Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (14 page)

“I won’t go in there. Let me go,” Bethlyn cried and tried to force her way past him, but Hawk was stronger than the finest stallion ever housed in the Woodsley stable.

“Calm yourself, wench.” His breath fanned her cheek and he held her easily in the crook of his arm. “I’m not going to do anything to you which hasn’t already been done. I like spirit in a woman, but I’d rather you be a bit more docile. I’ve had a long night. Now, go on inside like a good girl.”

“No!”

“You’re trying my patience. Go inside now and wait for me. I have things to clear up first before I join you.” For an instant his lips nuzzled her neck, sending an electric current through her. She bolted again and pushed at him with her hands, but Hawk thrust her inside the room and quickly locked the door.

“I won’t be long, my tigress,” she heard him rasp on the other side of the door.

She clawed at the heavy wood, demanding her release, but she heard nothing. The man was gone.

~ ~ ~

Hawk watched the dawn-kissed horizon, feeling more than weary. He longed to go to his cabin and sleep but remembered the beautiful woman who waited there. A small grin split his lips. Not only was she beautiful but feisty too. Hawk liked that in a woman. He’d found most women to be simpering fools, only too eager to come to his bed, to please him. Most men, he knew, would have killed for the chance to bed willing women, but Hawk was different than most men. More than anything, he appreciated a challenge, and he instinctively knew that the honey-haired doxy wouldn’t disappoint him.

On this particular morning, he breathed deeply of the salt air and admired the rainbow of colors in the water’s surface as the sun rose. One moment, a soft shade of brown covered the liquid surface, a color not unlike the woman’s eyes. The next minute, a pale rose blended into the water and reminded him of the bloom on her cheeks, and when a vibrant red enveloped the undulating waves, he thought of her soft, yielding lips beneath his. For a moment he felt himself lost and mesmerized by this woman’s image, and finally he shook himself

“Lord!” he muttered aloud. “I’ve been too long without a woman.”

“Haven’t we all,” came Crane’s voice behind him. Hawk turned and laughed. “Neither of us is destined for a monastery, my friend.”

The edges of Crane’s eyes crinkled into a smile beneath his mask. “How is your prisoner faring?”

“Fine, I suppose. I haven’t heard a sound out of her for a few hours. I imagine she must be asleep. Could you arrange some breakfast to be taken to her, Crane? She’ll probably be quite hungry, and I doubt I shall see her until tonight. There are some things I have to do before I can join her.”

“I’ll attend to her, but tell me. Will you be able to please such a spunky wench tonight? You haven’t slept for twenty-four hours.”

Placing a booted foot on an overturned barrel, Hawk managed a brilliant smile which looked far from tired. “With a wench as beautiful and fiery as that one, I think sleep will be the last thing on my mind.”

Crane nodded his agreement, but he shrugged his shoulders. “This girl, the one named Mavis, she’s different. I can’t explain it, but she isn’t like any other doxy I’ve ever met. When I look into those wide blue eyes, I see a person who has known great sadness, but for the life of me, I don’t see a woman who holds herself cheaply.”

“Perhaps she just charges more than other doxies,” Hawk said, sounding heartless.

Crane took offense. “No, and you shouldn’t say such an awful thing about her. She isn’t like the others, I tell you.”

“A romantic at heart, I fear.”

“Stop it, Hawk. I’d rather have some feelings left than to be like you, hardened and cynical where women are concerned. “

Hawk felt unable to reply to that, because Crane was correct. He was a hardened skeptic about the opposite sex. No woman could hold his attention for long. He thought all women were flighty and faithless, and he’d vowed long ago never to fall in love. So far he hadn’t and doubted he ever would. But a part of him did wish to be more like Crane and lose his heart. Maybe then he’d find life worth living.

“I take it that your Mavis has met all of your expectations to have cast such an enchanted spell over you.” Hawk’s tone sounded gentle, and he hid his envy from his friend.

