Defiant: 5 (Noble Passions) (10 page)

He was a fool.

Ah, not for this. Not for defying her brother’s command to
keep away. Not for taking her. This was the least foolish thing he’d ever done.
Even if they did not survive this disaster, he could die happy knowing she
cared for him, she wanted him as he did her. He could die knowing he had given
her pleasure beyond imagination.

No, his foolishness lay in the fact that he’d
thought
he loved her.

The feelings he’d had for her, thready and pallid, had not
been love.

They paled in comparison with this, this tempest in his
heart. He held her closer and squeezed his eyes shut. He could not bear it if
anything happened to her.

Anything.

Wrapped in a coil of fear and agonizing adoration, he slept.

* * * * *

He awoke with a start at the sound of a key in the lock.
Dismay dribbled through him. They could not be found entangled like this. He
eased her off his chest just as the door opened and several brawny men crowded
in. To his horror, grimy fingers reached for her and one man hauled Sophia to
her feet. Her cry was like a lance to the heart.

“Time for your punishment, boy,” the pirate growled.

Ned’s heart leaped into his throat. “Wait!” he cried.

Another pirate chortled and grabbed his arm. “Oh, you’re
coming too. Captain wants all of you to witness this.”

The men dragged them out onto the deck; the sunlight was
blinding. It was a beautiful day. A beautiful day to die. He exchanged a look
with Sophia. Though she held her chin high, a distinct dread limned her
features. The deck was crowded—all the pirates and prisoners were assembled
around the main mast. The captain stood before them with a long whip in his
hands. Alarm skittered through Ned’s bowels. Surely he couldn’t intend to—

He pointed the whip at Sophia’s slender form. “Tie him up.”

“No!” Ned howled. He struggled to break free but couldn’t.
There were far too many men holding him. He snarled and cursed and struggled
like a wild man as the pirates lashed her arms around the thick mast.

“We have very strict rules,” the captain said and cracked
the whip. “Ten lashes for disobedience and ten for betrayal.”

A rumble went up through the knot of huddled prisoners.

“You can’t do this!” MacDougal cried, but the captain
ignored him.

He paced back and forth beside Sophia’s bound form, coiling
and uncoiling the whip. “You’re lucky, boy. The sentence for mutiny is death.”

Gasps rose.

“Are you ready?”

“No!” Sophia wailed.

Ned’s terror swelled. This could not be happening. This
could not. Such a beating would kill her. Kill her. She was so small. So
delicate. So tender.

“Best get it over with quickly. Best you learn the rules
now,” the captain said, raising his whip.

“Stop!” Ned bellowed.

The captain sighed and shot him a look. “What is it?” he
asked.

He shook off his captors and stepped forward “Punish me
instead. The escape was my idea. He-he had nothing to do with it.”

“Ned, no!” Sophia sobbed. “I can take it. I can.”

Percy pushed through to the front of the prisoners. “No.
Punish me.”

MacDougal stepped forward as well. “No, me.”

“Me!”

“Punish me!”

They all surged forward. All but Prudence Billingsly, who
warbled, “I think I shall faint.” But when no one stepped forward to catch her,
not even Lord Billingsly, she decided against it.

The captain surveyed them, hands fisted on his hips. “I
should love to whip you all,” he said, “if it weren’t so very much work. But as
it stands, there is one culprit. The one who betrayed my trust. This boy will
be whipped.”

MacDougal blanched. “You can’t!”

The pirate stiffened. A muscle worked in his cheek. He
forced a cold smile. “Can I not?” he drawled. He flicked the whip. It scored
Sophia’s back with a hissing smack. She screamed.

Ned’s gut churned. Acid crackled and spat. Something bitter
seared his throat. He lunged forward but the pirates caught him and held him
back, though he fought them until he was short of breath.

The captain watched his struggle with a slight smile. “Trust
me. It’s better to get it over with quickly.” He raised his whip again.

“Stop!” MacDougal cried. “His brother will kill you for
this!”

“Oh, dear God,” Marquee muttered. He wiped his face with a
palm and quirked a brow at MacDougal. “His brother?”

“St. Andrews. Ewan St. Andrews.”

“Really?” Marquee put his hand to his chest and shuddered. “I
am so afraid. And who is this
St. Andrews
, this man who strikes fear in
the hearts of intrepid men?”

