FicWad

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Tortuga bombards the senses.

Colorfully dressed men of the sea mixed with scantily clad doxies. The smells of gutters clogged with offal and even body parts mingled with the clean scent of the sea and wafting aromas of fish and garlic. Gulls screeched over the harbor. Dock laborers chanted. Distant music, raucous laughter and the occasional scream carried on the wind. Walks Softly, Diego, Etienne, Christopher, Mr. Street and myself walked along the main thoroughfare toward a place called The Boar‘s Tankard. A tavern for the most part, it dealt heavily in arms and information.

Having established myself here before in a brawl against two young buccaneers, I could enter without overmuch concern. Not to assume unnecessary risk, however, I kept one hand on my pistol. The common room reeked of grog, urine, unwashed bodies and oily lamp smoke. I had to chuckle at Etienne, who put a hand under his nose at once. Walks Softly and Diego had a grin at his expense. Christopher, who frequented many such establishments during his years as a privateer, adjusted with no difficulty.

I saw the proprietor behind the greasy, scarred bar. He wore a stained leather butcher’s apron over dirty trousers and shirt. He held up a hand in almost reluctant greeting as I approached. A wiry sailor drinking what smelled like kill-devil from a tarred jack, reached out to grab at me. I punched him hard in the face and he sprawled upon the debris-littered floor. Laughter rippled through the room.

“Gonna bust up me place again, bruja?” the proprietor asked harshly.

Given the absence of El Pantera de Oro, and my larking about on his ship with a male golden panther, speculation of witchcraft concerning me had spread among the superstitious.

In the Caribbean, superstition reigned as prevalently as might.

I stepped over the unconscious man. “Not if these bastards behave.” I nodded in acknowledgement to a man I recognized. He sat at a table at the bar’s end. I had met him in Port Royal when I had the Lilith refurbished. He did some escorting of laden ships for the East India Company.

I glanced about and leaned over the bar. “Keely Pete around?” A brief scuffle broke out behind me. I left it to my comrades to assess and handle if the need arose.

The barkeep squinted at me. “Depends.”

I held out my hand. Walks Softly deposited a weighty leather pouch in it. I dropped it and the gold coins inside jangled. The tavern keeper snatched it up, tucking the thing inside his shirt. I smirked. “Negotiations complete?”

“He’ll be here in the mornin’. Pete’s an early riser.”

“Make sure he stays until I arrive.” I met his gaze. “If I have to take back that bribe, a finger comes with it.”

Outside, Etienne erupted into a string of French, ending with, “Hell’s privy could not smell worse!”

I found myself anxious for a bath and some time with another woman. “Walk me to Jasmine’s.”



In all of Tortuga, refinement and luxury existed in a single amazing, isolated pocket.

Jasmine’s high-class brothel occupied a two-story, Mediterranean-inspired house beyond the filth- and violence-riddled ‘town‘s’ edge. A large contingent of fearsome fighters recruited from Chinese pirate junks protected the manicured perimeter. Flowering shrubs scented the air. Only a sign with the outline of a woman’s body hinted at the silken vice waiting within.

I met Jasmine the first time I docked here. As women fighting for our place in a man’s world, we recognized each other as sisters. I had paid handsomely for the retainer of a small, elegant apartment. Here I could soak in a tub, indulge my femininity behind closed doors and enjoy the company of other females.

Diego balked as I bid him good day at the jasmine-twined gate. His eyes spoke volumes, yet he said nothing in the presence of the other men. They would drink a bit perhaps, then return to the ships for the night. Etienne would doubtless share my bed with Walks Softly, as he had agreed to care for Gato. We made plans for them meet me here just after dawn.

Christopher caught me close, kissed both of my cheeks and they left me in the care of Jasmine’s capable guards.

I walked up the white-washed cobble, then the manse’s steps. The front door opened courtesy the short, trim majordomo. “Miss Rothington, welcome back.”

It amused me the fastidiously groomed little man welcomed me with such genuine warmth. “Good to see you, Smythe.”

