Island Flame Part 4

"Even more than that, little innocent, ifIhave anything to say about it," he said in her ear, putting his lips against the soft skin of her neck and slowly stroking it with his tongue. Cathy s.h.i.+vered. She knew now what he was leading up to, and she didn't think she could bear it again so soon. But she had no choice. She was his prisoner, and he could rape her until she died if he wanted to. There was no one to stop him.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the thought, and she pulled away a little. He caught her around her thighs to bring her back to him. As his hand closed around the tender flesh Cathy whimpered painfully.

"d.a.m.n!" Jon muttered, pus.h.i.+ng her away. The next instant he was on his feet beside the bunk, lighting the candle.

Cathy stared up at him wide-eyed as he turned back to her. Was he angry at her for her resistance? Surely he didn't expect her just to melt in his arms!

"Turn over," he ordered harshly.

Cathy's mouth went suddenly dry. He was going to beat her again. Oh, G.o.d, please no! Her skin was swollen from his earlier blows, and this time would be even worse.

"I-I-please don't hit me," she whispered brokenly, making no move to obey him. Jon caught his breath sharply as he saw the tears coursing down her cheeks.

"I won't hurt you," he promised tightly, rolling her over despite her slight effort at resistance. Cathy shuddered as she felt him lift the skirt of her wrapper, but lay submissively still as he examined her. He was too strong to fight, far stronger than she was, and she was too tired! She would just have to endure whatever he meted out to her. It couldn't be worse than what he had done to her already!

Jon stared down at the soft curves he had so sicken-inglybruised and despised himself. No matter what she had done to provoke him, she had not deserved this! The ivory flesh of her bottom and upper thighs was hot and red, punctuated with rapidly darkening yellow marks. It must hurt like the very devil! He turned abruptly away to rummage in aseachest ,then stood up seconds later with a first-aid kit in his hands. He felt like the biggest rogueunhung , as he sat down beside her on the bed. She neither moved nor whimpered as he began to smooth a healing lotion into her burning flesh.

His long fingers stroked the cream into her skin. Cathy tried not to flinch from the intimacy of his touch. His hands on her were worse than the pain, she thought dully. Thatshe,willful, pampered, accustomed to every care and luxury, should be brought so low was unbelievable. Yet it was happening.

"Is that better?" he asked softly after a few minutes. Cathy wanted to scream at him, but it was too much effort. She nodded listlessly.

"You bruise easily," he continued in a faintly accusing tone, as though the marks on her were somehow her fault. Cathy made no reply. After a moment he said brusquely, "I suppose you think that if you sulk long enough, I'll apologize."

Apologize! Cathy quelled an insane desire to giggle. He actually thought that three little words would make it all right for her again. Still, she thought, it would be something. The first step on the road to humbling that proud black head!

"Don't worry. I know better than to expect anything like that from you," she managed bitterly, then s.h.i.+vered as she heard the sharp sound of his jaw as it snapped shut.

Jon saw her shudder and cursed himself. He hadn't meant to hurt her, G.o.d knew! But she'd been enough to try the patience of a saint, much less someone as hot tempered as himself. Anyway, how was he to know she'd bruise so easily? He blew out the candle slowly and got back into bed, lying on his back and making no attempt to touch her. "All right, I'm sorry," he said stiffly after long moments. The remark out of the blue surprised Cathy. She hadn't really expected him to apologize. Was there anyway she could turn his remorse to her advantage?Perhaps if she pretended to forgive him. . . . "W-what?" she asked cautiously. "d.a.m.n it, I said I'm sorry." The words were ground out through gritted teeth. Cathy almost smiled. It was obvious that the admission was difficult for him. If she could actually wring an apology from him, it might be just a matter of time until she had him right where she wanted him: groveling atherfeet. Not that that would satisfy her. Nothing would, until she saw him dead!

"You asked for everything you got, you know," he said as if he had to justify his actions.

"I asked for it?" Cathy gasped, forgetting her plan to be sweetly forgiving. "How can you say that? I certainly never asked you to rape me!"

"It wasn't rape, and you know it as well as Ido ," Jon said roughly, raising himself on one elbow and

leaning over to peer at her face.

"Not rape!"

"You wanted it, too. Where I come from, if the lady's willing, there's no question of rape."

'Willing!I was certainly not willing! You forced me! I had no choice!"

"I admit I would have forced you if I'd had to. As it happened, I didn't. From the first time I kissed you,

back on the Anna Greer,' I knew you were mine for the taking. You're a very pa.s.sionate woman,

sweet, or at least you will be when you learn a little more of what it's all about!"

