"But you know next to nothing about me ... and you do not ask to know."
"Nor do you ask what I was doing in the middle of the Channel at midnight."
"Ah, but that I knew already, sea gull. You were running smuggled Cargo. Along with the other gentlemen of Romney Marsh."
Tess's breath caught in harsh surprise. "But how —"
"I have watched you for a very long time, bihan," the Liberte's captain said brusquely. "I have even traded with some among your secret band upon occasion. There are those among your fellows who would know my voice, if not my face. It is a lucrative business, this smuggling of tea and silks; it brought me that very fetching wisp of nothing you are wearing right now. Ah, how well its suits you, ma sauvage. Its emerald fire lights your creamy skin. Par Dieu, you are a grave temptation like this — but no, we must talk, I fear. Even now your face is dark with unasked questions."
Tess shivered, the rough velvet of his voice caressing her like a lover's kiss. How easily he broached her defenses! Even now, when she was determined to resist him.
Andre muttered something beneath his breath, then shifted on the bed. "Yes, but this trade is not nearly so rich as the one in gold guineas. There is danger in such shipments, of course, and certain hanging if one is caught. But that only makes the running of gold — and certain human cargo — more lucrative, for few will dare to take such risks. It is a trade I mean to learn more of."
"Gold shipments?" Tess's shoulders grew tense. "I know nothing of such cargo. You must be thinking of another coast — Deal, perhaps. The Fox would never —" Too late, Tess realized her slip.
She caught her breath, checking herself sharply.
"And this Romney Fox, too, interests me much," Andre said softly.
Too softly? Tess wondered.
"You are close with him?"
"As close as any," she said tightly. "More than some."
"You guard your secrets, I see. Even from me, bihan?"
"You are a stranger, Captain. By your own admission, you might well be the very slime of the Paris streets. Or one of Napoleon's cleverest agents," she added flatly, coldness seeping into her voice — just as it did into her heart.
What did this Frenchman know of gold shipments from the Romney coast? Could it be true then?
Was her Fox indeed a traitor?
"Sometimes I say a great deal too much," the man beside her muttered grimly, reaching out for her cold fingers.
Very carefully, Tess pulled away. "Who told you of such things?" she demanded, desperate to know the truth, desperate to have an end to these cruel uncertainties.
Andre made no move to touch her again. "Not one, but many, bihan. The trade is common knowledge on this side of the Channel. Would you hold my involvement against me?" he countered.
Unbidden came the memory of Viscount Ravenhurst's bitter words about those who smuggled gold in a time when the French currency was in collapse; by so doing, they prolonged this bitter war.
In her heart, Tess knew that a great deal of what he had said was true. Every guinea traded meant more blood spilled — both English and French.
The coldness grew, creeping along her spine.
And what of the man beside her? He was a smuggler, that much Tess knew for certain. But what else was he? A spy? A murderer, even?
Could she bear to know his dark secrets?
Tess's throat tightened, and she found she had to swallow before she could speak. "If — if I found out that you were involved in trading gold and the secrets of war, I would do everything in my power to stop you," she said flatly. "The trade in brandy and silks is different. It has been the lifeblood of these coasts for centuries, long before Napoleon and Wellington locked horns. But this sale of military secrets and speculation on gold guineas is a thing repellent, for like a sickness it feeds on the flesh of one's fellow creatures." Tess's fingers meshed, then locked rigid in her lap. "If you have done such things, I don't want to know about them. What you did before I met you is not my concern." Her voice wavered for a moment and then hardened. "But if you do such things ever again, Captain, I will most certainly find out. And then, believe me, you will live to rue the day you dragged me from the sea."
A taut silence gripped the room. Her heart pounding, Tess waited for Andre's answer, praying it would be a flat denial.
All the while she wondered whether she could believe such a denial, even if it came.
She heard his swift indrawing of breath.
A moment later his fingers snared a long strand of auburn hair and forced her close, so close that she felt his hot breath upon her cheek. "You dare to threaten me, Anglaise?" His voice was deceptively soft, silk upon steel.
