Chapter Eleven

The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon, bathing the earth in soft, diffused light.

Zach watched the last vestiges of the day close down. He made his way from the forecastle to the quarterdeck, inspecting the crew’s preparations for tomorrow’s early departure.

Eloise had been right: he had stolen her. By the time she awoke tomorrow morning, wind-filled sails would be powering the Justice away from England, bound for the warmer waters of the Caribbean. What would she think of him then?

He preferred to remember the time spent with her on deck this afternoon. When her long, damp hair hung down her back in a single braid. It smelled of lemon soap, soft against his hand. He’d had a mind to unbind it, to comb it into disarray with his fingers and allow it to dry naturally in the breeze.

Proof of their mutual attraction was there – in the spark of a touch, in the way she’d parted her lips like a flower opening to his kisses. Her breath quickened whenever he stood close. If he fanned their smouldering desire he’d incite flames of all-consuming passion.

It was one thing to develop an attachment to her, but she affected him in ways no other woman had. She’d plucked his heartstrings. On the heels of that realisation came self-reproach. Feelings and emotions of the heart weakened a man. He couldn’t afford that kind of investment in a woman.

Life was about hate and revenge.

He stepped down to the main deck and descended to the companionway. Her cabin door drew his gaze.

Judd stood outside on duty. ‘Don’t worry, Captain. I doubt she’ll be giving me any trouble.’

‘I wish I could say the same.’ Zach retired to his quarters. From the outset, Eloise had been nothing more than his enemy’s fiancée, an asset he could use to further his cause. Her true identity complicated matters in more ways than he cared to admit.

He reached for the latch on his door. The accompanying click and scrape of iron and wood triggered something in his memory: Gareth’s carriage. Possessions. Inside the cabin, he pulled open a drawer, retrieved a small leather pouch and scattered its contents atop the numerous sea charts strewn across the desk.

He’d forgotten the coins and valuables confiscated from Gareth and Eloise at the time of her abduction. He hadn’t asked for those items. Only the ring.

The gold chain and ornate locket caught his eye. She’d worn it the night they’d first met. He picked it up, tested its weight and turned it in his palm. His thumb brushed over the inscription on its back. Elly Blakely. He flicked the locket open. A tiny portrait of her parents stared back at him. Nauseating guilt burned his gut. What he’d give to be able to explain to them the truth. Surely they would understand. Would Eloise?

He remembered the first night they’d met. She’d mentioned a private celebration. But that night had been the tenth anniversary of her parents’ death. Why host a ball to mark such a tragic event? He slumped against the desk. The locket snapped shut in his hand.

Her birthday. He recalled that her father had spoken of it the night before the fire. She’d be how old now? Twenty? Twenty-one?

Hell! He barely remembered her as a child, and yet now he felt as though he would never forget the strong young woman she’d become.

All the more reason to stave off any union between her and Gareth. He pressed the locket to his lips and vowed to honour her parents’ memory by preventing, at all costs, a marriage between their daughter and their murderer.

When had she and Gareth become engaged? Zach walked around to his liquor cabinet, uncorked a bottle of rum and took a hearty swig. How many times had Gareth kissed Eloise? Indelible jealousy had left a mark on Zach’s soul. He swallowed another deep draught of the spicy brew. Had Gareth inappropriately touched Eloise? Zach tightened his grip on the bottle’s neck. He couldn’t stand the image of her in the arms of his half-brother.

Or any other man, for that matter.

Night cocooned the Justice.

It sat sheltered beneath an umbrella of shimmering stars. The ocean’s gentle swell and incoming tide lapped against the ship’s hull.

Eloise stirred. There had been a thud outside her cabin door. She listened, half-awake, but the ensuing silence and calm rocking motion of the ship eventually lulled her back to sleep.

A second time, she jolted awake and sat up. Her stomach turned as a foul smell reached her senses, and a shiver ran down the length of her spine. Her skin had turned to gooseflesh and every hair stood on end. Her heart beat a rapid warning.

There was someone inside her tiny cabin. She pulled the blanket tight around her. ‘Who’s there?’

A low guttural laugh left her as cold as ice. A hard-skinned hand slapped over her mouth, forcing her scream down her throat. She was shoved back, hard and rough and suddenly found herself struggling beneath an unbearable weight.

Dear God! Someone help me!

‘Be still, lass,’ spoke the man. Vile breath wafted over her face. ‘Staying calm and quiet would be in yer best interest. I’ll go easy on yer. Tho’ I enjoy a lass with a touch a spirit.’

The gravelly voice laughed another stream of hot, foul air over her face. She summoned strength to lay still and rally her wits.

‘What an obedient lass. The capt’n’s a cheat if he thinks he can keep yer all t’imself. I intend ta collect.’ His breathing grew heavier.

