by Jayla Jasso
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Jolie and Joaquin hurried arm in arm up the gangway onto the main deck of the Amatista. Once aboard, they rushed up the staircase to the quarterdeck and ducked through the door to the captain’s quarters.
Inside, with the door safely closed, Joaquin lit a lantern.
“Oh, sweet Lord!” Jolie burst out, laughing. “The looks on their faces!”
Joaquin hung the lantern above the table, grinning up at her. “You were good, Señorita. They all believe you.”
She covered her face with her hands, heart pounding. She peeked at Joaquin through her fingers. “Oh, what do you think the captain will say? Will he be very angry?”
“Yes,” Joaquin answered matter-of-factly, grinning from ear to ear.
Jolie giggled. “So angry he won’t call me querida anymore, do you suppose? Oh, I hope not!”
“No, he will be angry but he is not stupid.”
“Oh, Joaquin, come here.” She held her arms out to him. He rose up on tiptoe to hug her neck. “You are my little knight in shining armor; you were wonderful!”
“I had to be. The captain kill me if I make mistake.”
“He’ll kill both of us anyway, won’t he?”
“I think so.”
“Well, I’ll try to calm him as best I can. Would you draw me a bath before he gets back?”
“Right away, Señorita.”
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Jolie sat in the washtub lathering herself quickly with the heather-rose scented soap; she didn’t want to get caught in the tub when the captain returned. As she bathed, she hummed softly, thinking back to his lovemaking that morning. Between the sweet memory of the brief pressure of his lips on her nipple and the heady exhilaration of the prank she had just pulled at the warehouse, tingles of excitement were running all through her body. That morning he had kissed her quite willingly, without stopping until Joaquin interrupted them. Would he kiss her like that again tonight? And what if there were no interruptions…?
She gazed over at his bed, smiling. His bunk, his cabin, his ship, his life. She wanted to share all of them, forever, if only he’d ask.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jolie stood beside the tub drying herself with a towel when a sudden banging on the door startled her. The towel slipped into the bathwater and sloshed against the side of the tub as the brigantine swayed gently to one side. She glanced back to ensure the latch on the door was secure, then stooped, naked, to fish the towel out of the water. “You can’t come in just now!” she yelled hoarsely over her shoulder.
Marcano’s voice thundered through the oak. “Open this door, Jolie!”
“I need a few more minutes, Captain.” She wrung the towel over the tub.
Again he pounded heavily on the door, causing the towel to slip from her jittery fingers once more and land with a splash in the tub of water.
“In case you have forgotten, your ‘Ladyship,’ I give the orders on this brigantine,” he shouted. “I will give you one last chance. Unlatch the door to my cabin immediately or else.”
He sounded furious. Jolie bit her lower lip and looked around for something to cover herself with besides the sopping wet towel. His bedspread, perhaps? She bent over the bunk to grasp a fistful of it. “At least give me a chance to—”
With an ear-shattering crash the door flew open, the broken latch clattering to the floor. Jolie sprang upright, staring wide-eyed at the infuriated-looking Spaniard standing in the doorway. His eyes scanned her naked body from head to toe just before she snatched the velvet coverlet off his bunk and pressed it to her chest, wrapping it quickly around her body under her arms.
He slammed the door soundly, then stalked into the room, glaring at her, jaw muscle twitching. He raked the tricorn off his head and tossed it aside, revealing a perspiration-covered brow. The cabin always seemed to shrink with his tall, broad-shouldered form inside it, and at the moment it felt as tiny as a rabbit’s burrow. She glanced down self-consciously. The gold coverlet covered everything from her chest down and pooled on the floor around her feet.
Marcano unclenched his jaw to speak. “You gave me the fright of my life less than an hour ago, and here you stand, calmly bathing yourself as if nothing in the world is out of order! Have you lost your mind?”
