What did plague him? he wondered. His fingers bit more forcefully into her arms. “Indeed, why should you think that I tease you, Skye Kinsdale? We pirates revel in debauchery and conquest. It would be most natural to return the ship…but not the maiden.”
He lowered his lips as he spoke until his words fell like a warm breeze upon her parted lips. Then his mouth formed to the sweet curve of hers. She gasped but he drew her closer, seized by the dark power of a sweeping desire. Her lips were sweet; the clamor of her heart was sweeter still. He plundered her mouth with his tongue. He ravished and he laid bare. He tasted her until drums beat explosively in his head, and he knew that he would lose not only control, but his very soul in the bargain.
His lip moved from hers. He seared a trail down her throat with the damp heat of his parted lips, teasing her flesh with the tip of his tongue. He swept her collarbone, and the rise of her breasts above the haunting décolletage of her gown.
She had been still through it all. Then, as his kiss touched her breast, she let out a shriek of rage. He no longer held her with force, and she wrenched from him, shaking, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as if she had tasted evil.
It was less than complimentary, he decided wearily.
“Bastard!” she screamed, and she flew forward, her fists flailing. He barely protected his face and beard, catching her clawing fingers in the nick of time and bringing her back into his hold.
Damn her, he thought, then, and damn himself, for his desire for her remained, or perhaps it burned more fiercely. She was energy there in his arms, she was the power of the sun and the rhythm of the sea. She loathed him so…but it had taken her a long, long time to protest against the intimacy of his kiss, and she seemed ablaze. Was it hatred? Certainly, but it was a passionate hatred, alive, searing. It caused her to sizzle, to tremble, to stare at him with eyes afire. She swept into the very core of his being, heating him anew with her fire. In silence he swore against himself, and he swore against her.
He was captain. He could do what he chose. He was a pirate. The dread pirate Silver Hawk. He could sweep her across the room to his bunk, tear her clothing asunder, have her, sink into her, die within her…and it would but enhance his reputation.
He was losing his mind. He struggled with his heart, with his soul, and with the searing piece of his anatomy that was sweeping away his senses. Then he smiled at her, crookedly.
“Good, Lady Skye. Your kiss is good, your lips are sweet, your body is sound. You would not make a bad companion for the while, except that your temper is quite a thorn. But then again, perhaps your father or Lord Cameron will offer a high enough price for your head. No woman is worth too much a sum of silver or gold. And you do seem to lack experience.”
“Oh!” she cried, and swore again with vengeance. Her eyes snapped and sparked their luminous aquamarine and he was ever more tempted by her.
“Milady, I have not heard such language from the rogues who sail with me. Take care. I may well tame you yet.”
She spat out an explicit oath, struggling fiercely.
“Maybe you sit too easily today. Perhaps you need to be reminded that my touch is not always so gentle and tenderly given.”
“Gentle!” she gasped. “Tenderly given!” But she went still then, her eyes very round, her features ashen. She had not forgotten their encounter the day when she had wreaked havoc upon his tableware.
No, she had not forgotten, nor did she sit so easily yet. Skye gritted her teeth and kept her eyes hard upon him. She fought no more, for she was suddenly certain that the words were more of a warning than she could imagine, that he was truly at some brink, as if his temper burned on some very short fuse. But oh, she longed to hurt him! How she longed to have the power to taunt and humiliate! She despised him with every breath within her, she was infuriated.…
With herself, as well as with him.
She stood so still before the very onslaught of his lips. She did not hate and decry his kiss, she felt it, she savored it. She allowed it! He startled her so, he took her so quickly.…
There was no excuse, for in her heart she knew that she had allowed it. Fascination had held her still, and a simmering curiosity had swept her into its grip while his heat had seeped into her, leaving her without sense or reason and scarce able to breathe.
He was a pirate, a cur. Then what was she, she wondered with humiliation, that she could so easily crave his touch, rather than despise it?
She stiffened her shoulders and raised her chin. “Do it!” she snapped out. “If you intend to rape me, then do it now! Let’s end this torment!”
A single dark brow shot up and his lip curled into a rogue’s smile, a quick, handsome smile that caused a new shimmering to take hold deep within her. She would shame him! She would make him feel less than a man, and surely he would leave her be!
“Pardon?” he said politely.
“I said do it! If you intend—” He stared at her so boldly! The words began to falter on her lips. “Do it! I have had it with this constant torment!”
“You’re inviting me to rape you?” he said pleasantly.
“Yes! No!” she cried in dismay, and it didn’t matter at all, because suddenly he did sweep her off her feet, and with long strides he bore her toward the waiting bunk where they had lain together so many nights now.
She fell upon her back, and he was over her. Her heart thundered and her breath came too quick and panic seized her. She hadn’t shamed him in the least!
“No!” she cried, struggling fiercely. But his thighs, hot and strong as steel, locked around her, and laughing, he grabbed her wrists. She tossed, she writhed and arched, until she realized that her movement brought them into close contact. She railed against him with a new assertion that he was the absolute worst of the sea slime, but then she realized that he wasn’t moving anymore at all, that his bold rogue’s smile still touched his features.
“Alas! And I thought that I had disappointed you!” he cried passionately. “How would you have it now? Clothed, or unclothed. It can be done either way, I assure you. Shall I rent and tear fabric? How shall I manage this?”
“What?” she gasped.
