Treasured (2 page)

He hit the floor. Dead.

Horror twisted her stomach and her throat locked. The muscles in her belly knotted and heaved. She clamped her free hand over her mouth.

“Rebecca. What in hell are you doing up here?” Long fingers closed around her biceps, jerking her up against a hard chest.

How did he know her name?
Her gaze lifted to clash with icy blue eyes.

Her mind went blank. The only thing she could think was that his eyes were just as piercing a blue as they looked in the painting.

Oh, God. Oh. God. It was him. It was
him
.

This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. She must have fallen asleep at work. Dr. Cuthbert would
kill
her. The display was supposed to be set up for a grand opening tomorrow.
Wake up, Becca. Wake up!

“I asked you a question, Rebecca.”

His fingers tightened and her breasts flattened against his muscled chest. Heat throbbed in her veins and her nipples hardened to thrust against his too-real chest.

A muscle flexed in his jaw, and she could feel the impatience radiating from him. She shivered. The man was scary as hell in the flesh. She hurried to say something,
anything
. “H-hello, James.”

His inky brows arched. “Did you strike your head?”

“Not that I recall.” She offered up a tentative smile.

He snorted. “We must get you below deck. I told you to remain in my cabin. I expect to be obeyed.”

Pulling her around, he shoved her towards an opening in the deck. A whistling shriek split the air, and the world exploded into fire and chaos.

“
Down
.” James’s arms wrapped tight around her and pushed her to the floor. His big body covered her, and the deck railing splintered.

She choked on the acrid stench of smoke. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” He lifted away from her and she rolled to the left. “Rebecca, look out!”

She jerked upright. The deck beside her was on fire. She pulled back too late and her sleeve and pant leg caught on fire.

“Willy!” James dropped his sword to jerk off his shirt and use it to slap the flames out. His movements were efficient, perfunctory.

She gasped in shock as a bucket of water doused her and the deck. The fire died out as quickly as it started, but where her clothes had burned, her skin had reddened as if she’d stayed out in the sun too long. She wasn’t really injured, but she hissed in pain when James hauled her to her feet. His grip gentled and he stroked his thumb over her elbow, but he didn’t bother to apologize.

James didn’t even spare a glance for the young boy who wielded the bucket as he steered Becca in the direction he wanted. “Well done, Willy.”

“Aye, Captain.” Willy scurried back into the fighting, blood already streaking his wicked little cutlass.

Becca looked over her shoulder as James pushed her along. “He can’t be more than eleven.”

Unreality slid through her. She was on a pirate ship…or dreaming about a pirate ship…and all she could think about was how old some kid was? Maybe she
had
hit her head—only at the museum and she was on the floor bleeding where Dr. Cuthbert would find her dead in the morning. Or she was in a coma having some sort of delusional nightmare. Or something. She shook her head and faced forward.

“The lad is nine.” He ducked to clear the wooden beams they passed on the way down a short hallway.

“Oh.” What else could she say? She was more worried about keeping up with his long stride.

Two men leapt out of the shadows at them and both she and James jumped into action. They fought side by side as though they’d been fencing partners for years. She lunged to block her assailant’s thrust and he twisted his wrist up. Ha. Like she hadn’t seen that move before. But she didn’t count on the wet blood fouling her blade. She slipped and his dagger nicked her arm.

“
Ow
. Damn it.” She frowned and concentrated. She was a better swordswoman than this clown. Once she regained her focus, her innate rhythm, the man’s sword lay on the ground within five seconds. A triumphant smile spread on her lips. Hell, yeah. Round three to her. Becca: 1; evil pirate: 0. This was the most awesome dream
ever
.

James stepped in front of her to cut the shorter man down. A wet thunk sounded when he hit the deck. She shuddered and laid her free hand on his naked back. Tingles raced up her arm and shot straight to her pussy at just that simple contact. She bit back a moan.

“You’re bleeding.” Turning sideways, he looked her over. Her nipples peaked tight and pressed against her thin cotton shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She’d never needed to. A flush washed up her cheek when his pale gaze latched onto her breasts. She swayed towards him. He frowned.

