Taken by You

by Connie Mason

  “Was that so bad, little saint?” he asked. There was a strange hoarseness in his voice that sent awareness shivering through her. “Was I the first man you ever slept with?” His arm tightened around her.

  “Let me up,” Luca said, trying to tug his arm from her waist. “What are you doing still abed? I thought you arose with the dawn.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Sí.”

  “I’m much too comfortable to move.”

  “Well, I’m not!”

  He chuckled in amusement when she leaped from the bunk, but he did nothing to stop her. “Perhaps you’re right, it is time I got up. The Bahamas are just over the horizon. We’ll make landfall by midday.”

  Luca’s dark eyes sparkled with excitement. “Really? Are the Bahamas inhabited? Is there a village? A harbor? Do other ships put into the port?”

  “You’re full of questions this morning, aren’t you, Sister Luca? I see no reason not to answer them. The Bahamas are uninhabited but for the Arawak Indians, a peaceful, friendly people. It is a Spanish possession, but they have yet to claim it. The Indians work my plantation and care for my home. As for a village, if you can call a collection of huts inhabited by natives and pirates a village, then I suppose there is a village of sorts. There is a natural deep water harbor but no docking facilities, no port. Few ships visit Andros except for pirate ships putting in for fresh water and fruit. Occasionally an English or Spanish ship will reach our shores, but it quickly leaves. An uninhabited island is of little interest to any country.”

  “There are no settlers on the Bahamas? No harbor? No port?” Luca repeated, dismayed.

  “More than seven hundred islands and two thousand cays make up the Bahamas,” Morgan informed her, “and very few have enough fresh water or plant life to support inhabitants. Andros has an abundance of both, but we have few visitors. I intend to keep it that way. When El Diablo isn’t operating in the Atlantic he’s at home either on Andros or his ancestral estate in England. If you’re thinking about escape, forget it.”

  “Let me go, Captain,” Luca begged, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. “Put me ashore on Spanish territory, and I’ll find my way back to the convent. I’m well aware of your hatred for my countrymen, and I can’t imagine why you want me when I’m of no earthly value to you.”

  “No value?” Morgan repeated in disbelief. “Don’t sell yourself short, little saint. Tis true the only hostages I keep are those that are ransomed back to their relatives, but in your case I’m keeping you around for my amusement.” Then, with a nonchalance that stunned her, he arose from bed as gloriously naked as the day he was born.

  Embarrassed fury exploded inside Luca. “What you’re doing to me is not amusing, you arrogant, wretched blackguard!” She flew at him, her fists flailing his chest like one possessed. He grasped her wrists, confining them in one of his large hands while he pulled net against him with the other.

  “You’re sorely testing my good nature, Sister,” he growled. He could reel the heat explode in his groin, filling him near to bursting. Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?

  It wasn’t until Luca felt the hard ridge of his manhood rising against her stomach that she realized her danger. His face was so close to hers she could see his pupils, dark circles rimmed with silver, and feel the rampant beating of his heart. He bore her backward toward the bunk.

  “Please, oh, please, don’t do this to me. I’m sorry I made you angry.” She closed her eyes and uttered a frantic prayer. “Dios in heaven, save me from this fate. Do not allow me to be dishonored in such a violent manner.”

  “Dishonored!” Morgan roared. “When I make love to you, dishonor will have nothing to do with it. It will be for pleasure and mutual satisfaction. When that day arrives, I vow you will be willing and compliant. And you will wonder why you ever feared our joining.”

  “I will kill myself first!”

  “You will the a little, as will I, but it will not be a permanent death, this I promise you. You will wish for it again and again.”

  Then his mouth crushed down on hers, fevered, urgent, sucking the breath from her. Oh, Dios, the seduction. She tried to keep her lips tightly sealed against the prod of his tongue, but he easily breached that meager barrier. He searched out her tongue, moved within her mourn, stole all reason. She breathed in his scent, savored the taste and feel of him, and willed herself not to respond. Then suddenly he released her, and she fell backward onto the bunk. She expected him to fall upon her, but he didn’t. To her surprise and gratification, he glared at her with bored indifference and began pulling on his trousers.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked shakily. “Do you enjoy corrupting nuns?”

