by Chloe Harris
She couldn’t believe it had come to this. He detested her. She loved him and hated herself and the husband she never met.
There was nothing more that could be said.
Jaidyn stormed out.
The knock on the door was a little hesitant. Connor knew only one of his crew would dare to bother him. He let the lid of the chest holding his weapons drop and squared his shoulders, facing the door.
“Come,” he barked, wondering what business it was now. They’d anchored in Georgetown and he’d given the men leave. Only none of them had gone.
“Captain … sir?” Maxfield seemed to search the room and when he found Connor, something flickered in his eyes. Caution or worry.
Whatever it was, it was something Connor didn’t want to deal with at the moment. “Mr. Parrish?”
“I thought … maybe … I might have a word with you.”
If he kept on stammering like that, Connor’s patience would snap. “About what?”
Maxfield shut the door behind him. His gaze roamed the cabin, restless, on edge. “I–”
The next instant Maxfield jumped into action and came close, so close. Too close. “I see how you suffer,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t suffer like that.”
“Is that all?” Connor didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not with Maxfield. “Very well, you may leave now,” he sneered, turning his back.
Maxfield’s hand wrapped around the other man’s elbow, tugging. Connor whirled around, gripped Maxfield’s neck and shoved him into the wall behind him, gritting his teeth. “Insolent, are we?”
He didn’t fight back, just stood on tiptoes. As Connor’s choking grip increased, Maxfield’s eyes dilated. “She’s not worth it,” Maxfield pressed out. “She’s not worth any of this.”
Connor felt him growing hard against his thigh. He released him as if the touch burnt him. Taking a step back, Connor tried to calm himself.
This wasn’t a good idea. Not in the mood he was in.
Maxfield stepped up to Connor. “I knew it would come to this, but I’ve waited. I’ve tried to be patient.” He cupped his captain’s face in his hands. “Let me make it better. Just like old times.”
Tilting his head, Maxfield brought his lips close to Connor’s. His hands wandered down to Connor’s shoulders and farther down, caressing Connor’s chest like only a man would, with none of the hesitancy a woman had. When Maxfield’s hands reached his belt, Connor stopped their advance, shaking his head.
“I can give you what you need,” Maxfield whispered into his ear, his lips brushing Connor’s earlobe.
A pale shiver of arousal tickled down Connor’s spine. “And that would be?”
Maxfield’s eyes sparkled as he heard Connor’s croak. He lowered himself to his knees in front of Connor, his hands opening his shirt. He pulled it over his head slowly, then shook it off, looking up at Connor with eyes that were dark and sweet and full of hope.
Maxfield caressed himself. Connor couldn’t look away. His eyes followed as Maxfield’s fingers dug into the blond hair that dusted his pectorals, down to where the patch narrowed to a fine line as it reached the rim of his breeches.
For a heartbeat, Connor couldn’t move. Even if he could, he didn’t know where he wanted to go. Did he want to take a step forward and encourage Maxfield? Or did he want to take a step back? Or did he want to go to his treasure chest and get the riding crop?
This was not a good idea–not in the mood he was in, Connor repeated in his mind.
But, oh, it was tempting.
Maxfield rubbed the bulge in his own breeches, tilting his head, his eyes never leaving Connor. His gaze was alluring. It felt like a good tug on his balls. Maxfield liked to do that when he sucked Connor off.
Suddenly breathless, Connor shook his head again. “No.”
“Let it out on me. You know I can take it. I know you want to. As much as I want you to.” Maxfield’s incessant whispers increased the pounding in his cock. The younger man’s gaze zeroed in on Connor’s growing rod and he licked his lips suggestively.
Jaidyn was ready to run, ready to get as far away from Connor as fast as she could. Yet somehow she found herself dragging her feet to disembark.
The only place to go was to her father. Now that the time had come, she didn’t know if she could do it. Not when things with Connor were like this.
What if things with her father turned out to be just as bad? What if after all this he didn’t want her, either?
She couldn’t stand the thought of facing him then having no one. She did have someone, though. She had May Hem. At least May Hem would be with her.
In the hold Jaidyn began preparing the horse to leave. She got the bridle and bit down off its hook, then threw the blanket over the mare’s back.
Her heavy sigh turned to a sob. Instead of reaching for the saddle, Jaidyn leaned her cheek against May Hem’s warm hide.
“What am I doing, girl? I’ve never been one to run from a problem. But I’m not running. I came here to see my father, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s time to finally have this done with, just like Connor is done with me.” Jaidyn patted the horse’s smooth flank as she whinnied in sympathy.
“I’ve hurt him so badly, May Hem. If you could have seen the look on his face. It was horrible. I had no idea he would be hurt like that. I never thought–I never hoped that he could feel so deeply for me. I thought it was all just a game to him.”
The idea came so unexpectedly, Jaidyn jolted. She stood back up, wiping her eyes and nose with the edge of her sleeve. Could it be?
What if he really …?
She wanted to believe it so badly. Her heart wanted to grab at that thread of possibility and hold on for dear life.
Well, if he did feel so much for her, then maybe instead of going to a husband she’d never met and who never wanted much contact, much less expect her to fulfill her wifely duties, she could stay with Connor. Maybe they could find a way to be together. There was still a chance she could love him and be with him.
