Brigand Love

Brigand Love

Brigand Love All Hallow's Eve

By Isabelle Drake

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Brigand Love

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BRIGAND LOVE Copyright (c) 2005 by Isabelle Drake Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sable Grey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

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Dedication:

To Kendra, my friend. Thanks for always being there. With added thanks to A. L. C. and M. for that weekend by the lake.

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~*~

“Scoot back a little more, sweetheart.” Because it suited her, Lacey did as Alex asked, wiggling across the countertop until her back pressed against the cabin wall of her beloved houseboat. Glad to set aside their earlier quarrel, she grinned, enjoying the way his blue eyes glimmered in the near darkness. “Anything else you’d like me to do?” To make sure he didn’t miss her point, she ran her tongue across her top lip before adding, “Anything at all... you just say the words and--” “I know something.” He set a hand on either side of her, then bent to glide his open mouth down the side of her neck. The hot moisture left an invisible path of want that was a long way from being satisfied. “What? Tell me, Alex, you know I’ll--” “Be quiet. That’s what I want.” Laughing at their long-standing joke, Lacey tipped her head back to give him better access to her over-heated skin as she rocked side to side, hiking her pink linen skirt up to expose the tanned skin of her thighs. Then, easing him back so she could shift his attention away from the underside of her jaw to the skimpy triangle of white lace nestled between her legs, she disobeyed him by speaking again. “Give you any ideas?” “I thought I told you to stop talking,” he murmured, his Georgian accent making the order a tender request. Spreading her legs to encourage him, she replied, “You know I’m not very good at taking orders.” Especially when following them keeps me from getting what I want. He chuckled, picking lightly at the tiny white buttons of her silk blouse, but drawing back when the last one came free, separating them so that the night air blew across her bare breasts. 5

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“Braless as always,” Alex murmured, flattening his palms across her tight nipples, squeezing the soft flesh possessively. Heat from his hands flowed through her skin, and her breathing turned shallow. He remained steady, only inches away, but distant nonetheless. Anxious, Lacey leaned forward to press her breasts more fully into his hands and cup his engorged sex. Enjoying the way his erection strained against the smooth fabric of his expensively tailored pants, she stroked his shaft, savoring the slick heat of her pussy. Once she was sure he was fully erect, she undid his belt. The buckle hit the floor of the cabin with a satisfying clunk. One less barrier. Although she desperately wanted to tug down her panties and beg him to slide into her, she kept herself still, as he’d asked her to do dozens of times, until he was ready to make the next move. Again she told herself, it won’t always be like this, he’ll get over his past and be ready to move on--with me. Things would be different then. Outside, thin clouds crept across the sky, moonlight blinked through the cabin, giving her enough light to see the sexual need dance across Alex’s face as he caressed her pert breasts. The constant attention made her nipples harder and the pressure increased between her legs, making her thighs weak and her clit swell, but still she waited, motionless. “I’m glad you’re a bad girl. I like knowing I can put my hands up your shirt, anytime, and touch you like this.” He circled her left breast with his tongue before pulling the tight peak into his mouth. Locks of blonde hair brushed against her skin as he opened wider to take more of her flesh. The slow, careful motion was both mesmerizing and maddening. Tendrils of want unraveled inside her, and she fought the urge to demand he stop teasing and fuck her. When she whimpered, he grinned and pinched her wet nipple between his fingers, then shifted to take the other breast into his mouth. Once he’d given it the same careful attention as the first, he shoved down his briefs. His generous erection stood hot and willing. He reached over to dig through the box of condoms she’d gotten out earlier. Her nerves were pulled so tight, the tiny tearing sound of the package seemed to echo. 6

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Lacey arched her back, doing as much with her body to encourage him as she could, without crossing the line that always made him stall and ultimately pull back, leaving her unsatisfied. Carefully, Alex sheathed himself. Finally, he slid his fingers under the band of her panties. “Move closer,” he said, his gaze fixed on her panties. Relief swept across her skin as she lifted her ass so he could pull down the tangle of lace and expose her throbbing cunt. Split seconds later, the tip of his penis pressed against her dripping wet nether lips. She allowed herself to move, but only enough to brace her arms on his shoulders and widen her legs, readying herself for the frenzied thrusts that always followed his slow beginning. He entered her steadily, filling her so gradually that she could still feel the easy rocking motion of the boat. He drew back, paused, and then drove into her hard, filling her with a fierce fury that never failed to both frighten and thrill her. Three, four, five times, he pounded into her, thrusting his entire cock into her cunt as though fueled by demons. Somewhere in the back of her hazy, lust-drunk mind, Lacey knew he was fighting anger, but some matching emotion of her own coursed through her veins--and pounding felt so damn good. Alex groaned with the first pulse of his typically rapid release. Realizing he’d soon be finished, Lacey reached down to stroke her clit. When he noticed her frenzied hand, he muttered, “You don’t need to do that, I can... I’ll...” Lost in her spiral of tension, she ignored him, bringing herself to a climax that fell short of spectacular just as Alex slammed into her, losing himself in the pulsing of his own explosion. Moments later, after he’d adjusted his clothes, he was spinning his car keys and avoiding her gaze. She’d tossed aside her clothes and slipped into her floral silk robe, the dampness of their sex making it cling to her still sensitive skin. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” she asked, watching him slide into his wingtips. “I’ll make you breakfast... I promise...I--” “No, sorry, can’t,” he replied, the edges of his accent fading away as he slipped into the business mode that had made him so successful. “Tomorrow’s schedule is a killer.” 7

