Passion's Tide

by Sarah West

  She leaned back. “What kind of herbs?”

  “A specialty of Piers. They will work with the alcohol and make him very drunk, almost hallucinating. When he is in this vulnerable state you will either seduce the information out of him, or I will come in and take him down to the beach and, well, beat it out of him.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it. Now, I believe you owe me several articles of clothing.”

  “Yes Captain,” she said with a wicked smile as she teasingly toyed with the straps of her chemise, before dragging them over her arms and letting the fabric slide down her body. A few seconds later he was naked as well. She tumbled on top of him, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Eager as ever to regain control he rolled his body above hers so he could look down at her flushed face, get lost in the depths of her eyes that seemed to draw him like a moth to a candle.

  “Amber,” he muttered in a raw voice, “how do you do this to me?” In response she flung her arms around his neck and drew him to her for another kiss, pressing her body against his chest, shining with sweat. Unable to restrain himself further he entered her, drowning her gasp with a growl of his own.

  Something prevented him from driving into her, fast and hard, as he normally did when he lost himself in her slick warmth. Instead he found himself moving slowly, watching her face as her lips parted in surprise. Without taking his eyes off of her he brought his face down for a kiss, his hand cupping her warm cheek.

  It amazed her that while she felt so safe in his arms she was at the same time in danger of losing herself entirely, as though he could protect her from everything but falling in love with him. His languorous movements were heaven and hell at the same time, filling her with more need than she thought possible, as it forced her to feel every inch of him sliding in and out of her. Slow, so tantalizingly slow.

  She let out a helpless sigh as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. Her body moved in time with his, her hips lifting to meet each thrust and draw him deeper within her. Each touch, every caress stroked the fire that was building inside her, and she clutched him as if she were afraid to let go. She knew that the aftereffects of loving someone as roguish as Logan would be devastating, but in the moments when they were joined she could think of nothing else besides their bodies and the emotions that sucked all air from the room. With each ragged breath she inhaled his masculine scent, and she soon became dizzy in the sensuous aroma that swirled around her.

  Logan buried his head in the crook of her shoulder and neck and increased his pace only enough to tease her, leave her squirming beneath him, always wanting more. Ignoring her silent protests against the reduced speed of his lovemaking, he tormented her by driving them both slowly to their own releases. Each minute that he delayed she became more restless.

  Finally, when she thought she would go mad, he grasped her shoulders and pushed deeper, holding her close as she cried out. The heat that had been growing inside her erupted and spread throughout her body like warm honey, covering her with a sense of rapturous contentment that drowned any doubts she had about loving him. She was so caught up in her own ecstasy that she hadn’t realized that he had spent inside her until he withdrew and rolled onto his back.

  She curled up against him, her hand intertwining with the one he had placed over his chest to make sure his heartbeat was returning to normal. He rubbed his thumb against her palm, his other hand sliding beneath her head to cradle her tightly. She sighed.

  “Tomorrow is going to be a bit hectic,” he said, brushing a light kiss across her forehead. “Are you nervous?”

  “I’m excited. I finally get to do something helpful, and put my skills to good use.” She winked at him as she emphasized skills. “And I’m not afraid at all, if that was your next question.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Because I’ll have my dagger and, more important, I’ll have you with me the whole time.”

  He rolled on top of her, holding himself up on his elbows. “So, I have a redeeming quality after all. Funny how that worked out.”

  “You may have a couple,” she replied in a husky voice, her hands stroking the muscles of his back as she arched against him.

  His eyes lit up. “I love the look you’re giving me right now.”

  “I lo—” she stopped as she realized just what she had been about to say. She would have to watch what she said in the future, lest she accidently show how strong her feelings were.

  He was watching her quizzically. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, giving him a kiss to distract him. “Now let’s go to sleep, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be even longer.” He nodded, and with a satisfied smile pulled her against him and fell asleep.

  Several times Amber woke up during the night and just lay there watching him, too overwhelmed to sleep. Each time she did she was amazed at how innocent he looked. Without the stresses of the day wearing on his face he appeared to be so at peace, and she found herself wondering how old he was. It was hard to tell. To be such an accomplished Captain it would seem that he should be in his mid to late thirties, but now, in the comfort of sleep, he looked much younger.

  Her hands itched to explore his face, trace the angle of his jawbone, his aristocratic nose, and tangle themselves in his hair, but she held back for fear of waking him. Restless, she stood. Dragging a blanket from the edge of the bed to cover herself and shield her from the brisk night breeze that blew in from the open window, she began pacing.

  She could not deny that she loved him, that much was clear. But what was she to do about it? The way she saw it, she had two choices; she could either pretend that she did not care for him, finish the mission, leave him in England and continue with her original plan as though she had never met the damn pirate. Or she could tell him how she felt.

  She shook her head. Impossible. She could not risk the heartbreak that would come with his inability to return her affections. The loss of her mother was devastating enough; add to that the embarrassment and grief that would come with losing Logan and she didn’t know how she would cope. No, instead she would save herself the humiliation and keep her feelings to herself.

