Dumb.
She shivered and kept walking, hoping the exercise would warm her. Her head swept from side to side. People started spilling out into the streets, and she considered asking for directions again, rejecting the idea as it might be seen as a sign of weakness. She’d walk five more minutes, then turn back around.
Five minutes later, she heard some sweet music coming from a building at the top of the street. The tune sounded very familiar. Heart lifting, she wandered over to look into the window. It was dim in the room, but she still recognized the movement. They were waltzing. She smiled and set a hand at the sill, content to watch.
***
Silvestri left Tortuga determined to chase down the Cursed Quill and discover who this new arrival was and why he kept seeing her everywhere his eyes rested. Even with his lids closed, her face rose to his mind. One day out, he realized the most logical thing to do was lurk around Tortuga. They’d be back. They seldom roamed far from the port. The Immortal usually went much farther afield.
He ordered the ship on a slow circuit of the island, keeping far enough from shore to prevent his curse from lingering on the island. A surly crewman climbed aloft to keep a sharp look out for the Quill. When out of the wind shadow of the island, no one liked lookout. It was cold that high up the mast. When the ship was sighted, and he realized they were setting course for Tortuga harbor, Silvestri ordered anchor set at Filly Beach and walked into the city.
The dark enveloped the town completely as he began strolling down Broad Street. He hadn’t slept for more than an hour at a time in the past two days—longer than that and his cock woke him up, driving him to locate her. It hammered at him to search out the woman he kept seeing in his dreams and take her to bed. When he walked the deck, her face appeared in the sails, her hair in the white spray off the bow. If his hand lingered on the wheel or the rail, his palm caressed her cheek. She haunted him.
Lifting his face to the sky, he inhaled. If she were here, he’d know it. A faint scent he associated with her, though he hadn’t named it yet, made him turn to where Broad met South.
When he recognized her silhouette, peering in a window at the vampires waltzing, he moved up behind her. A deep breath filled his head with the fragrance of apples. Yes, that was the scent. He placed a hand on her right forearm, his left swept around her waist, and he bent to her ear. “It isn’t safe to spy on them.”
She started and her hand touched the window in reaction. A white face filled the window, inches from hers, and eyes of total blackness glared at her. A loud hiss sounded from behind the glass. The blast of magic hit him indirectly, since he was shielded by her body, but the force of pure anger struck her full on.
She fell into him. He steadied her and backed away into the shadows, away from the window. She trembled. “What…? I was only watching!”
“Yes, and they object to being spied on.”
“Why?” Her voice carried nothing but confusion and hurt. A hand rose to her face. “My eyes! I can’t see!”
“You’ve been blasted by a vampire. It will fade. But until it does, your eyes will be sensitive to light.” He hadn’t been fast enough to keep her safe. But this might work to his advantage. With a short bow she couldn’t see, he apologized. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker.”
“Did you say vampires? Waltzing vampires?”
She rubbed at her right eye, and he snatched at her hand. “Don’t touch them—it will make it worse.”
Her body sagged, and she took a deep breath, hugging her torso. “My day can’t get much worse.”
“Oh, I’d never say that.” Keeping hold of her hand, he kept her close. Together, they leaned on the wall, where they could hear the music, but no windows gave visual access to the full moon dance.
“Ah, yes. Vampires. This is their initiation dance, and the citizens know to leave them alone. You aren’t a citizen. That is obvious.”
“No, newly arrived. But…vampires? And no one hunts them? Or worries about them?”
“No. They struck a bargain with Tortuga nearly a century ago. We leave them alone—they leave us alone. They are free to convert and initiate those who want to be turned.”
“What does Tortuga get out of it?”
He watched as she eased away from him. He allowed it.
“Protection. No one attacks or invades. If they do, the vampires are free to feed, harvest…. It’s only happened once. They are basically normal people, with an odd appetite.”
