Too Great a Temptation (17 page)

The glimmer from the shaving mirror captured Damian’s eye. Secured to the wall, the oval glass had titled just enough to reveal a crack in the wood boards.

He walked over to the mirror and pushed it aside. A round opening in the wall, big enough for a fist, presented itself. He stuck his hand in the hole.

Damian smirked. Out came a small, but heavy sack.

Treasure.

Now to find Belle.

But first, he headed for the captain’s desk. Leafing through the stack of papers, he recovered a clean, crisp sheet. Quill pen in hand, he inked in flowing script:
Duke of Wembury
.

Damian then picked up the dagger he had found under James’s bed and pierced the parchment to the desk.

That should get the captain’s attention. And by the time James and his brothers figured out the duke’s identity and address, Damian would be home—waiting for them.

Quietly Damian vacated the captain’s room. Topside, he scanned the deck. The
Bonny Meg
appeared to be a ghost ship. Apparently everyone had gone to port to cavort with wenches. Had Belle gone, too?

Bloody stupid question. Of course she hadn’t. So where the devil was she?

Squabbling voices drifted up the hatchway.

Damian quickly ducked behind a mountain of rope. James emerged topside first, followed by…Belle?

Damian blinked. Once. Twice. Bloody hell. What had happened to her? She looked wondrous.

Decked in a powder blue frock, his seductive siren appeared almost angelic. Almost. The thrust of her bountiful breasts indicated she wore a corset. A tight-fitting—and revealing—corset. And the way she sashayed across the deck exuded confidence no virtuous miss would posses. She had a loose bun secured atop her head, a few stray wisps of shimmering hair flapping in the breeze. The tresses trapped between her flush and rosy lips, and she brushed the straggling strands aside.

Damian gawked at her. He couldn’t believe the transformation. Gone was his tempestuous Belle, decked in tight leather breeches. In her place stood a more refined—though no less alluring—woman. He wasn’t sure if he liked the new Mirabelle, though. He had grown accustomed to the old one. He hadn’t realized how much until now.

“I want you back in an hour, Belle.”

“I know, James,” she huffed.

“You’re to get everything that Cook needs, then—”

“Head back to the ship.” Her hands went to her hips. “I’m not deaf, James. I heard you the first three times.”

The captain let out a disgruntled growl. “I can’t believe
everyone’s
left the ship.”

She quirked a smile at that. “The men’s breeches are on fire, Captain, and need a good dousing. But don’t despair, I’ll see to the task.”

At her bawdy humor, James shot her an appalled expression.

Mirabelle laughed. A smoky laugh that made Damian’s blood burn with desire.

“Where the hell is Quincy?” James grumbled and looked around the deck.

But an impatient Belle was already climbing over the rail, a flash of black leather beneath her skirt’s hem.

There was a warmth in Damian’s chest at the familiar sight of her black leather boots. His old Belle was still there.

“Quincy’s late,” said Belle, “so he’ll just have to wait another hour or so to get his breeches doused.”

“Belle!” the captain barked, his hands gripping the starboard rail. “Get back here. You are
not
going into port alone.”

“Don’t worry, James,” was heard a distant holler. “I’ll be fine.”

“Belle!”

But the captain’s command went unheeded.

James slammed his palms against the rail and let out a curse. He turned and stalked away, bellowing for Quincy.

As soon as the captain disappeared below deck, Damian sprinted to the starboard rail. He looked down to the murky black water. No boat. He looked ahead, and sure enough, Belle was rowing toward shore.

Damian let out a curse of his own. That was the last of the boats. And he wasn’t in it.

So much for a flawless abduction.

Damian glanced back at the hatchway. James would discover Quincy soon. But it would take a while to free the kid from the brig since Damian still had the key. That gave him enough time to get to shore—and to get Belle.

Damian swung his leg over the rail and scaled down the rope ladder. He was going to have to swim to shore.

He needed the exercise.

M
irabelle counted off her fingers. Six chickens. Check. Three barrels of smoked and salted meat. Check. Another six barrels of beer. Check. Two firkins of wine for the captain and lieutenant. Check. Four barrels of oats. Check. One hundred pounds of—

“Bloody hell.” She stumbled over a muddy hole in the road. Bunching the fabric in her fists, she lifted the hem off the ground. A bit grubby, but she’d tend to the stain later. The dress was also shabby and too snug in the bust, but she refused to discard the garment. It had been tailored for her years ago, at her father’s behest, and she would keep it always in memory of him. It was useful, too. She had packed the garment for just such a venture. Prowling the streets in search of supplies in her breeches would attract unwanted attention. At least in a dress, she wouldn’t garner scandalized looks or remarks.