  Frustration and anger flooded over her and she grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be her dagger. Fueled by her emotions, she began tossing the blade up and catching it, initiating more and more complex moves as she warmed to the feeling of it in her hand.

  “Amber?” She spun about to see Logan propped up on an elbow, watching her through sleep-heavy eyes. “Come back to bed.” She put down the dagger and dropped the blanket, shivering as she climbed under the covers and into his arms, relishing his body heat. He kissed her shoulder. “Now don’t go anywhere,” he whispered, and then immediately fell back asleep. This time she followed him.

  “So you remember the plan?”

  Amber laughed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror and pinned back a curl. She met Logan’s gaze over her shoulder. “Of course I remember the plan, we’ve gone over it hundreds of times. Why are you so worried?”

  “I’m not worried, I’m just…cautious,” he countered.

  “Well you can relax, everything will go off without a hitch. Now, where is that emerald necklace?” She rose from the chair and ran into Logan, who held another box in his outstretched hands. “What have you done this time?” she demanded as she took it from him.

  “Open it.”

  She did, and lying upon the silk lining of the box was the most breathtaking necklace she had ever seen. Twenty square diamonds made up the chain; each square was mounted on gold and surrounded by a dozen, smaller round diamonds, with a tear-shaped drop suspended from each grouping. The hanging pendant in the middle was similar, but the center gem was the largest diamond she had ever seen. “This cannot be real,” she muttered, her eyes glued to the thousand glittering facets of the focal diamond as he lifted it and bade her turn around.

  “I assure you it’s real,” he said as he cl
asped the necklace around her neck. “But you can relax, sweetheart, this I already owned. Spoils of war, so to speak.”

  “You’ve had this all along?”

  “For years,” he replied, “but I’ve never had cause to bring it out of the box. Until now.”

  “This must be worth…I can’t even imagine.” She reached up to take it off but he stayed her hand.

  “Wear it. Keep it. I want you to have this, for everything I’ve put you through.” She stood on her toes and kissed him, slipping her tongue past his lips to tangle with his. With his hand at the small of her back he held her tight, returning the kiss, and then he released her. “Now is everything in order? Your knife is set?” She nodded. “Good, because we have to get going. You look lovely, by the way.” She glanced down at the rose damask dress that the seamstress had readied for them earlier that day. The woman had been alarmed when Logan explained that the dress was to be made larger, but Amber now relished the extra room she had to breathe.

  “My dressmaker at home would never have allowed me to wear something in this color, but you have a good eye. How did you know this pink would look good on me?”

  “Your dressmaker must not have seen you blush,” he said with a smile, “because this is the exact color your cheeks turn when you are embarrassed or aroused.” She felt the heat rising in her face and turned towards the mirror, seeing that he was correct. She was astounded.

  “You’ve memorized the color of my blush?” She smiled upon seeing a slight pink tinge appear on his cheeks as he shrugged. “Now who’s the embarrassed one?”

  “Get your laughing out now, because once you leave the inn you won’t be able to make fun of me until Mendoza is captured.”

  “I wasn’t laughing and besides, I think it’s sweet.”

  He groaned. “Please don’t tell my men that I’m sweet, I have an image as Captain to uphold. Now let’s go. Pax is probably getting anxious.” Before she could leave the room he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry, you’re going to do wonderfully. I’ll be watching the whole time and if something goes wrong we’ll be there to help you. Not that anything is going to happen of course, I just mean, should you need anything. I’m not saying you will, but—”

  “Logan?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re rambling.”

  “Am I?”

  She kissed him. “Relax, I was trained by the best, remember? Now, go become invisible and I’ll see you once the night is over.” He brushed his lips against her forehead, gave her one last look, and climbed out the window.

  Squaring her shoulders she opened the door, only to see Pax with his hand raised, about to knock. “Are you read—good lord, is that real?” he asked, pointing at the diamond resting above her cleavage.

  “Another gift.”

  “Lucky you. Let’s head out now.” They reached the pub just as the sun set behind the horizon, casting the buildings and the people in an orange glow. They stopped outside the doors. “You ready for this?” She nodded. “Then it’s showtime.”

  She took a deep breath and followed Pax into to the pub. “I just don’t see why you have to leave tonight,” she whined as he wove his way towards the bar.

  “Darling, I told you I have an important meeting.” He nodded at the bartender and ordered a pint of ale, ignoring her again, and giving no indication that his closest friend was serving him drinks.

  She put on a pretty pout. “It’s not a meeting, it’s another card game. That you will lose. If my father could see me now…”

  “Yeah? Well he can’t, because he begged me to take you.” He downed his drink and shrugged off the hand she placed on his arm.

  “Please, just stay with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve already lost my dowry. What else are you going to gamble away? We are going to lose everything.”

  Pax stood and headed towards the door. “I’ll see you at the room later tonight.” The door swung shut behind him and she was alone. Keeping her head high she ignored the looks she received from the other people in the room and made her way towards an empty table. Just as she was about to sit down the chair was swept out from under her. She turned to see Mendoza standing behind her with a smile.

