Lords of the Kingdom

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Titus walked her to the rails and she looked Sweeney right in his angry eyes when she said, “I’ll be up shortly. The captain and I have some business to deal with.”

  Business. Everyone knew what that meant.

  “Captain…” Sweeney drawled. “I must insist that a guard accompany ye.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Antónia said, narrowing her eyes. There was no way in the vast blue sea she was going to allow one of her men to stand outside the door while Titus bedded her. “I assure ye all is well. Captain Graves has sworn to return me in one piece as soon as business is concluded.”

  “One piece,” Sweeney drawled. “What about—”

  But she cut him off before he could alert the whole of The Lionheart as to what the entire deal was. That was up to Titus. “All is as it should be.”

  “Best keep your sails low and prepare your men to settle in,” Titus said. “Storms brewing and we’ll likely not be done for a few hours.”

  Then he whirled around and started back towards the stairs, stopping abruptly, to turn to his men. “As you were! Grenville, you’ve got first watch.”

  Silence followed them down the stairs and into the cabin. Titus placed her back on her feet and shut the door behind him.

  “That went better than expected,” he said.

  “What did ye expect? Mutiny?”

  “Aye.”

  “From your crew or mine?”

  “’Haps both? Grenville certainly looks like he may shite himself. Pardon my language.”

  “I’m a pirate, Graves, ye need not curb your tongue of vulgar words.” She unbuttoned the coat and tossed it over a chair. “Now, about our business. ’Twould be best if ye undressed, too.”

  Titus grinned. “I insist you stop calling me Graves. My name is Titus, and if we’re to be intimate, than I want to hear my name on that luscious tongue of yours.”

  “Titus,” she drawled, winking and walking toward his bed.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To your bed?” She glanced over her shoulder, raised a brow, pausing in her steps.

  He shook his head. “Oh, no love, it’s a business transaction. I want you on my desk where such things occur.”

  Antónia flushed from head to toe. Brazen, he was. It was not lost on her how utterly perfect a lover he was for her. “I wholeheartedly agree, Gra—Titus.”

  As she walked toward his desk, he shed his clothes until he, too, stood naked before her, all sinew and sensuality. His shoulders were as broad as she’d imagined. A sprinkle of dark hair dusted his muscular chest, coursing a path over a flat stomach straight down to his groin. And that… well, she’d not been with a man so endowed. Her insides twitched, and she hurried her pace toward the desk, eager to offer him her part of the bargain.

  On her finger, the ring sparkled, and it felt hot around her flesh.

  But before she could think more on that, Titus reached for her, lifting her up and setting her bottom down on the edge of his desk. He spread her thighs with his hips, one hand snaking around her waist to haul her up close and the other threading through her hair and tugging her head back so he could devour her mouth with his.

  Titus left no inch of skin unexplored. No part of her untouched. Unkissed.

  She melted into his embrace. Followed in his footsteps and kissed her way from his head to down to his knees. When they were both trembling uncontrollably with need, only then did he finally thrust inside her.

  Antónia cried out, clutching to his shoulders, her legs clutched around his strong body. He surged inside her, over and over, never allowing her to catch her breath. Pleasure sparked bone-deep along every inch of her body. No lover compared.

  And then, when she thought his lovemaking could get no better, she was falling apart, her body seizing and then bursting in waves of pleasure. “Oh, Titus!” she cried out, curling herself around him and riding the seas.

  He was relentless, thrusting harder and faster as she climaxed, allowing no time for recovery, compelling her body into another crescendo of pure bliss.

  “My God, love…” he growled, thrusting hard, deep for a final time, and shuddering from head to toe.

  They remained motionless, Antónia wrapped around him, Titus still deep inside her.

  And then he languidly withdrew, his forehead pressed to hers, his shallow, shuddering breaths mingling with her own. Her heart still pounded fiercely against her ribs. Could he hear it?

  Titus cleared his throat, then walked to a wooden chest and lifted the lid. He pulled out a basin, pitcher and a cloth. Without looking at her, he poured water into the basin, dipped the cloth and wrung it out, and then he brought it to her.

