Page 20 of A Pirate’s Pleasure (Cameron Family #2)

XVII

R oc kicked the door closed and set Skye down. For a second she remained perfectly still, for shadows fell all around them, and she was frightened of a terrible darkness falling.

Darkness did not come. It was barely afternoon, she thought. She spun around, stared at Roc, and moved away from him, running quickly to the wall, setting her back against it.

He glanced her way with a certain disdain and fell against the door himself, sinking down before it. His eyes closed wearily, then shot open and stared at her with immense displeasure. He pointed a finger at her. “You! You little bitch! You’re going to get us both killed!”

Skye stared at him wide-eyed. “Me! You’ve lost your mind!”

“I am grabbing at straws to keep us going—”

“ Straws! There is no treasure!” she hissed.

His lashes fell briefly over his eyes. “That’s my problem. I want you out of here. Blackbeard may be many things, but his reputation for cruelty has been deliberately exaggerated. He will keep his word to me. Tomorrow he will see that you are delivered back to Virginia, where you belonged in the first place.”

“Then Logan takes you!” she exclaimed.

The anger faded from his eyes and a slow smile touched his lips. “Will you care then, love? You were waiting to attend my hanging, remember? What difference will it make? Alas, you won’t get to witness the deed, but the end result will be the same.”

“Don’t!” Skye murmured.

“Don’t what, milady?”

Skye didn’t reply. She shook her head and backed against the far wall herself, staring at him. He could not die! And she could not trust herself to speak. She lowered her head, swallowing tightly against the tears that burned hotly behind her eyes. She looked about the room. Sand dusted the floor; there was a plain wooden table with a single candle in a brass holder and two rickety chairs beneath it, and against the far wall was a bed of straw with a gray blanket thrown haphazardly upon it.

“Elegant accommodations,” Roc murmured with a certain humor, “but the best that Blackbeard has to offer, I’m afraid. He’s a man who falls in love often enough; he’s glad to give us the night.”

She didn’t respond to his words but jumped back up and pushed away from wall and came to kneel down before him. “This is insane! What are you doing? We must escape from here somehow!”

“We?” He arched both brows. She wasn’t a foot away from him. Her hair trailed in sunset tendrils over her shoulders and her breasts pushed against the fabric of her bodice and her eyes were earnest and sparkling with emotion. He longed to touch her, but he did not. He allowed his hands to dangle idly over his kneecaps. “We? My love, there is no need for you to escape. Your safety is guaranteed. In certain matters, there is no man you can trust so thoroughly as a rogue such as Blackbeard.”

“I can’t go back without you!”

“Why ever not? You’ll miss a hanging, of course, but you’ll live anyway, I’m sure.”

“Stop it! Stop being so—nonchalant!”

“What would you have me be?”

“Concerned! Sir, you are to die!”

He sighed deeply. The temptation was too great. He reached out and fingered one of the silky soft curls. Not even the seawater could damage the softness of her hair.

She did not wrench away from him. He went further, and stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “Will you care?” he asked her softly. “This morning you were anxious to see me boiled in oil! Skinned alive. Ah, yes, that is what Logan promised, I think, if I did not lead him to the treasure.”

“And there is no treasure!” she said desperately.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I was there the day you killed Jack!”

“Ah, yes, of course. Thank God Logan wasn’t about,” he muttered.

“Then there is no treasure!”

He shrugged. “Oh, there is a treasure. There really was a Dona Isabella that sailed out of Cartagena, and it was supposedly laden with a new cache of Indian gold. And rumor has it that Jack did seize her, steal the cargo, and scuttle the ship. The treasure is supposedly buried somewhere.”

“But you haven’t the faintest idea of where!” Skye moaned.

He was still smiling at her. Smiling ridiculously. There was sensual silver laughter and tenderness in his eyes; his touch against her was gentle and provocative. His fingertips just moved across her flesh. She wanted to hold him, to cling to him. He had lied to her, he had used her, he had made a fool of her, and he was leading a despicable life, but she loved him. She could fight it; she could deny her heart. But she could not change the emotion deep inside.

“You do care!” he whispered.

