Prisoner of Desire (18 page)

It was joyous.

The deck became a place of happiness that filled her heart. Men began dancing, some by

themselves, but many of them crossed the center of the deck to hook arms with another sailor.

They would turn in place before spinning off to the side once more.

Lorena clapped along, her foot tapping beneath her petticoat. A barrel was sitting on one side of the deck, up on top of a crate. Kurt leaned against it, watching men draw off a measure of

whatever it held. They toasted one another before swigging it back.

"Cider, Miss St. John." Warren offered her a pewter mug. "Finest apple cider Massachusetts has to offer."

"I will have to taste that, sir, for Northfleet has a good cider as well."

Warren offered her a low bow while extending the mug. "You Brits are a hard lot to convince of anything American being worthy of praise."

"I have come to appreciate some of your attributes." She raised the mug to her lips to avoid his keen stare. It felt like the man could see right into her mind where all her emotions lay tangled from last night. Her uncertainty felt written on her face.

The cider was smooth and sweet. You could almost taste the chill of fall in it. She smiled as she tipped the mug back up to keep from drinking it too quickly. The music was pounding away at a fast tempo that drew a sway from her body. It was pure response. Her eyes widened slightly with shock, but her entire body wanted to move in time with the music. Up on the command deck, she was a part of it while still being above the actual dancing. She soaked up the sight of the sailors dancing across the lower deck.

"I enjoyed our dance last night." Warren spoke quietly. She tried to resist the urge to look at him, but failed.

"It is considered modest for ladies to remain away from dancing."

He snorted. The sound sent her eyes wide once again. "Really, sir, I don't think it is anything you should be criticizing at all. My upbringing was strict but it made me strong. If I were some pampered lady of elegance, you'd

have nothing but tantrums and whining to deal with."

"That would have been one sure way to keep me from kissing you."

" Captain Rawlins."

He crossed his arms over his chest. Somehow, the pose made him look even larger than he was.

Certainly more imposing. Her temper began to simmer because in her gut she felt he knew

exactly what crossing his arm would do. Simply put, the man was attempting to intimidate her.

But there was also a glimmer in his eye that suggested he considered her a challenge.

"I have a different view of the situation. What it almost made you was a wife of a man who runs his command like a slave master. Keeping everyone in line with a whip or worse." He glanced at his men. "Personally, I think a little dancing has its place. Experience helps keep a person from becoming easy prey."

She looked back down at the deck. The last week had been full of days that had tested each

man's strength. That was something she understood. So was the happiness of getting a few

moments to be herself. How many nights had she smiled at the end of the day because she knew her sisters would be waiting to share some silly tale with her? Those were the moments when life became magical.

"Of course dancing is forbidden on British ships."

"Really?"

Warren shrugged. "Apparently, your countrymen believe it leads to a breakdown in discipline."

He returned his attention to his men, his eyes scanning them with a practiced motion. "As well as a breakdown in moral standards."

He was at ease in command of them. It might be easy to assume he was detached because he

remained on the command deck, but nothing could be further from the truth.

She'd felt it when he pressed a knife against her throat to free his fellow sailors. Her hand rose to her neck without thought. She traced the healing line on her skin unconsciously. Her fingers froze there when Warren turned his attention back to her. His expression tightened, anger

flickering in his eyes.

"There is no point in being angry. The situation was grave," she muttered.

The tic returned to his jaw line. "Don't defend me, Lorena. I know what I did and why."

"Then do not pity me, sir. I shall not have it. Nor do I require it."

"I suppose I can understand you feeling that way." His expression changed. The commanding presence relaxed as a look of understanding covered his face.

She lowered her hand. "Good." She refused to be weak and needy like some delicate female who had never dirtied her hands. That had never been her life. Apparently the music inspired more than movement from her body, her emotions wanted to flow as well. "Besides you are correct about Mordaunt. The man was less than admirable."

