Beauty's Curse

by Tamara Hughes

  Her lips curved into a tantalizing smile, all uncertainty dissipating. “I don’t want you to stop.” She unfastened the ties of her outer petticoat with sure yanks. “I’ve simply found that my most pleasurable moments are fleeting, at best.”

  His eyebrows rose. He’d never been accused of being too fleeting when giving pleasure. Not yet. But the way Amelia made him feel…

  She released the ties of her under-petticoats next. “Bad circumstances befall me too often to allow for much in the way of happiness.” With his help, she wiggled her slender hips out of the voluminous fabric, uncovering the lower half of her shift and a fine pair of stocking-clad legs. “With the exception of today… If one discounts the unbearable heat and the lack of food and water—”

  He slid a hand down her leg, effectively silencing her nervous chatter. Beneath her hose, her limb was strong and lissome, almost too thin. How long would she last without food or water? He shoved the thought away. No need to worry about what he couldn’t change. Instead, he moved his hand higher, slipping beneath the hem of her shift. She startled when he reached the bare skin of her thigh, then her hip. Soft as the petals of a flower, her skin teased his fingertips as he explored her narrow waist and smooth belly.

  She clung to his shoulders as he lowered his mouth to her breasts again, sampling each one. Eager for more, he grasped the strings of her stays with his free hand and pulled to no effect. He made a move to sit, and she strengthened her hold about his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” she moaned, her hands dropping to free the ties herself. The stiff material soon fell away, and he nipped at a peak through the soft linen of her shift.

  Amelia cried out and arched her back. Good God, what an entrancing sight. His groin ached with a need so strong his hands shook. Holding on to what was left of his control, he grazed his fingers over the flesh between her legs, and she whimpered, her hips rising and her thighs opening.

  He growled in satisfaction at his first intimate touch. Wet and ready. He caressed and stroked while she writhed beneath him, her chest thrust out in a most enticing way. Gliding his finger into her opening, he captured her cries with his mouth, the heel of his hand applying pressure where she would enjoy it most.

  Her hips rocked with his movements, and she reached for his breeches. She attempted to push them down, but he stopped her. “Once these come off, I won’t be able to hold back.”

  “Then don’t,” she pleaded, her eyes glazed with passion.

  “Are you sure?”

  That smile returned. “Aye. I’m sure.”

  Blood surged through his veins as he removed his breeches. The heat of her stare made him harden all the more. When he looked up, she lay before him naked, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. Her body was perfection, just like the woman within.

  A round scar on her shoulder caught his eye, from a gunshot wound, she’d said. He bent over her and kissed the spot. If he had his way, she’d never experience pain again. That thought brought him up short. “There will be some discomfort.”

  She brought her hand to the side of his face and brushed her lips over his. “I know, and I don’t care.” She wriggled beneath him, spreading her thighs on either side of his hips, then urged him lower.

  The moment he came into contact with her opening, a shudder ran through him. Looking into eyes that showed no fear, he positioned himself and eased inside. Her slick, tight heat almost drove him mad. He resisted the overwhelming desire to thrust deep. Slow and gentle. His muscles tensed with need as he pressed himself farther in. Amelia winced when he’d gone halfway, and he paused. “Would you like me to stop?”

  She shook her head. “No, go quick. I’d rather have the pain done with.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked as she wrapped her arms around his middle and grasped hold of his backside.

  “Yes.” She pulled with remarkable force given her slight stature, and recognizing the determination in her eyes, he relented. With a single thrust, he broke through the barrier and sank deep into her core.

  Pleasure jolted through him even as he heard her cry out in pain. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her chin, but the rest of his body remained still until she nodded and wiggled her hips. “I’m ready.”

  He tested a stroke out and in and watched her expression change, the pain replaced by desire. David thrust faster and deeper, her stilted breaths and eager hands inflaming his lust. Over and over he plunged. Each stroke more potent than the last, the urge for release came to a crest.

