A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) Page 6

“Please don’t tell my father,” she murmured.

  He frowned. “Tell him what?”

  “That I saw a naked man. He will be angry.” She put her hand on her forehead. “He’ll beat me.”

  “Like bloody hell, he will,” he growled.

  Why was he angry again? Her jumbled thoughts tried to piece together what she had done.

  He slid next to her. His strong arms wrapped around her and pressed her against his chest, crushing her. She molded to him. He rubbed her back, warming her and the cold lessened. Chills rolled over her, but she didn’t feel cold anymore. Next to Kane, she felt safe and warm and cherished. “Don’t leave me,” she murmured.

  “I won’t lass,” he said. “Sleep, Hannah.”

  She placed her hands on his chest and spread her fingers. His muscles rippled beneath her touch. She shivered, inhaling his masculine scent, and sighed and snuggled deeper. Her lips brushed his skin and she tasted salt.

  He groaned and stiffened. “You’re killing me, lass. Lay still.” His arms cradled her closer to him.

  She didn’t understand why his voice was strained. “I promise I won’t move,” she murmured. “As long as you stay here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep.”

  “My head hurts along with every muscle.”

  “I know.” Kane kissed the top of her head.

  Her eyelids grew heavy. Before she fell into a deep sleep, she tilted her head, her lips capturing his, surprisingly soft ones. He tasted heavenly, salty, spicy. She wanted to taste more of him, but didn’t know what to do. She moaned as she nibbled on his lips, sweet oblivion, taking her away to dreams of Kane making her love to her…

  Hannah’s eyes fluttered open. Her muddled mind had difficulty maneuvering through the fog of misery thumping in the back of her head. The right side of her face throbbed. She tried not to move. Every muscle was sore. What happened last night?

  She lay in a soft feather bed, naked. Her heart sped up. How did she get this way? Images tried to take shape in her mind, but melted away as soon as they formed. She remembered kissing someone, the taste of salt and spice. The kiss had been tender, sensual, lustful but brief, way too brief. She had wanted more. Delve deeper into the recesses of his mouth. She frowned. Had she seen a splendid nude Greek God? Not a god. Kane. It had been Kane’s lips. But that had been a dream.

  When had she started thinking of him as Kane rather than the captain?

  Over her head, sunlight beamed from a round window down onto a wooden desk covered with scattered papers, an inkwell, a metal clock, and a six inch upright jade Celtic cross. She frowned.

  Someone moved next to her and a sculpted arm clasped her waist tighter, securing her against a hard wall of muscle. Soft breath caressed her neck. She froze. Mother of Mercy.

  She slowly turned her head. Her eyes widened and she gasped. What had she done? Lordly, the kiss, the naked man, it had all been real.

  Kane stared at her, enthralling her with his stormy green eyes. He lifted an eyebrow. “You always come outside during a squall?”

  Mother of God, she was destined for hell. She slapped his arm. “Release me!” With each slap, her hand bounced off hard muscle. Frustrated she stopped she could see by his grin that she had no more effect than an annoying fly.

  His fingers twirling in her hair, he laughed. “Good morning, lassie.”

  She stared into his mischievous eyes. His gentle fingers sent shivers through her as he dragged his fingers across his sculpted abdomen. Wicked unfamiliar sensations ran over her. Soft lips pressing against her, the lingering savory taste on her tongue and the scraping of whiskers on her cheeks, she moaned. She had kissed a pirate. But kissing a pirate wasn’t the worst of it, the worst of it, was she enjoyed it. She liked it and God help her, she wanted more. She moistened her lips.

  To keep her traitorous body from doing anything else dim-witted, she bolted away from him and tugged the blanket up to her neck, wincing as pain slammed into the back of her head. She glowered. “What happened? Why am I naked? What did you do?” Bunching the blanket tighter around her, she hissed, “You’re a knave.”

  He shrugged. “You’ve no idea.”

  "What did you mean by that? How many women have you raped?"

  He narrowed his eyes. “That’s something for you to discover.”