Now where was she? Chickens. Meat. Beer. Wine. Oats. And? Oh yes, one hundred pounds of flour. Check.

Mirabelle beamed. Within the allotted time—and without a chaperone—she had arranged for all the provisions to be collected in the morning. She was quite proud of herself, and she expected the captain to be pleased as well—albeit grudgingly. James loathed to admit he was beat.

She bustled through the port, amid muffled jeers and hoots of laughter and bubbly music, making her way back to the dock where her boat was secured.

A horse snorted.

Startled, Mirabelle whirled around to confront the figures skulking in the shadows.

“Good evening, Belle.”

She gasped. “Damian!”

He broke through the blackness, dressed in riding gear, his long ebony mane secured at the nape of his neck. But with his scraggly beard concealing much of his features, and his captivating sapphire eyes glowing in the firelight, he appeared like a devil emerging from the darkness.

Swiftly he clamped his palm over her mouth, stifling her scream. He scooped her in a mighty embrace and set her on the gelding’s back, straddling the seat behind her. Nudging the steed’s flanks, he set off at breakneck speed.

She gripped Damian tight, hollered for him to stop, but the blackguard didn’t even slow down. He was riding the animal for all it was worth. Hooves thundered in her ears like drumbeats, as did her heart. The man must be mad. What did he think he was doing? And how the hell had he escaped from the brig?

After a long and pounding ride, Damian finally brought the great black beast to a steady canter.

Nerves tattered, she took in a few gulps of air to steady her throbbing heart, then let her fury rip forth. “What the hell is the matter with you, Damian!”

His sultry breath skimmed the rim of her earlobe, making her shiver. “Ironic words, coming from a pirate.”

Stomping her jitters right down to her toes, she griped, “
Why
did you take me?”

“You witnessed my escape. I had to take you or you would’ve warned your brothers before I had a chance to get far enough away.”

Mirabelle was suddenly all too mindful of his grinding hips, moving exquisitely into her backside with each gentle lurch of the horse. And to dismiss the erotic sensation, she tried to fix her thoughts on the situation at hand. “Someone will notice the empty brig soon.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“And my brothers are going to come after you—and me.”

“I know.”

Now why did that sound so ominous? Mirabelle shook her head. “So why bother to escape?”

“I won’t be a pirate.”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I beg to differ.”

His words, so cutting, chilled her. There was something different about Damian. Something dark, even calculating. He had betrayed her brothers by escaping. But why? Why risk his life? James was going to come after him. So why run away? Was being a pirate really so hateful? Was being near her such a chore?

Mirabelle dismissed the sentiment at once. She was a bloody fool, letting the mawkish thought into her head. But still, it stabbed at her heart, knowing Damian was trying to escape the ship…and trying to escape her.

Bah! She should not be so sentimental. She should be more furious with the navigator. Already an hour had passed since she’d left the
Bonny Meg
. James would be irate. And once he discovered the empty brig, he’d assume she and Damian were together, that she was in some sort of peril.

“You’ve ruined everything, Damian!”

“How so, Belle?

“I should be back on the
Bonny Meg
right now. James will be livid.”

“Your brother’s always livid.”

“Yes, but now he’ll think I’m nothing but trouble and never let me join the crew.”

“You are nothing but trouble, Belle.”

“I like that,” she huffed. “
You
kidnapped me, remember? I’d say you’re the troublemaker here.”

He didn’t reply to that. Instead, he said, “Why do you want to be pirate, anyway?”

“Why shouldn’t I be a pirate? My father was brutalized by the navy. Pirates saved him and set him free, and I intend to follow in his path.”

“No wifely duties for you?”

She snorted.

“Still, Belle, you don’t belong on a pirate ship.”

“I’m not the first woman to be a buccaneer, you know?”

Smugly he wondered, “And how did your fellow brigands fare?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Not well, you say? At the end of a rope, you say?” At her prolonged silence, he grunted in satisfaction. “As I said, Belle, you have no place aboard a pirate ship.”

She made a moue and decided to change the subject. “How did you get the clothes, Damian? The horse?”

“I stole the money from James.”

She stiffened.

“Something the matter, Belle?” He nuzzled her temple, the throaty whisper gushing into her ear. “Is stealing wrong?”

She jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Let me go, Damian.”

He jerked slightly, but didn’t ease his hold, the obnoxious lout. “I don’t think so, Belle.”

After an uneasy pause, she snapped, “So what are you going to do with me?”

“Just…keep you around for a while.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck spiked. “What do you mean, ‘a while’?”

“I can’t let you go, Belle. Not yet.”

