Too Great a Temptation (12 page)

She tasted divine. Like all the sweetness in life he had been denied for so many years. She was beautiful and spirited and she made him feel hopeful. Like he could be happy in life—with her.

Damian dragged her onto the bed, wrapping his arms tight around her, crushing her to him. Her weight overtop of him was heavenly, but he wanted to feel and taste all of her. To move deep within her until they were one.

Already naked beneath the thin bedsheet, he could sense every part of her body rubbing up against him, scorching his skin. He wanted to know her even better, though. Every intimate part of her. Her bountiful breasts, the nook of her neck, the dip of her belly button, the smooth groove behind her knee…the warmth between her thighs.

With a desperate groan, Damian rolled her onto her back, his lips still devouring hers. He grappled with the buttons of her trousers, then slipped his quivering hand between her legs, cupping the warm and dewy flesh.

She gasped, then moaned against his mouth, arching her hips forward to meet his deliberate caress.

His wanton siren.

She goaded him with her urgent movements. And he appeased her lustful cravings by slipping a finger into her wet passage, stroking her on the inside, stirring up another primal moan from the pit of her throat.

Ah, his beautiful Belle. She called to him, enchanted him, soothed his troubled heart…and she made his blood run hot.

But the erotic moment shattered at the sound of a voice seeping in through the fissures of the planked walls. It called for Belle, and Belle heeded the call.

She scrambled to her feet in alarm, a soft cry escaping her lips. “It’s James,” she whispered breathlessly. She was shaking so hard, she couldn’t do up the buttons of her breeches right away. “He’ll kill us both if he finds us together.”

Damian swallowed a few gulps of air. He was still thrumming with lust, his cock hard and ready for Belle.

“Get out,” he said roughly.

“I
will,
” she shot back in a low voice, her lips swollen and red and ever so tempting. “Just as soon as James wanders by. The bloody codpole. He could sleep through cannonfire, but
now
he decides to wake up and come looking for me?”

“And don’t come back, Belle.”

She tossed him a flustered and confounded look. “What?”

But Damian had meant what he said. He could
not
keep his hands off Belle to save his life—or his soul. He realized that now. Even the memory of his brother was not strong enough to draw Damian away from Belle’s enchanting grip. He had to keep his distance from the woman or he would not survive the journey intact.

“If you come back in here,” he warned between uneven breaths. “I’m going to finish what we started—to hell with both our lives.”

T
o hell with both their lives?

That didn’t sound very appealing. But the thought of finishing what she’d started with Damian the other night did.

Mirabelle was still tingling all over with pleasure, her skin overly sensitive to touch. She had bathed in the morning with a cool, wet cloth, for instance, and had imagined Damian’s hands roving over her the entire time. It had left her weak and breathless, that brief rubdown. Not to mention aroused. And curious. Curious to know more. To feel more. Last night’s interlude had been far too short. Though she’d been unprepared to abandon herself to Damian completely, a few more moments with the navigator would have been immensely gratifying, she was sure. Intense feelings of bliss had slowly developed inside her. A need so profound, it made her heart flutter just thinking about it. But her need had been left unfulfilled. Interrupted by an interfering older brother.

Mirabelle grimaced in remembrance. Roused from his sleep to find her gone from the cabin, James had assumed something was amiss, and had scoured the ship looking for her. He’d found her—eventually—topside and breathless. She had escaped Damian’s room undetected, and had made her way up onto the deck, where she’d admitted to James having a spell of insomnia and nothing more. Ordered back to bed, she’d complied, but she didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire night. And for once, her wakefulness had nothing to do with James’s snoring. For once, it had all been Damian’s fault.

After letting out a gaping yawn, Mirabelle stretched her arms high over her head. Perched in the crow’s nest, she was assigned the first watch of the night and already she was feeling restless.

She shifted in her cramped spot, her bottom numb, then returned her attention to the setting sun and the horizon, dreamy thoughts of Damian filling her mind once more.

She could still remember the haunting look in Damian’s eyes, the bitter pain in his voice. Last night, she had yearned to banish the hurt tormenting him…but now she just yearned for him. Yearned for him to do all sorts of things to her. Like touch her in intimate places.

She shivered in fond memory of his fingers gliding inside her, stroking and stroking, whipping her insides into a frenzy. What a delightful, no, delicious way to spend one’s time. No wonder her brothers found this sort of amusement so engaging. Mirabelle was beginning to understand more and more their eagerness to dock after a long voyage at sea. One could get merrily accustomed to such wonderful feelings. All she had to do was keep her heart at bay, and then she, too, could explore these arousing emotions without consequence.

