A Pirate's Heart (St. John Series) (8 page)

Juliana looked heatedly towards her brother. She didn’t even look at Kristina as she stomped to the door, angry that she didn’t get her way. “Follow me,” she rudely commanded.

“And Jules,” Jean Claude called after her as they were leaving. “Make sure they are your
good
clothing. Do not give this lovely radiant flower your rags. Only the best.”

“Yes,
Captain!
” Jules hissed as she stormed off with Kristina following cautiously behind.

Chapter Nine

Juliana did indeed have plenty of clothing. She had more articles to wear than Kristina had ever seen. Once Kristina had chosen several suitable outfits, some undergarments, along with a new hat and boots, she was escorted back to Jean Claude’s office. Just as soon as she entered, Max informed Alex to collect the articles of clothing, whisked Kristina out of the room and back on board
The Abyss
. He roughly took Kristina by the elbow and escorted her into the galley. Abruptly letting her go, he turned to leave.

“What the hell was that all about?” Kristina asked as she whirled around to face Max, rubbing her elbow.

“What?” he snapped.

“Are you planning on ripping my arm off or were you afraid Jean Claude would convince me to take ship with him?”

Max gave her a stern look. “No.”

“No to what? The arm or Jean Claude?”

“Both.”

“Both? Both?” Kristina repeated, the anger building as she remembered the conversation she had with Jules. The white-haired femme fatale had basically said that she and Max were lovers, and that Kristina was to keep her hands off her lover or terrible things would happen to her! “Well, I tell you what, Max, why don’t I go and join Jean Claude’s ship and you can have that hateful she-devil come here!”

“What the hell are you talking about, woman?”

“That horrid woman and all her threats! I could handle Jean Claude and his flirtatious manner. I could even resist his apparent attempt at seduction. But what I cannot handle is your
lover
threatening me!”

Max narrowed his eyes and in a low voice said, “She is
not
my lover.”

“
Really
?” The skepticism was apparent in her voice.

“Lower your voice and mind your tone there,” Max warned.

“I don’t have a tone. This is my usual voice when dealing with unreasonable people.”

“Unreasonable? I think you are the one being unreasonable.”

“No. I am perfectly reasonable. I just had to spend the last hour and a half with your lover.”

“As I just said, she is not my lover,” he replied with eerie calmness.

“Well, obviously
something’s
happening between the two of you. And she took great delight in telling me every . . . intimate . . . detail!”

“She’s lying,” Max said coldly.

“
She’s
lying!
She’s
lying! No, Max, I think
you’re
lying!”

Max crossed the room to Kristina, the rage apparent in his eyes. Kristina did not back down. She was tired, she was hot, and she had just spent the most grueling hour and a half with that horrid woman.

“If you think for one minute, that your apparent sour disposition and intimidating looks are going to dissuade me from—” Before she could finish her sentence, she found herself being pulled into Max’s arms. Her outburst was interrupted as his mouth came down on hers.

Max didn’t know what possessed him to kiss her, but he couldn’t resist. The softness of her lips was unyielding at first, but as he pulled her closer to him, he could feel her resistance ease as she began kissing him back. As the kiss intensified, he felt her arms encircle his neck. His tongue darted out and willed her lips to open to him. He held her tighter as his passion grew. Never in all his years had he ever had a kiss affect him like this one did. He could feel himself becoming aroused. A slight moan came from Kristina and the kiss became more passionate.

“Kris do you—,” Samuel started to say as he barged into the galley. His interruption caused a growl to come from Max.

“What do you want, boy?” Max snapped as he quickly let go of Kristina.

Samuel just stood in the doorway wide-eyed and slack-jawed, unable to move, unable to speak, with fear in his eyes. He could tell from the tone in Max’s voice that he was annoyed at being interrupted.

“I’m glad you are here, Samuel,” Kristina replied as she darted to a safe distance away from Max, behind the butcher’s block table. She turned to face him and held onto the large wooden table for stability, her knees weak from the kiss. Never in all her days had she been kissed like that. Sure, she had a few stolen kisses from some of the younger fishermen who frequently came to the small fishing village, but none of those compared to this. Max’s kisses were commanding, letting you know that he was in control. They created a strange sensation deep within her, a fluttering sensation within her belly that traveled down to her loins. Her lips were still tingling from the magnitude of the kiss. As she licked her lips, she could still taste him. She took several deep breaths to regain her composure. “Come here, Samuel,” she said, much to the boy’s relief.

Samuel darted past Max, happy to join Kristina. She was his salvation from Max’s fury.

Max was still reeling from the effect that Kristina had on his composure. He stormed out of the galley and went straight to his quarters. When he entered, he walked to the chest of drawers and pulled out a bottle of rum. Placing the bottle to his lips, he took several long drinks in an attempt to regain his composure. He sat down in the only chair, slouched, and closed his eyes, willing his body to come under control.

In the galley, Kristina was having her own battle. She handed Samuel the rest of the potatoes to peel as she began chopping carrots. She kept reliving the wonderful kiss over and over in her mind. As she thought about it, a dreamy expression crossed her face. He kissed her. She could feel the hardness of his body pressed against her and knew—from the conversations she’d had with the prostitutes in the past—that he wanted her. Her plan was coming into play. He would be her husband.

But as she thought about the day’s events, she began to get angry. The more she thought about what Jules had told her and the kiss, the angrier she became. Did he only kiss her because he could not have a dalliance with Jules? Was she just a warm body to fill the void of his unreachable lover? With each thought the knife she was holding would whack louder and louder against the wooden table.

“Are you okay, Kris?” Samuel asked nervously, watching his new friend brutally attack the carrots.

“Hmm? What? Oh. Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just been a trying day,” she said as a deep sigh came from her chest.

“Would you like a bath?” Samuel quietly asked.

