My Timeswept Heart Read online

  "And a woman aboard is a curse!" came from the doorway and they both looked up to see the captain enter and toss several charts on the table. His expres­sion said he was angry with her.

  "Then put me ashore."

  "Would that twere possible," Dane remarked a tad wistfully, then gestured sharply to Duncan. The old man gave her a sympathetic look, then went to the

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  captain. They spoke briefly, then Duncan turned to­ward the door, glancing uncertainly between the couple before he left th'em alone.

  Tess was feeling a little guilty. Very little. She'd in­terfered in the workings of his ship, called him names before his crew, oh, jeez—and it was clear now her presence was no longer wanted. Not that it ever was, she thought, rising slowly from her seat. Why does that hurt so much? Because this is their party and you're the uninvited guest, or rather witch. But that didn't change how she felt about the whipping. Her gaze crept across the floor and up from his boots to meet those dangerous eyes. His body was rigid, a muscle working furiously in his jaw.

  "Your shoulder?" It sounded like a demand.

  "It's fine."

  "Good. Twas extremely idiotic of you to put your­self into that situation."

  Her dander rose. "Look, Blackwell, I'm sorry I've interfered in your fun, but—"

  "Fun! You think I am here for bloody holiday!" His sharp bark of laughter made her flinch. "Woman, you are definitely the most confusing crea­ture I have ever encountered. A man tries to kill you and you defend him, take a lash for him! Any other female would demand he be drawn and quartered!"

  "That's disgusting!"

  "Ahh well, at least your views of me have remained evergreen." Caustic, mocking.

  "Why are you sailing in the West Indies?"

  Something flickered in his pale eyes. "That—ma-dame—is none of your business."

  That stung. Tess walked across the room, her inten-

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  tion to go above deck, but she hadn't made it as far as the door when he grabbed her arm.

  "Where, pray tell, do you think you're going?"

  "For some fresh air. It's become noticeably colder in here."

  "I forbid if."

  "Guess again, Blackwell." She tried prying his fin­gers from her arm.

  "You would risk your life for a few breaths of air?"

  "Call me reckless."

  "Damn it, woman!" He jerked on her arm. "Did this morn prove naught to you?"

  She went still. "Yes, Blackwell, it certainly did."

  Dane searched her face. She distrusted him. Per­haps loathed him, he feared. He'd worked himself into a splendid rage upon deck and had every inten­tion of ignoring the woman and the power she wielded over him. He simply could not allow her to so undermine him, no matter how she felt. But with her alluring presence, his emotions were in a fine mess. He thought he'd had them sufficiently focused before he'd entered the cabin, but one look at her crestfallen expression and he felt ashamed. He shouldn't be, but he was. To have sunk so low in her eyes was a sensation he neither liked nor cared to ad­mit.

  She was a sadly twisted flower, he reminded him­self. After all, she believed it to be the twentieth cen­tury? And did she not talk to the grampus? Was that why her family had set her adrift? For the lady's imagination was not to be believed. And her actions? Climbing the bowsprit!

  "What are you thinking, Blackwell?" she whispered

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  softly, penetrating his thoughts. His expression had revealed so much in those few seconds.

  "I was curious as to why you were so offended at the words 'street urchin'?"

  Her gaze narrowed to mere slits. "That, Captain Blackwell, is none of your damn business."

  "You curse like a fishwife."

  "So do you."

  "I'm a man."

  A brow lifted. "Double standards, how unique."

  "Nay, I dare say yours are much higher than mine."

  "Let go of me, Blackwell."

  Suddenly he pulled her into his arms, his gaze briefly slipping over her face before his lips crashed down onto hers. She fought him, pushing at his chest, her head thrashing from side to side. His re­sponse was to bury a hand in her hair, imprisoning her as he deepened his kiss to mind-boggling propor­tions, prying open her mouth and pushing his tongue inside. She moaned, small fists pounding his biceps and shoulders, trying to battle the gush of heat spill­ing over her body. He took her breath inside himself, pulling her flush against him, and even through the heavy layers of cloth, Tess felt his arousal, bold and hard with his sudden need for her. Her! He was unre­lenting, large hands moving urgently over her slim-ness, mastering her until she ceased her fight. Then, abruptly, he gentled his assault, caressing the curve of her back, lightly licking her bruised lips, then tasting her again with exquisite tenderness as if apologizing for his brutality.