Eloise managed a strangled cry when he shifted his body over her. A hand grasped her breast, squeezing so hard her eyes smarted. She heard material rip, and cool air rushed over her chest and stomach. He took his hand from her mouth and squeezed her other breast. She screamed. An agonising blow snapped her head to one side.

‘Zach.’ His name passed her lips on a thin, weak breath.

As she fought against unconsciousness, she became aware of the crack and clatter of wood. Boots thundered across the room. The oppressive weight pinning her down suddenly lifted.

Breathe. She drew in a shuddering gasp.

A heavy mass crashed against a wall, then thudded to the floor.

‘Ungrateful wretch!’ Zach’s fury-filled voice bounced around the cabin walls.

A man drew a laboured lungful of air. ‘Want her all ta yerself, Capt’n?’

‘Bastard scum! You came to me with false recommendations.’

The man laughed. ‘You be wrong on that account. I honour the pirate code. Attack and terrorise.’

Zach yelled, ‘Not against women or children! Not against your shipmates. And not aboard the Justice.’

Eloise shut her eyes tight against the sickening smack of a fist against bone. She could feel Zach’s wrath with every blow he delivered. She could hear the spluttered grunts and groans of her attacker. Bile rose in her throat.

The beating stopped, followed by a heavy sigh and laboured breathing. Was it over? She opened her eyes. For one moment, she caught a shard of light. From a candle? A lantern? She gasped. Impossible.

She blinked several times.

The sounds of fighting resumed. She heard a mix of cursing, agonised gasps and shuddering breaths from both men.

What trickery did her eyes play, to then have her believe she saw the fuzzy outline of bodies grappling and confusing shapes on the floor?

Darkness snuffed out her glimmer of hope. It was only foolish imagination.

The bulkhead vibrated at her back. The sound of flesh, bone and muscle being repeatedly punched terrified her. Someone howled in pain.

She covered her ears. ‘Stop!’

There were a few seconds of silence.

A hand touched her arm. She screamed. Her heart thumped against her ribs as she shoved the hand away and began to thrash about, desperate to survive.

‘Eloise! It’s me, Zach.’

With a cry of relief, she pushed herself up to sit on the bunk, legs tucked to one side, arms clasped around her middle. She drew in a deep, ragged breath, inhaling the new scents – him, sandalwood. Her senses were cleansed of her attacker’s foul stench.

Shouts and raucous noise in the companionway sent her cowering against the bulkhead. A blanket fell about her shoulders, covering her semi-nakedness, before heavy footsteps came to a halt at the doorway.

‘No one is to enter this cabin,’ ordered Zach. ‘Judd was attacked outside the cabin and lays unconscious. Make sure he’s alright.’

‘Aye, Captain.’

Eloise recognised the lieutenant’s voice. Her trembling hand lifted in search of Zach.

Calloused finger pads met and grazed her fingertips. He waited for her to come to him in her own time, in her own way. She walked her fingers slowly into his open palm, and curled them tight around his hand, never to let go.

Arm shaking, she pressed her lips to the back of his hand. She raised her other arm to reach for him. He lifted her and sat on the bunk, placing her on his lap and wrapping her in his tense embrace. His hard muscles hadn’t yet relaxed from the fight. The hammer of his heart gradually steadied beneath her ear. Her frayed emotions gave way to tears. ‘Thank you for –’

‘Hush, my love,’ he murmured.

My love? He held her as if desperate to absorb her distress and suffering. He kissed the crown of her head, the corner of her eye, and pulled the blanket tight around her.

‘Zach. I … I can’t stay in this cabin,’ she sobbed.

‘I understand.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Seth?’

A pause. ‘Aye, Captain.’

‘I’m taking Eloise to my quarters.’ He stood with her in his arms. She turned her face into his chest. ‘Get him out of here.’

Zach laid Eloise on his bed. The blanket slipped off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. He’d seen her naked once before, and had reacted as a man would, by lusting after her body. Under these circumstances, he thought only to cover her with the bed linen. His priority now was to keep her safe and comfort her.

He sat on the edge of the bed as she wept. His gut clenched when she turned on her side and curled into a trembling ball. She gripped his forearm as though holding on to a lifeline. Shock had set in.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of her bruised cheek. If she hadn’t screamed for him to stop, he would have beaten her attacker to death. He’d punish the wretch soon enough.

‘You’re safe, Eloise.’ His thumb stroked her forehead and he spoke in hushed tones. ‘Will you allow me to replace your nightshift with one of my shirts?’

She seemed to not hear him. Best not tamper with her clothes given her fragile state of mind. Did she know where she was and who she was with? He had to believe she did, given her vice-like grip on his arm.

He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and fear she’d suffered at having a man attack her. He attempted to stand, intent on retrieving a washcloth. Eloise made a feeble sound and gripped his arm. In place of a cloth, he used his free hand to dip his fingers in the water pitcher beside the bed and dab her puffy eyes. He repeated the dipping action, tracing her lips and lightly pressing against the soft flesh.

