Hawke's Lady

Hawke's Lady By Starla Kaye Copyright 2008 Starla Kaye and Blushing Books

2

Copyright © 2008 by Starla Kaye and Blushing Books ® All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Published by Blushing Books ®, a subsidiary of ABCD Graphics and Design 977 Seminole Trail #233 Charlottesville, VA 22901 The trademark Blushing Books ® is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office. Starla Kaye Hawke's Lady Ebook ISBN 978-1-935152-58-3 Cover Design: Cori Mae Enterprises

3

Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us! There are plenty more stories such as the one you’ve purchased from Blushing Books! Visit our online store to view our mighty selection! http://www.blushingbooks.com This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

4

Chapter One Lady Sabrina Whitley hated dark places. Dark, damp and dangerous places were particularly unnerving for her after a horrifying childhood experience. Yet here she was in the dark bowels of a pirate ship. Tucked behind a stack of casks of drinking water in the main ship’s store, her legs were cramping from crouching for nearly an hour while one of the crew members ever so slowly went about doing whatever it was he was doing. Just how much longer is the silly man going to be? She winced and nearly bit her tongue in two when a muscle in her right casf tightened. As quietly as possible she eased her leg out and frantically rubbed at the painful knot. She’d been hiding in various parts of the lowest deck for three days now, ever since they had sailed away from a secluded cove off the coast of England. When she’d snuck on board the ship, she’d been desperate to escape her father. At the time she’d thought it not only a miracle to spot the ship, but also managing to get aboard unnoticed. She’d waited until most of the crew had gone off for a night of carousing in the city. Then she’d swum through the dark, cold waters to the ship and scrambled aboard. For a few terrifying moments she’d thought someone had noticed her. Yet no one had followed her below decks. She hadn’t known at the time that it was a pirate’s ship, although she supposed she should have suspected it since the ship was not at the normal port. She had thought only to get away. Glancing down at the grimy and ragged breeches she had “borrowed” from one of her father’s stablehands, she chided herself not for the first time about being so feather brained. It seemed that all her life she had gotten herself into one bout of trouble or another. Something that her father had yelled at her about all too often. Although she was pretty enough to have man after man vying for her attentions at one ball after another, none of them had been willing to consider marriage to a young woman known for her wild spirit. Devil’s spirit, her father claimed. She had suffered much punishment at his hands over the years, as well as long sessions in which he had ranted and raved until he was purple in the face. But he had never broken her spirit. Her heart, yes, but not her spirit. Sitting here, watching the sailor wander around the storeroom, she almost wished she were back home at Clayborn. Almost. Perhaps she had been goose brained in her decision to stow away on the Maiden Anne, but she had never felt such desperation before in her life. The sailor continued to crawl about, weaving around stacks of barrels and rows of battered trunks for who knew what. Never for a second did she consider that he was searching for her, because surely if they had sensed a stowaway, someone would have looked thoroughly long before now. No, he was probably hunting down one of the many rats that scurried endlessly around these many crowded storerooms. Sabrina shivered and wondered what would become of her. She had not thought about what she would eventually do once she had gotten safely away from her father. She could not suddenly waltz out of here and onto the main deck, although she would give her very soul to do just that. Whenever she made any kind of appearance, or was caught, she would face the wrath of all the pirates aboard. Especially the captain’s wrath. Stowaways—as she’d overheard a scruffy pair of men discussing only yesterday near where she’d been hidden—were dealt with harshly. The men had talked about such a person being tied to the main mast and then treated to a taste of

5

the cat o’ nine tails. They had even spoken of stowaways being slit open with a sword and gutted, then fed to the sharks. She shuddered at the horrible idea. Still, she was more than happy to put miles of waterfilled distance between her and her father. What he had intended for her was, in her opinion, much worse than being caught by some pirates and flogged. Finally fed up with a daughter he could not tame, the fearsome Earl of Clayborn had arranged to marry her off to a decrepit man of ancient years. A man whispered to be well known for cruelties to his servants, and suspected to have sadistic tendencies with women. No, she’d rather suffer a quick death at the hands of pirates than a slow, torture-filled life with Lord Percius Preston. So here she was. Miserable after three days and nights scurrying from one hiding place to another in the stale smelling, dark ship’s stores. She was also getting weaker with each passing day. Feasting on the limes she’d discovered and biscuits hard enough to be rocks, her body begged for better food. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about being caught, whipped or tortured by the pirates. Maybe she would simply starve to death first. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble and she pressed her shaking hands to it. Her heart pounded. Had the wretched sailor heard the sound? She tried to shrink even farther into her hiding place. Footsteps. More than one set of footsteps headed her way. God help her! Suddenly the top box shielding her from view was lifted high into the air. Flickering light after so much near darkness almost blinded her as she stared in horror at a nearly toothless man with long, tangled hair. A few steps behind him stood a tall, powerfully built man holding a lantern. She couldn’t fully see his face, but his stance alone warned that trouble had once again found her. “Take her to the spare cabin and lock her in,” the tall man ordered brusquely in a deep tone echoing with authority. He sat the lantern down and strode on long legs toward the ladder to the next level up. And so that was how Sabrina came to be whiling away her time in a tiny cabin with only a scarred wooden table bolted to the floor and a narrow bed attached to one wall for company. She’d paced the eight-by-eight room for what seemed like hours. She’d bounced back and forth from cursing her stupidity for daring to hide away on a pirate’s ship to cursing the men who had found her and locked her away. Someone turned a key in the lock interrupting her thoughts. She stiffened, stomach knotted. Would they drag her kicking and screaming—for she would not go willingly—to the mast now and whip her to death? Would they hold her down, draw and quarter her, then feed her to the fish? Or would she be raped by each and every one of the crewmembers? Oh God! A redheaded man so tall he had to bend over in the doorway looked at her with obvious curiosity. He made no threatening moves. He didn’t have to. His size alone would intimidate most people, and yet strangely she didn’t feel intimidated. After having endured years of abuse at her father’s hands, her strong sense of survival rose to the surface. Along with her tendency to speak first and think later. She raised her chin and planted her hands on her hips. “What now? Am I to be put in shackles? Dragged before the crew? What?” she challenged in the same willful tone that had so displeased her father. But she could not, would not end her days by meekly giving in to their evil plans. To her surprise he laughed, a deep rolling laugh. His lips twitching, he said, “’Tis a bonny lass you are, with the sass of a devil’s maiden or a dockside doxie.”

6

In spite of the dirt that covered her from head to foot and the fact that her waist-length golden hair hung in disarray, Sabrina bristled. “I’m NOT a wench! A doxie. Or a devil’s maiden. I’m Lady Sabrina Whitley, and I demand to speak with your captain.” A thick red eyebrow rose. “Demand, do you?” The amusement ringing in his comment fed her aggravation made worse because of her fear. She snapped her shoulders back and stretched as tall as her meager five foot two inches would go. “You can’t just keep me locked in here. There’s little air and no water. But then maybe the lot of you are hoping I will wither away in here and you won’t have to deal with me.” One side of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. Before he could respond, though, another man equally as tall and broad of shoulder stepped behind him. Sabrina didn’t have to fully see the new man to know this was the same growling pirate who’d helped find her. The one who had ordered her to be imprisoned here in this cabin. “I’ll take over now, Malcolm,” he said in that velvety deep and commanding voice she well remembered. The redheaded giant shot her a silent warning to mind her tongue. Then he moved aside to let the other man into the cabin. “Aye, Captain.” The men shared a quick look before Malcolm closed the door behind him as he left. Sabrina’s stomach fluttered nervously. Alone, so very alone, with the famed Captain Hawke, who was whispered about along the English coastline by women of all ages. The daring and accomplished pirate cursed by men whose ships he’d stolen from, and admired by other men who would give their very souls to be him. With shoulder-length raven hair held back by a strip of leather and a ruggedly carved face, he was handsome as sin. Handsome and dangerous. He stood there on long, muscled legs planted firmly against the swaying of the ship. Pride and confidence radiated from him. Dark eyes captured her attention, eyes that revealed nothing but seemed to miss nothing as well. She felt as if he had looked her over thoroughly even though she hadn’t seen his gaze move from hers. She shifted uneasily. Then she caught sight of the worn-looking razor strop he held in one hand and her knees nearly buckled. Her throat became suddenly too dry for her to even swallow. Tapping the strop against the side of a muscled leg, he said flatly, “Turn and lean over the table.” “What?” she choked out, unable to take her gaze from the strop. He stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him. His expression brooked no arguments allowed. “You’ve earned yourself some stripes for stowing away.” Watching her steadily, he added, “After you have been suitably punished, we will discuss just how you will pay for your fare.” “Stripes?” she squeaked. “You’re going to thrash me? With that … that strop?” She wasn’t a stranger to the fierce bite of leather. Her father had wielded it with skill many a time. She would not accept a lashing easily and called upon what little courage she still had. “But you can’t! I’m Lady Sabrina Whitley, daughter of the Earl of Clayborn. He’s a very, very good friend of the Queen.” Even though her father had meant to betray her with his intentions, she still hoped to sway this pirate with the Earl’s power. The odious man appeared unimpressed. He merely moved closer, making the small cabin feel even smaller. “And I’m Hawke, the pirate captain who cares not who your father is. The captain who means to give your bottom a thorough leathering.”

7

“And I mean NOT to get it.” She shot him a smile, hoping it appeared even the tiniest bit sensual, tempting. “I’m a mere woman, Captain. A woman who was desperate and perhaps acted rashly in hiding away on your ship. But surely we can discuss . . .” He held up a large hand. “Enough! Were you a man you would have been tied to the mast and whipped long and hard on the first day you were discovered. ‘Tis past lenient I have been these last three days.” “You’ve known all along that I was on board?” Fury, foolish fury, surged through her. “You let me hide away in that awful dark hold. Dodging rats. Stealing nibblets of food. You’re even crueler than my father.” Hawke felt more arousal than anger at her careless words. The pint-sized female was not only fair enough to steal a man’s breath, but filled with spirit. It snapped in her defiant blue eyes. He imagined such sass and fire would make her a handful in bed. Passionate, hot, daring. Oh, yes, she would no doubt be all of that and more. He had watched her in secret ever since Malcolm had reported spotting her right after she scrambled aboard looking like a pitiful drowned rat. They had discussed whether to drag her out of hiding in the stores and toss her overboard before they even left the cove. But both men had known that no woman would do what she had done without fearing something far worse than facing a ship full of pirates. They might be hard men in society’s eyes, but neither of them had the heart to confront her and get rid of her so quickly. So he had waited and watched, until Hawke had begun to worry about her health and safety down in the stores. He had not worried about danger to her from any of his crew, because all knew of her presence and that their captain was developing a fondness for his little stowaway. None of them were foolish enough to risk his wrath. No, he’d worried about the rats getting to her when she slept. Of course he had a guard watching over her and keeping real harm at bay. Still, it was finally time to end this bit of nonsense. Time she must face the consequences of her foolhardy yet desperate actions. A good foot shorter than he and quite a bit lighter, she stood her ground with him. Dared to challenge him. He wanted her more in that very moment than anytime before. It didn’t matter that she needed a good scrubbing and clean clothes, preferably more feminine clothing. He would take her to his bed right now if he could, but now was not the time. She needed to be disciplined. She expected to be disciplined. What if she had boarded another pirate’s ship? The thought had horrified him for days now. Her fate would have been far worse than what he intended, far worse. “Turn around and bend over the table.” When she just stared at him, he added, “Or I’ll strip you bare and tie you down. Your choice.” He watched her seethe, even though the color drained from her dirty but delicate face. Scared down to her bones but equally as stubborn. What a minx! For a second he thought she would refuse to obey. Then, lips thinned, she glowered at him and spun to the table. He sensed the extreme effort it took for her to stretch over the battered top. Admiration spread through him. She would make him a fine mistress. “Satisfied?” she asked, her voice only slightly trembling. Her mane of wild, blonde hair tumbled around her slender shoulders. He wanted to lift that mass of silky strands and nuzzle her neck. He wanted to kiss those tempting pink lips. He wanted to . . . No! He had to stop thinking this way. “Satisfaction will come only after you have had your punishment.” He watched her stiffen as she lay draped over the table. The movement pulled the fabric of her breeches taut

8

across well-rounded buttocks. And when she gave the slightest wiggle, he felt like the one being punished because his entire body ached for something he could not have. Yet. When he just stood there for a few seconds too long, she bit out, “Are you going to have at me or not?” Hawke groaned under his breath, feeling his own breeches tighten. She was an innocent; he knew that to his dark soul. She had no idea what that reference meant to a womanizing man like him. He shoved down the nearly paralyzing desire that was trying to take over his body and reasoning. “You’d best hold on tight, My Lady. This is going to hurt like the fires of hell.” He lightly caressed her quivering buttocks with the strop. “If you fight me, I will lower your breeches and stripe your bare bottom.” “You wouldn’t dare!“ she hissed. Dare? He wanted nothing more than to see her bare, all over. “I’m a pirate; I dare much.” She remained silent, which he suspected was quite a task for her. His little stowaway was not someone who chose the right time to battle or chose her words wisely. Again he found himself wanting to forget the leathering and just take her to his bed. But he couldn’t. While his men had developed an amused respect for the woman who had hidden away on a pirate ship, they expected her to be punished. Yet none of them would tolerate him actually whipping her as would happen with a man who had stowed away. Still, the rules they lived by demanded that she not get off free. Resigned, he raised the thick leather strop to shoulder height. He steeled himself and brought it down hard across the middle of her buttocks with a resounding THWACK! He could well imagine a line of red on what would otherwise be a creamy bottom. “Aaahhhhh,” she cried, bowing her back and pressing against the table. He dealt out two more biting lashes, one on each cheek. She stamped her small feet. “My father will . . .” she hissed. “Your father would no doubt give you a thrashing himself, if he knew what you have done.” The strop continued to strike her wriggling bottom over and over and over. She bucked and writhed until finally she scooted out of his reach, her hands moving to rub at the sting. “You will stop this now!” Hawke tossed down the strop and grabbed her arm, tugging her to him. “No, My Lady, what will stop is your resistance.” In a blindingly quick movement he jerked her breeches down and found her without underdrawers. He sucked in a harsh breath, staring at her flat stomach, at the patch of honey blonde hair. God in heaven, he needed to sink into her warmth. She slapped him, jerking him from his momentary lapse into fantasy. Then tried to pull her breeches back up. He would have none of that. Swiftly he moved to the bunk, making her shuffle along with him. He sat down and before she could protest further he tossed her over his knees. She scrambled to steady herself by flattening her hands on the wooden floor. In the next instant she tried to roll off his lap. A sizzling spank to her bare bottom stopped that bit of nonsense and she yelped in pain and fury. “I will not tolerate defiance when you have earned some disciplining. All that will happen, My Lady, is that you will suffer more.” He landed a quick half dozen spanks while tugging her back into place. “Do you understand?” Stubborn minx refused to answer him.

9

He prompted her response with a sharp half dozen spanks. “I said do you understand?” “Yes, yes, I understand.” She reached back her hand to protect herself. Hawke shoved the hand away and gave her a dozen even harder spanks, making her legs flutter and the breeches slid to her ankles. “Never, never do that again. Each act of interference or disobedience when you are being punished will only add more stripes or spanks.” “I cannot simply lie still,” she hissed. He continued reddening her bottom. “Perhaps not, but you will try very, very hard to do so.” He pushed her shirt higher onto her back, giving him more bare surface to deal with. “You have earned a sound spanking on top of the leathering you will still receive.” Then he gave her just that: a spanking she would not soon forget. When her bottom blazed and his hand ached as well, he stopped. She had not lain docilely but had squirmed and kicked, hissed and cursed him. She did not tame easily, and he liked that about her. He let her rest for a few minutes, not at all opposed to having the time to admire the lovely red bottom in front of him. When her breathing returned to normal, he stood her up. There was still a certain amount of defiance in her eyes. His Lady was indeed a tough one. “Let us finish this,” he said, standing and leading her back to the table. “Wasn’t a spanking enough? My bottom flames even now.” She voiced her protest, but did not resist following him. “The spanking was for resisting what you had already earned. The original punishment must still be given.” He helped her lean over the table, then reached down to rid her of the breeches. “Do not defy me again.” She gave a grunt of agreement and gripped the table edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. He wanted to punish her, not torture her by making her wait any more. He picked up the strop and lashed three red lines across her hot bottom. She arched down against each one, sucking in sharp breaths. He would temper his strength, but he intended on giving her the full thirty lashes he had decided on earlier. THWACK! His arm rose and fell steadily, laying the lashes firmly. Her slender legs danced about on her toes. Ten, twenty. Her head was lowered to the tabletop in submission, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. “Almost done.” “Please,” she squeaked, “please stop. I. . . I have learned my lesson. Please.” He hesitated, wanting to give in, but he couldn’t. Instead he made the final ten lashes as light as he could but still hard enough to make her feel them. It was a relief to be done with the chore and he tossed the strop across the room in distaste. Sabrina’s bottom throbbed. She had received worse beatings from her father. But the pirate had disciplined her well. Sitting would be painful for at least a day if not longer. Actually, movement, even to get off this table, was going to hurt. She was so lost in trying to deal with the pain that she barely heard Hawke say, “You’re going to be a wild one in my bed.” “What? What did you say?” It suddenly remembered the position she was in, exactly what she was showing him. While he had been punishing her it was different, but to be so exposed to this dark, dangerous and commanding man now made her extremely nervous. She started to push up and away from the table. He stayed her with a gentle hand to her back. “Let the pain ease up a bit first.” The hand that had spanked her so soundly now soothed, caressed. She trembled. “Please let me up.”

