Her eyes searched his, as if straining to see his soul. What did she expect to find? There was nothing there but the suffocating blackness he’d buried himself in these last months.
Catalina’s gaze narrowed with conviction. “Under you,” she said.
Blazes! No sweeter, nor more convoluted, words were ever spoken. He couldn’t decipher by her unmoving expression exactly what she meant. Either way, under him right there on the desk was where she would find herself if he didn’t manage to get a hold of himself, now.
“That, my sweet, is where you are and shall be.”
She placed a hand to his chest. Warmth seeped through his tunic, burning his skin, spreading inside his body, heating his blood.
“I am at your command, Valeryn. Just give an order.”
Great guns, his blood boiled over. He grasped her wrist, squeezing tight. She whimpered, a flash of concern flitted across her face. But the moment was brief, overcome by something stronger. Catalina hopped to her tiptoes and planted her lips to his mouth.
Control vanished, burned up like paper flaming to ash, only to disappear in the wind. He ravaged her lips and demanded entrance into her mouth with his tongue. She met him with the same fervor—swirling, tasting, devouring. Her free hand grasped the back of his head to keep him from pulling away. Tiny fingers curled into his hair, smarting his scalp with her tight grip.
He let go of her wrist and imprisoned her flush to his body. His other hand roamed across the curve of her waist, down to the rise of a well-rounded hip. Restless to explore the temptresses’ body, his fingers trailed around to the small of her back and up to tuck under the bow of an ample bosom. Hums trembled from her throat, the rumble prodding him to explore further.
Up over the mound, he splayed his palm across her breast. She filled more than his hand could hold. Holy mother of… Damn fabric was a nuisance. Groping and tugging, he managed to set free a dusky nipple. The taut bead tickled against his rough palm. Rubbing, squeezing, her tit was firm, pliant. And the longer he groped, the hotter her kisses. He was losing himself to her. Control slipping away. But she tasted so sweet.
He broke off their kiss to feed upon the cream of her neck, trailing to the generous flesh of her bust. Too small. She was too small. His neck craned at an awkward position. She was too short for him to sample fully.
Valeryn lifted her off the floor to the desk without breaking contact. He couldn’t bear not feel her upon his lips for even a moment. Her head fell back as he wedged himself into the layers of skirt between her legs. At last, she was at the perfect height, her one exposed breast his to enjoy. He licked the dark peak. A throaty moan drifted from Catalina, her hand caressing the back of his head. Sucking her in, kissing, lapping, he grazed his teeth upon the bead.
On a sharp inhale, she whispered something in Spanish.
His cock had grown painfully hard. More. He needed more.
Valeryn shoved the skirt further up, past her knees. How could a knee feel so smooth, so provocative?
Catalina leaned back upon the desk, pulling Valeryn with her. Eager palms sneaked under his tunic, gliding down his shoulder blades. Every place she touched left his skin scorched, driving him mad with deprivation. He slid his hand up her thigh, imagining the curvature under his fingertips. God, she felt amazing. He neared her wet heat, only an inch away from touching her treasure. The beast within him clawed and thrashed. The friction of his trousers upon his sensitive shaft drove him mad. What he wouldn’t give to claim it, claim her. Anything she wanted, he’d give her just to bury himself inside her. Your ship? Your life? The lives of your crew?
Like the swing of a pendulum, Valeryn was caught between his wants and his survival. But did it really matter? He may be a dead man regardless when he fulfilled the mission. Did he dare risk it? Perhaps. But what of his men? Fuck!
Valeryn growled and pulled away. Curse it, why him? Because you are a half-cocked fool.
He tugged Catalina’s bodice up, hiding her red, puckered nipple, and covered her thigh with the wrinkled, soiled hem of her crimson dress.
“Valeryn?” She sat up on her elbows, her chest heaving. “What is wrong?”
“You need to leave.”
“But…but why?”
Valeryn dragged his hands through his hair. “I made a promise to your uncle.”
