Prisoner of Desire (12 page)

Wearing a dress at sea was another miserable idea of modesty. Society had simply gone mad

with all its rules. Sensible clothing should be worn by both men and women.

The water looked farther below her than she had imagined. The little boat bobbed about, hitting the hull of the Huntress from time to time. Warren was only halfway down the ladder, a look of concern on his face.

Well, she was going down the ladder. Lifting her leg, she swung it over the rail as he'd done. The wind caught in her petticoat but she did not stop. Setting her foot firmly onto one rung of that ladder, Lorena pushed off of the deck and pulled her other leg over the rail.

All eyes were on her. Work had frozen, the sailors' faces reflecting their shock. Fine, let them stare. Her skirt billowed up behind her, the wind coming off the water and blowing up the side of the ship. She clamped down on the urge to reach behind her and smooth her dancing skirts down.

She had a good set of drawers on and stockings so there was no need to be so concerned. It

wasn't as if her bare skin was exposed.

The first two steps were the hardest. Searching for the next rung in the ladder took a bit of getting used to while keeping a thought on just where her skirt was. But her head slipped below the rail and then farther down the side of the ship. Confidence filled her, placing a smile on her face.

"You're full of surprises, Lorena St. John."

Warren Rawlins clasped a strong arm around her waist before she touched the last rung. Her

heart jumped, accelerating. There was so much strength in the man. A jolt raced through her, and this time it wasn't temper. It was excitement. Her cheeks burned when she caught a hint of what he smelled like. Never once had she considered she might like the way another person smelled.

But it made sense. Babies had a scent that placed smiles on your lips when you kissed their soft curls.

Warren's scent tightened her belly. He lifted her off the ladder and set her in the boat. Lorena dropped to the seat quickly, the smaller craft far more unstable than the Huntress.

"Cast away."

Warren didn't just give the command; he lifted an oar and pushed them away from the ship. The little boat rose up and down on the swells of the waves. Lorena grasped the plank that served as a seat and branched her feet wide to steady herself. The wind whistled across her cheeks and into her hair now that her bonnet was left behind. The tip of her ears grew cold but she smiled with enjoyment.

A pair of blue eyes watched her. Warren was rowing along with the other men, his arms pulling the oars through the water with ease.

He'd rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, displaying his bare forearms. Unlike her own arms, his were cut with ridges of muscles. His face was marked with a similar enjoyment of the

moment. Surprise flickered in his eyes but it rapidly changed to something she wasn't certain of.

Or at least she wasn't willing to admit she understood the flare of heat burning in his eyes. Her belly remained tight, the muscles drawing into a knot. Looking out over the water, she tried to ignore the sensation rippling across her skin. Beneath her corset, her breasts tingled again. This time it wasn't a whisper of a feeling but a deep yearning. She wanted to feel. The gloves covering her hands suddenly become a hated barrier between her skin and everything around her. The

memory of the way his hand felt against her neck surfaced and her body clamoured for more.

Which was absurd.

Or at the least very unwise. Without her virtue she had little. Warren Rawlins only held her to ensure the safety of his men. It was a noble cause, but at the same time he had shown he would sacrifice her good name for his own agenda. She would carry the stain of this abduction her entire life. There would always be whispers and doubts about what else the American captain had taken from her.

"Hold on!"

The boat had reached the breaking waves. Its bow tilted up and the men dug in with the oars. The swell broke into thousands of white frothy bubbles and carried the bow down. They raced toward the sandy shore. It was exhilarating, sending a soft laugh past her lips. Her eyes closed in pure enjoyment of the motion whisking her onto shore. When she opened them, Warren was standing

next to her. The white-topped surf flowed around his calves, the black leather of his boots pulled up above his knees. She was the only one left in the boat, the other men fighting to pull it up onto the beach.

Warren scooped her up. He cradled her against his chest, his men pulling the boat much easier, now that she wasn't weighing it down. Another wave crashed behind them, the frothy water

rushing toward the man holding her. With a gasp, Lorena clutched at his neck and pulled her body higher. The water rushed beneath her bottom, chilling it but not soaking her.