But that left her wondering just what to do. Where did she want to book passage for when the moment came to name a port? If not to Mordaunt, did she sail for Northfleet and place her hope in Godford's mercy? She sighed and cast her troubled glare out over the water.

"Which leaves you wondering what to do once we reach Boston."

It wasn't really a question. Lorena bristled at the tone because she would not accept his pity. She was stronger than that. "Indeed."

He chuckled. The sound infuriated her. Turning back toward him, she frowned. That roguish grin was back on his face. A ripple of excitement went racing down to her toes, proving that she had still failed to gather up enough common sense to resist the man's charm.

"You needn't be arrogant, sir. I do assure you I shall fend for myself very well. Assuming you keep your word to send me on my way once we make land, there shall be no need for you to

concern yourself at all."

"I'll keep my word."

His tone turned defensive which suited her better. Being at odds with the man kept that grin off his lips. An altogether easier thing for her to deal with. His lips were pressed into a firm line now, but something crossed his eyes that she couldn't quite name.

"Of course, we could marry."

His lips rose back into a grin as her eyes widened with shock. Lorena actually shook her head because she could not have heard the man correctly. The music was interfering with clear

understanding, just as the parson at church had always warned such entertainments did.

"Kindly refrain from being absurd." And tempting her. Part of her was very interested in exploring the physical nature of being man and wife. Marriage had suddenly become a magical thing which granted permission to her longings. Every forbidden touch would be her duly if they were wed.

"Absurd?" He uncrossed his arms and braced his hands on the rail behind him. He looked relaxed, but the pose struck her more as the sort of thing a cat did before it pounced. All of the lean muscle might close the distance between them in a blink of the eye.

"And here I was thinking it a most.. .civilized solution to our situation."

He rolled the word "civilized", amusement coating his voice.

"You shouldn't tease me."

His gaze sharpened, betraying how intent he was on the topic. In spite of his relaxed posture, the man was very serious.

"Tease?" He stood up, his long legs closing the distance between them. One hand cupped her chin, sending sensation across her skin.

"As in unkind? Madam, if I didn't care about your feelings, I would have trailed my kisses lower and lower last night until the question of marriage became a matter of honor this morning."

"Captain Rawlins—"

He leaned down until she felt his breath against her lips. "And you would have called me Warren.

You would have used my name and enjoyed being very familiar with me."

"If that was what you wanted, why didn't you take it while you had the chance?"

His grip softened, his fingers sliding gently along her jaw line. The night was quickly overtaking the Huntress, casting Warren in

silver moonlight. She found him impossible to resist like this. As the light faded, something inside her weakened until all she craved was to relaxe in his embrace.

His eyes narrowed. "Because I am not like Mordaunt. When you give me your body, I want more than submission of your flesh. More than something you've talked yourself into doing because it's the civilized thing to do." He pressed his thumb on top of her lower lip. Pleasure made her shiver, her body begging for more. But determination stared at her.

"I want you to want me, Lorena, and not just because I seduced you. But because you aren't going to spend your life living by rules that don't make you happy."

"If everyone were allowed to only do the things they enjoyed, we'd fight over food and be coated in filth like wild animals." She took the single step away from him that the rail allowed her. But it felt like a huge statement.

His face tightened, his hand leaving her face. "We should remember life is much better when we conduct ourselves in a civilized manner."

She wasn't sure who her words were aimed at, Warren or herself. Truthfully, she wavered. His touch unleashed a yearning to face the night in his embrace instead of facing loneliness.

"Asking is civilized." He slid his hand across her cheek and into her hair. One moment later he'd grasped it beneath the pins that held her braids up. It was an intimate touch, one which stole her breath.

"Kissing you, until you moan like you did last night, is wild." His gaze settled onto her mouth. "I enjoyed that. But what's sticking in my mind is the little sound that passed your lips. That sound told me how much you enjoyed it too."

He released her, moving away a few steps as though he found it as frustrating to be near her as she him.