“To take me to Los Roques and return me safely in eight weeks time.” She shook her head. “I do not see—”
“And to not tarnish you.”
Catalina choked out a lackluster laugh. “My purity is not…” She clipped off the rest of what she would say. There was no need to say more. The unspoken allusion of her scandal hung heavy between them. He wanted to know more. But now was not the time. He doubted there would ever be a good time. Nor was her fall from grace his business to know.
She scooted off the desk and placed her hand to his chest. “I don’t plan to tell him, do you?”
He grappled with the seductive plea in her eyes. “’Tis not that easy.”
“Sí, it is.”
He wished it was. But he knew better. Things would change. She would change. She’d look at him differently, act differently around him. The men on this bucket would know. Even the damned Spaniards would figure it out. Not that he ever cared what the men thought. Hell, they were all dirty, lewd deviants. ’Twas what sailing did to a man. Deprivation led to all sorts of aberrations. But that bastard Fraco would know, too. The snip would gladly tell his father, and the Rissa boys would hang.
He gave her his back, unable to read the confusion in her eyes that would undoubtedly be replaced by hurt. “Take your leave, Miss Montoya.”
CHAPTER 11
It had been ten minutes since Nalda fell asleep. Her long nasally intake of air was as grating as the poof of exhale escaping from her open lips. Catalina would wait another few minutes to make sure the maid was in deep slumber. Once there, she’d be hard to wake.
She stared at the cabin’s ceiling. Mesmerized by the soft yellow glow of the candle swaying across the beam with the rock of the ship, she recounted what happened with Valeryn no more than an hour ago. His commanding mouth all over her had been potent. His rough hands, as possessive as his kisses, stoked the fire she burned for him. And when he almost touched her at her throbbing core, she thought she’d explode. But he didn’t. He had left her cold. She was still cold. Shivering, in fact, with longing.
Catalina was not surprised by Tio Alvaro’s demands. Secretly, she was pleased he had made the stipulation. It meant her uncle cared for her. At least she hoped that was the case, and not by the very real idea that he’d be castrated by her father should she become compromised…by a pirate, no less. The Montoya name did not need another scandal attached to it, whether by Catalina or her uncle. Her family was right. She was trouble. Fickle and headstrong.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She knew what she wanted. Respect. ’Twas hard to come by as a woman. Harder when she wanted to be respected doing a man’s job. Still harder to be included in a men’s society. Yet, she also wanted Valeryn. A pirate nestled between her legs, making sweet love to her, taking her places no other man could.
Valeryn, dangerous, handsome, strong, commanding, intuitive, he was unlike any other man she’d ever met. And yet so much like her father.
She was hurt when the captain sent her away earlier. She even shed a few tears at the sting. But Catalina Montoya never gave up that easily. He felt the devastating desire just as she did. A man did not have that much passion in every minute touch, every urgent breath, and every pounding beat of his heart and not have been affected by the connection.
No. She would not be denied.
Carefully, she rolled off the bed. She held her breath as Nalda stirred. Please don’t wake. The maid’s wheezing settled into its normal rhythm and Catalina relaxed a smidgen. She slipped on her dressing gown, retrieved the candlestick, and quietly slid out the door. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tiptoed down the dark companionway. The floorbo
ards chilled her toes, but the thick air she breathed was humid. Light from the candle reached only an arm’s length away. Shadows leapt along the narrow passageway. She prayed she wouldn’t be caught. There was no telling what misfortune she’d find herself in.
Outside the captain’s door, she gave a solid rap. Waves of apprehension washed over her. How well would he receive her this late? Would he let her in? What if he sent her away again? Why hadn’t she thought this through?
As she was about to turn away and scurry back to her cabin with none aware, the door flung open. Dios de Madre!
Bare-chested in only his low-slung trousers, Valeryn held one hand on the door, the other on the jamb, ready to send away whoever disturbed him.
“Catalina.” He sounded surprised…and annoyed. “What the devil? Why are you about in your night clothes? You should be in your cabin.” His words slurred as he rubbed his face with both hands.