Zach shuddered at the memory of her terror-stricken scream, and promptly sprinkled cool droplets over the corner of her mouth. He saw the tip of her tongue emerge, drawing moisture.

She gradually slackened her grip on his forearm.

He fed her droplets of water until she lifted her shaky hand from his arm, signalling she’d had enough. Her hand slapped around his wrist again when he made the slightest movement to dry his fingers on his shirt.

He continued to caress her cheek. ‘I’m not leaving you, Eloise.’

She relaxed her fierce grip, then squeezed his wrist several times as if to communicate her thanks. She rubbed her thumb on the underside of his wrist. Zach swallowed the lump in his throat.

The force of the emotions terrified him more than the deadliest encounter he’d engaged in at sea. He was neither prepared nor equipped to face matters of the heart. It was all nonsense; time-consuming and unproductive. He side-stepped it just as he would a passing stranger.

Eloise was still trembling from the shock of her ordeal. Zach kicked off his boots and gently slipped beneath the bed linen to lie on his back beside her, hoping the length of his body would offer her reassurance of his nearness and protection, though he expected to be pushed away. To his surprise, she uncurled her body, raised her head to rest on his chest, and drew an arm over his waist. She snuggled close to him. He dropped a feather-light kiss on her forehead and crooned soothing words.

He’d guaranteed her safety aboard his ship. Had he not heard her scream … He suppressed the horror of what she might have endured had he been a moment too late.

Her trembling gradually stopped and her breathing became even. Zach wrapped his arms about her in a protective embrace, to remind her of his presence each time her body twitched.

Only when she’d settled into a deep sleep did he close his eyes.

Zach hovered in a dream-like state, reluctant to surface from sleep.

He felt a warm woman pressed against his chest, shapely legs intertwined with his. His hand rested on an impossibly soft thigh, the other threaded fingers through an auburn mane. Never had the air around him smelled so hauntingly sweet, and how refreshing it was to share his bed with a woman who eclipsed the shadows in his life. He could lie like this forever.

The repeated sweep of a feather-light touch to his cheek slowly drew him awake, reviving him like a man coaxed back from the dead.

His eyes opened.

To live the reality of his dream. In the dim light of low-burning candles, Eloise lay facing him, eyes open, gently stroking his cheek.

Zach gave no hint of being awake. Not a muscle moved. He didn’t alter his breathing. He’d never considered himself deceitful, and yet here he was, watching her like a spy, committing to memory those almond-shaped emerald eyes and long lashes. His gaze dropped to her soft, rosebud-pink lips.

Though he couldn’t see his hand on her hip beneath the sheet, his palm burned from the heat of her skin. He dared not move. He hadn’t finished admiring her.

His gaze lifted to where his fingers lay buried in her thick luxurious hair. It took every ounce of self-control not to inch closer and brush his cheek against the silken mass.

His eyes shut, content to continue this rather odd, silent communion while basking beneath her tender touch.

Her breath whispered over his lips. ‘You’re awake, Zach?’

His eyes blinked open. His hand shifted from her hip to rest on his thigh. If ever a smile could penetrate his heart, hers just did. ‘How did you know?’

‘You made a soft sigh.’

He hadn’t realised. In a few hours, the sun would rise. Time enough to languish here beside Eloise, if she still needed him. ‘Tell me how you’re feeling.’

He did not expect the tentative brush of her lips over his, or that she would press a little firmer before pulling back.

Her lids lowered, and she looked suddenly shy.

‘Eloise, I’m sorry you endured –’

She silenced him with a hand over his mouth, lingering there before running her fingertips back and forth over his lips, reading the outline and shape of first the top, then the lower lip.

It sparked in Zach a hunger he long since denied. He’d warned her once already about the consequences, should she seek to touch him like that again. He caught her hand in his, intrigued by the look of anticipation on her face. What did she hope he would do next?

She blinked several times and appeared to be holding her breath. He pressed his lips to her palm, then to the sensitive skin on the underside of her wrist. Her eyes fluttered closed. He heard the excitement in her soft gasp and felt her semi-naked body quiver against his. Knowing he must abstain from intimate pleasure with Eloise was like telling a thirsty man to stand by the well and not take a drink.

Zach couldn’t stifle the rumble of pleasure in his throat when she began to experiment with the art of kissing. She was now nibbling, gently sucking and flicking her tongue along the seam of his lips.

He’d surrendered to her curiosity, but when had he rolled her on her back? When had her arms drawn about him in a feverish embrace? At what point had their need for each other taken hold?

God help him. He hadn’t planned to stir anything in her but rest and respite. He hadn’t asked her to glide her hands up his back or twirl his hair around her fingers. If she continued to make those tiny breathless moans, he wouldn’t have the strength of will to deny his need for her.

