Didn’t he nearly kill Le Trompeur? Didn’t his giant ship appear out of nowhere to intimidate the French Pirate? He stood in charge of this crude bunch and the manner of man he’d become mirrored his reputation. He was a cold pirate, famous for his recklessness and daring.
“I find myself less than delighted with your hospitality.” And provoke him she did. He caught another insult in front of his men and his annoyance melted into a snort of laughter.
“Do you, by God!” Devon picked her up and heaved her across his shoulder, striding across the deck. Shrieking and kicking, he slapped her on the bottom. The men fired a rousing ovation as his head appeared over the bulwarks.
“No one ever dares talk to the Black Devil that way without paying the consequences.” hooted one of his pirates.
“Rouse all hands! Make the bars and cast off lines. We are off to careen and repair,” Devon shouted and swung her around and down the companionway. Up sprang another round of thunderous cheers as Devon carried her away.
He kicked open a door and dumped her unceremoniously onto a bed. Claire scuttled like a crab onto her backside, watching him. Did he mean for her to stay in this cabin−alone−with him? She remembered his look of scorn upon her in front of the French pirates, and even now, he looked at her with contempt.
“You’re nothing but a thief and a pirate.”
The words had an impact of a pistol shot.
“So you’ve informed me,” he said with a bleak spurt of humor.
Claire shivered. The atmosphere of distrust lay thicker than the impenetrable sea fog that sometimes swept along the archipelago. “I believe we have nothing more to say to each other. At one time, you were a kind doctor, Captain Blackmon. Please don’t make me remember you otherwise.” She jumped off the bed to close the door on him, even having the gall to smile, dismissing him as an inconvenient caller. “If you don’t mind−”
He kept his foot stubbornly wedged against the door, acknowledging her with a nod of his head. In reality, he hid a ferocious need. That need ate at the composure she tried so hard to maintain. Her desire to speed him on his way defeated anything sensible. “I believe your fellow brethren are in need of you.”
“I may be a pirate. But my ways are not the ways of Le Trompeur, who should have remained in France, and practiced pickpocketing. I have a sort of honor−shall we say, some rags of honor, remaining from better days.” He reached for her hand. She pulled it back. He took her hand and kissed her trembling fingers. The light, reluctant contact burned. His touch had the same effect on her it always had. She glanced around the cabin. Claire had no illusions about her ultimate punishment.
Latent hostility stretched between them. He wanted her. He’d take her. If anything, his hunger had only become fiercer after so long. He was angry enough to hurt her. But she did not miss the hidden tremor in his hands when he kissed her hand.
Unspoken guilt had gnawed at her insides ever since he’d escaped. “I never betrayed you or Ames,” she said to break the screaming silence that reared between them.
His eyes in the waning lantern light did not flicker. “You set your uncle upon us. Ames almost died. The murdering wretch then set upon me. If not for the Spanish raid, I too would have met my end.”
“I never set my uncle against you. Jarvis overheard a conversation I had with Lily. It was never my intention−” She wanted to scream at him.
“You betrayed me. You need not lie to me. You know it in your heart.” He laughed, and the resonant sound sent a chill of fear down her spine. “Ah Claire, always the fine manipulator. You sought me out in a gaol to have my name. A promise you made, but never kept. Forgive me, if I’m justifiably bitter and naturally distrustful after getting wind of your deceit.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his finger, continuing downward over her collarbone, pausing at the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. “Didn’t I warn you that if the winds of fate prevailed and our paths crossed, I’d have my revenge?”
“As I knew in my heart you’d seek reparation.” She pushed his hand away.
“Faith ‘tis true,” he shrugged. “I’ve been waiting this year to seek your atonement.”
She was most certain he would accomplish his goal. Claire let out a breath. If only she could dispel the thought before it shackled her mind. “And what of your recompense for all the dreadful crimes and outrages against your victims? You must be very pleased that you have achieved your dream of freedom. It is a shame you steal what others have honestly earned.”
He lifted a fine black brow. “Life’s lessons have taught me the powerful and the swift survive. Birth and happenstance make us empirical, do they not? I a former slave under a master whose sins against humanity rivaled the worst of pirates. I was fortunate enough to escape. Perhaps my profession has changed, but the man is still the same.”
“Do not delude yourself. The man I knew was honorable and kind. I saw you almost kill a man today, true to your barbaric nature.”
“He deserved to die. It is the price we brethren pay when one does not follow the code. The thought of piracy as horrifying to you as it may be, was my only chance at freedom. My life under your uncle held in balance on his whims whether by a whip or a hanging. The thought of being a thief appalls me, but it is a happy alternative to my former punitive state. It is sweet, having you here. You have a lot to make-up for.”
“I owe you nothing,” she said though she did not sound convincing.
He ignored her protest. “Your lover and uncle rest safely in the hold. If they prowled about my ship, I could not guarantee them from not accidentally falling overboard. Do you know that you are under my power? Do you realize that you are now my slave and must do as I command?”
“I will not obey.”
He took a lock of her hair and examined it. “I believe you have no choice.” His voice came husky, dangerous.
Claire dared to slap his hand away. “I will not let a filthy pirate touch me.”
Too late. She had pushed him too far. He picked her up and threw her on the bed. Claire struggled to her feet.
“I am not in a forgiving mood. Nor will I tolerate your shrewish behavior.” Devon pushed her back with one hand against her chest. Then to keep her in place he straddled her, pinioning her bucking body between his knees. Devon leaned over and retrieved some ropes he stored beneath his bed. Claire lay on her back, twisting, pounding her fists on his chest. He caught them, tied each wrist to a separate bedpost. She kicked and screamed, but he ignored her. When her hands were tied, he began to work on her legs. He caught her flailing feet.