One of the pirates stepped forward and whispered into his
ear. Marquee paled. “The McCloud?” he hissed. He whirled and glared at Sophia. “You
told me you were
his
relation.” He thrust a finger in Ned’s direction.

“I am,” she snuffled.

“The McCloud married my sister,” Ned said.

“
Shite.
Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” He frowned
at his men. “Cut the boy down and see to his wounds.”

Ned pushed forward and caught Sophia when she fell. He
glared at Marquee. “I’ll see to his wounds,” he spat.

The last thing they needed was to have a pirate rip off her
shirt and discover what lay beneath the torn fabric.

Marquee bent down to stare at Sophia’s face. He frowned. “I
am sorry, boy, but you really should have told me. Is there anything else you’re
keeping a secret?”

Sophia’s lips trembled. Tears welled in her eyes. “No.” A
whisper. A lie.

Ned gave her a gentle squeeze, and then he lifted her in his
arms and carried her back to the brig. Where she would be safe from these men.
Where they could be alone.

He did not care if anyone followed.

Apparently, concern over Ewan’s wrath was enough to temper Marquee’s
pique. He did not allow them to remain in the brig. He housed them both instead
in a small cabin down the hall from his and sent his doctor to tend Sophia’s
wound.

It wasn’t so very bad. Certainly not as bad as everyone
thought. Though she did wince a bit as the doctor pulled up her shirt, peeling
it off her back, and she might have yowled somewhat as he cleaned the wound.
Thankfully it was low on her back so she was able to preserve her secret. Ned
stayed by her side, holding her hand, which was very comforting. She hardly
cried in the least.

Still, when it was finished and the cut had been covered and
wrapped, she was exhausted. When the doctor left, she collapsed on the bunk and
then flinched as a slice of agony scored her. She needed to remember not to
move while it healed. This had been one lash. She couldn’t bear to imagine
twenty.

Horror crawled through her as an even more hideous thought
descended. She lifted her head and glowered at Ned.

His hand, which had been stroking her hair, stilled. “What?”

“I can’t believe what you did,” she snapped.

He blinked. “What did I do?”

“I can’t believe you commanded—
commanded
—Marquee to
whip you instead. What on earth possessed you?”

“What possessed me?” He frowned at her. “What the hell do
you think possessed me?”

“He could have taken you up on your foolish offer.”

“It was not a foolish offer. It was chivalrous.”

“Foolish.”

“What man worth his salt would allow his woman to be
brutally beaten?”

His woman?
A thrill ran through her. Still… “That is
not the point. It would have killed me to see you whipped.”

“It killed me! Jesus, Sophia, do you have any idea? I wanted
to die when that whip fell.”

“Honestly, Ned, you only think of yourself.”

“What?”

“Do you not have a care for
my
feelings? When you
stepped forward and commanded Marquee to stop, well, my heart nearly ceased
beating.”

“Your feelings? What about mine? You are my heart, my
breath, my soul. I love you so much. I would do anything to keep you from harm.
I wanted to rip that bastard limb from limb. And I would have if there hadn’t
been so damn many men holding me.”

“You did fight fiercely but that is hardly the—wait. Did you
say you love me?”

“Yes,” he barked.

“Really?” She gazed up at him, her heart full.

“Yes.” This time, much softer. He threaded his fingers in
the spikes of her hair and kissed her reverently. “Sophia, darling. I love you
so much it hurts.”

“Oh Ned. I love you too.”

He stared at her. His throat worked. When he finally spoke,
they were not the words she expected. “You cannot love me.”

She tipped her head as Marquee would and clipped in his lazy
accent. “Can I not?”

Ned pushed away from her and lunged off the bed to pace the
cabin. It was cold in his absence. “No. You cannot. Oh, damn and blast.”

Cautiously, Sophia rolled over and sat up so she could watch
him storm from one side of the room to the other. “What is it, Ned?”

He stopped and leaned his forehead against the far wall. His
shoulders slumped, like a man defeated. “Your brother was right, Sophia. I am
not worthy of you.”

“Oh bother.”

He whirled around, a bright light glimmering in his eyes.
She did not like this look. “I’m not a prince or a wealthy man. I don’t have a
title. Hell, I don’t even have a
home
of my own. What have I to offer a
woman like you?”

“The bastard daughter of some nameless lord?”

He stared at her. “You know what I mean.”