'You beast!"Cathy shrieked,sitting bolt upright in the bed as his words flicked a raw spot. "I hated everything you did to me! I hate you to touch me! I hate you, period! You raped me, you filthy cad, and now you're trying to soothe your conscience by saying that I wanted it!"

"Didn't you?" he murmured provocatively.

"No!" Cathy was outraged.

"Shall I prove otherwise?" heasked, voice soft as one hard arm snaked around her waist to pull her back

into the bed.

"But you-you can't! You apologized! How can you want to do the same thing again when you're sorry for the first time?"

'You misunderstood me, sweet. I apologized for spanking you, richly though you deserved it. I never regretted taking what you were dying to give me."

'You let me go, you lying swine!" Cathy railed. "Can't you get it through your conceited head that I

despise you? I said let me go!" Her voice grew shrill as he dragged her against him.

"Don't be frightened, sweet. I told you that the next time would be better. This won't hurt you at all, if you'll just relax and let me. . . ." His voice trailed off as he buried his mouth in the soft, rose scented valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I'll never let you do anything!" Cathy got out in a strangled whisper, pulling fiercely at his black hair. "Anything you want from me, you'll have to take! You'll have to rape me again and again and again, and still I won't give in! I hate you, I tell you, and I'll die before I submit to you!"

"I doubt it, my girl. Not unless you plan to do it mighty fast."

These words were murmured against the curve of her breast as Jon reached up to secure her hands. Cathy wriggled and squirmed as he leisurely suckled at first one taut peak and then the other. Strange yearnings s.h.i.+vered through her body at the touch of his hard mouth, but Cathy fought the tentative urge to surrender. This time, she knew what he was leading up to. She had experienced the knifelike pain that had felt as if it would split her in two. Oh, G.o.d, she couldn't take it again! She couldn't. . . .

He was lying on his side facing her, careful not to turn her onto her sore back, holding her clamped tightly to his muscular body. With one hand he stripped her wrapper from her. When she was as naked as he, his arm snaked out, catching her leg andhositing it high around his waist. Cathy struggled frantically, horrified at this fresh indignity, but to no avail. Cathy wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to spare her this new torture, but his mouth was on hers, stifling her cries, suffocating her. She felt his hardness probe between her legs, and tensed for the pain she was sure must follow. To her surprise, she felt none, only a hot, sweet fullness as he slid inside her. She gasped at the strange sensation, but not from pain. It felt good. . . .

"I told you the next time would be better," he murmured smugly into her ear. Cathy longed for the familiar surging rage to flood her veins. Instead she felt a melting weakness as he moved gently inside her. She moaned at the unexpected pleasure, her arms coming up to twine around his neck of their own volition.

"Ahhh, Cathy," she vaguely heard him groan through the mists she was lost in, but she was too caught up in her own response to spare a thought for his.

His thrusts were carrying her away on a spinning cloud, and she was too weak to fight them. All she wanted was to get closer, closer,closer to that hard, warm body. She began to move with him, her untrained body writhing seductively against his. He moved faster and harder, groaning, and Cathy clasped him to her as though she would never let him go. Then with one final deep thrust it was over. Cathy was brought resentfully back to reality to find him sprawled beside her, one hand cupping her breast and his breathing ragged in her ear. She moved her leg experimentally over his. That couldn't be all! She had felt on the verge of something-something momentous! What had happened?

"Jon?" she murmured tentatively.

"So I'm Jon, now, am I? I thought you hated and despised me?" She could just make out the mocking curve of his mouth. "Ah, well, just goes to show how fickle is woman."

"Oh, you. . . ." Cathy gasped, flouncing away and turning her back to him. He had succeeded in shaming her again. But just you wait, she thought, steaming. Just you wait, my fierce pirate captain. You'll get your comeuppance, and before long.

Just as she finished the thought, Jon's arms came around her, pulling her back against him so that she was cradled by his warm body. Her head ended up nestled cozily on his arm.

"Go to sleep, vixen," he whispered, droppingalight kiss on her tumbled hair. She thought she saw the bright gleam of his teeth as he added softly, "While you have the chance."

Four.

Jon awoke the next morning feeling more alive than he had in months. He stretched, yawning, and the movement brought him up against the soft body huddled in a little ball on the far side of the bunk. Even in sleep, he thought wryly, she stayed as far away from him as she could get. But he'd change all that, he promised himself. The day would come when she'd want his body as badly as he wanted hers. And he wanted hers pretty d.a.m.ned badly, he had to admit. Even now, knowing that the sea and his s.h.i.+p were waiting for him, he had to exercise extreme control not to roll her over onto her pretty little backside and pump out his l.u.s.t between her legs. Jon grinned. He must be getting old. He'd always heard that as men approached middle-age they got yearnings for girls young enough to be their daughters. But if what he felt was typical of middle age, then let it come. So far, it was fantastic!

