off to an isolated cabin for a thorough bedding engrossed him. And an equally overwhelming desire to stay the hell away from her consumed him.
Shit, was he really so weak? Could he truly have disgraced his brother over the stirrings of his cock? Over the pathetic cries of one lonely voice inside him? Another second more and Quincy would have witnessed the embrace. Then what? Was he to swim back home to England once the furious brothers had tossed him overboard?
Guilt and self-loathing quickly replaced what little comfort he had found in Belle’s arms.
Damian clenched his fists. He would stay away from her, he vowed. He had not come this far in his quest for pirate blood to fail over a kiss.
Chapter 9
D amian slammed against the wall, then toppled to the floor. He tried to stand, but the ship lurched beneath him, tossing him back to the ground as a child would a rag doll. Deafening cracks of thunder exploded overhead. The rain beat down in sleets.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
There had been tepid weather the last week or so. A few days of northwesterly winds, a few days of idle drifting. Nothing to predict the monstrous gale that had hit the vessel not a quarter of an hour ago.
Ensconced below deck, tending to minor repairs, Damian had felt the pitch and wallowing of the floorboards beneath him. At first, buried in the hold, he’d assumed the tempestuous movements nothing more than the result of being immersed so deep below sea level. Apparently that was not the case.
Not entirely sure how he managed to get up and remain standing, Damian forced his wavering self through the stairwell, staggered down the corridor, then stumbled up another set of steps that led to the main deck.
He stepped into the deluge, at the mercy of the lashing waves. A gust of wind blasted him, whipping piercing spray into his face and body, nearly knocking him back down the opening whence he’d come.
The smoky sky, congested with sinister, billowing clouds, banished the afternoon sun. But there was still enough visibility to outline the silhouettes busily taking in the fore and mizzen sails. It was the mainsail that was stuck, however, and if it wasn’t reefed soon, it would shred under the overwhelming pressure of the storm, bringing the mast down with it.
Braving the opposing winds, Damian made his way over to the distorted figures.
His heart tightened.
Faint shadows, illuminated under the sizzle of lightning, revealed the most incredible sight.
What the devil was she doing out here?
Struggling with the brail, Mirabelle tried to bring the thrashing rope under control. Just then, a mammoth wave surged and crashed onto the deck. It was a few heart-stopping seconds before the tumultuous waters receded and Damian could breathe once more at the sight of her still standing on deck.
He was going to wring her neck if they survived this ordeal. She had no business being out in such a devastating storm. She had no business being on the blasted ship in the first place!
Making his way over to Mirabelle, Damian smothered her in his embrace. It felt so good to touch her again, to envelop her in his arms. He hadn’t come near the woman in more than a week, and the fact that he had nearly lost her just a moment ago made his euphoria all the more potent.
Grabbing the stubborn brail and winding it around his palm and wrist, Damian yanked it tautly, the rope thrumming with strain in the tempest’s frenzy.
Belle shouted over her shoulder, “I have to cut the tangled rigging loose!”
“Are you mad?”
She’d be washed overboard the moment she released the rope. And just to prove his point, another comber sloshed over the deck, its stinging numbness taking away his breath—and almost taking away Belle.
The rope dug into his hands, red welts appearing in the wake of the burning friction. His muscles hardened around Mirabelle, keeping her locked between his arms, while the retreating waters poured back into the turbulent ocean.
“Don’t
Shit, was he really so weak? Could he truly have disgraced his brother over the stirrings of his cock? Over the pathetic cries of one lonely voice inside him? Another second more and Quincy would have witnessed the embrace. Then what? Was he to swim back home to England once the furious brothers had tossed him overboard?
Guilt and self-loathing quickly replaced what little comfort he had found in Belle’s arms.
Damian clenched his fists. He would stay away from her, he vowed. He had not come this far in his quest for pirate blood to fail over a kiss.
Chapter 9
D amian slammed against the wall, then toppled to the floor. He tried to stand, but the ship lurched beneath him, tossing him back to the ground as a child would a rag doll. Deafening cracks of thunder exploded overhead. The rain beat down in sleets.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
There had been tepid weather the last week or so. A few days of northwesterly winds, a few days of idle drifting. Nothing to predict the monstrous gale that had hit the vessel not a quarter of an hour ago.
Ensconced below deck, tending to minor repairs, Damian had felt the pitch and wallowing of the floorboards beneath him. At first, buried in the hold, he’d assumed the tempestuous movements nothing more than the result of being immersed so deep below sea level. Apparently that was not the case.
Not entirely sure how he managed to get up and remain standing, Damian forced his wavering self through the stairwell, staggered down the corridor, then stumbled up another set of steps that led to the main deck.
He stepped into the deluge, at the mercy of the lashing waves. A gust of wind blasted him, whipping piercing spray into his face and body, nearly knocking him back down the opening whence he’d come.
The smoky sky, congested with sinister, billowing clouds, banished the afternoon sun. But there was still enough visibility to outline the silhouettes busily taking in the fore and mizzen sails. It was the mainsail that was stuck, however, and if it wasn’t reefed soon, it would shred under the overwhelming pressure of the storm, bringing the mast down with it.
Braving the opposing winds, Damian made his way over to the distorted figures.
His heart tightened.
Faint shadows, illuminated under the sizzle of lightning, revealed the most incredible sight.
What the devil was she doing out here?
Struggling with the brail, Mirabelle tried to bring the thrashing rope under control. Just then, a mammoth wave surged and crashed onto the deck. It was a few heart-stopping seconds before the tumultuous waters receded and Damian could breathe once more at the sight of her still standing on deck.
He was going to wring her neck if they survived this ordeal. She had no business being out in such a devastating storm. She had no business being on the blasted ship in the first place!
Making his way over to Mirabelle, Damian smothered her in his embrace. It felt so good to touch her again, to envelop her in his arms. He hadn’t come near the woman in more than a week, and the fact that he had nearly lost her just a moment ago made his euphoria all the more potent.
Grabbing the stubborn brail and winding it around his palm and wrist, Damian yanked it tautly, the rope thrumming with strain in the tempest’s frenzy.
Belle shouted over her shoulder, “I have to cut the tangled rigging loose!”
“Are you mad?”
She’d be washed overboard the moment she released the rope. And just to prove his point, another comber sloshed over the deck, its stinging numbness taking away his breath—and almost taking away Belle.
The rope dug into his hands, red welts appearing in the wake of the burning friction. His muscles hardened around Mirabelle, keeping her locked between his arms, while the retreating waters poured back into the turbulent ocean.
“Don’t
Similar Books
