Stealing a Bit of Heaven Amber Carlton (c) 2005 ISBN 1-59578-094-7
Stealing a Bit of Heaven Amber Carlton Published 2005 ISBN 1-59578-094-7 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2005, Amber Carlton. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com Email:
[email protected] Cover Art by David Burton This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Dedication To Mike, who said, “Stop waiting for your life to start.” To Matt, who said, “Do we tell people you write porn now?” Kids say the darndest things.
Chapter 1 Jamestown Virginia Colony 1646 “What in bloody hell did I do to deserve this?” As he descended the gangplank, Rafe Logan’s foul mood turned downright nasty. The voyage had already severely strained every ounce of patience and tolerance he had in his limited arsenal. Though his generous purse had afforded him a modicum of privacy, it had not been nearly enough, and another day confined on board with this sniveling lot of lethargic cattle would have resulted in death to something. Man, woman, child. It made no difference to him. Something would have died. He could not have imagined a more hellish journey, yet leaving the ship suddenly seemed worse. Staring at the pristine wilderness that surrounded him now did nothing to improve his temper. As his boots struck the wooden planks, his own weariness and ambivalence trailed behind him, each one measured in his reluctant footfalls. The knocks echoed like the pace of a doomed man ascending the gallows and drilled into his head with the force of a nail pounded into a coffin. That sound alone made him wonder what had possessed him to do this. What the hell are you doing here, Logan? You shoulda let it go. You shouldna have let pride overrule pragmatism. ‘Tis only money and you’ve been swindled before. You shouldna have come to the other side of a fucking ocean to prove no one scams Rafe Logan. He had traveled across a grueling monotony of sea and sky, surrounded by filth and disease, but now the end of the journey had come and Rafe found there were indeed worse things than endless mind-numbing boredom, the stink of unwashed bodies and the foul tastes of brackish water and spoiled meat. He had been hurled into the depths of hell and hell was deceptively pretty. After seven weeks, the ship had mercifully left the tedium of the ocean swells behind and traveled up a river. This continent was a teeming expanse of forests, marshes and scrub. Waterways of all shapes and conditions wound pathways through a hellish maze of natural landscape that stunned him and shattered his view of what the world should be. He didn’t think he could take it. They had finally reached their destination and landed on some island in an uncivilized pocket of earth. There could not be a more barbaric, isolated plot of land on the globe. He felt like he had dropped into some kind of primitive yesteryear. Everything was familiar yet so strange. Rafe was afraid to move, afraid to speak. He could not have been more confused or uncertain and those feelings shook his usual composure. That the sight of a tree could paralyze him scared the piss out of him and there were unfettered animals roaming the landscape, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
The quaint little village and its smiling denizens were more unsettling than the tidal wave of degraded humanity that surged through the narrow streets of London. The immensity of the forest and the wide expanse of the rushing river seemed absurd after living in the opulence of his sprawling house on the banks of the filthy Thames. The clear and open sky above was more disconcerting than the dirt and grit that hovered in every breath he had taken in the congested city and the people … Christ, the people. The idea of dealing with people of this caliber shot a bolt of fear through him. After spending his entire adult life surrounded by the thieves, whores and derelicts of Southwark, these people appeared to be farmers, tradesmen and goodwives. He had little experience dealing with decency. This place would drive him mad. It might even kill him. And if he was going to die he planned to take Michael with him. He had chosen to leave his chaotic, boisterous and reasonably sane life. If he felt so disoriented, what must the others feel? There were scores on the ship that had been plucked from their lives and forced to come here. They had collectively been thrust into some kind of primeval paradise. The vibrancy of the colors hurt his eyes. He had never seen so much green in his entire life. The bite of the crisp autumn air assaulted his nostrils and stole his breath. As the soothing sounds of the water lapping against the ship’s hull and the shrill cry of birds diving and swooping through the crystal sky wound into his head, he wished for deafness, anything to escape the God awful incongruity of the place. It was too unspoiled, too bright, too strange. Too perfect. “Christ,” he muttered. “I’ll never survive here.” Rafe hovered at the edge of the dock knowing that the carriage and demeanor he displayed would never betray either his wonder or his aversion to this brave new world. He was well dressed, self-possessed and thoroughly feigning the stern blasé expression he knew he wore. He was a man well trained to disguise his emotions, but as his eyes roamed across the immensity and grandeur of the landscape and the charming uncluttered village, he had to concentrate to keep his jaw from literally dropping open. Avoiding any contact with his fellow travelers disembarking from the Lioness and the local rabble surrounding him, Rafe glanced around the tidy village and realized the entertainment options available were limited and he had unknowingly become part of an interesting diversion. It seemed as though everyone in this miserable little colony had come to view the arrival of the ships. There was not a stage in evidence, but he was a player nonetheless, part of a spectacle, an unfolding drama eagerly watched by a captive audience. The final act had not yet been written but these playgoers seemed not to care. They would devour as many scenes as they could before their mundane lives snatched them away. This was as close to purgatory as earth allowed and he had willingly consigned himself to its judgment. The longer he stood on the dock questioning his rash decision, the more irritated he became with both himself and the world. Each nod of a passing stranger made his jaw lock tight with the strain of acknowledgement. Each time someone gave him a curious glance, Rafe’s fists clenched convulsively. When someone succumbed to an impulsive urge to actually stare, Rafe snarled and told them to fuck off. And for the first time in his life, the women were making him uncomfortable. There was a bold manner about them he found very unnerving. Even a waterfront whore dared not stare at him with such speculation. Touch maybe, but stare… Staring was something he wouldn’t tolerate.
A gaggle of fashionable ladies was drifting down the dock, coming closer and closer to where he stood. Good looking women all, probably in their thirties, the wives of decent men, mothers to passels of roving brats, ladies of this curiously primitive Jamestown society. They were whispering to one another, their eyes brazenly sweeping across him with an astonishing impudence. Rafe Logan had no doubts about his appeal. He’d discovered early that a countenance like his did not escape attention. Something about the hard planes of his face, the dusky radiance of his skin and the lush generosity of his mouth lured women toward him with some sort of hypnotic fascination. They could not seem to resist skimming their fingers across his cheekbones, cupping his cheek in the palm of their hands, grazing their nails across his lips. He’d had so many strange women touch his face it became second nature as a child to tip his head to accept their questing fingers. Women seemed enchanted by the cleft of his chin, the rough stubble on his jaw. They were especially captivated by the dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled, a rare occurrence but something he’d learned could work in his favor. He had discovered at thirteen he could get a woman to lift her skirt in an alley merely by touching her face and offering a smile. He took advantage of that little trick more often than he cared to admit. But if they were entranced by the sight of his face, it was nothing next to the lusty heat a woman exuded when she caught a glimpse of his flesh. A body like his seemed to be exactly what every female yearned for. Stripping off his shirt in the presence of a woman could get him laid before his heart beat a measure of ten beats. A sudden fire would come into their eyes and, though they seemed unaware of it, it was unmistakable. Eyes of all colors would darken with need and blaze with a carnal hunger, a primal urge to bend down, to spread, to open, to accept his cock. That look was quickly followed by the urge to touch and hands would roam across the wide expanse of his shoulders, drift with tight fingers down his chest to lock on his hips. Once they raised their eyes back to his, they would be lost. They would drag his body against theirs and he would claim the hunger. He took full advantage of this power as well because in Rafe’s view of the world, a man should make full use of every asset in his arsenal. He’d not yet had a woman deny him because once they saw his shoulders, his chest, and the dark fur that spread down his torso to his groin, they were undone. He’d fucked a great many women with his pants around his knees because they’d not given him enough time to undress. Not that he minded because he wasn’t much interested in the talking and cuddling that a lot of women seemed to want. When all they wanted was the feel of his cock sliding into them and the rhythm of his groin against their ass, so much the better. Once they had a taste of it, they always wanted more. He’d not studied every man in Southwark but it was fairly obvious that most men were not hung like him. His cock was pretty popular around the Thames. He’d had women draw him into a dark corner for just a glimpse. Of course looking always led to touching, touching to tasting. Women whose names he didn’t know would drop to their knees and suck him dry. He took what they offered. He was never one to turn down a gift. So Rafe knew how he looked to these women. They might want a night of hot steamy fornication; they might want a quick fuck. Every woman was different. But all five of these women wanted him. He wasn’t surprised. For nearly twenty years he’d been fucking anything with a pussy, and he wondered why they always came back for more.
He made no promises, offered no hope of a more permanent relationship and never invited a woman to his bed. Well, once he had, but that had been the biggest mistake of his life and he’d learned from it. All his fucks were good. He knew it. He took his women deep and he took them hard. That seemed to be the way they liked it. They wanted every inch of him buried so far into their bodies they couldn’t move and he had quite a few inches. He’d heard enough moans, groans, whimpers, cries and downright screams to know he was good, but why they let him ball them until their juices stopped flowing, repeatedly, consistently, without any words of affection, he couldn’t understand. If he remembered their names later he was lucky. He’d taken women against walls, on the floor, in the dirt, in alleys, in parlors, in the park, standing, sitting, kneeling, from the front, the side, the back. He’d screwed asses, pussies, mouths and hands. He supposed it didn’t matter because he sought it out like a narcotic. The scent of a woman’s skin, the smell of her cream, the feel of a hard nipple in his mouth was something he seemed unable to live without. Like food, water, air. So many women had tasted his dick, touched his flesh, and licked his skin that at times he felt like his body barely belonged to him anymore. But his mouth belonged to him. Not that he wouldn’t share because he was a giving man in the heat of passion. He would lick their pussies, run his tongue along their flesh, take their breasts into his mouth, lock his lips onto a clit that quivered and throbbed against him. But he’d never kiss them. He’d only kissed one woman in his life and he’d paid the price for that. He’d not to do it again. The chattering women were closer now, clearly discussing his attributes and, though he generally wouldn’t mind, they were starting to get on his nerves. Despite their goodwife appearance, he could make them undress right here if he wanted to. He could entice that one with strands of dark brown hair peeking from her bonnet to literally pull the breeches from his legs and take his cock in her mouth. He knew it. He could see it in the way her eyes drifted between his legs. He couldn’t disguise what he had in his breeches. Even flaccid it took up a lot of room and when it started to swell—well, it was starting to swell a little now to be honest—there was not much room for movement. He could take the arm of that one with the brown hair and offer her one of his smiles. She would go with him down behind that little shack. He could press her hands against the side of the building and ram his cock into her from behind. A couple of quick pumps and he could get rid of the grinding, nagging ache in his groin. A couple of fucks on the ship with the best looking woman he could find hadn’t really satisfied him. Of course it took a lot to satisfy him but that little wench with the brown hair might just do it. He could appease the ache by spilling a little seed. Damn, just thinking about it made him swell, but he was hungry, tired and kind of wanted to clean up a little before he fucked someone in this new world. He would wait for just the right one. Taking another man’s wife before he was settled might not be such a good idea. He decided if he wasn’t going to fuck one of them, he didn’t want them staring at him like he was on the auction block. He could practically smell their juices from where he stood. They were creaming themselves just thinking about him and tonight in their marital beds their husbands were going to have the fuck of their lives. He was glad to be of service to the men of Virginia, but he’d had enough of their vicarious orgasms. If he wasn’t having one of his own, they weren’t using him for their little pleasure games.
He lifted the hat from his head and bowed with a flourish. When that only drew them a step closer—damn he shouldn’t have encouraged them—he turned in a circle, holding his arms out to his sides and gave them his most wicked smile. Too late he realized that was another mistake. “Feel free to inspect the merchandise, ladies. You’ll not see a finer man in all Virginia. My cock’s gotten rave reviews in the Isles of Britain. Care for a taste yourselves? I’m taking bids on the thrill of a lifetime.” But the reaction he received was not what he expected. Instead of retreating into the crowd, they burst into laughter and gave him a collective glance that put his wicked smile to shame. His mood spiraled even lower. He slammed his hat back on his head and presented his back. “Oh, Michael, you are going to pay for forcing me to this,” he muttered. “Pray I find you bound in chains or you’re not long for this life.” He needed a drink and he needed it bad. The aberrations of this world might be easier to digest with a little rum tempering his rampaging thoughts. He would knock back a few drinks, secure a room and think on his business in relative peace. He’d find someone to fuck before the sun went down and he’d feel a lot better. He shouldered his leather satchel and was preparing to hoist his trunk when he felt something tugging at the edge of his jacket. He ignored it, shrugging the hand off with an irritation that was dangerously close to rage. When the hand returned again to jerk the cloth, Rafe rounded with a vicious snarl, prepared to strike whoever dared touch him. The hand belonged to a boy but in Rafe’s world, a boy was often a bigger threat than a grown man. He cuffed the back of the boy’s head. “Lay off! Do your thieving elsewhere or you’ll be the sorriest lad this side of the sea.” The boy barely flinched. In fact he straightened up and tossed a brown curl away from his face. His serious expression might have been amusing if Rafe weren’t so pissed. The throbbing in his pants was playing serious havoc with his mood and the encounter with the ladies hadn’t helped. “Pardon, sir,” the boy said, “but I’d like a word with you.” Rafe gave him a little shove then bent down once again to retrieve his trunk. “I’m not in the mood, lad. The last two months were far and away not the best I’ve had. I’m out of patience, tired, cranky and clearly not in the mood for you.” “I understand cranky, sir, but…” The boy had the audacity to touch him again, a quick little tug at the edge of his pocket. Rafe dropped the trunk and grabbed the boy by the collar, hauling him off his feet. “Touching me is not an option, boy. Find your derelict mother and be off before I think to send you swimming.” The boy was persistent. He stared him right in the eye and managed to croak out an answer. “A word, sir. ’Tis important.” Rafe growled and dropped him. When he boy stumbled, Rafe reached out instinctively and caught him before he fell to the ground. He was a slender thing, almost too skinny, and the sight of him didn’t bode well for the dietary fare of this new world. But he looked healthy enough with a head of shining curls and a pair of the brightest
green eyes Rafe had ever seen. Those eyes were peering at him hopefully, filled with a spark of surprising intelligence. Rafe ran his hands across his face. “Talk,” Rafe said. The boy took a courageous step forward and Rafe actually felt a glimmer of admiration for a child that would approach such an unapproachable stranger. Though women seemed unable to resist anything about him, men and children generally avoided him like a terrifying plague and this lad seemed a combination of both, not quite child, not quite man. “You’ll be needin’ a place to stay, sir?” “Aye,” Rafe said. “If you’ll carry my trunk to the best tavern I’ll toss you a coin.” The boy’s slender brows rose in surprise. “A man such as yourself deserves more than a tavern, sir. The Leaping Stag is a nasty place and the White Doe is worse. You’ll find no rest in either and their fare isn’t fit for a dog. I’ve a place to offer you with good food, quiet nights and decent company.” “Indeed, lad? And what price would you be asking for such a place?” “’Tis room and board provided,” the boy said. “No payment of any sort if you lend a hand runnin’ the shop. My sister and I canna do it alone and we need to make … well, I’ve no way of knowin’ how much we need to make cause she won’t say, but I know we’re runnin’ out of time and she’s gettin’ near to desperate, sir.” Rafe ran a hand over the rough stubble on his cheeks. Lodging with meals. All he needed to provide was a little honest work. The problem was he had never done an honest day’s work in his entire life, and wouldn’t know where to start. But the lad needed money and the one thing Rafe Logan did better than fuck was make money. Running a nunnery took serious financial expertise, instinctual decisions and the ability to know what a woman, or young man, was worth. He had the most successful stew in Southwark and money flowed through his fingers like water over the riverbanks in spring. But he had no interest in making other people money. He saved that little talent for himself. “I don’t intend to stay long, lad. I’m just here to handle a few problems. I hope to clear them up fast and get back to civilization. Your island doesna seem fit for human habitation.” The boy cocked his head and seemed downright puzzled. “You might find you like Jamestown, sir, and what it has to offer. Most people like it here.” Rafe’s eyes roamed across the crowded dock. “Not a chance in hell, lad. Your fair town is already straining my rather limited goodwill toward man and my usual indulgence for women is being tested as well. I’ve not the time or the inclination to do any charity work while I’m here. Is the tavern near?” Rafe leaned once again toward the trunk and the boy moved quickly, lifting one end. He began to drag it along the dock with a strength that surprised Rafe. The boy had some muscle in those skinny arms. Rafe followed behind, half listening to the boy’s gushing speech, his eyes wandering over the crowd. The pickings seemed to be pretty good. Not a lot of women but the ones he saw were not bad looking. Probably married. Not that it mattered. He thought later he just might stroll around town and see if he could catch another glimpse of that brown-haired wench. If he could get her away from her giggling friends and her sure-to-have husband, he just might have something to give her. In fact he was positive of it. The erection in his pants hadn’t thoroughly subsided.
“’Twould not be charity work, sir. We could manage to pay something … perhaps not … I don’t know … but my sister could possibly find another way to compensate you.” Rafe laughed. “Keep talking, lad. I believe we might be speaking the same language.” “Aye, sir, though I don’t quite understand everythin’ you say.” “Doesna matter, lad. If you’ve ever a mind to travel to London, I might have a position for you. ‘Tis quite enterprising you are and very persuasive. Is your sister fair? Doesna really matter … ‘tis been a long voyage. If she’s willing I’d…” Rafe caught a glimpse of something familiar and paused, peering into the throng of people. There was a tiny figure, with a long mane of luxurious honey blonde hair, trapped within the bulk of the men that surrounded her. Rafe searched the mob, hoping to catch another look, but the girl was swallowed in the sea of bodies. Was it going to be that easy? Was she right in front of him? He was aware the boy was still talking but his agenda was far too full to make idle promises to a child. Whatever problems this boy and his sister had were not his concern. Finding Michael, procuring the girl and getting back to Fallen Angels were the only things on his mind. Well, after he fucked most of the women in town of course. Locating Michael could prove a problem. If his hapless brother had gotten himself killed or lost, there might never be resolution to that particular problem. That would upset him greatly because he actually did love his brother, but he’d just have to accept it and move on. Finding the girl was not going to be a problem. If she was still alive he would have her. Nothing could have erased the memory of her from his mind. He could have picked her out of a crowd. In fact… He glanced again at the throng of people. The boy was still talking, but he was fairly easy to ignore. He kept his eye on the crowd. He was determined and when Rafe Logan set his mind on something, he got it. Though the girl had been little more than a child five years before, she’d been poised at the brink of womanhood and her blossoming body held the promise of a lush appeal. He’d thought then that once she’d grown a little, filled out a little more, she’d have one of the most fuckable bodies on the Thames. Rafe had good instincts and his first glimpse of her had made his heart pound with anticipation. She had been tiny. Rafe knew a lot of men liked their women small. Somehow it gave them the illusion of having something they’d not otherwise have, a desire to taste the forbidden. They liked to indulge that dark dangerous obsession that even in the most lenient societies was not often spoken of anywhere but in the most secret conversations. Rafe had been privy to many secret conversations. He knew this particular obsession often bordered on the depraved and he had a hard time understanding the need of a man to experience the bizarre thrill of proxy fucking, his own words, but an apt description. More than once a man had led his daughter, his niece, his ward to Fallen Angels on the pretense of a business conversation just so Rafe could get a good look. The next time the man came with his bulging purse, he expected to have his desire met in every way. Rafe had generally found a way to accommodate these men but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t understand their need. He had no desire for children of his own and in fact went to great lengths to avoid the possibility, but he was fairly certain what these men wanted wasn’t quite right.
Despite his own intense need to experience the flesh of females, Rafe knew the line had to be drawn somewhere. Though he had requests for girls, and the age preferred often made him sick to his stomach, he had no female working for him that was younger than sixteen. Even that age strained the limits of his tolerance but there were a great many young women wandering the streets that needed employment and if he didn’t welcome them at Fallen Angels, they would surely be snatched up by a competitor. Rafe never let a potential bounty pass through his hands. The girl he had come to claim was perfect for some of his clientele. With a youthful petite perfection that held a soft blush of childlike innocence he knew would last well into her twenties, he could get a decent ten year span of prime coin from holding her in his keep. After that the rate would go down, but he’d still make a fortune. The image of her standing on the street outside Fallen Angels was branded into his brain. She’d had strands of silky hair curling over her shoulders. All the meager light of that cloudy morning had been captured and held in the sun of her hair, twisting among the strands to glimmer with shades of vibrant gold, rich honey, tasty cream. In her hair he saw glimpses of sunflowers and daisies, flax and wheat, soft caramel and hard brittle amber. He had never seen hair such as hers in his entire life. Her dark green eyes had been sparkling with a curiosity and bravado that were rare in such a young wench and usually lacking in most females. The wonder he saw in her eyes enhanced the appeal of her already significant assets. That blend of girlish excitement and seductive challenge would make him a very wealthy man. He already was, but he was never one to turn down more money. Those green eyes had held him spellbound. Deep. Mysterious. Alluring. Intelligent. Alive with some kind of insatiable need burning inside like an emerald fire. Her eyes had been remarkably like… His eyes shot back to the boy. Dark green. Golden flecks. With that hint of bravado. Rafe grabbed the boy by his jacket and yanked him closer. The trunk thunked to the ground. “What’s your name, lad?” “Sullivan, sir. Brian Sullivan.” Rafe’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, was it going to be this easy? “And you say you have a sister?” “Aye, sir,” Brian said. He bounced on his toes trying to see over the crowd. “She’s here with me somewhere.” “And you’re seeking a workman for your shop?” “Aye, sir!” Brian said. “Shall I find her for you? You’re exactly what she’s looking to find.” Rafe peered over the top of the boy’s head, searching the crowd again, hoping for another glimpse of the blond haired girl he had seen. He tugged the boy closer. “Tell me about your sister.”
Chapter 2 “So much for this brilliant idea.” Riley Sullivan had just about run out of patience. The afternoon had been a complete waste of time and she was sorry now she had even left the shop. She had been leered at, stared at, touched, groped and fondled. If one more dirty smelly man so much as glanced at her with that look on his face, she was going to poke his eye out with her finger. Even the indentures had eyed her far too boldly and she had been forced to punch one of them for trying to lift her skirt. The dregs of humanity had washed ashore in Virginia. Her eyes swept the dock and grimaced at the display before her. What had made her think she would find any man worth a bloody damn this way? “I found him!” At the sound of her brother’s voice, Riley whirled around in an impatient huff, hair flying over her shoulder and planted her hands on her hips. “You can’t possibly have found him, Brian,” she said. “I don’t even know what I want.” Brian gripped her hand and gave her a yank. “Come on. Wait till you see him, Riley. He’s perfect! If you don’t hurry, someone else will snatch him up.” “Not bloody likely,” she said. “Do you know another woman as desperate as I am? Where did you go? I have enough to worry about without losing you.” Brian darted through a gap in the throng of people crowded on the dock, pulling her along behind him like a child’s toy. When they barreled into an immovable wall of humanity, they came to a standstill and Riley shrieked. The mass of bodies seemed overwhelming. Too many men. Too many tall men. She couldn’t see a thing. She had far too much to do and this was a fool’s errand. No man in his right mind would work for practically nothing. And the ones that might… She shivered even thinking about the kind of man that would be. She elbowed a particularly large man and he moved imperceptibly, giving her one of those appraising looks she loathed. She offered an apologetic smile but it was just the encouragement he needed. As she slipped her body through the tiny crack he had created, she felt the warmth of his palm slide over the curve of her bottom. She winced and wiggled, shuddering when his laughter boomed in her ears. She graced him with one of her most dazzling smiles then kicked him as hard as she could in the shin. The man howled, cursing as his companions laughed. Riley took advantage of the distraction, grabbed Brian’s hand and yanked him through the crowd, forcing their smaller bodies between any gaps she could find. When they reached a tiny oasis of space, she gripped his shoulder to use as leverage and jumped up trying to see over the crowd. Even through the din surrounding them, Riley heard her brother’s exaggerated sigh. “Stand still,” she snapped. “You’re not the only martyr in this family. This entire episode grates on every nerve I have. Do you know how much I’m sacrificing for us? I’ve had so many hands on my body today I feel like I’m wearing a sign that says, Touch Me, I’m A Whore.” The only response was another exhausted sigh.
“I don’t want to be here any more than you do,” Riley said, “so I can do without the complaints. I can’t believe the amount of people coming off that ship. Why would anyone even want to come here?” “To work for you?” Brian asked. She cuffed him. Hard. Harder than he deserved for his jest but she was in a foul mood and someone had to pay. Brian was talking now, actually trying to give a real answer to her question. Brian thought everyone should come to Virginia. He was thoroughly enamored of this place, but after five years Riley still had her doubts. Every day here got harder and harder. Riley ignored his babbling. This answer was just like all the others. Thorough. Well thought out. Logical. He always had an answer for everything and that was starting to be a problem. He’d talked her into this escapade against her better judgment, and now she was seriously doubting her own sanity. This little venture was going to be their salvation or the final straw. By the end of the day she would know if they had a future at all. “Why are you still lookin’?” Brian asked. “I already told you I’ve…” “Sorry, brother, but trusting our future to the whims of a twelve year old boy goes against my better judgment. I will choose my own man. Lord knows what strikes your fancy. Some bookworm probably. A nice simple man that looks like he knows Latin.” “I know what it takes to run the shop, Riley.” Riley cocked her head. “And having your own private tutor would not be in your consideration?” “Well, I didn’t say that,” Brian said. “An intelligent man would be a bonus.” “Intelligent men do not come to Virginia. Intelligent men stay in England where they belong,” Riley said, her eyes sweeping the crowd. What a waste of an afternoon. “I wish we could afford an indenture. How will I convince anyone to work for us without a contract, without payment? Damn, I’ll have Corrigan’s head for forcing me to this. Keep looking. There has to be someone desperate enough to barter. I’ll settle for someone that looks like he’s worked hard and is half way clean.” “Criminy, you’re picky. None of them are clean, Riley. They’ve been on a ship for nearly two months. Why didn’t you beg Corrigan for help? Or Mick Kavanaugh?” “Are you out of your mind? Mick’s been confined to gaol again and Corrigan is hoping we fail. Besides I was not in the mood for another of Daniel Corrigan’s boring lectures.” She lowered her voice and turned to her brother with a stern face. “I only want what’s best for you, Riley. This is not a respectable calling for a woman of your caliber. We’ll close the shop and liquidate. And once I’ve wed you…” Brian laughed and gave his sister a wicked look. “Are you sure he didn’t say bed you?” Riley’s mouth dropped open. “Brian Sullivan! You’re far too young to know about such things.” “Come on, Riley, I know what goes through Corrigan’s head when he looks at you. You may be my sister, but I’m not blind. The man doesn’t care about the shop or even the transfer of master. He’s just trying to get you into his bed and he’ll do anything to get it. He’s taking away every option you have so you’ll marry him.” “I’ll not have him,” Riley snarled. “I don’t trust him right now and I won’t allow him to close the shop. His motives are far from heroic. He’s no knight in shining armor come to rescue me.”
Brian shrugged, caring little about knights or heroes. “Guess not,” he said, “but there are worse men around.” Riley’s eyes swept the crowd and her nose crinkled as a particularly pungent man brushed against her. She felt a greasy hand drift over the hair on her back and fall to her bottom to finger her through the cloth. She jerked away from the hand with a squeak. “Infinitely worse.” Brian gave his sister a speculative glance. “Corrigan has a way of making things happen. He’s bound to win in the end. Maybe we should just do what he wants. Whatever you think is best…” He released another exhausted sigh and his slim shoulders slumped in defeat. Riley gave him a disgusted look. “Are you trying to piss me off today, Brian? We’ve been through this again and again…” Her brows drew downward. “Why the change of heart, brother? I’d not thought you willing to hand over everything to a man like Daniel.” Brian gave her a lopsided smile even as Riley reached out and smacked the back of his head again. “Don’t play games with me, Brian,” she said. “This is by far not the best day I’ve ever had.” Brian smiled. “But I can make the day better because the answer to our problems is standing right over there.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the waterfront. “Trust me for one minute. If you listen to me…” Riley rolled her eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I?” “Aye, but you’re still not listenin’,” Brian said. “I already found exactly what we’re looking for.” Riley’s eyes roamed across the crowded landing pier. “They’re all so … unattractive. And they smell, Brian. This is a mistake. Let’s go home and think about…” Riley jerked away as another man barreled toward her. God, they were all so big. Her reaction wasn’t fast enough. The giant stepped on her foot and she cried out, stumbling backwards. For one moment she feared falling to the ground, but she felt Brian grab her elbow and found her balance. When the crowd surged forward, she reached behind her, gripping his hand. It curled around hers but it felt … different. Huge, strong. She’d just about had it! She whirled around ready to strike. The hand clasping hers tightened and she was raising her face as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her thighs. As she was lifted with dizzying speed, she saw the blur of a deep blue coat and a tangle of dark hair. The breath whooshed from her lungs when her body was tossed over a hard shoulder. She screeched and tugged, but the grip around her legs tightened. She beat her fists against the dirty jacket but whoever carried her seemed oblivious to her struggle. He moved purposefully and she watched as the crowd parted and surged back as they plowed through it. Her eyes caught several curious glances and most of the men whistled and clapped. Their encouraging shouts and cries of envy followed, chasing her like a swarm of hungry bees. One man gripped his crotch and gave it a quick tug. Desperate to hide, she groaned and pressed her face against her captor’s shoulder. When she heard a rumble of laughter and felt the vibration in the chest beneath her thighs, she tried to kick but her legs were firmly imprisoned in bands like iron. The laugh gave her courage. “Put me down! Where are you going? I said put me down! Now, you gigantic clod!”
The voice that found its way through her protests was calm, deep, husky, compelling and oh, so dangerous. When it vibrated through her body and wound through her, it settled in the pit of her stomach like an ache. “Calm yourself, lass. I’m trying to find us a little quiet so we can talk.” By the time he finished two small sentences, the ache had escalated to an actual throb. She was doomed. As they flashed by the miller’s wife, Riley saw Mistress Blake smile and gaze with longing at her captor’s back. She actually saw the old woman wink. What kind of man could make an old woman wink? Oh, she didn’t want to know the answer to that. It was enough to know Mick Kavanaugh would soon be told Riley Sullivan had been carted across the docks of Jamestown like a bag of dirty laundry by a tall, strong, massive—Riley tried to get a peek at his face—and probably handsome stranger. When Mick found out he was not going to be happy. She had worse problems, like dealing with this obviously attractive bully, but adding one more was all she needed. Who the hell had the audacity to make such a spectacle of her? Her mind raced trying to think if Corrigan would actually have the nerve to send a man to snatch her away. Daniel Corrigan would think he was doing her a favor by sparing her feminine sensibilities and she was sure he would feel the dock was no place for a woman. But the man that cradled her like a sack of moldy flour seemed to have more on his mind than spiriting her away from the dock. He wasn’t carrying her toward the village. He was carrying her away from it. She was smothering. Her hair billowed around her face like a massive sticky spider web and she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Between the cloud of hair and the arms wrapped securely around her, she couldn’t see, couldn’t move and was dangerously close to panic. It was a new feeling for her because Riley Sullivan never panicked and she didn’t like it one bit. Infuriated, she clawed at the strands of hair in her face. She had no idea where this ruffian was taking her but, by the sounds around her, the curiosity they had created was shaping into an amusing afternoon for the weary travelers and bored villagers. The laughter that followed them reinforced her humiliation. Finally she gave up and was grateful that her hair hung around her like a shield because it was hiding the furious blush that stained her face. Her skin seemed to be on fire and she was sure she must be emitting some kind of steam from the heat of her anger. Shouldn’t the brute holding her burst into flames? She pushed against his shoulder and stiffened her body, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but his hat shadowed his features and all she could see was the dark hair hanging over his collar and the incredible length of the body that held her. He was very tall with wide shoulders and filled with tight, hard muscles she could feel through the fabric of his jacket. As he strode to whatever destination had struck his fancy, she watched his booted legs glide purposefully and felt the muscles of his back tighten under the jacket to hold her still. He felt hard, solid and just a little bit scary. She was queasy from bouncing against his shoulder and that throb in the pit of her stomach got worse when she touched him. Finally she slumped against him and just held onto the cloth of his jacket hoping she wouldn’t vomit and make her humiliation worse. When he felt her relax, his hand slid up her thigh and he gave her bottom a comforting pat then proceeded to caress the entire swell of it with the palm of his hand. “Stop that!”
But of course he didn’t. The hand she swatted toward him had no impact and certainly did not deter him. She cursed herself for not dressing properly before she left the house but the heat in the smithy made the layers of clothing she was supposed to wear seem too much. Because she had been too lazy to change, there wasn’t much padding between her bare skin and his hand and she could feel his warmth through the thin skirt. Her jaw tightened and when the muscles of her bottom clenched involuntarily, he laughed again. She beat her fists against his shoulder, and cursed him with every word she knew, but it was a waste of energy. The man was totally oblivious to her protests. Whoever this man was, he was going to pay the moment she was free. She knew where to kick a man to make it hurt. He was going to be sorry, indeed. She was unceremoniously dumped into a pile of burlap bags and landed hard. As the breeze from the river swirled around her, the veil of her hair tumbled in a flurry and her skirt flew up past her knees. She had an insane desire to hurl herself forward and tackle her assailant because his laughter was aggravating her last nerve. Instead she cursed and flailed, threatened and snarled, the perfect picture of femininity, well past her obligation for propriety. Between her need to see and her desperation to cover the exposed parts of her body, her hands fluttered helplessly for several moments as her mouth simply ran away from her. “God damn it! You’re a bleeding barbarian! Who do you think you are? Get the hell away from me! When I get my hands on you…” His rumble of laughter spurred her to shriek. “Feel free to touch, lass, I’ve not had a decent woman in weeks. I don’t count the quick tumbles on the ship. They were far from satisfactory.” She pounded on the burlap bags with her fists and dug in her heels, trying to gain purchase but she kept sliding and her skirt was drawing up her legs. When her feet touched the wooden planks, she tried to scramble up, but a gentle shove on her shoulder made her lose her balance and more curses tumbled from her mouth as the sound of his laughter curled around her. The throbbing in her stomach became a tight fist of agony. “Bastard! I cannot wait to get you alone…” “Looking forward to it, lass. You’ve a nice ass. Just enough for a man’s hand and more than enough to…” “Bloody hell!” That rumble of laughter poured over her again and that fist of agony closed tighter. “Easy, vixen. Your temper tantrum is drawing the crowd’s attention and the sight of those bare open legs, lovely by the way, the drawn up skirt … it appears to be an invitation of sorts. It canna be good for your reputation. Could you hike the skirt slightly higher? I canna quite see your…” “Shut up!” she screamed. Oh, she was going to stuff his laughter right down his throat. She hoped he choked on it. She caught at the fabric of her skirt, furiously yanking it down to cover her legs. She whipped her head, hoping for any glimpse between the strands of hair, but all she could see was a pair of long legs encased in tight black breeches and very expensive boots. She felt a hand sweep the tangles of hair away from her face, brushing them across her shoulders.
As she raised her face, hands wound around her waist and scooped her forward to slam against a hard surface. She found herself face to chest with a powerfully built body, disturbingly masculine and all man. It was definitely not anyone she knew because a body like his was memorable, the tight hard swelling that pounded against her belly impressive and, oh my God, unforgettable. Slowly her head tilted backward until she was staring into the man’s face, her breath whooshing out of her lungs in an audible moan. “Oh, criminy,” she whispered. “Who in bloody hell are you?”
Chapter 3 He didn’t answer. Oh, that would have been far too simple. He cocked his head curiously and let his eyes wander across her face. She could think of nothing else to say and was amazed at her own lack of words. Riley Sullivan had an argument or comment for everything and had never held her tongue in her entire life. She could do nothing but stare at her assailant but had already decided assailant was hardly the appropriate word for this man. He was a god, a warrior, a conqueror, a paladin, a knight. He looked as though he had been dropped from heaven, a dark archangel come to answer her prayers and avenge every wrong in her miserable life. She had been hoping to find a man that might be able to help her control the downward spiral of her life, but what she’d found, or what had found her, was an actual hero straight from the pages of a romantic tale. How could she be angry with a man that looked like this? That disturbing throb within her punched deeper. If this was the man Brian had found, she owed her brother so much more than an apology. She realized when she babbled about her fantasies and her hopes for the future, Brian actually listened to her. Her brother had gone on a quest and found what Riley never expected to find in her entire life—the man of her dreams. Brian was going to be sick from all the cake she intended to feed him as a thank you gift. The man’s arms dropped away from her and disappointment flared through her. Vaguely she realized she could escape now, could actually run away but she found it was impossible to even step away from the heat of his body. In fact she thought she might have just inched closer. Someone should kick her in the ass. Where was her brother when she needed him? The man tipped back his hat and, from beneath dark brows drawn down in serious thought, his eyes began to roam across her face, studying every inch of her. A gust of heat swept through her and seemed to be melting something inside. Though she’d had plenty of men ogle her, even stare at her with disgusting familiarity, she had never had a man peruse her face so intently or so knowingly. He did it with complete impunity and did not seem in the least bit concerned that they were utter strangers. It made her slightly uncomfortable, but the heat that spiraled through her body was actually quite thrilling. She wasn’t at all frightened, not yet, because the face of an avenging angel could not possibly hide sinister intent. Just looking at the dark sweep of thick hair falling over his shoulders, the smooth curve of the tastiest lips she had ever seen and that firm jaw and dimpled chin twisted the heat of rage she had felt earlier into something else. The angry beat of her heart suddenly lurched into an uncontrollable thumping and it was very disturbing because it seemed wild, hot, hungry. And she liked it. As the stranger inspected every inch of her face, flickering across her features as though memorizing them or judging them, she did the same to him because it seemed only fair. The problem was the longer she stared, the more fascinating he became. In her current state of mind, fascination was not the best plan of action for selecting a striker candidate, but that didn’t stop her inspection. Nothing could have stopped her inspection.