She yawned again. So many sentiments struggled inside her: unquenched passions, a curiosity to appease her inflamed yearnings. So much to think about and work out and so few hours in the day to get any of her chores done, never mind any soul searching. And so many aggravating brothers to battle and so little sleep and…

Mirabelle’s lashes fluttered closed. She needed just a minute to rest her eyes. Just a quick repose to settle her errant thoughts.

She took in a deep breath and sighed…and then a sound smack across the boot roused her from her rest.

James glared at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I just closed my eyes for a second,” she murmured. “No need to get in a huff.”

“A
second
!” He grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her roughly forward. “Get down, Belle. Now!”

“But why?” And then she noticed the night sky—black as pitch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no indeed. You’re damn lucky Quincy noticed that ship heading in our direction. If we hadn’t changed course in time, we might very well be at the bottom of sea. Now get down!”

Crimson color filled her cheeks. How could she have been so careless? The dangers that lurked at sea were boundless. All their lives were at constant risk. She knew that. The watcher’s post was vital…and she had fallen asleep at it.

The shame that welled in her breast made it hard to breathe. She followed her brother down the ratlines, as ordered. As soon as her boots hit the ground, James hooked his fingers around her arm and hauled her across the deck like a naughty schoolgirl—in front of the entire crew.

“Into the nest, Quincy,” James barked, then ushered her down the hatch. “To my cabin, Belle.”

She treaded the corridor in the same brisk strides of her brother, but the shame simmering inside her soon gave way to rage.

Inside the cabin, James closed the door—slammed it was more accurate—and blasted, “How could you fall asleep, Belle?!”

“It was an accident.” And then with more venom: “How could you drag me across the deck like that in front of the whole crew? I’m not a child. Now the men will never trust me.”

“They have reason not to trust you.”

“Damn it, James, I said it was an accident! A mistake. The
first
one I made this trip.”

“Your
mistake
nearly claimed all our lives.”

She gulped in a ragged breath, quelling the tears into submission. “You’ve ruined everything, James. The crew now thinks me an irresponsible little girl. They will never come to respect me.”

“It’s your own fault, Belle.”

“But
you
didn’t have to humiliate me in front of them. You did it on purpose. Damn you!”

James grasped her wrist before she could clout him. She gasped when she realized what she had done—or almost done. She had never hit her brother before or even tried. But he had never humiliated her in such a way, either.

James leaned in close, still holding her wrist, and admonished, “Whatever embarrassment you’ve suffered, you’ve brought it upon yourself. If you can’t handle the responsibilities aboard this ship, then you don’t belong here.”

“I
do
belong here. I made one mistake. I was tired and—”

“No excuses, Belle,” he cut in sharply. “You’re restricted to quarters for the rest of the night. I’ll decide your punishment in the morning.”

He left the cabin then.

Alone, Mirabelle fought against the sorrow and rage and disgrace all clashing inside her. She wanted to scream. She sent her boot into the door instead. Over and over and over again.

Tears soaked her soul. Darkness swamped her. All her hope for a future aboard the
Bonny Meg
seemed to be slipping away from her and she could do naught to grab hold of it.

How could James have done this to her? Disgraced her in front of the crew? Her own brother!

She wanted to disappear under the deck boards and never come out again. What was she going to do now? How was she going to repair the damage James had done? It was important to maintain a comradeship with her fellow tars. Otherwise, each voyage would be filled with misgiving about her seafaring abilities. The men might even refuse to sail with her on board, fearing her incompetent, and then James would have to kick her off the ship.

It was a horrifying thought, being stranded on land, cut off from all that she loved. And it hurt like hell knowing her own brother might have helped to make it happen.

Mirabelle slumped against the door and dug her palms into her eyes. She gulped back a sob and slumped to the floor in despair.

Hours later, tucked away in her hammock, she still battled the same turbulent emotions.

One mistake. Granted, it had been a serious one, but she could count on and on the number of times her brothers had made mistakes just as grave.

James was so quick to forget Quincy’s transgression. Not a fortnight ago the boy had landed himself in the gaol, and all her kin had risked their lives to set him free. But Quincy was a man, and as such, prone to stupidity. He was expected to make mistakes. No big deal. Hence scolding him for foolish behavior was a waste of time. But
she
was a woman.
She
had to be perfect. One misstep, and to hell with all that she had done right. It was only the error that mattered.

Mirabelle tried to steady her uneven breaths, to smother the tears, but the grief spilled forth nonetheless. James might have devastated her dream of being a seafarer. Thanks to him, the crew, already wary of her presence aboard ship, would now be downright alarmed to have such a “bad omen” strutting about. She might lose everything…but it was the betrayal of her brother that hurt the most.

Mirabelle couldn’t lie still. The turmoil inside her was suffocating. She rolled out of her hammock with ease, careful not to disturb James.

Once in the corridor, she sprinted. Barefoot, her steps were quiet. She didn’t even think about where she was going. It was instinct, really.

