A Pirate's Ruse

by Camille Oster

  Madame Guerier came running, drawing that little pistol he'd seen Clara brandishing on the island. "What are you doing, Christian?" she said, pointing the decorative firearm at him. "I'll not allow it."

  Christian raised both of his flintlocks at her, his firepower far outweighing hers. "Just come to claim what's mine." His hard stare told her he meant business. "And I'll take a bullet for it if I must, but I won't take it kindly."

  "Don't do this, Christian," she said, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

  "We have unfinished business." He pushed past her, walking down the hall with his back exposed.

  Clara came running down the hall, to see what the commotion was, which was perfect. He didn't need to go chase her now. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

  "I need a word." Distracting her by hitting his palm on the wall, he grabbed her around her legs and lifted her over his shoulder.

  "Let me go," she demanded, kicking fiercely while pummeling his back.

  He'd actually been missing that feeling, of her fighting him. He smiled, loving every moment of this. "Not yet."

  "I'm not giving you this town!" she screamed.

  "Good," he said and hurried down the stairs. Holding Clara's knees to his chest, he only had one of his pistols at hand.

  "Let her go, you bastard," he heard Havencourt roar from upstairs.

  "Time to go," Christian said, laughing, while Clara still struggled. He ran with his loot down toward the dock, Havencourt chasing him, but his crew blocked the man's way and even Havencourt knew there were too many for him to take on. These were ruthless men and most of them would think nothing of cutting down some stray naval man to protect their captain.

  "We won't stand for this," Havencourt roared.

  Christian was on his deck and his crew was streaming in behind him. "Cast off," he ordered, giving the fuming angry Havencourt a mock salute.

  "I'll chase you down," Havencourt promised, pointing his sword at him, looking as wild as Christian had ever seen him. Finally something that got the man riled up. That it was his woman was unfortunate for Havencourt. This was a competition he would not lose.

  "You bastard," Clara yelled and Christian took a deep breath, drawing the salty goodness of sea air into his lungs as they pulled away from the dock. They would have a good hour’s sail on Havencourt, who would no doubt chase them, but they were better at hiding than Havencourt was at finding, and it was a big ocean out there—an ocean Christian ruled.

  "Yes, I am," he said as he turned to his cabin, her still over his shoulder. "Turns out I'm a pirate, too."

  Chapter 31:

  * * *

  It was light, then it grew dark, and she was inside somewhere, flying through the air before she had a chance to discover where she was, hitting a soft mattress with unmade white linen sheets. She was in his bed and scrambled out as quickly as she could. She looked around the cabin she’d seen before, swallowing hard as she looked up at him.

  He was standing in the middle of the room and she had to get past him to dash for the door. Turning, he followed her gaze to the door. "If you want to go running around the deck like a headless chook, by all means, be my guest. There's nowhere to go."

  She made to move, but he ghosted her. "You said I was welcome to leave."

  He shrugged. "I lied."

  "You can't do this."

  "For someone who doesn't like to be told what to do, you sure have no problems telling other people what to do."

  "You can't just grab me and run, and sail away."

  He appeared to listen for anything stopping him, because that was exactly what he was doing.

  "I'm not giving you the town. You will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands," she said, swallowing the lump building in her throat, because it really did look like he could do whatever he wanted. Her hand crept down to her hip, but her sword wasn't there. She was completely unarmed, having run out of her room at the sound of the commotion, not even thinking of arming herself.

  "Good. I don't want the town."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Well, I do want the town, but I'm happy for you to have the town."

  "Then what do you want?" A nervousness set in, even though she hated it—hated not being completely brave. She wasn't exactly fearful, because she knew in her gut that he wouldn't hurt her. He stepped forward and she fought not stepping back. For not being fearful, she was extremely wary, because she had a strong suspicion what his intentions were, and they were likely in a direction where she may well crumble. She hadn't realized that being with him in the carnal sense had consequences, at least not these types of consequences. Because according to the sisters, men took what a woman was willing to give and ran a mile. So why wasn't he running?

  Smoothly, he stepped even closer and Clara raised her head high, refusing to be intimidated. She startled with tension when he placed his hands on her hips, her heart almost stopping. Languidly, his gaze traveled lower and every part of her body tensed, against her will. The firmness of his hands on her hips sent heat radiating through her. "See, I think we discovered another form of treasure on that island."

  "Lust? It's hardly a treasure," she snorted, but her mouth was so dry, she had to swallow deeply, her voice sounding coarse. "Just a sin that leads to no good."

  "Really? Is that in you ample experience?"

  Pressure on her hips forced her back toward the bed. "It means nothing."

  "Oh, I don't know, I forfeited a whole town for it."

  "You did not. I won the challenge."

  By his hands on her hips, he pulled her to him, into one of the feather kisses that had led her so very astray last time. "You certainly succeeded in distracting me. Was that your intention all along?"

  "What? No. You seduced me."

  "Did I?" he asked, kissing her again. Soft, honeyed lips grazed over hers, sending a shiver deep into her belly, making her feel like she needed to move, squeeze her legs together to protect herself, but it only stoked the embers.

