Never Trust a Pirate

by Anne Stuart

“That’s convenient, because I want you too. I’ve been burning for you, for days, weeks. Waiting for you.”

  “Waiting for me to do what?”

  “To stop hating me for something I didn’t do.”

  “I don’t…” But he stopped her words, putting his fingers against her lips.

  “You don’t need to explain. I think we’ve put this off long enough.”

  It was time. She steeled herself. “All right,” she said, and flopped back on the mattress, waiting.

  Again he didn’t move. And then she felt him lift up, move over her in the darkness, holding himself above her. “What are you doing?”

  She’d made another mistake, she thought, some of the warmth that was filling her beginning to fade. “Getting in position. You said you were ready to take me, didn’t you?”

  “I’m not going to take you, Maddy. We’re going to make love. And you’re going to like it.”

  She could see his eyes even in the darkness, the intensity in them as he looked down at her. “I should warn you,” she said. “I’m not a virgin.”

  He brushed his mouth against hers. “Neither am I.” And before she knew what he planned he slid down her body, his mouth brushing against the curls between her legs.

  “What are you doing?” she shrieked in real panic now.

  “Making love to you. Whoever did it before didn’t do a very good job. I’m going to do it right.” And he put his mouth between her legs, holding her thighs apart.

  Heat and shame washed over her. This was a horrible idea, what did he think he was… oh, my. A curl of sweet sensation seemed to spark from where his tongue was, and she found she was clutching the sheet beneath her, as he licked all her secret places, using his tongue to devastating effect before he touched her with his teeth, just the hint of a bite at the very moment he slid one long finger inside her, and she had to slam her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking. The sensation was strange, frightening, and she wanted to beg him to stop.

  “I don’t like this,” she said in a rattled voice, as stray shivers of reaction kept dancing across her body, a reaction she couldn’t bring back under her iron control.

  “Yes, you do,” he said. “You’re just not used to it.” And he slid two fingers inside her as he put his mouth back down.

  Her skin was burning up, a million pinpoints of tiny shocks, building, building, and she wanted to fight him, stop him, wanted to beg him to keep going. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but then he used his teeth again, moved his fingers inside her, pressing against the wall of her sex, and the ability to think shattered, along with her body. Even with her hands across her mouth she couldn’t control her low, keening wail, or the way her body arched up against him as he pumped his fingers into her. When she fell back she was dazed, breathless, shocked beyond belief, and he slid back up her body, covering her in the darkness, heat blazing off him.

  “What the hell was that?” she questioned weakly.

  “I made you come. I’m going to do it again.” He leaned down and casually licked the tight bud of her breast. It almost hurt. Almost, and she remembered him sucking at her, holding her. It was clear she knew absolutely nothing about this matter of making love, that it could feel so shocking, so life-altering, so… wonderful.

  “Of course, we haven’t gotten to the worst part yet,” she muttered out loud, then could have slapped herself. He’d taken all her natural caution and ripped it away from her. God knew what she’d say next. Tell him that she loved him?

  Because she didn’t love him. Couldn’t love him. She was going to marry an aristocrat and provide for her family. She had loved Tarkington and where had it gotten her?

  She could sense his laughter in the darkness. “The worst part?” he echoed. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

  “Well, it isn’t,” she said in a practical voice. “Not for you.”

  “I hate to bring someone else into our bed, Maddy, but exactly how many times have you done this before?” he asked gently.

  “Once.” Her voice left little doubt that she’d thought once was enough. And yet here she was, back again, so awash in sensation that she could barely speak.

  “Then I’ve got just a little more experience. I’m very good at this, Maddy. Trust me.”

  She could feel him now, the blunt head of his cock at her entrance, and she started to brace herself for the assault, when he moved his mouth to her ear. “Breathe, Maddy Rose,” he whispered. And he pushed, sliding partway into her.

  “You lied,” she accused him, holding herself terribly still. “It does hurt.”

  “That’s because you’re terrified,” he said. “You need to let go. Put your hands on my shoulders. I won’t let you fall.”

  For some reason she did what he told her, moving her hands from her mouth to rest on his hot skin. “I can’t let go,” she said in a tight voice.

  “Poor darling,” he murmured. And then he leaned forward and bit the lobe of her ear, hard.

  She shrieked in shock more than pain, and he thrust into her, filling her so full she thought she might faint. It took her a moment and a deep, calming breath to realize that it didn’t hurt, not the way it had the first time. “You’re too big,” she said with just a trace of grumpiness. “You won’t fit.”

  “Gracias,” he said. “But I’ll fit just fine, as long as you relax.”

  “What do you mean, you’ll fit?” she echoed. “You mean there’s more?”

  “There’s the harridan I know and love,” he said with a laugh. “Yes, Maddy Rose, there’s more. And you’re going to take it all, and you’re going to want it.”

  “You said I could stop,” she said. “You said we wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re just frightened.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” she shot back. She could feel her body softening, accepting him, and he pushed in further. She wanted to hit him.

