Читать книгу First Comes Desire - Tina Donahue - Страница 9

Diana stared, then lifted her chin.

Tristan fought a smile. Her trembling mouth and lingering gaze proved her uncertainty and interest. She didn’t understand him, was determined to hate him, but wanted him nonetheless. As he did her. His cock strained against his breeches, craving her inner heat. The reverend’s courageous and honorable daughter would bring him endless pleasure. He had yet to touch her, but already she belonged to him, no other.

She pivoted. Her braid swung, its dark color making her complexion seem even paler. In the future, he wanted her clothed in nothing except her glorious mane and two jewels he’d have her wear. Hopefully, she wouldn’t fight him too much on his fantasy.

She pulled Peter toward the Lady Lark. At her endless words and flailing hand, the boy wilted. He’d met his match in her, but he wasn’t yet a man.

The sorry souls who were men had paid the price for their drunkenness, the situation past control.

“Captain.” Henry Wells staggered across the sand, lost his balance, and toppled over. “What in the hell is going on?”

Reeves hauled the pirate to his feet. “You’re going to hang.”

Henry wailed.

One of Diana’s men grabbed Tristan’s arm. He made no move to fight. Yet. “My book, if you please.” He inclined his head to Homer’s tale. “I would never forgive myself if I left my mother’s most prized possession behind.”

The man squinted at the cover. “That the Good Book?”

Even from where he stood, Tristan could read the title. His captor could not, no different from other illiterate mariners. “It remained with her till the very end.”

The man’s rough features softened. “Mine died in Newgate.”

“A terrible place.” Tristan’s mother had spent much of her brief life in the prison. During his visits to her, he’d endured the stench from too much humanity caged like animals, and had been horrified at the prisoners’ endless screams. They convinced him never to exist in filth, nor let anything or anyone steal his self-respect and hope. He would live and die clean. He’d always be free. “When I’m there myself and surely when I hang, I want her book with me.”

The man trudged through sand to fetch it.

In the confusion and activity, no one watched Tristan. Inside a mangrove stand a doubloon flashed, the gold coin reflecting the firelight. The coin glinted repeatedly, spelling out James Sullivan’s message.

Good man. Tristan suspected James hadn’t kept a proper watch because he’d helped Peter collect the crew’s water. Upon their return, the boy had probably stumbled unknowing into camp while James, who was far more experienced, had held back.

Tristan inclined his head to where Diana had pulled Peter.

The coin flashed in answer. James understood what to do.

Tristan’s captor strode back. He shoved the volume beneath Tristan’s arm and led him across the sand.

To the promise of freedom and the reverend’s wondrous daughter, Diana Fletcher.

* * * *

Despite a chair in the great cabin, Peter sat on the floor, legs pulled to his chest like a common pirate, not the proper boy Diana loved and had raised. Holding back sorrow, she stepped around him to get a better look at his back. He shifted, hiding it. She hurried to his other side. He twisted away.

She stilled. “Please let me see your injuries.”

“Ain’t got none.” He scooted back and slumped against the wall. “Them’s scars.”

Good Lord. This wasn’t what she’d expected from their reunion. Peter should have been weeping, clinging to her as a frightened young boy would, grateful for his rescue.

She sank next to him, wearier than she’d ever been. “Why did you run off to sea?”

He shrugged.

“Talk to me, please.”

“Why? Won’t change nothing.”

“Anything. I want us to be like we were before, sharing our woes and happiness.”

“Ain’t going to happen. I’m a man now.”

She wasn’t certain whether to laugh, cry, or rail at him. “Even men talk.”

He muttered an oath.

Diana fought for calm. “Please?”

“Very well, have it your way. You was having trouble enough getting food for yourself, much less me, so I had no other choice except to run away, all right?”

She slumped. “I would have starved before you went without. Surely you must know that.”

“Why do you think I left? I wanted you to have enough.”

“Oh, Peter.” She threw her arms around him and prayed for a kind response.

He finally hugged her.

Diana’s sorrow broke free, tears rolling down her cheeks. He’d suffered cruel beatings, most likely starved, and God knew what else because he’d looked out for her. “I had Father’s old room rented a week after you left, and then I had tenants in the others. There was enough for both of us, even some money left to educate you properly. I kept telling you I’d see to your welfare.”

He released her and squirmed away. “I can take care of meself.”