  "As I recall, you did try to distract me before. Maybe you just tried harder."

  "That's not true, and that was just for a moment's advantage," she conceded, which, although true, might not be the best thing to admit.

  Clara kept her arms close to her chest while his hands shifted around her backside, drawing her to him, to the hardness showing exactly how much he enjoyed this. Tender lips traveled along her cheek to her ear, where his breath was heavy with desire. "And I seem caught in that moment," he said in barely more than a whisper. "You have me caught." Which was a ridiculous statement, considering he had her confined in his cabin. If anyone had anyone caught, it was the other way around, she thought, trying to focus her mind away from the rioting sensations taking over her body.

  Her arms across her chest were still keeping their bodies apart, but the urge to feel all of him was only growing stronger. The tip of his warm tongue snaked down the edge of her earlobe and her eyelids swam together. This was so unfair. Heat pooled deep inside her, making her yearn for him to join with her.

  Blinking, she tried to gather her wits. She shouldn't be doing this, needed to think of some way of extricating herself from this situation, but her mind was refusing to comply, returning instead to the feel of his lips teasing down the column of her neck. Her body was on fire, so urgent and heady, she didn't know what to do with herself. Actually, she knew exactly what she had to do to resolve this painful tension.

  Returning to her mouth, he kissed her deeply, letting his desire claim her. He tasted so lovely, compellingly lovely, like ambrosia. His tongue teased her, then he gently bit her bottom lip. With a groan, she knew she wasn't going to be able to withstand this. She wanted him too much—something she had absolutely refused to let herself ponder when back in Tortuga. This was to never happen again, she'd told herself.

  His hands pulled the ties on her shirt, drawing it over her head once there was enough give, leaving her bare for him. Looking at her, his eyes closed as if just se
eing her gave him pleasure.

  This was a sin and she was in its grip—and there was no hope for her. Her entrance was soaking wet, hot and seeking touch. Her breath intermingled with his, heavy and labored. Tearing at the ties of her breeches, he pushed her back onto the bed. The scent of him enveloped her as he pulled her boots off, forcing his own shirt over his head. Firm muscles under golden skin shifted with every movement. She ached to touch him as he undid the ties of his breeches, revealing the hard length of him. She was so wanton, she couldn't stand that he wasn't inside her, moving her hips to try to give herself respite from the unbearable tension.

  Shifting over her, he pushed into her in one smooth movement, deep inside her, making her arch with the sudden fullness and the pleasure surging through her. He drew back and surged into her again, so forcefully, he pressed her down into the mattress. Unable to do anything other than meet the next thrust, she moaned uncontrollably and wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper into her.

  She would give him absolutely anything in that moment, adoring him so completely. A remote part of her mind, the part not hopelessly consumed by the pleasure he was giving her, recognized how dangerous he was to her. She would literally give him anything he asked for in that moment. But then he seemed just as enthralled, his eyes dark and glassy, unfocused. Leaning down, he kissed her, his need so urgent, as if he sought to force her heart open like he was her body.

  Her body exploded around him, convulsing against him, around his length, as if yet drawing him deeper. All consciousness was gone from his eyes and he wasn't breathing as he joined her, arching forcefully into her, every muscle in his body straining. It looked like pain and a cry ripped from his throat, still unable to draw breath. Finally a ragged inhale allowed him another gut-deep cry, before sinking down on her. His weight felt like it anchored her in place, keeping her from floating away. He kissed her—tender kisses as if he wanted to recapture the ecstasy they'd just been released from.

  His body was large on hers as he held her, refusing to let go. From the absolute certainty a moment earlier, the uneasiness, confusion and distrust started to encroach on her thoughts. She didn't want it to—wanting to remain in this place of absolute certainty where it was only the two of them, in perfect unison, creating sheer rapture between them.

  Echoes of the pleasure reverberated through her as she felt him still inside her. Would she forever be susceptible to him for what he did to her? He'd said he was caught, and she understood what he meant now. Could she possibly turn away from this?

  His kisses drew her attention back to him and the sweetness of his lips, his taste, and the slight saltiness of his beautiful skin. A strong urge to tell him she loved him rambled through her and she fought to keep it back. A pirate stealing her away and seducing her wasn't love. This wasn't love. Love was… Actually, she had no idea, but this wasn't it.

  Rolling off her, he placed his head on her breast and drew his fingertips along the sensitive skin of her stomach. His breath teased her skin and the weight of his head held her there, suspecting that he truly did have her caught. How could she walk away from this? Perhaps that was his intention, and what would be the price?

  * * *

  Chapter 32:

  * * *

  It was dark by the time they emerged from the cabin onto the deserted deck. A million stars shone down on them and a warm breeze blew across the inky black water.

  He had taught her some other amazing things that could be done with lust, because apparently there were many different ways it could be done, each time bringing out more wanton needs in her.

  The darkness covered her blush as she walked behind him, wrapped in a sheet. The deck was deserted and they were anchored in what looked like a hidden bay of a small island. "We won't be found here?"

  "No," he said. "No one knows of this place." By no one, he meant Lieutenant Havencourt, who had been sailing in pursuit while she’d opened her body completely to her captor. Shame sunk her shoulders.