  “To wash,” he said, sliding the cloth along her inner thigh.

  Antónia shivered, placed her hand on top of his, taking the cloth. Though they’d just shared their bodies in the single most passionate and delicious episode of her life, him washing her felt entirely too intimate. And yet… she liked it.

  But no matter how much she liked it, she shouldn’t. That was what always got her into trouble before. Sharing too much of herself too soon. Falling hard, fast and not having enough air to breathe when her heart was crushed. So, she took the cloth and washed herself, hopping down from the desk to ring it out in the water and rinse once more.

  “A drink?” he asked.

  She nodded, wondering if he’d pull the bottle of liquor she’d found in his desk or pour her something more civilized like a glass of claret. This was no civilized union and she much preferred the whisky.

  “Whisky?” he asked.

  Antónia smiled. “And here I thought ye might be of the stiff English sort.”

  Titus chuckled. “I am English and plenty stiff when I need to be.” He winked and she let out a shivery giggle. “But I do enjoy a good whisky. In fact, this one is Irish.”

  “Is it really?”

  “Aye. From a distillery in the north. I confiscated it. Seems ironic I’d share it with you now.”

  Antónia walked confidently forward. “I shall consider it property returned.”

  Titus chuckled and pulled the bottle from his drawer. Both of them still fully nude, he poured them each a dram in small wooden cups. She watched the way his muscles rippled beneath his golden skin with his movements, keeping her fingers tightly to herself instead of reaching forward to touch. Antónia had always pictured the snobbish English captains as soft-bellied and pale. But Titus Graves… He was an enigma. A delicious paradox. And a damned fine lover.

  “To our arrangement,” Titus said.

  “To a captain who thoroughly reviews his manifesto.” Now it was Antónia’s turn to wink.

  They both drank, in one full swig.

  “Another?” he asked.

  “How else does one drink whiskey? Surely never only one.”

  “You’re an intriguing woman, Antónia.”

  “Ye’re not as boring as I would have predicated,” she retorted, swallowing the next round, and reveling at the burn as the liquor made its way down her throat. “This is good. How much did ye take? I might have to add in a bottle of this with the ring.”

  “That would require thrice and not twice…” he drawled, his eyes roving over her figure.

  Traitorous as her body was, it tingled in all the right places. “I suppose we are allowed to make addendums…”

  “Aye, if two parties make an agreement, then those two parties are most assuredly allowed to make changes if both should agree.”

  “Indeed, Captain Graves, indeed.”

  He clinked his glass to hers and they each drank again.

  “Shall we eat first, Pirate? I’d hate for your second performance to be deterred by deprivation.”

  “Let’s be honest, Captain, ye’ve left me famished for certain, but I feel anything but deprived.”

  Chapter Seven

  What the devil was happening to him?

  Titus’ hands had the slightest of trembles. Almost the same as when
he’d first been handed his new rank as captain. Dare he say it was nerves?

  His heart pounded and he was hot one moment and chilled the next.

  ’Twas Antónia. She was the reason he felt this way.

  He glanced into his cup, for a split second wondering if it was possible that she’d drugged him. Nay, he’d been the one to pour the glasses.

  But hadn’t she made note of the bottle in his desk? She’d had plenty of time to spike it if she wanted to. Then again, she’d drunk from the cup, too.

  “Well, Graves?” she asked expectantly.

  Titus shook himself from his trance. “Aye, food, lass.” Shoving off the odd case of nerves he marched toward the door, opened it and hollered to his valet, “Ward! A meal for two!”

  Then he slammed the door shut.

  Antónia was tugging his linen shirt from the floor and pulling it over her tousled red hair, sliding it over her curves, hiding her creamy beauty.

  “My shirt is still wet,” she said, hanging the black fabric of her shirt on the back of a chair. “I hope ye don’t mind if I wear yours.”

  Saints, but she looked damn good in his shirt. “Nay, not at all.” He didn’t. In fact, he looked forward to the scent of her being on his clothes when she left.