The face of an angel should be studied, memorized, touched… She squeezed her hand into a fist. She had almost touched him. The planes of his face were chiseled as though struck with a hammer. The scrubby growth of dark beard that shadowed his face filled her with an urge to scrape her nails across it, to hear the raspy sound and to feel the pure unadulterated maleness of it. She had to clench her fist again to keep from reaching toward him because this man had the most gorgeous face she had ever seen and she wanted desperately to touch it. Just once … no, maybe twice. A pair of magnificent blue eyes locked on hers and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Part of it was the massive chest pressed against her. The other part was far more troubling. He had simply taken her breath away. That wasn’t acceptable. Not acceptable at all. For the first time in her life, Riley Sullivan began to stutter. She could not seem to get a single word out of her mouth. She vaguely wondered how the mere touch of a body against hers could strike her dumb. When he began to herd her back toward the pile of bags, pushing against her body with some kind of intent, she parted her lips to speak and suddenly found his fingers pressed against her mouth. He shook his head. “Shhhh, darlin’,” he said. “Stand still. I’ll not hurt you. I’ve some thinking to do.” Thinking to do? The man had already done some dangerous thinking and it had led to some dangerous actions. As attractive as he was, she did not enjoy being accosted in front of the entire town and this little foray was going to guarantee ridicule for weeks to come. They had already drawn everyone’s attention. People had stopped and were staring right at them. She began to quietly fume and struggled for a moment but he simply pressed his fingers harder against her mouth when she tried to protest. She had an incredible desire to lick his fingers then wrap her lips around them and suck them into her mouth. What was wrong with her? He tilted his face and the sweep of his dark hair fell over his shoulder and brushed her cheek. The softness of his hair surprised her because this man was the epitome of strength. He was hard, steely, inflexible, filled with tough bones and solid muscle. There was nothing soft about this man, nothing at all. Not his body, not his stance, not his eyes. And there was nothing soft about his expression. He did not look friendly and he certainly did not look happy. But that didn’t stop his appraisal. Why was he looking at her so intently? Riley began to stammer in earnest, reaching as far into her brain as she possibly could in search of words. “Sir … stop pushing me … what do you want? This isn’t … normal. Why are you staring at me? I can’t possibly be who you think I am.” “Oh, aye, you are, lass,” he said softly. “Not a doubt in my mind.” He was still nudging her back and her legs were caught against the edge of the sacks. His hands were at her waist again, sliding down the curve of her hips, feeling, caressing, enjoying. She tried to stay on her feet against the slow, curiously arousing assault because another tumble into the sacks would be her downfall. If this man’s body fell on hers, if she felt the entire hard length of him against her, the villagers and travelers watching them now were going to get far more entertainment than they expected. Her eyes fluttered helplessly to his mouth. What if he meant to kiss her? What if he meant to do
more? Oh, she knew the answer to that. She was going to let him. There was no possible way she would be able to resist this one. She glanced over her shoulder, trying desperately to keep her balance, trying to gain some control over a situation that had clearly already gone far beyond her control. When his arm wrapped around her waist, she pushed at it but the arm only pulled her closer, practically lifting her off her feet. Her eyes darted across the crowd, searching for Brian, trying to catch even a glimpse of his dark curls and his lanky body. Her brother had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth and left her alone with this beautiful thug. She didn’t know whether she should bake that cake for her wayward brother or murder him in his sleep. Either way he needed a serious lecture on leaving her at the mercy of strangers. This man could do anything he wanted to her. The stranger must have sensed something or felt the sudden anxiety that leapt through her body because he lowered his head and his voice drifted toward her. “Relax, vixen. I’m not of a nature to hurt women.” “You’re not?” You would believe anything this man tells you, Riley Sullivan, because you’re an idiot. “No,” he said. “‘Tis better to be gentle until the proper time. Unless you wish it, unless you ask, my touch will cause no fear. If there’s something you want from me later, you have only to say it, but no harm will come to you here. ‘Tis a promise.” His words scared her but the cadence of his voice was soothing, hauntingly familiar. Although the sound was deep, rough and vibrated through her with a disturbing pulse, he spoke in soft, lulling sounds that stirred warm memories. His lilting accent threatened to put her at ease because it was so reminiscent of the soft melody of her mother’s voice. She tried to ignore the rhythm of his words. Falling under the spell of a man because of his voice would be the worst possible thing and this man had so many other tempting attributes in his favor. A man that looked like this one was serious trouble and Riley Sullivan had enough trouble in her life. But she could have listened to him forever. “If you mean no harm,” she said, “then let me go.” “I canna let you go, lass,” he said. “I’ve a need to talk with you.” “With me?” she squeaked. Her eyes darted frantically, searching for anyone that could help her. What had she gotten herself into? “What could you possibly need to discuss with me?” His arms tightened and his eyes lifted for a moment to scan the crowd. Dark blue, and framed by long black lashes, she wondered if she had ever seen eyes this striking, this piercing, this deep. The blue of his eyes was so deep it was like staring into the night sea. When the sun caught at them, she saw silver glints sparkling at the edges, brilliant stars in the midnight sky. His brows drew down as his gaze swept across the curious gawkers, the ones conducting business and the poor souls too weary to care about anything beyond their own tired bodies. When his eyes returned to her, there was a certainty there, a hard glimmer of sapphire brilliance, and it made her uncomfortable. “I’m searching for a woman,” he said. Riley’s mouth opened with the intent of actually speaking, but she could not find a single word to utter. Being imprisoned by a pair of steely arms had obviously stolen her
ability to form a sentence, but something in his eyes gave her courage. There was an expectation there, a spark of challenge, maybe even a dare. She lifted her chin. “If you’re looking for a woman, sir, I suggest you walk to the outskirts of the village and find the White Doe. We’re a young colony but not uncivilized. I’m sure a man with your … needs … could find someone there to fulfill his every desire.” The man surprised her with a burst of delighted laughter. There was a quick flash of white teeth then a pleased, satisfied smile settled onto his handsome face. His smile spread deep dimples into his cheeks and gave him a boyish charm that was disconcerting against the background of his previously harsh face and massive body. It also made him positively irresistible. “Well said, lass, but I’ve very refined tastes and very good instincts. I’m looking for a certain woman. You’re the one. I’m sure of it.” “I most certainly am not!” Riley said. The smile widened. The man lifted his hand and brushed a finger across her cheek. It was rough and calloused and Riley flinched. It was not the feel of the harsh skin against hers that caused her to recoil; it was something inside her own body. Something below her stomach actually lurched and she groaned with the sudden stab of pain. When another knowing smile flickered across the man’s face, she wanted to slap him, or possibly devour his generous lips with her mouth. She wasn’t sure which one but both ideas sounded appealing. “You might want to confess, lass. Take a good look around you. The offerings are slim … in fact, they’re downright disgusting if you want my opinion, not nearly good enough for a woman like you.” He leaned closer. Riley could smell the raw sweat that clung to his clothes, but beneath that was the fresh scent of soap. The man was clean and his skin smelled heavenly. “I’m the best choice here and ’tis been said by many I’m the answer to a woman’s prayers. I could be the answer to yours.” Riley laughed, but it sounded tremulous and confused to her own ears. She had no idea if the man heard the touch of anxiety or what he was thinking, but he seemed to enjoy her reactions to him. That amused glint in his eye seemed very perceptive, almost prophetic, as though he already knew what the outcome of this encounter would be. He was sure there was no possible way she would ever resist him. How many women had this man had? Probably far too many. Scores, legions. The answer to a woman’s prayers? Oh, Master Cavalier, if you only knew how often your face and form filled my prayers… Had Brian actually listened to her? I see him in my mind, Brian. Tall, dark, impossibly handsome. He has a smile that holds secrets but seems to know exactly what I’m thinking and eyes the color of the deep blue sea. And when he touches me, I’ll know… Oh, she had gone on and on so many times singing the praises of a man that couldn’t possibly exist. She had no idea when the image of her perfect hero appeared in her mind, but she certainly wasn’t delusional. She knew her heart’s desire would never be fulfilled. There would be no knight, no champion, no handsome god plunked to earth from the heavens for her personal gratification. She knew she would have to settle for one of the ordinary men that walked the globe. That was a challenge to say the least. Riley had some experience with men. In a community where the men far outnumbered the women, especially the available ones, she was constantly bombarded by
unwanted attention. So far every man she knew had some defect. Not interesting enough, not smart enough, not handsome enough, not amusing enough. Riley could go on and on about a suitor’s flaws. The few viable candidates, including Daniel Corrigan, always lacked something. In Corrigan’s case she thought it might be a heart. In Mick Kavanaugh’s case it was maturity. Despite his handsome face, congenial personality and newly found occupation, Mick was far from perfect. She didn’t need another male in her house that required her constant care. She’d been fending off his proposals and questing hands for months. And Daniel had been even more persistent. Now, impossible as it was, the man she had carried in her heart and seen in her mind a thousand times was standing right in front of her. Unfortunately there was a nagging problem associated with having your secret wishes come true. What was she supposed to do now? Her fantasy had never included actually finding him and she now discovered that having your dream come true held a price. This man was real and was not going to conform to any fantasy she had held. She would have no control over anything that was about to happen and that scared her to death. The man standing in front of her was very dangerous. He had a brain trapped somewhere in that perfect body and locked in those beautiful blue eyes was a sense of humor. She was well on her way to losing more than her control and his hands on her body were not helping. The mere touch of his palm against her waist was making her tremble and his smile was melting something in her body. She felt like she was leaking. There was actual moisture dripping from between her legs, a troubling sensation because the few times it had happened in her life there had been a reason. Mick’s kisses and caresses could cause this leak and she was very careful around Mick. Sometimes he was a little too demanding and the last time they’d been together he’d lifted her skirt, assuming she would acquiesce to his needs. She almost had because that nagging deep below her stomach was sometimes hard to resist and becoming harder. She tried very hard to control her responses to men because experience had proven it could be dangerous. The touch of fluid sliding down her thigh now meant she had lost whatever control she had. And this man had not even kissed her yet. Yet? She wasn’t thinking straight. Not at all. When he touches me, I’ll know… Riley struggled for a breath as his cocky glance skimmed across her face like a lover’s touch. She’d never met a man this confident or this bold. He knew he had her trapped in his seductive web and was enjoying every moment of it. Had anyone ever resisted this man? This was the kind of man that would have women falling at his feet. No one would be able to resist what he offered and she didn’t think she would be the first. But she could try. The only weapon she had was her rather aggressive and neversilent mouth. She could put a man in his place faster with words than with all the slaps she could muster. “The answer to my prayers, sir? You seem quite aware of your own appeal. Have you exhausted the supply of women in England? Were you forced to cross an ocean to pursue new conquests?” He seemed surprised by her verbal attack and studied her with renewed interest. His eyes drifted across her like she was an odd curiosity that had fallen from the sky. “I’ve always a mind for conquest, but no, beauty, I’ve come for far different reasons.”
“How was I lucky enough to draw your attention?” “The boy approached me and then I saw a glimpse of you in the crowd. ’Twas very coincidental, almost providential. I’d likely think we were destined to meet so fast if I believed in that sort of nonsense, which of course I do not.” Coincidence. Providence. Destiny. The answer to a prayer… Focus, Riley Sullivan. ‘Tis just an arrogant man with one thing on his mind. Ignore him. He’ll go away. Make him go away or you’re asking for trouble. “You’d be a fool to believe in destiny,” she said. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough I am most definitely not a fool, lass,” he said. That smile flashed again across his face. “But for now since I’ve no choice, I will accept the will of providence. I look forward to seeing what this world has to offer … what you might have to offer.” “I’m offering nothing and you, sir, are too confident for your own good. That could get you into serious trouble here in Virginia.” “I usually find trouble wherever I go, lass,” he said. “‘Tis the way I’m made.” She had no doubt of that. Riley struggled in his arms, fully aware that this was a man different from most that came to the colony. His garments were of the finest fabric, well made and definitely fashionable. The cut and quality of his jacket rivaled the most affluent of Jamestown society and his leather boots were very costly and fashioned to hug his leg with precision. The purse at his waist was heavy. The coins it contained would probably sustain a Virginia family for years, and Riley nearly groaned at the thought that several coins in this man’s purse could solve most of her problems. The sword that hung on his hip was a fine and well made weapon. The fact he barely noticed its weight and it seemed not to interfere at all in his movement proved he was a man used to wearing it at all times. Whatever motivated this man to come to Virginia, it had not been poverty. “If ‘tis adventure you seek, Master Cavalier, I think you’ll find life here challenging to say the least. You seem unprepared for what you may find. You may think yourself the answer to a woman’s prayers, but you might want to do some praying of your own.” He tucked his hand under her chin and lifted her face. “Are you going to be difficult?” Oh, his eyes were far too serious. If Brian had talked with this man, what on earth had her brother told him? And why would a man like this be remotely interested in seeking employment? He had money enough to sustain any sort of life he chose. “Difficult?” “Aye, Mistress Sullivan. I had an amusing offer from a small boy and it seems an interesting way to pass my time here. Since I need a place to stay … and you obviously need help of some sort … I’m willing to give it a go. If things work out between us … well so much the better. Like I said, it seems very providential to have found you so quickly.” “You don’t believe in destiny, sir, and my brother must learn to mind his own business. You clearly have no need to bargain with us and I don’t find this molestation amusing.” “Molestation?” His voice was a deep throaty growl. “’Tis the middle of the afternoon, Master Cavalier, and yet you seek to ravish me in front of the entire village. I’m a bit confused as to what my brother told you. I made it very clear I wanted someone for the shop.”
“And I offered to work in your shop,” the man said. “Clearly you have no need to work.” She reached out and clutched the bag at his hip. “Easy, lass. If this is a game played between you and your delinquent brother, you’ll find yourself without that lovely hand. I’ve no wish to lose my coin to a wily little cutpurse no matter how pretty. Have the Sullivans taken to thieving here in the colony?” “Thieving!” Riley cried. “I can assure you the Sullivans are honest, hardworking…” “’Tis not been my experience, wench,” he said. “So ‘tis best if you keep your hands away from what is mine.” “And yet, sir, you have your hands all over what is clearly mine.” “That will change soon enough, lass,” he growled. “What is the bloody problem? I was told you were willing.” “Willing? Is my brother seeking a husband for me? Oh, Brian is not long for this earth and despite your … elegant and impressive appearance, a man of your caliber would not fit into any life I foresee for myself. ‘Tis obvious the life you’ve lived is…” He cocked his head and the brim of his hat shaded his face. The jaunty feathers dipped toward her. There was an interested glint in his eye. “Is what?” “…not at all like mine.” “Lives change,” he said. “I do not wish my life to change,” Riley said. “I seek to keep the one I have. Brian has approached you under false pretenses and I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” “So you’re not willing?” he asked. “Are you listening to me?” Riley cried. “I’m not interested in taking a husband…” “And I’ve no interest in taking a wife,” he interrupted. “…and if you view this as a courting ritual, your methods are very unorthodox.” Riley shook her head and her hair spilled over her shoulder. The man’s hand was suddenly wrapped in the strands and he was taking away her concentration. What had he said about a wife? She could barely follow his line of conversation. He tipped his hat back again and those brilliant blue eyes focused on her with a slight confusion. “Courting ritual? I assumed, madam, it was simply a matter of barter. I’d not thought courting necessary, and you must learn to do without such frivolities in the future, but if you need them at this juncture…” “You’re presuming…” “Damn, lass, ‘tis most strange but I’ve a desire to…” The words seemed to die when he caught her chin between his fingers and tugged her face up to his. Riley’s eyes darted frantically, seeking some kind of escape route, any kind of excuse to get away from this man. He was too tempting, too seductive, too much. His mouth was coming too close for her comfort. She twisted her face away and his lips brushed across her mouth. Her heart actually skipped a beat and stopped entirely when he lurched away suddenly. She was utterly amazed at the look on his face. His eyes were wide, shocked, and for a split second she feared she had actually lost her mind and bitten him because for one moment she had thought of doing it, simply capturing his mouth and biting into those luscious lips. She struggled to force the words from her lips, fearing his answer. “What did I do?” she asked softly. “Nothing … something strange … ‘twas nothing. What were you saying?” “I said … well, I think I said you’re presuming too much.”
“Aye, that was it,” he said. He seemed better, back to his regular arrogant self. He recovered fast. “I make no presumptions, lass. Your brother fairly promised and I took him at his word. ‘Tis obvious you have a need for something, though you speak in such a roundabout way I’m not clear on what it might be. Am I not satisfactory for whatever purpose you have in that head of yours?” Riley’s eyes shot down to the leather purse hanging at his waist then back to that face that held everything a woman could want. “Aye, but … ‘tis unclear why you’d be willing to help me. What would you gain? You seem the answer to my prayers, sir, and yet you seem to lack for nothing.” “’Tis surprising how prayers are answered,” he said, “and I’d not question the results too deeply. Often we receive more than we’ve asked for.” “’Tis not been the case for me,” Riley said. “’Tis your lucky day then, lass, because I can offer whatever you need.” Riley gulped. “How could you possibly know what I need?” “Your brother was very determined to find a man to suit his sister’s purpose, but to be honest I think the lad has his own agenda. I’ve no problem with that but…” “What makes you think I’m the one you’re seeking?” Riley asked. The man laughed. “Do you think to be coy with me now, wench, when we’ve fairly reached an understanding between us? I would have known you in a sea of females. ‘Tis a surprise you’re barely grown but ‘tis always an added enticement when the flower has the blush of youth and the coin to be had is…” “I am fully grown, sir.” “You’re still naught but a wee lass,” he said. “When I caught a glimpse of you I felt a touch of remorse—a new emotion that I found disturbing and not at all pleasant. But I’ve some fair relief of the matter. ’Tis obvious you’re of an age to make your own choices or your brother wouldna be pandering your wares on the docks.” Riley smashed her hands against the man’s chest. “We are not pandering my wares! Release me this instant!” “Madam, you are fairly bursting from your dress. ‘Tis hard to think a thought beyond what you might feel like naked under my hands. And your hair smells of heaven. After what I’ve been through for the last two months, the smell of you is all I need to make my decision. I would have accepted the bargain your brother offered were you wrapped in one of those burlap sacks. You’re a beauty.” “There is no bargain! And you’ve made a mistake. You’ve accosted the wrong woman.” The man shook his head. “No mistake on either score, lass. I’ve an excellent memory and the lad said his sister was feisty, spirited, a little ornery and often cranky.” “Cranky! I’m not…” “Aye, lass, you seem so, but the words were his, not mine. I’m willing to delay judgment until I get to know you better. Feisty is sometimes an admirable quality, particularly in bed. I’ve not usually had a brother’s blessing to…” “To what, sir?” Riley snapped. Oh, she didn’t like the look in his eyes. Not at all. What had Brian told this man? The way his eyes were drifting from her face to the bodice of her shirt was far too bold. She suddenly wished she had worn her cloak or at the very least some kind of collar. There was too much flesh peeking above her corset. It had seemed a necessary evil, an easy
enticement, but now she wondered what she’d been thinking. He had all but told her she looked like a whore. The man’s eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts and it was not a surreptitious glance. He was staring directly at her cleavage and she was very aware she was displaying far too much. When his hand ran up the side of her body, over her breast and his thumb slowly caressed her bare flesh, she gasped. “I did not give you permission to touch me!” “I didna ask,” the man said. His voice was soft and distracted. All of his attention seemed to be focused on the feel of her skin. “I’m not much for asking, lass, and if I need to ask, tell me now, so we don’t waste our time here. ‘Tis something you’ll have to get used to and your brother implied you’d be willing.” “Willing to what?” He tossed a lock of hair from his face. His finger skimmed her breast again, dipping into her cleavage. When he raised his eyes to hers she didn’t need to hear his words to know what thoughts filled his head. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that.” “I can’t,” she whispered. “Aye, you can,” he said, “because if I’m to be doing you a favor, I will expect favors of my own. What else could you possibly offer me?” “I can’t offer that! And my brother…” He seemed to ignore her. “Besides I’d not drop a woman into Fallen Angels without some experience. ‘Twouldn’t be good for business.” “What exactly did my brother tell you, sir?” “He said you were in the market for a man. He seemed to think I was exactly the right type. He interviewed me quite thoroughly and I seemed to satisfy all his needs.” “Indeed,” Riley said, “and what were my brother’s needs?” “He wanted someone strong.” His brow rose and a challenge sparked in his eye. The man was well over six feet tall, with a hard muscular body. She could feel the muscles of his chest press against her and they were a rigid band of taut strength. The arms that held her were powerful as well and his shoulders… This man would have no trouble swinging the hammer. Just looking at his shoulders made her want to run her hands across them. This man would be able to lift her without effort of any kind. She had a vision of his hands sweeping her up, his body pressing hers against a wall, her hands fumbling to snatch at the laces of his breeches, his mouth lowering to hers… A wave of heat spread through her so fast she knew her thoughts must be visible on her face. How many times had she pictured that in her head, wished for it to happen? How many times had she dreamed of a man that would simply take what he wanted knowing that no matter how much she protested, how many times she shied away, she wanted to be taken? Was this the man? Was this the one that would finally take what she wanted so desperately to give? Oh, no, no… The thought of this man, this stranger holding her so intimately was not acceptable and thoroughly impossible. Riley bristled under his questing hands. She managed to maneuver her own between them. It was a tight fit because he seemed determined to feel every inch of her. “Strong, aye. I’ll concede that you meet the requirement,” Riley said.
“The lad also said he preferred someone easy on your eyes. I thought that very considerate of him. Lasses seem to like different things, but he thought you might find me acceptable.” There was a tiny spark in his eye and that spark seemed to dare her to find anything undesirable about him. This one knew he was attractive. How could he not? If he had ever glimpsed himself in a glass or seen the way the women ogled him, he would not have a doubt. Even blind this man would know his beauty. Surely his own hands had slipped over his flesh, touched the planes of his face, held what stirred in his breeches. That heat swept through her again. Oh, dear God. “Am I acceptable, lass?” Riley nodded, once again finding herself without words of any kind. There wasn’t a woman alive that would find this man unacceptable. Every inch of his body exuded raw sensuality and that smile would melt the heart of any female, young, old, virgin, whore. It would make no difference. But his eyes were the most powerful thing about him. When his eyes locked on hers, Riley had the overwhelming desire to strip off her clothes and plaster herself against his flesh. She was so grateful they were in a public place although in another few minutes she feared being in public wouldn’t be enough to stop her. “You’ve still made a mistake,” Riley said. She gave him a tiny push, not really her best effort. “No mistake, lass.” The man’s hands were sliding around to hold her still. “The lad described you. Blond hair, small. He grudgingly said you were pretty so I probably wouldna have expected much, but you’ve grown into a real beauty. ‘Tis a pleasant surprise on both counts.” “Pleasant or not, sir, my brother had no right to discuss this with you at all, let alone without my consent.” She took a deep breath. “Please take your hands off me. I don’t appreciate being man-handled in a public place.” He leaned closer and his whispered words sent a shiver down her spine. “You need to be man-handled, wench, and by a man that knows how to do it properly.” She twisted her face to look at him and found his mouth was very close to hers. If she moved a fraction of an inch his lips would brush hers again. Her body was trembling though she had no idea why. There were people all around them. He couldn’t possibly hurt her with so many witnesses. Her lips were suddenly dry and when her tongue poked out to moisten them, his eyes snapped to her mouth. A smile lifted the corner of his. “I understand your reluctance. Shall we find a more private place for the manhandling? Do you want to sample my wares before you decide? Perhaps you wish to know how I feel beneath your hands, how I taste under your lips. We can see what might lie between us. I canna force you in good conscience. Having me should be your choice.” He dipped his face toward hers. “I said hands off!” she snarled. The man’s brows rose, but he shrugged. He held his hands up and took a step backward. “Did I not understand the proposal? It seemed fairly clear. The lad said you wanted a man. I’m rather confused on that because ‘tis obvious you could have any man that strikes your fancy.” He cocked his head. “Have you exhausted the supply of men on this shore then, lass?” A mischievous smile touched his lips. His teasing words should have increased her ire, but for some unknown reason, she smiled in return.
“The supply seems endless at times,” she said. “Each ship brings new faces and new problems.” “Aye, lass, I understand problems, but perhaps we can work something out between us. I need a place to stay. Taverns are grueling places in the best of circumstances. I’d be pleased to accept your hospitality since I’ve no idea how long I’ll be trapped here.” He paused and his eyes darted away for a moment. “I have to figure out what went wrong. ‘Tis damned troubling since I found you so easily. Now I’m forced to waste more time and…” “What on earth are you talking about?” Riley asked. “Problems of my own, lass,” he said. “This shouldna have been a problem. You practically bit me when I came off that ship.” “I did no such thing! I may have thought of it but…” The man was distracted and not listening to her. His generous lips tried to form a tight line across his face, but it was almost impossible. His eyes grew harder though, roaming the dock as though something was hidden just beyond his sight. When he turned back to her, he gave her a lazy smile. He seemed to be two distinct people at times. “I’m not afraid of work, Mistress Sullivan. I’ve avoided it if possible, but it doesna mean I canna do it. I may be here a while, so I’ll lend a hand ‘til we tie up the loose ends. Your brother implied there wasna much in the way of profit so I assumed…” “Assumed what? That I was willing to whore myself for a man’s help?” “Brian wasna specific, lass, but he seemed pleased with my look. I’m willing to take what you offer. ‘Tis not whoring. ‘Tis barter at this point and when more needs to be said, I’ll say it. You need a man and I need a place to stay while I find my prodigal brother.” The man’s eyes roamed the crowd again. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Christ, he’s an impossible man. I shouldna have sent him here cause ‘tis obvious I canna trust him. If his purse is empty, I’ll kick his ass back across the sea.” “Would I know your brother?” He grinned. “Doubtful, lass, or we would be having this conversation in a different sort of setting. ‘Tis obvious Michael’s found himself some trouble. Doesna surprise me.” Riley shook her head, thoroughly confused, but he didn’t explain and when he continued, she had lost the thread of his conversation entirely. The man talked in circles. “If you choose to accept, you willna be disappointed.” “Disappointed in what?” He smiled. “In bed, lass.” “In bed?” Riley’s legs buckled and she dropped into the pile of sacks. She should not be allowed in public if she couldn’t handle one conversation. He shrugged. “I’ve had no complaints.” A man like this would never hear a complaint. In bed or anywhere else. Oh, she should have stayed home in bed this day and drawn the covers so securely over her head she couldn’t possibly have caught a glimpse of this man. What had she gotten herself into? Her glance roamed over his boots, up his long lean muscular legs, across the narrow hips and for one excruciating moment lingered on the bulge swelling inside his breeches. Long. Thick. Tight against the fabric. She wanted to see what was in there. She’d never seen one before and this man, this impossibly perfect man, seemed a good place to start.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Would she ever be able to pay a man with her own body? Was she that desperate? Was she that wanton? She was afraid to find out. God help me. I want this man. He had his hands on his hips, staring down at her with a look implying she was the most foolish woman on earth for even having to consider such a proposal. He was waiting for her decision. The man had just arrived in a new world. He was dirty, tired and eager to be anywhere that didn’t smell of the sea. She could offer him a bed, a meal and an occupation while he settled into a new life however temporary he thought it might be. He was willing to work for her. He was willing to labor in her shop and try to turn the chaos of her life into a viable future. All she had to do was say aye and give her body to this dark archangel. If the decision trapped her soul in purgatory for eternity, she thought it might be worth it for another touch of this man’s hands. Brian was right. He was perfect. And he was all she’d ever wanted. She glanced up at his face. He gave her an impatient shrug as her eyes darted around the crowd. She was still unsure, but what she saw spurred her to action. She leapt to her feet, clutched the man’s shirt and pushed against him. The bulge in his breeches twitched then lunged against her, and she nearly collapsed under the barrage of sudden heat that flashed through her body. She wondered once again at what moment in the last six months she had lost every ounce of her sanity. “Kiss me. Right now!”
Chapter 4 He didn’t ask why. He never blinked an eye. His lips covered hers with blinding speed. His mouth was soft, his lips determined and Riley discovered that ordering this man to kiss her had been tantamount to throwing herself into an active volcano. When the pressure of his kiss forced her lips apart and his tongue swept into her mouth, more heat burst through her body and threatened to burn her from the inside out. She found herself clawing his shirt in earnest to keep on her feet. Her grip seemed to spur him to greater liberties. His kiss deepened, bending her backward, and his hand swept under her hair to curl around the nape of her neck. He held her for a long time, but she had never felt less like trying to escape in her entire life. Her body was so relaxed, so … content. The idea of destiny flickered at the edge of her mind and she suddenly knew all hope of rational thought had been lost. That moisture was oozing between her thighs again. Dripping. Bursting. Pouring. God help her. She was going to accept his terms. He pulled away slowly, his lips clutching at hers for a long lingering moment. She could actually feel the suction that held them together, the rip as their mouths peeled away from each other, the void when his mouth was gone. She couldn’t seem to control her own body. She touched his lips with hers again and felt her bottom lip sucked into his mouth. It was the most intense sensation she had ever felt and her entire body shivered. When he released her, he stared into her eyes, seemingly searching for something. Riley nearly stumbled. “Who are you?” she whispered. “What is happening here?” He was staring at her oddly, as though he didn’t know what to make of her in the least, as though his own behavior had shocked the hell out of him. He looked a little afraid. “I’m doing a bit of wondering about that as well,” he said. “I shouldna have done that. You’re not good for me, lass. This … whatever this is … ‘tis slightly disturbing.” “Very disturbing.” He cocked his head curiously and frowned. There was a vague twinge of unease on his face, almost as though she had unknowingly hurt his feelings. “You didna like the kiss, lass?” “Oh, aye…” she breathed. “It was more than I’ve ever dreamed of.” She groaned and closed her eyes. God, Riley, you are such a bloody idiot! You answered too damn fast. More than you’ve ever dreamed of? What is wrong with you? He’s going to think you’ve never been kissed, that you’ll fall into the nearest haystack or pile of sacks and let him do anything for the touch of his lips. And you would, Riley. You’d let this man do anything he wanted. Why don’t you just drop into that bundle of burlap and lift your skirt for him now? ‘Tis only a matter of time… She tried to clear her head. Talking was getting her into more trouble. “It was very thorough.” “Thorough? ‘Tis not exactly what I intended though I didna intend to do it at all. Perhaps I need to try again. ‘Tis practice that is needed. I’m sure I can improve on the dream.”
When he tried to draw her into his arms again, Riley took a step backward, colliding with the sacks. She didn’t know if her clumsiness was because Daniel Corrigan was barreling toward them with a clear purpose, or because the stranger’s kiss had pushed her into the realm of madness. Either way she had the worst possible luck because when she glanced from the corner of her eye, she knew Daniel had seen her despite being enveloped in the arms of a tall stranger. He was still on a direct line toward them. “Damn it! Does the man have to follow me everywhere?” She clutched the stranger’s hand. “I’d appreciate it if you follow my lead.” Her gorgeous cavalier glanced over his shoulder toward the approaching man then back to her. “And if I don’t?” “Just do what I say!” Riley snapped. The man shrugged. Riley turned to meet the man who made her every waking moment a walk through hell, but she favored him with her most brilliant smile. The handsome features of Daniel’s face were marred by the frown lines that creased his forehead and the slash of his tight angry mouth. The wind stirred and whipped strands of auburn hair across his face but Riley felt his hard stare. She was glad she could not see the fury in his eyes. Nobody could rile Daniel faster than she could. She had been hoping to avoid him today. “Daniel!” she cried. “What brings you to the docks?” “Business,” he snapped. “And you, Riley? What brings you to the docks?” Corrigan’s eyes flickered across her with barely controlled annoyance then rose to study the man beside her. Riley took a step closer to her dark knight, pressing her body against his side. His arm swept behind her back and tugged her close, his hand fastening on her waist in a proprietary fashion. She wiggled, but that seemed to offer him an added enticement. He let his hand drift down over the curve of her bottom and squeezed gently. Bastard. You’re supposed to follow my lead, not fondle me in front of the one man who will never let me forget it. “What are you about here, Riley?” Corrigan asked. “The docks are no place for an unescorted lady and since I forbid you to make any changes without consulting me…” A hot fury swept through her and she nearly bit his head off. The fact that he had any control over her life incensed her and if she could get her hands on her dead father, Peter Sullivan would pay for practically giving her to Corrigan. “You’re sweet to worry so much about me, Daniel, but I’m fine and certainly not alone. Brian is here somewhere.” “A lad is not an acceptable escort,” Corrigan said, “and you’ve no business here. I’ve warned you I’ll not allow…” Riley slapped his arm playfully and it took every ounce of willpower she had to not hit him as hard as she could. “Daniel, you should know I’d never go against your wishes. You’ve made it clear I’ve no choice.” Her temper was unraveling. She could hear it in her voice, but Daniel was apparently oblivious to her moods. “I’m not about any business at all. Actually … I’ve come to meet someone.” Corrigan shifted his eyes once again to the stranger. Riley was starting to panic because she didn’t even know the man’s name and he was suddenly quiet. She squeezed the hand holding hers and he squeezed back, but said nothing. She twisted her face up and saw the satisfied smile on his face. His dark brows rose in question and Riley took a deep breath, ready to explode. Was the bastard not even going to introduce himself? He leaned down and whispered into her ear.
“’Tis time for truth, lass. Am I the answer to your prayers?” The breath against her face was intoxicating. The eyes that drilled into hers were demanding an answer that her entire body wanted to give. He was the answer to her prayers and every other thought that had ever drifted through her mind, but she be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing it. He squeezed her hand then linked his fingers through hers, caressing the back of her hand. She nodded helplessly, unable to say a word. A lesser man would simply have admitted defeat in the presence of a man like this, but Daniel Corrigan would never admit defeat, especially where she was concerned. He had made himself very clear on that. Daniel stood his ground against the stranger’s proprietary assault. When the stranger straightened, Riley knew he spoke to her, but his eyes were locked on Corrigan’s with a challenging stare. “Is this a friend of yours then, darlin’?” the man asked. “Aye, this is Daniel Corrigan. He’s been helping me through the last few months.” “’Tis an honor to meet you then, Master Corrigan. I’m in debt to you for taking such care of…” He paused and for a split second Riley’s heart stuttered. She squeezed his hand again with all the strength she could muster and he glanced toward her with a smile. “…Riley. I’ve spent a great deal of time and money tracking her down. Did she not tell you I’d be arriving?” “No, sir, she did not. Who are you?” “The name’s Logan. Raphael Logan.” Corrigan did not seem pleased and Riley couldn’t have been happier about that, but this impossible man was not following her lead. He was steering the entire conversation. Where it would lead was still a matter of debate, and when she glanced at him, he was gazing down at her with a recklessness she found disheartening. He was going to take whatever game they were playing to a new level. “What brings you to our shores, Master Logan?” Corrigan asked. Riley’s breath caught in her chest. She vaguely wondered if it was possible to choke on air. She was suddenly too hot and there was a trickle of sweat running between her breasts. Why was she so hot? There was a strong cool breeze blowing from the river and she smelled the heady aroma of fish and the sodden debris that floated near the water’s edge. The breeze seemed to swirl temptingly around her and she could even feel her hair lifting from around her face, but it was not helping her at all. Everything was suddenly so wrong. What had started as a romantic fantasy captured in the arms of a handsome stranger had quickly become a tawdry bargain with a captivating scoundrel. When had it become such a mind-boggling nightmare? How had she lost control so fast? Her thoughts whirled, spinning elaborate stories and connections. What relationship could she possibly have with this man? A distant cousin? A lost brother? No, no, he said his name was Logan. What kind of name was Raphael? Don’t allow yourself to be distracted. Think, damn it! Could he be a friend of her father’s? How old was this man? She glanced up at him frantically. Mid-twenties? What possible connection could he have to her family? Perhaps a journeyman seeking introduction. Oh, my God, there had been a kiss! What insane notion had prompted her to do that? Desperate to avoid Daniel, it was the only thing she could think to do. Kissing him had actually seemed the only thing on her mind
at all. But now that kiss had ruined so many options. She could barely think and the sweat running down the back of her neck was not helping. Logan gave her a tug and she lifted off her feet. He leaned closer and nuzzled his scratchy face against her cheek. “Did you not tell him, lass?” “Tell me what?” Corrigan asked. She could think of nothing. She was ready to throw her arms into the air and admit defeat. Daniel Corrigan would realize she’d come to the dock behind his back, defied every order he had given her and tried to hire a workman. She had no intention of ever submitting to Corrigan’s wishes, but she had hoped to have the situation resolved before he became aware of what she was doing. Now because of a brainless and utterly foolish notion, her entire plan had been ruined. Had the man’s kiss been worth risking everything she’d been trying to save? She could still feel the pressure of his lips and she raised her hand to touch her mouth. Oh, aye. If the man was gone from her life tomorrow, she would always remember that one perfect kiss. Daniel was watching her with exasperation, close to losing his already strained patience. The way his nostrils flared indicated she had very little time left to explain herself before he simply gripped her arm and yanked her home like a wayward child. He seemed to think he owned her because Peter Sullivan had chosen him as guardian. “Riley and I are old friends,” Logan said. “We had an arrangement between us years ago. I’ve been searching for her since she and her family simply vanished off the streets of London.” She flinched at the look he shot toward her. “An arrangement, Master Logan?” Corrigan asked. Corrigan’s hands clenched at his sides. Riley looked closely for signs of steam coming out of his ears. He looked like he was ready to explode. Daniel’s face always got a little red right before he exploded. It was a lovely shade of pink now… “’Twas a promise. Struck in an honest manner. I’ve the…” He patted the pockets of his jacket. “Well, ‘tis somewhere. I’ve come to claim what belongs to me.” Corrigan held up his hand and when Riley heard the growl of his voice, she pushed closer to Logan. “What … sort … of … arrangement?” Riley felt Logan’s eyes boring into the top of her head. For a moment she held her breath fearing the words that might drop from his lips, but since she could think of nothing she was willing to accept any possible scenario and thank him later. She had no idea where he was leading the conversation, but he seemed able to spin tales with the talent of a master bard. She glanced up at Logan, intensely curious about what he might say but filled with apprehension, and for one moment she saw the same apprehension flicker across his face. He looked torn, as though he struggled with a decision. His eyes darted across her face and locked on her eyes. What she saw there sent a shiver through her and when a tiny smile lifted the edge of his mouth, she breathed a sigh of relief. Logan leaned toward her and pressed his face against her hair. She could only nod mutely when he whispered, “Follow my lead, lass.” But when Logan turned to Corrigan and finally answered his question, Riley’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach and she thought she might swoon. She was grateful Logan’s arms were so tight around her. Falling to the dock in a dead faint would not have
been good for the tough reputation she had been trying to foster. The words seemed to echo in her head and drift through the haze of her thoughts. “’Twas an arrangement of the heart, Master Corrigan. We’re betrothed.” Corrigan’s voice slammed into her and she jerked. “Betrothed! Damn it, Riley! What kind of foolish jest is this? If this is true, how could you have neglected to tell me?” “I didna know,” she said softly. But neither man was listening to her. Corrigan’s fists were tightening against his thighs and he looked dangerously close to hitting something. She had never seen his face any redder than it was today. Logan’s hand was wandering across her bottom again, obviously taking as many liberties with his new betrothed as possible. She brushed the roaming hand away with all the irritation she could muster in her present state of mind, but he seemed to know how desperate she was to keep up the charade. His hand returned immediately and traveled lower. He fought through the wad of fabric to cup her between her thighs and she felt one finger slide over a place it had no business sliding. She gasped and jerked away. Corrigan eyes shot to Logan’s. Her soon-to-be-husband offered a lazy grin. “I canna keep my hands off her,” he said. “Riley was quite young when she caught my fancy and she’s more beautiful than I remembered. A vision. A stunning paragon of womanhood. A princess hidden in drab cloth. I canna wait to see what lies beneath, and I grow weary of waiting. ‘Twas a long voyage.” “You’ve come to Virginia seeking a woman you have not seen in five years?” Corrigan asked. His voice held a trace of awe and a great deal of suspicion. Riley had no doubt that Corrigan was finding the entire tale an elaborate hoax. She knew Daniel well enough to know that his head was filling with questions for which they’d have no answers, objections for which they’d have no recourse. He would not give up the possibility that he would soon have everything she owned, including her body. She saw his mouth part to speak and Riley realized that Logan was a man used to thinking fast. He twisted her around and Riley was pulled off her feet. “Your pardon, sir,” he said with a nod to Corrigan. “I canna believe I’ve finally found her. I need the taste of her in my mouth to prove she’s actually mine again.” When his mouth slammed into hers, his lips muffled her tiny cry of protest. Her hands caught his arms and pushed but did not deter him. He gathered her closer and for one moment the pressure of his mouth lifted. “Kiss me back,” he ordered. “Like you mean it.” “What are you doing?” she gasped. “I wanted to kiss you again,” he said. “Open your mouth, darlin’. Kiss me.” She opened her lips without a thought and accepted the moisture of his mouth, the questing tongue that searched for hers. She forgot they were surrounded by people, and that Daniel Corrigan was standing within an arm’s length. Her hands rose and clutched at Logan’s upper arms but when she had a sudden desire to climb up his body and wrap her legs around his waist, she knew she was very close to losing her last shred of decency. She lifted her hand and pressed her fingers against his scratchy jaw. Oh, it was a heavenly sensation. His tongue left her mouth slowly and for one moment, hers flickered out for one final touch. She felt him smile against her lips and that small triumph he enjoyed was too
much. She wiggled in his arms and he dropped her to the ground. She lifted her face with a smile of her own, but spit out her words between clenched teeth. “We’re betrothed,” she said, “not married.” “Doesna matter. ‘Tis what lies within our hearts, lass, and my heart is full with my love of you.” He tugged her against him and she felt exactly what he was filled with. Full heart, my ass, Master Logan. What struggles in your breeches has nothing to do with love. There was a hard length of something intriguing stirring in his pants. It rose against her eagerly and seemed to be searching the fabric between them for access to her. When she saw another smile tug at the corner of his mouth, she could not resist torturing him. She pressed her pelvis tight against him and slid her body over the hard bulge in his breeches. His eyes widened and his throat convulsed as he struggled for a breath of his own. Riley used all the willpower in her limited reserves to keep from falling to the wooden planks. “Your eagerness stirs my heart.” She sighed. “I can’t wait to get you alone.” She slid her hand between them and clutched his manhood. The shock of it made him jerk but it was a definite mistake on her part. The feel of him under her hand sent a wave of curiosity through her and for a split second she had an urge to explore further. Only the look on his face stopped her. He was so overwhelmed, so stunned that it pulled her out of her trance. She’d forgotten she was torturing him, not herself. She pressed her face against his chest and allowed her words to drift between them. “Play the game, Logan, and we’ll get through this.” “I’m playing the game, lass, and look forward to the next toss.” “Don’t toy with me. Do not presume this means anything.” He twisted his hand in her hair and lowered his face. “Your kiss didna lie, lass, and ‘tis most certainly not a game between us. Wait till I get you alone.” His hand snaked between them and covered hers. He pressed her fingers tighter against his manhood. “You’ve a strong hand. ‘Tis going to be useful in the game. Get. Rid. Of him.” She gave him a playful push and tried to laugh. Whatever she thought she’d been trying to accomplish had now gone beyond her control because Logan had completely recovered. Riley turned her attention back to Daniel Corrigan. He was seething, his eyes drilling into Rafe Logan with a hatred that stunned her. He looked none too pleased with her either. She was glad they were in a public place. In private she feared Corrigan would tear her from Logan’s arms and simply try to beat the man to death. Corrigan’s fury might give him a distinct advantage at first, but Logan was a strong man and she had no doubt who would win a contest between them. When Daniel spoke the soft tone of his voice alarmed her. “What have you done here, Riley?” he asked. “This is something we should have discussed. Master Logan, I fear you’ve made a journey for naught. This arrangement between you is not possible. Mistress Sullivan has offered you false promises.” “The promises are not false!” she cried. “’Twas decided years ago, Daniel!” “Then it’s something that will be undecided now,” Corrigan said. He shot a savage glance toward Raphael Logan. “Sir, I will reimburse you for your passage and arrange a private berth when the ship sails in a fortnight. Lodgings will be secured at the Leaping
Stag for you until then. You seem a reasonable man. Surely you see the impossibility of this situation.” Logan’s hand dropped casually to the sword at his hip. “No, Master Corrigan, I’m afraid I do not. I’ve endured things a man shouldna have to endure because of this woman. Would you explain to me why I canna have her?” “Because she belongs to me,” Corrigan said. Riley shrieked and both men’s heads swiveled toward her. She marched toward Corrigan and smashed her palms against his chest. “Stop saying that, Daniel! Every time you say that I want to hit you.” Logan was laughing and she whirled around to face him. “I’m going to hit you too!” she screamed. “Darlin’, is there something you shoulda told me?” he asked. “Have you promised yourself to every man in this colony? Must I duel on my first day here? I’m a little tired and…” “No! ‘Tis my decision!” The words snapped from her mouth then she rounded on Corrigan. “Daniel, you’re going to have to accept this.” “I won’t,” he said. The stubborn pride on his face was infuriating but the slight bit of confusion she saw there rattled her. She lost her concentration. “I’m in love with … with him.” She gestured vaguely toward Logan who was watching her with interest, waiting to see what the outcome would be. He folded his arms across his chest, offered her a tantalizing smile and threw her to the wolves. Thank you so much, Master Logan. You’ll pay for that smile. “‘Tis something I’ve clung to for years. I’ve been in love with him since I was a girl … when he was…” She tossed a smug smile up over her shoulder and gave him the most satisfied look she could muster. “…Father’s indenture. When Da tore us apart, I fairly died of the loss. I’ve held Raphael in my heart, in that secret place a girl holds her dreams. I was hoping he’d find me again.” She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “He’s the answer to my prayers, Daniel.” She heard a small groan rumble through the man next to her and Daniel’s disbelief echoed in his laughter. “Indenture? Why this man looks like he’s come directly from Charles’ court. Am I to believe that…?” Logan fingered the hilt of his sword. “I’m an enterprising man, Master Corrigan. And good with coin.” “Would that be earning the coin, Logan, or putting it in your pocket another way?” Logan took a step forward. Riley clutched his arm, but he simply dragged her along. “There are a great many ways to acquire coin, sir, including stealing it from children.” For one insane moment, Riley thought she actually heard something in Daniel’s brain snap. In Riley’s memory no one had ever questioned Daniel Corrigan’s integrity, honor or loyalty, and this stranger had done all three in one sentence. She saw Daniel’s hand flex as he reached toward the blade at his hip and when Corrigan froze, she realized she had actually cried out. She could hear the breath of two angry men shatter the silence between them. Riley took a few steps, trying to put herself between the men. Corrigan, always the gentleman, always the diplomat, actually shook himself and Riley breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time, Daniel’s propriety worked to her benefit.
