A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (12 page)

“I know ’tis not a room,” he said. “’Tis either this or the brig.”

She smiled. “’Tis fine.” She was anxious for him to leave so she could conjure a spell and try to contact Lark. He studied her with his perceptive eyes, and she fidgeted with her hands, afraid he’d received the dragon gift of reading minds. “Anything else?”

“Are you well?”

“
Oui
.”

“Liar.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You do not know me well enough to call me a liar.” 

“Aye. I do.” He stepped closer. “I’m beginning to learn how you’re feeling. Did you know that your eyes change color based on your mood?”

She backed up and her legs brushed against the hammock. “You noticed?”

“I notice many things about you Mariah.” He reached out and pulled her closer. “I notice your female scent of lavender, the way your dress outlines the curves of your body, your pouting lips. Your sexy accent. The way you carry yourself. You’re not afraid of men whistling at your or facing a wounded dragon. You speak your mind. Your determination—strong yet feminine. I notice everything there is about  you, lass.”

All this time, she’d thought he resented her determination since he always wanted her to stay back. “You like my determination?”

“’Tis frustrating and annoying, but aye, I admire it. I admire you.”

Unable to breathe, she waited, wanting to taste his lips again, wanting to sink into his maleness. Cursing herself for wanting to kiss a man who detested her magic. His lips captured hers. She should be pressing her hands against his chest and pushing him away, insisting he stay away from her. Instead, she molded her traitorous body against him, her hands clutching his strong arms. Protective arms held her, and she felt safe, secure. ’Twas a falsehood. How many witches had died trusting a man who they’d thought accepted them, only to find themselves locked in a witch’s dungeon? She was the fool, the worst kind of fool. She knew the dangers, and still she kissed him, exploring his mouth, wanting to know the secrets he possessed. 

William’s kiss deepened, and Mariah forgot all about
Grand-mère
, about leaving her home, about being tossed into a dungeon, about facing a demon. All that mattered was his kiss, his lips. Her heart quickened, and she ran her hands over his back, his muscles rippling beneath her touch. He was gentle and fierce, a warrior. Fearless but protective and tender. No man kissed like he did. Or at least, the ones she had kissed. They had been mere boys still not coming to their own. William was a man, a man cursed, a man determined to get what he wanted. And he wanted her.

His hand moved up her dress and slipped into her bodice, his thumb brushing against her nipple. She trembled at the touch. His caress sent her into a whirlwind of hot sensations—blood thumped between her ears and her skin burned like molten fire. Her dress was too confining, and she wanted to feel his callous hands on her naked skin, stroking her, teasing her. And those lips. Lord, what she wanted him to do with his lips was sinful. She needed to stop. Needed to remember what he was—a man who denounced magic.

Stop.

The word screamed in her mind. Her body ignored her mind, and her lips failed to form the word, only allowing a soft whimper, laden with sweet desire. She had never wanted this before, had always pushed men away. Maybe he was the one casting the spell.

Murmured voices carried down the hall, and William broke the kiss. He grabbed her arm and whipped her inside her canvas room. Cool air rushed over her breast. She glanced down at her dress, and heat washed over her cheeks. Her nipple peeked out of her dress. She twirled around and shifted her bodice over her exposed nipple.

“I’m sorry,” William whispered. His male presence took up the small space.

She stiffened and glanced over her shoulder.
“Pourquoi?”

He gently squeezed her shoulders. “When I’m around you, I lose control.” His voice shook with emotion. “I don’t see how I can listen to you when you’re trying to teach me how to control the dragon, when all I want to do is kiss you.”

His words touched her. Maybe
Grand-mère
had been right about William. “So, you’re beginning to trust magic?”

The tenderness fled his eyes and wariness replaced it. “No, I don’t. Magic only leads to heartache and despair.” 

How could he be tender one moment and the next an arse? “The dragon’s an animal. Like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can master it if you can lower yourself to believe in a menial witch.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” he said, his voice sincere and his eyes intense. “’Tis…” He hesitated and tightened his lips. 

“What?”

“I’ve learned…not to trust magic.”

“Why? Because of Kane?”

“Not because of him. Magic corrupts.” Bitterness laced the last two words. Pain flashed in his eyes, and he blinked, then it vanished. His eyes hardened, and he motioned with his hand. “Look at Palmer and Zuto. ’Tis why your brother’s enslaved.” 

“You’re wrong. Magic is not corrupt. Men are.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “Get over it. You’re a magical beast.”

“Unlike you, I didn’t choose this. I was cursed.”

“That’s what you think I am? Cursed?”

He clamped his jaw tight and turned away. She had the sudden impulse to slap her fingers across his face. “You need to start accepting your curse. Dragons possess magic, and if your emotions dominate you, you could unknowingly release these powers on those you care about most.”

Not that she was one of them.

***

William wanted to shake Mariah into listening to reason. Her flashing eyes threw daggers into his heart. He glared. “One of those powers is a hunger so fierce that the only thing I want to do is consume anything in my way. You could become a midnight snack.”

Solstice growled. William glowered.

“Solstice.” Mariah grabbed the dog’s collar. “I am not afraid.”

The lass could barely control her damn dog, let alone go up against demons. “Well, there’s no accountability for being ignorant.”

“
Mon Dieu!”
She lifted a closed fist as if to strike him. “I am not ignorant.” She slammed it down, hitting her thigh. “I know what I am doing.”