He stepped back, extending his arm in invitation. “Miss Jasmine was finishing at her bath. She asked you go right up.”

I removed my kerchief, tucking it into my belt. “Thank you, I shall.”

The maid, doubtless at the task of watching out the forward windows for me, opened the door. She smiled. To my delight, the women here welcomed me with softness and a distinct lack of judgment. I winked at the maid, hurried inside.

Jasmine’s private sanctuary reflected her beauty and graciousness. I let the soft array of hues and womanly opulence buoy me. My hostess stood from the steaming tub, wrapping a huge drying cloth about her curvaceous figure. Her signature scent, made from the abundant bushes surrounding the house, lingered in a pleasant cloud.

I never asked about her origins. Neither did she volunteer. Had I to venture a guess, I would have wagered she started very far down in life and clawed her way up to her present, rather self-invented station.

She smiled at me, her dark eyes bright with life and spirit. “My fierce friend. I have two girls filling a tub in your rooms and dropping rose petals upon the bed. Welcome back to your haven.”

The last time I had been here, I drank myself half blind and confessed everything to her. She’d done nothing save sip her wine as I paced and ranted about male pride and stupidity. I had kept James’ name to myself, but nothing else. At the end of my tirade, she said, “Honesty was your crime, darling. Artifice, evasion and seduction keep men following like sheep. Honesty and abandon dim their interest.”

A bleak theory, I continued to believe. I returned her smile. “My gratitude. I shall not let the water cool.”

“I haven’t eaten midday meal,” she told me. “I would love to share it with you after you’ve soaked and refreshed yourself.”

“That sounds splendid.”

#

The supreme indulgence of savoring a deep tub of rose oil-laced water, having two girls to help me bathe and slather myself with depilatory, then massage me with rich, rose-scented lotion made the twang of recent strains and injuries fade like the aftermath of the battles I had fought. After all that pleasure, they dressed me in the clothes I kept here, brushed my freshly washed hair and went to dine downstairs in the blue salon with Jasmine. Two other women who made their living here helped themselves from an improvised buffet. I respected the females who could engage in this livelihood at so elite a level. Not only must they maintain their beauty, the trade required diplomacy, intuition and a grace some might not appreciate.

I served myself creamy lobster soup seasoned with saffron, then a dish of vegetables, shrimp and rice doubtless prepared by the Chinese cook who came with the fighters. We spoke of my latest conquests at sea. It amused Jasmine I took special effort in isolating and targeting slave vessels. I relieved them of their gold and stores, freed the poor devils locked in the holds and allowed Walks Softly to see to them before cutting free. I had established a reputation for mercy and courtesy if met with no resistance. So much as a single shot brought us aboard to fight. Jasmine found it entertaining and gratifying that a woman made men lay down their arms.

Even as we dined, a few customers arrived. Surprisingly, this house did quite a bit of business. Many men of means braved Tortuga’s brutality and lawlessness to patronize the quality enterprise.

A girl scurried into the salon to whisper something into her employer’s ear. I sipped tea, leaning back in the soft chair.

Jasmine handed off her plate. “A special client of mine has arrived. Come with me. I shall let you see him from a hidden vantage before I attend him.” She spoke in a tone of girlish conspiracy and it infected me. I rushed with her to a hidden door down the hall from the reception foyer. We entered quiet as thieves, her stiffened skirts’ rustle the only whisper of noise. Inside the narrow little pocket of a chamber, darkness reigned. I stood still as she slid something and light pierced the dimness. Grabbing my hand, she tugged me forward to peer through a viewing slit. Potted palms on the other side of the wall screened the device, and I saw him standing tall, commanding, dwarfing the feminine foyer.

Until the wall struck my back, I had no idea I had moved. My lungs wouldn’t seem to accept a breath and I shook violently.

Jasmine whispered, “You know him?”

I could only nod and grapple with the onslaught of volatile emotions. Anger and desire waged war. “It’s him.”