  "Let go."

  "Nay, not yet," he murmured against her lips, his

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  strong arms swallowing her in his embrace as he cap­tured her mouth again.

  "Damn you, Blackwell," she whispered breathlessly when his lips drifted across her cheek to the sensitive flesh below her ear.

  "Aye, damn me, but I cannot," he murmured husk­ily. "I cannot?' He nibbled, pressing her tightly, her firm breasts mashing deliciously against the hard wall of his chest. She tilted her head back, and his lips moved to the soft swell above her breast, his tongue liquid over the pale softness. He heard the breath sigh out of her as her fingers slid into the hair at his nape, and Dane thought he'd die with the wondrous plea­sure of her touch.

  Tess gently rubbed the knotted muscles in his neck, wondering how her anger could dissolve so quickly as she allowed herself to be swept up into the storm of emotions raging within her. Surely Duncan was right, she questioned herself, and the captain had been forced to do what he did. That she could have been killed was accurate, but what of the harshness of the punishment? Was it all fake? No, the sting in her shoulder denied that. Yet npw, with him touching her like this, she couldn't imagine him a cruel man. How could he run so hot and cold, worrying over her scraped elbows one second, ordering a whipping in the next? Could she forgive that possessed Captain Bligh side of him and draw the tender man back to reality—the man who'd saved her life twice? And why couldn't she count one mistake, not one slip up in the script of this voyage? Nothing was right about this place, this man, and what he did to her, and yet somehow, Tess felt Dane Blackwell had won more

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  than just this battle.

  He straightened, willing her to look him in the eye. Sooty dark lashes swept up, and Dane saw the tur­moil written there. A callused finger brushed across her cheek, tucking a stray wisp behind her ear. "Do not worry yourself, little one." He saw moisture bloom in dove gray eyes.

  Her hand moved into the soft raven curls at the back of his head, urging him closer. "Kiss me again, Blackwell." Her voice shook, the soft plea sounding desperate.

  Unable to deny his own need of her, his warm lips brushed hers, a whispery breath across velvet petals, and Tess leaned into him, allowing his sensuality to drape over her misery. Forgive him, a voice urged. A lump formed in her throat as he worshiped her lips, and she lost herself in a hunger she never knew she possessed.

  Neither heard the door open.

  Gaelan Thorpe stood in the doorway, watching the passionate embrace, envious of his captain and the beauty he held in his arms. He smiled to himself. The man had been furious enough to chew nails but minutes before. This must be a new way to express one's pique, he thought cheekily, then cleared his throat when the second mate came up behind him.

  Tess's head jerked back, her gaze darting over Dane's shoulder to the men converging in the door­way.

  "Do not be ashamed, fair sweet," he whispered, in­stantly feeling her desire to hide.

  "I'm not," she lied softly, trying to move away. "Please, let me go, Captain." He did, and she felt

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  small, embarrasse
d, an unaccustomed blush, and couldn't comprehend any of it. It was only a kiss, well, more than a simple kiss, but —good gravy, what's the matter with me, she agonized.

  "Come inside, gentlemen," Dane ordered, frowning at her strained expression. Only his eyes shifted. "And since you have chosen to be rude enough not to make yourself known, Mr. Thorpe, I will deny you proper introductions — for the time."

  Tess's head snapped up at the icy tone, and she saw the first mate flush, then look at his boots.

  Dane knew she was going to run. He reached for her, but she was already out the door, pink skirts flut­tering around the door jamb.

  "I apologize, sir."

  Dane's gaze honed in on Thorpe, "You will, to the lady. But later." With a dismissing glance at the door, he unrolled a chart onto the long table, spreading his palms over the corners. His cool green eyes measured each of his officers. "Now, gentlemen, in a few hours she should be close enough to show us her colors."

  "Aye, sir," they said in unison, eager for the con­flict.