"I do — in this matter. Perhaps in others as well," she added defiantly.
"I could break you in a second, woman. On this vessel, I am lord and master. All must obey me — even you!"
"I must obey my own conscience first."
"Even if it counters my command?" the Frenchman thundered, so fiercely that Tess felt the rumble of his words.
Still she did not waver. "Of a certainty."
"Then, bihan, you are either a fool or a very brave woman." His voice dropped to a hoarse growl. "Which is it?"
"If you had wanted a tame fish, then you should not have gone angling in wild waters, Captain."
"You mock me, woman?" Andre roared. "Diaoul, but you dare a great deal!" With a curse he buried his hands deep in her hair and dragged her down against his naked chest. "But a tame fish is not what I wanted, gwellan-karet — in that you are most certainly correct."
His fingers tightened, forcing her head back. Tess's heart raced as she felt the molten fury of his gaze full upon her face.
Suddenly the Frenchman threw back his head and laughed, loud rumbling peals that rocked the whole bed and her along with it. "Yes, by all the saints, you are half mer-creature yourself, bihan, just as I am. You must be — for you do what no woman has ever dared before."
Roughly Andre crushed her head onto his hair-matted chest, and suddenly Tess heard a different rumbling — not from laughter but the wild drumming of his heart.
Or was it hers?
"You hear it, Anglaise? That chamade, that thunder is of your making. And this, too, is of your making." He shifted abruptly, the unyielding line of his manhood burning into her hip. His voice dropped, rough and smoky with desire. "Right now your eyes glow, hazy green slipping into gray as passion builds within you. The sight stabs me like a blade, woman." Andre's voice dropped, harsh with his own desire. "Yes, you are right to dare much, for I would risk all for you, I think. Perhaps I already have," he added grimly.
"What —"
"Now I will ask the questions, starting with this man who stays at your inn."
Unconsciously Tess stiffened. A faint tremor went through her. But Andre's hands were harsh and inexorable as he locked her against his hard length, alert to every quiver that shook her.
"Yes, I know of this lord," he continued harshly. "This fool from Londres who watches you when you are not looking. Him, too, I have had many occasions to observe. He has fire in his eyes, but ice in his heart, I think. At sea we might almost be well matched, but on land —" His voice dropped, dark and urgent. "Tell me, me kalon," he demanded, drawing her full atop his rigid thighs and cupping her bottom with his hard fingers. "On land, who is the victor?" he grated, driving her against his hot, straining arousal. "On land, who will have your heart? I must know — this man, Ravenhurst or myself?"
In vain, Tess struggled away from his ruthless grip, already feeling his desire kindle an answering heat within her. "What if my heart is not for the asking?" she countered bleakly, awash in cruel memories at the mere mention of Ravenhurst's name.
"Then in that case I shall have to seize it, like the corsair that I am," the Frenchman growled. Groaning, he forced his angry sex against her soft thighs. "Yes, I'll slip into your deepest soul, sea gull. I'll claim you just as you have claimed me — fiercely and forever. I would tear the h
eart from your very breast to make it mine!"
He spoke with a fierce violence that made Tess shiver, for in that taut voice she heard the fury of a man who might well do all he threatened.
"What — what if I have no heart left to take?" she whispered, feeling the reckless hunger begin where his hardness seared her. Where his hands tensed and shook against her silk-clad bottom.
"Then I'll take whatever you have, sea gull. Body, mind, spirit — I'll have them all! If I have the three, perhaps I will not miss the other."
"You — you cannot know what you're saying!"
"I only wish I did not — I only wish I had any choice left. But I have none, nor have had since I first laid eyes upon you. And now — enough of this empty talking!"
The next instant, Andre's fingers drove into the yielding curve of her bottom, forcing her to receive his hard length thigh to thigh, chest to chest, their breath mingling as every rigid male inch of him was stamped upon her softness.
Even as she tried to fight, Tess felt white-hot embers explode with heat wherever their fevered nerves met, wherever trembling skin brushed hungry, straining muscle. When he groaned a moment later, dark and long, the sound was Tess's undoing.
