How To Please a Pirate (16 page)

The dirk bit into Hugh’s flesh, no deeper
than a hair’s breadth. Sweat beaded his old friend’s brow and
Gabriel caught a whiff of urine.

The old wound in Gabe’s heart ached once or
twice. He’d never have left Dragon Caern if not for Hugh and
Catherine’s betrayal. He’d never have turned pirate, never have
become the beast he was trying so hard to tame. All that longed for
peace and civility within him ordered him to put down the blade.
Yet, the beast whispered to him, tempting him with the thought that
it would be so sweet to let his dirk drink its fill of this
coward’s blood.

“My lord . . . “ Jacquelyn’s voice called him
back from the brink of murder. “Please.”

With effort, he lowered the dirk. But he kept
a firm grip on Hugh’s shoulder, forcing him to remain on his
knees.

“You’re right, as always, Mistress,” he said.
“Let there be decency and decorum this night.”

Hugh slumped forward in relief.

A totally wicked thought occurred to Gabriel
and he was unable to resist this one. “I will not kill you as you
deserve. However, penance is required for your crime.”

Jacquelyn held him with her gaze over the
sobbing Hyacinth’s shoulder. “My lord, if you demand redress in a
public fashion, the damage to Hy—“

“I would never do anything to harm my
nieces,” Gabriel assured her. “In fact, I shall see to it that
Baron Curtmantle helps them. The girls have been studying the
practices of the noble savages who populate the wilderness in the
Colonies. Hugh, you’re going to aid their study in exactly the same
way I did a few days ago.”

He winked at his niece.

“Daisy, get a rope.”

Gabriel made one more circuit of his
chambers, then climbed back into bed. The feather tick was
certainly more comfortable than his narrow captain’s berth aboard
the
Revenge,
but he still missed the sea’s constant rocking,
now gentle, now tossing him about. He willed his mind to give up
and let his body find sleep.

It was a losing battle.

He laced his fingers behind his head and
stared up into the damask bed curtains. At least, the evening had
been declared a rousing success. Supper was heartily enjoyed by
all. The string quartet was nearly inexhaustible, playing one reel
after another as his guests reveled in exuberant country dancing
after their oh-so-proper courtly steps earlier.

And almost everyone left him at the door
exclaiming over the delightful comedic farce presented after the
meal.

His lovely nieces played an Algonquin war
party and one thoroughly humiliated Baron Curtmantle served
admirably as their prey. Jacquelyn made Gabriel step in, acting as
“His Majesty’s loyal militia” to rescue the poor baron before the
flames got too high. Hugh was covered with sweat and smoke, but
without a singe on his miserable hide, more’s the pity.

After making a spectacle of Baron Curtmantle,
Gabriel called Meriwether up from the wine cellar to stitch the
shallow flesh wound Gabriel had given Hugh during their swordfight.
Meri told him later the baron whimpered throughout the procedure,
especially since Meri forbade him a drink of spirits to dull the
pain.

Of course, nothing kept Meri from taking a
nip or three while he stitched.

Gabriel sighed.
So much for turning the
other cheek.

He really intended to let the past stay
there. His pain over Hugh bedding his betrothed was so far
dissipated by time, it was as though it had happened to someone
else. Gabriel had actually been pleased to see Hugh again. He’d
been willing to overlook Hugh’s sins since he had plenty of his own
to atone for, but damn his eyes! The man had to try and seduce his
niece. If Gabriel was still Captain aboard the
Revenge,
he’d
have run up the red flag and given Hugh no quarter.

The loss of Hugh’s friendship was no great
thing, but now he’d made an enemy of him. Who knew what Hugh might
do? Part of him wished he’d followed his instinct and spilled all
Hugh’s blood in the tower.

There was much to be said for a clean kill. A
wounded boar was more likely to take down his hunter than a healthy
one. Humiliated and alive, Hugh was more dangerous than ever to all
Gabriel held dear.

But Jacquelyn had stayed his hand.

For this night at least, seeing the quiet
approval in Jacquelyn’s gray eyes was worth whatever danger the
future might hold.