“Really? A bath would be lovely.”

“You can use the capt’n—”

“No,” Kristina interrupted. “I cannot use his tub. I’ll just keep sponging off in my quarters. But thank you for the offer.”

Samuel gave a small nod and kept peeling the potatoes for the night’s meal. He was still uneasy. He did not like the fact that he caught Max and Kristina kissing. Knowing the quartermaster, he knew the future outcome. Kristina would end up in Max’s bed and that thought upset him. He had begun to think of Kristina as a motherly figure and Max was not the type of man anyone would want his mother with. He was intimidating, controlling and dangerous. Granted, Samuel knew Max would never strike a woman, but he would not make right by them either. Samuel had lost count of the number of times he had heard Max say the only thing a woman was good for is a tumble in bed and nothing more. As Samuel watched his new friend, he worried for her. Worried she would become just another notch in Max’s belt and nothing more.

Once the evening meal was prepared, served, and the pots cleaned, both Kristina and Samuel were drenched in sweat and thoroughly exhausted. It was unusually hot in the galley today. And just when Kristina thought her day was finished, Max stuck his head through the door to inform them that the captain wanted a bath. A disgruntled moan came from Kristina. Why did the captain have to be so fastidious? He was worse than any woman Kristina had ever met. He bathed more than a cat! The fire had been allowed to extinguish itself out in the large stove, but it was still hot. So Samuel and she placed several large pots on top to warm.

“I can finish these up, Kris. You go on to bed,” Samuel told her.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping,” she said, even though she was hoping he insisted she didn’t.

“I’m sure,” he said, much to Kristina’s relief.

Kristina made her way to Max’s quarters. She was still in shock that he agreed to let her stay in his room. He did graciously allow her to sleep with his pistol to ease her concerns about him attacking her. She was still perplexed as to whose idea it was—Max’s or the captain’s. Cautiously making her way through the corridor, she approached Max’s door. She was so tired that it felt like her feet were anchored to the floor. Each step took every ounce of energy she possessed. Once at the door, she hurriedly slipped inside hoping no one noticed her. She closed the door and turned to find Max standing at the dresser.

He was looking at his reflection in the mirror. His face was covered in the white lather of shaving cream. His shirt was tossed onto the chair beside him. She watched as his muscles rippled across his back with each move. She could see the edging of a tattoo encircling his right bicep. Her gaze turned back to his broad, firm, tanned back. She noticed several scars scatter across it from his numerous battles—some large and some small. She swallowed nervously as that funny feeling crept back inside her. When her eyes made their way back up to his reflection, she noticed his arrogant expression.

“Like what you see?”

“I’ve seen better,” she lied in an attempt to wipe the arrogant smile from his face. Her response only managed to get a small chuckle from him. “I’ll step outside until you’re finished.”

“There is no need to do that,” he said. “One of the crew would likely see you standing there. They might find it suspicious, you lingering outside my door, instead of in your quarters.” The crew had been told the cook was bunking in one of the storage rooms.

She gave him a hard look. “Well, at least you’re shaving those awful whiskers off. Your half attempt at kissing me nearly ripped my face off with those atrocious things.”

“I’ve never had complaints before.”

She gave a very unladylike snort to his reply and walked to the bed. He finished shaving and wiped the reminder of the shaving cream from his face with a small towel. He turned to address her. She was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, refusing to look his direction.

“Something wrong, Kris?” he asked as he sensed her fury.

“No,” she snapped. He simply shook his head at her reply. He would never understand the female mind. His thoughts were interrupted with a sudden, “Yes!” Her eyes locked onto his. “How dare you take me to that ship with that woman?! I know we hardly know each other, but still. She was the most vile, most rude, most disturbed person I—”

“Hold it right there, Missy. Jules might be all sorts of things, but vile is not one of them.”

“I
figured
you might think so,” she replied with disdain. She continued her rant, switching to Spanish. “If you think for one moment—”

“Shut up! If you are going to insult me, please do so in English. In case you’ve forgotten
I do not speak Spanish!
” he reminded her as his words got louder.

She glared at him and did the unthinkable, at least in Max’s mind, as her tongue exited her mouth. “Did you just stick your tongue out at me?”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, but said nothing. A dark scowl crossed his face. It was a look that would cause most people to cower in fear, but Kristina was not most people.

“If you think for one minute that—” Her tongue lashing was interrupted as she let out a loud, bloodcurdling scream.

“What the hell was that all—” Before Max could finish his sentence, he watched in astonishment as she leapt across the room and began climbing him like a cat climbing a tree.

She kept clawing and climbing until she reached his shoulders, all the while screaming, “Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!” Max could not see what she wanted murdered. By the time she had finished scaling him, her legs were wrapped around his head and her hands were covering his eyes. He peeled her fingers from his face.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman?” he asked.

“Kill it!” she screeched again, as she attempted to keep hold of her perch. Max peeled her hand from his eyes again and noticed the cause of her distress. In the corner of his quarters was a mouse.

He took a slow frustrated breath. “You mean to tell me, that all this drama, you climbing up me like a tree, removing the flesh from my back with your claws, and digging my eyes out was all for a
mouse?”

She said nothing, just held fast to her perch. Max could feel her shaking. This woman, who faced him without fear, was now sitting on him trembling with fear over a small rodent. He heard her give a frightened moan before clutching his head tighter with her trembling hands.

“Kill it!” she screamed again as the mouse attempted to make its way to the door.

“Woman, would you be quiet? You’re going to wake the entire ship with your caterwauling. I’m amazed my door hasn’t been knocked down as we speak.”

Her grip tightened even more as the mouse moved closer to Max’s foot. He gave a quick stomp and the mouse scurried out under the door. “The evil sea monster is gone now,” he said dryly, irritation apparent in his voice.