Pirate Wolf Trilogy (74 page)

Twice more they
crossed paths, with Juliet spending more time under the surface
than above. She brushed by his leg once and escaped, but the second
time he was able to grasp her around the ankle and haul her back
where his feet could touch bottom. Slippery as an eel, she wriggled
free again, and would have swam away if he had not planted his feet
in the sand and pointed an ominous finger.

“Stay right
where you are, dammit.”

She watched him
walk toward her, the sand kicking up in small clouds around his
feet. It sparkled like a million shards of glass, lit by the same
unknown source that fed light into the cavern.

When he reached
her side, there was no preamble, no teasing foreplay. He cupped his
hands beneath her bottom and lifted her against his body, bringing
her down with gentle ferocity over the straining thickness of his
flesh. His mouth was there to cover her gasp, and to turn her husky
groan into soft, shallow sighs.

Juliet wrapped
her legs around his thighs, tightly enough he needed only one hand
to support her while the other rose and cradled the nape of her
neck. His mouth was warm and ravenous, his hands strong and very
sure of themselves as they began to move her back and forth over
his flesh.

A shamelessly
feverish cry had Juliet flinging her head back, gasping a plea into
the steamy shadows above. The water began to churn around them with
the movement of her hips, and a twisting, writhing effort to bring
him even deeper inside ended with both of them clinging steadfastly
to one another, not wanting a single shiver or spasm to go
unspent.

Varian held her
until the hot, pulsing contractions of her climax faded into warm
shudders, then with her body still quivering around his, he carried
her to the bank of the pool and lowered her onto the cool bed of
thick moss. He ignored her faint whispers of protest when he eased
her legs from around his waist and draped them over his shoulders.
He kissed his way down the trembling length of her body until his
face was buried between her thighs, and when the cavernous walls
echoed with her cries again, when he was hard and thick and strong
enough to give her all the pleasure she could bear, he surrendered
himself completely to the passion that was Juliet Dante. He thrust
himself eagerly into the explosion of light that burst behind his
eyelids and to the dark, exquisite peace that followed.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Juliet was
wakened by the pungent smell from the large booted foot that was
planted with a deliberate lack of care beside her nose.

She opened her
eyes and followed the leather trail up to the amused face of her
brother Gabriel. He, in turn, glanced wryly at the nude body of
Varian St. Clare and murmured, “I suppose this helps to explain why
Jonas and I could not find you last night.”

She yawned and
stretched, then pushed herself up on her elbows. “How did you
manage now?”

“
Nathan
told me what happened on board the
Rose
, and when I couldn’t find you at the house, I thought you
might have come here... though I confess,” he said after a pause,
“I didn’t expect you to have company.”

She threw a
scowl over her shoulder as she stood and waded into the pool.
Gabriel looked away with brotherly disinterest as she rinsed the
sand and moss off her body and focussed his attention on Varian St.
Clare instead.

Varian had come
awake when he had heard their voices, and when he recognized the
intruder as Gabriel Dante, he searched unsuccessfully in the
shadows for his discarded clothing. His shirt lay like a pale blot
against the darker green and it was Gabriel who spied it first and
plucked it off the moss with the tip of his rapier.

“I don’t
believe we have had the pleasure of a formal introduction,” he
said, conveying the garment on the point of his sword. “But then my
sister often neglects her manners.”

Juliet emerged
from the water. “Varian St. Clare, his grace the Duke of Harrow: my
brother, Gabriel Dante, his grace completely lacking.”

Gabriel
executed a formal bow, something Varian could not do with a bundle
of crushed linen clutched about his waist.

Juliet pulled
her own shirt over her head, then found her breeches. “Your concern
for my well-being warms me, brother dearest.”

“You require
further warming?” He glanced idly at Varian, who sat immobilized on
the mossy bank. “Does he speak, at all, or is that another of his
appealing qualities?”

