Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (30 page)

“He was not conned! I forced my way by him!”

“He should have suspected the trick.”

“It was no trick!”

“Nevertheless, madame, your appearance on deck in the very arms of the pirate was disconcerting—”

“Disconcerting, indeed!” Seething, she approached him. She forgot her state of undress and the coverlet fell to the floor. Skye did not heed it as she slammed her fist upon the desk at his side. “Disconcerting! Well, then, sir, you should have let the pirate take me, trouble that I am! He was an honest rake, at that, while you! You claim to be a gentleman, a champion of justice! And you take that poor young boy—”

“Or yourself in his stead, madame.”

She straightened, realizing how very close she had come to him and, at the same time, realizing her drastic state of undress. She had not dried thoroughly and her shift clung to her damp skin, outlining her breasts with a startling clarity. His eyes fell upon her with both amusement and fire and she tried to push away from the desk, determined to reach the coverlet. He caught her arm, dragging her back before him.

“Is it all bluff, milady? Tell me, are you willing to suffer for the lad? Is all that you say a lie or a taunt? Should you be stripped down to the bare truth of it all.”

“No, it is not a lie!” she gasped, jerking upon his wrist. “Do it and be done with it! Call out your ship, if you so desire, and drag me in your chains! I will not protest!”

“No?”

She cried out, stunned, when he suddenly whirled her around, ripping the fragile material of her shift from her back. She fell to her knees, clinging to the damp material at the front
of her shift, holding it to her breasts. What manner of man was this, she wondered, to behave in this fashion?

She stumbled up, ready to fight him on any level. But even as she held tight to her clothing and her dignity, he came behind her. The soft rush of his breath touched upon her bare flesh just as his arms wound around her, bringing her close.

“Nay, lady, I would not think to mar that beautiful flesh, ever, nor would I allow another man to bring harm to it!” She froze, then trembled fiercely as she felt the searing pressure of his lips against her naked back, blazing a trail of sensation to her nape and to her shoulder. “Nay, lady, I would not seek to harm you.”

She swallowed, sinking swiftly into some netherworld. If he held too tightly to her, she would not be able to fight free.

But again, his words brushed against her earlobe, provocative in their sensual cadence.

“Lady, fear not. Your lad is below deck, punished with bread and water for the night, left alone, but well and unharmed, merely to reflect upon the foolishness of ever trusting a beautiful woman. Now, madame, as to you …” He paused, and it seemed that a fire ignited deep within her, flooding her limbs, causing her to tremble all anew.

With fear, with anger …

And, she realized with a startling horror …

With anticipation.

XI

P
etroc Cameron strode across the room and plucked her coverlet from the floor. He returned to her, sweeping it around her shoulders while she stared at him in stunned silence. “As for you, madame, perhaps you would be so kind as to return to your own cabin. It has been a trying afternoon, and I’ve work to attend to.”

Blankly, she stared at him. He smiled slowly. “Did you really think me so cruel? It’s just that it is a very serious situation when a pirate flag flies, as you well know, and I must confess, my heart leaped to my throat when that ruffian had his filthy fingers upon you. Davey is a good lad; he will learn to be a fine sailor. And now, my love …”

She was silent still and he caught her arm, leading her to the door. He did not leave her in the hallway, but went with her down the few steps to her cabin. Someone had come back and cleared away the small tub, and several lamps burned brightly upon the dresser. He opened her door, bowed deeply, and left her, and she had still to say a single word.

He was a curious man, indeed.

She sat down upon her bunk, either bemused or completely in shock. In a while she curled up on it, drawing the covers high around her and shivering.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have burst upon the deck so. It was just that she had not wanted to be trapped in the smoke and fire. It might have spread. A fire on shipboard was a frightening and serious matter. She walked right into the arms of the pirate, just as she walked straight into Logan’s arms when she had been the Hawk’s prisoner off of New Providence.…

She curled up and thought about the Hawk, and tried hard to cling to his memory. It was fading, and she could not allow it to do so. Fading … and becoming combined with the reality of his cousin. Her husband.

She burned suddenly where she lay, thinking of Cameron’s intimate kiss. It had been no gentle caress, but something fierce and demanding. She thought of his casual display of disdain topside when the pirate had held her. Take her, she is trouble, he had said.

And he had bared her back, but not to the lash. Rather to the searing tenderness of his lips …

She tossed about. He could call himself “Lord” Cameron, but he was hard and could be callous. The tenderness was a facade, for they were already well cast into battle. She would not remain married to him—no, she would not accept that she was married to him! She would not. She owed him gratitude, perhaps, but no more.

She had just dozed when another seaman brought her dinner upon a silver tray. It was a delicious fresh fish seasoned with green peppercorns. She was weary and discouraged that night, though she knew not why. She didn’t bother to dress for dinner, but cast aside her torn shift and donned a nightgown made of fine linen decorated with tiny embroidered daisies. She tied the delicate laces at the bodice and sat down in her nightdress and froth of covers to eat. The rum he had sent earlier sat upon the dressing table, and she dared to sip it. It was so potent a brew that her lips quivered before she could swallow, but she did manage to imbibe some. It burned down to the very heart, blazing a path from her throat to her stomach. She did not sip much, but she was glad of what she tasted,
for it allowed her to lie down again and seek to sleep. In the midst of the night she dreamed of the beguiling paradise lagoon upon Bone Cay. Her lover rose from the water and came toward her, but with each step the man was different, depending on how the sunlight dappled on his naked shoulders. At one moment it the Silver Hawk, claiming her affections with gentle demand. Then the light would change, and it would be her lord husband, noble and imperious and bold and undaunted, and she would not know whether to run and to scream, or to wait until he came to her, and open her arms to him.

