by Lynn Patrick
“No sense in wasting battery power,” he said, turning off the flashlight.
The fire picked out the gold glints in his dark hair and beard and set his tanned skin aflame. Nude, Bryce Winslow reminded Caitlin of the dangerously hot West Indies sun, which so easily scorched the unwary. And yet, as if she were mesmerized, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His broad chest, glistening with golden brown curls, tapered into a narrow waist, slender hips, and sturdy thighs thick with muscles that flexed as he rose from the crouched position.
She wanted to lower her eyes to the flames so she wouldn’t have to see more, but she couldn’t. Nothing was hidden from her avid gaze. His potent masculinity set her aflame, so that when he stood over her, she was powerless to do anything but comply when he said softly, “How about making some room for me in there, milady.”
Swallowing hard, Caitlin opened the blanket to him. He sat next to her and pulled the edge around his shoulder and across the front of her body. He was pressed closely against her, his bare flesh heating her until she thought she would burn up from the inner fire. Caitlin tried to cool herself down by remembering that the man had kidnapped her, that he was a criminal, but all she could think about was how he’d saved her from falling, possibly to her death.
Why?
As many times as he’d threatened her, he’d never allowed any harm to come to her, had he? Why had he kept her prisoner, then? What did he have against Moreau? Instinct told her there was more to Bryce’s illegal activities than was obvious. Being honest with herself, Caitlin admitted that she hadn’t run from him because she couldn’t trust him, but because he didn’t trust her. And she didn’t trust herself around him. Hadn’t she wanted Bryce Winslow since the first moment she saw him?
When he slipped an arm around her shoulders, she trembled but didn’t protest.
“You’re shivering,” he murmured, pulling her closer, wrapping his arm more completely around her so the tips of his fingers brushed the valley between her breasts. “It’ll only take a few minutes to warm up.”
She was hot now, more so than she’d ever been for a man. If Bryce made love to her, she knew it would be the experience of a lifetime. Not that she’d had much experience for comparison as he must have had. Would he find her wanting?
But it seemed as though he wasn’t thinking along the same lines as she. His disinterest was obvious in the stiff way he was suddenly holding her, and by the fact that he’d carefully removed the hand that had brushed her breasts.
Staring at his profile, Caitlin felt a lump grow larger and larger in her chest, just about in the region of her heart, until it seemed to suffocate her. Was it true, then? Had she fallen in love? Was she the victim of a pirated heart?
As though he knew she was watching him, Bryce turned to Caitlin. His eyes glittered like dark emeralds as they scanned her face so close to his own. When he smiled, his teeth a slash of brightness against his dark beard, the skin around his eyes crinkled appealingly.
“Your cheek is muddy. Let me fix that,” he murmured, using the edge of the blanket to wipe it off.
Her pulse throbbed at the gentle contact. “I suspect I’m muddy all over.”
“Want me to check?”
Surprised because she’d thought him uninterested only a moment ago, Caitlin knew that her eyes grew wider. Why couldn’t she act sophisticated like Babs? She was sure her friend would know what to say to such a blatant, yet welcome, invitation from a handsome man.
Though she remained silent, his eyes grew hooded, and Bryce slipped the blanket down from her shoulder, slowly at first, then more boldly when she didn’t protest. “I don’t see any mud here, but perhaps I haven’t gone far enough.” He slipped the flannel lower. The air sensually caressed her naked breast, but the sensation didn’t prepare her for the feel of cloth and warm fingers brushing it. “Just a splash of mud here and there,” he assured her. “Nothing to get excited about.”
But she was excited, and ready for whatever he had to offer. “Don’t pirates usually steal kisses from their captives?” Her question was barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
“Or they make their captives beg prettily to be kissed,” Bryce teased, easing her back to the hard earthen floor.
“Then if neither the pirate nor the captive cooperates, it could be a standoff, with no one the winner,” Caitlin said gravely, widening her eyes and sighing. “But I guess it doesn’t matter when the captive is skinny and unattractive.”
“You’re slender and pretty—as I’m sure you well know.”
