She was locked in a warm cocoon of darkness, where only the feelings aroused by the man who was becoming master of her body mattered. There was no world outside this room. She clamped her mouth together tightly as his hot lips traveled down her arched throat to move slowly over her breasts. When he encircled a silky peak with his tongue, she felt her body respond even more. She couldn't control the tremor that shook her.
Season now had no feeling of what was right or wrong. It was as if their bodies had been destined for one another. In all her girlhood fantasies, she had never dreamed a man could make her feel so alive. The Raven was not her enemy—he was the one for whom her body had been created.
No, this isn't wrong, she thought, as a warmth spread through her body. What harm was there in allowing him a few kisses? He could feel her naked body, but he couldn't see her. Season knew she wasn't thinking rationally, but that didn't matter—nothing mattered but the feel of those sensuous hands moving across her stomach as softly as butterfly wings.
Season felt momentary confusion as he moved off the bed. She could see nothing in the total darkness; she could hear only The Raven's heavy breathing. Suddenly she felt him beside her again, and he pulled her against his hot body. She heard a low groan escape his lips, when hot naked flesh fused with hot naked flesh.
"No, this is wrong," she whispered, feeling as if her breathing had closed off.
"You have a debt to pay, my lady," he whispered against her lips. "It may not be your debt, but you will pay it all the same."
"I don't understand," she said, trying to make some sense out of what he was saying.
"I'll say one thing for you, my lady. You are the best I've had up to this point. Someone taught you very well. You make my blood burn. I can hardly wait to feel all the delights your body can offer." His voice was no more than a soft whisper, but the sound of it echoed in Season's mind.
She didn't know what he was talking about, but she didn't care. She moved her body against his and felt a deep satisfaction when he groaned and clasped her tightly against his lean hard body. She could feel his swollen shaft against her inner thigh and touched it with her hand. She heard The Raven gasp and could feel him tremble.
"I will have you, even if I die for it," he groaned in her ear. "I could sooner die than stop now. You are in my blood, and have been since the first moment I saw you."
His mouth sought and found hers. Season felt her head swim at the intensity of feeling that passed between them. She knew instinctively that The Raven was as moved by her as she was by him.
She had no notion as to what the mating of a man and woman would be like, but she knew she was about to find out. Would the meeting of their flesh be as consuming as the kisses and caresses The Raven had bestowed on her? she wondered. Suddenly she was impatient to find out. She felt his hands on her knees as he easily spread her legs apart. When he paused above her Season wondered what new sensation awaited her.
His hand moved over her inner thigh and Season bit her lip to keep from crying out. Surely his hands have magic in them, she thought as his fingers brushed against her.
Suddenly she could feel him tense. "It has to be now, my lady, he whispered. "You are driving me out of my mind. I need to feel myself deep inside your body."
Season cried out as he thrust his swollen manhood into her. Pain ripped through her and she gasped for breath. She hadn't known there would be pain!
She felt him stiffen, and he grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head up to him. "Damn you to hell! What trick is this? You have never been with a man before! You were a virgin."
"Let me go, you are hurting me," she cried, trying to pry his hands away from her hair. "You are a brute!" she sobbed, pounding against his chest.
The Raven was totally confused. He suddenly wanted to draw her to him and comfort her. Her first time with a man should have been handled gently and patiently. He realized how wrong he had been about her, and how he must have hurt her. What monster had spread the lies that she was a soiled dove? As his lips moved over her face, he could taste the saltiness of her tears, and he felt the fire within his body intensify. He knew he wanted her more than ever. For some reason he found great satisfaction in knowing he was the first man to be with her.
"If I had known…" he whispered against her trembling lips. "But the damage is done; I see no reason to stop now. I would be doing you no favor if I stopped at this point. It might do you more harm than good."
"No, I don't want—"
"Listen to me, my lady," he said, touching her face softly. He still rested inside her and it was hard for him to concentrate. "If I do not complete the act, you might shy away from men in the future. Trust me when I tell you there is pleasure beyond the pain."
Before Season could voice her objections, he dipped his head and found her honeyed lips. Slowly and gently he began moving inside her. Season didn't know when the pain ceased and the pleasure began, but suddenly she arched her hips and met his forward thrust, feeling as if she were floating in a deep, warm void where only pleasure and wild sensations dwelled.
"Sweet little virgin," he breathed against her ear.
The sound of his raspy voice reminded Season that this man was not only her enemy but a pirate as well. She struggled against him trying to push him away!
"It will do no good to fight, my lady. It would be far more enjoyable if you would go with your feelings," he urged softly.
"Never! I will see you dead before I succumb to your beastly appetites. I will fight you with my dying breath!"
Soft laughter rumbled deep inside his chest. "The time for maidenly protests has passed. I think you will not fight me," he said in an amused voice.
Season hated him for being so sure of his domination of her. She closed her eyes, knowing he was too strong for her to fight him. She would just lie passive; surely he wouldn't want her that way.
He started moving inside her again, but this time it was different. Whereas before he had been gentle with her, he now thrust forward forcefully, penetrating deep into the depths of her womanhood. "I think you will give me all I ask and more," he breathed against her satiny breast.