  Christian walked in front of her, the moonlight glowing along his skin, his breeches half done up, the base of his manhood on show between the edges, crowned by a thatch of dark curls. He had no modesty with her. He was so utterly beautiful, his eyes hidden by the dark, but she knew he was looking at her as she stood there, a sheet wrapped around her body. What did he think of what he saw?

  Walking to the railing, she looked out at the darkened island, the white sand of the beach glowing in the moonlight, the water gently washing up it.

  "How long will you keep me?" she asked.

  "Until you refuse to leave." Until she was used up, eliminated as a threat, incapable of putting up a fight.

  Clara frowned, trying to make sense of his statement—of his intent. "And then what?"

  "And then you won't leave."

  "And you'll take the town."

  "I don't need the town if I have you."

  "Isn't that just the same thing?"

  "No. They are two distinct things."

  "I don't really see how."

  "I could have the town. I could have taken the town. I probably still could." He turned away slightly. "I want you."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know why. I just do."

  "I don't understand."

  With a chuckle, he turned to her, his hand entwined in slack rigging; he leaned his head on it. "I can't say that I do either, but chasing you, fighting with you—fucking you—has been the most fun I've had in as long as I can remember, and I’m not giving it up. There are girls galore, but you—you, the way your eyes flash, the way you raise your chin when you have nothing left but pride… " He drifted off. "You've got your hooks in me and… I don't mind."

  Clara just stared at him. She had not put any hooks in him. "What do you want?"

  "I want you. I want you to run the town. I will protect you. Havencourt can fuck off," he said strongly.

  "Havencourt is my friend," Clara stated.

  "He doesn't want to be here. He never will. At some point, he will leave."

  Frowning, Clara had to recognize the truth in the statement. Besides, it all sounded a little too convenient. I don't want the town, I just want you to have the town and I'll have it by extension. It was just a way of him having something he'd lost. Maybe this was just another ploy in a string of ruthless ploys, with one firm goal in the end.

  Her thoughts turned to her father. He would just have ripped the town out of her dead hands; she was sure of it. But then he fully admitted he had no love, no heart. Things could have been different if her mother had lived—he'd said so himself. He was cold and ruthless, and aware that he could have been different. She wondered if he mourned that fate for himself—even if at this point he was too frozen to feel more than resentment toward her mother.

  She didn’t want that for Christian. She wanted him to have that spark in him, the one that shone through his eyes, along with desire and want—the way he looked at her sometimes. A shudder of pleasure worked through every part of her as he moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Maybe this was Christian staking a fate for himself—something not so cold and utterly mercenary. She closed her eyes. Or perhaps he was just toying with her. "How can I trust you?"

  "It's just something you have to do. Trust what we feel when we're together." He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. Heat radiated, reasserting itself. Her nipples tightened painfully, aching for his hands to stroke her to wild abandon. Would this want never stop? "When our bodies join, we become one."

  That could potentially be the most sappy thing she'd ever heard, but if the sentiment behind it were true… She had been so close to telling him she loved him, but how could that be? Because she could feel every part of him—his desire, his beating heart, his yearning for safety, for meaning, for acceptance. She understood these things.

  "This isn't just some coupling. I need to be inside you. I've chased you and chased you, and I can't stop. On the island, chasing you became my sole purpose,
beyond anything else."

  "More than winning?" she said, refusing to believe him wholeheartedly. It just sounded too good to be true.

  "Yes. I was on the beach when you got back."

  Clara's breath stopped.

  "I wasn't chasing the last clue. I was on the beach when you got back. The challenge was no longer my aim."

  "You're lying."

  "Not about the important bits."

  "Why would you let me win?"

  "Because I was chasing you and you were going to leave if you didn't win."

  "You’ve just stolen me away. You could have won and then just kidnapped me."

  He smiled. "No, I couldn't. You needed to win. You would have retreated so far into yourself if you lost, just faded, and I don’t want that. I want you just like this."

  "So, you're saying you just let me win?" she said accusingly. It wasn't a victory at all if he just handed it to her. It had been false. At first, she didn't believe a word he was saying, but he had been on the beach before her. He couldn't have beaten her down if she had beaten him up.

  "Well, you did beat me to just about every clue on the damned island."

  "And I would have starved if you hadn't fed me."

  "You're too stubborn to actually need food. You would have passed out with starvation waving that damn flag on the mountain. Tortuga Bay belongs to you; you fought for it against astounding odds. If ever something was meant to be, it is this. I already had my goal, and it wasn't hidden up that mountain. It would walk down onto the beach all by itself. I just had to wait. And you, my dear, are not the best winner around." He poked her on her chest. "You gloat way too much."

  That would actually be quite funny if she wasn't too shocked by the things he was saying. "I don't believe you," she whispered, not daring to believe him, but the visions of a future that was more than just surviving, a vision where there was someone to share it with, someone to love, was so seductive, it crept into her consciousness and refused to leave. It was too much to hope for, and it was scary. If she even opened her heart to such a hope, she may not tolerate a future where all she could do to survive was to be ruthless and endlessly determined.