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She wrinkled her nose at him and
grabbed up another fruit. She had no idea what they were called but
God were they good.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Burleigh.” She
shifted once more and blew out a frustrated breath when the dress
scraped along her body. It felt as if she were wearing sandpaper
and why was it so bloody hot.

Damon’s face collapsed in concern,
“What’s the matter, Princess?”

She grunted as she fanned herself and
stood to move further back from the fire, resting a few feet away
against the canted longboat.

“It’s too hot.”

He smiled. “It’s the Caribbean,
Princess. Paradise. What did you expect?”

“Air circulation.” She replied dryly
and was rewarded with his bark of laughter.

He leaned back on his elbows in the
sand, gray eyes hooded as he watched her.

He looked her up and down, a slow
carful perusal and an altogether different heat gathered in the pit
of her stomach and between her legs.

“It’s the dress.”

She jumped.

“What?”

He gestured at her clothes. “The dress,
Princess. It can’t be comfortable.”

She shrugged and turned away, unwilling
to talk about it. “Well it’s the only thing I have Mr. Burleigh.
You expect me to walk around naked?”

When his silence stretched for too long
she turned to see him considering her.

“That wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Maybe if you stripped down and went for a walk you’d catch the
Marie’s attention before the smoke did.”

She glared and he laughed at the color
rising to stain her cheeks.

* * * *

It had been nearly eight hours since
they’d made land and rescue was nowhere in sight.

Damon sighed and stirred the
fire.

“They’re not coming are
they?”

“I doubt it.”

She sighed.

“At least we’re safe.”

“Is this what you call safe? It looks
like we’re in pretty bad shape if you ask me.”

“We haven’t drowned, we have food for
now, and a fire so, Princess, I think we’re doing pretty good.” His
voice was tight and Jocelyn entertained the nasty thought that he
was oddly optimistic for a former soldier.

Not that she’d ever say that to his
face. Yet.

“We,” she said succinctly as she itched
and shifted in misery beside him, “are stranded. On an island with
headhunters. How is that better?”

“Ava could be here.” She heard the
horror this simple concept produced and stifled a giggle because he
seemed so sincere. He turned to her and flashed a grin. Then
something seemed to occur to him and admiration blossomed in his
gaze.

“You handled yourself pretty well back
there. I was proud of you.”

Jocelyn blushed, from pleasure rather
than embarrassment this time.

She shrugged and tried to look
nonchalant. “That was nothing. You were the impressive one. The way
you slashed and hacked.” She mimed the swishing power of his
movements and sighed dreamily, “You were beautiful.”

He choked.

“Beautiful? That isn’t exactly the
praise a soldier looks for after battle.”

“Then what kind of praise are you
looking for?” She was disgruntled because he had been beautiful and
she thought the truth of her words compliment enough.

“
Dashing, courageous … manly
to name a few.” He seemed offended. Apparently beautiful was not in
the list of terms associated with all things Damon and
manly.

She smiled.

“Then you were beautifully
courageous.”

He clucked his tongue, accepting the
compromise for the moment before he changed the subject.

“It shouldn’t take long before they
start looking for us.”

“Start looking for you, you mean. They
didn’t even know I was on board.”

“Some of the crew that survived might
remember seeing you during the fighting.” His lips twitched. “You
sort of drew the eye. Beautifully courageous.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burleigh.” Her voice
was formal but couldn’t quite squash the pride beneath the
words.

They talked softly among themselves for
a bit longer, eating more fruit when he went to go gather it and
collecting more wood for the fire, until dusk edged the horizon and
Jocelyn was yawning every other minute.

“I doubt we’ll be found today so let’s
get some sleep.”

His voice made her jump guiltily, and
she tugged at the sleeves of her dress to keep the material off her
arms.

“I don’t want to sleep in the sand.”
She was miserable enough.

He threw her a look as he got to his
feet.

“We’ll sleep in the boat, Princess. As
long as you don’t mind the fit.”

She knew what he meant. In the storm
the only reason they hadn’t been pressed even closer was because
he’d been on top of her rather than beside her. It made her squirm
but since he was watching her and she didn’t want to make more out
of it than it was, she nodded.

* * * *

It turned out that she minded the fit.
She minded it a lot. Oh it started out alright, but as soon as the
sun settled completely and darkness fell, she became painfully
aware of the fact that Damon was so close. They lay in the cramped
space back to back and even with the soothing sounds of the waves
crashing in the background she was as tense as a plucked string.
Damon was a brand against her skin, a solid, muscled weight and
every time he shifted or groaned in his sleep she felt her breasts
ache with need. She thought she dozed for a minute but the next
thing she knew she felt a hand on her hip. Her eyes popped open and
she tensed.

“Shhh, Princess. There’s no reason to
be afraid of me.” His breath was moist and hot against her neck as
he breathed her in, and Jocelyn found herself groaning. He’d rolled
over onto her, pressed the solid length of himself against the
curve of her back and she imagined that she could feel him with
every breath, with every beat of her heart. That fire was back,
burning, burning in the pit of her belly and she felt it explode
when Damon leaned into her and nipped the back of her neck between
his teeth. She jumped and whimpered and his hand settled more
firmly against her hip.

She wondered why she wasn’t protesting,
why she was allowing such an improper thing to happen, but then
every rational thought slipped out of her head when the hand on her
hip began to move. His fingers crawled down the side of her stomach
and her muscles jumped and clenched as he skimmed over them. She
felt like a newly born colt, all jittery and tense. His lips were
on her shoulder now, teeth lifting and tonguing the material of her
dress until it was a wet reminder against her skin.

