Pirate Wolf Trilogy (116 page)

“Has that dreadful man left the ship?”

“Yes. For the time being. But he’s planning
on coming back.”

“He is? Why? When?”

“First light, I imagine. He’ll be demanding
we either surrender the ship or he’ll blow us out of the
water.”

“Surrender? But our ship is twice as big as
his.”

“I’ve seen a swarm of bees bring a horse to
ground.”

“The horse didn’t have cannon. And it didn’t
have the Pirate Wolf’s son firing those guns.”

Dante glanced over his shoulder. “Your
confidence in my abilities is flattering, but I’ve already lost one
ship to my own reckless vanity; I could as easily lose
another.”

Eva pushed herself to the
side of the bed and stood, then joined him at the bank of slanted
windows. “Is that what is troubling you, Captain? You think because
you made one error in judgement, all the rest of your decisions
will be wrong as well? Dear Lord, if I thought that way, I would
never have risen out of bed after being shot. I would never have
left Portsmouth. I would never have sucked rainwater off the sails
on the
Eliza Jane
to stay alive. I would never—“

Gabriel curled his arm around her waist and
pulled her into his chest, smothering whatever else she was about
to say with his lips. The kiss was a little harder than it needed
to be, a little more fierce than intended, but it served its
purpose. When he released her, she was breathless, wide-eyed, and
speechless.

“My confidence is not lacking, Evangeline,”
he murmured. “But logic is insisting on caution, and logic tells
me—from experience—that we are in a pickle barrel at the moment and
may require a small miracle to squeeze out of it.”

Eva swallowed hard, her lips still moist
with the taste of him. “Is there nothing we can do?”

He eased his grip from around her waist and
turned to the window again. “They are over there now discussing
strategy. Muertraigo wants the ship and he would prefer to take it
without having to fire a shot. And now, of course, he also wants
you.”

“But… he thinks I am your wife.”

“I believe I told you once that wedding
bands mean very little out here. Men like Muertraigo tend to take
what they want and worry about formalities later… like disposing of
unwanted husbands.”

“I see,” she said softly. “And so I am the
source of trouble again.”

Dante gripped the wine cup tight enough that
his knuckles glowed white. After a moment he swore and hurled it
across the cabin, smashing it into the wall and splattering the
contents across the floor. Eva jumped back, nearly stumbling into
the desk.

“You’ll forgive me if my patience has been
stretched a little thin,” he rasped, reining in his frustration
with an effort. “Believe me when I say it is not directed at you,
rather to the fact I have had to pander all evening to the man who
damn near killed my mother and who may damn well send us all to
hell in the morning.”

“It probably did not help matters that I
almost shot you,” she ventured.

“Almost is a very long six letter word.
Though I am exceedingly grateful you were able to use it.”

“I should have locked the door again. I did
not intend to fall asleep; I just put my head down for a few
moments and the next thing I knew someone was unlacing my clothes
and I panicked because I didn’t know it was you. I was waiting,
actually, hoping to speak to you about… well… about other things
that hardly seem important at the moment.”

“Things like: do I think
Muertraigo is here to search for the
Nuestro Santisimo Victorio
? Do I
think he heard rumors that the wreck has been found?”

“Something like that,” she agreed miserably.
“As I said, hardly important at the moment.”

“To be honest, I have been wondering about
it myself,” he admitted. “I am also wondering how the devil he
ended up here, at Espiritu Santu?”

“Perhaps he was also clever enough to think
the hurricane might have blown the ship south, not north?”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, then frowned. “What
would you have done if you had known it was me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said you panicked
because you didn’t know it was me unlacing your clothes. What would
you have done if you
had
known it was me?”