“I should,” she said. “But I’m here. With you.” She motioned beyond him. “May I?”
Red rimmed his eyes, brightening the color to polished gold. He stood motionless, gazing beyond her. He was grappling with what he should do. With each passing moment, Catalina’s chances of staying diminished. She panicked.
“For just a moment,” she pleaded.
He sighed and turned to let her pass.
Relief! She nearly flounced past him.
He locked the door and, without even glancing at her, went straight for the flagon on his desk. ’Twas her first full view of his back, and she had to stifle her gasp. Scores of scars criss-crossed over his broad expanse. Evidence he’d been lashed. The scars had long since healed, many were nothing more than faint shades of flesh. Others were angry remnants of what surely had been torturous pain. She longed to trace her finger along each mark, but she dared not to even ask about them.
He tilted the flagon to his mug, but nothing came out. Slamming it down, he heaved an irritable sigh, spun to a cask and retrieved another bottle.
“What do you need, Catalina?” he said. He pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and poured. “Where is Nalda?”
“Asleep. I wish to be rid of her more often.”
“Nay. You cannot be wandering around unescorted with a ship full of lecherous jacks.”
She stepped in closer, positioning herself between Valeryn and the table. Rum wafted off him. She could get boozy just by breathing him in. “I wouldn’t be if I were with you.”
His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “That is not—”
Her palm flattened against his bronzed chest. She hadn’t been able to resist the urge. She had to touch him. His warmth singed, she could swear she heard a sizzle. “I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I’m not habituated to frivolities. I am not capricious. When I want something, I grab hold like a starving animal. I have given it great amounts of thought.”
His stare traversed slow and steady down to the plateau of her chest barely draped in the airy fabric of her night clothes. Her nipples seemed to come alive with tingles as his gaze lingered there.
Her hand smoothed down his torso to the ripples of his stomach, as solid as his back. His lips tightened, his nostrils flared. How far could she pull on his tethers before he resisted. “I have thought a lot about you, Valeryn.”
Her fingers grasped the top of his trousers. “I want you. I want you desperately.”
Valeryn snatched her wrist from his waistband. He held it up, his grip so tight, she feared he might pinch her hand clean off. She didn’t yelp, biting off the pain. Instead, she held his intense gaze, flaring like the flash of tiny explosions.
“You do not know what you are asking, chit.”
“You are wrong.”
Time suspended. ’Twas agonizing. Her gaze travelled to his mouth. Lips slashed downward. Lips she wanted to kiss, kiss away his glower. Bring back his fiery appetite.
Catalina leaned in, determined to rekindle the passion.
In a blink, Valeryn had spun her around and pinned her against the door. Her breath had been snatched away from the surprise. He mashed his body against her. All the hard parts of him pressed into her. ’Twould be impossible to break free of him. She had no intention of doing that. Her heart beat fast with excitement, anticipation, and a touch of fear. How could she not be a little fearful? She was trapped. He was so strong. She was far from home. He could do anything he wanted to her. Anything at all. And at that very moment, she wished he would.
“Nay, you are wrong.” He spoke low, merely a rumble.
There was a war going on behind his eyes. She couldn’t be on the losing side of that battle. “Then wrong is where I shall remain.”
A disturbing sound rattled from his chest. Catalina recognized it. She’d heard it many times before when someone was vexed by her unwavering persistence. ’Twas the sound of frustration. She was wearing him down. Just one more nudge. One more. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
“Be careful, chit. You’ve awaken the beast. I may not be able to call him back.”
“Please, Valeryn. Just kiss me.”
He descended upon her like lightning. Hot and needy, his kiss was the fuel to her fire. The flame grew white hot as he pegged her arms to the door behind her and crammed his knee between her legs, pushing against her sensitive juncture. She was unable to escape the plunder of his mouth, his tongue. Nor the pressure building from the friction of his thigh.
She struggled. Not to get free, but because she wanted to touch him. Rub her hands across every expansive plane and granite-hard muscle. Her mind whirled with frenzied desire. Reasoning long clouded over with one solitary thought. To become one with Valeryn.