“I am quite
able to speak,” Varian said coldly. “It’s just that you have
appeared rather suddenly, and—”

“And now you
fear you are in mortal peril of being driven to the chapel at the
point of my sword?”

Varian’s jaw
muscles twitched while he groped to find an appropriate response,
for that was, indeed, one of many disjointed images that had
flashed before his eyes.

Gabriel did not
wait for Varian’s tongue to become unglued from the roof of his
mouth before he cocked an eyebrow at his sister. “Good God, Jolly,
if you were to marry the swiving fellow, that would make you a
duchess, would it not?”

“The Devil
himself should geld you,” she said on a sigh, “and slice off your
tongue while he is at it, for I would sooner hang all day in a suit
of tar and chicken feathers as deal with your misbegotten sense of
humor. Furthermore, it isn’t as if you have never been caught with
your breeches down around your knees, brother dear.”

“No, but all
men are lusty beasts and it’s expected, whereas you,” he touched a
finger to the side of his nose. “You’re a sly devil and lead all
the louts to think the only blade you crave is the one that hangs
in their baldrics.”

She
narrowed her eyes. “Unless you want to answer to
my
blade, you will keep your
tongue firmly between your teeth and say nothing about this to
anyone.”

“Ah. And just
what would my silence on this trifling matter be worth, dear
sister?”

“Two
unblackened eyes and two unbroken legs.”

Gabriel’s
handsome mouth puckered thoughtfully a moment, then eased into a
smile. “A fair trade, all things considered. Shall I assist you in
finding your breeches, your grace?”

“I can manage,”
Varian said in a low growl.

Dante shrugged
and resheathed his sword. “Fair enough. I’ll wait outside, shall I?
Give the two of you a moment for a final sweet kiss.”

Juliet hurled a
boot at his head, but he ducked in time and hastened toward the
exit in the rocks. When she glanced back at Varian, he was stepping
into his breeches and it was obvious from the frown on his brow
that he was not amused. If the light had been better, she might
have said his mouth was white around the edges. The fine patrician
nostrils were definitely flared, the jaw was rigid, and when he
raked an angry hand through his hair, the veins stood out on his
temples like the veins on a leaf.

“Out of
curiosity, what would happen back in London if a man and a woman
were found naked together by a member of her family?”

“Assuming one
was not the king and the other not a milkmaid, they would probably
be wed before the week was out.”

“Even if that
man was a duke?”

Varian avoided
meeting her eyes. “If he was duke or an earl or even a baron, he
would most likely try buy his way out of any further commitment.
Unless of course he had a scrap of honor about him.”

“Are you an
honorable man, your grace?”

He looked up.
“I assure you I am prepared to accept full responsibility for my
actions.”

“By marrying
me?”

He straightened
slowly and his voice was as brittle as a dry stick. “I will happily
discuss the details with your father as soon as I am given an
audience.”

“Without asking
me first?”

The shadows
prevented her from seeing more than a faint glint of light from his
eyes but she did see that light flicker out for a moment, as if he
had closed the lids in utter disgust—at himself for falling into
such an obvious trap, and possibly at her for setting it.

“Of course.
Mistress Dante, if you would kindly do me the honor—?”

Juliet
laughed and interrupted before he went any further. “I would have
to rise on a morning and see two suns in the sky before I would
even
think
of
marrying you, your grace-ship, and even then it would have to be
for a far
far
better
reason than having spent a few hours naked together. Accept that we
have enjoyed our little diversion and leave it at that. Unless of
course, you were hoping a physical dalliance would put me in thrall
and win an ally to your cause?”

“My dealings
with your father played no part in this, madam,” he said with quiet
resentment.

“Would you have
refused and said ‘no, no, do not trouble him at a time like this’
had I taken you to him this morning, all a-blush like a blissful
puppy, and insisted he listen to your pleas for peace?”