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  CHAPTER NINE

  Deep in her own confusion, Tess didn't notice the activity surrounding her as she grasped the railing and filled her lungs again and again with crisp, salty air. Why did she run? Was she going crazy? God, she felt like she was being sucked into a whirlpool, caught in their game. And having a tough time separating their reality from hers. She fought back the rush of tears, her mind spinning with thoughts and reasons. Adapt, overcome, she commanded herself, shoving her emotions aside and attempting to discover a logi­cal excuse for what was happening to her. No, not to her, but these men.

  A "Fantasy Island" was how she'd explained it away before, but even in a good play someone makes a slip, blows a line. And of course her arrival hadn't been expected. Yet that curve thrown hadn't fazed them much. But she still couldn't dismiss the fact that they'd beaten a man. What else could she do about it that she hadn't already? Not a damn thing. Each man knew the consequences and accepted them. She'd al­ready absolved the whole mess knowing Captain

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  Blackwell patched up the young man himself. Going soft, Renfrew.

  Regardless, there were other confusing factors; Tess couldn't find even the slightest discrepancy in the au­thenticity of the ship, its furniture, the clothing. She looked down at her gown, examining the seams, and was surprised to find the stitching small, erratically even, yet not very tight as a sewing machine would have made. Aw, jeez, hand sewn!

  Her hand shook as she covered her mouth. It was as if she was misplaced in a different time, and until they let her go, took her to shore, she was a prisoner in this bizarre production. If what Duncan had told her was to be believed, they were all here for a reason, some mysterious quest, and ready to pay any price to play it out. With their captain. Dane Alexander Blackwell. Fire and ice. Half animal, half gentleman.

  The man was gorgeous, sexy, too damn masculine for his own good and, and—and when he touches me I melt into a puddle, she confessed silently. Even when he's angry, he excites the heck out of me. No man had made her feel so much in such a short time. The power and sensuality he exuded set off danger signals in her head, but a moment in those strong arms, with him kissing her—God, it was worth the risk! She felt like a real woman when he was near, feminine, delicate, seductive. Just thinking about him made her uncertainly warm. Whoa, Tess, she scolded herself. Keep your head together. You can't get in­volved. It can't go any further than a kiss, and that was already more than she'd done with any man after so short an acquaintance. This will be over soon, and— she braced her elbows on the wood, dropping

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  her chin into her palms with a sigh, deciding she'd never had a more interesting time in her life. Chaos or not.

  She'd calmed down considerably when a shout brought her around. Men climbed high into the rig­ging, checked sails, pulled ropes, lines, secured hooks, and cleared the deck for an unobstructed path. Moving faster, more efficiently than before, she thought, walking toward the bow to see if the dolphin was still near. She couldn't help but notice how the crew sent her cautious glances, hoping not to be caught staring. Several made a big show of moving far out of her way until she passed, as if she had some contagious disease, and if she happened to meet with a crew member's gaze, a sudden fear made him look quickly away, his attention instantly engrossed in his duties. If they wanted to keep their emotions secret, they were lousy at it. Feeling like an intruder in the biggest way made Tess turn back toward the passage­way.

  "I say we do away with her ourselves," a deck hand muttered to his comrades after casting a suspicious glance at the woman's retreating form.

  "Yer a damned fool, Sikes, if you think the capt'n would allow us to see morn."

  "Aye," several agreed with quick nods.

  "I'll not be party to murder," another added, shak­ing his head as he twined a keel of rope.

  "She ain't a witch, and yer all daft."

  Heads jerked up to see the boatswain moving into the small circle.

  "How ken you be sayin* that, Mr. Potts?" Sikes de­manded. " 'Twas you that—"

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  "I know that! But the lady took a lash for me. Tis not something I ken forget. She stood up to the capt'n, din she? Anyone a' you ever dare do that?"

  "Tis proof then!"

  "Nay," a burly man said, bending to the small group. "But we'll be needin' proof she's a true witch."

  "Or proof she ain't," Potts said, his ire pricked.

  "You'd risk yer job fer her?" someone asked.