“No, you can’t and it’s myself.” She swiped away tears. “You’re with me now so you don’t have to pretend to be uneducated like the crew. Once we return to England, everything will be better than it had been. I promise.”

“I ain’t going. I have to stay with me captain.”

She resisted shaking him. “Are you mad? He beat you.”

“Did not. He never laid a finger on me.”

“Then who did? One of his filthy crew?”

“None of them touched me, neither. It was just a whipping. If me captain can take it, I can too.” He pushed to his feet and crossed the room.

Diana followed. “Are you saying your captain was also whipped? You can’t possibly believe it. The man put your life at risk. He abducted you.”

“Did not. He ain’t never been mean to me excepting for when it comes to his books.”

She recalled Homer’s Iliad on Tristan’s lap. A large volume and a gentleman’s read, or a brute’s weapon. “He beat you with his books?”

Peter laughed.

She kept herself from shouting. “Stop that at once. If he beat you, I want to know.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you. He forces me to learn Latin, Spanish, history, and no end of boring things even when I told him I have no use for it.”

Good heavens, Peter was more deluded about Tristan than she’d guessed or he’d become a superb liar during their separation. “He educates you, yet doesn’t notice how poorly you speak?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “He’s just like you, always telling me to talk properly. I learned not to around the other men. When I spoke like you, they pushed and punched me asking if I thought I was better than them.” He shoved both hands through his hair, dragging the locks off his shoulders. “I even told the Captain what they said, but did he listen? No. He still gives me lessons to do every day and helps me with them unless he’s with Canela.”

“Canela? A crew member?”

“Of course not. She’s a beautiful island woman he fancies.”

Diana’s belly twisted.

Before she could recover her indifference or dislike for Tristan, Peter took in the cabin. “Where’d you get this vessel? Are you having to pay for its use?”

Once they were in Mozambique, she would. She lowered her face. “No.”

“Because you intend to get me friends hanged?”

“They are not your friends. And no, I’m not going to get them hanged. They did it on their own by committing piracy without my help. The Lady Lark belongs to Benedict Bishop. If it weren’t for his kind assistance, I wouldn’t have had the means to come here and rescue you. Once we’re home, he’s promised to pay for your schooling as he worries about your safety and future.”

Peter stared. “That makes no sense at all.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Mr. Bishop told you he wanted to help? Why? What does he get out of the bargain? Oh my God.” He put up his hands. “You haven’t promised to wed him, have you?”

To hide her shame, she focused on smoothing her clothes. “No. The man’s old enough to be our father. He knew how worried I was about you, so he helped willingly as he’s also concerned for your safety.”

“What makes you so sure he ain’t the one who put me in harm’s way?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard things about him from me shipmates.”

“They’re pirates, Peter. Crude, vicious beasts without courage. Listen to them now.”

Several wailed below from where her men had taken them. One made a coarse noise. Something crashed.

Another man cried out. “Captain, help us!”

“My men are having difficulty negotiating the ladder.” Tristan spoke as a noble born to a manor rather than a pirate in a ship’s hold. “They need time to get down the steps. Especially Cook. He’s missing a limb. Allow me to assist him.”

She rubbed her temple, not knowing how to react to such thoughtfulness, from a pirate no less. One who fancied a beautiful island girl and had claimed Diana wanted the same as him.

Not likely. She needed him to hang.

* * * *

Tristan found the accommodations abominable but expected no better since Diana believed he and his men were going to die, anyway. Her crew had pushed them inside the hold unconcerned as to the stuffy air and stifling heat. Or where they might land. He was lucky, his book safely beneath his arm, even after he’d stumbled over a small cage and came to rest against a barrel holding something solid but slightly fetid.

Given the splashing sounds and his men’s snarls or curses, Tristan guessed their beds weren’t as nice. He had no way to know, the space so dark he might have been blind.

The others panicked, the new situation pushing them toward quick sobriety. One even prayed.

Tristan kicked the barrel for their attention. “Quiet.”

They grew still. The hull’s groans and slapping sea filled the silence.

“Captain.” Henry Wells kept his voice low. “What do you want us to do?”

A curious question. Although Tristan was in charge, his power wasn’t absolute. True rule lay with his men. Each had a voice and vote on what action to take. If they didn’t like the outcome or anything he suggested, they could easily replace or kill him.

The prospect of facing Newgate and the gallows made them eager to leave him with this mess. He used his shoulder to wipe sweat from his face. “I don’t intend to sail to England, nor do I intend to hang.” He spoke as quietly as Wells had. “Are you men with me?”

