyes.

  Peace. The island should have been a place of peace for her. An escape from what she had been through with others. Instead she'd walked out of one set of problems straight into another. All this because of how she looked, what men and women wanted from her. Damnit, just once she wanted to be around people who wanted her for who she was, not what she could do for them.

  That wasn't to be.

  She knew that now.

  Ice. She had to build the ice around her heart, mind and soul. She'd been able to, if only for a short time, around Tearlach. She could do it here. Become a creature of ice. One protected by a wall that no one could break through. She had the strength. The ability. The focus. All she had to do was invoke it, use it and she would be protected from them.

  They couldn't harm what they couldn't touch.

  Her eyes drifted closed. The sound of the others in the large throne room faded into the background. They weren't there. She was alone. Safe from harm.

  Ice grew within her. It built walls around her. Surrounded her. Protecting her from all who wanted her for themselves. No one could enter the walls unless she allowed them. Her emotions were hidden. Protected along with her heart. No man, woman, or child could touch her now.

  She let out a long breath in a soft sigh, tension she'd barely been aware of fled from her muscles before she opened her eyes again.

  She could hear Jamezen talking, wondering if she and another woman would join him for a night of sex and it didn't phase her. Steven and Darcy's voice reached her, an argument over why he was so interested in her instead of Darcy and she didn't care. A guard wondered if she would dominate him for an evening and she didn't even blink.