Eva opened her mouth to answer, then closed
it again without making a sound. The way he was looking at her set
every nerve ending to tingling and sent ripples of gooseflesh
rising along her arms. Try as she might, she could not look away,
not even when he moved closer and the tingling spread to places on
her body that normally would have shocked her. However, there was
nothing normal about being on a pirate ship thousands of miles from
home, one that could very well be destroyed come the morning. Nor
was there anything normal or even vaguely excusable about standing
barefoot before a man and wearing only a flimsy chemise and
shift—one which did nothing to conceal her body’s reaction to his
closeness. Her nipples had tightened into exquisitely tight little
peaks, her belly was trembling so badly the chemise shivered with
each shallow breath she took.

The tip of her tongue appeared in an attempt
to moisten her lips and Dante’s eyes were drawn to it like metal
shavings to a magnet. She knew she should back away, should attempt
to at least discourage his intent as he started to bend his mouth
toward hers, but the distinction between what was right and proper,
and what was wrong and inappropriate had long since become blurred.
She might well be dead on the morrow… or worse, be taken captive by
the Spaniard… and she could think of nothing she wanted more at the
moment than to feel Gabriel Dante’s strong arms around her, holding
her close.

She tipped her mouth up to meet his and
exhaled a breathless little sigh as their lips touched. She felt
one of his hands circle her waist as the other rested briefly on
the side of her neck before sliding up and pushing his fingers into
her hair. Resistance was the farthest thing from her mind as she
melted forward into his embrace, her body pressing into his; she
was frightened yet exhilarated at the same time as his lips urged
hers open in an intimacy as shocking as it was thrilling. The wet
silkiness was more intoxicating than any wine or spirit. The gentle
probing of his tongue was startling at first, but then she became
aware of a heated drumming in her blood, one that compelled her to
part her lips even wider and meet each rolling thrust of his tongue
with her own.

The kiss might have lasted seconds, or
minutes, for she lost all sense of time and place. Sensations were
colliding within her… strange new sensations that made her feel
strangely hot and dizzy, cool and purposeful at the same time. When
he sought to pull back and end the kiss, she was the one who rose
up boldly on tiptoes, sending her arms around his neck to draw him
back.

Gabriel needed no further prompting.

This time the kiss was deeper and the hand
that rested at her waist grew rigid with the force of his growing
need. Their mouths came apart, met again, came apart and met,
slanting this way and that as she pressed against him, wanting
something she could not even put a name to. His lips set a trail of
fire from her mouth to her cheek, to the tender curve of her throat
and she was not even aware of his hands pushing aside the flimsy
cloth of her chemise until she felt him cradle and lift her breast
to his searching mouth.

She heard a groan that could not possibly
have come from her own throat; it was low and husky and raw with
desire. When his mouth covered her nipple, her knees buckled under
the intense stabbing pleasure. Her neck arched and her head fell
back; her hands clutched his upper arms and she nearly sobbed as he
released the one nipple and caught up the other.

Ribbons of pure pleasure curled downward
through her belly and slid between her thighs, further weakening
her ability to stand. Somewhere between a gasp and a cry, Dante’s
mouth relented, but only long enough for him to scoop her into his
arms and carry her to the bed. There, his conscience intruded one
last time—while it was still able to do so—and he looked at her
with a dark question in his eyes.

Eva knew what he was asking, what he wanted.
The answer was in the heated, sweet center of her body, but it came
from her lips on a softly whispered, trembling, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Gabriel’s hands slid down her body,
stripping away the chemise, the sheath. He leaned back briefly to
lift his shirt up and over his head, then to rid himself of the
hose and trunkhose, then joined her, naked, on the bed. His mouth
was hot and greedy, exploring every exposed inch of soft, pale
flesh. At times he had her writhing, at others he had her arching
up and clawing her fingers into his hair or his shoulders,
whimpering with awe and disbelief. She offered herself shamelessly
to his hands and lips and eyes, barely flinching when his fingers
sank deftly into her heated core and probed the inner
mother-of-pearl surfaces, finding them sleek and slippery, making
them ache for more.

