by Mary Wine
"That's the sweetest damn sight I ever laid eyes on." Garrick took the front steps two at a time, his long legs spanning the distance with ease. He was already on the command deck when he
noticed her. A gleam entered his dark eyes.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am." His voice was coated with joy. He turned to look at the ship.
"With new canvas, she'll sail smooth and true." His voice darkened now, a hint of concern in it.
"We'll keep pace with you." Warren sounded determined.
The reason was obvious. The other ship was missing most of her main mast. The two smaller
masts stood bare, not an inch of sail on them. She'd seen such damaged ships in the Northfleet harbor before, but this one looked ten times worse because of the open water around her. There were no carpenters on hand to help mend her, no supplies to replace what she was missing.
Sailors reached over the rail, their hands stretching toward the small boat that was bumping up alongside her hull. Creamy canvas was piled in the center of that boat. The men strained to grasp it.
Their plight sickened her.
"Why would anyone do such a thing?" The question slipped past her horror of seeing a ship left at the mercy of the elements. It baffled her with its cruelty. Warren and Garrick turned to consider her. Warren's expression warned her to leave it alone but she needed to know, needed to understand.
"Why take the sails when my countrymen had already taken what they wanted from the ship?"
She tore her eyes away from the Golden Dawn. Garrick's face was dark and unyielding. "What did Mordaunt want from you?"
"I should find my brother." Garrick went down the ladder before he finished making his excuse.
Lorena felt her frustration burn bright and she turned it on her captor.
"Tell me, Warren. I want to understand."
Surprise broke the mask he was hiding his feelings behind. Ronan's hand caught her attention, his thumb still black, the entire nail missing. She looked back at Warren. "Tell me what was so important men had to place other men in peril for it."
"And yourself."
She drew herself up straighter. "Precisely."
"The British navy is always interested in officers from other nations. They want information on the newest ships. Details on construction, cannon count and hands on board."
"And they cover their crime up with more atrocities." Her eyes shifted back to the Golden Dawn.
The first sail was being hoisted up into place. Sailors gathered around it, their relief clear.
Garrick appeared again with Harrison looking over his shoulder. He stared at her for a long moment.
"My apologies once again for involving you, Miss St. John." Garrick said.
A rather unladylike snort got past her lips. Lorena swept the two captains with her eyes.
"Indeed, gentlemen, I find myself rather content with the knowledge I was of assistance. Such behavior should not bestow rewards to those that employ barbarism." Her words rang out with the emotion that was boiling over every strict lecture she'd ever received about keeping her voice mild. She refused to care. She was happy to have foiled plans of murder. Leaving men, even
ones you considered your enemy, to die slowly at the hands of the elements was truly horrific.
"Quite content indeed."
Call her foolish, fine. She would shoulder the burden gladly. A flash of surprise covered
Garrick's face but he didn't remain on the command deck long enough to comment. The small
boat had returned, hitting the side of the Huntress.
"Since Holly takes to you so well, Miss St. John, I believe I shall leave her in your care until we return to Boston."
Warren growled. Garrick shrugged. "Provisions are bound to be running low on the Golden Dawn."
"I shall be delighted to keep company with Holly."
With a quick shake of Warren's hand, Garrick descended to the main deck, his pace lively.
Lorena watched the way he went toward his ship like a long-lost friend.
It was quite simply.. .beautiful.
"Did you really say you're content with being aboard my ship?"
Warren's voice was whisper soft. He released the wheel and tucked his hand into his belt. Alone for the moment on the command deck, his face took on a much more relaxed look. Heat flickered in his eyes.
"Do not read too much in that, Captain. I did not say I surrender to your will."
"But you did use my name." He moved closer, cutting off her escape options. Gooseflesh spread down her arms, a tremor making her unsteady. The reaction was instant and uncontrollable.
"A minor lapse, most likely inspired by your own lack of formality. Yet another reason we should maintain civilized behavior."
He chuckled, his lips curving. His gaze lowered to her mouth, lingering on the soft skin of her lips. Sensation rippled through her, touching off the desire to feel his kiss once more.
"Ah, but one broken stitch can lead to the unravelling of a seam."
"Only if one is careless enough not to mend the hole quickly."
His eyebrow rose. A moment later he captured her hand, encasing it inside his own. Just that small contact sent heat licking through her passage. He stroked the delicate skin of her inner wrist with his thumb and her breath rattled unevenly. Enjoyment surged through her too great to ignore. He stepped closer, dropping his voice into a husky whisper.
"You might find yourself more than merely content if you allowed that seam to unravel, Lorena."
His fingers glided along the underside of her wrist once again and he watched the shiver that resulted. "I think I might just pull on the loose thread myself."
Hard determination glittered in his eyes. A promise stared back at her while he made a final pass along her inner wrist. It shouldn't have felt so good. Nothing should be allowed to feel that good.
"We'll have to take up this topic later."
He moved back to the wheel, his attention returning to the men under his command. Lorena
glared at his wide shoulders, her temper rising.