May Hem stomped her hooves impatiently. Jaidyn gave her a sad smile. “Oh, my sweet girl, I know you’re ready to get off this ship, but I can’t go just yet. I’ve got to go back and make him talk to me. I’ve got to know. I couldn’t live with myself if I left without ever knowing if he feels for me like I do for him. Surely you understand that.”
The mare raised, then lowered her head before shaking it from side to side, neighing. Jaidyn wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck, kissing her cheek. “Hold on, girl, for just a little bit longer.”
Love made her fly up the stairs. Jaidyn was hoping against hope it was true.
For Connor, Maxfield’s offer was … unsettling. Seductive, true, but that he didn’t react with his usual enthusiasm was unnerving.
But why should he hold back? There was nothing–nobody that kept him from doing what he wanted. Maybe a good hard ride was just what he needed to find his usual detachment again. And Maxfield liked it rough, especially after a long and thorough treatment with the riding crop.
Connor didn’t think when he went to the treasure chest; he didn’t think when his hand wrapped around the crop, nor when he positioned himself behind Maxfield. He gripped the riding crop in his hand tightly.
But he couldn’t make himself take that first sweet, zinging swing.
Connor was repulsed by himself. He opened his death grip on the instrument and the crop fell to the floor. His fingers dove into his hair and he rolled his eyes skyward in despair.
This was not what he wanted. Not even remotely. He wanted her–and it was tearing him to shreds.
Jaidyn had ruined him for anybody else.
Maxfield turned, his hands quickly working the fly of Connor’s breeches. Before he could get anywhere near his cock, Connor roared, “No!” and shoved him away.
A sharp gasp had him look up. Jaidyn was standing in the door, taking in the situation before her, her eyes round and unblinking like an owl’s. Connor refused to
look embarrassed.
Maxfield reached for his shirt. He got up and his gaze darted between her and Connor. The pain of being cast aside shone clearly in his hazel eyes, but Connor thought there was also something else. Carefully subdued anger.
The younger man averted his gaze and nodded toward Jaidyn. “Miss Donnelly.”
“Mr. Parrish.”
Without another word, Maxfield stormed out.
Connor couldn’t look at her for fear that the hurt roiling in his stomach and ripping his heart to pieces would show. So he went back to the chest he’d shut before Maxfield’s intrusion and resumed preparing his pistols and daggers.
“Connor. I–”
“What?” His eyes narrowed at her. The underlying growl in his voice served to stop her in her tracks.
“Can we talk about it?”
Loading the smaller pistol, he ground his teeth. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
She rolled her lips under and took another step toward him. “You may have nothing to say, but I do.”
“Fine,” Connor snapped, securing the pistol in his belt at the small of his back. He started loading the larger pistol. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Please, Connor. At least let me–What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He squeezed the larger pistol into his belt at his front. Reaching for two daggers, he secured them in his boots. One last dagger was slid into its sheath and attached to his left forearm with leather straps.
“Good Lord! You’re not thinking of–”
“What I’m thinking,” he cut her off, “is none of your business.” He went to get his coat, shrugging into it. “Besides, why do you care?” Righting his cuffs, he settled a callous gaze on her. “Or more to the point: since when?”
Jaidyn went in an arc around him until she stood with her back to the tray of decanters and glasses. “Look, there is no need for you to leave the ship. Winston can take me ashore. There is no need for you to risk being seen.”
Connor chuckled, but the sound was void of amusement. “Very good. But there’s no need to keep this up any longer.”
“This isn’t an act, Connor. It never has been. I–”
That was it. Connor could no longer hold the red-hot fury in him back. “Mr. Matthews and you can do whatever the hell you like.” Moving toward her, he pointed an accusing finger. “But I’m going to take a stroll through town and see if anything has changed since they branded me a criminal. Maybe have a pint or a dozen before saying hello to my loving brother.”
Even though they weren’t close to each other, Jaidyn took a small step back, bumping into the cabinet. “Connor, you’re just being foolish. And you’re going to get yourself killed for it.”
“No, my dear, what was foolish was ever getting involved with a manipulative harpy like you. I knew you were trouble. I knew it when I left you that first time. I should’ve never come back.” He whirled, giving his back to her.
“Connor! You’re being ridiculous. Don’t say that.”
Agitated beyond bearing, he began to pace the room. “You’re right there, Miss Donnelly. It was ridiculous to think you were doing anything but using me to get exactly what you wanted. Happy now, my lady? You’ve had your fun and now you’ll have your husband–and all you had to do was open those pretty legs of yours.”
“Stubborn bastard! It wasn’t like that and you know it.”
Connor turned back to her. “It wasn’t? Yet here we are. I’m risking my life and you’re going home to your husband in town. How is it not?”
Ginger brows snapped together as her eyes narrowed. She opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out. Connor knew there was nothing she could say. It was the truth. But it didn’t make him feel any better.
“I wonder. Do you think your husband will be able to make you come so many times you can’t breathe, can’t think? Do you think he can help you find that place where it all falls away? Be sure to let him know who to thank for breaking you in.” Connor had to stop himself from spitting on the floor or screaming his rage at the thought of her with her husband.