“I don’t—”

“You do!” he insisted, and then his touch was not so light as he reached out, sweeping her hard and full into his arms. He kissed her again, but this kiss was no hard seizure as it had been outside; this kiss was fierce and demanding but infinitely tender. His lips fell upon her with consuming desire, his tongue teased her mouth, grazed her teeth, sought deep, honeyed recesses. He held her with tenderness, too. His arms were ever ardent, but gentle. His hand cupped her cheek, his fingers trailed her throat as he held her to his kiss. His hands molded her breast, and her waist, and then he broke away, gasping for breath, holding her close. He did love her, too, she thought. He was a rogue, a terror. Demanding, autocratic as the pirate, and as the lord, but his will was fierce and could not be broken, only altered by his own choice, and perhaps, just perhaps, gentled by love.

His eyes probed hers feverishly. “You do care!” he repeated.

She moistened her lips, lowering her lashes. She only dared whisper so much upon this occasion. “If I am with child, sir, I’d just as soon he have a living sire.”

His smile deepened. “Ah. So that is why you have not betrayed me!”

“Betrayed you?” She lay against his arm, grateful for the curious moment of peace.

“To Logan. He still does not know that Lord Cameron and the Silver Hawk are one and the same.”

She swallowed hard, not caring to be reminded of the fact herself. She shrugged. “What difference does it make? He plans to kill the Hawk. He would be only too pleased, I’m sure, to discover that he has killed Lord Cameron, too.”

He carefully set her down and stood, pacing the room, his hands upon his hips. “It makes a great deal of difference. If Blackbeard were to know—”

“Your crew is all in on this, I imagine?” Skye interrupted curtly. Robert! Robert Arrowsmith had known all along that her husband and her lover were one and the same. All of them!

And still, there wasn’t a single man among his crew she would like to see dangle from a noose!

He paused, casting her a frown, then nodding. “Yes, they all know both of my identities. But these fellows here, they do not. And, thank God, you did not see fit to inform them.”

“I’m not a fool.”

“You were acting like one out there.”

“Because he’s going to kill you! Then he’ll probably kill my father, too, for good measure!”

Roc shook his head. “Your father is worth too much.”

“Oh? Amazing, the pirate Hawk let me go for not so much as a farthing! Perhaps my father is worthless as well.”

“The pirate Hawk let you go for not so much as a farthing, my love, to show you not that you were worthless, but rather worth far much more than gold and silver to him.”

She stared at him incredulously. Then she saw the tug at the corner of his lip and she came quickly to her feet, hands on her hips, defying him. “You are a liar, sir!”

“All right, so I was deathly afraid of your self-importance becoming exaggerated beyond all measure. I knew that you would return home and discover yourself married and that you would try every trick and wile in the world to escape your husband. And I, milady, was already deeply in love, and not about to let you go.”

“You’re still a liar!” she accused him.

“And if I’m not?”

“If—you’re not?” she whispered.

“What if it’s true? What if I really do love you, Skye Cameron? Can you spare just a touch of emotion for an old friend, an old lover?”

She whirled around, not wanting to meet his eyes. “You know that I would be distressed to see you die.”

“Ah, for a child. But what about yourself?” He came behind her, setting his hands upon her shoulders. “A child would be nice,” he whispered. “An heir to Cameron Hall…when I am skinned alive and then shot dead and left for the carrion!”

“Stop it!” she hissed, but she did not turn around.

“Come here!” he told her.

She held still.

“Skye, come here,” he repeated, and she did not know what drew her around, but she did turn. And she came to him, too, standing before him, not touching him, but looking up into his eyes. She did not know what emotion was betrayed in her, but he touched her shoulders and bent to touch her lips very lightly. Then he kissed her forehead and drew her against him.

“You do care!” he assured her.

She laid her palms against his chest and pushed him from her and looked at him gravely. “I care, yes, Roc, I care! But I cannot accept you, or what you’ve done. I’ve no desire to see you hang, but I wonder at the innocents you’ve robbed and plundered, and what has created the whole empire you rule at Bone Cay. But for now, I do not think that I can leave you—”

“There is no question that you will leave me,” he said harshly. “I will have you safe.”

“I don’t want you to die! And Logan will kill you, and heinously so, when he discovers there is no treasure!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps I will find treasure. Accidents do happen.”

“That would be a miracle!” Skye murmured.

“My men are out there, you know.”

Her eyes widened. She had forgotten that, a fact so important that it was nearly a miracle. Roc’s ship—rather, the Hawk’s ship—lay somewhere out on the other side of the island. Unless the storm had torn her to shreds. But Skye was certain that the Hawk and his pirate crew had weathered much worse.

“They’ll rescue you—us!” she said happily. “They’ll come in here and…” Her voice trailed away. He was looking at her sadly.

