In Deep (7 page)

“Ten more days? What? Why would he do that?”

Madame only shrugged. “Men. ’oo knows.”

It just didn’t make any sense. He obviously wanted nothing more to do with her. Even if he hadn’t walked out without a word of why, the girls had already told her Connor never saw the same woman twice. “No, he couldn’t have.”

“Vy not? ’e seemed very adamant that you not take on any more clients in the near future.”

What in the world … unless … Jaidyn felt queasy all of a sudden. “Pity? I don’t want his pity.” No, that was more than she could bear.

“Pity?” Madame Poivre snorted. “Oh no. That wasn’t it at all. Mark my words.” Again that finger waved in front of Jaidyn’s nose, the turban underlining the Madame’s statement. “Ve ’aven’t seen the last of Monsieur O’Driscole.”

“You may not have seen the last of him, but let me assure you, Madame, I have.”

She tipped her cup to Jaidyn with a wink. “Vatever you say, my dear, of course.”

Notwithstanding Madame Poivre’s implication, Jaidyn swore she’d never again want to see Connor–even from afar. She just wanted to forget she’d ever met the man. And that was the end of it for her. “Good. Let’s get back to what we were discussing before, my staging a room for you. Where should I start?”

“Let me think about who might be coming …” She was tapping her chin again. “Vere to start …”

The Madame’s eyes glittered, her beam broadening until Jaidyn could see slightly yellowed teeth. “Rome! Someone is coming soon vith a taste for the classics. Give me ancient Rome and let’s see vat it will bring.”

Jaidyn grinned. “Consider it done.”

Now she had something she was confident about to occupy her time and make the money she needed. After all, wasn’t it similar to what she’d been doing all along–creating a character and acting the part? Now she’d switch to the much less dangerous part of set designer.

_____________________________

T
he ale wasn’t what it used to be at the Admiral’s Bones, Connor thought morosely while emptying another mug and setting it on the table with a loud clank. The Admiral, now reduced to a skanky old mongrel with an unpleasant smell, sat next to him, wagging his sad excuse for a tail and cocking his head. With a hesitant poke of one front paw, the Admiral begged Connor as his oldest friend for a friendly pat on the head.

Maybe he should visit another pub here on Grenada, like the White Rig, Connor thought as he obliged the ancient and blind dog. Or the Jolie Rouge, a dump only the lowest of low frequented. Even though the rum would only be more watered down the worse the company got. But Connor could definitely pick a fight there.

Yes, he needed to thrash somebody–or something; Connor wasn’t particular on which of the two came first. He dropped some coins on the table and stood.

Maybe the rum and ale were finally working, because his knees were a bit shaky as he walked around the Admiral toward the door.

No, he could still remember why he’d wanted to drink himself to unconsciousness in the first place. Reinier’s words rang in his ears like a clarion over the loud rumble in the pub.

You’re thinking of her all the time and yearn to see her again. She’ll be waiting for you.

Connor left the Admiral’s Bones in search of trouble. A good brawl with some hard fists, a little breaking of ribs, and definitely the spattering of blood was what he needed. And he knew just where to get it.

The warm Caribbean breeze slapped him as he stepped outside and gulped in some fresh night air. Without thought, he started walking.

You were her first–technically speaking.

Technically
. What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean anyway? There was no
technically
in that matter; she’d either had others or she hadn’t.

Dammit. Connor’s mood darkened even more at the thought of some other man’s hands on her. Had she sucked in her breath and let it out in a gasp of pleasure when that bugger had touched her? Bowed her body to his with a moan and urged him on like she’d done with him?

Had she longed to kiss that bastard like Connor longed to kiss her–insanely, with every fiber of his being, with all his heart?

Connor hadn’t been able to ban the image of her from his memory. Or her taste. Wild, syrupy honey. He’d never tasted something as seductive, as addictive as her.

Her scent was like the lush green forest he used to roam as a boy–a memory he thought he’d forgotten over the years. He’d almost been able to hear the birds of Erin chirping merrily when he’d inhaled her natural fragrance for the first time, then tasted her on his lips …

Her honor hadn’t really been ruined before you seduced her.