She smiled. “Gabriel, I was simply indulging in a bit of mischief—”
“Mischief?” He blinked incredulously. “Mischief? What you did tonight was reckless, incomprehensibly dangerous! I still believe I must have dreamt that you left this ship, even though you were told to wait for me here. Surely I only imagined that you followed us to the warehouse and shouted in the warehouse keeper’s face—putting yourself, not to mention me and my men, in extreme peril!”
Indignation swept over Jolie. “I believe that what I did was save your hide out there! Perhaps instead of yelling, you should be thanking me.”
He tore off his long coat, flung it aside, and took another menacing step forward. “I had the situation completely under control before you arrived.”
“Ha! As I recall, your boots were dangling about five inches off the ground and you were being threatened with a hanging!”
“Thirty more seconds, and my men and I would have taken the warehouse by force, Señorita!” He reached up to untie and strip off his ruffled cravat. He ripped at the buttons of the top half of his shirt and strode toward her with the neck hanging open almost to the waist.
Jolie swallowed, glanced down at his muscled chest, and backed up a couple of steps, toward the rear of the cabin. “Don’t come any closer until you calm down, Gabriel, or I’ll...I’ll…”
“Swordfight a bloodthirsty gang of pirates? Take on the Spanish Armada single-handed?” He continued toward her with the measured steps of a hunter stalking prey. “Perhaps you would simply like to command this vessel the rest of the way to Spain. I could peel potatoes in the galley and allow you to captain the Amatista, Your ‘Ladyship.’”
“Now you mock me!” She retreated until her buttocks bumped against the edge of the table. She glanced back at it and then faced him defiantly, holding onto the coverlet for dear life. Marcano’s gaze raked over her hair, which was pinned lopsidedly atop her head, much of it escaping the pins to cascade over her shoulders. His gaze slid down and lingered on the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the fabric of the bedspread before returning to her face.
“Mock you?” he repeated. “I should throttle you!”
“Oh!”
“With my bare hands,” he added, a dangerous grin curving his firm, handsome lips as he edged in a little closer, eyeing the coverlet.
“You wouldn’t dare!” She ducked around him, dashed to her cot in the far alcove, and sat down on it, gripping the coverlet to her chest. Let him try to get it away from her with her sitting on it, she thought in triumph.
He came to stand towering over her, hands on leather-clad hips, his booted feet spaced apart and planted firmly on the wooden floor planks. “And what makes you think I ‘wouldn’t dare,’ muchacha?”
“Why—” Jolie darted a quick glance down at his muscled abdomen, then back up to his face. “Because I think...you...” Unable to form a clever reply, she jumped up and sprang past him to stand in front of the bunk. She lifted her chin. “Because I would scream until someone came to my aid.”
Marcano moved toward her. “Would you, now? And do you really think any of my faithful crewmen would dare interrupt their captain right now and face the consequences?”
Jolie shuffled backwards until the backs of her thighs pressed against the mattress. “Joaquin would.”
“I would throttle you and Joaquin at the same time. He too deserves a good thrashing for allowing you to leave the ship.”
Concern filled her heart, and she pleaded with him. “It was my idea, not his. I forced him to do it. Please don’t punish him.”
Marcano closed in, bracing himself with his hands against the rafters on either side of her head. “You defend him because you sense that he is in danger, and
yet you refuse to understand my outrage that you put yourself in such danger. You still do not understand that it is I who gives orders on this ship, do you, muchacha?” His crystalline blue eyes glinted in the lamplight as he stared down at her, his face inches above hers. “I wonder what I will have to do to convince you?”
Jolie peered up at him and wet her dry lips with her tongue, noticing that his eyes followed the movement. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m convinced.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think you are, Señorita.” He grinned, baring white teeth, and still staring at her mouth.
The hungry look in his eyes was obvious—she was certain he wanted to kiss her. Suddenly she felt daring. A little smile curved her lips. “Maybe you’re right, Captain. Maybe I do need some convincing.”
Marcano leaned in closer. “Kiss me, then,” he ordered softly, his lips inches from hers.
