Page 15 of Immortal Pirates

Raine realized it was the last possibility that bothered him the most.

“As to what I’m going to do with you,” she said, “I’ve come to a decision.”

“Another decision? That’s more like the Captain Bonny I’ve come to know. Do you care to tell me what it is?”

He edged closer to her, flaring his nostrils slightly so as to draw in a deeper breath of her essence. And at the same time, he discovered he’d curled his fingers into two tight fists in an effort to keep from reaching for her.

“I suppose I ought to,” she replied. “Since I’ve decided to take you topside. To my chamber.”

2

Arial nearly laughed aloud at the shocked expression on St. Albans’ face, and how it immediately transitioned into a pleased—far too pleased—grin. Oh, he thought he had her, didn’t he?

She stifled a pleased smile of her own. Raine St. Albans was in for a bit of a surprise.

“Is that so?” he replied, and she heard the faint tremor as he attempted to keep his silky voice steady. “To the captain’s chamber? What on earth have I done to deserve such an honor?”

Waves of heat and desire shimmered between them, and Arial had to work at it to keep her expression bland, to fight away the memory of his tall, hard body pressed against her…and those skillful lips devouring hers.

Damn and blast, the man was far too attractive and sure of himself for his own good! She couldn’t wait to turn the tables on him, so to speak.

“Since you managed to find your way there on your own three nights ago, let me assure you it’s nothing more than pragmatism on my part. After all, it’ll be much easier to keep track of you there. The brig was clearly not intended to contain a Dracule.”

“And your chamber will be far more comfortable than that cage in which you attempted to keep me. Not to mention this damp, smelly dungeon. Lead the way, Captain.”

She did, relieved to turn from those blue eyes—which, though they weren’t able to lull her into complete hypnosis, were nonetheless compelling and alluring in a completely different—far more dangerous—way.

If she actually trusted St. Albans as much as she desired him, Arial’s decisions would be much simpler. One thing she knew: she couldn’twaitto get him off theBlack Lass.

And, unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen until they caught up with theDevil’s Target. Which could be another day or two—depending whether the storm that was brewing tore in like a furious wild woman, or merely like an annoyed witch. TheBlack Lasswas the fastest ship in the Caribbean, and her captain was unerring when it came to precise navigation, but even those benefitsXX paled in the face of an angry storm.

Arial and St. Albans climbed two sets of steep, narrow stairs, and she felt the way his attention scored over her from head to toe—lingering on herbehindas often as possible.

When they got to the main deck and she stepped out from the stairwell, leaving him behind, Arial heard the man exhale a short laugh.

“Ah,” he said drily. “Well done, Captain Bonny. Well done.”

“What is it, St. Albans? I thought you were quite eager to find the captain’s cabin,” she replied innocently as she stood there bathed in the light of dawn.

The deck around her was empty, for they’d emerged near the stern(?), and the crew was on the foredeck due to the change of shift and, more importantly, breakfast. She sniffed the air, smelling the coming storm as its rising wind tossed her braid and filled the pristine sails above her.

St. Albans looked up at her from the safety of the shadowy stairwell, a wry smile on his face. He was so tall that he had to tip his head slightly, and his shoulders nearly brushed the sides of the passage. But he remained safely out of the sunlight.

“Are you coming, St. Albans?” She knew her eyes were dancing with mischief and that there was simply no chance of him turning around to return to the bowels of the ship. The likes of Lord Norringford would never stoop to retreat.

“Arial,” he growled, his eyes flashing hot, lustful red.

And then he moved—more quickly than she’d anticipated—and the next thing she knew, Arial was caught by strong hands. Lightning fast, powerful, and smooth as glass, he had them both around the corner and tucked into a dense, shadowy spot beneath a suspended cockboat.

“That was a dirty trick, Arial,” he murmured, pressing her against the wall with two large hands on the leather straps crossing her shoulders. One foot jockeyed between hers, and he slid his knee between her thighs to help gently pin her in place.

“Captain,” she reminded him tartly, trying to remember that she was, indeed, the bloody captain of this ship and everyone on board was required to adhere to her commands and laws. But her heart was thudding wildly and her mouth had gone dry. Other parts of her were far from dry, however, filling and dampening and beginning to throb with heat.

“Captain,” he said, sliding his warm fingers up to where the braid began at the back of her crown. “You’re shedding.”

He brought his hand around and she saw the feather pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “This is not the first time I’m relieved my Asthenia isn’t feathers,” he murmured, looking at the delicate, downy feather. “There’s a woman I know…”

His voice trailed off as he stared at the fragile piece left behind from her transformation—just a small one of brown flecked with black and amber.