by Connie Mason
Fox rose to his feet and sketched a mocking bow. “After you, milady Vixen,” he gestured, quickly falling in beside her as she started down the path that led to the beach. To fill the void Fox began to talk of the Vixen’s exploits during the past months. “They tell me you are an expert with a sword.”
Alexa smiled wickedly. I’m able to hold my own,” she temporized.
“More than just hold your own, I’ll wager. Where did you learn such manly skills?”
“From a friend,” Alexa hedged.
“I’ll bet,” Fox commented dryly. Alexa flushed but wisely held her tongue. “Where did you come from, Vixen, and why the mask? Is there some dark secret in your past you wish to hide?”
“I could ask the same of you, Fox. What are you trying to hide?”
“I can’t afford to reveal my true identity,” Fox shrugged, surprising Alexa with his willingness to talk. More freely than he ever did with his own wife. “I come and go at will in and out of Savannah and am privy to General Prevost’s plans. To the world at large I am anything but a privateer and am entrusted with secrets invaluable to the Fox and his crusade against oppression. Even Governor Wright trusts me in my other identity.”
And Governor Wright’s niece. Alexa wanted to ask but bit her tongue, does she trust you too? Instead she said, “It’s strange you do not show your face to your own countrymen.”
“It’s safer this way,” hedged Fox. “But if you are willing to unmask, I will afford you the same courtesy.”
“You aren’t the only one who has reasons for remaining anonymous,” Alexa replied tartly. “So let’s call it a draw. We shall both retain our secret identities. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Fox smiled cryptically.
From a distance Alexa heard voices and knew they were near the beach where the crews of both ships were hard at work repairing their damage. But before they came out into the open. Fox grasped Alexa’s arm, halting her in mid-step, and swung her around to face him. “We’re far from finished, you and I, Vixen. Before either of us leave this island we’ll finish what we started back there by the lake.”
“No man tells me what to do, Fox,” Alexa bristled angrily. “I told you before, only if I wish it.”
“I’ll make you wish it.” Fox rasped softly, “beg for it, even.” Then he turned on his heel and preceded her to the beach where he was immediately hailed by his men. Alexa followed more slowly, sorting through her muddled thoughts.
Foremost in her mind was the knowledge that Fox wanted the Vixen. And this despite the fact that he loved Alexa, or so he said. As Adam, he also professed to love his wife. And yet, he felt no qualms about bedding another woman when Alexa supposedly was unavailable. No doubt he had bedded Gwen Wright often enough during the past months when he returned to Savannah as Adam. What a damnable mess. Alexa groaned inwardly. Fox/Adam, Alexa/Vixen. How would it all end? Of one thing she was certain: Should Adam return to Alexa after the war he would never learn from her of her daring exploits as Vixen.
Drake met Alexa at the edge of the clearing. “Did he see through your disguise?” he asked anxiously. “I wanted to go after you myself but Fox wouldn’t hear of it.”
Alexa blushed hotly, thinking that it might have been Drake who found her nude instead of Fox. “I’m certain I fooled him completely,” she assured him confidently. They conferred briefly about the repairs on the ship and then Drake turned to leave, but Alexa put a restraining hand on his arm. “Drake,” she said softly, “you know about Fox, don’t you? I mean you know who he is.”
Drake flushed, embarrassed. “Aye. Besides Captain Mac and Fox’s own crew. I am the only other person to know.”
“Then you know Fox is my husband.” Drake nodded. “For some unexplained reason Adam chose not to confide in his wife so she is not supposed to know he is the Fox.”
For a moment Drake looked confused. “Then how …”
“Suffice it to say I came upon the truth accidentally, but I kept the knowledge to myself. That’s one of the reasons I do not wish Fox to know who I am. The other reasons are too complex to go into at this time. I’m grateful to you for keeping my secret. It means a great deal to me.”
“I swore an oath, Vixen, and I intend to uphold it. I know you by no other name but Vixen. And you need have no fear about your crew. To a man they are faithful to you.”
