“It is no wonder he despises me.”
Taylor steepled his fingers and appeared to be deep in thought for a few moments. Peering over his hands, he fixed her with kind eyes as he spoke. “He does not hate you. I believe it’s quite the opposite.” The smile returned to his features. “Now dress for your morning meal, Miss Catherine. The captain will be expecting you to join him.”
With that, he departed the cabin. Quite the opposite. She repeated the phrase in her thoughts several times, assuring herself she’d heard correctly. Taylor had clearly allowed his admiration for Captain Kane to color his opinion of the man’s actions. She supposed it was far more palatable for the quartermaster to believe the captain’s conquest an act of love rather than the pure and simple lust he’d sated on her responsive body. It was inconceivable that Jason Kane might develop feelings for her. She was his captive, a trophy of sorts, nothing more than a prize to be mastered. He cared nothing for her.
If only she could say the same.
* * * * *
Cathy faced Jason across the table, silently praying for some trace of emotion to flicker over his impassive features. Had the passion they’d shared the night before made no mark on his soul? The craving for his touch burned within her, yet he didn’t even look at her. He focused his attention on the plate of food before him as he devoured his breakfast with vigor.
She took a bite, chewing slowly, struggling to choke it down. How could she eat when she still quaked with shivers of remembrance, his touch so vividly imprinted on her body, he might have branded her? Her heart was breaking and there was nothing she could do about it. Unable to bear the silence any longer, she spoke up. “Why did you request my presence this morning?”
Jason quirked a dark brow. “You’ve barely touched your food. What is troubling you?”
“Nothing,” she lied unconvincingly. “I simply wondered why you wanted me here…with you.”
His eyes turned to ebony, though his voice revealed no hint of his thoughts. “Come on deck with me.”
He took her hand within his own, his features void of feeling save for the foreboding darkness in his eyes.
“Should I plan to throw myself overboard?”
His gaze narrowed as he seemed to consider her light taunt. She thought she detected a hint of a smile at the corners of that dangerous mouth.
“Is that what a respectable lady would do? Do you yearn to be respectable, Catherine?”
He caressed her name with his low growl just as he’d caressed her flesh with his touch. She shivered as the low note of desire in his tone brought tiny tremors of response that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She forced herself to ignore the sensations he’d ignited within her, but Jason Kane would not be so easily deterred. Leaning toward her, he brushed her fingers with his lips. He smelled of shaving soap and the sea, and it was all she could do not to throw her arms around his neck and press her body close to his.
“I fear you’ve ruined me, sir,” she whispered with defiance.
“Never, love. You are ripened to perfection.” He entwined her arm with his own. “Come with me. The ocean mist and the warmth of the sun will stir your senses.”
The heat of his breath against her nape weakened any resistance she might have shown. Slanting him a glance, she cursed her own weakness. If only she hated him, she might have a chance of surviving this torment. If she dreamed of a time when she was no longer his prisoner, a time when she would resume the quiet life she’d led as a merchant’s daughter, she could endure this.
But one look from him and she would willingly submit to his every desire. She doubted even he realized how complete his conquest had been.
It wasn’t possible she’d fallen in love with him. She forbade herself to even consider the idea. No, his hold on her was physical. He’d lured her body into responses she’d never believed possible, and now, like a drunkard who craves wine above all else, she longed for him. At any cost.
Jason placed his hand on the small of her back, watching Cathy beneath hooded lids. Her eyes widened in unabashed wonder as she took in the sight and smell of the open sea. Her delight reminded him of a time when he’d seen sailing the ocean as something more than a means to an end, more than a strategy to regain the fortune his father had foolishly risked and lost. Nathaniel Kane had trusted a man without scruples to conduct himself with honor. And in the process, he’d destroyed his family.
The memory gripped his belly, tensing into a great knot. He could forgive his father for falling prey to Farrell’s duplicitous scheme. Fortunes lost could be regained. But he’d never forgive the man for putting a pistol to his temple six months later. His father’s death and the whispered disgrace that surrounded it proved too much for his mother to bear, and soon, she followed her husband to the grave.
Two months past his sixteenth birthday, he’d traded his studies at William and Mary for the life of a seamen’s apprentice on a merchant ship. In the span of a year, Jason had lost everyone and everything he’d ever loved. His parents, his legacy, his education.
Nathaniel Kane’s weakness taught his son a valuable lesson. Jason had been cheated of his youth, but in exchange, he’d grown strong, toughened by more than a decade at sea. The ruthless edge he acquired along the way had served him well. Until now.
Gazing down at Cathy, he couldn’t stifle the smile on his lips. Ruthless…bah! He’d intended to be merciless with his prisoner, but she’d refused to be cowed. He’d stripped her bare and aroused her past the point of surrender, but the unbridled passion of her response disarmed him. He longed for the welcome in her eyes, hungered for her moans of satisfaction. And yet she carried herself with an innate dignity that only tantalized him further, kindling a need for her that went far deeper than the primal cravings of his flesh.
She met his eyes. Pressing her mouth into a tight bow, she swept an errant lock of hair from her forehead. “Virginia’s Avenger seems an unusual name for a vessel. What inspired such a name?”