Whispered “ayes” filled the space.

“Then keep quiet.”

When they were relatively still, he lifted his face. Diana’s light footsteps sounded in the cabin overhead. She was either dressing for bed or undressing. He preferred the latter and having her clothed in nothing more than what he desired.

Right now, he had to be patient and wait.

Above, someone cried out briefly and softly, followed by a thud.

One of her men had fallen to James’s forceful blows.

* * * *

Diana craved a bath, clean clothes, cool air, and conversation, needing to talk the most. Peter still hadn’t rewarded her for his rescue. If anything, his behavior had gotten worse. He laid on his mattress, his scarred back to her, and feigned sleep.

There wouldn’t be any rest for her tonight. She dreaded closing her eyes, fearing the moment she did he’d leave the cabin and help the others escape so they could return to piracy. Never in her wildest worries had she considered Peter would want to remain with those animals.

She rested her arm over her eyes and tightened her fist at the noise below. The pirates alternately swore and moaned like men facing certain death. Served them right. At least their misery would end. Hers, on the other hand, was about to begin.

Every time she considered Bishop’s carnal demands, her stomach rolled. Enduring his attention would be hideous. Refusing wasn’t an option. He’d made it quite clear he’d deliver Peter to the authorities if she didn’t obey immediately, wantonly, willingly. A fourteen-year-old boy would hang because she hadn’t done everything Bishop wanted.

Bloody beast. Same as all males. They always wanted, expecting women to submit.

No different from her father, a cold, indifferent man. His church had meant more to him than his own son, while his daughter had meant nothing at all. Her only good, he’d once said, was the comfort she could bring to his home by cooking, cleaning, sewing. Once she’d finished those dreary tasks, he’d expected her to work for his church and deliver her will to his.

Diana had obeyed but never agreed with his beliefs. Women hadn’t been born to yield. Women could yield. They might even enjoy doing so, but only with the right man. One they desired. First came desire. Respect and love followed.

She could only deliver her heart to a man like that.

Even if Tristan wasn’t facing the gallows, he wasn’t the one she needed. His skin was warm against hers but what of it. He was handsome as the devil, yet there was the rub, because he was also brutal, violent, taking what he wanted. His mouth on hers was something she refused to consider, though she could hardly forget how he’d spoken calmly when she’d railed. She insulted and he smiled. He claimed she wanted the same as him. Diana did not. She wanted to be home. She needed to be free.

Her eyes flew open. A sound or voice had awakened her. Reclined on her side, she faced away from the door. An oil lamp had gone out, telling her she’d slept far too long, recklessly too.

Oh my God. Peter.

Diana rolled onto her back but didn’t check his mattress, knowing he wasn’t there or in the cabin.

Tristan was. His long legs, muscular calves, and thighs blocked her view of the door. He’d placed his precious book on the table. The volume was safe. She was not.

Before she could push to a sitting position or think to fight, he straddled her, his hands circling her wrists, holding her arms to each side. His touch didn’t harm, at least not yet.

Her heart pounded.

He offered a smile.

How dare he be so smug. “Release me at once.”

He tightened his grip slightly and studied her mouth, then her eyes. “Violet.” Awe flooded his face. “I wondered about your eye color but never expected this.”

She pushed and writhed but did no good against his strength. Breathless, she stopped. “What have you done with Peter?”

Tristan stared at her eyes. “Amazing color, quite beautiful. Fits your dark hair and pale skin perfectly.”

She rammed her thighs into him.

He held her more firmly. “Stop that.”

“Not until you tell me what you’ve done with my brother.” She slammed into him.

He scooted down and trapped her legs. “Peter’s on the main deck with the other men.”

“He’s a child and proved it by helping you escape.”

“This wasn’t his doing, and you’ve no reason to fear for his safety. I have James, my quartermaster, looking after him.”

“A bloody pirate, you mean. The same as you. Perhaps even worse than you.”

“No. James is a good man.” A haunted look touched Tristan’s features before he shook off whatever had troubled him and became casual. “He saved my life. He’ll take great care to watch your brother.”

She wanted to retort but couldn’t reconcile her indignation with Tristan’s previous anguish and the mean scratches she’d left on his cheek. Dried blood had gone black, the surrounding skin swollen and red. “What do you mean he saved your life?”

“Just that, ask no more for I’ll give you no other answer.”

“The only thing I want from you is my freedom.”