10

He didn’t. But there was no force behind him holding her down with one hand and touching her heated bottom with the other hand. Ever so gently he stroked the damaged flesh and she heard his breathing deepen. She tried to resist, knew she should resist, couldn’t resist. She’d never been touched this way. Never felt such a heat building, building inside her. A heat that filled her with a need for something she didn’t understand. “What . . . what are you doing?” she questioned, looking back at him. His eyes were even darker, his look intense as he met her gaze. “Giving you something you need.” She would have questioned him further but her gaze shifted to watch him trail a finger slowly up and down the crease between her still stinging buttocks. Her face flamed, but she couldn’t look away. Her buttocks quivered. The heat inside her flamed higher. His fingers moved down, down, down until they found their way to her woman’s place. She pulsed, ached. For what? Then he eased one long finger inside her and a wild tingling filled her, making her inner muscles clench tightly around the sensual invader “So responsive, just as I’d thought,” Hawke muttered, smoothing one hand gently over her heated bottom while moving his finger ever so slowly back and forth inside her. She moaned, tightened around him even more. He knew this was all new to her, knew she was yet an untried maiden and unaware of what was happening to her. He had only been with experienced women until now. This was as new to him as it was to her. Determined, he found and flicked her hardening bud. She writhed on the table and gave frantic moans of awakening desire. “Ooooohhhh please,” she pleaded. Her legs shifted further apart as if her body begged him for something it didn’t truly understand. His heart pounded, as did his throbbing cock pressed so tightly inside his breeches. “You’re ready for the claiming.” Continuing to gain pleasure from the skillful movement of his finger, she gasped, “Claiming?” “Yes, My Lady. I mean to part your legs wider and then mount you from behind.” He found the nub again and toyed with it until she squirmed nearly as much as when he’d spanked her. “I will take you quickly, firmly. When at last my seed fills you, you will be mine.” She trembled. “You . . . spanked me.” She pressed against his hand, desperate for something. “You leathered my bare . . . bottom.” He stroked that heated bottom, then leaned down to kiss one cheek. “Aye, I did.” “Now you mean to . . .” Her weak protest was cut off when he brought her to such completion that she cried out, “Ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh!” While she recovered, Hawke removed his boots and breeches in a flash. He was rock hard and throbbing when she looked his way. As her gaze locked on him and widened, he hardened even more. “Spread your legs, My Lady,” he ordered huskily. Her first time should be in his bed, but he needed her too much right this very moment to even think about moving that far away. For the first time she obeyed him without question. He stepped behind while she watched him uncertainly. He encouraged her cooperation; built her desire by lightly stroking the sides of her bare legs, and then her inner thighs. She trembled all over, and pressed instinctively against him, seeking the mastery he would soon give her. “I’ve never …”

11

“I know, Lady Love, I know.” He gripped her hips, guiding himself to her warmth. “’Twill be a dab of pain this first time.” Carefully he slid into position, and then not wanting to prolong her worry, he thrust through her maidenhead. She gave a small cry, but didn’t fight him. He remained deep within her, standing still until he sensed she was ready for more. It was one of the hardest battles he’d ever fought, this waiting, for he’d wanted her too long, been aroused too much during this thrashing to hold back any more than necessary. The instant she moved, silently asking him for more, he gave her what she sought. He rode her well, pounding steadily into her until both were sweating, shuddering. She cried out lustily, pressed frantically against him. He thrust hard and long seeking to satisfy them both until finally he shot his seed in nearly painful spurts deep inside her. He moaned in completion and collapsed on top of her; she sighed in intense pleasure and sank bonelessly on the tabletop. It was several minutes before he could calm his breathing enough to find the strength to pull out of her. She remained limp and still. Finally she eased off the table, faced him, and smiled sassily. “Would the price of my fare be sharing your bed?” Imp, he thought. “Aye. Plus obedience to my rules for the rest of our voyage to Jamaica.” Rubbing her tender backside, she said matter-of-factly, “I suppose it’ll be more of the leather should I disobey.” Unable to keep from it, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. Then he cupped one hot bottom cheek. “More often than not, I imagine you will feel the flat of my hand in a spanking.” She sighed and then nestled closer. “While I’m not overly fond of your spankings, My Captain, I shall attempt to endure them.” She grinned up at him, placing a hand on top of his where it lay on her reddened bottom. “As long as you do the same kind of wonderful things you did a few minutes ago once you’ve properly punished me.” Hawke tugged her against the arousal that was building again. “Saucy minx. You are going to make a very interesting pirate’s woman, I think.” “Pirate’s Lady,” she corrected, wriggling until he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed. He tumbled her onto the bed and followed her down. “Thank the Lord in heaven you dared to stowaway on my ship.”

12

Chapter 2 Hawke leaned casually against his cabin door, watching his captive mistress smooth down the long skirt of the dress she'd just donned. Bloody damn shame she had to hide that tempting little body. He much preferred the spirited, golden-haired vixen unclothed. But then he wasn't of a mind to share the pleasure of such a wondrous sight with his crew. So it was a good thing he had kept a trunk filled with women’s clothing down in the ship’s stores, a trunk gained as pirate’s booty in one of their adventures not long ago. And the clothing appeared to be almost made for Sabrina. The low bust-line fit almost too snuggly and pushed up a mouth-watering amount of breasts. Breasts he was fond of and not all that happy to have exposed to his crew of scoundrels. He frowned, thinking maybe he should search through that trunk some more. Surely there was something less revealing. Or maybe he would simply insist she change back into those ragged breeches and over-sized shirt. She had been wearing them nearly a week now—when she had worn clothes at all—until he had remembered this cursed trunk. His thoughts were interrupted when she turned her blue gaze to him, apprehension and excitement in it. "Do I look all right?” She did a small twirl to give him the full effect. “What will the other men say when they see me?" Her breasts heaved as she released a deep sigh. Taking in her tiny waist, cascade of freshly washed hair that hung to her hips, and those beautiful, bountiful breasts he’d just been worrying about, Hawke frowned even more. He knew the exact reaction to the sight of her that every last one of his men would have. And it wouldn’t be spouting complimentary words on how she looked. No, they probably wouldn’t even be able to utter a word. But they would still react. Definitely. Bloody, bloody hell! She went on, oblivious to his scowl or his lack of response. "Maybe it's too soon. Maybe I'd better stay here a little longer, although I truly hate being confined here." She nervously smoothed down the sides of her skirt again. “Maybe you’re right,” he started only to be cut off by her determined, "No! I'm NOT staying in this wretched cabin a minute longer!" Sassy chin raised, she snatched a brush from the table bolted to the middle of the floor. She drug it through her golden hair, primping. Hawke watched her breasts bounce up and down with the brushing action, watched the lace trimmed neckline pull lower and lower. Any second now he expected those soft handfuls to burst into blessed freedom. In a flash he was hard as a steel spike. Much as he had been ever since he had moved her into his cabin and his bed. He would have thought that after all the hours they had spent skin-to-skin she wouldn't still affect him so strongly. But she did. In fact, it amazed him that either one of them could even stand at the moment. He was nearly as weak as a newborn babe after spending most of the night wrestling about on the bed with his hot little stowaway. He wanted her. Now. He wanted very badly for those breasts he’d spent hours adoring to spring free, wanted to capture them yet again with his hands . . . with his mouth. “Damnation!” He snapped, shifting to ease his suffering in the now too tight breeches. He jerked away from the doorway. "All that primping is a waste of time. Cook won't care about how you're dressed or if your hair is perfectly groomed." "Cook?" 13

He had not thought of that until this very moment, but suddenly he intended to limit her exposure to his crew. At least until he found another dress that wouldn’t reveal all her charms, or until he scrubbed her old breeches and grimy shirt himself if need be. For he knew she would fight like bloody hell if he tried to get her back into them now that she’d had a bath and dressed in clean clothes. "You'll start earning your passage today, helping Cook in the galley." Cook would not be pleased, but Hawke was the captain of this ship. The man would go along with the plan or face a flogging for disobedience. Well, maybe not a flogging. He really wouldn’t do that to one of his loyal crew, but he’d certainly blister his ears at the very least! Sabrina’s eyes widened; she looked shocked and horrified at the same time. "But I can't cook. Anything." “I can’t say as I am surprised, with you being gentry.” That stiffened her spine and lit the fire in her eyes. She waved a small hand toward the rumpled bed. "I thought I was already earning my passage. Being your doxy." Anger raged through him. He might have taunted her that day she'd been brought before him as a stowaway that she'd earn her way by spreading her legs for him, but he hadn't meant it. The fact that he had spent considerable time between her legs had nothing to do with that crude declaration. It had to do with flat out lust—hers and his. She had even teased him many a time about being His Lady. Now she was comparing herself to a whore! All because she couldn’t cook. No, because he’d made that slip about “earning” her passage. The minx was stubborn to the core, and now put out with him. "You know better," he countered, not totally sure how to soothe her sparked temper. “And I have never once called you that.” Obviously in another of her moods, she stood regally and looked at him in challenge. "Perhaps you haven’t expressed the term, but you have kept me locked in this cabin for over a week. You have had me flat on my back while you took me every day. Sometimes more than once a day. I'd say that made me your doxy." Now he was riled. "I don't remember you fighting me. Ever. Not even the first time I claimed you." He well remembered how she had parted her legs so willingly for him. How she had cried out in wild pleasure. "You wanted me inside you as much as I wanted to thrust into you." Hawke moved toward her, stopping in front of her, daring her to deny it. She bristled, but didn't show the slightest blush at his crude comment. Nor did she deny his words. Instead she said, "No matter my response, you do consider me your MISTRESS, don't you? Mistress, doxy … both words for the woman who—" "Enough of this nonsense! Until I say differently you ARE my woman, and you WILL share my bed," he growled, frustrated by this turn of conversation. He had never felt such strong feelings toward a woman, never even remotely considered a future together with one of them. Until the last couple of days, with Sabrina. But, bloody hell, he was a once revered and powerful duke, now a pirate. She might have run from her family for reasons he still hadn’t learned, but she was part of the aristocratic life he had abandoned. They had NO future. All they could possibly have was this time they sailed to his homeport. After that he had to either send her back home or send her off to somewhere else. Anywhere but with him. Anywhere but his home in the midst of a pirate village.

14

This conversation had to end. He didn’t want to think about any of this. At the moment all he wanted was time away from the woman who so tempted him, so endangered the life he had carefully built for himself. "I have no more time for arguing. Cook is expecting your help, and, by damn, you ARE going to help him." She blinked at the harshness in his tone. Then she lifted that defiant chin and spun away in a whirl of swirling red skirt. "Fine! I'll slave away in the galley as you insist. But you are wrong; I'll NOT be sharing your bed any more. Unless you tie me to it." Lord help him, the image popped immediately into his head. That luscious body naked and stretched out before him. Arms tied together at the wrists and above her head. Shapely legs spread wide, tied at the ankles to the bed’s footboard. Lying there just waiting for him to have his wicked way with her. Only it wasn’t fear of doing so that he envisioned in her eyes; no, it was enticement, a temptress’s silent lure. He hardened all over again. Annoyed with both her sass and his body’s constant need for her, he ground his teeth before saying, "So you're wanting to bed down in the ship's stores where we first found you? You're that fond of sharing a pallet with the rats?" "Yes!" He had held her after a nightmare one night, after she had cried out her terror of being imprisoned in the dark. As he’d comforted her and kissed away her tears, she had admitted that spending so much time in the semi-darkness of the ship’s stores had frightened her. Yet he had sensed there was much, much more to her fear of the dark. She had refused to talk about it, but he was almost certain it had to do with her father. Hawke knew that she would never again willingly go down into the bowels of the ship to sleep. She was spouting off purely in temper now. And from his brief experience with Sabrina, he knew that once her temper got lit and her stubbornness fully kicked in, it took another strong willed person to calm her down. He was just such a person. "I won’t allow it." She bristled, breasts pushing at the very limits of the gown’s neckline. “YOU won’t allow it!” She stamped a foot. “Who are you to say where I sleep?” “The captain of this ship,” he said, stepping nose-to-nose with her. “The man you owe your very life to, My Lady.” Evidently she couldn’t disagree with his statement, but she remained as stiff and defiant as before. She had gone through so much by fleeing her home for whatever reason, by hiding away on a pirate’s ship, and then by sharing that pirate’s bed. She was a strong woman, with a fierce sense for survival. Yet that very strength also kept a boiling cauldron of emotions from spilling over and allowing her to have some kind of release. A man would dive into a bottle seeking escape from his troubles. Or flirt with danger, or pick a fight. But this proud, spirited young woman didn’t seem to have a way of at least partially facing her troubles. She needed someone to help her, somehow. Hawke reached for her arm, knowing he alone was the person who could help her find a way to relieve some of her tension. And he knew exactly how to do it. Before she could even sputter a protest, he turned her sideways and tucked her under his arm. Efficiently, he yanked up the yards of red skirt and white petticoat, tucking them under the arm that held her in place. His hand landed squarely on her drawer-covered bottom. "This tantrum is over with."

15

Sabrina tried to wriggle free, but the odious man held her tight against him. "I’m NOT pitching a tantrum.” A stinging rain of spanks fell and she squirmed all the harder. “Stop this! Stop this right now!” “I think not, My Lady. You are in dire need of a bottom warming.” The hand that had only hours before caressed her now smacked her bottom. Hard. Over and over. She danced about as the fire built, hissing, “You’re a wretched, wretched man!” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "I’m a determined man. Determined to get you out of your snit.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Snit? Snit!” She reached up and pinched his taut backside in retaliation. A huge mistake. Before she could even draw another breath he landed a dozen, sizzling spanks. “I’m sorry!” she gasped, trying to arch away from the hand that continued to swat her aching buttocks. “I’m sorry. That was childish.” One more solid spank landed. “Are you done with this little fit, My Lady? Or do I need to apply another dozen or so swats to make you calm down?” Her bottom throbbed and a few tears had trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t like being spanked, but, oddly, she didn’t feel as anxious as she had before. Of course, she would never make such an admission to him. Instead she said, “Yes, yes I’m done with my ‘fit,’ as you called it.” As he released her and her skirts fell back down, she stepped quickly away. She reached back to rub at the sting, even though he frowned at her doing so. She had the strangest desire to fling herself into his arms and beg him to claim her with the same kind of passion that he’d had after the first time he punished her. This strong need she had to be held by him, to make love with him confused and worried her. She strode to the door and opened it. "If I’m to work in the galley, then let’s go there. I need to get out of here for a while. Get away from you." Hawke watched the sway of her hips as she hurried away and heard her grumble about having a hot bottom again. It hadn't been much of a spanking, just enough to calm her down, although he knew she would never admit to that happening. He had seen it in her expression, though. The edginess had been gone from her eyes when she had stood up, facing him as she rubbed her bottom. There had also been something else in her gaze, desire. She had desired him even after he had spanked her. And that desire had scared her, no matter that they had spent the better part of the last three days in his bed. It scared him, too. He hurried after her, barely catching up with her as she climbed the wooden ladder to the next deck up. He caught a glimpse of slender ankle before she marched toward the galley. The same vision his mind had tortured him with only moments ago, of those ankles tied apart, made his heart race and a certain part of him throb. Hawke hadn’t quite caught up with her before she burst into the galley and blurted out, "Your slave is here." The wiry old man with a patch over one eye glanced up from where he’d been chopping an onion with a long, dangerous looking knife. "Slave, is it?” He spotted Sabrina before he noticed Hawke and, in spite of being at least forty years her senior, gave her a thorough looking over. It was clear he liked all that he saw. His interest quickly faded when Hawke stepped possessively behind Sabrina. He raised one bushy gray eyebrow. “Got something to tell me, Captain?”

16

The two men had been together from the time nearly five years ago when Hawke had walked away from his vast estates and set sail on an English galley his family had once used for trading sugar and other cargo to the Americas. The ship currently docked in the Bahamas, traded in for one of the sleekest pirate sloops built and now his main ship. Hawke had saved Cook from being hung. Cook had saved him from another pirate’s sword, a time that cost Cook his left eye. Hawke trusted him with his life. Now he would trust him to watch over his lady. “Lady Sabrina feels indebted to us, and wishes to work off some of that debt helping you in the galley,” Hawke explained, placing a hand on her lower back. She snorted. “We’ve had this discussion, CAPTAIN.” His hand slid lower until it rested on her skirt-covered bottom. “We have indeed, My Lady. And I seriously doubt you want to have it again.” He squeezed her still sore bottom, making her glower at him. Cook chuckled. “I’ve a feeling she isn’t all that eager to help here in the galley. That you gave her some incentive." Sabrina’s face turned as pink as Hawke imagined her bottom was after the brief spanking. And that defiant chin went up another notch. "Just a little," Hawke responded, lightly patting her bottom before moving away. He couldn’t help grinning at her immediate spark of outrage. “Lady Sabrina has no experience in the kitchen, from what she has admitted. Still, I expect her to help as much as possible. Every other person on this ship has duties and pulls their own weight, she can too.” He cupped her chin, meeting her eye to eye. “She tends to be a bit spirited. If she doesn't obey your orders or gives you a hard time, come find me." Hawke was heading out the doorway when he heard Cook say, "I don't like lazy workers.” She must have made a face because he heard Cook add, “Don’t go acting uppity with me, miss. Captain sent you down here to do a job, and I can guarantee that you will do it. I've got me own brand of 'incentive'—a right hard wooden spoon. Placed a few times on someone's bottom … well, I'm sure you understand." Walking away, Hawke had a strong feeling that his lady would be making acquaintances with that spoon. He wasn’t going to prevent Cook from taking her to task. The old man might apply the spoon, but he would never seriously hurt her. In spite of how hardened Cook appeared, he had a soft heart when it came to women. She’d learn a lesson and that was all. *** Nearly four hours had passed since Sabrina had walked into the galley, but she’d been on Hawke’s mind the entire time. He’d checked on each of his men, more than a few asking how Lady Stowaway—as they’d come to call her—was faring. All of them had seen her at one time or another as they’d taken turns guarding her while she had hidden in the ship’s stores. They respected daringness and spirit, both of which she had in abundance. And they also knew she had carved her way into their captain’s heart, which made her even more special to them. He didn’t like talking about her, didn’t like seeing the questions they had in their eyes that went unspoken about his plans for her. He’d paced the quarterdeck with the wind whipping at his tied back hair. It had made him picture Sabrina’s golden hair flying about, and he had ached to run his hands through all that silkiness again.

