The men nearby began to grumble, their eyes hostile.
“Don’t be absurd.” Sara swept her matted hair back with a weary hand. “Ann couldn’t do such a thing.”
Undeterred, Barnaby fixed his gaze on Sara. “All the same, one of your blasted convict women did it. We’ve never had a fire on this island before. One of your women set fire to our kitchen, and you probably put them up to it.”
“Shut up, Barnaby!” Gideon growled. “It doesn’t matter who started it. We’ve got more important things to worry about—”
“Cap’n?” interrupted a small voice from among the men. The crowd parted to let a young boy pass through: Gideon’s cabin boy. His face was pale and streaked with tears. “It’s my fault, sir. Mr. Kent called me outside to help with gathering wood, and I f-forgot to put the fire in the stove out. I was cooking b-bacon in the pan, y’see, and I thought I put it aside—”
“It doesn’t matter, lad,” Gideon said gently, ruffling the boy’s hair. “But you were brave to come forward.” He looked sternly at Barnaby and the other men. “And no purpose will be served by throwing accusations about. We’ll be better off spending our time emptying the huts of anything valuable and saving the Satyr.”
The men went pale. Clearly none of them had thought about the ship, but now they cast it worried glances. Sara did, too. Even she knew that canvas sails burned all too easily.
“Go tell the men to clear out the rest of the huts, Silas,” Gideon ordered, “then get them aboard ship.” He turned to Sara. “Gather the women and make sure they all get aboard. And find Ann.”
“She’s already aboard. I sent her to the ship with the children when this started.”
“Thank God. I didn’t even think about the children.” He raked his fingers wearily through his hair. “It’s time the rest of us joined them. We don’t know how long or far it will rage before it plays itself out.”
“But Gideon, we can’t just let it burn!”
“Do as I say, Sara!” he snapped. When he saw her recoil, he added more softly, “Sometimes you have to recognize when you’ve lost. It seems Mother Nature has taken the matter out of our hands. Now all that’s left is to pray she doesn’t take the entire island away from us.”
Chapter 18
“I’ll sit beside you your grief to lighten
And put my arm round your waist, asthore,”
And in a while she began to brighten
With hugs, and kisses, and the divil knows more.
—JAMES N. HEALY
“MY SUNDAY MORNING MAIDEN”
It was several hours later when Sara finally ventured out on the deck of the Satyr. She and the others had fallen into their beds exhausted just before midnight, when Gideon had told them there was no point in staying up any longer. The fire had mostly died out by then, but no one had possessed the strength to see it through to the bitter end.
Bracing herself, she looked toward the beach that lay a few hundred yards away, then let out a horrified gasp. Though nothing had changed since her last view of the island, it seemed even more shocking after a few hours sleep.
Every building had been destroyed—every single building, down to the wood floors. The impassive moon shone down on what remained—wide black squares on the sandy ground, like so many patches on a creamy quilt. Smoke drifted up from those to poison the clear night air and lend an unreal cast to the entire scene.
At least Gideon had been right about the forest not catching fire, she thought. Though some of the dried palm fronds had burned, the fire hadn’t been strong enough to devour the green wood and damp, rich vegetation. The wind had been in their favor as well, for it had swept the fire toward the stream, which had acted to protect the forest beyond it, although some of the trees on this side of the stream had caught fire.
She moved further out on deck to get a better look, and that’s when she saw Gideon. He stood with his back to her, his hands clenching the railing as he stared at the beach a few hundred yards away. He’d obviously not bothered to put on more clothing after the ocean baths they’d all taken earlier in an attempt to get off some of the soot and ashes. He still wore only the trousers and belt he’d worn then. No shirt, no vest, no boots.
He’d never looked wilder. Or more alone. A sudden pang tore at her heart. This was his island, his paradise, his dream. A moment’s carelessness had reduced it all to ashes in the space of a few hours, and he had no one to turn to, no one to lean on. His men had been asleep for hours, as had the women. In any case he’d never lean on any of them.