She craned her neck to better look at him. A gust of stormy wind ruffled his midnight black hair, and she found herself utterly mesmerized by the brooding dark devil. “And why not?”

He said not a word. She had to nudge him in the ribs again to encourage his reply.

Those enchanting blue eyes delved deep into her soul. “It’s too soon, Belle. I’m not ready to let you go.”

Even in his warm embrace, the chill on her spine was biting. “So I’m to be your prisoner?”

“That’s a harsh word,” he whispered. “Maybe I’m just fond of you and don’t want to say good-bye.”

She snorted. “Don’t pretend like you give a damn.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said quietly, gruffly.

She humphed and stared ahead. She didn’t believe him. Really, she didn’t. He was just trying to cajole her. Make her agreeable to this whole miserable abduction.

To dismiss the shiver tickling her spine, she needed a distraction, and said, “So how did you escape?”

“Quincy let me out.”

“You’re lying,” she said flatly.

He shrugged. “It took a little convincing, but the kid did set me free.”

Her back grew rigid. “You didn’t hurt Quincy, did you?”

“He’ll live.”

“Blast you, Damian! My brothers will trounce you all the more for this.”

He drawled in a husky voice, “And you care because…?”

“I don’t care, of course,” she huffed. “But this debacle of an escape was all for nothing.”

“Not for nothing, Belle. I assure you.”

She quivered again. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Her heart pattered. “You’re going to turn them in, aren’t you?”

“I have no intention of turning your brothers in to the authorities.”

She let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Then what do you intend to do?”

“Kill the demons inside my head.”

Puzzled, she looked back at him. “What?”

Dark and turbulent eyes stared at her, burrowed into her. And strong arms gripped her even harder. “Never mind, Belle.”

The man had lost his wits. How was she supposed to ignore that cryptic riddle?

She wanted to press him further, but curiosity yielded to thoughts of self-preservation. She
had
to escape and make her way back to port. Then James would see she could take care of herself, that he need not worry about her stumbling into danger and being trapped. If she didn’t prove her abilities to her brother, he would never let her join the crew.

Without a second thought, she put her father’s pugilist training to good use. A quick jab to the solar plexus and Damian grunted, relaxing his hold on her waist, giving her enough room to wriggle free.

She hit the ground and sprinted.

Damian cursed up a storm behind her.

She did a little cursing of her own. Blasted skirt! What she wouldn’t give for her breeches right now.

Hiking the dress up over her knees, Mirabelle dashed through the willowy blades of grass. She didn’t hear the thunder of hooves behind her, though. Damian was hounding her on foot.

Blood pumping in her ears, chest sore from the exertion of the chase, Mirabelle soon sensed heavy breathing on her neck.

Her escape dashed to bits, she let out a frustrated scream as two burly arms circled her waist.

The couple toppled to the ground; smashed into it was more like it. Damian took the brunt of the fall, landing on his back, air whooshing into her face.

She hit his chest with a hard thump, letting out an “Ooof” in exhale before ranting, “You son of a—”

Her affront stifled, Mirabelle found herself on her back. A firm and muscled thigh wedged between her legs. Hot lips devoured her.

It was like a punch to her gut, the kiss, filling her belly with heat that swarmed her senses. Damian moved over her in sensuous waves, his body grinding against her limbs, his mouth burning and wild.

There in the quiet meadow, the scent of fresh blooms in the air, the moment seemed enchanting, like a dream.

A chained feeling in her heart threatened to break its restrictive bonds. The clanking manacles resounded in her head, the emotion demanding to be released.

Like hell she’d let it out! This was the man who considered her nothing but a tart, remember? The man who had betrayed her brothers and injured Quincy. And he would hurt her, too. Break her heart if she let him get too close. He cared nothing for her. He would ravish her and be done with her. Again.

The more Mirabelle pounded such unseemly thoughts into her head, the more she hushed the other, rather frightening sentiment inside her.

Beating on Damian’s shoulders, she struggled beneath him.

He broke away from the dizzying kiss.

“Get off me, Damian!”

“Belle,” he whispered her name in such a gruff way it made her quiver, then took her lips in his once more.

She bit him.

He winced.

She wouldn’t let him lull her senses. It didn’t matter how good it felt to be in his arms. It wasn’t right. And she damn well wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of using her again; of assuaging himself of his lust, only to throw her another barb.

“I mean it, Damian. Get off me. I won’t be your whore tonight…or will you take me even if I fight?”

Dark emotions twinkled in his eyes.

For a moment he stared at her—hard. Quickly, though, Damian got up and yanked her roughly to her feet. He dragged her through the meadow, over to the horse, and tossed her into the saddle.

Mounting behind her, he steered the gelding back onto the road.

Neither said another word to the other.