“I’ll have you writhing beneath me, crying out for a pleasure you’ve never known. The man you marry will have you in name, but I’ll have had you in every way that matters. And when he takes you to his bed, you’ll close your eyes and remember whose hands first made you beg.”
Cordelia fought desperately toward the shimmering light above. Her lungs burned, and her brain screamed for the oxygen that was just out of reach. She kicked against the weight of her skirts, clawing at the water, but each swell dragged her deeper beneath the waves. Her limbs grew heavy with exhaustion. The edges of her vision darkened. It would be so easy to give up. Relent. She was so tired. Her eyelids drooped, as her body relaxed, and she felt the pull of sleep.
Something yanked at her skirts, fabric tearing with a sharp tug. Drowning was one thing—but not that. Not a death of hundreds of sharp teeth and blood in the water. The thought of being devoured by a shark jolted her back to life. Panic surged through her as she used the last of her strength to punch, scratch, bite—only to realize, in her delirium, that the thing dragging her back wasn’t a creature of the deep. It was a man.
Strong arms closed around her, pressing her against a broad, solid chest. Her head broke the surface, and she gasped, coughing as precious air filled her lungs. Air. Life.
Blinking through the salt and spray, she saw the cruel eyes of the man who was the reason she was in the water in the first place, a jewel encrusted dagger clenched in his white teeth. He held her tightly with one arm, and grasped a rope with his opposite hand. She desperately wanted to rake her nails across his face, shove him away, but she was too weak. And at that moment, she was at the mercy of his rescue.
She clung to his back as they were heaved onto the deck. Once safe, she struggled to lift herself onto her hands, coughing violently before expelling seawater onto the planks. The man beside her shook the droplets from his hair and placed a steadying hand on her back. She recoiled instantly, swatting him away.
“That’s your gratitude, is it?” he scoffed. “You’d rather the sea had you, then?”
Cordelia glared at him through the long strands of her wet hair, and attempted to lift herself. Her legs were frustratingly wobbly, and she immediately collapsed. She was clothed in only her stockings, stays, and shift; which clung to her and revealed every inch of her lower body. A small group of men began to gather, their smirks slow and knowing. Their faces were collectively swarthy and weathered. Long, scraggly beards and unruly hair hinted at months at sea. Their clothing was stiff with filth, their fingernails black with grime, and the stink of sweat, salt, and cheap rum clung to them. Scrambling backward, she wrapped her arms around her knees in a feeble attempt at modesty. Her rescuer—her captor—crouched beside her and draped a heavy coat over her shoulders.
“You’ll not stand on your own just yet,” he said gruffly, before lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.
She had no strength to fight as he carried her across the deck, past the leering crew, toward the stern. With a sharp kick, he forced open the door to a great cabin. The heavy scent of gunpowder and damp wood filled her lungs as he strode inside. His boots thudded against the planks as he crossed the room, then without ceremony, he tossed her onto the bed. He lingered above her, momentarily casting a lascivious gaze across her skin, then without another word, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
Cordelia lay there, motionless, water pooling beneath her as her eyes filled with tears. Her memory returned to her ship, and the sounds of it being taken by the pirates. She clutched the rough blankets beneath her, shut her eyes, and tried to ignore the sounds of chaos and the smell of blood and burning.
When she next opened them, everything was dark, except for the light of a full moon shining through the large stern windows overlooking the sea. The ship rocked peacefully, and the symphony of violence Cordelia had drifted off to sleep with, was now replaced with the peaceful creaking and groaning of the ship. She was still a little disoriented, her throat as sore as her arms and legs, but she was dry and warm. She lifted the blankets that covered her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Someone had removed the last of her wet clothing, and she was now naked, her copper hair a long, tangled mess curling over her breasts and stomach. Red embers glowed from a corner of the room, and the warm scent of pipe tobacco tickled her nose.