  She stiffened. Since she had been aboard this ship, he hadn’t tried to harm her. In fact, she had wanted him. The fuzzy memories haunted her. She had licked him and kissed him and snuggled next to him all night.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  He tossed the blanket back and she saw his manhood. Her eyes widened and she sat unmoving, with cold air rushing over her nude body. She shivered.

  As he slid out, her body felt frosty where it had been warm before. The empty bed was too big and she wanted him back beside her, but this was foolish, selfish, wolfish.

  Hannah couldn’t help but sneak a peek at his backside. Last night, she thought she dreamed of seeing him naked, but it hadn’t been a dream. Her recollections had been dimmed, fuzzy, but now, her mind was clear.

  She stared at Kane’s muscular backside. His tight buttock drew her down to his ballocks and she jerked her head to the side. “Put some clothes on Captain.”

  “Bloody hell, lass,” he growled. “Don’t lose your head.” He marched over to his dresser, ripped open a drawer and yanked out a pair of breeches. He pulled them on and dug into another one. He pulled out a dark green shirt and tossed it at her. The shirt landed a few inches from her. She eyed the shirt and back at Kane. He stood with his arms across his wide chest.

  She tilted her chin. “Turn around.”

  “Shite.” He uncrossed his arms and turned his back.

  His shirt engulfed her and she couldn’t help but snuggle into it, wishing he would wrap his arms around her. But ’twas improper. She was a lady and he was a pirate.

  “Are you finished?” He snapped.

  “Yes, you can turn around.”

  Kane ran his finger through his thick hair. “Don't look at me as if I accosted you last night, lass.”

  “Then why…”

  “You came out in a bloody squall and fell down the stairs. Only a dull-witted eejit would venture outside when the seas are crashing against the ship.”

  She sucked in her breath. Tears welled in her eyes. His voice reminded her of her father. “I had to find Doc.”

  “Aye, to save your father,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, how did you get the marks on your backside?”

  Her cheeks heated. Why couldn’t she be proper like her older sisters? They’d never have gone outside during a tempest. They’d never have slept with a pirate. They’d never have disappointed father. “I must have fallen down the stairs.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said. “The marks were there when I discovered you were a lassie. I had assumed they came from the battle, but I was wrong, aye?”

  “What?” She shook her head. “Yes…”

  “So, your father whipped you,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

  “You tricked me,” she insisted. “No, he didn’t.”

  He cocked his eyebrow. “You’re lying.”

  She tilted her chin. “No, I’m not. He’s a good, God-fearing man.”

  He snorted. “So, if I told him about how feverish you were last night and what I had to do to keep you warm, he would understand, aye?”

  She swallowed and bit her lip. “Why would you do this? Why would you tell him about last night?”

  He picked up his boots and slipped them on, grabbed the belt draping over the chair and buckled it. His sword and pistol secure. “There are no secrets aboard my ship.”

  She cringed.

  Kane strode over to the door, his boots pounding on the floor, and put his hand on the doorknob.

  “Please,” she said. “Don’t do this.” Her voice shook.

  “Answer my question,” he commanded. The tenderness in his voice had diminished. He was the captain agai
n.

  She cast her eyes down. “I disappoint my father.”

  “Meaning,” he said. His voice lost some of its edge.

  She glanced up. He strolled over to the bed and sat. He pushed her hair out of her face. She curled her toes and clutched the blanket close, stifling the urge to lean over and kiss him. Was it her gypsy blood? Had Kane woken something inside her, something deceitful, treacherous, immoral?

  “I broke his rules.”

  He gritted his teeth, “What are these bloody rules that earn such a beating?”

  She shrugged. “Breaking the commandments.”

  He ran his finger down her face. “So, lovely,” he said. “Why would a Sassenach want to hurt such a beautiful creature?”

  She sucked in her breath. The same urge rushed over her to kiss him, but her fists balled the blanket. “Please,” she said. “He wants to save my soul.”

  He frowned. “Saved your soul from what?”