His crew could not just sail in, she realized. There were many captains here, at Blackbeard’s pirates’“ball.” More men than the Hawk’s crew could possibly meet with any chance of victory.

And it would still leave her father as Logan’s prisoner. An enraged Logan, at that.

“There is no miracle to be had!” she whispered brokenly.

“Yes, perhaps there is,” he said.

There was a sudden hammering upon the door. “Who is that?” Skye murmured with alarm.

“I don’t know. Get over there, on the bed,” Roc said swiftly.

“What?” she demanded, frowning.

“Damn you, milady, must you question everything? Get over there!”

She must not have responded quickly enough to suit him, for she found herself flying forcefully across the room and landing hard upon the straw bedding. He was quickly down beside her, gathering her into his arms. Alarmed and furious at his treatment, she struggled against him, kicking out madly. “Damn you, you have lost your mind!” she cried.

His hand landed hard over hers. “Shut up!” he ordered her. “Come in!” he called out.

Outraged, she struggled against him. The door opened and one of the pirates’ doxies stood there, dark hair spilling over her enormous breasts, her eyes dark and flashing and her very red lips curled in amusement as she watched Skye struggling.

“Leave her, Hawk!” The girl laughed. “I could provide far more entertainment than this one!”

He shook his head and smiled broadly. “She loves me, Leticia. Honest—she loves me truly. Right, love?” Skye tried to bite his hand. He laughed, a pirate’s laugh, and she realized that she was inadvertently playing right along with his ruse.

Leticia shrugged. “Every man to his choice, Captain! But remember if you tire of her…you need only call my name.” She walked more fully into the room. Roc regretfully pulled himself up from Skye, but dragged her along with him. He held her close, his hand nonchalantly over her breast. She was a possession here, and safe because he had claimed her as his, an important possession.

And one he chose to allow to live on beyond him.

“I came to see if you are hungry.” She smiled beguilingly and Skye thought that she was really very pretty with her large breasts, trim waist, and dark eyes. Leticia. Roc knew her, he knew her by name. No, the Hawk knew her. Skye wondered just how well the Hawk knew her, and she felt ill. This was insane. She loved him. She despised him. She could not bear his death, and yet she hated this untenable position.

“Hungry…for food,” Leticia murmured.

“Ravenous,” Roc told her.

“I will bring something.” She came very close to them both, kneeling by the bedding. She watched Skye with a searing curiosity. Skye raised her chin and the dark-haired woman chuckled huskily. “Ice fires can burn hot, so they say,” she murmured, and laughed again. Then her voice lowered and she spoke very softly to Roc alone. “Blackbeard wants to see you. Alone. He thinks that the two of you should talk.”

“Does he?” Roc said.

Leticia nodded fervently. “He hates Logan. Always has hated him. You know that.”

Roc shrugged. “But Blackbeard is on his honor here. We came to him as a mediator between us.”

Leticia tossed back her dark hair. “Blackbeard is his own law, and his own honor. He will do what he chooses, and that will be the honorable thing. If men say that it is cruel and treacherous, he will be glad of it. He savors what they say, as you know well enough. If a man fears the terror of Blackbeard’s wrath, he is quick to lay down his arms. You must understand that power, Hawk!”

Roc nodded gravely. “All right. I’ll speak with him.”

Leticia looked to Skye with amusement. “Not now. I’ve not come to interrupt anything!” She laughed again. “Later. When darkness has fallen, then I’ll come, and I’ll bring you to him.”

“All right,” Roc agreed. Leticia smiled, and whirled around like a young doe to leave them. When the door closed behind her, Skye elbowed Roc with all of her might. She was gratified to feel him release her and grunt painfully.

“Damn you, Skye Cameron!” he swore to her, staggering to his feet.

“Damn me! You tossed me about like so much baggage, and seized hold of me in front of that—that woman! I am not your whore, Captain, and I—”

“Yes, you are,” he told her, his tone sharp with warning. He came over to her and she started to back away, but he caught her arm and wrenched her against him. “Here, milady, you are my whore, a cherished whore, and therein lies your safety. So go ahead, scream and fight and lash out, it makes no difference. You will obey me here, or sorely regret it, I promise.”

She ground down hard on her teeth, wishing she could think of something horrible enough to say to him. He released her, and as he did, there came a subtle tap on the door again. Leticia slipped back in. “Food, Captain Hawk. And”—she paused, turning to Skye and curtsying with mock respect—“of course, for you, too, Lady Cameron! The finest, of course. The very finest.”