“That was cruel, Connor. How can you be such a cur?” Jaidyn looked hollow, empty and forsaken, but he wasn’t going to let that fool him.
“It seems to be easy with you around.” He needed to get away from her. Fast. “I’ve brought you here. You’ve paid for passage.” Connor spoke with a casualness he didn’t feel. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”
“Oh really? If that’s what you think of me, then maybe I should pack my things and leave as soon as possible.”
Already at the door, Connor turned his head. “That might be best.”
A glass shattered on the wall dangerously close to his head, but Connor ignored it. He just left.
14
_____________________________
The leather of the large chair rumbled as it stretched when Connor sat down. Its twin sat empty on the other side of the table. He leaned his head back and inhaled deeply. Fading traces of soft soap and furniture polish mingled with the faint scent of cold cigar smoke from the thick carpet under his feet.
It still smelled like home, Connor thought. And it still felt like home.
Being here again after all this time was like all the burdens had suddenly fallen off his shoulders and everything would turn out right in the end.
All but one worry. That nagging pain still remained no matter where he was.
Now that the house was asleep, the ticking of the pendulum clock in the hall was so loud it almost drowned out the excited song of crickets outside. On the other side of what was now Kieran’s house, Connor could hear a lone coach rattling by, the horse’s hooves beating a tired clip-clop on the cobblestones.
Otherwise the night was quiet, but Connor knew it wouldn’t be long until Kieran showed up. He didn’t know how his brother did it, but Kieran had some sort of sixth sense when it came to intruders. Inwardly, Connor winced when he realized that he was now an intruder in this house as well.
An almost inaudible squeak of the wooden floor in the hall had him perk up his ears. He grabbed the match next to him and lit the candle. When he looked up, he saw the barrel of a pistol pointed at him.
Behind it stood his brother. The pupils in his pale blue eyes shrank to pinpoints in the sudden light. Other than that he remained as still as a statue.
“Kieran,” Connor greeted him, although the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped considerably all of a sudden.
“Brother?” Dropping the arm that had pointed the pistol at Connor, Kieran turned and sauntered to the sideboard. He’d taken the time to dress, Connor noted. He wore a shirt and breeches, but no shoes. His long black hair hung loosely down his back.
He placed the pistol on the cabinet and filled two glasses with brandy. When Kieran came back to where Connor sat, he set one glass right in front of him, raised it in a silent toast, and sipped at it without waiting for Connor.
He swallowed the amber liquid with a gasp. “To what do I owe this honor?”
Connor reached for his glass. “I wanted to see you.”
“And risk your head by doing so?” The tone in his voice made it quite clear that Kieran didn’t believe him. Even that wasn’t new.
“Nobody knows I’m here.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Kier mumbled into his glass before he downed the rest of the brandy.
“I trust my crew.”
Kieran snorted. “Still idealistic.”
Connor set his glass down with a loud clunk. “No, I just refused to completely lose faith in people. Well, most people.”
“You never had to.” Kier’s cold stare settled on Connor.
“I’m reminded of never trusting anybody again every day.” He pointed at the thin scar on the left side of his face that started at his brow and ran down his temple, ending just above his cheekbone. With a growl, Kier got up, taking his glass with him to the sideboard to refill it.
Seeing how
coldhearted and bitter his brother had become hurt Connor like a jab in the stomach.
The tension left Kieran’s shoulders a bit. “But it’s good that you’re here.”
Connor’s heartbeat pitched and he fought to not let the hopeful smile he felt tugging at his lips show. Maybe they could finally make peace.
“Yes,” Kieran nodded, crossing the room to the desk. “Do you mind signing this while you’re here?” He retrieved the paper in question and laid it out for him.
Connor strolled to the desk and reached for the quill. Dipping it into the ink, he signed the document as quickly as usual. When he turned back, he saw Kieran watching him with an unfathomable grin.
“You never read any of them, do you?”
“No. I trust you.” Straightening, Connor looked out of the windows, absentmindedly touching the pistol at his front hidden underneath the coat.
“Is someone waiting for you? Don’t let me keep you.”
“No.” Connor shook his head and leaned against the frame of the window. “Nobody’s waiting for me.” He wished Kieran didn’t catch on to the sadness in his words, but they were brothers and Kieran knew him too well.
Good Lord. Connor exhaled and turned until his back was supported by the wall between the two windows. The ache didn’t lessen. If anything, it increased with every desperate beat of his heart.
“What bothers you?”
Should he tell him? He’d come here to talk with Kier about it, hoping he’d feel better afterward. But those nagging doubts right now …
“I know. Now.”
Leaning forward, Kier glowered across the table at him. “What do you think you know?”
“How you felt. Then.”
Lips grim, Kieran averted his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“This woman …” Connor snorted as he reminded himself that she wasn’t just that. She was a liar, a … “That fork-tongued viper played me for a fool.”
“I see.” Kieran leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk. “One of your lovers is giving you a headache.”
A heartache was more like it. “She’s not just a lover. I …” Connor swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes, whispering, “I love her.”