"Please, Raven," she said in a throaty voice.
"Please what, my sweet, sweet lady?"
"I don't want this," she groaned.
"Pity you are so young and inexperienced, my lady, but I know just how to make you want me."
"No, never," she said, not realizing her passion-laced voice lent the lie to her claim.
"Never is such a pessimistic word, my lady," he said, thrusting forward with such intensity that her arms slid around his back and she dug her fingernails into his skin.
Instantly, Season swallowed her pride, knowing she no longer wanted to fight this man. Pleasurable feelings flowed like the stormy sea through her veins. Her untrained body was reacting urgently to his masterful manipulation. When his mouth sought hers, her parted lips welcomed his kiss. How easily he had won her over, she thought, unable to stop her hungry body from trembling.
The Raven's kiss deepened as her soft yielding body seemed to set him afire. He had long ago lost count of the number of women he had bedded. Lately the women he had known had been nothing more than objects on which to release his pent-up emotions, but this time it was different. His whole being seemed to tremble as a lock of her sweet, scented hair brushed against his lips.
Closing his eyes, he tried to close his heart to the new feelings that seemed to entrap his whole being. There was danger in the silken arms wound about his neck. He had sought to revenge his uncle's death by taking Lady Season, but perhaps it was she who had extracted the revenge. She was casting a spell on him, and he feared it was a spell that would never be broken. The Raven was angry with himself for wanting her, angry with her for making him experience these unwanted feelings. But it was too late to run now. He had a sensation not unlike that of drowning, and he knew she had extracted his heart from his body!
As his lips tasted the salty tears on her face, he realized he was b
eing too rough with her, so he gentled his movements. Where was the victory in striking out at her as at an enemy? Just then his body reached the highest plane of satisfaction. He shuddered. No, he thought. I have not conquered the enemy—she now holds me captive! In truth, the Lady Season Chats-worth had answered a hunger deep inside him that he never had known existed.
"My lady, my lady," he murmured over and over. It sounded to Season's ears as if he were calling her his lady.
In that moment she experienced a new and deeper feeling. Her body seemed to erupt, and she felt her whole being tremble. Never had she felt so at peace with the world, never had she felt so fulfilled and alive!
For a long moment neither of them moved, the only sounds their heavy breathing and the lapping of the waves against the side of the Andromeda.
Season reached up to shyly touch The Raven's face, and he kissed her hand, but suddenly he tensed and shoved her roughly from him. Aware that he had moved off the bed, she wondered why he had changed toward her. Season strained her eyes in the darkened room, but she could see nothing. The hopelessness of her situation seemed to hit her like a physical blow.
She was in disgrace! She had wantonly allowed The Raven to take what she would never have given to another man. Season couldn't even claim rape! What little effort it had taken to break down her defiance. Now the things that were being whispered about her in private drawing rooms was true. She was a soiled woman!
"I am ruined forever," Season cried out, burying her face in her hands.
"Don't take it so hard, my lady. You have merely lived up to your reputation," came the cruel reply.
"You took advantage of me!" she accused, as some of her spirit returned.
"That might have been true in the beginning, my lady, but after a bit you were willing enough."
"You are a beast, and I will hate you until I die!" she cried. Hot tears scalded her face, and Season pounded her fists into the soft mattress. "If only I were a man, I would see you dead!"
"If you were a man, there would be no cause," came the amused reply.
Season heard The Raven cross the room and open the door. She knew he had departed when she heard the key grate in the lock. For the longest time she lay, dry-eyed, staring into nothingness. Her body felt so different now, as if it no longer belonged only to her.
She laid her head on the soft pillow and a ragged sob escaped her lips. After tonight she would never be the same. She had been changed from a young girl who had dreamed of a man who would sweetly love her to a woman who felt betrayed by a dark figure with no name and no face.
"He will never touch me again," Season cried out to the dark room. Then she wept until she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
A steady wind was blowing as The Raven stood at the helm of the Andromeda, staring out to sea. He turned his unmasked face upward, locating the North Star. Drawing in a ragged breath he closed his eyes. Never before had he forced his attentions on a woman. He'd always followed an unwritten law and never bedded a virgin. He could argue that Lady Season had been willing when he finally took her, but that didn't excuse the deed. He reminded himself that she was English and the English had killed his Uncle Silas, but that didn't soothe his guilty feelings either.
He remembered how sweetly she had surrendered to him. How would he ever be able to get her out of his mind? She had reached deep inside him as no other woman had; Lady Season Chatsworth had touched his heart!
Never had he felt so alive. He felt as if he were a part of the stars that twinkled in the ebony skies. Even now, he could remember the feel of Season's satiny skin and the scent of her silky hair.
The Raven knew if he didn't exercise restraint over his emotions he would take her again. Lady Season Chatsworth had awakened a hunger in his body that no other woman would be able to feed. His hands gripped the ship's rail. If he wanted to do the right thing, he would set a new course and take her back to New York.
