Island Flame (7 page)

“I have no objection to you taking the air, provided you remain on the quarterdeck and stay away from the men. They’ve been at sea a long time, and with a woman like yourself around. … Well, there’s no point in asking for trouble. I need every man I have. I don’t want to have to kill one of them because you tempted him to madness.”

“Heaven forbid!” she replied, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Which brings us to another slight problem. Just what am I to wear for the remainder of this delightful voyage? Your precious men, if you remember, tore the clothes from my back!”

He made no answer to this piece of impudence, and she ventured on, daring a little further.

“What exactly did your fine pirate laddies do with my trunks, Captain? Throw them overboard? Or are they using them as rags with which to scrub their decks?”

“Your trunks were taken on board, my lady, and were inventoried along with the rest of the
Anna Greer
’s cargo. You have a very nice wardrobe—dresses that cost enough to feed a family for a year, silk petticoats, even real Irish lace drawers. Valuable plunder, ma’am, whether you know it or not.” He still lay on his back on the bed, seemingly unconcerned with her rising anger.

“Will you give me my clothes?” Her voice trembled with outrage, and it was all she could do to keep from
hurling words of hate and abuse at him. She burned all over at the thought of him going through her belongings.

“As I said, my lady, they are worth a great deal. And they belong not only to me, but to my men. I could not in good conscience give them away. Of course, if you were of a mind to buy them.…” His voice trailed off, and he swung himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, surveying her mockingly.

“You know I have no money,” she said bitterly.

“Who said anything about money? Perhaps we could arrange a trade, you and I. Say, for instance, a gown … for a kiss.”

She stared at him, her temper rising. So he hoped to arrange a trade, did he? He must think that she was simple-minded. A kiss was the very least of what he had in mind.

“Well, Cathy?” he said softly, watching her. “A gown for a kiss. That seems a fair enough arrangement.”

Cathy stared at him, trying to divine the thoughts behind that dark, mocking smile. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in the back of his eyes like a tiny raw flame. Cathy began to feel frightened. He looked so strong, so very male sitting there, and he was eyeing her as a hungry cat would eye a particularly appealing mouse. She swallowed, then met his gaze squarely, her chin high with defiance.

“I would sooner kiss a pig!”

He did not seem at all angry at her rude reply. On the contrary, he gave a bark of delighted laughter.

“So you would sooner kiss a pig, would you, Lady Catherine? Are you sure? I doubt very much if, in the course of your peculiarly sheltered life, you’ve ever had the opportunity to kiss anything, much less a pig. So you
really have no basis for comparison. What you should do is kiss me, then go out and kiss a pig. Then you could compare the two kisses and decide which you prefer.”

He was mocking her, laughing at her, and she felt a murderous rage begin to burn in her veins. Never before in her whole life had anyone dared to laugh at her! And now this arrogant man had the temerity to make her the butt of his joke! Her eyes glittered with anger, and her lips parted in something closely resembling a snarl.

“I hate you!” she hissed at him, her blue eyes seeming to throw off sparks.

She looked very beautiful as she panted fire and defiance at him, and Jon found himself wanting her so badly that he ached. She reminded him of an angry red vixen at bay. … He stood up, and began to move toward her very slowly, stalking her.

Cathy jumped to her feet as he moved, leaving the sheet she had been clutching for modesty’s sake behind. Her breasts were sharply outlined beneath the linen nightshirt. Jon smiled broadly, and she began to back away, dodging behind the table. He followed her relentlessly, smiling at her, coolly confident of the outcome of the game.

Cathy retreated as far as she could, and found herself backed up against the wall. He snaked forward, his arms shooting out on either side of her to hold her in place. She looked up at him, her eyes widening with sudden realization. This, then, was to be the showdown. She felt tongues of fear lick at her insides. He was close, so close she could smell the warm musky odor of his body. His eyes glittered down at her dangerously, and his mouth curved in a wicked smile.

Cathy had never lacked courage, and it stiffened her spine as she glared at him.