  “Of course you are. You’re afraid of bats, and going out on the ocean, and losing yourself. You’re afraid of lies, you’re afraid of my body when all I want to do is make you feel good.” He pushed in further, and unconsciously she shifted, accommodating him. “You’re afraid of being vulnerable, you’re afraid of me, and I’m willing to bet you’re afraid of spiders.” He cupped her face, and she almost thought she could see the faint glitter of his eyes in the darkness. “But you’re not going to be afraid of this.” And he pushed home, resting against her, and her fingers dug into his shoulder, so tightly they cramped. Holding on, not pushing him away.

  “Don’t worry, love,” he said, brushing his mouth against hers. “It’s going to be all right. I promise you.” He rested his forehead against hers, breathing steadily, but she could feel the tension running through him, the sheer strength it was taking to hold still.

  “Just get it over with,” she said in a small voice. “I can stand it.”

  He laughed, and the sensation traveled through their bodies, and she felt the vibration of it deep inside her. “Such confidence in my skills. Tell you what, Maddy Rose. Lie back and let go, and let me know when you change your mind.”

  He began to pull out, and she almost panicked, thinking he was leaving, he’d changed his mind, when he pushed back in again, and she shifted once more.

  He did it again, setting up a slow, almost lazy rhythm, and she gripped the sheets again, bracing herself. It took a moment before she realized this was different, this slow, sinuous slide of his body against hers, his cock inside her. She was no longer cold, she was hot, sweaty, moving her hips without conscious decision, letting the sensations move through her body, almost like a dance, as he slid his hands under her and pulled her up against him, and something sparked inside her, something so unexpected that she gasped. He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop—he knew her body better than she did. He knew what would give her pleasure before she did, she released her death grip on his shoulders and slid her arms around his waist, feeling the steady
pounding of his hips, the flex of his muscles. She wanted more, more of him, more of everything. She arched up against him, and he thrust in deeper, deeper still, and the pleasure was so powerful she cried out, sliding her hands up to clutch his back, to hold on as he moved in a determined, endless rhythm. He slid his hands up her legs and wrapped them around his hips, and she kept them there, reveling in the new feelings it was evoking, and she was shaking in his arms and she didn’t know why. This was like nothing she had ever imagined, and when he slid his hand between their bodies, touching the place where he’d licked and sucked and nibbled, something exploded within her, and she went rigid in his arms as everything hung suspended, breath and heartbeat and life itself. And then she collapsed against the bed, limp, complete. But he was still moving, faster now, and he hadn’t moved his hand from between them, and when he touched her again she slammed her face against his shoulder to muffle her scream.

  And then he was gone from her, spilling his seed on her stomach, hot liquid washing over her, and she wanted to cry at the loss of him. She wanted everything, even the danger of his seed, and instead he’d protected her. She waited for him to collapse against her, uncertain whether she had enough strength left in her body to hold him, when he dropped down beside her, taking her in his arms and rolling her over him, so that she lay sprawled across his body, his seed wet between them, joining them.

  She was lost, broken, and yet somehow whole for the first time in what seemed like forever. She lay across him, boneless, as another stray convulsion swept through her body, and she drew her legs up to savor the sensation.

  “Not enough for you, love?” he whispered in her ear, sounding lazy and satisfied. “If you want I can…” He began to move his hand down her hip, and she batted at it helplessly.

  “Are you… trying to… kill me?” she gasped, trying to regain her steady breathing and totally failing.

  “No.”

  She wanted to sleep, she wanted to curl up in his arms and stay that way. But he would leave her, she knew it. “Congratulations,” she managed to say, as her heart rate began to slow.

  “For what?” He was lazily stroking her back, twisting strands of her long hair between his fingers, rubbing it against her.

  “You made your point. I liked it.”

  For a moment he said nothing. “You think that’s what I was doing? Proving a point?”

  She wanted words. Men didn’t give words. Gypsy pirates especially didn’t give words, when they had no words to say. “What else could it be? We both know this meant nothing to either of us.”

  “You mean because I’m a ship’s captain and a former privateer and you’re a lady? Or is it my gypsy blood that bothers you?”

  He sounded as if the question was purely academic, but she was horrified. “Of course not. It’s just…”

  He moved, and she half expected him to leave the bed, leave her. But instead he rolled up against the wall, taking her with him, wrapping her in the safety of his arms. There must have been a blanket somewhere near their feet, because he pulled it up, tucking it around her. “Tell you what,” he said in a steady voice. “When you figure it out, let me know.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Go to sleep, Maddy Rose. You can fight with me later.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t going to fight. She was going to tell him what she should never, never say. She was going to tell him that she loved him.

  But she was saved by the rocking of the ship, by his hand on the side of her face, gently pushing her head against his shoulder, by the sheer exhaustion, emotional and physical, that swept over her, and before she could say the damning words she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WHEN MADDY AWOKE THE cabin was flooded with daylight, and she was alone. She immediately scrambled into a sitting position, dragging the blanket with her, moving to the far corner as she listened to the voices outside her door. A moment later she heard the peremptory knocking, and relief and disappointment flooded her. Luca wouldn’t bother to knock; Luca would stride in without announcing himself.

