Authors: Susannah Merrill
“You must excuse mi tripulación,” d’Alava referred to his crew, seeing Sarah’s retreat. “They have not seen una mujer in weeks, and never such a beautiful one. They will not be so very happy when I inform them that you are married to our friend, Stewart, for many of them know what a possessive rascal he is.”
The familiarity surprised Sarah and she raised her eyes to look up at him curiously. Stewart, his face set in a dark scowl, did not return her gaze. “But this time,” d’Alava was continuing, “I cannot blame you. The lady is not only your bride; she is by far the loveliest creature my eyes have ever beheld.” Sarah cringed inwardly as he first raked her with a bold leer, and then held her eyes prisoner with her own. “Captain Slade,” he remarked casually, grinning at Sarah, “I think I shall remain aboard your ship for the duration of our voyage. I am weary of my tiresome, brutish crew and the lonely life I have led these past months. I would much prefer to spend these days with old friends ... and new ones, I fervently anticipate.” His beringed hand reached out to grasp her fingers again and she used inhuman strength to keep from pulling back in disgust.
“As you wish, Señor,” Jeremiah said evenly. If he were surprised at this turn of events, Sarah could not detect it in his voice. “You’ll take my quarters of course.”
“I do not mind sharing them with you. We should all be as comfortable as possible, don’t you agree? Turgot!” A hulking scar-faced man suddenly materialized at d’Alava’s side. “See to our business here. I shall return shortly with additional crew members, and we will set sail immediately. Captain. Stewart. My dear Señora Chamberlain,” he bowed slightly and was gone.
When Stewart held open the door to the quarters, Sarah nearly fell into the nearest chair, quaking with the emotions she had been holding at bay. Stewart quickly came up with a bottle of brandy and poured her a liberal dose. “Drink this,” he ordered. “It will help.” She gulped the amber liquid and nearly choked to death on the burning sensation that scalded her throat. He patted her back until her coughing ceased and then brought her a glass of precious water. Sitting down beside her, he gave her a vacant glance before tossing off a shot himself.
Feeling the warmth of the brandy beginning to take effect, Sarah ventured, “D’Alava ... is he ... are you..?”
“Hardly,” Stewart sneered. “He is a snake. Fortunately, I know his traits quite well At one time, we served on the same ship, a Spanish trader. But that was before he chose to officially depart from the law.” Twirling the glass between his tanned fingers, Stewart seemed to talk more to himself than to her. “He’s not making things any easier for us by deciding to sail on this ship. He’s an extremely cunning, if somewhat impulsive man. I do not relish having to put up with his moods. Nor do I like you being subjected to his attentions. It’s obvious he wishes nothing better than to settle an old score.”
He looked at her narrowly, then back at the glass. “A woman. Someone who shared her favors with both of us, if you know what I mean. When we learned that fact, he challenged me to a duel. It was stupid of me to accept, for the girl meant nothing. But at the time, it seemed important to save face. I intended only to wound him, but the gun misfired. I nearly killed him.”
“We’re enemies because after I shot him, I sent word I never wanted the girl and if recovered, he could have her.” A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “I was somewhat more reckless then than now. She made things worse by refusing to go to him even though I made it clear I wanted nothing more to do with her.”
“You did ask,” he said gru ffly, sensing her disapproval. “Besides, it might help you handle this situation more sensitively if you know some of the history involved.”
Sarah turned around to see his dark gaze upon her. She shuddered involuntarily out of ... what? Fear? Or was it her body’s unbidden response to his overpowering magnetism? It seemed no matter whatever else transpired around her, his very presence forced the quickening of her heart, the breathlessness, and the incapacity to speak or act normally. In the brief second before he spoke again, she redoubled her pledge to somehow shake his domination, even under these new and adverse circumstances.
“You may find him charming, even fascinating,” Stewart was saying, “but remember this: He is a malevolent cutthroat. I have seen him torture and kill and for much less than a ship’s bellyful of goods or a beautiful woman. We are fortunate that he seems more interested in whatever fellowship we can offer ... for the time being. But make no mistake. It is always possible that he will change his mind about his intentions to confiscate only our cargo and leave us alone. We must try to cater to his whims, without letting him think we are doing so.” He gave her an intense look, but it seemed he was considering their situation rather than her.
