by Shana Galen
taste his neck, to trail her tongue over the stubble on
his jaw.
“Mon coeur,” he murmured.
Her heart stuttered. Did he mean it, or was it
simply an endearment? Something said in the heat of
this moment?
It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore.
She lifted her head. “I’m going to need my hands.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mmm-hmm. I’m ordering you not to move.”
“Yes, Captain.” He was grinning, amused by her,
but when she scraped her teeth along his shoulder
and down his chest, she heard his quick inhalation
of breath. She ran her fingers over the muscles of his
chest. She was reminded he might be an aristocrat, but
he hadn’t lived the life of one. He was hard as steel, and
his muscles tensed and rippled under her fingertips. She
looked up at him, saw he was watching her as she was
watching him. She let him see her while she admired
his broad shoulder, his sculpted chest, his slim hips.
And then her eyes slid lower.
“Now what, Captain?” His tone was too easy, too
light. She lowered her mouth to his erection, touched
her tongue to him.
“More of this?” she asked.
“You’re the captain.”
She smiled. His voice had been hoarse and strained.
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Shana Galen
She touched her tongue to him again, ran it up
and down the length of him. When she looked up
again, his hands were clutching the pillow. He saw
her looking at him, reached for her, but she held up a
hand. “I didn’t say you could move.”
“Raeven—”
“Shh.” She bent again, this time taking him into
her mouth. She heard his groan as she tasted him,
felt him tense beneath her. She teased him, liking the
control, knowing he was on the fringe of losing his.
“Raeven!” His hands clutched her shoulders.
She looked up, shook her head. “I didn’t say—”
“I need to be inside you. Now. Take me or I’ll—”
She didn’t wait for him to finish. She straddled him,
lowered herself slowly over his hardness, and took him
inside her.
She had wanted their lovemaking to be passionate
but playful, but now when she looked down at him,
she couldn’t keep her emotions in check. Her heart
swelled as she moved over him. He cupped her neck,
brought her lips to his for a tender kiss. She returned
it and allowed him to reverse their positions.
He moved slowly, gently, taking his time. He kissed
her sweetly, and she had to swallow to keep the tears
from spilling over.
When she found release, it was slow and warm. She
sighed her pleasure, and he sighed with her.
He held her a long time—their bodies pressed
together, their hearts beating together. Just when she
felt his arms relax, felt him fall into sleep, he whis-
pered, “Raeven.”
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He woke alone. He was not in the room he’d been
given. That room had been dark and masculine in
color and décor. This room was much smaller and
brighter. The walls were papered in yellow and the
windows covered by white and yellow curtains. He
lay in a small brass bed, the white coverlet tangled
about his feet.
Bastien sat, looked about the small room, and knew
she was gone.
He didn’t need to see her clothes missing. He didn’t
need to ask the staff if she’d gone down for breakfast.
He didn’t need to search for her in the garden or the
library or any of the other rooms.
She was gone.
He felt her absence and could have cursed himself
for not seeing this coming. She’d been different last
night, and now he realized it was more than fatigue
or eagerness to be with him again. She’d been
saying good-bye.
“Merde.” He sat just as her door opened and a maid
stepped inside.
“Good morning, Miss Russell—oh!” She gaped at
his nakedness and hastily backed up. “I’m sorry. I’ll
come back.”
“Don’t bother,” Bastien growled. “She’s gone.”
“Yes, my lord.” The maid closed the door, and
Bastien pulled on his breeches and shirt and stalked
out of the room.
Julien met him in the hallway, rolled his eyes. “You
might try being discreet. This isn’t a pirate ship.”
“I wish it were. It’s harder to escape.”
“Escape? Who’s escaped?”
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“Raeven. She’s gone.”
“I see.”
Bastien brushed past him. “No, you don’t. I need
to go after her. I’m going—”
“Nowhere.” Julien grabbed his shoulder, held him
fast. “It’s going to take several days to negotiate with
the navy, and until then, you’re by no means safe
from Newgate. If word leaks that Captain…” He
paused, looked about. “That you are here, the public
will clamor for your execution. You have quite the
reputation for harassment of British ships.”
“Exaggeration. One or two skirmishes with the
British Navy, and everyone’s out for your neck.”