Skye inclined her head toward the woman. “Thank you,” she said softly. Her gentle tones seemed to confuse Leticia. She stared at Skye a moment longer, then shrugged and turned back to Roc, setting the tray she carried upon the table. “From Blackbeard’s own supply of dark rum, Captain. And for the lady—” She glanced Skye’s way quickly again. “For the lady he sends Burgundy off of the French packet St. Louis . And there’s roast meat and bread, and all the very best cuts, I assure you!”

“Thank you very much, Leticia,” the Hawk said. He offered her a wry, grateful smile. Skye felt her stomach twist, for in the midst of all this, he was still a strikingly handsome man, charismatic as the Hawk, charismatic as Lord Cameron.

She lowered her head slightly. Then she lifted her eyes, realizing that the woman was still watching her. “Thank you, Leticia,” she repeated. Leticia did not say anything to Skye. She nodded to her, then looked to Roc. “I’ll be back when the others are in drunken stupors, when I can bring you to Blackbeard.”

She left them. Roc looked to Skye; then, every inch the gentleman, he pulled out her chair for her. He helped her into it before taking the wine from the tray and pouring out a pewter mug of it for her. He sat down himself, lifting a red cloth from the food and then looking to the rum flask provided for him. “Dark Caribbean,” he murmured, and drew deeply on it. “It’s a fine brew,” he told Skye.

“A fine brew!” she exclaimed. “At a time like this—”

“At a time like this,” he muttered. “I’m sure that it’s an exceptionally fine brew.” He drew on it deeply, eyeing her with wary, narrowed eyes.

She didn’t look at him but at the tray of food. The meat did smell delicious. Roc set down the rum flask and skewered her a piece of beef with a table knife, setting it upon her plate. “Eat,” he told her.

“I can’t eat—”

“I’m sure that you can. We haven’t had a bite in a day, and I’m famished, if you are not.”

He took a rib bone and plowed into it with gusto. Skye watched him and realized that she was starving. It was not so difficult to enjoy the pirate’s feast before her. The beef was succulent and delicious and flavored with salt and peppercorns.

The wine, too, was good.

Skye sipped it, watching Roc. “What does this mean?” she asked him. “With—Leticia.”

He shrugged. “It means that Blackbeard wants One-Eyed Jack’s treasure.”

“But there is no treasure.”

“There is a treasure.”

“But not a treasure that you can find!” she wailed.

He set down his food and drank deeply from the rum flask again. “There is a treasure, milady, and that for the moment shall suffice.”

“And that for the moment shall suffice!” Impatiently she stood, and her chair fell behind her. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Lord Hawk, or whoever you would be today! I am in this, too—”

“And you do not know the rules!” He was up as well, coming around the table to her. She was suddenly drawn into his arms. His fingers raked into her hair and he drew her head back, searching her eyes. “You do not know the rules, my love; you have only your reckless courage, and that will not serve us now! For the love of God, milady, pay heed to me!”

His hold upon her was so very tight. She smiled very slowly, sensually, wistfully. “It is just, sir, that in truth, I would not see you killed.”

He stared at her intently, then he drew her to him, burying his head against her throat, emitting some deep-felt sound of passion.

“Skye, Skye,” he murmured, “my brave, beautiful love! God! That I could but have you safely away from here this very moment!”

“But I am not away!” she whispered. “And I cannot see you go.”

He lifted her up then into his arms. His eyes locked with hers and he strode with her to the crude straw mattress upon the floor with its scanty blanket. He laid her there with tenderness, coming beside her. His mouth covered hers. His kiss ran passionate, and deep, and it ignited her fears and her desires, and she knew that she wanted to cling to him forever. She could not let him go. She wanted him. She wanted to make love to him. She wanted to hold on to the splendor and glory of all that raged between them. She had not forgiven him.…

But she had not fallen out of love with him, either, and it seemed that every second now death came closer to their doorway.

He pulled away from her. He saw her eyes, wide and teal and steady upon his. Her lips parted slightly, damp with his kiss. She offered her arms out to him again and he groaned, holding her close.

“I want to make love to you,” he whispered. “I want to lie down by crystal waters, with the fragrance of flowers, with the sun overhead burning down upon our flesh, or with the moon offering a gentle glow. I want to give you a soft mattress and silken sheets, or an Eden of sweet earth. I want to love you, and not upon this bare and ugly straw.…”

She touched his hair and stroked it from his face. She met his eyes with her smile wistful, her gaze both damp and aflame. “It is Eden, it is paradise,” she told him with all of her heart. “Where you are, dear sir, it is paradise, for that is what you create inside of me, within my soul.”

