“I…” she began, her voice catching, “I beg you not to touch my hair.”
One brow hiked slightly, and the devil gleam in his eyes increased mockingly. He obediently removed his fingers from her hair and temple, only to rest them slightly below her breast. To Brianna’s horror she exhaled a whimper at the touch that made it seem as if her body screamed inside.
“Don’t!”
“Ahh…that is right. My touch is extremely distasteful. I learned that this afternoon.” The mockery was like knives against her heart. She closed her eyes and tried to close her mind.
He moved his hand slowly, palm and fingers a light massage, cupping the fullness of her breast. His eyes left hers to move over that firm mound, and he watched the result of his thumb’s grazing over the nipple. Brianna closed her eyes and swallowed, aware that her body was traitorously giving her away. Sloan Treveryan saw the rose hue darken hauntingly, the peak tautened delightfully to his whim.
She opened her eyes to find his eyes daring her to deny her response. He mocked her; she had angered him, and he was angry still.
“Lord Treveryan, I do not wish to be used by you!” she said.
“I see how fully you are repelled,” he replied, amused.
“You are ignoring my words,” she reminded him.
“Because they make no sense. When I touch you—”
“I cannot fight you physically!” Brianna snapped, and then she closed her eyes and lay still. “You touch nothing,” she said tonelessly.
Inadvertently she moistened her lips, and that slight gesture was an invitation he could not refuse. He moved his lips to hers, barely touching. “What is done, is done, little witch. There was a time when you might merely have spoken—but it seems that without judgment you’ve called me ‘an arrogant nobleman’ and so sealed your own fate. I cannot return what you have lost, but I can care for what I have taken.…”
His whisper died on her mouth as his lips at long last touched fully, cajoling her acceptance with the swiftness of his devouring assault. His tongue delved deeply, seeking with ardor the sweet crevices of her mouth. She tried to twist from him but he held her still. She pounded against him but he caught her arms. Her protests became soft moans, her lips began to move against his. She arched slightly, with a natural instinct, filling his palm with the soft but firm weight of her breast. She felt the powerful muscles of his shoulders. Even as she desperately tried to hold on to the will to fight him, she knew he was unlike anything she had ever known. He held a physical fascination for her that wove a magic spell. There was something about his masculinity, something that beckoned a response as if she had been destined for this stranger’s arms. Where she was small and slender, he was strong and broad. Their bodies interwove as if crafted by an artist.
No! she thought with horror. She was giving in to him!
But just then, he broke from her—and smiled mockingly, and grimly. “Forgive me, Mistress Brianna,” he murmured, unwinding her arms from his back and folding them across her chest. He moved away from her so that his body no longer brushed against hers but was still close enough to touch her. “I must have lost my mind. But as I see how very abhorrent my touch is to you, I will fight the devil which lurks within me when I fall prey to your blue eyes. Do forgive me. I will strive to remember your words in the future.”
Brianna was heartily glad for the dimness of night as she felt the blood rush to her face. But it mattered little, for even before Sloan Treveryan had finished speaking, he was turning from her, his manner definitely one of nonchalant dismissal.
“What future?” she demanded heatedly. “You’ve no right to hold me! I’ve a place to go—”
He twisted back to her, angry and impatient. “You can’t go anywhere, Brianna! Not safely. If I set you ashore, I promise you that Matthews would find you. You can keep your damned chastity, but even if I saw fit to dock tonight, I could not let you off this ship!”
Her eyes fell from his at last. Dear God, he did intend to hold her! He just didn’t understand that she was capable of hiding, of moving quickly—of taking care of herself!
When would she ever manage to escape him? She shivered suddenly. How much of this could she endure? She was nothing but a toy to him—a toy with whom he had just played.
Brianna angrily forced herself to lie rigid. He was too close beside her; she must assure herself that she did not touch him in the night. She curled closer to the teakwood planking that edged the bunk, silently hurling every imaginable oath upon his head. She wished desperately that she might pull the pillow from beneath his head and rip out handfuls of his jet hair. But it would be futile to attempt retaliation because she would only receive another lesson from his hands.
Iwill escape you, Lord Treveryan!she promised herself in an impassioned silence. They would have to come into port, and when they did, she would find her chance. She had his gold coins in the pocket of her shift. They were hers for services rendered in full. Before God! She would get away from this man who had claimed her as casually as he would a new coat, to don and cast aside at his whim and leisure.
Sleep—dear God, she needed sleep. Release from pain, from the tempest of her soul. And though sleep eluded her for a time, it eventually brought her release again.
She saw his eyes as she slept. Deep green, devil-green. Narrowing angrily, glittering with sensual amusement. The planes of his face, the full, mobile line of his mouth and the handsome slash of white teeth against the tan of the seafarer.
The arch of his jet brow.
He would not leave her dreams.
Chapter 6
Brianna awoke with a start of panic to a knock on the door. Then she realized that Sloan Treveryan would never knock upon his own door. She was well swathed in her blanket but still loath to see anyone clad so—within the captain’s cabin. She shrugged and lifted her chin—there was no help for any of it at the moment. “Yes?” she queried softly.
“It’s just me—Paddy. Captain asked that I bring ye something clean to wear.”
“Uh—come in—and thank you,” Brianna responded.
