Prisoner of Desire (20 page)

So sweet that he lay awake long after she'd fallen asleep. He didn't want to close his eyes, didn't want to stop stroking her. It seemed priceless, the way she lay against him. He wanted to savor it, try to understand it. The soft sound of her breathing was more soothing than rain. The soft beating of her heart against his side a pleasure he decided he liked enough to lose sleep for.

It was by far the tenderest experience of his life. He'd gladly shoulder whatever guilt showed up with the sun, because it was a cruel twist of fate that had kept him ignorant until now. Lorena wasn't the most beautiful woman to share his bed, but she was by far more perfect in every detail.

The way she smelled, the way she lay against his chest. Every touch had lacked practice and he suddenly noticed how much he preferred innocent desire to his bed partners who'd sought him out because they were bored.

When his eyes drifted shut, the only thought remaining was that tomorrow he would find a way to get her to choose him.

The ship was silent again.

Lorena awoke with a start. Unsure what had disturbed her slumber, she noticed the eerie quiet.

Wind whipped in the open windows telling her it wasn't another hot spell.

But something was not right. She felt it.

It was barely dawn and the spot beside her was empty. But the covers were tucked around her once again. When she sat up, they fell, allowing the morning air to brush across her bare breasts.

Never before had she slept nude. She should have been shocked, but it was so freeing that she smiled instead. The air moved over her skin, cooling her just enough to make her shiver. A

decadent delight that once sampled she didn't think she could forego.

But the silence pushed her out of the bunk. An achy pain shot through her passage, bringing shock to her at last. One hand stroked over her lower belly. She refused to regret her actions. In fact, there was a part of her that was happy she'd chosen who to give her innocence to. Godford and Mordaunt were so bent on telling her who her virginity belonged to, but they were incorrect.

It was her choice and she refused to lament it.

Her dress and petticoat were laid out over a chair top. Her knickers had slid under the table, forcing her to crawl beneath its polished surface. The morning air brushed right up her thighs, startling her when it hit her tender folds. She should have been finished with her fascination.

Now that surrender had come and gone, the need should be vanquished.

But it wasn't.

With a grumpy huff, she snagged her knickers and stood. She struggled into the undergarment and reached for her petticoat. Why was it ever a woman's lot to be at the mercy of men? Not only was she sailing for America because of her stepfather's decision and Mordaunt's harsh character, now she was caught quite neatly in the net of her own emotions for Warren Rawlins.

She shook her head. Warren was nothing like the others. Regret did not arrive as she thought it might. Plenty of people would tell her it should be darkening her morning, but it wasn't. She was content with her choice. Actually more than content. A bubble of happiness was lodged in her chest. All of the uncertainty which lay ahead didn't seem able to touch it.

A rap sounded on the cabin door. Kurt pushed it inward before the sound stopped.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but we're headed for trouble. Best for you to get down under the table and wait it out."

"Are we bracing for attack?" The word attack got stuck halfway across her tongue because even though she knew the word, such things simply did not happen. Except out on the ocean.

Kurt's face tightened. "We spotted two men-of-war off the stern. 'Tis a sure bet we'll be facing cannon fire." He didn't stumble over his words. There was a grim acceptance on his face that sent her heart beating faster.

"Yes, of course."

Men-of-war...

Kurt was gone the moment he finished talking. Lorena turned and climbed into the window seat to peer out the windows. Two ships trailed the Huntress and her crippled companion. With full canvas, they were eating up the distance between them. Both ships clearly displayed the Union Jack. But the lead ship also flew a Bermuda colony one.

The breath froze in her throat. Fear clogged her veins, but it was fear for the crew manning the Huntress. Below her, dozens of them were likely muttering prayers while attempting to remain at their stations. They would stay there too, because they were all endowed with courage.

Just as their captain was.

Warren would stand on that command deck in spite of the danger. He had placed the Huntress in peril to keep his brother's ship from becoming easy prey. The memory of the shattered main mast on the Golden Dawn choked her with the horrifying possibility that the Huntress might suffer the same fate or worse.

