Page 12 of Immortal Pirates

Tomorrow—whatever she decided to do—would be a difficult day. She’d either be fighting through a storm, attacking theDevil’s Target, or betraying a promise made to the Earl of Corvindale that would help to bring down Cezar Moldavi.

She would not think of St. Albans.

He was there…inher dreams. Strong, warm, sensual. His mouth teased the corner of hers, nibbling at her lips, nuzzling her chin and along the bare expanse of her throat and shoulders.

Arial sighed, shivering beneath the delicious, prickling sensations. Her body was hot and liquid, pleasure fluttered through her as his warm breath gusted over her damp skin.

St. Albans, she thought desperately.Why did you do it?

She planted a hand on his chest, felt the ridge of solid muscle there, the light covering of hair sprinkled over his pectorals…

“Arial,” he murmured, and covered her breast with a large, warm hand. “My enticing captain.”

St. Albans…how could you lose control like that?

“Arial…you know I control myself. You saw me.” His mouth was doing amazing things to her in the dream. Hot, sleek, insistent.

She moaned and shivered, and then, somehow, she slipped back into the lull of slumber…but now, she was accompanied by the remnants of the dream.

When Arial awoke,it was to a knock at the door of her quarters. She opened her eyes to see the gray light of dawn filtering through the windows of her cabin—or perhaps it was merely the sun fighting through storm clouds.

“Yes, Bladsoe. Come in.”

He poked his head inside the door as she sat up. “The brig is empty. St. Albans is gone.”

She stiffened with astonishment. “Gone?” she repeated, then sagged back onto her pillow.

How?

And then she remembered the dream. Her heart gave a little leap and she touched her lips, then her chin and throat where he’d kissed and nuzzled and licked. Surely he wouldn’t have come in here…surely he wouldn’t have risked it.

It was a dream.

But then, as she rose from her bed, she saw a finger-length brown and black feather on the table. It hadn’t been there when she went to sleep.

And then she knew.

Raine St. Albans might be gone, but she’d see him again.

And then she’d have to decide what to do with him.

IN WHICH A NIGHT HAWK IS TAKEN WELL IN HAND

Being a Continuation of the

Raine St. Albans & Arial Bonny

Story

1

1804,Somewhere in the Caribbean

Raine St. Albans, known as Lord Norringford—Viscount of Norringford, Lareford, and several other small properties hardly worth mentioning but that certainly contributed to the bulk of his purse—back in the civilized world of London, had gotten himself into a bit of a fix.

It wasn’t even his fault.

In fact, in no way could anyone logically blame Raine for the events that caused him to be secretly stowed away in the dank, musty bowels of a bloody damned pirate ship—a pirate ship captained by the most alluring, fascinating, and sexy woman he’d ever met.