ClaimedbytheCaptain

Claimed by the Captain

Tara Kingston

Jason Kane lost everything to one man’s treachery. Thirsting
for vengeance, the ruthless privateer abducts Catherine Farrell, daughter of
the swindler who destroyed his family. Intending to extract the debt owed him
from his tempting prisoner, he plans a cold-blooded conquest. Aroused by his
captive’s sensual beauty, he claims her with seductive persuasion. As he
plunges her into a world of pleasure, her passionate surrender sparks a deep
longing in his heart and soul.

Catherine Farrell lived the sheltered life of a prosperous
merchant’s daughter until Captain Jason Kane made her a pawn in his quest for
retribution. Claimed by the captain, she finds herself at the mercy of a man
who will settle for nothing less than complete domination. His tender mastery
awakens Catherine’s passions and stirs her heart. If only she convince him that
love is far more satisfying than sweet revenge.

Chapter One

May 1813

Tidewater, Virginia

“I will
not
marry that dim-brained sot.” Catherine
Farrell stared across the ballroom, her gaze settling on the long, lean,
dour-faced man holding court with her father. She dragged in a breath heavy
with the cloying sweetness of honeysuckle. The aroma lingered in her senses as
she studied Jonathan Marbury’s weak-chinned profile.

Arianne Churchill squinted her dark eyes to slits, pinching
her lips together in that way she had when she regarded something most
unpleasant. “He’s not so bad, Cathy.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to
a conspirator’s whisper. “I imagine he’d make a most devoted husband.”

Catherine snapped open her fan with a crisp flick of her
wrist and partly veiled her face. “In that case, you are more than welcome to
him, dear friend. I’d rather marry a scarecrow than warm Jonathan Marbury’s
bed.”

The strains of a waltz swelled in the background.
Catherine’s gaze drifted to the trio of musicians. Their passion brimmed in
every note. Such handsome men, young and virile, yet utterly unsuitable. Her
father would never approve of a union that would not add coin to his coffers.

“Tempting morsels, are they not?” Arianne laughed. “Pity I’m
not in the market for a lover. When my darling Henry returns from sea, I’ll
speak my vows. I fear I must restrain my appetites just a while longer.” She
tilted her head to the far corner of the ballroom. “Perhaps Mr. Marbury will
have to do without your affection. I believe you may have another admirer. He
hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time we’ve been talking.”

Catherine followed the path of Arianne’s lingering
attention. A raven-haired man lounged against the wall, taking in the scene
with an assessing gaze. His elegant ebony coat hugged broad shoulders and a
muscular torso. Snug black trousers clung to his powerful legs. With his
chiseled features, the face of a fallen angel, he might have been a striking
incarnation of Lucifer come to lure unsuspecting souls to hell.

Her pulse quickened at the thought, but she drew in a breath
and forced the fanciful notion from her mind. “He’s probably wondering how our
tongues can wag without pause. We must look like two gossipy biddies.”

“It seems he has a taste for redheads. The man has eyes only
for you.”

She waved away her friend’s words. “Have you found your way
into your father’s brandy?”

“If only I had. Henrietta Blakely’s blather about her
oh-so-wicked suitor might have been far more palatable.” Arianne flicked open
her embellished fan and peeped over the ribs. “I do believe that delectable man
is coming this way. This is most exciting.”

“And most improper.”

Catherine drew her fan closer to veil her features. The
gesture did not deter the dark stranger’s course. He crossed the ballroom with
long, stealthy strides.

“Will you at least allow him a glimpse of your face, you
stubborn girl?”

She sighed and dragged in a breath. “Very well. If doing so
will bring you peace, I suppose I have no choice.”

Searching her mind, she struggled to recall some hint of his
identity. Surely she would not have forgotten such a remarkable figure of a
man. The stranger allowed perhaps two paces between his body and hers, standing
far too close for propriety’s sake. Eyes dark as the midnight sea raked over
her. He watched her, the heat in his stare stirring an unfamiliar vulnerability
that flickered a chill along her spine.

“Miss Farrell, it’s a pleasure.” Ice coated his words
despite the curve of a smile on his lips. He tipped his head to Arianne. “I
must confess I had not expected to encounter two incomparable beauties
tonight.”

Catherine studied his chiseled features. “Have we met? I
must confess I do not recall the occasion.”

