The Infamous Rogue (15 page)

“The ship is about to set sail, Cora.”
“A quick tumble, then?” She pressed her big breasts against his belly and whispered hotly, “I’ve missed you.”
He scoffed. “You’ve missed my money.”
She smiled. “That, too.”
She was honest. That’s what James liked about her. She didn’t pretend to be a lady. She didn’t act with airs. She wanted a gold coin from him. That was all. She didn’t want to depend on him or form a family with him. She offered no false expressions of love. She was cold. He liked that about her, too.
She cupped his cock. “I see you’ve missed me, too.”
He gritted, “Easy, woman.”
She winked. “Aren’t I always?”
Slowly she dropped to her knees. James closed his eyes. He let the heat in his bones and muscles cool and settle as the woman deftly fingered the buttons of his trousers. She was strong. She could take a rough bedding. A good thing, too, for he needed one right now.
The cabin door opened.
James lifted his eyes, muscles seizing.
Sophia took one look at the prostrated wench—and snapped.
The knife glistened in the moonlight. Sophia had grabbed it from the sheath between her breasts so fast, he had nary a second to reach for the blade before it sliced at the mistress screaming at his feet—and his cods.
James roared, “Blimey!”
Sophia had almost nicked him.
Cora jumped on the bed, shrieking.
Sophia lunged after the other woman again.
James grabbed Sophia’s wrist, her midriff. “Drop the knife!”
A hysterical Cora scrambled from the bed and dashed from the cabin.
Sophia was wild. She thrashed and slammed her body against James, disrupting his balance and sending him crashing into the wall. He then hit the ground with her in tow. He winced as he smashed his hip against the flooring.
“Damn you, woman!”
James wrestled with her. He pressed her against the planking and wedged his knee between her kicking legs. He then grabbed her wrist, squeezing.
She hissed.
The knife popped from her hand.
He reached for it before she scooped it back up again, and hurled it somewhere across the room.
“Hold still!” he barked.
He pinned her against the flooring. He clasped both her wrists, the threads of her reticule curled around his fingers, and stretched them high above her head before he pressed the rest of his weight against her belly.
She gasped for breath.
“Cease, Sophia!”
She stilled.
He was breathing hard, his hip throbbing. As soon as she quieted, he eased his belly away from hers; he offered her room to breathe.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he growled.
She was panting. There was a feral look in her eyes. She had a jealous streak, even a violent one. But he had never seen the woman like this before.
“You’re a bastard,” she charged between heated breaths.
“And you’re mad, sweetheart.”
The heat in his bones and muscles returned. The pulsing pressure in his limbs surged. He was wrapped between her skirts, her legs. Trapped. It felt so bloody good.
He looked into her eyes, heart pounding. Such bewitching eyes. Even in the shadows, she snared his senses with that wicked look. The fire that burned in the dark brown pools scorched him, filled him with deep desire.
“What do you want from me?” she said, lips flushed.
He pressed his brow against hers, wet and hot. “
You
came looking for me, remember?”
“Damn you, James! What do you want? One last fuck good-bye? Take it! Take me! And then get the hell out of my life. I don’t want to see you ever again!”
He gnashed his teeth at the brutal assault. She had used his name. She had said it after seven bloody years—only to dismiss him again, to cast him aside like soiled laundry.
James let go of her wrists and lifted to his feet. He fastened his trousers. Blood filled his head, making him dizzy; his hip still ached. “Get out.”
She struggled to her feet as well. “Not before we finish this.”
“I said get out!”
“No!”
He pressed his nose against hers. “This ship is about to set sail.”
“Not for another hour. I heard William.”
She was still wearing the same dress she had sported at the opera. It was a deep umber brown with a sweeping décolletage trimmed with lace. Another garish jewel marred her seamless bustline, an amber stone sheathed in gold. So fake. She looked ridiculous. He spotted her thick hair, the dark locks mussed after their heated roll across the floor. That was Sophia. Free. Wild. He ached for that spirited woman. He cursed her, too.
He still gasped for breath. “You were spying on me?”
“Eavesdropping.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I’m not going to report the conversation…unless you stay away from me.”
“You witch.” He chuckled darkly. “Is that why you’re here? To make more threats? I thought you didn’t flout convention anymore. What would the harridan think to know you were standing here?”
She was winded, too. “I’ll see you hang, Black Hawk.”