She grasped my meaning at once. “God’s unending mercy!” Her hushed exclamation seemed terribly loud. “You shot James?”

Almost ill with the strength of my reaction, I replied, “And stole his ship.”

She made a soft sound of astonishment, then grabbed my hand again. “We must get you upstairs unseen.”

“Wait.” My thundering heart twisted as an idea gained hold. “Is there another such as this chamber?”

Jasmine‘s muted tone sharpened, telling my she grasped my dark train of thought. “You mean looking into a room?”

Summoning my grit, I answered. “Yes.”

“Why would you wish this?”

“I have to know. To see. I have to know what he’s like with another.” Mayhaps I teetered on the brink of tremendous folly. I could not conjure the will to examine my motivation.

Time seemed to drag as a hull upon a reef. “I will put him in the gray room. Fourth door down from your apartments. A concealed door such as we entered through here can be found next to it.”

“Have you been with him?” The question flew from me unbidden.

“Yes.”

I hauled in a deep breath. “Professionally?”

“No.”

My shaking had subsided to an occasional tremor. “You would know if he was different with a woman here than with you, as a lover?”

“Do not ask this of me, Lili.”

“I ask only for council in the wake of this experiment,” I clarified, gathering my nerve. “I must know.”

“Council I can offer,” Jasmine replied, her voice filled with sympathy and concern. “Although I believe this self-flagellation of the highest order.”

Perhaps she had it in one. Punishment for shooting him. Then again, perhaps bloody well not. My resolve had found its sticking place. “Thank you.”

“If you can do so afterward, my shock shall know no bounds. I will speak to him, then walk him upstairs. Count to a hundred then follow.”

She left. I returned to the viewing spot. In but a heartbeat it seemed she glided into sight. “James, how good to see you. It’s been too long.” I could not help but admire her composed graciousness.

He kissed her hand, courtly, yet nonchalant. “Jasmine, beautiful as ever.”

She pulled her hand back slowly and I noted the studied languor. “Brandy?“

“My thanks, no.“

“What pleasure may we offer you this afternoon? Felize and Chantal are both available.”

“I’ve lost my taste for fiery women,” he confessed softly. “Something submissive and pale. Blond and white-skinned.”

“Variety is the spice of life,” she allowed. “But, James. Submissive? For a man like yourself?” He did not reply and skillful hostess as she was, Jasmine smiled, waved her elegant hand and sent a girl hurrying on some unspoken errand. “Your desire is our command.”

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the wall as they ascended the stairs. Rather than count, I considered this thing I prepared to do. The day I learned he intended to lay a woman in the tavern on his island, my blood ran lava-like with bloodlust. I would have rained down Hell on any wench imprudent enough to attempt bedding my lover. Now here I stood, about to watch him with a courtesan.

I emerged from the secret space and ascended the steps two at a time, a horrible anticipation gripping me in its jaws. Following Jasmine’s directions, I discovered the sister chamber I requested and entered quietly. It smelled slightly of furniture oil inside, wafting in from the room, I reasoned. In the dark, I groped blindly along the wall and found a mechanism. On well-oiled hinges the slide panel receded and I had my view.

James stood at a chest-of-drawers removing his weapons in that familiar, methodical fashion. He wore his hair clubbed back, his shirt open at the throat. My pulse tripped.

She entered almost silently with a palpable air of trepidation. Very slim and small, with white blond hair and whiter skin, her sky blue eyes seemed huge in her heart-shaped face. She wore a simple gown in pink. It gave her such a childish appearance, in another situation, I might have burst from my hiding place to rescue her. Reminding myself of her line of work, I steeled myself.

“Lock the door,” he commanded, tone low, controlled.

She complied, then remained close to it.

“What is your name?” he queried.

“Lucia,” she answered in a sweet voice.

“Lucia, you needn’t fear me.” He held out his hand. She crossed to him, apprehension in every step. Taking her small hand in his, he drew her to him. “What causes this trembling, girl?”

She hesitated, replied, “You are so big. Your hands could crush me.”