“I meant no offense,” Corrigan said. “But you seem … successful for a man that was an indenture a mere five years before.” “Enterprise, Master Corrigan,” Logan said. “I see opportunity and I take it.” Corrigan nodded and turned to Riley. “It seems a bit … coincidental that your betrothed has arrived seemingly out of nowhere just as we were discussing closing the shop and pursuing a more permanent relationship of our own.” Logan stirred again and she heard a growl. His shadow moved closer. He was taking the jealous lover act a bit too far. Though it was tempting to see what might happen between them, and on an ordinary day she might have aggravated the conflict further just for some excitement, she just wanted today over. Corrigan was a big man and in any other contest would emerge victorious. But Logan exuded a danger that would annihilate any skill or strength Corrigan could muster. She had no wish to see Daniel’s blood flow. Logan would pulverize him in a fistfight and she had no doubt he knew how to use that sword. Riley made a shooing gesture toward Logan and let a small frown cross her face. “Any pursuit has been of your own making, Daniel, and…” Think, think. “…Raphael’s arrival … well ‘tis hardly coincidental. ‘Tis providential! We hoped to be married for my twenty-first birthday. I never mentioned it because…” She chewed on her lower lip and tried for a sparkling of tears. Damn, it was hard to cry on command, but she put on the best sad face she could manage on such short notice. “Things have a way of happening to me … bad things … I was so afraid to get my hopes up … so afraid that … Raphael…” What the hell kind of name was that? Who would do that do a child? “…wouldn’t find me after Da tore us from England… And when I got his letter, I just couldn’t bear even discussing it with anyone, let alone you…” Thank God. The tears were falling. She felt them slide down her cheeks and she knew they looked heartbreaking. Daniel always had a soft spot for her tears and so far it had worked to her advantage. She had held onto the shop for six months. She heard Logan’s exasperated sigh behind her. He obviously did not have a soft spot for tears, but she’d deal with him later. He was in as deep as she was. Daniel could never resist any opportunity to touch her. He lurched toward her, gathered her in his arms and smoothed the hair away from her face. She heard Logan make another noise and this one sounded positively feral. “Now, angel, don’t be sad again.” Corrigan cradled her face and forced her to look at him. He tugged her a fair distance away and cast a glance at Logan. “Your father’s death was hard on all of us. We’ll get through this, but I want to give you a word of caution. You haven’t seen this man in nearly five years. You were a mere child and we should reconsider this promise.” “I’m a grown woman, Daniel. I think I can handle … one man. Besides…” She raised her voice just slightly, allowing it to drift toward Logan on a soft caress of longing. She met his eyes over Daniel’s shoulder. “I love him.” Logan rolled his eyes and started to pace. “How naïve you are, Riley. You love the idea of him. You don’t know his motivations for being here. He’s admitted to taking advantage of opportunity. You cannot
be held accountable for a decision made five years ago. You were scarcely more than a child and even then he was a grown man…” She ceased to listen but nodded thoughtfully because Daniel would expect it. She shifted slightly and risked a glance at the man prowling behind Daniel. Raphael Logan, with his dark angelic face, looked less than pleased and she couldn’t have been happier about that. She batted her eyelashes at him and he folded his arms and rolled his gorgeous blue eyes again. When his hand reached down, cupped between his thighs and he offered her a wicked smile, she nearly choked. His mouth formed quiet words she couldn’t hear. She had no trouble making them out, but she could not remotely interpret them in her mind. Suck my dick. For one moment her face twisted in puzzlement. What did that mean? Her eyes dropped between his thighs again. Her face flamed with sudden heat and she thought her eyes would surely fall out of her head. Oh, my God … he couldn’t mean… Was that even possible? When his hearty laughter filled the air around her, she closed her eyes. What on earth had she gotten herself into? She swung her face back to Daniel, trying to compose herself. She had almost forgotten what she was doing. Daniel was staring at her with his usual impatient annoyance. It was Daniel’s permanent look lately. Riley dropped her eyes demurely and her teeth tugged once again at her lip. “I love him,” she repeated. “I want to spend the rest of my life with him.” “You don’t know him,” Daniel said. “A man can change in five years.” “But he seems … to love me…” “What I see in that man’s face is not love, Riley.” “What else could it be?” she asked. Oh, she was surely going to hell. “He kisses me like a man in love.” “I’ve no wish to discuss that with you,” Daniel said. “It’s enough to know he’s cast some sort of spell over you and I’ll see an end to it. I forbid you to pursue this.” “Your guardianship does not extend to my heart, Daniel. I should be allowed to marry whom I choose.” Daniel cupped her face and she struggled to keep from tearing herself away. “I was hoping you’d choose me.” “I’m in love with someone else,” she whispered. Corrigan dropped his arms in disgust. “Don’t make any rash decisions, Riley, and for God’s sake, stay away from him.” “Why? Oh!” Riley cried. “Do you think he might try to take advantage of me? Physically?” “This man could ruin your future,” Daniel snarled. “Trust me, Riley. Just give me a few days. I’m going to investigate him. It doesn’t make sense that a man like this would travel so far for a woman he doesn’t know.” “Do you think he might be here thinking I have assets, Daniel?” “It’s a possibility. If you marry him before you know for certain, you’ll lose everything.” “There’s not much to lose at this point,” Riley said. “You’ve told me the shop is practically bankrupt. He’ll not get much if that’s what he’s come for.”
“Are you willing to risk your … maidenhood … for an arrangement you may not want?” Riley’s eyes widened and she knew she would surely go to hell for playing on Daniel’s sympathies. “I’d not thought of that. Would a man do something like that?” “I’ve no way of knowing what this man might do, but the look of him is … suspect. We’ll find him a place to stay until we ascertain his motives…” “I’ll be staying with her.” Corrigan’s face shot up. “You most certainly will not.” “Oh, aye, I will and I fail to see, Master Corrigan, where ‘tis your concern. ‘Tis between the woman and myself. And if you don’t mind, get your hands off what belongs to me.” By the tone of his voice Riley could almost see the look on Logan’s face. Those blue eyes would be glittering like hard sapphire stones. Her upper arm was enveloped in a strong grip and she was spun around. She had been right. Staring into his eyes was like looking at the brightest sapphire and seeing your own reflection. If she was ready to give him her sternest lecture on staying out of her business, he was ready for far worse. The lecture she was going to receive would be monumental. For one moment his face softened. It had nothing to do with her, but everything with the man standing behind her. Raphael Logan should have been on the stage. He was a player to rival any actor in Bankside. “Dry your eyes, lass. ‘Tis not a day for tears.” He swept his thumb across her cheek. “There’s been too much excitement for one day. We need to get you home. You can speak with Master Corrigan another time.” His mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed, daring her to disagree, but Riley was running out of energy. She didn’t think she could stand being caught between these men another minute. She was going to be in trouble once she had this man in her house and they were alone, but dealing with one man seemed far easier than dealing with two. She nodded and turned to Corrigan. “Daniel, perhaps you could come to supper tomorrow night. We’ll discuss…” Corrigan’s eyes settled on Logan. “We seem to have a great many things to discuss.” “We’ll look forward to it,” Logan said. “Come, lass. We’ve things to discuss of our own.”
Chapter 5 Riley pushed open the cottage door and stepped inside. After the brightness of the afternoon sun, the darkness of the interior slammed into her and she nearly stumbled over her own threshold. Logan followed her, ducking his head to pass through the doorframe. When Riley saw the trunk and satchel sitting between the bedroom doors, she gave him a questioning glance, but Logan displayed no surprise. He flung his hat onto the trunk and immediately began to wander around the room, investigating his new surroundings. She was suddenly very nervous. “What kind of name is Raphael?” she asked. “Raphael is the archangel of love.” He laughed like such a simple statement explained everything. “Aye, I know, but…” Riley said. “‘Twas a bit of whimsy on my ma’s part. She thought to give my birth a distinction to prove that bearing a bastard was her choice.” “Oh,” Riley said. She turned her face so Logan couldn’t see the blush that stained her cheek. She’d not meant to open an embarrassing discussion, but he seemed unconcerned. She searched for another topic, but her mind seemed to be blank. Having a strange man in her house was taking its toll already. “And you’ve a brother Michael?” Logan laughed. “Aye. Michael was the archangel of justice. By the time Ma dropped my brother she wasna feeling so whimsical. She was thoroughly pissed, but my ma was a different sort of woman. She could find humor in almost any situation.” Riley smiled. “And might there be a Gabriel in the Logan family?” Logan seemed surprised by her question. “Aye, there would be. Are you a Catholic then, lass?” “No one in Virginia is Catholic, Master Logan. ‘Twould be wise to remember that.” “I hold to no religion, mistress, so ‘tis not a problem. I learned young that God has no interest in my problems.” “He does seem busy at times,” Riley said, “and I’m not even sure He knows Virginia exists. Gabriel is the youngest?” “Aye, that she is, though her name is Gabrielle. By the time Gabby was born my ma was crying for an archangel of mercy, but thankfully that was her last glimpse of heaven. Gabby’s birth didna dampen Ma’s spirit though. Her humor continued. She called us her fallen angels.” “’Tis an odd name for innocent children,” Riley said. “Not for my mother, lass. She was at one time Dublin’s finest courtesan.” His voice held a touch of pride. “A courtesan? You mean a…?” “A fancy whore, lass. And my ma was the best, but with three small bodies clamoring for attention a woman has no time for the amenities of a courtesan’s life. There was no time to primp, to entertain, to hold a social station. She quickly became naught but a street whore though she had a great success with it. With her beauty and talent, she should have led a much better life. We did our mother no favor being born.” “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Riley said.
“I take no offense. ‘Twas my life and I’ve known no other. Our mother loved us as best she could.” “Was it enough?” Riley asked. He opened her bedroom door and peeked inside. He scanned the interior with a frown but said nothing. He closed the door and went on to the other. “No, lass, ‘twas never enough, but I’ve stopped wishing for foolish things. There’s naught to be gained by dreaming. And Riley? ‘Tis an unusual name and seems a bit masculine for someone such as yourself.” “My mother’s family name. She was the daughter of County Cavan’s most prominent landowner and had a life filled with promise until she fell in love with Peter Sullivan.” “And was it enough?” Logan asked. “No, she deserved far more as well,” Riley said softly. She didn’t want to talk about mothers, good or bad. The very idea of a mother hurt something inside her, and what was in their past had no bearing on their present situation. She turned around with a bright smile. “Since we’re betrothed now, Master Logan, do I call you Raphael?” She whirled around because somehow he had moved behind her. The man couldn’t seem to stand still. He was exploring her little cottage like it was the most fascinating place on earth, peering and inspecting, touching and lifting. She wished she’d had time to clean up. There was never enough time in the day to finish everything. Her eyes swept the cottage with disgust. It could be cheerier, brighter, more homey. She’d not thought this through very well at all, but she’d had no intention of actually bringing a strange man into their house. She wanted a man to run the smithy and had assumed he would live in the shop. Now she’d be forced to allow this stranger to live in the cottage because her betrothed could not possibly stay in the smithy. She’d have to give serious thought to sleeping arrangements. She studied the cottage with a stranger’s eye. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if he chose to live in the shop rather than the gloomy little cottage. She hadn’t even thought to open the shutters because she spent so little time inside. She darted around the room, flinging them open. They banged against the walls and echoed in the quiet. If he noticed, he said nothing about that, but finally answered her question. “Rafe will do, lass. I’m not much for affectation.” She dropped her eyes down his frame and smiled. His very presence and manner seemed an affectation. No man could be what this one seemed. He was the most elegant and stylish man she’d ever seen. Corrigan had been right. Despite his dirty clothing and unkempt grooming, Logan looked like he’d come directly from King Charles’ court. His posture and bearing was almost regal and he was inspecting her home as though deciding its fitness for occupation. What was a man like this doing in the wilds of Virginia? “Rafe then. I’d feel a little silly calling you by the name of an archangel … though…” He glanced up from his inspection of her cupboards. “Though?” “Well, the name suits you. Your presence is very … imposing. And you’re … very … well favored.” “Take after my da, I guess,” Logan said. He bent down to peer beneath the washboard. He lifted the curtain and drew back in surprise at the clutter she had stashed there. “Wouldna know him for myself. Never met the man. I heard he was a fine
gentleman, a good-looking man, but obviously too fine or to proud to admit he’d whelped a bastard. Didna get my look from my ma. She was a wee thing like you with a head of russet curls. Gabby favors her. The old-timers said Valerie Logan was once the most beautiful woman in Dublin, the answer to a man’s prayers.” “The answer to a prayer? Are you the answer to mine, Master Logan?” He paused in his ransacking and glanced over his shoulder. “I doubt it, lass. You may find yourself praying I’d never come to these shores.” He went back to foraging. “What exactly are you looking for, Master Logan?” “A drink, lass. Surely you’ve something.” She darted across the room. The man had just spent two months at sea and she’d forgotten he’d not washed, not eaten, not rested. Her common sense had deserted her, but for some reason she felt like she’d known this man forever. She grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind the tea caddy. “Will this do? ‘Tis whiskey.” “Aye, lass. ‘Twill do fine.” She was reaching for a mug, but he pulled the cork from the bottle and took a long gulp. He continued to wander restlessly around the room, sipping from the bottle. Though they had one of the larger cottages in town, Riley was suddenly aware of how tiny it was. Logan seemed to take up so much space, and no matter where she stood she seemed to be in his way. He sidestepped around her so many times she got dizzy following his movements. His head almost grazed the beams in the ceiling but several near collisions did nothing to slow down his inspection. Riley tried to see the cottage through his eyes. Plain whitewashed walls. Dirty hearthstones. Drafty windows. Crude furniture and very little of that. There was the dining table and benches, a rocker and several straight back chairs, a battered old writing table and bookshelves that her father had used for keeping accounts until she had been forced to do it herself. Bruised and abused cupboards hung lazily from the walls. There was no comfort in the cottage at all and the other rooms held little but a bedstead, a bench for dressing and several trunks that held their belongings. They’d been in Virginia for nearly five years and looked as though they had just arrived, and she was hovering about like she didn’t belong. Rafe Logan looked more at home than she did. Why had they given up hope of having a comfortable cottage when her mother had died? It was clear from the look on Logan’s face he was wondering the same thing. “How long have you been in Virginia?” “Nearly five years,” she said softly. “Lass, you needed help long before this. Has that man not been taking proper care of you? My paramours live far better than this. ‘Tis a crime for a man to treat a mistress like a servant.” “I’m not Daniel’s mistress!” Logan’s brows rose but he said nothing. The fire was nearly burned out. Logan tossed a log into it as he made his inspection, and at the disturbance a gray cloud spun from the hearth and drifted across the floor. When was the last time she’d cleaned out the dead ash? She’d thought of so little but the smithy in the last six months. Logan wiped off his breeches and swung the kettle over the grate, making himself right at home. There were still dishes from their breakfast piled on the washboard and Brian’s parchments were spread across the table. He hadn’t even capped the inkbottle. She
hurried across the room and ruffled the pages together, trying to put them into a tidy pile. Logan reached across her and flipped open the cover of one of the books. He traced the page with his fingers as his brows rose. “Latin?” he asked. “Are you a scholar then?” “I’ve no time for such things. ’Tis Brian. He has a wonderful mind. Always spinning with thoughts. He amazes me sometimes.” “Aye, he seemed quite bright.” “He’s very eager to learn anything new so when he said he’d found what we were looking for, I panicked. I thought he’d found some pale milksop with his head in the clouds on a grand Homeric adventure. The lure of a trunk full of books would have been too much for Brian to resist.” Logan was quiet for a moment and ran his fingers over the book again. “My trunk isna filled with books.” “No, I don’t imagine it is.” She cocked her head and studied him. “You’re a complete surprise. Exactly what…” She snapped her mouth closed and shifted the pile of papers to the edge of the table. She couldn’t look at him. The aristocratic finery he wore and the elegant grace he displayed seemed a contradiction to what might lurk inside this man. Logan looked as though he would be comfortable in the King’s palace. He was undoubtedly a courtier who spent his days languishing over cards and politics and his nights in the arms of the most beautiful ladies. Yet the pure sensual appeal of his body was primitive and raw. She thought Logan would bow to no man, not even his king, and as far as women went he had probably never asked for their favors. He wouldn’t have to. Women would beg to be in his bed. He had the face of an angel, but the glint in his eye was dangerous, reckless and held a trace of wildness. A woman who found herself in his arms would soon find herself with nothing left. She thought Valerie Logan had been right. Her son Raphael did seem like a fallen angel, but in the beauty of his face, Riley still saw a glimpse of heaven. But Rafe Logan was too big, too much, too close and he was coming closer. “I’m exactly what?” Logan prompted. “’Tis silly foolishness but you’re exactly what a woman dreams about.” “And these dreams…” Logan said. “Are they the dreams of every woman … or just you?” His body was nearly touching hers. She could feel the heat coming from his skin. She should move away, but it seemed impossible. She wanted to turn and press against him. She tried to laugh, but it caught somewhere inside of her. “Mine, I guess. Girlish fantasies. I’ve seen you in my mind so many times I’m finding it hard to believe you’re standing here in my keeping room. Did Brian say why he approached you?” “He said I was perfect for your needs,” Logan said. “You must have said something. The lad was on a serious mission.” Riley shook her head furiously. “No, no. I never…” Logan moved closer to her, his body brushing against hers. “Perhaps he read your mind, lass, or sensed what you wanted. Perhaps you should be honest with me. Just once.” He caught her chin and twisted her face toward him. She resisted but he was relentless. He peered at her and her face grew warm under his scrutiny. “You seem well pleased. Am I what you were looking for?”
“Aye,” she whispered. That insolent grin that said he knew what the answer would be before she could get the words out of her mouth spread across his face again. She was going to kick her own ass some day if she couldn’t learn to control herself. Logan dropped his hand and tipped the bottle to his lips. It was amazing the amount of whiskey he could pour down his throat. He glanced around. He was looking for a napkin! She had nothing like that. She darted toward the cupboard searching for a cloth, but when she turned she saw Logan shrug and wipe his hand across his mouth. “’Tis a good thing you’re pleased then, since we’re betrothed. I pulled that little announcement straight out of my ass, wench. ‘Twas obvious that man wants you for himself, and now I’ve a rival here before I’ve even settled. Will I happen to run into others? A bloody bit of warning would be nice before I’m forced to skewer half the men in the colony.” “I had no time to warn you! I couldn’t think of a single reason why I should be talking with you! When I grabbed you I was trying to hide!” Logan peeled off his jacket. “Just admit you wanted to kiss me, lass,” he said. “There’s no shame in that.” “I didn’t!” “Do you have an honest bone in your body?” he asked. “I know when a woman wants to kiss me. I’ve seen it enough times.” “And do you ever wait for a kiss, Logan? You seem the kind of man that would take a woman’s kiss.” “Usually they’re offered quite freely, though I prefer not to…” He looked around for a peg then tossed his jacket down on a bench. “No matter that you canna admit it. The kiss left very few options. You couldna have just said you wanted to employ me?” “Daniel would never allow me to hire anyone.” “’Tis your business,” he said. “No, ‘tis our business. Daniel controls half of it and he’s all too eager to see it fail so I’m trapped under his thumb.” “Give him what he wants then and you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.” “I don’t want to marry him,” she said. “You don’t have to marry him,” he said. “Men will do anything for a bit of pussy. ‘Tis a woman’s prerogative to use her assets and most men fall for it every damn time. Let him slide between your legs more often, lass. ‘Tis a sure way to get what you want and he’ll fix this cottage up a bit as well.” She held up her hand in disgust. “Master Logan, I don’t intend to use my … assets … to get anything. My half of the shop is held in abeyance until I reach twenty-one. My father was a master craftsman but I won’t be allowed to inherit his share if I haven’t proven myself. ‘Tis a complicated mess of apprenticeship regulations and I have to perform. Daniel will have full ownership if I fail. I can’t seem to do it all by myself, which is why I need you.” “Well, now that’s something you’d not told me. Anything else I should know? ‘Tis a bit surprising to find I’m now saddled with a future wife, an occupation I didna want and a half-grown boy. There were others. Where’s the rest of the Sullivan clan?”
She shook her head. “My brother Kevin died on the voyage. My mother died in childbirth after we arrived and we lost the baby as well. My sister Catherine died last year of a fever. I almost lost Brian as well.” “’Twould have been a greater loss. Brian’s a fine boy. And Peter Sullivan? He canna seem to keep his family well no matter where he lives. Where is your drunken wastrel of a no-account da? Has he gotten himself into more debt and simply vanished off this island as well?” “He died six months ago,” Riley said. She toyed with the papers on the table trying not to remember Kevin’s laughter or her mother’s beautiful smile. All of that was painful, but when Catherine’s face drifted through her mind it was almost too much to bear. She had tried so hard to become a mother to her little sister and she missed her so much. What Logan had said finally seeped through the unhappy memories he had stirred up. Peter Sullivan. Drunk. Wastrel. Vanished. Her head shot up. “Did you know my father?” “Aye, lass. Peter Sullivan and I have some unsettled business between us.” A blaze of heat flashed through her and just as quickly vanished. She was overwhelmed by dizziness and touched the table to steady her shaking body. She thought she might vomit and she sucked in tortured gulps of air, willing her body to spare her that additional shame. She could barely say the words. “He owes you money,” she whispered. Logan laughed. “You could say that, lass.” Riley’s eyes swept over him. The clothes of a courtier. The bag of coins. The strong healthy body. The face of an angel. This was a very wealthy man, lacking for nothing in the world. He had all the time and resources in the world to track down a man like Peter Sullivan and he had not hesitated to do it. She wiped at the sheen of sweat that suddenly dotted her brow. She clawed at her throat with clenched fingers. She could not seem to get enough air. Logan seemed unconcerned. He gazed at her coolly. “Is that why you’ve come to Virginia? You’ve followed my father here? For a debt?” “Aye, though it took awhile to find his ass. Years in fact and a great deal of money, but worth the investment. ’Twas a substantial contract, mistress. Peter Sullivan signed it. He may be dead, but ‘tis still binding and…” “Oh, Christ, I should have known,” Riley whispered. She ran her hands over her hot face and forced herself to look at the man who had come to ruin her already broken life. “My prayers are never answered and every dream I have twists into a nightmare. Why I thought for a moment … ‘tis just proof what a fool I am.” She tugged her hair away from her face then swept her arms out to encompass the cottage. “As you can see I have nothing and I’m not sure what to do about this. My da was the best craftsman in Virginia and should have been successful here but there were … problems. Always problems.” “Peter Sullivan did you no favors, lass. A poorer excuse for a man I’d not seen. He displayed a serious lack of morality but that didna stop me from taking advantage of what he offered. I see now he never intended to fulfill the bargain and I was a bloody fool for falling for his ruse, but it doesna matter. I paid the price for the one shred of decency I’ve ever had, but a deal is a deal, Mistress Sullivan. Your da thought to run a scam and that’s on my short list of intolerable behaviors. He obviously didna think I’d follow him here.” “’Tis a bit surprising,” Riley said. “You must be a very unforgiving man, Master Logan.”
“I canna forgive anyone who seeks to dupe me, Mistress Sullivan. I am tenacious and resolved when it comes to retrieving what is mine especially when I am suffered to be a fool.” “You don’t seem to need the money.” “A man doesna become wealthy through forgiveness. I don’t need the money because I always collect on what is owed, but in this case the amount matters naught.” “Then walk away,” she said. “Not possible. ‘Tis the truth of the deal that matters and Peter Sullivan’s greatest sin was his lack of integrity. Your father extorted coin from my purse with promises so hollow they still echo in my head. You must forgive me if I’m running short on patience.” Riley slumped onto the bench crushing Logan’s jacket and plunged her head into her hands. Corrigan was right. She was the most naïve woman in the history of existence. This man had followed her father half way across the world for a debt. What had made her think for one moment her luck had changed? Her knight in shining armor was as tarnished as everything else in her life. She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to hear any more ugly words come from his perfect mouth, but she didn’t seem to have much choice. She lifted her face and spread her hands in her lap, twisting the skirt into snarls. “I’ve no way of offering you restitution at present, Master Logan. Brian and I have very little … but if you’re willing to help us…” “I didna come here with the intention of earning what is legally mine, lass.” “Then what is this about?” Riley asked. “Was this entire afternoon a pretense to get into my house? Why not just come to the door? Were you just going to confront my father then leave again?” “I came for what is mine,” he said. “It doesna matter whom I must confront to get it.” “And what happened on the dock? Why didn’t you just ask where my father was? Why the games between us? Why did you kiss me?” “Ah, now we get to the heart of it … the kisses. Well, lass, have no doubts. When I realized who you were the simple truth seemed the best path to take, but the temptation to get under your skirt was very hard to resist and with your brother practically giving you away… ‘Twas a very long voyage and I’m not one to turn down what a wench has to offer.” Riley stood up and whirled around to face him. “Take it then,” she snapped. “Take everything! I’ve no way to stop you and no recourse. You obviously have some sort of legal document or you wouldn’t have come here. Take everything and get out!” Her face was hot. The tears were building inside of her, tears that were going to pour down her face in a scalding trail of shame. Shame that she had a father who thought nothing of lying and cheating his way through life, shame that she had no way of rectifying the damage he had done and shame that she was going to fail the one person relying on her to make things right. And she had fallen right into this man’s arms. She was so humiliated and disgusted for succumbing to the promise that lurked in his eyes. The man had a talent for playacting and she had thrown herself at him willingly. Why had she thought for one moment this man was everything she might want? She struggled to keep her voice firm. “Are you an actor, Master Logan?”
“No, lass, though I considered it for a time. Most every man in Southwark considers it for a time. The pay is good and the wenches warmed by the thrill of it. ‘Tis easy for an actor to get laid … though I’ve not had much trouble with that so…” “I don’t doubt it,” she said. “But you have a great dramatic flair. You’ve quite a theatrical talent.” “You’ve quite a talent yourself, lass. I’ve not seen such a display in quite some time. Your false tears tugged at the man’s heart, though these…” He reached out and touched the wetness of her cheek. He stared at his damp fingers. “…these are real.” Riley shrugged away from him and wiped her hand across her face. “So why did you do it?” she asked. “For some fun,” he said. He shrugged, as though his list of activities to relieve the dullness of the day included destroying her life. Just another afternoon in the tedious life of a wealthy bored cavalier. “Fun? It doesn’t feel like fun to me. It feels like betrayal.” “Ah, a classic plot in Bankside theaters. ‘And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.’” “Do not quote Shakespeare to me, Master Logan. No matter what pretty words conceal your deception, ‘tis still hurtful and unjustified. I’ve done nothing to you.” “I meant no harm,” he said. “‘Tis something to quell the monotony and be honest, mistress, ’tis something we all use at times. You used it today and since you are obviously familiar with the works of Master Shakespeare, there’s a quote I’m rather fond of. He said, ‘All the world’s a stage…’” “`And all the men and women merely players,’” Riley said. “The Sullivan family seems to have two scholars,” Logan said. “’Tis somewhat of a surprise.” Riley stared at him hard, willing the rest of her tears to stay buried. She couldn’t seem to control her breathing. One moment it burst from her in ragged pants and the next it stuck in her throat like her wounded pride. When she felt his hand wrap around her arm, one tear slipped down her face and she wiped it away with the heel of her hand. “What shall I take from you, lass? This miserable little cottage? A shop in financial ruin? Have you anything else of value? Jewelry? Coin? Silver?” When Riley furiously shook her head, Logan sighed, the exhausted sigh of a man who’d run out of ideas. He glanced at her hopefully. “Well, I’ve not had a male indenture before, but there’s always something to be done at the house. Brian seems an amicable, honest fellow. Perhaps you’d trade your brother to make good on the contract? I stand to lose a considerable fortune, but…” “Absolutely not,” she whispered. Logan took another drink and put the bottle on the hearthstones. “There’s naught else here to satisfy even a portion of my loss. As Peter Sullivan’s lawful heir and the party responsible for his assets and debts, I could have you tossed into gaol to achieve some satisfaction, but even that doesna seem enough.” Could a heart actually stop beating? Riley felt as though the world had dropped out from under her feet. When she had woken that morning, she knew her life was spiraling beyond her control. Brian’s solution had seemed perfectly logical in the light of the sun and for a brief moment she thought she might have a way to turn a marginal profit and
keep Corrigan at bay. When this man, this strong, healthy vibrant man, had dropped into her lap out of thin air she thought she might be able to get the shop turned into an actual working smithy. She’d have no choice now. She would have to go to Daniel and throw herself at his mercy. He wanted control of her assets and he wanted her. She would agree to marry him. She would sell herself… Logan was searching through her shelves, obviously inventorying her meager collection of household goods. The man would leave her with nothing. When she shouted at him, the desperation of her voice alarmed her, but there was no other choice. “Master Logan!” He spun around, juggling two cups and the tea caddy. He nearly dropped the only cup she owned that wasn’t yet chipped. As he set them on the washboard, he cocked his head, waiting. “What benefit would be gained by jailing me?” she asked. “None that I can see,” he said, “but I’ll think of something … ‘tis what I do best. Calm yourself, lass. You look ready to jump out of your skin.” He had found her teapot, the only thing her mother had ever treasured, and in his large hands it looked far too fragile. He sprinkled a rather liberal amount of tea into it and Riley moaned. That tea had to last until she could get her hands on coin because she had reached the limit of her credit. She could not believe she was thinking of something as unimportant as tea when her entire life was in jeopardy. He reached toward the kettle. “Do you like me, Master Logan?” When he jerked upright, his head smacked into the hearthstones. His curses filled the room and Riley wanted to run. What was she doing? This man was a stranger, filled with threats and accusations. He had twisted her life from a problem-ridden disaster into a holy mess and she had practically invited him into her life. Don’t make it worse, Riley. Don’t say the words in your head. ‘Tis not the answer. Go to Daniel. He’s a devious bastard, but he’ll never hurt you. This man is dangerous. This man will steal your soul if he has a chance and will never give it back. She waited until he calmed down, her need to flee the cottage a roiling snake in her gut. It took all the courage she had to stand still. Logan was frozen near the hearth and when he spoke, his voice was very quiet in the still room. “I don’t know you, lass.” “But you like the way I look? You said as much. A man doesn’t want under a woman’s skirt unless he likes the way she looks.” He cursed again as his hand brushed the hot kettle. He grabbed a dingy cloth from the stones and turned to her. He had clearly forgotten what he was doing. She took the cloth from his hand, grabbed the kettle and tried to pour water into the pot. Her hands started to tremble and she missed the opening entirely. She felt him watching her. “I have very little but my reputation in this village, Master Logan, and even that is tenuous considering my father’s legacy. I know what kind of man he was and I’ve fought hard the last six months to repair the damage he’s done.” She busied herself arranging the cups and found a bit of cake she’d made the day before. Brian had not left much, but perhaps she could steal into Logan’s good graces with her culinary skills. She racked her brain for any possible solution but there was really only one thing she had left of any value. Logan was watching every move she
made and when her hands would not stop trembling she pushed them into her pockets. She had to turn away from him because looking at his face was taking away her courage. “I’m willing to risk the shred of reputation I do have. I can’t allow you to confine me to gaol.” “Do you think you’ve a choice in that?” he asked. She ignored him. “And I’m not selling my brother.” “No, I imagine not. I can see he’s all you have.” Logan twisted her around to face him. She dropped her head but she already knew one thing about Rafe Logan. He was relentless. He gripped her face and lifted it. “So what would you be selling, Mistress Sullivan?” “My pride,” she whispered. “What exactly does that mean?” he asked. “Would you…?” Oh, she couldn’t say it. What if he laughed? What if he refused to accept her offer? Or worse yet, what if he actually wanted to accept it? She could barely get the words out of her mouth. “Would the debt be satisfied if I offered…?” She was starting to hyperventilate. She was going to pass out, simply drop to his feet like a lifeless shell. There was a tightness in her throat. It felt like it was closing. “Don’t make me say it,” she whispered. “I want to hear it.” His eyes were burning into her, stealing the tattered remains of whatever soul she’d once had. She had one more chance before she said the words that would ruin her life. She should escape from this man and go to Daniel before she did the one thing Daniel would not forgive. If she chose Daniel, she knew he would never hurt her and this man seemed to live on the edge of violence. Something about the intensity of his eyes, the sudden frowns that appeared on his face, the bitter laughter that twisted from his mouth signaled danger. She could not trust this man to be anything but volatile. Logan’s thumb traced a soft path across her cheek and it loosened something inside of her. Whatever dark secrets this man had, however amoral his motivations or desires might be, the touch of his skin against hers stirred something deep inside of her. She felt as though she hovered on the brink of darkness in his presence and was one step away from falling over the edge of the precipice to oblivion, but it didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t want Daniel Corrigan and the comfortable life he offered. She wanted this man. She’d not thought it possible to want a man this much. One hour in this man’s arms would ruin her for life but she was willing to risk it just to see what heaven might be like. He was a dark archangel, the answer to her prayers. What she’d been praying for no longer seemed to matter. If she was going to give herself to anyone this was the one she would choose. She lowered her eyes because she did not want to see the satisfaction in his. “Say it,” he ordered. “You can have me,” she said. “And what would I do with you, lass?” She caught her lip between her teeth. “Anything you like.” He was quiet for so long she couldn’t stand it. She chewed on her lip as he moved across the cottage and she wondered what could possibly be on his mind. When she saw him slide the bolt across the door, her heart began to race. He slowly walked around the
room, closing the shutters, and she followed his movements suddenly confused. Did he mean to have her now? In the middle of the day? Without a word between them? He stripped off his vest and it fell to the floor as he moved to the next window. She watched him as the room quietly descended into darkness. The hearth light played over his face, making him seem less real. The soft glow of fire erased the lines on his face, the angles became less harsh and he seemed washed in a blanket of warmth and even a touch of tenderness. Like the archangel that held his name, for one moment he looked capable of love, but she knew it was deception. This man did not have a merciful, kind or loving bone in his body. This man had not traveled across the ocean to bring promise to her life. This man was ready to ruin her and he had not a care what happened to her when he was finished. When he spoke, the only hope she’d had evaporated. “You’re willing to fuck me?” he asked. Riley blinked at his words. Logan was unlacing his shirt, drawing it out of his breeches and her heart began to pound. “Is that what you want?” she whispered. “’Tis what any man would want. You’re a nice piece of ass.” He leaned closer and his warm breath slid across her cheek with the same smooth feel as his thumb. “I imagine your pussy is hot, tight, moist, and if your body holds as much fire as your temper I may not be alive at the end of the afternoon. ‘Tis a risk I’m willing to take. Take off your clothes.” She realized she’d been holding her breath because when it burst from her, she pulled in another huge gasp of air. The sound of it terrified her. “Right here? Right now?” “Aye, lass, I canna wait beyond the here and now. You’ve pressed yourself against me, tortured me with your mouth and fairly promised the fuck of my life with those eyes of yours. I intended to have you tonight, but my cock has decided against waiting since you’ve offered. Take off your clothes.” Riley tore herself away and stumbled backwards. “Maybe we should reconsider.” He reached for the laces of her corset and plucked one loose. “Not on your life. I’ve something very hard and very eager to bury in your sheath, mistress.” He grabbed her hips and plastered his pelvis against her. She felt something actually lunge toward her. “Can you feel that?” “Aye.” “Changing your mind is not an option at this point unless of course you’d rather…” His brows rose in question. “Rather what?” Riley asked. She held her breath and feared she would pass out. Actually she prayed she would pass out. “Now that you’ve stirred things beyond the point of no return, I’m going to come this afternoon. If you’re reluctant to spread your legs in daylight I don’t care how you accomplish it. I’d like to feel the heat of your pussy, but if you’d rather drop to your knees ‘tis all the same to me.” “Drop to my knees?” “Lass, are you really this innocent, or do you seek to befuddle me into abandoning the entire idea? ‘Tis been a long journey with little more than a couple of pumps and you’ll not dissuade me. This throbbing threatens to kill me.”
“I don’t seek to dissuade you, Master Logan. I’ve offered and … I’m willing. So is it a bargain then?” “No. No bargain.” “But you just said…” “The business between us can be discussed later. The fucking is strictly personal. Two fallen angels finding a bit of heaven between them. Destiny, lass.” “No,” Riley said. “‘Tis part of the bargain or nothing at all. My reputation…” “Matters for naught,” Logan said. “You’ll deny yourself what you want because of this pride of yours?” “’Tis not what I want,” she said softly. “That’s a lie,” he said. His knuckles scraped across the skin of her cheek and her eyes closed. “I know you want to fuck me.” “No, I don’t.” “Give me your hands.” She pushed her hands further into her pockets but he tugged them out and gripped them tight. He pulled them toward his chest, tucked them under his shirt and unfolded her clenched fingers. When her hands were splayed across the flesh of his chest, her fingers curled around the coarse hairs and trailed up the hard muscled ridges. Her body unconsciously leaned toward him as she lifted her face. “What are you trying to prove?” she asked. “That you’re a liar, Mistress Sullivan.” He lowered his face toward hers. “I’ve felt your eyes on me. ‘Tis something I’ve felt all my life, but with you … ‘tis a little different. You don’t really want to do this, mistress, because there’s so much at stake, so much to risk. What will people say? What will they think? Riley Sullivan wants to keep her standing in this village, no matter how hard she must work to do it. You know even the slightest slip, the tiniest mistake could ruin every bit of progress you’ve made. So this is hard for you. Were it any other man you might be able to stop.” “I need to think…” she stammered. “Thinking willna change what’s to happen here. There’s not going to be a way to stop this. Your hands tremble with your want of me. Even now I can feel it. Your lips cling to mine because you crave the taste of my mouth. You want to fuck me. Only me. ‘Tis what you’ve dreamed of your entire life and all you’ve thought of for the last hour. I’m exactly … what … you want.” “No,” she said. “Then tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” He was slowly drawing the fabric of her skirt up her legs. “Walk away from me, Riley.” She shook her head and clutched at the edge of his shirt. Her mouth opened as his lips touched hers and when his tongue pushed inside she pulled it in greedily, unable to stop herself. Her arms rose to wind around his neck and she felt him lifting her skirt. His hands swept up the back of her thighs and cupped her bottom in a sweeping caress. When he lifted her and scooped her against him, her legs wrapped around his waist and she felt the hard tip of his manhood surging restlessly beneath her. His mouth pressed harder against hers, swallowing her lips, tugging at her tongue, pulling it deep into his mouth. He was so warm and tasted so good and the greed of his mouth, the consumption of hers was all she could think of. She moaned, pulling him closer.
He tore his mouth away, pressing his forehead against hers. She felt the sheen of sweat that beaded his brow cool against her skin. His eyes were closed and his face so close. There was a tiny sound coming from somewhere inside of him, a cross between a whisper and a moan and as he rocked his forehead against hers, it grew louder, still quiet but persistent. Almost a whimper, a childlike sound of confusion, hurt. She touched his cheek, a soft brush of her fingers and his eyes flew open, staring into hers. She didn’t know what she saw there but it frightened her. “Shhh,” she said. “Don’t think. Just kiss me.”
Chapter 6 He slammed his mouth against hers, his tongue thrusting fast, hard, and deep into her throat. When he pulled away again, his lips dragged over hers, roughly, painfully, unable to be gentle, unable to stop. She slipped her hand behind his neck, twisting in his hair, trying to control the pressure of his kiss, the random movement of his lips, the desperation of his tongue as he tried to suck the breath from her body. Finally she gave up and surrendered. Her head fell back as his mouth took what it wanted and when he finished with her mouth, his lips dipped down to lock on her throat. He sucked with the voracity of a starving infant, pulling her skin into his mouth, nipping at her with his teeth, blazing a trail of bruised flesh back to her mouth. He locked his mouth on hers and was lowering her to the table when something flickered inside of her and common sense suddenly flooded through her. She would have no future if she gave herself to this man. She pushed against his chest and twisted her face away. Her lips felt battered, swollen, and achy but that didn’t stop him from trying to capture them again. “I can’t do this,” she said. “Please, Logan.” He dropped her to the table, but he didn’t back away. He stood between her knees. She tried to close her legs but his big body was in the way. She pulled them as tight together as she could, clamping them against his thighs. She could not tear her eyes away from his. He lifted her skirt and his hands slid under. He began to massage the muscles of her thighs, a gentle pressure of his fingertips that made her skin tingle and the tiny hairs on her body rise. With everything in her she tried to pull away, but she felt as though she was caught in an oncoming tidal surge that swept across her with no mercy, no emotion, no pity. Under his firm rhythmic caress, she felt her muscles relax, loosen as she was swept under the dark dispassionate fury of the tides. With each stroke he pressed a little harder, opening her legs a little wider, dipping closer to the heat between her legs, spreading her thighs apart, moving his body toward her one inch at a time. He finally slid his hands up and settled them into the crease of her legs. His hands were too close … too close to everything she was. Her eyes slipped closed with a groan. “Look at me, Riley. I need to see your eyes.” “There’s nothing in my eyes,” she said. Her voice was too soft, too weak, too helpless. “I see everything in your eyes. I want to see what you need, what my hands do to you, how much you like it.” Her eyes flew open and she gasped as his thumb flickered across a tiny nub of flesh. The feeling was too strong, too powerful, too intense. It sparked something inside of her that she could never accept. In some dark thrilling chamber of her heart a burst of such excitement shot through her, she nearly cried out. He couldn’t do it again. She would never survive feelings like that. Already she wanted him to touch it again. She began to pant as a devastating fear enveloped her. “Don’t,” she said. She gripped his hand through her skirt. “I want to,” he said.
“You can’t,” she said. “You said I could do anything I like.” His thumbs began moving across her flesh, seeking something, as the rest of his hand clamped around her leg, holding her still. She couldn’t draw a breath as she felt the pads of his thumbs glide over the soft private folds of her body. They moved in tandem, each touching a gentle swell, a soft dip, brushing higher to trace across the damp hair that shielded her and every few strokes, she felt his thumb flutter once again over that nub of flesh. It seemed to be pulsing, throbbing, swelling and each time he touched it he watched her. She gritted her teeth and felt the muscles deep inside her body clench as though she could will the sensation away. But she couldn’t. The third time he did it he skipped over it lightly, then immediately dipped his thumb back, pressing hard. She nearly leapt off the table. She stifled a low moan and her body shuddered. Logan smiled. She was wet between her legs again, fluid was dripping from her body, from the place she’d never allowed anyone to touch … until now. Why are you letting him do this? He’ll stop. He’ll stop. For Christ’s sake, Riley, tell him to stop. A drop of moisture was sliding from her body. It was dripping down the valley between her legs. Logan’s thumbs dipped down to catch it and slid back up, spreading the drop across the soft plump lips between her legs. They felt swollen, aching, inflamed with some kind of pressure, some kind of maddening itch. She had an impulsive urge to tell him to rub harder, to press harder, to touch her with more force, more heat, more fire, more intensity… Oh, God, if she said anything he would know. He would know that if he stopped she would not be able to take the frustration, the disappointment, the pain of loss. She knew he could see it in her eyes now. He knew what he was doing to her. He knew she was completely at his mercy and he knew exactly what she wanted. He was just going to make her beg for it. She wanted to lie back on the table. She wanted his hands to sweep her somewhere else, a place where all she could think of was the feel of his finger pressing against her, the gentle stroke between the lips, teasing them open, dipping tenderly inside with the slightest movements against her. He was creating the most heavenly sensations she’d ever felt in her entire life and all she wanted was more. The lower half of her body strained toward his hand, eager for another touch. When his finger gently probed between the folds and dipped just a fraction of an inch into her body, she clenched her muscles again. She was losing. She couldn’t. His face dipped toward her and she raised her mouth for his kiss. “I want to fuck you, Riley Sullivan. I want to plunge inside you and feel the fire between your legs.” She wanted to sound firm, strong, in control but her voice shook and she sounded breathless when she spoke. “Whatever you want,” she said. His face hardened and his hands tightened on her thighs. She pinched her lips together because it hurt. His thumb locked on that tiny nub of skin and it nearly tore her apart. She gasped. “Why do you keep doing that?” “Because you like it.” She shook her head.