There was only her, and though she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her concern, she couldn’t bear to abandon him, too. She came up behind him, laying her hand on his bare back. “Gideon?”
His muscles went rigid beneath her hand. “Go away, Sara.”
Startled by the fierceness in his voice, she began to do as he’d asked. Then she thought better of it. He didn’t need to be alone right now, no matter what he said. Sliding her hand in the crook of his bent elbow, she stepped up next to him. “I can’t. I just…feel like I ought to do something.”
“There’s nothing for you to do. Go back to bed and leave me alone.”
Looking up at his profile, she saw that it too was stiff and cold, aloof. But there was nothing aloof about his eyes. Naked pain shone there, a pain as deep as the vastness of the ocean that rocked the ship to and fro. She couldn’t bear to leave him when he was hurting like this.
“Atlantis means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?” she whispered.
“Sara—” he began in a warning tone.
“But it doesn’t have to be the end, you know.”
A choked cry escaped his lips as he whirled to face her, wrenching his arm out of her hand. “It is the end! Confound it, woman, don’t you have eyes? It’s gone, all of it!” One sweeping arc of his hand took in the entire shore beyond them. “There’s nothing left, not so much as a plank!”
“But we can rebuild, can’t we? Make new, better homes?”
“Rebuild?” He scoffed at her, planting his hands on his low-slung hips. “Do you know how long it took us to build those crude dwellings, to saw down the trees and fashion planks and find enough thatch for the roofs? Months!”
“This time it wouldn’t take so long. You’d have help. We could help you.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Ah, yes, you would help us. You, who hate us. Right before the fire started, you threatened to abdicate all responsibility for the colony if you didn’t get your way. As it turns out, your threats didn’t matter. We were brought down anyway. You’re probably all chuckling in your beds to see it.”
The words hit her with the force of a slap. He certainly had good reason to think them, but still…“That’s not true. You know we did what we could to help put out the fire.”
“Perhaps.” When she cast him an outraged look, he grudgingly amended, “All right, yes. You and the women did help. But that doesn’t mean you’d help us rebuild. Why should you? You’ve nothing to gain from it but criminals for husbands.”
She winced at his sarcastic echo of her earlier words. She wasn’t ashamed of what she’d said, not at all. But she didn’t like hearing it repeated under these circumstances, when he and the men had just lost everything.
“Things have changed,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want…we wouldn’t want to see you without homes. I’m sure we could put our differences aside long enough to…to help you set the island to rights.”
He leaned back against the railing, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. “Really? How very generous of you.”
Her temper flared, but she caught herself before she could retort. That was what he wanted, to drive her away so he could sink into desperation. But that was not what he needed.
“Yes, really. I want to help, Gideon. I want to help you restore Atlantis.” Summoning up her courage, she added, “That is, if you’re willing to fight for it instead of letting it die.”
His eyes blazed. “You are the
most sanctimonious, annoying female I’ve ever met!” Shoving away from the railing, he caught her shoulders, gripping them almost painfully. “Don’t you ever give up?”
“No.” Despite the fury she’d purposely roused in him, she kept her gaze steady. “It’s that reformer blood in me, I’m afraid. I have to keep going until I reform everything.” She added, almost defiantly, “And everybody.”
He cast her a cold look. “You’d best not try it with me. I don’t take well to reforming.”
Suddenly his anger seemed to shift, transforming into something else, something dark and frightening and most certainly wicked. He flexed his hands on her shoulders, then edged them further in until his hands clasped her neck, his thumbs resting on each of the veins where her pulse beat madly. He lowered his voice to a rumble as he added, “Perhaps it’s time I made you realize that.”
He cradled the back of her head with one hand, and panic rose in her throat as she lifted her hands to press against his chest. “What are you doing?”
“You keep trying to reform me.” His eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Well, there’s only one way to fight that. By corrupting you.”
