Treasured (7 page)

A million terrifying thoughts raced through her mind. Was it a British warship? French? Spanish? Another pirate? She wished she had her sword, but James hadn’t let her have it back since that first day. She practiced with Murdoch or Willy or one of the other men’s blades. Never the one that brought her here. She still had no idea why or if she was truly here, but the only thing that had come with her from the future was the sword. And James kept it with him at all times. If she touched it again would it take her back to her time? Would it wake her up from her dream? Did she want it to?

No
.

The truth slammed into her with the subtle blow of a sledgehammer. She shook herself and forced her attention back to the here and now. The ship had gone eerily still. All eyes turned to James and waited for his reaction. Becca already knew it wouldn’t be good. Dread curled in her gut, and she grew light-headed…only to realize she was holding her breath. She let it escape her lungs in a slow rush.

James lowered the telescope and met her gaze. Her dread bumped up a notch, but she kept her expression serene. “Do not be frightened.”

“You’re here, so I’m not. How bad is it?” She smiled to reassure him.

“Another pirate.”

“A bad one? Wait…never mind. Don’t answer that.” Because there were so many good pirates? She rolled her eyes at herself.

He laughed, a rich, booming sound that carried across the ship. His eyes warmed to a blazing blue, and he lifted his hand to stroke down her cheek. “Rebecca—”

Her heart squeezed and turned over. God, she would miss him when this was over. How would she survive? Panic closed in around her heart and she desperately reached for some composure. His eyes sharpened on her face.

“Rebecca?”

She shook her head, unable to answer as tears filled her eyes. His hands closed over her shoulders and he drew her to him.

“We’re likely both bound for Port Royal. Nothing will happen. Do not be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

“There are some things you can’t protect me from.” Like falling in love. And that was the problem. She could be falling for a figment of her imagination. What if she was just dreaming of the perfect man and putting James Morrow’s face on the fantasy? She bit her lip and leaned into his chest. His hand cupped the back of her head, and she pulled in his scent.

Don’t let it end. Don’t ever let it end. Let me stay here forever.

Chapter 4

Port Royal, Jamaica

Becca stared at crimson fabric. It belled out from the dress model in the store window. Heavy, blood red embroidered silk cupped the dummy’s torso and the skirt swirled to pool on the display floor.

“See something you like?”

She startled and glanced back at James. “No. Nothing. Where are we going?”

“
The Stuck Pig
. Just there.” He tilted his head to indicate the opposite side of the street.

Following him into the tavern, she couldn’t help a last look back at the red dress. It was the same one from the painting, she was certain of it. Was the painting of her or the other Rebecca?

She’d convinced James to let her come into port armed, and dressed in his clothing. She pulled down the brim of her wide hat. From a distance, she’d look like a prepubescent boy—like Willy. A wry smile tugged at her lips. She’d finally found an advantage to being short and skinny. In the time she’d been with James, she’d worked out enough that she fit into Rebecca Morrow’s clothes, but she refused to wear them. Even here, where they’d be appropriate. She was not Rebecca Morrow, and she wanted nothing to do with what was hers.

Except her husband. Him, she’d keep. If she could. Her eyebrows arched at her own…ruthlessness. Some subtle shift had taken place within her these past few weeks. The discontent she’d always known was gone, had evaporated under the Caribbean sun. Maybe it had taken living among hard, merciless pirates to make her a happy camper.

“I have business with unsavory men. I would prefer they not meet you.” James spoke just loudly enough for her to hear over the raucous din of the pirate bar. Every man there was drunk and singing and laughing and fondling scantily clad prostitutes. She recognized most of the crew from
The Dark Fortune
in the crowd.

She nodded to an empty corner table by the staircase that a few pirates were leading the doxies up. Their rough flirtation had gone to the point of payment. “I’ll sit over there. If anything happens, one of your men will help me. But I have my weapons.”

“I can have some of them—”

She shook her head. “Let them have their fun. They’ve earned it. I can take care of myself. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust well.” His voice came out flat and unemotional. His gaze shuttered.

