"You assume I'd leave her."
Tibetha eyed him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Tibetha had more than her fair share of insight. There wasn't a man alive he feared, but Tibetha had a way of looking at him which cut straight into his soul.
"Give me your hand."
She held hers up. A tingle raced down his spine when he laid his hand in her open palm. She looked down, gently tracing the lines pressed into his skin. She muttered something in a
language from her home.
"I don't believe in soothsaying, Tibetha."
She smacked his open palm. The sound popped as pain snaked up to his wrist.
"You'd better listen to Tibetha good." Her eyes had turned glassy, the dark brown centers unnaturally large. "In this life, you only ever going to love one woman. Be too stubborn to admit it and you will long for her until the day you die. Only she will calm your restlessness. Turn your stubborn back on love and it will never favor you again."
Warren scoffed at her but the hairs on his nape didn't return to normal. Icy fingers crept through his mind, touching off confusion. It was soothsaying, nothing but carnival entertainment.
"Enough superstition. I need a bath and a good meal. Not sideshow antics. Miss St. John is a necessary insurance against a watery grave for my crew."
Tibetha harrumphed but led him toward a room with a slipper tub. Reed mats were tied to strong poles to provide privacy along the length of the building that Tibetha ran her bath business out of.
The sailors who came ashore paid well for use of her slipper tubs. The building was little more than a row of huts because hurricanes often levelled everything.
"Take your bath. Maybe you will wash away some of that stubbornness."
"I doubt it. My stubbornness keeps me alive."
Tibetha narrowed her eyes. "It's true it serves you well. But love is a fragile thing."
Love...
Warren began disrobing and scoffed at the idea of it. The only problem came when he sat back in the tub, the water soothing his bare skin. Lorena's face surfaced in his mind, just as she'd looked when the waves had carried their boat speeding toward the shore. With her eyes sparkling in enjoyment and her uncovered hair gleaming in the tropical sun. His cock stirred. Heat flooded the flesh until it rose stiff and hard in the water. Opening his eyes, he looked down his nude body.
Lorena would likely shriek if she viewed him like this, cock hard and erect. Society was
whitewashing everything, right down to a man's relationship with his own wife. Sex was
performed in a nightshirt and only in a dark room. He leaned against the high back of the tub with a groan. Lorena was a lady. He owed her that respect, owed her shelter from his hunger.
But he still wanted to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her pouting lips. Every time she offered him her staunch and composed expression, he wanted to reach out and tug on her braid. Just to see if he could get her to sputter. A huge grin split his lips.
Aye, he was part boy. He liked to play, but his idea of fun included kissing more than sweet lips.
He wanted to trail his mouth along her throat and down across her chest until he found her
nipples.
If Tibetha hadn't been standing there on the beach, he'd have taken a kiss right there in the surf.
Lorena would call him uncivilized. His lips curved up.
She was correct. In fact, the longer he was around her, the more he felt rules mattered less and less. What did matter was the sweet way her skin smelled. The way she tilted her head,
unknowingly tempting him with her lips. Acting gentlemanly didn't suit his mood. Too often, he found his mind wondering to where she lay in his bunk. But love? Warren scoffed at the idea.
Women fell in love. Not men. Well not men like himself.
There wasn't a place on earth that scared him bad enough to turn away from it if his mission took him there. He'd gladly pit his strength and wit against the forces of the royal navy and whatever else the uncertain horizon offered.
But not love. It was the single force of nature that held enough power to bring a man to his knees.
Tibetha was right about one thing. Lorena was the sort of woman he'd never forget. Her courage already burned into his soul, making it impossible not to admire her. But it was more than that.
More than just enjoyment of her strengths. She radiated something that threatened to draw him closer if he looked into her eyes too deeply. Sweet and sultry, it wove around his senses like some fabled incense from the east with the power to enchant. It burned away logic until there was only one thing remaining.
His craving for her.
His mouth was dry for want of her kiss. Which was exactly why he had to resist the urge to
discover what her lips tasted like.