“Clearly, you must see I intend you no harm.” He sounded so detached. Her reluctance, even while he’d already paid for her body, became something he had to deal with.

“Men who like my manner often wish to hurt me.”

“I can understand how a certain type would be attracted to your timidity for that very reason. I am not that sort.” In his voice I heard ’the end’. The discussion had concluded. He walked to the bed, towing his obedient little plaything with him. He sat, and it brought their faces to the same level.

I felt quite dizzy when he kissed her. A sharp lance of pain tore through me, and I doubted the wisdom of continuing this. Still, I forced myself to watch, separate myself as much as humanly possible as he caressed her and stripped her bare. He touched her with a reserve I detected at once. She began to sigh and soften immediately. He remained unmoved, methodical as he bent her to his will.

When James removed his shirt, a swift thrill of desire swept me. I saw the large scar, satiny white in contrast to his dark skin, where I put a ball into him. I shivered.

She became a little more assertive, rubbing herself against him, touching him. I wanted to shoot her. At the very least yank her away by her hair. Unwelcome lust threaded its insistent tentacles through my pelvis as she removed his boots and breeches. I closed my eyes, listening to her exclamation of mingled feminine fear and delight. Whipping up my courage, I looked back. He circled her tiny waist with his hands and bore her down to the bed.

The logical portion of my brain noted his composure. While hard, he seemed remote. Almost … polite. She grew increasingly vocal and excited. By the time he entered her, careful and gentle, my shaking knees betrayed me and I nearly fell. Wetness slid down my cheeks, dripping onto my shirt. I put my hands to my face, surprised by the abundant tears.

Under him, she writhed and moaned until, even in my distress, I wondered whom should pay whom. His big golden body flexed, muscles dancing under his glorious skin. Libidinous memories assaulted me. She screamed from the force of her orgasm and fainted. His rhythm barely altered as he withdrew and climaxed without a sound. I quaked so aggressively I feared he might hear my bones rattle as he dressed and departed.

I had my answer.

Obtaining it had cleaved my heart anew.


CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN


Hours later, when the warmth returned to my body in the rum I had swallowed, I met Jasmine’s dark, concerned gaze. “Though I detested seeing him with another, my gratitude stands.” We sat in the sitting room of my apartment, I in a chair, she curled upon a chaise.

She smoothed a long black curl. “What did you learn?”

Rather than answer, I replied with another question. “What was James like with you?”

To my surprise, she blushed. “Masterful. Skillful. Courteous.”

“When he climaxed, did he try to hold as much of you to him as possible?” I studied her face. She seemed uncomfortable, but truthful.

“No.”

“Did the ferocity of his passion match that of his tenderness?”

She flushed a bit darker. “James was unfailingly considerate and observant of boudoir politesse. But never tender.”

I considered that, said, “I wonder what he might have felt for me under different circumstances?”

“I wonder what he felt for you under those very circumstances that he could not deal with,” she countered. “You are an amazing woman, my fierce friend. If betting who could win the love of such a man, I would place my wager upon you.”

Sadness weighed down upon me. “The entire consideration is at an end. A wasted effort. ‘Tis done.”

#

Sleep proved an elusive tormentor. Before dawn I had bathed, dressed and quaffed the hot tea afforded me by the ever-active, efficient staff. I half-scalded my throat in its consumption, armed myself and departed. As I descended the steps to the walk, I adjusted the buckling of my sword belt and the hang of the pistol. In battle, I wore two brace or more, but for everyday, I carried only the one removed from James’ possession as a trophy.

Images of him making that pale little bitch moan and writhe assaulted me. My toe caught on a raised cobble. I tripped, righted myself and swore a blue streak.

From the area beyond the gate, Diego’s voice floated in the early morning gray. “Light and sure-footed as a tigress in battle. Undone by a stone in a moment of quiet.”

He stepped from behind the jasmine-twined post. Dressed in fine high black boots, tan breeches and full white shirt, he looked aristocratic and virile. I asked, “Where are the others?” In my periphery, two Chinese guards slid along the charcoal and heather shadows.