Her question hung unanswered as Arianne’s practiced pout
drew his attention. Her friend’s pale complexion colored prettily as she met
his gaze with the skill of a practiced coquette. “You are too bold, sir.”

“I cannot deny I had no patience to wait for a proper
introduction. May I ask your name, lovely lady?”

Her friend fluttered her lashes and pretended to hesitate.
“Arianne. You may know my father, George Churchill.”

His dark head inclined toward her as he pondered the name.
“I’ve made his acquaintance. A tobacco merchant, is he not?”

“Father has enjoyed great success in recent years.”

“I’m familiar with many of his ventures. He’s partnered with
Edwin Farrell on several occasions.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Catherine spoke up. “I’m afraid I am
still unable to place you, sir.”

“Many years have passed since we last met. You were a girl
then, all red hair and freckles, firmly entrenched in the school room. Since
then, your father has spoken highly of your beauty, but I’d believed him to be
exaggerating. Until now.”

“My father is quite shameless, I’m afraid. His quest to
marry me off knows no bounds.”

“I’ve known your father since I was scarcely more than a boy.
For once, he’s spoken the truth.”

Catherine searched his face for some trace of humor. Such an
odd thing to say. As though reading her thoughts, his eyes narrowed, tiny
crinkles of amusement etching the corners.

With practiced ease, he shifted his attention to Arianne.
“Miss Churchill, might I trouble you for a favor?”

“What would you ask of me?”

He moved even closer, so close he might have intended to
brush a kiss over her mouth. Arianne nibbled her bottom lip. “Might I have a
moment to speak with Miss Farrell privately? I have a matter of great urgency
to discuss, but I fear it is for her ears only.”

“Of course,” she said, slanting Catherine a knowing glance.
“I pray you will join me in a waltz after you’ve shared this scandalous
secret.”

He coiled a stray tendril of Arianne’s honey-blonde hair
around his long, lean finger. “Spun gold,” he said with a sly smile. “I look
forward to our dance.”

Arianne fluttered the fan shut. “As do I,” she murmured as
she took her leave, scurrying to join a cluster of richly gowned young women at
the edge of the room.

“She is most enticing,” he commented under his breath. “What
a pity my purpose here tonight does not involve her as well.”

The scent of a male in his prime and bayberry shaving soap
filled her senses. Catherine backed away, one step, then another. Her father
would not permit a scandal.

Shaking his head slowly, he denied her retreat, closing the
slight distance she’d managed to set between them. An excited glint marked his
eyes as he dared to touch her hand. Her uneasiness seemed to please him.

She pivoted away. “What has brought you here tonight?”

“You did, Miss Farrell.”

She blinked. Surely she’d misunderstood his meaning. “If you
wish to speak with my father, I would be happy to take you to him.”

“I have no desire to speak with the man. You are the object
of my quest tonight.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to meet his
dark gaze. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I came for you.” His husky rasp sent a frisson of warning
through her core.

Unwanted warmth flooded her cheeks beneath the intensity of
his gaze. “What a most peculiar thing to say, sir.”

“I only speak the truth. I needed to find you, Catherine.”
He took hold of her arm with a firm grasp. “I assure you my concerns are quite
urgent.”

An instinctive warning pounded in her brain. Surely this man
could have no legitimate business with her. She pulled away, but he restrained
her with gentle yet unyielding pressure.

“I cannot risk that the cackling hens of this fair town will
overhear my concerns and run amok.” His voice was little more than a whisper,
hard and smooth as marble. “Surely you’d not wish to bring disgrace upon your
father.”

She stiffened against his hold. “Nothing you might tell me
could sully his honor.”

“The truth would bring him great shame.”

Catherine scanned the ballroom. Iris Humphries made her way
through the crowd, her focus intent on the tall, well-muscled man at
Catherine’s side. The vows she’d spoken two years prior had come to mean little
to Iris, if her bold flirtations were any indication of the value she placed on
fidelity.

“Come with me,” he urged. “What I have to say is meant for
your ears and your ears alone. You don’t wish to create a scene, do you?”

Her father would be furious if she embarrassed him. She was
of value only while her reputation remained pristine. Surely an unpleasant
exchange with this stranger would draw attention she could ill afford. Humoring
him would not be difficult to bear. It was not as though he were ancient and
repulsive. So many of her father’s associates were gnarled gargoyles with
roving eyes. This man was handsome. Almost dangerously so.