"Ah, my dear lady, I wouldn't let you get wet." His voice was coated in amusement, merriment dancing in his eyes. He held her effortlessly. The steady beat of his heart against her side. His keen gaze dropped to her mouth.

Time froze. The surface of her lips tingled and hunger flickered in his eyes. Suddenly, the desire to know what his kiss felt like consumed her. It was so overpowering she could not think of anything else.

"Who's that standing on my beach?"

Warren's arms tightened around her, a soft word passing his lips that the wind carried away before she heard it.

"What are you bringing me, Captain Rawlins?" The woman watching them refused to be ignored.

She smiled from gold hoop earring to gold hoop earring. Warren growled. It was low and deep and edged with frustration. Looking back at him, she caught a glimpse of something that looked very much like a promise. But he pressed his lips into a hard line, his eyes centered on her mouth for a long moment.

Warren walked toward the gleaming white sand, his legs taking on the surface with ease. A dark-skinned woman stood on the shore, her hands propped on her hips.

Warren didn't release Lorena. He stood in front of the woman, a rakish grin on his lips. Releasing his neck didn't seem to get through to the man that it was time to release her. Instead he looked at the woman.

"I brought you someone to mother."

"Captain Rawlins." Lorena kept her voice low, but the man merely raised an eyebrow at her.

Frustration flared through her.

"If you please, sir. Put me down."

Warren looked at her, playfulness glittering in his eyes. "You'd sink up to your ankles in those shoes."

"What?" Glancing down her legs, she stared at the neat row of straps that ran up the center of each shoe. The fine grains of sand would fill her shoes on the first step.

"Lord, I don't understand why you English women wear the things you do. This is the islands.

Shoes like that don't have no place here."

"They are all I have." Lorena tried to keep her tone even because she was grateful she had any shoes at all. The harsh truth that she was at

Warren's mercy when it came to clothing was not something she enjoyed thinking about.

Warren carried her up the beach. He let her down on the harder dirt just beyond the sand. A tiny little shiver went through her when she stepped away from him, almost as thought she lamented the parting.

"This is Tibetha. The best cook on the island."

The woman flashed a brilliant smile at Warren. Her teeth were a startling contrast to her dark skin. A loose gown of some sort fluttered in the breeze. It had only puff sleeves that ended at the woman's elbows. There was no waistband and the hem was a good foot off the ground. A sliver bracelet twinkled around one of the woman's ankles and her feet were bare.

She looked far more comfortable than Lorena felt. Sweat was already tickling down the center of her back. Even standing in the shade didn't

cool her off. Her petticoat was slicking to her legs, trapping the heat.

"May I present Miss Lorena St. John. My guest."

Tibetha laughed. Her body shook with her mirth. "I got's to have a talk with you, miss. This man, he is a devil. Tempting all the ladies with that face." She shook her head. "Come along with me and we is going to wash out your hair and talk women talk. No men about to worry us none."

"I would enjoy that." It would afford her the opportunity to try and slip away from Captain Rawlins.

A ripple of disappointment went through her. The emotion was in direct conflict with her logic.

Captain Rawlins promised her nothing save passage home. If she could achieve the same on her own, so much the better.

But his crew would be left at the mercy of Mordaunt.

Guilt raked across her thoughts. She could not shake it off. The faces of the crew came to mind with their genuine respect. Even Holly would suffer if she failed to return to the Huntress.

Warren might die...

The tropical heat was boiling her brain. Her mind was going soft under the strain of being a captive. Surely that was the explanation for why she looked back at Warren. He'd added a wide leather belt over his wool vest that had a sword hanging from it. The weapon was as fine as any officer might carry, but the rolled-up shirtsleeves gave him the look of a rogue. Like some pirate from a century ago. Such times were long past of course.

Except he abducted you...