Varian
shook his head, having gone from one ludicrous situation to another
so fast he could barely keep up. “No. No... I... I doubt I would
even have been able to face your father this morning, much less
convince him to obey an edict from the king. Damn and blast,
woman—” he twisted his hands into his hair in a gesture of
frustration. “You were right! After what happened on board
the
Argus
, I am not
even certain I
want
to convince
him. I am half inclined to encourage him and every other pirate and
privateer who hunts in these waters to sally forth and smash the
treaty to a million bits. Smash it hard, and smash it well enough
that Spain will never recover!”

For
several long seconds, the startling declaration was met with
silence, the only intrusion a faint
blip blip
of water dripping down the stone wall.

“But of course,
I cannot do that,” he said, blowing out a harsh breath. “I am bound
by my oath to present your father with the unpleasant alternatives
he faces if he refuses to comply with the terms of the king’s Act
of Grace.”

“Act of
Grace?”

“An amnesty, if
you will. A complete pardon for all past transgressions to every
privateer who agrees to return to England until such time as a
system of fair and lawful trade can be negotiated by the kings of
England and Europe.”

She wanted to
clout him on the head, but she planted her hands on her waist
instead.

"This is the
important business you have been holding so close to your breast?
This? This... Act of Grace?”

“I was under
oath—”

“A pox on your
oath, sir. Have you not been listening to a word I have said to
you? The only way the Spanish will negotiate is if their cities are
sacked and held to ransom. Drake did it. He sailed right into
Maracaibo Bay, bold as brass, and demanded five hundred thousand
ducats in exchange for keeping his guns from blasting the town to
perdition—and he had half the firepower we do right now! Did you
know Father sailed with Drake on those raids?”

“Are you
telling me he’s planning to raid Maracaibo again?” The question had
come out heavily laced with sarcasm, but at the look on Juliet’s
face, Varian stopped and stared. “Juliet?”

“No. No!” she
exclaimed with more conviction. “But he certainly could if he
wanted to.” She brushed past him to retrieve the boot she had
thrown at Gabriel and started slightly to see her brother lounging
in the shadows.

“I thought you
were going to wait outside.”

“And miss
bearing witness to what might well be your only proposal of
marriage? A sorry opportunist that would make me, would it not? And
besides, I am seething with curiosity to hear the rest of the
duke’s arguments for peace. He is aware, is he not, that the king
has made this generous offer before? Not two years ago,” he said,
coming forward to the edge of the pool, “another envoy came bearing
documents titled an Act of Grace, and some of our brethren believed
in the notion enough to sail into the port of Hispaniola, where
they were guaranteed to earn a warm welcome from their Spanish
counterparts. It was warm, all right. If you live long enough you
could ask Captain David Smith how it felt standing on the deck of
his ship, being the only one to have escaped from an ambush that
saw four other ships trapped in the harbor, bombarded and set
aflame, their crews thrown into shackles and led off to cut sugar
cane for the rest of their days.”

The tension
stretched out for several long seconds. The eerie greenish light
from the water touched the curves and angles of Gabriel’s face and
made his eyes glow out of the darkness like those of a big cat.
Like his sister, he seemed capable of concealing his emotions until
the wrong trigger was pulled and the spark hit the powder.

“I was not
aware of any former Acts of Grace, no,” Varian admitted.

“And now that
you are? Do you still feel you can go to our father and present
your offer without choking over the king’s sincerity?”

“King James is
no fool, though he plays the part well at times. He shares the
former queen’s disdain of the Spanish and while he sees no reason
why they should hold a trading monopoly in these waters, he also
knows that a declaration of war now would utterly deplete the
resources of both countries. Spain lost their one and only chance
to conquer England twenty-five years ago. We have heard rumours in
the past that the dons kept trying to rally another armada to
revenge their ancestors, but Phillip III is not a zealot like his
father and their navy at home has never fully recovered from the
devastating loss in men, ships, armaments. Conversely, our strength
has grown by leaps and it is only a matter of time before we have a
navy capable of challenging for supremacy at sea. A war now would
set that back for many years.”