“Who like to waltz and can cause blindness with a hiss?” The way she stood, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, provided a sweet view of her full bust. He took advantage, eyes wandering over those luscious mounds as he ignored the tone of her voice. She was offended at the idea of the extremely effective vampire defense? There would be time to learn.
Clearing his throat, he smiled. “Yes. The vampires like to waltz. And the only guest allowed is the initiate. They come to town when the moon is full—otherwise they remain in the castle.”
“The castle on the hill? I heard of that.” It sounded as if she held back a laugh, the pitch of her voice rising as if slightly hysterical. “I suppose there is a graveyard full of zombies and a forest inhabited by wolves?”
“No, the zombies stay in the swamp. Most of the werewolves choose to wander the forest. Why are you laughing?”
The enigmatic woman turned away from him, chuckling. “Oh, relishing the clichés. I’m…Pawes. Call me Pawes.” She held out a hand, moving it side to side as if searching for him.
“Ah, women do like to take their time.” He pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles and slowly released her.
He detected a slight hesitation before she nodded. “Yes. While men generally are in a hurry.” She turned her face toward him. “And you?”
“Call me Alan, Miss Pawes.”
“No, Pawes or Mrs. Pawes if you like, please.” Drawing a deep breath, she tried to focus on him, then winced, closing her eyes tightly. “You were behind me. Why didn’t it hit you?”
“Because I was behind you, but I twisted my face away in time. Let me escort you somewhere quiet and buy you a drink.”
“Are your intentions honorable?” Her head tilted.
“Of course not, but not actually dishonorable. I promise to warn you if driven to some despicable bit of deviltry.” He must have impressed her, because a smile danced across her face—that upward tilt of her lips to the left exactly as he remembered from his dreams. He wondered if the rest of the details were the same.
Setting her hand at the crook of his arm, he urged her forward. “I promise a good glass of wine, or tankard of rum—whatever you would like.”
“I was looking for the Barmy Cock.”
“Too bright for the condition of your eyes, but I can take you there later, if you wish.” Plan in motion, they stepped from the walkway. Acting the concerned guide, he directed her carefully, warning her where the ground sloped or if there were steps. He held her arm the entire walk to the Raven. Once there, he led her to a dark booth at the back of the tavern. “Sit. I’ll place the order. What would you like?”
“Wine? That would be nice.” She sat back. He paused, watching her hands rise to her face, then slowly move back to lay flat on the table. Good, she remembered to be careful.
After a whispered consultation with the owner, he joined her. He set a tall-stemmed, delicate glass in front of her and guided her hand to it. Sitting down kitty-corner to her, he studied her face.
She winced when a serving girl walked by with a dimly lit lantern. He commented, “You are extraordinarily sensitive. Let me place a wrap around your eyes to protect them.”
She nodded, and he carefully wound a narrow scarf around her short, wavy hair, enjoying the brush of it on his fingers. She sat back and he smiled, quite entranced.
This was going to be delightful.
Chapter Five
Emily knew the only sane thing to do would be to run for the hills. She should be…no, she probably was, wrapped tigh
tly in a straightjacket and calmly pounding her head against a rubber wall somewhere.
Nope, not sitting in a tavern, blindfolded, with a man who admitted to dishonorable intentions.
Yet, that was where she found herself.
Her knee touched his leg. He sat quite close, this mysterious man. What did he look like? He smelled good, like a fresh breeze on the bow of the ship.
The wine wasn’t bad, so she took another sip, trying to think of what to say.
“Thank you for the wine—it’s nice. So, did you tell me your name? It was quite kind of you to help me, but you know, if you have things to do or plans for the evening, I don’t want to keep you.”
Nice? She’d barely touched the wine. The best she managed was nice? Why did she feel completely out of her element? Twenty years tending bar should have her prepared for anything and anyone! Her bartender self was certainly faster with conversation than to end up with nice. Damn, he made her uncomfortable.
Not actually unpleasant. But…something she hadn’t experienced in an awfully long time. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She was fifty-three! A widow! He was probably some handsome young thing, being kind to an old lady. Period.