"You cannot —" A wild whimper escaped her lips. "Dear God, Andre, I must not —"
"You can, bihan, and you will!" he growled. Even as he spoke, his mouth trapped her open lips, hard and punishing, stifling her breathless protests. His hand dug deep into her hair, anchoring her head as his tongue plundered the sleek silk of her mouth.
Like a lightning bolt, that touch exploded through Tess, rocking her to her very toes. Once more she whimpered, hot with a need of her own.
Andre caught the sound with his lips, then answered with a dark groan of his own. Slanting his head, he nipped her full lower lip, then stroked it smooth with his wet tongue. Passion flared between them like a shimmering veil of summer heat until Tess felt her body grow heavy and molten, love-slick, flowing to meet him.
"Ah, but it will be good between us, Anglaise," Andre growled. "Good to feel you pant and part for me. Good to feel you gasp when you slip over the edge." His tongue entered her fiercely, offering her the first taste of what it would be like when he brought his straining manhood inside her.
Dimly Tess heard herself moan deep in her throat, yielding to those velvet thrusts, just as she knew she would yield to the driving power of his body. His dark words only fueled her desire and left her weak with wanting — more, much more.
And the Frenchman knew it well.
His rough fingers shoved at the flimsy garment shielding her from his gaze. Savagely he ripped the costly silk, shredding it to nothing. Tess's unbound breasts spilled full into his hungry fingers, her nipples aching for his fierce caress.
"Yes, me kalon, flower for me," Andre muttered hoarsely. "Give me your passion."
Tess moaned, buffeted by a dark storm that raged wherever his fingers coaxed and plundered.
Ruthless and so very expert, Tess thought dimly. How many times before had he done this?
"No — no more," she gasped, aflame with this torment past imagining. Shocked at the mindless creature she became in his arms.
"Much more, my heart. Let me show you that it gets far, far better."
Better? Tess thought wildly. If the feelings grew any better, she was certain she must die of them!
She must have spoken aloud, for Andre's chest rumbled with dark laughter. "Oh yes, bihan, it does get better, truly. Take my word for it." His voice dropped. "No, do not accept my word — let me prove it to you instead."
Suddenly an odd memory flickered through the maelstrom of Tess's thoughts. Something about the fierce triumph in Andre's voice, something that triggered other images — jagged and dark with pain.
Dane.
The fragments took shape, becoming sound.
Instantly the Frenchman went rigid. "You can whisper his name?" he breathed. "Has this Englishman your heart, then?"
Tess gasped, still awash in the sensory maelstrom he had unleashed, as shocked to hear that name as Andre had been. But what did this man know of Ravenhurst or the things that had passed between them? Had he seen all that, too, watching from the darkness?
"How —"
The next moment she found herself tossed onto her back, crushed beneath him on the bed.
"So, you think of him even now, do you?" Andre's voice was raw. His fingers froze, rigid above her flushed, sensitized nipples, denying Tess that which she had only come to realize she wanted so desperately. "Admit it! Admit that even now you want him, even as you lie here in my bed, with my hands upon you. Admit you thought of him while you moaned beneath my touch."
"L-let me go," Tess whispered brokenly, feeling she had stepped into nightmare. "I did not ask for you to touch me, damn you. Nor for you to interfere in my life! I want nothing of this, do you hear? Not you — not any man!"
"Too late," the Frenchman said grimly. "Everything about you is my business now, Anglaise; since you interest yourself in this man, so must I. What if I should meet him on the marsh, karet? Yes, on a dark and moonless night, with no witnesses about? With him gone, I would have no rival for your heart."
"You — you could not!"
"That I could is beyond doubting. Whether I would — ah, but that is a different thing entirely. Would the man's death give you so much pain?"
"The question is not yours to ask!" She was finished with this cruel interrogation by a stranger, aching with the torment of all that might have been between them. "I'll tell you no more! By your strength you might succeed in possessing my body, but there are some things you cannot touch, no matter how hard you press me! No, never!"