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His automatic reply didn’t surprise her, and even though Lacey tried to keep herself from being disappointed, she was. Still, she forced a smile and followed him up and across the deck. After a quick, cool kiss on the cheek, he said, “Talk to you tomorrow.” With that, he turned on his heels, hopped off her boat and strode down the dock, disappearing into the night. Below deck, the warm air skimmed across her over sensitive skin. The sigh of air circled her, hugging her bare midriff, making her wish for Alex all over again. But he’d left, gone home to his precious memories of Rebecca. She tossed her robe across her laptop, which--because even though she was as success driven as the others at her firm she knew when to quit working--had been shut off hours ago. Hoping sleep would take her quickly, she slipped between the cool bed linens. **** It wasn’t the icy, dark water lapping at her calves that frightened her, it was the endless, swollen muck below its glassy surface that made terror swell in her throat and panic burn through her veins. Each time she thrashed, pulling and leaning to free her legs, the slick, soft earth sucked tighter, dragging her further down and assuring her that she’d never leave that spot. The pounding of her heart, the mighty attempts to get free, nothing would do any good. Yet, stubborn until her last breath, she couldn’t stop herself from wriggling and fighting the slimy hold of the angry soil below the inlet waters. Soon though, she would wake, misted by cool sweat and tangled in crisp white sheets. Alone. As always. But safe. The muck, the water, the bitter night air, they were the same every time she’d the dream. Terror overcame her again, more intensely than before. Lacey fought to wake up, but sleep held her captive. The ship. A French-built brigantine with a row of gun ports that ran from bow to stern. How had she not noticed it before? 8

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Flames stole across its deck, easily dancing up the mast and sails. Within minutes, the entire vessel would be awash in slashing hues of red and orange. But she wouldn’t see it, she’d be awake soon. The jolt bringing her back to the present was the one thing, the only thing, she could control in the dream. “Yer luck running out jest may be the only good thing that’s happened to me since Javier turned.” She pivoted, taking in the oily man who’d washed up beside her. The tiny skiff holding him bobbed in the fragile waves, but because of his immense size, he remained steady. Only his matted brown hair shifted in the wind. His deft black gaze crept over her body, taking in the same soaked blue dress she wore every time she had the dream, before dropping down to sneer at her landlocked feet. He spoke again. “I might be willing to reconsider. Guess that makes this yer last chance to change yer mind about joining me.” He reached out to pinch her left breast. “I might not be as pretty as him, but,” he dropped both his fleshy fists to cup his cock, laughing, “I’ll take care of what needs takin’ care of.” He outstretched his arms. “Say the word, and I’ll haul ye out.” Revulsion flared, and she thrashed harder, tugging and twisting her feet and legs. The angry earth held tight, making her pay for the crimes she’d committed, the wrongs she’d done. Still chuckling, the man dropped his arms and swung his skiff around, letting the tide guide him away into the flame stained night. **** “Charleston? On a plane?” “Yes, Lacey, on a plane. Thousands of people travel that way everyday. It’s safer than driving a car. Wake up and get modern.” Lacey took off her sunglasses and peered at Gayle. Her assistant knew all about her completely irrational, but completely undeniable, fear of confinement. “Can’t Bob go? He loves those political fundraisers.” Gayle stopped sorting a stack of pink phone message slips. “You need to love this one, Max is going.” Maxwell Madden, the firm’s answer to Johnny Cochran. Half the time he represented well-to-do clients who got themselves into sticky legal tangles and were willing to pay a hefty sum to get themselves out. The other half he did pro bono work for 9

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people who really needed a break, but had no money to pay for it. If he was going to be at the event, it’d be her job to trail behind him and make sure the wealthy attendees took home a business card with the firm’s VIP phone number. Accepting the inevitable, Lacey sighed. “I suppose it’s a fancy dress up thing? I’ll have to be nice the whole time?” “Yes, but since its Halloween weekend, it might even be fun. The first night is a cocktail party for networking, the second night is a charity auction.” Holding up a page she’d printed off the web, Gayle continued. “See? Everything’s going to be Halloweenish.” Lacey glanced at the printout. Jack-o-lanterns, ghosts, vampires... Smirking, she shook her head. “Halloweenish?” “Don’t be like that. If you try and have fun, you will.” she chuckled, then added, “You only have to keep your mouth shut for forty-eight hours. Except to say nice, friendly things, of course.” Lacey must’ve made a face, because Gayle set the stack of messages on the corner of the desk and frowned. “Sorry, Alex after you about that again?” “Yes. Same old thing. He keeps saying I’m too pushy, and I keep thinking that’s not really the problem.” “Rebecca?” Lacey swung her light brown leather briefcase up, laid it on her desk. “Who can compete with a dead girl? Nothing I do, matches up.” Snapping the latches open, she added, “I swear, she gets more perfect by the day, while me... I’m just me.” She tossed her sunglasses in and took a file out. “We’re supposed to go to his parents’ townhouse in the city next week, so I can meet his whole family, but...” “You feel like they’ll all be comparing you to her?” “That’s part of it, and...well...he’s been telling me about how much she loved their quaint, little place, and I keep feeling like he’s trying to mash me into her mold.” It was a conversation she and Gayle had had several times, and it always ended the same. Gayle would encourage her to hang in there and wait it out. She would agree that waiting for Alex to get over the sudden death of his long-time fiancée would be worth it. But, lately, Lacey wasn’t so sure. It seemed like the harder she tried, the wider the distance between her and Alex grew. Maybe she should back off, give him the space 10