“Yes, well, yours isn’t safe yet. You’re not going
anywhere until I say you can.”
“Oh, really?” Fury welled inside him, aimed more
at himself than his brother, but Julien was standing
there. “I’ll go when and where I want.”
Julien crossed his arms. “Fine. But don’t come
back here.”
Bastien blinked.
“You think this is just about you? You’ve been on
your own so long, you don’t consider anyone else.
Your being here puts me, ma mére, your whole family
in jeopardy. Armand and Felicity will be here soon.
You endanger them, as well.”
Bastien scowled. “If I’m so dangerous, why the hell
did you bring me here?”
“You’re my brother. But I have a wife and child
to protect. The Foreign Office would like nothing
more than to find reason to accuse me of treason,
spying. They’ve tried it before. These negotiations
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with the navy are delicate and need to be kept from
public scrutiny. I’ll undertake them, and I’ll win, but
I need you to give me time before you show yourself
in public again.”
Bastien fisted his hands. “And Raeven?”
“She left you.” The implication was clear. For the
first time, Bastien felt himself doubting. Perhaps she
didn’t love him. Perhaps she’d saved him only out of
guilt. She’d lost Percy and couldn’t bear the responsi-
bility of losing another pe
rson she cared about.
He knew where she was. She’d gone back to her
father, back to the Regal. And wasn’t that where
she belonged?
The hell if it was.
“I’m going after her, Julien,” Bastien said. “So
you’d better hurry those negotiations.”
Julien looked grim. “I’ll do my best.”
Bastien nodded. He’d give his brother two days,
and then he’d go get Raeven. He only hoped he
wasn’t too late.
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Twenty
Raeven stood on the deck of the regal and
watched the men ready the ship for departure. They’d
been docked for a week, and she’d spent six nights
without Bastien.
Six long, lonely nights.
And he hadn’t come for her. She hadn’t really
expected him to come, but that didn’t mean she
hadn’t hoped, hadn’t longed, hadn’t wished on every
measly star she could spot in this hazy-skied city. And
the reality was Bastien wasn’t coming. He had his
family now, had his title, and soon would probably
have a rich, titled wife.
A marquise. Yesterday she’d asked Fitzwilliam
Wimberley for the title of the wife of a marquis, and
he’d given her a strange look and then the answer.
She didn’t care if he gave her a thousand strange
looks. She didn’t care if the whole crew watched
her with sideways glances. She knew she was just
standing on the deck, not doing anything, not
helping as she always did. She knew she was red
nosed from crying. She knew she was clutching her
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stupid skirts to keep them from tangling about her
ankles in the wind.
Why had she worn a skirt or brushed her hair? It
wasn’t as though anyone cared what she looked like.
A warm hand settled on her shoulder, and she spun
around with a yelp. Her father tightened his grip to
calm her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s my fault. I was thinking of something else.”
“You were thinking of him. The pirate.”
“No, I…” She looked down at the deck. “Yes,
I was.”
Her father nodded, seemed resigned. He studied
the men on the yardarms. “I was surprised when
you returned the day after we docked. I thought you
might run away with him. I certainly made sure you
had the opportunity.”
Raeven gaped. “You thought I would—what do
you mean you made certain I had the opportunity?”
“He should have had an escort to Newgate of at
least six soldiers. I detained four of them. I didn’t think
even you, Raeven, could outwit six soldiers.”
She stared at him, and when he looked down at
her, he laughed at the bewildered expression on her
face. “But why would you do that? Why would you
help when you knew I might run away with him?”
The admiral sighed, shook his head. “Because, dear
daughter, you love him. He makes you happy. God’s
nightgown, it pains me to admit it! You and a pirate. A
rogue!” He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath.
Raeven was relieved when his color returned to
normal and he didn’t begin coughing. He’d been
coughing too much lately.
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“But you’re not my little girl anymore. You love
him, and as difficult as this is for you to believe, I do
want you to be happy.”
The admiral had never been a man to show much
affection, especially in front of his crew, but now
Raeven wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Daddy!
Thank you.” She buried her face in his blue coat. It
smelled like him—oakum, boot polish, and the sea.