She shifted and cleared her throat. What was wrong with her? Oh, yes. She was hallucinating in a big, scary way.

Using the tip of her sword, she pushed the dead man’s leg away from her. She curled her lip in disgust. The tangy iron scent of blood drifted to her nostrils. Her stomach turned, and she glued her gaze to James’s chest. His
naked
chest. Another throb of heat flooded her sex, and she felt herself go slick with want. Her hand tightened on her sword. It gave her comfort. She knew how to use it and she knew it was real. Unlike the rest of this delusion.

James gave her an odd look and for the first time really met her eyes. Then he shook himself. “I don’t have time for this, Rebecca. Stay in the cabin.”

His hand settled on the small of her back and pushed her though a narrow doorway. The room was small but everything inside it screamed wealth. Ill-gotten wealth if everything she’d read about James Morrow was true. Furs covered the bed and various boxes of coins and treasures were scattered around the room. The cannon-fire had shaken the ship enough to tip some of the chests over. An ornately carved table and chairs stood at one end of the small room and a bank of windows looked out over the sea. The mullioned windows were too wavy to see out of, so she could only make out the impression of open water, like in a Monet painting.

“You’ll stay in here until I return.
Do not leave
. Is that understood?”

That got her attention. “I’m not staying locked up in here. If men can get below deck, they can get into your cabin. I’m coming with you, and that’s final.” She spun to walk back out the way they’d come. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but fires that burned and swords that cut made this a dream she didn’t want to toy with.

He caught her arm and hauled her back to him. He kicked the door shut. “You’ll do as I tell you, Rebecca. You are my wife. You took vows to obey me. And you’ll honor those vows. Now.”

“Get your hands
off
of me.” She jerked back and brought her sword up, but he twisted it out of her hand with embarrassing ease. She fought harder, kicking and twisting to get free. She was
not
staying down here. Especially without her sword.

He heaved a sigh. “If this is how you want it, I’ll oblige you.” He let her go.

“Good. Now, give me back my sword.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow.

A wicked glint flashed in his eyes for a split second. It was all the warning she received. His sword clanked as it hit the floor and his fingers snapped around her wrist. His free hand fisted in the cloth of her shirt. Ripping sounded in the small room as he tore her top off.

“What the hell are you doing? Stop it right now!” She folded her arm over her bare breasts. He spun her so her back was to his front. She couldn’t hold back a soft moan when her skin touched his. Oh, God.

“We must get you out of these burnt clothing. Can’t have the captain’s wife in rags, can we?” His voice purred against her ear, and her insides melted. She froze in his arms, knowing she couldn’t trust herself not to arch against him like a cat in heat. This was better than any fantasy she’d ever had about him. In those he’d been rough and demanding. Now, he had an air of uncompromising dominance and command that made her burn for him. Her lungs bellowed as she tried to control the hot waves of lust that rolled through her body.

He flattened his palm on her midriff and slid it down to the waistline of her cotton capris. One finger hooked in the bow below her navel. She swallowed and bit her lip. What was happening to her? She’d never reacted this way to any man before. Ever. Never had a man treat her like this.

God, just let this be over with.

God, let it never end.

Confusion warred within her, but James wasn’t stopping. He tugged the bow free and nudged at her pants until they hit the floor. Her face burned. Of all the laundry days to go commando…now she was naked in front of some dirty, tall, gorgeous, domineering pirate. His wide hand splayed over her lower belly, just above the thatch of hair on her pussy. Her hips twisted as desire more intense than any she had ever known thrummed through her system.

Heat arced inside her. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle it. She bucked against him. “Let me go. Get your hands off me, damn it. You can’t do this.”

“Oh, no?”

She babbled helplessly, trying to find any excuse for him to let her go. Or she’d throw herself at him and beg him to fuck her. “You owe me your life. You’d have been stabbed in the back without me today. I’m not staying down here.”

“You’ll do as you’re ordered.”

“I’m not one of your men. You can’t order me around or keep me locked up.” She jerked at the arm that banded around her waist and kept her pressed to the heavy muscles of his chest.

“Perhaps you need a lesson in how life works on board a ship, Rebecca. I am the captain, and you will obey me.” He sat on the bed and tugged her to him. She braced her feet against the floor, but she was no match for his strength.