  Before she confessed about her ability or kissed him or did something else equally stupid, she needed to put distance between them. Her stomach churned. “From sleeping naked with a lecherous pirate.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Get away from me.” Hannah’s voice dripped with loathing and she tilted her chin. Kane winced and dropped his hand. Hannah might as well have slapped him across the face. He may be a pirate, but he did have a conscience. By her scowl, she didn’t believe him capable of possessing one ounce of honor.

  What could he say?

  Bloody hell, she was right. He almost broke his vow of not seducing her, of not exploring her feminine curves, of not kissing those luscious lips. The intoxicating smell of jasmine and silky skin rubbing against him tested his honor. She had molded next to him and he wanted to run his hand over her hips, fondle her breasts, venture between her thighs, not to bring her warmth, but to satisfy his own dark lust. He resisted, keeping his fists clenched, and his burning desire under control, but each time she moved or sighed, his cock hardened. A cold dip. He needed to swim in the ocean.

  He gritted his teeth. “Very well.” He studied her and couldn’t resist taunting her. “So, you often sleep naked with pirates?”

  A blush spread across her face. “No.” He imagined the blush running along her body to her toes.

  “Are you going to tell him about last night?”

  “I’m afraid, lass, he might suspect something.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “Last night, after you fell down the stairs.” His words softened. “You were a bloody mess, and I reached you first. Your incoherent father came staggering down the hall.”

  “He was delirious, not drunk. Where was Doc?”

  “Chasing after the bloody fool. But he was too late. Your father punched me in the jaw, accusing me of accosting you.” He gritted his teeth. “Tis lucky I didn’t gut him.”

  “You didn’t hurt him?”

  “Careful,” Kane warned as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and lowered her down to the mattress. Her knotted eyebrows and pale face revealed her pain. He should not have spoken his resentment of her father. After all, she cared for him, loved him, almost died for him. Plastering a smile on his face, Kane said, “No, I didn’t hurt him. Doc’s attending him in the brig.”

  “He is?”

  “We aren’t barbarians. Doc has cleaned the brig and put blankets in there along with plenty of water and food.”

  “But…”

  “I’ll not have him wandering around the ship attacking me or my crew.” He traced his finger down her arm, feeling her tremble beneath him. “Or you,” he lowered his voice.

  Was it from his touch or was she thinking of her bastard father? If the man hurt her again, the bloody eejit would strip away the last pieces of Kane’s shredded honor. Kane would have him thrown over the ship to drown in a watery grave.

  “Obviously, he was worried about my virtue,” Hannah whispered.

  “I assure you, stealing a British lass’s virtue isn't my style. I prefer an Irish lassie—warm and wiggling below me.”

  She turned her head away and she wiped her face. Was she crying? Did she care? She just called him a lecherous pirate. “Hannah?”

  She whirled back. “What?”

  Her eyes were bright. Even with a swollen eye and a fat lip, she was beautiful. He wanted to run his fingers down her porcelain face, but kept his hands to himself. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “I’m fine. Why…”

  She stopped mid-sentence. Her brown eyes grew large and her face paled, whiter than the full moon. Was she losing consciousness? She had been lucid. He gripped her arm. “Hannah?”

  She licked her lips and placed a shaking hand on top of his. She shook her head.

  “Lass, what is it? I promise I won’t let your father harm you.”

  She startled. “What? My father?”

  “Aye, he won’t hurt you aboard my ship.”

  She stared. His heart twisted at the fear brewing in her doe eyes. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, chase away her fear, kiss her, stroke her passion, but he was a pirate and a cursed one. She deserved better.

  “Ah, yes, my father, but I wasn’t…,” she whispered, her voice fading.

  He followed her gaze and frowned. Nothing. Her lower lip trembled. “Are you well lass?”

  “I don’t know.” She released his arm and rubbed her temples. “No, I’m fine.”

  “You’re rambling and don’t look fine.”

  She glanced at him. “My head hurts again. I think my mind’s fuzzy, can’t seem to focus.”