“Aye, lass, you do. You canna deny it because I know for a fact ‘tis the center of all you are. Your clit holds the power of your sex and a great deal of pleasure swells through this tiny bit of flesh. It begs to be touched and if you were honest with me you would tell me so. But…” He leaned closer and whispered against her hair. “We both know you will never admit it.” She tossed her head and pinched her lips together. “No matter,” he said. “Your body doesna lie. This tiny piece of flesh holds all my answers. ’Tis swollen, hard, tight, rising in its pleasure. And you’re aching for release. Let it go. Why do you fight me?” “Because I can,” she said. He rubbed his thumb in a tiny circle, hard persistent movements that were impossible to ignore. Her hips bucked against his hand. “You’re losing this battle, lass. You canna ignore what you want. Sooner or later you’ll come and when you do I’ll be watching your face, staring into your eyes, seeing myself there.” “And what will you see, Logan?” “Pleasure, pain, hope and hopelessness. Tell me this is what you want.” “No,” she said. “Tell me you want me.” “Tell me we have a bargain,” she said. “You’ll kiss me with a lover’s passion, but will only fuck me to satisfy a debt? Your pussy is wet, lass, dripping with your need. Your body doesna care what business lies between us. It wants to fuck me. It wants my hands, my mouth and my cock. Tell me why you’ll deny yourself pleasure.” “I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you agree to the bargain you can have me. Right now.” “I’m going to have you,” he said, “but ‘tis part of no bargain.” “Then you can fuck yourself, Master Logan.” Logan laughed. “You’re a saucy wench, but clearly I’m fucking someone today and ‘twill not be myself. ‘Twas a long voyage and I’m not a man who waits patiently to have things offered. If we canna reach an understanding, I’m simply going to take it.” A shiver ran through her entire body but it wasn’t from fear. His thumb was tracing a pattern between the lips, dipping inside, gently searching her folds with a rough prodding that was slightly uncomfortable. She felt the harshness of his skin scrape against her. “Then take it,” she said. “I’ll not be able to stop you.” He pressed his pelvis between her legs. “Unlace my breeches,” he said. “Unlace them yourself.” “I prefer that this at least looks voluntary, Mistress Sullivan. Since you’re too stubborn to admit you want this, I have to insist. If you do it, ‘tis unlikely to seem like rape in the eyes of others.” “’Tis still rape if I haven’t consented,” Riley said softly. “Not to a man’s eye, lass. And unless I put a bruise on you or you take to screeching in a fair amount of time, I’ve no blame. Unlace the damn breeches. You’ve not much choice here. You offered and I’ve accepted. Would you go back on your word? Is there a bit of Peter Sullivan in you?”
She shook her head slowly and reached out hesitantly, plucking at the laces. It was hard to gain purchase between them because the fabric was tight, straining. She was afraid to see what she was releasing. It was pulsing under her hand. It seemed too large, too hard. She forced herself to finish, reminding herself that once he’d had her, she might be able to talk her way out of the rest and he might even be willing to help her. When she finished unlacing his breeches, it took all of her willpower to put her hands in her lap because part of her, the crazy part, wanted to dip her hands inside. Seemingly from nowhere his hands were on her corset and all the laces were undone. He tossed the corset to the floor and slid the shirt down over her shoulders, peeling it away from her arms. She started to fold her arms across her chest, but the slow shaking of his head made her stop. Reluctantly, she lowered her arms and the shirt puddled around her lap. His eyes roamed across her flesh and finally lifted to her eyes but he was silent. “What now?” she whispered. “Is this where you tell me how beautiful I am?” “It would be,” he said, “if you gave a bloody damn.” He reached toward her and brushed her hair over her shoulders. His hands lingered in the strands, sliding through them, feeling the curl at the tips, letting her hair wrap around his fingers. When he cupped her breasts in rough hands, Riley released a shuddering breath preparing for the worst. She’d not allowed any man to touch her like this. Several had tried but never against her bare skin. She was shocked at the sensitivity of her flesh. When his thumb grazed across her nipple and it hardened under his touch, she gasped and leaned into his hand. She wanted him to touch her harder and when she moved, he did. As his hand squeezed and his fingers caught the nipple, tugging and pulling, something twisted deep inside of her. If he meant to torture her into submission, he knew how to do it. She covered his hands with her own and gripped them. “Please, Logan. Don’t do this.” “I’m not a heartless man, Riley Sullivan. And I’m not a stupid man. I’ve no wish to be confined to your less than civilized goal. There’s only one word that will dissuade me, lass, and you’ve not said it.” Her hands dropped to her lap. “What word?” “If you say stop, I’ll stop.” He traced a path from her collarbone to the tip of her breast. When his fingers had teased both nipples into hard peaks and were circling her breast with a slow lazy caress, his eyes rose to hers. “Is this the kind of touch you like? Is it gentle enough?” “Harder,” she breathed. “Ah, a lady after my own heart.” His hands clamped over her breasts and yanked her closer. He began to knead her flesh, his fingers milking her nipples, stretching them tight in his grip, only to release and start again. Riley was having a hard time breathing and the pounding of her heart was an erratic rhythm that pushed her blood through her veins with dizzying speed. Every inch of her skin was hot, on fire, and when her head dropped to watch his hands something pierced her deep inside. The sight of her flesh being mauled, shaped, and fondled by this man was almost too much to bear. Her breasts looked small in his hands, fragile shapes held by darker skin, coarse hair, rough fingers. His fingers bit into her flesh with a tightness that bordered on cruelty but she relished each sensation. Each time his hand clamped on her, crunching her skin, a tiny whimper escaped from her throat. She could not take her eyes off his hands.
Her nipples were red, swollen, and should have hurt, but they seemed to throb with a need for more, more pressure, more tugs, more squeezing. She knew what she needed. She needed his mouth on her. She wanted his lips to devour her, suck her skin, pull her nipples into his mouth with the power of his tongue. The moisture flooded between her legs and dripped onto the table. “Do you wish to say stop?” he asked. Riley raised her face. “I wish I could.” “Then ‘tis decided. I could let you go, but in all honesty I’m a selfish man. I’ve a mind to have you and I get what I want.” He leaned down and brushed her cheek with his lips. “You’ve a mind to suck the pleasure from this experience and ‘twill be your loss. But you’ll not steal my pleasure. I’ve a need to say something to you.” “What?” Riley whispered. “You’re a fair beauty, Riley Sullivan. I couldna have imagined a more perfect girl. ‘Tis a gift you are.” Riley tossed her head. “Are you stalling, Logan, hoping I’ll say stop so you don’t have to feel like the bastard you are?” Logan cocked his head and met her eyes with an icy glare. “Are you sure you don’t wish to go down on your knees, lass? A tart mouth like yours could suck me dry.” She drew back. She had no idea what he was talking about but the tone of his voice made it very clear it was something vile. “Give me your hand.” She raised her hand because her choices seemed to have vanished. He gripped it tight, pulling it between his legs and shoving it into a warm nest of coarse hair and pulsing muscle. Riley’s hand curled around his manhood instinctively and Rafe groaned at her touch. The warmth of him was amazing, the size of his manhood frightening, and the absolute power of it was daunting. Shocked by what she’d done, she raised her eyes to his. He was staring at her. “What do you feel?” he asked. “Scared. What do you feel?” A slow suggestive smile touched his mouth. “If I tell you what I feel, lass, you willna stay on that table.” His smile unnerved her because he was right. He looked greedy, hungry, ready to seize what he wanted and devour it completely. What she held in her hand proved the look he gave her was tempered to keep her calm. It took everything in her to stay where she was and not look at what she held. His manhood … his cock … struggled in her grasp, eager, pressing hard against her fingers. The smooth pulse of it throbbed beneath her fingers and she stroked it, enjoying the silky feel of his flesh. The lust that suddenly blazed in his eyes scared her, but she felt a thrilling sense of power knowing that her body, her hands, had caused such a reaction in such a man. The humor was gone, the anger was gone. The only thing that remained in his eyes was a raw hunger that shook her to the core. She had passed the point of no return. He would never stop now. His breathing deepened as her hand glided down his length, tugging gently. She could not let him go. Her eyes burned from the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. A sob caught in her chest. She hated herself but she couldn’t take her hand away from this man. “Do you want my cock, Riley?”
All she could do was nod, a slight dip. At least she thought she nodded. She meant to nod. She wasn’t sure she had moved. But she must have because he tilted his head and asked her another question. The man would not be happy until she was crawling on her hands and knees toward him. “’Tis our first time together … I should ask … I know what I’d prefer, but where do you want it?” “There are choices?” she gasped. Logan laughed. “Maybe not for you. Not yet.” He searched between her legs and dipped his thumb back into her. Just a tender swipe along the outer edge. “You’re very wet, Riley. Very hot. Very ready. Do you want me to fuck you now?” She shuddered as she pulled in a long breath and tightened her hand around him. “Bloody hell, Logan, what have you done to me?” “You want it as much as I do,” he said. “No,” she whispered. “Aye,” he said softly. “You do. There’s no shame in that, Riley Sullivan. I’ll speak to no one of what happens here. ‘Tis between us. Now … for the first time in your life … let yourself have what you want.” “I don’t know what I want.” “Aye, you do. You want me.” He moved closer, his body forcing her thighs farther apart. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down toward the table. When she resisted, he pushed harder. He swept out with his arm and Brian’s books and papers fluttered to the floor. The ink bottle struck the boards in a shatter of glass and Riley nearly burst into tears. “Brian…” she breathed. “I’ll get him more,” Logan said. She tried again to rise. “His books … they’ll be ruined.” “If they are, I’ll replace them,” he said. “Remind me later.” He grabbed her hips and yanked her to the edge of the table, locking her legs around his hips. She felt his hands under her skirt again and suddenly there was a hard prodding between her thighs. She wanted to close her eyes but it seemed important that she watch what he did. She bit down on her lip, tense, waiting for the stab of pain. But he didn’t drive into her. She felt his cock slide across the wet folds of her skin, a gentle motion that spread moisture across the tiny hills and valleys between her legs. His cock flickered across that throbbing piece of her, her clit—how did he know more about her body than she did? She shivered because it was such an incredible sensation she lost control of her reactions. She waited in anticipation until it came again and when it did her eyes fluttered closed. “You like that,” he said. She shook her head furiously. “There may not be trust between us, but when I fuck you, Riley, there will be honesty. Tell me the truth or I’ll stop.” “Aye,” she breathed. “I like it. Don’t stop.” He rubbed the soft tip of his manhood across her, stroking up and down in slow, almost tender, movements. She felt more moisture drip against her and thought it might be coming from him. Her body had begun to quiver and her skin felt hot as though she
was gripped in a fever. Her heart was thumping a thunderous beat and she had to stifle a moan that roared through her from nowhere. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing what he could do to her. She was concentrating on the pleasurable flutters between her legs and when his hand covered her breast again, her eyes flew open. He rolled the rigid nipple between his fingers, tugging hard while increasing the pressure against that spot. Her clit. How on earth could touching such a small place send such sensation through her entire body? Her legs tightened around him as her hips lifted off the table and a swell of some unnamed feeling flooded through her. “Oh, no…” she whispered. “Aye, Riley. Don’t fight it.” “This isn’t right…” she whispered. “I can’t do this … I can’t feel this way … not ever … but especially not with you.” “Only with me,” he murmured. “Let it come, Riley. ‘Tis the truth between us.” There was a fire burning somewhere inside of her, an ache, a longing for something. As the wave of excruciating pleasure ground through her and stole her thoughts, her body began to tremble. Every muscle in her body seemed to quiver simultaneously until she thought she would die unless he kissed her. She wanted his entire body against her, wanted to feel the hard muscles beneath his flesh and wanted something to calm the pulsing inside of her. Her muscles were contracting on emptiness. She needed to be filled with something and he had what she needed. She wanted him to put his cock inside her. She wanted to tell him to do it. She squirmed on the table and her hand reached toward him. Yet still he continued to torture her. The tiny nub he rubbed seemed to harden under the touch of his manhood and pounded with an extraordinary pulse. She bolted upright and wound her arms around him. She could barely get a breath. Each flicker of his manhood made her gasp. She pressed her face against his chest and nuzzled against the hair, pressing hard, open mouthed kisses against his skin. “What’s happening to me?” she whispered. “You don’t know?” he asked. He raised her face and she shook her head. “Oh, lass, you’ve barely lived. We can take care of that but I canna last much longer. ‘Tis been too long. I need to come. I want inside. Lie back.” He lowered her to the table and she felt his manhood slide along her flesh and slip between the soft folds. He put his hands under her hips and gently he pushed into her, just the tip, that soft glorious piece of him that stretched her opening to accept him. That thick knob of silky skin, wet with his desire, seemed to promise everything. It was so exciting, so thrilling that Riley could think of nothing but more. She arched toward him, unthinking, and he yanked her hips up. A flash of searing heat spread through the lower half of her body and she cried out as his entire body froze. The ache turned into a spiral of pain and she squeezed her eyes closed, her thighs tensing around him. “Christ, Riley!” Logan said. “You didna tell me you were a bloody virgin!” She tried to sit up, pushing against the hands that held her hips. “You didn’t ask me,” she whispered. “Wait. I’m not ready. I need you to stop.” “I canna stop now,” he said. “You said you’d stop,” she whined.
He groaned. “I can’t, lass. You feel too damn good. Relax. ’Twill not hurt if you relax.” She fell back on the table and covered her face with her hands. Tears slid down her temples but she didn’t think they would deter Rafe. Surprisingly, Riley felt his cock withdraw slowly from her body. She thought he might release her and she started to sit up but he gripped her bottom and yanked her towards him with a fierce determination, brutally driving into her again, hard and fast. She nearly screamed as she fell back on the table. He held her pinned in his hands, his cock lodged halfway in her body. Logan’s head dropped and for a moment his hair veiled his face. She was grateful she didn’t have to look at him. “’Tis over,” he said. “Christ, Riley! Why did you not tell me?” She began to cry and the choking sobs that tore from her mouth scared her. The last thing she wanted was to fall apart in front of this man but it hurt so badly and he didn’t seem to care that he’d torn her in two. He leaned over her, running his hands beneath her back as he lifted her toward him. He scooped her up until she was nestled against him. His cock was still locked in her body, a hard thick obstruction that felt foreign, unwanted. And it hurt. “Shhh, no more tears. That shoulda been easy. You were wet, aroused and when you lifted, I thought … Christ, lass, I didna want to hurt you. I never imagined you would be a virgin. Not in a place like this and with a mouth like yours… You’re a cheeky wench but I see now ‘tis all bluster.” “’Tis not bluster,” she mumbled. She felt his fingers slide over the skin of her bottom in a soft caress. He had lifted her effortlessly. She felt weightless in his arms. Riley tucked her face into the side of his neck. “It hurts,” Riley whispered. “Please stop.” “Hush, lass. The pain will be gone soon,” Logan said. Riley raised her face and met his eyes. “Don’t try to be nice to me now.” He smiled. “I canna be nice to you?” “No,” she muttered. “You’ll like it the next time, Riley. Trust me.” “There won’t be a next time. Just finish it. No matter how nice you are or what you do, I won’t like it.” A hard look came into his beautiful eyes and the frown that swept his mouth scared her. “Have no doubts, lass. When I’m finished with you, you’ll like it.” He clutched her tighter, his face filled with a determination that scared her more. Suddenly he was moving across the floor and Riley panicked. She struggled for a moment but finally dropped her face to his shoulder afraid to find out what was on his mind. She was shocked when he slammed her against the bedroom door and stunned when his pelvis smashed against hers and his cock plunged all the way into her body. It was so fast she never made a sound, although she thought her mouth flew open. He wiggled against her and gave her a cocky smile. Oh, dear God, I am doomed. I’m in his arms against a door. I’m fucking a stranger … no, not a stranger, never a stranger … but I’m against a door. And there’s a cock
buried in my body. What has happened to me in the last six months? And how did he know this is what I wanted? “All the way, Riley. Just the way I like it. Give me a few minutes of your time and you’ll like it as well. I’m proud of you, lass. Small as you are, you’ve taken every blessed inch, which I’m always happy to say is considerable. Are you ready for some fun now?” “I’ve seen your idea of fun,” she said. “Not this kind.” His body pressed against hers so tight that when he lifted his hands to grab her face her body never moved. She could feel every inch of his incredible length nestled inside her and it was positively the best gift she’d ever had. “Do you read my mind?” she asked. “Now that would come in handy. Since I canna even determine what you want when you talk, the ability to read your bleeding mind would be a definite asset.” She rolled her head in his hands. Harder. Push into me harder. “You talk too much, Logan. Where’s this fun? Are you going to kiss me?” His pelvis pressed slowly against her and she felt his cock swell inside her and touch a part of her that ached and pulsed. Her muscles gripped him tight and he groaned, his eyes locked on hers. “Aye, lass, I’m going to kiss you.” “Will it be any time soon?” she asked. “’Tis talk, talk, talk with you. Are you all bluster as well?” “No, lass, when I say something I mean it. Let yourself go now and surrender to what you feel. After today, Riley Sullivan, your life willna be the same.” His mouth devoured hers with a speed that stole her breath. His tongue thrust inside her mouth and she sucked at it, drawing it deeper. Her hands raked through his hair and wrapped around the back of his head, pulling him closer, locking him against her. He tore his mouth from hers, lifted her higher and buried his face between her breasts. His beard scoured her already tender skin and his wet mouth seared her flesh. When his lips covered her nipple and began to suck greedily, her head fell back against the door. She tugged his neck forward, holding him, guiding him, letting him know how much she wanted him to suck on her skin, how much she needed the slide of his whole tongue over her breast, the tip of it as it licked her nipple, his tongue drawing her breast into his mouth. When he pulled away, suctioning her flesh, holding her nipple in his lips until it was stretched beyond her endurance, his teeth scraped across it as he released it. Riley cried out and he answered by biting at her, his teeth returning for one more nip before he moved on to the other breast. “Logan,” she moaned. “I canna play favorites, lass.” The torture resumed. This time when his teeth bit into her she thought she screamed, but he covered her breast and sucked at it until she was mewing in his arms. He thrust against her, ripping into her flesh and she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and tug him closer. The bristly hair on his torso scratched against her and every time he moved she felt raw, chapped, scraped and she savored the masculine power of this man, the marks on her body that would signal her surrender. Her body lowered as his mouth roamed up her throat seeking her lips. She caught at his open
mouth and his tongue swept into her mouth with an aching hunger that spread a grinding need through her. When he pulled away from her, gasping, mumbling curses under his breath and calling her every foul name he could think of, she buried her face in his shoulder and listened to the obscenities he whispered against her hair like poetry. She pressed her mouth against his skin because there was a sound building somewhere inside of her. It was tearing through her and desperately seeking an exit. It had nothing to do with pain. If anyone outside the cottage knew what was happening inside, she would die of humiliation, and if Rafe Logan knew how much he’d stolen from her already, she would never be able to look at him again. He repeatedly slammed into her body, his fingers gripping her bottom with a fierce greed. His face was twisted into her hair and he was murmuring more words near her ear. She didn’t understand a word of it and even if she had, she wouldn’t have answered. With each thrust of his body the pain lessened until it became a rhythmic tide of pulses deep inside her body. She found that she wanted to move her hips toward him, wanted her legs tighter around him and she wanted to kiss him. The smell of his skin was overpowering and the pulse in his throat was pounding, a lure she could not resist. She lifted her face and let her mouth roam up his neck, her lips pressing softly against his skin. She had an urge to suck at the skin and when she did, she heard something like a growl deep in his throat. She pulled away seeking the shelter of his shoulder. “No,” he said. “Don’t stop.” She grew bolder and as he concentrated on the rhythm of their bodies, she ran her tongue along the side of his neck. When she reached his ear, her breath sent a shudder through him. The pulsing in her body was threatening to tear her apart. There was something beneath the surface, something she was trying desperately to find, and she knew the answer was in this man. She met the thrusts of his body, wanting the length of his entire cock in her body. She didn’t think she had him all any longer. He didn’t seem close enough. He was holding back and she needed everything he could give. “Go deeper in me,” she whispered. “You want to. I can feel it. Why are you holding back?” “You canna take it all for long, lass. Not yet.” She caught at his mouth and sucked his lower lip into her mouth. “I can take it. I took it. Give it to me.” “No. You’ve had enough pain.” “I want all of the pain, Logan,” she whispered. “I want all of you.” He captured her face and forced her eyes to his. They were filled with something she would never understand. There was a haunted look to them, as though the very thought of something frightened the wits out of him. His voice was melancholy, almost sorrowful. “I want to bury myself so deep in you I get lost. And I want to stay there, Riley Sullivan.” “Then do it,” she said. A moan tore from his chest and he buried his face in her hair. “I canna risk it.” “Risk it,” she said. “You’re risking everything else.” “I have to come,” he whispered. “I canna go longer. Next time, darlin’, I promise.” He groaned and thrust against her one more time. He slid his arm between them, and though his other arm tightened around her, he jerked away from her and pulled his
manhood from her body. His mouth covered hers in a breathless rush and she felt a flood of warm fluid burst over her thigh, pulsing onto her leg and dripping over her skin. He kissed her until her mouth felt bruised, swollen and the skin of her face chafed and sore. Her leg was a sticky mess, soaked with his spent desire. Slowly he lowered her to the floor and reluctantly pulled his mouth away from hers. Her skirt fluttered around her legs, dampening when it touched her skin. He smoothed the hair away from her face and for one moment she thought he might kiss her again but the coldness in his voice made her draw back. “Do not think to exploit your appeal, lass. The contract still stands and do not think a child between us would temper my resolve.” Riley flinched. “What do you mean?” “I’ll father no bastards, and certainly not with a devious wench like you.” Riley pressed her hands against her thighs. Her fists curled into the fabric of her dress and she heard it tear. “I’d not be a mother to anything you spawned. I’d rip your child from my belly, Logan.” He stepped away from her and gave her an odd look. “How surprising,” he said. “Most women feel all cuddly after a fuck and yet you seem a little bitchy, Mistress Sullivan. You’re quite vicious when you’ve a mind. ‘Tis not an admirable quality and considering your precarious position, I’d watch those runaway thoughts if I were you.” “I’ll keep your opinions in mind, Logan, though I’d not count on them holding much sway over my behavior. I may pay a steep price for valuing my own judgment, but I should tell you no man’s opinion, including Peter Sullivan’s or yours, has or will temper my thoughts or my actions.” She watched as Logan yanked at his breeches. She caught a glimpse of his cock as he stuffed it back into its nest, wondering how it had even fit into her body. He had been right. She wasn’t ready for all of it. Not for very long. All of it would have torn her apart. But the next time … aye, the next time, she would have it all. She uttered a horrified gasp at her own thoughts. The next time? She had told him there would be no next time and she had every intention of refusing any advance he made. The man was a callous unemotional thug and whatever warmth that seemed to stir between them was nothing but lust. He could satisfy his urges elsewhere. She’d not let him touch her again. The entire disgusting episode had done nothing but stir up feelings she had no business having. It had been the most exciting pleasurable sensation she’d ever had but she could do without it ever again. It was too dangerous if it made her succumb to a blackguard like Rafe Logan. As he began to tug at the laces of his pants, he gave her a surly look. “Your behavior needs tempering, lass. And if I’m to be living under this cursed roof, things will change.” “Then we’ve struck a bargain?” “No, we havena struck a bargain and whatever happens between us needs serious negotiation.” He ran his hands through his hair and his eyes frantically darted around the room. His voice was practically a whisper, stunned. “Christ, I wanted to … I almost came in you. Without a thought. It felt…” Riley waited, watching him warily. He was pacing around, clearly distressed over something she didn’t understand. He looked like a man whose entire value system had just been turned upside down. The surprising thing was that she doubted a man like Rafe
Logan even held to a system of values. Any man who’d journey across the sea for money had a limited view of what was important in the world. He gave her a quick look through a veil of dark hair. “I canna afford to be involved with you.” “Involved? You pushed into me without a word of kindness, without telling me I was pretty, without even a bloody kiss. A girl should at least get a kiss, don’t you think?” He was pacing again and she tried to find his eyes through the hair hanging in his face. “Logan? Are you listening to me? What’s the matter with you?” When he glanced up, the expression on his face made her pause. He looked puzzled, almost ashamed. His eyes swept the length of her and a slight flush spread across his dark cheeks. “I think I said you were pretty,” he muttered. “I canna seem to remember. But there was quite a bit of kissing. I remember that. You’re a dangerous woman, Riley Sullivan. You steal the reason from a man.” He moved across the cottage with purpose and Riley was suddenly aware of how she must look. Her hair was always a loose wild mess, but today, well, right now, she knew it had to be worse than usual. A woman couldn’t be shoved against a door and fucked without her hair becoming a mess. She glanced at Logan again. He reads your bloody mind, Riley. He knows exactly what you want, how you feel, every beat of your heart. Get him out of your house before he destroys you. “No,” she whispered. “I want him. I’m keeping him.” Logan’s face snapped toward her. “What?” She shook her head and smoothed the unruly strands back from her face, tucking them behind her ears. She realized she was arguing with a strange man in her keeping room, practically naked. How did he steal so much of her awareness? She crossed her arms over her breasts. Her nipples felt swollen, achy. She wanted to feel his hands on her again. She wanted his mouth. It hadn’t been enough. She felt antsy and itchy and was irritated that he could make her feel that way. Something inside of her didn’t feel satisfied. It didn’t feel finished. He came toward her. She tossed him her most furious glare, but he wasn’t looking at her eyes. His gaze swept across the swell of her breasts and before she could stop him, his fingertip had found a nipple and teased it to a throbbing peak. She wouldn’t have thought it possible for them to swell larger. His tongue swept across his lips and he grew bolder, his hand pushing her arms away to gain access to her breast. His palm cupped her and his fingers molded to her skin. “Your tits are perfectly sized, perfectly shaped,” he said. “Enough for any man’s hand. Smooth, silky. And the taste of them is something I willna…” Riley jerked away and what she had to say practically killed her. “There’ll be no more touching, Logan. No more … tasting. We’ve not reached an understanding.” “Oh, I think we’ve reached an understanding, lass,” he said softly. “’Tis obvious what lies between us.” “And what might that be, Master Logan?” “More than I afford,” he said. “I’ve a need to take you to the bedroom, lass, to see you spread. ‘Tis damned troubling.” “Why?”
“Because fucking on a bed causes trouble, and yet here you are, trouble incarnate. Before the end of this day I imagine I’ll find myself in more trouble than I’d dreamed of, but there’s something about you that makes me want to see and taste every inch of you.” “Taste? Every inch? What does that mean?” Riley whispered. “It means I want…” He suddenly pressed her shirt into her hands. “I need to wash up. I suggest you do so as well. You look like a woman that’s been well fucked.” Riley slid her arms into the shirt and pulled it around her. She crossed her arms over her chest. For some reason she was incredibly irritated with Master Raphael Logan. Why had he said those things to her about a child? Something inside of her hurt now and she wasn’t even sure why. She wanted to hurt him back. “Well fucked? Then why does it feel like I’ve been cheated, Logan? Please tell me that was not your best fuck because I’d hate to die of boredom in your company.” His nostrils flared as he sucked a deep breath into his chest. He seemed ready to charge at her like the bull in the pasture behind the Jenkins cottage. He looked unpredictable and wild. “I apologized for that. And I promised you’ll have your turn. You’re pressing your luck right now, wench, but we’ll settle this at a later time. Where’s your well?” “In the courtyard … between the house and the shop.” She gestured toward a small door tucked in the back of the cottage. He raked his eyes across her again, then turned, heading for the door. Something caught his eye and his hand trailed along a shelf of books. A swipe of dust appeared on his fingertips. He wiped it on his pants then his eyes settled on the stack of dishes. “You willna die of boredom in my arms, lass, but you may die of disease soon enough. We’ll be infested with rats if you don’t clean this cottage. Tend to it.” Riley clutched the shirt tighter and straightened. She started to follow him. “I’ll do your bidding when we’ve struck a bargain. Not before.” He caught her arm and yanked her against him. “You’ll do my bidding when I say,” Logan said. “No,” she said firmly. “I won’t.” Logan’s voice was quiet, dangerous, deadly. “You’re used to having your own way, beauty. You had fair run of this cottage and may have held your da and that lad under your tiny thumb, but things have changed now.” “Not yet they haven’t,” Riley said. “Strike a bargain.” “Ordering me to do anything is not wise, mistress. Consider your control at an end. There’s power in the beauty you have and you’re aware of that. ‘Tis often enough in London and ‘tis certainly been enough for this miserable place. You are an enticing lure for the stinking men of this island and in any other negotiation you would have held the control because you have what they want. But flesh is only worth as much as a man is willing to pay for it and I know something about the value of flesh. I’m a hard man to please.” Riley bristled under his hand. “You seemed pleased enough a moment ago.” “You’ve no idea what pleases me, mistress, but I can put that tongue of yours to good use later.”
“I’ve no interest in pleasing you and ‘tis obvious you have no interest in pleasing me. What happened here was fucking, Logan, nothing more, but it seemed enough to satisfy you. My thigh is still wet from your satisfaction.” “How many times did I make you cry out, lass? Clearly you’ve no experience with men or…” “And what makes you think that, Logan? The traces of virginal blood on your cock?” “You didna tell me!” he shouted. “I don’t remember having time,” Riley said. “You drove into me before I knew what was happening.” Logan growled. “I asked. You answered. I gave you a choice. You didna say stop. Do not think to blame this on me, wench. When you offered me your body you didna care what kind of man I was. Do you care now?” “A little,” she whispered. “Then listen, lass, and hear me well. ‘Twill stave off any more conversation on the matter. I’m not here to make everything right with your world. I’m not whatever romantic hero you’ve spun in that mind of yours. I’m not a good man and when you discover exactly how unprincipled I really am, you’ll be regretting this little lapse in judgment.” “Lapse in judgment? My only lapse in judgment was not screaming bloody murder the moment you touched me on the dock.” “The moment I touched you on the dock you wanted this to happen. ’Tis an adventure in your eyes and you’ve risked nothing. There’s not a man in this village that will care you’ve lost your maidenhead, not when he sees such a prize in his sight, and you know it. This was a perfect chance to delve into some of the sinful pleasures you’ll otherwise not experience once you settle with one of these colonials.” “I had no choice,” she said softly. “Now that, Mistress Sullivan, is a fucking lie and we’ll have the truth between us. You wanted this as much as I did. There’s an awakening passion in you and I’m irresistible to you because I’m different, a safe venue to test the boundaries of your sensual urges. ‘Tis risky to indulge your lust with men you know. There’s that tricky little thing called propriety that people like you treasure so well. But there’s no shame if you’ve debased yourself to a man with no moral center, is there, Riley?” Riley snatched her arm away from him. “Debased myself? ‘Twas practically rape.” “Practically? So you’ll admit there was a slight bit of consent on your part?” “No, I will not. And you’re not irresistible, Logan. You’re arrogant, patronizing, disgusting, unscrupulous and villainous. You are a churlish depraved beast. I can’t think of enough words to describe you, but irresistible is not one of them!” “Speak with Brian,” he said. “I’m sure he could help with your limited vocabulary.” “You are bloody impossible!” she screamed. “I know what I am and I’ll admit I’m no bargain. Take your chances with Corrigan. He’s not bad looking and he seemed a decent enough man. Perhaps you should go to Daniel and tell him your woes. He looked like he’d sell his own mother to fuck you.” Riley tossed her hair over her shoulder. Her irritation level was at an all time high. She could very likely kick this man between the legs in the next minute or two. She huffed. “Daniel wants to marry me.”
“He didna seem such a fool, though I should have known since he sniffed you out on a crowded dock. Marriage with you… Now there’s a death knell for a man if ever I heard one. Just be sure to give Corrigan his money’s worth. If he’s willing to settle your debt to me, ‘tis a tidy sum. Do you know how much your father scammed from me?” Riley shook her head. “I could fuck you every hour of every day and you’d still owe me money. I’m a merchant, wench. As pretty as you are and as enjoyable as your flesh is, ‘tis not enough and a poor bargain for me. Frankly I was a little surprised at your offer. ‘Tis a display of your total lack of shame. Most decent women would die before allowing a stranger to fuck them and yet you seemed…” “The shame is buried inside, Logan, and the longer I talk with you the deeper it goes. If you don’t want me, what do you want?” “I didna say I didna want you,” Logan said. “I said ‘tis not enough. We have several things to settle between us but … ‘tis important you understand this. I’m giving you one final choice. It will not be offered again and I suggest you take it. Go to your Master Corrigan. I saw the look on his face and I know he’ll settle.” Riley lifted her chin. “No.” “He’ll not care about your virginity,” Logan said. “He’s in love with you and he’ll have you no matter what your condition. I’ll tear up the document, arrange passage and leave you to salvage what you can. ‘Tis what you should do, Riley.” “I don’t love him,” Riley said. Logan sighed and raised his hands. “Then we’ll just play the game but … ‘tis fair warning again … you willna win.” Riley had never been more confused in her entire life. Had the man just turned down the offer of physical favors? Had he said she wasn’t worth it? That wasn’t good. She thought … well, she’d always considered herself one of the prettier girls in the village, so why didn’t he want her? And why was he so determined she fulfill the obligations of a man who’d been dead six months? How could any agreement Peter Sullivan had with this man possibly be her fault? It wasn’t fair. And why would any man risk the wrath of the sea and a two month ordeal across an ocean of distance for money? Her head was positively spinning and standing in the company of a man who made her heart race was not helping. As angry as she was, as eager as she was to smack his face, part of her still longed to be kissed. She was thoroughly confused. “What game are you talking about?” she asked. “The game you started on the dock with an impetuous kiss. While I’m stuck in this hell, we’re betrothed, Mistress Sullivan, or have you forgotten? I’m sure your Master Corrigan is still stewing over the declaration. Shall I go and set him straight so we can get on with our lives? Shall I ask him how much he’s willing to pay for your freedom? I’ll let him buy you back.” “No!” “Then you’ve chosen.” Logan yanked her into his arms and his mouth covered hers. His lips consumed hers with an urgency that drove the confused thoughts from her head and filled it with others that she had no business thinking. Her hands rose and cupped his face. She could not pull him close enough, could not kiss him hard enough. The fever that spread through her body was like a wildfire that had no origin and no end. Each touch of his lips spread more
heat through her body and as his lips roamed over hers, she caught at his mouth with a frantic desperation that scared her. It felt like the first kiss between lovers, a bittersweet farewell and some sort of unholy agreement drafted in the depths of hell. It wasn’t right that his mouth stole pieces of her soul every time his lips touched hers. She was afraid to let him go, and when he pulled his mouth from hers, she felt tears gather in her eyes. His hand brushed her cheek. “There was your kiss, lass. ‘Twas part of a bargain that has far-reaching consequences. Enjoy what you can because you will soon know that what you’ve seen in me is not worth the price you’ll pay. You will be sorely used and I’m liable for no regret because I did my best to talk sense into you.” He moved toward the back door but paused with his hand on the latch. “I have things to do this evening.” “Are you going to look for Michael?” “’Tis not your business,” he said softly. “Clean the cottage, Riley. I’ll tend to the rest.” When the door slammed behind him, Riley slumped into a chair. What had she done?
Chapter 7 The shirt felt like it had become part of his skin. Logan peeled it off and tossed it to the ground. He sat on the bench and pulled off his boots then his stockings, glancing about his new environment. The little complex of the Sullivan world was surrounded by a high fence. A nice thoughtful touch considering how much privacy he liked. He was in a tiny stone courtyard and beyond was a plot of untidy weeds that might be what Riley Sullivan considered grass. In his world they were definitely weeds. Fallen Angels might be a brothel, but the property it stood on was a considerable chunk of real estate in Southwark that he kept as pristine and well manicured as he could. Riley could stand to do a little maintenance to her property and she surely needed to tend to the yard. The well occupied the center of the courtyard which ended halfway between the cottage and what was apparently this infernal all important shop that obsessed her. There was a row of windows and a door tucked into the corner and it seemed as though the business side might face a street. He saw the privy next to it and another building that looked to be a stable. Christ, he hoped there weren’t animals. He wasn’t tending animals. In whatever bargain he eventually struck, that was definitely part of it. He supposed he could be comfortable enough here, although he had no intention of being her hero. He was clearly stuck though until he could locate Michael, so he’d do what he could to help her, playing at whatever game they had begun. Ultimately none of it mattered, but if he told her that now, the immediate future would be tenuous at best. There was no way to know how long he’d be trapped in this corner of hell and dealing with the woman when she discovered what her future held was not a pretty thought, not at all. Once he found Michael, he would tell her, watch her crumble, and they could get back to England where they belonged. He glanced at the door to the cottage. He was still trying to figure out what had bloody happened. The wench had offered her body to a stranger in exchange for help. That he could deal with. There wasn’t much bargaining power available to a woman and she’d gone directly to what would be her best bet. But the lass had just given him the only thing that insured a successful match for her in the future. Without a thought. Without a word. Why on earth would she do that? There was only one reason he could think of. “She wanted to,” he said. He sat on the bench and stared at the door. A twenty year old woman in a desolate place, one of very few single women. How in bloody hell had she even been a virgin? He doubted he could find one of fifteen in this place let alone twenty and yet he had found her. He’d watched the men at the dock. He saw the way they stared, the way they smiled, the glances. Even without the stunning beauty of her face and the gorgeous fuckable body, she should have been plucked years ago. Then there was Daniel Corrigan. The man was one step away from taking her, and only his sense of propriety had kept him from forcing himself on her. He’d not felt such heated jealousy pour from a man in a very long time. If Corrigan had his way, Rafe would be long gone even now.
Riley Sullivan had her choice of any man in Jamestown and yet she had chosen a stranger, a man of questionable character and suspicious motives, to give away her most valuable commodity. “Christ, Logan,” he muttered. “She was waiting for something … she was holding out until…” He ran his hands over his face and glanced once more at the door. He should just come right out and ask her. He should make her confess. She had chosen him and given him the gift of her maidenhead and damn it, he wanted to know why. Go deeper … I want all of you, Logan. Oh, he’d seen through that. What a cagey little wench. Did she somehow think she could trap him into marriage? Did she seek a child? Was she so desperate to hold on to what she had, that she would take her best prospect and fashion a life to her liking? He should put a stop to this now. He should go to the tavern. He should leave Riley Sullivan and her little games. He could search for Michael for two weeks and when it was over, he could come back to the cottage, tell her the truth and deal with the aftermath. No, two weeks might not be long enough. He wasn’t sure he could leave Virginia at all until he knew what had happened to his brother. And leaving Riley Sullivan? He already knew the answer to that. He wanted her again already. For now this little cottage held as much as he could hope for and whatever Riley had brewing in her head was something he could deal with later. The cottage wasn’t much but it seemed in fairly good shape and with a little work it just might be comfortable. He’d already noticed cracks in the walls and those windows would be leaky in a cold winter wind. Winter was months away but it wouldn’t hurt to get an early start. There was no telling how long he might be trapped here with the wench and her brother and when winter came he would be stuck till spring. He had watched Brian find her in the crowd and he knew immediately she was the impatient sort. It was clear she was aggravated with her brother, turning toward him like a mother finding a wayward child. He was surprised at how small she still was. At first glance she had appeared to be another child and he’d thought he’d made a mistake. But when he saw the curves that swept her body, generous lush curves on such a petite frame, he knew she was the one. Five years before, the first thing he had noticed had been her hair. He clearly remembered the way it had tumbled across her shoulders and down her back like a sundrenched waterfall. Brian had said to look for a girl with long blond hair, a clear description yet not entirely truthful. She had the most beautiful hair he’d ever seen, falling over her small body in shining ropes. Varying hues of gold, honey and wheat were spun through the wild strands like glossy threads. The moment he had seen her he could think of nothing but how those silky strands would feel sliding across his naked skin. When he caught his first real look of her here, he had for one moment wondered how he could possibly approach her. She had the most perfect face he had ever seen and he’d seen plenty. There was an innocence about her that shamed him. She had a heart-shaped face with a strong determined chin, high cheekbones, golden brows seriously drawn down in a frown as she spoke with her brother. But the eyes were the key to this girl. A deep dark green that snapped with a vitality and vigor most women did not have. He saw intelligence, strength and a sense of pride that proved she was someone to reckon with. He wanted to peer into those eyes forever and the thought scared the hell out of him.