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he kept saying he needed. But she wasn’t the type to wait patiently for something she wanted. **** The hotel wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. Gayle had explained that the fundraiser would be a typical one, with all the requisite stiff, monotonous bigwigs. Lacey had been expecting a boring, business-type place with mundane, beige-tone meeting rooms and a tacky gift shop overflowing with travel size sundries. So, with its cozy gardens outside and delicate antique furniture set in intimate arrangements inside, The Charlestonian was a welcome surprise. And Gayle was right. The Halloween decorations added a welcome sense of fun. Yet, despite the luxury surrounding her, she couldn’t quite shake the sensation that something wasn’t right. To make the situation worse, each time she passed the small corner room set up as a library and workspace for the guests, an electric current skimmed across her skin. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Simply unsettling, as though there was more to the room than she could see. There was nothing to explain her uncharacteristic skittishness, except that her nerves were still on overdrive from the flight--and the heated phone discussion she’d had with Alex as she drove to the airport. It wasn’t as though she was trying to corner him into marriage, or even a long-term commitment. She simply wanted him fully present when they were together. In her book, that wasn’t too much to ask. “Let’s hit the bar first, Lace.” Lacey’s entire body shook when Maxwell clapped her shoulder. “Gin and tonic?” he asked. “Wine? One of those ridiculous Martinis? What can I get you, sweetheart?” “Cabernet would be wonderful, Max, thanks.” “Be right back,” he said over his shoulder, lumbering across the lobby and disappearing into the hotel bar. Alone again, she fell back to watch the well-dressed crowds milling outside in the hazy, Southern night. What would it be like to be so wealthy you had to attend parties to decide who to give spare cash--in the thousands--or millions--to? She had to give the party planner credit. People had to be more likely to make that decision while having fun. The wait staff of the welcome mixer were dressed as vampires, their black capes swirling as they bustled about offering Bloody Marys to the guests. The fiery torches staked at odd intervals throughout the garden gave the entire scene an eerie glow. 11

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“Anna?” Lacey nearly jumped when the man appeared out of nowhere. “Excuse me?” Scanning every inch of her smooth, lemon-yellow silk dress, the man glided forward with unnerving stealth. Looking the slightest bit stunned, he said, “No, pardon me. I mistook you for someone else.” Lucky girl, whoever she is, Lacey mused, taking an almost involuntary assessment of the high cheekbones and sun-streaked brown hair that gave him an edgy air. His rebellious, yet aristocratic appeal made it difficult to look away. Or was it the unnerving sense that she knew him from somewhere that was making it impossible to ignore the roguish lines of his face? “No trouble,” she said, then disregarding her own rudeness, looked lower. His navy suit seemed at odds with his fluid body, as though he’d be more comfortable in something else. Better yet, in nothing at all. Finally remembering herself, she added, “I’m just--” “Waiting?” His voice was low and mellow, but tied with a thread of power, as though his mistaking her for someone else had been resolved, and he was more than ready for... anything. “If you were with me, I wouldn’t leave you alone for a second. It’s too likely a man,” he winked, his full lips curving wickedly, “someone like me, for example, might come by and--” “Here you go, Lu.” Maxwell. A man with everything but good timing. Lacey accepted the delicate stemmed glass, then turned back to find the man gone. Disappointment was followed by the image of Alex’s face and a stab of guilt for appreciating the experience more than she should have. “Ready to knock ‘em dead?” Max said, leaning back to give her a head to toe assessment. “Shouldn’t be hard, with that on.” After taking a leisurely drink of his trademark bourbon, he added, “Long as I have you with me, I’ll have the fellas lined up, won’t have to go huntin’ them down.” There was nothing to say to that, so she simply smirked and rolled her eyes. “Got those VIP cards?” he asked, taking her free arm and leading her toward the veranda. 12

