First Comes Desire. Tina Donahue
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made a face.
“Go on, run me through.” He pressed harder. “I’ll assist you in keeping your blade steady.”
She remained perfectly still, not even breathing.
He guessed she wasn’t prepared to murder him after all, though what she would do remained a mystery. He eased the point from his throat, held the flat part, and reeled her in. Her wrist was tantalizingly close. A quick move, along with a firm grip and he’d have her beneath him.
Panic swept her features. She tugged.
He put on a show and gasped loudly.
Mewling like a wounded kitten, she looked at his hand.
His fingers were intact, rather than severed. He’d released the blade in plenty of time, proving she was an innocent at this and foolhardy for having challenged him.
He chuckled.
Three men hurried from behind and raised their blades to his chest. A fourth man strode into view. He removed Tristan’s pistols, cutlass, and dagger.
The men said nothing and made no move on their own, appearing to serve rather than using her as a decoy. Each looked to be in his late twenties, dressed like mariners or pirates. In the Indian Ocean, there was little distinction.
To Tristan’s knowledge, there had never been a genteel Englishwoman on the account and surely not one functioning as ship’s captain. However, he’d been absent from his homeland since seventeen-twelve. Perhaps in the last five years, beautiful young women had taken to bolder goals than being a pleasure source to men. “Pity.”
“Pity?” She looked down her nose at him. “Because you’ve yet to lose your fingers to my blade?”
He closed his book. His men weren’t in a position to help him. None ordered to keep watch. He’d left the task to his friend and quartermaster, James Sullivan. Most likely, James was still alive, since the young woman wasn’t brutal. However, he wasn’t here nor had he sent out an alert as to these intruders.
Tristan lifted his face to her men. “Who is she?”
Before they could answer, she directed her blade to his throat. “I said, on your feet.”
“State your purpose and I may consider your sweet request.”
The man next to her snickered.
She gave him a withering look. “Quiet.”
He fell silent but didn’t lose his smile.
Poor girl handled this badly. A man would have killed the fool to warn the others. In this part of the world, it often took violence to secure obedience and respect.
She withdrew her blade. Her glare, however, didn’t soften. She wanted Tristan quite dead, even if she wasn’t the one who would spill his blood. Odd.
“My ship has no valuable cargo.” He gestured to the vessel. “It’s not yet fit for sea, so what could you possibly want other than to have me on my feet?”
“I’ll see you back in England and hanged.”
“You want to send me to the gallows?” He couldn’t hide his shock. “Why?”
“Tell me what you’ve done with Peter.”
Ah, she searched for a man. Her long throat and satiny flesh showed no signs of Peter’s mark in the recent past. Despite her loose clothing, Peter’s seed wasn’t growing inside her, unless she had yet to swell with the man’s child.
Her eyes filled. “Where is he?”
Her distress surprised Tristan. There were six men named Peter in his crew, none worthy of her. She was young, lovely, and apparently educated. Too good for those beasts.
“Montgomery.” She gestured to the man who’d previously snickered.
He was her largest crewmember, his weight in jiggling fat.
She stepped aside. “Make him talk or you’ll answer to your master.”
“Yes, miss.” Montgomery clamped Tristan’s shoulder.
Miss? Master? This was odd. Once Montgomery felt comfortable in his superior role, Tristan offered a swift punch to the man’s jaw.
He staggered back on the sand.
The other men pressed close.
Before they ran Tristan through, he spoke to her. “If you want to know what happened to Peter, order your men to back off. Do it now.”
She gestured for them to withdraw.
“What’s Peter’s last name?”
“Fletcher.”
Another surprise. “Peter Fletcher, my cabin boy?” The lad was fourteen and innocent when it came to women. “How do you know him?”
“Coward.”
Tristan bristled, but tempered his anger. Youth and inexperience had caused her careless words. When he’d been her age, he’d also despised pirates. Going on the account hadn’t been his choice or James’s, but a man did what he had to in order to survive. “There’s no need to fear for the lad’s safety. He’s quite well.”
“Where is he? What have you sent my brother to do?”
Everything fell into place, her outrage and sorrow making sense. Peter had spoken of a mother who’d died from the pox when he was quite young and a clergyman father who’d succumbed to the fever three years ago. The boy might have also mentioned a sister.
She must have come to take Peter back to England after finding him here, of all places. The ship and crew she used certainly weren’t hers. Presumably, the vessel belonged to the man she referred to as master.
Tristan longed to ask for particulars but guessed she wouldn’t answer a pirate she wanted hanged. With her, he wanted to comfort. A woman’s distress was never a small matter. “No need to worry. Peter’s task won’t put him at risk.”
“To whose way of thinking, yours or those in the civilized world?”
“Everyone’s. I’m fully aware he’s not yet a man and requires protection.”
She opened her mouth and closed it, cheeks flushing.
Good. He’d won their first battle. Threats moved men. Women needed civilized behavior and a kind word to bring them to a man’s side. He wanted her at his, so he could teach her what pleased him. There would be much she’d learn and enjoy.
Heat pooled in his groin.
She stepped back and gestured to the man who stood next to the still-moaning Montgomery. “Reeves, restrain the captain.”
Tristan stood. Her men lifted their blades to his chest. “What’s the meaning of this? I’ve done you no harm. Stay where you are.” He pointed at Reeves, who’d edged closer, then turned back to her. “Hear this, Miss Fletcher. No matter what transpires, I’ll never do you harm.”
Firelight danced over her milky complexion. Her eyes reflected the flames.
Enticed further, he held up his hands. “Call off your men. You’re safe here. So is Peter. No one’s hurt him.”
She stiffened. “No one? Not even you, especially you? How can you say such a thing? You abducted him.”
“No.”
She advanced a step. “You’ll hang. I’ll see you hang.”
Not likely. He had other plans for them and kept his peace.
* * * *
Tristan’s composure rattled Diana, his demeanor at odds with what she’d heard about him being a ruthless pirate. For nearly a year, she’d pursued him. Upon capture, she’d expected him to curse her