Suddenly, with an oath, he slammed the glass down on the table and stood up, his eyes glazed and furious. For an instant, Sarah thought he had gone mad, so keen was his wrath. “That viper! How I detest the power he wields over us. I should have killed him when I had the chance!”
Pacingbeforeher,hishandsclawedhis unruly hair as he struggled with his impotence. Abruptly he stopped, his index finger poised only inches from her nose. “He wants you. You must know that. God, if only you weren’t so naïve! You can’t even take care of yourself, let alone control a man like d’Alava.”
His words made her bristle. “He thinks you’re my husband. Wasn’t this arranged for my protection?” she rebuked him, her voice on the edge of hysteria.
“’Tis only a deterrent – which has been considerably weakened by the fact that he will be in our midst. A man can get mightily hungry looking overlong at the food ...” His eyes dared her to blush. “He will find your innocence enticing. He’ll press you for some sign of approval which, of course, you cannot give. And because of your obvious revulsion and virginal indignation, he’ll be provoked into action, if only to save face. What we are about is a charade for which I daresay you are most unqualified.”
Her face went white with fury and her blue eyes narrowed into shards of steel. Through tight lips, she snarled, “You are so very confident of my ineptitude.”
“Cajoling appreciative males is not your forte. If it were, by now you would have a string of suitors from which to choose a suitable mate ....”
She slapped him hard, the sound of the blow filling the cabin. Both were equally surprised, but Stewart was quicker to recover, seizing the offending limb in a painful grasp.
“As your husband, I would be within my rights to have your hand permanently separated from your arm. You will not strike me again.”
Their eyes locked in a passionate struggle of wills. Seconds passed and still the maddening, insufferable contest continued. If the entire crew of the pirate ship were to burst through the door at that moment, Sarah’s pride would have still forbid her from turning away, so intense was her cause. And when she thought she would faint from the intensity of this wordless battle, Sarah saw that the tinder setting his brown eyes aflame was no longer rage but naked, burning desire.
Slowly, without blinking, his head bent to capture her lips. But in a last, desperate striving to win, she turned her face away, only to find it returned by his free hand which had closed around her jaw. Every fiber in her body screamed for release as his burning kiss stung her mouth. Only by forcing herself to recall his taunts was she able to remain rigid and unresponsive. Still he persisted, teasing her with his tongue, compelling her body to mold itself to his. Her heart pounding, her breath rapid and shallow, Sarah knew Stewart sensed she was weakening, and for once the realization fortified her.
His inflamed senses were finally penetrated by her implacability. Stewart dropped his hands, enabling Sarah to peel herself away from him, her blue eyes smoldering above fever-stained cheeks. “Perhaps I underestimate your skill in handling yourself,” he said quietly, the anger completely gone from his voice. Sarah dropped her eyes to consider what she had actually seen in his strangely poignant expression. But when she looked up again, he had turned away and was leaving the room.
CHAPTER 20
Señor d’Alava did not return to the captured vessel for over an hour, giving Stewart the time he needed to move his belongings into Sarah’s quarters. After curtly demanding that she make some room for his clothes in the wardrobe and bureau, he did not speak again as he worked quickly, leaving no doubt that they shared the cabin. From her position at the table in the center of the room, Sarah watched him furtively, a sense of trepidation gnawing at her stomach. Seeing his belongings mingled familiarly with hers made her situation all the more real.
On his last trip between the adjacent quarters, he put away the last of his possessions and without a warning, began removing his shirt. Sarah’s eyes widened as she caught her first glimpse of his completely naked flesh. Even as her cheeks burned, she found something awesomely appealing in the sight of his broad shoulders, the well-defined muscles on his bronzed back and the fact that his tapered waist appeared so hard and lean, without an ounce of bulk. Surely he was the strongest man she had ever seen, capable of defending her if the need ever arose. She was mesmerized by the play of his muscles as he washed himself at the commode, the clean smell of the soap he used wafting toward her.