“Such curiosity,” he replied. “How do you know the name of this ship?”
“I believe your quartermaster mentioned it.”
He nodded, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “It seems you’ve charmed Taylor. Perhaps more than is wise for me to allow.”
Cathy stiffened at the implied threat in his statement. “I didn’t mean to call Taylor’s loyalty into question,” she fumbled over her words. “He has been a perfect gentleman in my presence.”
He slanted her a glance. She seemed far more concerned about the quartermaster than herself. For some unfathomable reason, her selfless concern for his assistant pleased him.
“I do not doubt that Taylor has acted with decorum. I’ve trusted him implicitly for many years.”
Jason suppressed a smile as she visibly relaxed. As the cool breeze from the Atlantic fanned strands of her dark ginger hair against her cheeks, the unfettered happiness that lit her flawless face stirred a yearning deep within. She was so vibrant, so alive, uncaring that the wind blew her tresses wildly about and sea spray dotted her creamy skin. She’d come alive under the sun’s rays. Her joyous laughter as water splashed over the rail onto her skirt conjured a stab of regret through his gut. There was no room in his heart for an emotion as frivolous as joy.
“Have you grown fond of Taylor?” he asked, anticipating the flush he knew would accompany her reaction to his words.
She turned to him, the unspoken plea in the set of her mouth unmistakable. “Not overly so.” Her steady voice did not disguise the uneasiness in her tone. “As I told you, he’s been a perfect gentleman.”
“Do you prefer that to my touch?”
Her cheeks burned crimson beneath his gaze. A rush of heat coursed to his groin as her tongue absently traced a path along the contours of her full mouth. Her gaze darted from his.
“He has treated me with the utmost respect.”
“He has treated you like a lady. I have treated you like a woman.”
Her
back stiffened and she met his words with fearless eyes, her quiet voice laced with bitterness. “You have treated me as a wanton woman, sir.”
“I have brought you pleasure. You’ve wanted every touch, every sensation,” he reminded ruthlessly.
“But at what price?”
He gripped her shoulders without violence, searching her face. She would never absolve him for his sins against her. He enfolded her in his arms without speaking. Desiring her warmth. Craving her softness. This is madness. She would not move him with tears or feminine trickery. He didn’t give a damn if she hated him. She was his to pleasure, his to master. Nothing more.
To his surprise, Cathy did not struggle against him. She melded against his body, resting her head against his chest, shuttering her gaze as if that could block out the reality his hunger for vengeance had forged.
Still imprisoning her in the circle of his arms, Jason stared down at her. Catherine Farrell was a beauty, but there was more. Much more. Her spirit stirred his soul and something he’d believed long dead—his heart.
Cathy tilted her face to meet his eyes. Her throat burned with tears she refused to shed. She wanted to hate Jason, to punish him for the way he’d made her crave his touch. But she could no sooner despise him than deny the yearning deep within her heart.
Taking control of her defenses, she swallowed against the lump and steadied her voice. “You did not answer my question. How did this ship get its name?”
She’d expected him to release her, but he continued to hold her to his unyielding length. The ship listed beneath her slipper-clad feet. Cathy clung to him more tightly, drinking in his scent and the security of his strength.
“My mother’s name was Virginia,” he replied without emotion. “She died when I was sixteen. My father’s death was too much for her to bear.”
An unexpected surge of compassion flooded her. Her father’s treachery had gouged a vicious wound on Jason’s heart. Pressing her palm to his cheek, she caressed the stubble-roughened flesh. Her fingers threaded through his hair.
“That was a long time ago,” he continued. “I gave her my word that I would be strong, that I would prosper.”
“At any cost?”
His eyes darkened. “At any cost.”
Her pulse quickened as he lowered his head, brushing his lips over her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, bringing her senses to life with feather-soft kisses rained over her flesh.
She stiffened beneath his touch. I will not succumb to him. I won’t give him that satisfaction again.
Pressing her palms to his chest, she shoved him away. Her eyes narrowed as she met his gentle attentions with derision, wishing to provoke him. His tenderness was far more unbearable than his harsh mastery. “Unfortunately, Captain Kane, I’ve borne the cost of your vengeance. Neither you nor my father has suffered in your quest. If I live to make it off this ship, I’ll bear the scars of this captivity.”
“Scars?” he scoffed. “I have not harmed you, lest you consider coming undone in my arms a brutal torture.”
“You wield your caress as a weapon. Your gentleness is a ruse, nothing more.”
“Shall I hike your skirts right here and now then?” he grated savagely, coiling his hands over her upper arms. “Is violence what you’ve come to crave?”
She wrenched away. “I crave nothing from you.”
“Liar,” he breathed against her mouth, his visage transformed from a gentle lover to a dark satyr who would deny himself nothing as he slaked his passion with her flesh. Seizing her in his arms, he possessed her mouth with no trace of mercy. He swept her off her feet and into the cradle of his embrace.
“You can’t do this,” she murmured in a halfhearted protest.
“Why do you doubt what I am capable of?”