He stroked her wrists. “You want the same as me.”

She pushed against him, straining with the effort.

He tightened his grip, proving she wasn’t a match for his strength. If he chose to take her now, she’d have no choice except to allow him what he willed.

She didn’t beg. Wouldn’t. Not to him or any man, including Bishop. They could conquer her body but not her spirit, never her heart. Reconciled to her fate, she grew limp as she could, pulse racing. “Take what you’ve come for and be quick about it.”

“I shan’t be quick, Diana. With you, I’ll never be quick.”

Heat stung her face and throat. “You won’t be the last, either.”

His gray eyes darkened as storm clouds do, danger building in them. “What do you mean?”

“When you’re finished with me, I go to the man to whom I truly belong. Nothing will change that no matter how long you intend to take raping me.”

Despite her harsh words, he didn’t flinch or frown.

“Who is this man with whom you’d willingly lie?”

“Willingly?” She laughed. “You believe I’ve chosen him any more than I’ve chosen you? The fact is you’ve driven me to him.”

“What do you mean? Who is he? Tell me.”

She turned her face away.

Tristan brushed his lips over her cheek and buried his face in her hair.

Her scalp tingled. She could scarcely draw enough air to speak. “I said, be quick about it.”

He took his time, his lips soft and warm against her temple and ear, breath heated and sweet.

She tensed even more, determined to resist.

“Why do you fight me when you want this as much as I do?” He kissed her jaw.

Pleasure rushed through her, delight making her come alive as she never had, the feelings new, troubling, far too exciting. Her lids slid down.

“Tell me who the man is.”

Tristan’s scent surrounded her, surprisingly clean, tinged with musk.

“Tell me, Diana.”

“Why?”

He suckled her neck.

She trembled, an unfamiliar ache building between her legs, tension mounting within her. Flustered, she fought his hold and failed, growing weak from his imposing size. However, she refused to surrender, wanting him to know what he’d done to her. “He’s a wealthy merchant who agreed to help me find Peter if I promised to become his mistress, which I shall.”

“Never.” His breath skipped over her skin. “No one will have you but me.”

She fumed, her previous weakness gone. “You’ll take me. You’ll never have me.”

“Nor will the wealthy merchant. He owns this ship? Is his name Benedict Bishop?”

Tristan kept surprising her, giving her no defense. She pushed against him.

He eased back. “Is that the merchant’s name?”

“Yes. He’s the man to whom I belong.”

“Not any longer.”

* * * *

Tristan brushed his lips against hers, teasing, testing. Diana softened beneath him, proving what he needed to know.

Gently, he eased his tongue into her mouth. The world spun, her thrilling heat snatching his breath and thoughts. He explored her intimately, deepening his kiss. Her taste soon belonged to him, his to her. They were no longer separate. He hoped she’d suckle him and deliver pleasure.

She resisted briefly, then coaxed his tongue deeper into her mouth. Pleased beyond belief, he released her wrists, slid his hands over her palms, and laced their fingers.

She yielded fully, her rigid nipples pebbled against his chest. She smelled like an English spring, soft rain mixed with fragrant flowers. He didn’t finish their kiss until she smelled of him. Slowly, he withdrew his tongue, lifted his head, and struggled for breath. “Open your eyes.”

Arousal brightened them, her mouth still wet with him, lips slightly bruised from his impassioned kiss.

His spirits soared. “You desired that.”

“I did not.”

As a clergyman’s daughter, she was a poor liar and would never fool him. “Then I’ll have to continue until you do.”

He kissed her, tenderly at first, then hard and greedy. She whimpered in what sounded like pleasure but held back, not giving herself fully. Finally, she tore her mouth free.

He pressed his lips to her neck. Her breath spilled out on a contented sigh, telling him what words never could. “I’ll not deliver you to Bishop. You belong to me.”

She went rigid. “I’m not yours to give. I’ll go to Bishop myself. I’d lie with the devil to save Peter from the life you’ve forced him into.”

She still believed he’d abducted the boy, refusing to listen to what really occurred, the monster Bishop was. Tristan wasn’t going to argue the point now. He trailed kisses from her throat to her cheek to her temple, tasting her dewy, achingly soft skin.

She whimpered. “Stop it.”

He did, though not because of her words. Diana wanted him, had from the start, her desire evident in her kiss. Contempt didn’t fuel her resistance, but worry over Peter’s safety, the boy’s future. Tristan wasn’t about to cause her more pain. She was his to protect. “No harm will come to Peter.”

