Swept Away By a Kiss (13 page)

Chapter 13

V
alerie moaned, weak with pleasure. He touched her where she never imagined a man’s hand could be, where she wanted this man forever. Delirious pressure built, coiling upward, spreading then twisting back together again with each thrust of his finger, each caress of his tongue across her lips.

She wanted his tongue in her mouth, upon her breasts, even where his hand possessed her. Aching, struggling for air, she cried out as he drove into her harder, then grasped her bottom, pulling her against his hand. The delicious pressure inside her constricted, and she shattered from within. She whimpered, barely able to catch her breath as pleasure shook her body. She clung to him, throbbing, shocked at the sensations pouring through her. It felt so good, so intimate and real. So dangerous and safe. She wanted him to hold her forever, to bury herself in his embrace.

Etienne’s hands fell away. He stepped back and her skirt tumbled into place.

Shaking and stunned, she lifted her gaze. He drew her gown to her shoulders, covering her breasts. Valerie gulped in air. He smoothed back the locks of hair that had spilled from her hairpins, and his fingers drifted along her cheek before pulling away.

She struggled to clear her head, clutching her bodice to her breasts and clinging to the aching in her core, trying to force her thoughts into coherence. Bewildered, she lifted her gaze again.

She groaned, this time in misery over her willful, foolish recklessness.

With one embrace, he had devastated her, changed her forever. Yet now he stood perfectly composed, his handsome face devoid of emotion. Except for the muted glimmer in his golden eyes and the torment inside her, Valerie might have imagined the entire thing.

Without a word, he moved away, turning to the cabin door. She watched his physical grace in painful awareness and her entire body wavered, yearning toward him as he paused at the threshold.

For a moment he stood perfectly still, his back to her, silent. Then slowly, deliberately, he fastened the buttons of his robe. Finally he reached for the door latch.

“I am a man, Valerie.” His voice was a defeated shadow of itself, her name only a breath upon his lips. “But this is not what makes me one.” He turned, and from across the room his gaze met hers. Regret clouded his amber eyes. He opened the door and disappeared.

Valerie sank to the bed, hurt jolting through her. Her eyes filled, the first tears since before her father’s death slipping down her cheeks. Now she feared she would never stop.

She did not see another person for hours. Near dusk, Zeus appeared and beckoned to her. She rose numbly, offering her wrists. Only then she realized that when Etienne had entered earlier, he had been alone. He departed on his own too, his hands unbound. The wonderful, terrible lingering ache in her body testified to that.

She followed the giant blindly. All day she had been free to open the door of her prison cell and walk away. She understood now, though, that freedom meant little when surrounded by depths of ocean, or mountains of anguished memory.

Her chest tightened. Stifling numbness had returned, stealing deep and sure into familiar cavities of her heart. If she let that numbness finally take her, perhaps someday she would even cease breathing.

Zeus halted before the door to the captain’s quarters.

“The good God will be with you,” he murmured, and knocked.

Bebain answered. A ribbon bound his combed hair. His shirt, coat, and pantaloons looked crisp and fresh.

“My little beauty, good evening.” He lifted her hands to his mouth. “Go, go.” He shooed Zeus away. “She will be well cared for here.” He swung the door wider and gestured for Valerie to enter.

Amid the day cabin’s luxurious furnishings, a dining table was dressed for two, laden with silver, porcelain, and crystal. Covered dishes and an epergne piled with apples, dates, candied oranges, and marzipan rested at its center. Valerie stared at it, the aroma of roasted meat and the sharp perfume of newly uncorked wine tingling in her nostrils.

A key grated in the lock, drawing her attention back to the pirate. Her breath stilled.

Bebain stood with his back to the door. Beside him, Etienne sat bound with ropes at wrists and ankles to a chair bolted to the floor. From a raw wound above his eye, rivulets of blood curved along the angle of his jaw, a vivid line of purple staining their path. The edge of his shirt collar above his black robe shone red, saturated with blood.

“You two are already acquainted, of course,” Bebain murmured urbanely, then succumbed to laughter. Hidden in the folds of her skirt, Valerie’s nails dug into her palms.

The captain shrugged. “But you see, my sweet, I thought to have a private dinner here for the two of us. But our holy friend and I had something of a quarrel this evening. He stole from me, in fact. At the very least I should take him atop and flog him in front of the crew. But in my present mood I am hesitant to let him know he has piqued me.”

He regarded the priest thoughtfully, his long lower lip protruding.

“Really, he is most unappreciative of my generosity,” Bebain sighed. “Alas, for various reasons, I do not feel comfortable leaving him in the care of my loyal crew tonight. So we must suffer his presence as we enjoy ourselves, my beauty. I hope you will not mind it.” He turned to Valerie, false resignation in his insipid eyes.

“I will not,” she said. If she could only cease breathing . . .

Bebain motioned her toward the table. Dizzy with hunger, she wavered above the feast. Her gaze sluiced back to the priest.

During her shadowed hours in the cabin she had relived his rejection like a knife wound through her heart. She tried to convince herself that he wanted to teach her a lesson, to chastise her with her wantonness. But the pain in his eyes before he left hadn’t been there for her benefit, and it confused her.

Now, beaten and bound, he conveyed only steady calm. Bebain was no physical match for the priest. He must have had him tied up before beating him. Yet nothing in Etienne’s tawny eyes suggested defeat. Only peace. Valerie willed herself to take that emotion into herself, to let his inner strength become hers.

“Have a seat, little one, and I will pour wine to whet your appetite.” Bebain’s eyes glittered with meaning.

