was not being held by Shay because he was across the deck, and had flown there in front of her gaze like a leaf carried on a wind storm. The second thing she realized was that she had finally succeeded, without even an effort, to irritate that insufferable man, for clearly she had irritated Varian. For the life of her, Merry couldn’t imagine how she had done it or why she had ever thought irritating him would be safe.
Merry had not seen Varian furious since the morning he had found her in his sea chest. But there it was, fury blended with other things she couldn’t discern, and his large hands, always gentle, were now possessed by cruel fingers that held her painfully trapped against him.
“Let me go,” Merry screamed, wanting to assure herself Shay wasn’t injured. The Irishman had hit the deck hard. “Why did you do that? Why did you hurt Shay?”
Morgan’s voice was icy and clipped, a straining reminder somehow she had pushed this man too far. “I am at the end of my tolerance of you.”
Having become accustomed to his indulgence of her in all things, Merry flung without thought, “I will do as I please, you odious insufferable man. I am at the end of my tolerance of you hurting my friends. Let me go.”
Disoriented by her anger, when his fingers bit more firmly into her arms, she raised a hand to slap him. He caught it brutally in mid-air.
Morgan dragged her to the cabin in a haphazard descent with her screaming and struggling with each step. She was fighting him, but she was terrified, because whatever this change in him, she didn’t like. It frightened her.
In the darkened passageway, she screamed, “You are insane. I have done nothing to make you angry. Let me go. You are hurting me. Take your hands from me.”
When the cabin door closed, Merry found herself flattened against it, and then his mouth upon hers, forcing her lips apart as he ruthlessly deepened the kiss. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced with Varian, powerful and without restraint. Merry froze, unable to struggle or answer his assault. The need in his flesh matched her own, and she wanted it to stop, because it was burning. Even as angry as she was with him, it moved through her veins, excited and urging. His hands were not gentle as they moved over the slopes of her body, and she found herself growing weak from long denied desire. He was kissing her in absolutely passionate fury.
The tears burned as they rolled down her cheeks. There was a long pause in which nothing changed, not his hands or his kiss. Then Merry felt his body tighten. He stopped the furious outpouring of his passion and set her away from him.
Varian stepped back from her and his black eyes were glittering in a soullessly unreadable face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Merry. However, there is a limit to what I will tolerate of you. You may refuse me as long as you wish, Little One, but do not dance beneath my nose and play games with me.”
“I will do as I please, you odious insufferable man. You’re a fine one to talk about playing games. You have done nothing but play games with my heart and flesh since my first night aboard this ship. If you touch me again, I will kill you. I was wrong about you. It is Varian who is the fiction. It is Morgan who is real. And Morgan I despise.”
It didn’t seem possible to Merry, but both his face and his eyes hardened even more chillingly. Varian said, “If that were true, Little One, you would have been in my bed the first night. Do you know how desperately I want you? Enough to wish Morgan were real, and because he is not, to be trapped in the torment of living with you.”
“If I am a torment, return me to Falmouth.” Her voice had degenerated into a feeble whisper, heavy with her misery and anxiety. A tear-choked sob interrupted her words, and it took her a moment to continue. “Take me home. Please. You are like a spider, spinning a web around me and I am caught in the web. I know you are going
Merry had not seen Varian furious since the morning he had found her in his sea chest. But there it was, fury blended with other things she couldn’t discern, and his large hands, always gentle, were now possessed by cruel fingers that held her painfully trapped against him.
“Let me go,” Merry screamed, wanting to assure herself Shay wasn’t injured. The Irishman had hit the deck hard. “Why did you do that? Why did you hurt Shay?”
Morgan’s voice was icy and clipped, a straining reminder somehow she had pushed this man too far. “I am at the end of my tolerance of you.”
Having become accustomed to his indulgence of her in all things, Merry flung without thought, “I will do as I please, you odious insufferable man. I am at the end of my tolerance of you hurting my friends. Let me go.”
Disoriented by her anger, when his fingers bit more firmly into her arms, she raised a hand to slap him. He caught it brutally in mid-air.
Morgan dragged her to the cabin in a haphazard descent with her screaming and struggling with each step. She was fighting him, but she was terrified, because whatever this change in him, she didn’t like. It frightened her.
In the darkened passageway, she screamed, “You are insane. I have done nothing to make you angry. Let me go. You are hurting me. Take your hands from me.”
When the cabin door closed, Merry found herself flattened against it, and then his mouth upon hers, forcing her lips apart as he ruthlessly deepened the kiss. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced with Varian, powerful and without restraint. Merry froze, unable to struggle or answer his assault. The need in his flesh matched her own, and she wanted it to stop, because it was burning. Even as angry as she was with him, it moved through her veins, excited and urging. His hands were not gentle as they moved over the slopes of her body, and she found herself growing weak from long denied desire. He was kissing her in absolutely passionate fury.
The tears burned as they rolled down her cheeks. There was a long pause in which nothing changed, not his hands or his kiss. Then Merry felt his body tighten. He stopped the furious outpouring of his passion and set her away from him.
Varian stepped back from her and his black eyes were glittering in a soullessly unreadable face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Merry. However, there is a limit to what I will tolerate of you. You may refuse me as long as you wish, Little One, but do not dance beneath my nose and play games with me.”
“I will do as I please, you odious insufferable man. You’re a fine one to talk about playing games. You have done nothing but play games with my heart and flesh since my first night aboard this ship. If you touch me again, I will kill you. I was wrong about you. It is Varian who is the fiction. It is Morgan who is real. And Morgan I despise.”
It didn’t seem possible to Merry, but both his face and his eyes hardened even more chillingly. Varian said, “If that were true, Little One, you would have been in my bed the first night. Do you know how desperately I want you? Enough to wish Morgan were real, and because he is not, to be trapped in the torment of living with you.”
“If I am a torment, return me to Falmouth.” Her voice had degenerated into a feeble whisper, heavy with her misery and anxiety. A tear-choked sob interrupted her words, and it took her a moment to continue. “Take me home. Please. You are like a spider, spinning a web around me and I am caught in the web. I know you are going
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