Blackwells: My Timeswept Heart Part 17

Tess wanted to be angry at this invasion of her privacy, but she couldn't. The honest sympathy marking his features had dissolved her resentment. He hadn't asked to be mean so he could watch her suffer; Dane had tried to spare her much of that lately. He'd been confused, and this eighteenth-century man needed answers, and for reasons she couldn't define, she needed to tell him.

Dane pressed his lips to her scented hair. Sweet Christ, what vile thing had the man done to cause her this grief? He squeezed his eyes shut, disgusted that he'd opened such a wound, and worse, with no more tact than a schoolyard bully, "Shhh, my sweet," he murmured, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her to the window bench.

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He sat down, cradling her on his lap, her quiet tears cutting him in half.

"It was my fault, really, for being so stupid. You see." She sniffled. "In college I was an athlete-" she gulped-"with a reputation of being a loner and, well, men thought of me as an odd sort of challenge." *

"Nay, Tess. Say no more. Tis your secret. Forgive me for intruding where I had no right."

Tess lifted her head, swiping at the dampness trickling down her cheeks, continuing as if she hadn't heard. "Emile was handsome, seductive, and I let myself be seduced. I was in his bed, and he was inside me and-" Dane watched as the shame spread across her features -"he laughed at me, said he couldn't wait to tell his pals that I wasn't a cold b.i.t.c.h after all, just a scared little virgin." Her breath shuddered raggedly with her effort to keep it together. "It was all a joke, Dane, a game. Taking me to bed was a bet between fraternity brothers; my virginity was the prize." She cringed at the memory, her voice turning colder than he'd ever heard. "I shoved him off me, grabbed my clothes, and was out in the street before I stopped to dress." Her gaze narrowed on some distant spot. "He never stopped laughing, and I never let a man get close enough to try that again." She closed her eyes tightly, calmer now; the telling had somehow lessened the humiliation of the whole disgusting mess. She was silent for a long moment before she whispered, "That was five years ago."

Rage swept through Dane like a hurricane. "The b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," he growled, and her eyes snapped 167.

open. "I shall demand satisfaction for this!"

Tess fought back a smile. Her finding humor in his archaic reaction wouldn't do his ego any good just now. "You can't do that, Dane." She slid from his lap to the s.p.a.ce beside him.

He gave her a side glance, a muscle working in his jaw. "Be a.s.sured, woman, I will."

"Blackwell," she said patiently. "Emile won't be born for another hundred and seventy-five years."

"Tess," he warned, not liking the conviction he saw in her eyes.

She wouldn't push. "Never mind." She waved. "Let's just say he's not anywhere you can find him."

"I will find him. And I'll-"

"You'll what? Kill him?" The look on his face said he'd take pleasure in doing just that. "Why? It's over. I don't care, Dane. Not anymore." She reached out, her fingertips trailing across his cheek. "But it's really sweet of you to want to defend my honor."

His face was still creased in a deep frown. "Can you forgive me for putting you through this, Tess?"

"Sure." She shrugged, her eyes dancing with mischief. "But will you now demand satisfaction for me seducing you?"

Dane blinked, shocked, then his chiseled lips slowly stretched into a wide grin. "G.o.d's teeth, but you're a bold wench."

"Yeah, and you love it," she quipped, struggling in the heavy skirts to rise. Instantly he gathered her in his arms, pulling her across his lap and kissing her, slowly, erotically, a lesson in pure torture to her senses.

"Aye," he breathed against her lips. "I admit I do 168.

enjoy your saucy ways, witch."

She pressed her mouth to his, her tongue snaking out to slowly lick his lips, and his deep shudder steamed all around her like warm velvet. She met his ice mint gaze, and Dane was jolted to his boots with what he saw there. "Last night, Dane-" she smoothed the lines of his face, "I discovered what I've been missing out on for five very long years."

Her fingers tunneled into his hair and she captured his mouth once more, letting her emotions spill over onto him. G.o.d, she loved kissing him. He was so d.a.m.n good at it. Dane Blackwell was a man she couldnt resist, lie to, or walk on and Tess was suddenly thankful she'd been tossed into his world. A groan rumbled deep in his chest when her tongue darted between his lips, and he squeezed her tighter, a hand moving down her burgundy-covered hip. Then to his disappointment, she abruptly pushed out of his arms and stood.

"We'll be missed, Captain," she said shakily, urging him to his feet, reminding him they were not the only people on board, as much as he wished it to be so. Tess smiled softly when he mumbled a curse at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. He was in a bit of pain, she could see, and it pleased her. She wasn't in such great shape either.

She moved away before she was tempted and was almost to the door when a thought occurred to him. "Tess? You went to a university? A college?"

"Yup. Graduated with honors." She opened the door.

"How is this possible?"

She paused, looking back over her shoulder. "You 169.

know, Blackwell, you sure ask a lot of personal questions for a man who hasn't shared one speck of his past." She held his gaze for a moment longer, her expression telling him he had to give to get and that this one-sided relationship was beginning to bug the h.e.l.l out of her. Then she stepped out, leaving him alone in the cabin.