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“Of course.” she replied, falling in beside him. As they crossed through the open doors to step onto the whitewashed porch, she whispered, “I know why I’m here.” Maxwell’s boisterous laughter caught the attention of a trio of gray haired men loitering near the hors d'oeuvre table. Their gazes bounced quickly from the robust man to the low neckline of Lacey’s dress. Max paused long enough to speak softly into her ear. “Looks like we got lucky. The squat guy in the middle, Frederick Vaughn, he’s number one on our list. The other two are key players. Make something happen for me, girl.” Although he pretended to be an easy-going, good old boy, Max was definitely a shark. He wasn’t above using whatever he had at his disposal to get what he wanted. In that, he and Lacey were cast from the same mold. As she lifted her face to gaze into his eyes, she shimmied for the benefit of the onlookers. “Okay, but remember our deal--don’t get me into anything you can’t get me out of.” He bowed lower and, knowing that men always want something more when they can take it away from another man, pretended to give her a kiss on temple. “Of course, my dear.” Satisfied that he understood the rules, Lacey broke away from Maxwell. Holding the gaze of the stocky man standing in the center of the group, she swayed over to the stack of plates. Mr. Vaughn moved toward her even before she reached the edge of the table. Rolling to a stop beside her, he quickly slipped his left hand into his pocket. He was smooth, but not fast enough for the gleaming band to go unnoticed. “Is that tiny plate going to be enough to take care of your appetite?” he asked, moving near enough to breathe on her bare shoulder. The rewarding scent of expensive whiskey and fat, hand-rolled cigars clouded the air. The smell of money. And for her... success. Drawing on skills she’d made full use of over the past months of being Maxwell’s foil, Lacey blushed coyly. “You think I need something else? Something larger?” Confidence flashed in his gray eyes. “Yes, I could make some recommendations.” 13

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Lacey faked a captivated smile as she leaned forward, reaching for one of the fistsized plates and giving the man a full view down the front of her dress. Usually, once they knew she was completely bare under her dress, Max could get them to agree to pretty much anything, as long as she stayed around, keeping alive the possibility that she’d accompany them back to their room. When the man’s shoulders stiffened, she knew he’d taken the bait. Grinning, she added, “I’d love to know what you think.” “And I’ll--” “There any of those salmon patties? You know how much I love those--and how about some of that cheese, you now, the white kind with the little flecks...” Okay, so Maxwell did occasionally have good timing. Lacey tipped back, letting her hair skim across her right shoulder and settle between her breasts. “This handsome gentleman was just about to...” she turned back to Frederick Vaughn, making sure he caught her double meaning, then finished with, “suggest something wonderful and...” Her words fell away when she spotted the man from the hallway. He was leaning back, one of his shoulders braced against a fat, white pillar, flames from a torch behind him casting shadows across his rugged face. The smug tug of his mouth, the knowing gleam in his eyes, it was as though he knew what she and Max were up to. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it? Thankfully, Maxwell had stepped in and covered her complete loss of composure by introducing himself and smoothly drawing the other two men over. Soon, the three men were bragging to Max about a recent acquisition. All Lacey had to do was occasionally offer the men an accidental glance down the front of her dress, and Max took care of the rest. She put herself on auto-pilot, laughing, smiling, and occasionally asking the right questions--questions that would give Maxwell the opportunity to do what he did best: prove that he was the ultimate problem solver. Before the weekend was over, the men would be handing over retainer checks and hoping for the need to call on Max’s pricey expertise. The obligatory hour passed more slowly than usual, and Lacey found herself constantly seeking out the man. Each time she’d found him, he’d been in a different 14

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location, and always alone. And always watching her with disconcerting certainty, as though he knew what she was going to do next. A few moments ago, he’d cast her an appraising glance, then swung himself over the railing, sauntering across the courtyard circling the veranda before vanishing into the maze garden that curved around the entire side of the hotel. He wants me to follow him... “Isn’t that right, Lacey?” Max nudged her again, snapping her out of her trance. “You’ll be in attendance tomorrow night, for the auction, right?” “Absolutely,” she replied, falling back into her role and offering the three men a wide, willing smile. They leered, thankful for the chance to spend another hour or two trying to catch a peek down her dress. Lacey chattered on about how she still hadn’t decided what she should wear. Playing into the men’s overactive imaginations, she offered sexy details, but her mind was really spinning through all the possible places she might’ve seen that man before. They’d never spoken previously, but perhaps they’d met briefly, been introduced by a friend or co-worker... But she couldn’t imagine meeting him and not remembering. Those eyes... that mouth. Once the men were nearly drooling over her description of the sheer, creamcolored gown she might be wearing, Maxwell effortlessly strolled off with two of the men, leaving Lacey alone with Frederick Vaughn. She offered her hand. “Mr. Vaughn, it’s been a pleasure.” “It truly has.” Holding onto her hand long enough to remind her of their earlier exchange, he said, “It’s a pity we’ve had to mix it with business.” Knowing it was her task to keep the fish on the line, Lacey tipped closer and brushed against him. Before he had a chance to pressure her into making their next meeting sooner rather than later, she drew back. After smiling one last time, she strode across the porch and down the wide steps in the direction the man had gone. The pebbles of the courtyard crunched lightly under her strappy sandals and the uneven ground forced her to slow her pace. How many minutes had it been, five? Perhaps. 15