When he dipped his head to capture her mouth with his own, Caitlin met him halfway, gladly surrendering, offering rather than making him steal a kiss. She was pleasantly seduced by the way he roughly assaulted her mouth while gently cradling her body with his own. Her response was complete, without reservations. She was already aflame, and now it was up to Bryce to quench the fire within her.
Wanting to touch him all over, she pressed her palms to his chest, delighting in the rough texture of the golden brown curls that had captured her attention more than once. She slid her hands slowly to his shoulders, then to his neck, which was corded with tension. Tangling her fingers in his longish curls, she was startled into breaking the kiss when she touched his left ear.
He lifted his head and grinned down at her knowingly when she exclaimed, “What in the world is this? Let me see.” Lifting the hair on that side, Caitlin noted a tiny bit of gold dangling from his lobe. Flicking it with her finger, she admired the way it caught the firelight. “A gold anchor, like the one Lars wears.”
“It’s a centuries-old tradition for pirates who’ve sailed across the equator to wear an earring in their left ear,” he murmured, pressing his body into her so she could fully feel his arousal against her inner thigh. “You won’t think me less of a man, will you?”
Hardly able to breathe, Caitlin gulped and shook her head in answer. The firelight played over his features and well-muscled torso. Strong and ruggedly handsome, he was the epitome of the seductive male, and no bit of jewelry was about to change the fact. Then she tugged at his hair to bring his bearded face closer to hers.
He kissed her fiercely, stroking her breasts until her nipples hardened into peaks, then feathered his fingers in a path over her stomach to her inner thighs. Impatiently she pulled at his shoulders, trying to command a deeper fulfillment. Resisting, he chuckled softly.
“Impatient, my innocent little captive?” Bryce teased.
“Perhaps you’ve captured more than an innocent, my fine pirate,” Caitlin said, boldly arching so that her hardened nipples pressed into his chest. “Haven’t you ever heard of Caitlin the Pirate Queen?”
He threw back his head, and his delighted laughter echoed off the cavern walls. But the sound died a quick death when she slipped her hand below and found him hard and ready for her. She heard the rough rasp of his breath as it caught in his throat, saw the passion flare in his dimly lit features.
It was time.
He entered her slowly, carefully pulling back and beginning again, drawing out the exquisite torture until Caitlin felt as though she would scream in frustration. But she waited, let him set the pace, allowed his experience to become hers. He was watching her face, and the fact that he wanted to see her pleasure excited her further. At last he filled her and lowered his upper body, searching out her lips.
It was the most exciting embrace she’d ever experienced. Bryce explored her inner mouth with his tongue, the tempo of its strokes matching that of his body. Caitlin listened to his increasingly labored breathing, which blended with the storm sounds whistling and moaning around the entrance of the cave.
Slipping her hand along Bryce’s prickly beard, feeling the cool metal of the tiny gold anchor contrasting with the hot skin of his flesh, she was lost and wished the pleasure could go on forever.
But Bryce pushed her to the edge and held her suspended, finally allowing his hands to draw from her a deeper fulfillment than she’d ever experi
enced before. Brushing both breasts with his fingertips, he increased the building friction until she helplessly arched against him and moaned into his mouth. Then he plunged into her so deeply that he brought with him a storm of fiery passion.
Lightning bolts electrified her, rushing through Caitlin until she clung to Bryce as desperately as if she were adrift in the sea. And with the physical release came a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to consume her.
There was no escape to innocence. Caitlin knew that now, and admitted that she was a willing captive.
Bryce was standing at the cave’s entrance when the tropical storm finally subsided and the sky lightened to signal the start of another day. And it was about time, he thought. Though he’d exhausted himself by making love with Caitlin twice more during the night, he’d slept poorly afterward.
He couldn’t help but wonder at her complete turnabout from innocent runaway to passionate lover.
Why? Had it merely been physical release she’d sought? Or had she wanted more from their intimacy?
The fact that he might be feeling more than physical satisfaction annoyed Bryce tremendously, and so when he approached the young woman who slept so soundly, looking so angelic with her tangled hair and still dirty face, he woke her gruffly.