When he completed his toilette and turned around, Sarah ducked her head away quickly, angry with herself for being so curious that she’d risked being caught staring ... again. Stewart used one hand to briskly towel his damp, curling hair dry, and with the other he unexpectedly pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. Sarah turned to look at him slowly, hoping the blush was gone from her cheeks, but the nearness of his naked torso caused her to tremble. She saw that his brown eyes registered the involuntary movement, but he did not comment. He sighed, and then, almost to himself, said, “If only my mother could see me now
– a married man.”
“She died last year of a fever. My father is a widower.” She studied Stewart intently as he stared at the table, looking strangely tired, pensive. For some inexplicable reason she wished he would tell her more. But she dared not ask, disturbed by the intimacy such talk could lead to.
It was then that Stewart pushed his chair back and stood muttering a gruff Quickly he began places, his intention to change in front of her becoming quite clear. Abruptly Sarah rose from the table and scurried toward the door, mumbling her plan to take some fresh air on deck.
up, clearing his throat and
“Don’t open that door.” The voice from the far side of the room was cold, threatening. Biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut in a mixture of futility and outrage, Sarah rested her cheek against the doorframe, her fingers locked tightly around the latch. As she listened to the unmistakable sounds of boots and clothing dropping to the rug, her embarrassment nearly caused her to choke out loud. Surely he must recognize the indecency of what he was doing! When he finally spoke, Sarah shivered with the fear that he might come closer, or worse, force her to turn around. But he did neither.
“You are not to walk anywhere on this ship without me or Jeremiah at your side. Not only is d’Alava a threat to your safety, he’s bringing aboard a pack of those felons who, only a short time ago, expressed their sordid interest in your charms. Would you rather take your chances alone with them ... or with me?” His last words held an unmistakable note of conquest that infuriated her.
Through clenched teeth, she snarled, “You offer a choice when there is none. What difference does it make who rapes me? The defilement would be the same.”
“Are you being rhetorical, or merely naïve?” he asked incredulously while he dressed, undisturbed that it was her back that he spoke to. “Rape is what you’d suffer at the hands of one of those barbarians out there who wishes only to satisfy his animal urgings. On the other hand ....”
“There is no other hand!” she spat, pressing her cheek against the door. “Rape is taking a woman against her will. Any man who touches me is a rapist!” Hoping her warning was clear, she waited breathlessly for his reply, nearly fainting when his hand suddenly clamped on her forearm before flinging her backward against the door.
The space between was charged with a degree of tension Sarah found oppressive, fueled all the more by Stewart’s calm, almost lazy posture as his hand rested casually on the latch. It was all she could do to keep from scratching the sardonic grin off his bronzed face. “Any man, Sarah?” he finally said, his brown eyes piercing her. “Surely you are not so ignorant as to believe that rape could exist between a husband and wife?” Her eyes widened in shock as she clutched her hands to her breasts in a protective gesture.
“Thismarriageisacharade,”shehissed,her cheeks burning with emotion. “Surely you understand that any in-intimacy would only complicate the situation.” Finding courage in her logic, she added, “As you’ve managed to remain a bachelor for this long, it appears you’ve prejudged the consequence of your dalliances correctly. Would you lose your freedom for a foolish mistake?”
To her irritation, he chuckled, “Perhaps you give me more credit than I deserve. Until today, it was mostly luck that spared me from captivity – matrimonial or otherwise. Now I find myself imprisoned by a hated foe and married to a beautiful but prim and unrelenting shrew.” His face hardened. “One whose undisguised loathing for me bodes ill for our chances of being released unscathed.”
With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture of capitulation. “I won’t rape you Sarah. I’ve no wish to further complicate our situation, or my own life.” His eyes lifted, boring into her blue gaze. “But I warn you: Unless you act like a real bride – warm, loving, and reasonably content – our chances of fooling d’Alava are nil. He is dubious enough to find me married at all; let’s not arouse his suspicions further by suggesting that our union is anything less that blissfully passionate. Men like me don’t marry for any of the usual reasons ....”