With a jerk, he flipped her over his lap. His hard hand came down on her bare ass in loud, stinging smacks. She sucked in a shocked breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Dark pleasure twisted through her and she grew wetter than she’d ever been in her life.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Rebecca?”

“No,” she gasped. Her long hair brushed the floor as she shook her head. “No.”

“Liar.” His fingers stroked over the enflamed flesh of her buttocks to dip between her legs. She moaned, knowing how much moisture he’d find there. The first touch of his fingers on her folds made her sex contract. He groaned, slipping two fingers deep inside her for a few hard, fast strokes. His voice became guttural. “I don’t care to be lied to, Rebecca.”

His hand pulled back, and she sobbed out a protest. What was happening to her? Oh, God. Oh. God. His wide hand came down on her ass again. She moaned and arched. Her hips moved on his hard thigh. She couldn’t help herself. Desperate lust built inside her, twisting tight. Her pussy fisted in time with his slaps. Hot tingles raced over her skin with every hard contact. She was so close. She was about to come.

“James,” she cried.

He stopped as suddenly as he’d begun and she was left aching, empty, wanting.

“Oh, God. Please.” She shuddered, her hips still moving.

“No. No, I don’t think so.” One finger stroked over her sore ass. She sobbed as pain and pleasure slammed into her at once.

He stood and tossed her on the bed. She shook her head, trying to clear the dazed fog that clouded her thoughts. Bending, he rummaged through a chest. He came up with three strips of white silk.

“W-what are those?”

“Cravats.”

Neckties? What could he possibly need those for? She lay there staring at them until he reached out and caught her wrist. With quick efficiency, he tied her hands together, then her feet.

Her eyes bugged. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t leave me here like this. What if someone comes? I’ll be totally
mmph
—”

He stuffed the third cravat in her mouth and tied it behind her head as a gag. “And one more thing.” He reached down and came up with a long, white, tapered candle.

What could that possibly be for? The sun hadn’t yet set and shone in the clear blue sky. She shrank away when he reached for her, but he just snorted and rolled her to her back. Her back arched unnaturally on her bound hands. His strong hands forced her thighs to part even though she fought hard to keep them together. His fingers flicked over her clit and she moaned, dampening the silken gag. He lowered the candle to her pussy and pushed it in deep. Her hips snapped up hungrily, working herself on its phallic length.

His gaze flashed blue fire, but he withdrew and left the candle embedded in her pussy. He lifted keys from his belt and, without another word, picked up his sword and her dagger and left the room. The lock slid home.

Dumbfounded shock held her still for a moment. She pulled a deep breath in through her nose. Okay. That scene was like nothing she’d ever even dreamed could happen. This was…too real. But if it wasn’t a dream then what was it? Had she gone crazy? It was the only logical explanation. Any other option was, well…crazy. People couldn’t go
back in time
. That was pure fiction. She was a scholar who dealt in facts. A historian. Or she would be as soon as she got her doctorate. She spent her life stepping back and analyzing things objectively, and she was damn good at it, too. She had the life she wanted. This wasn’t it. Was it? She wriggled in her bonds and the silken ties slid against her naked skin. A low moan spilled from her throat. The furs on the bed rubbed her swollen bottom and she shivered at the delicious sting. The candle inside her pussy moved when she shifted and her sex clenched on it. Her world was cerebral, this was purely carnal.

She looked around at the cabin. The detail of her delusion was too fine. Her gaze locked on a large chest of jewels. A long rope of black pearls spilled from the box.
The pearls from the painting.
The string of them was certainly long enough to pool in her lap. Or the real Rebecca’s lap. None of her research had ever revealed James Morrow’s wife’s name. It
could
have been Rebecca. Confusion filtered through her. How could a delusion or dream be painful? It made no sense. But her backside ached where he’d struck her and the skin that had been nearest the fire on deck stung. Her pussy throbbed on the long candle and no matter how she moved she was reminded of it within her. The lust streaking through her simply wouldn’t quit. Anticipation scraped along her nerves. She had nothing to do but wait for the end of this dream.