Hers were not stretched out. They were hugged to her chest as she leaned back, her eyes closed. Her water still steamed, and smelled subtly and sweetly of some bath oil. Her eyes did not open as he stood there. Her hair was up high, coiled and pinned to the top of her head. Her throat seemed incredibly long. Standing there, watching her, he ached as he could not remember aching in all of his life.
Her eyes opened suddenly, glistening aquamarine, glittering by firelight.
"How dare you!" she whispered furiously. "You could knock; you've no right to just stand there!"
"Pirates do not knock," he told her.
"Out!" she demanded.
He didn't leave. He strode to the tub and knelt down beside it. He dangled his fingers into the hot water, feeling as if the steam infused him.
"Get away from me!" she demanded again, but her words were tremulous, and when he met her eyes again, it seemed that they were now tormented with an unhappiness that tore at his heart. "You smell like the whole of the tavern!" she told him, and added softly, "and like every strumpet within it!"
"Pirates do not knock," he told her, "nor do they explain themselves, my lady."
With a sudden angry motion she slashed her hand through the water, dousing his head and shirt. Startled and infuriated, he rose, shaking off the water, reaching into the tub for his captive. Before he quite knew what he had done, he had taken her naked and dripping from the tub and carried her across the room.
"Don't you—"
"My lady, you do not seem to understand the situation here!" he told her angrily, his own voice shaking. What the hell was he doing? He now had her in his arms, all of her, and all of her naked perfection. Slim, she seemed nothing heavier than a feather to carry. Yet every inch of that slimness had been curved and molded into something incredibly beautiful and exotic and sensual, full breasts with crimson crests, the peaks as tight as pebbles, tempting his touch, his lips, his caress. Hips that flared provocatively, legs that were exquisitely long and shapely, slim waist, silken flesh, the scent of her sending a pounding torture straight to his head and heart.
Before he knew it he was down upon the bed with her, tasting that flesh, palms exploring the wild beauty of each shape and curve.
"Don't you dare! Get off me, leave me!"
She pounded against him in sheer fury, but something within him had seemed to explode with the longing she had elicited. "Pirates don't ask permission, my lady!" he assured her. "And you have been duly warned..." he whispered, his lips touching her throat.
She whispered softly to him then. "Please, not like this, not when you've been drinking so much, please..."
Oh, she was good!
A ragged groan tore through the entire length of him. He didn't know if he cried it out loud, or if it silently tore him asunder. He must have stiffened there for endless minutes, then he fell to his side. After a moment, he touched her cheeks. The dampness there was not from the steam of her bath, but from the tears which had touched them. Again he groaned, and fighting the agony in his groin, he slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.
She didn't fight him, didn't move, didn't whisper a single word.
Thank God for the rum blurring his senses, blurring the pain. After a time, it even made him sleep.
* * *
When he awoke, he panicked to realize his captive was gone.
He leaped out of his bed and raced out to the main hall. Billy Bowe sat at the dining table, sipping coffee.
"Where is she?" Steven demanded heatedly.
"The waterfall," Billy said.
"The waterfall?" Steven roared. "Alone?"
"Now honestly, Captain, how's the girl to escape the isle? She awoke and asked if she might just feel the morning's breeze, and I told her about the stream and the waterfall. No one will disturb her there, and the lass couldn't just be kept pacing the confines of this room again and again, eh, sir?"
"If the French ever get their hands on us, we'll be pacing much smaller spaces!" Steven assured him angrily. "You can't trust her! You dare not trust her; she knows every little twist of manipulation. If I don't find her, Billy Bowe, you'll discover just what it's like to pace small spaces!"
"She's getting to you, eh, Captain?"
Steven swore softly and slammed his way out of the house, praying that he would find her, that she had not disappeared somehow.
He had slept late and the sun was already rising high. He followed the trail upward along the cliff and through the foliage quickly, nearly at a run, as if he could make up for lost time. He broke into the ragged piece of land where the big palm grew on a spit overlooking the clear freshwater spring below. He leaned against the tree, gasping for breath, and looked below.
She was there. Naked. Beneath the place where the water fell in sheer cascades. Her head was back, and the cool, clear water rushed over her face and hair.
"You wretched little witch!" he raged down at her.
She wasn't startled; she wasn't at all surprised to see him. Her eyes opened on his, her chin remained high, a delicate brow hiked just a little.
"What now, Monsieur le Pirate?" she inquired.
"What did you do, walk out stark naked in front of Billy Bowe and strut through the village so?"
A smile curved her lips. "My clothes are hanging on the branch just yonder," she told him.
He wanted to look to the branch but couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
She was more beautiful in the daylight—and through sober eyes—than even he had realized. Everything about her elegant, slim, haunting, perfect.
"Damn it, if you think that you can continue to play me like a fool, my lady, you are mistaken! You beckon, you tease, and then you cry foul! Well, lady, bear this in mind! I am a pirate, and our very purpose in life is to raid and ravage-—"
"Threats!" she cried to him, striding out from the waterfall, naked, golden, her hands on her hips, her eyes alight with pure defiance. "Threats, threats, threats! Well, are you a pirate, or aren't you?"