He caught her fingers, and kissed them. He met her eyes again. “I do love you, milady. With all of my heart, I love you. As Lord Cameron, as the Silver Hawk, as any man, myself, I love you, and I will do so until my dying day.”

She touched his face. His fingers dropped to her bodice and he pulled upon the delicate satin strings until her breasts fell free to his touch. He savored them with his touch, with the sweet intensity of his teeth and tongue and lips. His hands ravaged her thighs, teasing, stroking. He entered into the core of her, and once his touch came so intimately to her, the fires within her soared, and she arched against him, desperate for more of the splendor that churned its fine sweet storm throughout the length of her.

He was the Hawk, he was her husband, and there was no fear any longer that the one might be recognized as the other.

He stood, and shed his clothing, and came back down beside her, stripping away what remained of her gown.

Shadows fell more deeply. Night was falling. Skye did not fear the darkness. He was with her. His hands were upon her. His kiss seared her flesh, and made her warm.

She rose on a wind of fate and glory, desire lapping against her flesh, the fever of it entering her fingers and her lips. She bathed his shoulders with her kiss, she raked his spine with her nails.

She whispered to him of her longing. Of the thing that swirled inside of her. Of the way that she needed him, needed him so desperately to appease the yearning.…

And it was paradise. There was no coarse straw, no sandy blanket, no shanty walls around them. The scent of the earth was with them, the music of their heartbeats rose.

Her flesh was silk, and his was splendor. The sun was in his fingertips, spiraling warmth that caressed her naked flesh. Rays that fell against her spine and stroked and rounded her hip, rays that entered intimately, deep, deep within her.…

She no longer whispered, she cried out. She strained against him with urgency, her hips undulating to the demanding rhythm of his thrust, her limbs locked around him. She soared and swept ever higher into Eden, then she called out his name, shuddering as the force of his seed racked her again and again. She felt the absolute constriction of his body, the explosion within her, and then she fell softly. Eden was gone, but she drifted on clouds, and those clouds left her sadly satiated and deeply in love upon the raw straw and the sandy blanket. It didn’t matter. His arms were still around her. He held her. He stroked her hair.

And that was the paradise of it. Distant and far, as paradise might seem.

“If something does happen—”

“Shush!” she told him, rolling to cover his lips with her fingers.

He drew her hand away and cradled her to his chest, massaging his fingers through the hair at her nape. “Listen to me, Skye, I beg you. I do not believe that it is so simple to conceive an heir, and yet I tell you now that if I have a prayer tonight, it is that you might already carry my child.”

“Roc—”

“No, please. I am an eternal optimist, my love—and an eternal rogue, I suppose you might say. I will fight Logan with whatever I might have until the very end. But in case—”

“Roc—”

“No! Listen to me!” Passionately, intently, he rolled her beneath him, demanding that she heed him. “You promise me this, milady, whatever else may come, whatever else may be. If we have created a child, swear to me that you will hold well to his or her heritage.”

“Roc—”

“Cameron Hall. The land. The estate.”

“Stop it, please!” Skye cried. “You speak of bricks and a handful of earth when—”

“No, lady, no!” he protested gravely. “It is not land, not brick. It is the Tidewater, it is a—dream! It is where my forebears came to live, to find their destinies. It is everything that I am, milady. It is my family. It is the future, and it is the past. There is honor there in the way that we have lived, in the Eden that we have carved from the earth. Promise me that come what may, you will preserve it!”

He was so very tense! Death lay all around them in the shanty, in the night, and he was desperate that she keep his land. She wanted to protest again, but she could not. “I promise.”

“A promise you will keep, love.”

“I have kept every promise that I have ever given you!” she whispered passionately.

He kissed her lips. “So you have.”

“I vow it, Roc. With all of my heart, I vow it,” she swore.

He ruffled her hair, falling down beside her, cradling her closer. “It is always beautiful there,” he murmured.

She smiled beside him. “Always. The days are not too hot because of the river.”

“And winter is never too cold, because of the river.”

“The grass is green and blue and rich.”

“And the fields are verdant.”

He kissed her forehead. “There’s an old oak there, down by the river, secluded by other trees and the gardens. The water rushes by almost silently. The leaves are shields against too much sunlight. There are pines there, too, and the earth is moist and soft and giving. It is, I think, Eden, here on earth.”