* * *

“
Lyn.” His deep voice wrapped her in its
velvet timbre, but it gave her no peace.

The aching wouldn’t stop. Every muscle in
her body clenched in concert with her throbbing folds. There was an
emptiness inside her that cried out for filling, a longing that
knew no surcease.

His mouth on her breasts was heaven. Her
nipples drew up tight and tender. She arched her back as his tongue
flicked over them, teasing them into demanding little points.

“
Gabriel,” she whimpered his name over and
over as if she were chanting a prayer. Finally he suckled her,
flooding her being with pleasure.

But the pleasure was sharp-edged. Far from
satisfying her, he only whetted her hunger. She grabbed a fistful
of the linen sheets when his lips trailed over her sweat-slick ribs
and belly to delve into her inner secrets.

She cried out when his mouth parted her,
loving her sensitive mound of flesh with his lips and tongue
and—Good Lord!—his teeth. Jacquelyn teetered on the edge of some
precipice, but couldn’t seem to fall. She rubbed her breasts with
the flat of her palms, trying to still their complaint at being
left wanting.

The scent of her own arousal filled her
nostrils and still the ache wouldn’t stop. She was too far gone for
shame to matter any more.

“
Please,” was all she could manage before
he raised himself to claim her mouth. His tongue sweetly invaded
and she tasted herself on him as his weight settled on her.

Then in a sudden rush, he was inside her,
swollen and potent. She expanded to receive him with joy. They
moved in tandem, slick and wet, skin on skin, but the ache went on.
Each thrust only sharpened her torment.

“
Gabriel,” she moaned. “I can’t . . . I
can’t . . .”

“Lyn, what is it?” His voice washed over her,
rumbling and true.

She thrashed to one side, trembling with
need. His hand brushed her temple and slid down to cradle her
cheek.

“Wake up, Lyn. You’re dreaming,” he said
softly. “And though I’ve no hope of heaven, I’d give a year in
paradise to know what that dream was about.”

That brought her bolt upright. She jerked her
sheets to her chin. Had he been bedding her as she slept?

No. Her nightshift was bunched at her waist
but it was still there beneath her sheets and Lord Drake was fully
clothed. In her dream, they’d both been splendidly naked.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded,
louder than she intended.

Gabriel put a finger to her lips to shush
her. “Easy, now. There’s no cause for alarm.” He settled beside her
on the bed and lowered his hand.

“I wake to find you in my chambers in the
dead of night. How can you say there’s no cause for alarm?” When
she inhaled, she was dismayed to find a little muskiness from her
dream lingered in her bedclothes. “We narrowly avoided scandal
earlier tonight with Hyacinthe. If anyone saw you enter . . .”

“No one saw me enter.”

“How can you be sure?’

“Because I didn’t come through the door,” he
said, his teeth flashing white in the light of a single candle.
Behind him, she noticed a gaping hole in one of her walls. “This
old castle is more riddled with secret passages than a block of
Swiss cheese. You didn’t know?”

Jacquelyn shook her head. If he scented her
arousal at least he was gentleman enough not to mention it. Her
groin still throbbed.

“Come. I’ll show you.” He stood and offered
his hand.

She didn’t dare touch him. Her skin prickled
all over, charged and sensitive. She was dry tinder waiting for a
single spark to burst into full flame. If she touched so much as a
fingertip of him, a dark, wanton part of her might pull him back
into bed with her to finish the madness her dream started.

Instead, she wrapped a sheet around herself
as an extra layer of protection from him and climbed out of bed to
inspect the opening. Cool air from the dim, secret corridor
shivered over her.

“Rupert and I used to play in these passages
when we were children,” he said, his tone both wistful and boyishly
excited. “They go everywhere—from the battlements to the lowest
dungeon.”

“Really?” She peered into the void. “Are all
the chambers connected this way?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But the corridors
all seem to lead eventually to mine.”

She took the candle from him and stepped into
the passage. There was plenty of room for her, but the musty space
was barely wide enough for his broad shoulders to pass through and
only a hand’s breadth taller than Gabriel himself. It was festooned
with cobwebs, but otherwise seemed clean and dry, leading off in
both directions.