17

He’d checked the ropes on the mainsail . . . and thought of the ropes tying her down on his bed in his earlier vision. Then he’d cursed a blue streak, which had sent two sailors scurrying away from lounging against the railing. It seemed he could find no peace on his ship, no peace from thoughts of His Lady. So he had sought out his first mate, Malcolm, on the foc’s’le. They stared out across the vast miles of churning water, discussing how much longer it would be until they reached Jamaica. Hawke knew the whole crew was anxious to see their homeport again and regain their land legs for a time. Even though Hawke liked his island home, he'd long preferred spending his days at sea. But now, listening to Malcolm go on and on about how he was more than ready to reach Jamaica and see his wife and children, Hawke found himself anxious to dock. For the first time, he would be bringing a woman to his home. A fiery vixen. She couldn’t stay there with him, nor would she want to. Yet the idea of her leaving him made his chest hurt. “How the bloody hell could she come to mean so much in such a short time?” Hawke hadn’t realized he had asked the question aloud until Malcolm grinned at him. “Damnation.” “It was going to ‘appen sooner or later, lad,” Malcolm teased, green eyes sparking with amusement. No other man would dare to refer to Hawke as “lad.” But then Malcolm was like no other man that Hawke had ever run across. “What are you talking about?” Hawke questioned warily. “Your heart being captured by some sassy lass.” Malcolm patted Hawke on the back. “And your Lady Sabrina is one of the bonniest lasses I’ve ever set these old Irish eyes upon.” “I may enjoy spending time with her, but she certainly hasn’t captured my heart.” Hawke had barely spoken and heard Malcolm’s rolling laugh in response when Sabrina came storming up from below deck. She gave Malcolm a quick glance and then dismissed his presence. She was in full fury, blue eyes blazing. Every pint-sized inch of her sparked with outrage, and Hawke found himself dying to know what had set her off. Lord, his days wrecking havoc as a pirate in the Caribbean paled with boredom in comparison to being around this woman. Her hands settled on her hips and she looked ready to blow just as Cook poked his balding head up the stairway. "Missy, I said I ain't through with you!" Cook bellowed. She focused on Hawke. "I absolutely refuse to work with that … that awful man any more! Do you hear me? I refuse!" Malcolm chuckled, and then laughed even harder when she narrowed her eyes at him. “Haven’t you anything better to do?” she pressed in a regal manner. “At the moment, no, My Lady,” Malcolm answered, clearly not wanting to miss a second of the sparks about to fly. She huffed, which made her full breasts strain against the neckline and snare both Malcolm’s and Hawke’s attention. Hawke glowered at his friend, who continued making no move to leave. "She's pert near the worst potato peeler I ever seened, Captain." Cook hurried their way, frustration etched on his wrinkled face, wooden spoon in hand. "When I tried to give her advice on how to peel 'em tators without destroying the hell out of 'em…well she didn't listen a'tall. If'n anything, she just got worse at it. When I called her on it, she threw a tator at me." He pointed to the side of his head. "Hit me smack in the noggin. Gal left me no choice—"

18

Sabrina cut him off with a furious, "Do you know what he did? Do you?" She blew out a frustrated breath. "Well, of course you don't. He snatched me off the chair, bent me over the table and … and …" "He spanked you, didn't he?" Her hands flew back to cover her bottom. "He flipped up my skirt and paddled me with that damn spoon of his. What are you going to do about this . . . this indignity?" Cook snorted. "A little over a dozen swats is all. Not much of a paddlin', Captain. Planned to give her quite a bit more, but she took off on me." Hawke turned to Malcolm, who was grinning behind a hand covering his mouth. "It appears I've some business to attend to in my cabin. Discussing some details about obedience and cooperation onboard a ship with Lady Sabrina." He took hold of her arm firmly enough that she couldn't jerk free. "You be wantin' this?" Cook held out the spoon. Watching Sabrina’s eyes widen and then narrow, Hawke shook his head. "I think not." He pulled her toward the stairwell, his annoyance with the situation growing as she resisted. He tugged her to him and soundly swatted her bottom a half dozen times, although she couldn't have really felt it through the layers of skirt and petticoat. "Unless you want me to bend you over the rail, toss up your skirt and take down your drawers for a spanking right here…" Never knowing when not to issue a challenge, Sabrina scowled at him and huffed, "You wouldn't dare!" He arched an eyebrow and took hold of her skirt. "Haven’t we discussed this before? I’m a pirate, My Lady, I dare anything I please. So, do you seriously want to challenge me?" She pouted, body still stiff with resistance. "No. If you're going to thrash me, I'd as soon you do it in private." A few minutes later Sabrina found herself in the all too familiar spanking position. Hair curtaining her head as she was nearly nose-to-floor; hands braced to steady herself; bottom balanced on a man’s thigh. Only this time it wasn’t her father’s thigh; it was Hawke’s. And he was not at all pleased with her. What a wretched, wretched day this had been! He shoved her skirt and petticoat over her back, and then, to her embarrassment, undid the ties at the waist of her drawers. In the next second he pulled them down to below her bare buttocks. Her face flamed even though he couldn’t see it. His large hand smoothed over her quivering buttocks, slowly, gently. "You've a nice set of stripes here, My Sweet. Cook knows how to wield a spoon I'd say." His hand slid lower until he encouraged her to move her legs further apart. She trembled. Then his fingers sought her woman's area, toyed with her a second. She trembled again, hating that he could make her feel so hot, so needy this easily. Especially when he was about to punish her once more. "If you're going to spank me, then do it!" she prodded, ready to be done with this. "I've no love for staring at the floor, or having my bottom bared over your knee." His fingers stroked her again and she knew they came away wet. "I'm not so sure about that, Lady Love. I would say you're enjoying yourself somewhat." True enough, which infuriated her. "I'm NOT in the mood for being played with!" Sabrina hissed and attempted to get up.

19

He held her down, tucking her firmly against him. "Well, I'm in the mood for 'playing.'" SMACK! "After I spank this little bottom." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "After I finish the deserved warming that Cook started." Sabrina sucked in a breath as a half dozen quick spanks landed over the stripes from the spoon. "You already spanked me once today," she gritted out. "Isn't that enough?" “Apparently not.” Another round of steady, biting spanks found the bottom curve of her buttocks. "Aaaahhhh." She wriggled, kicking up her legs. "Can't you show a little mercy?" "Pirate captain, remember." He gave her a rain of stinging smacks that had her yelping and squirming. "We’re not known for being merciful." She forgot herself and threw a hand back to protect her throbbing bottom. He tugged the arm up on her back and spanked her gustily once. "You shall not resist a spanking you've earned." Another SMACK! “You will obey orders while on this ship, including Cook's. When you disobey or misbehave, you will be punished. When you challenge such punishment, you will only be spanked that much harder, that much longer." "I-I'm s-sorry," she pleaded. He shoved her legs further apart and concentrated on spanking the lower crease of her buttocks, and the inner thighs. "You will remember this lesson each time your legs rub together, each time you sit. I do not want to face such behavior from you again. Is that understood?" "Ooooooooo, please.” She kicked and wriggled. “Y-yes. Yes, I understand." Satisfied by her admission, he stopped. Sabrina lay limp over his lap. Her bottom felt swollen, blazing hot. She would not act so childishly about further work she was assigned to do. Gently he helped her up. She stood miserably before him, her hands carefully cupping her buttocks. "H-have you forgiven my misbehavior now?" He moved his legs apart and pulled her between them. Settling his hands on her heated bottom, he looked at her with tenderness that contrasted with him being a pirate. "You're forgiven, yes. But I want you—have wanted you all day." Sabrina knelt, wincing with the movement. "Then let me build a fire within you even as the fire you created on my bottom eases." She felt him tense as she undid his pants and freed him. This was new to her, but her woman’s intuition told her it was right. With him there were so many “firsts.” With him she wanted to experience everything. At least as long as they were together, which she was certain wouldn’t be long. Hawke’s chest rose and fell with deep, shuddering breaths as she took him in hand. He jerked when her lips touched him, when her tongue tasted him. The power she felt was amazing. He might take her over his knee and spank her bottom on occasion, but she had the ability to weaken this special man. Truly amazing. She quickly forgot about the pain still tingling in her bottom and set about her chosen task with enthusiasm. Hawke groaned like a man in pain. A different kind of pain from what laced her backside. But he wasn’t weakened by her efforts for long. In fact, he suddenly had enough strength that she found herself flat on her back, skirts and petticoat tossed up, drawers ripped away. The master she’d learned to treasure was doing what he was so very good at. She wrapped her legs around him and sighed, “My Pirate. My Captain.”

20

Chapter 3 The “master” she’d begun to treasure was getting on her nerves. So was Cook. So was Hawke’s quartermaster, Malcolm. In fact every scalawag pirate on the ship had gotten on her nerves these last few weeks. Sabrina leaned against the railing of the quarterdeck and watched the choppy waves beat against the ship’s hull. Choppy, white-capped waves that went on seemingly endlessly as far as the eye could see in every direction. She was sick and tired of water. Especially salty, fishsmelling water that all too often sprayed—or flooded—the decks. She had grown particularly weary of feeling sticky all over, even though she used a rag dipped in their precious fresh water nightly to clean off as best she could. Early morning sunlight glinted off the waves making her squint against the brightness. She had reached the point where she got up long before Hawke in order to sneak out on deck before the crew began their daily chores. Being down in the cabin, even wrapped snuggly in Hawke’s arms, had begun to make her feel trapped and helpless like when her father used to lock her in her dressing room as punishment for this or that bit of trouble. Her father. Just the thought of him made her grind her teeth and clench her fists. Awful, wretched man! She wondered what excuse he had made to his evil cohort, Lord Percius Preston, after her sudden disappearance. Perhaps he had covered up her disappearance by saying she was abed with some mysterious illness. Perhaps he had claimed that she had been sent off to his horrible older sister for proper training as a bride suitable for a powerful man such as Lord Preston. Or perhaps her father had told everyone she had gone off to who-knows-where and died while traveling. Her stomach knotted and she closed her eyes to fight down a truly distressing thought. What if he had found her trail and convinced the Queen to send a Royal Navy Sloop after them? She had heard about terrible battles between the Royal Navy and pirates. Had she endangered Hawke and his men? “Oh God,” she whispered in horror. “What is it, My Lady,” Hawke questioned with a note of concern in his brandy-warm voice as he sidled up beside her. He turned her to face him, tracing a callused finger down one cheek. “What troubles draw you from bed so early and make you cry out in despair?” “How do you always manage to sneak up on me so quietly?” she asked, both annoyed at his invading her rare moment of privacy and pleased to see him. Hawke pulled Sabrina close and bent to kiss her, intending it to be a chaste kiss of good morning. But the heat of her, the scent of her, the pure pleasure of having her within his arms made him want more than a mere brushing of the lips. When she responded with equal passion, he momentarily forgot his concern for her and forgot that his men were already scrambling about on the deck as they began their daily tasks. He only wanted to hold her to him and feel the sense of peace and happiness that settled over him whenever they were together. “Captain,” Malcolm said, stopping beside the mizzenmast a few feet away. Sabrina wriggled out of Hawke’s arms and Hawke considered tossing the big redheaded Irishman overboard. “Yes?” he prodded brusquely instead. Malcolm nodded a greeting at Sabrina. “I believe we’ll make home port in two days time. One if we get a good wind behind us.”

21

“Home port?” Sabrina’s face glowed with excitement, her small body quivered in anticipation. “And where might that be?” So many thoughts and emotions tumbled through Hawke’s mind. Relief at nearly being to their safe refuge. Concern about taking Sabrina off the ship and to their village to be scrutinized by the wives and women of his crew who awaited their arrival. Worry . . . “Nassau,” Malcolm explained and pointed off in the distance. “Even now you can see a hint of the island on the horizon.” She spun to the railing so fast that she nearly flew over the side as the ship bounced on a series of high, rolling waves. Hawke snagged her and pulled her safely to him. His heart pounded. “Maybe you should go below, since it appears we’re to deal with a wild sea this day.” “Go below? Not hardly!” She shoved free and glowered at him. “After nearly two months at sea, most of them spent below deck, I’ve no intention of going there now.” Malcolm shot him an amused look, even as Hawke fought between displeasure for her very vocal vow of disobedience and the urge to smile at her stubborn spirit. When another, even higher, wave hit the ship’s hull and sent a rain of salt water over them, displeasure and worry for her safety overpowered any urge to smile. He ignored the water dripping down his face and gripped her arm to escort her to the stairway leading down. “You’ll go below. Now,” he bit out, struggling to keep his footing on the swaying deck. Ever resistant to being ordered about, she leveled a heated glare at him over her shoulder. “It’s just another wave or so. I can handle it.” The sea around them had started churning even more. Dark clouds skittered across the sky. A summer storm brewed and Hawke knew before long every man on board would be battling to protect the ship. He did not want to worry about her as well. He was not in the mood to listen to her protests. His men needed him. His ship needed him. He swatted her skirt-covered bottom, hard. “Get yourself to my cabin and stay there until I come for you.” One hand moved to cover the spot he’d spanked, even though he knew it couldn’t have hurt. Her other hand brushed aside a trickle of water running down the side of her face. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, of keeping out of harm’s way.” “Captain! Captain! Simon says he needs your help with the lines,” called out one of the sailors. Simon, his very capable boatswain in charge of the rigging and lines, did not request his help often. Hawke knew a moment’s panic. He nudged Sabrina once more with a firm, “I swear I’ll tan your backside right here and now if you don’t get moving. Do you really want that?” He could see the fire of defiance dance in her blue eyes, but she turned to climb silently down the stairs. Still, as he started away, he heard her snap, “I’m only going because I’m wet and I need a change of clothes.” In spite of what he might face for the next few hours, he smiled at her daring. She was sassy because she knew he didn’t have the time now to chase after her to deal with her. But she also knew that if she’d challenged him much longer by not obeying, he would have given her a quick, brisk, and embarrassing spanking right where his men could happen by and see it. Sabrina gripped the side of the bed with all her strength to keep from being tossed to the floor again. She had bruises over most of her body from bouncing about the cabin. The storm that had appeared out of nowhere had battered the ship for hours. Of course they had endured

22

many other storms as they’d crossed the ocean from England; one storm much worse. They had nearly lost some of the crew that long night. She had nearly lost Hawke as well. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the storm to end. Her stomach had rebelled several times already, which was the only reason she hadn’t gone back up on top to keep an eye on the men. . . and Hawke. Even though he occasionally took her to task, she could not imagine her life without the towering, raven-haired man in it. For years she had slept alone; now she snuggled each night against muscled warmth. Nightmares that had plagued her were now soothed away by the tenderness from a pirate captain. As if in answer to her prayer, the ship stopped rolling. Outside the sounds of the storm faded away, with only the rumbling of thunder moving off into the distance. Thank God. In a burst of excitement and need to find Hawke to make sure he was unharmed, she flew off the bed and raced out of the cabin. She tripped over a small keg that had somehow managed to roll down the narrow hallway. Unable to catch herself as she flailed out her hands, she banged her head hard on the rough wall before landing on hands and knees. Pain throbbed on the side of her temple and stars danced before her eyes. At the same time she felt a splinter dig deep into one palm. She sat back on her haunches to stare in disgust at the sliver of wood in her hand. A bout of dizziness made her eyes glaze over and her stomach roil. Even before she could attempt to stand Hawke was beside her, kneeling down to gently lift her hand. “You should have stayed in the cabin until I came for you,” he said gruffly. Sabrina winced as he carefully examined the damage and the firmly implanted sliver. “I-I did until just now.” She sucked in a sharp breath when he touched the splinter. “Just leave it be!” He cocked one dark eyebrow at her, but stopped his examination. “I’ll leave it alone until I find some brandy.” Her head was feeling odd again and she mumbled as she leaned into him, “I could use a good drink.” Below her ear she heard the deep rumble of a chuckle in his chest while he hugged her close for a second. “The brandy will cleanse the wounded area. But I suppose we could both stand a quick shot of brandy after struggling through that bloody storm.” He tried to nudge her to her feet, but the world seemed to be spinning around her and she just couldn’t manage the task. Instead she moaned and reached for her head with her good hand. “What the devil?” Hawke asked, pulling her hand away. “Hell and damnation! You hit your head, too! Damn, luv, what were you thinking?” Sabrina raised her gaze to his, ignored his troubled expression, and sassed, “I thought ‘Hey, there’s a wall. I’ll just bang my head into it. Try to bang some sense into me for being so worried about a certain pirate captain that I’d bother to want to look for him.’” His expression turned into a scowl—a dark, fierce scowl. Then he lowered his head and ever so gently kissed her. When he was through plundering her mouth and making it very clear how much he treasured her, he shifted her into his arms and stood. “You’re a saucy minx, My Lady. Trouble, too. Constantly needing looking after.” He carried her back into the cabin and settled her on the bed with extreme gentleness. “Odd as it seems, I find that I like looking after you. Even find your spells of trouble and sass somewhat amusing.” As her head nestled into the pillow, she winced and cradled her injured hand on her stomach. “You don’t always find them amusing,” she said, thinking about the times when he’d definitely been less than amused.

23

“No, not always.” He went to a nailed down trunk and pulled out a bottle of brandy, along with some clean rags. As he walked back, he flashed her the cocky, man-in-charge look she was so familiar with. “Sometimes your troublemaking earns you a trip over my knee for a sound spanking. But even that I don’t mind.” She snorted. “Of course you don’t mind! You’re not the one with your skirt tossed up, bum bared, and getting a sore bottom.” Hawke sensed she was worried about him tending to her hand and needed distracting. Lord knew he wasn’t looking forward to hurting her more, which he knew would happen. That was one devil of a sliver piercing her delicate hand. He uncorked the brandy bottle and moistened a rag with some of the precious liquid. To distract them both as he gently dabbed around the splinter, he said, “True enough, My Lady. But I’m the one forced to light a fire on the bottom of the woman I treasure.” “Treasure!” Again she snorted, although it was joined by a hiss when the brandy found its way into the wound. “I don’t know about treasuring me, not when you spank me. But you definitely can light a fire! At times as much a fire as this burning my hand now.” She looked at him, with pleading more than challenge. Pleading to keep her mind from focusing on what he needed to do next. “I think you enjoy reddening my bottom.” Not wanting her to suffer any longer, Hawke took hold of the sliver and yanked it free. She yelped and tried to pull her hand back. He held it firmly and once more dabbed the wound with the brandy-soaked rag. “I never enjoy causing you pain, although I’ll admit I don’t mind having your lovely bare backside over my knee.” He saw tears glistening in her eyes and his gut clenched. He’d rather take a gunshot or be sliced by a knife than cause this special woman of his such pain. Determinedly he took another rag and wrapped it with care around her hand. His voice was gruff when he said, “The heat from your well-spanked bottom . . . the intriguing redness . . . your submission—“ “Submission? To a wretched man who smacks my bottom until I can’t sit? Never!” She bristled, the spark returning to her eyes. Hawke grinned, and then leaned down to kiss her before she could spout any more nonsense. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, darting inside when she opened them to welcome him. Without stopping the kiss, he stretched out beside her on the narrow bed. She melted into him, desperate as he for connection between them. All thoughts of the storm disappeared. His duties to the crew were shoved aside for the moment. Nothing mattered but holding her, touching her, loving her. When Hawke finally surfaced again from the blaze of passion that had overtaken them both, he was covered in sweat and physically exhausted. She’d roused him to such amazing heights of desire, and then drained him dry. No other woman had ever made him feel so lusty, so desperate to sink into her over and over and over. No other woman had ever satisfied him as much. And he was certain no other woman ever would. He pulled out of her, still semi-hard, something that surprised him. Collapsing on his back, he closed his eyes and sighed in pure contentment. His life had become such a living hell these last few years after being betrayed by his closest friend. He’d never thought to have a wife and children, to have a real home again. Now he wanted all of that. Draping an arm over his head, he wondered if it was possible. Maybe not back in England. But maybe in the new world of America. Or even here in the islands. He had grown tired of being constantly at sea, bored with harassing ships for their cargo. And he had never stolen cargo that had not belonged to a ship’s captain with a known reputation for

24

underhandedness himself. His reputation as a notorious thief with no scruples had grown with each revenge-seeking captain’s tale when he returned to his homeport minus most of his cargo. “What troubles you so?” Sabrina asked quietly, feathering the side of his cheek with her good hand. “Was there much damage to the ship?” He turned his head to kiss her palm, looking deep into her eyes, into her soul. He saw love for him there. But could she truly love such a man as he’d become? Forcing himself away from her gentleness, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “That is something I need to find out. But I doubt there is serious damage or else Malcolm would have sought me out sooner.” He stood, glancing back at her, taking in every delectable inch of her naked body and fighting the urge to cover her once more and sink into her warmth. The need was almost overpowering as the scent of their lovemaking lured him. He battled down the desire to mate again. “What troubles me is that I can’t give you the spanking you deserve for leaving the cabin before I returned. I find that I cannot bring myself to tan your backside when you are injured.” She rolled onto her stomach, being careful to lay her injured hand out of the way. Her other hand reached back to lie on one tempting buttock. “I don’t think I deserve a spanking when I basically obeyed. I only left the cabin after the storm subsided. Only to search for you, to make sure you were okay.” The minx wiggled her bottom enticingly, giving him a heated look. He had trouble swallowing, trouble moving for his clothes that were thrown about on the floor. “But if you feel you must give me a brief spanking for my minor disobedience . . . well, then, I guess you must.” She didn’t think he’d do it. She was playing with him. Only, he liked this game and he would win it. He enjoyed watching her eyes widen as he bent over the bed, over her stretched out and vulnerable body. Then, surprising her even further, he smoothed his hand over her bottom until it quivered. Trailed a finger between her cheeks, pleased when she slid her legs apart. When she bucked up to meet his toying finger as it played with her woman’s delights. As she moaned in arousal, he raised his hand and brought it down with a sharp, biting smack on the center of her creamy bottom. She jerked, looking at him as if he were a traitor. Yet she lie still in anticipation of a full spanking. Submissive. Accepting, even with irritation sparking in her eyes. Bloody hell, he loved this woman. He stepped away from the bed, snagged his clothes and began dressing before he joined her in bed again. His gaze moved to the red handprint on her bottom. “Consider that your spanking for the minor disobedience.” She glowered at him, but looked relieved. “I suppose I’m to stay in the cabin after my punishment?” Tucking his shirt into his pants, he said in concern, “You’re to stay in the cabin and rest. Because of your injuries, not for punishment.” He moved to the door, glancing back. “Should I find you up on deck, though, you will get a genuine spanking for disobedience. I want you to rest.” “Yes, master,” she snapped as he opened and closed the door. “Wretched man. Spanking an injured woman.” Hawke grinned and went to find out what damage had been done. Sabrina’s head throbbed and her hand ached terribly, but the rest of her body was well satisfied. Even though Hawke had dared to give her a sound swat, she felt truly loved. Never in