“You should cover yourself, lass,” he paused, “I don’t care to see what’s meant for a man who’s got the patience to put up with such distractions.” His words came out as a low growl, strained and laced with something dangerously close to frustration. He took another long drag from his pipe, the embers casting flickers of light across his face.
Cordelia didn’t hesitate to wrap one of the blankets from the bed around herself. “Where are my clothes?”
“Your garments are drying in the hold—what’s left of them, anyway.”
“You undressed me?”
“Would you rather I’d left you to freeze in those soaked rags?” His voice was deep, lazy, and amused.
Cordelia felt the pull of something she refused to acknowledge at the thought of those same broad, powerful palms—those long, thick fingers that had torn her from certain death—caressing her bare skin as they stripped away her clothing. She lifted her chin, her voice cool.
“I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”
His lips twitched into a cruel, half-hidden smile. “I couldn’t bear to lose such a tempting prize.” He gestured toward a trunk at the foot of the bed. “Your belongings are there, what’s left of them. The sea wasn’t kind.”
“What exactly do you plan to do with me, now that you’ve taken me prisoner, Captain? You are captain of this vessel, are you not?”
She stood and moved closer, sizing him up as he rose to light a large candelabra on a dining table in the center of the room. He had a handsome countenance, unlike the men he kept company with, and he looked as though he’d washed and shaven. She could smell a mixture of spices on his skin; cinnamon, clove, and cedarwood; and his long hair was tied back in a neat queue. Up until now he’d kept her safe, if he meant to harm her, he’d have surely done it by now. He let out a low chuckle, the sound laced with a hint of bitterness.
He turned to face her, his gaze cold and intense. “Aye, I’m Captain Ronan Drake, and you’ll be a prisoner of my ship, lass. But I’ll not keep you locked away in the brig. I’m not in the habit of caging beautiful women.” His eyes darkened, his words coming out sharp as he spoke. “But rest assured, you’ll not be free to do as you please, either. I’ve no patience for insubordination. I’d suggest you remember that, unless you’re eager to test your luck.”
She glowered at him, her fingers splaying over the table between them. Paper shifted beneath her touch, and in the dim candlelight, she recognized her letters strewn across the surface. Her heart pounded. He’d read them, so he must know.
“I suggest you leave me in the nearest civilized port, Captain Drake. My fiancé is a powerful man in Virginia, and when he finds out what has occurred, he’ll come for me.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he will, my lady. And when he does, I imagine he’ll pay a very handsome sum to have you returned to him… unharmed.” He watched her, his expression appraising and covetous.
A cold knot twisted in her stomach. The thought of being ransomed, of being sold back like some costly trinket, ignited something reckless inside her. Before she could think better of it, she turned and ran. His pursuit was unhurried, his bootsteps slow and deliberate as she scrambled onto the upper deck. She climbed onto a wooden crate, her fingers clutching the bulwark as she stared down into the dark, churning sea.
Behind her, he chuckled, low and dark. “You could take your chances in the water, but I won’t be coming in after you this time, my lady.”
Her breath came quick and shallow as she cast about for some means of escape, some sign of salvation. But there was nothing. Only the vast stretch of open sea. She felt his chest at her back, the iron cage of his arm around her waist, and a blade at her throat.
“Enough,” he murmured, the warning edged with something far more dangerous than amusement now. His breath was warm against her temple, his voice a quiet snarl. “You’re not leaping to your death tonight, nor are you going anywhere I don’t permit.” His grip tightened, his words like iron shackles. “You’ll return to my cabin, where it’s warm, where you’re safe, or you can spend the night in the hold. But I assure you, my lady Devereux, you will not be roaming free.”
The sharp metal of his blade at her throat cut into her skin, and she could feel the cool drip of her own blood tickling her flesh as it trailed downward. She elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and a gasp of air escaped his lungs, but he didn’t flinch. His grip on her waist tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of the blanket she clung to, his chest heaving.