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But not more than ten. Three steps onto the garden path, a metallic blink caught her eye. A gold coin? The surface was smooth, the ancient imprint barely visible, but the weight was solid and genuine. Four steps later, she spotted another, leading her left at a split in the path. By the time she had five coins, she was well into the garden. “I can accompany you on your way out.” Pivoting on her toes, Lacey came nose to nose with Mr. Vaughn. The coins clinked in her palm. Business first, she reminded herself. Taking leisurely steps back, she replied, “I’m not headed anywhere in particular, just enjoying the night.” Matching her step for step, he said, “I can think of better ways to accomplish that.” Lacey was forced to stop when freshly trimmed hedge branches scraped the back of her arms. Calling up the earlier blush, she lowered her voice to a shaky whisper. “Don’t you think we should settle business matters first?” She ran her fingertip along the edge of his black dinner jacket, feigning deep interest. “Then we can see to other matters.” He shook his head and took her ribcage in his square hands, pulling her toward him. When he spoke there was no threat in his tone, only the confidence that millions buys. “I don’t like to wait.” A natural smile curved across Lacey’s mouth, and she laughed. “There’s something we can agree on.” “Excellent. That makes three of us.” Even before she looked, she knew who’d approached. “If you’ll excuse us, sir,” he said, staring at Mr. Vaughn, “I’ve come to collect something from the lady.” “Perhaps you could speak with her later?” He didn’t let go of her, but spoke over his shoulder. “As you can see, we’re... involved.” The man’s gaze dropped to Lacey’s fistful of coins and then came up to connect with hers. “There’s not time to wait,” he said. When he sensed Mr. Vaughn’s implied refusal, he strode forward and swept him aside. Without pausing, he grabbed Lacey’s arm and dragged her along. 16

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Scrambling to right herself and tug her arm free at the same time, she trotted beside him, stumbling when he ducked around a corner. He stopped short and she slammed into his chest. His muscles flexed beneath the suit jacket, causing the sleeves to bunch up as he gripped her arms. Locks of black hair fell into his eyes, but he ignored them. His gaze raked across her face and his breath came in sharp puffs. For a mad instant Lacey was sure he was going to kiss her, but it was the rush of disappointment when he didn’t that surprised her. Struggling to get some control over the situation, she raised her fist. “If you wanted the coins, all you had to do was ask.” She uncurled her fingers, revealing only the soft skin of her palm. “The coins...” He took her empty hand, turned it over to kiss her knuckles. “Were only there to lead you to me.” It was natural to be attracted to someone like him, but the emotions stirring inside her were so powerful, words stuck in her throat. Fear, confusion, want... “But... I...” “You don’t have to possess something to understand it.” He lifted his face, pleading with his eyes. “Haven’t you seen things that weren’t true? Haven’t you believed in things you couldn’t see?” No, she’d never believe in something she couldn’t see. Except in the dream. That always seemed so real... Disappointment clouded his face as he leaned closer. “Don’t you know who I am?” His scent reminded her of the sea, adventure, and freedom. It stirred a wild passion in her, making her feel strange in her own skin. “Where did we meet before?” Lacey asked, doing her best to ignore the pure lust coursing in her veins. “You don’t understand now, but by this time tomorrow, you will.” With that, he faded back into the darkness and disappeared. **** Lacey knew she was in the dream because of the blue dress, but aside from that nothing was the same. Nothing else except the surreal quality that she was really there in that time and place.

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That night, instead of being stuck in the icy muck, she was poised on a red velvet chair, eating pickled quail eggs. The table was beautifully set, a full wine goblet and cask within easy reach, and a low vase with two fully open roses placed in the center. The terror and dread that usually pounded through her during the dream had been replaced by a sense of peace, as though some recent problem of her life had been resolved and she had her whole life to look forward to. Quickly she recognized the gentle rocking. A boat, of course. That explained the cramped quarters and small windows. And her sense of tranquility. “Eat up, Anna. He’ll be wanting to keep ye up all night.” The robust woman bustled into the room, her hips swaying as she straightened and tidied. Wisps of red hair that had fallen from her tight bun fluttered across her cheeks as she scurried about, intent on making the room perfect. “He’s in a fine mood, what with all that...” she paused, scowling lightly as she shook out a blanket that had been draped across a chair, “that behavior behind the two of ye and nothing but a bright future ahead.” “And what behavior might that be?” Lacey asked, beginning to wonder if what she was experiencing might not be a dream at all. The woman spun, incredulity plain on her face. “Are ye wanting a full minute by minute account? Or simply a list of yer most recent raids?” Squaring her shoulders and setting her fists on her hips, she added, “Don’t look at me like that. It was the life ye chose. Not that I’m judging, but I’m glad I won’t have to be looking over me shoulder every time I step foot off this ship.” When Lacey stayed silent, the woman dropped her arms, huffing as she crossed to turn down the bed covers. If it wasn’t a dream, what could it be? After fluffing the pillows, the woman adjusted the lamp until the flame flickered low, casting long shadows that danced on her back as she set her hand on the door latch. “Goodnight, girl,” she turned, a broad smile splitting across her weathered face, “This’ll really be yer first. Coming together in honest love, it’ll bind ye together for all eternity. Enjoy this first night of many as a law-abidin’ woman.” As the woman shifted back to leave, the door burst open. A hulking man stumbled in. In one brusque sweep, he cast the woman out, threw the latch, then spun to face Lacey. 18