The salt that stiffened the dress
rubbed against her tightening nipples with each tug of his mouth
and sent electricity racing up and down her spine. Her head fell
back to rest against his chest and her hips thrust. Searching for
something she didn’t understand but wanted instinctively. He gave
it to her, murmuring in approval and suddenly his hand was no
longer tracing lazy circles across her stomach but sliding lower.
Bunching the material of her skirts up and up, his forearm a solid
band around her waist to hold her still against him until he’d
achieved what he wanted. She could feel him through her clothes,
the long, thick evidence of his arousal hung heavily between her
butt cheeks. It was just as shocking now as it had been back at the
stable, and exactly like the stable, she found herself grinding her
hips back against him. Rubbing along him like a cat until his own
hips thrust in time with hers.

The muscles in the secret place between
her legs were clenching, hungry and empty and her mouth opened on a
wet gasp as she pushed against him. She knew he would fill the
emptiness in her, knew he would stroke and kiss and lick until she
was stuffed full and this terrible hunger was nothing but a
memory.

The blunt tips of his fingers skimmed
across her bare thighs, and she stilled. He’d raised both her
chemise and her dress and now those long fingers slipped between
the space of her legs, slipped between the wet, pouty lips of her
sex and found the bundle of nerves hidden in the folds that she had
only ever touched out of mild curiosity. She jumped against him and
his other arm was there, sliding beneath her until she was cradled
in his arms, and partially on his chest. One hand teased and
plucked her sensitized nipples and she bit back a sob as her
excitement slicked his fingers. She arched and rode his hands,
begging. She was still so empty, still so hungry and she wanted him
to fill her up.

She opened her mouth to ask for just
that when his thigh slipped between her own and separated her legs.
The rounded head of his sex was closer now, rubbing along the
weeping slit of her sex and she thrust back against it like an
animal.

“Keep your legs spread for me,
Princess, and I promise I’ll kill you.”

She blinked, coming down slowly from
her euphoria.

“What?”

“I’ll kill you. I’ll rip your fucking
throat out if you touch her.”

His voice was low, and ragged. As if he
had razors coating his throat and he spit the words out on a tide
of blood and pain.

There was fear now, as sharp and
consuming as the lust had been. It wasn’t until his voice came,
screaming and anguished in her ear that she realized that she had
been asleep and Damon was in the throes of a nightmare.

She jerked awake just as another sound
ripped its way from his throat. They were still back to back, not
in any way like what she’d dreamed, and his body was tensed and
trembling. She rose up on her knees behind him and ran her own
shaking hands over his neck and back. He was soaked in sweat and
cold as ice. Jocelyn wasn’t sure if it would be safe to wake him,
but even in sleep his teeth were bared, his eyes flickered behind
his closed lids in a panic, and his fists punched repeatedly
against the wooden side of the boat. In the light from the dying
fire a few feet away she could see that his knuckles were fast
becoming torn and raw, and the last vestiges of lust blew away
under fear for him.

She shook his shoulder.

“Mr. Burleigh.” The tendons in his neck
tightened visibly. “Mr. Burleigh, please wake up.”

Then that terrible grimace softened
into an expression of grief, his voice came out a broken
sob.

“Mama. Trent, Remy.” He sucked in a
shaky breath and his sister’s name exploded on a laugh that lacked
any humor. “My pretty little Clara. My baby. I’m sorry--so
sorry.”

Then he began to weep, silently, but
full bodied and Jocelyn felt her own throat tighten and her eyes
sting. She rolled him over onto his back and ran gentle hands up
and down his chest, petting.

Her voice was thick with tears when she
said, “Shush, Damon. It’s alright. Everything … everything will be
alright. Rest now.” She crooned and petted until his body began to
relax by slow degrees. Each time she spoke his name the grief on
his face seemed to lessen but she could have been mistaken under
the weak light. When she finally lay beside him, once again on her
side she thought he heard him murmur her name, but again … she
could have been mistaken.

Chapter Six

My girl’s are innocents Damon … well
maybe not Ava so much, but just the same, I taught them both right
from wrong. I taught them morals and personal pride. But I didn’t,
couldn’t, teach them about men. Like I said, Ava may be alright but
Jocelyn never understood anything outside of her studies unless it
was relevant to a dance or her sister. Personally I’d like to keep
it that way. At least until she … hell until both of them find that
one special person in this world that loves them above all others …
just like their daddy does.

Her neck tickled.

Well, not just tickled. After that
dream last night the simple motion of Damon’s lips against her skin
made her neck burn and her arousal was instant and sharp. She felt
her nipples peak and her eyes, still heavy with sleep flutter
closed again even as a slow smile spread across her face. She
leaned into his kisses, shivering with each slow, heady
glide.

Sometime during the night he’d thrown
an arm across her waist and she snuggled deep against him. Savoring
his weight, and heat and strength. Liking the way his breath bathed
the back of her neck. Liking even more the small twist of surprise
when his tongue darted out and licked a long clean line across her
skin, lapping up the salt that coated her body in a fine
layer.

Jocelyn trembled and it was only by
divine strength that she managed to pull enough will power together
to shake his arm. The sun was rising, its rays soft and cool and
not yet punishing against her face. The breeze blew teasing fingers
through her hair and the smell of the now dead fire mixed with that
of the sea. She wanted desperately to stay this way with him
forever.

But she knew she couldn’t. So she shook
him again. More insistently until he groaned against her and pulled
her tight.