He had to, for both their sakes.
"Take that dress off, girl. Can't no one bathe properly in clothing. You need to wash your skin."
Tibetha came back into the room without knocking. Lorena straightened but held back any sound of shock. Her fingers tightened on the bar of soap, some of it squishing through her fingers. The scent of fresh bread teased her nose, drawing her attention to the wooden platter in Tibetha's hands.
"My chemise was so foul I thought to give it a wash along with me."
Tibetha nodded as she set the plate down. She cast a look out the open doors and frowned. "Well give it to me and I'll set a hot iron on it. The thunderstorms are here, lots of clouds today. It won't dry unless I press it."
Tibetha didn't wait. She walked right up to the tub and pulled on the wet garment. It slithered up Lorena's body and over her head, leaving her completely bare. Tibetha muttered under her breath before opening the twin doors that made up the outer wall of the bathroom. She simply left them open, revealing a section of white sand beach.
Lorena sank down into the water. She hadn't bathed nude in a decade. The moment it became
fashionable for ladies to be modest, Godford had sent along a note to her insisting she and her sisters begin wearing chemises into the tub.
She'd thought it idiotic at the time. Now she was accustomed to it and felt insecure without a chemise on.
A frown marred her face. It was ridiculous. The idea was to clean your skin. Such a task was rather difficult when it was covered in fabric. Even thin cotton. Besides, the water felt so good against her bare skin. Nothing had been as delightful as unlacing that damned corset. Sleeping in the thing was driving her insane. So was being dirty. Grasping the soap bar, she slid
it along her arm. The soap glided much easier now. Her skin became more sensitive, more aware of each touch.
Well, that was Warren's fault.
Her cheeks heated. Guilt chewed through her accusation. She was hardly as disinterested in the man as she might be. Quite the opposite really. Sensation raced across her skin and down over her breasts. Her small coral nipples tingled before drawing into tight little peaks. Lorena stared at them, wondering how just thinking about a man might do such a thing. Obviously lust was
harder to control than Sunday morning lectures said it was.
But why was it so forbidden? She worked the soap over her breasts and shivered. Delight
traveled through her, making her breath rattle. Why was it so horrible to enjoy her own body? Or be honest enough to admit she wanted to discover what Warren's kiss felt like? It seemed
rather impossible to hide from what her flesh was feeling.
Years of lectures and dictates warned her that to do so labelled her lowly bred. Maybe they were correct. Warren was the first man she'd met who did not conform to the strict rules of conduct she had lived under.
Been bound with actually. No dancing at all and walking out only with that stupid bonnet on her head to prevent sidelong glances. Little wonder no one fell in love until after the wedding, you never got a chance to look at a man until then. Or a woman. Maybe men did have it more
difficult when it came to courting. With girls all covered up, how were they to decide on one who they might have tender feelings for?
It was all very confusing. As well as frustrating. Warren's promise to book her passage wherever she chose opened up a whole new world. He would keep his word. She felt that in her heart. The man had honor in him, even if it was the same streak of loyalty that had prompted him to abduct her in the first place.
Which led her all neatly back to not knowing what to think or feel about him. Her body had
definite ideas. The tips of her nipples were still hard and heat flickered along her skin. Between her thighs, more sensation pooled and begged for attention. Uncertainty held her in its grip while the look in Warren's eyes taunted her, daring her to sample what she craved. With a sigh she finished her bath. The afternoon was growing darker, the wind kicking up. Tibetha had left her a dressing robe. The garment was in the newer fashion, actually a loose overdress. It buttoned up to her collarbones and draped to the floor. It had a sash to tie about her waist, but Lorena left it on the chair. The air felt good on her skin. Wicked or not she was going to
enjoying being free of all her clothing for a few moments.
She walked over to the plate, the scent of bread drawing her to it. She'd had a meal on board ship but only the hot cereal she was given every morning. The fluffy loaf of bread looked decadent.