“Is it?” Skye murmured.

“It is. My father used to take my mother there. He told me once. When she died, he told me how she had loved to come there, and how she had laughed. And what great difficulty he’d had convincing her that none could see her if she shed her clothes. And she said then that they were like Adam and Eve in the garden, and he promised her that there were no serpents in his Eden.”

“Only wickedly seductive Camerons!” Skye murmured.

His arms tightened about her, then he suddenly bolted up.

“What is it?” Skye demanded.

He didn’t answer her, but drew the blanket around her. He reached for his breeches just as a quick knock sounded, and was still stepping into them even as the door opened. Leticia slipped quietly into the room.

Skye held the blanket close to her breast, watching as Leticia drew a finger to her lips, beckoning for Roc to come with her. Skye thought that the woman looked at her curiously where she lay silent upon the straw, but she could not tell. Shadows filled the room.

“I’ll be back!” Roc promised her softly. Skye watched him go to the woman and whisper something to her. He glanced Skye’s way. “She’ll come back to light the candle.”

Skye smiled, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she fell back against the straw. She watched them leave, then she closed her eyes, shivering.

It had not been a frightening place when he had been with her.

It had, for a time, been created a paradise.

But he was gone now, and it had become a shanty, chilled by sea breezes, covered in sand, barren and stark.

Skye rolled upon her stomach and rested her head upon her arm, exhausted and yet keenly aware that she couldn’t be so, that she needed desperately to think. This was a world of madness. She could be safe from it, but Roc would sail away to certain death, and she could not let him. And Logan still held her father. It was the worst nightmare she might have ever imagined.

Skye was dimly aware that the door opened again. She wasn’t worried. Leticia was coming back to light the candle. Skye was so deeply enmeshed in her worries that little could have moved her then, for she knew that she could not leave Roc, not ever; she hadn’t known that she had taken vows when she did, but there was but one thing that could part them, and that was death.

Her father! Where did Logan have him? If Blackbeard decided to help them, Logan would still have her father.…

She frowned suddenly, aware that no candle was being lit, that Leticia was murmuring no words to her, mocking or other. She started to spin around but halted as something cold and steel touched upon her bare back.

“Be very still, my dear.”

Skye froze instantly. It was Logan. He spoke softly in the night, but the evil and menace in his tone was unmistakable.

The cold steel skimmed along her naked back from her nape to the small of her spine. Logan chuckled softly. “Once I had fingers, milady, and now you feel what is there, a hook for a hand, fashioned of metal. There is ice where once there was warmth. And still, it is an interesting caress, is it not? Feel my touch, lady. Brood upon it, if you will.”

She bit down on the flesh inside her jaw, trying hard not to scream as she felt the hook skim over her again. He touched her with the curve of the hook until he came to the end of her spine, then he teased her flesh with the rough edge of the hook, a touch that hinted of drawn blood any second.

He did not want her blood, she realized. He wanted the Hawk’s blood. He only wanted her because she was the Hawk’s.

“Have you enjoyed your evening, my dear? Your last night with Captain Hawk. It’s a pity that he cannot be trusted. He did try to buy your freedom, but I’m afraid that I can’t let that be. If Blackbeard takes you, then I’ve nothing left to use against him. Blackbeard is a greedy man. And this time, he cannot have it all. Turn around. Look at me.”

“No!”

He caught her arm with his good hand and wrenched her over. She would have fought him in a frenzy, but his hook landed instantly against her throat and she went still, staring at him with hate and venom afire in her eyes.

Then she realized that he was not alone. Two of his men stood silently, just inside the door. How many of them were behind it? Would Roc come back and stumble into a trap? She needed to scream, she needed to warn him, she needed to call help. She didn’t know Logan’s intentions, but she had to warn Roc that he was here.

Logan chuckled huskily, drawing her attention back to his face. She met his eyes once again, and drew breath to scream.

“Don’t! Don’t do it!” The point of the hook lay against her jugular. Slowly, her breath escaped her. She could not scream.

He smiled slowly and idly drew the curve of his hook down the length of her throat to her collarbone, then taunting, a curious caress indeed, over the rise of her breast. The hook continued downward, dislodging her blanket, leaving her bare to his assessment. She bit down ever harder upon her lip to keep from panic. A scream rose and bubbled in her throat, but as his eyes returned to hers, she knew that he would not hesitate to slit her open with the weapon he wore upon his severed wrist.