“They shall meet us at the Tankard. Lili, are you all right?”

Knowing his keen gaze would not mistake the faint violet beneath my eyes, I responded, “I was very late to bed.”

His voice lowered as we walked toward the shell-paved road. “Alone, mi alma? James used to frequent Jasmine’s house.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “I put a ball in his chest and stole his ship.”

“In a rage of passion,” he answered without acrimony or accusation. “Such feeling does not vanish.”




The meeting with Keely Pete concluded quickly and with much success. Vicious scars testified to the gravity of the wounds he had survived. The ordeal of the keelhauling had left him unfit for demanding life at sea. Therefore, he eagerly volunteered everything he knew about the captain who had so wronged him in dispensing punishment for disputing a cabin boy’s flogging. I paid Pete handsomely for sheltering harbor locations, gun counts, hunting routes and the like. Afterward I offered him a place onboard the Lilith doing whatever he could manage. He clasped arms with me, thanked me, and with a little smile, said that the information business paid too well for him to retire from it.

We drank a round with him, and the raw spirit seared my throat anew. Then we walked as one back to the harbor. Christopher spent as little time away from Eza as possible. She had confided to me just before we left Florida that her time of the month had failed to come. Despite my offer of contraception, she and he had decided to let nature take her course. I knew she had not yet told my brother of his impending fatherhood. I smiled to myself, still made happy by his whole-hearted devotion to her.

I had requested Walks Softly keep a group of female sailors together in the guard rotations. I had signed them in Port Royal as a unit. Going by what must be assumed names, they fought ferociously and with much honor. I admired them, counting them as friends as well as crew. Wrath, Mystique, I.H.E. Savaial, Mauvais, Red, Kat, Music, Star, Pryncess, Darkness, Mirus and Soul whooped in near unison when I pronounced their shift ended and my intent to accompany them for drinking. I visited with Gato, rowing him ashore for a short walk before returning him to ship.

We went fully armed, as if for battle. Amid crude assessment and admiration for our female portions, we walked the filthy streets to Rot Wit. Owned by a past comrade-in-arms of theirs, the place looked properly piratical even from outside. The door of the tavern stood almost twice a man’s height, banded with iron. Inside, the laughter and low roar of conversation held a more jovial and relaxed tenor than other watering holes on this island. Scents of roasting meat and potatoes, spices and mulled wine filled the air. Far from high-class, it held a distinct brand of unexpected, if rough-hewn graciousness.

A red-haired woman, tall and dressed in male garb that juxtaposed her hourglass shape, yelled a greeting and plowed through patrons to reach us. She hugged Savaial, Red, Mauvais and Mystique almost together, then went on to embrace the rest. Her presence seemed softened by the tangible love as she reunited with her comrades. When Savaial introduced her to me, I met the woman’s gaze, seeing another woman in a man’s world.

She extended her arm. “Kourtesan. Call me Kourt.” She smiled as we clasped. “Or bitch.”

We ate several courses of food as we consumed epic quantities of good rum. By such time as the day waxed middle-aged, I had downed enough spirits to change my view on the world to a rosier slant. Our hostess stopped by our tables, said something about sending word to several ships about our presence here. I did not consider that a good thing until the door opened and a group of handsome young males entered, gazes scanning the common room, and lighting upon us. The women with me yelled and whistled first thing.

Kourt stood nearby, booted feet braced wide, grinning. As the males approached, one particularly large dark specimen spoke to her.

“Never thought I’d see you landlocked.”

She slid her gaze over him appreciatively. “Never thought I’d see you with so many clothes on.” He chuckled and she added, “Anyway, this is a proper den of iniquity. We only close long enough to sweep up the eyeballs.”

I tasted the latest offering of sliced fruits and cheese, watched the men mill about, sliding between the women. The dark one who had addressed Kourt suddenly seemed to see me.

“Greetings, beauty.” His voice emerged as dark as his skin and eyes.