Screw that. If she were a lady, she had no business being at Madame Poivre’s. True, she was a gentlewoman. But Connor knew firsthand that she was no lady.

Not that he was pointing fingers.

Or complaining.

Firsthand
was perhaps a poor choice of a word.

Even her eyes had the color of the woods right outside the village he grew up around in Ireland.

Everything about Jaidyn had felt like he’d come home, and that was why he was convinced he must be under some kind of spell–or maybe even cursed. That’s why he mustn’t see her again. He’d prove she had no power over him whatsoever.

“Good evening, Mr. O’Driscoll. How nice to see you again
so soon
.” The blond whore’s eyes wandered down his body once. Wetting her lips, she fluttered her eyes reluctantly up to his again. “Let me know if I can be of any assistance to you. I’d gladly … submit to your every wish.”

The lass batted her eyelashes invitingly. Normally, he’d mentally rub his hands in glee at such an offer. But tonight–

Connor jolted out of his thoughts, blinked a few times, and looked around. He’d come here? To Madame Poivre’s? The one place he didn’t want to be? The one place he, in fact, wished–just this once–didn’t exist?

As if strings were attached to his limbs, he crossed the threshold and tried to give the blond whore a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

After a quick survey of the room, he knew Madame Poivre would be in her private quarters at the far back of the bawdy house. Connor found himself stomping toward her rooms, determined to tell her that … What exactly?

That she could do whatever she wanted with Jaidyn; he wasn’t interested in her any longer.

Indeed, that was exactly what he’d do. Then he’d leave and not come back here for a very long time. If ever. Never mind that he once again felt that peculiar shortness of breath and those cold talons wrapping around his heart.

He didn’t knock more than once; he didn’t wait for permission to enter. The more time he lost, the more–

The sight that greeted him stole his breath. And not in a good way.

Madame Poivre was sitting there, smiling extremely foolishly, watching as right that moment Jaidyn, with an exuberant cheerful laugh, embraced a young, bulky man and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Yes! Oh, yes!”

Something indefinably, inexplicably dark roiled inside of Connor. He let out a scathing snort, kicking the door behind him shut with his boot.

“Well, well, well,” he scoffed and all three pairs of eyes settled on him. His lips quirked. “Obviously, she took to her new profession. Who would have thought?”

Madame Poivre stood as if that had been her cue. “O’Driscoll.” She sounded so taken aback that she’d even let her fake French accent fall. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Connor brushed her comment aside with a casualness he didn’t feel. “Of course. It never is. I, more than anyone, would know.”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed and she hitched herself up, hands on her hips. “Watch your tongue. I won’t have you insult anyone’s professional integrity here, or how I run my business.”

Another movement caught his eyes. Jaidyn had left the young man Connor was going to beat into a pulp any moment now, and was sauntering toward him, one proud eyebrow higher than the other. “Oh, look what the cat dragged in. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Connor drawled, meeting Jaidyn’s hard stare straight on.

“Miss Donnelly? Auntie Polly?” The young man showed guts to interfere, Connor had to grant him that.

“Winston, that’s none of your business,” Madame Poivre mumbled in a calming voice.

Connor now noticed the man had some nasty bruises along the left side of his face. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. Madame Poivre had told Connor about a young buccaneer, nephew to a certain Auntie Polly, and he’d already suspected then she’d been talking about herself.

Ignoring the women shielding the young man, Connor’s lips twitched into a vicious grin full of teeth. “And you’d be who? Black Eye Winston, the hangman’s next meal?”

At that insult, Winston was about to rush toward Connor, but sadly he was held back by both women.

Madame Poivre murmured, “Perhaps it’s better you leave.”

Jaidyn gave Winston an encouraging nod as she patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget what we talked about.”

Winston’s face, distorted in outrage a second before, now softened to an imbecile’s vacant expression. “Never, Miss Donnelly.”

Connor was sure Winston was going to start salivating any moment, so he was resolved to not only break Winston’s nose. Before he was through with him, Connor would castrate him as well.

With a last cunning look at Connor that said “this isn’t over yet,” Winston gave a curt bow. Then he left the room through a hidden door at the rear.