“That’s right, love, quiet!” he whispered, and laughed. Something of regret passed over his eyes. “Milady, how I’d like you now, this very minute, alive and attuned to sensation by the most unique and tender stroke of my adoring…fingers. I’d like your Hawk to enter into his room and find you touched and filled by his dearest enemy. Alas! What a pity that I cannot do so.”

Relief escaped her in a long gasp. His smile, however, was not reassuring.

“Nay, lady, first I must take you to my ship. You are so concerned for your father, eh? Well, now, perhaps we should let the old man watch, too. That’s where we shall capture the Hawk for real, milady. And when we see that he is coming, that is when I shall have you, in bold light, upon the deck. You’ll feel the true kiss of this steel, my love, and he’ll know that I’ll use it against you in truth when I am done.”

“Perhaps he will not come,” Skye said.

“I think that he will.”

“But he won’t. You’ve seen him with me. He demands things because that is his way, but I’m nothing to him, not really. He’s women everywhere, what is one more, or one less?”

Logan sat back on his haunches, his eyes alight with a leering humor. His hook raked around the fullness of her breast as he answered, “Lady, you are worth your weight in gold. That was long ago decided. You are worth even more to me. He will live to rue the day that he caused me to wear this hook. Now, get up!”

He stood, and reached down with his good hand, wrenching her to her feet. His eyes assessed the length of her in the shadows, and she had never felt more violated. From the doorway, she felt his men, staring at her, too.

She jerked her hand free. “I cannot come like this!” she told him. “Let me dress.” She bent down to retrieve the tattered remnants of her dress. Logan’s foot fell upon the material. “We haven’t time,” he said harshly. “Morgan, toss her the cloak.”

A woolen garment fell her way. Skye retrieved it quickly, grating her teeth as she quickly slipped the scratchy wool cape around her shoulders. She drew it close about her and stared at Logan again, waiting.

He bowed deeply to her. “My dear?”

She passed him by. The two men at the doorway stepped aside, opening the door for her. They were all behind her.

Skye quickly stepped out the doorway of the little shanty.

Fires still burned upon the sand, warmth against the night and the sea breezes. There was no music, though, no one danced. Men and women still lay sprawled about, but they lay in sleep, some snoring, some dead to the world in drunken stupors.

Logan, she thought, had no more than the two men with him. They were all behind her.

She hurried down the few steps to the sand, screamed as loudly as she could, and started to run.

“Catch her, you fools!” Logan shouted.

She didn’t know where to go, nor did it matter. She couldn’t possibly have navigated a course in the darkness.

And it was dark. Away from the fires, the night closed in. The sky met the sea, and the wilderness beyond the beach. There were more shanties, more ramshackle and makeshift homes and buildings.

Roc would be within one, she thought. Bargaining with Blackbeard.

But where?

She couldn’t pause to determine that fact, she had to run. “Help me! Help me! Someone, for the love of God, help me!” she shrieked.

There were various stirrings about, but few heeded her cries.

The pirates were accustomed to hearing pleas for mercy—and equally accustomed to ignoring them, Skye thought bleakly.

She whirled around. Logan’s men were almost upon her.

She was losing time, racing around the shanty buildings on the beach. They could trap her that way. They were trying to do so right then, she thought. “Take her! Take her from the left!” one of them cried, and another waved, running around to encircle the building.

Skye screamed again, and turned to flee toward the beach.

Her legs flying, she raced past the platform where Blackbeard had held his pirates’ court that day. She went onward, seeing that a startled Leticia stood upon the steps to the shanty where she had spent the day. “Tell the Hawk!” Skye screamed.

Leticia jumped back and Skye realized that the men were almost upon her. She tore on down the beach, her lungs afire, her heart thundering, her calves cramping mercilessly. She could hear the sound of the waves rushing up on the beach, beckoning to her. Their dark invitation called to her.

The sea! she thought.

The night was frightening, the darkness unimaginable, but it might well be her only hope. If she could strike out and shed the cape, she could swim. She didn’t know if her strength would hold out against the currents, but she had no other choice. She had only to pass the shadows of twin palms and plunge into the waves to find freedom.

Suddenly a figure stepped out from the palms. She could not stop running, her momentum was so great.

She collided with Logan. She screamed; his arms came around and they fell hard into the sand together. They rolled and she kicked and fought desperately.

“Logan!”