Overcome with gratitude as well as profoundly touched by her men’s loyalty, Alexa threw her arms about Drake and planted an exuberant kiss on his lips. It was over almost before it began and Alexa turned on her heel, leaving a stunned Drake in her wake. A few yards away, Fox watched through slitted eyes, unable to control the muscles that twitched spasmodically in his tightly clenched jaw.
What kind of game was the little witch playing? Fox asked himself as he watched Vixen swagger down the beach. How dare she put him off while sharing her favors with her men. It took more restraint than he knew he possessed to keep from dragging her back into the woods and making love to her. He’d have his way yet. Fox vowed darkly, his eyes following Vixen’s enticing form undulating across the white sane.
The repairs on both ships were progressing well. That night the combined crews held a joint party with food and drink provided equally by Fox and Vixen. Harmonicas and musical instruments were brought out after the meal and Alexa found herself being swung from man to man as the music grew wild and the dancing more frenzied. During those times Fox was her partner they conversed little, for the hectic pace kept them moving. When she finally made her bed beside the fire, guarded by the faithful Drake, she fell into an exhausted sleep, unaware of the wistful glance Fox cast in her direction.
By day the crews toiled diligently, but at night they danced and sang far into the wee hours. It was a time of reprieve from the pressures of war, from the perilous sea, and the men made the most of it.
Gathered around a huge fire one night the talk turned to the skills of their respective captains, and Alexa blushed to hear her men loudly sing her praises. Sitting beside her taking it all in. Fox carelessly flung out a challenge that left Alexa stunned. “What say you to an exhibition duel, Vixen?” Immediately sixty-odd voices rose in a roar of approval.
Could she best Fox? Alexa speculated. Seated beside her, Drake voiced his doubts. “Don’t do it. Vixen. You’re good but not that good.”
That’s all Alexa needed to hear. She would show all these men that she was every bit as good as they were. “I accept,” she agreed recklessly. Drake shook his head negatively and looked worried while the crew members of both ships thought only of the entertainment bound to liven up their drab existence. Within minutes bets flew back and forth and before she knew it Alexa found herself caught up in the excitement generated by the prospect of a duel between the two captains. Only Fox appeared unmoved as he sat back, smiling complacently, as if he had just accomplished some great feat.
Almost as an afterthought Fox leaned over and whispered for Alexa’s ears only. “What say you to a wager to make the duel more interesting?”
“What kind of a wager?” asked Alexa suspiciously. She knew Fox well enough to be wary of anything he might suggest.
“If I win,” Fox said smugly, “you share my bed for as long as we’re on the island.”
“And if you lose?” countered Alexa.
“I won’t,” replied Fox confidently.
“But if you do,” challenged Alexa stubbornly.
Fox thought a moment, then smiled broadly and said, “In the unlikely event you should best me you may unmask me. In private, of course.”
Alexa’s prudence fled out the window at such an enticing prospect. Not only would Fox face ridicule from his crew should she win but would earn additional embarrassment when he bared his face to her. It was too much for her to resist and, against her better judgment, she nodded her head in agreement.
It was decided that the duel would take place on the beach at ten o’clock the following morning. Alexa retired to her place beside the fire while Drake soundl
y rebuked her for being goaded into accepting the challenge. Alexa was glad he did not know of the private wager between her and Fox or he would no doubt spend the entire night berating her.
“Of course he’ll not hurt you, Vixen,” Drake assured her, “but it’s bound to be an embarrassment to you.”
“What makes you so sure I’ll lose?” Alexa flounced angrily. “I’ve defended myself quite well these past months.” Somewhere within the compartments of her heart came the unbidden thought that perhaps she wanted Fox to beat her in order to give her an excuse to share his bed.
“Vixen, I don’t mean to belittle your skill, but I doubt there’s a man alive who can beat Fox at swordplay.”
“Maybe not,” she drawled slowly, “but perhaps it takes a woman to accomplish what a man cannot.”
They were brave words, Alexa knew, but she would try her damnedest to wipe the smug smile from Fox’s handsome face.