  Her eyes closed and her pants for air became gasps of pleasure. He groaned as her pulsations around his length became too much. His muscles tensing, he pulled out just before he spilled his seed.

  When he looked up, the beaming smile on Amelia’s face lit the world like a sunrise after weeks of rain. “That was wonderful,” she whispered.

  “It was.” Tenderness welled within him. Amelia amazed him in so many ways.

  He grabbed his shirt and used his dagger to cut off a portion.

  Amelia sat. “What are you doing?”

  “You’ll see.” He dipped the fabric in the ocean and wrung it out, then returned to her side. “Lay back,” he instructed.

  She did as he asked, but her question hung in the air.

  Carefully, he wiped the blood from her thighs. She made a soft sound, and he lifted his gaze to find her eyes glistening with tears. She didn’t need to say anything for him to understand. It had been a long time since he, too, had felt a gentle touch and a caring hand.

  While cleaning away the last of the blood, he spied a bruise on her hip. He brushed his hand over the spot. “What caused this?”

  She propped herself up for a look. “I have no idea. Given the number of times I bump this or walk into that, I never remember what exactly causes each of my bruises.” She pointed to her shin. “See? I have one there as well.”

  “You’re a unique woman, Amelia.”

  She gave a chuckle. “Well said, and in a most cordial way, I might add.” She lay back again, and he joined her, giving her his shoulder to rest her head upon.

  Together, they stared at the heavens, the stars twinkling like jewels in the sky, and for the first time in God knew how long, contentment lulled him to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  He had to escape.

  David ran through the thick Madagascar forest. Fatigue slowed his pace. He wanted nothing more than to escape this godforsaken land.

  Leaves rustled and a twig snapped, making his racing heart pound all the harder. He gripped his stolen lance tighter and crouched low in the brush. If they caught him, his master, the prince, would kill him this time, of that he had no doubt.

  Footsteps. More than one set. A search party.

  He waited, silent, hoping they would pass.

  The sound of cautious steps grew closer. Too close. David readied himself. He would not go back.

  The branch before him moved, swept aside by a hand. He thrust his lance forward and struck flesh and bone. A man screamed. Yanking the lance back, David turned and fled, glancing over his shoulder to determine how many would take up the chase. His feet slowed as dread burrowed its way into his chest.

  A boy gaped down at the fallen man, his face filled with grief. Behind him a woman dropped to her knees. Her keening cries rang inside David’s head as if the devastating sorrow was his own.

  David startled awake and shivered despite the oppressive heat of day.

  “Did you sleep well?” Amelia asked, her tone as cheerful as ever. Incredible and a little irritating, considering the boat rocked in short bursts from the choppy water, and gusts of hot wind rolled over them. Her lips had grown dry and rough, and her face was burned. Dressed only in her shift with her petticoats covering her legs, she held her gown over them both to shield them from the sun.

  “Well enough,” he answered, sitting up to hold one corner of their shelter aloft. He remembered what the Madagascar natives had said about dreams—that they were created by demons as a warning of what
was to come. Would he make another woman cry as he had the day he’d escaped? He peered at Amelia as she studied the waves along the side of the boat and prayed the warning would never come true.

  Handing him the rest of her gown, she rose to her knees, then crawled to the boat’s edge.

  “You’re not thinking of taking a drink?” he asked, his own throat so parched it ached. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “I’m just so warm.” She scooped up a handful of water and splashed it onto her face.

  Indeed, the day was the most uncomfortable so far, and Amelia had yet to utter a single complaint. “It’s an awful tease, isn’t it?” he asked.

  She looked back at him, her face dripping. “What is?”

  “To be so thirsty and completely surrounded by water you can’t drink.”

  Amelia let loose a smile that stroked his heart. “I’d never thought about it that way,” she confessed. She snatched up his discarded shirt and dunked it into the ocean, a gleam in her eye. “I think I’ll wet myself down.”