  His smile was grim. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried it. As I said before, you might provide amusement. You must be aware that I bear no love for the Spanish. Why should I care what happens to a Spanish nun? Or a woman who claims to be a nun.”

  He strapped on his sword and paused at the door. “Be prepared to go ashore later today. You will like my home far more than the bleak convent you came from, if indeed you came from a convent at all.”

  Andros Island

  Luca looked out from the window as the island of Andros came into view. She watched as the Avenger maneuvered into a deep water channel between two thickly wooded islands. As they veered toward Andros, she noted that a river bisected the forest and flowed into the sea. At one point she swore they were going to run aground, but then the shelf fell away into an open harbor, wide enough to accommodate three or four ships at one time. Her heart leaped with hope when she saw another ship riding at anchor a short distance from shore. There were no docking facilities, but Luca saw both dark-skinned and White then engaged in various activities on shore.

  Shortly after the Avenger dropped anchor, Morgan came for Luca. They boarded a longboat, accompanied by several crew members to man the oars, and then were winched into the water. The water was the clearest blue Luca had ever seen, and when she trailed her hand in it she found it warm to the touch. She gasped in appreciation when she caught sight of a flock of long-legged birds standing in the water along the shoreline. Their glorious pink plumage was in vivid contrast to the lush green foliage and blue water. A flock of wild birds of every description took flight over the mangroves that stretched along the shore.

  “Those are flamingos,” Morgan informed her, pointing to the brilliant pink birds. “They breed on Andros and feed on small shrimp. There are hundreds of species of birds here but no wild animals to speak of. Timber Ridge lies just over the rise.”

  “Timber Ridge?”

  “The name of my plantation.”

  “What kind of plantation? What can you grow in this soil?”

  “Trees, Sister Luca. Caribbean pine, to be exact. We harvest and export pine logs to England. See, it grows all around us in abundance. The Indians also dive for sponges, which are bountiful around the islands. They are popular items in England and Europe.”

  Effortlessly, he lifted her from the longboat and deposited her on the white sand that was littered with hundreds of colorful shells of all sizes and shapes. Luca’s gaze wandered toward the ship riding at anchor beside the Avenger.

  “What ship is that?” she asked, trying to hide her excitement. Perhaps its captain would be willing to help her escape.

  Tis my ship. She carries lumber to England and staples on the return trip. I have several like her in my fleet The Avenger is the only ship I use for privateering.”

  She felt her disappointment keenly. Was there no escape from El Diablo?

  “Remain here while I speak with Mr. Crawford,” Morgan ordered when he saw his first mate step ashore from a second longboat. He hurried away, and Luca immediately turned her attention to her surroundings. Lush with vegetation, surrounded by sparkling water, the island would have been a paradise in any other circumstance.

  Morgan hailed Crawford, and they met several yards down the shore from where
Luca stood.

  “What are your orders, Captain?” Crawford asked.

  “It will take a solid two months to return the Avenger to her former good condition. Set the men to work immediately. There is plenty of wood about to complete the repairs. Once she’s beached the then can careen her hull. Meanwhile, I have a special assignment for you, my friend.”

  “And what could that be, Morgan? It wouldn’t have anything to do with Sister Luca, would it?”

  “Exactly,” Morgan said, casting a surreptitious glance at Luca, who was now kneeling on the sand examining shells. “I want you to take the Queen’s Glory to Cuba and find out all you can about the Santa Cruz and her passengers. By now the surviving crew have surely been rescued by a passing ship and reported the sinking. I want to know how Don Diego reacted to the news of his fiancée’s death. Find out all you can and report back to me.”

  “Should I leave right away?” Crawford asked, eager to carry out his captain’s orders.

  “I’ll let you know when you’re to leave. You may have a passenger.”

