Lost Honor (11 page)

“My brother was captured by Shark the pirate, who is raiding my ships. Like a shark, he stalks and circles his prey and then strikes.” His body tightened with anger, frustration, and fear for his brother. “I intend to apprehend him and rescue Harry.”

“So that is why you couldn’t return me to England. I would have made the same decision if one of my brothers, whom I dearly love, had been taken prisoner. Family comes first.” She peeled the skin from the orange, and a drop of juice squirted in the air.

Yes, it did. His mother had taught him about family, responsibility, and honor. His conniving, cheating father, who had left them to fend for themselves, didn’t know the meaning of those words.

“We will find your brother. I am sure of it.” She laid her hand over his, and immediately the world brightened and heated. The sun escaped the clouds, and fire pumped up his arm and down into his penis. He stiffened at the contact and slid his hand out from beneath hers before it was too late.

Clouds swallowed the sunny warmth and light of the day.

She frowned at the point where they had joined and then slipped her hand into her lap. “Tell me about your mother? I want to know if all mothers are like mine, working tirelessly to find me the perfect match and assessing every word I utter and garment I wear.” She separated the orange into sections. “I fear I am a disappointment to her, but she keeps struggling to mold me to her liking, which isn’t mine.”

“Unfortunately, she has her hands full. I don’t think you will ever conform.”

She squared her shoulders. “I won’t.” She popped a piece of the orange into her mouth, and fragrant juice leaked from one corner. Her pink tongue, the one that had shyly danced with his, shot out and licked up most of it, but a drop remained. Lust ignited in a fiery ball that sank to the very depths of him, and his penis hardened to stone. He longed to suck the remaining liquid from her jaw, but the sane part of him shouted he couldn’t.

Unable to prevent his arm from rising, his finger caressed the bead of moisture from her soft skin. His gaze floated to her moist, shiny lips. He would love to plunge his finger inside. He was so close. To feel the cavern close around him. So tight, hot, wet—

“Arianna, would you like more food? Are you still hungry?”

Desire burst like a bubble as Mark’s voice intruded. He should thank the boy who prevented him from making a colossal mistake, especially in front of his crew, but right now, he wanted to strangle him. He jerked his gaze from Arianna and scooted his chair closer to the table to hide the prominent lump erupting from his lap.

“I am fine, Mark.” Her voice sounded scratchy and strained.

He risked a quick glance at her face and spied her struggle to bring her emotions under control. A problem he also battled. But he was a master at leashing wayward feelings, at performing as was expected, even if it wasn’t to his liking. At least, he had been proficient before Arianna entered his life and chipped away at his restraint.

As Mark wandered away to continue his chore of braiding rope yarns into a strong, thick rope, he fought to remember what they discussed.

His mother. A topic that created ambivalent feelings within him. His erection withered. He cleared his throat as the sensations Arianna created faded away. “I loved my mother dearly, but she died a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry. And your papa?”

His face hardened. “I don’t have a father.” His hands clenched. It shouldn’t bother him anymore. He had left them long ago, and after a few very hard, lean years, Morgan had managed to take care of his family, but the rejection still hurt.

“Everyone has a papa.”

“I don’t. Now about your duties.”

“John, hold on.” An urgent shout rang out.

His gaze shot to the rigging to find a member of his crew dangling upside down, his foot tangled in one of the lines. Before he could act Arianna sprang from her chair, snatched the rope from Mark’s hands, and raced to the mainmast.

“Arianna, wait.”

Chapter Seven

Arianna ignored his command and scrambled up the ratlines as fleet as a monkey. He chased after her, but she was damn fast. She reached the yardarm before anyone else and slid across the narrow footrope beneath it.

“Arianna.”

His arms and legs grabbed and pushed, desperate to reach her. Coils of dread squeezed his heart. His throat constricted. One wrong move and she would smash upon the deck. Dead.

She stopped above the spot where John fought to remain alive. What was she going to do? If she tried to free him, he might drag her down to her death. She couldn’t sustain his weight.

Arianna threw one end of the rope around the yardarm and battled to secure it while holding on to prevent a similar mishap. His heart in his throat, Morgan couldn’t tear his gaze away or move for fear it would be the last he saw of her alive. She uncoiled the rope and it streamed past John. Had she tied a proper knot? Would it hold?

The rope hanging just beyond John, she swung it toward him.

His hand shot out. He missed.

She tried again.

It grazed his fingertips, but he failed to catch it.

Arianna refused to give up.

When it swayed toward John for the third time, he stretched out his arm and clutched it. Sighing in relief, Morgan quickened his ascent. With support to prevent a dive to the deck below, John struggled to untangle his legs. Men arrived and helped him accomplish the difficult task, and then he climbed the rope to where Arianna waited, her forehead furrowed with worry.

Reaching the yardarm, Morgan shuffled across it. The space that separated him from Arianna seemed like a mile that refused to shorten.

“Thank you, miss. I thought me life was ended. I am ever so grateful,” John told her.

“Arianna, John, are either of you hurt?” Morgan asked when he stood beside them. If their situation was less precarious and not viewed by every member of his crew, Morgan would have tightly enclosed her within the safety of his arms and never released her.

“I’m fine. John was the one in trouble.”

Exasperating chit.

“John, what happened?”

His face drawn, John trembled slightly, but he answered with a solid, firm voice, “A sudden gust of wind ripped the sheet right out of me hands. If it wasn’t for Miss Arianna, I might have fallen to the deck. She saved me life.” Admiration for her flowed from his eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t injured. Report to Doctor Stevens, so he can have a look at you. Arianna, I wish to speak with you in my cabin.”