A twinge of intimidation hit her. “I can’t, with you like this. I’m… You kiss me first.”
“Who gives the orders on this ship?”
Damn. Jolie realized he had bested her. She stared at him a moment, then quickly bridged the space between their mouths and kissed his lips, catching him off guard. She ducked under his arm and ran past him to the table, then whirled around to face him, laughing.
Marcano strode across the cabin, then reached down and scooped her up into his arms cradle-style, pinning her to his chest. Jolie squealed, kicking, causing him to tighten his grip on her legs.
He grinned down at her. “You are a formidable adversary, little English girl, but I will always win.”
Jolie was about to think of a retort when the brigantine swayed heavily. Marcano was caught a bit off balance with her in his arms; he staggered forward toward one of the chairs and sank down onto it, settling her coverlet-swathed body firmly atop his thighs. He held her captive there, studying her face intently. She felt a giddy chuckle bubble up in her chest thinking about how harebrained her stunt out on the dock really had been. She dropped her gaze to his smoothly tanned neck exposed by the V of his shirt, stifling a chuckle.
“What now, little tigress? Are you planning some new assault on my weakened senses?”
“No,” she murmured self-consciously, still staring down at his chest. Her neck felt hot under his gaze.
His eyes traveled lazily over her heated cheeks up to her ruined coiffure, where a few hairpins still clung to the tumbling, disordered tresses. “Whether you planned an assault or not, you are succeeding overwhelmingly, jovencita. I am feeling quite besieged at the moment.”
Jolie held her breath as he reached up to trail a finger along her bare collarbone, over the curve of her shoulder exposed above the sagging gold velvet spread she still clutched doggedly to her chest. He looked up and pulled one of the hairpins from her hair. A section of hair slid down over her shoulder. He reached up with the other hand and drew a second pin out, releasing another coil of hair which he caught in his fingers, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. He bent forward to inhale deeply of the heather-rose fragrance in her hair, and reached up to pull a third hairpin. With both hands, he sifted the long strands of her hair through his fingers, until he found one last hairpin at the back and tossed it aside.
Jolie sat transfixed by his touch and his stare, barely breathing. It was all she could do to restrain her hands from smoothing over his muscled shoulders, but she would have to let go of the bedspread to do that. She gazed mutely at his firm lips, considering leaning forward to kiss them again but not quite working up the nerve.
Thankfully, he ended her struggle by pulling her fully into his arms and pressing his face into her hair; his lips found her temple, then her cheek. Near her ear, he murmured, “I have a confession to make, Jolie. I was terrified something would happen to you out there tonight because I would never have the chance to tell you how much I…” He broke off.
She sat up and blinked at him, waiting, feeling lost in the brilliance of his steady blue gaze.
“…love you.”
“Love me?” she breathed. Her mouth went dry again, her body flooding with warmth at the unexpectedness of his admission.
“I have loved you from the moment I lifted you off my horse and saw your face in the moonlight on the beach at Crab Island. I have dreamed of winning your affection ever since.”
She pictured her ridiculous antics on the beach that night. “You loved me then?”
He reached up to cup her cheek, then stroked his lips longingly over hers before continuing. “You were so courageous, a little survivor. Determined to make it on your own without my help. I fell captive to your spirit and your beauty even before I saw you in daylight. God forgive me if I ever fail you, if I have ruined your chances for a better match by loving you and wanting you for my own. I could not help myself.”
Jolie slid an arm around his neck and pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder. “I love you too, Gabriel, so please don’t beg God’s forgiveness. And I’m sorry I disobeyed you tonight. It was thoughtless and foolish of me. I never want to upset you again.”
For a reply, he lifted her chin and covered her mouth with his own. His tongue stroked over her lips and she opened them a bit so that he could kiss her more deeply. She drank in the kiss, melting against him; she could feel his throbbing erection against her thigh, demanding release from the confines of his leather trousers. He caressed her back through the bedspread, sliding his hands into the curve of her waist and down over her hips. He tugged the coverlet down her back and caressed the naked skin under it with his hands. She stiffened a little when his exploring hands found her bare buttocks, cupping and caressing them, but he soothed her with his mouth against her lips.