“You’re from a small little cottage outside of Tortuga. Sheltered from the real world. Sheltered from war. Sheltered from torture and mayhem.”

“No, I am not, William. My parents sacrificed themselves to save Lark and I. They were burned at the stakes.
Oui
, I am quite familiar with war, with torture, so do not presume I am some innocent farm girl. My innocence was robbed from me long ago.”

William stood in shock, his anger doused. Mariah’s lower trembled, but her fierce eyes met his gaze.

“Bloody hell, Mariah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’s how they died.”

She hugged her arms around her waist. “I try not to think about it.”

“You…” He hesitated. “You…didn’t see it.” He couldn’t imagine the terror, the helplessness, the screams.

“No, my parents left us with
Grand-mère
and
Grand-père
. They met our pursuers alone. ’Twas only later—” Her voice cracked. “That…”

William took her in his arms, wishing he could wipe the memory from her. He still had nightmares about seeing his mother shot then dying in his arms, but if she had been burned alive, he didn’t think he’d have the strength to cope. He’d be drowning in rum everyday to block the horror.

He kissed the top of Mariah’s head, inhaling her fragrant scent. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you. If you face Zuto…” He couldn’t say the rest, afraid of what the shrewd demon would do to her.

“I know what I am doing,” she murmured against his chest.

He put both his hands on her wet cheeks and forced her to look at him. “Do you want to end up like Lark?”

She pushed on his chest. “I will not lose my brother like I did my parents.” 

She was so small and petite, a beautiful rose determined to weather the upcoming storm of evil. He picked up the stone lying between her breasts. “Your grandmother is right. Even since we left the cottage, the stone has changed. Lark is falling under Zuto’s control. Don’t you see? This could be you. Something evil and vile.” He released the stone.

“You already think I am something evil and vile, no?”

“I never said you were evil or vile.”

“No, you just think all witches are.”

“I didn’t say
you
.”

She folded her arms. “How chivalrous of you.”

He stepped closer. “Do not belittle my honor. Do you know what Palmer would do with a woman aboard his ship?”

She lifted her chin; fire blazed in those angry eyes. “
Oui
, I do. I need you to leave.”

“Leave? Leave why?”

“I need to be alone.”

Suspicion grew in his mind. Was she planning on casting a spell? Something she didn’t want anyone to know about. “Why?”

“I need some privacy.” 

He raised his eyebrow. “To put away your things?”

She opened her bag, pulled out a dress, and folded it. “If you must know, I need to do a spell.”

“To do what?”

“Lark and I have always had a bond, and I want to see if I can reach him. I need to concentrate, and your disbelief rattles me.” She continued folding her dresses neatly into the chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”

William followed her every delicate movement. She was so different than Hannah. Hannah detested wearing dresses, preferring to wear Kane’s shirt and pants. She enjoyed the rambunctiousness of the crew’s company, and she swore like them, too. Mariah was so feminine, from her flowing dresses to the porcelain doll she unpacked.

The porcelain doll her father made possessed the same violet eyes, the same pouty lips, and the same black hair as Mariah. She and her mother must have been twins.

Mariah caressed the doll’s hair before she placed it on top of the trunk. “Why are you still here?”

“I like watching you.”

She rolled her eyes and laid her spell books, candles, wand, and athame on the floor.  “I am preparing to do a spell. Go bother someone else.”

“Why? Is the spell evil?”

“No. You think all spells are evil.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Why do you not run and tell your brother I practice the dark arts? Then Kane can condemn me, too.”

“Condemn? Never.” He lifted her chin and rubbed his thumb over her pliable lips. “Protect? Always.”

“William—”

Before she could protest, he kissed her. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, indulging in her mouth, wanting to memorize her female essence. Soft fingers clasped his shirt. Her breasts swelled against his chest. Bloody hell, he wanted this lass.

His hands moved down her back and cupped her buttocks, massaging them, eliciting a groan from her. Her lavender scent inflamed his senses, and he wanted to see the little witch naked, panting beneath him, begging him to take her.

She pushed on his chest and squirmed. “Please stop.”

He released her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should leave.” He pushed a lock of hair away from her rosy cheek. “What’s this spell you want to do?”

“I told you. To contact Lark.”

“Haven’t you tried to contact him before?”

Her shoulders slumped. “
Oui
, but I haven’t been successful. I have not…” She stopped, and her eyes glimmered with hope. “I think I know why the spell did not work.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer and lit several candles, setting them around them as if in a diamond.

Uneasiness stirred inside him. “What are you doing?”

“You want to watch me do a spell?” she asked, her voice wary.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected eagerness, too, as if she wanted him to say that he wasn’t afraid of magic. 

“Aye,” he said. Her face brightened, but then his mouth engaged before he could stop it. “Well, no. I don’t believe your magic will be able to contact your brother. You admitted that earlier.”

“
Oui
, but I have an idea.” She motioned to the floor. “Please sit.”

“Why?

Together they lowered to the floor. She picked up a small bowl and set it between them. “You are going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you?”

She clasped his hand and ran her thumb over his fingers, and then moved down his index finger. “
Oui.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Tingles swept over him, and closing his eyes, he bent his head to kiss her again to taste her sweetness one more time. Something sharp sliced his finger.

“Ow!”

Mariah held the athame in one hand and squeezed his finger with the other until blood dripped into the bowl.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She cut her own finger, blood streaming down her hand.