He abandoned her mouth for her throat. She gulped down air he had denied her. Shivers splintered across her flesh in the wake of each kiss. Throbbing heat coursed down to where his thigh methodically unraveled her. Oh my… He was driving her wild. She may swoon!
“Let me touch you,” she pleaded.
“You are poison, my belladonna,” he murmured against her neck. “I can’t think clearly drinking you in.”
She rather liked being his tainted vice. It gave her a sense of power unlike any other. To unhinge a pirate, that must surely be a grand feat.
He flicked his tongue along her jaw to the divot under her ear, and she whimpered. Whimpered! Like a silly love-struck girl.
His teeth grazed her earlobe. “You will be the death of me.”
She wanted to reassure him of the very opposite. “No matter what we do, or who knows,” she rasped, “I would never let him hang you.”
Valeryn pulled back quite suddenly. The grim set of his mouth frightened her. She’d said the wrong thing. Poured cold water onto the fire. Dousing any hope of having more of him. Dios, no!
Valeryn let her go and backed away. Anger cleaved his brow. “’Tis unwise to make false promises, lass.” He reached not for his mug, but for the flagon. “My life and those of my men are not to be trifled with. I regret that you have made that mistake.”
Catalina reached for him. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“Like hell!”
She flinched and backed against the wall, frightened by the fury in his voice reverberating in the cabin, in her bones.
“Is this some sort of trick? Did your uncle put you up to this? Are you seducing me to ensure the end of me and my brethren? Of course you are!”
She shook her head. “No, no! Never! Don’t you see? I want you so badly, it hurts. I dream of you, of your kisses, of how it would feel to have you inside me.”
“Obscene words from a lady,” he sneered.
Her gaze dropped to her toes, gathering strength against his icy insult. “I’ve no reticence or curb when it comes to you, Valeryn. I will only speak the truth.”
Moments passed with no sound but her own pounding heart in her ears, and no movement other than the gentle sway of the ship.
Valeryn growled, startling her to look up. “I will escort you back to your cabin,” he said. “Let us hop
e you are not seen in your entirely improper appearance. We wouldn’t want to start a vicious rumor, lest your family drive a nail into the coffins of the very men who would see you on your venture.” His sarcasm drove the wedge he put between them deeper than she could dislodge.
Rebuffing his scathing remark was futile. As much as she liked to believe she could badger her uncle into doing what she wanted, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his power as alcade of Matanzas. A sullied prima at the hands of a pirate who he commissioned to protect would be a fine mess, and he’d seek to right the wrong with an execution, thus warding off another Montoya scandal with a clever spin.
He took a deep swig and slammed the bottle down. She was surprised the glass didn’t break under the force. “Come.” He reached for her.
But she didn’t want to go. Not like this. Her desires tempered, but not her wish to stay with him. She took several steps back and looked around, grasping for some shred of a life preserver. Anything to keep her there in his cabin with him. Then she spotted it, the ledger. Snatching it off the desk, she held it out.
“We still need to go over the inventory.” She opened the book and flipped to the page where she logged crates and barrels of foodstuffs and ammunition.
“See,” she pointed to a line, “I counted eighty rounds of shot for each of the six guns. Henri said they are not called cannon balls, but shot and I should count each one. Sixty rounds for the four swivel guns. Plus there are eighteen boxes of langrage. I asked what that was, Henri said ’twas nails, bolts and jagged pieces of scrap metal for damaging sails, and such.”
Her excitement surged as she talked of the ammunition. She’d received quite a lesson from old Henri about shipboard guns, shot, and the damage they could do. Quite fascinating, really. And she was one step closer to understanding Valeryn’s world.
Tapping each entry, she read on. “We have six barrels of pork, three barrel of flour, one hundred twenty pounds of butter, eleven bushels of oatmeal, seven bushels of peas and one barrel of suet. On this page is the water, rum, and beer.”
Dead Man's Kiss Page 12