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Shoving his nasty brown hair out of his eyes, he growled over the wailing and pounding coming from the other side of the door. “I’m jest here for a lil’ social call. A nice talk.” Last chance to change yer mind about joining me... Her landlocked feet...the skiff... He lumbered forward, his hot breath forming a foul cloud over the graciously set table. Lacey recoiled, scrambling to push her chair back, but he was too quick. He dove with surprising grace, then rolled on top of her, flattening his massive body across her. “Ye know what I’m after, girl. Save us both some time and tell me where the chest is.” Fear coiled though her, making her fingers tingle. But this is just a dream, right? Then why did it feel so real? Why was she so compelled to fight? She wiggled her right arm free, then shoved his thick shoulder. His only response was to arc back and thrust his groin into her, pressing his swelling cock between her legs. His huge rod pressed against her soft center, splitting her nether lips slightly. “I’m not sure we have time for this. Not that I wouldn’t like to oblige ye, but I got more pressin’ things to do than fuck a traitor.” He rocked his hips, “I suppose ye could get me to change me mind.” He ground into her, pushing her skirts up and laughing, “That what yer thinking? That I should take ye with me, ‘stead of burning ye with yer ship?” He threw his head back, howling with mocking laughter. Images spun through Lacey’s mind, fitful memories that had no substance, ideas and thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp. Through it all, one name kept rising to the surface, “Javier...” “Won’t be coming to save ye this time. He’s up on deck, with the crew. We only want what’s ours. Then we’ll leave the two of you to die, on your ship, nice ’n proper like.” With that, he howled with laughter. The menacing sound pulled Lacey deeper and deeper into darkness, until only blackness surrounded her. There was no way out. **** “Glad to see you chose the cream dress.” Frederick Vaughn spoke to Lacey, but his gaze darted around the ballroom. The Halloween mood was carried to the fullest. 19

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Carved pumpkins circled the room and lanterns hung from the ceiling. There were even fortune-telling booths and palm readers catering to the guests and eagerly accepting donations. All the decorations were wonderful, but the old-fashioned sailing ships and historic nautical objects snagged Lacey’s attention. They served as reminders of the dream... if it had indeed been a dream. If not a dream, then what? Mr. Vaughn inched closer, tipping his head as he scanned the crowded room. “He’s not with me,” Lacey said, a little more impatiently than she intended. “Maxwell?” he asked, looking her in the face but still lingering slightly behind. “No,” she replied over her shoulder, “he’s not here yet.” Where was Max? She’d warned him that she hadn’t slept well, and her patience for the whole cat and mouse game was wearing thin. “Not the man from the garden either,” she added, knowing Frederick wanted to size up his competition for the night. He smiled, stepping close enough to accidentally brush the back of his hand across her ass. “Did you give him what he was after?” Lacey quirked an eyebrow, letting him know that was absolutely none of his business. “Jealous?” He took a drink of the amber liquid in his glass, stepping aside when a man dressed as a dragoon whisked by. “Envious,” he replied, then added, “It’s not quite the same thing, is it?” “Indeed, it’s not.” Anxious to change the conversation, Lacey asked if he was planning to bid on any of the auction items. “I have my eye on a few.” He leaned closer. “The weekend golf trip to Ft. Meyers looks nice. Excellent greens and some good shopping, I’ve been told.” Where are you, Max? “You much of a shopper?” she asked, angling her head and smiling gently at him from under her lashes. “No,” he nearly licked his lips as he raked his gaze across her body, letting it linger between her legs. “But I don’t mind paying for pretty things.” She’d had enough deceit and deception. “I’m not for sale, Mr. Vaughn.” 20

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The glimpse she caught of the man as she turned to leave wasn’t anger or surprise, merely mild curiosity. Biting her tongue to keep herself from apologizing or back pedaling, she stepped aside and ran smack into Maxwell. “Whoa there, you almost spilled my drink,” he complained, protectively holding his bourbon off to the side. “Where’re you off to? The bidding is about to start.” He handed her a paddle, then wrapped his arm around her, silently requesting she stay put. There was no point in causing a scene, so she settled herself next to him and pretended interest in the cluster of people dressed to match the decorations. After strolling across the stage, they placed themselves next to the wooden barrels and stacks of plastic swords. The auction got underway. A woman dressed as a pirate strutted across the stage carrying a tall slender vase. A child dressed in tattered skirts followed behind. She held a squat vase, the kind used to float one or two rose buds in full bloom. Lacey’s stomach quivered as she stared at the object in the tiny girl’s hands. Haven’t you seen things that weren’t true? The bidding started. People eased their paddles up with half-hearted interest at first, but the competitive nature of the audience soon had the amounts rising. “Max...” Lacey leaned over to ask, “Do you know anything about this stuff? These auction things?” “About half of them were donated by the local businesses, the other half,” he gestured to a wooden chest on the far end of the stage, “are from some ship they’re telling us belonged to pirates. That chest is going last, I’ll bet. It hasn’t been opened since the dive crews brought it up.” “Former pirates!” A round woman behind them whispered eagerly. “The lovers who died on the ship had given up their life of treachery and were just starting off as honest folk.” She tiptoed closer, an animated gleam lighting up her eyes. “That’s why they were burned by their former crew... for that chest.” “People don’t actually think that chest is filled with treasure do they?” Max muttered. “That’s ridiculous.” The woman’s face fell. “Why would you say that? Oh look, they’re bringing out something else.” Eyes gleaming again, the woman scooted away for a spot closer to the front. 21