“Captain O’Driscoll, I will not tolerate such brutish behavior here.” Madame Poivre crossed her arms on her ample chest.

Connor’s head turned from the door through which that bugger Winston had left toward the Madame until the full impact of his scowl settled on her.

“Squeamish,
Auntie Polly
?” Connor sneered.

Madame Poivre’s face turned a deep crimson. She narrowed her eyes at him and puffed in agitation. “Preposterous! I must ask you to leave.”

Connor ignored her. “I do believe we had a certain business arrangement that I blindly trusted you to keep.”

“Of course we did. And no one has touched her ever since.”

“Yes? But what about her touching others?” Connor’s vision dimmed with the bloodred rage coursing through his veins.

“Yes?” Jaidyn spoke up. “What about it?”

That drew Connor’s attention away from Madame Poivre and his glare focused solely on Jaidyn. His patience was taut and, Connor was certain, it would snap soon.

“Well.” His voice was low, the words pressed out from between clenched teeth. “If you’re into it so much now, and as I do believe I’ve paid them all, I will have my share now too.”

Stepping up to him until their noses almost touched, Jaidyn gave another snort. “If you think that I’d disappear into a room with you once more, think again.” Her smoky voice was low and dripping anger. Connor felt himself harden like a randy stud.

“I’d pay handsomely.”

“Oh? Well, that changes everything, of course.” Jaidyn sniffed, shaking her head.

Connor gave her a devious smile. “Spoken like a true harlot.”

One dark green eye narrowed considerably at him, and that was when Connor knew he couldn’t wait much longer, knew what he’d do to her to punish her for her willfulness, knew he had to have her–
now
. Reaching for one of her wrists, he tugged her behind him, and recalcitrant, she scuttled along.

In no time at all they were upstairs with Connor trying various doors to see which room was available. When he finally found one empty and gaily waiting for customers with candles lit all over the place, he entered with Jaidyn in tow, closing and locking the door behind him.

Jaidyn turned and they both glared at each other again. Her cheeks were flushed in anger, her eyes narrowed, spitting hateful daggers at him. Her mouth was pressed into a fine, pale line.

Connor would have swallowed hard, only his mouth had become as dry as sandpaper at the breathtaking sight. God, she was beautiful. He could see the rage simmering right beneath her skin. When he saw her hands ball into fists by her side, he knew she itched to scratch his eyes out.

Oh, their lovemaking would be fantastic. Hard, sweaty, dirty, just the way he liked it. She’d rake her claws down his back until she drew blood. He’d fuck her even harder for it, stuff her with his cock until she never wanted nor thought of anybody else again.

Someone was banging on the door from outside, wrenching him from his reverie. Connor realized it was Madame Poivre, screaming at the top of her lungs. “I won’t let you do this. Leave at once!”

Without breaking eye contact with him, Jaidyn answered her. “Not to worry, Madame Poivre. He won’t enjoy this. Actually, I believe he’ll never frequent this place again. After this night he won’t be able to use the sad scraps of what is going to remain of his manly parts.”

The banging stopped all of a sudden. Connor thought he heard Madame Poivre’s unexpected snicker turn into a fullblown laugh as she left them.

Tilting his head, Connor felt a smile flick over his face. “Those are your plans, then?”

Jaidyn thrust her chin up in defiance, her scowl spitting poisoned daggers.

“Maybe I should tie you to the bed, then.”

She licked her pouty lips and gave him another of those deliciously arrogant glares, her eyes sparkling like emeralds in the sun. “We both know you’d like that too much,
Captain
O’Driscoll.”

She spat out the title. So she’d reverted to cool distance as she’d probably been taught all her life? That was fine with him. But Connor didn’t miss the breathy undertone either. No doubt she enjoyed their butting heads as much as he did.

“True.” He stated the obvious without remorse, turning to shed his frock and loosen his necktie. “Why don’t you get rid of your dress and make yourself comfortable on the bed on all fours?”

Jaidyn didn’t move. Of course she didn’t. He could bloody well go to hell; she wouldn’t move one finger for him even if he begged her on his knees. This farce was over. Chin up and shoulders proudly square, she stomped around him toward the door.