Captive of My Desires (25 page)

T
HE STORM THAT HAD BEEN THREATENING ALL DAY
arrived that afternoon with a vengeance. Gabrielle had been hoping that it would just blow away, or at least that
The Triton
would outrun it, but neither occurred.

In the middle of a violent torrential onslaught was the one time she didn’t like being on a ship. Actually, ever since she’d lived through that hurricane that struck the islands, she didn’t like rainstorms no matter where she was. But being at sea added an extra element of danger. Sinking.

It was a fine ship, though—sturdy, well maintained. The creaking of its planks was minimal. Even the sharp dipping and careening didn’t get out of hand, at least not right away. It was inevitable, though. And so was Gabrielle’s nervous reaction, made ten times worse by the fact that she was locked in a cabin. If the ship did go down, she wouldn’t even have a chance to find a dinghy, piece of wreckage, or any other sort of raft where she could then hope for rescue. No, she’d be going straight down to Davy Jones’s locker.

She sat there huddled in her blankets for the longest time, watching the few things in the room that weren’t nailed down roll back and forth across the floor and, at one point, halfway up the wall. That had been a terrifying moment, when the ship dipped almost horizontally as it rode down that one particularly huge wave.

Even the lantern went flying off its post in that moment of gut-wrenching fear. The glass in it shattered as it rolled across the floor and smashed against the wall, leaving a trail of spilled oil in its wake.

She stared at it with a mixture of horror and relief. The fire probably would have been instant if the lantern had been lit. While she’d actually thought about it, if she were going to start a fire to try to make her escape, this absolutely wasn’t the time to do it, when Drew and his crew were fighting the elements to keep them afloat and wouldn’t notice a fire until it was too late. But at least she’d had the wits to extinguish it when the storm began, leaving only the lamp that was secured solidly to Drew’s desk still burning.

She wished she could sleep through the storm. That would be an ideal way to put her worry aside, to just wake up when it was all over. But it was impossible to even try in her position on the floor, where she was holding tight to her chain to keep from being tossed about just as much as everything else was that wasn’t nailed down. She could probably find better purchase in Drew’s bed, at least a softer cushion for all the sliding she was doing. But that was one place she wasn’t getting anywhere near, now that it was his again.

She didn’t expect to see him again until the storm was over. Night had arrived, though it was hard to tell with that solid sheet of rain outside the windows and nothing but black clouds beyond it. Several more hours passed, but the storm still gave no sign of abating.

And then a cold blast of wind and rain entered along with Drew. He had to shove the door to get it to close. He didn’t bother to lock it again. He turned and leaned back against it as his eyes located her. He didn’t look the least bit worn out or downtrodden after spending hours out in that downpour. He looked exhilarated, full of vim and vigor, as if he could take on anything without batting an eye.

He tossed off the rain slicker he’d been wearing, though it hadn’t kept him from getting soaked. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Her nerves shot, she said, “No, I’m frightened, I’m cold, I’m hungry, and my arse is bruised from all this tossing about. I’m bloody well not all right.”

She expected him to laugh and call her a ninny. Instead he amazed her by making his way to her, kneeling down beside her, and drawing her into his arms. She didn’t have a single urge to resist the closeness he offered, even though he drenched her with his wet clothes.

He made himself comfortable against the wall, then pulled her halfway across his chest. He took a napkin out of his pocket, opened it to reveal a handful of cold sausages cut in little chunks. He put one in her mouth.

“Leftovers from breakfast,” he said. “The galley is closed for the duration, so there won’t be a full meal, probably not until tomorrow. You should know that’s standard procedure.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied as he fed her a few more chunks that took the edge off her hunger.

“Are you really bruised?” he asked.

The question made them both think of the last time he’d asked about her bruises, when she’d accused him of leaving her with some after their first meeting on the docks. The thought made them grin at each other.

“No, just a bit sore,” she admitted. “I doubt I’ll feel it tomorrow. Be careful crossing the floor, though. We haven’t been steady enough for me to try to pick up that glass that broke from your lantern yet.”

“I should have thought to remove that lantern when the storm started.”

“You weren’t here to do that. I was, but all I thought to do was turn it off.”

She realized too late that she’d just admitted that she could move about the cabin just fine, that the shackle was no restraint for her at all. But he gave no indication that he caught that slip, merely fed her a few more sausages before he ate some himself.

She shouldn’t be sitting like this with him, pretty much cradled in his arms, but she couldn’t bring herself to move yet, she was so comfortable. His wet clothes had been cold to start, but where her body was pressed to them was now warm from her own heat. In fact, steam could have risen between them, it was getting so warm.

There was simply no way she could ignore the body she was leaning against, or not think of what it had done to her the other night. The kind of pleasure he’d introduced her to had been beyond her comprehension before then, but now…she simply couldn’t get it out of her mind. He’d said it himself, she’d had a taste, she’d want more, and damned if he hadn’t been right.

The way he was holding her now brought back so clearly the memory of how his hands had felt moving so sensually over her bare skin, she nearly drew in her breath. And his mouth, God, the feel of it, the heady taste of it. He’d made her tremble, he’d made her skin tingle deliciously, he’d made her throw caution to the wind and accept everything that he offered.