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Bidding for the next item, a set of daggers with jewel inlay handles, was more enthusiastic. Even Max looked interested. But the winner of that item was Mr. Vaughn, who was directed by the auctioneer to collect his bounty on the veranda. For the next half hour, Lacey watched the parade of items blur past. A pair of candlesticks, a set of tin mugs, an ornate lock... With each object that looked vaguely familiar, her nerves tightened more. Was someone playing an elaborate trick on her? Several times she cast a glance over her shoulder, scanning the room, but no one seemed to be paying particular attention to her. Impatience and trepidation churned through her, making her skin prickle and her heart pound heavily in her chest. Still, she managed to hold herself together until he came out, strolling casually beside another man who was carrying a silver platter. Atop the silver platter sat a tattered journal. The objects weren’t much to look at. The auctioneer gave them little attention, claiming the platter would be a wonderful conversation piece. While the auctioneer started to ask for bids on the platter, he stared at the battered leather-covered book. Twice he reached out to smooth the rough edges, a bittersweet smile shaping his full lips. But if the ship had been burned and sunk... how could that have survived? If the journal hadn’t caught on fire, it surely would’ve been torn apart by the waves. And what was he doing up there, standing beside it? The bidding continued and interest in the items increased. When there was a lull in the raises, Lacey found herself drawn to the journal, instinctively sensing it was meant for her. “Do I have another bid?” The auctioneer called. When Lacey raised her hand, Max slid her a questioning glance. “Didn’t know you were into over-priced collectibles.” She lifted a shoulder, but kept her attention on the front of the room. He’d noticed and was watching her every move, each ounce of his energy fixed on her. She raised her paddle several more times, going past anything that even came close to a reasonable price. Finally, the bidding ended, and the gavel slammed down. “Sold to number sixty-five. Please collect this item in the library.” **** 22

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Small table lamps glowed, casting pale light across the soft chairs and cozy workspaces arranged throughout the library. Nearly shaking with unexplainable nervous energy, Lacey paused, looking down at the orange claim ticket in her hand. The auctioneer’s assistant had handed her the slip just moments ago, and she clearly remembered him telling her to go the library. She peered into the darkness, undecided. She shifted, ready to go back to the ballroom and double check. “Come over and inspect your purchase. You’ll be pleased.” Him. Half-sitting on the edge of a desk. His ruffled shirt was open, exposing corded neck muscles and hinting at the chest planes below. Soft leather pants hugged the curves of his thighs, lacing pulled snugly over the round bulge of his crotch. Heat surged from deep within her, making nerve-endings jump. She’d been around a lot of handsome men, but something about this particular one set her on edge, made her question herself, made her unexplainably curious and anxious at the same time. “I’ll be pleased when I get some answers,” Lacey replied, stepping into the room, slowing her steps as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the low light. The door lock clicked behind her. He dropped his leg and sauntered toward her, stopping a step away. The dense vapor of sea air drifted under her nose, stirring her senses. A single lock of hair fell across his forehead as he dipped down to speak in husky tones. “I am what you seek.” Everything about him was dimly recognizable. His scent, his strength, that unmistakable wildness. All at once it struck. “Javier.” Joy flashed in his eyes, making his gaze bright as he grabbed her waist. “Say it again,” he begged. “Please. Say my name.” Emotions stirred deep inside her chest and she found herself repeating his name without effort. The sound of it brought joy to her heart and a heated intensity to his already smoldering eyes. He jerked her closer and pressed his lips across her mouth. The unskilled caress was awkward, but also gentle, sweet, coaxing. Tender. And completely unlike anything she’d ever experienced. 23

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Lacey gasped, he leaned into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her back and hauling her off her feet. Taking advantage of her open mouth, he slid his tongue across her bottom lip. Eagerly, she matched his motion and was rewarded with an appreciative groan. Javier welcomed her lust and wanted more. How long had it been since she was free to take what she wanted? She slid her hands up, yanked free the tails of his shirt, and then smoothed her palms across the raw curves of his chest. His muscles tensed, his breathing growing heavier each time she moved against him. Pent up energy rushed inside her, releasing a sexual fury unlike anything she’d ever known. Needy for more of him, she dropped her right hand to massage his sex. He groaned. His shaft was already jutting out, impossibly hard. Lacey fumbled with the lacing then shoved her hand into his pants to stroke the full, solid length of him. He trembled, rocking his well-built hips forward. “I’ve ached for this, wanting it,” he murmured, dropping his head back and gasping, “Anna, wanton, just like I remembered.” Her heat cooled and her hand stilled. Anna. Not Lacey. So she was second to another woman--again? She shoved Javier back, stumbling in the darkness, but righting herself easily enough. “I’m not Anna. I’m Lacey.” “But you understand now, don’t you?” His desperate words scraped the air between them. Tugging up his pants, he crossed the room and grabbed the battered book. “Come.” He shook it toward her. “Take it,” When she remained still, he rushed over, a plea in his voice, “Why do you want me?” He ran the back of his hand across her tight nipple. “Have you asked yourself that?” The intensity of her need, the horrible dream... it was too much. Lacey swallowed. “I don’t--” “You do.” He chuckled, but the sound carried more pain than mirth. “Your tits point for me and your cunt aches for the thrust of my rod.” 24