Her heart stuttered. He might as well know the truth. “Sadly,
I do not. I am a woman, Ned. And not one from a lofty perch. As a child, I
lived in the gutter. Ewan and I stole to eat.
Stole
, Ned. I am nothing
but a street urchin who had the good fortune to go to finishing school. An
urchin with a very determined brother. He scratched and clawed and sacrificed
to amass his empire to carve out a place for me. If anyone is unworthy, it is
I.”

“Never say it.” He fell to his knees before her and took her
hands in his, stilling their fluttering. He stared up at her, his eyes shining.
“You are a treasure.” Simple words but the emotion behind them shook her.

“You are the treasure, Ned.”

“Bah. I am the poor relation of a wealthy duke and nothing
more.”

She could not hold back her laugh. “That is in itself
impressive. I know legions who would trade places with you in an instant.”

“Beyond that—” His voice broke and he buried his face in her
lap. “I couldn’t even protect you.”

“Protect me?” Silly, silly man. “You have protected me. All
along.”

He sighed as though he didn’t believe her. Why did men have
to be so stubborn?

“Ned, you were magnificent, fighting off all those pirates
with the cutlass. My heart was in my throat the entire time but I was terribly
impressed.”

“You were?”

“Oh, yes. I nearly swooned.” It had been from fear for him,
but she had. “And when you fought them today, you were rather impressive.”

“
Rather
impressive?”

“Terribly impressive really. My womanly parts were
quivering.”

He barked a laugh.

“The point is, I would rather have no other man protecting
my honor. In fact, I would rather have no other man.”

He gazed up into her eyes. She kissed his forehead. His
nose, his lips.

“I would rather have no other man. Ever.”

“Oh Sophia.” He wrapped his arms around her and then stilled
as she winced. “I’m sorry, darling. I forgot.” He tried to back away but she
would not let him.

“Come to me, Ned.” She tugged him closer. “Make love to me
again.”

He paled. “Sophia, we cannot. Your wound…”

Oh.
Bother.
“It’s only a scratch.”

“It’s hardly a scratch.”

“I will allow you to be gentle.”

“You will allow—” He choked on his laugh. “Sophia. Darling.
You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

His resistance annoyed her. His chivalry annoyed her. She’d
been so pent up with fear and terror over her punishment, and now that it was
over, she was filled with a great welling of joy and relief. And with it,
desire. Last night had been splendid and she wanted to taste the passion again.

She skated her palms over his shoulders and down his arms
and then drew him up beside her on the bed. She slipped onto her knees before
him and opened the placket of his trousers. His cock was hard, magnificent. It
filled her fist. A thick vein pulsed along its length and the purple head
plumed at the crest. She tested his bulk with a pump and he shivered.

Last night he’d told her, shown her, what this felt like to
him and, knowing the bliss, having
felt
it herself, made her lust rise.
Each touch, each stroke would be divine. And indeed, she read it on his face.
How lovely to be able to give him such pleasure.

She licked her lips and lowered her head. As she sucked him
in, he groaned, “God, Sophia. I don’t deserve you.”

But he did.

Oh heavens, he did.

Ned threw back his head as Sophia worked her mouth and fist
on him. He shouldn’t be permitting this but he would, he vowed, return the
favor. He couldn’t mount her though; he didn’t dare take the chance of hurting
her. But he could pleasure her. Gently.

No. He didn’t deserve her, he certainly wasn’t worthy of her
love, but by God he would become so. When they returned home—if they should be
so fortunate—he would find a place in Edward’s estate, take some job, any job,
where he would be productive. With any luck, and groveling, Ewan might agree to
advise him on investments, to show him how to build a fortune of his own. He
would work at it. Diligently. And when he was successful enough, when he was
wealthy and powerful and worthy of her, he would claim her. He could only hope
she would wait for him.

He glanced down at her bobbing head and a surge of
protectiveness and love and lust swept through him. She did something with her
hand, that twisting motion again. She cupped his apples and his need swelled.

“Ah, darling,” he groaned and she murmured around him and
took him deeper. Sucked. His belly tightened. His cum began to surge. His—

The door opened and his eyes snapped up. Captain Marquee
stood in the doorway with an expression of shock written on his features as he
stared at the “boy” with his mouth working Ned’s cock.

Horror skirled through Ned.
They’d been discovered! Fuck!

But Marquee merely shook his head and muttered, “Well, that
explains a lot.” And then he closed the door.

Thank God Sophia had been too absorbed to notice.

* * * * *

The next morning, Sophia awoke to a strange feeling of
stillness. It took her a moment to work out what it was, and then she realized
the boat was not moving. They had docked. Likely at the pirate stronghold.

