A Pirate's Wife for Me Read Free Page A

abandoned me, never to return."
    "Yet you still want me."
    "I would have to be a mooncalf to still want you." …Yet she did. And she hated him for it.
    Her heart raced as he stalked her across the room. Her body remembered what it was to be his, and that body, too long without the touch of a man, hummed with excitement. She had thought she was long past the time when everything in her responded to a man. She had thought loneliness, humiliation and defiance had replaced every sweet, womanly need. But her heart pounded, the fine hairs all over her body rose, and a fine sheen of perspiration covered her skin. Her agitation was all Taran's fault. No other man had ever made her want with all the fierce desire in her nature.
    But these years of independence had taught her to think on her feet. Briefly, she considered the rope ladder. No. The window stuck. So she moved toward the bed. Toward the pistol.
    "I was kidnapped."He watched her with anticipation gleaming in his gray eyes.
    "Kidnapped? You mean someone wanted you dead beside Kiernan and me?" she jeered.
    "Yeah. It was my —" He took a dive at her, caught her around the waist, tumbled her on the bed.
    She landed face down, head toward the foot of the bed — not what she'd planned – kicking and screaming like some helpless maiden in a morality play.
    He landed on top of her, his front to her back, spoon-fashion. Using his whole weight, he subdued her until her struggles had stopped and she could only yell.
    "Do you think that shrieking will bring someone running?" He laughed. "Listen to the men. My men."
    The music from below got louder, and from the stamping and cheering, she guessed they were dancing.
    "The taproom is lively now, and likely to get livelier. The doxies have arrived, those sailors know the danger of this mission, and they're determined to wring every drop of enjoyment out of each remaining moment."
    She was a sensible woman. She stopped screaming, and concentrated on her options. She had only one: the pistol, which remained far away, at the head of the bed.
    His hand skated between her neck and the mattress. His fingers caressed the vein that pulsed in her throat. He slid his fingers into her hair, held her so that one side of her face was turned to his, and kissed her forehead, her eyelid, her cheek, her jaw.
    The faded, striped coverlet stretched endlessly away from her. Far beyond the reach of her fingers, she could see the pillow. She wanted so badly to be there, to hold the smooth cold metal in her fingers and with it force him to leave.
    His warm breath slithered across her skin, and the scent of peaches and brandy formed an intoxicating mix. He glided close to her lips, but she bared her teeth and with a chuckle, he moved on. He kissed her neck: the sensitive place behind her ear, the pale, soft skin that showed above her collar. His tongue, that wicked tongue that had taught her so much about pleasure, slid along her earlobe, and he drew it into his mouth and lightly scraped it with his teeth.
    Damn him. He remembered all the tender places. The places that made her want to turn into his arms and welcome him between her legs.
    "Stop that!" She knew it was useless, but she tried to climb out from under him. The sheets and blankets slipped free from the mattress, sliding toward her. Wisps of her hair came loose from her chignon and fell around her face.
    He picked up one and slid it between his fingers. "You cut your hair." He had the nerve to sound hurt, as if she'd done it to spite him. "How could you cut your hair?"
    "With scissors." Her breath rasped in her lungs. "I will never, ever open my door to you again," she said. "Never. I swear it."
    "Your door." He chuckled and pressed his knee between hers. "I promise, you will open your door to me." His voice grew husky. "Caitlin. Dear God, Caitlin, how I've missed you."
    He'd lost that undercurrent of amusement which so annoyed her, and he sounded … intense. Appealing. So much like the lad who she'd