Crane shifted his weight, a bit embarrassed to face Hawk directly, so he kept his eyes on the changing sea. “That’s just it. I didn’t touch her.” His gaze drifted back to the hawk-like demeanor before him. “I wanted to make love to her. She even allowed me to kiss her, and I think if I’d been a bit more forceful she’d have come willingly to me, but I couldn’t do it, Hawk. She likes me, I can sense she does. But Mavis isn’t like those other women.” Crane scratched his wind-tousled blond locks. “She’s not a whore. Damn if I don’t know what to do with her.”

Hawk almost made a lewd comment about his knowing what he’d do with the wench, but he realized that Crane was far more than just smitten with a pretty face. Had his friend found his true love at last? Hawk ached to warn him away from this Mavis, to remind him she was a doxy, a woman who was captured off of a ship and destined for British soldiers’ amusements, that she could be discarded at will, but Crane already knew this. What magic had this woman woven over him? Again, envy pricked at Hawk for an emotion he’d never experienced.

Hawk could think of nothing else to say and was grateful when his quartermaster called him to check into the crates which had been confiscated off
Nightingale
. As he thought he would, he found muskets, bayonets, and medical supplies. A fruitful night’s work, he decided. Anything to put a crimp in the British might was fine with him. He hated the British, one British man in particular. Hawk found he couldn’t help scowling. Supplies for the soldiers stationed in Philadelphia were one thing, but to supply them with women was quite despicable. Suddenly his scowl disappeared, and he found himself smiling.

Because of him the soldiers would spend some very lonely and cold nights. But he wouldn’t. As soon as he was finished with his duties, he’d bathe before going to his cabin to claim the most beautiful treasure he’d ever captured.

~ ~ ~

The moon had long since risen when Hawk stopped before a water barrel and, removing his shirt, splashed the liquid across his muscular arms and chest. He’d have liked to bathe fully, but fresh water at sea was scarce and needed for drinking and meal preparation, rather than indulging in a tepid bath. Another week and the
Black Falcon
would land at Windhaven, an island off the Delaware coast which he used as a refuge from British ships patrolling the area. His ship would fit snugly into an isolated cove, protecting it from view. Hawk couldn’t suppress a smug smile. He’d outwitted the English frigates so many times that the game of privateering had become somewhat boring.

Nightingale
, though not a frigate but a merchant ship, had fallen easily into his hands. Of course, the ship’s crew had made a vain but valiant attempt to out maneuver the
Black Falcon
. In fact, Hawk had possessed no knowledge of
Nightingale
’s ownership until he noticed a flag atop its mast, flying the Earl of Dunsmoor’s coat of arms. He’d laughed aloud at the sight.

He had expected to find supplies for the British in the storeroom, however, the women did surprise him, especially the honey-haired vixen who now waited in his cabin. Unwillingly his loins tightened to think about her. In his life he’d known and possessed many beautiful women, but this woman appeared refined and like no doxy he’d ever seen. Probably, he decided and splashed water over the portion of his face which wasn’t covered by the mask, that was her attraction for him. She was an oddity in a sea of predictable females, but once he’d taken her to bed a few times, he figured he’d grow tired of her. All women bored him after he’d amply tasted their charms, and he expected this woman to be no different.

Suddenly Hawk’s train of thought was broken and he spun around, his hand on the dagger at his waistband, to feel someone run a jagged fingernail familiarly down his back.

“What the hell do you want?” he hissed at the dark-haired woman standing before him. Her eyes were wide with fright, and she jumped backward.

“No harm done, Captain. It’s just me, Della. You remember me, don’t you? I know you do. Your eyes never left me face when I came aboard.”

Hawk gave a sullen nod. He did remember the wench.

Of all the doxies this one seemed to be the most self-assured, and he’d have thought her the most beautiful except for the woman his mind had dwelled upon all day long. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that,” he said reproachfully. “I might have hurt you.”

“Oh, Captain,” Della whispered, her fear gone. She moved towards him until her breasts touched his bare chest. “Sometimes a little pain can feel real good, if it’s done right.”

The moonlight emphasized the lust in her eyes. One of her hands pressed intimately against the bulge in his trousers. Standing on tiptoes, she stretched to reach his mouth, and her small teeth nipped at his lips. The sting of pain caused him to flinch, but he didn’t find the experience totally unpleasant. He suspected Della was quite proficient in her trade, and he’d have gladly taken her up on her offer but for the woman in his cabin.