Undoubtedly, his chiseled features and full mouth had gained
him access to hearts and beds throughout his life. The stranger’s deep brown
eyes were nearly black, the same shade as the dark hair cropped close to his
head in the style of an imposing Roman emperor. He towered over her, his
devilishly handsome face clean shaven, his broad shoulders isolating her from
the other guests.

“Come with me to the garden,” he coaxed. The husky timbre of
his voice stirred a primal reaction within her, tearing at her resistance.

Swallowing hard, she defied the instinct to struggle against
the stranger’s control as Iris neared.

“Sir, I don’t even know your name,” she protested.

“Captain Jason Kane, at your service.”

His long fingers slid to her wrist. The rough texture of his
fingertips contrasted with the gentleman’s attire. His eyes darkened to the
color of midnight. Her pulse quickened in silent alarm as she met his
unreadable gaze. His heat flooded her veins.

“Catherine, will you deny me?”

The rich tones of his voice caressed her name. Her
instinctive wariness of this man battled furiously with the desire to discover
what lay beneath the charming mask of his features. The sounds of music and
laughter and flirtations filled her ears. Surely there would be no harm in
seeking a quieter place in which to take their refuge.

“My father will be furious if he discovers I’ve gone off
without a proper chaperone.”

He dismissed her concern with a smile. “Come, before some
other rake sweeps you away from me.”

Iris would be upon them at any moment. The tart-tongued
shrew would stir quite a scandal if given the chance. If she spied Catherine
alone with the captain, the gossip would spread like dandelion tufts in a
spring breeze.

Glancing past Captain Kane, Catherine spotted her nemesis.
Iris fidgeted with her pearl choker, staring down at the hunched, turban-clad
woman who’d attached her hand to Iris’ plump wrist like an eagle’s talons
clamped over a baby rabbit. Her mouth scrunched into a twisted bow as she met
Catherine’s gaze. Settling her thin lips into a scowl, Iris turned her
attention back to her husband’s dowager aunt, looking as if she might actually
pry herself from the elderly woman’s hold at any moment.

Catherine drew in a long breath. With any luck, Sybil
Humphries would continue to occupy Iris until Catherine made her escape.
I
shall be bold tonight.
She faced Captain Kane’s persuasive dark eyes.

”Perhaps only for a moment.”

Catherine inhaled the heavy fragrance of gardenias as he led
her from the main house. His impenetrable stare crept over her, fueling the
uneasy alarm she tried to ignore. She pressed her damp palms together and laced
her fingers to disguise the slight trembling in her hands. The set of his mouth
and the gleam in his eyes brought to mind a predator. Sleek, beautiful and
deadly. She chided her overactive imagination, yet she could not dismiss the
sense she had become this man’s quarry.

“So, Captain Kane, how do you know my father?”

“My father entered into a venture with him many years ago.
The trusting fool did not fare well against your father’s cunning, I’m afraid.”

A new wariness of this man stirred at his uncloaked disdain
of her father. “What is your business, Captain?”

“I am a pirate, Catherine.”

Surely he was toying with her. “A pirate? Do you take me for
a fanciful girl?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You expect me to believe Blackbeard has arisen from his
watery grave?” she scoffed.

“I assure you I am not a ghost.” He took her hand in his and
drew her to him, tipping her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“If I’d had any idea the old man’s daughter was so enticing, I’d have come for
you a long time ago.”

Catherine took a step back and studied his face for some
sign he’d been merely teasing her. She retreated another step. Insistent fear
born of primal instinct demanded she flee, but she hesitated. This man was her
father’s guest. Surely her father would not invite a malicious rogue into their
home.

Her confusion increased as Kane’s attention shifted. A
muscle in his jaw clenched as he gestured with a quick incline of his head.

Powerful hands seized her shoulders from behind. The
beginnings of a scream squeaked out of her mouth. Kane silenced her, forcing a
length of coarse fabric between her lips. He knotted the gag behind her head as
unseen hands seized her arms and bound her wrists with rough cord.

Fear and frustration raged through her thoughts. Could no
one see what was happening? She struggled desperately against the bindings and
the unyielding hold that restrained her. The loud blur of music and raucous
conversation from the crowded ballroom drowned out her small, desperate
protests.

Kane swept her up, settling her against his shoulder as
effortlessly as if she were a small girl. Terror filled every breath. The world
began to swirl. She was losing consciousness. She was trapped in a swirling
vortex of fear and the last thing she saw was the triumphant gleam in the
devil’s dark eyes.