  Ballocks! What in blazes did that mean?

  Titus yanked up his breeches from the pile of discarded garments and tugged them on, not feeling at all himself.

  “Together we are one wardrobe,” Antónia said with a laugh as she lounged on his bed. She lay on her side, arm bent, her head propped on a dainty palm.

  Titus chuckled, his chest tightening. He stared at her, his gaze having gone serious. She looked like she belonged there, like she was what had been missing in his life, and he’d not even realized it.

  Antónia’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her gaze. “I mean, besides the fact that I tried to rob ye and then seduced ye into giving me the treasure ye carry.” Her tone was jovial and he wanted to laugh, but he had heavier things on his mind.

  “Why did you want to be a pirate, Antónia? Why follow in your grandmother’s footsteps?” He pulled out a chair, turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms on the back as he studied her. Keeping distance would help him to think. Keeping her talking would help him hopefully calm the questions whirling in his normally solid mind.

  She twirled a tendril of hair around her finger, avoiding his gaze. “What lass wouldn’t? I love the sea. I love adventure. I love the thrill that comes with boarding a ship and seizing power.”

  “But there is so much danger involved.”

  She shrugged and gave him a coy look. “There is danger everywhere, Captain. Even at your precious court, where just a simple whispered word can change the lives of countless people.”

  “That is true.” The woman had a good point. Court was tiresome and full of backstabbing and vicious rumors. How many times had he wondered if a man accused had even done the deed or merely been a scapegoat?

  “Why did ye want to be a sailor?” Antónia pulled him from his thoughts with her question. “Ye’re a noble, after all. Why did ye strive to live a life aboard a ship?”

  “Much like you, I love the sea. My father was an admiral before he died. I wanted to be like him.”

  “And now?”

  He grinned and winked. “I cannot stand the ceremony of court. When I’m not at sea, I report to the queen and then attend my lands. I’ve not the drive he had.”

  “Lands? Do ye have many?”

  “My holding in Gravesend is of decent size.”

  “Have ye a family?” She bit her lip, as though she didn’t want to ask the question, and it had slipped out without her permission.

  “An older brother, a younger sister.”

  “No wife?” she asked. “A titled man with land and power, and yet no wife to give him heirs?”

  “None.” He met her gaze, unsure why he was admitting so much, but feeling comfortable and compelled. “None that has struck me as worthy. Yet.”

  “Yet. How funny. Ye think to find a woman worthy of ye at court?”

  “I dare say I won’t.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Why do you think?” His gaze slid over her form and then back up to her smiling, dancing eyes.

  Antónia let out an exaggerated smile and lay back on the bed, stretching her arms over her head. “Because ye’re already falling madly in love with a pirate, and no ordinary woman will do.”

  Titus’ heart lurched. He shoved off his chair and stalked toward the bed. Pressing a hand on either side of her, he leaned down until his nose was just an inch from hers. “Fall madly in love with a pirate?”

  “Aye,” she whispered, then bit her lip.

  “Have you a friend you want to introduce me to, then?” he teased.

  Antónia laughed and playfully swatted his chest. “Ye’ve met him already. Tall, Viking Scots, he is. A gallowglass warrior who’ll take ye to task.”

  Titus laughed, and bit her lower lip, tugging gently. Her hands came up around his waist, tugging his weight full down on top of her. He settled between her lithe thighs, the warmth of her body seeping into his.

  “If only I’d been able to bargain three days instead of three beddings,” he murmured as he trailed kisses along her neck.

  “We’d have all out war then,” she murmured back, scraping her nails softly down his naked back. “But perhaps we should both dock at Calais. Find a tavern with a room to let, plenty of whisky to drink, many a roasted chicken to eat, and another desk to plunder ourselves upon.”

  “Oh, what a wondrous foray that would be.”

  “Aye.” She licked her lips, eyes flashing emotion as she locked them on his. “I’ve never met a man like ye, Titus. And I shouldn’t be telling ye that. But ye’re… different.”