"Plot a course south by southwest, Briggs. We sail for the Barbary States!" The Raven ordered.
The first mate felt sorry, knowing that The Raven had decided not to give the lady her freedom, but he didn't hesitate to obey his captain's command.
10
Season pulled the chair over to the porthole and climbed onto it so she could see outside. It was a bright warm day, and she could hear the wind snap the canvas sails. She had no notion where the Andromeda was sailing, but one thing was certain, they had left behind the bleak cold weather in favor of warm sunny days. She wondered if they might be sailing for some exotic South Sea island or perhaps they were sailing to some distant pirate stronghold.
Season hadn't seen The Raven since that awful night two weeks ago when he had so artfully relieved her of her maidenhood. She had feared that he would seek her out again and the deed would be repeated, but when he hadn't come to her, she had begun to relax.
She tried her best to put that night out of her thoughts. In the daytime she was partially successful, but sometimes at night she would dream of a deep raspy voice whispering in her ear and she could almost feel his caressing hands touching her body. Season couldn't understand what was happening to her. One part of her wanted The Raven to seek her out again, but another was shamed at what had happened to her. And her body was alive with a new and sometimes frightening awareness.
James came daily to the cabin. He and Season spent their time together playing cards, or sometimes she read to him from The Raven's one book. Each evening Briggs took her topside for a stroll on deck. At those times she always feared she would encounter the dark captain, but thus far he had not appeared. Season found herself searching the deck for The Raven and was confused by her growing need to see him.
Time lay heavily on her hands, and some days she would pace the floor restlessly. She remembered the peaceful, lazy days she had spent at Chatsworth, riding Cinibar across the green meadows, feeling free and light-hearted. Those days were gone forever. She felt she would never see Chatsworth, or England, again.
Season did not understand why The Raven had taken her prisoner. She didn't know if he had presented a ransom demand to her father. She wondered what plan he had in mind for her. Had he taken her for his own pleasure, or did he plan to harm her in some way? It was hard for her to believe that the hands which had caressed her so gently that night could one day deliver her a deathblow.
Now Season rose from the chair and began to pace the floor. Somehow she couldn't seem to curb her restlessness. She had read and reread The Raven's book of poetry many times. She had even spent hours poring over his maps.
It is well past the noon hour, and yet the tray which contains the remains of my lunch still sits on the desk, she was thinking absentmindedly when she heard a rap on the cabin door. Season hesitated to answer, fearing it would be The Raven.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"It's me, James, ma'am."
"Come in," she called gratefully. She welcomed his visit because time seemed to lie more heavily on her hands than it usually did.
Season heard the key grinding in the lock, and the door swung open to reveal James's smiling face. "I brought you some lemons," he said, wrinkling his nose, knowing how she always detested the bitter fruit.
"I don't want them. You can either eat them yourself or throw them into the sea," she said with ill grace.
"You know it's the captain's orders. He don't want you coming down with the scurvy. He told me to see that you had at least one lemon a day."
Season did not want to go against The Raven's orders because to do so might bring him to the cabin again. She took the fruit and bit into it, shivering at its bitter taste. She knew the captain had ordered every member of his crew to eat a lemon each day, but she didn't particularly like the idea.
"I see you didn't eat much of your lunch, ma'am. The captain won't like it none if he finds out," James said, concern in his voice.
"I would think the captain would have better things to do with his time than worry about whether I eat or not." She squee
zed the lemon so hard the juice ran through her fingers. "Do you report everything I do to The Raven, James? I thought you were my friend."
"I am your friend, ma'am, but the captain always asks me about your health and if you're eating properly. I have to obey his orders."
"What or how much I eat is no concern of your captain's. I am not a child that needs to be looked after," she said, licking the lemon juice from her lips.
James stared at Season, dumfounded. He had grown to admire her in the past few weeks. He had never before criticized The Raven's judgment, but he couldn't understand why he was holding Lady Season against her will. Silas Dunsberry was dead, and there was no longer anything to be gained by keeping the lady a prisoner.
"Sit and talk to me for a while, James. I am so lonesome. Talk to me about anything; I want to hear what you have been doing."
James nodded his head and sat down cross-legged on the cabin floor. He was always glad for a chance to talk to Season.
"I been busy helping patch the sails. The captain says we're in for a big blow sometime tonight."
Season looked toward the window. "It won't be as bad as the other storm, will it, James?" she asked, remembering the storm that had terrified her beyond belief.
"I fear this storm's gonna be a bad one, ma'am. The captain said I was to remove everything from this cabin that wasn't battened down."
Season's eyes darted about the cabin fearfully. "You are making me very frightened, James."
"There ain't nothing to fear. I will stay with you like I did the last time if you want me to."
Season stood up and walked over to the porthole. She climbed onto the chair so she could see out. "The sky looks clear, James. I do not see any sign of a storm."
"If you was able to look leeward, ma'am, you would see the dark storm clouds that are gathering, and the sea is already getting choppy."
"Will we be in danger, James?"
"No, ma'am," James said confidently. "When the captain's at the helm, there ain't nothing to worry about."
Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) Page 12