  He put his hand on her forehead and she flinched. She was warm, but not hot enough to warrant hallucinations. “Not seeing…”

  A loud crash hit the floor behind them. Kane whirled around. Hannah jumped in his lap. She shuddered and he cradled her in his arms. The scent of jasmine teased him again. Her body molded against his as her fingers clutched his arms. His cock hardened and he gritted his teeth. An urge to kiss her washed over him, to make her forget her fear, but was it from wanting to comfort her or his aching need. “’Tis fine, lass,” he said, his voice strained. He rubbed her back.

  “Wh…what…what was it?”

  Kane scanned his cabin and murmured. “What the hell?” His father’s Celtic jade cross, heavy weighted with iron, was on the floor. Since he had been captain, the cross remained upright on his desk, never falling over once, even during the pounding seas. He frowned. “Blazes.”

  Her nails dug into his flesh. “What?”

  Fear resonated in her voice. Before he could stop himself, he kissed the top of her head. She didn’t flinch. He put his hand over hers and pushed her quaking hands off him. “’Tis fine, lass. Wait here.” He walked over to the cross and picked it up. Examining the heavy cross, he mumbled, “Strange.” He ran his fingers over the ornate surface, checking for damage, but the surface was smooth.

  He glanced at Hannah. Her face was paler, her eyes wider. The purple bruises on her right side stood out more. But she wasn’t staring at him. She was staring to the left of him as if she saw the devil himself. Once again, he followed her gaze, but only saw his trunk. What the hell was going on? Was she becoming feverish?

  “Hannah?”

  She blinked and glanced at him as he placed the cross on his desk. “What?”

  She licked her lips. “Was it broken?”

  At first, he thought the lassie was frightened of her father, but her father was locked down in the brig. There was something else going on. Definitely hallucinations. The fever must be on her, but she didn't seem drenched. She had to be delirious, yet her eyes were bright. Her speech coherent. He needed Doc. Now.

  She put her hand on her forehead and swayed.

  He rushed to her. “Hannah? Are you feeling feverish?”

  She shook her head. “No.” He put his hand on her forehead. She was chilled, but he didn't detect a fever. Maybe ’twas the bump on the head.

  There was a loud knock on the door
. “Captain,” Sean said. “We need you on deck.” He pounded on the door again. “We are approaching Tortuga. We’ve spotted your brother.”

  Hannah stared. “You’ve a brother?”

  “Aye, William. He’s seeking information about the Fiery Damsel.”

  She recoiled, the fear back in her eyes and he cursed his stupid tongue. He should have kept his mouth shut, but somehow he didn’t want to lie to her. Wanted her to think he had some scrape of honor.

  She said, “Are you going to leave me?”

  He hid a smile and pushed a lock of her silky hair behind her ear. She didn’t want him to leave. Maybe she didn’t find him so vile. At another hard pound on the door, he chewed his lip. He should be up on deck.

  “Aye, Mallory,” he called. “I’ll be up there in a few minutes. Send for Doc.”

  “But Capt’n,” Sean said. “Are you gettin’ on your wick?”

  “Mallory,” Kane warned.

  The knocking stopped and Sean uttered a soft curse on the other side of the door.

  “Do you want me to check the bed for little beasties?” He smiled at Hannah, trying to put her at ease.

  She nodded. He pulled back the covers and the white sheets only revealed her soft limbs. His fingers ached to caress them, but he clenched his fists.

  “Hannah,” he said, “There’s nothing here.”

  She ran her hand through her hair. “Maybe I’m imagining things. The demon? He couldn’t…”

  He grasped her shaking hand. “No, Hannah. Zuto can’t leave his island. You’re safe aboard this ship. I promise. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” she muttered.

  But he wasn’t fooled. Maybe the horrors of the past few days were catching up to her. She needed rest.

  What if he was wrong? What if Zuto had grown stronger since he found Hannah and her father? The demon was a bastard. Kane had to talk with William and get his report.

  Hannah stared into Kane’s determined eyes. Kane slowly released her hand. She swallowed, wanting to beg him to stay, chasing away her fears. But his clouded face crushed her hopes. What was she thinking? He was the captain. Besides, he’d be furious to know she knocked over the Celtic cross. Her fuzzy mind betrayed her, summoning her power. Not good. Not good at all.