  Crawford looked stunned. “Sister Luca? You want to send her to Havana?”

  “Never!” Morgan denied vehemently. “At least not yet,” he added more reasonably. “If Luca is who I think she is, I have special plans for our little nun. And if she isn’t…” His words skidded to a halt. He had no idea what he would do if Luca actually turned out to be a nun.

  “If it isn’t Luca, who in the hell will my passenger be?”

  “Morgan! Mon amour, man chert, how I have longed for your return.”

  Morgan and Crawford turned as one to watch a voluptuous auburn-haired woman sprint from the trees toward the two men. Crawford turned to Morgan, his brow quirked in askance. “Rouge? You wish to send Rouge to Cuba?”

  “I have a feeling she’ll be happier there,” Morgan said evenly.

  “My God! The Spanish witch truly has beguiled you. I thought Rouge pleased you.”

  “She did, but one must move on, and I have a feeling Rouge is tiring of this island paradise. There is not enough here to keep her occupied during my long absences. Besides, I intend to return to England soon to give the queen her share of the plunder, and I do not relish bringing a French whore with me. Our agreement when she became my mistress was that either of us could move on whenever we wished with no strings attached.”

  Squealing in delight, Rouge reached Morgan. The then working on the beach to unload the Avenger of her plunder watched in amusement as the fiery-haired vixen threw herself into their captain’s arms. Dismayed, Luca watched the open display of affection between the woman and Morgan. She seemed to kiss him endlessly, with great affection. His mouth, his cheeks, his throat, wherever her lips could reach. A dull pounding began in Luca’s temples, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the pain. Why didn’t Morgan tell her he had a wife?

  “Rouge, take it easy,” Morgan laughed as he tried to defend himself against the onslaught of Rouge’s passion. “This is no place to display your affection. You are providing my then with quite a show.”

  “I don’t care, mom amour,” Rouge pouted. Her sultry gaze devoured him. “But if it bothers you, come with me to the house. A bed is far more comfortable than hot sand beneath one’s back.”

  She sensed Morgan’s distraction and followed his gaze down the shoreline to where a woman clad in a shapeless gray dress stood watching them.

  “Who is that woman, Morgan?”

  “Come, I’ll introduce you.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her across the sand.

  Luca was mesmerized by the fiery-haired beauty. Why would he want a drab gray dove when he had a woman like that in his bed? The woman regarded her with hostility, which Luca found puzzling. She could think of no reason for the woman to dislike her.

  “Who is this black-eyed witch, Morgan?” Rouge asked. “She looks like a nun. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly found religion.”

  “Rouge, meet Sister Luca, recently from a Spanish convent Sister Luca, this is Rouge LeClerc, a … friend of mine.”

  “A very good friend,” Rouge purred. “But tell me, mon amour, what is a nun doing on your island? Dieu, a Spanish nun, no less.”

  “She is my guest. Now, shall we all proceed to the house? I’m sure Sister Luca is anxious for a bath and a comfortable bed.” He flashed Luca an impudent grin. “My bunk offers scant comfort.”

  Rouge’s eyes widened in anger, but before she could vent it Crawford drew her away. Luca found herself being guided up the beach by Morgan, whose grip on her elbow was unrelenting.

  “The house is several hundred yards through the forest, in a clearing hewn out by my men. I hired Arawaks to build my house, importing all but the lumber from England,” Morgan continued conversationally. “The house isn’t lavish, but you’ll find it comfortable.”

  Luca had not yet found her voice. The appearance of the beautiful Rouge had rendered her speechless. She should have known that one woman couldn’t satisfy Morgan. He probably had an entire stable of mistresses scattered in all the ports of the world. Actually, finding a woman residing in Morgan’s home eased Luca’s mind. With Rouge in residence he couldn’t possibly want another woman carnally, which suited her perfectly.

  She didn’t want Morgan to think of her in that way.

