First Comes Desire. Tina Donahue
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he eased his tongue into her mouth. The world spun, her thrilling heat snatching his breath and thoughts. He explored her intimately, deepening his kiss. Her taste soon belonged to him, his to her. They were no longer separate. He hoped she’d suckle him and deliver pleasure.
She resisted briefly, then coaxed his tongue deeper into her mouth. Pleased beyond belief, he released her wrists, slid his hands over her palms, and laced their fingers.
She yielded fully, her rigid nipples pebbled against his chest. She smelled like an English spring, soft rain mixed with fragrant flowers. He didn’t finish their kiss until she smelled of him. Slowly, he withdrew his tongue, lifted his head, and struggled for breath. “Open your eyes.”
Arousal brightened them, her mouth still wet with him, lips slightly bruised from his impassioned kiss.
His spirits soared. “You desired that.”
“I did not.”
As a clergyman’s daughter, she was a poor liar and would never fool him. “Then I’ll have to continue until you do.”
He kissed her, tenderly at first, then hard and greedy. She whimpered in what sounded like pleasure but held back, not giving herself fully. Finally, she tore her mouth free.
He pressed his lips to her neck. Her breath spilled out on a contented sigh, telling him what words never could. “I’ll not deliver you to Bishop. You belong to me.”
She went rigid. “I’m not yours to give. I’ll go to Bishop myself. I’d lie with the devil to save Peter from the life you’ve forced him into.”
She still believed he’d abducted the boy, refusing to listen to what really occurred, the monster Bishop was. Tristan wasn’t going to argue the point now. He trailed kisses from her throat to her cheek to her temple, tasting her dewy, achingly soft skin.
She whimpered. “Stop it.”
He did, though not because of her words. Diana wanted him, had from the start, her desire evident in her kiss. Contempt didn’t fuel her resistance, but worry over Peter’s safety, the boy’s future. Tristan wasn’t about to cause her more pain. She was his to protect. “No harm will come to Peter.”
She laughed, the sound remarkably derisive and cruel. “Indeed, as he’ll be away from you.”
“He’ll remain with us.”
Diana scowled. “I’ll not have Peter become a common criminal. You believe reading a fancy book makes you a gentleman?”
“You believe wealth and position makes Bishop one? You’ll not return to him. You’re coming with me. I’ve had enough of this life, and a ship’s no place for a woman and children.”
Her eyes rounded. “You think I’ll bear your bastards?”
His chest tightened. He strained to breathe. “If you were a man, you’d be dead for saying such a thing.”
“Whether I die here with you or with Bishop matters little. Do your worst, Captain.”
To what end? Tristan craved her pleasure and acceptance, not heartless disdain. He loosened his grip. “Do you need to wound me so badly, Diana?”
Embarrassment flooded her features. She averted her gaze.
He squeezed her hands gently. “You’ll not bear my bastards.”
His children wouldn’t go through what he had. They’d have a name, respect, and her as their mother. He couldn’t do anything less.
“Why won’t I be bearing them?” She looked at him. “Has the task already gone to the island girl you enjoy?”
So, Peter had told her about Canela. Pity the boy didn’t know Canela wasn’t a rival for Diana.
“I have no children, legitimate or otherwise. I’ve taken great pains to avoid them. Peter’s been telling you things, hasn’t he? It appears you’ve been listening. Good. Proves your interest. Or would it be desire?”
“Neither. But believe what you will. Whatever I say won’t change matters.”
Only because he already knew her better than she did. He unlaced their fingers, straightened, and eased Diana’s shirt up, baring her breasts. The soft mounds were ripe and snowy, her nipples pale pink. A deep flush stained her throat and face, but she didn’t stop him.
Delighted, he cupped her exquisitely soft flesh. Primal need gripped him. He fought for control against taking her, what should have been an easy matter, but was far more complicated because he wanted her desire, not obedience. Better to wait. If frustration didn’t kill him first. Her nipples were erect against his calloused palms, skin heated and moist, her arousal undeniable.
She struggled for breath, color tinted her cheeks, and lust hooded her eyes.
He squeezed her breasts and thumbed her nipples.
Her lips parted. She blinked slowly, looking drugged.
He was beyond intoxicated. “I see you desire this.”
She blew out a breath. “No.”
“Pity. You’ll have to go through this and far more. The acts delightful, I can assure you. How else will you ever bear my children, with them having my last name the same as you?”
Confusion, then surprise flashed across her lovely features. “Wed you? Never.” She cuffed his wrists as well as she could but didn’t shove him away. “You’ll hang the moment you return to England.”
“We’re not going there. We’ll remain here.”
“No.” She pushed.
He captured her wrists in one hand, kept them above her head, and stroked her nipples. They couldn’t get tighter. He drew one into his mouth and reeled at its faint salty taste, her musky skin.
She moaned. He suckled, then enjoyed her other nipple. She arched her back, delivering herself to him, approving his intimate attention.
He could have kept at this for days, but needed air, and eased back. “Look at me.”
She stared at the wall behind him, lingering arousal, then dismay on her face. “Do what you want in this cabin. I haven’t the strength to fight you. But know this, I’ll not allow Peter to grow up in this barbaric land.”
Her trust wouldn’t be won easily, though he had to try. “I offer my word I’ll have him educated as a gentleman, even providing the tutor, while you give me what I’ve missed most during these last years. A taste of home. An Englishwoman. Pure, virginal. You are a virgin, are you not?”
She blushed worse than before.
He didn’t dare smile. “It would appear you are. So rare in these parts, the same as your lovely eyes and pale skin. I’m not about to deliver you to Bishop, nor allow you any freedom from me. You’ll wed me, lie with me, bless me with many children, and never know another man’s touch, save mine. You’ll not only desire that, you’ll surely be lost without it.”
Something slammed into the door.
Diana flinched. Tristan looked over.
On the other side, feet shuffled, men muttered.
Chadwick Vincent’s voice stood out. “She must be in there.”
Tristan pulled down her shirt, pushed to his feet, and helped Diana to hers.
Voices rose. “Captain better not think he’s getting all of her.”
Vincent chuckled. “We each get fair shares in this prize, just like any other.”
Someone kicked in the cabin door. Ten faces looked inside for Diana, the prize, Tristan’s other men joining them.
Chapter 3
Diana locked her knees to keep from collapsing.