  Titus brushed hair away from her forehead. “I feel the same way.” He shook his head. “It’s maddening really.” His chest tightened with unspoken emotion. “You’re the single most enticing and fascinating creature I’ve ever come across.”

  And then, because he had to shut up before he begged her never to leave, he kissed her again, languidly. Exploring. Their first coupling had been maddening, furious and full of lust. Now he wanted to tease, to discover every part of her. What she liked. What she didn’t. What made her squirm, what made her sigh.

  A quick rap at the door alerted them Ward had brought their meal.

  Titus stared at her with longing as he climbed off the bed. “Now we dine.”

  “And then we feast,” she finished his sentence.

  “Aye.” He opened the door, quickly wiping the smile from his face when he faced Ward. “On the table there.”

  Ward nodded, placing a tray heavily laden with chicken, bread, stew and a bottle of claret.

  “Cap’n, if I might have a word,” Ward said.

  “What is it?”

  “In private?”

  “I am busy. Can it wait?” Irritation made him bristly.

  Ward had the astuteness to look worried, but still, he did not back down. “I’m afraid it cannot, Captain.”

  Titus glared at his valet. “Someone better be dying,” he growled, then nodded to Antónia. “Excuse me, madam.”

  Out in the corridor, Titus shut the door and faced his valet with arms crossed over his chest.

  “Cap’n the men are worried. This goes against all protocol.”

  Titus was a little surprised it had taken this long for someone to say something, and yet, he didn’t want them to ruin the moments he was sharing with Antónia, however much they went against all protocol. “Who is captain of this ship?”

  “You are, sir.”

  “And who must determine what to do with criminals while at sea?”

  “You, Captain.”

  “What is the problem?”

  Ward shifted his gaze, and his feet. “The… pirate lady was in your clothes. In your arms.”

  “Her clothing was wet. She swam from her
ship to ours. Would you rather I allow our prisoners to die of cold while being questioned? That seems as though their demise would be on my head, and perhaps without just cause.”

  “Sir—”

  “I’ll not listen to another word of this. If any man is against my decision, they may spend the night in the brig as a reminder of who is in charge, and just who they owe allegiance to.”

  Ward straightened to attention and nodded emphatically. “Aye, Captain.”

  “Make certain Grenville is aware of our conversation here, Ward.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Now be off with you. I have much questioning to do with this wench who’s stolen onto our ship.”

  Ward touched his hat and waited for Titus to go back into his cabin. He shut and locked the door behind him.

  Antónia no longer lay on his bed, but stood in the center of the room, her wet breeches on, and the linen wrapped tightly around her breasts. Boots on. “Is aught amiss?” she asked, pulling her wet black shirt over her head.

  “Why are you redressing?”

  “This interlude has been very entertaining, Captain Graves, but it is clear that we have both shirked our duties to our men.” She pointed his own gun at him. “Now, raise your hands over your head and walk slowly toward the door.”

  “What in bloody hell are you doing, Antónia? We had an arrangement.” Why did his chest feel like it was tearing in two?

  “Pity the fool who makes an arrangement with a pirate,” she said with a dainty shrug. “Did you not say pirates have no honor? I’m leaving this ship, with the ring, and ye’re going to let me, else I put a bullet in ye and whistle for my men to attack.” Then she winked at him, a confident grin on her lips. “I’m sure ye must have known this was coming. Today is not the first time I’ve played ye for a fool. Surely ye remember us meeting last year? I do look forward to ye chasing me over the seas. I must admit, it has been quite the pleasure.” Her gaze roved over his body and she shook her head. “Such a shame we couldn’t at least have had a few more minutes before your valet interrupted.”

  Titus stared at her incredulously. “You…” His mind flashed back to the damsel in distress upon the pirate ship. The daring rescue of the men at their execution. It was her all along. She’d played him in more ways than one. “I should have known.” Ordinarily, he would have been irate to be duped, but with her… Well, she was right, he was a fool. And damn, but he did want to chase her. To throttle her. To make love to her again. Good lord, what had she done to him?