****

Why did he want to see her in his cabin? He marched before her without speaking a word, his back rigid. Was he angry? What had she done wrong now?

He swung the door open and waited until she crossed the threshold before he entered and closed the door. Facing her, he finally exploded. “What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?”

She jumped back in shock at the force and tone of his voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Up on the yardarm.” He pointed toward the roof of his cabin.

Confusion swirled through her at the rage lining his face. “I saved John’s life.”

“I told you to wait, but you ignored my command.” He clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front of her.

Was this why he was upset? Because she hadn’t followed his orders? Her muscles stiffened in exasperation and annoyance. “John would have fallen if I hadn’t acted. Don’t you care he could have died?”

“I care about every member of my crew, including you. You could have been killed. Either I or one of my men would have rescued him.”

“I knew what I was doing, and I reached him first.”

“John was scared and weighs more than you. If he grabbed on to you…” He faced her and stared into her eyes, and the intensity of his anguish and concern speared her. What troubled him so?

He embraced her in his arms, squeezing her as if she might vanish. And then his mouth swooped down on hers, hot and savage, demanding a response. She immediately replied. She had no choice. He enveloped her senses in a mist of pleasure from which she didn’t wish to escape. His tongue thrust in and out. Her body tingled and heated, sensing there was more and yearning for it.

A cool breeze drifted across her back, and then his hand plunged inside the top of her loosened bodice and kneaded one breast. She jumped at the unexpected and the desire that shot to the very heart of her. He rolled the nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and she feared she would melt. The area between her legs grew moist. A moan slipped into the silence on soft feet, and she realized it crept from her.

His spicy scent and his taste captured her in an unknown world as his hot lips traveled down her neck and his hands pulled her bodice lower and lower until he yanked the sleeves off her arms, leaving her top half bare to his sight. She knew this wasn’t right, that she should be embarrassed of this, of him, of the response he created within her she knew nothing about, but she wasn’t.

She needed to touch him, to feel the fire of his skin. She jerked the white shirt from the waistband of his breeches and swept her eager hands beneath the linen onto a muscled expanse. She had never gazed upon it, but as her hands caressed and explored, she pictured it in her mind. Broad, sculptured contours sprinkled with curly brown hair.

A hot mouth sucked on her aching nipple, and she almost shrieked as the startling sensation shot straight to her woman’s core and devoured her. His sharp teeth grazed it lightly, his rough velvet tongue licked, and then he blew on the pebbled, wet area. Her knees wavered, and she grabbed his shoulders struggling to remain upright.

His mouth attacked hers again.

A knock sounded on the door. Morgan stilled, his arms rigid. “Who is it?” he shot out.

“Mr. Markham, Captain, may I enter?”

“No, you may not.” Morgan drew in two deep breaths. “What do you want?”

Quiet reigned on the other side of the dark door and then, “It’s a personal matter. I suppose it can wait.”

Morgan rested his head on top of hers. “I will be on deck shortly. We can discuss it then.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Arianna twisted out of his arms, clutching the bodice to her chest as she backed away from him, embarrassed now her senses had returned.

As the sound of Mr. Markham’s footsteps faded in the distance, Morgan stared directly into her eyes. “I never apologize for my actions because I always weigh the consequences before I do anything. I am always right, and my word is law on this ship and in my shipping company, but in this case, I was wrong. I didn’t think.”

He had apologized? She hadn’t believed him capable of it.

He turned his back to her and stuffed the hem of his shirt into his pants. The muscles in his back expanded and contracted, and she fought to drown the desire that rose again.

What was she thinking? She was often impulsive, unlike him, but she should have never allowed this to happen. He was the captain of this ship and a controlling male. The last person she wanted was a man like her brothers and papa. A man who considered himself superior and ordered her about and expected her to obey. She couldn’t let herself be ruined by him. She wanted to marry someday, but to a person who would treat her as his equal, who would permit and help her to explore her wishes and desires instead of insisting as his wife she remain in their home and bear his children. The house her only world. If her papa discovered Captain Danvers had touched her inappropriately, he would demand the captain marry her, and that was the last thing she desired.

“I had another younger brother.”

Her ears perked up. He said had, not have.

“When our chores were finished one winter day when I was seven and he was six, we thought it would be great fun to slide across the ice on the river near our house. He ran ahead of me and when he was in the middle, halfway between both shores, the ice cracked beneath him, and he plunged into the freezing water. I desperately tried to save him, but I failed, and he died. I swore from that point on I would protect those I was responsible for.” His teeth clenched. “Another person would not lose their life if I could prevent it. And when I saw you risk yours…”

Shocked, she couldn’t utter a word. To have his brother die before his eyes. She had brothers and knew anguish would consume her if one of them perished, even if they were a nuisance and bother some of the time.

He whirled to face her. “But that does not excuse what I did. It will not happen again.” He headed for the door. “You can help Hooper feed the crew today.”

****

He told her it would not happen again, and he intended to keep that vow. Morgan composed his outward appearance, his posture rigid and straight, his face as placid as a still lake, even though inside, his jumbled emotions resembled the battered mess of an unsecured cargo hold after sailing through the rage of a hurricane.

Could he keep that pledge? His hard cock throbbed with restrained lust. He needed a woman.

Not any woman.

Arianna.

He couldn’t venture on deck with a bulge pulsing between his legs. He had to think of something, anything but her, but his brain refused to heed his commands. Then he remembered how she had looked after he had almost taken her. Shaken, scared, and standing as far away from him as possible. How could he do that to a woman under his protection?