25

her life had anyone taken such tender care of her. Her mother had died when Sabrina was young. Her father could barely tolerate having her around. The household staff, including her nanny, hadn’t shown her any warmth. But a man with a wild reputation, proclaimed to be ruthless, gave her warmth. Gave her the love she’d always dreamed about. A smile on her face, she drifted off to sleep and to dream of a life with her pirate captain. *** She awoke several hours later, with only a tiny headache. Her hand still pained, but not enough to make her stay in bed any longer. Besides, her dreams had made her restless. She was more than ready to done with this voyage, to dock in the Maiden Anne’s homeport and see where Hawke lived. She’d sensed a loneliness in him, a longing for a life that he’d left behind. She knew he’d been a peer of the realm. And she’d heard stories about some kind of falling out within his family, something about a former friend of his as well. Whatever had happened had driven him away from all that he knew and to a life of piracy. Although, after spending nearly two months with Hawke and his crew, she suspected that much of the tales about their adventures and misdeeds were just that: tales. These were not what she imagined were your typical hardened pirates. With a glance to her dress on the floor, she decided against donning it. She wanted to go up on deck and see if she could spot the land that Malcolm had pointed out earlier before the storm. If she needed to, she would climb up a bit in the rigging to get a better view. Simon had taught her how to climb the ropes one day, even though Hawke had blistered his ears for having done so. But she would be careful. She wasn’t nearly the accident-prone female that Hawke sometimes thought she was. So, instead of the dress, she dug into the trunk and found the breeches and shirt she had worn when she had stowed away. A short while later, struggling to grip the ropes hanging from the foremast with her bandaged hand and untangle her hair from the rigging with the other, Sabrina thought maybe she was just a little bit accident-prone after all. She hadn’t pulled her hair back into a braid because of her bad hand. She had thought since the day wasn’t all that breezy now that the storm had passed, she wouldn’t have a problem. Wrong, again. Wincing at the tug of stubborn hair that refused to get released from the rope, she grumbled a colorful curse that the sailors favored. Then her foot slipped and she cried out in panic. Here she’d been doing her best to be quiet and go unnoticed by the crew working on the other end of the ship. Now she was crying out. But it couldn’t be helped. She was well and truly trapped, with her hair tangled in the rigging and with desperately trying to hang on for her life by her injured hand. “Help!” she yelled, managing to get a perilous toehold in the rigging. “Help me!” A pair of sailors on the quarterdeck glanced her direction and she felt momentary relief. Until one of them started running her direction, while the other went straight to Hawke. Tattletale, she thought, even though she was desperate to be rescued. But couldn’t they have saved her themselves! Now she would face Hawke’s wrath, and from the expression on his face as he stormed her way, that wrath would be fearsome. Irritated at being drawn away from trying to salvage one of the mizzenmast’s lines, Hawke looked the direction young Tommy pointed. The air froze in his lungs, yet his pulse

26

raced. Sabrina was halfway up the rigging off the foremast and appeared ready to fall at any second. No, she was caught somehow. Good God! Rage and fear for her safety tore through him. “What the bloody hell are you doing up there?” he roared, striding across the deck with Malcolm at his side. She wasn’t even supposed to be up on deck. Why, why couldn’t she ever listen to him! He was barely halfway to her when her foot slipped and she screeched, scrambling to gain another foothold. He could almost feel the hairs on his head turning gray. “Don’t you dare fall!” he shouted, fearing the worst would happen at any second as he and Malcolm raced across the deck. String Bean McGee paced anxiously below her, clearly uncertain whether to go up after her or wait for Hawke. He wasn’t the only crewmember concerned, though. All around them, Hawke noted every other man on deck stop what he was doing to watch the dangerous situation. “That lass of yours sure gets into mischief, doesn’t she?” Malcolm commented as he waved String Bean off. “Damn headstrong, troublesome female!” Hawke countered, unable to take his gaze off of her. “She was supposed to be resting. Fell and hit her head earlier, got a splinter in her hand, too. Resting. But, no, not Lady Sabrina. Not a speck of obedience in her.” Malcolm chuckled as he took a protective stance beneath the rigging in case she lost her grip and fell. “You’re babbling, Captain. But, knowing your lass somewhat by now, I understand.” Hawke ignored his friend and focused on Sabrina, while trying to decide if he would do more damage than good by climbing up to her. Extra movement on the ropes would only tug on her apparently caught hair all the more. Frustrated, he called up to her, “You’re going to be real, real sorry you even thought about climbing up there.” Even risking life and limb, she managed to glare down at him with a pale face pinched in pain. “You don’t think I’m already sorry! My hair has me caught like a spider in a web.” She nodded toward her injured hand above her head. “My hand is throbbing and bleeding. I don’t think I can hold on much longer.” That had both Malcolm and Hawke frowning at each other. Instantly, Malcolm untied a foot-long dagger from his belt and offered it to Hawke. “You’re going to have to cut some hair to free your lady.” “Don’t give him a knife, you idiot!” Sabrina chastised. “As mad as he is, he’ll probably slice my throat.” Hawke took the dagger as Malcolm’s lips twitched. “Don’t tempt me.” He tied the knife with the silk cord dangling from his own belt, and then he started climbing the rigging. But even as careful and slow as he was, the ropes tugged on her hair making her yelp in agony. When she again struggled to keep some kind of footing, he picked up his pace. His heart pounded in dread. What if he didn’t reach her in time? Could Malcolm really catch her? If she hit the deck from this height, she could be killed or at least seriously injured. He climbed faster. Finally he was close. Close enough to get a good look at the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around her injured hand. His stomach knotted. “Don’t you have any idea how grimy these riggings are? Especially after having gone through waves upon waves of salty sea water?” He cursed under his breath. “You’ll be lucky if your hand doesn’t get so infected that we have to cut it off.” Horror filled her pained eyes and she gasped. “No!”

27

God, what had he been thinking, telling her such a thing! She was already frightened, but so was he. “Never mind. You’ll be fine.” And she would be, he’d see to that. As she looked less alarmed, he added, “At least your hand will be fine after some good doctoring. Another part of you . . . well, it won’t be quite so fine anytime soon.” “I-I just wanted to see the island that Malcolm mentioned earlier. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Her lower lip trembled. Tears sparkled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Oh, hurry please! I’m about to fall!” In a flash he moved next to her, and then stretched his body around hers to keep her in place. Every muscle in his arms and chest were strained at the effort he made. “Do you need some help up there?” Malcolm yelled up. Trying to calm his rapid breathing and keep from falling himself, Hawke hazarded a glance down. “I think we’ll be okay. But stay there just in case you need to catch her.” He didn’t care what happened to him. All he cared about was that she survived this nightmare. Pulling on what weakened strength he had left, he used one arm to tug her up enough that she regained better footing. The new position took some of the tension off her hair. Still desperately worried, he said, “You were told to stay in the cabin, to rest. I swear, Sabrina, you never listen to me.” She cocked her head up enough to scowl at him, but didn’t say anything. “I’m going to have to cut your hair to free you,” he explained, untying Malcolm’s dagger from his belt. “But I’ll cut as little as necessary.” He really hated the idea of cutting off any of the silky mass of golden hair. At her nod, he began the tedious task. He glanced below and noted that his crew had evidently decided she would be safe in his hands and returned to their duties. But she wasn’t as safe in his hands as they might think. For once he had her free and down to the deck he intended to do a number of things with his hands. First, he would hold her damn close to him and take his time getting reassured that she was in fact okay. Second, he would tend her wounded hand, again. Finally, he would apply his strap to her bare backside long and hard for nearly scaring him to death by endangering her life, for ignoring his having told her to stay in the cabin, and for wearing those breeches that he’d thought he had gotten rid of. The second he had her free, she sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.” Expertly he tossed the knife to the deck, where Malcolm scooped it up. “You won’t be thanking me in a few minutes. Now let’s climb down.” Together they eased their way down the rigging, neither speaking again. When they touched foot to the deck, Hawke noted that Malcolm had disappeared, as had all the other men. Sabrina, too, tried to flee. He would have no more nonsense from her, though. He snagged her by the waist of her breeches and jerked her into his arms. For several long minutes he crushed her to him, until his heart slowed its pounding beat. “I can’t breathe,” she complained, squirming. Hawke let her move back, but he didn’t release her. Instead he pulled her injured hand up to examine the new damage. “It’s not as bad as I’d feared. We’ll clean it with brandy again and apply a fresh bandage.” “I’m sorry to have caused you so much bother,” she whispered. “You can’t seem to help yourself,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Every time I turn around you’re doing something you were told not to: like climbing the rigging.” She hung her head in guilt, barely resisting when he turned her toward the middle of the ship. Unable to wait a second longer, he planted a solid SWAT on her trouser-covered bottom.

28

“You wretch!” she gasped, rubbing at the sting and glaring daggers at him. “What if the men heard?” He shrugged. “They’ve all conveniently disappeared. But I’m sure each and every one of them knows you’ll be facing a sound leathering for this latest mischief.” “Not the strap! Please Hawke. I-I know I disobeyed you, but—“ Nudging her toward the stairs leading down, he said, “Aye, you disobeyed me. Worse you endangered your life, something that means perhaps more to me than it does you. For that you need more than a mere spanking.” Sabrina sat anxiously on the edge of the bed as Hawke cleansed and then re-wrapped her hand. He hadn’t spoken since they had entered the cabin. He was definitely upset with her, even though he treated her injury with extreme gentleness. She was angry with him for being so determined to deal out a harsh punishment. Yet she was equally pleased to have heard him admit just how much she meant to him. Those precious words were almost worth the price she would pay. Almost. Finished, he looked coolly at her. “It’s time.” Butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach; her palms sweat. She considered protesting, and then stood on shaky legs. “If you must.” “I must.” He untied the rope holding her breeches up, shoving them down to her knees. She wore no underclothing, which pleased him. “Your choice: over the table or over the bed.” “Hawke please—“ He made the decision for her, turning her to brace her hands on the bed. Her bare bottom rose high and all-to-ready for what he intended to do. It was so hard to stand there waiting while he fetched the dreaded strap. So hard to wait for him to light a blaze she would no doubt feel for at least a day. But she’d scared him, worried him with her foolish spurt of independence that had led to serious danger. For that she was sorry and would withstand his punishment. “Are you ready, luv?” he questioned as he stood off to her side. “No. I’m never ready for a thrashing.” She gritted her teeth and clutched at the blanket beneath her hands. The cold leather strap trailed over her bottom in readiness. Then it rose and fell with a resounding THWACK across the center of her buttocks. She was never ever ready for that initial strike and cried, “Aaaaaaaaoooo.” “Stand as still as you can, Sabrina.” Two more lightning quick thwacks landed. “I want to get done with this as soon as possible.” “As do I.” She arched into the bed as three more lashes fell. “As do I.” He planted a hand in the small of her back to hold her in position, and then began steadily leathering her bottom. One burning stripe after another. On and on, while she struggled to keep from crying out again. She danced on her toes, crushed the blanket in her fists, and kicked up her legs. At least two dozen sizzling lashes laced her bottom with fire. Finally she could remain quiet no longer and cried out, “Ooooohhhhh pppplleesee! Please stop!” “You will never go anywhere near the rigging again,” he prodded, applying a firm thwack. “N-no, never!” she hissed, wriggling away from the pain. “You will learn to stay where I tell you, when I tell you.” When she hesitated in answering, he enticed her response with two strikes. “Yes! Yes, I will obey you!”

29

He tossed the strap down, but remained beside her. “You will never put your life at risk again.” His hand spanked her soundly on the underside of her bottom. “I will not lose you because of your stubborn foolishness.” Another pair of spanks. “Do you understand me?” “I-I understand.” Hawke stared at the stripes that crisscrossed Sabrina’s reddened bottom. The anger and fear he’d felt had drained from him. He’d leathered her just as he’d promised he would, but he hadn’t been as harsh as he could have. He wanted her to seriously think about what would happen when she disobeyed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to truly hurt her. He stepped back and she collapsed to her knees, her hands flying back to soothe the fire on her backside. He let her rub at the sting. He listened to her quiet sobs fade away. All the while he found himself growing so hard he ached. Maybe it was wrong, but he needed her. Needed to be deep inside her. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d fallen, if you’d been killed.” She must have heard the intense concern and fear in his voice, for she turned her head to look at him. “I feared losing you in the storm this morning.” “I need . . . I need—“ In spite of having to wince at the movement, she climbed to her feet and then removed her breeches. Her eyes met his as she pulled off the shirt as well. “I need you, too.” Hawke didn’t have to have more invitation than that. In a flash he stripped off his boots and clothing, moving toward her with his rod as stiff as it had ever been. He ached to sink into her warmth. But he frowned when he looked down at the bed. “You’re too sore. I thrashed you too much for this.” She gave him a crooked smile and gently took his hand, placing it on her heated bottom. “You most certainly did leather me well, my captain.” She reached down and circled her hand around the part of him that throbbed. “I am indeed sore, but I must have you within me. Now.” Still uncertain, he watched her turn toward the bed once more and bend down into the same position as when he’d taken his strap to her. This time when she thrust her reddened bottom to him, she shifted her legs apart, and pleaded, “Take me. Take me hard.” He moved behind her, gripped her waist and thrust long and deep. She was moist and ready for him, not minding at all the minor pain from him moving against her punished bottom. “Oh, Hawke. Oh, please.” Obediently he took her hard and fast. Their loving was wild, desperate, hot. She needed; he needed. Together they sought a frantic release; together they found it. She was his woman, even when he spanked her soundly. She was his woman especially when he loved her even harder.

30

Chapter 4 One day out from homeport turned into two when the almost constant trade winds became a full-blown tropical storm. The Maiden Anne rocked and rolled, creaked and moaned as enormous waves lapped at the ship. It blew them steadily back away from the island. The crew cursed continuously about the sad turn of affairs, but drawing on their vast experience with such occurrences, worked long and hard to keep the ship from breaking apart or capsizing. Their valiant efforts took a harsh toll on them all. Tempers were short. Bodies were bruised and battered. And many of the hardened sailors fought down bouts of seasickness. Hawke included. As the winds continued to lash at the ship on the second morning, Sabrina lie in bed and watched Hawke grimly prepare to face another day. A restless night combined with being seriously sick had left his ashen face drawn, dark circles shadowing deep under his eyes. She knew he was almost as weak as a newborn babe and she worried about him. “Surely the men can handle what needs to be done without you for a while longer,” she said, hoping against hope to change his set mind. He tugged on his boots and sent a glower her way. “They wouldn’t be part of my crew if they couldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can loll about and abandon my responsibilities as their captain.” She rolled her eyes and snorted. “You’ve been sick as a dog most of the night. I can’t imagine a one of them thinking less of you for not staying on deck to help out, when you couldn’t even hold your head up. You can barely do so now, pigheaded man.” “Don’t start with me, madam!” he snapped, although he leaned against the table near the door for support for just a second. “Don’t harp at me or call me names, unless you want a taste of my belt.” “You couldn’t even hold the belt in your present condition.” His gaze narrowed and slid to the trunk where he kept the belt in question, but he didn’t move toward it. Because he didn’t, she continued to be dangerously daring, although she felt the color drain from her face. She didn’t deserve a lashing and had only spoken so boldly in concern for him. His harsh tone had hurt her feelings. “Fine. Go climb that ladder to the upper deck, even though it took nearly all your strength just to get out of this bed. Go stand on your shaky legs on the deck as it sways and the ship tilts and rolls, over and over. Make yourself so thoroughly sick that you lose all sense. Maybe you’ll get washed overboard. See if I care!” She turned away to face the wall, not wanting him to see her lip tremble or the tears that stung her eyes. He growled a warning to not leave the cabin, then jerked open the door and stormed out. He didn’t even bother slamming it behind him, yet Sabrina felt as if he had done so. Wretched, wretched man! Making her worry about him this way. Making her fear for the very worst that could happen. When he didn’t come back to apologize as she’d hoped he would, she turned back over to toss the sheet away before scrambling out of bed. She hated storms, hated the oppressive darkness and unending rain. Too many times her father had lost his temper on stormy days and took out his frustrations on her. He’d often strapped her for no reason other than his lack of 31

patience. Storms gave him fierce headaches, and having to deal with a young, spirited girl was more than he could handle. So he’d dealt harshly with her. Afterward, in pain and heartbroken once more, she would seek the farthest spot away from him. She would steal a candle from the pantry and flee from the horribleness of her life to the dreaded attic. It had been cavernous, filled with shadows and dark corners. Any other time she never ventured anywhere near it. But on those awful days the attic was oddly her place of safety. Now another fierce storm raged, and now another man in her life had grown mad at her for no real reason. She felt helpless, restless, lost. She didn’t dare go up on deck for fear Hawke would find her. In his weak and testy state, he’d no doubt punish her as wrongly and severely as her father had done. He might even do so right there in front of his men. He was in that sorry a frame of mind. Besides, the men would probably stumble over her as she, without meaning to, got in their way. No, she couldn’t go up on deck. She couldn’t stay here in this cabin either. HIS cabin. At the moment she found no peace here after their brief argument. She had to find somewhere she would feel safe again, a place to withstand the rest of the storm. *** Several long hours later, the storm had calmed. The heavy rain-laden clouds rolled away as the sun peeked through and a rainbow such as Hawke had never seen spread across the sky. His stomach had settled sometime during the fierce battle to keep the ship in one piece. His temper had settled as well. He handed the wheel over to Malcolm and said, “I’d best go make peace with my lady. I was a mite tough on her earlier.” Malcolm nodded. “At least the lass stayed below and out of the storm. Surprised me.” Hawke chuckled. “Me as well.” He glanced at the rainbow again. “She’d appreciate seeing that, so I’d better go get her before it disappears.” The door to the cabin was open and he remembered striding out in a temper as fierce as the storm had been. He hadn’t closed the door, but found it strange that Sabrina hadn’t shut it since then. When he stepped inside, he was further surprised to discover the cabin empty. He’d thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep from being exhausted after having put up with his being sick most of the night. She’d taken care of him, even when he’d growled at her to leave him in his misery. She’d taken care of him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had cared for him when he was sick or injured. Well, other than Malcolm, of course. They always watched after one another. Where had she gone? He hadn’t spotted her up on deck, but then he hadn’t been looking for her. She did have a habit of disobeying him and going up there when he’d ordered her to stay below. Yes, that’s probably what she’d done. Disobeyed him after all. The minx. He strode back to the ladder to head up top once more. With each step he took, his stomach knotted. She could have been washed overboard, just as she’d taunted him about. She could have been hit by some of the barrels that had rolled around on deck, or by pieces of the railing that had torn loose and flown about. What the devil had she been thinking! When he found her. . . “Tell the lass to hurry,” Malcolm said as he stood at the top of the opening to the deck. “The rainbow is starting to fade.” Then he looked puzzled when he didn’t see Sabrina.