"Ah, dammit, lady, that I am!"
And once again, before he knew what he was doing, he was in motion.
From the cliff he dived into the clear cool waters below, and even as the water enwrapped him, he knew that this time, when he touched her, he would not let her go.
Chapter 6
Just what in God's name had she been doing? Tessa wondered with a moment's panic. There would be no turning back now. She knew that from the look in his eyes, right before he had plunged from the cliff and into the water.
But even as he emerged from the crystal-clear water, fully dressed and drenched, she felt the fierce pounding begin in her heart again, and she realized that she knew exactly what she had been doing. She had weighed life, or at least her life, and had decided that there was every likelihood that she would be forced to spend year after endless year with Raoul Flambert. And if that was eventually to be the case...
Then she wanted this first. So he was a pirate. So he had captured her ship, and intended to sell her back to Raoul. He hated Raoul—that she didn't fully understand. But it had become surprisingly clear to her in the time that had passed between them now that the Red Fox was a gentleman pirate. And he was striking, muscled like steel, with a smile that compelled and haunted, like the deep, rich tones of his voice. If the rest of her life was to be with Flambert, then this would be hers first. Her time with this man. She liked him, she admired him, she found him fascinating, no matter what these outrageous circumstances. Far beneath the pirate facade, he was an exceptional man. She might have done a lot of fighting, teasing, taunting... and walked away from him. Last night they had come so close...
But just as she had discovered that she longed for him, she longed for the little piece of paradise she intended to touch to be just that. She didn't want him awakening with a rum-soaked headache, not remembering a thing about her when it would be one of the most momentous occasions of her life. She wanted to aw
aken knowing that he...
That he had touched something special as well.
Ah, well, so now she had done this! And he had risen in the water to come striding toward her, and the gold in his eyes seemed to glisten like pure fire, and the length of her seemed alive with the waiting. Again, the stirrings of panic seized her as he neared. What would he remember of her? She had so very little idea of what she was doing here. She only knew that he had touched her as no one had before, awakened a strange, exciting heat in her blood. Indeed, he had done something quite miraculous to her, for how else could she stand here, waiting...
He paused directly in front of her, fists clenched at his sides, his soaked clothing hiding nothing of the tension, or ardor, within his body. She tried very hard to keep her eyes level with his, and not let them fall to the bulge in his slick wet trousers. "Lady, you tempt beyond mercy—" he warned her.
"Are you afraid of me, pirate?" she demanded breathlessly. She fought for control. She tried to accost him with such a tremendous bravado when she was beginning to shake like a leaf in the wind. But she soon ceased to shake as she was drawn into his arms with a harsh jerk, and she was achingly aware of the pounding of his heart too as she felt her nakedness crushed to him. Fire seemed to burst from within him, warming her as his hands ravaged her hair, his lips and tongue her mouth. She clung to him, savoring every bit of wild, sweet sensation, finding that she shook anew, that she could barely stand, and yet she wasn't in the very least cold; indeed, despite the cool water, she was afire.
She started to fall in earnest, but he slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her, his eyes blazing, face tense, as he carried her from the cool fresh water to the on the soft grassy bank beyond. The breeze whispered softly and gently, tree branches danced and fell and made shadows on the earth and water. She scarcely saw the day, and she was aware of every sensation, the feel of the earth at the back, the slick dampness of the water droplets that clung to their flesh...
She felt his fingers in her hair again, his lips upon hers, his hands... all upon her nakedness. She wanted to undo his shirt, to touch his flesh, yet she hadn't quite the confidence to do it, and in seconds, it didn't matter. He had stripped off his shirt and stood again, casting off boots and breeches, and for a moment, staring at his bare, bold splendor, she felt again as if the earth itself were shaking, as if she were slipping from it. But then he was down with her again, and the feel of his flesh against her own was a new, exciting fire, and the tempest of his touch swiftly grew wild and demanding. She met his kiss, twisted to his touch, and caught her breath when she suddenly found her limbs parted and the weight of his body between them. He cradled her in his arms, and she fought the sudden, searing pain that wracked her, biting her lower lip, and willing herself not to cry out. But hot, dazed tears stung her eyes and she wound her arms very tightly around him, burying her face against his neck and shoulders so that he wouldn't sense her sudden agony. Yet he went very still, groaning softly. And then his words, whispered in French, touched her earlobes. "Sweet Lord, but why did you tempt me so? Now it is all too late. I would not have hurt you, ma belle, yet now I fear that I cannot leave you!"
"Don't leave me!" she managed to whisper, holding close to him.
"Tessa..." Her name on his lips was so soft, so tender. But then it seemed that his mind was made up, that he had come this far...
And there was nothing to be gained by stopping here.
He caught her chin, bringing her eyes to his. He kissed her eyelids, and her lips, and he began to move within her again, so slowly at first that she discovered, as the pain ebbed, she was rocking to meet his thrust before it came, and once again the feeling of longing, of hunger, of intense craving came sweeping back into her. Each magical second then seemed to bring some sweeter hunger, a greater need. She reached and stretched, and did not even know what she sought...