This one was going to fight him. Once she knew why he had really come to Jamestown and how she was involved, he would have to watch her every moment. She had an unkindled fire burning inside of her and he suspected that once that passion was unlocked she would fuck with the wantonness of a whore. But that did not make her one. Not yet. Rafe was smart enough to know there was a clear line between what a woman would do with a lover and what she would do for coin. Riley Sullivan was very sensual, very physical and very provocative and could make him a very rich man, but it was going to be a hard road. He’d have to drag her down it because she was not the type to go willingly. She might even think to kill him. She seemed the type. Brian Sullivan had been right about his sister. She was feisty, spirited, ornery and definitely cranky, but he had a little time to deal with her flaws. If he could get her in bed and keep her there he could unleash all that passion and make her crave it like the air she breathed. He could prime her before they left Virginia and when she discovered her fate, she’d at least be prepared. Peter Sullivan may not have meant to sell his only daughter but sold her he had. Fleeing to Virginia in violation of a binding contract had not negated the piece of parchment Rafe held. The time was up and Rafe wanted what belonged to him. He stood up and dropped the bucket into the well. While he hauled it back up, he thought of Peter Sullivan. A drunk. A gambler. A man with countless creditors at his back pushing him from Ireland and into England, but even the anonymity of the London streets could not hide him. In desperation he had come to Rafe and Rafe was always eager to put another man in his pocket. Sullivan had been all too eager to offer his daughter in exchange for enough coin. In clear conscience Rafe could not have accepted a child. When he told Sullivan to return her when she reached sixteen, Sullivan agreed but the cagey bastard had a plan that surprised even Rafe. He disappeared from London and seemingly off the face of the earth. It took Rafe over three years to discover his whereabouts and he was determined that Sullivan fulfill his obligations. He’d sent Michael to Virginia to bring the girl back, but Rafe should have known better. Michael was not exactly the determined type and he could easily become distracted. He had the attention span of a small child, particularly when someone pulled out a deck of cards or a bottle of brandy. There had been no word, no progress report and no return. And the girl was right here. Damned if he knew what had gone wrong. The disappearance of Michael was troubling and so was the girl. He wanted this one. There was something about her that made him yearn to keep her for himself. He shook his head. Not possible. Keeping a wench for himself would not be a good idea and went against everything he believed in. But she could be an interesting diversion while he searched for Michael. Once he found his wayward brother he had every intention of getting out of this hellish colony and back where he belonged. He still didn’t like the colors of this world. He stripped off his breeches, kicking them into the pile of clothes. The late afternoon sun felt good on his skin, but it would be gone soon. Most of the courtyard was in shadow. He lifted the bucket and poured it over his head. For a moment he nearly lost his breath. The water was as cold as a frozen river. He stood still while the icy rivulets ran down the length of his body. This backwater colony was going to be the death of him.
He was dropping the bucket back into the well when he heard the back door to the cottage open and slam shut. He peered through a mess of soaking wet hair and watched as Brian Sullivan stormed across the cobblestones toward him. The sight of a naked man did nothing to deter him. He shoved Rafe in the chest as hard as he could and, caught off guard, Rafe stumbled against the well. He flung the hair from his face. “Easy, lad. You’ve more power in that skinny body than I’d expected, but you’re still a mite small to be instigating an argument with me. You’d not win.” “What did you do to my sister?” Brian snarled. Rafe blinked. He’d not put a mark on the girl. She’d been dressed, at least minimally dressed, when he left the cottage. Rafe racked his brain trying to think how Brian would have known. He held up his hands. “Well, lad, you fairly offered her to me. You said she’d be willing, and willing she was, so…” “She’s cryin’!” Brian screamed. “You were supposed to make things better! What did you do to make her cry?” “She was in a calm enough mood when I left,” Rafe said. “She wanted a kiss … I gave it to her…” “She won’t even talk to me,” Brian said. “I asked how the ink spilled and she ran to the bedroom.” Rafe dumped another bucket of water over his dirty flesh. “’Twas my fault and I’m going to replace the ink. She’s tired, Brian, and has a lot on her mind. We were talking … about…” He racked his brain. She’d managed to tug most of the details out of his mind. “…Kevin and … Catherine … and your ma … I think it brought back memories. Perhaps she’s just sad.” Brian nodded and dropped to the bench, clearly relieved. “Aye, it always makes her sad to think of them, especially little Cate. And Da? Did you talk about him?” “Aye, a little.” “Da was … not such a good man, kind of hard on Riley, but we’ve sorely missed him lately. Runnin’ the shop has been hard. ‘Tis too much for Riley and as much as I try, ‘tis too much for me.” Rafe’s eyes flickered to the shop at the end of the courtyard. “Exactly what kind of shop do you run, Brian?” “I gave you plenty of time to talk. Didn’t she tell you anythin’?” Rafe smiled at the disgusted look on the youngster’s face. “We didna do much talking, Brian. Your sister and I…” Brian’s small face lit with the brightness of his smile. He leaned forward eagerly. “’Tis well then? She was pleased?” “Aye, she seemed so … at least as pleased as she can get.” Brian smirked. “Then you’re comin’ to know her,” he said. “Well, since she can’t seem to keep her mind on business, I’ll have to do it. We have a smithy.” Rafe dropped the bucket and it slammed into his foot. It was the last thing he expected. “A smithy? How on earth did she think to manage a smithy? She’s not strong enough to lift a hammer! She’s a blacksmith? How long has she been trying to do this?” “Since Da died. Six months now.” “I admire her determination, Brian, but you must know she canna do this.”
“Aye, we both know it, but she won’t give up. Every bloody day she’s out there, teachin’ herself about the fire, the tools. There are regulations governin’ inheritance of a master’s license.” “She’s a woman, Brian.” “That makes no matter,” Brian said. “She can inherit the master. Usually ‘tis a widow but there’s nothin’ to stop her except for the fact that she can’t do the bloody job. But she won’t listen to me.” “What does she have to do?” “Meet the qualifications. ‘Tis a test she must pass. If she does not meet them, she’ll not gain control. Corrigan threatens to take the shop one day and marry her the next. He’s a bastard. He wouldn’t allow us to hire any help so we went behind his back and found you.” “What does she think I can do?” “Swing the hammer. She knows about welds and strikes … she knows about the fire and the temperatures. But she can’t swing the bloody hammers for more than a single blow and by the time she rests, the work is ruined. She needs you as her striker. I’ve tried, but … I’m not strong enough yet. Did you not come to an agreement then? Is that why she’s cryin’?” Rafe’s eyes locked on the door to the cottage. “No, lad, we didna come to an agreement. Not yet. But we’re still in negotiation so don’t let it worry you. Your sister’s a stubborn little wench, but she’ll come round.” Brian stood and a tough line crossed his forehead. “I want this to work, Master Logan. I chose you. Don’t disappoint me.” Logan smiled. “I don’t intend to disappoint you, Master Sullivan. When I leave here, your inheritance will be intact … one way or another.” Brian nodded. “Good then. I’ll go to the shop and make ready for tomorrow. We’ll start then.” “On one condition…” “Aye?” “Do you know about…?” Rafe paused, trying to remember what the boy had said. “…welds and strikes, fires and temperatures?” “Oh, aye. I’ve watched her day in and out for six months.” “Good. I’ve no wish to see your sister a master craftsman of any sort, Brian. ’Tis important that if I work for you, the skill be passed to you.” “Riley doesn’t want…” “I don’t care what Riley wants,” Rafe said. “Are you willing to work?” “Aye, sir, ‘tis what I wanted but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’d only let me help out of necessity.” “I’ve other plans for your sister and wasting her beauty in a sweltering shop is not one of them. Tomorrow then, Master Sullivan. Be prepared to work. We’ll get the shop running in no time.” “You’ve done it before then?” “No,” Rafe said. “Though I’ve seen it. We’ve a smithy near Fallen Angels. How hard can it be?” Brian laughed. “A lot harder than you’re expectin’. What kind of business are you in, Master Logan?”
Rafe hesitated. “Procurement. I fulfill people’s desires. I’m a … merchant of sorts, though I suspect the title is tinged with shades of gray.” “You’re in Virginia now, Master Logan. You’ll not find much use for … procurement here. We either have it or we don’t. We do everythin’ the hard way in Virginia and you’ll never see life the same again.” Rafe studied the boy with interest and smiled. “And how will I see it?” “With clarity,” Brian said. “There are no shades of gray here. That’s the first thing you learn.” “And is there a second?” “The second is when you’re granted a gift, you cling to it with all the strength you have because gifts are rare.” “And have I been granted a gift?” “Aye, sir. I chose you because I thought you’d be pleasin’ to her. I knew she’d be pleasin’ to you. She may be my sister, but I’m not blind.” Rafe dropped the bucket back into the well. “No, Master Sullivan, you are not blind. You see more clearly than most.” Brian started across the courtyard, paused and turned. “Strike a bargain, Master Logan. And when the bargain is struck, make her honor it.” “I intend to,” Rafe said. Brian shook his head. “She has her good points and she’s my sister but … she doesn’t know what’s good for her unless it bites her in the ass.” He turned and ran toward the shop. Rafe laughed as Brian disappeared through the door. “I can do that, Brian. Biting her in the ass will be my pleasure.”
Chapter 8 Rafe hunched over the table and developed an intense interest in the contents of his mug. He stared into the muddy ale trying to convince himself he had to be wrong. There was no possible way Tabitha Atkins could be on this side of the fucking world. Peering through strands of hair and the greasy light of the candle, he cast a quick glance up, eyes squinting against the smoke that drifted like a veil of fog in the tavern. Christ, if that woman was Tabitha he was in serious trouble. Tabby would make it her business to see he had trouble and it would play havoc with his willpower to see her again. Tabby had been tall, slender, with the most gorgeous tits he had ever laid eyes on. Though he hadn’t seen her in ten years, there was no doubt this one could be Tabby. She was spread across the expansive lap of a man who looked like he could clearly afford the best. Tabby Atkins was nothing if not the best. This woman’s corset was laced tight and her shirt dipping so low he saw the tip of one tight nipple on the generous mounds that spilled through the opening. Luxurious pale blond curls cascaded over her shoulders but she had her face nuzzled into the neck of her patron, clearly whispering what she intended to do for him. Rafe saw the man’s hand slide up her body and burrow into her shirt. If she’d just raise her face, he might be able to set his mind at rest. Having Tabby here in Virginia might put a serious crimp in his plans. The woman laughed as she brushed the man’s hand away. The sound of it sent a jolt through him. The laughter was so filled with life, so compelling and so familiar that Rafe had no choice. He raised his face and stared right at her. For a moment he was safe because she was focused on the other man, but he stared far too long. The woman’s dark eyes swung toward him and locked on his. Even as she allowed the other man to bury his face between her breasts, she gave Rafe a dazzling smile from across the room. “Fuck.” He tossed the rest of the ale down his throat and shoved the mug across the table. He lowered his head again and let the strands of his hair fall across his face, trying to get the sound of the laughter out of his head, trying to make his pounding heart return to a normal rhythm. When he saw another mug slide in front of his face, he didn’t even glance up, even when the ale sloshed over the rim and doused his hand. “Tabitha.” Her leg brushed firmly against his as she settled into the next chair. Leaning back, she smoothed her voluminous skirts then draped her wrists over the arms of the chair. “Hello, Rafe. Of all the people I ever expected to see here, you’re not one of them. The White Doe has a particular kind of clientele and if I remember correctly Rafe Logan doesn’t fuck whores.” Rafe said nothing. He poured half the ale down his throat then curled his hands around the mug. Tabby ran a long fingernail across the back of his hand. “If you’re here for a fuck, it’ll cost you, but my girls are worth every penny.” Rafe tossed the hair away from his face and glanced around the room. “I don’t doubt it, Tabby, but I’m not buying tonight.” “I don’t spread my legs for free, Rafe, not even for old friends.”
“I wouldna expect you to. ‘Tis a serious business. Canna make money if you give it for free. Besides the big man across the way seems to have a rather generous purse. Don’t let me keep you from business.” She laughed and Rafe’s gut coiled inside him. “Aye, he’s one of the most generous men in town and he’d give anything to fuck me, but I don’t often entertain any more.” Rafe shot her a glance. “Why not?” “Things change,” she said. “You’ve not changed. Any man here would…” Rafe snapped his mouth closed as her laughter drifted over him again. Damn. “Is that a compliment, Rafe? Do you think I’m still pretty then?” “Christ, Tabitha, you know you’re God damned beautiful. You don’t need to hear it from me.” He tossed the rest of the ale down his throat and Tabby raised her hand. The man behind the bar nodded. When Rafe met her eyes, she smiled, then shrugged. “Even the best have to retire sometime. I’m a businesswoman now. I make a tidy profit.” “You own this place?” “Don’t look so surprised, lover. I know what it takes to run a stew. I learned from the best. As you can see…” She waved her hand to encompass the crowd. “…business here is very good. And I have you to thank. If you hadn’t turned me out of Fallen Angels, I would still be spreading my legs for any man with a coin.” “I didna turn you out, Tabby, you left me.” “I remember the ultimatum, Rafe. You offered me little choice.” “I gave you a bloody choice,” he growled. “You consider marriage a choice?” “’Twas the only thing I could think of to stop you.” “I was a nineteen year old girl making more coin than most women see in a lifetime. I was your most valuable asset and you wanted to ruin it all by tying me down for the rest of my life. I made you a bloody fortune. I fucked you as often as you wanted. I never understood the damn problem you had sharing me with others.” “I didna want to share! You were mine, Tabitha.” Tabby leaned closer and wrapped her hands around his face. “I was only yours when your cock was in me, Rafe. The rest of the time I belonged to Fallen Angels. I was earning my way in life just like the others and I was determined I would not have to rely on a man for my very existence. Not even you.” “’Tis not the way I remember it,” Rafe said. “And I seem to recall that when you made the choice, I paid for it. I still have scars.” She put her hand on his thigh and slowly slid it until her fingers were nestled between his legs. “Memories are funny things, lover, and we sometimes only remember the things that are painful. Don’t you remember any of the good things we had between us? Don’t you remember how we fit together? How our hearts would pound when we could find time to be with each other?” “Aye,” he said, “but when you came to my bed, you had another man’s scent on you.” “’Twas business, lover, and if you’ll remember it was you who bought me for Fallen Angels.”
“I didna expect to…” Tabby put her fingers on his lips. “Shhh. I don’t want to talk about that. This business is not conducive to falling in love, Rafe. That’s the first thing you learn. It’s about pleasure and bodies, sweat and straining limbs. It’s about cocks and pussies. There’s no place for the heart in a stew.” “’Tis something I learned from you,” Rafe said. “And I’ve not made the same mistake again.” “I do remember what it was like with you, Rafe. I remember everything about you and every beautiful inch of your body. Do you remember every inch of mine?” He nodded. She leaned toward him and the scent of her perfume stole his breath. Her breasts came dangerously close to spilling from her blouse. He remembered the feel of them in his mouth, the hard rosy nipples that he’d sucked until she quivered beneath him begging to be fucked. He remembered the feel of her skin, the smell of her pussy. Ten years and he could almost taste her. Her warm breath washed across his face. She smelled of strong expensive brandy and he wanted to slam his mouth over hers and taste it for himself. He wanted her tongue down his throat. His cock swelled under her questing hand and he groaned when she caught the laces of his breeches between her fingers and tugged. “As big as ever,” she said. “I could take all of you in my mouth, Rafe. Do you remember?” “Aye.” “Would you like to rekindle old memories?” she whispered. “I don’t have to suck you in a dark corner, hidden from the others. My cottage is nearby. We could enjoy each other all night. We could fuck until dawn. Beyond dawn if that’s what you’d like.” “And what might this cost me, Tabby? As much as it cost me ten years ago?” Tabby straightened and pulled her hand away. “Fuck, Rafe, are you here about the bloody money? Christ, you’re impossible! I had to have some money to leave. And I would have paid it back if I hadn’t left England altogether.” “I don’t want the damn money,” Rafe said. “’Tis not why I’m here.” Tabby’s dark eyes glittered in the glow of the candle. “Then why are you here, Rafe? Seems strange that you’d turn up here after ten years. This is a Godforsaken place, exactly the sort of place I’d expect to find a fallen angel like you, but a bit out of the way, wouldn’t you say? When I saw you—after my heart started pumping again—I figured you were here for the money.” She paused and eyed him curiously. “If you’re thinking about branching out in the colonies, Raphael, I have to tell you I object. I was here first. There are a lot of men in Virginia, but I’d appreciate it if you looked elsewhere. Jamestown belongs to me. I hear Mary Land has become a thriving place. Why not head north?” “I’m not branching out,” he said. “I’ve enough trouble in Southwark. I’m looking for Michael.” “Your brother Michael? And you think he’s here? Did you scare him away from you as well?” “What are you talking about?” Rafe snapped.
Tabby laughed again and leaned back in her chair. “Self awareness, Rafe. It was always your problem because you have none. You’ve no idea how you treat the people in your life.” “I thought I took care of them,” Rafe said. “You smother them,” Tabby said. “They have no life of their own, no opinions, no hopes, no dreams. Every facet of their life becomes yours. You treat everyone you love like bloody property until they have no choice but to rebel. Everything has to be done your way and since Michael’s chosen to escape from you I’d say you probably haven’t changed.” Tabby’s little analysis did nothing but irritate him. He gave everyone he loved absolutely everything he could. He provided the most elegant wardrobes, the most seasoned chefs, lodging in grand apartments, transportation in quality coaches and admittance to some of the finest social events in London. He had provided tutors and dance instructors, music lessons and governesses, sparing no expense to give his brother and sister the best of everything. Once he’d offered the same to Tabby. “He didna escape from me. I sent him here.” “Michael was a damn cute little moppet. How’d he turn out?” “Moppet? He wasna much younger than you.” “Aye, but you kept him on a short leash, Rafe. Treated him like a boy way beyond his childhood. How’s that little sister of yours? Now there was a girl with the face of an angel. Can’t imagine you have her working the house. Not a Logan female.” “I left Gabrielle in charge to come here. She’s worse than you when it comes to money. She’ll let none of it slip through her hands.” He drained the rest of his mug and Tabby held up her hand again. “So you’ve not seen him?” “No, Rafe, I’ve not seen him. Though I don’t know that I’d recognize him because like I said…” “The short leash. I get it.” “As far as I know, he’s not here. I’ve not heard the name tossed about and in this business … well eventually I meet every man in town, even the married ones. If you sent him here, why did you come looking?” “Because he’s not returned with my property and I’ve not heard from him in nearly a year.” “’Tis probably not well then,” Tabitha said, “and I’m sorry for it. Things are hard here. If you’ve not heard…” Rafe felt his gut clench and tossed the drink down his throat. “I get it.” The candle sputtered as a strong breeze swept the room. Tabby glanced over her shoulder and Rafe’s mouth dropped open. Miraculously another drink had appeared at his elbow and he needed it. “Now, there’s something you don’t see here often. Wonder what she’s about. Do you imagine she’s looking for employment? I could use her. Lots of men like that look. Very appealing. They always capture the best coin. I looked like that once. Remember, Rafe?” “Aye, Tabby. You’re still beautiful.” “How nice of you to say. I’ve got to get my hands on this one. That virginal look is worth a bloody fortune.” Rafe watched as Riley Sullivan sidled through the door like a tiny wraith, hugging the outer wall. He was glad to see her wrapped from head to toe in a heavy cloak that
covered every inch of her flesh. Although he had greatly enjoyed seeing her wares displayed that afternoon, he had no wish to share the sight of her with others. It was clear she drew enough attention bundled in cloth. Every head turned when she entered the room. Peering through swirling smoke, each man leaned forward over the table to get a closer look. Several of the harlots rolled their eyes with disgusted looks and began to whisper. Barely grown. She could not be much beyond eighteen. Even in the dim hazy light he saw the flush staining her cheeks. He wondered if she was embarrassed by the sudden attention or simply irritated she had been forced into such a position. This one was clearly used to being in control. She was peering through the room with narrowed eyes, searching for him. He could have made it easy and gone to her, but he enjoyed watching her. He sipped at his drink and studied every inch of her. He couldn’t see much now, but he knew what was under that cloak. When she flipped the hood down and her hair spilled around her shoulders the man at the next table groaned and clutched his crotch. It took everything Rafe had in him to keep from grabbing the man by the throat. “Christ Almighty,” Tabby said softly. “I want this one.” She started to rise from the table and Rafe put a hand on her arm. “She’s mine,” Rafe said. Tabitha’s face swiveled toward him in stunned disbelief. She dropped back into her chair and stared at him long and hard. He avoided her eyes, staring into his drink. Finally he could stand it no longer and cast an impatient glance toward her. Her beautiful face was crinkled with displeasure. “Give it up, Tabby.” “Fuck, Logan, you didn’t come here for Michael. You came all this way for her.” “The bargain was struck,” Rafe said. Tabby sighed. “You are the most unreasonable, relentless, vindictive, selfish son-ofa-bitch I’ve ever met. You’ve not an ounce of pity or compassion in that entire glorious body. It’s such a waste of beauty. You should have been God’s finest creation. Instead…” “Perhaps when you finish listing my faults, you might want to concentrate on my assets. I’m one of the richest men in London.” “The poor wench has no idea, does she?” “No, and I plan to keep it that way, Tabitha.” Tabby’s face swung back toward Riley. She was plastered against the wall, seemingly afraid to walk into what little light there was, but she was diligently searching every nook, every cranny, every drunken face at every table. When her glance settled on one of the women, her eyes darted away quickly. Rafe saw her eyes skim across Tabby then abruptly swing back. She cocked her head curiously then leaned slightly to see around the woman. When she caught Rafe’s eyes he could almost hear the huffy little noise that passed her lips. She started across the room. “This one will kill you, Rafe,” Tabby said. “Aye, a distinct possibility. I’ll watch my back.” “Not exactly what I meant,” Tabby said. “’Twas not your back I was thinking of.”
Rafe leaned back in the chair as Riley marched toward them. She nodded to a man in the corner, a slight bob of her head. When the man left his seat to approach her, Rafe watched her eyes roll and a huffy breath pass her lips. Now this could be a problem. The stranger was a handsome man, probably in his late twenties and Rafe saw the man tuck his arm around her shoulder with the clear intent of escorting her back through the door. Rafe started to rise from his chair but dropped back down when he realized the girl could handle herself. She put her hands on the man’s chest, gave him a little push and the word no formed on her lips. Curious, Rafe watched a rather heated exchange. They spoke quietly but the girl was not pleased and the man was even less so. Finally he threw up his hands and turned away from her, returning to his seat. He downed his mug and held it up for another. Riley’s eyes locked on his with serious determination. Her mouth tightened and she strode toward him, ignoring the other men trying to get her attention. Rafe wondered what the hell he was in for.
Chapter 9 She could not believe she was in the White Doe again. What had possessed her to come here? She had seriously lost her reason today. She was surrounded by whores and men that … used whores. So many men she knew. And Rafe Logan was sitting against the wall, talking with the owner, the most beautiful woman in Jamestown. Tall, slender with the most perfect breasts Riley could even imagine. Her hair was a beautiful shade of pale blonde, lying against her skin like strands of curled silk. She had always envied everything about the woman, her grace, her beauty, the easy rapport she had with every man in town. Riley suddenly felt like a young girl come to collect her wayward father again. The woman gestured across the room then turned back. Riley felt eyes sweep across her face in an appraising glance. “I’m Tabitha Atkins, owner of this establishment.” “I know who you are, Mistress Atkins.” “Of course,” she said with a smile. “Welcome to the White Doe, Mistress…” “Sullivan,” Riley said. “Peter’s daughter?” Tabby asked. “You’ve blossomed into quite a beautiful young woman. I’ve not seen you in several years. You used to come here quite often.” “I stopped trying to change his behavior.” Tabby sighed. “Peter Sullivan had definite … needs. He was quite popular here. He was a fine specimen of a man, perfect in almost every way but, like others, he didn’t often live up to his potential. Don’t you find that physical perfection is often wasted on those with less than perfect characters?” She cast a pointed look in Logan’s direction. “I was sorry to hear of his accident and, if you’re here about the debt, I’m willing to forget it entirely.” “She’s not here about the debt, Tabby,” Logan said. “She’s here to collect me. But I’ll pay what he owes.” The woman’s perfect brows rose in surprise. She perused Riley’s face and Riley felt another blush steal over her face. “You look a great deal like your father, but I certainly don’t see you in a smithy, Mistress Sullivan. If you ever wish to change occupations, please come see me. You’re quite lovely and I hate to see Raphael snatch up all the lovely ones. ‘Tis not quite fair.” Riley’s eyes shifted to Logan and for one moment he looked positively stunned. His mouth dropped open as a swipe of color spread across his cheeks and a dark rage swept over his face. His brows drew down and his blue eyes blazed with a cold fire. Riley’s eyes darted between the two, wondering what they could possibly be talking about. As Logan began to rise from his chair, the woman pushed on his shoulder and laughed. “Easy, Raphael. I’m not poaching in paradise. Just wanted to see your reaction. Like I said … this one will kill you. I’ll leave you two alone now. Enjoy your drinks.” Riley slid into the chair next to him as the barkeep laid two drinks on the table. She leaned close to Logan and grabbed his arm. “What the hell are you doing here? We’re supposed to be betrothed!” She realized she hadn’t been as quiet as she should have when Tabitha Atkins turned around. She put her hands on her slim hips and cocked her head. “Betrothed, Rafe? How
delightful! Just when I thought Jamestown was starting to become dull, how nice of you to come and stir things up. Good luck with … your business.” She laughed and sauntered toward a big man who held out his arms. Riley felt a stab of jealousy. Tabitha Atkins was everything she was not and seemingly perfect for a man like Rafe Logan. They complemented each other, a combination of light and dark, and after seeing him next to the elegance and utter perfection of a woman like Tabitha, Riley wondered how she could possibly talk this man into helping her. “She’s very beautiful,” Riley murmured. “Like an angel.” Logan laughed. “Aye, exactly like an angel.” When Riley saw Tabitha settle in the man’s lap, she turned her attention back to Logan. “You’ve been in town less than half a day,” she said. “You make friends very fast, Master Logan.” “And you have the instincts of a bloodhound, mistress. How did you manage to find me?” “I followed your scent,” she said. “You seem to have only one thing on your mind today.” Logan leaned close. “The little tumble this afternoon wasna enough, Mistress Sullivan. I intend to fuck someone’s brains out tonight. Care to volunteer?” His coarse language had ceased to shock her. The man said whatever came into his empty head. She tried for a stern face and hoped she succeeded. “We’ve not reached a bargain yet.” “That does not necessarily preclude any fucking between us. I think I said the fucking was personal. And you seemed to enjoy yourself this afternoon.” “What makes you think I enjoyed it?” Riley snapped. He reached out and snatched a lock of hair from her shoulder. He lifted it and inhaled. She refused to look at him, but she heard a soft laugh brush across her like a whisper. She turned toward him and lifted her eyes hesitantly. She saw a smile flicker on his face. “I might be reading your mind,” he said. “If you were reading my mind right now, Logan, you wouldn’t be smiling. How long were you going to allow me to stand there looking for you?” “As long as it took. You seem able to handle yourself and it sounds as though you’re quite familiar with this place.” “Peter Sullivan could not stay away from three things: gambling, whiskey or whores. And there’s only one place he could find all three. ‘Tis why I have no future at present and why I need you. If I must trade one reprobate for another, so be it.” “Reprobate, mistress? Do you not think the judgment is a bit harsh? You barely know me.” He nodded to the man across the room. “You’ve other options as far as I can tell. Who’s your admirer?” “Just another man who wants to bed me,” she said. “You’ll find I know most of the people in town … at least I thought I did. I can’t believe some of the men in here and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look them in the eye again. ‘Tis very hard for me to be here right now. In this place. With you.” “Aye,” Rafe said. “The rumors will be flying tomorrow. The comely village lass in the company of the stranger. And in the White Doe no less.”
“Master Logan, I’d appreciate if you didn’t tease me.” “Mistress Sullivan…” He tucked his finger under her chin and tugged her face toward him. “Look at me.” His eyes were suddenly serious and Riley snatched her face out of his hands. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say because he was going to change his mind. She could see it in the way his gaze rested on the hair spread over her shoulders, darted across her lips as she licked them and finally back to her eyes. He had decided whatever she needed from him was too much trouble and he was better off staying at the White Doe where women spread their legs without crying, where there were no commitments, no responsibilities and no entanglements. He tried to capture her face again. “Don’t,” she whispered. “What?” he asked. “Don’t touch you or don’t say it? You see, lass, I can read your mind.” “Don’t say it,” she whispered. “You know this isna going to work between us.” “We haven’t talked about it yet,” she said. “No amount of talk is going to make it right,” Logan said. “Seeing you here, in this place … I’ve got to get you home.” He started to rise and Riley grabbed his hand. “Don’t take me home,” she said. That desperate tone in her voice was becoming a bad habit. “Not yet. Not until you agree to listen. Just one night at my house and we’ll talk tomorrow. Please, Logan.” Logan’s blue eyes drilled into hers. She had an overwhelming urge to wrap her hands around his face, to draw him toward her. The entire evening she had thought of nothing but him. She had even burned their supper and Brian could barely eat it. She couldn’t eat at all. The gentle pulse between her legs was a distraction and her swollen mouth throbbed with an aching need to be kissed. She wanted his arms around her again. She wanted … oh, she never thought she’d ever think of it, but she wanted his cock inside of her again. Even sitting here now, watching his eyes watch her, she could practically feel his thumb against her clit. She wanted him to press it, rub it… She squeezed her legs together. This man was potentially the most dangerous thing that had ever dropped into her life and was surely going to be the most damaging if he agreed to stay. He had the ability to ruin her life. Perhaps he already had. “I can’t let you go yet,” she said. “Not without knowing.” “Knowing what?” he asked. “Knowing if my prayers have been answered.” “I already told you I’m not…” “Don’t tell me again,” Riley said. “Let me think until tomorrow everything might be all right. I made a choice, Logan. Shouldn’t I be allowed a little time to see if it’s the right one?” “Aye, lass, I suppose so, but by this time tomorrow if I decide I canna do it, you’ll have to accept it. Agreed?” Riley nodded and as they left the White Doe, she saw Logan glance over his shoulder at Tabitha Atkins. The woman shrugged a creamy shoulder and slowly shook
her head, her eyes locked on his. She didn’t need to hear the words the woman said. She could read them on her rosy lips as she mouthed them across the room. “You’re going to hell.” Logan gripped her arm and pulled her from the smoky din of the White Doe. He walked leisurely but she had to walk fast to keep up with his stride. “Was there any word of your brother?” “No.” “No one has seen him at all?” “No.” “Do you know for certain he arrived here?” Logan grabbed her arm and spun her around. He yanked her so hard she nearly stumbled and he had to clutch her against him to keep her from spilling to the ground. They were on a darkened pathway of cottages. The only light was a flickering candle in one of the windows. She couldn’t see his face but the tone of his voice left little doubt as to what she might see. “Why did you follow me tonight?” Riley gulped. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.” “And I didn’t plan to,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a good man? Did you not see that for yourself today?” “I don’t care what kind of man you are.” “You’re an impossible wench.” He gave her a tug and she practically lifted off her feet. He pulled her off the path and into a dark copse of trees beside the Warren cottage. She thought of Margaret Warren tucking her children into bed and Gil laboring over the last of the day’s accounts. But Rafe Logan was not thinking of the decent people of Jamestown. He was determined to prove to her there were people in the world that weren’t like those she knew. When he pushed her against one of the willows beside the cottage, Riley saw a quick flash of Margaret’s face as she closed the shutters. Mercifully, she didn’t think Margaret saw her. When Logan leaned down and whispered into her hair, she shivered. “Do you know what thoughts hammer through my head?” “No,” she said. “I think of fucking you again, Mistress Sullivan. ‘Tis all I’ve thought of since I walked out of your cottage. I think of all the ways I can take you, all the moans and whimpers that will pass your lips, all the expressions that will cross your face, and how many times I will feel you tremble in my arms as your body shivers in ecstasy. I think of the aching of my groin, my cock pounding in anticipation, my balls tightening as they fill with need and the blessed relief when I slide inside your body. Now, mistress, answer me truthfully. Knowing all that, do you really want to invite me back into your home?” “Aye,” she said softly. “Have you read my mind again?” Logan groaned with the terrifying despair of a condemned man. “Oh, Christ, Riley.” His mouth crashed into hers as she lifted her face. His hands clutched her waist and crushed her against him. His kiss was fierce, vicious, unmerciful, and she sank helplessly in his arms. When he ripped his mouth from hers, he twisted her toward the tree. Confused, she waited, her lips still wet from his kiss, afraid to take a breath, afraid to say a word, but more afraid that he would leave her there and walk away. When she felt his hands on her shoulders, she released the breath she’d been holding. He untied her cloak
and it dropped to the ground. He kicked at it impatiently. When his hands returned, they followed the curves of her arms until he reached her wrists. “So you like my touch?” he asked. “Aye. ‘Tis all I can think of.” He lifted her arms and spread her hands on the trunk of the tree but he didn’t step away. His hands plunged into her hair and raked down the length of it, then caressed the strands with his fingers, long gentle strokes that swept the entire length of her back and over her bottom. She felt his hands tugging her skirt up and a shattered breath exploded from her. When she felt the warmth of his hand against her bare skin, she moaned. And when his fingers dipped between her legs and began to search, she nearly wept. He leaned over her and his lips brushed her cheek. “Do you remember what I told you before? What to say?” She nodded as his lips locked on her throat. The tugging of his mouth seemed to pull the strength from her legs and she buckled against him. He caught her against his thigh as his finger slowly pressed against that small nub of flesh that seemed so sensitive, so full of need, her clit. He pulled his mouth from her flesh and pressed it against her ear. “I’m going to take you now, Riley, unless you tell me to stop.” “I’m not going to tell you to stop,” she said. His breath exploded across her face. “God damn you, Riley.” His finger was causing that wonderful feeling to course through her body again. She thought if he didn’t hold her up, she would simply slump to the ground in a puddle of aching flesh. Her entire body was trembling and when his hand moved, his fingers slipping between the folds of her body and pressing hard into her, she gasped and pressed her forehead against the rough bark of the tree. He pulled them out and plunged them into her again, harder, rougher and the trembling grew worse. The muscles in her body were quivering, tightening around his fingers, eager for more. When he pushed them into her a third time, her head fell back against his chest and she felt a soft kiss on her temple. A moment later Logan’s knee rammed her legs apart and there was a hard prodding between her thighs. He reached between her legs and when she felt the velvety tip of his manhood slip into her she arched back against him. He sank into her and his hands wrapped around her hips. He began to move, a rhythmic pumping motion that forced Riley against the tree. “Push against it,” he said. “Don’t let me hurt you.” She flattened her palms on the trunk and pushed. The weight of his body and the force of his movement rocked her but when he tugged her hips toward him, she held steady. Several times she slammed against the bark because the feelings were so intense, so arousing, so stimulating she simply forgot what she was doing. Finally she just surrendered. She lay against the tree, her cheek against his hand as he plunged in and out of her body. Each time he drove into her a fierce stab of agonizing pleasure spiked through her and ripped through every nerve in her body, consuming her in a wave of bliss. Logan’s face was in her hair. He was whispering to her again, but she couldn’t hear him. All she could hear was the gentle thump as his body slammed into hers and the wet suction where their bodies joined together. His body was hard against hers, but the manhood nestled inside was wrapped in silk and felt so perfect as it slid in and out.
He stiffened slightly and suddenly his hand dipped under her skirt and snaked to the front of her body. He found her clit and began to rub her in fast strokes that shot lightning through her pelvis. A throbbing wave of pulsations tore through her entire body and an uncontrollable shudder gripped her. Even as Logan pulled from her body and she felt the warmth of his seed run down her thigh, her body trembled under his hand. He sank to his knees and pulled her with him. She lay back against him, trying to get a breath, concentrating on the flutters that pulsed through her. He twisted her toward him and wrapped his arm around her, slamming his mouth over hers. When his tongue swept into her mouth, she accepted it with a greed that matched his. His hand swept under her hair, grabbing her neck and forcing her closer, his mouth devouring hers then kissing every inch of her face. Finally he pressed his lips against her ear and his warm breath made her shiver. “You didna tell me to stop,” he said. “I said I wouldn’t.” “Let’s go home, then, lass. ‘Tis time to sleep.”
Chapter 10 The cottage was dark when they returned. Riley lit several candles while Rafe coaxed the embers in the hearth into a blaze. It was obvious Brian had long since gone to bed although his books and papers were scattered once again over the table. He gave her credit for taking care of the boy. She had done a good job with him, far better than he had with Michael. But her housekeeping skills were atrocious. The supper dishes were piled on the washboard next to those from breakfast. She must have seen something on his face because she began to move randomly around the cottage, tossing things, hiding things, trying desperately to make it look cleaner. She finally glanced around with slumped shoulders and sighed, beaten by the sheer power of the disaster. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked. “I’m a good cook. Everyone says so.” “Everyone?” “You know … people … Brian…” “People? Men?” Her eyes darted around the room. She grabbed a cloth and began to wipe at the surface of the bookcase. “Aye, some are … men.” “Do I make you nervous, Riley?” Her hand froze. She glanced at him through the hair that fell across her face. “A little. Sometimes. Right now.” He took the cloth from her hand and threw it toward the dirty dishes. “Just relax. Be yourself. I’ll wear out my welcome very fast if you feel you must wait on me or please me every moment. You’ll be sorry you invited me.” “No, I won’t,” she whispered. “How shall I treat you then?” “Like the man you intend to marry,” he said. “’Tis what we decided.” When he glanced toward the bedroom doors and swept his hands under her knees, she struggled a little, but he clutched her tighter and carried her across the room. Choice of two. Both the rooms had been the same. Dreary. Drab. Utterly charmless. He’d have to remedy that. “Which room is yours?” “I don’t think I can do it again tonight!” “Just answer the damn question, Riley.” “The one on the left,” she whispered. He fumbled with the latch and kicked the door open. When he dumped her on the bed, Riley scrambled to her knees. He stood at the side of the bed, arms folded across his chest. “We agreed to talk tomorrow,” she said. “And we will,” Logan said. “You mean to have me now? Again? Before we’ve done any bargaining at all? I don’t even know if Brian’s asleep … I should check on him.” She tried to scramble from the bed, but he caught her waist and pushed her back. “The fire looked a bit…” “Fiery?” he asked. “I should really go wash those dishes before we get rats, Logan. And I didn’t close the outside shutters. If it happens to storm…”
He could think of only one way to stop her infernal babbling. He yanked her toward him and kissed her. When she was quiet and laying against his chest like a soft kitten, he pulled his mouth from hers. Her eyes were closed and she was blessedly silent. She slumped to the mattress. “Lass?” “Aye, Master Logan.” “I want you to get undressed and get under the covers. You seem fairly bursting with energy but you’re dead on your feet.” Her eyes opened and she tilted her face. “I thought…” He began to unlace her corset. “Aye, I know what you thought. We’re both tired and I’d like you to actually enjoy the next fuck. Seems the least I can do for you.” “I’ve enjoyed them both,” she whispered. Logan laughed. “’Tis glad I am to hear it, but I can do better. You’ll sleep tonight. Raise your arms. Tomorrow we’ll see what we can do to get your life under control.” He tossed the corset and shirt to the floor. When he pulled her skirt down to her knees, she of course had more to say. “But I really think…” He reached out and caught her shoulders, dragging her across the mattress. His mouth devoured hers in a kiss that stole her breath and every protest she could muster. His hand wrapped around the side of her face, pulling her closer and when he lifted her off the bed she never noticed. Her mouth was so warm, so intoxicating and tasted vaguely of blackberry jam. He wanted the kiss to go on forever but he was starting to worry about the effect she had on him. He let the skirt drop to the floor and put her back on the bed. “Are you going to kiss me every time I try to talk?” she asked. “Only when you argue,” Logan said. “I argue a lot,” Riley said. She fell back on the pillow and curled her knees up. “I’ve noticed,” he said. “But you might want to curb your tongue, lass, because when I kiss you I’ve an urge to do more.” “You said not tonight,” she said softly. “I think you’re putting words in my mouth, lass,” he said. “Tonight is still negotiable.” He gave her a smile that made it clear he was always open to negotiation. He let his eyes drift across her naked body. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. So different from Tabitha Atkins. He tossed the quilt across her before he changed his mind. “I want you to go to sleep. I’ll be in later.” “All right, Rafe,” she said softly. Her eyes drifted shut as he closed the door.
Chapter 11 Logan stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. The light from the hearth filtered through the crack in the door and fell across her face. She had said she was almost twenty-one. There was not a doubt in his head she was lying. She might have the entire colony believing her story but she didn’t look a day over eighteen and when he’d seen her in England she couldn’t have been much more than thirteen or fourteen or he would have yanked her from the street when the bargain was struck. Eighteen or twenty, it made no difference; she still should have been fucked. Yet here she was, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, seemingly an unmarried virgin until hours ago. To give credit to Peter Sullivan, at least he hadn’t sold her here. A man would give half the land in Virginia to own this one. He slumped to the edge of the bed and dropped his boots to the floor. Too late he realized his mistake and heard her murmur softly in her sleep. He twisted to look behind him and saw the blanket shift from her shoulder. He caught a glimpse of creamy breast peeking from the warm dark hollow. A generous handful, more than enough to satisfy any man’s desire. He had an insane urge to take it in his mouth and would have done it, but if he didn’t get some sleep he was going to fall head first into the forge come the morrow. Besides, Riley Sullivan did not seem like the kind of woman who liked surprises. She might pound him senseless before she realized what she was doing. He had plenty of surprises in store for her. He would just prepare her as they went along, letting her lead as best she could. She had good instincts, but for all her determination, she was a skittish little thing. How on earth had a girl like this run a blacksmith shop for a day let alone an entire six months? He stood up and began to untie his breeches. He heard another murmur and glanced behind him. Her green eyes were open, wide, slightly confused. “What are you doing?” “Planning to sleep for awhile,” Logan said. He dropped his breeches to the floor. The girl’s eyes grew wider then she squeezed them shut. Her voice was small, terrified. “Here?” “I’ve no desire to sleep with your brother.” She scooted as far to the edge of the bed as she could get without falling to the floor. She tugged at the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders and up to her chin. She obviously thought it was enough to keep him away. “Of course,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.” “You’ve no need to think right now, lass.” He slid into the bed and stole what part of the cover he could. “This isna going to work, Mistress Sullivan. Come here.” He reached out and grabbed her by the waist, hauling her toward the center of the bed. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise when he settled her against him. “You’re naked,” she whispered. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s just that … well, you seem … ready and … I don’t think I can do it again now, Rafe. I’m a little … sore.” “I’m not going to touch you,” Logan said. “Go to sleep.” “But you’re pressed against me and…” His cupped her face and raised it to his. He kissed her hard and fast. “’Tis the beginning of an argument. I warned you.” She surprised him. Her hand came up and circled his neck. Her soft tongue brushed across his lip. “You’re going to grow tired of kissing me, Logan.” “Never,” he said. “Perhaps I’m not as sore as I’d thought,” she whispered. “If you want to, I’d be willing…” Her hand trailed down the side of his naked body and her fingers wrapped around his stiffening cock. No matter how tired he was, there were always parts of his body up to a challenge. He rolled on top of her body and was amazed by how she felt beneath him. He’d fucked only one other woman in an actual bed. It was one of his unspoken bargains with himself. Most often he took a woman standing because it made for a faster exit. But this one… When he kissed her again, her legs wrapped around his. “Are you sure you’ve not done this before, Mistress Sullivan?” Her voice was sleepy, but her hands were searching with a determination. “Done what?” “Slept with a man,” he said. “You seem uncommonly comfortable.” “You said you wouldn’t hurt me. You meant it, didn’t you?” “Aye, lass, I meant it. I’ve not struck a woman, nor hurt her in any way.” Riley sighed as he pressed into her. She angled her hips toward him and accepted every inch as he sank deep into her. Rafe nearly groaned with the soft pleasure that spread through his body. “But you’ve broken hearts,” she said. It wasn’t a question. He nuzzled the side of her neck as he moved slowly above her. “Aye, lass, I’ve broken hearts.” “And you’ll break mine,” she whispered. She gasped as he drove into her hard. Beneath his lips, he felt the pulse in her neck quicken. She liked it rough. He pulled back and slammed into her again and her legs curled tighter around his. “Aye, lass, ‘tis no doubt I’ll break yours,” he said. “But you may break mine first.” Her lips roamed hungrily across his jaw searching for his mouth in the darkness. “Neither of us will have a heart when this is through,” she whispered, “but ‘tis enough. Kiss me. Fuck me. Take what you want from me.” “And what do you want from me?” “Only this,” she said. “You’re a liar, Riley Sullivan,” he said, “but when I’m buried in your body it doesna seem to matter.” He brought her to climax twice before he finally surrendered to exhaustion and pulled from her body for his own release. He fell asleep against her, her hand nestled against his cheek.