32

“The ‘lass’ wasn’t in the cabin,” Hawke answered, mimicking Malcolm’s reference to Sabrina. “She’s no doubt hiding somewhere up on these decks, trying to keep from having me spot her. Must have come up here during the storm.” “I’ve seen no signs of her, and I’ve been over nearly every inch of the decks looking for damage.” Fear tightened Hawke’s chest. “She might have been swept overboard,” he said the words in a near whisper. Malcolm’s eyes widened and his big body went tense. “Let’s not think the worst just yet. We’ll check every nook and cranny of the decks first.” “I’ll take the aft section.” Hawke hurried off, praying as he hadn’t prayed in years that they would find her. He didn’t know what he’d do if he’d lost her. He refused to think about it. By the time Hawke had made his rounds and returned to mid-deck, Malcolm had returned as well. A half dozen of the crew stood around his first mate, looking every bit as grim and worried. “No signs of the lass. But are you verra sure she came up top? Maybe she sought another spot to wait out the storm.” Hawke desperately wanted to latch onto that tiny hope, but years of losing one dream after another made it impossible to do so. Everything in him turned cold. Malcolm was just stepping toward him in support when suddenly young Tommy poked his head up from below, grinning. “You’ve got to see this! Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” “This isn’t the time, lad,” Malcolm cautioned, impatience echoing in his tone. “We’ve lost Lady Sabrina.” “Nay.” Tommy shook his head, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I’ve seen her. Below. In the food stores.” Hawke gaped at him, unable to speak as he silently thanked God. “In the food stores?” Malcolm questioned, while the others around them listened curiously. “Yep. Dancin’ and singin’ with all the heart and spirit of a dockside doxy.” He started down the ladder again. “Heard her when I was checking to make sure the magazine was okay. You’ve really got to see this.” “Yo Ho! Yo Ho!” Sabrina warbled at the top of her lungs from where she stood perched on top of a crate. She took a swig from a metal mug, quickly raising the mug high in the air. Rum sprayed up and then rained down her arm. “A pirate’s life for me!” Hawke stopped in the doorway, nearly being knocked flat by Malcolm and the others following on his heels. He stared in amazement and amusement. Until she lifted her skirt on one side, baring a great deal of leg, and did a little jig. As more of the rum showered all over her, she giggled and continued with her very off-key song. “We pillage. We plunder.” The round of chuckles drew her attention. Facing the men, she grinned like a drunken sailor and raised the mug even higher in greeting. “Drink up me h-hardies!” “Lass ‘pears to have been sipping the brew for quite a spell,” Malcolm said, laughter in his voice. At Hawke’s immediate scowl, he turned to motion the men away. “Ye’ve seen enough, lads. ‘Tis back to work with the lot of you.” Young Tommy remained rooted to the spot, unable to take his gaze off Sabrina. Hawke took hold of his ear and shoved him toward Malcolm, who quickly led the boy out of the hold.

33

“There’s more of this-this fine drink,” she released her skirt to point at the cask she’d obviously opened. Then she looked around before frowning. “Have to share this one mug. Don’t see ‘nother.” Hawke didn’t quite know how to handle her, but he knew she needed to stop drinking. As it was, she would have one devil of a hangover. He stepped forward and reached for the mug. “I could use a swill.” At the last second she jerked the mug away and held it to her chest, rum sloshing over the rim onto her bodice. “Y-you were mean to me. Not going to share with you.” He sat down on a nearby wooden crate and gentled his tone. “I’m sorry I got angry with you earlier. Having been sick most of the night and worrying about the ship, well, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind.” She eyed him suspiciously before plopping down on the crate on which she’d stood. “Worried about you too. Stubborn, mean man.” Her eyes glazed over and she swayed. “Woooo, room’s spinnin’.” He moved to her side, snagged the mug, tossed it aside and scooped her into his arms before she could fall off the crate. She nestled against him like a kitten seeking warmth. “Naughty, naughty me. Goin’ to get pun-punished now.” She looked up at him, although he suspected she didn’t really see him. A brilliant smile spread across her dirt-streaked face. With a giggle and a hiccup, she attempted to reach up and pat his cheek, missed and patted his nose instead. “Captain Hawke’s goin’ to sp-spank my ears . . . no, no that’s not right.” Confused but determined, she cupped his face to look directly at him with rummy eyes. “Can’t seem to think straight. Help me, f-fine sir. What’s the devil’s pirate goin’ to do to me?” She giggled, letting her hands fall away and her head drop back so that her long hair brushed against his leg and he had to adjust her in his arms to keep from dropping her. God, she was a cute drunk and he had a hard time being mad at her. But he was. Oh, yes, he most definitely was upset with her. He bit down on his amusement and said, “He’s going to take you over his knee and spank your bare butt.” “Yep! That’s it!” She rolled her head side to side as he carried her across the room toward the ladder. “Over knee, spank me. Over knee, spank me,” she sang the words off-key as if they were a chorus to a song. At the steps he shifted her and tossed her over his shoulder so he could climb the ladder. When she wriggled and nearly made them both fall over, he swatted her skirt-covered backside. “Lie still.” She lie limply and changed the words to her song, happily singing at the top of her lungs, “Over shoulder, spank me. Over shoulder, spank me.” She hiccupped again. “A pirate’s hard hand for me. A pirate’s h-hand for me.” Malcolm was at the top of the ladder to help Hawke make sure his inebriated female burden didn’t fall. He grinned when Sabrina shoved her dangling hair out of the way to look at him with a sassy smile. “Don’t-don’t let the captain find me, Sir Irish. ‘Cause, ‘cause he’s goin’ to spank my ears. No, no that’s wrong.” She slapped Hawke’s bottom and prodded, “Help me again. What’s the od-odious man goin’ to do?” Malcolm and Hawke exchanged a look of amusement as Hawke answered, “He’s going to take you over his knee and spank your bottom.”

34

She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him, “That’s right! So smart, always know the answer.” Then she dropped down once more to begin singing, “Over knee, spank me. Over knee, spank me.” “I believe the lass needs to sleep off all that rum,” Malcolm said, chuckling as he turned and went on his way. “Just what I was thinking,” Hawke responded, and headed for their cabin. He’d certainly take her over his knee and spank her just like she’d known, but he’d wait until she was good and sober. She needed to fully understand why he blistered her bottom. Two steps later she said quietly, “Papa always beat me on stormy days. Then I’d hide from him. Find a safe place.” Hawke’s heart wrenched. “Captain scared me too. Hid from him. Safe.” She heaved a weary sigh. “Safe ‘til he finds me.” With that she went completely limp and he knew she’d passed out. Her words stabbed at him. It had been a stormy day and he’d been angry. He’d been angry at the rotten weather, the danger to his men and ship, and from having dealt with nausea for so long. He hadn’t really been angry with her, even though she’d gotten a little sassy. When he punished her, he did so for good reason. He ground his teeth, thinking about the monster who was her father. An evil man who had punished her, ruthlessly, whenever he pleased and usually for no reason at all, from what she had told him. Now it seemed that she believed stormy days and angry voices meant she would be beaten by some man in her life. God, he hated that she reasoned that way. It tore at him that she felt the need to find a secluded place and hide away until a storm passed, whether it was a foul weather-related storm or a storm of emotion from someone. To hide away from him. Sabrina’s dead-weight Sabrina was beginning to wear him down, especially as weak as he still was after being so sick. He carried her into their cabin, booting the door closed after him. She didn’t so much as open an eye when he laid her on the bed, or when he removed her rumsodden dress. If he had any say in things—which he would, liquor would never touch her lips again. What if she had wandered up onto the upper deck drunk while the storm had still raged? The very idea made him shiver with horror. No, she would never touch alcohol of any type again! Exhausted from all that he’d gone through and relieved from finding Sabrina, he removed his own clothes and stretched out beside her. He tugged her closer and took her comments to heart. Many times he’d thought about finding her father some day and taking his miserable life. The notion held even more appeal now. His arms firmly around the woman who had become his world, he drifted off to sleep. *** Sabrina’s head hurt so badly she didn’t think she could even open her eyes. And she smelled, horribly. What had happened to her? The very act of thinking hurt. In fact, just breathing hurt. She groaned. “About time you came around,” Hawke said from somewhere close by. “Stop shouting!” Even her whispered protest made her head throb. “By all that’s holy, what happened to me?” He chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’d say that half a keg of rum you drank yesterday ‘happened’ to you.”

35

She covered her ears and moaned. “Shouting, still shouting. Oh, heavens, so am I.” His statement finally sunk in and she opened one eye to look at him. “Rum? You poured rum down me?” Hawke shook his head, grinning. “My Lady, you poured the rum down your throat all by yourself.” Slowly she remembered. The storm. His anger. Being scared, hiding. And, finally, finding a mug on a cask of rum in the hold. “Thirsty. I was so very thirsty.” She cracked open both eyes, but moaned again as the candle light in the cabin made her eyes burn. “I couldn’t find a cask of water, so I thought. . .” He reached down to gently smooth the hair from her face. “So you thought you’d quench your thirst with a swill of rum. Only one swill turned into another, and another, and another.” “Your fault.” “I might agree that causing you to try and find safety in the hold was my fault, but not making you get drunk. Which, I’ll add, will NEVER happen again. Since liquor will NOT be allowed to touch your lips from this moment forward.” Sabrina looked ready to protest yet another rule, and then sighed. “I suppose that’s one rule I don’t have a problem with.” She eased to a sitting position and cradled her head as the sheet fell to her waist. She had a horrible feeling and couldn’t look at him. “Did . . . did I do anything foolish? I-I have this crazy notion that I did. Please, please tell me that I didn’t.” Hawke used a finger to lift her head so she faced him. “Only about a half dozen of the men saw you.” When her face paled and her red-streaked eyes widened, he added, “Not to worry. I’ve threatened to gut anyone who dares to tease you about it.” “Ohhhhhh, what did I do? No, don’t tell me.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, yes, tell me.” “Let’s just say that you don’t sing all that well.” She groaned. “I-I sang?” “And did a really nice jig.” Again she groaned, her mortified gaze meeting his. “I sang AND danced? Oh heavens.” He nodded, a crooked grin on his handsome face. “I prefer you dance without holding your skirt up and showing your legs off to anyone but me, though.” Her face flamed. “I can’t EVER leave this cabin. Just bring me food and water occasionally, but I’m NEVER leaving this cabin.” He leaned down to kiss her brow. “Yes, you are. Today actually.” “We’re there? We’re ready to go ashore?” All thoughts of the awful things she’d done were forgotten for the moment. She tossed off the sheet, ignored the throbbing in her head, and threw her arms around him. “Just let me get dressed.” The sight of her naked body temporarily sidetracked Hawke. As he always did, his body grew instantly hard, ready. He set her back and kissed her again, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, enjoying the feel of her soft skin. He caressed her back, her buttocks. Finally he broke away, his breathing ragged. He looked at her with yearning and hoped she understood his sudden need for her. “The others will go ahead without us. I’d prefer to keep you in this state of undress for a while longer.” Sabrina quivered at the heat in his gaze. Her own body reacted as it always did when she realized how much he wanted her. She needed him too. Desperately. She moved her hands between them and worked her own magic over the hardness she felt beneath the fabric of his breeches. When he swelled even more and moved against her hand, she

36

smiled. “I can live with that. Especially if you join me in this ‘state of undress.’ Soon. Very soon.” She didn’t have to ask twice. His clothes were off and strewn about the cabin in a flash. Her head still ached and her stomach still felt a tad queasy, but just the sight of all that hardened male body took her mind off what ailed her. He was her cure. “So, is the big, bad pirate captain going to prove again just how big and bad he can be? How in charge?” She lay back, stretched out and smiled in invitation. Hawke stood next to the bed, rigid and ready. Pure devilment danced in his eyes. “My Lady, I’m the biggest, baddest captain on the seven seas.” Slowly, very slowly to capture his attention, she slid one bare leg up and down the bed, bending it at the knee. She made sure to provide him with a chance to see a sight that she knew he enjoyed. When his chest shuddered and his eyes glazed, she cupped her breasts to massage them as he so often did. He didn’t move, except for the deep rise and fall of his chest. She slid one hand down slowly down her body until she touched herself between her legs. That was all he could apparently take. He moved on top of her in an instant, replacing the hand on her breast with his tongue. It swirled hot and wet over and around the nipple until it stood at full attention, until it ached. She arched up, whimpering. Next he replaced the hand between her legs with his, continuing to suckle and make her writhe beneath him. As she gripped his head with her hands, he slipped a finger inside her warmth. He moved it in and out, over and over again, until she couldn’t lie still. Until she pleaded, “Inside me. I need you inside me. Oh please.” “As you said, I’m in charge,” he said, refusing to give in until he was ready. She bucked up, frantic with need. “Yes, yes, you’re in charge. Ohhhhh, please. Take me now, my captain. Now.” “When I’m ready, my sweet captive.” He shifted back on the bed, resting on his haunches. He spread her legs, grinned devilishly and then bent down to trail the tip of his tongue on the part of her that ached now more than her head. “Uuuuuhhhhhh, uuuuuuhhhhh.” She closed her eyes and gripped the sheets desperately. Her whole body trembled. She was hot, so hot. “Yes, your captive. Yours to do with as you want. Oh, please. Please.” Hawke could barely think straight he was so aroused. They had never played this game before, but he sure the bloody hell liked it. No other woman would ever be so right for him. Finally, unable to wait a second longer, he lunged forward. He thrust deep inside her giving them both what they needed so badly. She met each of his thrusts eagerly. Scored his back with her short fingernails. Curled up to cup his buttocks. Then lying back, she lifted her bent legs and held on for dear life as he pounded into her. Pounded and thrust until they were both sweating, both panting. Pounded into her until they cried out at the same time. *** Hawke lay almost dead to the world beside Sabrina as she slowly awakened from a very satisfied sleep. Her head no longer throbbed; her stomach had settled. As many times as they’d made love and gone up in flames, she still felt her face heat at the memory of her boldness. He

37

brought out such intense need in her. A need that was always made stronger when she felt guilty about something she’d done to displease him. Sabrina had felt badly about their earlier argument and having hidden away. She had sensed how badly she had scared him with her disappearance, especially when she’d been told not to leave the cabin during the storm. After all he’d had to endure while trying to save all their lives and the ship, she’d made him suffer more by stealing away to hide. She’d been wrong to do it. Hawke was nothing like her father, never cruel. In her heart she knew that. He punished her on occasion, sure, but never out of pure cruelty. Even though she disliked admitting it, she deserved to be punished for her foolish actions: for leaving the cabin against his order and for getting drunk. She had a feeling, though, that Hawke would let these incidents pass because he knew some of her history with her father. He didn’t want her comparing him in any way with that horrible old man. Which she didn’t. Hawke loved her, punished her sometimes, but loved her all the time. There were no doubts in her mind about that. Her decision made, she nudged Hawke to wake him. They would be leaving the ship soon, but she wanted this unfortunate situation dealt with first. She didn’t want any hard feelings hanging between them. “Hawke, I need you to do something.” He slowly opened his eyes to smile up at her. When he reached to pull her down to him, she resisted. “No, not now. There’s something else you must do for me, for us.” “Get us to shore, I suppose. I know you’re anxious to get to the island.” He sat up, leaned against the wall and looked puzzled by her resistance. Before she could change her mind, she flung herself over his lap in the familiar position for punishment. His hand settled on her bare bottom. “What’s this about?” Sabrina wrapped her courage around her and glanced back at him. “I deserve to be spanked for disobeying you and leaving the cabin.” When he started to shake his head, she added, “I know you want to, but think you shouldn’t because of what my father used to do during storms.” “Sabrina—“ She gave him a gentle smile of understanding. “What happened between he and I has nothing to do with what happens between you and me. We both need to remember that. I need to be spanked, even if I don’t necessarily want to be. And you need to spank me.” For a second he just looked at her. Then he drew in a breath and nodded. “You’re right. I told you stay in the cabin for a good reason, for your safety. For my sanity.” She should have looked away, but watched oddly mesmerized as he raised his hand, and then lowered it with a resounding SWAT! Seeing his set expression, she didn’t want to see that hard hand fall anymore and quickly turned her head and lowered it to the mattress. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left the cabin,” she said, her comment muffled against the bed. His hand fell repeatedly, landed firmly as it always did when he dealt out necessary punishment. “You constantly disobey me. You try my patience at every turn.” The words were punctuated with one sound spank after another. “I-I can’t seem to help myself.” She squirmed, shifted away from the hard swats. He held her in place. “Which is why you are so often in this position getting your butt reddened.” He got down to seriously spanking her, making her understand that obedience was expected. Disobedience was well punished.

38

As the swats grew harder, harder, her legs fluttered up and down on the bed. She sucked in deep breaths, bit her lip, gripped the bedding. It was her own fault that her bottom was on fire and that she wouldn’t sit well the rest of the day, if not longer. It hurt, stung horribly. She tried not to cry out, but finally couldn’t stop. “Oooooooo God! Oooooo please.” Hawke heard her frantic pleading and saw how red her bottom had become. He’d finally released the pent up worry he’d felt for her safety, the fear he’d felt. She’d admitted that he was nothing like her father, and he wasn’t. But he would punish her when necessary, just as she knew by now that he would. She’d disobeyed him, endangered herself, worried him needlessly, and gotten out of control emotionally. For all of that she deserved to have a very sore bottom, which she would. Her once fair bottom now glowed crimson. Every inch. She’d had enough, though. She’d learned her lesson. He rested the hand that had stung her bottom on the red cheeks and watched her shoulders shudder with silent sobs. The sobs always got to him, but he was proud of her for not resisting and taking what was needed. Gently he smoothed away some of the pain, watched the tension drain from her body. “Shall we get ready to go ashore, My Lady?” Her heard her draw in a shaky breath, saw her dash at the tears that had trickled down her cheeks. She glanced back and said humbly, “I believe so, my captain. And I’m sorry. Sorry I disobeyed and made you worry about me.” “I’ve a feeling I’ll be worrying about you for a very long time.” He helped her off the bed and watched her wince. “And that I’ll be dealing with your disobedience many, many more times.” “I’d rather not think about future spankings right now. This one will be in my thoughts for a while.” She rubbed her bottom. “I certainly learned a lesson.” He pulled her into a hug and smoothed her hair. “Aye, you did. Okay, no more talk of spankings. Let’s go to the island. I’m sure you’re ready to be a land lubber once more.”

