Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (40 page)

“Iced over, I’m afraid, Captain. Now if you would just—”

“You would not lie where refuse had been,” he repeated pensively. “So you will not crawl in beside me because another has warmed my bed, is that it?”

“Time is of the essence here!” Skye said irritably. “All right, no, you stupid, stinking, stupid knave, I would not so dirty myself. Are you satisfied? May we get on with it?”

He shook his head, his eyes insistent upon hers. “You didn’t mention your husband, madame. Isn’t marital life bliss? I had thought to hear you cry that you could not betray him—not that you would not play where another lass had tarried.”

She inhaled sharply, hating him with her whole heart. He had thought of words that should have come to her lips, should have been wafted there on wings from her very soul.

She stayed stiff and still and silent, praying that she showed no emotion. “My reasons, Captain Hawk, do not matter. Let’s let it remain sufficient that it shall not come to pass.”

“Skye, Skye,” he continued mildly, casting off his sheets to rise from the bed stark naked. Skye tightened her jaw and turned about, determined not to see him. He was taunting her, he wanted reaction, and so help her, she would not give it to him.

She had to react; she had no choice. He came around behind her, catching the hood from her head and pulling it back to display the length of her hair. “You’re forgetting, Lady—Cameron, that I am a pirate. And we all know what pirate’s do to their women!”

Skye emitted a sharp sound of displeasure, stepping quickly away from him. Fear crept along her spine. She spun around, desperately wondering how to elude him. She moved to the left and he smiled slowly, his hands upon his hips, everything about him bold and brash. Like a cat with prey he stalked and played with her. “Bastard!” she hissed.

“Sea slime!” he corrected.

She turned about again and he followed her. He no longer played. He caught hold of her arm and sent her flying to the bed, then sprawling down upon it. She cried out, flailing at
him wildly. He ignored her flying fists and feet, leaping roughly astride her and pinning her there.

His eyes were alive with silver sparks. “Alas, I am a pirate. And you, my love, are in my power once again. And now that I have you here … ah, I retaste every sweet morsel of all that ever lay between us.”

“Quit this and get up!” Skye insisted with bravado.

“I am a pirate, madame! Forceful and brutal. I can wrench you into my arms—”

“You have already done that!”

“I repeat! I can wrench you into my arms and force you beneath me. Brutally, terribly, I can ravage and rape you. Isn’t that what one expects of a pirate?”

Her eyes went very wide as she desperately tried to read his mind and his reason. His naked body was a blaze of fire against her, burning through her cloak and gown, corset and bone and petticoats. She didn’t want to tremble beneath him, but she was afraid. She didn’t think that she had ever seen him this fierce, this taut. This demanding, seeking something of her. She swallowed tightly, looking up at the living steel of his eyes, feeling the force of his muscle and flesh against her, the wrought-iron pressure of his fingers lacing around her wrists.

He did mean to rape her, she thought. He was not the man she had known at all. He meant to have her, and brutally.

Just as she told Roc that it had been …

“Stop it! Please, stop it!” she whispered to him. She trembled from head to toe.

Some of the fever left his eyes. He bent low against her. His lips brushed hers, his beard and mustache teased the softness of her flesh. She would have twisted away but his kiss was so gentle, so light, baby’s breath. Then he stared down at her again.

“You must listen to me, please!” Skye said. She wanted to hate him so thoroughly. She could never let him touch her again, but she despised herself as well. When he came near, there was warmth, there was fire. She felt alive.

She loved her husband! she cried to herself. But her husband was so very like this man.

“Talk.”

He still sat above her, impervious to his lack of dress. Skye sought out his eyes. “I need your help. And my—my husband could be right behind us.”

“Oh?”

“My father is missing. He isn’t missing—I mean, I know where he is. He was anxious to see me, and when the
Silver Messenger
returned here, he outfitted her with a new captain. It turned out to be Logan. Logan has my father. Please, I need you.”

“I’ve heard about it,” he told her.

“Then …?”

“You say that you think that your husband might well be on his way after you?”

“Yes.”

“Why. Where did you leave him?”

“What does that matter to you? I tell you that time is of the essence.”

“I am curious. If you want my help, answer my questions.”

“You haven’t told me if I will get your help or not!”

“Talk!”

“Oh, you are a fool anyway! Spotswood will hang you if he finds you here.”

“And your husband will slay me.”

“Of course!”

“I might well slay him.” He fell down by her side, rested upon an elbow, staring at her with fascination again. She rose quickly, leaping out of the bed, returning his glare.

“Don’t be so certain, Captain Hawk. I have seen him in action, and he is a bold, brave fighter.”

“Oh?” His brows shot up with surprise. “I thought you were determined to rid yourself of the excess baggage of your betrothed—your husband, that is—the moment you touched shore.”

“None of this is your concern.”

He smiled, enjoying her, enjoying himself. He rolled over, staring up at the ceiling. “So, madame, it was not so awful then. You lay with him and came back to me, furious that I should have another in my bed. Were your expecting my undying
devotion. Should I have pined away while you slept with my illustrious cousin?”

Skye snatched up his black breeches from the floor and tossed them along with his boots upon his naked belly. He grunted from the pain and stared up at her, still smiling.