She burst into the dimly lit cabin, tears streaking her cheeks.

Damian stood against the wall, his hands at his temples. Evidently he couldn’t sleep, either. Due to the pain in his head or another nightmare, she couldn’t tell. Nor did she think to ask, for the sight of him knocked the wits from her head and the breath from her lungs.

He was in the buff, every glorious male part of him exposed to her wandering eyes. Hell’s fire, the man was big. Big and beautiful and strong. And it was his strength she needed right then.

He looked at her, eyes turbulent and confused. Such dreamy eyes, full of passion…and pain. She saw her own pain reflected in the deep blue pools.

Before he could utter a protest, she closed the door—and the gap between them.

Hooking her arms tight around his neck, she pressed her lips hard over his. She hungered for the touch and taste of him. For the solace she felt when in his embrace. She didn’t want him to push her away, to reject her. She wanted him to banish the torment inside her, to make her feel good again.

Blessedly, Damian wasn’t opposed to the task. He groaned into her mouth. His robust arms went around her back, cradling her, squeezing the agony from her veins.

It was a swift surrender on his part. A good thing, too, for she wasn’t in the mood for a fight. All she wanted was to touch him and kiss him—and to have him do the same to her.

He bussed her cheek, drinking in her tears. “What’s wrong, Belle?” he murmured, a husky sound that made her shiver right down to her toes.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Stubble tickled her skin as he kissed her other cheek, over and over, taking in every teardrop. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” she said, breathless, and closed her eyes. “Just put your hands on me.”

He let out another soft and aching groan at her command. She felt the tremor along his neck, but didn’t think too much about the effect her words had on him, for he did as she bade just then, letting his powerful fingers roam all over her backside. He cupped her bottom and thrust her higher against him, his mouth crushing hers in a steamy kiss.

Don’t let me go,
she thought.
Don’t ever let go
.

He pushed her up against the wall, his long black hair dipping forward like a curtain framing his face. He looked so much more handsome, so much more rugged and dangerous without his locks tied back.

Dark indigo blue eyes scorched her soul, as deft fingers went to work on the laces of her shirt. He tugged and tugged, widening the collar, then slipped the garment over her head in one fluid movement.

He pressed her back against the wall. She shivered. The chill of the wood planks against her bare back contrasted sharply with the heat of Damian’s skin on her front.

His skin.

What a glorious sensation to feel his naked flesh, moist with sweat, meshed against her own fevered flesh. And it was even more glorious to feel his hands caress the mounds of her breasts. She inhaled a quick breath at the intimate touch. His large palm cupped one swollen breast, then the other, massaging, sending shudders of pure bliss dancing along her woozy limbs.

“Oh, Belle,” he moaned. His lips went to her cheek, to the crook of her neck. “You taste so good.”

Prickles of delight dotted her skin at his whispered words.

Damian kissed the center dip at the base of her throat, then dropped to his knees. His hands went to her backside, rubbing in slow and tantalizing movements. His mouth, hot and moist, licked the space between her breasts, making her quiver with desire.

Mirabelle wove her fingers through his dark and unkempt hair, gripping him close to her skin, not wanting to let him go. He licked and he kissed, whipping her insides to a frenzy. When his hungry mouth found one jutting nipple, and he parted his lips to take in the puckering bud, she all but collapsed onto the floor beside him. Nothing had ever felt so good. The pleasure was shooting through her every pore. Every nerve felt alive and was ringing out for the same wanton attention.

The emotions bubbling inside her were strong enough to make her weep. With pleasure, she assumed. What a mawkish sentiment! But the sob welled in her throat nonetheless. She kept it from escaping, though. She let out a half croak, half moan instead.

Damian flicked his tongue over her nipple, then laved the sensitive area with a languorous caress. He sucked at her breast for a while, cradling the swollen mound in his palm, draining the strength from her limbs.

She dug her fingers tighter into his mane, wrapped one arm around his neck and shoulder to hold him even closer. He could take all her strength, she thought. She just didn’t want him to stop.

But he broke away from her breast at last, leaving the wet skin to wrinkle in the nippy night air. She gave a soft whimper of protest, but he quickly tended to her other, neglected breast, and, appeased, Mirabelle found the tight, pleasurable knot winding in her belly once more.

Her breasts felt raw and ravished from his salacious ministrations. Yet she wanted more. She yearned for his lips and his hands on other parts of her, too.

He must have yearned for the same, for he let her breast slip between his teeth just then, making her shiver, before he turned his ravenous attention to her belly.

Hot lips pressed against the taut skin of her abdomen, branding her in the most wicked way. Her entire body was trembling. But at least she had the cool and sturdy wall behind her for support, or she surely would have found herself sprawled across the cabin floor.