He rose above her, his dark hair falling
forward to shadow his face. His body was taut and hard as he
pressed her deep into the linens. She felt the driving shock of his
strength as his flesh slid up and into her, offering no apologies,
no chance to catch a breath or brace herself as he pushed past the
last barrier and filled her so completely there was no room for any
further doubt or hesitation.

The air was sucked from her lungs on a
disbelieving cry. Far from the pillars of hellfire, damnation, and
pain she had been forewarned would come on the loss of her
virginity, she felt only a solid fullness inside her. And when he
moved… dear God even the smallest little sliding thrusts… the
pressure turned to pleasure and she nearly lost her senses.

Her body grew astonishingly hot and acutely
sensitive; she was aware of every inch of flesh pressing on flesh.
She could feel the soft chafing of his chest hair against her
breasts, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he tried to govern
himself, and the husky warm gusts of his breath growing as ragged
as her own.

As his thrusts lengthened, little clutches
of spasms began to shudder through her body. She could feel herself
tightening around him, squeezing around his sliding flesh. She
heard him groan and some primitive instinct bade her arch her hips
upward, a move that pulled him deeper and won a growled warning
whispered brokenly against her ear. It was too late for warnings,
however, and she rose time and time again, matching his movements,
meeting each thrust, each fully blooded stroke until the waves of
streaking heat ran one into the other and finally exploded in a
single white-hot flare of ecstasy.

Dante braced himself on his outstretched
arms, watching Eva’s face, hearing her shocked cries, feeling the
warm, grasping pulsations of her orgasm grip his flesh and clench
around him so tightly that every muscle and sinew in his body ached
for release. Finally, when he could hold back no longer, he lost
himself completely in her arms, in her body, surrendering himself
to the dark, shattering passion.

The pressure flooded out of him in several
throbbing bursts; his spine arched, and his hands slid frantically
to her hips to hold her high and tight against him. He shuddered
through a last, throaty groan, and as the tension drained out of
him, he became extraordinarily aware of every twitch and shiver of
sensation, from the satiny texture of her inner thighs to the
fluttering in her belly as the tiny aftershocks rippled through
their bodies.

The weight of his body sank heavily between
her thighs, crowding down over her torso, heated flesh to heated
flesh as he covered her completely. Neither one moved or made any
sound apart from the softly panted breaths needed to bring their
pounding heartbeats under control again.

~~

Eva had no idea how she would look him in
the eye again, or what she would say when she did. Her body
continued to hum with little shocks and shivers. He remained a full
and startling presence within her but it was an exquisitely sensual
fullness, one that spread a warm, silky glow of satisfaction and
wonderment through her body.

Dante exhaled a long, warm breath against
the side of her neck. His face was buried in her hair and he
lingered there a moment longer before lifting his head and looking
down at her. His expression betrayed nothing of what he was
thinking or feeling and while she wanted, desperately, to look away
or avoid his gaze, she could not.

Strands of her hair had become entangled
with his and he slid his hand up to gently brush them aside.

“Your fiancé was a fool,” he said
quietly.

She had no response to that and after
another long moment, he planted a firm, hard kiss on her lips then
gently extricated himself and rolled beside her. Naked but for the
stark white bandaging around his chest, he rose and walked to the
sideboard, where he filled two goblets with wine. He drained one
and refilled it before returning to the bed.

Eva had taken the opportunity to sit up and
move back against the pillows, and when he saw how she had drawn a
blanket up to her chin, he offered up a little sigh along with the
goblet of wine. Her cheeks were mottled pink from embarrassment,
which only made him feel more like a cad. He knew he should say
something to put her at ease, but what could he say? Thank you? Had
he been too rough, too desperate to lose himself for those few
brief moments when nothing else mattered but finding and giving
pleasure? Had he hurt her? He did not have much experience with
virgins; most of the women in his life had come to his bed
willingly and many had even taught him a thing or two. Island girls
were raised to regard sex as a normal body function and most
considered virginity to be an impediment to attracting a healthy
mate.