There was no mistaking his meaning. He brought his other hand down to clasp her waist and tugged her closer. Alarm, and just a tiny thrill of anticipation, sprang full-blown in her chest. “Wh-what makes you think I can be corrupted?”
He drew her head close until his lips were an inch away from hers, his breath fanning across her trembling mouth. “Everybody can be corrupted, Sara. Even you.”
Then his mouth was on hers, hard, purposeful…and yes, corrupt. His whiskers scraped her skin as he took her mouth wholly, thoroughly, the way a man bent on corruption ought to. She tried to gather her scattered wits, to marshal them to fight him, but it was hopeless. His mouth seduced hers to open, then his tongue swept inside with slow strokes that blanked out every thought in her head.
It was a wicked kiss, the kind calculated to make her respond wickedly. And she did. She slid her arms about his neck and returned his kiss with shameful eagerness, barely conscious of straining against his half-naked body as she rushed madly toward her own damnation.
Soon his hands were roaming her body, skimming lightly over her thinly clad ribs until they came to rest just beneath her breasts. His tongue drove inside her mouth over and over, playing with her tongue as he brought his thumbs up to caress her nipples through her dimity gown.
With a groan she tightened her arms about his neck. At once, his kiss shifted, growing fierce and needy. He dropped his hand to cup her derriere and urge her body nearer.
A noise came from one of the hatches, and they sprang apart, panting like two race horses in the final stretch. She glanced around, the color rising immediately in her cheeks. Thankfully, there was no one there.
When she looked at him, he was staring at her as a wolf stares at a rabbit. “Come to my cabin, Sara. Now. Stay with me the rest of the night.”
She stared at him, at first uncomprehending, her mind so befuddled by his kisses that she scarcely knew where she was. As his words sank in, however, she opened her mouth to protest. Then she saw the look on his face. It betrayed a need beyond mere lust. It belied all his insistence that he was immune to reforming. He wanted her, yes, but he needed her, too, though he didn’t know it yet.
At her hesitation, he went still, his lips tightening into a thin line. “No, I don’t suppose the proper Lady Sara would do that.”
There was so much wounded pride, so much anger in his voice that when he released her and started to turn away, she blurted out, “You’re wrong.”
He faced her once more, his eyes searching her face.
Under his scrutiny, she thought better of her words. “I-I mean—”
“I won’t let you take the words back. Not tonight.”
After that, he gave her no chance to protest or complain or even answer. He swept her up in his arms, the moonlight catching the hard, intent slant to his mouth, the hungry look in his eyes. While she was still gaping at him, her heart beating wildly in her chest, he carried her across the deck and through the doorway beneath the quarterdeck.
Seconds later, when she saw the half-open door to his cabin loom up before them, she blushed furiously. Good heavens, what was she doing? Had she completely lost her wits? She was letting a pirate carry her to his bed!
Oh, yes, a pirate…who kissed like a god, who made her feel things she’d never felt in her life. She wasn’t mad; she was just tired of fighting, tired of craving his hands on her and having to resist her desires.
He kicked the door open and carried her inside, then kicked the door shut behind them. The latch fell into place with an ominous clunk. Shyly she glanced around the cabin she’d entered only twice before. The flame burning in the lamp by his bed flickered briefly, then glowed strong, swinging back and forth with the ship’s motion to sweep golden light across the scarlet coverlet and inky pillows…the same scarlet coverlet that hundreds of women had probably graced.
Her heart pounded faster. She shouldn’t be here, not with him. She couldn’t be one of those women.
Or could she? She glanced up at his face, searching for some indication that this meant more to him than yet another conquest. But once his eyes locked with hers, even that possibility ceased to matter. She was lost in his need, a need that mirrored her own.
Keeping his heated gaze on her, he lowered her to stand before him, so close to his bed that she grazed it with her knee when she steadied her balance on the shifting floor. “Turn around,” he said thickly.