16
It was hot. Already the sun was an orange ball high in the sky. Alexa stood in the center of a large circle facing an extremely virile and intimidating Fox. She longed to wipe the amused smirk from his lips and deliberately assumed a confident stance, which, truth to tell, she was far from feeling.
Fox appeared totally awesome dressed entirely in black; from his silk shirt open at the neck to expose a large expanse of curly hairs the color of tawny gold, tight black trousers that displayed bulging thighs and bold manhood, down to his highly polished black boots. A colorful relief was provided by the bright red silk scarf worn at a jaunty angle to conceal his hair. Alexa watched in trepidation as his massive muscles rippled and tensed in anticipation of the match.
Alexa was decked out in her usual costume of skintight pants and sheer blouse. With every motion, the filmy white silk shifted, allowing tantalizing glimpses of her full breasts. Like Fox, a colorful scarf held her long silver locks in place. She looked so fetching that Fox deliberately forced his eyes anywhere but at her luscious form in order to concentrate on the duel. Perhaps that’s what the cunning little witch had in mind when she dressed so brazenly, Fox reflected, greatly admiring her courage as well as her daring.
Around them gathered eagerly the men of both crews, noisily joking and placing their bets. It was no more than good-natured fun and anticipation for the lively match was high. Members of both crews knew their captains would acquit themselves admirably, yet refrain from inflicting bodily harm on one another. Never before had such a match taken place and it never would again. It was something the men could talk about for years to come when they were old and gray with their grandchildren at their knee.
They squared off in a traditional pose, and Alexa’s soft, “En garde,” sent them both into action. Taking into careful consideration her slighter build and feminine stamina, Alexa allowed Fox to take the offensive, easily parrying his first tentative thrusts. Gradually, the tempo of the attack picked up, and she felt the power behind his blows. Like ballet dancers they circled one another, each wary of the other’s abilities and responses, alert for an opening. Alexa concentrated in an effort to keep her guard up and watch for any weakness in Fox’s attack. But she could find no flaw in his expertise, marking him a master at the art. But no matter how experienced he was, Alexa intended to put up the fight of her life.
After a number of lighthearted feints and parries, the bout began in earnest. It took all of Alexa’s strength and stamina to fend off Fox’s swift thrusts and powerful lunges. It seemed she had time for nothing but blocking his strokes. Then slowly she began to turn the tide, assuming the offensive herself. Her resurgence of confidence was evident in her skillful feints and vigorous lunges. Awed by her prowess. Fox could not help but admire her expertise.
They fought steadily for twenty long minutes, neither gaining or losing much ground as the offensive changed sides several times. At times Alexa felt buoyed by her success thus far. At other times her arms ached from the weight of the sword and she was certain her wrists were about to snap each time Fox’s thrust was successfully parried. On and on they went, thrusting, lunging, parrying, feinting, sidestepping, leaping, recovering, their eyes never wavering from one another.
Alexa began to tire under Fox’s relentless onslaught, but she dared not reveal her weakness. One faltering movement, one false step, would tell him that the contest, as well as herself, was his for the taking.
And then it happened, so quickly that Alexa barely registered the deed. She feinted to one side, bringing her sword up to block his thrust. A low chuckle reached her ears as he effectively counter-parried, forcing her sword aside. So swiftly she barely had time to react, the point of his blade came to rest above her heart. With a slight flick of his wrist, he lightly pricked the skin and one drop of crimson blood appeared on the upper swell of her breast.
A shout of triumph from the crew of The Gray Ghost declared the winner. All around wagers were being paid, backs slapped, and a general air of revelry prevailed. Though the Vixen had lost her crew thought the bout evenly matched and a fair one. They were vastly proud of their captain and showed it by their cries of encouragement and congratulations on a well-fought bout.
But Alexa heard nothing save for Fox’s soft—“Touche.” Sheathing his sword he bowed low, a mocking gesture, at best, grasped her hand and placed an insolent kiss upon the palm. “To the victor go the spoils,” he saluted, grinning sardonically. Then, much to Alexa’s chagrin, and amid rousing cheers, Fox swung her off her feet, flung her over his brawny shoulder like a sack of potatoes and headed for the concealment of the trees lining the beach.