39

Chapter 5 Sabrina was so excited she could hardly breathe as she stood watching Hawke make final preparations for their leaving the ship. She so wanted off this rocking bundle of wood. To plant her feet firmly on ground that didn’t shift and sway. To smell something besides the stale, damp air of the ship. To hear birds chirping happily in trees. Oh, just the thought of seeing trees, flowers, houses, anything beyond the limited, boring scope of the Maiden Anne made her whole body tremble with joy. She stood with hands firmly gripping the railing along the center deck, waiting. Watching. Anxious. They were docked in a spot near Coral Harbour, safely away from the coral reefs that encircled most of Nassau Island. She’d never seen a place more beautiful. This would be her new home, at least her temporary home. She really didn’t know what would become of her anymore. Going back to England held absolutely no appeal. But did she want to stay here? Here in a place she knew nothing about, a place known to be a haven for all sorts of ruffians. Although from what she’d gathered from talking to some of the men, there were fewer of the hardened pirates making Nassau their homeport these days. A gentle breeze lifted her long hair and it flew around her. She drew in a deep breath and smiled. So beautiful, this place Hawke called home. Beyond the clear, emerald-turquoise water surrounding the ship lie an island of some 60 square miles, she’d been told. Tall trees with long branches that appeared to be huge leaves with many splits and spindly trunks such as she’d never seen before lined the far edge of the beach, interspersed with bushes and all sorts of unfamiliar plant life. She believed Hawke had called them palm trees. Just below the high gathering of branches on some of the palms she noted the large oval yellowish-green fruits he’d called coconuts. He’d promised to get her one and slice it open so she could drink the sweet milk and eat the chewy pulp inside. He’d promised to find her a fig tree as well. And he’d vowed to take her to a secluded spot near the tiny village of Adelaide that he claimed was perfect for swimming and making love in privacy yet surrounded by nature’s beauty. She could hardly wait to begin new adventures in this glorious wonderland before her. And she was so ready to get Hawke away from his constant duties as ship’s captain, away to simply share time with her. Lately, she could tell by the weariness in his eyes and the strain on his face that he needed freedom from all his many responsibilities. At least for a while. “Well, My Lady, are you ready to leave the Maiden Anne?” Hawke asked, striding across the deck her way. “Our rowboat is waiting, and it appears that all is ready for us to disembark.” Sabrina stepped away from the railing and the wind sent the skirt she wore swirling around her legs. Her long hair fluttered around her shoulders until he reached out and carefully tucked it behind her ears. “The one time it might have been best if you’d worn your breeches, you wore a dress.” “The last time I wore breeches you spanked me for doing so,” she said pointedly, wishing she had in fact dared to wear them now as she faced climbing down into the rowboat with any grace at all. He chuckled and received a sour glance in response. “Aye, you did. Still, you aren’t one to learn lessons quickly, so I believed that you would wear them today.” He shrugged. “I suppose I should be pleased you didn’t disobey me again, though.”

40

She shifted her hands back to cover her skirt-clad bottom, looking him eye-to-eye. “Since you so thoroughly attended my bottom only a short while ago, I preferred not to risk earning another, er, lesson.” Hawke moved right in front of her, so close there was not even an inch between them. He reached around and laid his hands on top of hers. “That was but a wee bit of a spanking, barely a lesson.” “A matter of opinion, Sir.” She wriggled out of his embrace and walked toward where a rope ladder hung over the side, lightly flapping against the hull as the ship rocked. “I’m not sure. . .” As though he understood her concerns, Hawke said, “It’ll hold you well enough. The others all climbed down it.” He gently touched her cheek to make her look at him. “I’ll go first if you’d prefer.” And have him think her a coward? Not hardly! “I wouldn’t prefer.” He smiled that irritating, knowing grin of his. He’d challenged her in an effort to break her free of her momentary fear. She should thank him, but she lifted her proud chin instead. “You just want to be below me so you could look up my dress when the wind inevitably catches it. You wretch.” One of his thick, dark eyebrows cocked up at her spark of sass. “Found out, was I? Believe me, My Lady, looking at those fine legs of yours is something dreams are made of. At least my dreams.” Her face heated at the memory of how he’d lain between her legs only hours ago, of how she’d locked her legs around him. Odious man that he was, he’d figured out what she was envisioning, and grinned even more. “I see you’re having a bit of a lusty dream as well.” Then he sucked in a deep breath and glanced toward the island where some of his shipmates and their families had gathered waiting for he and Sabrina. “As much as I’d like to lay you down right here and have my way with you again, we can’t.” “Like I would let you do such a thing!” she snorted, heating in her woman’s parts. “Aye, you’d let me. We both know it, too.” She refused to admit he was right, so she moved by him and attempted to swing a leg over the railing toward the ladder. A series of rolling waves caused the ship to rock and sway. Hawke, caught off guard by her sudden move, missed snaring her arm in time to draw her back to safety. Her foot missed the ladder, and, in a mighty splash, she dropped bottom first into the water. Hawke didn’t even wait for Sabrina to surface before he climbed onto the railing. In a flash, he dove into the water next to where she’d gone under. His heart raced with fear. What if she banged her head on the ship’s hull? What if she went down far enough that her skirts got caught on the spiny coral and trapped her? What if— As he bobbed up for air, she surfaced, too, sputtering and spewing curses that would put any of his men to shame. Curses that should have earned her a mouth soaping and a sound bottom warming. Instead of being mad, though, he pulled her to him. They nearly both went under again before he felt secure enough to release her and shove her up into the rowboat. He joined her a second later. “Guess you’ll be needing to change into those breeches after all,” he teased, leaning forward to swipe a piece of seaweed from her chest.

41

She swatted his hand that had lingered a tad too long away. “Maybe I’ll just wear this dress until it dries out.” He scooted around until he was sitting and took hold of the oars. “You’ve got to be the most obstinate woman I’ve ever run across.” “Am not,” she countered, attempting to ring the water out of her hair. Hawke shook his head in disbelief. “I give you permission to wear the ridiculous breeches that you seem to love so much, and you get all snippy.” “I’m NOT obstinate! And I don’t get snippy.” Looking thoroughly annoyed, she picked a piece of slimy seaweed from her tangle of soggy hair. “What I am is distressed.” What she was, was looking sexy as hell, sitting there in a dress that clung to every luscious inch of her. He shifted uncomfortably, aching as the wet fabric of his pants rubbed his hardened cock. Pitiful timing to be so desperately in need of her. “Distressed? Because you’re wet?” He watched drops of water trickle down her face, disappear into her cleavage. He shifted again, focused on rowing them toward shore. She waved at the beach where a large number of people now stood watching and waiting for them. “Distressed because I’m soaking wet and look absolutely awful. Right when I’m about to meet the families of your men.” Hawke heard a sniffle and saw a tear slid down from one very sad eye. It was one thing when she cried during or after a well-deserved spanking, but quite another thing when she cried in true misery. He didn’t have a clue what to say in order to right the situation. “They won’t say anything. I suspect they probably saw what happened and so naturally expect to see you wet and slightly bedraggled.” “Be-bedraggled,” she whispered in dismay. “Oh please, please row us somewhere else. Somewhere far away from them. I can’t face them now.” Women were hard to understand sometimes. “Don’t be silly,” he gruffed, rowing steadily to the island. “Silly!” She leaned over the side so she could send a large shower of water at him. “Is it so terrible that I wanted to make an impression on your friends?” Hawke pulled the oars into the boat so he could wipe the water from his eyes. “There’s no reason you should think about trying to impress them. They all know you’re a stow away by now. They’ll just be curious to have a closer look at who they assume is my prisoner.” Sabrina stood up in the boat so fast it nearly capsized. “Your PRISONER! You mean they expect to see me in leg irons or something. Maybe have a look at my bare back in the hopes of seeing stripes from a cat o’ nine tails?” She did a precarious balancing act before finally plopping back into the bottom of the small boat. “Fine. Just fine. Parade me around as the criminal I am. It matters not to me.” Could he make a bigger mess of the situation? Hawke didn’t think so. He hadn’t meant to tell her what he knew the island families would be thinking. He’d intended on introducing her as his … as his what? Lover? Future wife? Bloody hell, he didn’t know what Sabrina was anymore, other than a spitting mad woman fast growing out of control. She needed settling down. She needed his hand applied to her bottom. “Stop this silly nonsense!” he barked. “The fact is you WERE a stow away and our prisoner, but only for a while.” “AM a stow away. AM a prisoner. I’m being TAKEN to this island home of yours. I certainly wasn’t invited here.” Her lower lip trembled and she shivered although it was a fairly warm day.

42

She’d given him a heartache when she’d fallen overboard, now she’d given him a headache. “There’s no reasoning with you when you get in these moods.” He rowed harder, taking them ever closer to shore. “If you’re determined to consider yourself my stow away and prisoner now, fine. That’s NOT what I, nor my men, think anymore.” Sabrina had no idea why she was arguing along these lines. She knew Hawke didn’t see her that way, that his words had just slipped out. But she was nervous, worried. He really hadn’t had any choice but to bring her here to his home, unless he’d wanted to toss her overboard somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. And she suspected there had actually been a few times when he would have liked to do just that. A thought that made her even more distressed. Now he was upset with her again, and she’d made him that way. Sniffling back tears and trying to wring out her skirts, she glanced toward the beach. A dozen women of various ages and sizes stood beside members of Hawke’s crew, and a handful of children danced and played around nearby. Families, whether legally bound or merely chosen mates. Whatever their relationships, they were happy to see one another. Love shown in both the women’s and children’s faces and in the sailors’ rare smiles. She’d never experienced such displays before. It saddened her even more. If she’d remained in England and married Lord Percius, she probably never would have experienced such delighted feelings firsthand. But she just might with Hawke. Her battered heart felt alive with possibilities and she looked his direction. So strong, more than just physically. He’d been hardened by life and whatever had forced him away from England and his previous life. Yet he didn’t really seem bitter about what had happened. He’d simply made another life. His men respected him, would die for him if need be, she was sure of that. He, in turn, would protect each and every one of them. Just as he had her. Warmth spread through her. This darkly handsome man, so filled with mysteries, had taken her into his life just as he had all of the others. And he loved her, even when she drove him crazy. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, drawing his gaze. “For everything.” He stopped rowing. “I’m not. I’m not sorry you left your miserable life behind and stowed away on my ship. I’m not sorry I took you to my bed.” So bold, so sure of himself. He made her bold as well. “I’m not sorry I LET you take me to your bed.” She wasn’t, not at all. Even now, rumpled and wet, she felt the stirrings of arousal as she looked at him. Desire sparked in his dark eyes, ignited in her. Then they weren’t alone. Malcolm and a petite young brunette waded out into the water to help pull their boat to the beach. Twin boys no older than four skipped and hopped on the white sand behind them, grinning and waving at “Uncle Hawke.” Malcolm swept Sabrina from the boat in his strong arms and easily carried her to the beach, while the other woman moved to the boys. He grinned down at her as he set her on the sand. “Took a quick dip, I see.” Sabrina blushed in mortification, knowing how tightly her clothes lie against her body. The young woman near her own age strode next to Malcolm and slapped at his arm. “You’re embarrassing her.” “Momma. Momma, who’s the wet lady?” questioned one of the twins, sporting the same red hair as Malcolm. “She gots weeds in her hair,” the other added, giggling and pointing at her. Hawke dragged the boat onto the beach, and then moved next to Sabrina, tucking her against his side as he faced Malcolm and the others who’d gathered closer. “The wet lady is Lady Sabrina Whitley. My lady.”

43

Malcolm nodded in approval and the young woman’s eyes shone with delight. “At last!” Before Sabina could move, the woman and the other women rushed at her. Somehow Hawke was separated from her. She was hugged, kissed on her cheeks, welcomed. And then Malcolm’s woman took her arm and began tugging her down the beach, “I’m Gretchen, by the way.” “I’m pleased to meet you,” Sabrina said unsurely, struggling to keep up as she was led into the bushes. Through the trees she could see the beginnings of a settlement, the village Hawke and the men had referred to as their home. “Come on, I’ve got some clothes that should fit you.” She smiled back at Sabrina. “We’ve got to get you out of that sodden dress. You’re giving the men too much to look at and appreciate.” Again, Sabrina felt mortified. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so much trouble.” Gretchen laughed, a light bell-like sound of pure happiness. “I’ve heard tales about you already from Malcolm. About how much trouble you have given Hawke at times. That’s wonderful! He’s needed someone to challenge him now and then.” She pulled Sabrina even faster. “I can’t wait to hear all about how you stowed away on the Maiden Anne. Even more, I want to hear how you won his heart.” Sabrina felt overwhelmed, but glad now that it was just she and Gretchen. The other women had stayed behind. “I-I think Hawke might want me…” Gretchen faced her, beaming. “I’ve no doubt he does, lusty man that he is. He probably wants you all the time. If I weren’t so in love with Malcolm, I’d be jealous.” Sabrina’s face heated at the other woman’s boldness. “I didn’t mean he wanted me that way. I meant he probably wanted me with him now.” Then she, too, felt boldly daring. “He is a lusty man, though, just as you said. Oh my, yes.” “You love him, don’t you?” Gretchen asked, sounding delighted. “I can see it in your eyes.” Sabrina didn’t know what to say, or what to think about Hawke’s firm declaration to his friends and their families. She particularly didn’t know what to think when the others seemed to accept her position as His Lady so easily. Undeterred by Sabrina’s lack of response, Gretchen resumed leading Sabrina into the village. *** Brilliant pinks and oranges painted the sky as the sun dropped low on the horizon. The temperature while still warm was dipping. Children so wound up and bursting with energy earlier had grown cranky and sleepy-eyed. His crew and their mates took final sips of the brew drunk in celebration, snatched last bites of fish and fresh fruit from the meal cooked on the beach. It was time to gather the young and take them home for the night. While the children would soon fall into exhausted sleep, it would be long hours before the adults settled down. The crew had been away from home for nearly four months. Sleep was the last thing on the minds of any of the adults, Hawke felt certain. The last thing on his mind as well. He swallowed one final sip of whiskey and decided it had finally become time for him to head to his own home at the far side of the village. Only this time after yet another welcomehome celebration he wouldn’t be going home alone. He’d never brought a woman to his home here. He was a little nervous about it. After all, Sabrina was English nobility and had lived in splendor. His island home was far from anything close to “splendor.”

44

“We’ll be calling it a night,” Malcolm said from beside Hawke. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, or the next day. All right, Captain?” Hawke nodded, smiling at Gretchen snuggled tight against his friend’s side. “Take time with your family. I’ve got some settling in of my own to do for a day or so.” “I like her, Hawke,” Gretchen said bluntly. “Be good to her.” He wasn’t sure what to say in response and Malcolm solved his problem by yelling for his boys and guiding his wife away. The others seemed to take that as a sign and began gathering up their children and whatever else they’d brought down to the beach party. Within minutes it was only him and Sabrina, who sat on a piece of driftwood near the fire pit. She looked as worn out as the children. Not that he was surprised, for she’d had a long day, which included a dunking in the sea. As the last of his crew and family moved off toward the village, Hawke walked in Sabrina’s direction. She appeared relieved at being alone and he remembered how anxious she’d been about meeting the families of his men. And he remembered what an idiot he’d been when he’d mentioned her former status as his stow away and prisoner, only making her more distressed. He was sure that she’d waited all day for someone to bring that up again, but they hadn’t. Oh, he knew Gretchen had teased Sabrina about it, because Sabrina had told him. As soon as he’d been able to after that, he had passed word around that anyone else talking about it would answer to him. He didn’t want her upset anymore than being amongst even more strangers would make her feel. “Are you ready to go home as well, My Lady?” he asked, crouching down in front of her. She glanced at him, concern in her sad eyes. “Did I do all right?” This was another of those rare moments when she sounded and acted vulnerable. For as much as her bastard father, the brutish Earl of Clayborn, had mentally battered his daughter and kept her socially isolated most of her life, she had survived with an amazing strength of will. Again, Hawke wished he could strangle the man for hurting her so. “You won them over, each and every one. Even Marguerite, who barely tolerates anyone other than String Bean Tom.” Sabrina’s spirit returned and she tipped her proud chin up. “She called me a common doxy.” He had overheard that comment and nearly stepped in to blister the older woman’s ears, but Sabrina had dealt with the situation herself. “I doubt she’ll ever do so again.” She blinked. “You-you heard me tell her off?” “Aye, I did.” “I went too far, didn’t I? She had it coming, though. I’m NOT a doxy. NOT a strumpet, even if I sleep with the infamous pirate Captain Hawke.” “No, you’re not.” He grinned devilishly. “Still, I, the ‘infamous pirate Captain Hawke,’ would like to take you to my home now. Take you to my bed… and not to sleep. At least not right away.” “What if I don’t want to go with you? What if I’d prefer to sleep right here on the beach?” she challenged, her eyes sparking with impishness. Hawke tugged her to her feet and into his embrace. “Ah, but you DO want to go with me. You’re just trying to play games.” “Always so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She moved against him, stood on tiptoes to nibble at his neck. “Sure that I want you. Sure that you can please me, make me cry out for mercy and relief.”

45

He was about to tease her back when she distracted him by sneaking a hand between them. She found his hardening cock as it pulsed and strained at the constraints of his breeches. His breath quickened and he gasped, “’Tis you, I think, who seeks to make ME cry out for mercy and relief.” “Sounds awfully good to me.” She gave him a final squeeze and turned to march toward the village. “Are you coming?” Hawke caught up with her. “Yes, my Lady Love, I’m coming to lead you home.” He turned her to face him, serious now. “We’re going to make wild, passionate love long into the night, I promise you that. But there’s going to be a spanking first.” She rolled her eyes. “For being snippy earlier, as you claimed? For stressing out about being your prisoner? Maybe for splashing you in a fit of tantrum?” “Actually, for none of those worthy reasons. I understood your concerns and distress.” He held her to him, smoothing a hand over her skirt-covered bottom. “No, this time it’s because I just want that sweet bottom of yours over my knee. I want to turn it warm with a love spanking. I want to watch it pinken and bounce up to seek more of my touch. It won’t be a spanking of punishment, but one of desire.” She trembled, reached around to hold his hands in place. “Oh, My Pirate Captain, I already desire you. Ache for you.” She smiled, squeezing his hands. “Bare bottom?” “Yes,” he choked. Sabrina wriggled free, giggled and took off running toward his house. “Well, hurry up!”