Reckless with the rum, I replied, “The same to you.”

He dragged a chair from another table and made himself comfortable next to me. Instinct and logic worked together, and I realized exactly why the tavern owner had sent for these men; entertainment for my girls and myself. All pre-screened, if my reckoning served. Capital.

I barely completed the thought when I heard Mauvais drawl, “Now there is something I’d like a bite of.”

Mystique quipped, “I think I need the whole thing.”

Kat observed, “He gazes over here with some strong intent.”

Pryncess giggled at something the man next to her whispered, then said, “If I bite, it shall have to be later.”

I watched her rush upstairs with the young man who had just singled her from the group.

Red’s tone made me wary. “I do not care for the way he stares at the captain.”

Before I could twist and look, chairs scraped as my crew shoved them back and rose. The hair on my nape lifted. Realization stabbed me. I knew this presence. Even rum-soaked.

I.H.E and Savaial spoke almost as one. “Close enough.” Blades sang free their sheaths.

I turned in my chair. James glared at me over Wrath and Music’s sabers. Wrath bounced the tip of hers a bit. “’Twould be wise did you remain where you are.”

Music jested, “Nay, let him come closer and we shall carve him into portions.”

Those pale eyes of his skewered me, though he kept silent.

Mauvais’s playful tone grew sharp. “Mayhaps we should carve him all the same.”

Kat chuckled, drawing a knife from her belt. “Let me begin with the smaller bits.”

Wrath continued the taunting. “May I suggest a smaller knife?”

Dark humor rippled through the women. I heard Pryncess call from behind us, “Do not dare pick a fight without me!” The common had grown very quiet. I heard her charging back down to join us. The men in our company seemed reluctant to enter the confrontation, save the gypsy-dark one who had taken interest in me.

Red reached over and patted his arm. “Leave this for us.”

Mystique smiled sweetly, advised, “Run along, handsome. We are about to play.”

Kourtesan addressed him from her place beside me. “Captain, I will not allow any patron of mine harassed.”

When James spoke, his deep voice carried absolute command. “Captain Lilith,” he lingered over the word, effectively conveying his dislike of it, “you and I have business in need of settling. Meet me at the harbor at sunset, alone, and we shall seek to resolve it without bloodshed between our crews.”

He did not wait for an answer. I held up my hand as my crew moved to pursue. “Nay, let him go.”

The pleasant rum haze parted with disappointing abruptness. I forced myself to show none of the explosive emotions I felt. The time of reckoning had arrived.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

I stood just down the wide street from the harbor, Walks Softly at my side. For a moment, I stood holding his arm, dragging deep breaths into my lungs. After coming face to face with James that afternoon, I had walked alone to Jasmine’s. My fellow captains and mates disliked me to ever risk such a thing. However, between the suspicions of witchcraft and my growing reputation, I had decided sooner or later I could begin walking free as the men. Better sooner.

This evening, I wanted my friend for moral support.

I saw a boat coming toward the docks. A single lantern to beat back the growing dark hung from the prow. “That’s him.”

Walks Softly removed my hand from him. “Stand straight, Lili.”

I did. We walked together to meet him. James had rowed in alone, I saw. His gaze snagged on my escort, and he spoke in Algonquin. Walks Softly replied in kind, his tone a little stronger. Then in English, he said, “I return here in one hour. Do not make me wait, white brother.” He caught my eye, then departed.

Here and there a sailor walked, small wooden boats came and departed. The sounds of increasing revelry came from the taverns and streets. Yet, a palpable circle isolated us. My entire body trembled, and I felt quite overwhelmed with a dizzy mix of simmering, long-held pain and anger and the lightning he fired in my blood. The lantern light cast shadows under his heathen-high cheekbones. I knew that affect so well. My belly fluttered as I stepped down into the boat. I seated myself with my back to him. He pulled on the oars and he began the row out to his ship.

“Does the sight of me disturb you?”

Just the way the deepness of his voice seeped into my skin and chest told me I must guard myself completely. “I met you to discuss business. Not personal preferences.”