She awoke with a jerk. Her lamps were burning low, so she knew that morning was almost with them. Arising, she heard a soft oath in the hallway. Was someone coming her way?

She slipped out of bed and found Lord Cameron’s sword upon the floor where she had left it the previous night. Footsteps were coming to her cabin. She leaped back into bed, carefully bringing the razor-sharp weapon along with her. Her heart thundered.

Her door was cast quietly open. For the longest time she lay there, barely daring to breathe. She opened her eyes a bare slit, allowing her lashes still to shield them. She feigned sleep, but looked to the doorway.

It was Lord Cameron. His white wig neatly queued, his shoulders broad upon his tall frame. He watched her in silence.

As she waited, he entered, closing the door. He came her way. The cover had slipped from her shoulders. She nearly screamed when he moved his hand to pull it more fully upon her. She could not help her eyes from flying open and falling upon his with grave alarm.

“There is nothing, madame. I apologize for disturbing you,” he said softly, his words a breath of air in the night.

“You’ve no right in here!” she murmured nervously. He did not touch her, he just stood over her, and inwardly she came alive with hot, cascading shivers.

“I’ve every right in here, but we won’t dispute that tonight. We’ll come home soon enough.”

“My home is Williamsburg.”

“Milady, your home is a beautiful place upon the peninsula. Sweat and tears and blood went into the founding of it, and I do not take kindly to your insults.”

“I’ve not insulted—”

“But you have. Good night.”

She was not about to let him turn away. She sat up, drawing his sword from her covers with a blue flame rising in her eyes. She was quick and expert, bringing the tip of his own sword against his throat before he began to realize her intent.

“Skye—”

“No! No!” she admonished, holding the blade at his throat while she came up upon her knees and faced him. She dug slightly, forcing him to raise his head. It was her turn to smile. “Sir, I have had it with beginning and ending these conversations. Shall we go back to the beginning? You have no right here. You and my father played some trick and you think then that I am married. Well, I dispute that fact, so you do have no right here! Now, sir, you have rescued me from the grip of not one pirate, but two. However, sir, I find you little better than either of them! You fought today with the same sizzle of conquest in your eyes, and you are every bit as arrogant and disdaining of social custom as your cousin! I did not set out to make your life miserable, sir—you stumbled into my life!”

“I beg to differ. Your father—”

“My father!” She prodded the sword closer to his throat, forcing him to cease speaking. “My father! What is this about my father? Are you not a man, sir? Have you not heard the word ‘no’?”

She pressed against his throat. He did not seem to care. His eyes grew narrower by the second and they seemed to blaze like the North Star. “Madame, there is nothing that I do not do by my will, and by my will alone. But I honor my father, and so I chose to honor his vows. If you have a disagreement about our present relationship, feel free to bring it up to your father, but know this! By the law you are my wife. By temperament I am afraid that your very hostility has made me bound and determined to keep what is mine. You are at my mercy, madame, and you’d best remember it!”

Skye laughed with sheer delight. She had him at the disadvantage;
he was the one with the blade of honed steel against his throat, and he still thought to threaten her.

“I should slice and dice you!” she whispered.

“Yes, you should. And immediately,” he said calmly. “Umm. I daresay that your best move would be to do murder this very second, because otherwise you will live to rue this moment with all of your heart.”

“I don’t think so. I think that you will leave my cabin this very second.”

“Not without my sword.”

“That will be difficult. I hold your sword.”

“No, you do not.”

Maybe he knew that she could not really murder him; maybe she had not been threatening enough, or maybe she had been so thrilled with her own moment of triumph that she had fallen prey to his speed and daring. He simply took the blade with both his hands and thrust it from him before snatching the hilt from her. And he did it with such speed and reckless bravado that the blade lay against her breast before she could so much as blink.

He smiled pleasantly. “I hold my sword, milady, as you see.”

Skye sank down upon her haunches, keeping a very wary eye upon him. His smile remained. So did the blade. He very calmly drew it through the laces of her gown. Its honed edge slit the delicate ties soundlessly and effortlessly, and her gown spilled opened. His eyes fell upon her in the lamplight, but gave no clue to his thoughts. She could not have known if he desired her, or despised all that he saw. He moved the material away from her breast with practiced ease—the razor-edged blade did not so much as scratch her flesh. To her dismay, her body responded in an alarming fashion. Her breasts swelled, her nipples peaked and hardened. Her breath rasped too quickly and he surely saw the rise in her pulse as it beat against her veins. She saw his eyes then, and the satanic mischief in them. “Bastard!” she hissed to him, and shoved the sword away. With deep throaty laughter he allowed it to fall.

She clutched her bodice together. “This was a good gown!” she snapped to him.