46

Chapter 6 The sun was just peeking over the tops of the palm trees when Sabrina walked out onto the second floor veranda of Hawke’s house. House. No, this was no mere “house.” She hadn’t known what she expected, but it certainly hadn’t been this massive, two-story place with wraparound verandas on both levels. She’d never seen anything like it before, even though her travels in England had been limited. Yet she was fairly certain nothing like this place existed anywhere in England, nor did the furnishings. Beautiful, handmade rattan furniture graced nearly every room, including the fifteen spacious bedrooms. Why Hawke’s island home had so many rooms she had no idea. She suspected it was because he’d grown up used to living in enormous manor houses on his family’s vast estates. He’d created his own estate here, a kind of sign that he missed his former life. She drew in the refreshing scent of early morning in the islands. The sweet smell of honeysuckle growing up one of the veranda posts mixed with the many fragrant scents of other flowers she’d also never before seen the likes of. Here only a week and already she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She felt at home, truly at home for the first time in her life. But this wasn’t HER home. It was Hawke’s. While they’d both admitted to a strong attraction for one another, he’d never once mentioned anything permanent between them. A tear slipped from the corner of one eye. Their time together here had been almost magical, romantic. They’d not argued in days, a rarity for them. He’d taken her all over the small island and they’d made love in some of the most breathtaking places. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her; she couldn’t get enough of him. It was almost as if both knew their time together was limited. She curled her hands around the white wooden railing and another tear trickled down her cheek. She really knew so little about the man who led a life as a pirate; knew nothing about his former life as the powerful Duke of Buckingham, other than what gossip she’d heard from her father’s servants. But she sensed that he truly missed his English world and ached horribly at his best friend’s betrayal of him. Only once had Malcolm let slip his own anger about the incident. Hawke had certainly never mentioned anything about it. What kind of future could they have together if Hawke wouldn’t even trust her enough to discuss what had hurt him so? None, she decided and sniffled. “Malcolm and I have some business to discuss today,” Hawke said, strolling up behind her. He easily slid his arms around her and tried to draw her against him, but she resisted. “What have I done to displease you now, My Lady?” “What business?” she asked, wishing just once he would talk to her about more than how pretty she looked or how much he wanted her. Not that she didn’t like those things, but she wanted to share more with him than that. “A new sugar trade agreement,” he stated simply, sounding irritated that she was pressing him. Sabrina loosened her hold on the railing and gave a tiny smile. She’d seen the vast sugar fields surrounding Hawke’s house on her arrival, but he’d said no more in way of explanation than that he and his crew had planted it. Gretchen, though, had told her about the legitimate sugar 47

trading ventures all of them were involved with. This was his first tiny sharing of a part of his life beyond sailing the seas. He reached for her again and this time she let him. He rested his chin on top of her head for a second as if relieved to touch her in any manner she’d allow. “Do you want to come with me and visit with Gretchen?” She didn’t think she could deal with Gretchen’s bubbly attitude today. Gretchen was so madly in love with Malcolm and so content with her life that she wanted everyone to feel the same way. Especially she and Hawke. All Sabrina’s new friend could talk about was how perfect she and Hawke were together. How she’d never seen Hawke so content here on one of his island stays. Sabrina knew he WASN’T content, although he tried to put on a show of such for his friends, even for her. But she’d caught his worried expressions when he thought she wasn’t looking. She’d heard him leave their bed late at night and pace the veranda outside their room. No, he was far from content. “No. I’ll stay around here while you’re gone. Maybe I’ll sit out here and read one of your many books.” His library had surprised, and pleased, her. Books had always been her way of escaping the horrible life she’d been born into. He turned her in his arms, tipped up her chin to kiss her, but stopped when he saw the tear streaks. His brow pinched. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Her heart ached, but he’d never understand that. So she forced a smile. “I’m fine.” “I don’t like leaving you alone when you’re obviously upset about something. I’ll go tell Malcolm that we’ll have our talk tomorrow.” “I’m NOT upset!” When he cocked an eyebrow, she added, “Well, I’m becoming upset, with you. Can’t I even have a bit of an emotional day without you harping at me?” To her annoyance, he grinned. “Ah, so my sassy minx is finally back. I’ve missed her. Somewhat.” He gave her a pointed look and added, “As long as she doesn’t get too sassy, though I’ve a cure for such nonsense.” She bristled and pushed him away. “You seem to think a spanking solves everything.” “Not everything, but it does seem to calm you down when you start getting a little crazy. You’ve quite a temper, My Love, at times.” “Oh just go about your business! I’m in no mood for jousting with you. I simply want some time to myself.” At first she’d thought he would insist on staying with her, but then he blew out a deep frustrated breath and moved toward the balcony door. “Maybe it is best after all if I give you some time alone. Maybe we both need time apart. I’ll go tend to my business, but I’m not sure when I’ll be back. There’s the sugar agreement to deal with, and . . .” His voice trailed off, but she’d heard the worry behind the missing words. She curled her fingers and stomped her foot in disgust, snaring his attention. “And WHAT? Why can’t you tell me anything about your life here? Why must you keep every little thing to yourself?” His jaw had tightened and he appeared to be working hard to control his own temper. “You go too far.” “You consider it going TOO FAR to care about you? About what is troubling you? About what has you leaving our bed in the middle of the night and pacing the balcony? You think me too simple headed to understand more than how to lie down, spread my legs, and let you have your way with me?” She was in full fury now.

48

He marched back, spun her around and swatted her bottom, hard. Even through the layers of skirt and petticoat she felt it. Then he released her, glared down and snapped, “Don’t EVER say anything that degrading about yourself again! You mean much more to me than that and you know it.” She stepped back against the railing. “Do I really?” He looked ready to spank her again, more. Instead he bit out, “I don’t have time for settling you down. We’ll discuss this when I return.” With that he stormed through the open door and away from an argument he didn’t want to have at the moment. *** After two hours of building up a real snit about his refusing to tell her what he’d started to say after the sugar agreement mention, Sabrina needed to go walk off some of her annoyance. Angry with Hawke she decided to put on the breeches and shirt that he so disliked. What did it matter anyway? She felt pretty sure that he intended on spanking her later for something or other. It might as well be for wearing what she liked and he didn’t. When she left the house she didn’t know where to go. She didn’t want to go to the village and perhaps run into Gretchen. Nor did she want to chance running into that awful older woman, Marguerite, who always tipped her nose into the air around Sabrina. In truth Marguerite was right: Sabrina was no more than Hawke’s mistress. A fact that had really begun to bother her more of late. She took off for the other secluded port Hawke had shown her one day. The port where his family’s former trade galley was docked. Gretchen had told her it now carried their sugar cane on trade trips to America. *** Hawke stormed back and forth around the small space that was the Hawthorne Sugar Company’s office. Malcolm sat rigidly on the edge of a battered desk, every bit as angry, every bit as worried. “You’re sure it’s Wakely’s ship?” Hawke stopped to ask, his hands fisted at his sides. He’d gone immediately cold inside when Malcolm had told him about what he’d spotted on his latest trip to the secluded spot across the island. Wakely. The boy he’d grown up with and shared so much with. The man who had betrayed him and turned him into an outlaw. “I’m sure. Wakely himself was standing on deck.” Hawke leaned back against a wall as waves of defeat crashed over him. All these years banned from his homeland. All these years sailing the seas and hiding out. Over. Wakely had no doubt come under the Queen’s orders to bring him and his crew back to be hung as pirates. He couldn’t let it happen, not to his men anyway. He had nothing to live for, but they all had families. He would bargain his soul to the very devil himself in order to spare his mates. He straightened, determined. “He’ll only be taking me back.” “You’ll hang,” Malcolm said, fury lacing his tone. “We, none of us, will allow it. We’ll gut Wakely ourselves first. Every last one of his men as well.” “No.” Hawke’s answer was simple, yet held the strength of finality to it. “What about Lady Sabrina?” Malcolm pressed. Sabrina. Hawke’s heart twisted. He felt sick, sadder than ever before in his life. He’d come so close to finally starting over. With Sabrina. So wrong. All of this was so wrong.

49

“She’ll stay here with you. She can’t return to England and the man who doesn’t deserve to be called her father. You’ll take care of her. Promise me that,” Hawke insisted, looking his old friend steadily in the eye. “Promise me that.” Malcolm couldn’t speak, so he nodded. Hawke walked toward the door, put on a brave face for the man who would die for him if Hawke would only ask. “I’ll go to Wakely and strike a devil’s bargain. You keep the men here. I’m counting on you to do that for me.” “Grey—“ Malcolm called Hawke by his first name for the first time in years. “Hawke,” Hawke countered. “And you cannot change my mind. It’s time this was over.” Sabrina peered anxiously through the bushes at the strange ship docked alongside Hawke’s galley. When had the ship arrived? Why was it here? Her stomach knotted with fear. It wasn’t one of the Queen’s naval ships, but that didn’t mean it might not hold officers sent to capture Hawke and his men. Still, this seemed the coward’s way of capturing a pirate band. She stood up and anger raged through her. She couldn’t allow Hawke and the others to be taken by surprise. They deserved to at least go down fighting. And she’d join them in the fight. She’d brandish her own sword if need be. Footsteps crunched on the undergrowth behind her. Her heart pounded. Before she could even move an arm snaked around her and pulled her roughly against a well-muscled man. “Lady Sabrina I assume,” a deep voice said, sounding almost amused. She attempted to kick back at his shin, but he lifted her and shook her, surprising her. “Stop that! I mean you no harm.” He released her and Sabrina immediately spun to glare murderously at the man who towered above her. Thick, wavy blond hair worn long like Hawke’s was pulled back with a strip of leather, again like Hawke. His green gaze swept slowly from her bare feet to her face. She snarled at him, curling her lip as she’d seen one of the men do. He chuckled, actually chuckled. She launched herself at him. “I won’t let you harm Hawke! I’ll kill you myself first.” He easily caught her fisted hands and held her firmly in place. “I’ve not come all this way to harm Hawthorne.” Sabrina stilled, hesitant to believe him, but ever so hopeful. “Hard to believe, since you’ve sailed into a hidden port.” “If I’d sailed into the other port, he and his men would have blasted us out of the water. Before I had a chance to talk to my old friend.” Again he released her and she scampered back a few feet to thoroughly look him over. Oddly, she found that she trusted him. The only other men she’d ever trusted in her life were Hawke and Malcolm. Well, and a few others of the crew now that she’d gotten to know them better. Still, she didn’t trust easily. “You betrayed him somehow,” she accused. “He’s not told me, but I’ve overheard others speak of it.” The man’s shoulders sagged and a soul-deep sadness filled his eyes. “He was led to believe that, but it isn’t true. The story is a complicated one, My Lady.” “How do you know who I am?” she asked, finally remembering how he’d called her by name. She paled; her knees shook with dread. “Has my father sent you after me?” “No. The Queen sent me. For Hawthorne.” He gave her a look of understanding. “I’ve known about you since you stowed away on the Maiden Anne. You were far safer there than back at Clayborn, so I didn’t interfere.”

50

She blinked. “The Queen sent you.” Distrust edged into her tone. “For Hawke?” “As I said, it’s a complicated matter.” Even though he outweighed her by a good eighty or so pounds, she did not feel intimidated. “He’ll NOT go back to England to hang for piracy! I WON’T allow it! Do you understand me? I WON’T allow it.” He gave a crooked smile. “My friend has finally found him a woman worthy of him. You’ve no idea how pleased I am.” She wouldn’t be sidetracked by flattery. “Did you hear a word I said? He WON’T hang.” “No, he won’t. The Queen wants to restore his title, his lands, and his money. The real traitor has finally been dealt with.” A new sadness laced his voice. Sabrina just stood there, trying to take in what he’d said. If it were indeed true, Hawke could return to his home now. He could have his life back. She was happy for him. Yet, at the same time, she’d never felt more unhappy in her life. The man stepped toward her, but she backed away. “I won’t harm you. You just looked so forlorn, so lost.” “Because I am,” she admitted brokenly. She turned to run away, but he snagged her arm. “Let me go.” “I’m afraid I can’t. Until I’ve had a chance to talk to Hawthorne, I can’t let you go.” When she struggled within his hold, he explained, “He’s bound to come looking for me after he hears I’ve docked here. I don’t want him blowing up my ship and killing my men. You’re my bargaining chip for all our safety.” *** Hawke had told himself that he wouldn’t, but he stopped by his house anyway. He had to see Sabrina once more before his life was taken from him. He would like to make love to her one final time, but he didn’t think he had that much time. Wakely and his men would probably start scouring the island for him soon. Feet feeling leaden as he strode into his house, he quickly sensed its emptiness. When he spotted her dress tossed recklessly on the bed and saw the breeches missing from the wardrobe, he cursed. Trouble. The woman was up to more trouble. His gut warned him of that, and too often it had warned him rightly. Then he froze, paralyzed with fear. What if she’d run into Wakely? Oh God! He dug out his sharpest dagger and tucked it into the loop of his belt. He found his pistol. But before he took a step out of the house, he stopped and sent a prayer to God to keep Sabrina safe. He didn’t care what happened to him, but Sabrina must be safe. Malcolm and Cook stood at the bottom of his porch steps, both well armed and looking every bit the fearsome pirates. He glowered at them. “I told you NOT to come.” “Young Tommy came running back right after you left. Wakely has Sabrina,” Malcolm said grimly. Hawke reeled at the news. An instant later he bounded down the steps, “I’ll have his heart for dinner if he harms a hair on her sweet head.” “And I’ll have his gizzard,” Cook added, sounding angrier than Hawke had ever heard the man sound. They took off for the hidden cove at a run, no one talking. Hawke couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to. His every thought was of Sabrina and how she’d become his life. He’d never

51

regretted anything as much as he regretted not telling her how much he loved her, or how much he wished he’d been able to marry her. *** It seemed like she’d been a captive in the captain’s cabin for hours. She didn’t like it one bit. She’d listened to the man she now knew as Thomas Wakely, the Duke of Marlbourough, tell her most of the story about what had driven Hawke away from England. She’d heard the pain behind Wakely’s admission that he’d had to play a role in the situation because he worked for the Queen as a spy of sorts. She’d also heard the pride in his voice every time he spoke of how Hawke was not nearly the notorious pirate he’d been made out to be. What hurt her most—what would hurt Hawke, was that his own younger brother was the real villain behind it all. She prayed Hawke would come for her. She prayed he wouldn’t. What if he came just as Wakely feared he would and attempted to kill the crew and Wakely? They’d be forced to defend themselves, even if they were here on a peace mission in reality. Hawke would be killed. She couldn’t let that happen, which was why she’d finally agreed to Wakely’s plan. Just as she was re-thinking that agreement, the cabin door opened. Wakely stood there looking grim and yet accepting. “Hawthorne and two of his men have been spotted. They’ll be here soon.” Heart pounding, Sabrina stiffened her resolve and gathered her courage. She followed him up to the main deck. As they’d agreed, she stood in plain sight and he directly behind her. He was to point his pistol at her head in an attempt to lure Hawke without having him risk shooting Wakely. They hadn’t counted on a crazed seagull diving at a scrap of food left upon the deck near her feet. She dodged the bird, slipping, forcing Wakely to catch her to keep her from falling. That was precisely the minute Hawke spotted Sabrina. On the middle of the main deck, with Wakely’s arms wrapped around her. She smiled up at him and whispered something. He went cold inside. Her apparent betrayal was like a knife to his gut. Malcolm and Cook witnessed the seemingly intimate scene as well and froze beside their captain. Their momentary shock cost them all dearly. Within seconds Wakely’s men surrounded them. They were each stripped of their weapons and nudged toward the beach. Cook started to put up a fight. “No! No, do not cause trouble,” Hawke ordered brusquely. “I promise you whatever happens this day, you will go free.” He glared murderously toward Sabrina, who was no longer within Wakely’s embrace. “And I will see to it that Sabrina pays harshly for her part in our capture.” *** Bare minutes later Hawke, followed by his men, climbed a rope ladder to the main deck of a galley equally as large and well maintained as his own galley berthed nearby. For the first time in five years, he faced a man who’d once been closer to him than anyone in the world. Someone he’d called friend, never thought to call enemy. Wakely met Hawke’s eyes, nodded at Sabrina. “She was never in any danger from me, old friend. She was merely bait to get you here.” Hawke could hardly stand to look at Sabrina. He hurt worse than if Wakely had taken his sword to him and sliced him to ribbons. Fury raged through him, flamed at the love he’d foolishly felt for her.

52

“No, Hawke,” she said, sensing his growing hatred. “I did not betray you, no matter what you think you saw only moments ago. Nor did Wakely betray you.” All he could see was Wakely’s arms around her, and the way she’d smiled up at him. “I loved you,” he spit out. “I wanted you with me forever.” She looked like he’d slapped her. The color fled from her face and Wakely stepped toward her. She held him at bay with a trembling hand, but faced Hawke. “I loved you, too.” She drew in a deep breath, her color quickly returning. “If you can so easily think I’d betray you after what we’ve been through together, then I love you no more.” “I find you held within the arms of the man who cost me all that I was. A FRIEND who has clearly spent much time and energy tracking me to my homeport,” he challenged, anger and pain making his voice harsh, cutting. “You smiled at him, whispered soft words to your-your LOVER. You’ve probably be in cahoots with him the entire time you stowed away on my ship, lured me to your bed.” Malcolm made an attempt to calm him. “I think you might be wrong, Captain. Give the lass a chance—“ Hawke shot Malcolm a look that silenced him. God, how he wished he were wrong. He loved her so bloody much. But he’d trusted in the wrong people before, which had led him to this wretched life as a sailor forced to sail the seas the rest of his days. Never to have a home. Never to have a family. “Your first mate is right, Hawthorne,” Wakely interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve never laid eyes on this rare woman until this day. And she is most certainly NOT my lover.” Hawke remained stiff, aching, beginning to wonder if just maybe he’d over-reacted. He’d never in his life felt such jealousy. But never in his life had he loved anyone so deeply. He looked to Sabrina, really looked this time. And he saw the tears that glistened in her wondrous eyes. In the next instant, she held out her hand to Wakely. “Give me your pistol. I’m going to shoot the black-hearted devil myself.”