“Damn you,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You’re testing my patience like no man would ever dare, and I’ve killed for far less.” Cordelia’s pulse thundered, but not with fear—not entirely. His breath was hot at her ear, the blade at her throat forgotten. “You should be afraid of me, my lady. You should tremble, beg me for mercy. Because there’s only so far a man can be pushed before he takes what’s right in front of him.”
The blanket slipped beneath his grip, the chill of the night air shocking against her bare skin, but his body was there, searing behind her. His hand, calloused from years at sea, roughened and warm, slid lower. His touch was dangerously calm, as if he commanded the very air around them to still.
She felt his breath warm against her shoulder, “I mean to return you to your fiancé unharmed…” His fingers traced the curve of her hip, “But there are ways to pass the time, my lady.” He chuckled, low as his fingers dipped between her thighs, into the desire she felt for him from the moment she realized he must’ve been the one to remove her wet clothes while she slept. “I wonder, Cordelia, would he still want you if he knew how easily you tremble under my touch?” She gasped and clutched at his wrists and hands, one still holding steel to her throat. “I could take you right here beneath the stars, and there wouldn’t be a damned thing your betrothed could do about it.” His lips barely grazed the shell of her ear. “But I don’t have to, do I?” her hips rolled backward into the unmistakable hardness of him in response to the deliciously tender way he petted and stroked her. “That’s it, my lady,” he growled in pleasure, “Move with me.”
Cordelia gripped the railing, and her world narrowed to the sound of his ragged breath and the aching tension that he held her in. The spray from the sea kissed her breasts as her head tilted back in shameful ecstasy. “Dare I steal from you a little death before your fiancé ever lays claim to you?”
His strong fingers, capable of untold force, were deft and sure as they dove into her and curved upward with unrelenting, steady pressure. They slid slowly over the silken, soft pearl at the center of her yearning. She chased them eagerly, and moaned in sinful rapture. She didn’t ask him to stop because all she could do was pray that he wouldn’t. “Come undone for me, Cordelia,” he commanded, and she obeyed.
She fell into his arms, completely spent. He held her for a moment, catching his breath before he sheathed his dagger back into his boot. His hand moved tenderly to her face, and brushed her fiery hair away from her cheek.
A husky voice sounded somewhere from below, startling them, “Everything all right, Deadlight?”
“Yes, Tom, nothing to worry about. Just our prize jewel attempting to escape, but I have her in hand.” He covered her with the blanket from his bed, the meaning in his expression clear. The deck was no place for her—too many eyes, too many dangers far worse than him. Then, his lips brushed just near her ear, “Be a clever girl and return inside with me, before I decide to make that choice for you.”
Once they were back in his cabin, she avoided his gaze, and he kept his distance, seating himself behind a large desk covered in maps.
“What was that he called you? The man on the deck.
“Deadlight.”
“What does it mean?” she whispered, unsure she wanted to know the answer, yet suddenly fascinated by the pirate captain who’d held her so tenderly moments before.
“It’s a name the men have given me, ‘Deadlight Drake’.” His lips curved at the edges as he laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back in his chair. His feet rested carelessly on the mess of navigational materials. “Among naval men, a deadlight is a shuttered window on a ship.” Cordelia furrowed her brows in confusion, as he neglected to continue. “Perhaps you’d enjoy asking one of the crew for superstitious tales of my nickname.”
Cordelia shuddered, a wave of revulsion washing over her at the memory of the men she’d encountered earlier that day. “No, thank you.”
She hesitated, the weight of her next question pressed on her chest. “What’s become of my ship… and the people aboard?” Her voice faltered, and she realized with a sickening twist in her gut that she couldn’t bear the thought of having experienced such exquisite bliss at the hands of a man who might have slaughtered everyone she’d come to know over the past several months. The idea churned in her stomach like acid.
“Your ship is at the bottom of the sea. As for her crew and passengers… those who weren’t claimed by the waves were either provided passage to safety or have wisely chosen to join me.”