His hand moved beneath the bedding, but Jon drew it back before it reached its goal. Enough of that! He had a s.h.i.+p to sail. The men would be thinking he'd gone soft, lazing in bed until the sun was high up. It was the first time he'd slept past dawn since he had first put to sea asa boy of sixteen. At the thought he frowned a little. Women had been the downfall of many a man. He'd have to watch out, so that the fascination the little she-cat's body held for him didn't get out of hand. Not that it was likely, he a.s.sured himself. He had bedded many women, most of them lovely and all of them far more experienced in pleasing a man than the child beside him. If he was gentler with her than the others, well, it was because she was younger andmore tender . The unprecedented guilt he had felt after bruising her delectable flesh was only natural. After all, it might interfere with his enjoyment, which was what the game was all about! Just let him get to Cadiz, where a certain merry widow waited, and he'd get the little shrew out of his system once and for all. Like too much whiskey, the cure for intense s.e.xual attraction was hair of the dog. And any dog would do.

A knock sounded discreetly at the cabin door. Jon bounded out of the bunk. The last thing he wanted was to be caught day-dreaming on his back like some lovesick child. He stepped hurriedly into his breeches, doing up the b.u.t.tons and shrugging into his s.h.i.+rt before calling brusquely, "What is it?"

The door opened a couple of inches and Harry poked his head through. His eyes widened at the sight of Jon, frowning and tousle-haired and obviously just out of bed. At Harry's bemused expression, Jon's scowl deepened.

"Well?" he barked.

"Sorry,Cap'n ," Harry said hastily, barely repressing a grin. "The crew was getting worried about you. Some of them heardall the ruckus in here last night, and . . . uh . . . well, they thought she might have killed you.When you didn't come on deck this morning, sir."

"Very funny," Jon said sourly. "You can tell whoever's interested that I'm still breathing. And if you don't wipe that d.a.m.ned silly smirk off your face, you soon may not be."

"Yes, sir, Captain, sir!"Harry was grinning openly as he started to withdraw. Then he paused. "Oh, uh, by the way,Cap'n , that's one h.e.l.l of a s.h.i.+ner!"

"Get out!" roared Jon. Harry beat a hasty retreat.

"Is something wrong?" Cathy, awakened by Jon's infuriated bellow, struggled to sit upright. Jon turned frowningly in her direction. With her long golden hair cascading in bright waves around her nakedness and her sapphire eyes wide as saucers, she was breathtakingly beautiful.Just looking at the soft mounds of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, almost completely exposed above the quilt, made his temperature shoot up. G.o.d, he wanted her! His muscles ached with it. Jon knew suddenly that he'd better make arrangements to get rid of her mighty fast. If he didn't, he might find himself in real trouble.

"No. Go back to sleep." He answered her question shortly, angry that she should have the power to disturb him. Last night she had even brought him to the point of telling her, like some lovesick swain, that he was sorry for having beaten her-when she'd begged for every lick and more besides! Maybe the jade really was the witch he'd called her. It bore thinking about. Such things were not unknown, after all, and he was beginning to believe he had all the symptoms of a man pursued by a devil.

"What are you staring at?" he asked belligerently, seeing that her blue eyes had widened even more as she looked at him.

"Your-your face," she whispered, the corners of her mouth twitching in a quivering smile.

"What the h.e.l.l is so funny about my face?" Jon turned to search for the small mirror he used to shave with. Come to think of it, Harry had said something about a s.h.i.+ner. He probed his left eye experimentally. It did feel a trifle sore. But he had had black eyes before and they'd never amounted to much. His skin was so tough from the sun and sea air that it took a powerful blow to bruise it.

Jon found the mirror and peered at his reflection. What he saw appalled him. He looked like the lone loser in a twenty-man barroom brawl! His eye was ringed with deepening shades of purple streaked with the faintest tinges of a sickly yellow-green. Three long scratches adorned his cheek. And now that he thought about it, his hand throbbed where the little b.i.t.c.h had bitten it. Even his shoulder felt sore! He cast a dark look at Cathy, who was trying to hold back her mirth with scant success.

"So you think it's funny, do you, miss?" he growled, advancing on her menacingly. Cathy shrieked and tried to leap from the bed, but hard arms came down on either side of her, holding her in place.

"No. Oh, no," she quavered,then broke into helpless gurgles of laughter. "I'm sorry!" she got out between spasms. "I-I truly can't help it!"