Well, not if she had any say in the matter.

Grabbing her bonnet, she placed the thing on her head for the first time since leaving Bermuda.

She was a British woman and she would not stand by idle while her countrymen committed

atrocities. If that was their intention, she would allow them to see the innocent who would suffer along with the sailors manning the cannons. She would stand right out on deck and make sure every man claiming to be British knew who he was firing upon.

She paused outside the cabin door. The stairs leading up the command deck had the hatch closed.

Grabbing a handful of her skirts, she braced her feet against the roll of the ship. The stairs didn't pose any difficulty at all. Lorena pushed the hatch open with a hard shove before climbing up and into the morning light.

Warren cussed.

She heard the profanity roll past his lips in that brassy tone she'd committed to memory. He turned to investigate who was behind him, his expression far from welcoming. She dropped the hatch, refusing to be intimidated. She wasn't entering a receiving parlor after all.

"Get below, Lorena!"

"I shall not."

He looked shocked, his eyes narrowing. "Get below deck now." His voice was deadly.

"As if that is any safer. I believe a cannon ball when driven by black powder can cut through the hull of a ship quite successfully."

Warren shook his head, as if he might banish the sight of her with the motion. He pointed one thick finger at her, clearly accustomed to obedience from everyone aboard his vessel. "I am the captain of this vessel, madam. You will obey my order."

Lorena stepped toward the back railing. She forced her spine to remain straight and her chin level. "There is the difficulty with hostages, they are not bound to obey your orders." She turned to stare across the water at the British ships. "Let them see me here. I want Mordaunt to see I am no coward who will whimper below decks."

"Lorena..."

She turned an angry glare on him. "Let his men see what manner of commander they serve. We British are not so cold blooded. Not all of us. I will place my fate in the good nature of my countrymen who shall not fire on a ship with civilians on board."

"And if they follow orders and light off those cannons? This command deck will be their primary target." He crossed the space between them and hooked her upper arm in a firm grasp. "Don't ask me to watch you be torn apart."

The emotion in his voice almost broke her resolve. Except for her sisters, no one had ever cared for her welfare. But she could not stand by idle. It chafed against every principle she held dear.

"Do not ask me to cower, Warren. It is not who I am and, God willing, shall never be. There is not a single man on board this vessel who is not standing firm in the face of this threat. Including those young enough to be considered boys. I shall take my place as well."

He bit back another round of profanity but his grip relaxed. "I didn't ask you. I gave you an order."

"One I have disobeyed. You may take issue with me later if I survive."

He pulled her forward, her feet sliding on the smooth surface of the deck. "I can easily force you below."

Reaching for him, she gripped his chin. Surprise flared up in his eyes and he froze in place. "You promised me choice, Warren."

Anger turned his complexion dark, but she didn't wait for him to argue with her.

"That is the only thing I ask of you."

The hand on her arm tightened, but he didn't resume dragging her toward the hatch. He wanted to.

She saw it flickering in his gaze.

"You may be sure I will take issue with you later, madam."

His voice was edged with admiration, the look in his eyes something she was sure to recall until her dying day. Lorena glanced out to sea and the ships off their stern. It was very possible today might be that day. Her last in this life. The brim of the bonnet allowed her to only see what was directly in front of her. She had not missed the restricting garment. It was something Mordaunt would have given his blessing to though. As his wife she would have died gasping for breath.

Turning around, she looked at Warren. He grasped the wheel once more, sure, steady and strong.

His attention was on his men and keeping the Huntress between the British and the Golden Dawn.

His hands drew her interest. Fingers that had stroked her last night in places which had

welcomed the touch.

She did not regret it. No shame colored her cheeks, only a regret that it was very possible today might end one or both of their lives.