“Caitlin, get up so we can get back to the Sea Devil.”
Her pale blue eyes fluttered open. When they focused on him, she smiled, and Bryce felt an unfamiliar tightening in his chest.
“Good morning,” she said huskily, stretching in a sensual way that made the blanket slip just enough to reveal the rosy tips of her breasts.
Bryce turned away immediately and busied himself by straightening his bag and throwing the flashlight into it. “Storm’s over. Get dressed.”
It seemed as though she didn’t feel the same tension as he, for Caitlin laughed as she rose. “You’ll never believe what I dreamed about.”
He said nothing, merely extinguished the fire, but that didn’t stop her from explaining.
“I dreamed we were Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny, and we pirated the Caribbean—during those off times when we weren’t making love, that is,” she qualified, her tone low and sexy. “Ever heard of Calico Jack and Anne?”
Turning toward her, Bryce was relieved to note that she’d already pulled on her shorts and was now tucking her T-shirt in the waistband. “Yes, and I also know they were rounded up in Bloody Bay, Jamaica,” he said so matter-of-factly that her sunny smile waned. “The crew was slaughtered, he was hung, and she went to prison where she had his child out of wedlock.”
“Well, you don’t have to dwell on the unromantic aspects of the story,” Caitlin told him, her voice wavering, her pale blue eyes wide and confused.
Is that what she thought? Bryce wondered, staring at her. That piracy was romantic? Did she have some kind of notions of following the profession herself, thinking that he really was a pirate? He’d given her the benefit of the doubt, had actually thought he might have been mistaken about her relationship with Moreau. But now he wondered. What if he’d been mistaken and she merely wanted to switch allegiance from one criminal to another? The thought that he was indeed a criminal was eating at him again. Rather than taking it out on Caitlin, however, Bryce held his peace.
“So the storm’s over?” Caitlin said when he didn’t respond to her. She was staring at him as though she wanted some kind of reassurance.
“Ended about fifteen minutes ago.” Bryce didn’t trust himself to look at her, so he concentrated on folding up the blanket and stuffing it in his bag. “Let’s get to the launch before Anselm decides to swim over here to see what’s happened to us.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s in for,” Caitlin muttered.
“That’s right.” Bryce kept his tone cool. “You did the same as I remember.”
Leading the way out of the cave, Caitlin stopped short, and he almost ran into her when a goat crossed her path. The poor animal obviously had been left behind by one of the fishermen. Strung on a rope around its neck, several bells clinked together when the goat lifted its head to stare at her.
“Bells!” she shouted indignantly. “You’re a little late, aren’t you? Besides, bells aren’t exactly appropriate for this miserable situation.”
Protesting loudly, the little animal scampered away. Bryce frowned at her odd behavior.
Raising her dirt-streaked face to him, Caitlin belligerently said, “Unfortunately my misery was all for nothing, since I got caught again. Unless you intend to take me to some inhabited island so I can go home, that is.”
“You’ll go home when I’m ready to let you.”
“Well, that can’t be too soon for me!” she shouted. “I’m sick of the sea and everything that goes with it. The sun, the coral reefs, the jellyfish, the storms! I’d do anything to get to dry land for good!”
“Anything? Is that why you slept with me?” Bryce demanded, thoroughly disgusted at the idea. “So I’d take you where you wanted to go?”
“I should have known!” Caitlin yelled straight into his face. “Only a sleazy, perverted pirate would think such a thing!”
With that she turned and stalked away in the direction of the skiff. Bryce followed at a distance, now unsure as to what he should think.
Chapter Ten
“Beastly, rotten boat! Beastly, rotten Bryce!”
Kicking the solid wooden door so hard that her toes throbbed with the impact, Caitlin fumed helplessly in the captain’s cabin. The scoundrel had locked her in again!
Disappointed by her unsuccessful attempt to jimmy the locks of both the main entrance and the doors that led to the private deck, she threw the nail file aside and stalked over to a window to gaze out longingly. As the sun sank below a watery horizon, artificial lights glittered enticingly on Mustique, the island lying off the anchored Sea Devil’s port side.