Until it cascaded down upon her. Beautiful little silver rivulets of ecstasy seemed to encompass her; the world was black except for those silver explosions. She was only dimly aware of him, her pirate, the man who had brought her to this shimmering glory, and she was vaguely aware that he too seemed to reach that wickedly sweet pinnacle, to become as tense as a bow, and to bring a new heat like molten mercury to sweep within her...
Damp, breathless, fighting for reason once again, Tessa lay still as he fell beside her, silent as well, staring up at the sky. Then, after a long moment, he groaned and sat up, staring down at her with his features rigid and hard. Her heart seemed to leap inside her, and she bit into her lower lip again, wondering why he should be so damned angry when she was the captive here.
"You couldn't just behave, eh, my lady?" he demanded. "You'll be no man's chaste Christmas bride as it now stands! God knows, lady, your wretched betrothed may deny you now—"
"Ah! And you'll not get your ransom!" she cried, sitting up as well, tears stinging her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling foolish and ashamed. She had wanted him so badly. She had wanted him to want her, she had longed for the magic, and now...
Now she knew that what had been momentous for her had not been for him—he wasn't such a gentleman, he was merely determined to sell her for the highest price!
She flew at him in a sudden fury, fists flying, seriously trying to do him harm. He grunted as she belted him in the chest, but he caught her wrists then, dragging her down and beneath him.
"You little fool!" he berated her. "Don't you understand, my argument was with your wretched fiancé, not you! I never wanted to hurt you! Jesu, but you are driving me insane! Last night you cry out, today you stand naked in a stream and taunt me until I cannot bear it! And when I am dismayed that I might have ruined your life—"
"You didn't ruin my life!" she snapped out. He paused, handsome features still very tense, gold eyes wary and angry.
"If you had just—" he began.
"Oh, you dolt!" she charged him. "I do not want to marry Flambert; I despise him as well, you fool! My father arranged this wretched marriage, so determined that I would be Flambert's Christmas bride."
She had said too much. She went very silent, and very still, staring up at him, swallowing hard.
"Ah..." he said after a moment. "What an amazing creature you are, my lady. First you were as feisty as a chained panther, then as innocent and outraged as a nun! Next you are the most amazing seductress... Yet now I understand. It was not personal in the least. You seduced me in the hopes of escaping him!"
No, she hadn't. But against his anger, it seemed the best defense. She narrowed her eyes and spat out, "Aye, and why not? You're supposed to be a pirate; I've surely but added to your most wondrous reputation!"
"Comte Flambert and I have both been taken, my lady! By a little minx who wants nothing for Christmas... but freedom."
"Is that so horrid a thing to want?" she whispered.
After a moment, he shook his head. Some of the anger and tension seemed to leave his rugged features, yet the gold still blazed in his eyes. She thought that he would rise, release her then. But he did not. He lowered his head, touched her lips again. He kissed her very slowly, tasting, savoring. She tried to twist her head away, yet he held her to his kiss, and after a moment she no longer had the will to leave him; she could feel the fantastic warmth, the hunger, the longing building within her once again.
And the memory of the magic he had brought still remained so vividly fresh, so sweet within her...
"What are you doing?" she whispered desperately when his face rose above hers again.
"Well, ma belle, we have come this far. It matters not now how much further we tread."
She trembled beneath him. "It matters!" she whispered. "It matters because..."
"Because?"
"You have to want me!" she managed to say.
"Oh, lady! I do want you!" he said harshly. "Dear Lord, but I do want you. Indeed, Tessa, what Flambert has been denied, I will take to heart as my own incredible Christmas gift!"
His lips touched
hers again. His hands crafted their magic upon her flesh.
And she touched him. Stroked the muscles of his shoulders, planted her lips against the burning vibrance of his flesh. The world rocked anew, and she was lost in the passion and desire, sweeter, higher, this time, for there was no pain. Only the absolute wonder, the ecstasy. And when it was over, she noted that the sun had moved downward, that the shadows had deepened. He held her in silence for the longest time, then sighed. "We must go back. Before we are missed, and others come to find us."
She said nothing, but rose and found her clothing. She was startled when he insisted on helping her with her hooks, and somehow touched by the intimate feel of his fingers at her back. He took her hand then, leading her along the trail that would bring them back to his house in this paradise.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked him softly.
"Pirates do not answer such questions from their captives," he told her briefly.
"But—"
"All right, my lady. Right now? I am famished. I am going to hope that Judith has been to the house, and that she has spent the day cooking something remarkable."
"Judith?" Tessa demanded breathlessly, trying to keep up with him. "Judith?" she repeated.
There was a glitter in his eyes as they fell on her. "My woman here," he told her.
She tried to wrench free from his hold upon her, but he caught her close instead, holding her even while she struggled. "Well, Lady Tessa? What if I did have a woman, a wife, a mistress? Didn't you assume I'd spent last evening in the company of harlots? Tell me, did you assume that a pirate had waited his whole life to be seduced by you?"
"Let me go—" she demanded.
"I cannot let you go because you determined on this course!" he warned her. He turned suddenly, walking again with his long strides and dragging her along.
"Stop it, pirate!" she insisted.
Heather Graham's Christmas Treasures Page 6