His nostrils flared. He was Black Hawk again, was he? “Not before I see you disgraced, sweetheart.”
She fisted her palms. The veins that stretched from her fingers to her throat throbbed. “You’re determined to ruin me anyway.”
“The hell I am.”
“That’s what you wanted to do at the opera, isn’t it?”
“Ruin
you
?”
“Torture me!”
He grabbed her by the arms and pushed her against the wall. “You torture yourself, sweetheart.”
“I hate you.”
The muscles in his cheek twitched. “I know.”
She pounded against his chest. “Leave me alone!”
“The way you left Imogen alone?”
She stilled, weakened. She drew in a deep breath of air. He heard it pass through her nose. “I couldn’t help her.”
“Liar!”
She flinched. “What could I do?”
“You and the harridan, that idiot and his sister could have saved her.”
“How?”
“You could have gathered around her. The four of you could have stood beside her and
killed
the rumors.”
Fat tears filled her eyes. “It was impossible. She was ruined.”
“Horseshit! If
respectable
members of society band together, the gossip ends. If
noble
lords and ladies associate with the girl, then others will associate with her, too.”
“No.”
“Yes! This is my world, Sophia. I know rumors can be squelched if enough people refuse to listen to them.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No.
No!
” He let her go and walked away from her, his temples throbbing. “You didn’t
want
to help her.”
“She’s my friend.”
“Poor Imogen,” he sneered. “Cursed with friends like you and your bloody fiancé.”
“He’s not my fiancé—yet.”
She still wanted the saphead? Of course she did. She wanted him
because
he was a saphead. He was too daft to see past her frilly wardrobe and fancy jewels. The woman wanted to be a countess. And she needed a foolish lord to wed her.
“I want you to stay away from me, Black Hawk.”
“Why? Do I upset you? Do I make you look at yourself; see yourself for who you really are? Does it disgust you?”
“
You
disgust me!”
He crossed the cabin again. He cupped her cheeks. “You and I are the same, sweetheart.”
The woman’s eyes widened.
It’s true. You and I are one.
She clasped his wrists and tugged at them. She stepped away from him. “Will you promise to keep away from me?”
“No.” He combed his fingers through his hair, disheveled. He pulled the leather cord away, let the locks fall free. “I’ve already vowed not to betray our past. If you want something more from me, you can take out the ivory and jade players and as soon as I return to shore. Now get off my ship.”
She stared at him. He sensed her eyes drop and caress his naked belly, his ribs before she slowly lifted them again. “I hope you drown.”
She crouched. She searched the shadows for her knife, he presumed.
James was hot and hard. The hairs on his arms, his chest stirred. She had stabbed him, cut him with her eyes. But she had ravished him, too. Heat pumped through his veins at her sultry admiration.
“I hope lightning strikes the rig,” she griped.
She brandished her plump arse as she groped in the darkness. He stiffened even more. “There’s no storm.”
“A storm is coming.”
“And how would you know that? Did you cast a spell, witch?”
She snorted. “Are you daft? Can’t you feel the rough waves?”
“What rough waves?”
But the ship
was
shifting with more vim. James crossed the room and looked out the scuttle—the port lights flickered in the distance. “Shit.”
She had found the knife. She dusted the luminous blade, winking in the moonlight, before she slipped it back into the sheath between her breasts. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re at sea.”
She balked. “No.”
She skirted across the cabin, shoved him aside and peered out the glass. “Damn you, Black Hawk!”
He growled, “I told you to get off the ship.”
“But William said—”
“I know what William said.” He swiped the shirt off the floor. “Wait here.”
James slipped the white linen over his head and stalked the corridor. He ascended the steps. Once topside, he searched the deck for his brother.
“Lieutenant!”
A dark figure stirred. “Aye, Captain.”
James eyed the shadow and headed for the helm. He dismissed the quartermaster. William took control of the vessel then.
“What the hell are we doing at sea, Lieutenant?”
William maneuvered the wheel. “Are you
still
in a foul mood? I told Cora to bed you well.”
James fisted his palms. “I don’t need you to tell me who to fuck…now answer me!”
William shrugged. “I gave the order to weigh anchor.”
“
You
gave the order?”
“I’ve given orders before. I’m the lieutenant, remember?”
“
You
can give orders when I’m dead.”