Chapter 12 When he dragged himself through the bedroom door the next morning, his eyes were barely open, but the early sun streaming through the open shutters nearly blinded him. Riley was hovering near the hearth and the tantalizing aroma of bacon fat drifted through the air around him. He took advantage of the view for a moment. She was bent over and the soft swell of her bottom looked like an invitation. He was wondering what she might do if he lifted her skirt when she swiveled around, dropping a skillet onto the grate. The sight of the food tore all other thoughts from his head. When she turned to him with a smile and motioned for him to sit, he slid onto the bench. “Brian’s gone to the shop to start the coals,” she said. “He was very generous with you this morning but you’ll not be so lucky tomorrow. You seem to sleep forever, Logan.” “The sun’s barely risen,” he said. Riley laughed and put a plate laden with food in front of him. “’Tis been up for hours. And so have we. I’ve no idea what you did in England, but people in Virginia do not lay idle in bed in the mornings.” “I had few obligations that required sunlight,” Rafe said. “And as far as lying idle in bed, I’d hoped to wake up to see you.” He covered her hand with his. “I’m not often in bed, Master Logan. As you pointed out, no matter how much I work I can’t seem to do it all.” “That will change soon enough,” he said. “And you will find the time to lay in bed, wench. When the sun goes down at night, ‘tis where I want to find you.” “We’ve not reached an agreement yet, Master Logan.” “I’m here, you’re here. Seems an agreement to me.” “But the contract…” “We’ll talk about it tonight. Among other things.” He grabbed her wrist and she spilled across his lap. She wiggled for a minute, protesting and laughing, but when his mouth covered hers, she fell back against his arm, accepting the kiss and the hand that roamed up her corset and locked on her breast. “The sun hasn’t gone down yet,” she said softly. “We could close the shutters and pretend.” “Brian’s waiting for you.” Rafe gave her a puzzled look. “Who’s Brian?” Riley laughed. “Brian’s the one that will beat your ass if you’re a moment longer than necessary.” “If someone’s hand is going to touch my ass, I’d prefer yours,” he said with a smile. “You’ll have to include that in whatever bargain we strike,” she said. “I fear touching your ass might lead to other things.” “Wench, you’re stirring things you’ve no business stirring on a bright sunny morning.” Riley laughed and wiggled in his lap. His cock seemed eager to take advantage of her rather gracious offer. He was dipping his face toward her for another kiss and thinking that he was more than willing to risk the wrath of a twelve-year-old boy, when
the door swung inward and another blaze of light blinded him. A shadow crossed the threshold and seemed to take up the entire doorframe. “Good morning.” The man’s voice took Rafe by surprise. He searched through the haze of light to recognize the shape, but he knew it could be only one man. Riley lurched in his arms, uttering a soft cry. She began to wiggle in earnest and he reluctantly released her. She jumped to her feet and smoothed her apron, her eyes focused on the floor. “Daniel,” she said softly. “I wasn’t … expecting you … this morning.” “I can see that,” Corrigan said. Rafe’s head swiveled toward her. The sound of her voice confused the hell out of him and the stammering stunned him. Was this the same little wildcat that had faced down Corrigan the day before? A rosy blush spread across her cheeks and her eyes were darting around the room now looking for an escape. Was she embarrassed? “I thought…” Riley caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Didn’t we decide on supper this evening?” “I’ve other plans tonight,” he said. “I wanted to … check on you. I see you’re at least alive.” Riley’s eyes rose to his and the blush deepened. “I’m well.” “You look uncommonly … well,” Corrigan said. Rafe rose to his feet and Corrigan reluctantly tore his eyes away from Riley and forced them on him. Corrigan’s gaze swept his length and settled between Rafe’s legs. Rafe saw a look of disgust cross the man’s face. “Do you always just walk into this cottage?” Rafe asked. “Aye, Master Logan, I’ve always been welcome. Will that be a problem in the future?” “No, though what you find might surprise you from time to time. I’ve a custom of doing what I please in my own house.” “It’s not your house yet,” Corrigan said, “but that obviously hasn’t stopped you from making yourself at home.” His eyes drifted to Riley and Rafe was not pleased with the look that crossed Corrigan’s face. As Riley smoothed the strands of hair that had escaped from her braid, Corrigan’s eyes flickered across her with the avid greed of a starving man. Rafe had seen that look before and each time it had been a prelude to an altercation of one form or another. When a man had designs on a particular woman nothing would stand in his way, not common sense, not fear of consequences. Daniel Corrigan had been patient the last few months, giving Riley time to come to him in her way, but he had grown tired of waiting. Now that she had been torn from him, he was close to desperate. There was a reckless distraction about him this morning. Rafe saw it in the way the man’s eyes were drawn to Riley. Corrigan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Rafe knew when a man was near the end of his rope. In his business it happened all the time and once it had happened to him. “As you can see, Riley is fine,” Rafe said. He stared pointedly at the other man, willing his eyes away from the girl. Riley was growing uncomfortable under Corrigan’s inspection. She looked ready to bolt, an untamed colt surrounded by rough handlers. The wench was a mystery. One moment she
had the courage of a lioness, the next she was shy as a fawn. He wondered why she accepted Corrigan so readily in her home when his very presence distressed her. “Was there something else you wanted this morning?” Rafe asked. “Besides the obvious.” Corrigan’s face flushed when Rafe tossed his head in Riley’s direction. “As you can see,” Rafe continued. “I’ve not abused her in any way or stolen anything of value.” “Indeed?” Corrigan asked. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” Rafe spread his arms. “I’ve touched nothing.” “Nothing material,” Corrigan said. “And the girl? Have you touched her?” Rafe heard a soft groan escape Riley’s lips. Corrigan glanced at her and a hard line creased his forehead. Riley lowered her head again. “I fail to see where that might concern you,” Rafe said. “Everything about Mistress Sullivan concerns me.” “Until yesterday,” Rafe said. “She’s my concern now.” “This is a dangerous conversation to be having with me this morning, Logan,” Corrigan snarled. “Answer the damn question. Have … you … touched … her?” Corrigan took a step closer to the table and Riley held up her hands. “Please, Daniel, don’t do this.” “Stay out of this, Riley,” he snapped. “I’ll hear it from him.” Corrigan jabbed a finger toward Rafe. Rafe’s first impulse was to lunge across the table and simply twist the finger until it snapped like a twig. He’d certainly done worse and with less provocation. But nothing would be solved by breaking this man’s bones and the way things were going this morning, it would take more than one break to deal with Corrigan. All Rafe wanted was breakfast. He hadn’t bargained on defending a woman’s honor this morning, or dealing with a man with serious obsessions. “What do you wish to hear, Corrigan?” “I want to know what happened here last night.” “’Twould be private,” Rafe said. Corrigan smashed his hands down on the table and leaned toward Rafe. His voice was quiet, in control, but his eyes were glittering with such rage, Rafe knew it was just a matter of time before someone was bloody and it wasn’t going to be him. “I happen to be this girl’s guardian. I’ve already learned she was in the White Doe last night. Your presence seems to be leading to a downward spiral in her life and I’ll have none of that. You will tell me what happened here last night.” Rafe watched with surprise as Riley gently placed a hand on Corrigan’s shoulder. He rounded on her with such fury, Riley stumbled backward and screamed. “Off me, slut! I’ll deal with you later.” Rafe’s arm shot out and gripped Corrigan by the hair. He yanked him forward and slammed his head against the table. He leaned down and stared hard into the man’s eyes. “Master Corrigan,” Rafe said. “You seem to have forgotten I’m standing right here.” “I’ve not forgotten,” Corrigan muttered. “I’ll have my answer.” “I’ll make this very clear to you then so we need not discuss it in the future. I gave her a choice and she’s made it. You, sir, were not chosen.” “Did … you … touch … her?”
Rafe lifted him from the table and gave him a shove. “You are fairly obsessed with this topic, Corrigan. I was hoping to spare the lass unneeded embarrassment.” He glanced toward Riley and saw her eyes close. “I have touched her and since we’re betrothed, I will continue to touch her unless she tells me to stop. ‘Tis something you must accept.” “So this betrothal stands?” “Aye, it stands,” Rafe said. “You’ve fucked her,” Corrigan said. “’Tis not your business what happens between us,” Rafe said. Corrigan’s chest heaved and his voice came out in little more than a whisper. “And she let you.” Corrigan’s shoulders slumped and Rafe stared at him a moment unsure where the conversation was heading. He started to move around the table hoping the man might simply turn and leave the cottage but he had severely underestimated Daniel Corrigan’s interest. That look of defeat in his eye changed so fast Rafe almost missed it. Corrigan twisted suddenly and gripped Riley’s arm so hard that she cried out as he yanked her. The table rocked as Rafe vaulted over it but he wasn’t fast enough. He heard the slap echo in the room and burst into his head as he saw the red stain blossom on her cheek. To Riley’s credit she didn’t cry. She was already pummeling Corrigan with her fists as Rafe reached him. He grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him across the room, slamming him against the wall. Corrigan was breathing heavily, not from exertion but rage. Rafe had seen the look before. Corrigan was a man gripped in a lust so intense he had ceased to think clearly. He might not even be aware of what he had done. He gripped the man’s shoulders and smashed him back against the wall. Corrigan’s head flung back and hit the plaster, but instead of dazing him it seemed to bring him back to his senses. He blinked and his eyes focused on Rafe’s. They widened then and moved slowly across the room to Riley. She looked on the verge of a murderous rage. She was walking toward them, her fists curled at her side. “I hit her,” Corrigan said. “Aye,” Rafe said. “I’m none too pleased about that, but I’d say the lass is less so.” “I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Doesna seem to matter,” Rafe said. “She’s a fairly distinct mark on her face and I’d say she’s willing to repay the strike. I’ve a notion to let her do it. Can I let you go now, or did you mean to inflict more damage this morning? I’ve no problem killing you if necessary.” Corrigan sucked a huge breath into his lungs. “I’m … fine. And I’ve a desire to live through the day.” Rafe dropped his arms but Corrigan remained against the wall. When Riley neared, he reached toward her but she slapped at his hand. Rafe moved away, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know what to say,” Corrigan said. “There’s nothing you can possibly say, Daniel,” Riley said. She lifted her hand and brushed it across her cheek. “Why would you do that?” “I was angry, Riley, nothing more.” “You’ve been angry with me many times. Our relationship has been nothing but anger. You wanted to strike me each time I refused to take you into my bed…” “I’ve no need to hear more of that,” Rafe said.
“I’m trying to understand. Why now?” Her eyes ticked between the two men. She stared at Corrigan for a long time. “Is it because ‘twas Logan? Or is it because it wasn’t you?” “You’re admitting it?” Corrigan asked. “’Tis obvious you already know,” Riley said. “I know you wanted it to be you, Daniel, but I’m not in love with you.” “And you’re in love with him?” Corrigan snarled. Riley jerked backwards. “I don’t … know. ‘Tis something I wanted to do. With him.” “You don’t know why he’s here, where he’s come from, what his motives are…” Corrigan pushed himself away from the wall. “You can’t trust him, Riley. I don’t care if you knew him before. You have no idea what this man wants. I love you.” “Aye, Daniel, I felt your love a moment ago,” Riley said. A flush of shame spread across Corrigan’s fair cheeks, but Riley was not a merciful woman and Rafe was somewhat surprised. She also seemed to have gathered courage from the mark on her cheek. “I offered you everything,” Corrigan said. “It seems I don’t want everything, Daniel.” “This man will leave you with nothing.” “I have nothing for him to take,” Riley said. “You’ve seen to that.” “He’s already taken the only thing you had of value. You spread your legs for a man that will steal everything you are.” “He doesn’t have to steal it,” Riley said. “I’ve already given it.” Corrigan took a step toward her and Riley refused to budge. Rafe saw Corrigan dangerously close to making another mistake. “Master Corrigan.” Corrigan’s head swiveled toward Rafe. “I suggest you stop talking. I’m not a patient man and my tolerance for you has waned. Perhaps you have other calls to make this morning?” Corrigan glared at him and raked his hands through his hair. “Aye, I’ve business. This isn’t over between us. I will find out why you’re really here, Logan, and when I do you may find yourself unwelcome in her bed.” “She could change her mind,” Logan said, “but my absence willna solve your problem. Hitting her doesna seem the way to be invited to the lady’s bed. I think she’d like you to leave now.” He tossed his head toward the door where Riley stood with her hand on the latch. Corrigan headed toward the door but when Riley opened it, he reached out fast and grabbed her face in his hands. She tried to pull away but Corrigan held her tight. He leaned close and whispered but Rafe heard his words. “Let him fuck you, whore,” he said, “but you’ll be mine, Riley, and you’ll be sorry for this.” Before she could move, his mouth covered hers and he kissed her hard, twisting her face to his with a greed that bordered on viciousness. Rafe moved fast, but Corrigan was out the door. When Rafe turned back, he reached toward her as she burst into tears. Brian chose that moment to barrel through the back door. “Criminy, Logan! I can’t trust you with her. Have you made her cry again?” “No, ‘tis something else,” Rafe said.
“And are you so lazy that you just got out of bed?” Brian asked. “I’ve been waiting for hours!” The sounds of Riley’s sobs filled the room and Rafe wasn’t sure what to do. Part of him wanted to comfort her, the other more selfish part wanted to flee to the smithy shop because he never knew what to do with a woman’s tears. Like yesterday’s, these were genuine and heart breaking to hear. He knew they needed to have a serious talk about Daniel Corrigan but that was a conversation he hoped to save for a later time and Brian was shuffling his feet, impatient to be started. He compromised. There was only one thing he knew always worked with a woman’s tears. He darted into the bedroom and came out holding a leather bag. He wrapped his arm around Riley’s shoulders and she buried her face in his chest. “Lass,” he said. “If you stop crying, I’ve something to give you.” “What?” she sniffed. She stopped sniveling long enough to open her eyes. When she saw the bag she drew back in the shelter of his arm. “Do you want me to buy you something?” “No, I want you to buy yourself something.” “I can’t,” she said. “We’ve barely enough for sugar, for flour…” “I’ve plenty,” he said. “Take what you need. Go to the shopkeepers and pay what you owe.” “I can’t! I owe a bloody fortune!” “I happen to have a bloody fortune.” “But ‘tis your money!” “And I’m not using it. Buy what you need and get some … cloth or something … whatever you need. Are there merchants about that sell such things?” Riley nodded. “But things are costly and…” “And I’ve the money. This place is barely livable. It needs some cheering up. Buy whatever strikes your fancy. We also need…” He leaned down and pulled her close. “We need a new blanket for the bed. ‘Tis not large enough for the two of us. I almost froze to death last night.” “We could sleep closer,” Riley said. “’Tis still not enough,” Rafe said. “My bare ass was hanging off the edge of the bed.” “I can hear you,” Brian said, rolling his eyes, “and don’t look so shocked. I know what’s goin’ on between you. You haven’t been very quiet about any of it. I’ve no problem with it except there’s no work being done!” Riley snatched the bag of coins from Rafe’s hand. She wiped the tears from her face and pushed him toward the table. “It’s cold, but eat it anyway. I’ve no time. I’ve got things to buy.” Rafe grabbed her wrist and she looked up with a smile. He ran a hand across her cheek. “Did he hurt you?” “No,” she said. “I’ve had worse.” “Worse?” “It doesn’t matter. We can talk about Daniel later.” She tucked her face into the palm of his hand. “I keep forgetting we’re not really betrothed.” “So do I.”
She glanced up and her green eyes were bright from her tears. “I appreciate your gallantry, Master Logan. Would you kiss me goodbye?” “Aye, lass.” He kissed her softly, tenderly. Her mouth opened beneath his and he stole a little more from her. The guilt was getting harder to deal with but he’d find a way.
Chapter 13 Riley saw Logan and Brian leave the shop and walk toward the well. Brian was chattering away as usual and Logan was being polite, nodding at all the right moments. She gathered up some towels and soap and headed toward the courtyard. When she opened the door, rich hearty laughter drifted across the cobblestones and made her smile, but when she glanced up, her mouth literally dropped open. The towels and soap tumbled to the ground. “Holy Christ,” she whispered. Logan was still laughing at something Brian had said as he dumped a bucket of water over his body. His completely naked body. She was ready to flee when he tossed the wet hair back from his face and saw her standing frozen as though her legs had ceased to work. Actually they had and threatened to spill her to the ground. He spread his arms. “Take a good look, lass. ‘Tis nothing that hasn’t been seen before.” “Oh, no, no,” she stammered. She whirled around and for good measure covered her eyes. Seeing him in the light of day was far too much. “I’ve brought you … a towel … some soap. I didn’t think you’d…” “Canna wash properly with clothes on, lass. I still feel like I have the stink of that bloody ship on me. Come here. Talk with us.” “No, I can’t … and Brian Sullivan, where are your clothes?” “Can’t wash properly with clothes on, Riley.” “Hurry up, then. Get in the house and start your lessons.” She picked up what she’d dropped, then tapped her foot impatiently, barely listening to the conversation behind her. All she could think of was Logan’s body. She knew she should go back into the house and pretend she hadn’t seen him, but there was no possible way to do that now. She wanted to see more. When Brian darted past her, she flung a towel into his arms. When the door slammed behind him, Logan laughed. “Well, Mistress Sullivan, you might as well turn around. I’m not a shy man and ‘tis not going to be the only time you see me bare assed. Besides if I remember our conversation this morning you offered to touch my ass. Perhaps you’d like to do that now?” She huffed and whirled around to face him, but her eyes wandered the stones in front of her feet. “Do you not want to see what you’re bargaining for? I told you there’d be no disappointment.” “You’re uncommonly confident, Logan,” she said. “Most people do not find such perfection in themselves.” “Have I reason to doubt my perfection?” he asked. She tossed her hair back from her face, trying to collect whatever courage she could muster. As her eyes traveled up his body, he stared at her with expectation. “No,” she said, “no reason at all.” He had not an ounce of shame in his entire body. She was mortified and could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. He took a step toward her and she yelped. “The soap, lass?”
“Aye, of course.” She moved toward him hesitantly. Her eyes flickered toward the fence, the sky, the shop behind him. When she held out her bundle, he took it and laid it on the well. “Why so shy?” he asked. “You slept with me last night. I was naked then.” “Aye, but it was dark and it seems different.” She tried to make her escape, but he caught her wrist. “Riley…” He tucked his finger under her chin and tipped her face toward him. “Look at me.” Her glance drifted toward him. She tried to focus on the bright blue of his eyes but she was so aware of his body. Just seeing those shoulders and the way the dark hairs spread across his chest from the corner of her eye made her want to touch him. She saw a drop of water fall from the edge of his jaw and watched it slide down his chest. Her eyes shot back to his. “A man could lose himself in eyes like yours,” he said, “and I stand to lose everything I am by striking a bargain with you. Let’s get to it. What is it you want from me?” “I … I don’t know,” she whispered. “Now that you’re here, the entire idea seems ludicrous. This village is filled with men I know, men that would be more than willing…” She paused and ran her hand over the bar of soap. “To what?” “To do anything I asked,” she whispered. He took the soap from beneath her hand and began to lather his chest. “So then, Mistress Sullivan, why do you need me? Why did you offer yourself to a stranger?” She watched his hand as it roamed across his flesh. Her eyes followed a trail of lather that spilled across the ridges of his belly. She took a deep breath and began to talk. “We’ve said a few things to each other that have been … inappropriate, but what happened between us came faster than I expected and…” The drop of water slid through the tangle of hair over his groin and touched… Her eyes snapped back to his face. She saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I get distracted. I’ll admit something to you, Master Logan. I’m conflicted, embarrassed, ashamed and scared to death of you at times. But none of that is going to stop me. I need to know where you stand on this. You seem to … like me, and I thought you’d be willing to accept what I offered, but when you were gone so long last night… Are you refusing my offer?” “No, lass. I havena made any decision, but if you needed help, any of the men in this town would surely have done so without such a sacrifice from you. I saw the way they watched you last night.” Her eyes darted over his shoulders, down his arms, entranced by the sight of the lather caught in the dark hairs of his body. She shook her head and blinked. “I don’t want any of them to know how desperate I am.” Logan ran his soapy hands across the beard on his face, waiting for further explanation, but she didn’t want to talk about other men. Her only interest was in the man standing in front of her. “I want to do that,” she said.
When she reached toward him, his arms dropped like stones and when she laid her palms across his wet chest, he drew in a deep breath. She ran her hands over the swell of his chest, feeling hard muscles beneath, tight and strong. Her fingers curled in the patches of dark hair, enjoying the coarse masculinity so different from the softness of her own body. The soap made her hands glide and he felt so smooth, so perfect, yet incredibly rough. When her hands slid lower still over the muscles of his stomach, she was aware of his body stirring in response. His manhood was beginning to swell. She felt the soft tip of it brush her hand. She wanted to wrap her hand around it and feel it grow, but that would be far too bold. What had happened between them in the dark seemed like another lifetime. There was too much at stake now to risk it because of her curiosity. “I’ll give you every coin I have if you slide your hand a little lower,” Logan said. She smiled and took the soap from his hand. She lathered her hands and made a slight move toward his groin. She saw the look of anticipation on his face, but just as her hand brushed the muscle that lunged toward her, she laughed and raised her arms toward his face. He smiled and closed his eyes as she scraped her nails through the growth of beard, drawing the lather over his skin and working it through the hair. “Sit down,” she said. “I can’t reach.” Slowly he sank to the bench. She moved between his knees and began to lather his hair. She wanted to touch him everywhere but she would have to be content with this. She washed Brian’s hair all the time so it seemed perfectly innocent. “How is it you even thought you could run a blacksmith shop? Surely everyone knows you’re not physically capable of doing such a thing.” She caught his face between her hands and lifted it up. “You’d be surprised at what I can do.” He gave her a wink and she wanted to nestle in his lap. “Nothing about you would surprise me, but ‘tis time you admit something.” He put his hands over hers. “You’re failing at this, Riley. Brian confirmed it. Do the men know you’re in trouble?” “They might,” she said softly. She moved her hands back to his hair, raking her fingers through the soapy strands, pulling them back away from his forehead. “You should keep your hair off your face. No one would be able to resist you.” “No one can resist me now, lass,” he said. “I’ve enough trouble with women and I like my hair the way it is. Keep to the topic.” “I’m not willing to surrender everything I have for someone’s help. Nothing is given without a price and I want something of my own. Now that you’re here … temporarily … and we’re betrothed…” “Pretending to be betrothed,” Logan said. “Aye, but I’m willing to do what you ask. I’ll make you a nice home while you’re here and I’m a good cook. We can run the shop and hopefully make it successful. With your help, I can pass their inspection and guarantee Brian’s inheritance. You only need to pretend to be in love with me in front of others and later…” Rafe laughed and Riley tugged at his hair, yanking his head back. “What’s so funny?” “I barely know you, Mistress Sullivan, but I’m pretty certain even a pretend betrothal between us wouldna work.” She stared down at him, trying not to frown. She was trying to convince him to make a deal and she needed to control her temper and her impatience.
“Later, we could say it hadn’t worked. You can use any excuse you like. People around here know how I can get. They’ll believe whatever you say. You’d be free to leave any time after our agreement is over. If you want to leave when…” Oh, she should not have said that. She saw her own foolishness reflected in his eyes. “I made you cry yesterday, Riley. Several times.” “I was … scared.” “You wouldna have been so scared if you’d warned me,” he said. “I don’t wish to talk about it, Master Logan. ‘Tis over. I want to talk about a deal with you. I need help. I refuse to let the people in this village know that my father ran that business into the ground and left us with a barely viable future. I refuse to lose everything Brian and I have worked so hard to keep. All I’m asking for is a little time and some honest work. Pretending for a few months we’re going to be married will not kill you. I have no intention of taking a husband at all, let alone someone like you.” She gave his head a little shake then furiously worked the soap into a vicious lather. She was tugging so hard she knew it must hurt but he never said a word. “And how do I pretend to be in love with you? Granted, you’re a beautiful lass and I’m perfectly willing to try, but I’ve known you less than a day…” “I’ve no doubt about your abilities at pretense. You’re a consummate player. But you’re not keeping up with the conversation. ‘Twas your story. Apparently we knew one another in England.” “An indenture, lass? I couldna have been something with a little more substance?” “Oh, aye, Master Logan, I could have made you a duke,” she said, “and everyone in Jamestown would believe that the sixteen year old daughter of a smithy had caught the eye of a duke. I could have been lady to the queen, the darling of…” Logan’s head swiveled upwards. “You were sixteen when you left England?” Riley blinked. “Aye.” Logan leapt to his feet and nearly knocked her over. She jumped out of his way while he stared into the sky. Riley couldn’t resist taking advantage of his preoccupation. Her hand trailed down his back and over his buttocks. When she touched the rounded swell her hand cupped around him, but he never noticed. Oh, my God, the man had the most perfect ass. She could not take her eyes off it. She heard every word that thundered from his mouth but she could not remotely decide what he might be talking about. All she could think of was touching the muscles that seemed to be flexing right in front of her eyes. “That cheating, lying, conniving son-of-a-bitch! What a bugger!” Logan planted his hands on his hips and stared into the sky like some kind of answer hung in the clouds. “He picked my pockets under my very eyes and I let him! So tiny, so perfect, couldna possibly be more than fourteen… Bring her back … I canna in clear conscience… Fuck that! I’d like to wring his bloody neck!” Riley moved her hands to his waist and gave him a yank. Her hands slipped down over his hips, knocking his arms down, and slid down his thighs. He never noticed because he seemed to be off on some kind of tangent, but touching him was taking away her concentration. She needed him to focus so she could finish the deal. Actually she needed to force herself to focus because seeing him standing bare assed in front of her was stealing her thoughts.
“Sit, Logan.” He glanced over his shoulder then dropped back to the bench. “I’m not finished and keep on the topic. There is nothing stopping us from keeping up this pretext of an arranged marriage. If you do what I asked, most people will accept the story that we fell in love in England before I ever came here. Even Corrigan…” “You caught the man off guard. He wasna doing the mathematics, lass. You’re a bloody child…” “I am almost twenty-one years old, Master Logan.” “I canna bloody believe it, but, for the feeble ones in the courtyard, I happen to be thirty one. Are we going to presume that I was perverted enough to fall in love with a sixteen year old girl when I was over a quarter of a century old? I canna believe you were sixteen!” Riley tugged his head back. “Whatever is in your head, Logan, let … it … go! You’re not listening to me. Men fall in love with younger girls all the time. I don’t quite understand it, but ‘tis the way it is. You’re thirty-one?” He nodded in her hands. “Truly? You don’t seem that old.” “’Tis a compliment then, lass, but it doesna solve the dilemma.” “As long as we’re pretending, we’ll pretend you’re twenty five now. That’s not a perverted difference.” “You’re still too young for me.” “If I’m old enough to bed, I’m old enough to marry,” Riley snapped. “’Twas another lapse in judgment,” he said. “On my part. I canna pretend to be something I’m not.” “You have to pretend! We’ve already told Corrigan. I’m old enough to have a lover and certainly old enough to handle someone like you.” “I don’t relish the thought of being handled, lass. You could use a bit of handling yourself.” Oh, she’d had just about enough of Master Raphael Logan. He was the most impossible man she’d ever met.
Chapter 14 She moved away and the soap trailed into his eyes and stung like a bitch. What the Christ was the woman doing? She’d left him blind. He waited for another argument, but she was silent. Her silence was almost scarier than her tongue. He was just beginning to think he’d finally rendered her speechless and she might storm from the courtyard in one of her snits when she flung a bucket of water toward him and most of it spilled across his crotch. A cascade of icy water doused the most sensitive parts of his body, and his cock, previously aroused and eager, curled up and seemingly died of shock. He lurched to his feet and turned to her with a snarl. “Bloody hell, woman! Could you give a man a bit of warning?” “I prefer not to be handled as well, Master Logan. Perhaps that will serve as enough warning on that subject.” “Well, lass,” he growled, “you can think about which of the village men you’d prefer to handle. They’re an eager lot. I’ve no doubt you’ll have your choice supposing he has some capital to pay off your debt. If you don’t mind, I’ll finish here and be on my way. Tabby offered a place to stay.” “Tabby?” she snarled. “’Tis Tabby now? How cozy did you get with her before I arrived?” He was not in the mood for a discussion about Tabitha Atkins. The wench could just stew. He reached for the soap and his hand was clutched in a tight grip. Annoyed as she might be with him personally, she still had business on her mind. He usually liked that in a woman, but he was quickly losing interest in the conversation. He kind of wanted to get her back in bed. The way the glow of the sun’s last rays was hitting her hair made it sparkle like it had been sprinkled with fairy dust. He swung his eyes back to hers only because there was no way to avoid it. She was a determined little thing and the bones of his hand had actually crunched. “I want you,” she said. “One month of your time. Maybe two. Two months of honest effort to help me keep the shop. Two months of pretense that we will be a happily married couple. After that I’ll compensate you for your time, we can have a contract between us to settle the debt and you can go wherever you wish.” “Compensate me?” “Aye, I’ll give you a share of whatever profits we can turn.” “Not interested,” he said. “I have my own coin, lass, and a substantial contract binding you already. Besides you’ll own only half of this business. A share of one half of potentially nothing is nothing.” Rafe shook off her grip and lifted his leg to the bench, sliding the soap over and between his thighs. He’d not had a woman watch him wash before and it was intensely arousing. She was watching every move he made and he was enjoying every moment of it. Once or twice he let his eyes drift across her slowly. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, but damn, the woman was asking for the world and offering him a share of absolutely nothing. She did not seem to understand the significance of his presence. A man did not travel at peril to his life and sanity for a few measly coins. She was a bright woman and should be fairly suspicious of him, but she seemed to accept what he’d said.
He should be honest with her, but with a woman like Riley Sullivan, anything could happen. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to know how bad her situation really was. The moment she found out something inside of her would die. When he soaped his groin, her eyes locked on the movement of his hand. He slid his fingers down his cock, under his balls and back up. Each time he stroked himself with slippery hands, his cock lengthened, thickened, pulsed in his hand. If he wasn’t careful he’d find it in need of release and he’d come right in front of her, but damn, it felt good. He’d fucked her three times in less than a day and it wasn’t enough. He wanted her again. He saw her catch her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked like she had forgotten to breathe. She was so engrossed in following his hand she’d also forgotten they were in a conversation. He held out the soap toward her and she reached out blindly and took it. When he took a step toward her, her face lifted. “Do you want to touch me, lass?” She released her breath in a shuddering rush. Her answer ripped from her with a sigh. “Aye, I do.” Her face tinged a bright pink. “No, no … I can’t imagine why I said that. I’m not thinking clearly. ‘Tis the sun.” “The sun is going down now, lass.” She looked around the courtyard bathed in dark shadow. “What were we talking about?” Rafe laughed. He loved seeing her flustered, loved taking away that little bit of control she thought she had over every situation. He dropped the bucket back into the well. The only way to get rid of the erection was another bucket of water unless he could talk her into a couple of quick tugs. No, he’d save it for later. He was going to have her again whether she thought it or not. Riley was trying to keep her eyes on his face, really trying. But they kept drifting downward and the longer she stared, the wider they became. “We were discussing what form of payment I should receive for my … pretense.” He steeled himself and dumped the bucket of water over his head. His cock wasn’t happy. It seemed to prefer the girl. He grabbed the towel and began to dry. “Exactly,” Riley said, as though she suddenly had command of the English language now that his cock was hidden. She folded her arms across her chest and he saw that her breasts rose temptingly above the corset. He wanted to eat this woman alive. “So you don’t want the profit. What would you want then?” “I’d want to fuck you,” he said. “I don’t think that should be part of our bargain,” she said softly. Rafe wrapped the towel around his hips. “Take it or leave it. ’Tis all the same to me. One wench is as good as the next.” “There must be something else … I’ll give you half of the profit. You couldn’t expect any more than that.” “Not interested,” he repeated. “You have my offer.” “But I offered that before and you said it was personal. You also said it wasn’t enough.” He started to brush past her and she clamped her hand down on his arm. He felt it bite into his skin like a vise. The wench was stronger than he’d have thought. “Why have you changed your mind?”
“I havena changed my mind,” he said, “and ‘tis still personal. I said I couldna fuck you enough to satisfy the contract. Doesna mean I can’t fuck you in exchange for work. In fact I’m ready to slide into you right now.” He pulled the towel from his hips and it fluttered to the stones. He slid his arm behind her back and drew her close. He took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his cock. When she tried to tug away, he smiled. “You said you wanted to touch me.” “I shouldn’t,” she said. “Shouldna touch me or shouldna want to?” “Both,” she murmured. Her hand tightened around his cock and he grew harder. “But there’s something … something I can’t… You frighten me because I can’t even think around you.” “You don’t have to think every minute, Riley. When was the last time you laid in bed and just let your mind wander?” Her eyes widened in horror. “I could never do that! In fact I’m wasting time now. I have to start supper.” She tried to tug her hand away. “Don’t let go,” he said. “I want you to feel what you do to me.” “Logan, I can’t fondle you here. My brother could come out at any moment. Maybe you’re used to giving in to your every desire, but I’ve learned to…” “’Tis your basic problem, Mistress Sullivan. You have no idea how to enjoy yourself. I enjoy fucking you, but you need training.” She jerked back like he’d slapped her. “I don’t want … training … what does that mean?” “It means you have the instincts but you lack the skills.” “The skills for what?” she demanded. “The skills every woman needs to be a good fuck.” “I think, Master Logan, that you’re presuming a far more important role in my life than is necessary. This is a pretend betrothal and though I’m willing to bed you because … well, just because … I want it to remain personal between us, not part of some bargain where you tutor me. I don’t need to satisfy your every desire for the rest of your life.” “’Tis what I want.” “Why?” “I find you curiously arousing. There’s something about you that intrigues me. This need you have to be in control of everything around you is very powerful, but there’s something that would be more powerful yet.” “What?” “I’d like to see you lose that control.” She looked frightened and actually took a step away from him. “I wouldn’t let that happen,” she said. “Oh, aye, Mistress Sullivan, you would. When you’re in the arms of a man that can steal your reason, your willpower, your sense of self and return it back to you again twenty-fold, you will be eager to lose that control. Again and again and again.” There was the look he had come to expect. That haughty look of superiority sparked in her eyes. It almost made him smile, but they were playing the game for fairly high stakes and he wasn’t about to give her the upper hand. “In the arms of a man, Master Logan? Do you think you’re that man?”
“I don’t think I’m that man, Riley. I know it. And when I’m finished with you, there’s not a man alive that will ever be able to resist you. You’ll be worth a bloody fortune.” “You’re very arrogant.” “Aye, lass, with good reason. I deliver on all my promises.” “Your promises? What exactly are you promising me?” “A viable shop for one,” Rafe said. “I can keep Corrigan away from you for another. I can guarantee security on your inheritance. And…” “And?” “If you agree to fuck me, you willna be sorry.” “And what makes your … lovemaking so memorable, Master Logan?” “I think you know the answer to that,” he said. “You were trembling in my arms last night, lass. You might want to confess.” That pretty blush spread across her cheeks again. “’Tis memorable,” she said. “’Tis also a skill,” he said, “and I learned from the best. I know what your body wants and what it needs. I’ll make you quiver until you feel as though you’re coming out of your own skin and beg me to fuck you. Your pussy will be so wet I will slide inside like I’ve always belonged there. I will make you come so many times your body will quiver in anticipation of my touch. And afterwards…” Christ, just talking with the wench was making him hard. What was going to happen when she was naked in his arms, sleeping in his bed every night? He would never sleep again. She was leaning toward him and her hand was around his cock again. She tugged him closer to nestle it in the V between her thighs. He could get under her skirt again right now if he just kept talking, but he wanted her to agree. He had already used her. It seemed important for some reason that she surrender herself to him in words. She was getting all soft and cuddly on him. Her body was drifting toward him as though he had cast some sort of spell on her. This girl was desperate for affection but taking her when she was all soft and cuddly didn’t sit right with him. A strange feeling went through him when he saw that look on her face. It made him feel like a knight in shining armor, like a hero of myth, like a potential husband. It took him a moment to recognize what he felt because he’d only felt it a few times in his life. It was guilt. Not too much, but just enough to know how jaded he really was. Christ, Logan. This is not a good idea at all. Are you really going to use this girl for your own pleasure? No, of course not, but she needs to learn how to respond to a man, how to understand what gives him pleasure. So you’re going to use this tawdry bargain as an excuse to teach her how to be a whore? And if you benefit, ‘tis only right since she belongs to you? You’ve already stolen her virtue, are you now going to take this innocent girl and steal all her self-respect, along with all her trust and hope? Are you really the kind of man that would do all of that? Aye, he would do all that. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. But he wouldn’t take her under some kind of romantic illusion. He wanted the belligerent Riley Sullivan, not the dream struck lass he seemed to inspire her to be. He wanted Riley but he needed to kill this foolish notion she held somewhere in her heart. He was no one’s knight in shining armor and he didn’t intend to be. You’re going to hell, Logan. Don’t take this girl with you.
“Afterwards?” she asked. “Afterwards … you’ll beg to fuck me.” He laughed and that hard look returned to her face. “I’ll beg you for nothing,” she snarled. She whirled around and headed toward the cottage. He caught her arm. When she turned around, her green eyes were snapping with a fire that might eventually kill him. He had pissed her off royally, but that was usually what he did best. He was an expert in pissing people off. It was easier than being honest. “You’re asking me to make a sacrifice, lass. Seems to me you ought to be willing to make one too.” “Let me go, Logan. I’ve done nothing but sacrifice! I’ve invited you to my house! I’m willing to feed you, pay you to work for me. I can’t agree to let you have the only thing that’s mine! I’ll lose control over my own body if I agree to this. Why should I have to let you…?” She closed her eyes. “Say it,” he said. “No, I won’t.” “You should be able to say the word if you’ve done the deed, lass.” “I’ve only done it with you.” “All the more reason,” he said. “And you seemed to like it. You’ve said the word before. Come on, lass. Say it. Fuck. ‘Tis just a word. Why so shy now?” “’Tis not just a word,” she said. “’Tis a … different sort of word. You made me angry before, and it was dark. I’m not used to talking about such … things. Some of the things that come out of your mouth … well, I don’t know what to think about them half the time.” “Do they bother you? Make you uncomfortable?” “A little. Sometimes. Right now.” Rafe swept the hair back from her forehead and tilted her face up, studying her eyes. He wanted to see the truth because she would never tell him. As he talked, her lids fluttered but not before he saw the fiery spark that blazed through her eyes. There was a gleam of deep hunger, a craving, a need she barely had control of even now. He watched the green of her eyes darken with a profound grinding lust as she listened to his words. He was an expert in lust. It was his business. “My words excite you,” he said softly. “They make your knees weak, your heart pound, your blood flow faster and your head spin. They arouse something inside of you, make you want things you didna want before, make you think of things you canna allow yourself to think. But you want to think about them very much, Riley. And more importantly, you want to do them.” Her eyes closed as she moaned. “My words make you throb deep inside and your pussy gets wet, dripping with your need to be fucked.” Her fingers wrapped around his cock and it leapt eagerly into her hand. “And when my cock slips inside of you, Riley, ‘tis like a bit of heaven. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Every dream you ever had is somehow locked inside the hard length buried in your body. It touches something in you that’s not been touched before. It fires your blood, steals your thoughts, touches your very soul. ‘Tis hard to ignore those feelings. ‘Tis hard to deny your body what it wants. You like my words because they allow you the freedom to have what you want. And you want me, Riley. Again and again
and again. You’ll let me have you tonight and tomorrow and the day after that because ‘tis what you want and what you need. Me. My body. My cock. My mouth.” “Oh, God,” she breathed. “And I want what you want. I want to push myself into you, so deep inside your body you canna tell where I end and you begin. I want to touch what you want touched. I want to stop the ache, relieve the tension, renew it again and watch the soft flesh of your body swell, the cream flow from your pussy, lick it away and ram into you to ease the ache in me. I want to fuck you, Riley Sullivan. Hard. Fast. Deep. Thoroughly. Over and over until neither of us can tug a breath into our lungs without the touch of the other’s hand on our bodies. Over and over until our hearts canna beat without our bodies connected. Over and over until our souls seem one. Fucking, Riley. ‘Tis what we need from one another. ‘Tis all we crave, all we want, all we can hope for. We’re hungry, Riley, for the flesh, for the coming, for the sweat that will pour as we fuck, for the heavy breaths that heave from our bodies as our limbs strive to cling together. We lust for each other because we canna help it.” He ran his hands down her hair. “You’ll agree to fuck me because ‘tis what I want. You. Your pussy. Your tits. Your mouth. Tell me ‘tis what you want too. Tell me you canna breathe without my cock in you, you canna live without my mouth on yours. Darlin’, open your eyes.” They fluttered open and the fire that blazed there scorched him. Her hand was gripping his cock in such a tight grip he actually felt pain. Her breath blew through her parted lips in heavy shuddering pants. “You like my words, Riley.” “Aye,” she whispered. “And you’ll agree to this between us because ‘tis what you want.” There were tears sparkling in her eyes. He was sorry to see them, but he was very close to getting what he wanted. “Oh, God, Rafe, let me go now. Please.” “You’re still holding my cock, darlin’.” “Oh,” she said. She removed her hand and backed away. “Why do you want this? Why is it so important that I agree?” “’Tis a good bargain for both of us because ‘tis something we both want. I canna risk you changing your mind. I don’t want you to let me fuck you. I want you to want it. Say the words to me, lass. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Every morning. Every night. Tell me you want to sleep with your legs wrapped around mine, with our mouths against each other’s. Say it.” Two tears dropped down her cheek. “No, I just … can’t say it … ‘tis too scandalous, too sordid. I don’t want to be that kind of woman.” He reached down and snatched the towel from the stones. He wrapped it around his hips. He tossed his arms into the air and began to pace. He stalked around the courtyard, his eyes sweeping across her body as he circled her. “This is not bloody happening to me! First you offer me the deal of a lifetime. Your virginal body to use as I please. Now you argue with me because I’ve accepted? Are we bargaining here or not?” “I cannot see…” She took a deep breath. “…how intimacy between us should be a part of this agreement. ‘Tis something that could cause problems, Logan.” “Christ! Forget the agreement. Fuck it.”