She sensed the sentence had more meaning than this moment called for, but his body language screamed that he wouldn’t welcome her touch. Nodding, she met his eyes. “People you should have been able to trust betrayed you. I understand. Just trust that I can take care of myself. You’ve seen me with a sword.”

His lips quirked. “They won’t approach unless you call, but my men will be watching you in any case. You’ve managed to have them dancing in the palm of your hand in mere weeks. I think they’re ruined.”

“Or well prepared for marriage.” She winked at him, tucked her chin to hide beneath the hat again, and sauntered over to the table. James had been swallowed by the crowd by the time she sat and faced the room.

A serving woman plopped a tankard of ale in front of her. “From Cap’n Morrow.”

Before Becca could thank her, she’d spun away and disappeared as well. She scooped up the mug and took an experimental sip.

“And who might you be?” A portly man who practically oozed slick charm smiled at her. Yellow teeth flashed in his face as his gaze latched onto her breasts.

Damn. Caught. She fought to keep the disgust from showing on her face and took a big swig of her ale to cover the curl of her lip. She did not like this man, and she didn’t need to think about why.

His eyes narrowed on her face. “I asked you a question.”

“Rebecca Sm—Morrow.”

Greed, lust and hate twisted his already ugly face. He leaned in too close and invaded her personal space. A wave of fetid air hit her nostrils as he exhaled a nasty chuckle. “James Morrow’s wife.”

She didn’t acknowledge the comment because he already knew he was right. Instead she just stared at him. This man was a bully, and he wanted to intimidate her. Not likely.

“Not a chatty one, are you?” He fingered the hilt of his filigreed sword.

Cocking a pistol under the table, she kept it trained on him. At the level her hand was at, she could make sure this asshole never bred. Where was James? He needed to finish his business and get back to her
now
. She and his men could handle this nasty fellow, but she wanted James with her. She arched a brow at the stocky pirate. He looked like a mean pit bull.

“You’re new to the West Indies, aren’t you, Mistress Morrow?”

She just stared at him, not encouraging the conversation.

His smile broadened. “You seem quite unfriendly for a woman who hasn’t a single soul to stand by her side. All alone, aren’t you?”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. James’s crew was nearby—she wasn’t as alone as he assumed.

“I’m not speakin’ of yer crew. You think you’d want to leave them behind before Morrow dumps you off on some little family farm on Barbados.” She felt herself go pale, and he sucked at his rotted teeth. “Ah, yes. It’s well known what Morrow has planned for you.”

“What goes on between my husband and me is not your concern, sir. I’d appreciate it if you took your leave. Now.” She narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits.

Mistake. He knew he’d hit a nerve and now he wasn’t leaving. Shit. Shit.
Shit
.

“I can keep that from happening. You say the word and I’ll offer you my personal protection.” Her skin crawled. She didn’t even want to consider what taking him up on his kind offer would cost her. He pulled out a chair to settle in.

She brought her gun up to the top of the table. “Don’t sit.”

He lifted his hands and snorted. “Oh, now. A nice gentle-bred lady like you won’t be using that.”

“I doubt even a woman as gentle as me could miss from this distance. Don’t you agree?” Nervous knots cramped her belly and her palms grew slick on the gun, but she kept her hand steady and her eyes level with his. She wasn’t going to flinch. “Let me be blunt. I’m not going anywhere with you or anyone else but my husband.”

Shifting, he swallowed. “I was just making conversation.” A nasty flush slid up his cheeks as patrons began to notice his predicament and sniggered.

“You were offering to steal my woman from me. That’s not a conversation I care for you to be having.” James appeared out of the crowd to stand next to the table.

“Since when do you care for any woman at all? She’s just one in a long string to fling themselves at your pretty feet, Morrow.” His hearty laugh was met with stony silence. James’s eyes were incandescent with anger. He didn’t even bother to hide his loathing.

The shorter man’s false joviality slid away and his hatred flashed in his little eyes.

“Goodbye.” James pulled the chair from the man’s grip and settled in it. He didn’t spare the fat pirate another glance.

Rage filled the man’s gaze and he had his sword half-drawn when Becca cleared her throat. She shook her head and jerked the muzzle of her pistol in the direction of the door. “I believe Captain Morrow said goodbye.” She smiled, with teeth. “Goodbye.”