It would destroy them both.

He raised his head, watching every nuance in her expression, her reaction. She whimpered in protest, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Her mouth opened and closed in the smallest degrees, lips pursing in search of his. Her breathing had quickened. She looked ripe for pleasure.

Hell and damnation! This had to stop.

For her sake.

Her fingers interlocked behind his neck, making it difficult to pull away. He drew his knees up either side of her thighs to straddle her hips. When he pushed himself up to sit, she came with him. Her hands unclasped and slid to his shoulders, digging into the skin around his still-fresh wound. He winced.

Her eyes flashed open.

‘Let go, Eloise.’

She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. ‘Don’t go.’

‘You won’t be alone. I’ll sit in the chair. You need sleep.’

She shook her head against his chest and held him tighter. ‘What I need … What I want is for you to …’

It was hard enough to pretend he didn’t feel the shape and heat of her full breasts through his shirt. Harder still not to inhale her delicate scent. But to breathe air that carried her unspoken plea? An invitation to sample the delights of her body? Hell! He’d gone mad. Intense desire was playing tricks with his mind. ‘This is wrong.’

She lifted her head from his chest, as though to seek his gaze. ‘Wrong? “Next time you feel an urge to get to know me better, be prepared to get to know all of me.” Were these not your words?’

She’d remembered. How not to damage her pride? ‘Eloise, you’re not thinking clearly.’

‘Then think about this. I’m not sorry we met. I know I’m blind because I was foolish enough to follow you. You’ve abducted me with good reason, I’m sure, and I intend to learn why.’ She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘But what I’m asking you …’

Damn, but she looked breathtaking. Had she been any other woman he’d have had her many times over by now. If he didn’t escape the bed before his next heartbeat, he’d find himself buried deep between her legs.

He peeled her hands from his body. In one swift, agile move he cleared off the bed.

She lunged for him, hands clawing the air. ‘Zach.’

‘No,’ he said stiffly.

Her head followed the sound of his voice. ‘I’m not ashamed to tell you I want you … to touch me.’

Her forthright confession winded him like a boot to the chest. ‘You’re asking me to ruin you.’

‘Haven’t you already? My reputation is in tatters. Ruined the moment you hoisted me up onto your horse and carried me off. Blind or not, my life as I knew it will never be the same. Society will shun me. I’ll bring disgrace upon my family. Better they think me dead.’

‘No.’ He took a step towards her. She was right. He’d been so obsessed with revenge that he’d overlooked how his actions would affect her future prospects. If he were to admit to another truth, it hadn’t mattered who she was the night they’d first met. Somehow he’d known she would become his future. The moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted her.

She shuffled to the edge of the bed. ‘All things considered, there’s a positive side to having my reputation ruined. Perhaps I should thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘Stealing me away from His Grace.’

Her sigh sounded to him very much like relief. ‘His Grace?’ Zach took a step closer, fists forming at his sides.

‘It’s my brother’s wish that I should marry the duke.’

The idea of it turned Zach’s stomach. Bad enough she was engaged to the man. ‘Do you love him?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

His fists unclenched.

‘Tonight, my innocence was almost forcibly taken,’ she continued. Her nerves had taken hold. ‘Now, if only for selfish reasons, I’m offering it to you.’ She swung her legs over the bed and stood up.

‘Don’t move.’ Zach stayed beyond her reach.

She stepped in his direction. Hell! Just like her to disobey an order. Clever minx knew he would catch her if she stumbled. ‘Stop, Eloise!’

She did, and extended him her hand. ‘I’m not asking you to love me, Zach. I’m asking you to make love to me.’

How could he refuse? She stood, gloriously semi-naked, like a gift from the gods, offering up her virtue. He longed to pull her into his arms, to inhale the scent of her skin and hair. To worship with his mouth and hands her porcelain shoulders and breasts; to cup the auburn triangle between her thighs.

Firm resolve slipped away with every suffocating second. The fire within singed, then burned, his self-control. The tight rein he’d held on his carnal frustration finally snapped.

In that moment it struck Zach that he would let no other man touch her. She was his. He would school her in the ways of lovemaking. Take her where she would experience all that was exquisitely physical and otherworldly. He would possess her completely. ‘You’ll regret this, Eloise.’

Her hand fell limp by her side. She shook her head, her mouth grim. ‘Regret would be if I were to marry His Grace. Though I should think now he wouldn’t want me.’ She offered her hand again in a timid gesture. ‘Regret would be never having lain with you.’

Zach reached for Eloise and wrapped her in his fierce embrace. Damn his half-brother to the darkest depths in hell. Gareth was by no means the measure of respectability, and the idea of Eloise believing herself worthless was heart-shattering.

She was wrong on another account as well.

He, Miles Zachary Fenton, was His Grace.

He wanted her, and by God he would show her.