“Yes, it’s a nice wine. Not a real fine wine, but better than pig swill. I’m Alan. And my evening plans are not disturbed. Not at all.”
He spoke with a nice, no, an especially yummy, deep and distinctive voice. She cleared her throat. “Oh, well, what were you about to do when the need to rescue me from vampires…?” She stopped, thought a moment. “Why make me blind? If they aren’t allowed to be out and about selecting people snacks, why bother?”
Picking up her free hand, he patted it lightly. She wasn’t going to like what he was going to say, she knew.
“Dear Pawes, the vampires have leave to punish those who spy on them. If I hadn’t been there, you would have wandered off, sought the dark to ease your eyes, and they would have found you after the waltz finished. It is an unspoken agreement. They won’t enter any establishments to hunt; don’t worry.”
“Oh. Well, thank you again.” She pushed her glass away. “I feel a little sick.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Well, I told Jezzie that I figured the unpleasant aspects of this experience would eventually bite me good. Didn’t think I’d face being actually bitten.”
His rough fingertips patted her hand, once more, then stroked it. “As for my evening plans, seduction and debauchery were on my agenda, anyway.”
That drew her attention away from the thoughts of being some vampire’s snack. She grabbed for the wine and nearly knocked the glass over. Her savior must have moved quickly, since the next thing she knew, his warm hand touching hers made sure she gripped it securely. She took too big a swallow and nearly choked before managing a comeback.
“Well, don’t let me keep you. I was at the Barmy Cock some nights ago, and there are plenty of sweet, young things to seduce there. I have the blindfold to protect my eyes, so why not see me there, and you can take your pick.” She tried to slide off the bench, but found a wooden barrier to her right. Damn.
Oh, she liked the sound of his sudden chuckle. She liked it too much! She’d already scolded herself enough on the Quill, for staring at the young hunks who worked the lines. It didn’t make a difference to her that the rest of the crew enjoyed dallying with the boys. They were boys, and she couldn’t look at them without feeling like a dirty, old woman. Well, look at them that way!
This Alan, well, he probably thought she possessed wealth or felt sorry for her. She’d grown accustomed to the blunt way the crew spoke of their sexual exploits. Jezzie would tease Mick while at dinner with ideas regarding their sexual play. Tink came striding out of her cabin one morning, rubbing her backside while complaining about Archer’s heavy hand the night before.
The idea of seduction and debauchery seemed a bit tame compared to what she’d heard and seen on the ship!
Alan turned her hand upside down and dallied with her palm, sliding his fingertips up and down the lines. She wanted to pull away, or maybe that wasn’t what she wanted. Damn! Her breasts ached, her nipples rising tighter than she’d ever known them to. Her belly clenched. Shit.
Another chuckle set her pulse pounding. He probably knew it, too. His finger lingered at her pulse point. Damn.
She had to be sitting in a puddle.
“But why would I want to consider the sweet, young things, when what I want is here before me?”
She jerked her hand away, suddenly angry. “You like teasing an old woman? Don’t try to bullshit me! You want my purse, fine! Here!” She struggled to haul the bag of coins Sam had given her free of her pack. Plopping it on the table, she pushed back, into the corner and tried to glare in his general direction. “Don’t fuck around with me! I’m not stupid. I felt your muscles, your broad chest…you don’t want me!”
She heard nothing. Had he left?
“You smell like apples. It’s quite intoxicating.” His voice came at her left side, close to her ears, and the hair at her jawline stirred when he exhaled. An arm settled across her shoulders. He nearly crooned, “I don’t need your purse. You’re not an old woman, and I have every intention of fucking you.” His hand cupped the back of her head as he finished the statement.
Emily’s emotions veered between the fear of being trapped and the excitement of being wanted. Oh, God! Really wanted? Her lips parted, not sure what she was going to say, and he kissed her.