Cordelia began to wonder if the cruel pirate captain was more merciful than she’d assumed. He’d rescued her and spared the lives of those he could. “I’m curious—what drives a man like you to take lives and steal from others?”
Captain Drake’s jaw tightened, “I was a sailor for the king once. I fought in a war that served no real purpose but to fill the pockets of men who would never set foot on a battlefield. When the war ended, so did my career. No pension, no land, nothing. The navy tossed me aside like I was worthless. The world doesn’t always give a man like me a choice. So, I took what I could, and made damn sure no one could take it back.” He sighed deeply, seeming as though he grew weary of their conversation, and Cordelia sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on the events that had transpired between them and all he’d told her.
“You’ve fought the sea, defied fate, and now you’ve earned a well-deserved rest. Come, my lady, let the bed cradle you as the night does. You’ll sleep well, I think, though I cannot promise there won’t be dreams.”
“Where, then, am I to sleep?” She gave a pointed glance to the bare sheets on the bed, then back at him.
He stood and crossed the room, then sat on the edge of his bed and began to remove his boots. “Here, beside me, lass,” he said, his voice tinged with mischief.
“Without any clothes? If you think I’m simply going to submit to whatever game you’re playing, you’ve miscalculated.”
“Haven’t you already?” he smiled smugly.
“You had a knife to my throat, Captain.”
“You wouldn’t have resisted, even if you could have,” he chuckled.
“What else do you think I’ll give in to? Your every command? Your every… whim?” She crossed her arms, but her posture wasn’t quite as stiff as before, her body caught between wanting to stand her ground and being drawn closer to him.
He watched her for a long moment, as though weighing his thoughts carefully, and for the briefest flicker, the smirk faded. His eyes softened, and something genuine slipped through the cracks of the pirate captain he portrayed. He stood and slowly removed the rest of his clothing while she watched in fascination. Then, pulled back the sheets and settled himself into bed. He extended a hand inviting her to rest beside him. She was very much aware that this was her choice. He was giving her the power to decide, him or the cold, hard floor.
Her body still hummed from where he’d skillfully touched her before, and she hated to admit she craved more. She climbed into bed with Captain Drake, and covered them both with her blanket. The moment she settled against him, her hip pressed against the hard length of him, and a sharp intake of breath escaped her. The back of his hand moved to brush against her arm—barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver through her. She closed her eyes, heart racing, biting her lip as she fought the rising swell of desire. Her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed for caution. Something inside her—something deeper than reason—pulled her toward this man who stirred emotions she didn’t understand. He shifted closer toward her, and she placed a trembling hand on his chest to stop him.
“Did you not say before that I’m too much of a distraction, Captain?”
“Aye, I did, my lady, and you still are,” he murmured, his voice rough, “but you’re not the woman I thought you were. I thought you’d shatter the first time the wind howled too hard, but you’ve defied me, challenged me, stood your ground against the open sea. Makes a man wonder what else you might endure… and what else you might enjoy.”
Her breath caught, heat pooling low in her belly. Still, she forced herself to ask, “And what of the ransom? What about leaving me untouched?”
Captain Drake exhaled sharply, as if cursing his own weakness, his lack of restraint. But then, something in his gaze darkened, and slow as the tide creeps up the shore, he lifted himself over her, one arm braced against the bed. His lips skimmed her cheek, the heat of his breath at her ear sending a shudder through her. She turned her head away, swallowing against the heat crawling up her throat.
“I said I’d leave you unharmed, but after I felt the way your body clung to my touch and pressed into my fingers,” his mouth moved slowly down her throat and over her breasts, “I can’t leave you untouched.” She gasped as he took a nipple into his mouth and applied a tender pressure between his teeth. His answering chuckle was indulgent. “No, I’ll have you writhing beneath me, crying out for a pleasure you’ve never known. The man you marry will have you in name, but I’ll have had you in every way that matters. And when he takes you to his bed, you’ll close your eyes and remember whose hands first made you beg.”
“This is madness,” she panted.