  Evan Potts stared at his bare toe for a moment. He didn't know what she was, but she couldn't be evil. Not and care about a nobody like him, enough to court the capt'n's wrath on his behalf. Potts lifted his gaze to his mates.

  "Aye. I would."

  Standing outside the cabin, Tess could hear the murmurs of conversation. What could they be discus­sing? She hated to interrupt, but since she wasn't al­lowed to go anywhere else on the ship, she knocked. The door opened.

  A young man, dark haired and very tanned, smiled, his brown eyes briefly glazing over her before he stepped back.

  "M'lady," Aaron Finch said, making an elaborate sweeping bow and hoping it was his finest.

  All conversation suddenly halted, several pairs of eyes going to the woman on the threshold.

  "I'm sorry. I seem to be in the way no matter where I go today."

  Several looked away at her bold reminder, and there was a pregnant silence before Duncan took the initia­tive.

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  "Nay, lass," he said gently as he grasped her hand, pulling her inside.

  Her gaze drifted to the captain, and he smiled softly. It was like a magical spell, those mint eyes, those dimples, Tess felt a bizarre shift of emotions as he moved around the table toward her. He stopped very close, and she couldn't help but recall his brutal kiss and how intimately it ended. She flushed at his rascally expression. Christ, he knows what I'm think­ing. Fleetingly she wished they were alone.

  Dane absorbed the sensual look in her eyes and prayed it meant more than he was forgiven for any pain he'd caused her. He ached to kiss her. Sweet Neptune, but he'd been unable to concentrate with her out of his sight, fearing for her safety on deck alone with no protector. But he'd had plans to make and knew there wasn't a man aboard who would dare test him further this day.

  Gaelan Thorpe's gaze bounced between the captain and Lady Renfrew. They were in each other's pockets without ever touching, he mused, jealous at Dane's good fortune,

  "You promised introductions, Capt'n," Gaelan en­couraged.

  Dane dragged his gaze from Tess. Eager puppies, he thought, irritated at their roving eyes. He sighed, facing them, and with a great deal of formality, intro­duced his first officers to Tess. He was thankful the men showed their best behavior, keeping their lan­guage pure, the remarks wittier than the next. Which put a strain on their manners, he mused, considering the last time they'd been in the company of one so fair. The bows were so elabora
te Dane fought the urge

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  to laugh, then glared the drooling sots back when the kisses to the back of her hand lingered a bit longer than was truly proper. When, in a soft whisper, Gaelan apologized for intruding before, Dane felt a peculiar, and definitely unwanted, emotion when she brushed the whole event aside as if it were naught.

  "May I get you some refreshment, Lady Renfrew?" Gaelan asked.

  "No, thank you," she replied, not caring to be the center of their attention just now.

  "A chair perhaps?" Aaron asked, offering his own. "You must be fatigued?"

  She shook her head. "I'm fine, gentlemen, please don't let me disturb your meeting," she said, then started to move away. She glanced down at the maps, then did a double take. "This map is wrong," she told them, bending over for a better look. She scanned the markings on crude parchment. "There's an island or two somewhere around here." Her finger vaguely cir­cled the area. "I'm sure of it." When she straightened, it was to see several indulgent smiles. They didn't be­lieve her! She shrugged. "Suit yourselves." It was one thing to play as if in the eighteenth century, but an island was an island, she thought peevishly, and it couldn't be placed elsewhere for the thrill of the game.

  "You can read a map?" Gaelan asked.

  "Of course I can!" Her ire rose with those surprised looks. "I know you guys don't want me here, and I can't begin to imagine what you think of me, but it clearly isn't as though I don't have a brain in my head! That map is incorrect, but if you all insist

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  on-"she snapped her mouth shut. "Never mind," Tess muttered, feeling waspish. What was the use? Accept it, believe as they did. Her mind would cer­tainly be more stable if she could. "Why don't you just break your silence and radio the Coast Guard to come pick me up?" she said to the captain. His frown deepened to a scowl, and her gaze moved to his men, pleading for a crumb of confirmation.

  A couple of men cleared their throats and looked away; others glanced at each other in utter confusion.

  "Ra-di-o, m'lady?" Aaron questioned, a wide-eyed puzzled look on his young face.