Authors: Connie Mason
He couldn’t help but note how light she was, how incredibly tiny her waist, how small and defenseless. He could crush her with one hand had he a mind to. But he had other, more pleasant things he wanted to do to her.
When he followed her down on the bunk, she quickly scrambled off and fell to her knees at the bedside. Her prayers were loud and sincere.
“Damn your hide!” he cursed furiously. “Do you think your prayers would save you if I truly wanted you? I’m a pirate, remember?”
“How can I forget?”
Another barrage of cursing followed her answer. “Lie down, I won’t bother you. You may sleep in peace, just as I intend to do.”
“In the same bed?” Her voice shook.
“In the same bed,” Morgan answered. “Why should either of us be uncomfortable? I don’t fancy you tonight.”
Morgan’s verbal denial tasted bitter in his mouth. He wanted Luca, more than he cared to admit He couldn’t decide if the Spanish woman was a saint or a witch. Fortunately he was no callow youth who couldn’t control himself. Until he learned Sister Luca’s secret, he’d bide his time. Meanwhile, he’d employ the art of subtle seduction to assault her senses and wear her down. Once on his island he’d have her all to himself.
“Into the bed, Sister,” Morgan ordered as he began removing his clothing.
“No.”
“If you don’t I’ll tie you there.”
She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed then lay down. Her body rigid, she clung to the narrow edge to keep from falling off. When Morgan doused the light, she sighed audibly. The whisper of cloth told her that he had shed his clothing, then the mattress dipped with his weight and he stretched out beside her. She cried out in dismay when he pulled the blanket over them.
“Settle down,” he complained. “If I have problems going to sleep I may be forced to find a way to amuse myself until I grow tired.”
She went still, willing herself to relax, fearing she would not like the type of amusement he had in mind. When his arm came around her she held her breath, then slowly let it out when he did nothing more than pull her against him.
Morgan felt the furious pounding of her heart through the barrier of her clothes and knew she was frightened. But he did not remove his arm. Nor did he do anything further to frighten her no matter how desperately he wanted her physically. He wanted her to grow accustomed to his presence, to be comfortable with him sleeping next to her, to become familiar with his state of dress or undress. Then, when she least expected it he would tempt her innocence with a sensual assault upon her virtue.
Their brief association had shown her to be a tempestuous creature whose sexuality had not been fully explored, but he knew it was there nevertheless, hiding beneath her gray robes and false piety. One day he would ferret out the truth and force her to reveal her soul to him.
Luca awoke with a start and stretched, surprised at how rested she felt. The captain’s bunk was much more comfortable than the wooden deck or the hard cot she had grown accustomed to at the convent. It would be even more enjoyable if the captain wasn’t in the bunk with her. She turned her head slowly and found him staring at her; his eyes this morning glittered with silver highlights.
“Was that so bad, little saint?” he asked. There was a strange hoarseness in his voice that sent awareness shivering through her. “Was I the first man you ever slept with?” His arm tightened around her.
“Let me up,” Luca said, trying to tug his arm from her waist. “What are you doing still abed? I thought you arose with the dawn.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Sí.”
“I’m much too comfortable to move.”
“Well,
I’m
not!”
He chuckled in amusement when she leaped from the bunk, but he did nothing to stop her. “Perhaps you’re right, it is time I got up. The Bahamas are just over the horizon. We’ll make landfall by midday.”
Luca’s dark eyes sparkled with excitement. “Really? Are the Bahamas inhabited? Is there a village? A harbor? Do other ships put into the port?”
“You’re full of questions this morning, aren’t you, Sister Luca? I see no reason not to answer them. The Bahamas are uninhabited but for the Arawak Indians, a peaceful, friendly people. It is a Spanish possession, but they have yet to claim it. The Indians work my plantation and care for my home. As for a village, if you can call a collection of huts inhabited by natives and pirates a village, then I suppose there is a village of sorts. There is a natural deep water harbor but no docking facilities, no port. Few ships visit Andros except for pirate ships putting in for fresh water and fruit. Occasionally an English or Spanish ship will reach our shores, but it quickly leaves. An uninhabited island is of little interest to any country.”
“There are no settlers on the Bahamas? No harbor? No port?” Luca repeated, dismayed.
“More than seven hundred islands and two thousand cays make up the Bahamas,” Morgan informed her, “and very few have enough fresh water or plant life to support inhabitants. Andros has an abundance of both, but we have few visitors. I intend to keep it that way. When El Diablo isn’t operating in the Atlantic he’s at home either on Andros or his ancestral estate in England. If you’re thinking about escape, forget it.”
“Let me go, Captain,” Luca begged, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. “Put me ashore on Spanish territory, and I’ll find my way back to the convent. I’m well aware of your hatred for my countrymen, and I can’t imagine why you want me when I’m of no earthly value to you.”
“No value?” Morgan repeated in disbelief. “Don’t sell yourself short, little saint. Tis true the only hostages I keep are those that are ransomed back to their relatives, but in your case I’m keeping you around for my amusement.” Then, with a nonchalance that stunned her, he arose from bed as gloriously naked as the day he was born.
Embarrassed fury exploded inside Luca. “What you’re doing to me is not amusing, you arrogant, wretched blackguard!” She flew at him, her fists flailing his chest like one possessed. He grasped her wrists, confining them in one of his large hands while he pulled net against him with the other.
“You’re sorely testing my good nature, Sister,” he growled. He could reel the heat explode in his groin, filling him near to bursting. Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?
It wasn’t until Luca felt the hard ridge of his manhood rising against her stomach that she realized her danger. His face was so close to hers she could see his pupils, dark circles rimmed with silver, and feel the rampant beating of his heart. He bore her backward toward the bunk.