“Your temper, love! Marriage had not improved it.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”

“I will pay you.”

“Of course, you will pay.”

“I have gold.”

He cast his legs over the side of the bed and slipped into his breeches. Standing, he tied them, then sought about for his hose. His bronze chest glimmered in the candlelight, rippling muscle defined and fascinating.

He sat again in a chair before the mantel and donned his hose and boots and buckled his black knee breeches. Skye watched him in silence all the while. She waited. Then, exasperated, she repeated herself. “I have gold! Are you going to help me or not?”

He stood and found his light linen shirt upon the foot of the bed. He drew it over his head, then looked at her with a slow lazy grin and a long, cunning assessment. “I have a lot of gold already, madame. I am not just a raping, plundering, murdering sea-sliming pirate, but I am a very successful raping, plundering, murdering, sea-sliming pirate. I don’t really need your gold.”

“You have to help me!”

“Why?”

“Because, because …”

“Because you’re a damsel in distress?” he suggested. He came toward her, taking her hands, keeping his eyes upon her as he kissed both sets of her knuckles. “Ah, because I was the first lover you had ever known! Women have soft spots for such things, don’t they?”

She jerked her hands away from him and lashed out at him. He caught her fists and, laughing, drew her against him. He held her tight and met her eyes.

“Let go of me!” she said.

“You came to me.”

She didn’t know if he referred to the night now, or if he talked about that night in a different lifetime in his paradise at Bone Cay. The night when the tropical breezes had swept through the windows.

“Please, let go of me.” She hesitated. “Whether you help me or not, you mustn’t stay around here, don’t you know that? Spotswood—Spotswood knows that you are here.”

“Does he?” The Hawk seemed unalarmed.

“Yes. He’ll hang you.”

“I do not need gold.”

“Please, you must—”

“Ah, yes. I must.”

“And you must hurry. My husband—”

“Why, madame, didn’t you go to your husband with this request? You told me yourself that he was brave and bold and competent.”

“But he is not a pirate!”

The Hawk’s lashes fell over his silver eyes, hiding his thoughts from her. “Not a pirate, you say?”

“No,” she murmured.

His arms tightened around her. “But what if he were?”

“He is not! You can find Logan, I know that you can. Roc could fight him, but he could not negotiate. He could not draw upon support from others in a battle. Please …”

He still held her too tight. She could feel the length of him, hard, determined.

“I do know where Logan is,” he murmured.

“What?”

“I know where he is. I heard of it when I arrived here.”

“Then—oh, my God, please! Help me.”

A slow, cynical smile curved into his lip. “For payment, madame, always for payment.”

“Of course, I told you, I have gold—”

“And I have told you, I do not want your gold.”

“Then—”

“I want you, milady.”

Skye gasped. “But—”

“You, milady. I have named my price. I will have you. Just
as I had you upon Bone Cay. Scented softly from the bath, sweet and seductive, your hair a sunset blaze about your naked shoulders, and most of all … your will agreeable to the act, your heart and body not just willing, but eager.”

“I—I can’t!”

He smiled and released her, turning away. “That is my price, and my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

She stamped a foot furiously against the ground. “I cannot pay such a price! I’m—I am married now.”

“Now you think of such a thing!” he said. “You were married at the very time we lay together before.”

“I did not know it then.”

“You knew you were betrothed.”

“What does it matter! I cannot pay this price.”

He shook his head, still smiling, as he picked up his black frockcoat and pulled it around his shoulders. He found his scabbard and buckled it around his waist. He set his hat atop his head and found his pistol to shove into his waist.

He tipped his plumed hat to her.

“Then, adieu, milady. I will take your advice and vacate the premises.” He strode past her toward the door.

“No!” Skye cried out.

He turned around and arched a brow to her slowly.

“I’ll—I’ll pay.”

“You will?” He waited. “And what of your ardent husband?”

“It is none of your concern! I said that I will pay.”

“Perhaps it is every bit my concern.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” he said swiftly. He strode back into the room and took her hand. He turned it over and planted a kiss on it. Then his eyes met hers. “Our bargain is made, milady.”

“Yes.”

“I will collect upon the payment, come what may.”

“Yes.” Silver chills raced along her spine. She had made a bargain in hell, she thought.

What of her ardent husband?

She couldn’t think of him now, couldn’t believe in him or dare to believe in love. Her father’s life was at stake. Was
another night spent in the arms of a pirate a small enough price for life?

No … for it was betrayal now.

The Hawk was staring at her, as if his silver eyes read her thoughts, and her very soul. He kissed her forehead, then took her hand.

“Come, lady. Our deal is made, and our bargain sealed. I will deliver.…”

“And then payment will be made.”

XV

T
he Silver Hawk cast open the door to the hallway. “Robert! Robert Arrowsmith.” he called.

Robert could not have been far away, for he came instantly to the door. “Aye, Captain?”

“Give the order to our own men below that we must get to the longboats and onto the ship. We sail out tonight.”

“Aye, sir!”

“And when the warning is given, come back to me. You may escort Lady Cameron back to wherever it is that you found her. Deliver her to the lieutenant governor with my compliments and suggest that he might wish to keep her somewhere out of harm’s way.”