So near and yet so far away.
One of the larger Grenadines, the place was a vacation spot for many wealthy foreigners, and at the moment, a frustrating reminder for Caitlin of her captivity. If she could only open the stupid door, she’d get to shore come hell or high water. She was sick and tired of the ship’s overly gracious captain confining her within the four walls of this room.
Gracious was how Bryce had been trying to appear. Two days ago, when they’d sailed after the storm, he’d politely and coolly suggested that Caitlin occupy his quarters while he slept on deck, claiming that the weather outside was much too cold for milady.
Tired from her ordeal on the uninhabited island, and upset by the tension between herself and her erstwhile lover, Caitlin had just as coolly accepted his offer. Actually she’d been happy to obtain a clean, dry bed. It wasn’t until later, when she’d retired that night, that she’d discovered Bryce had locked her in.
Had he thought she’d be crazy enough to jump ship in the middle of the open sea? Now, with the vessel anchored near civilization, such fears might be justified. But why lock her up at night?
Had Bryce done so because of his continuing mistrust? The kind of suspiciousness that had led him to accuse her of making love with him to gain her release? Even if she’d never considered running away, such mistrust would make her want to try.
And his accusation that she’d be willing to trade her body for freedom was ridiculous, anyway. Caitlin gave herself only when and to whom it suited her. Wasn’t Bryce able to sense that?
If he’d been the least bit tender with her after their night of lovemaking, had allowed her to be open with him, she was sure they could have established a new level of communication. And she might have learned what Bryce was really about. Although the Sea Devil seemed to have mysterious dealings going on, Caitlin had her doubts about the crew and their captain being serious criminals.
“Captain aboard now?”
Suddenly hearing the familiar voice, Caitlin pressed close to the half open window. Perry and another black crewman had appeared on the deck a few yards from her viewing place. She tried to push the narrow
window open farther to hear more. But the two men launched into the fast, abbreviated version of English the islanders often used, and she was able to understand only a few phrases here and there.
“Too much work, mon,” remarked Perry as he started untying a rope attached to one of the sails. Then he muttered what sounded to Caitlin like “danger” and “chasing another of their bloody boats.” Whose boat? Were they about to set off again?
The other seaman singsonged back to Perry. Caitlin thought he said something about a lost cousin being the reason he was on this journey.
“Relief to return home…and to safer work,” agreed Perry. Grinning at his companion, he added remarks about “the captain’s mission” and that “the criminals should pay.” Then he spoke in clearest English. “The authorities ought to thank us for catching a crew of smugglers and dirty murderers for them, eh?”
Smugglers? Murderers? And the crew of the Sea Devil was going to catch them? Before Caitlin could call to the men from the window, Perry and the other deckhand moved toward the prow of the ship, disappearing from her view. With a sigh she turned back to face the locked door.
The noises and shouts outside proved that the Sea Devil was indeed being prepared to sail. Did coming to Mustique have anything to do with the rendezvous Bryce had had with the man on that smaller sailboat earlier today? What had been the purpose of the meeting? Then again, what was the purpose of any of Captain Bryce Winslow’s strange pursuits? What side of the law was he on?
Thinking about the conversation she’d just overheard, the types of men who made up the crew, Caitlin once again questioned whether she was living among criminals. Perry and his friend had discussed smugglers and crime as if they had nothing to do with such things. And she had to admit that they hadn’t scuttled any other boats since the night Bryce had captured the cabin cruiser off Hibiscus Island and kidnapped her.
Not that the kidnapping hadn’t been wrong.
But it was obvious that Bryce must think he had a good reason for keeping Caitlin. He’d more than once accused her of being Jean Moreau’s mistress. Why should he care? Was Moreau the criminal? Had the men on the cabin cruiser been smugglers, and was Moreau connected with their operations? Was catching smugglers Bryce’s “mission”? Her mind whirling with a million questions, Caitlin wished she could interrogate Bryce’s crew. But the men would probably refuse to explain anything. Loyal to their captain, they owed no explanations to his prisoner.