  But Morgan’s possessive hold upon her arm seemed to defy logic. Nothing was simple or straightforward with Captain Morgan Scott.

  Entering the coolness of the forest, Luca would have liked to have stopped along the way to examine the various flora and fauna, but Morgan would not allow her to stray from the beaten path along which they walked. Abruptly they came upon a clearing, dominated by a large house built entirely of pine logs. It was two stories high, and a wraparound porch on each level kept out the rain and allowed the windows to remain open to catch the breeze. The windows themselves were made of glass, no doubt imported, and tiles covered the roof. On the whole, the house was quite impressive for a wilderness abode.

  They climbed the steps onto the porch and proceeded through the doorway. Luca stood in the foyer, amazed at the coolness that greeted her. They were met by a handsome middle-aged woman with strong Indian features. She was barefoot and dressed in a colorful sarong.

  “Welcome home, Captain.” Her smile was genuinely fond.”

  “’Tis good to be home, Lani. Has all gone well in my absence?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Lani said, sending a somewhat disgruntled glance at Rouge.

  “Is your family well?”

  “Prospering, Captain, thanks to you.”

  “I bring a guest to Timber Ridge, Lani. Please make Sister Luca welcome and see that she is comfortable. Give her the room overlooking the garden. I think she will enjoy that. Her trunk will arrive shortly.”

  Luca sent him a startled look. “I have no trunk.”

  “I took the liberty of having Senorita Santiago’s trunk removed from the sinking galleon. Surely there is something inside you can wear. Anything at all is an improvement over the gray sack you’ve been wearing.”

  “What I’m wearing is the approved dress of my order,” Luca said with a hint of reproof. “I take great pride in my nun’s garb. Those who serve God forsake bright plumage and worldly trappings.”

  “Too bad,” Morgan said softly. “They would suit you.”

  During this exchange between Luca and Morgan, Rouge had been listening carefully, growing suspicious of the rare tenderness in Morgan’s voice and the way he looked at the little gray mouse. What did he see in her?

  Once Lani led Luca off and Stan Crawford sought his own quarters in the large rambling house, Rouge rounded on Morgan.

  “What in the hell was that all about? You are no more religious than I, yet you flaunt this little nun like… like you’re planning to seduce her.”

  The look on Morgan’s face was enough to convince Rouge that she was right. “Dieul That’s exactly what you plan, isn’t it, mon amour? Or have you already succeeded?”

  Chapter
5

  Morgan glared at Rouge. He recalled with alacrity the times he’d returned to Andros and spent amorous days and erotic nights in bed with Rouge, eating and sleeping sporadically. Sporting with the feisty French wench had been fun and satisfying, but suddenly she no longer appealed to him. Their time together had run its course; he was tiring of her, it was as simple as that. And she. could deny it all she wanted, but he knew she was ready to leave the island.

  “Well, Morgan, mon amour, answer my question. Have you already seduced the woman? She’s a nun! I can’t believe it of you, even knowing your hatred for Spaniards.”

  “Looks are often deceiving,” Morgan said, admitting nothing, denying nothing. Rouge was too astute not to realize his ultimate goal.

  “What do you mean by that? The girl is a nun, isn’t she?”

  “As far as I know,” Morgan said blandly. “And for your information, I haven’t seduced her. I can’t get her off her knees long enough to lift her skirts.”

  Rouge laughed lustily. “Ah, mon amour, if you want her bad enough you’ll find a way. Come,” her voice grew husky as she grasped his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “I’ve missed you dreadfully. If I have my way we won’t leave the bedroom for a full week. I intend to have my fill of you before you leave again.”

  Morgan hung back. “I’ve duties to attend to.”

  Rouge sent him a heated glance. “Let Crawford see to them.”

  “Crawford is busy. He’ll be leaving the island soon.”

  “Alone?”

  “No. Not necessarily. I thought you might like to accompany him to Cuba. I’m willing to settle a sum on you that will allow you to live independently for the rest of your life. If you don’t fancy Cuba, you can take a ship from there to France.”