style="font-size:15px;"> She appeared unaffected by his lengthy description of imprudent character and unrepentant debauchery, yet he couldn’t be certain.
“More a relaying of facts.” That was the second lie. Stories of his actions and relationships were greatly exaggerated to provide lascivious storytelling. The threads of truth were there, for he enjoyed all the aforementioned disreputable habits in moderation, but the mongers of gossip had woven his exploits into a colorful tale—simultaneously providing him the armor necessary to live with the choices of his parents’ indiscretions. It proved a convenient dual relationship.
A distant boom of thunder drew her attention and he used the distraction to step closer.
Her hair looked as golden as fresh straw, her skin creamy soft, and her body, silhouetted by the wind’s persistence to mold her diaphanous gown to curves in all the right places, offered promises of exquisite pleasure. He wondered for a fleeting moment if he was lost in some strange hallucination, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since his jaunt through Arabia and his wild decision to smoke from the pipe offered.
But no, this midnight beauty was real.
“And what would cause a mermaid to leave the safety of the sea and run the risk of confronting an incorrigible pirate?” He cast his eyes to the moon, noting a brisk roll of cloud cover racing across the sky.
Her brows shot straight to the heavens. “I’m restless more than reckless, I suppose.”
She didn’t reveal more, perhaps believing her answer sufficient, and he leaned a little closer, catching the scent of fresh cardamom and sweet cherries. The exotic fragrance jolted to the forefront, a rush of memories from sultry past travels. Perhaps he dreamed, after all.
Again a baritone of thunder sounded. A streak of lightning rent the sky soon after. Her eyes flared and, sensing she might slip away before he learned how to find her again, he took one final step.
“With the weather threatening, will you once again slip into the waves, a sea nymph dissolved into gossamer mist?”
She smiled and his heart thumped a heavy beat. The wind scattered clouds to obscure the remaining moonlight and cobalt shadows slid across the rocks, the steady ebb and flow of the waves mimicking the rhythm of their conversation.
“And what would a nefarious pirate do when confronted with a mermaid seeking adventure?”
Her eyes ran over him from top to bottom and his skin heated under her scrutiny. Was she encouraging his attention? He was both confident and unsure, while her bold, flirtatious inquiry caught him off guard and elevated their conversation to an acute physical level. He knew with certainty what he wanted to do. Lower her to the sand, strip her bare, and drive into her luscious warmth. But what could the woman be after? He’d never felt so unbalanced when dealing with a female, still nothing satisfied like a quest or challenge.
With the next gust of wind the clouds broke, releasing a drenching rain that doused the lantern to a gleaming sputter. Without hesitation, he captured her around the waist to sweep over his shoulder in true pirate fashion, as if he’d plundered for booty and now stole the treasure. His long strides carried them to the groundskeeper’s cottage across the beach, partially hidden by a rock formation jutting a line between the coastline and house. It offered a wall of protection and a tangible landmark in the pitch-blackness. Her surprised laughter beat against his back in time with her small fists, and the novelty of her rebellion provoked him to grin.
Shifting to cradle her in his arms, he deposited her with care beneath the eaves of the cottage, then swept a palm across his brow to slick back the lengths of hair fallen forward, both of them soaked to the bone and reclaiming breath, her from amusement and him from the sprint across the sand. He eyed her, not at all sure if she would scream her discontent or lash him for his outrageous endeavor, but she remained quiet.
The downpour transformed into a steady rain, dripping from the eaves to form a curtain of water that secluded them from where they once stood. A palpable tension took hold. They were wet. They were strangers. And each lightning strike ensured they were trapped together for the time being.
Angelica eyed the handsome pirate who’d captured her attention and absconded with her person. His deep tenor caused a pleasant prickling of gooseflesh to dot her arms, while her mind raced with the current predicament. Here she stood in the middle of the night, hardly able to see the man beside her though she could feel the heat from his nearness, sense his potent masculinity, hear each exhalation. When he’d set her down, his hands had grasped her waist with strength and gentle agility. A flutter of excitement coalesced with fear and anticipation to send her pulse into a mad race. He may have carried her across the beach, but it was her heart that pounded in response. His body hard as stone beneath her stomach as he’d moved them to shelter, the shifting tension of his muscles against the thin barrier of her wet gown difficult to ignore.
She’d wished for some kind of adventure. A kiss from a stranger. A bold flirtation. They were guiltless wants. Indulgences before she returned to London and accepted her father’s decisions. Now serendipity offered a chance to grasp hold of an adventure, to create a memory that bespoke of freedom and choice…and pure pleasure.
Something about the man, his large stature and visceral command, intrigued her on a level she’d never experienced. He drew her to the situation as if she clung to a rope and he merely wound her closer. Deeper and tighter, pulling her into conversation, illicit and rich with innuendo, and though she knew it unseemly, she’d enjoyed it. Worse, she went willingly, any voice that warned she flirted with danger or tempted fate was silenced by her desire to see what might happen next. What he would say or how he might behave. He was tall, strikingly handsome, and absolutely forbidden. Virility rolled off him in waves. She should have a care. She knew better. Still that ever-present undercurrent of wild curiosity suffocated any suggestions made by common sense.
While she contemplated her reckless not restless behavior, he lit the lantern on the hook by the door and bathed them in the soft glow of the lamp.
“We need to dry off.” He said the words as if they were an edict to be obeyed, and she nodded her agreement although how they were to accomplish the task remained unknown.
He wriggled the knob on the door and patted his pocket, although she couldn’t imagine why. Only the groundskeeper and the owner of the manor would retain a key. Then he raised his boot and before she could summon an objection, kicked in the cottage door with a dull thud. He grabbed the lantern from the hook and preceded her, glancing over his shoulder and offering a winsome smile to imply she should follow inside.
She swallowed audibly. What was she doing? This was insane, yet she’d never felt so enthralled. Some unspoken sensation she couldn’t explain assured she was in no peril, but still how could one be certain? If he desired, this stranger would overpower her with ease proving only a fool should enter the cottage. A rumble of thunder concurred, underscoring her decision to depart. She managed one step backward before his hand shot through the doorframe, captured her wrist, and tugged her into the dry shelter of the room.
Once inside she barely moved, though he busied himself with an ease that exuded well-worn confidence. The steady rain on the roof seemed to count the seconds, measure her exhalations. She strove to regain a normal breathing pattern. He made a fire in the hearth, lit another lantern, and gathered towels from a closet near the cupboard. For all intents, he did not appear a sex-crazed ravisher who’d lured her inside with the intent to force his advantage and steal her