  “Come in,” she said, hoping she sounded relatively serene, given that she was sitting naked in a man’s bed.

  It was Billy Quarrells filling the doorway, surveying her with profound disapproval. “Did I wake you?” he said, ignoring any social pleasantries.

  She could do the same. “No. Where’s Luca?”

  If anything his look of disapproval deepened. “The captain is busy running the ship,” he said, his emphasis correcting her. “I offered to look after you and he gratefully accepted.”

  “Look after me? You look as if you’d like to throw me overboard. Are you angry with me?” It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say. Disapproval was coming off Billy Quarrells in waves, and he was both strong enough and ruthless enough to do just that.

  “You’re more trouble than I realized,” he said shortly. “And if I think you’re causing Luca any harm then there could always be a tragic accident. Things like that happen all the time aboard ship. I don’t know as how anyone would miss you. And don’t bother running to him, telling him I threatened you. He won’t believe you, and even if he did he wouldn’t give a damn. He wanted you, he had you, and now it’s over.”

  It should come as no surprise—the captain wasn’t a man for tender emotions or commitments. He’d been ruthless last night, demanding a response so bone-shakingly powerful it frightened her, but of course he didn’t care about her, for all his calling her his “love.” He probably didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  Though there were times when she thought neither did she. After all, she had given her body to the man she thought, until recently, as her worst enemy; she’d held nothing back. He’d taken her, given her the kind of scary pleasure she’d never imagined existed, and then left her, leaving Billy to do his dirty work. And now she sat huddled in the corner, feeling bereft.

  “I won’t cause him any harm,” she said wearily.

  “Nor make any untoward demands?”

  “Like what? Marry me and save my reputation? That’s already in tatters.”

  “Marriage to a gypsy would hardly save your reputation and you know it,” he scoffed, eyeing her. “You’d be shunned worse than you are already.”

  So he knew who she was. Of course he did—he was Luca’s oldest friend. Luca probably told him everything, including how pathetic she was. He’d taken her, stripped her down emotionally, and even if she tried to put a wall of words up between them afterwards he knew women well enough. He knew she was hopelessly besotted, and he was sending his best friend to end it rather than deal with it himself.

  She wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. “So why are you here if you’re not going to fling me overboard?”

  “We’ll be heading into a blow, and the cap’n told me to make sure you’re settled before it hits. Since your ladyship has never bothered to set foot on your father’s own ships before, you probably don’t know this one has a bathing room. I’ll take you there, then down to the galley for some food, and then you’ll stay in your cabin, out of the captain’s way, for the rest of the voyage.”

  She would have liked to tell him to go to hell, but for the sake of a bath she’d sell her soul to the devil. “And just how long is the rest of the voyage? Where are we going?”

  “That’ll be up to the captain. The first place we can safely dump you, if I know him. He said you were in too much danger in Devonport, though it seems to me you brought that on yourself with your snooping. I would have left you behind.”

  She gave him a wintry smile. “So where are we headed?”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders, watching her beneath shaggy eyebrows. “Maybe London. Maybe the continent. You can find your way home, wherever that may be, from there.”

  With no money, no clothes—she didn’t even know where her shoes were. When she’d woken up in the bed, trussed and gagged, they’d been gone. She glanced at the flo
or of the cabin. There was no sign of her discarded dress or the shift and pantalets she’d willingly pulled off. “And is there any plan for me to wear something, or am I spending the rest of the voyage wrapped in a blanket? Are you going to give me my clothes back?”

  “There are clothes,” he said briefly. “Do you want a bath or not?”

  Keeping the blanket wrapped securely around her, she slid off the berth. It was higher up than she’d realized it, and her legs felt rubbery, and Quarrells caught her as she started to pitch forward, his big rough hands surprisingly gentle. “Haven’t got your sea legs yet,” he grumbled. “Why that man bothers with women is beyond me. You’re nothing but trouble.”

  “So drown me,” she muttered, trying to regain her equilibrium.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  But she was no longer afraid of him. For all his bluster, Billy Quarrells wouldn’t do a thing to hurt her. He was like a great shaggy dog—all bark and no bite, just wanting to protect his best friend. Angry as she was, she couldn’t fault him for that.

  The bathing room wasn’t far—just a few doors down the narrow passageway, and to her surprise a bath had already been drawn. She glanced up at Billy, but his face was impassive, so impassive she knew he’d done this for her. “Thank you,” she said as he released his supportive arm.

  He shrugged. “There’s clothes in the cupboard there, and the necessary behind the screen. I’ll give you one bell and no more.”

  “One bell?”

  He made an exasperated sound. “And you the daughter of a shipping magnate! Ought to be ashamed of yourself. One bell is half an hour.”

  “Then why didn’t you say so?” she shot back.

  “Because we’re on board ship.”

  She rolled her eyes. All the nautical rules and terms were coming back to her, but she derived a perverse pleasure in playing ignorant. “Are you going to stay and watch me?” she said after a long moment, when he made no attempt at leaving.

  He snorted. “Not my area of interest, dolly-mop. I just want to make sure you’re not going to fall flat on your face or drown in the bathtub before I leave.”