“Damn you, Fox, put me down!” raged Alexa, beating ineffectually against his broad back with her fists.
“I will, Vixen, in good time,” he declared, thoroughly enjoying her discomfiture as well as his victory over her as he loped off in the direction of the lake.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Where we won’t be disturbed.”
“I’m perfectly able to walk.”
“I know.”
“Then put me down.”
“I enjoy carrying you.”
“You enjoy humiliating me before my men!”
“Now, Vixen,” Fox cajoled teasingly, “I won fair and square. Both your men and mine knew some sort of reward was expected by the victor. I’m sure we aren’t shocking them.”
Unable to persuade him differently, Alexa pursed her lips angrily and suffered the indignity of being toted upended over Fox’s shoulder. Only when they approached the spot where Fox had encountered Vixen for the first time did he set her on her feet, grinning wolfishly in anticipation of what was to come.
“I demand payment, Vixen, here and now,” he rasped softly, his hands straying to the buttons holding her blouse together.
“And if I refuse?” asked Alexa haughtily.
“It is a debt of honor, Vixen. I doubt you’ll refuse.”
Alexa stared at him coldly then stooped as if to take off her boots, but instead retrieved the knife she kept hidden there in a special holder. Before he realized her intent the point of the short blade was pressed to his neck.
“I could refuse you, Fox, honor or no,” Alexa hissed. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, as you can see. But it is my choice to yield to you, not because you demand it, but because I … want it.” The knife dropped noiselessly to the soft sand at her feet and Fox’s face softened as he pulled her into his arms.
His touch was gentle. He raised a hand to smooth her wild silvery hair from her face, then to stroke the velvety softness of her cheek. She could feel the gentle breeze of his breath on her face and realized she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
He touched her breast, where a drop of blood remained from his sword prick, then lowered his lips to flick it away with the tip of his tongue, leaving a trail of moist kisses from there up her throat to her lips. Abruptly the gentleness was gone, and in its place a splendid savagery as his kiss deepened, became drugging, then demanding.
She
raised her hand to his chest, lightly resting on the steely muscles. With one hand about her waist, they sank to the sand. Her back arched so that her taut nipples stabbed into him. His kiss was heady and intoxicating and she drank deeply of its drugging cup. Dwarfed by his size, she reveled in his warm embrace, in his strength, and in return gave freely of her lips.
Then his hand moved to cup one firm breast, kneading it gently, preparing it for his lips as he swiftly removed her blouse and took the extraordinarily sensitive crest in his mouth. His warm, moist tongue tantalized it, teased it, causing her to moan aloud. He took her nipple between his teeth, tugging slightly, the hot torment of his tongue lapping, sucking, rousing a need that demanded assuaging.
Fox drew away for agonizing minutes as he swiftly ripped off Alexa’s remaining clothes and then his own. She welcomed him back with a cry of joy as his hand rubbed the flatness of her stomach, then grasped her hips to pull her more firmly against his hard shaft, its steely length making Alexa all too aware of his desire for her. His hand traveled down her thigh and then up along the sensitive inside, all Alexa’s thoughts centered on that part of her that ached for him.
And then he touched her there and a soft moan of pleasure rolled from Alexa’s parted lips. His strong fingers gently teased the silken web of her delight, parting her to seek a spot that instantly drove her wild as she arched in response, leaving her open and begging for him.
Light fleeting kisses moved against the skin of her rib cage, the sweet curve of her hips, the flat stomach, and paused to nuzzle the tight triangle of ebony ringlets. Alexa gasped, an aching need soaring to life inside her. But the kisses continued against the velvet fur, teasing the sensitive flesh, causing her to cry out in supplication.
Grinning, Fox rose above her, his knees easily spreading hers, his long, hard manhood probing, tormenting, before he finally entered her, drawing out, entering, and withdrawing again until Alexa screamed from the need to feel his full length within her.