She didn’t know why, but she obeyed his command. When his hands unfastened her bodice, a shudder swept her…a shudder of anticipation. He undressed her like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Her white, virginal gown dropped to the floor, leaving her in her cambric shift.
It was only when he drew her shift off her shoulders and down to bare her breasts that she knew a moment’s panic. Though he’d bared her breasts before, he’d never done it quite so blatantly. And certainly never in such compromising surroundings. It made their union seem somehow inevitable.
When he began to slide her shift past her hips, she caught his wrists with both her hands. “Gideon, please…I mean, I’ve never…that is, I’m…I’m—”
“—A virgin.” He turned her around to face him, his expression so earnest that her heart began to trip faster. “Don’t you think I know that? No woman has ever fought so hard to preserve her virtue. But there’s no need to fight now.”
He skimmed a hand up her body to mold her naked breast, teasing the nipple until she sighed. “You’re as ready for this as I am, sweetheart. And if you don’t believe me now, you’ll believe me shortly. I promise you’ll never regret the loss of your virtue.”
Though she suspected he was right, she colored a deep scarlet when he slid her shift the rest of the way off, leaving her as naked as the day she was born.
Drawing slightly back from her, he cast her a long, seductive look, lingering on her breasts, her belly…the thatch of hair between her legs. She couldn’t believe she was suffering his gaze, even welcoming it. But then, if anybody had told her a month ago she’d be standing next to a pirate captain’s bed, craving his touch like a dockside tart, she’d have mocked them.
A woman of character would hide herself—but she was sorely tired of being a woman of character. No man had ever looked at her like this before, and though it embarrassed her thoroughly, she took a certain feminine pride in his admiring gaze.
Under that look, her breathing grew as labored as his. That is, until he stroked one finger from the underside of her breast down her belly to her thighs. Then she stopped breathing completely.
“You have a body made for corrupting,” he said in a harsh whisper. “And I intend to corrupt it thoroughly tonight.”
A tiny thrill went through her at his words, a thrill that only sharpened when he sat down on the bed, then caught her about the waist, drawing her close to stand between his legs
. His mouth fastened on one of her breasts, sucking hard on the nipple until she gasped. Oh, why did he have to make it so exquisite? Why couldn’t he be clumsy or awkward or even cruel? Then she could fight him.
But he was the perfect master of seduction. While his mouth caressed one breast, his fingers kneaded the other until the tip was a tight knot, aching for his touch, for his hot mouth and clever fingers. She clutched his head closer, and he groaned.
“You taste so good,” he murmured against her breast. “And I’ve wanted you for so long…so damned long…”
Then he was drawing hard on her breast again, distracting her as his hands stroked her rib cage, her waist, her thighs. He caught her unawares when he slid his legs between hers, then tugged her forward until she straddled his lap, her knees bent and resting on the bed on either side of his hips. The move opened her blatantly to him, so blatantly she hid her crimson face against his shoulder.
But he wouldn’t let her hide from him. Tipping her chin up, he stared at her face, a devilish smile playing over his lips. “Remember what I did to you in the forest? Would you like me to do that again?”
She could only stare at him in mute embarrassment, unable to utter even a word. He dropped his hand to her thigh, then glided it up the soft inner skin. A shiver of desire whispered over her, and to her mortification, her lower body undulated toward him just a fraction. With a knowing look, he inched his hand up until it brushed her dewy curls. But he stopped there.
His eyes locked with hers, gleaming with purpose. “I want to hear you say it, Sara. Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me inside you.”
Her cheeks flamed even more. Oh, he was too cruel. He was paying her back for all the things she’d said to him, all the times she’d refused him.
“I know you do,” he said with the most infuriating confidence. “But I want you to say it. I won’t have you telling the women tomorrow that I ravished you against your will.” His thumb parted her damp hair to rub against the tiny nub there, making her jerk and press herself shamefully against him. But his thumb danced away after that brief caress.
The Pirate Lord Page 23