“Or incapacitated.” William looked at him with reproach. “You’ve been distracted lately. Cora was supposed to help you focus again, but once she’d left the ship there was no reason to delay our departure. I gave the order to set sail.”
“There was no queue?”
“I wanted to give you some time with the wench.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you spend the whole hour with her?”
“She’s still belowdecks.”
“The devil she is; I saw her skirt off.”
“Not Cora.”
“Then who?”
James hissed, “Sophia.”
William also lowered his voice. “What is she doing here?”
“Never mind,” he growled. “Head back for port.”
“No.”
James bristled. “What?”
“We’re on a mission, Captain. If we come and go from port all night, the impostors will think something is amiss and
won’t
follow us.”
“She can’t stay here!”
“You should have thought of that before you sneaked her onboard.”
The muscle in his cheek twitched. “
She
sneaked onboard.”
“Then keep her quiet and locked in your cabin.”
James imagined Sophia locked in his cabin, naked in his bed. He imagined the ship undulating as he rocked between her thighs in harmony.
“Are you crazy?” James charged.
“Me? You have your mistress stored aboard ship. You’re the one who’s crazy.”
“She is not my mistress.”
“Then what is she?”
She was a witch. She haunted him. She tortured him. She made his life even more miserable than it already was, for the memory of their past, and heated, affair was always at the forefront of his mind.
“Don’t tell the crew the woman’s here. The men will think it bad luck.” William was firm: “But we’re not turning back.”
“I am the captain.”
“You’re not acting like one.”
James saw red. “I can put you in the brig for that insubordination.”
“Go ahead. Put me in chains. Return to port. What will the crew think? The impostors?”
“I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks!”
“That’s your problem; that’s always been your problem. A little conciliation can make your life a lot easier, James.”
He hardened. “What did you call me?”
“I mean Captain. Damn it, we have a mission—”
“I know! But she’s a woman. It’s too dangerous for her to be here.”
“She’s familiar with a gun battle at sea. She once sailed aboard her father’s pirate ship, remember? She’ll be fine.”
Blood pounded in James’s skull. He wanted to crush something…like his brother’s head.
James grabbed the wheel to prevent William from keeping control. “If you ever give an order without my approval again, I’ll drop you into the brig with the rats and let you rot. Is that clear?”
“Aye, Captain,” he said stiffly.
Chapter 14
S
ophia sat on the bed.
Two days at sea. Two miserable days at sea. She wasn’t nauseous from the swelling waters, but sick at heart. What was she going to do? How was she going to make things right back in England?
She pressed her legs against her breasts, set her chin on her knees. She was trapped aboard the
Bonny Meg,
secured in the captain’s cabin. How long would the mission last? A fortnight? A month?
She should never have followed the black devil back to his ship. Curse him for riling her senses so! She wouldn’t be in this mess then.
She sighed. Lady Lucas would have an apoplexy. Perhaps the matron had already had one. Had she summoned the authorities to search for her missing charge? Had she asked the earl for assistance?
The earl. What would he think to learn his intended bride was lost? That she was off gallivanting with a bloody cutthroat?
“Arrgh!”
Sophia slammed her fists against the bedding. She was restless. Bored. She wanted to swim back to England, to make things right with the earl and Lady Lucas.
Sophia was determined to keep her misadventure a secret. No one would ever know what had transpired between her and Black Hawk. But what
would
they think about her disappearance?
Perhaps she was fretting too much. Lady Lucas was a savvy woman. She might tell the earl her charge was “ill” and recuperating, that she wasn’t seeing visitors or attending parties. And surely the matron wouldn’t summon the authorities, creating a stir? She would set about a clandestine search for her charge, wouldn’t she?
The damage to Sophia’s reputation might not be so great. A missing young woman was always cause for speculation. However, if Lady Lucas remained calm and didn’t voice her worries in public, Sophia might come out of this mishap without social scars.
She curled her arms around her knees. There was only one real way to determine the damage to her reputation: she had to return to England and confront the
ton.
She shuddered. Thoughts of Imogen filled her head. Gruesome thoughts. The memory of the woman’s suffering, her cruel fate still swirled in her skull.
You could have saved her!
Unwelcome tears welled in her eyes and she blinked to keep them back. Could she have saved Imogen as the boorish captain had charged? She would never know. Fear had crippled her. And her own deep desire to be a countess had prevented her from even trying to offer the girl a saving hand.