She shivered, remembering just how sweet her surrender had been. He felt it.

She’d only vaguely heard the clap of thunder that had just occurred, but he guessed that was the reason. “You’re afraid of the storm?”

“I never used to be, but we had such a bad one a few years back, they called it a hurricane. People died. Whole buildings were ripped to shreds. I’d never seen anything like it and hope to never see anything like it again.”

“This was in the Caribbean?”

“Yes, after I’d been living with my father for a while. It tore through those warm waters with a vengeance. St. Kitts wasn’t the only island it hit. It left a wide path of destruction behind it.”

He pulled her a little closer to him. “I think I remember that one. I only just missed it myself, had sailed back to America a few days before. But I heard about it on my next trip and witnessed some of the damage. Some areas still haven’t recovered.”

She nodded. “One of the smaller villages on our island was like that. With every single house demolished in it, the survivors simply packed up and moved elsewhere. But even in our major town, it took months and months for us to get rid of all the debris and rebuild. I forgot what it was like to sleep back then.”

He glanced down at her in surprise. “You actually pitched in to help?”

“Margery and I did.” But then she grinned and tried to make light of it, so it wouldn’t sound so unpiratelike, and added, “It was either that or wait forever for the butcher shop to reopen.”

He didn’t laugh. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, almost like he was telling her he knew she wasn’t as bad as she pretended to be. It made her uncomfortable when he showed her this tender side of him. It also reminded her that she was lying in the arms of the man she still meant to get even with.

“I think I’m fine now,” she told him, sitting up to lean away from him. “It even sounds like the wind has died down a bit.”

“No it doesn’t. And maybe I’m not so fine now,” he replied as he pulled her back against him and firmly fastened his mouth to hers.

That damn quickly, all of the amazing passion that she’d felt the other night was back to inflame her and push away all of her resolve. She put her arms around his neck and returned his kiss wholeheartedly, and did some improvising of her own, tasting him with her tongue. He was so intoxicating! She even turned slightly, enough to press her breasts hard against his chest. His groan was sweet music to her ears.

It wasn’t long before he stood up, lifting her in his arms, and carried her to his bed. Without pausing once, he seemed not to even think about the shackle. What a cold dousing it would have been if it had still been attached to her ankle and had pulled them back. Nothing prevented him from laying her on his bed and stripping out of his wet clothes with such haste. She certainly didn’t. She was too busy watching him with bated anticipation as each piece of clothing was tossed aside.

This was her first real unobstructed view of his tall, splendid body in all its glory. When she’d bathed him she’d tried not to look so she wouldn’t succumb to her desire for him, and when he’d made love to her before, he’d already been on top of her by the time she realized he was really there bare naked. But now she was amazed at how much it thrilled her to see him like this. He was so lean and muscular. There was no part of him that didn’t ripple with muscle as he moved, from his wide chest that tapered to those lean flanks, to his strong arms. Such long limbs—even his legs were proportioned just right to the rest of his fine, athletic physique. It took her breath away, how handsome he was.

She laughed when he dove onto the bed because it bounced them a few times. He did as well. But then he was rolling them over and he began to swiftly remove her clothes.

She placed a hand over his and shyly reminded him, “Didn’t you promise to remove my clothes slowly?”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her fingers. “I remember. I’ll try, Gabby, but I have to confess, you make me feel like an untried youth, I have so little control when I get near you. This isn’t the first time. There’s nothing more I’d like to do than savor every delicious moment with you, but my God, you fill me with such passion!”

She felt some of that passion now as he kissed her, again and again. But he tried, he really did, to remove her clothes slowly. He even kissed her arms and legs as they were exposed. He just got rid of her shirt rather quickly so he could fasten his mouth to her breasts, which drove her a little wild herself.

A few times he gasped, “My God, woman, you are so beautiful,” as he gazed down at her breasts, and again when he turned her over to kiss the small of her back and ran his hands slowly up the back of her thighs.

She shivered deliciously. His touch was so gentle, his mouth so hot, such an extraordinary contrast.

“I think you’re beautiful as well,” she said, and he laughed.

What they were doing was even more beautiful. The wonder of his touch dazzled her as he caressed her arms, her neck, her cheek; even her toes didn’t escape his notice. But the passion was there, just under the surface, barely contained. She felt it when he finally gathered her close and kissed her deeply, and it seemed the passion caught up and overtook her before it did him.

It all happened so fast, she had no time to think about anything other than the pleasure that she knew was only moments away. And there it was, exploding around her the very moment he entered her. Good God, so quickly it happened, so sublime, and it lasted so long, she was even still throbbing around him moments later when he stiffened and plunged deep for his own climax.

Her sigh of contentment was almost a purr. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to consider what she’d just done—again.

“Sleep here where you’ll be comfortable,” he said with a kiss to her brow just before he left the bed. “I’ll go get rid of the storm for you.”

Half asleep already, she did hear him and smiled over that whimsical comment. Battle storms just for her, would he? What a silly, sweet man.