Della smiled her triumph, thinking the telltale bulge was because of her. “Come on, Captain. Della here can give you what you want; I know how to please a man like you.” Lifting her arms, she curled them around his neck, but Hawk firmly disengaged them and pushed her gently away.

“Thank you, but I must refuse your most gracious offer…”

“Why?” she wailed. “Ain’t I good enough for the likes of you? That mask on your face don’t fool me. You want me, I can tell.”

“Not tonight.”

Della’s eyes narrowed wickedly. She licked her full lips. “It’s her, ain’t it? That other one.”

“What other one do you mean?”

“The haughty bitch who shared Captain Montgomery’s cabin, that’s who. Ah, I can see you didn’t know about her and the
Nightingale
’s captain. But it’s true. Just ask her. Montgomery kept her almost a prisoner, he was so besotted with the likes of her. Heaven only knows why. She ain’t as pretty as me,” Della declared with more than a hint of envy in her voice.

She’s more beautiful than you could ever hope to be, Hawk thought, overcome by a sensation of jealousy which felt foreign to him. The image of the woman called Beth, entwined in Captain Montgomery’s arms, rose unbidden in his mind and he forced it down. He knew what she was, but he hated to think of her with any other man but himself … which was absurd. Beth was a doxy.

“You better run along now, Della. I imagine someone on my crew is just pining after you, and would love a sample of your distinctive style of kissing.”

“You’re damn right,” she cried. “I ain’t going to stand here and be thrown over for the likes of an uppity bitch by you or any man. Not when there are men aboard this ship who’ll gladly pay me price for some special fun.” Della began to turn away in a huff, but she suddenly turned back again and grinned at Hawk. “But if you ever change your mind…”

Leaving the rest of her sentence unfinished, she hurried away.

By the time Hawk left the upper deck and went down the stairs which led to his cabin, he had forgotten Della. His concentration centered on Beth. Physically he felt a bit tired, not having slept in over thirty-six hours. Yet the thought of the beautiful body he knew must exist beneath the plain gray gown chased away his exhaustion. Even now, he could hear the sound of muffled laughter and the cries of ecstasy which emanated from behind some of the hallway doors and the dark corners of the galley. Indeed, this voyage would be a memorable experience for his men. Hawk’s own loins tightened and bulged anew.

“This night will be memorable for me also,” he muttered aloud, and unsheathed the latch on the cabin door.

Hawk wasn’t prepared for the vision before him when he entered the cabin. He hadn’t known what to expect, but the sight of this doxy, standing proudly before him, her hair fanning across her shoulders and catching the candlelight, inflamed his passion further. A mental image of him burying his face within those thick, sweet-smelling tresses increased his desire for her. Yet, from the contemptuous way she eyed him, he knew she intended to play the game of outraged maiden a bit longer, and this was fine with him. Any woman who came too easily to his bed wasn’t worth having, in his estimation.

Placing his hands on his hips, he said, “Have you finished your tantrum, wench? It isn’t every day I have to imprison a woman in my cabin. Usually my bed companions come quite willingly, even gladly.”

He noticed her stiffen, and she moved towards him a bit.

“You’re an arrogant, conceited man. I assure you that I’m not like your other women and won’t become a mewling kitten for your pleasure.”

A deep laugh escaped him. Hawk found her amusing, a beautiful and headstrong young woman despite her station. But he sobered a bit and felt the hot blood singing through his veins to see her heaving breasts and to crave the nectar which he’d suckle from them. “I have no wish for a kitten, my sweet, but a wildcat. You seem to be of the latter persuasion, and my blood grows warm at the sight of you. I do admit that you’re the most comely doxy I’ve ever seen and quite refined, too.” In fact, it was this refinement which compelled him to stalk towards her. He longed to break down her resistance. However, the wench skittered away from him and found refuge on the opposite side of a table from him. He laughed again, but this time the tone was melodious and filled with his desire.