“Please, oh, please, don’t do this to me. I’m sorry I made you angry.” She closed her eyes and uttered a frantic prayer.
“Dios
in heaven, save me from this fate. Do not allow me to be dishonored in such a violent manner.”
“Dishonored!” Morgan roared. “When I make love to you, dishonor will have nothing to do with it. It will be for pleasure and mutual satisfaction. When that day arrives, I vow you will be willing and compliant. And you will wonder why you ever feared our joining.”
“I will kill myself first!”
“You will the a little, as will I, but it will not be a permanent death, this I promise you. You will wish for it again and again.”
Then his mouth crushed down on hers, fevered, urgent, sucking the breath from her. Oh, Dios, the seduction. She tried to keep her lips tightly sealed against the prod of his tongue, but he easily breached that meager barrier. He searched out her tongue, moved within her mourn, stole all reason. She breathed in his scent, savored the taste and feel of him, and willed herself not to respond. Then suddenly he released her, and she fell backward onto the bunk. She expected him to fall upon her, but he didn’t. To her surprise and gratification, he glared at her with bored indifference and began pulling on his trousers.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked shakily. “Do you enjoy corrupting nuns?”
His smile was grim. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried it. As I said before, you might provide amusement. You must be aware that I bear no love for the Spanish. Why should I care what happens to a Spanish nun? Or a woman who claims to be a nun.”
He strapped on his sword and paused at the door. “Be prepared to go ashore later today. You will like my home far more than the bleak convent you came from, if indeed you came from a convent at all.”
Andros Island
Luca looked out from the window as the island of Andros came into view. She watched as the
Avenger
maneuvered into a deep water channel between two thickly wooded islands. As they veered toward Andros, she noted that a river bisected the forest and flowed into the sea. At one point she swore they were going to run aground, but then the shelf fell away into an open harbor, wide enough to accommodate three or four ships at one time. Her heart leaped with hope when she saw another ship riding at anchor a short distance from shore. There were no docking facilities, but Luca saw both dark-skinned and White then engaged in various activities on shore.
Shortly after the
Avenger
dropped anchor, Morgan came for Luca. They boarded a longboat, accompanied by several crew members to man the oars, and then were winched into the water. The water was the clearest blue Luca had ever seen, and when she trailed her hand in it she found it warm to the touch. She gasped in appreciation when she caught sight of a flock of long-legged birds standing in the water along the shoreline. Their glorious pink plumage was in vivid contrast to the lush green foliage and blue water. A flock of wild birds of every description took flight over the mangroves that stretched along the shore.
“Those are flamingos,” Morgan informed her, pointing to the brilliant pink birds. “They breed on Andros and feed on small shrimp. There are hundreds of species of birds here but no wild animals to speak of. Timber Ridge lies just over the rise.”
“Timber Ridge?”
“The name of my plantation.”
“What kind of plantation? What can you grow in this soil?”
“Trees, Sister Luca. Caribbean pine, to be exact. We harvest and export pine logs to England. See, it grows all around us in abundance. The Indians also dive for sponges, which are bountiful around the islands. They are popular items in England and Europe.”
Effortlessly, he lifted her from the longboat and deposited her on the white sand that was littered with hundreds of colorful shells of all sizes and shapes. Luca’s gaze wandered toward the ship riding at anchor beside the
Avenger.
“What ship is that?” she asked, trying to hide her excitement. Perhaps its captain would be willing to help her escape.
Tis my ship. She carries lumber to England and staples on the return trip. I have several like her in my fleet The
Avenger
is the only ship I use for privateering.”
She felt her disappointment keenly. Was there no escape from El Diablo?
“Remain here while I speak with Mr. Crawford,” Morgan ordered when he saw his first mate step ashore from a second longboat. He hurried away, and Luca immediately turned her attention to her surroundings. Lush with vegetation, surrounded by sparkling water, the island would have been a paradise in any other circumstance.
Morgan hailed Crawford, and they met several yards down the shore from where Luca stood.
“What are your orders, Captain?” Crawford asked.
“It will take a solid two months to return the
Avenger
to her former good condition. Set the men to work immediately. There is plenty of wood about to complete the repairs. Once she’s beached the then can careen her hull. Meanwhile, I have a special assignment for you, my friend.”
“And what could that be, Morgan? It wouldn’t have anything to do with Sister Luca, would it?”
“Exactly,” Morgan said, casting a surreptitious glance at Luca, who was now kneeling on the sand examining shells. “I want you to take the
Queen’s Glory
to Cuba and find out all you can about the
Santa Cruz
and her passengers. By now the surviving crew have surely been rescued by a passing ship and reported the sinking. I want to know how Don Diego reacted to the news of his fiancée’s death. Find out all you can and report back to me.”
“Should I leave right away?” Crawford asked, eager to carry out his captain’s orders.
“I’ll let you know when you’re to leave. You may have a passenger.”
Crawford looked stunned. “Sister Luca? You want to send her to Havana?”
“Never!” Morgan denied vehemently. “At least not yet,” he added more reasonably. “If Luca is who I think she is, I have special plans for our little nun. And if she isn’t…” His words skidded to a halt. He had no idea what he would do if Luca actually turned out to be a nun.
“If it isn’t Luca, who in the hell will my passenger be?”
“Morgan!
Mon amour, man chert,
how I have longed for your return.”
Morgan and Crawford turned as one to watch a voluptuous auburn-haired woman sprint from the trees toward the two men. Crawford turned to Morgan, his brow quirked in askance. “Rouge? You wish to send Rouge to Cuba?”
“I have a feeling she’ll be happier there,” Morgan said evenly.
“My God! The Spanish witch truly has beguiled you. I thought Rouge pleased you.”