  “Madam?” She sat down and he pushed her chair in, then circled around the table. “You seem to be alone for dinner this evening. Might I join you?”

  “Of course, Mister…”

  He swept off his hat in a flourish, and gave her a small bow. “Antonio Castaños Mendoza, my dear.” He sat and raised a hand to get the attention of the serving girl. “Two drinks for me and my new friend, and I’ll have the stew.” He turned to Amber. “Order whatever you would like.”

  She pretended to look surprised. “Really?”

  “I am not your husband, querida, you may eat what you choose with me.” She ordered the stew and smiled at Mendoza. “Now tell me your name.”

  “Amber Grant,” she answered, using Pax’s last name as her own.

  “Amber,” he commented, looking her up and down with a leer, “a fiery name for such a fiery beauty as yourself. What brings you to Caión?”

  She accepted the drink he handed to her and shot a quick glance at Deacon behind the bar to ensure she was drinking the right glass. He nodded and she took a sip, tasting mostly water. “My husband is in trade, so we are stopping here before returning to Ireland.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Six months, but we’ve been traveling for most of it. I can’t wait to call one place home, settle down, and raise a family.” She dropped her gaze. “If only I could convince Paxton.” Just then their food was delivered and Amber untied the shawl from around her neck, at which point Mendoza saw the diamond necklace. She watched him as she picked up her spoon and began eating, saw the way his eyes widened as he calculated the size and clarity, could practically see his brain working to estimate the cost.

  “That’s a pretty piece you’re wearing,” he commented, appearing nonchalant.

  “Thank you, Señor. It is a family heirloom and though I’m sure Paxton would love to get his hands on it, it belongs to me.” She laughed, her fingers tracing the cold stones. “He hates when I wear it but I feel much safer with it around my neck than leaving it anywhere where he can get it.”

  “It’s a shame that such a beautiful woman should have an insensitive cad for a husband.”

  She twisted her face into one of disgust, using a mental image of her uncle as inspiration. “He has quite a few gambling debts and my necklace would go far in clearing them, but I simply won’t let him have it. It belonged to my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her.”

  “You are smart to keep it from him. It would be a waste to let that precious keepsake fall into the wrong hands,” he said, and then finished his ale. “Another drink?”

  “Do they have any Spanish wine?” She turned in her chair to follow his finger to the bar, where she saw dozens of bottles stacked behind Deacon.

  “We are known for our sweet wine. Shall I pick one for you?”

  “Oh yes, thank you.” He called over the serving girl and in rapid Spanish asked for another mug of ale for himself, and for a glass of the strongest wine they served.

  “She’s going to bring you the house specialty,” he lied. Amber gave no indication that she understood Spanish. Upon drinking the wine she found the taste appealing, were it not so watered down. But she drank it quickly, and the next glass he called over. By then the sun had set and the dinner patrons had begun to filter out, replaced by a rowdier drinking crowd.

  “Querida, I wonder if you would like to continue our conversation in the privacy of my room. I can have some more wine brought up and you can tell me all about this town of Boston.”

  “Señor Mendoza,” she said, slurring her words, “I don’t think that is such a good idea. After all, I am a married woman”

  “Ah, forgive me.” He waited until he thought sh
e wasn’t looking and ordered two more drinks.

  She supposed some women might find him handsome, though she did not. He was tall, but still several inches shorter than Logan, and his frame was smaller. His skin was dark from the sun, his hands callused. His dark hair was long and untamed, and he had a black moustache that he had a propensity to twirl when he was saying something he thought impressive. Though she found him repulsive, she pretended he was the most interesting person she had ever met, laughing at all his jokes and begging for more stories about Spain.

  Looking up now she realized that he was watching her, awaiting a reply.

  “I’m sorry, I must have drifted off. What did you say?”

  He waved a hand as he stood. “It is not important. What is important is for you to lie down and rest. Come,” he said, taking the empty glass from her hand, “I will take you to my room, and you can shut your eyes for a few minutes. As a friend, I don’t advise you walk back to your inn alone at this hour, in your current state. Rest, and then I will escort you back to your husband untouched.”

  She stumbled to her feet, allowing him to catch her. “Very well, I suppose a few minutes couldn’t hurt. I am quite sleepy.” He slid an arm about her waist to steady her as he led her towards the back staircase. Amber made certain to trip over more than one step, causing him to tighten his hold on her and think her much drunker than she was.

  When they reached his room she looked around. A large bed, an armoire against the wall, several dressers, a separate area for bathing and for eating, and an open door that led onto a balcony. She shivered as a breeze blew in. “Cold?” he asked, moving to close the door.

  She grabbed his arm to stop him. “I left my wrap downstairs! It must have fallen beneath my chair. What if somebody finds it and takes it?”

  “Relax querida, I shall go get it for you. You just sit down and rest, and help yourself to another drink. I will return momentarily.” She waited until he left the room and let out a sigh of relief. Just being around him tried her patience, and it took every ounce of willpower not to let on how much she despised him. He was the exact opposite of Logan, and it was strange to her that two men who shared the same profession could be so radically different.