Dane stiffened, insulted by his own curiosity. College-bah, she was lying, he reasoned. No university allowed women to enter its halls. d.a.m.n and blast! He rubbed his nape, already second-guessing his initial conclusions. He strode after her, not about to let the little witch give him such a set-down. Not when she was telling lies.

The smell of food and the happy sound of a flute filtered to Tess as she made her way down the narrow corridor. She checked her appearance just before she opened the hatch that led topside and stepped out.

"Evenin', miss." Duncan grinned at her captivated look, latching the door so it stayed open.

Tess didn't take her eyes off the sight before her. The ship glowed, as if sprinkled with thousands of fireflies, yellow light radiating from the lanterns swaying with the dip of the vessel. Bare feet tapped while their owners listened to the cheery music, sipping drink from wooden cups and dining from meat-heavy platters that rested on crates and barrels. Two men danced a jig, one obviously playing the role of a female with a kerchief tied beneath his chin.

"What's all this for, Duncan?"

" *Tis a celebration, Tess," Dane said, stepping 170.

onto the deck behind her. His eyes were narrow and wary as they met hers. "What have you got to celebrate?"

"Why, a victory, of course," Duncan put in, lightly grasping her elbow and leading her toward the rail.

She jerked her arm free, rounding on the old man. "You mean you're celebrating the sinking of that ship! That's disgusting," she hissed, glaring at Dane. "Dancing on the graves of all those poor men!"

Tess was outraged for about two more seconds, then she remembered where she was. She took a deep breath, mollified when she saw the captured sailors, clean and adequately dressed and eating like starved animals. G.o.d, they looked so thin.

"I'm sorry for that," she said, lifting her gaze to meet Dane's, then offering Duncan her best smile. "I realize it could have been that idiot in yellow satin who could be celebrating tonight." And likely doing it on me, she thought with a blast of reality. This was going to take some getting used to, and a bit more thinking before she opened her mouth again. "Ah, did you lose any men, Dane?"

"Nay." He saw relief sweep her features.

"Well. That's reason enough to have a party."

"I'm delighted you approve," he shot back sarcastically.

Tess frowned, unreasonably hurt by his att.i.tude and was glad when he left them alone. What's gotten into him now? she wondered, watching his retreating back as he strode to the helm. Her gaze shifted to her surroundings again and she saw that every man aboard was smiling at her. What's changed their att.i.tudes toward me? Don't ask, Renfrew. You'll never 171.

get a straight answer.

"Good evenin', Lady Renfrew," She turned toward the voice. Gaelan Thorpe, blond and handsome and dressed in much finer clothes than she'd seen on him yet, was holding out a wooden mug.

She accepted it, thanking him as she took a sip. She coughed and sputtered for a moment, leading Gaelan to think he'd somehow poisoned her.

"Are you ill, mistress?"

"No," she managed in a squeak, waving away the hand that was about to slap her back. "I don't drink, Mr. Thorpe, at least not straight rum."

"Forgive me, m'lady." He flushed, looking down at his hand. "It seems I've given you my cup."

Her gaze shot between the containers, and Tess burst out laughing. He looked too upset over such a little thing. "How's mine, Mr. Thorpe?"

"Oh, I haven't tasted it, m'lady, I swear."

"Calm down," she told him, switching the cups and sipping the sweet fruit drink. "You should have, it's great. Maybe we ought to mix them?" she said, making a move to pour some juice into his.

"Mix?" He covered the mouth of the cup, appalled at the suggestion.

"Sure. I had this drink once when I was about seventeen, a Bahama Mama. If we blend the two I bet it will come close." She didn't mention that it crept up on her that night, beaning her like a sledgehammer, and she'd found herself in the back of a vegetable truck on the way to Miami with no notion as to how she got there. She did remember it took a week to recover. That was her last drink.

"Not game?" She grinned; he was still protecting 172.

his drink. "Suit yourself." She lifted the cup to her lips but stopped before it touched. Her eyes grew wide, and Gaelen saw stark terror blanch across her face. Trancelike, she set down the cup and, not taking her eyes off some distant spot, moved with a rapid step to the pa.s.sageway. A hand covered her mouth before she dragged her eyes from the horizon and ducked through the portal. Tess grasped the wall rail, then sagged back against it. Oh, G.o.d, oh G.o.d, not again! She didn't think she could take it. Another ship, another battle, the blood, the death- flooding her mind was the image of the machete coming toward Dane's head. Her hands trembled. A tightness formed in her throat.

"Tess?" She looked up. Dane was scowling at her. "What is the matter?"

"Th-that ship-?"

"Aye," he said slowly, watching her.

"Well!" she demanded. "Whose is it? Is it friendly? Will there be a battle?"