G
ABRIELLE WOKE TO SUNSHINE POOLING ACROSS THE FLOOR.
The storm was over. If Drew had returned to the cabin, it wasn’t to wake her. She had the room to herself and dressed quickly, then immediately checked the door. Still locked.

She sighed and moved back to sit on her blankets, but changed her mind and moved to his bed instead. She made it up neatly first, then sat in the middle of it. Much more comfortable, and why not? Obviously, if he’d thought she was shackled to begin with, he knew better now and wasn’t going to try to restrain her in some other way, well, other than the damned locked door.

Her plan for revenge wasn’t working. How the deuce was Drew Anderson going to go mad with desire for her if she kept letting him make love to her? She was going to have to change her strategy. Never mind making him just want her so much it would drive him crazy, she was going to have to make him love her instead.

It was a daunting thought. It would be much harder to accomplish, she was sure. Lust had been easy. She’d already managed that, just not with the intended results. But was it even possible for a man to fall in love and not consider marriage? Well, yes, a Lothario like Drew, he was probably the only man who could love a woman and not give a single thought to marrying her. And once she was gone, he’d go on to his other women, and with each one of them he’d be thinking of her instead. Perfect! She’d bloody well haunt him for the rest of his life!

But how was she going to get him to love her? She’d wanted it to happen in London, but it hadn’t. Of course, he hadn’t been around often enough to get to know her there. Here, keeping her in his cabin, he’d set himself up so he couldn’t avoid her. So let him get to know the real her? Including giving up her ruse and confiding that she wasn’t really a pirate?

No, maybe she shouldn’t go that far. The ruse still allowed her to be more bold than she would be otherwise. And how much sweeter her revenge would be if he fell in love with her while still thinking she was a pirate.

She hadn’t made a firm decision by the time he returned to the cabin that morning. This time he looked exhausted. Well, he’d been up for over twenty-four hours and then some, and had probably spent most of that time fighting to keep his ship afloat.

The chap who usually delivered their meals followed Drew in and set a large tray on the table. Gabrielle bolted out of the bed and went straight to the tray, which contained two plates filled to the brim with breakfast fixings. She sat down immediately and started eating.

Glancing up, she found him grinning at her. “What?” she said. “You think those few sausages you fed me yesterday satisfied my hunger?”

“That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“That I fed you.”

She knew instantly that his thoughts had taken a sensual turn, though she couldn’t imagine why. She pointed to the tray and asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” he replied.

But he was still just standing there staring at her, and this time she blushed. He was talking about lovemaking again. How could he even think of that, as tired, and hungry as he must be?

She decided to pretend she didn’t understand his double entendre and turn the screw a little at the same time. “I enjoyed sleeping in your bed last night,” she said around a mouthful of fresh, warm bread dripping with sweet jam. “That was quite possibly the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. It was certainly the most comfortable. Thank you for thinking of it.”

His face actually flushed. She was, of course, just talking about the bed and he knew that, but, apparently, it didn’t stop him from thinking about what they’d done there.

After a few moments in a mere conversational tone, he mentioned, “It’s long been my habit to celebrate after surviving a storm like that, so I’m having some guests to dinner tonight. Since you’re sharing my cabin, I suppose you’ll have to join us. I’ll have a dress delivered to you later today, after I get some sleep.”

She sighed. They were having a perfectly normal conversation and he had to throw in that “I suppose” remark to remind her that she was a prisoner, not a guest.

“Why?” she asked, her tone a little stiff now. “I have no one to impress.”

He shrugged. “Most of the women I know enjoy dressing up, I merely thought you might like to.”

He said no more, and after his exhausting night, he climbed into bed and was almost instantly asleep. Gabrielle spent most of the remainder of the day pacing about the room, mulling over her new plan to make Drew love her, and trying to ignore his presence.

She finally gave some attention to him again when she found herself inadvertently stopped next to his bed. He was snoring, not loudly and not steadily, just off and on. He really was exhausted. She could probably make all sorts of noise and he wouldn’t hear it. She could even touch him and he wouldn’t wake, so he wouldn’t know. Damned trusting of him, to leave himself locked in with her when she wasn’t restrained.

She could very easily leave the room right then. A little bash on the head with the chamber pot and she’d have the key out of Drew’s pocket within seconds. She’d seen him shove it there after his man dropped off the tray of food and left, and he’d relocked the door.

So simple. But the middle of the day wasn’t a good time for her to try to sneak down to the hold. Besides, every muscle in her body was resisting hitting Drew over the head. She just couldn’t bring herself to do that again. Which didn’t mean she was giving up on escaping. He could well sleep until dark. If she had the key…

She stared at the pocket where her freedom resided. Drew was lying on his side. He was twisted a bit, his bottom leg stretched out straight, the top one bent. The pocket with the key in it was the top one. If his pants weren’t so snug, she’d have no trouble slipping a couple fingers in there to extract the key. But the pants were snug. Very. They clung tightly to his derriere in that position, defining his back cheeks. A very nice arse Drew Anderson had.

She rolled her eyes over the thought and got back to her pacing.