But it wasn't really her temper. She turned around and stared over the rail as she recognized the truth. She wasn't mad, she was aroused. It was a ghastly thing to discover.
Arousal was that forbidden thing good girls only heard about in relation to fallen women.
But dishonesty was to be avoided too, so she faced the truth. Just as she'd acknowledged feeling good about being a help to the men struggling to rig up sails on the Golden Dawn. Garrick was rowing toward his vessel. She smiled but that happiness faded when she realized she was
completely under Warren's command now.
The problem lay in the jump of excitement such a fact drew from her. Well, she had meant what she said.
She had not voiced a surrender. Captain Rawlins could get used to that. She would ensure it.
Chapter Eight
Warren avoided her for the next few days. Tension began to knot the muscles of her neck. The nights were the worst. Her dreams had turned into sultry tapestries which included the firm kisses of Warren Rawlins. She could feel his embrace, even smell the scent of his skin. She awoke with need nipping along her limbs and swirling deep inside her passage. She was keenly aware that she slept in his bed. The same sheets touching her skin had slipped along his. It bored a hole in her mind, driving her out of the bunk while still tired.
The weather turned hellishly hot, baking the Huntress and everyone aboard her. The afternoon offered no cooling breeze. The sails only filled halfway and the ship slowed to a crawl.
Lorena left her stockings folded. She battled the urge to discard her petticoat every hour of the afternoon. She awoke with it twisted above her knees and had to force herself to push it back down her legs. On deck the men stripped down to their shirts. Their knitted caps were tucked into pockets and they sought out the few patches of shade when their duties permitted. Each day felt twice as long. The ship became quiet, the slap of the water against the hu
ll loud. Water was rationed, so everyone tried to remain as still as possible to remain cool without sweating. Even conversation became sparse and lowered to whispers.
Her mind ran in circles while she jumped every time a knock landed on the cabin door. That
wasn't very often. Lady Holly became a friend, the pair of them looking to one another in the absence of anything else to do.
The parrot was really quite affectionate. She would puff up her feathers when she wanted to be scratched. When she wanted to be offered a finger to perch on, she would dance from side to side.
She also managed to secure a good portion of Lorena's food every day. But it was worth it for the companionship. Directly after breakfast, the bird would squawk until Lorena picked her up.
Holly would fluff her feathers and move around so that Lorena scratched every inch of her body, even flipping over onto her back to offer her belly. But by the third day without wind, the parrot didn't even roll over when someone rapped on the cabin door. She remained on her back as
loving as a kitten.
"How did you get that ornery creature to do that?"
Warren sounded grumpy. He scowled at the parrot. Holly dismissed him in favor of arching her neck so Lorena might continue scratching her. Lorena looked down at the bird, annoyed with the way her heart accelerated just because the man had come to visit her. Where was the
composure she'd spent three days reinforcing with words of logic?
"One should never underestimate the power of kindness."
Warren watched her hands moving on the bird for a long moment. Something flashed in his eyes that looked like jealousy. Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. Her own fascination with him hadn't given rise to the idea that he longed for her touch.
"I give kindness when I might." He looked around the cabin, his face reflecting his ownership of it. Lorena bit her lower lip to avoid thanking him for the use of the space. She would not be grateful for using his cabin.
At least she would not say she was.
He wasn't annoyed with her silence. A gleam of appreciation entered his eyes. It surprised her because she'd never consider that any man might enjoy anything but obedience to their will.
There was no mistaking the way his eyes lit with enjoyment and something else that sent a shiver down her back. It was a hint of challenge which touched off excitement in the pit of her belly.
Excitement that was completely misplaced.
The cabin door was still open and a gust of wind blew through the windows and whistled out it.
After three days of stillness, she enjoyed the goose bumps that appeared on her arms.
"Aye, we have the wind again. There's rain on the horizon as well."
She smiled, there was no stopping it. Joy coated his words, that and hope. The tension knotting her neck loosened. But as one worry blew away on the new wind, another filled the vacancy. She was suddenly keenly aware they were alone. An entire crew was mere feet away, but surrounded by his personal space, it felt very intimate.
Their embrace on the beach instantly sprang to mind.
There was a part of her which liked that all too much. It flickered and built inside her. Her eyelashes fluttered before she found the strength to stop the nervous reaction.
"I brought you some muslin up from the hold." He placed a bundle on the table. Holly rolled over, interested in what he'd delivered. She hopped onto the table, her yellow eyes on the fabric.
"How thoughtful." It was too. Her chemise was becoming stale. She hesitated to wash it because that left her with nothing to wear while it dried.
Nothing save Warren's shirts that was. There were several of them stored neatly beneath the bunk she slept in. After three days of heat and sweat, her resolve to remain firm and refuse to wear his things, simply because they were his, was weakening.
"But I couldn't accept anything."
He snorted. A deep frown marred his features. "I brought you aboard with nothing but the clothing on your back. I believe it fair to give you a few of the bolts of fabric from my hold."
"You have more fabrics?"
He shrugged. "I am a merchant."
"Oh, I see."