"We shall see, Anglaise," the captain whispered darkly. "We shall see very soon. But know this. When I take you, it will not be with another man's name upon your lips."
With a wild cry Tess struck out, catching the base of his neck and taking advantage of his momentary shock to break free. She stumbled from the bed, knocking over the side table, then sprang forward blindly, the shreds of her peignoir swirling about her ankles.
Desperately her fingers slid over the wall, meeting nothing but rough timber. Perdition! The latch had to be very close!
From behind her came the sound of ragged breathing, then the creak of the bed. Dear God, he was coming! Where was the damned latch?
"Don't fight me, karet," Andre rasped. "Save your energy for a better sort of contest."
"To hell with you and your contests! Stay away from me!" Tess's heart raced, hammering in her chest so loudly that she could barely hear him.
"Never." His voice came from her back, hot and drugging as rum. "Let me love you, sea gull. Let me drive his memory from you forever."
Behind her, Tess heard the rustle and slide of cloth and knew he was shedding his last garment, releasing the hard blade of his manhood.
Dear God, why did she tremble so? Why did part of her yearn to surrender to him? "Don't, Andre!" she whispered.
"Why not?" he growled. "Is it the Englishman who holds you? Does he stir your blood still?"
Once again this man had seen more than she had, penetrating the walls she had been so careful to build around her heart.
Was he right? Tess wondered wildly. Did memories of Dane still hold her captive?
"I'll release you from these shadows, bihan. Let me give you a pleasure beyond describing. Let me love you. Now."
White-faced, Tess searched the wall, wild tremors sweeping through her. Her knees felt like thick porridge, threatening to buckle at any moment. Haunted and smoky, her eyes strained to pierce the darkness around her.
Somehow she knew it was true, that this man would give her exquisite pleasure, that their joining would be fierce with magic, just as he had promised. Her blood surging thickly through her veins, Tess cursed the fate that demanded she refuse him.
But refuse him she must. For such perfect pleasure would make her infinitely vulnerable, and that was something Tess had vowed never to b
e again.
All these thoughts flashed over her in the span of a ragged heartbeat, and her answer came just as quickly.
"I cannot, Andre — don't ask me for what I cannot give!"
His bare feet whispered against the floor. "I'll have you, bihan," he growled. "And when I'm done, you'll think of no one but me!"
"No, Andre," Tess whispered, terrified by the cold cruelty in his voice. "Not that way."
"That way," he rasped. "Any way. With whatever it takes." He moved closer. Tess could feel the faint, shimmering heat of his body. "Over and over, until you stop this charade and admit your need for me."
"I — I cannot. You don't understand!"
"I understand all that I need to — and I'm done with waiting." He was nearly close enough to touch now.
To touch and be touched, Tess thought wildly, and knew in that instant she wanted all of that. Was she a fool to deny what would give them both such pleasure? "You're — you're not the first!" she cried wildly, desperate to stop him, knowing her own control was close to shattering.
He answered with a smothered curse. "But I'll be the last, by God!"
The Frenchman seized her wrists, forcing them back against the wall while he slanted his hard body against hers, drinking in her sweet woman's scent, mingled now with the tang of the sea. His breath ragged, he lowered his head to the pulse that hammered at her ear, tonguing the sensitive inches fiercely. "You can't see me, but you can feel me, can't you? My wet tongue. My rough hands. My heat against your belly. Dieu, how I want you, bihan. And how I'm going to enjoy making you want me."
"Don't do this, Andre. Don't make me feel — so much. It — it will destroy me!"
"If you do not feel, it will destroy me, Anglaise. I want — need to feel everything about you, all that before I could only imagine." His fingers drew ruthless waves of fire against Tess's wrists. His sleek tongue began to burn a blazing path down her chest toward the dusky buds that strained forward, hungry for his touch. "To feel you here, where your skin trembles beneath my lips. And here, where your heart thunders, just as mine does." With a low groan, he claimed those pouting crests, loosing a firestorm of sensation that seared everything in its path.
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