First Comes Desire. Tina Donahue

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      She fought a smile. For him, the first of many.

      He released her and motioned Peter over. When the boy was at his side, Tristan clamped his shoulder. “Guard your sister well.”

      * * * *

      The moment Tristan left, his loud laughter sounded outside the door. Whoops and hollers from the men followed, along with crude comments.

      She leaned close to Peter. “What’s he up to?”

      “Fixing this mess you put us in.”

      “Miss Fletcher.” James spoke softly. “It would be best if you wait on the mattress with the blanket over your trousers and your shirt pulled off your shoulders, baring them.”

      “What?”

      “You need to look as if we’ve had you. Unwind your braid and muss your hair too. No matter what happens, don’t scream.”

      Peter grabbed a shirt off the floor. “Should I gag her?”

      She frowned.

      James smiled. “No need. She’ll keep quiet if she wants to escape.”

      Although Diana longed to flee this wretched ship, she feared what would happen next. Fighting panic, she loosened her hair, bared her shoulders, and perched on the bed.

      The cabin door flew open. The pirate wearing the yellow scarf reached her in an instant and grabbed her shirt, ready to tear it from her.

      James slammed his pistol butt against the man’s skull with a sickening crack. The pirate crumpled without a fight, or words, or even a cry. After James had bound and gagged him securely, he and Peter pulled him to the far corner from immediate view.

      Another pirate staggered inside, drunk but offering more fight, throwing wild punches, kicking and scratching as she had.

      Peter swore and hit him soundly in the jaw.

      He collapsed.

      James slapped the boy on his back. “Well done.”

      “I’ll do even better with the next one.”

      Diana shuddered. “I thought you said these men were your friends.”

      “Not him.”

      James chuckled. He and Peter gagged and fettered the pirate, then returned to their posts. The next man and the next came inside.

      Soon, felled pirates filled the cabin to near overflowing.

      Joining them, Tristan viewed the carnage and nodded. “Good work.” He tucked his volume beneath his arm, helped Diana with her shoes, then to her feet. “Peter, her jacket.”

      He tossed it.

      Tristan handed the garment to her. “Put this on. Time to go.”

      He led her through the ship and across the moon-washed deck littered with bound-and-gagged men, all unconscious.

      She stepped around their bodies the same as the others. “You plan to leave them here?”

      Tristan stopped. Moonlight silvered his eyes and hair, turning his eyebrows and stubble even darker, making him look like a dangerous angel.

      He glanced around. “Would you prefer to take a few with us?” He made an elaborate bow and gave her a roguish grin. “Your wish is my command.”

      She nearly laughed. “I was wondering if you’re leaving them here to die.”

      “Hardly.” He pulled her toward the rail and a skiff.

      She held back. “Are we taking this to the beach and your ship?”

      “No.”

      “Then where?”

      “You’ll see.”

      * * * *

      With three strong males to work the oars, they made swift progress away from the Lady Lark.

      Diana twisted in her seat, trying to determine their destination, since they appeared to be putting out to sea. Surely, Tristan hadn’t planned to row to the African coast. That would be madness. The skiff was far too small for the journey.

      James and Peter kept their peace, seemingly unconcerned.

      Diana wished she could trust as easily but wanted answers, and faced Tristan.

      He regarded her.

      Her pulse quickened and her limbs grew heavy with desire. When they’d been on the ship, she had no trouble denying he’d ever wed her. Now, the notion seemed inevitable and far less disturbing than living out her days with Bishop. Arousal blunted her caution at the man who would soon be her husband.

      He rowed with grace and power, his face damp from sea spray, neck and shoulders tensed. Hard labor had sculpted his strong arms and body. His direct, unashamed gaze spoke of things he’d seen that she could only imagine and might very well fear. Yet he still fascinated her, and she wasn’t certain why.

      She’d always hoped a quiet, unassuming man would woo, then bed her, pleased to have her make the decisions. Tristan would have great difficulty doing so. Yielding wasn’t in his nature. Ruling was.

      The wind pressed her shirt against her breasts. She didn’t bother to hide what he’d already seen. Soon, he’d be intimately familiar with her flesh, while she’d know his male passion.

      Carnal hunger crossed his face. “Best you get some sleep.”

      No need to ask why. Once they arrived at their destination, he’d take her, expecting her full desire and participation in every act. A dull ache settled between her legs, same as earlier. The feeling was frustrating yet oddly pleasant.

      Shaken from desire and uncertainty, she turned away.

      Moist air laced with salt pulled at her hair. The heavy moon sparkled on water that held more lights than the star-splashed sky. Sea and air stretched forever, one touching the other, making her feel too small and ache for the familiar.

      She had no idea where England was from here. Perhaps her homeland no longer existed. Her quest didn’t. She’d failed to rescue her brother whom she no longer knew or recognized. She’d offered her own happiness and freedom in exchange for Peter’s safety, protection he refused. Soon she’d be the wife of Captain Tristan Kent, a dangerous angel who caused her to want him so easily. Her passion was already his. Her heart, though, would have to resist.

      He’d said he wanted a taste of home, an Englishwoman, not necessarily her, since they didn’t know each other.

      Despite the longing she’d seen in his eyes, lasting love might not matter to him. She’d always yearned for someone to cherish her. Not likely in a marriage that had come about as theirs would. She’d know a few sensual nights followed by too many lonely days that she was afraid to face. The hours ahead were as unfathomable СКАЧАТЬ