"You won't laugh long if I take you up on deck with me and display your wounds to the world," Jon threatened gruffly, knowing even as he said it that he wouldn't be able to stand the sight of other men drooling over her sweet nakedness.

"You wouldn't!" Cathy gasped, her hand flying automatically to protect her still tender posterior.

"I might," he warned.

"I won't-I won't laugh any more," she promised, only to collapse in a gale of giggles as she took another look at his battered face.

"Jade," he said without heat, and turned away from her to sit on the edge of the bunk while he pulled on his high boots.

"Jon," she ventured when her amus.e.m.e.nt had abated somewhat. "I didn't mean to hurt you-at least, I did- but-but I'm sorry now.Really."

"Are you?" He turned to look at her intently. Cathy felt her heart give a queer little lurch at the expression in his eyes.

"Y-yes."Not even Cathy herself was certain whether or not she meant what she said. It could have been just a ploy to get him to lower his defenses, or it could have been sincere. He had her emotions in sucha turmoil that she just didn't know.

"Prove it."

"H-how?"

"Kiss it better." The gray eyes were mocking, but a tiny flame burned steadily at their backs.

"I-I-all right."The thought of being kissed by him after the intimacies they had shared the night before was oddly pleasurable. Cathy held her face up submissively, her eyes closed and her rosy lips puckered in the proper position for a kiss. Jon laughed shortly.

"I meant for you to give the kiss, trollop, not the other way around."

"Oh." Cathy rocked back on her heels, thinking furiously. She was surprised to find that she actually liked the idea of placing her mouth against his injuries, of soothing his hurts with her lips. The game was getting dangerous. She was no longer sure whether she wanted to win or lose, or even what winning or losing was. But anything that would make him soften toward her must work to her advantage, she reasoned. Therefore, giving him a willing kiss would fit right in with her plans.

She knelt beside him where he still sat on the edge of the bunk, keeping the quilt tucked carefully about her. His eyes darkened as she slid silky white arms around his neck. Cathy was surprised to find that her own heart beat faster. It wouldn't do to forget her purpose, she warned herself, moving close. This was all part of her revenge. . . .

Her mouth went first to his eye, drawing out the soreness with a series of b.u.t.terfly kisses,then trailed over the long scratches that her nails had raked across his cheek. His skin felt hard and firm against her mouth, tasting of salt from the sea and smelling of man. Cathy was beginning to like the smell. . . .

Jon's arms came around her abruptly, his hand tangling in her long hair to pull her mouth down to his. His lips feasted hungrily on hers and then were still, letting her take the initiative. Her lips parted against his and still he didn't move, keeping his emotions on a tight rein as he let her learn by herself what she needed to know about kissing. Her small tongue nicked his shyly and was hurriedly withdrawn. Jon's physical reaction was so intense that he felt real pain. More than anything he wanted to push her back against the pillows and love the breath out of her. But he didn't want to scare her. . . . He was astonished to realize that rape no longer seemed as satisfying as it once had. He wanted her full, willing cooperation.

"Miss?"Petersham'svoice on the other side of the door broke them abruptly apart. d.a.m.n, Jon thought frustratedly ,then acknowledged with a grimace that it was really just as well. The wench was beginning to get under his skin. He needed to get out in the fresh air where he could get he way she made him feel in some kind of perspective. He heaved himself off the bunk, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at her as he strode to the door. Her lips were tucked into a d.a.m.ned irritating little Mona Lisa smile. She looked smuglyselfsatisfied , and Jon began to wonder if perhaps he was being taken for a ride. . . .

"I should throw you overboard," he said slowly, a thread of seriousness lacing the words. "Drowning's one way to kill a witch."

"It wouldn't do you any good. Witches float." She wrinkled her nose at him impishly. Jon didn't even smile.

"Master Jon! Uh, Captain! I didn't realize you were still in your cabin. Are you ill?"Petersham exclaimed, fl.u.s.tered, as Jon flung open the door. His eyes widened at the sight of his captain's bruised face, but he quickly swallowed the exclamation that leapt to his tongue. Some things were better ignored.

"No, I'm not ill," Jon answered shortly, scowling atPetersham . The old fool's thoughts were painfully obvious. "I had some-uh-business to attend to this morning that could best be handled indoors."

"I understand, sir."Petersham permitted himself a small smile. Jon stifled a curse and brushed by the valet irritably, disappearing out the door.

"I've brought your breakfast, miss."Petersham entered the cabin hesitantly. After seeing Master Jon's wounds he hated to look at Miss Cathy. The master was a strong man, and with his temper he wouldn't have taken kindly to being so attacked. At the very least he expected the girl to be similarly marked. His mind reeled when she smiled at him saucily.