She laughed, the sound remarkably derisive and cruel. “Indeed, as he’ll be away from you.”

“He’ll remain with us.”

Diana scowled. “I’ll not have Peter become a common criminal. You believe reading a fancy book makes you a gentleman?”

“You believe wealth and position makes Bishop one? You’ll not return to him. You’re coming with me. I’ve had enough of this life, and a ship’s no place for a woman and children.”

Her eyes rounded. “You think I’ll bear your bastards?”

His chest tightened. He strained to breathe. “If you were a man, you’d be dead for saying such a thing.”

“Whether I die here with you or with Bishop matters little. Do your worst, Captain.”

To what end? Tristan craved her pleasure and acceptance, not heartless disdain. He loosened his grip. “Do you need to wound me so badly, Diana?”

Embarrassment flooded her features. She averted her gaze.

He squeezed her hands gently. “You’ll not bear my bastards.”

His children wouldn’t go through what he had. They’d have a name, respect, and her as their mother. He couldn’t do anything less.

“Why won’t I be bearing them?” She looked at him. “Has the task already gone to the island girl you enjoy?”

So, Peter had told her about Canela. Pity the boy didn’t know Canela wasn’t a rival for Diana.

“I have no children, legitimate or otherwise. I’ve taken great pains to avoid them. Peter’s been telling you things, hasn’t he? It appears you’ve been listening. Good. Proves your interest. Or would it be desire?”

“Neither. But believe what you will. Whatever I say won’t change matters.”

Only because he already knew her better than she did. He unlaced their fingers, straightened, and eased Diana’s shirt up, baring her breasts. The soft mounds were ripe and snowy, her nipples pale pink. A deep flush stained her throat and face, but she didn’t stop him.

Delighted, he cupped her exquisitely soft flesh. Primal need gripped him. He fought for control against taking her, what should have been an easy matter, but was far more complicated because he wanted her desire, not obedience. Better to wait. If frustration didn’t kill him first. Her nipples were erect against his calloused palms, skin heated and moist, her arousal undeniable.

She struggled for breath, color tinted her cheeks, and lust hooded her eyes.

He squeezed her breasts and thumbed her nipples.

Her lips parted. She blinked slowly, looking drugged.

He was beyond intoxicated. “I see you desire this.”

She blew out a breath. “No.”

“Pity. You’ll have to go through this and far more. The acts delightful, I can assure you. How else will you ever bear my children, with them having my last name the same as you?”

Confusion, then surprise flashed across her lovely features. “Wed you? Never.” She cuffed his wrists as well as she could but didn’t shove him away. “You’ll hang the moment you return to England.”

“We’re not going there. We’ll remain here.”

“No.” She pushed.

He captured her wrists in one hand, kept them above her head, and stroked her nipples. They couldn’t get tighter. He drew one into his mouth and reeled at its faint salty taste, her musky skin.

She moaned. He suckled, then enjoyed her other nipple. She arched her back, delivering herself to him, approving his intimate attention.

He could have kept at this for days, but needed air, and eased back. “Look at me.”

She stared at the wall behind him, lingering arousal, then dismay on her face. “Do what you want in this cabin. I haven’t the strength to fight you. But know this, I’ll not allow Peter to grow up in this barbaric land.”

Her trust wouldn’t be won easily, though he had to try. “I offer my word I’ll have him educated as a gentleman, even providing the tutor, while you give me what I’ve missed most during these last years. A taste of home. An Englishwoman. Pure, virginal. You are a virgin, are you not?”

She blushed worse than before.

He didn’t dare smile. “It would appear you are. So rare in these parts, the same as your lovely eyes and pale skin. I’m not about to deliver you to Bishop, nor allow you any freedom from me. You’ll wed me, lie with me, bless me with many children, and never know another man’s touch, save mine. You’ll not only desire that, you’ll surely be lost without it.”

Something slammed into the door.

Diana flinched. Tristan looked over.

On the other side, feet shuffled, men muttered.

Chadwick Vincent’s voice stood out. “She must be in there.”

Tristan pulled down her shirt, pushed to his feet, and helped Diana to hers.

Voices rose. “Captain better not think he’s getting all of her.”

Vincent chuckled. “We each get fair shares in this prize, just like any other.”

Someone kicked in the cabin door. Ten faces looked inside for Diana, the prize, Tristan’s other men joining them.