“How did you know this particular hidden
doorway led to my chamber?” A sudden naughty thought seared her
imagination. “There aren’t peep-holes, are there?”

The idea that he might have secretly watched
her sometime as she dressed and undressed, or bathed in her little
hipbath was at once horrifying and beguiling. If she’d known, would
she have lingered at her task, stretching naked for his
consideration? Might she let the soap bubbles slide longer than
necessary down her limbs or take sly pleasure in spreading herself
with her washing cloth, hoping to hear his sharp intake of breath
through the wall?

A wicked tingle settled between her legs. She
pulled the sheet tighter around herself and gave a little shake,
trying to slough off the last wayward urges of her wanton
dream.

“A peephole? No,” he said with sorrow in his
voice. “But the idea has merit! I could certainly see to it, if
you’d like.”

“Absolutely not!” Her cheeks burned. He
seemed to sense her lurid reaction to the thought of him spying
upon her. “Then if you couldn’t see me, how did you know this is my
chamber?“

“I didn’t. Just fortunate, I guess,” he said
with a grin. “I couldn’t sleep. I remembered the old system of
passageways and thought I’d do some exploring, just to see if my
memory of them was correct. When I heard someone call out my name,
I nearly jumped out of my skin.”

“Someone called out?” She shriveled with
embarrassment. In her dream, she’d fairly sung his name.

“Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be
you, Mistress.” He took a step closer to her. “I wasn’t able to
find solace in the arms of Morpheus this night, but from the sounds
you were making as you slept, it seemed you certainly found
someone’s arms. Since you called my name, dare I hope they were
mine?”

“I rarely have any recollection of my
dreams,” she said as handed him the candle. This dream however was
fresh and stark as a full moon on a cloudless night. “A night
phantom is of no import and when one wakes from it, the vision
flees like the vapor it always was.”

But most dreams didn’t leave her with such a
heavy, dull ache in her groin. It was almost enough to make her
believe Father Eustace’s warning that there were such things as
incubi, malicious spirits intent on driving women mad with desire
as they slept.

Except her particular incubus definitely bore
Gabriel Drake’s face.

“Now, since you have no business in my
chamber, would you please be so kind as to leave the same way you
came?” she said, waving a hand toward the opening in the wall.

“I can understand your desire to return to
that dream,” he said. “Sounded like you were having a wonderful
time.”

Part of her knew she should be affronted, but
another part couldn’t condemn him for the truth. Her dream was
wonderful.

And frustrating.

And maddening.

She didn’t know how much more of it she could
bear.

“I doubt very much that I can go back to
sleep now.” The pulsing between her legs would probably torment her
for hours. “Would . . . would you like some company in your
explorations?”

His grin almost outshined the candle.

“Nothing would please me more.” He cocked a
suggestive brow. “Well, almost nothing.”

Jacquelyn glowered at him. She might dream of
wild abandon with this man, but in the real world, she had to help
him do his duty to Dragon Caern.

“If you are coming with me, you might wish to
change your mode of dress. Not that I don’t find you delectable
en dishabille
,” he hastened to add. “But no one has used
these passageways for years. I’d hate to see you soil your
nightshift.”

“One moment then,” she said as she padded to
the trunk that held her belongings. “I still have Timothy’s
clothes. They’re little more than rags anyway. Especially since you
nearly ruined the shirt. But maybe I can tie it closed in the
back.”

“Pray, don’t trouble yourself on my account,”
he said as she pulled out the boy’s garments. “There are so many
cobwebs in the tunnels, no doubt you’ll want me leading the way. So
if your backside is a bit exposed, I’ll never know.” His lips
twitched with suppressed amusement. “But I can dream.”

“Then by all means, my lord, dream on,” she
said. “And while you’re about it, turn your back so I can
dress.”

He complied with deceptive meekness.

“You won’t turn around until I say?”

“Mistress, you have my solemn promise,” he
said. “Wild horses could not drag me from this exact spot.”

Eyeing his broad back, Jacquelyn reached down
and grabbed her hem. She pulled the nightshift off in one smooth
motion.