“Jolie, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Every inch of you is beautiful.” He kissed away any further protests with the seductive strokes of his tongue. His hands roamed up over her back to massage her shoulders, then down over her hips and buttocks, then back up again. Eventually he pried gently at her fingers that were still holding the coverlet to her chest, pulling that arm up to place it around his neck as well. He pushed the material down to her waist with both hands, then slid them up her shivering bare torso, slowly, his lips still holding hers captive.
Jolie sighed against his lips, her entire being saturated with craving for him. His hands, his mouth, his whispered words of desire made her feel heady and liquid-hot at the same time. She moaned and squirmed as he hungrily caressed her breasts in his hands, shuddering as her nipples rubbed against his work-roughened palms. Her movements seemed to ignite him further, and soon she felt his hands leave her body in order to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. She leaned back a bit to watch him do this, eager to see and feel his muscled chest. She reached up and tugged the leather tie out of his hair and tossed it aside, then twined her fingers into his gorgeous black mane, loosening it and spreading it over his shoulders as he finished unbuttoning the shirt and pulled it wide open.
He drew one of her hands downward so that her fingers splayed against his bare chest; she caressed his pectoral muscle, feeling his heart thud against her palm beneath his heated skin. Then he pulled her hand down farther, over his lean abdomen, to the insanely huge bulge pushing up against the laces of his leather trousers. Jolie’s breath caught in her throat in amazement as he guided her hand to fondle him through the leather, curling her fingers over his shaft. Her eyes moved back up to his face, where he was watching her reaction intently. When their eyes locked, he covered her hand with his and rubbed her palm harder against himself, closing his eyes and groaning.
It was so arousing that Jolie felt heat wash over her entire body, and shivered with anticipation and desire. He leaned her back against his arm and repositioned her legs, drawing one leg over his thighs so that she straddled him, the bedspread still pooled around her hips. He pulled her forward into his arms and buried his face against her neck; she slid her arms eagerly around his shoulders and hugged him closer. She tried to relax her lower body, but the feel of his leath
er-clad hips pressed against the tender insides of her bare thighs was more than a little scandalous. His mouth devoured the tingling skin of her neck, sending chills all over her as his hands found her aching breasts again.
He tugged at her earlobe with his lips, his breath hot against her ear when he spoke. “You are so lovely, hermosa.”
Jolie shivered at the little curls of delight crawling over her skin at his voice; her shudder evoked another groan from him, and he shifted a little in the chair beneath her, restless. His hands glided down to encircle her waist, and he dipped his head to kiss her lips, drawing her lower lip into his heated mouth.
One of his hands held her at the small of her back while the other found the edge of the bedspread and began to stroke along her inner thigh, making Jolie aware that there was another place aching for his touch—a personal, unthinkable place. His hand glided up, seeking, undeniably making its way to that very spot. When his warm, searching fingers at last touched her there, Jolie flinched, half from surprised embarrassment and half from forbidden pleasure. It was a hundred times as sensitive as her nipples, this spot, and spread as her legs were in straddling him, he was having no difficulty in finding and massaging every slick crevice.
Jolie groaned and buried her face against his corded neck, shaking; he seemed to know exactly where and how to stroke and caress, and he took his sweet time in doing it. He breathed raggedly against her cheek as he touched her. “Sí, querida, so lovely, ay, Dios mío…” And just when she thought she could endure no more, his magical fingers left her to fumble with the opening of his trousers.
She knew what he was going to do. Vera had told her all about this part; it would hurt, Vera warned, but Jolie didn’t care. Some primal force within her wanted him to do it, to know the feel of him within her, to share full physical connection with him. He freed his swollen shaft and positioned it against her, groaning at the contact. She rubbed herself against him, seeking stimulation; his jaw tightened, his muscles tensed, and he held himself still.