"Commissioner Mordaunt, there is a woman on the deck of the Huntress"

Adam curled his gloved fingers around a telescope. It was polished to a high shine, exactly the way it should be. His grasp tightened on the brass exterior as undisciplined emotion surged through him. He knew there was a woman on the command deck of the American vessel; he

could bloody well see her and exactly where her hand was.

Her hand was on another man. His temper boiled, fuelling the rage that had begun to keep him company at night.

No one took what was his.

No one.

And certainly no woman upset his plans. Too many hours had been invested in securing the

correct bride. Her share in a shipping business would ensure his future once his commission was served out.

"Orders, sir?"

Mordaunt snarled. His junior officer ignored the sound, Exactly the way the man should if he wanted to see another promotion.

"Stand down, Mr. Rendal."

Relief showed on the man's face before he turned and issued the order. Mordaunt ground his

teeth together before lifting the telescope up once again.

She would regret it.

He swore Lorena St. John would regret the hand she'd place so familiarly on another man. She belonged to him.

"Fall back, Mr. Rendal. Let them think we've given up the prize."

His junior officer turned to face him. "Sir, we'll reach American waters in a few more days."

Mordaunt closed the telescope. "I am aware of that."

He turned and descended to the lower deck and his cabin. A boy was busy polishing the brass fittings around the windows. He jumped to attention, tugging on his hat the moment Mordaunt appeared.

"Leave me."

The boy needed no urging. Adam waited until the door closed with a soft snap before allowing his lip to curl. Rage burned through him, but he didn't allow it to take complete command of his senses. No, that would not serve his purpose. Order and focus were what won the day. It was time to plan. He would rather take the ship at sea and send its crew of thieves to a murky grave, but there were too many members of his crew who didn't have enough steel in their backbones for that.

A pity.

He tapped the tabletop, his gaze looking at the chart of the American coastline. A slow smile formed on his lips. He would simply have to outsmart the Americans and do what they didn't

expect.

"Mr. Rendal!"

There was a scamper of boots in the hallway outside his cabin. The young boy stationed there ran up to the command deck to fetch his lieutenant. More steps bounced off the hull of the ship when the man descended to answer the call. A quick rap on the cabin door and it opened to admit him.

"Set a new course."

Mordaunt tapped a small dock on the map just outside Boston.

"Yes, sir."

If the junior officer had an opinion about the change of course, he kept it to himself. Exactly as it should be. There would be order. He would prevail against the rebel who had stolen his prize.

"You could have been killed."

Lorena jumped. Warren didn't appear until well after sunset. The cabin was dark and she'd left the lamp unlit. The day had dragged on endlessly. She'd spent most of it searching the horizon for sails. Darkness was a welcome cover, shielding the Huntress and her charge. But not lighting the lanterns had allowed Warren to appear like a spectre once again.

"A risk you shouldered as well. I see no need to place any higher value on me."

She heard him growl. The sound sent a tingle down the nape of her neck, all of the tiny hairs standing up. She didn't see him move. But her belly tightened because she swore she could feel him closing in on her.

A hard arm snaked around her waist, jerking her into contact with his solid frame. A startled sound passed her lips, but the hairs on the back

of her neck relaxed. She knew this body. His scent filled her senses, granting her a feeling of security that no amount of logic could ever provide. It wasn't something she had talked herself into doing. It was something she felt.

"I place a higher value on you."

His mouth captured hers, his kiss demanding. One hand covered her lower back, pressing her

against his larger body. His other hand traveled up her back, pausing when he encountered the coil of her hair where it was pinned to her head. He plucked out one hairpin, and two more, before lifting his mouth away from hers.

"You want to choose, Lorena? Then choose me."

Her hair came loose, uncoiling when he pulled the last pin from it. There was a faint tinkle when he dropped her pins on the table behind her. He plunged both his hands into her hair, combing his fingers down the length of it. Sweet sensation rippled through her. It wasn't soft or slow to build as it had been before. This time her body knew what delights might be hers, and it heated up instantly, responding to his touch.