  She wrung out the shirt, then patted her chest and neck with the damp material as she gazed out at the vast sea. The moisture made her skin gleam under the hot sun.

  Amelia stiffened, and she inhaled a sharp breath.

  “What is it?”

  She pointed, and David watched a large, gray fin jut from the sea some ten feet away. The sight stopped his heart for a full beat. “Damn my soul.”

  The massive shark circled them in a wide arc.

  “Sit back.” David didn’t wait for her to comply. He grabbed her about the waist and pulled her from the edge of the boat to sit next to him.

  Amelia trembled, her attention fixed on the fin sinking into the sea.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be safe.” He handed her the shirt she’d dropped. “Go ahead. You’ll feel cooler.”

  She dabbed the wet cloth on her shift and exposed skin, all the while searching the water.

  David moved to block her view. “Tell me your fondest memory.”

  “What? Why?”

  “What we need is a distraction.”

  She looked around him. The fin submerged again as she watched, his shirt clutched to her chest. Clearly, she wasn’t about to tell him her fondest memory.

  “Very well, I’ll tell you a story.” Although the tales he had to share might be more disturbing than the shark.

  …

  They’d be safe here inside the boat. Nothing to worry about. They would not be eaten by a shark. The shark would not tip over their boat. She would not die of fright.

  “Amelia, look at me.” David grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You asked about why I became a pirate, about The Wanderer.”

  “You want to tell me now?” She searched the ocean for any sign of the shark, but David took her chin and steered her gaze back to him.

  “Aye. Now.” His intense stare bored into her, demanding her attention. “I told you that I escaped from the pirates who abducted me from my father’s ship.”

  She nodded, her throat too thick with fear and thirst to speak.

  “I hid from them on the coast of Madagascar, and once they gave up their search and sailed off, I waited for another ship to arrive, hoping they would take me home.”

  His soothing voice grounded her, relaxing her a bit, until from the corner of her eye she saw gray. The shark showed itself, closer this time, its immense body dwarfing the boat.

  David saw it, too. He glanced toward the water despite his persistence in telling his tale. “As luck would have it, a tribe found me and took me to their prince. Once there, he made me his slave.”

  “A slave?”

  Releasing her chin, he swallowed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “I was a curiosity to him because of my pale skin. Most of the natives had never seen a white man before. The prince considered me a prize.”

  “Did he treat you well?”

  “Reasonably well, if I did as I was told.”

  Indignation on his behalf burned through her. “If you didn’t?” She sucked in a breath as the answer dawned. “Did he beat you?” David had that awful scar. Had it come from the prince?

  “After I tried to escape,” he frowned, and a spark of anger flared in his eyes, “he came at me with a knife and would have killed me if his brother hadn’t convinced him to stop. He vowed to gut me like a fish if I ever attempted to escape again.”

  “But the next time you succeeded.” A splash of water turned her attention to the sea, and he nudged her chin in his direction.

  “Yes. The tribes frequently war with one another over cattle. Our village was attacked, and in the midst of the fighting, my guard became distracted, and I ran.”

  “How long—”

  “Five months before an opportunity to escape arose. I managed to reach a port, and the crew of The Wanderer took me in,” he said in a rush, his attention darting to the water.

  The shark bumped the boat, and the craft lurched and bobbed. With a whimper, she clutched David’s hand in a grip that should have crushed his fingers, as the shark disappeared beneath the surface.

  “Blazes!” David picked up an oar and scanned the water. “We can’t have him doing that again or he’ll break us apart.”

  Break the boat apart? She panted for air. She couldn’t draw in enough breath. They were going to sink, or be eaten, or both!

  David took one look at her and cringed. “Damn, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  As the shark surfaced again and swam toward the boat, Amelia retrieved the other oar. “What should we do?” she asked, gathering her courage. Now was not the time to cower in fright.

  “When it comes close again, we’ll strike it with our oars.”