Maybe time didn't have the same meaning here as it did elsewhere. Women walked by in nothing but what she might call a chemise. Their dark hair was pleated into tiny braids that held colorful beads on the ends. There wasn't a glove in sight except for her own. Warren fit in. Truthfully he looked at ease and dreadfully handsome too. Part of her longed to join him. Strip off her gloves and cumbersome petticoat so the tropical breeze might cool her legs.

His keen eyes watched her. She stared back, hypnotized by the flicker of heat growing there.

Tibetha laughed again. "Oh he's a handsome one all right. Draws you in with his grin. Come with me, girl. Make that man wait on your return. It will teach him some manners."

"I doubt it."

Captain Warren Rawlins might look like a pirate, but he was no thief driven only by his own weak character. The man was motivated by honor. He would not be easy to escape or forget. She would see his eyes in her dreams, she was certain of it.

Tibetha led her into a building that was mostly covered in dried palm leaves. It was partitioned off into rooms. The walls were thin but made for privacy. The room she followed the woman

into had a large slipper tub sitting in it. Lorena sighed. She couldn't help it. It was a full-sized tub and she missed the one back home dearly.

"We've lots of water here. You can wash your hair and soak while looking out over the waves.

It's good for the soul."

"I've been watching waves for too many days lately."

Tibetha pulled a string and there was a splash of water in the bottom of the tub. A pipe ran down from the ceiling near the corner of the room. Fresh, clear water was spilling out of the end of it.

"We have rain barrels up high behind the bathhouse. Every day it rains and fills them full. Use all the water you want, the clouds have already begun building for today's storm. It will be raining in another hour. No one will bother you."

Tibetha released the cord and the water stopped flowing. It was cool water but in the tropical climate she didn't long for hot water.

"I'm going to go make that devil pay me. I'll bring you some fresh bread when I come back."

"Thank you."

Real bread? Lorena felt her mouth water. Yet another thing she missed from land. There was

only hard tack on board ship. Tibetha closed the door behind her. There was no means to lock it but the water was too tempting to resist. Reaching for the first button on her dress, Lorena peeled the garment off. Her nose winkled at the stale scent of her body. By the time she removed all her layers, she was shaking in anticipation of being submersed in the tub. She dipped her toes in slowly, savoring the way the water coated her skin. It was pure heaven. An experience she would not take for granted again. She sank all the way down,

closing her eyes so her face slid beneath the surface of the water.

Pure bliss. Pure sensation. Pure delight.

Lorena's laughter was infectious.

Warren felt it seeping into his blood. Fever burned through him, destroying his self-discipline.

Fascination held him in its grip.

She should have complained about the tropical weather. He'd expected her to shriek when the boat hit where the waves crashed. She should have taken issue with him for handling her. The heat licking across his body increased. Cradling her had been both delight and torment. He'd been a long time without a woman, but holding her close had stiffened his cock until it felt like a year since he'd allowed himself the pleasure of the flesh.

That was an urge he could answer. There were women on St. Martin who followed their passions without guilt to weigh them down. His men were eagerly trying out their charms on some of

them. Warren watched them but remained where he was. One dark-eyed girl cast him a sweet yet sultry look. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back. A simple skirt and blouse was all that covered her curves. He shook his head and she turned her attention back to the men watching her.

He had to be honest and admit he stayed because of more than duty. There was something else, something deeper that was rooted in his gut. The sheer joy Lorena took in the trip to shore replayed across his mind. Behind her composed exterior was a female who enjoyed adventure. A spirit which thirsted for more than safe walls.

He understood that. He grew restless on land. Something on the sea called to him. When the

frock coats began to smother him, sailing became his sanctuary.

"Stop thinking about that girl. She's the kind you don't have no business touching unless you're going to be staying in her bed."

Tibetha aimed a stern look at him. She walked toward him, a frown on her lips. She raised a single finger. "And don't be trying that smile on me either. I'm wise enough in the ways of men to know where it leads to. Go on and join your men or I'll take a stick to you. That girl is the sort you take to the church and never wander away from."