Curiosity burned. She’d never seen a pirate stronghold
before. She slipped out of Ned’s arms and stared down at his face in repose.

Lord, she loved him. After she’d brought him to release
yesterday, he’d done the same for her. Well, he’d gotten up and shoved a trunk
in front of the door and then given her release. Gently, reverently. And then
he’d done it again and again until her muscles were limp and her breath was
spent.

She wanted to spend every night with him. Forever.

If they didn’t die soon.

She padded over to the small window and, climbing on a
chair, peered out.

Disappointment trickled through her. The pirate stronghold
looked very much like the Port of London.

She put out a lip. All in all, she had not found pirates
very extraordinary. They were not much different than her brother’s men who
had, much to her dismay, become somewhat tame in the last years. The captain
himself was more of a popinjay than a brutal villain. And this dreary port?
There should at the very least be a slave auction or a pile of treasure chests.
Instead there was the same flurry of busy men in tatty clothes, hauling carts
to and fro. The same dingy warehouses. The same wretched orange girl—

Sophia’s heart stuttered.

The
same
orange girl? She narrowed her eyes and took
in more detail. Yes.
Yes!
This was not a pirate stronghold—oh, thank
heavens, she didn’t think she could stand the disenchantment. It was London.
They were home.

She scampered back to the bed and shook Ned awake. “We’re
back,” she hissed.

He sat, wiping sleep from his eyes. He was so adorable when
he awoke. “What?”

“We’re in London!” How simple would it be now to escape? The
window was far too small for either of them to squeeze through, but when night
fell, surely they could work the lock and slip above—

The door swung open. Or tried to. It hit the trunk with a
thud and then whoever was on the other side of it pushed hard and the trunk
scraped across the floor. Quinn, Marquee’s second-in-command, peered in,
frowning at the trunk. “Captain wants to see you. The both of you.” His gaze
landed on Sophia. “He don’t look very happy.”

“Oh dear.” What now?

Quinn marched them down the hall and ushered them into Marquee’s
quarters. The captain lounged in his chair, fluffing the lace at his cuffs in a
desultory fashion. A tall, nasty-looking man with a crooked nose and beady eyes
stood behind him, his arms crossed, a scowl on his mangled face.

Now
this
was a pirate.

Sophia almost smiled. Almost.

Marquee did not ask them to sit, which was terribly rude
because there were plenty of chairs. Rather, he raked them with a scorching
scowl.

“Are we in London?” she asked.

Ned set his hand on her shoulder to silence her. He should
have known better. She was not so easily silenced.

“Because that,” she thrust a thumb out the wide bowed
windows, “looks like London. You have a set of balls on you, to sail merrily
into port, being pirates and all.”

Marquee daintily sipped some wine from a delicate crystal
goblet. He shrugged. “I am merely a merchantman, towing a crippled ship back to
port. No doubt I will receive a handsome reward from the owner.”

“My brother owns that ship. He will’na pay you.”
Och
,
how her brogue came out.

“Ah, yes. Your
brother
.” Marquee sighed. “I asked you
if you were keeping anything else from me. I trusted you to tell the truth.”

Sophia snorted. Ned’s grip tightened. She ignored it. “For
pity sake, you took us captive—”

Ned sent her a glare and stepped forward, putting himself
between her wrath and the captain’s. She tried to shoulder past him but he
would not allow it. “What is this about?” he demanded.

Marquee stood, strolled to the windows and stared out. “I
sent men ’round, asking about this McCloud you claim as your brother—”

“He is my brother.”

“This villain. This brigand. He is, as they say, much
feared, though recently he has become somewhat…domesticated.” He shot a look
over his shoulder. “Pity that, but it is the way of the world, I suppose. That
is not what displeases me. What displeases me is the other bit of unsettling
information.” He crossed his arms, his sharp attention falling on Sophia. “He
does not have a brother.”

Ned bristled.

Sophia stared at Marquee, trying not to look mutinous, but she
probably failed.

His focus shifted to Ned. “You made all that up to protect
your…boy. Imagine my chagrin when I learned this after I had already sent a
missive to the McCloud, proclaiming I had his wayward brother in tow.” His eyes
narrowed. “When he doesn’t
have
one. I very much dislike being made to
look a fool.” Silence crackled. “What of the rest of it? Are you really
Moncrieff’s brother?”