He grunted and stumped out of the door. A skinny little man fell into step behind him and Willy slipped in to trail them, no doubt gathering information to report back to James later. He tossed an admiring wink at her before he disappeared.

Uncocking her pistol, she laid it on the table. She left her hand on the tabletop so she could grab the gun again if she needed it. “Who is he?”

“Captain Bones McCrory.” James glanced from the gun to her face and back again, but made no comment on her actions. Something close to…respect flashed in his pale azure eyes.

“I take it you don’t like him, and that his name isn’t really Bones.”

He sucked his teeth in disgust. “He and I have run afoul of each other on several occasions. He’s a mangy scavenger who’d pick the bones off his dead mother.”

“Honor among thieves?”

He lifted his shoulder in a dismissive shrug. Then his gaze dropped to her breasts and heated to laser blue. Her breath seized, and her nipples lifted to rub against the rough cotton of her shirt. He pitched his voice low, so only she could hear. “Are you wet for me, Rebecca?”

Her breath rushed out and fire flooded her body. She shifted on the hard wooden chair, squeezing her thighs together. The ache between her legs rose to a scream when he stroked a fingertip down her upturned palm. Desire clawed at her like a wild thing.

“Are you?” His rough fingers continued their leisurely path over her skin. She shuddered and every sensation in her body focused on the slow play of his flesh on hers. Every brush of his fingers sent slickness pulsing to her pussy.

She whimpered, closed her eyes, and nodded.

“Tell me what you want, Rebecca.”

“You. Fast and hard. P-please.” The words jerked out of her throat. That he could do this to her in a public place, bring her right to the edge of orgasm without even touching her intimately.

Her eyes snapped open when his chair scraped back. His erection bulged in his pants and she licked her lips. His gaze darkened. “Careful or I’ll bend you over this table and take you right here.”

Lust clouded her thoughts. Anything sounded good to her now. Her entire body throbbed with the need for release, any way he would let her have it.

He jerked her roughly out of her chair and spun her towards the stairs. His long legs pounded up the steps, taking them two at a time. She had to run to keep up. Thank God she wasn’t wearing a dress. She’d have fallen on her face for certain. He shoved open the first door he came to.

A blonde woman with seashells braided into her hair shrieked and spun to face them. “What—” James threw her a small leather bag that clinked loudly as the prostitute caught it. A coy smile curved her rosy lips. “Well, ’ello, Captain Morrow.”

He stepped aside and jerked his chin towards the door. “The coin isn’t for you, Shelly. It’s for the room. Out.”

Becca smothered a laugh at the stunned look on the woman’s heart-shaped face. She held the door open to let the prostitute out. “An old friend of yours, James? At least you picked the prettiest one.”

He growled at her as she closed the door, threw the latch, and began to strip on her way to the wide bed. James raced her to it. His pistol landed on the bedside table so it remained within easy reach, and the rest of his weapons hit the floor. He jerked his shirt over his head to reveal the wide, lightly furred expanse of his chest. Her nipples peaked tight as his body came into view. He was a beautiful man. She paused in her movements to watch him. He sat to tug off his boots and kicked his pants to the floor.

He glanced up at her. “I believe you’re supposed to be naked.” He reclined against the headboard and crossed his ankles. His thick cock rose from a nest of dark curls. She shuddered and stared at it. She wanted to suck it, feel the length and width of it sliding against her tongue.

“Rebecca—”

“Yes?” Her breath escaped on a sigh. She didn’t move, didn’t change her focus.

His fingers dropped to wrap around his cock. He stroked the length of it, pumping up and down. His hands tightened and relaxed rhythmically on his cock. “Is this what you want, Rebecca?”

Fire exploded in her belly, spurred her into action. She wriggled out of the last of her clothes. Her hands slid up her torso to cup her breasts. She plucked at her nipples and moaned at the sensation. One hand slipped down her stomach and she circled a finger around her bellybutton before dipping between her legs. Their gazes locked, and they watched each other pleasure themselves. Their harsh panting filled the room.

“Stop,” he barked. Her hand froze. His voice came out a guttural hiss of passion. “Come here. Ride me.”