“You let me go, you animal!” she spat at him, her eyes daring him to touch her.

“So I’m an animal, am I?” he drawled, his eyes glinting down at her. “But that should appeal to you, my lady. After all, you just admitted to an astonishing partiality for pigs. Now you can see how you like the kind of animal I am.”

He bent over her deliberately, and Cathy closed her eyes, turning her face away and trying to push him back with both hands against his chest. Her efforts were futile. His mouth grazed her averted cheek, burning her, and then his hand was beneath her chin, forcing her head around until his mouth covered hers. His lips seared her mouth. She kept her own lips tightly clenched, rejecting his kiss utterly. She remembered the last time all too well. She would not disgrace herself in such a way again.

His arms slid around her, pulling her away from the wall and into his embrace. Cathy clawed at his face desperately, but he caught her hands before she could inflict any damage, imprisoning them. His mouth closed over hers again, and this time his tongue succeeded in prying her shaking lips apart. She arched away from him in a hopeless quest for freedom, but the movement only made her more burningly aware of his hard male body as it pressed intimately against her softer female one. She felt his tongue touch hers, and the tremor that racked his arms as he held her. A strange heat began to pulsate in her loins. His hands moved over her back and buttocks, warmly and seductively. Her knees felt suddenly weak, and she was forced to cling to his shoulders for support.
He bent her backward over his arm, his mouth ravishing the slim white column of her throat before returning to devour her mouth. Cathy knew suddenly, helplessly, that she was lost. Her arms crept around his neck of their own volition, her fingers curling through his thick dark hair.

As he felt her response he groaned, then swung her off her feet and into his arms, carrying her on unsteady legs over to the bed. Cathy lay nestled like a small trusting kitten against the hard muscles of his bare chest, her arms twined around his neck. She could no more have resisted him than he could have stopped himself.

He laid her gently on the bed and stretched out beside her, drawing her up tightly against him and kissing her in that strange, animalistic way that drove her almost out of her mind. As his mouth twisted across hers, she shivered, and then she was kissing him back.

“This is wrong,” a small voice inside her head warned. But Cathy was beyond heeding her own advice.

Jon’s hands explored the curves of her body through the thin nightshirt, reveling in her budding womanliness. Her nipples grew rigid under his hands. He ripped aside the material covering them impatiently, then caught his breath as if the sight of her milky white, pink tipped breasts caused him physical pain. He stretched out a finger and ran it reverently over the soft peaks, marveling at the velvety warmth of her skin.

He bent his head, gently kissing first one nipple and then the other, drawing the last one into his mouth and nibbling at it teasingly. Cathy gasped at the fiery sensation that stabbed her, and her eyes flew open. The sight of his black head nuzzling so intimately at her breast shocked her back to awareness. She went hot with shame. Her
hands flew to his broad shoulders and she tried frantically to push him away.

“No! Please stop! Jon, please!” she panted, her nails digging into him.

“Hush, Cathy,” he murmured in reply, his voice thick and his eyes glazed with passion. “Hush, now, Cathy love.”

He reached up and gently removed her claws from his flesh, drawing her hands over her head and holding them pinioned. His lips returned to press hot kisses over her breasts. Cathy twisted, frightened now, and tried vainly to pull away.

“Just be still, sweetheart,” he said against her ear. “I won’t hurt you. Easy now. Just be still.”

He held her hands pinned to the mattress with one of his, while the other stripped away the remnants of the torn nightshirt. In a few short moments, her body lay bare to his gaze. His eyes went over her slowly, possessively, seeming to scald her flesh. She sobbed with fear and embarrassment as he studied her from head to toe, and when his hand went to the buttons of his breeches, she renewed her frantic efforts to escape.

Naked, he held her with his leg across her body, stilling her harsh cries with his mouth. He kissed her in a leisurely fashion, his hands resuming their shameful wanderings. They roamed casually over the sensitive peaks of her breasts, then moved downward to caress her soft belly. She whimpered, her head thrashing from side to side on the pillow, her nails tearing at his shoulders. He continued with the gentle kneading of her belly, disregarding her struggles. Then his hand moved even lower and began to stroke the silken flesh of her inner thighs.