Dane relaxed. He'd been ready to cut Gaelan to shreds, having thought he'd offended her. He offered his arm. She stared at it for a moment, then looked up at him. "Come see for yourself what flag she flies," he challenged, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Relief swept through her. Dane wouldn't take her back up if there were any danger. Lifting her chin, she accepted his arm and stepped through the doorway with him. They walked toward the starboard rail, and Tess saw a small boat coming toward the Sea Witch. The other ship was as large as the frigate, glowing like a sparkling topaz on the black velvet 173.

waters. Her skin chilled at the mystical vision, sails flapping gently, the hum of flutes drifting on the breeze. The four men in the small dinghy disappeared from her view as they neared. Unable to douse her curiosity, she stepped away from Dane and peered over the rail as one man, darkly dressed, climbed up the side of the ship, his booted feet catching the wood rungs embedded in the hull, powerful legs eating up the distance with a strength and agility even Tess could admire. She moved quickly back behind Dane and Duncan and the first officers. She still wasn't sure about all this. The visitor climbed onto the rail, standing straight and tall, his hands on his hips, legs adjusting to the dip of the vessel.

"Blackwell, you b.l.o.o.d.y clank-napper," he bellowed. "What sort of captain are you to leave a rum doxy's trail of debris halfway across the Indies!" Then he leapt to the deck with a thud, landing a few feet before Dane.

"I'm your superior, that's the captain I am. Show some respect, you horse's a.r.s.e, 'afore I run you through," Tess inhaled sharply as Dane went for his sword.

"Forgive this young pup, m'lord," the visitor spoke in a mocking tone, sweeping into a low bow. "Your humble servant, sir. I've forgotten that I stand in the presence of a scholar of the sea."

"More like the scourge," someone behind him said. Dane and the visitor locked gazes, then the pair burst into laughter. Both men stepped forward, grasping hands, then finished with a firm embrace, slapping each other on the back, 174.

"G.o.d's teeth, Ram, it's good to see you," Dane said, moving back, his pale gaze looking over the man.

"Aye, and you also, my friend." His brows drew together. "How goes your quest?"

Dane frowned. "Bennett's pilot rudders were not of much Mse. The man's writing is abominable, and not one of us can decipher the mess."

"Mayhaps you'll give this lowly servant the opportunity to have a look," Ram tossed cheekily. "I daresay I managed to read your scratching for years."

Dane chuckled. "Only if that arrogant att.i.tude improves."

"As I recall, 'tis what moved you to contract me, Dane," Ramsey said as he glanced over the ship, remembering a time long past, yet as he was about to bring his gaze back to Dane, it halted on the figure standing between Duncan and the first mate.

"What tasty piece is this, Dane? Since when have you taken to allowing cats-"

"Have you suddenly gone blind, man?" Dane hissed, his eyes filled with quick anger.

Ram glanced at Blackwell, arching a brow at the muscle working in the man's jaw. His eyes shifted back to the woman. If she was not a wh.o.r.e, then . . . Ignoring all, he moved toward her, his stride purposeful, his smile rakishly charming. Dane groaned audibly, matching his steps. Ram stopped before Tess.

"Such a rare beauty," he murmured as if to himself; his eyes, dark as chocolate, skimmed her from head to toe.

What a line, Tess thought, then said, "Thanks,"

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offering her hand with the intention of shaking his.

The man grasped her fingertips, bringing her hand to his lips. His eyes never left hers. "Don't tell me you've taken a wife, Blackwell?" he questioned before placing a soft kiss to the back.

"No, he hasn't," Tess corrected quickly. Jeez, what a hunk!

A chestnut brow lifted, and his lips pulled into a pleased smile. "How fortunate," he whispered. Slowly he eased her hand down, his gaze never wavering. "I beg an introduction, Captain Blackwell."

Dane gnashed his teeth, unsure what he was feeling after her quick denial of their relationship. "Gentlemen, may I present the Lady Tess Renfrew of Scotland."

Tess shot Dane a sour look. I suppose that "lady" stuff will never change, she thought, deciding to let it go. She drew back her hand.

"Lady Renfrew, this drooling sot is Ramsey O'Keefe, Captain of Triton's Will, sister ship to the Sea Witch."

Sister ship, huh? Remembering where she was, Tess curtsied, looking up as she straightened. "Pleased to meet you, Captain O'Keefe." She smiled, her gaze shifting beyond him. "And the other men?" Ramsey gestured sharply for the men to come forward and introduced his first and second officers, shocked when she heartily shook each man's hand. Aye, there was something different about this woman, and he made it his first priority to discover exactly what it was.

"Where did you find her, Dane?" Ramsey asked, glancing to his friend.

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"Blackwell fished me out of the sea, Captain O'Keefe, and I can answer for myself."

Dane fought a grin at the surprised expression on Ramsey's face. Ahh, but Tess will set the rake on his rear, he thought, and wasn't certain he wanted her within yards of O'Keefe, master of debauchery that he was. *

"You must be the reason we've been asked to dine aboard."

"I doubt it." Tess folded her arms beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Captain Blackwell doesn't inform me of his plans." Her tone implied she didn't care for this little surprise.

"G.o.d, Dane, she's priceless!" Ram looked at Blackwell. "Is she wed? Betrothed?"

Tess glanced around herself. "Did I suddenly disappear or something? If you talk to me, Captain O'Keefe, then talk to me!"

He grinned. "It will be a pleasure, m'lady."

"Sure you can manage that?"

Ramsey chuckled deeply. "Aye. I believe I can."