“Aye, and you’re drowning in it just as I am.”
His mouth moved lower, slow and patient, until she felt the warm wetness of his tongue at the seat of her pleasure. His hands spread her thighs wide and she opened for him without any resistance. He hummed his approval against her tender flesh. Rich, intoxicating pleasure unfurled within her, building in waves, each one crashing harder than the last, as the rhythm of his mouth mirrored the sway of the ship beneath them.
It wasn’t long before she began to beg for more of him, just as he’d said she would, and he laughed darkly as she pulled his face to hers. He captured her mouth in a kiss deeper than any ocean, and sank into her like a ship cutting through a storm-tossed sea, plunging deep and unrelenting, pulling her into currents of sweet ecstasy. She lifted her hips, silently pleading for more. His breath was unsteady at her ear as he grasped her hips pulling her even closer in response.
She pulled at the leather that bound his hair and breathed in the scent of him as it fell around her. Then tangled her fingers in it, as he buried his face into her neck and let go. She felt his body shudder until the full weight of him relaxed on top of her, and a whispered curse escaped his lips. After a few moments of stillness, he settled himself beside her. The hands that held the wheel of his ship with unwavering control now cupped her face with a tenderness that made her heart stutter. The deep blue of his eyes swirled with emotion.
“That man of yours, does he know what he has? Or does he see you as some fine ornament to set upon his shelf? I think you’d drive him mad…” He reached for her hair, fingers threading through the strands, letting them slip slowly between his fingertips, “… a woman like you, with all your fire.”
“I’ve never met him. Our engagement was arranged by my parents.”
His fingers paused and tightened their grip on her tresses. “A man who hasn’t truly earned your heart?” His eyes narrowed, his voice softening, almost dangerously low. “You don’t belong to someone else, Cordelia. Not like that.” His hand slid from her hair to her neck, where his thumb traced the delicate curve of her jaw. “You belong to no one but yourself, but I can’t help but think,” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing just against her ear, “that I’d like to be the one who lays claim to you.” He pulled back slightly, searching her face, as though weighing his next words. “I’ve already taken you, haven’t I? And now… now I can’t imagine giving you away to another man, not when I’ve felt what it’s like to have you as mine.”
Cordelia was stunned into silence. She couldn’t think of what to say. She’d craved an escape from her life of duty and polite exchanges for so long, but how could this treacherous pirate captain be trusted? A life of security and safety waited for her in Virginia. Could she really leave behind the prison of her old life for one of adventure with Captain Ronan Deadlight Drake as her partner, free and equal in their own right? It was tempting…
A distant boom, almost like thunder, and the splash of water against the large windows of his cabin caused Captain Drake to loosen his grip on her. His entire body went rigid, his expression hardened, eyes narrowing as he listened intently.
“What is it?” Cordelia whispered.
Another boom sounded, closer this time. Followed by a cry from above deck. He moved quickly, crossing to the cabin’s lantern, and dimmed it with a sharp flick of his wrist, plunging them into shadows. The ship, which had moments ago rocked gently in the waves, now felt wrong. Outside, voices rose—Cordelia heard shouted commands and men scrambling. Captain Drake dressed himself in a hurry, and stood before the great stern windows behind his desk. He extended his spyglass with a practiced flick, the brass catching the moonlight as he pressed it to his eye.
Cordelia rose from the safety of his bed and stood beside the pirate, her long, auburn hair covering her nakedness, like a mermaid out of water. Beyond the panes, the sea stretched into oblivion, black and endless, the silver shimmer of the moon broke across the waves like shattered glass.
“The silhouette of a ship on the horizon behind us. No lanterns. No colors flown.” He watched the dark shape for a long moment, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled, slow and measured, before turning to Cordelia. His gaze swept over her—assessing—as if memorizing her in case fate tried to rip her from his grasp. He pulled a pistol from the drawer of his desk, and handed it to her. “Stay here, love. And if someone other than me comes through that door… Kill them.”