He took advantage of her open mouth. His kiss began with intense pressure, but eased after she almost jerked away. Thank God, he didn’t stop. Her mind shut down, focused on nothing but the sense of his mouth on hers. Chills danced up her spine and lingered where his fingers pushed through her hair. His tongue teased at her lips, and she opened to the request. Tentative at first, she moaned at his continued assault. Her heart hammered beneath her ribs and wanting rose, drowning the remnants of her self-control.
When he finally pulled away, she nearly fell onto his chest. Somehow, he’d pushed the table back and moved closer, the heat of his body radiating along her torso. His free hand rested at her waist, fingers curled toward her back.
“Uh…wow.”
The deep tone of his throaty chuckle answered her. Then the hand at her waist slid down to her thighs, and with a real display of strength, he lifted her onto his lap. And kissed her again.
This time she paid better attention, and a bravado she didn’t know lived inside empowered her to mimic him. When his tongue withdrew, she bravely ventured forth to explore his lips, then the hot cavern of his mouth beckoned, and again she replied. She felt him smile and couldn’t help but push forward for more. She acted like a student—she dared to act like a woman who lived in one of the romantic adventure books she read. The character she’d always dreamed of being.
As his hands slid down her neck, his knuckles brushed at the plump tops of her breasts, causing her to be terribly aware of how tight her bodice was. Her breath caught when he tugged at the tie of the rose silk blouse. Opening it wide, he dipped a finger into the valley between.
Emily trembled and her legs fell open, one foot hitting the toe of his boot as it slid toward the floor. She heard him moan in approval, a contented tone drifting away that communicated so much. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She knew she needed to…to do something. Object? Plead?
He shifted again and lifted her, pulling her left leg to the other side of his lap and she was astride him. Her head fell back as he shifted her hips closer. The terrible firmness of his cock pressed against her. He took advantage of her position, his lips traveling down her neck, along her chin and back to an ear.
“Apples,” he whispered.
“Perfume,” she gasped. “Glad you like it.”
“I love it.” His hands covered her breasts over the molded leather. “I want this off.”
“Uh huh.” She whimpered, trying to get to the tie. Yes, that’s what she should do. Why wouldn’t her fingers work?
He did
n’t interfere when she finally managed to release the knot and yanked the tie back through the eyeholes. When the bustier gaped open fully, warm hands took hold of her trembling fingers and held them still. She stopped tugging her blouse from the waist of the skirt.
“Enough,” he said.
Damn, she’d been about to strip in a public place. She needed to get away from this man. Suddenly his lips locked on her right nipple, sucking it through the silk, and a shriek escaped her.
She slapped a hand over her mouth and fell toward him. Get away? Oh, shit! More!
***
She molded well around his cock. He’d been stiff since he’d seen her outside the ballroom. He’d listened to her babble, relishing the innocence she exhibited and loving the freedom her fortuitous blinding gave him to examine her physical attributes. Why did she trust him? It baffled him, even made him be more honest than normal.
He hadn’t counted on laughing so often. His plans were much more direct. So much for that scheme. She charmed him effortlessly with her bit of temper. It struck him as a different sort of innocence. He swept in, meaning to overpower her. Instead, he smelled apples again, and the longing for more than fast bedding filled him.
He backed down. He’d take his time. Her lips were the same sweet bits he’d dreamed. Her level of inexperience surprised him. The majority of his encounters involved professional women; perhaps, her reaction was normal. He’d noticed the ring on her finger, but it didn’t seem like a wedding ring.
When she initiated, shadowed his techniques, his cock grew terrifically stiff. He fought back a groan of his own. The room he’d reserved was above. For the first time that evening, he regretted the blindfold. He wanted to see her eyes. Since that wasn’t possible, he wanted to see everything else. Lifting her to his lap, he continued the kissing primer.
He drifted to her breasts; she trembled. So soft, fleshy and hot! He wanted more. Her body shaped itself to him, shaking with desire. He knew women, and from this point on, he was in control. He felt her acknowledgement of this authority as she shifted to a new, delightful position.
The Kraken's Mirror Page 4