The tray also held a colourful assortment of fruits, only a few of them Lorena recognized. But they looked delightful, she could actually smell the sugar in them. It was amazing how a few short weeks without such things had sharpened her senses. She sampled them all, smiling at the sweet taste. Breaking the small round of yeast-risen bread in half, she inhaled the scent. In order to preserve space, there was naught but hardtack on board ships. She ate too much and had to force herself to stop before she suffered a bellyache. Reaching for a small cloth, she tied up the remaining bread and fruit to take back to the Huntress. Holly would be quite happy.
She drew in a deep sigh. She hadn't thought of escape yet. Hadn't tried to gain Tibetha's
assistance in finding a ship to hurry her away from Warren Rawlins. She doubted the woman
would go against the captain of the Huntress. The man brought her customers after all. But that was only an excuse to avoid putting an end to her time with Warren Rawlins.
Thunder rumbled above the little hut, wind making the dried palm leaves that covered the roof rushe.
The open doors gave her pause but no one was in sight. The waves crashed onto the shore, the sound filling the room. Such a view was magnificent. The storm was beginning to break, fat rain drops falling from the sky. They made little indentions in the dry sand until the beach was covered with tiny craters. The wind whipped in and up her legs beneath the loose dressing gown.
But the air was still warm. No chill to send her running for shelter. The large leaves of the tropical plants stretched out to catch the water, the air filled with the sound of the water hitting the surface of those plants. It was wild and wonderful in a way no book she'd ever read might convey.
Moving forward, Lorena reached out beyond the edge of the roof. Warm water splashed onto her bare palms. Sensation snaked up her arms and she moved farther away from the protection of the roof so the water might fall on her forearms. It was decadent. A freedom she had never noticed she yearned for. So much sensation and it had been buried beneath layers of clothing.
She stepped out onto the sand. Her bare toes sinking into it. Tipping her head back, she faced the sky and the falling water. It coated her from head to toe, the dressing gown sticking to her every curve.
"You're a siren."
Warren growled at her but she didn't take exception to the tone. In fact she enjoyed it. She didn't want anything civilized invading the moment.
"You tempt a man to do what he knows will end in his death."
His shirt was translucent. Lorena shuddered but did not look away. In truth, she didn't think she could turn her head for any reason. His chest was sculpted with hard ridges of muscle. Two small pebbles marked where his nipples were. Her gaze traveled down his lean waist but found the
wool of his britches held the water better. It didn't conform to his lower body. Heat touched her cheeks but she refused to think about what she was doing. The wind beat the leaves against one another and thunder boomed loud enough to make her ears ring. A bolt of lightning split open the black mass of cloud.
"If I am a siren, you are Pandora and responsible for unlocking the box." She lifted her chin proudly and held it steady even when his gaze slid down her length. His features tightened, that tic returning to the side of his jaw. Heat flickered in his eyes as bright as the lightning when he returned his gaze to her face.
"If that's so, then I insist on making sure you experience everything my jaded company has to offer."
His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him. Thunder cracked again. Her breasts flattened against his harder chest. One large hand threaded through the wet strands of her hair to cup the back of her head.
His kiss was hard. As solid and unyielding as his body. He angled her head to the side to press his mouth more firmly against her own, his thumb reaching around the side of her jaw to pull her chin down. He took instant
advantage of her open mouth, the kiss turning as violent as the storm around them.
There was too much sensation, too many points where her flesh burned because it was in contact with his. She twisted in his embrace, her hands flattening on his chest. Hunger became a living thing inside her belly. It flickered across the entrance to her passage, burning its way inside her.
She'd never been so aware of that part of her body, never realized it could yearn to be touched.
A soft sound of distress passed her lips as she became overwhelmed by it all. She leaned away from her partner, seeking enough space to clear her thoughts for a moment. Her heart was racing so fast, she wasn't sure it could stand the strain. She broke her lips free, her neck arching away from the kiss. Warren trailed his mouth across her jaw and onto the column of her neck. But his kisses became softer, like the rain