The thunder of the Hawk’s voice interrupted their wild fight. Logan looked up, and Skye tried to dislodge him again. He was wiry and strong. He had his hook, and he carried a sharp and lethal knife. He caught her about the waist with his arm, dragging her to her feet. He stared back toward the fires of the night.

Skye, sobbing for breath, tossed back her hair. He was there, the Hawk was there, feet wide apart, his hands on his hips, defying Logan. A sword dangled now from his scabbard. There was a lineup of men behind him, Blackbeard among them.

“Let her go!” Roc demanded.

Logan laughed. With his good hand he pulled open her cape, placed the blade squarely against her heart, upon her bared flesh.

“I’ve warned you, Hawk. Back off, or she will die!”

“Let her go!” Roc demanded again. “This fight is between us. It is between men! Don’t drag the girl in!”

“Ah, because she’s a part of you, eh, Hawk? Like my hand was a part of my body? Severed now! Back off, Hawk, and I mean it! My knife shivers with the beat of her heart. I’ll slice it out for you, Hawk, so help me God! You want her back so badly? I’ll slice her heart from her body, and hand to you, sir, still beating.”

“What the bloody hell is this?” Blackbeard demanded. “Now, Logan, you were with me, we were all agreed upon the details! I got the girl, and you took the Hawk.”

“You’re a slimy, scurvy backstabber, Edward Teach, and that’s what you are!” Logan called out.

“Now, sir, I take offense at that!” Blackbeard bellowed.

“Take all the offense that you want. I’m leaving in me boat with the girl. If one of you makes a move, it’s her heart, and that’s a fact. Are we understood?”

No one moved. Least of all Skye. The razor-sharp edge of his blade just scratched her flesh and she felt faint. He meant it. Logan would carve out her heart without a moment’s thought.

“You move now!” he ordered her harshly. He jerked her, dragging her toward the water’s edge. She heard the sound of oars and knew that Logan’s longboats awaited them.

“I’ll be on me deck!” Logan called out to the Hawk. “You want her alive, you row out alone. I’ll be waiting to see you, Hawk. I’ll be waiting right on the deck, and she’ll be with me. She’ll be right in my arms. You come, and she lives!”

Seawater, cold with the night, rose over Skye’s ankles. They backed against Logan’s longboat. His men were in it, she saw from the corner of her eye. The two who had come after her, and another two, who had probably remained with the boat, ready and awaiting his command. Logan was no fool; neither did he know the slightest thing about mercy.

“Hawk! Don’t come! He’ll kill us both!” Skye cried. Then she gasped, for the steel came hard and cold and deadly against her.

Logan spoke against her ear. “Get in! And not another word, and not a move. I’ll cut you yet, my pretty!”

Stumbling, Skye stepped into the longboat with Logan still behind her. He dragged her down before him with the blade of the knife still tight against her breast.

“Shove off!” Logan commanded, and the longboat shot into the dark.

For several seconds, Skye could still see the Hawk. He stood on shore, tall and formidable, his legs arrogantly apart, his feet firm upon his sand, his fingers knotted upon his sword.

He could not come for her! They would both die. She was certain of it.

Good-bye, my love, she thought. And you are my love, in every way.

Suddenly she wished that she could go back, just for a few hours. Just long enough to tell him that she did love him, that she didn’t care about the past, that the future was what needed forging. No matter what he had been, she would hold her silence unto the grave, and she would live with him and love him in his Tidewater paradise forever, for as long as they both should live. He was everything to her, everything in life.

“There she is, the ship!” Logan cried. His arm tightened around Skye. “No diving, my love, no swimming this night! No tricks, no fun, and I am in no mood for games! Climb aboard now, and know that my knife urges you upward.”

Skye grated her teeth and gripped the ladder. Logan’s men had crawled up before her, and Logan himself was behind her. She looked longingly back to the sea.

Logan’s knife prodded her rump. “No swimming, my love. Remember, we’ve been this road before!”

Arms reached down for her and his men dragged her aboard. She landed in a heap upon the deck, the cloak drawn around her. Logan crawled over the railing and looked down at her, smiling.

“Here we are, my love, alone at last. Well, not alone.” He lifted an arm, indicating the many men of his crew, pirates in all manner of dress, some in the rigging, one climbing to the crow’s nest, one at the helm, and gunners as ease, their breeches and shirts blackened by powder.

Logan took a step toward her. “But alone enough. Away from the Hawk.” He reached out his good hand to her. “Come. Come on, milady. Take my hand. You see, love, you and I are going to await the good Hawk. We’re going to await him together.”