53

Chapter 7 Wakely blinked in surprise, and then amusement sparked in his eyes as he looked to Hawke. “You’re going to have to do some serious making up, Hawthorne.” Hawke saw nothing funny in the situation. “I know not what to believe, whom or what to trust anymore.” “Trust? Well, trust that I’m going to shoot off a part of you that you’ll bloody well miss!” Sabrina reached again for the pistol. Wakely moved the weapon well beyond her reach. “Afraid I can’t let you unman my friend, Lady Sabrina.” “Sabrina—“ Hawke said, stepping her direction. She bristled and he stopped. Clearly still irritated with him, she darted her gaze toward Malcolm, who appeared to be struggling to keep from chuckling. “Your knife. Give me your knife so I can cut the rock that should be a heart out of his rotten chest.” “Luckily for my captain, they’ve taken me weapons, lass.” Thoroughly upset now, she flew into fine temper and started to hurl herself at Hawke with her trembling hands outstretched to do battle. Wakely snared her around the waist and held her back, grinning as he said, “She’s a fiesty one.” By now Hawke fully understood what an idiot he had been, at least about Sabrina. While he accepted the realization, Wakely gave a nod to his men and they lowered their weapons and took off. He, Malcolm and Cook, outnumbered Wakely, yet the man didn’t appear to care. His gut relaxed. Wakely was no fool. Maybe, just maybe he’d misjudged his friend all these years. He remained cautious, but shifted his focus to his wild-eyed love. There would be hell to pay later for what he’d accused her of. For now all he could do was say, “Sabrina, calm down.” She wriggled in Wakely’s grasp. “Don’t you DARE tell me to calm down! Don’t you say ANYTHING at all to me!” He gave up reasoning with her for the moment. “Wakely, I’ve a feeling you’re after more than taking me and my men back to hang for piracy.” Wakely continued holding Sabrina, although she had stopped fighting him. “I’ve come at the Queen’s request to bring you home.” He let the statement sink in, then added, “You’re to have your title, your estates, and your wealth restored. Your men are to be pardoned as well.” “Pardoned?” Cook questioned, sounding shocked. Hawke frowned, although hope blossomed within him. “I’ve a hard time believing everything could be over so easily.” “There’s been nothing EASY about it. I’ve worked hard all these years to clear you and find a way to make it right again.” When Hawke didn’t respond quickly enough, Sabrina snapped, “Didn’t you hear him? It’s over. Your days of being forced to sail the seas and hide out are over. You can return to your real life.” As much as he desperately wanted to believe the other man, Hawke well remembered the lies Wakely had told in the past. “Could be a trap. Another trap.” “Aye, I’m having trouble trusting him, too,” Cook said. “Sounds a mite too good.” “Lord, but you’re a stubborn bunch,” Wakely gritted out. “I’ve let my own men leave me outnumbered. I’m showing you MY trust, Hawthorne. At least try to meet me halfway and let me explain.” 54

Hawke remained silent, weighing what he’d known—or thought he’d known—in the past against what was at stake for the future. He caught Malcolm’s slight nod, a sign he thought Hawke should hear Wakely out. Again, Sabrina interfered, having lost her patience. “It wasn’t your friend who betrayed you. It was your brother!” Hawke gaped at her, and then at Wakely. He couldn’t seem to breathe. “Devon?” he finally gasped. “Devon set me up?” Wakely released Sabrina and gave her an irritated look. She had the grace to look ashamed for having blurted out the truth so bluntly. “I’d wanted to sit down with you and carefully explain it all.” He glanced at Malcolm and Cook. “You two are free to go. No harm will come to your captain, nor to his Lady. I promise you that.” Malcolm and Cook didn’t so much as move a muscle. Hawke understood their loyalty to him, but he waved them away. “Even if harm comes to me, I would have you go free. Leave us.” “Sabrina—“ Malcolm protested in concern, clearly unwilling to leave her behind. “Ah, yes, Sabrina.” Hawke dealt with the problem by striding to her, grabbing her arm, and dragging her to Malcolm. “She goes with you.” He was more than pleased that Wakely hadn’t tried to stop him. Sabrina dug in her bare feet. “I don’t want to go!” Malcolm simply scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder. “You’ve no choice, lass.” The last Hawke saw of her, the love of his life was calling him every rotten name she could think of. He couldn’t help smiling. Wakely caught his grin and chuckled. “You’ve got your hands full with that one.” Although he was still uncertain of many things, Hawke said the one thing he was sure of. “You’ve never said truer words, but I love every aggravating minute with her.” They eyed each other for a minute before Wakely finally said, “Let’s go share a brandy and get this mess settled between us once and for all.” *** Sabrina hadn’t spoken a word since being forced to leave Hawke behind with a man she prayed she could actually trust. Malcolm had tried to reassure her that he and the others fully intended to stay close by in case Hawke needed them. If Wakely would go back on his word and hurt Hawke in any manner, they would kill him. Kill them all. Even though she knew that he meant his vow, it didn’t make her feel better. She walked dejectedly away from the beach without even looking back toward the ship. With all her heart, she hoped Hawke would have his rightful position and reputation returned to him along with his title and lands. She’d heard many comments over the years about the powerful Duke of Buckingham who supported a number of convents that cared for orphans. Nobody understood why he would do so. Many had believed he could spend his money on much more worthy things. It had been those tales of his generous deeds that had warmed her on days when her life had held only misery. She’d chosen to ignore the gossip about his womanizing and gambling. None of that mattered, in her opinion, only the good things he did for others mattered. When she’d first discovered that Hawke was that very Duke, she’d felt like a special part of her dreams had shattered. For how could a kind and generous Duke ever turn into a notorious pirate?

55

Then she’d learned the truth about her pirate: no matter the cruelties done to him, he WAS that kind and generous Duke at heart. He would return to England, she was sure of it. The world he’d made for himself and his crew here didn’t mean that much to him. Knowing him, he would probably leave the sugar trade business to Malcolm and any of the men who wished to remain here. She suspected that they all would. This had become their home, a place where they truly fit. But Hawke didn’t fit here. He belonged in the elegant drawing rooms and ballrooms of the peers of the realm. With this new notoriety added to his reputation, he would be heavily in demand at every fashionable party. That was the way their society worked. She stumbled over a fallen branch, crumpled to the ground and sat there burdened with misery. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her heart ached terribly. He belonged and she didn’t, at least she didn’t belong with him. She was too far beneath him to ever be considered worthy of marrying a man of his level. She’d been kept in seclusion all her life. She knew nothing of the finer ways, or what could be said and what couldn’t. With her temper and her tendency to get into trouble, she’d only be an embarrassment to a man such as him. He would have much to overcome as it was once he returned home. She would be nothing but a burden. And if she merely returned to England with he and Wakely, her father would marry her off to that awful Lord Percius Preston. After he beat her to within an inch of her life for daring to run away from him. While Hawke’s life now held hope, hers did not. She struggled to stand. She’d stowed away once before, she could do so again. First, though, she had to leave a letter of explanation behind for Hawke. He deserved at least that much for saving her life. But she needed to hurry. She’d heard one of the men say that the Hawthorne galley would sail at sunup for America with another load of sugar. She would be on that galley. *** It had taken several hours for Wakely to explain all the details of how Devon had betrayed Hawke. It had taken nearly a bottle of brandy for Hawke to accept how much his younger brother had despised him and wanted the Hawthorne wealth and power himself. Evidently he’d thought if he framed Hawke for theft of some very valuable jewels and made him flee—which he had, that everything would be turned over to him. It hadn’t worked out that way. So Devon had become more enraged and vowed to forever destroy his older brother. He’d set out to turn Hawke’s minor thefts from ruthlessly evil sea captains into true tales of piracy. Devon hadn’t counted on Wakely discovering the secret so quickly and plotting with the Queen to find enough evidence to bring him to trial. Only he’d never stood trial. In an enraged battle with his guards, he’d killed two and then taken his own life. Hawke looked back at Wakely’s ship and his true friend standing on deck watching him. He owed the man much. But he owed Sabrina more. He owed her the truth of his feelings for her, of his need to have her in his life. He’d hurt her today and he regretted it with everything in him. With the moonlight to guide him to the line of palms guarding the beach, he strode quickly through the trees and toward his future. He desperately needed to hold her, to kiss her, to make love to her. At the same time, he also needed to give her a sound spanking for going anywhere near that secret cove. What if she’d been found by one of the other far rougher captains that frequented that spot? He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to her. His heart hammered in his chest as he moved beyond the trees and toward his house. Even in the dim light he could see all of the veranda and the balcony above. Empty.

56

Disappointment curled inside him. He’d hoped to find her waiting for him, even if it were only to rage in fury at him some more. The second he stepped into the entryway where a lantern burned on a side table, he sensed the emptiness of the house. It was too quiet. Weariness weighed heavily upon him as he noticed a folded piece of parchment near the lamp. He didn’t want to look at it, fearing it would say words he didn’t want to read. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt certain that she’d decided to leave him because he’d hurt her so badly today. He couldn’t let her leave him, though. She belonged with him, and he with her. Resigned, he quickly read the note, and then crumpled it and tossed the parchment back on the table. He turned to head out the door once more, go back into the night to find Sabrina. It occurred to him that she might be planning on sneaking away on his galley, which was set to sail with the morning tide. She could be such a trial to him sometimes. Yet he couldn’t imagine life without her. Hawke had taken no more than a few steps when he heard her familiar voice raised in anger as she cursed like a drunken sailor at someone. He relaxed, waiting. Someone had saved him the chore of finding her. Wakely emerged from the trees with a furious Sabrina trying desperately to jerk her arm free of his grip. He was having none of her nonsense and tugged her along with him. When she caught sight of Hawke, she tried even harder to get free. “You’ve no right to force me back here!” Hawke met them halfway. “It appears I owe you once again.” “I spotted her heading for your galley not long after you left,” Wakely explained as he yanked her forward and basically pitched her at Hawke. “I figured you didn’t want her stowing away on another ship.” “I wasn’t going to stow away,” she blustered, squirming within Hawke’s firm hold. He snorted. “You know I don’t tolerate lies, My Lady. You know what happens.” Catching the warning in his tone, she stilled. Then her temper got the best of her and she snapped, “Fine. I was going to sneak aboard. Are you happy now that I told you the truth?” He bent his head to whisper a promise she wouldn’t like to hear. “You’ll find out soon enough how UNHAPPY I am with your behavior. Just as you’ll learn how angry I am after reading your note.” “I’ve a feeling your life will never be dull with Sabrina as your duchess,” Wakely said in amusement as they both looked at him. “’Tis a massive understatement. I’ve not had a dull day since we discovered her hiding aboard the Maiden Anne. I only hope I’m up to the daunting task of contending with her for many a year ahead.” Hawke kissed the top of her head, and then nudged her toward the house. “Wait for me inside. I’ll soon join you to deal with you properly.” Sabrina didn’t like being ordered away like a disobedient child to await punishment for a misdeed. She particularly didn’t like that Wakely clearly understood and approved of Hawke’s intentions. “Men, every one of you are truly odious creatures!” she blustered and refused to move. “Why should I obey you anyway, after the horrible things you said to me earlier? Besides, I’ve decided to leave and you cannot stop me.” “Ah, but I can . . . and I will,” Hawke countered. She huffed, narrowed her eyes. “You’ll keep me prisoner, just as I was onboard the Maiden Anne? I don’t think so!”

57

Hawke was losing his own patience now. The day had been long, wearing. Both he and Sabrina had been through much, and he knew from experience that the more tired she got the harder it was to reason with her. She needed reining in. “Sabrina, we need to talk. Please wait for me inside.” Please? He NEVER used that word, especially when punishment or a sound lecture was eminent. He’d even sounded tender, although irritated. She didn’t know what to do. She’d already worked through the problems between them. Yet she still had this love for him so deep inside her, always would she feared. She just didn’t know what to do. Hawke evidently had grown tired of her lack of response or obedience for he landed a hand squarely on her bottom. “Inside. Now,” he said briskly. Her hands flew to cover her buttocks, even if the swat hadn’t hurt in the least. It had stung her pride, though. “How dare you spank me in front of your friend!” she hissed. Wakely chuckled and then turned to leave. “I think you two need some time alone just now. Perhaps I’ll return tomorrow to learn more about your sugar business, Hawthorne. It intrigues me.” Hawke stepped next to Sabrina, settled his large hand on one shoulder to hold her in place. His gaze locked with hers and he said, “Come prepared to perform a wedding. I’ll not go a day longer without making this minx my wife.” “Wedding?” Sabrina questioned, shocked, still annoyed with the swat she’d received in front of Wakely. “Why would you even think I’d agree to marry you?” “Because you love me. Because I’m the only man you’ll ever meet who is strong enough to keep you in hand, to spank you soundly when necessary.” She watched Wakely disappear into the bushes and felt grateful he hadn’t heard Hawke’s last remark. “I can accept an occasional trip over my husband’s knee. But I cannot accept a husband who does not love me with all his heart, who does not trust me.” Hawke gently touched the side of her face. “I’ll regret what I said to you earlier until my dying day, My Lady. I do trust you. And I do love you.” Sabrina closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hand and the tenderness given. It was hard to resist him, hard not to give in to what she wanted so badly. “But I’m beneath you, Your Lordship. Your peers will never accept me. I’d be an embarrassment to you.” “I care not what my peers think. I never have. What I want is to have you beneath me, above me, in front of me . . . anyway I can have you now and forever.” He grinned at her cockily and pulled her against him. She felt his hardness and was pleased to be the cause of it. She gave a slight move, enough to have him sucking in a breath. “You’re shameful, my beloved pirate. But you must truly think with more than just your cock.” He gripped her bottom, held her tight to him. “Cock? Such a crude word from you, My Lady. You’ve done nothing but curse me most of the day. You’ve much to answer for.” She arched into him and he groaned. “Perhaps you need to prove you’re truly worthy of being my husband.” “By giving you a trip over my knee and warming your bottom? Aye, you have earned a spanking many times over today.” He kneaded her buttocks. “If you believe it absolutely necessary, I suppose. But I was referring to you showing me just how much you love me in a much more pleasurable manner.” Her heart raced as he continued rubbing his hardened cock against her and caressing her bottom at the same time. “Ahhhh, My Lord, please . . .”

58

A few minutes later Hawke led Sabrina into the bedroom, quickly lighting several candles. She flitted nervously around the room, smoothing the quilt on the bed. So much had suddenly changed in their lives. She was uncertain of so many things. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, My Love. We’ve done this many times already.” She glanced from the bed to him and smiled. “Yes, we have, and I’m anxious to do so now.” When she started to remove her shirt, he stopped her with firm words. “The shirt can stay on for now, ‘tis the breeches that need come off.” “You’re really going to spank me?” Her hands stilled. There was a sadness, a determination in his gaze. “Yes. You’ll sleep tonight with a warm bottom, as well as much contentment after I make love with you.” Sabrina had told him the truth when she’d said she would accept the occasional spanking from her chosen mate. With Hawke as her husband, she would face more than just a spanking with his hand sometimes. He’d already taught her as much. He could be stern and almost harsh at times. Did she really want that the rest of her life? She looked at him, knowing he intended to burn her bottom, knowing he would love her well afterward. She sighed, accepting him completely. She stood still as he moved to her and pulled her breeches down and then off. He raised an eyebrow at finding her bare beneath them. Then, as her stomach fluttered with nerves, he sat on the side of the low bed and tugged her across his hard thighs. She braced her hands, tried to unclench her buttocks, and waited. The position was all too familiar and she knew what to expect. He didn’t keep her waiting long. She sucked in a breath when she sensed his hand going up, and then the first swat landed across both cheeks. It was soon followed by another and another. Her pirate definitely knew how to give a spanking to be remembered. She squeezed her eyes shut, not at all surprised that the spanks landed firmly, quickly. Too quickly for them to settle in, but she knew she would feel each and every one later. He didn’t even slow down enough to take the time to explain the reason for the punishment this time, but she already knew it. She preferred not to listen to an explanation or a lecture anyway. As the fire built during a spanking, she had enough to concentrate on: not crying out and just enduring until he was satisfied she’d well learned a lesson. This time was no different. She had much to withstand. His hand fell steadily and stinging swats landed over every inch of her poor behind. She hissed between her gritted teeth; forced herself to remain as still as possible, which was quickly becoming difficult. He began focusing on her lower cheeks. Her breathing quickened and she nearly bit her tongue in two. He’d been right, she would sleep with a warm bottom tonight. A very, very warm bottom it appeared. Finally she couldn’t lie still. Finally she couldn’t remain quiet. She arched deep into his lap and moaned out her misery, “Ooooohhhhh.” The spanking continued as if he hadn’t heard her. She thrust her legs out stiffly, and then curled her toes and gasped, “Ooooooooooo. Oooooowwww. Oooohhhhh. Sorry. So sorry.” Still, the spanking went on as if he waited for just the right time to end it, to hear the right sound from her, to feel the right emotional display. Well, she was ready! She pounded the floor with her fists, tried to wriggle away from the hand torturing her blazing bottom. “Ssssttooppp. Oh please. Ooooo pleeeze stop!”

59

The hand that had so firmly punished lay gently atop the hot cheeks. “It’s over now, My Love. You’ve been well and truly spanked.” Struggling to regain normal breathing, Sabrina lie limply, painfully over his knee. She sniffled. “Yes, My Lord, truly spanked.” His hand started smoothing, stroking. “Such a red bottom. A well-spanked, red bottom.” He trailed a finger between her cheeks and in spite of the pain throbbing at her she trembled at the light teasing touch. “So hot. A red hot bottom.” “Spanked for being naughty,” she gasped, feeling heat building now inside her as that magical finger continued playing. He tucked her close to his body and she felt him growing beside her hip. He slid his hand down farther between her legs, found the tiny bud that was so sensitive and thumbed it slowly, gently. “Naughty, yes, disobedient, too. You needed to be spanked.” A finger, then two slipped inside her. He moved them slowly in and out. She squeezed her inner muscles around them, growing frantic now. “Ooooohhh yes! Bad, so bad. Had to be spanked.” At this point she would agree to anything, as long as he continued what he was doing. “Uuuummmmm. Yes!.” Hawke stared down at the woman draped over his knee, bottom bare and red. He watched his fingers move in and out of her, saw her juices coating them. He could smell her musky arousal. He loved how responsive she was, loved making her respond. He worked his fingers some more until she trembled and moaned. He’d punished her well and she’d taken it well. Now he was making up with her, showing her how much he loved her. He twisted his fingers, thumbed the sensitive bud again. She was desperate with need now, as was he. Yet he so enjoyed looking at her shapely, creamy buttocks turned red and hot by his hard hand as she lie over his lap. He thrust his fingers deep one final time. She cried out, shoved back to ensure they went deeper. His cock pulsed; his heart pounded. Time. Nearly time. “’Tis a very red bottom you have now. A very sore bottom, I suspect,” he said huskily. “Spanked soundly. Ooooohhhh.” She shuddered, locked hard around his fingers. “Sore bottom. Yes. Oooooooooooo.” That was all he could endure. Hawke pulled his fingers free, helped her stand, and listened to her soft gasp of pain as the shirt fell over her punished bottom. He turned her to stand bent over the edge of the bed with her hands braced on the feather mattress. She went obediently, anxious. He shoved the shirt high on her back to ease both some of her misery and to give him the view once more of her reddened bottom. His hot-tempered, sassy woman now stood there well punished and waited in complete submission. “You needed to be spanked. Need to be taken now, don’t you?” “Yes, I needed you to spank me. Spank me hard enough to learn my lesson.” Her bottom cheeks quivered and her breathing was fast, ragged. “I need, I need you to thrust into me. Deep. Hard.” In an instant Hawke had shucked his trousers. As he moved closer, she spread her legs apart, lowered her head, her long hair draping around her. She lifted her buttocks high in invitation. His pulse raced as he leaned down to kiss one hot cheek and then the other. Suddenly remembering again how much she’d scared him, he said, “You foolishly risked your life by going to that secret cove.” He raised his hand and planted another half dozen biting swats. She arched her head up and cried out, “Hawke! Noooooo, please. Oh, no.”

60

His fear passed and he gentled her down again, tipping her head toward the mattress. He held the sides of her hips and guided himself between her hot cheeks toward her swollen lower lips. In one quick thrust he drove deep and held still as he struggled for control, as she moaned in urgent need. When neither could withstand the wait any longer, he pounded into her over and over. She met each stroke in desperation, but kept her head lowered, moaning. He was in charge; she allowed him to be in charge. And when the time came, they burst free into mindless pleasure together. *** It was a much calmer, much more content Sabrina who stood before Wakely, his crew and Hawke’s men the next morning on the deck of the Maiden Anne. She wore a borrowed dress from Gretchen, a sore bottom from the night before, and a smile of pure happiness. She’d just been asked if she would indeed marry the tall, dark and dangerous pirate Duke beside her. Sabrina looked at him, studied him. Hawke’s legs were long, muscled, and very hard when she was bent over his lap. His hands were large, firm, and capable of lighting quite a fire on a bare bottom. They were capable of creating another, much sweeter fire as well. Yet his tender heart and the love that shown in his eyes for her were what had her saying, “Yes. I will love, honor, and obey this man.” Hawke winked at Sabrina, well remembering their night together. His beautiful bride had a temper that ignited easily, a willful nature that often led her into trouble. He could only imagine how many times she would try his patience once they returned to England. She would have him gray before his time. But he would enjoy loving and taming her for the rest of his life. He let his gaze shift to her skirt-covered bottom, making sure she followed it. Then he leaned close to her and whispered so only she would hear, “Obey? I’ll hold you to that vow, My Love. See that it’s proven true.” As her cheeks flamed, he grinned and straightened to boldly say, “I will much love, well honor, and treasure this woman for the rest of my days.”

61

Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us! There are plenty more stories such as the one you’ve purchased from Blushing Books! Visit our online store to view our mighty selection! http://www.blushingbooks.com This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

62