He stiffened at her sudden embrace then awkwardly
put his arms about her. Finally, she released him, stood
back, and gave him a teary smile. “But you’re not going
to lose me to a pirate. He’s found his family again. He’s
home where he belongs.” She looked about the Regal.
“So am I.”
Her father shook his head. “You’ll always have
a home here, but this ship is no place for a young
woman. You need a husband, children.”
She was shaking her head, but he ignored her.
“Earlier this week, I asked for a few months leave
from my post.”
Raeven blinked in surprise. “You what? Why?”
“I wanted to spend some time with you on land.
See you settled.”
“And your health—”
“Is fine.” He waved away her concern. “But my
request was denied. It seems the seas are heating up
again. The Admiralty doesn’t think this peace with
Old Boney will last much longer.”
Raeven nodded. She was glad. Battles and action
would keep her mind off Bastien.
“And that’s why I’ve hired a new purser.”
Raeven sucked in a breath. She’d known this was
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coming, known one day a replacement for Percy
would be found. She would be forced to accept her
friend was never coming back. She cleared her throat.
“Who is he?”
He nodded to someone who stood behind her, and
she turned and looked into cobalt blue eyes. Bastien,
wearing navy dress, saluted her. She stared at him,
turned to her father, and stuttered, “What is this?”
The admiral shook his head. “It’s exactly what it
looks like. He came here this morning, asking for your
hand in matrimony.”
“What?” She turned to stare at Bastien, who only
shrugged.
“I told the rogue no, of course. I’m not giving my
blessing to any bloody pirate.”
“And I told him I’m not a pirate anymore.” The
sound of Bastien’s voice, the lilt of his accent, washed
over her. It was years since she’d last heard his voice.
“I’ve joined the navy. I knew you were in need of
a purser.”
Raeven shook her head. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“No.” Her father looked tense. “I have orders from
the Admiralty to accept him for Mr. Williams’s posi-
tion. Apparently, money can buy more than freedom.”
“It’s not just my brother’s money,” Bastien argued.
“I am an excellent seaman.”
Raeven simply stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
He looked her directly in the eyes. “I am very
serious. I have signed on as purser on the HMS Regal.
I know I can’t ever hope to replace Mr. Williams, but
I will carry out his duties to the best of my abilities.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why would you do this?”
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He cocked a
brow. “Why else, ma belle? You left
me. I figured I would have to come to you. I asked
for your hand in marriage, but your father refused to
give his consent.”
The admiral cleared his throat. “But I would not
be overly dismayed if you married against my wishes.”
“It would mean abandoning my post,” Bastien
drawled.
“I think we will find a way to make do.”
Raeven’s head was spinning, and her heart thudded
in her chest. “I don’t understand,” she told Bastien.
“You have your family now, your title, your—”
He took her hand, and the admiral muttered under
his breath and moved away. “But I don’t have you,
mon coeur. I need you, mon amour. Without you, the
rest is meaningless. I want you to be my wife.”
His wife. “Your marquise,” she whispered.
He grinned. “Yes, that’s right.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t know anything
about being a marquise. I don’t know anything about
ducs and mansions and fancy balls.”
“Then we’ll learn together. Or, better yet, we’ll
build a ship and sail it around the world. I think you
and I would suffocate if we were confined on land
too long.”
He was right, and she could imagine sailing the
world with him. Just the two of them, making love
under the stars…
“But you don’t want to marry me…”
He sighed. “Are you going to force me to bend a
knee? Again? Very well.”
And to her astonishment, he knelt before her. This
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gesture generated calls from the Regal’s crew, most of
whom had given up all pretense of working and were
openly watching the scene. Bastien ignored them.
“Raeven Russell, will you be my Mrs. Cutlass, my
marquise, my petite cabin girl…”
She frowned and looked away. He took her hand
in his, and when she looked back, his eyes were dark,
his expression tender. “My heart, my love, my wife?
Raeven, will you have me, a so-called pirate and a
self-confessed rogue, as your husband?”
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She
couldn’t stand. She knelt beside him and wrapped her
arms around him. “Bastien, I love you.”
“Je t’aime, ma belle. I love you.” He pulled back,
held her by the shoulders. “But you haven’t answered
the question, and I confess I’m eager to know if I’ll be
forced to wear this uniform much longer.”
She laughed. “No. I mean, yes, I’ll marry you,