Cathy writhed in his possessive hold. Surely he did not intend to take her there, on the deck, making her shame complete by possessing her in full view of his crew. “Don’t do this,” she whispered. Reaching out to him, she encircled his neck with her arms, drawing his mouth to hers.
His mouth curved in a rueful smile. “What do you require, Cathy? How does a captor take his prisoner? Gentleness is nothing more than a tool to win your submission. Do you propose I woo you with sonnets and words of love like some besotted schoolboy?”
The mocking cruelty in his words etched a shallow wound on her soul. She dragged in a breath, drawing strength from the flash of an emotion far more profound than anger in his dark gaze. Steeling herself, she issued a bold challenge. “I want no part of sonnets. Take me as your lover.” Her words nearly caught in her throat. She searched his face, desperately seeking his response.
His eyes flared with heat that set her aflame. He needed her, just as, heaven help her, she needed him. Cathy hungered to touch him, to love him, to spend her nights in his arms and in his bed. His woman. Not his captive. She had to take this chance.
“I want to pleasure you,” she breathed against the harsh line of his mouth.
His brows rose. “Little more than an innocent, and you deceive yourself into believing you tempt me.”
Gambling with her soul, Cathy lowered her hands. Unfastening the top buttons of his shirt, she eased the fabric from his warm skin. She pressed her lips to his flesh, leaving a fevered trail in her wake as she explored the lightly furred plane over his heart.
She glanced up to meet his hooded gaze. “I do tempt you, sir. You cannot deny it.”
“That you do, wench. That you do.” His tone of bored disinterest could not conceal the hunger in his gaze. “You are playing a risky game.”
He tilted her face upward and cupped her chin. Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you ready to up the stakes?”
Chapter Seven
Jason Kane had faced many temptations in his life. He’d succumbed to most without a second thought. But something in Cathy’s expression gave him pause. Passion. Courage. A need for him the likes of which he’d never encountered in his thirty years.
She desired him. The throaty challenge she laid down before him sent a rush of blood to his groin. If the wench had intended to provoke him, she’d succeeded in grand style.
He watched her ministrations with interest. “So, you intend to seduce me?”
Her fingers continued to work the buttons of his linen shirt, baring his flesh to her touch. Cathy’s inexperienced hands traced a searing path from the breadth of his shoulders downward, branding him with an intoxicating heat. Her small mouth etched spirals of sensation from the broad, hard planes of his upper torso, descending across his belly to the place where the mat of hair tapered into his trousers.
He knew better than to let his prisoner get the upper hand in their battle of wills, but his body disagreed fiercely. His fully aroused cock mutinied against his intent to maintain control, swelling against the constraining fabric. His balls ached, craving the touch of her small, smooth fingertips.
He bit off a curse as her exploration trailed below his waist. Christ, was this her idea of revenge for the delicious torments he’d inflicted upon her? His fingers coiled around her wrist, securing her without anger.
“Are you trying to drive me mad? Do you truly want me to take you here and now?”
A hint of a smile graced her rose-hued mouth. “Not here. Not now.” Her perfect white teeth nipped teasingly at his chest. “Teach me to pleasure you.”
He hesitated, torn by his desire to teach her a hard lesson about taunting a dangerous man and the insatiable craving for the pleasure of embedding himself within her heat.
“You wish to become a courtesan?” he asked finally, appraising her with a scathing gaze.
She shook her head. “Not a courtesan. You are the only man I wish to pleasure.”
Struck speechless by her words, he scanned her face, finding no trace of guile, no hint of coy manipulation. He saw only desire, stronger and purer than he’d ever seen in a woman’s eyes.
He swept her into his arms, cradling her against him. At that moment, she was no
longer his captive. She was his woman.
“Your wish is my command.”
Jason carried Cathy to his cabin, placing her in the bed and stretching his length along her body. The need in his hooded gaze etched into her soul.
Her fingers trembled as she splayed open his shirt, baring his chest to her gaze. She slid the garment over the corded muscles of his shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat as she exposed the carved planes of his upper body. Deep brown hair tapered from his upper chest over a flat, sculpted abdomen. Her gaze moved lower. His arousal strained against his trousers, offering silent testimony of his body’s hunger.
“The trousers,” he managed in a barely audible plea. “Strip them off.”
Cathy licked her lips. A heady rush surged through her. She held such power over him. The realization thrilled her.
Emboldened by the need emanating from every inch of his powerful male body, she smiled slowly. “Not yet,” she breathed. He scanned her features as she removed the satin ribbon that tied back her hair.
“Do you trust me?” she whispered against his ear.
“Not for a moment.” His eyes flashed with carnal hunger. “What evil do you plan to inflict upon me?”
Her teeth nibbled her lower lip while she considered his question. “Just a bit of amusement.” Her hands captured one sturdy wrist. Smiling to herself, she looped the end of the ribbon around his arm and tied a square knot.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Despite his harsh tone, he made no move to resist her.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she wound the length of satin around a spindle of the headboard, took hold of his free wrist and began to bind that as well.
“Do you really believe a flimsy ribbon could hold me captive?” he scoffed as she finished the second knot. Allowing him no time to ponder the question, her fingers moved to his trousers. His cock stiffened more than she’d believed possible against the imprisoning fabric.
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