He strode toward the cottage and she followed behind him at his heels. He flung the door open and it bounced on its hinges. Of all the possible women in Jamestown, he’d found the only woman not willing to yank him into bed. She’d practically raped him in the courtyard and now she acted like the next saint. The woman was a bleeding lunatic. He stalked across the floor with her yammering at him. “Why do we have to forget the agreement?” she asked. He tossed his satchel to the floor, then flung his trunk lid up. It slammed into the wall and he saw flakes of plaster drift to the floor. Great. More work. Some other fool could take care of it. He hoped Corrigan was handy with a trowel. “Because you’re bloody impossible! I have business here and when I finish, I’ll be back to deal with you.” “Are you leaving?” She watched with wide eyes as he tossed clothing on the floor. He saw several more tears drop down her face. She didn’t even seem aware of it. “Why?” “Because if I canna fuck you, I canna live with you. It will drive me insane.” She was staring into his face, clearly puzzled. He reached into the pile on the floor and pulled out a pair of breeches. “Look. I thought I could live here, help you out with your little problem and take care of my own needs. But I didna intend to ruin your entire God damned life before I had to. Why are you always crying around me, woman? It makes me damned uncomfortable.” “I don’t mean to. It just happens. Can’t you just stay with us? Without the…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…fucking?” He would have smiled at her courage if he wasn’t so thoroughly confused and righteously pissed. “You wish me to pretend we have a commitment. How would it look to the community if I was sneaking to the White Doe behind your back or worse yet finding another woman to pleasure? Surely the other ladies of the village would talk and wonder what kind of husband you’re willing to accept.” “The other ladies?” “Believe me, lass. Somewhere in this village is a woman very eager to invite me to her bed and if I canna fuck you, I’m surely going to fuck someone else.” “Bloody hell, Rafe! You can’t go a couple months without…” “Fucking? No, lass, I canna. And I’m starting to wonder about you as well. The little tumbles between us havena been enough for either of us. I’d like to bury myself between your thighs and stay there, but if you’re going to be difficult and ‘tis not going to be you, it will be someone else.” “I don’t want it to be someone else,” she said quietly. “Too bloody bad for you then, lass, because ‘tis the way it will be.” He dropped the towel to the floor and Riley’s eyes locked on his cock. Hard. Erect. Pounding. He saw her tongue sweep across her lips and the sight of it made him groan. The thought of those generous lips wrapping around his cock made him throb. She was quiet for a moment, watching as he pulled the breeches over his legs. She kept her eyes on his hands as he tugged at the laces. “Stop,” she said. He raised his head but dropped his hands. “How does it swell like that?” “’Tis a natural thing,” he said.
“Each time I look ‘tis bigger.” She reached out and traced a pathway across his flesh. “And harder. And when I touch it… Does the growing have anything to do with me?” “Aye, lass, it seems to have everything to do with you.” “I’ll do it,” she said firmly. “I’ll let you … fuck me.” “Oh, no, lass, ‘tis not going to be like that. I don’t want you to let me do anything.” “What would you want from me?” “Cooperation,” he said. “Enthusiasm.” “And you’ll show me what to do? Sometimes I feel … like I’m not doing things right.” He nodded and gave her a smile. “You’re doing things fine, lass. Nothing’s been wrong. You’ll also have to sleep with me. In the same bed. Can you do that?” “I slept with you last night. I … liked it.” “Good then. That’s a start and I don’t want you to feel like you’ve lost control of your life, so we’ll compromise. I’ll expect you to accept me willingly at least three nights a week … no, four.” “Four nights every week?” “’Twill be a sacrifice as I’ve said, but I canna in good conscience ask for more. I don’t usually fuck my own women and…” Christ, Logan, watch what you’re saying. “And what happens on these nights?” Thank God she never listened to him or she’d question his slip. “You give yourself to me. Like you have. I use you as I please and you enjoy yourself.” “But I can’t just let you do anything!” “Do you even know what anything might entail, lass?” “No,” she said, “but it seems there should be some kind of limitation imposed … just so I’m not surprised by something … unsavory.” She seemed intensely curious about his body. She watched his every move and her eyes wandered over every inch of him. He was beginning to think he was the only naked man she’d ever seen. When he pulled the shirt over his head, he saw a little pout touch her lips. “I’d not hurt you or take anything you didna want to give. And I promise I’ll not surprise you by doing something unsavory. But I will want to fuck you several times. Beyond that we could discuss anything else. And before we settle things…” She was starting to look a little sick. The color had left her cheeks. He was sorry to see her body had begun to tremble. She kept glancing toward the bedroom door like she wanted to escape. “Before we settle things I might ask for something … special, but I’m willing to negotiate that as long as you agree. Riley, look at me.” It was obvious the last thing she wanted was to look at him, but Riley Sullivan was not going to admit that. She tossed her hair back and met his eyes. “You’ve still not said what I want to hear.” “I can’t.” “If you can’t admit it, then why are you willing to do this?” he asked. “’Tis all you want,” she said. “Another man might ask for more.”
“And the contract? ‘Tis still binding and what happens between us willna change that.” The smile that touched her face was radiant, confident. “I’m hoping as we get to know each other, you’ll be willing to negotiate new terms with me.” Rafe smiled. “’Tis a possibility, but I’d not count on it. If I do … what will your future hold after this? You’ve lost your virginity now, lass, and if I continue to fuck you, how will you feel in the arms of a man you might love on your wedding night?” The look that settled on her face almost made him sad. He wasn’t capable of being sad but it was the closest he could come. There was a little twist inside his gut that caught him off guard. She looked like a girl that would never hope for such a foolish thing. “’Tis my hope if I marry, my husband will want me for the woman I am and not the girl I was.” “He’d be a proper fool if he doesna want you,” Rafe said. “So we have the beginnings of a deal, Mistress Sullivan?” “Aye,” she said softly. “We have a deal.” “I’ll unpack my things. You willna be disappointed.” “You’ve said that before, Master Logan.” He ran his finger across her pale cheek. “Aye, lass, but this time I mean it.”
Chapter 15 When Riley woke up the room was pitch black. She bolted up in bed, confused and disoriented. She had a moment of fear because she knew she was alone. She reached cautiously across the mattress. It felt like he should be home but the bed was empty and it felt lonely without him. He wasn’t back yet from his endless search for Michael. Every night he went to the tavern. And every night when he came home he was in the same mood. Discouraged. It didn’t stop him from wanting her. He made love with passion, enthusiasm and a hunger that scared her. She took what he gave and let him sweep her into the pleasure she’d come to crave just waiting for him to come through the door. She was starting to worry about herself. Wanting him as much as she did couldn’t be good. Needing him as much as she did couldn’t be good either. She felt happier when he was home. She felt like … a family. She laughed but it didn’t sound right. She sounded close to hysterical and when she sounded like that she knew what it meant. She always did something desperate. She remembered sounding like that the night before she met Rafe Logan. She dropped back to the mattress and flung her arm over her face. She had a serious problem. She’d thought she couldn’t possibly add one more to her already extensive list, but they just kept piling up like dirty laundry. Rafe Logan had invaded her home, her thoughts and her body, but that wasn’t the problem. In Riley Sullivan’s already torn apart world, those were insignificant problems. What bothered her now was after knowing the man mere days, after being threatened and humiliated countless times, after he had all but told her there wasn’t another man as bad as he was, she wanted to keep him. What was wrong with her? “You’re a fool, Riley Sullivan, a damn bloody fool.” Logan was not the kind of man to fall in love, become a decent husband, a dedicated father. He was selfish, arrogant, almost tyrannical in the way he strode through life with only his interests in play. He had warned her, practically begged her, to find another option. How many times had he tried? How many times had he told her he wasn’t a good man? Then why was his touch so stirring? Why were his kisses infused with a passion that seemed rooted in desperation? Why was he such a generous lover? Why did he often get that boyish grin on his face when he wasn’t trying to be hard, controlling, and ruthless? You’re seeing something that isn’t there. You’re infatuated with him because he’s a dream fallen into reality, that shadowy illusion you’ve held in your heart made flesh. He’s seemingly come out of nowhere to save your miserable life. And he might … oh, aye, he just might be able to help … but he’s already warned you there will be a price you don’t want to pay. Rafe Logan was exactly what he seemed. Too good to be true. An angelic name and a face struck in the forges of heaven were not going to turn him into what she wanted. He’d made no promises to her beyond holding to the agreement and offering her the fucks of a lifetime.
Just fuck him, enjoy what he has to offer and let him go. “I don’t know if I can do that.” Aye, you can. But whatever you do, don’t open your heart or he’ll tear it to shreds in front of your eyes and your heart’s been torn apart so many times you haven’t much left. She sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed. There was a slight bit of light coming through the crack under the door. She wanted to see his face. She grabbed a chemise from her trunk and peeked through the door. But Logan wasn’t in the keeping room and when she decided to have a peek at Brian, there was a tangled mess of blankets where her brother should have been. The jumble of cloth made her panic. She’d allowed a strange man into her house. Putting herself at risk was one thing, but she hadn’t given a thought to Brian and his safety. Everyone around her thought she was naïve, but she was well aware of the depraved thoughts that could burrow into a man’s mind. Logan had been all too eager to enjoy her flesh, but sometimes a man placed no limits on his behavior. Logan could have done anything and he’d mentioned Brian as payment. She grabbed her cloak from the chest in her bedroom. She would have to wake Daniel in the dead of night and plead with him to help her. She was prepared to leave the cottage when she noticed the soft glow of firelight spilling through one of the back windows. She headed toward the shop. They didn’t hear her enter because they were hunkered near the forge, sitting on the floor surrounded by the quiet emptiness of the smithy, their dark heads together like two thieves. Their voices drifted toward her punctuated by the crackle of sparks dying beneath the grate. “Aye, Brian, ‘tis a valid point, but I find Master Shakespeare’s work too complicated for such a mundane interpretation.” “Mundane?” Brian repeated. “Oh, come on, Rafe, ‘tis the only possible explanation.” Riley tucked herself into a dark corner. Hearing Brian so animated, so intensely engrossed in a conversation was a heart-warming sound. How had he managed to find a man who fit so perfectly into their lives? She smiled as she listened to their conversation. Rafe gave the boy his full attention, his head cocked, his eyes focused on the boy’s face with a patience few adults had for children. “Hamlet is an intricate drama,” Rafe said. “The play has many nuances a boy your age couldna begin to understand. ‘Tis about the struggle for truth, about a man’s inability to make his most important decisions, about relationships, lust of the flesh…” “I know about lust, Rafe.” “And how would you be knowing a thing such as that?” “’Tis a small village,” Brian said. “Few secrets here. I heard some interestin’ things today. ‘Bout you.” Riley inched closer as Rafe chuckled. The soft rumble seemed to fill the smithy and it was such a welcome sound, Riley smiled. Her father had rarely laughed. “I’ve been here but a few days and the stories have begun? Have I an interesting life then?” Brian laughed. “Aye. I’d hope to have a life half as interestin’.” “So what tales have you collected?” Brian leaned forward eagerly. “’Tis said you’re a pirate come to scope Jamestown for a raid.”
Rafe raked his hair away from his face and winked at Brian. “’Tis been a complete waste of time. I’ve seen nothing worth pillaging. I plan to send the signal tonight.” Rafe cupped his mouth in his hands and yelled into the darkness. “Avast, mates! Make ready the sails! Back to the Tortugas, lads, ‘tis naught worth the time nor the wind. The maidens be fair but the rum rots the gut! ‘Tis back to the Spanish Main where the women are free and the sun always shines!” Riley smiled as Brian went into a fit of giggles. Rafe laughed along with him until they were both rolling on the floor. When Brian recovered he was eager to continue the game. “’Tis been said you’re a spy sent from the King and plan to abolish the colony.” Rafe seemed to consider that for a moment. “The King may not be long for life, lad, so I’d not take his whims too seriously. ‘Tis trouble brewing at home and soon I fear he’ll have naught to say about this place. But if ‘twas up to me … well, you seem happy enough here, Brian. I say we let it continue for another ten years and re-evaluate.” Brian nodded, clearly liking the answer. “’Tis nothing to me what King we have,” he said. “But I’m glad to hear Virginia remains and I know others will be relieved. I’ve some friends that intend to stay here their entire lives.” “And you, Brian, what do you plan?” “I intend to stay as well,” he said. “I don’t remember Ireland and I don’t remember much of England. This is my home now.” “’Tis good to feel at home.” “You could feel at home here, Rafe … if you wanted to.” “Possibly, lad, but ‘twould be hard. I’m used to a different life … one with a little more…” Brian’s laugh filled the room. “Aye, a little more … spice? To hear someone tell it, you’ve a very spicy life.” “What am I now? A murderer fleeing execution? An outcast son? A disgruntled lord thrown from court after an argument with the king? Perhaps I’m planning the very rebellion that seems to be stirring?” “No, but I’ve a good one. Even better. ’Tis said you’re a whoremaster from London and have come to claim your greatest prize.” Riley’s mouth dropped open and she was ready to dash from her hiding place and end this game. Brian did not need to know such things. But she stayed where she was because Rafe seemed to have it under control. She watched as he pushed himself off the floor and held out his hand. When Brian grabbed it, he tugged him to his feet. Riley couldn’t see Rafe’s face because his hair spilled over his shoulders as leaned his head toward Brian, but she heard him sigh. “Who were you speaking with today, Brian?” “No one actually, but lots of people were talkin’ bout you. I heard some ladies talkin’ near the White Doe. Everyone seems to have interest in you.” “Too much it seems. I’d appreciate if you’d not listen to what others say particularly the ladies at the White Doe. I’m going to be here for awhile and … ‘twill be hard for your sister if we talk of such things.” Brian cocked his head. “Why are you here, Rafe? What should I tell people?” “I’ve come to Jamestown looking for something.” “Like buried treasure?”
“Aye, Brian, though ‘tis not something I care to discuss. But your sister and I have reached an agreement. You’re to tell everyone Riley and I are betrothed.” “Like in getting married?” Brian asked doubtfully. “Is this for real?” “As real as I can make it,” Rafe said. Riley sidled toward the door, opened it gently and slammed it. Two dark heads swung toward her. “’Tis the middle of the night,” she said with an exasperated sigh. She wanted to run across the room, throw her arms around Rafe’s neck and kiss him to death for being so nice to Brian. Instead she walked across the grimy floor on bare feet and watched as Rafe ruffled the hair on the back of Brian’s neck. “We didna get much done today,” Rafe said. “Brian’s head is always in the work. He’s planned tomorrow already and it doesna sound pretty. He’s a taskmaster, Riley. I fear I’ll not survive.” Brian laughed as Riley took his shoulders and twisted him toward the door. She gave him a little shove. “The sun will rise before you do. Off to bed.” Brian headed toward the door then turned. “G’night, Rafe. Thanks for the insights. I’ll re-read the play. I think I missed the lusty parts.” Rafe winked at him and Brian ran from the shop, slamming the door behind him. “The lusty parts?” Riley asked. “Do I need to ask?” “A little talk of Hamlet. Not too in-depth. But the boy’s interest comes from the heart. He’s a natural scholar.” Rafe turned and laid his hands on the brick of the forge. He stared into the last glow of light in the dark pit. “Seems a shame to make him a blacksmith.” “I’ve no intention of making him a blacksmith,” Riley said. Rafe turned. “And I’ve no intention of making you a blacksmith.” “’Tis not your choice.” “The bargain’s been struck, lass, and we play it my way.” “You will help me,” she said firmly. “’Tis my shop.” “You canna do it, Riley! When are you going to admit what is going on here? Brian’s a strong lad and in another year or so will be perfectly capable of running this smithy. You will never be able to do it.” “I have to,” she said. “’Tis important. I need something of my own.” “You don’t need something of your own,” he said, “because you have me. I’m taking care of things. You can relax now.” Riley wrapped the cloak tighter around her because she was starting to shake. She didn’t understand why, but Logan had started a conversation she wasn’t at all prepared to have. “I can’t relax! I can’t ever relax! ‘Tis my responsibility. All I want is your help. I don’t want you to take care of things.” “Riley, you have to trust me.” “The last man I trusted disappointed me, Logan.” “I’m not Peter Sullivan, lass.” She barely heard him. Something about being in here with him didn’t feel right. He sounded reasonable, but she wasn’t sure she could trust that. Men sometimes changed without warning. She pressed her hands against her forehead because it was beginning to ache fiercely.
“You could be worse than Peter,” she whispered, “because you sound so sincere.” “Damn it, Riley! What is wrong with you tonight?” “Nothing … it’s just that being in here makes me think of him … and I don’t like to think of him.” “Why?” “I learned from Peter that men don’t like a woman in their business. They make them pay for their interference. That’s why it’s important that it be mine.” Why was it so hard to talk about him? He’d been dead for six months. And why couldn’t she stand to be in this shop? She’d not had a problem before. She and Brian were in here all the time. She loved the fire, the iron, the transformation of metal, the melding of two things into one. It was like magic. But suddenly … suddenly being here felt wrong. “Your father was a bloody fool, Riley.” “Men have a need to be in charge and they’re all too eager to prove it. You’ll be no different.” Logan looked annoyed with her. How did his expression change so fast? All of a sudden she felt like she might vomit. She had to get out of this room. Seeing the big shadow near the forge was making her dizzy and what would happen if the shadow suddenly moved toward her? She pressed her palms against her cheeks. She was so cold and yet her face seemed to be burning. She could almost feel her father’s hands. When Logan took a step toward her, she staggered backwards, nearly colliding with a broken wagon wheel. She shifted around it cautiously keeping her eyes on him. Why did he want to talk about this now? She needed to get back to the cottage. “I was only trying to help!” she cried. “Why did he resent it so much? If I hadn’t made decisions, if I hadn’t tried to do something, we would have lost everything years ago.” Logan reached toward her and snagged his fingers in her cloak when she jerked away from him. The fabric caught on the wheel and tore. Riley winced because the sound made her want to cry. “Darlin’, some men … men like Peter Sullivan…” “Don’t talk about him,” she said. “I can’t stand to think of Peter Sullivan. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad he’s out of my life.” A sob tore through her and Logan grabbed for her again. “Why is everything so bloody hard, Rafe?” She wiped away hot furious tears. “Peter Sullivan cared nothing for us. He practically destroyed our lives and I’m getting them back. No one will ever control me again.” He held up his hands. “I’m not trying…” “Stop doing that!” “Darlin’,” he said quietly. “What am I doing?” “Being nice! Stop it!” “What’s wrong, Riley? Why are you crying?” “I’m not,” she said. “’Tis this place. And you. I don’t want you near me in this place.” She backed toward the door. “All men are alike, Logan and I’m tired of the men in my life treating me like a whore.” Logan’s face changed. It was gradual and it scared her. Oh, my God. What had she said? She could barely think in here. Being in here, in the dark, with just the glow of the
forge and the eerie flicker of the light and that enormous shadow on the wall… She couldn’t remember what she’d said. “Did Peter Sullivan treat you like a whore, Riley?” Had she said that? She shivered. She didn’t like the way Logan was watching her. He was coming toward her. “Tell me, Riley. Did Peter do something to you?” “No, no … he was my da,” she whispered. “Aye, Riley, but maybe that didna stop him. I can see it on your face. Tell me what he did.” She took a couple steps backward. Her voice was a whisper. She could barely hear herself and was glad for it. “He didn’t like me being in here, and I knew it, but someone had to do something. Too many things weren’t being done, too many people were unhappy and we owed so much money. When he found me in here, he always got angry and hit me, he liked to hit, but one night…” “Go on.” “…I came out here and he caught me trying to finish some work and…” She couldn’t meet his eyes. There wasn’t pity there. Not yet. But she didn’t want to see it. “That night … well, he was more than angry. He asked why I didn’t think he was man enough to do his own job and why I thought I was better than he was. He said he’d known since I was small I was only good for one thing and he said just looking at me was hard, tempting, that it made him feel things he shouldn’t feel. He said I didn’t know my place in the world and he was going to show me the thing I was made to do. He said he was tired of just looking because looking at me was starting to hurt.” She couldn’t breathe. “And?” “He said he wanted to touch … to kiss … to fuck … and he said I would like it.” “And you stopped him,” Logan said quietly. Riley could feel the door at her back. She put her hand on the knob. “Aye. I stopped him. I had to. He was my da.” “Good for you,” Logan said. She started through the door but something wasn’t finished. She needed him to know. She stared at him for a long moment. She might be risking everything, but if he was a man that wouldn’t listen, she didn’t want him in her life. She couldn’t afford it. “I’m not letting you control my life. I’m giving my brother what he deserves. On my own, with no help but what I pay for. I take no charity and no pity and I’m under no delusions here, Logan. I appreciate your help, but don’t expect me to have much confidence in you because I know men can change. I will have my own life and I will have the control here. ‘Tis my business. My smithy. My bargain. And you will do it my way.” “I canna see why I’m being blamed for another man’s mistakes.” “Because I’m not making the same mistake twice. Just because I didn’t stop you doesn’t mean you can have everything I am. I wouldn’t be Peter Sullivan’s whore and I won’t be yours.” He cocked his head and the hostile look that blazed in his eyes surprised her. He walked toward her slowly. The warmth seeping from his body seemed to wrap around
her, but the blue eyes were cold, hard and held no understanding of anything she was trying to say. “I don’t fuck whores, lass,” he said, “and do not seek to dictate to me. Your life will hold what I decide. No more, no less.” Something in his words sent a flood of rage through her. She counted to ten, then twenty, but it didn’t help. She still wanted to hit him. When he moved toward her, she drew back her arm and smacked his face as hard as she could. Even in the dim light, she saw the quick spark of anger that flashed in his eyes and waited for the burst of pain, for her head to rock back as her sight darkened. But nothing happened. Even as she saw the anger in his eyes, just as fast a poignant smile touched his mouth. She didn’t know whether to smack him again or kiss the bitter smile from his lips so she turned on her heel and left him standing there before she made the wrong choice.
Chapter 16 Rafe didn’t expect to find her in the keeping room. He thought she’d run to the bedroom and find some way to bolt the door against him. But she was sitting at the table, hands folded in front of her, obviously waiting for him. There was a bottle of whiskey sitting in front of her and it looked like she’d already tossed some of it down. Her glass was empty. She tipped the bottle toward him. “Drink?” He nodded but the look on her face was making him uncomfortable. She splashed some into the glass and slid it toward him. He pulled out a chair, sat and took a long sip. “You’re not having any?” “Oh, aye, I am. I’m having a lot, but I’m drinking directly from the bottle.” She lifted the bottle to her lips and Rafe lurched across the table and grabbed it from her hand. “I don’t intend to see you fall the way of your da, lass. If you’ve a need to drink, do it like a lady.” He slid the glass toward her. She stared at him unblinking, her lips tight and her jaw clenched. He could see the tiny muscles of her face pulse as she ground her teeth together. She was dangerously close to going over the edge. He’d seen that look before. Half the men he knew had it and most of the women. This little girl was right. She had been drinking a lot and was close to becoming addicted. If he hadn’t pulled her memory apart and so thoroughly pissed her off, she might have hidden it another day. As it was, her body was shaking with both her anger and her need. He was still trying to figure out exactly what he’d done wrong. She’d been smiling when she came into the shop. Slowly her hand wrapped around the glass but she never took her eyes off him. He watched her toss the entire glass of whiskey down her throat with the skill of a sailor. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “How much do you drink?” he asked. Her eyes were hard, brittle green stones. “Just enough.” “How much is just enough? Just enough to get through the day, to pass out after working yourself to the bone, to steel your nerves to fuck a stranger? Did you find that courage of yours in a bottle the day I fucked you?” “Which day would that be? There have been several.” She gave him a hard cold stare. “Lay off, Logan. ‘Tis not your business.” “And what happens on the day you’ve had just enough and fall into that pit of burning coal out in the shop? Will there be just enough left in the bottle for Brian to get through the day he buries you?” She flinched and the nastiness of his tone shocked even him. When her eyes brightened with sudden tears, he knew a hint of compassion should have risen from somewhere inside himself, but it didn’t because he was angry with her. The last thing he wanted to do was fall the way of Peter Sullivan and hit her. He was trying damn hard to keep hold of his temper but her tears fanned his irritation into something very close to rage. He wanted to shake her, take her tiny body in his hands and punish her for this
surprising weakness. She had not seemed so vulnerable and each frailty he found in her hammered him with another strike of guilt. Her hand was shaking as it rose to her forehead and covered her eyes. “Were you drunk that day?” Rafe snarled. “Does it matter?” Rafe reached across the table and yanked her arm away from her face. She jerked and sat up straighter. “Aye. It matters! Answer me, Riley. When I fucked you that day, were you drunk?” “I barely know the difference anymore. Each day is the same as every other day. Every moment is the same as every other moment.” “And every fuck is the same as every other fuck?” She winced, combing her hair back with her fingers, tugging at the strands as though they contained the strength she needed to endure this conversation. “I’ve nothing to compare it to.” “Aye, I forgot, but ‘tis grateful I am that I have your constant reminder. I wouldna want to forget the one perfection you did have until I came into your life. ‘Tis hard to understand how you could twist this against me since you didna tell me!” “Would you have stopped?” she asked quietly. “Of course I woulda bloody stopped!” Rafe cried. “I’m not a monster no matter what you might think in that head of yours, and I’m not your filthy da, but ‘tis done. Now you have my callous disregard to use as a weapon and nothing I can do or say will change it. But that does not make me Peter Sullivan.” “’Tis not your fault,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and forced the words from her mouth. “‘Twas my decision. Right or wrong it was mine and, no, I wasn’t drunk.” He leaned back in the chair and toyed with the stem of the bottle. “But you obviously drink.” A smile touched her lips. “Sometimes.” “Since I’ve been here?” “No. I haven’t had to … until tonight.” “I didna think so,” he said. “I’ve fucked enough women lost in the bottle but sometimes ‘tis hard to tell. I’ve a fair understanding of why they drink. When there’s naught in their lives, it buries the pain just deep enough they canna think of the shame of where they are and the emotional void of having nothing. The bottle gives just enough courage to let go. Sometimes a woman uses it to her advantage and ‘tis an asset. More often than not ‘tis simply fucking a drunk. I’d not thought you so. Your reactions seem genuine. So why do you do it? Is it Peter?” Riley folded her arms across the table and cradled her head. Her words were muffled but he heard them. He just didn’t like what he heard. “Peter and my mother. Kevin and Catherine. Brian. Because I have nothing. Because I have no one. Because some days I can’t bear the idea of going on for one more hour let alone an entire lifetime. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t stand to think about the past and I can’t stand to think about the future. I worry too much. I think too much. I make too many decisions. I don’t make enough decisions. I want to be married. I want to be alone. I want to succeed and sometimes I just don’t care. I want to be in the smithy and yet sometimes it terrifies me.”
She lifted her head and her eyes wandered across his face. “You can’t possibly understand any of that,” she said. “I might understand more than you think.” “Look at yourself, Logan! You have everything a man could possibly want or need in a lifetime! Have you ever wondered if you’ll survive the next month? The next week? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be touched by your father’s hands? To feel his mouth on yours? Do you have any idea how much courage it takes to exist?” Rafe poured a shot of whiskey into the glass and slid it across the table. “Take it,” he said. Her eyes darted to the glass. She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and shook her head, but she wouldn’t look at him. “’Tis not good to drink alone, Riley. If you’ve a need, you should do it in company. Perhaps it will make you hungry or tired, happy or sad, or anything else you feel you might need. Perhaps it will give you the strength to forget Peter Sullivan. But I’ve a need to tell you something. No amount of drink will make things better and nothing in this bottle will change your life except for the worse.” “It can’t get worse,” Riley said. “You’ve no idea how bad it can get,” he said, “but I’ll not bore you with my life. So do you find all your courage in a bottle, lass? You seem a little ballsy tonight. Drinking a little while I was in the smithy?” He watched as her hand tentatively crawled toward the glass. She started to wrap her fingers around it but she snatched her hand away. When she shoved it toward him, the whiskey sloshed onto the table. She gave him a furious glare. “Are you drunk now, Riley?” “No,” she said, “but I’ve plenty of courage for what I need to say to you.” “Then say it.” Her hands clenched against the table top. “The business is mine. The decisions will be mine. I’m not letting you turn my bright inquisitive brother into a smithy.” “’Tis not going to be up to you. ‘Tis going to be up to me.” “You’re not my father, Logan.” “No, but you seem determined I pay for his mistakes.” “And you’re not my husband!” “I will be your husband if ‘tis the only way I can control you and as long as that chance even exists, you’ll yield to my wishes.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “You can get used to yielding now. Come here.” She shook her head violently. Her eyes darted to the bottle near his elbow. She wanted it, but she would never allow him to see it now. He was going to do everything in his power to keep it from her. “You’ve work to do tomorrow,” she said. “Running a smithy is hard, exhausting. You should go to bed.” “I intend to,” he said, “and do not seek to divert my attention. You’ll learn to relax and fall asleep without the help of this bottle. And you’ll learn there’s no shame in having help. I told you to come here, Riley. ‘Tis not a choice I’m offering.” She uncurled her fists slowly and planted her hands flat on the table. He had no doubt she wanted to slap him but when she stood he realized he was wrong. How could
he have been so wrong? Head bowed, her hair shrouded her face from his eyes. Even in the dim light of the hearth, he could see the fabric of her chemise flutter in tiny little pulses like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Her heart was pounding but it wasn’t in anger. He watched her breasts rise and fall with rapid breaths. She was frightened. He’d never known a woman so antagonistic one moment and so clearly frightened the next. “Darlin’.” He tried to speak softly, kindly. He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with himself for not seeing how heartbroken, how overwrought, how betrayed she really was. And he was worried. A girl like Riley could lose herself very easily because she was too hard on herself, too determined to perform the impossible and too obstinate to realize when she needed to admit defeat. He didn’t need to know her well to know those things. He could see them in the stubborn lift of her chin, the fierce pride in her eyes and the huffy little noise she made when someone refused to agree with her. “Come here.” Riley’s eyes rose timidly to meet his. He held out his hand. She moved toward him and he saw the silhouette of her body through the flimsy chemise. Full round breasts and small waist on a slender body. The gentle curve of feminine hips. Peter Sullivan had been right. It sometimes hurt to look at her. But that didn’t change the fact that he was the lowest kind of bastard on earth. Peter Sullivan obviously didn’t know about the proxy fuck or couldn’t afford it, so he’d risk his own sanity, his daughter’s self worth and society’s wrath by succumbing to the desire no man should have. He’d tried to use her like a whore and Rafe thought maybe he’d paid a price for that. Now the question was whether Rafe would pay a price as well. Riley was absolute perfection and he risked the value of that every time he touched her, but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself. When he thought of her future he felt something nasty stir in the pit of his stomach. He thought of a man dropping a coin into his hand. He thought of Riley taking that stranger’s hand and disappearing up the winding staircase at Fallen Angels and he thought of all the things that man might do to her in one of the canopied beds. Worse yet he thought of all the things Riley might do to the man. Things she might actually enjoy. He saw her thighs grip the man’s hips as she straddled him and slid her body over his cock. He thought of her small hands slowly sliding up a chest to wide shoulders and he thought of those generous lips tugging at a stranger’s mouth, her breath bursting from her as her body quivered helplessly. He thought of her honeyed hair sliding along the flesh of another man. It was these thoughts that sent a spiral of vicious rage through his body. He could feel it now even as he looked at her moving toward him. She must have seen it too because she froze. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m not that kind of man.” “There is only one kind of man,” Riley said, “and I’ve lived with him.” “You’re wrong about that, Riley. You’ve no reason to fear me.” He rubbed his hand over his cheek. “I’ve been hit plenty but I’ve not hit back. Come here. Trust me.” He gestured to her. She took his hand and he pulled her between his knees. He tried to push the thoughts away. For now she was with him and she’d had no other body but his. She stared down at him. “I want you to kiss me, Riley.” “I can’t.” “That courage you keep looking for? You canna find it in a bottle, darlin’. ‘Tis inside.” He let his hand drift over the swell of her breast. “’Tis right in here.”
“No,” she said. “There’s nothing inside me. Nothing at all.” “’Tis there, Riley, or you wouldna be here. You’d have given up long ago. Be brave, lass. Don’t be afraid to take what you want. Show me what you’ve been feeling doesna come from that bottle. Show me what happened between us was what you wanted. I want to help you. Will you let me?” “’Tis hard,” she said. “I know, but you have to trust me. Kiss me like everything has meant something between us, like I’m the only man that will ever fuck you.” “I can’t,” she said again. “’Tis too … painful.” “Then do whatever you like.” He kept his eyes on hers, but she watched her hands, seemingly surprised when they moved. She let her fingers drift through the hair across his forehead. When the locks lifted then fell back across his eyes, she brushed them away with a tenderness that was almost heart-breaking, barely grazing his skin, as though the touch of his flesh would be too much. The pads of her fingers skimmed his cheek and for the first time he realized her hands were calloused, rough. He’d not let that continue. He needed to keep her as perfect as possible. She seemed obsessed with the beard. She’d touched it before and now she ran her palms across it, closing her eyes as the coarse hairs scratched her skin. She cupped his face and her eyes lifted to his. She leaned down toward him, tipping his face up, and her hair drifted into his lap and caressed his hand. When her lips touched his, he waited, barely drawing a breath for fear of scaring her. Her mouth pressed softly, a gentle nudge and a soft brush. He felt her lips part and skim his again; a quick stroke but he felt the warmth of her breath and the moisture of her mouth. She drew away, just a little, and wet her lips. When she returned to him, she kissed his lower lip, wrapping hers around it with a gentle suction then quickly covered his mouth, her tongue slipping inside fast, a light flicker and it was gone. The taste of the whiskey was still in her mouth and he hoped it would be the last time he tasted it. It took all his willpower not to grab her. His hands were on his thighs but they were inching toward her, completely aware of the body so close to his own. His cock was twitching inside his breeches, thrusting against the fabric, eager to be released. Riley’s hand slipped to his jaw and around his neck. Her mouth opened and covered his, her tongue sliding into his mouth and exploring with a determination. He heard her sigh as she pulled away, her lips clinging to his in a series of soft kisses spread randomly across his mouth, her tongue following to lick between his lips, dart into his mouth. “Rafe,” she whispered. “Aye, lass.” “God, Rafe, please kiss me back. Touch me.” His hands couldn’t move fast enough. He grabbed her face and practically smothered her with his mouth. Her mouth was open, wet, waiting for the feel of his tongue. She sucked at it, pulling it deep. She groaned and fell against his chest, sliding to her knees between his legs. He leaned over her, pulling her close, sliding one arm behind her back, the other over her soft breast. Her hands were near his waist, trying to pull the shirt out of his breeches. He dropped his arms away from her but their mouths stayed locked together. He yanked the
shirt and started to peel it from his body, releasing her mouth long enough to pull the shirt over his head. He tossed it away not caring where it went. She snatched at his face and pulled his mouth back to hers, then ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Her hands were sliding up his chest when she pulled her mouth away from his. Her head lowered and the tip of her tongue traced a path through the hair on his chest down to his groin. When she lifted her face, her hands pushed up his body until her fingers found his nipples. She teased them for a few minutes, watching them harden under her touch. When they were tight little peaks, she fastened her mouth on one. The suction twisted something through his body and when her tongue swirled around his flesh he felt a massive shiver down his spine. As she pulled away her teeth nipped at him playfully as she moved to the other. “Torture, lass? I’d not thought you so angry.” “Not torture,” she whispered. “’Tis revenge.” “For the sucking? The biting?” “No, for making me want you.” She locked onto his other nipple and continued to torture him. His cock was throbbing. As she sucked on him her hands ran down the sides of his body until she reached his hips. She cupped her hands around him, pulled him forward on the chair and pressed her body against his. Her mouth captured his again as her belly rubbed against his cock and her hand soon followed. She rolled her palm over the swelling between his legs. She moaned and tore away as her voice exploded in a breathless rush. “I needed no courage that first day … there was something about you … something made me think you should be the one. I’ve probably made the biggest mistake of my life but…” His mouth snatched at hers and she continued to talk as his lips roamed across hers. “I’m twenty years old … there’s no one I want … no one I trust. When I looked up and saw you I…” Her mouth covered his and seemed to suck the life from him. “…I knew I had to take the chance. I would have begged you to fuck me, anything to have just one taste of what I’d never had, but … I’m scared now, Rafe.” His hand swept through her hair and tugged her close, his lips touching the corner of her mouth. “You don’t need to be frightened of me.” “I’m not,” she whispered. “I should be … but I’m not. I’m frightened of myself.” “Why, lass?” She ran her hands across the muscles of his chest and up over his shoulders. Her nails etched a pathway of fire as they scraped across his flesh. “Because I want more and when I look at you…” Her hands traveled across his chest again, her fingers toying with the hairs. “…when I touch you, I want so much more.” She leaned closer and Rafe’s hand cupped her breast. He watched his finger trace an outline around the nipple and it rose under the chemise, a dark shadow against the white cloth. “I can’t give you more, lass.” “I know,” she said. “But I’ll take what you’ll give. You said our bargain is open to negotiation.” After confessing, the wench now sought to renegotiate? Did she think to play on his sympathies because she was a confused, love starved girl? “’Tis open,” he said, “but…” When she spoke, he could do nothing but stare, dumbfounded.
“I want a little say in what happens between us because sometimes I want you. You asked me to say it, so I’m saying it. I want you to fuck me.” She paused. “And I want it right now.” “Not a problem,” Rafe said. She began to tug at the laces of his breeches with an expertise found in need. As soon as she had pulled the last lace, she spread the edges open as far as she could so she could see everything he had to offer. She ran her hands over the flesh of his groin, slowly circling as though trying to capture the feel of him. It was agonizing as he waited and waited but he didn’t want to rush her, didn’t want to ruin whatever she needed to do to prepare herself. She spread her fingers through the hair, and a soft smile touched her lips. “’Tis like the hair on your chest, only thicker.” Her index finger wound a slow pathway down between his legs and gently teased one of his balls. “Easy there, lass. ‘Tis a tender spot for a man.” “Aye, I know. ‘Twas the only thing of value Peter Sullivan ever taught me. He told me once it would stop the most persistent of men and he was right.” “Is that how you stopped him, Riley?” he asked. She glanced up, but continued inspecting him with her fingers. “No, but I don’t want to talk about that,” she said. She seemed to put it immediately out of her head. “I’ve not really seen these before … unless you count while you washed. Should I count that?” “You weren’t this close, lass, so, no, we’ll not count it.” He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Just in case she decided to make a sudden move he wanted to be prepared. He could never have been prepared for what she did. She gripped his cock in her hand, so fast he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and when he did he saw her tongue poke out as she licked the entire length of his rod. A tremor went through him and he nearly slid from the chair into her lap. Watching the pink tip of her tongue slide up his cock was an incredible sight. “Christ, Riley,” he breathed. “I can’t?” “What made you do that?” “I wanted to taste you,” she said. “It looked … tempting. You said I could do anything I wanted.” “Oh, aye, lass, you can. You can do that any time. As much as you want. As often as you want. ‘Twas just a surprise. Don’t let my … surprise stop you.” She slid her hand down his cock and tried to wrap her fingers around the base. “I want it in my mouth,” she whispered, but she wasn’t talking to him. She didn’t wait for an answer. She lifted higher on her knees and suddenly her lips had covered the tip and sucked several inches of him into her mouth. Rafe leaned back in the chair and watched as her gorgeous lips sucked at his cock with an enthusiasm that shocked the hell out of him. When her hair slid over her shoulder, draping across her and blocking his view, he caught it in his hands and swung it back. He swallowed hard and clutched the edges of the chair. The girl had the best instincts he’d ever seen. Her tongue was circling his flesh even as her mouth seemed to know exactly how much suction to use to make the pleasure crest and wane. She wasn’t like some women who thought a quick flicker of her tongue and a couple of hardy sucks was enough to satisfy a man. She tugged at his flesh with a
voracity that was almost scary, a convulsive set of rapid sucks followed by the blessed relief of the pull of her lips. She dipped her head and swallowed more of him, then immediately pulled up, slowly suctioning his cock as she released him. The sensations were intense, perfect, spiraling through, tapering off, then spiraling again. He was tired of Peter Sullivan’s ghost, but he had to know. He tucked his hand around her face and tugged. “Darlin’.” She lifted her head slowly, her tongue sweeping a final time around the tip of his cock. “Aye?” “Where did you learn to do that?” She frowned and glanced down at his crotch. “Learn? Is that something you learn?” She looked horrified for a moment and her hands fluttered above him. He thought she might actually pet him in her desperation and she did. She gently patted at his cock, her eyes anxious. “I’ve not learned it anywhere. Oh, God, Rafe, am I doing it all wrong? Does it hurt?” He smiled. “No, it doesna hurt. It was … perfect. It felt perfect.” She ran her hands up his thighs and wrapped them around his hips. She gave him a little smile. “I’d like you inside me now. Are you ready?” She glanced down at his lap. His readiness was undeniable. He gripped her chemise and began to pull it up her legs, crunching it in his fist until it was near her hips. “Stand up,” he said. When she was standing between his legs, he raised the chemise higher and filled his eyes with the sight of her pussy. The golden hairs were glistening with drops of moisture. “Damn, you’re a beautiful woman. Sit on my lap … facing me … straddle your legs across me.” She hooked her legs over his thighs and settled in his lap as he put his hands under her ass. The feel of it was smooth, taut, young. Before he lifted her from his lap, he looked into her eyes. “You’re going to have to do some work.” She nodded. “Put my cock near your pussy and rub it across. Smear the cream around. ‘Twill make it easier to take me.” Riley smoothed the palm of her hand down the length of him. It made him grit his teeth because the pressure of her touch sent waves of shivering pleasure through his groin. He lifted her toward his chest and when he felt his head rub against the folds of her body, felt the tip glide between the soft lips of her pussy, he had a sudden urge to push her down and impale her on him. But the gentle motion was soothing, gentle and seemed to be something she liked. She had closed her eyes and he noticed that though she did what he asked she pressed the tip of his cock against her clit again and again, rubbing in short quick strokes. When her body began to tremble, she arched her back and a low moan tore through her body. She caught her lip between her teeth and rubbed harder. When he felt a sudden tremor pass through her body, her head dropped and she moved his cock down between her folds. “Now, Rafe, please now.” He lowered her slowly, feeling his cock slide into the moist hollow of between her legs. He felt her muscles quivering against him, small pulses of her climax. He was halfway in, his cock pulsing, swelling tighter to fill her completely, but he was afraid to go further because in this position he’d have less control. He began to slide her up and down on his cock and her muscles tightened around him at each stroke, wringing
sensation from every nerve in his groin. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. Her eyes were very serious, staring into his with a clear purpose. “Don’t stop,” she said. “No, lass, I’ll not stop.” “No, I mean, don’t stop. Go deeper. I want all of you. Bury yourself in me, Rafe. Every inch.” He shook his head. “I willna be able to pull out if I’m deep.” “I don’t care,” she said. She caught his lip between her teeth. Rafe groaned as her mouth snatched at his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth with the same rhythm his cock thrust into her body. He was losing. Each time he lowered her, he went deeper. It seemed very important to touch her core, to own every inch of her, to search for her soul through the moisture of her body. The deeper he drove into her, the more passionately she kissed him until her mouth had forced his to surrender. Head back, he let her mouth control him. She sucked his tongue into her mouth only to push it away so she could drive into his. She cradled his face in her hands, running her nails across his skin, her thumbs across his chin, touching him gently, roughly, desperately. When he was almost completely in her, he decided it was far enough. He began the rhythm he needed to come. He waited for her to relax under his hands, to enjoy the strokes that might lead to her orgasm, but she froze, her mouth locked on his. She shook her head. “Deeper,” she whispered against his lips. “No, ‘tis far enough.” “Damn it, Logan!” She clenched her hands on his shoulders and her hips lifted in his hands. When he realized what she was doing, he tightened his hands on her ass and held her. She cried out and scraped her nails across his shoulders. “’Tis not fair!” “I told you, Riley. I’ll have no bastards. We’ll do this my way, or not at all.” “Then let me go,” she said. “Not a chance in hell,” he snarled. He began to pump her body up and down on his cock. She struggled for a moment, pushing against his arms and trying to hold herself up. When she made no progress, she started her endless string of curses. He had no choice. He clutched her hips and pushed down as hard as he could, thrusting up inside of her until he was buried to the hilt. She gasped and her nails bit into his arms. She was sitting on his lap, his cock hard, deep, tight in her body. He gathered her face in his hands and kissed her as hard, as deep, as passionately as he could. He pushed his tongue toward the back of her throat and her head fell back to receive as much as he could give. Her hands roamed up his arms until she found his face. Her fingers wrapped around his jaw, pulling him closer, tighter. When he tugged his mouth away, his lips roamed across her face and she slumped against him. “A few moments,” he said. “No longer.” She nodded against him. He lifted his legs and stretched them toward the table. “Lean back,” he said.