  Of course. Attack a shark, a beast longer than their rowboat. Made perfect sense. Her heart hammering in her ears, she readied herself.

  The sleek, gray fish swiftly glided so close she could see its empty black eyes.

  “Now!” David jabbed his oar forward, hitting the shark squarely in the snout before it could reach the boat.

  Shaking, she swung her oar and smacked it on top of the beast’s head.

  “Aim for its eyes, gills, or nose,” David shouted.

  She began to pull the oar back when the shark flung its head to the side, ripping her weapon from her grasp and tossing it into the sea in one swipe.

  “Bloody hell.” David grabbed for the oar, but it floated out of reach as the shark submerged once more. “I need to go in after it.”

  “What? No. Leave it be.”

  “I can’t. If we find land, we’ll never make shore without both oars.” He surveyed the ocean around them and eased himself into the water. “Distract the shark as best you can. Splash.”

  Make shore? What shore? “David! Come back.” She shivered, the icy fingers of dread clamping down on her shoulders. David swam quickly, taking care not to splash, his eyes darting all around.

  She shifted to the other side of the boat and slapped the surface of the water, then wiggled her hands beneath. “Come here, shark.” Good Lord, what was she saying? Even if her splashing worked, what would she do with the beast once it came? She’d best not worry about that now. She needed to keep the shark away from David.

  Amelia glanced back as David grabbed the oar and changed direction. She swirled her arms in the water all the harder and smacked the surface until her palms stung. A streak of gray skimmed beneath the waterline not more than three feet from her. She bolted upright and snatched her hands away. Now what to do? She’d hit it with the remaining oar, but that might send the shark toward David.

  On impulse, she snatched up her shoe and threw it as far as she could. What an odd thing to do. Did she think he was a dog who might go fetch? Even as the thought sprang to mind, the shark moved in the direction she’d thrown. Heavens. If he liked that, she had another. She picked up her other shoe and flung it another direction, well away from David, then turned toward the other side of the boat.

>   David had just reached the side, his face strained with exhaustion. He threw the oar she’d lost into the boat and began to hoist himself over the edge when the shark’s large fin emerged close by. Too close.

  “David! Faster,” she screamed, grasping the remaining oar. Hysteria blurred her vision and spots of light flashed before her eyes. She shoved the oar toward the shark now nearly upon David. The end connected with its gills. It thrashed back and forth, knocking her paddle to the side, but she held on. She would not lose her grip this time. She jabbed again as David fell into the boat. Each smack of wood to flesh jolted through her, jarring her very bones.

  Aiming for its small black eyes, she stabbed at the shark until it turned direction and swam away. It submerged beneath the water a fair distance off.

  A mixture of anger and relief swamped her, the anger coming to the fore. She leaned over David lying on the bottom of the boat, panting for air. “Why would you put yourself in such danger?” she fairly shouted at him. “You could have been killed.”

  “We need both oars—”

  “In case we find land,” she finished for him. “So I’ve heard. The likelihood of which is minimal…” They were going to die out here… Her anger ebbed, replaced by despair. He wouldn’t be in danger at all if it weren’t for her. She should have forced him to remain behind. Her muscles turned to mush, and she sat down hard. “I’m sorry.” He’d survived, and she should be thankful for that.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “We are not going to die.”

  Water dampened her shift, soaking her legs. What? She scanned the hull and spied a crack in the wood. A sick feeling pooled in her stomach. She ripped a piece from her petticoat and tried to poke it into the leak. No use. Water still flowed. “We have a problem.”

  “I’m quite aware,” he sighed. “Now that he’s almost had a taste of me, he’s sure to return. When he does, we’ll both prod him along before he gets any ideas of attacking the boat.”

  “Not the shark. We have a leak.” She pointed to the trickle.

  Issuing a foul curse, he came closer and bent over the split. He retrieved his knife and used the tip to press the scrap of petticoat into the crack. “Hand me another.”