His lips curved as he watched the surprise cross her face. "My country is young. The Huntress doubles as a naval ship, but I inherited my trade from my father."
"And your brothers did as well." Lorena looked at Holly, understanding making its way through her. The bird was not a vanity but something that had come on board during trading voyages.
Truly Warren had been driven to the edge of his endurance by the captivity of his brothers. He was as caught in the net as she was. The bundle of fabric represented the honest trade he made his living from, a decent, civilized trade. She might have met him at any formal dinner party and flirted with him.
Except she hadn't. Why was she having so much trouble recalling that fact?
"I simply cannot accept goods from you."
His face darkened. "And why not?"
"That is obvious. We are not family." And a lady did not accept gifts of clothing from a man. Not unless she was his mistress.
"And a damn good thing too, since I can't keep my mind off you, Lorena."
She stood up at the use of her first name. "It would be best if we maintained formality."
"So you keep telling me." He rounded the table and caught her chin before she managed to back up.
"Maybe I could do that if I hadn't tasted you." Hunger glowed from his eyes. "Formality behind a closed door is misplaced now that I know how sweet your mouth is."
She gasped. Shaking her head, she freed herself from his grip. Maybe he allowed her to but that did not matter. Her temper flared hotter than the Caribbean sun.
"So you believe you have the right to treat me familiarly, sir? One kiss does not make me your property."
"Kissing you made me your slave, Lorena. Hearing my name cross your lips brought me to my knees."
His words were raw. He reached across the distance and stroked her cheek once more. A shudder shook her, his keen gaze noticing it. His fingers played across her chin, lightly, so lightly she leaned forward to make sure the contact didn't end.
"Touching you was a fatal mistake, but I don't lament it."
He closed the last step between them. Her denial got stuck somewhere deep in her throat. She caught his scent again. It filled her senses,
overwhelming everything that wasn't a pure response. All of the practiced manners and logical behaviors became overshadowed by the man pulling her against his body.
"I just spent three days longing for another taste. Endless hours filled with me fighting off the urge to come down here."
He sealed her response beneath his lips. Firm and commanding, his mouth teased hers. He
cupped the back of her head, angling it to fit perfectly against his mouth. Her hands lay on his chest. Hard and sculpted into ridges, the fine cotton of his shirt didn't prevent her from tracing the muscles.
But she detested that fabric. What she wanted was skin-on-skin contact. The need bubbled up from her belly, hot and almost violent. She twisted in his embrace, trying to feed her needs.
His kiss deepened, letting his mouth become more demanding. The tip of his tongue slipped
along her lower lip, separating it from her upper one until he thrust it between them.
A soft whimper rose from her throat. Sensation spiralled down her body. She was caught
between equal parts of delight and yearning. Her heart accelerated, warming her skin. The layers of her petticoat became hated because they kept her skin covered. She wanted to be bare, wanted to be free to feel his hand gliding along her legs. She gripped his shirt, tugging on it in frustration.
The hand on the back of her head tightened, his tongue penetrating her mouth.
Sweet shock filled her but he stroked her tongue with his, teasing it until she mimicked him. His chest rumbled with a groan, deep and male, touching the yearning need which pulsed between
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her thighs. It was hotter now, more insistent. She wanted his touch on that most forbidden of places. It was shocking but not frightening. A flood of sensation carried her into a furnace of flames that all danced in wild abandonment.
A bell began ringing. It only added to the insanity of the moment. But Warren lifted his head, a snarl crossing his lips. His arms tightened around her, holding her tightly against him, but the bell rang faster.
"Squall." His eyes burned with passion. He locked stares with her, unwilling to release her. "But I'm not sure if the one in here isn't more threatening than the one on the horizon."
"I quite agree." She could have bitten her tongue in half for letting the words slip out. He chuckled. She slapped at the hard planes of his chest, but he held her in place. It wasn't right that he was so much stronger than she, but what frustrated her the most was how exciting she found that fact. What she should be was offended, outraged and a few other things. Instead she fought the urge to stare at his mouth.
"Release me."
He stroked his hands down her back instead. A shiver went through her, slicing away at her
resolve to resist. He watched her face, hunger flickering in his eyes.
"For the moment I will, but I promise we are going to finish this."
She slapped his wide chest. But it was out of frustration, not anger. "You.. .you..."
One eyebrow arched mockingly. "Me... what?"
She sputtered. "You.. .American. With your rebellious nature and deviation from proper conduct."
He opened his arms and she staggered backwards. His face became pensive. "But the sea has long been a place where countries have less meaning than the person standing next to you."
He paused in the doorway looking too large and imposing for her to bear. No one should be able to undermine years of dedication to controlling her emotions.
Warren chuckled in the face of her disapproval. "But I rather like the idea of being different from the man you were sent to marry. I did you a favor by taking you out of that miserable fort."
Her temper cooled. Oh, it wasn't the correct thing to do, but she did agree with him. The ship suddenly dipped and she reached for the table to keep herself on her feet. Warren remained in place, his boots braced in a wide stance. He looked so confident, it radiated from him.