She shuddered, need licking over her skin. Once again she felt like she would cry if she didn't get what she desired. It made her so mad because she was helpless against the rising heat. Every carefully thought-out defense crumbled at his feet.

"Lust is a poor reason to marry."

He snorted. "And your reason for marrying Mordaunt? What, pray tell, was that?"

"My stepfather arranged it." She sputtered out the response and then gasped at how cold it sounded.

"Ah. So civilized." His voice was tight. "It reminds me of a horse auction. Did this stepfather send your bloodline papers along with you?"

Her arguments died. But she drew herself up stiffly. "As much as I agree with you, it does not change the fact that I shall not accept pity from you." She stared at him. "Not ever, Warren."

She turned her back on him. It sent a shiver across the nape of her neck. She could feel his intense stare on her, but she kept moving, manoeuvring the steps to the lower deck. It was a battle against her growing desire to float away on the wild rhythm of the night. Her heart was keeping tempo with the music now, beating faster and wilder. But she forced herself to descend to the bottom of the stairs and open the door to the cabin. Holly squawked and she jumped,

oversensitive to the sound. Her hands rubbed her own arms, trying to soothe away the need

flickering along her skin. She didn't want to be alone in the cabin. Didn't want to leave Warren above her. She shuddered and forced her feet farther into the cabin. The craving for him

intensified when her gaze touched his personal space. The gentleman in him gave it to her, but there was a large part of her that didn't want him to behave civilized.

"When I don't pity you, it becomes impossible to resist you."

She gaped, jumping at the sound of his voice. It felt as though she had drawn him to her by sheer force of will.

"Remaining on deck is too difficult when I know you're down here thinking about me." His voice sounded like it was torn from him.

"I know."

He reached for her, his hand moving across the space between them. She watched it, fascinated by it coming closer. There was no desire to retreat from his touch, only a yearning to lean toward it. His hands slid over both sides of her face, cupping her head and holding it still for another kiss.

This one burned through the last remaining threads of her resolve. He was correct, her arranged marriage was cold and she craved his warmth. She reached for him, her fingers struggling with the collar on his shirt.

He lifted his head, still maintaining a solid hold on her head.

"Take it off." Her words were husky. Surprise held her for a moment, surprise that such a passionate tone had come from her own lips.

"As you command." His tone was anything but obedient. It was harsh and cut with demand. In the dark she watched him rip the shirt over his head with a slight tearing sound. The silver moonlight bathed his skin, enchanting her. Feeling it through a wet shirt paled compared to seeing it completely bare.

She didn't know who closed the distance between them but they were once again close enough

for her fingertips to trace the ridges of muscles coating his chest. She held her breath, afraid he might vanish away into her dreams if she broke the spell.

He drew a ragged breath when she touched him. His chest shuddering. So simple but at that

moment it sounded as loud as gunfire. Every sense she had felt heightened, the blood rushing in her ears and her heart accelerating to keep pace with her rapid breathing.

A soft sound passed her lips when her palms flattened against his skin. Sensation shot up her arms, raising gooseflesh as it went.

"I couldn't agree more." He sounded arrogant but it didn't annoy her. His hands reached for her and excitement tightened in her belly. This time he wouldn't pull away. She shivered in

anticipation, her body heating up. Her dress was intolerable now, its constricting tailoring a form of torment.

Warren freed her from it, working the buttons along the front quickly. He pulled it over her head and left her in her petticoat and stays. The last garment he pulled off her was her chemise. The night air brushed across her shoulders and bare forearms, sending another bolt of feeling through her. He paused, grasping her jaw once more.

His mouth returned to hers, but this time his kiss was sweetly seductive. The tip of his tongue tracing the seam between her lips until she opened her mouth for him. He cupped her neck, his body closing the gap between them. His bare chest radiated heat against her while each breath drew his scent into her senses. His tongue delved into her mouth, stroking along hers, tempting it to dance.