“No!” she gasped as his calloused palm ran gently across the place where her legs joined. Horrified, Cathy clamped her legs tightly together, crossing them against him, desperately resisting his attempts to pry them apart with his hands.

“Relax, Cathy. Relax, sweetheart,” Jon murmured hoarsely. “Open your legs, Cathy love. I won’t hurt you.”

His words appalled her. Her body went rigid, then wriggled and slid like a contortionist’s, as she tried frantically to squirm out from under his hands. He was too strong, and finally, with a shuddering sob of surrender, she went limp. There was nothing else she could do.

Jon raised himself on one knee above her, wedging the other between her tightly crossed legs. He at last succeeded in parting her thighs. Cathy gave one last convulsive heave as he spread them wide, then lay sobbing quietly, not even trying to resist him any longer. She shuddered at the feel of his hardness against her as he probed between her thighs.

A flash of fire surged through her as he found the opening between her legs, entering slightly. Then with one quick thrust he was deep inside her. The knifelike pain was so intense that Cathy screamed. His lips closed over her mouth, silencing her, and he lay on top of her without moving, embedded in her soft flesh. His breath came in jagged bursts, as though he had run a long way. Cathy turned her head away, repulsed by its warmth upon her face. Finally, as if he could no longer help himself, he began to move, slowly at first so as not to hurt her more than he had to, and then harder and stronger.

Cathy lay unresisting beneath him, letting him do what he would with her body, numb with shock. She couldn’t
believe that this awful thing was really happening. She was being raped by a pirate, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was already too late. She was ruined, disgraced. She could never hold up her head again. And all because of this heaving, trembling animal who panted and plunged over her. … How she hated him!

She tried to force herself to think of something else, but it was impossible with his hard, hot flesh joined so intimately to hers. She moved a little, experimentally, hoping to at least ease the crush of his chest on her breasts. Her movement seemed to incite him to even greater frenzies. Unwillingly, Cathy felt herself begin to get caught up in his passion. With an instinctive movement she surged to meet his next thrust. He sucked in his breath sharply, then shuddered and went limp. Cathy felt an unreasoning pang of disappointment as his big body sprawled across hers.

After a moment, Jon rolled away and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Cathy sidled over to the far edge of the bed and turned her back on him, feeling hot and sticky and thoroughly humiliated. She thought of the way her body had betrayed her at the last, when she could not stop its instinctive movement, and hot tears of rage and shame filled her eyes. She stifled a sob, but Jon heard the small, muffled sound and pulled her roughly against him. He stroked her hair absently, and at the careless tenderness of his gesture she forgot her pride and her hatred of him and sobbed like a baby. He continued to hold her, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting things into her ear. When her sobs were finally reduced to hiccuping gulps, he put her away from him and stood up, pulling on his clothes. He stood looking down at her for a moment,
buckling his belt, a faint smile curving his lips. Cathy closed her eyes and refused to look at him.

“Don’t let it worry you, sweet. It’ll be better the next time, I promise,” he said softly, and then chuckled at the exclamation of rage she gave as the full import of his statement sunk in. He actually expected her to submit to that disgusting performance again! She bounced furiously from the bed, dragging the sheet with her to protect her body from his gaze, murder blazing in her eyes. She looked around wildly for a weapon, but before she could find something hard enough and sharp enough he scooped her up in his arms and threw her back onto the middle of the bed. She floundered helplessly in a mad tangle of sheet and hair while he laughed uproariously. By the time she managed to get herself sorted out, he was gone. Cathy glared ferociously at the closed cabin door. Nobody could treat her like a doxy and get away with it! She made up her mind there and then that Captain Jonathan Hale was going to be taught a much needed lesson. He would soon find out that he had met his match in her!

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