“Spoken like a captain.”

I could discern nothing from his tone. This meeting would demand every whit of my self-control, and I schooled myself to inner quiet.

Mr. Levit and a younger sailor I recognized from the infirmary tossed down a rope ladder. I ascended ahead of him, feeling his gaze fixed upon my bottom. I might have sworn my breeches in danger of catching fire by the time I swung my legs over the rail. Mr. Levit offered to clasp arms and I accepted.

James said, “Mr. Levit, Mr. Creed, Captain Lilith and I will require complete privacy for three quarters of an hour.” Polite and cool, he addressed me. “Captain, if you would follow me.”

I did, doing everything possible to avoid returning the keen study of his backside as we went down the short hall to his quarters. Inside, several oil lamps shed mellow light over the sparse, neat furnishings. The scent of ambergris snaked over my senses, seeming to blend smell and taste as I recalled the scent and flavor of his skin. My hands shook, so I hooked my thumbs in my belt and gripped the leather.

The door bolt slid fast. I shut my eyes briefly. I would not allow him to use simple mind games to disarm me.

“Have you enjoyed larking about the Caribbean on my ship?”

His words fell like stones. I faced him, beating back the rush of physical response. “I have much relished plying the Caribbean aboard my ship.”

Fire leapt in his eyes and he stepped closer. “You stole that vessel from me,” he challenged.

“I accepted it in lieu of the payment you offered. Surely a skilled courtesan would have earned as much in so long a time!” Heat erupted from some dark epicenter and poured outward like lava.

“You shot me!” he blazed, towering and wrathful. He ripped open the laces of his shirt, jerked the parted fabric to reveal the evidence. “I caught fever and nearly died.”

I knew the scar well thanks to having watched him remove his clothes to bed that little pale thing. “You ripped out my heart, you black-souled bastard!”

“So you tried to kill me?” he demanded.

My control cindered. “Yes! I loved you and you tossed me aside like a dockside whore!”

His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered to a furious, awful hush. “I know you’ve been fucking Gamboa. Perhaps the term fits.”

My fist connected solidly with his mouth. I stood there, panting, staring back at him as he wiped the back of his hand across his busted lip. “And you have been so chaste?” I smiled, acidic in my bitter rage. “At least I do not have to pay for it.”

“You bitch.”

“Proud of it!”

His big hands grasped my shoulders and a heartbeat later my back struck a wall. He glared down at me. “Did you watch?”

“Yes.” I taunted him with my insolent tone.

“Did it excite you?” His voice had changed.

My belly clenched tight and wetness flowed from me. “Yes.”

That rumbling purr came from deep in his chest. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. He murmured, “I can smell your heat.”

I glanced down. My entire body reacted to the ridge of his erection straining at his breeches. Meeting his gaze again, I replied, “As I can see yours.”

His hand cupped me at my core and I flinched. He rotated his palm, slow, insistent, and knowing as we stared into each other’s eyes. “Do you react like this to him?” He leaned closer. “I doubt it. Just as I doubt you have let him put his fingers into your bottom as you let me.”

I slapped him. He allowed it, I knew.

“Clearly you want my blood,” he murmured. “Taste it.”

He kissed me and the sharp tang of it mingled in our mouths for a heartbeat. The dark, sweet flavor of him wrung a groan from me. I pressed my hands to my own trembling belly to prevent my touching him. His tongue laid claim to my mouth. I climaxed under his hand. The release soaked my garments through. He kept his palm pressed there as I throbbed and clenched, his mouth swallowing the sounds of my cries.

“Remember this,” he whispered, “when he touches you.”

Shattered sexually and emotionally besieged, I still retaliated. “I will. He shall appreciate your warming me for him.”

He stepped back at once. I pushed from the wall and managed to walk to the door.

“This is not finished,” he said.

I freed the bolt and opened the door. “I keep my ship.”

His softly spoken reply stole my breath and nearly liquefied my already unsteady limbs. “I spoke of us, Lili.”