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He spoke the truth. She didn’t simply want to screw him. She wanted to be possessed by him. To belong to him. Confusion swam in her heart. She’d never wanted such things. Not with Alex, not with anyone. She’d always been her own master. But looking into Javier’s eyes... “Read,” he urged softly, forcing the book on her. “Quickly though--there’s not much time.” “Time?” He turned his head, as though looking through the walls to the decorated ballroom. “The auction will be over soon, everything will be gone.” Gradually understanding, she asked, “Your things?” “And Anna with them, unless...” Lacey took the journal, a current of energy dancing through her and spreading into her soul. She was no longer alone in her own skin. She lifted back the cover and started to flip through the brown-edged pages. In delicate feminine script, she read accounts of raids, lists of what they’d stolen, and who they’d stolen it with. Toward the center of the book, plans for their wedding. Then-nothing. Pieces fell into place and suddenly everything made impossible sense. The dreams, the past, and even the present, had become one. “Let me slide myself inside you, love you. Now. Before the chance is gone forever.” Javier took the journal, tossing it to the floor, then reached around to take her ass in his capable hands. The press of each finger refueled her mindless lust. “I’ll do it however you ask,” he begged, placing kisses on her neck. Rough, artless kisses, but ones that ignited a scorching fire that threatened to consume her. A blaze Lacey could willingly lose herself in. He squeezed her bottom, pinching and stroking until fierce, hot blood flowed throughout her hips. Moisture, slick and sweet, dampened the thin silk of her dress. “Do you want me to fuck you from the front, so I can suck and fondle you at the same time? Or from behind, so I can ram my cock deep into your sweet pussy?” He moaned, rubbing his iron ready shaft against her hipbones. “I’ll do it however you want. But hurry.”

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Lacey spread her fingers across Javier’s chest, delighting in the heavy thumping beneath her fingertips. Alex never offered to do whatever she wanted and he never reacted that way to her touch. Neither had the other men she’d been with. They’d all been aroused, yes. Sexual, of course. But the beat of Javier’s heart matched her own, all his attention focused on her--only her. True, it was Anna he wanted, but with Anna’s spirit so close, lying across her own soul, it was almost the same thing. Almost. One strap of Lacey’s dress came down, and she did nothing to stop Javier from tugging down the other. He didn’t rush immediately to her breasts, instead he ran his coarse fingertips across her collarbone, a pure look of awe softening his face. “My beauty.” In that instant she understood what it meant to be loved. Completely. With the desperation that came with forever. Lacey wiggled out of her dress and grabbed his pants, jerking the soft leather down until his erection bobbed free. His sex was so undeniably hard, that it slipped easily into her when she wrapped one leg around his waist. He filled her absolutely, rocking into her with a steady, urgent rhythm, angling himself to put friction on her swollen clit. When she tensed, losing the strength in her arms and legs as the sudden climax swept across her, Javier held her tightly, murmuring delicate encouragement until she hung limp in his arms. Only then did he let himself go, thrusting in, again and again, stroking himself with her, until crying out as his seed pulsed into her satiated womb. Still holding her close, he nuzzled her neck. Sensing that he wanted to say something, Lacey leaned back to look into his eyes. His voice was hoarse with emotion. “Thank you, Lacey.” As he sucked in his next breath, the vibrating current departed her body, leaving her alone, but no longer lonely. Seconds later, she dropped her dress over her head, smoothed it into place, then slipped out the door, leaving two shadows behind in the far corner of the room. **** “What do you mean?” Gayle asked. “You’re not going to his parents’?” 26

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“That’s right. I told him last night.” Lacey held her cell phone to her ear as she strode across the glossy deck of her boat. “Was he pissed or what?” “Actually, he didn’t say much at all.” She took a slow sip of wine and dropped down to dangle her feet. Water glimmered below, winking in the late afternoon sunlight. “I told him I wanted to call it quits, that I’m tired of being second best to a dead girl.” They both deserved better than what they were doing to each other, he had to know that too. “So that’s it? You guys are over? Aren’t you freaking out?” “Nope.” The merlot was soothing her frayed nerves, but that tension had come from the flight home, not her decision to cut things off with Alex. “I’ll tell you the rest at lunch tomorrow. Okay?” Reluctantly, Gayle agreed. Lacey clicked off and slipped her cell into the back pocket of her jeans. She wouldn’t tell Gayle, or anyone else, about Javier and Anna. That would always be a private piece of her life. Overheard a gull soared, calling to its mates, gliding freely on the wind. No longer stirring with restlessness, or wondering about her unsettled ways, Lacey admired its freedom. Appreciated it. No, she hadn’t been in love with Alex, nor he in love with her, but somewhere out there was a man for her. A true soul mate who would deny time and all otherworldly barriers to be with her--and only her. One day, they’d cross paths. Until then...

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About the Author

Thrill-seeking risk takers, heroes with a dark past, sexy locales, untamed women! Isabelle Drake writes stories featuring men and women who aren't afraid to go after what they want. An avid traveler, she'll go just about anywhere--at least once--to meet people and get story ideas.

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