So her initiation as his mistress would be tonight, with the priest apparently as captive witness. But even that irony did not stir Valerie now. She sat, took up a glass, and raised it to her lips. The fine vintage hit her tongue like vinegar. The pirate watched, not touching his own wine.

“Captain.” She drew a deep breath, Valentine’s gift burning against her booted ankle. “It is awkward for me to eat with my hands bound.” She lifted her wrists.

Bebain’s eyes narrowed.

“Come now, sir,” she said, “You have subdued that great big man. How can you imagine I could pose any threat to you?”

He pursed his lips and stood. She held her hands forward. He reached for her arms and dragged her to her feet with surprising strength. Grinning lazily, he moved his hands to her shoulders, his fingers seeking the edge of fabric and bare flesh.

Valerie willed away her gooseflesh and lifted her wrists higher. With a dramatic sigh, Bebain unfastened the tether. But instead of releasing her, he gripped. Her stomach rose in her throat as his nails caressed her palms.

“I have had to wait too long for you, little beauty. You have not, I hope, imagined I forgot you.” One finger slid under her chin, tilting her face up. He chuckled. “How could I? You are beautiful, no? And as I am not a man to trifle with boys, I have waited for you like a faithful bridegroom since you boarded my ship.”

Abruptly the pirate released her, and Valerie sank shaking into the chair. He moved around the table and placed an embroidered napkin upon his lap.

“A toast!” He lifted his glass. “To your new home.” His smile was salacious, and as he tapped his crystal to hers, the cold crept deeper into her veins.

Valerie clenched her teeth and took in a slow breath. She did not want the numb helplessness, this living death urging readmittance into her soul. Not any longer. Two years of it sufficed. It would end, now, forever. This man might try to force her into submission as her father had, but she would never again go willingly.

She would rather die.

She fingered her fork as Bebain ate, placing neat portions of food into his cheek and chewing with deliberation. Hiding her disgust, Valerie looked past the carving knife at Bebain’s elbow toward her own plate. Her gaze passed over an elaborately heavy candlestick. Crimson droplets peppered the silver and red stained the table linen at the sparkling stick’s base.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, and her breath escaped in a soft gasp.

Blood.

Now she understood what the priest had stolen from Bebain. Laudanum. Pilfering it, Etienne had traded a dying man’s comfort for a beating with a candlestick. Just as swiftly Valerie now knew what she must do. Air rushed into her lungs and she nearly laughed aloud. A lifetime of practice might finally be of real use.

As though accidentally, the fork slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the floor beside her foot.

“Good heavens, how clumsy of me. I suppose I am famished,” she tittered, pushing her chair out and bending forward to retrieve the utensil. The bodice of her borrowed gown sagged, and Bebain ogled her breasts.

Valerie raised her gaze, hot and bright, to the pirate. Dropping the recovered fork upon the table, she plucked a piece of candied orange from the brimming epergne. She opened her lips, allowing her tongue to show against her teeth as she extended it slightly, tasting sugar. She nipped off a corner of the orange slice.

Bebain’s narrow chest contracted visibly. “Do you enjoy the food I have had prepared for you, my little one?”

Valerie took another morsel of fruit and let the tip of her tongue slide across her upper lip. Her lashes swept downward. “Mm,” she purred.

“And the accommodations I provided?” the pirate asked. “These have also been to your liking, no?”

She reached for an apple, stroked its shining red surface with lingering fingertips, and raised it to her open mouth. Without tasting, she drew it away, her lips remaining parted.

“Adequate.” Her teeth broke the apple’s skin. She surrounded the wound with her lips and sucked. Upon the tabletop, Bebain’s hand flexed.

“Merely adequate?” His gaze shifted to Etienne.

Valerie allowed the apple to dangle from her fingertips before she placed it upon the table and rose. She moved past Bebain toward the priest, looking around the spacious cabin with appreciation.

“You see, Captain, I was under the impression that I would enjoy a change of quarters earlier than this.”

Etienne met her gaze, indifference masking the pain she now saw etched upon his handsome features. His skin was paler than usual. Behind her, Bebain released a slow breath.

“Am I to understand that you have been unsatisfied with your sleeping arrangements, my little one? This imprudent fellow did not appreciate my gift as we hoped, did he?”

Valerie halted before the Jesuit. She extended her hand and caressed his face from brow to jaw, passing through his blood. Her fingertips paused upon his chin, and she could not prevent their trembling.

She opened her hand and slapped him. Her palm came away streaked with red.

Etienne did not move. His gaze remained steady in hers. Valerie glanced at Bebain, then at the blood staining her. Running her hand along Etienne’s arm, she grimaced as she wiped her palm clean across his sleeve. Her fingers slid over his hand, skin against skin. She turned to Bebain, scowling.

“Untidy and disappointing.” She crossed to the table. “And a liar. Aboard the merchantman, he did not tell you the truth. I cannot pretend to know his motive, but you did not take aboard a virgin. At least, not one of us.” She cast Etienne a brief, scornful look. “He is handsome and his body is strong and attractive, so I allowed it. But now I am weary of him. A man trained to celibacy is not truly a man, is he?”

She placed her hand upon the pirate’s.

“But why didn’t you tell me this when we spoke before, my lovely?” Bebain gripped her elbow and pulled her down. Valerie stumbled into his lap. Recovering, she curled her arm around his shoulder.

“Perhaps I was intimidated by the magnificence of your ship. It is quite beautiful. And powerful, no?” She smiled secretively, as though sharing a joke with him. “And perhaps I do not enjoy carrying on such conversations in the hearing of servants.” She moved her lips near his ear, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat. “Perhaps I wished to prolong the displeasure so my relief would be that much greater when it . . . came.” Her tongue flickered against his earlobe.