He held her hands and she leaned against his legs. He brushed the chemise up her body until he could see her thighs, her hips, his cock buried deep in her body and the rosy folds of flesh that held him. Swollen, pulsing with her excitement, her need. Dark pinks, deep reds, the shades of burnished gold flesh and the shadows that held secrets. He grabbed her hips and pushed her away. When he yanked her toward him again, she cried out and covered her face with her hands and her head fell back to his knees. “Does it hurt?” he asked. “No … it feels wonderful,” she said. He tugged her back and forth, watching as each roll of pleasure spread a smile of surprise on her face. Each time his cock drove deep into her she released a long blissful sigh and her body quivered. He began to tug her harder and faster, feeling her thighs tremble, her leg muscles tighten. Her breathing quickened and when she came, her entire body shook as a single tremor passed through her. He felt the muscles inside her body clench around his cock, quickening, pulsing, driving him to pull her hard against him. The pleasure was building in him. His cock was on the verge of exploding. He watched her face, waiting for the climax to wane and when a satisfied smile spread across her face and a small laugh tore from her throat, he began to withdraw, slowly because his own pleasure was so great, he did not want to give it up. His own body was tightening, trembling. He felt the pulses in his cock that signaled he was running out of time. He was ready to withdraw and spill when she suddenly bolted upright, wrapping her arms around his neck. His cock plunged deep into her and it was too late. “Oh, God, Rafe! That was wonderful!” She locked her lips over his and his cock exploded in a rush of fluid, filling the hollow of her body. She jerked in his arms, surprised and pulled away. Her eyes were wide and she shook her head furiously. He closed his eyes, wrapped his hand behind her neck and pulled her lips down to his. As his cock pounded within her, held tight by her flesh, her muscles, the orgasm spiraled into such intensity, Rafe could do nothing but gather her up and cling to her, accepting her lips and the breasts that pressed against his chest, the legs that tightened at his waist. His cock swelled and throbbed, each pulse flooding her with more of his seed. He groaned against her lips and finally pulled away. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “’Twas my fault,” he said. He brushed his hand through her hair. “You feel good and I couldna seem to stop when I should have.” “I could feel it,” she said. She nuzzled her face into the side of his neck and kissed his jaw. “Your cock seemed to burst inside of me. I could feel the fluid pump inside. I liked it.” “Oh, I liked it, too, lass,” he said. “’Twas a huge mistake, but…” Riley raised her face. “But what?” “I’ve not felt anything like that in my entire life.” “Never?” Riley asked. When Rafe shook his head, she smiled. “I was the first?” “Aye, lass, does that somehow please you?” She brushed her tongue against his lips then gave him a slow kiss that devoured every inch of his mouth. By the time she was finished, Rafe could barely catch his breath.
“It pleases me greatly, Master Logan. And if it never happens again, I’ll remember this time because I’ve not felt anything like that in my entire life either.” He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “You need to go to bed, Mistress Sullivan. There’s an eager lad in the other room that will need his breakfast.” “Will you come with me?” “I’ll be in,” he said, “but I need to do a little thinking. Riley…” She wiggled on his lap and his cock seemed to like it, but he thought maybe the fun was over for the night. At least it would be soon. She stared at him with brows raised, waiting for him to continue. “What did Peter do to you?” he asked. She grew very still and the smile melted from her face, dissolving into something painful to see. She wet her lips and began to tug on the bottom one. “Do I have to talk about it?” she asked. When he nodded, she took a deep breath. “You won’t like it.” “I know, lass, tell me anyway.” He took her hand and she began to talk. Slowly at first, then more manic as the thoughts filled her head. She couldn’t seem to get rid of them fast enough. “When he said I’d like it, I started to argue. I shouldn’t have, I should have run, but I argue about everything and we’d argued before. Usually he just hit me and let me go. When he tried to grab me I knew I’d made a mistake. I tried to run, but Peter was a big man. Not as big as you, but big. He didn’t have any trouble catching me and he didn’t have trouble holding me down. He said I’d like being fucked because I was a whore and all whores liked to be fucked.” Her eyes darted away from his for a moment and when they swung back, her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I knew it was wrong, Rafe, and I knew I wouldn’t like it.” Rafe squeezed her hand. “When he kissed me I thought I might be sick … but he kept holding my face and wouldn’t let me go. He pulled my hair, holding it and tugging my head back so he could kiss my neck and I thought I should scream but I was afraid Brian would come out and … I would have died to have Brian come out. I kept begging him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. He never said a word to me once he kissed me. His silence was so scary. It was as though he wasn’t even there except for his hands and his mouth and his…” She took a deep breath. “He kept pressing it against me and he was holding me so tight I couldn’t get away from him. He started to touch me … at first through my clothes, over my breasts and … between my legs. I was scared but I kept thinking he’ll stop, he’ll stop, but he didn’t stop. He started to tear at my blouse and when I bit his mouth, he stopped for a minute but then he hit me. More than once. More than twice. I lost count. I don’t know which was worse, the hands that clawed at me or the ones that opened wide and hit me. My da had such strong hands. He was a good blacksmith and very strong. He had such powerful hands. All I knew was I couldn’t let him touch my skin because … if he touched me I knew I wouldn’t be Riley Sullivan anymore. I’m not sure I stopped him in time. I don’t know if I saved her fast enough.” She bowed her head and her hair fell across her face. He brushed it back and saw her eyes were closed. Her forehead dropped against his. “You did, darlin’”
“After that he was so angry and he hit me more just because he could. But then he started to talk and I wished he would stop. He said if I wasn’t going to let him be nice about it, he didn’t really care, if I wanted to be a cold bitch like my mother, he didn’t care and if I wanted it to hurt, he didn’t care. I was so afraid because I didn’t think I could stop it. He tried to … well, he tried to…” “Stop, Riley. No more.” He grabbed her face and pressed soft kisses on her cheeks, letting his mouth drift toward her lips. Suddenly her mouth covered his, her lips desperate, wet, moving across his, searching for some kind of answer. Her soft voice filled his mouth. “Don’t make me think of it. It makes me think that everything I want, everything I feel, everything I do with you is wrong. And I don’t want to feel that way, Rafe. I want it to be right.” Her lips continued to ravage his mouth. He wanted to answer her but she kept talking, the words spewing from her lips like a poison she had held too long in her body. And her soft wonderful lips were mauling his with a savagery that seemed to come from so far inside she had lost control. “None of what he did was right. I know that. No matter what he thought, no matter what he wanted, I’m not a whore and it wasn’t right to make me feel that way. He was trying to punish me, Rafe, punish me for who I am. I was better than he was, better at everything but swinging the hammer and he knew it.” She pulled away and got a hard look on her face. For one moment he wouldn’t have recognized the beautiful girl that he knew. “I was his daughter. What he did was wrong, so I stopped him. Don’t ask me about it again, Rafe. Please. I don’t want to remember it.” She lifted from his lap and his cock slid from her body, nestling back to his. Already it felt like his cock belonged to her. It was not a good feeling at all and Rafe realized at that moment that he was surely going to hell. “You’re very brave, darlin’,” he said, “to be the way you are.” “Not really. I’ve not had a choice.” “How can you stand the touch of my hands?” he asked. She gave him a shy smile. “Because they’re yours.” As he watched her move toward the bedroom, he wondered how a girl like that would survive once he had dragged her to hell with him. It sounded as though she had already been there.
Chapter 17 Rafe toyed with the brandy glass in front of him and watched Riley as she threaded the needle. She was putting the finishing touches on some curtains she was making for the keeping room. She’d not mentioned their conversation and neither had he. He thought maybe pulling Sullivan’s ghost out and confronting him might have helped. At least he hoped it had. She seemed a little better the next morning. Before he had left for the smithy she’d given him a long kiss and told him to watch Brian near the fire because a blacksmith often got so involved in the transformation he forgot about safety. He thought that might be a sign she trusted him. A little. She concentrated on the house, determined to make the cottage into a comfortable home. She had been shopping for days, returning with baskets of fabric and sacks of staples that she put into her cupboards while she hummed a little song that sounded happy and content. She had also purchased a large quilt for their bed from a seamstress. When she spread it over the lumpy mattress, she had raised her eyes timidly. “I could have made us one even nicer than this but I’ve not enough time because you wanted it right now.” “’Tis beautiful,” he said. “And worth whatever price you paid.” He had tugged her across the bed and when she fell laughing he had taken her in the middle of the afternoon with the door wide open. When Brian had come searching for him, accusing of him of doing anything to get out of work, Rafe had tugged the quilt across them and listened to Riley giggle beneath the covers. Brian had stormed from the cottage in a huff but not before Rafe had seen the smile cross the boy’s face. When Riley returned the leather purse later, Rafe saw that paying her debts and purchasing what she’d wanted had cost him very little and gained him more. She hadn’t stopped smiling for days and even a casual meeting with Daniel Corrigan had not stolen her happiness. She had wound her arm through Rafe’s, met Daniel with a friendly smile and chatted breezily about the changes they were making at the shop. Daniel had been none too happy, but Rafe cared little for what Corrigan thought. He only cared that Riley seemed to be able to forgive, which was something he had a hard time understanding, but he was grateful she was happy. He didn’t know if he’d done the right thing but in Rafe’s world nothing cheered a woman faster than new things. At Fallen Angels he’d learned that any problem could be solved with the toss of a coin. A bruise on the face, a swollen lip, even a broken arm could always be forgotten if he flipped a generous tip their way. They’d cry for a while, threaten to leave and find a respectable man to care for them. Rafe would listen, dry their eyes and assure them that aye, there were respectable men out there, but no one would care for them as he could. He’d give them a coin for their suffering and a day off for their pain and the next, dressed in a new corset or ribbon for their hair, they would be eager to work again. A few times he’d held them in his arms while they slept, fearful because someone had threatened them or beaten them. While he tenderly guarded his woman, his men would hunt down the vicious bastard and extract whatever punishment Rafe deemed appropriate. More than a few bodies had found their way to the dark waters of the
Thames and it served as a warning to the men that came to Fallen Angels. The women were whores, but they were still women and Rafe Logan took care of his women. But he never fucked them. His women were the best whores in Southwark but they were exactly that. Whores. Rafe knew nothing would skewer the view at Fallen Angels faster than his preference for one over another. He treated them equally, no matter what form their bodies took or how beautiful or plain their faces. Each one had strengths and weaknesses and clients that chose them for one reason or another and Rafe had decided long ago that he would never allow one woman alone to be the answer to his prayers. He had learned from the best. Valerie Logan had been a beautiful woman but she showed her sons no preference in her treatment of men. They were merely two more males that wanted her attention and she squeezed them into her schedule when she could, or when coin did not interfere. And when Tabby had entered his life, he quickly discovered that no matter how much you gave it was never enough. The new women at Fallen Angels always thought they had a chance with Rafe Logan. Much to the disgust and amusement of the older ones, there were always attempts to lure him to their apartments, coax his hand under their skirts or trap him in a darkened stairway where favors were unseen. He’d had more than one woman tug his breeches down past his knees in a movement so fast he could feel the brush of their lips on his cock before he knew what had happened. But Rafe’s one unequivocal rule of conduct at Fallen Angels was chiefly one he had instituted to curb his own behavior. None of the men were permitted under any circumstances to sample the wares. Not for coin. Not for free. And when he suspected one of his men of fraternizing with the whores, he made it clear the man would be dismissed and the whore was warned next time she would be sent back to the streets. It had only happened once in ten years. Now he was trying to convince himself that he hadn’t really violated his own rule. He was nowhere near Fallen Angels and Riley Sullivan was nowhere near a whore, not yet. He thought maybe he had managed to cheat the system at least for now. Once he had her on the ship, once he had told her what her future held, things would have to change between them. He could not take Riley Sullivan to Fallen Angels thinking they would continue to fuck. As much as he might want to keep her, he would have to let her go. Let her go? Not a problem, lad. When she discovers the whole truth of this miserable little charade she’ll stick a knife in your gut before she lets you stick your cock back in her. Rafe laughed and it drew Riley’s attention. She smiled at him then went back to sewing. He had already decided one thing about Riley. Once he told her, his life wouldn’t be worth much around her. It would probably be for the best but, damn, he would miss her. He’d known her nine days now. Nine blessed days and it felt like a lifetime. He watched as her golden head bent over the fabric in her lap. The candlelight fanned across her face and he saw the confidence in her skill as she wound tiny stitches through the cloth. Brian got the same look on his face as he examined the tiny welds he created in the iron. There was strength in the Sullivan siblings, more strength than he’d ever seen in such young people. They were stubborn and proud and determined to keep what people kept trying to yank away from them. Men like Peter Sullivan and Daniel Corrigan had done them no favors and Rafe Logan would do far worse. He would be just
one more in a list of people who thought their dreams and hopes meant nothing and their simple little lives held little value in the grander scheme. The problem was, when he yanked something away, it was going to ruin their lives forever. He tossed the rest of the brandy down his throat and his movement caught Riley’s attention. She put her sewing in the basket, blew out the candle and rose from the rocker, coming toward him. She held out her hand and he took it. “Are you sleepy?” she asked. “No, lass, just restless.” “Too much thinking,” she said. “I always knew lying in bed and letting your thoughts wander was a certain way to lose your peace of mind. ‘Tis better to keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. Have you been letting your thoughts wander too far afield?” “Aye … in fact they’ve wandered so far I’ve forgotten where they started.” “Come to bed,” she said. “We can focus your thoughts on other things.” He stood up and slid his arms around her waist. “Are you happy, Riley?” She seemed surprised by his question. Her eyes widened and her golden brows rose. “Have you been contemplating the meaning of life, Rafe Logan? Nothing will confuse a man faster than that.” “No, just the meaning of my own,” he said. “And yours.” “Mine? ‘Tis a simple life and hardly needs contemplation. We’re a blacksmith family and a smithy’s family we’ll stay. Brian seems to be enjoying the work. I’d not thought he might actually like it, but he thrives, and he still finds the time for his reading and studying. In fact, he’s asked for some books on alchemy and metals.” “Aye, I know,” Rafe said. “I’ve already written a letter requesting them. The bookbinder seemed to think we might find some in the next county. ‘Twill take a few days, but if they’re to be had, we’ll have them.” “You’re spoiling us, Rafe. When you’re gone…” She closed her eyes for a moment, then met his with a shy smile. “Well, we’ll deal with that when it comes.” “Aye, lass, we’ll deal with it when it comes, but you never answered my question. Are you happy?” Riley’s eyes flickered away from him for a moment, settling on the hearth fire. He thought she wasn’t going to answer at all, but finally her eyes returned to his and what he saw confused the hell out of him. The soft sea green of her eyes darkened and turned into slices of hard emerald stone. They glistened with unshed tears but there was nothing in her eyes that required comfort or tenderness. He thought perhaps if he touched her she would pull away. For one moment it felt like her eyes had drilled through his skull and had burrowed into his mind, like she sensed betrayal. “I’m trying not to be,” she said softly. “Why?” “Because I can’t risk it,” she said. “But you seem…” “Aye, happy,” she said. “Like I said, I try not to be, but I’m not always successful. It gets harder every day.” “There’s nothing wrong with being happy,” Rafe said. “No, when the happiness is real ‘tis a wondrous thing,” Riley said. “But when ‘tis false, disaster is sure to follow. Do you know anything of disaster, Rafe?”
“Aye, lass.” “My life has seemed one disaster after another. I’ve learned the moment I become complacent, or I allow myself to feel safe, or content, or happy, that is the exact moment the world drops out from beneath my feet. I have often held to the edge by the tips of my fingers.” “You’ve survived it all, Riley.” “Aye, but the more I have, the more I stand to lose.” “We have the shop running, darlin’, and Brian is going to be the best damn smithy in Virginia. We’ll pass the inspection.” “I know. You’re both working so hard.” She paused and her teeth tugged at her lower lip. She had something on her mind and she was hesitating to say it. He caught her chin and gave her an encouraging nod. She offered a shy smile. “I am happy, Rafe. ‘Tis not a pretense. ‘Tis real.” “Aye, lass, I know,” Rafe said. He took her hand and tugged her to the bedroom. He wondered exactly what hell would be like when he got there.
Chapter 18 Riley stood back to inspect her work. The little curtains hanging in the casements made the cottage seemed cozy. They implied permanence, comfort and the desire to make an actual home. For the first time Riley realized how tenuous her life had been and how insecure she had felt. Rafe Logan had somehow changed all that. He and Brian worked from dawn to dusk, laboring over hot coals, struggling to finish work that had been languishing in the shop for months. They had made tentative progress and in the last few days had actually completed jobs and returned tools and house wares to their owners. They had a small sack of coins to show for their hard work and credit at several merchants. Brian was not yet strong enough to swing the hammer, but with his expertise in the control of the heat and Logan’s strength, the two of them made a strange partnership. She wanted to help but Logan insisted she stay in the cottage and take care of the house and the accounting records. He said if it was her business she should control the damn money and suffer the headaches that went with it. She smiled just thinking of that. She knew this life she led now was merely a reprieve. Once Logan was gone from her life she and Brian would not be able to do it alone. Even if she returned to the smithy, neither of them was strong enough and Brian was years away from being capable of doing the work alone. But if they lived frugally they might be able to secure an indenture once the shop was hers. She hadn’t told Logan her plan because he would have some kind of argument. For now she was content to keep the cottage clean, the meals hot and ready and their small measure of profit meticulously recorded. Writing in the ledger book gave her an enormous sense of satisfaction. Each evening Brian would sit with her and give her an accounting of everything they had accomplished during the day. His excitement was almost too much to bear. When she found it on her list it gave her great pleasure to write payment received next to a broken hay fork, a mended chain or a cracked cooking pot. As she watched the list of outstanding work dwindle and become something she could put into the past, she tried not to think of the future. Logan had made no promises. Though she knew he was searching for his lost brother, he had not told her how long he planned to look. He spent his days in the smithy and most evenings at the taverns and public places inquiring about his brother. So far he had found no one familiar with Michael Logan. He had dispatched messages to the outlying counties and waited patiently until the replies arrived. Logan grew quiet as he read each letter and Riley watched as the expression on his face transformed from one of hope to one of resignation. His brother had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. It was as though he had never arrived in Jamestown at all. Each morning she woke she feared he would tell her he would leave on the next ship and though she knew that would give her time to prepare to lose him, it wouldn’t be enough. In a little over a week, he had taken a firm place in their household, in Brian’s life and in her heart. The idea of Raphael Logan having a place in her heart scared her more than anything.
The knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She had no desire to speak with Daniel Corrigan. The man had done nothing but badger her for days. Logan was no sooner out of the cottage in the morning when Daniel showed up. She was tired of his lectures, his cautionary warnings, his begging. Now that he’d discovered she had given herself to another man, Daniel was determined to have her for himself. He had practically forced himself on her yesterday and Riley lived in fear that Logan would come back to the cottage and find Corrigan’s hands on her. She wasn’t sure how he would react and she was afraid to find out. Part of her was afraid he might not care. She steeled her nerves as she put her hands on the latch. When she yanked open the door she was ready to tell him to go away but she found herself pushed into the room by a strong body that crushed against hers. The door slammed as arms wound around her and every protest was suddenly smothered by a mouth that dropped out of nowhere. She recognized the feel of the lips, the taste of the tongue, the heat of the kiss. It wasn’t Daniel. She tried to get her arms between them but it was impossible. The hard body pulled her tighter and she had no choice but to acquiesce. She was dragged toward the window and heard the shutters close with a thud and then she felt fingers fumbling with the laces of her corset. A warm hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her shirt and the kiss deepened, pulling a groan from deep inside the man’s chest. Riley tried to tug away, but each movement seemed to spur the man to greater liberties. He reached inside her shirt and found her naked skin, his hand brushing across a nipple. It rose under his questing hand and Riley felt a stab deep inside. Frantically she reached up and cupped the man’s face, pulling his lips from hers. “Mick, stop,” she said. “I’ve missed you,” he said. He caught at her mouth again, his tongue plunging into her mouth with determination. Riley moaned and for one moment accepted the hunger of the man’s mouth and the fingers that searched inside her shirt. She pushed at him again and his mouth left hers but dipped toward her neck with blinding speed. His lips sucked at her flesh. “’Tis only been a week,” she said. “Ten days, lass, a lifetime without you,” he said. He lifted his face and his blue eyes drilled into hers. “Promises were made. Did you think I’d not remember? The gaol doesna steal everything from a man’s head. I’ve thought of nothing but you.” “The promise was made in a moment of … weakness, Mick.” “’Twas not weakness,” he said. “’Twas want, need, love. You said you’d have me, Riley Sullivan. Do not seek to change your mind.” His mouth devoured hers again and he pushed her back against the wall, his body tight against hers, his manhood pressing into her belly. His hands wrapped around her bottom and pulled her close and she felt his fingers curl in the fabric, lifting. She tore her mouth from his. “Mick, stop. ‘Tis not what I promised.” His hands tightened on her bottom and she felt his manhood stir against her. “Aye, lass, you did. I remember each word. You asked me to make love to you that night. You had taken my hand and we were mere steps from the bedroom.”
“Then the door burst open and they took you away,” she said with disgust. “’Twas nothing, Riley.” “How many times have you been in gaol, Mick? And was each of those times nothing as well? You’re developing quite a reputation in the village. The poor Blakes have made a sorry choice.” “My reputation wasna going to stop you, lass. You wanted me. Your body was hot. Your kisses had sucked me dry. And you promised to think of marrying me, Riley.” “I wasn’t thinking right, Mick.” “Thinking wasna part of the evening,” Mick said, “but I didna mind. Take me to the bedroom now, lass. We can finish what we started.” “Nothing was started,” Riley said. “Nothing?” Mick asked. “It didna seem so to me. You would have been thoroughly fucked with a little more luck and a little more time. ‘Twas what you wanted.” “That’s not true!” Mick smiled, a lazy grin that spread across his face. “Have you had a change of heart then, lass? Am I not man enough for you now?” He pressed against her, pushing his swollen manhood between her thighs. “I can guarantee satisfaction. You willna be disappointed.” Riley gasped and pressed her back against the wall. “Is every man in this village suddenly insane?” “Let me slide inside of you, darlin’. No one will know and we can post the banns today if you want. I’ve been aching for you, Riley.” He took her hand and pulled it between them. “Feel that?” “Aye,” Riley whispered. “’Tis hard and swollen with need, with want of you. I’ve thought of nothing but you these past days. I love you, Riley Sullivan. I can make you happy, in bed and out. And if ‘tis a blacksmith I must be to have you, a blacksmith I will be. Tell me you’ll have me.” “I can’t, Mick,” she said. She drew back as his lips searched for her mouth. “Things have changed. Let me go.” His arms dropped away and he took a step back but his big body was still crowding her, allowing her no way to escape. He raked his hands through shaggy light brown hair, pulling it back from his forehead anxiously. “You canna hold the gaol over my head,” Mick said. “’Twas an honest mistake and I’ve made good on it.” “You’ve made a lot of mistakes,” she said. A spark of anger flashed in his blue eyes and he peered at her intently, the boyish exuberance of his handsome face darkening into something harder, more mature. “Do you seek retribution on me for the way I’m made?” he asked. “I canna change who I am.” “I’ve noticed,” Riley said. “You speak of promises, Mick, and yet every promise you’ve made to me has been broken time and time again.” “And what promises might those be, lass?” “You’ve said you’ll pursue an occupation.” “I’ll be whatever you decide. I can swing a hammer here or work the mill.” “’Tis hard to do either locked in gaol. You’ve said you’ll stop drinking.”
He winked at her and a charming smile spread on his generous lips. “And I’ve not had a drink in over a week.” Riley huffed and gave him a shove. She maneuvered away from the hands that once again tried to grab at her. “And you’ve promised to stop playing cards in the tavern.” Mick spread his hands. “I canna help it. I’m usually lucky and ‘tis an easy way to put coin in my purse. You canna hold it against me if I’ve a natural talent.” “’Tis not an occupation,” Riley said. “’Tis a vice.” “And you’ve no vices, lass? You’re the perfect specimen of all that is womanhood?” “We’re not talking about me,” she said. “We’re talking about you.” “Perhaps, but let’s talk about you.” Mick pulled her against him and slid his hand into her shirt. “You’ve fairly blossomed this last year and pure woman you’ve become. Your body yearns for something, Riley, and you shouldna hold it back. ‘Tis pleasure you need, wrapped in the arms of a man who seeks nothing but your happiness. You need to be in my arms, Riley.” “Your arms can’t hold me, Mick. They’re too often confined to gaol and offer no security.” Mick laughed. “You don’t need security. You need to be fucked.” “Not by you,” she said. “What a liar you are, Riley Sullivan,” he said. “That mouth of yours speaks cruel words because you’re angry with me but your kiss didna lie. ‘Tis obvious you want to fuck me. Your heart races, your breathing deepens, your mouth opens and you take my tongue. Your nipples harden when I touch you.” When his fingers teased her nipple into a hard aching peak, Riley closed her eyes. His touch was stirring her body, but the thoughts that swarmed through her mind had nothing to do with Mick Kavanaugh. All she could think of was getting Mick out of her house so she could go to the smithy and find Logan. She was throbbing between her legs. Mick’s hand ran down her back and slid between her thighs. “Your pussy is hot,” he said softly. “Let me fuck you, Riley.” “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.” He lifted her face and his eyes peered into hers. “What’s changed, lass? Your body is responding. I can feel it, but what’s happened to your heart? Kiss me, darlin’. Don’t let your anger deny what we both want. Show me the promise was real.” His mouth touched hers softly, his tongue brushing across her lips. She couldn’t help herself. Mick Kavanaugh was real. She opened her mouth and accepted the kiss of a man that could be part of her life. Mick had gentle talented hands. Mick’s mouth was warm, filled with passion. She thought Mick might actually love her and more importantly he would be strong enough to swing the hammer once Logan was gone.
Chapter 19 Rafe shook the water from his hair and gave himself a cursory look. Clean enough. He headed toward the back door with the clear intent of telling Riley he and Brian were famished when he got seriously distracted. He had taken two steps into the cottage when he saw Riley wasn’t alone. They were standing near the front door but it was closed and the room was shadowed with deep pockets of darkness. She either hadn’t opened the shutters or someone had closed them. The white of her shirt and apron were partially visible behind the figure of a tall well built man with unruly hair. The man was leaning very close to her and it appeared to be a very intimate conversation. One of the stranger’s hands was nestled between her thighs. The other was hidden and Logan suspected it might be on her breast. Their bodies seemed to be touching from the waist down. The stranger standing in his cottage was bad enough. A man talking to Riley was slightly worse but the hands were something he couldn’t tolerate. His fists clenched instinctively as he strode across the room. As Rafe neared, the man leaned down and kissed her. Rafe was on them so fast the man didn’t have time to turn and Riley hadn’t uttered a word beyond a terrified squeak. Her eyes were wide and even as he heard her shout of no, he had grabbed the man by the collar and tossed him toward the wall. He heard the thud and turned to Riley, shoving his finger toward her face. “Stand there! Not a movement. Not a word. I’ll deal with you in a minute, Mistress Sullivan.” The man on the floor groaned but Rafe was not one to offer sympathy, especially to a man that had invaded his home and touched his… Christ, it didn’t matter what kind of relationship they had. Riley belonged to him. The man was on his knees, trying to get to his feet, when Rafe hauled him by the back of the shirt, slammed him against the wall and drew his fist back. There was a dazed look in the man’s blue eyes but Rafe barely noticed the man’s face until he saw the lazy grin settle across his mouth. Riley was pulling on the back on his shirt and pleading with him to stop, but he wasn’t much interested in listening to anything she had to say. “Easy, Raphael,” the man said. “God damn it!” “’Tis good to see you too.” Rafe yanked the man from the wall then slammed him back again, his hand across the man’s throat. “Prepare yourself,” Rafe growled. “Not my lucky day?” the man asked. “You’re a Logan, boy, you’ve not had a lucky day in your life,” Rafe said. Rafe drew back his arm, tightened his fist and hurled it toward the man’s face. His eyes squeezed shut as the fist slammed into his jaw. Rafe released his choke hold and, stepping back, hurled a disgusted look toward the man as he slumped to the floor. “What is wrong with you?” Riley shouted. Rafe stared at the man on the floor. “Get out, Riley.” “I will not. This is my house.”
Rafe spun around and Riley jerked backwards. “You will do as I say, madam. Immediately.” The man on the floor was groaning, staggering to his feet. He held onto the wall for support, then leaned against it swaying. He wiped his hand across his mouth and when he saw the smear of blood, glanced toward Rafe with a touch of anger in his glassy eyes. “You didna have to do that,” he said. “Maybe not,” Rafe said, “but I wanted to. What in bloody hell are you doing here? And why are you touching what belongs to me?” Riley had flung open the shutters and the room was bathed in brilliant light. She ran toward the man and held a wet cloth up to his mouth. “Get away from him,” Rafe said. Riley lifted the man’s hand and pressed it to the cloth. Leaning close to the wounded man, she murmured something Rafe couldn’t hear but it riled him up faster than anything she could have spat at him. Her proximity to the man and the blatant familiarity between them was making the blood roar through his head and his temples were pounding with the beat of the blacksmith’s hammer. Each strike twisted his rage into another facet more disturbing than the last. Though her eyes were fixed tenderly on the bleeding man, Riley was reprimanding him now. She was berating him for his callousness, his temper, his recklessness. He barely heard the words for the pounding in his head. She finally turned to Rafe with her hands on her hips. “Who do you think you are, Logan? You can’t just barge in here and punch my guest.” Rafe scowled and Riley took a step toward the man against the wall. Rafe followed her until he was practically pressed against her. “First, Mistress Sullivan, I wasna barging. I happen to live here. Second, I fail to see how this reprobate could be considered a guest.” He shot a glance toward the man. “I’ve every right to entertain whomever I wish,” Riley said. She straightened and lifted her chin defiantly but Rafe continued to move until her back was pressed against the wall. “You don’t own me, Rafe Logan.” “That, madam, is where you are wrong.” Riley’s eyes widened. She thrust her hands at his chest and gave him a shove. “’Tis a bargain! A temporary bargain. I don’t belong to you.” “You have found yourself enough trouble this day, mistress. I didna see you fighting the hands that seemed disgustingly familiar with your body. I do not wish to hear another word from your mouth.” He held up his hand when Riley’s lips parted. “Don’t even think about it.” Riley huffed and tightened her lips, but her eyes were flashing a warning that Rafe might have found amusing under different circumstances. As it stood she was lucky he’d not seen her reaction to the kiss. He shot her a dirty look then folded his arms and stared at the wounded man. “Enlighten me, Michael. Tell me why you’re here, in this cottage, and I’ve not heard from you in nearly a year.” Unperturbed and immune to Rafe’s shout, the man smiled. He hooked his thumb in Riley’s direction. “Do you want to discuss this in front of her?” “Discuss what?” Riley demanded. She twisted her face between the two men, clearly forgetting his order. “How do you know each other?”
“’Tis not your concern,” Rafe said. The man pushed himself away from the wall, nearly colliding with Rafe’s bulk. He brushed past, dabbing his face with the cloth. “You know, if you cracked my jaw, you’re going to have to watch your back. ‘Twas always said I was the pretty one but with a crooked…” “Enough, Michael. I’m not the first man to pound you bloody.” Michael pulled a chair away from the table, dropped into it with a heavy sigh and continued to mop at the blood leaking from his mouth. “Well now, there’s been time or two I’ve deserved a pounding, but today … today I was being a perfect gentleman. Nearly perfect any way.” Rafe rolled his eyes. “A nearly perfect gentleman. I don’t even want to think about what that means. Had I been a minute later…” “Relax, Rafe, nothing’s happened,” Michael said, “although I fail to see how it could possibly be your business.” Riley was tugging on Rafe’s sleeve and he shooed her off like a mosquito. “I wasna happy about the kiss,” Rafe said. “’Twas clear it wasna the first.” “Are you ever happy?” Michael asked. “A moodier man I’ve never known. Dark, brooding, silent, so intense all the time. Come on, Rafe. Are you at least not happy to see me?” Rafe studied the man. The cottage had been dark, gloomy, but even in the light of day, Rafe wasn’t sure he would have recognized his brother on the street. His hair had lightened in the Virginia sun, turning from a dark brown to a lighter shade streaked with golden highlights that practically shone in the dim light. When Michael had left England he’d been a tall lanky man, but here he’d put on weight and muscle as though he’d been doing some honest labor. A year in Virginia had turned his brother from a pale skinny youth into a hardy good-looking man. Despite the fact that Michael looked healthy and happy, that didn’t explain why he’d not sent word back home and not returned with the girl. “I’d be happier were you lying in a pine box,” Rafe said. “That would at least provide some excuse for what I didna hear.” “’Tis obvious I’m well,” Michael said. He gave his brother a lopsided smile. “If you were worried on that count. And ‘tis also obvious I’ve found what you wanted.” “’Tis more like I found what I wanted,” Rafe said. “It doesna look like you were going to bring it home, Michael.” “Well, now,” Michael said. “Things had a way of getting in the way.” “Things?” Rafe asked. “What kinds of things?” Riley was moving toward the hearth when Michael reached out and grabbed her wrist. He gave her a tug and she spilled into his lap. Riley scrambled, trying desperately to get up, but Michael wound his arms around her waist. Riley’s eyes darted to Rafe’s and when she saw the look on his face, she squeezed her eyes closed and looked to be praying. Michael pulled her tight against him. “You know,” Michael said. “Things. I like it here, Rafe, and I intend to stay. Virginia has been good to me. At least most days. I just got out of gaol, but ‘twasn’t my fault and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Riley here will try to tell you ‘tis a bad habit but she’s not yet benefited from my skill. What happened ‘twas a total misunderstanding and
I canna help it if some people here don’t know how to play cards. You know I’ve always been able…” “Cease your babbling and get to the point, Michael. And Riley…” Rafe saw her peek at him, lifting her lids a tiny bit and peering through her lashes. If the day could possibly get any worse, he would like to see it. “Get off … my … brother’s … lap.” “Your brother!” Riley cried. She pushed her hands against Michael’s arms and reluctantly he released her. She jumped up and scurried around the table, trying to put distance between them. “But your name is Logan.” “Aye, and…” “Mick’s name is Kavanaugh,” she said. She glanced between them. “And you look nothing alike.” “My mother was a whore, lass,” Rafe said. “She rarely bedded the same man twice. Kavanaugh, Michael? Was that not the name of your rather apathetic da? Didna like the man much myself, but at least you knew him. Is the name Logan not good enough in Virginia or did you think to hide from me, Mick?” “Hide?” Michael asked. “Now that you mention it … aye, I did seek to hide. Honestly, Raphael, I didna think you’d care. I was not much good to you and…” Rafe’s hands curled into fists. Across the room, Riley squinched her eyes closed again. “You’re still my brother, Michael, and I sent you here for a reason. Did you think I’d not want to know what you found?” Michael leaned forward in his chair and dangled his hands between his knees. “Now, Rafe, I thought of writing you a letter. Truly. You’ll have to believe me on that. How’s Gabrielle by the way? Does she miss me?” “Gabby is fine,” Rafe snarled, “but with you gone she found we have infinitely more cash lying about. Do not seek to divert my attention.” Michael shrugged and glanced at Riley. “He gets obsessive.” Riley nodded in concurrence and Rafe gave them both his hardest glare. “Well, I was going to write, but I decided ‘twas probably best this way.” Rafe cocked his head. “This way? You mean the scenario where I pound you to a bloody pulp, and possibly kill you, for disregarding my instructions, embezzling the money I provided for your assignment, and forgetting that you’re not the one in charge of the bloody house! ‘Tis my contract. My property. My business!” Michael rose to his feet and Riley ducked behind a chair. “You’re upset,” Michael said. “Fucking right I’m upset!” “We’ll discuss it,” Michael said. “There’s nothing to discuss! You failed the assignment I gave you, lied to me, hid halfway across the world and have fairly stolen what belongs to me!” “To be fair here,” Michael said. “I havena lied. I just never…” “Christ, Michael, shut the hell up!” “As far as the assignment goes,” Michael said, “I didna actually fail because I found what I came for. I just … I just decided to keep it for myself.” “Bloody hell!” Rafe cried. “You will not! ‘Tis mine!” “Now that you’re here—which is very unfortunate by the way—I suppose we have a few things we should talk about.”
Rafe glared at Michael. He was ready to pummel his brother to within an inch of his life. He slowly moved his eyes to Riley. “Get out, Riley, I’ll talk with you later.” She took a step toward him. “But Rafe… Does this have something to do with me?” “Go now.” She managed to keep her eyes on him for a moment but when he saw a look of defeat settle there he knew their talk later was not going to be easy. Something was clearly happening between her and his brother. He shot Michael another glance and he saw his brother was watching Riley with a puzzled expression, almost disbelief. When his brother moved toward her, everything in him told him to knock Michael to the ground, but for some reason he stood frozen, unable to move, unable to say a word. Michael put his hands on Riley’s shoulders, leaned down and whispered something. She furiously shook her head and when Michael reached up to cup her face, Rafe blew out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Riley stared into Michael’s eyes while he continued to whisper and finally her lashes lowered and she nodded. He pulled her against him and for one horrified moment Rafe saw his brother kiss the woman that belonged to him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. Michael wrapped his arms around her and his mouth covered hers in a breathless rush. What the hell? And why do you care? Anything that’s happened here doesna matter. You’ll take the girl because she belongs to you. You’ll leave Virginia and return to England where you belong. Michael finds another girl and you have a woman worth a bloody fortune. And then what, Logan? “We get on with our bloody lives,” he whispered. Michael walked Riley to the back door. As he opened it, she glanced over her shoulder and Rafe felt her eyes flicker across him. He gave her a stern look, folded his arms and tossed his head and when the door closed he turned to deal with his latest problem.
Chapter 20 When Michael came toward him, Rafe grabbed him by the shirt with both hands and slammed him against the hearth. “What the fuck is going on here, Michael?” “’Tis not obvious?” Michael asked. “No, nothing’s been obvious since I’ve been here,” Rafe said. “Spell it for me, Mick. Tell me exactly what you’ve been doing here for the past year.” He yanked Michael toward him, then shoved him sideways. Michael collided with the table, knocking over one of the benches. He gave his brother a wry smile. “You’ve not changed,” he said. “You’re still the most hot-tempered man I’ve ever met. I would have thought after that bloody voyage you might see that life is worth living.” “The way I live is not your concern.” “You could stand to make some changes,” Michael said. “For instance, I’ve changed greatly since I’ve come to these shores.” “I fail to see how you’ve changed. You’ve been in gaol, for Christ’s sake! I bailed you out of gaol once at week in Southwark. Cost me a bloody fortune.” “Aye, and it happens here from time to time as well, but ‘tis nothing serious.” “Any trip to gaol is serious, Michael.” “’Twill surprise you greatly to learn I’m employed in the service of the miller. He and his wife have taken a shine to me and…” “All women take a shine to you, Michael.” Michael winked. “’Tis not that way. They’re a childless couple, hardworking, but ‘tis been getting more difficult for them lately and he sought an apprentice. ‘Tis good honest work with hope for a future. I’ve been trying to wear her down and…” “Who?” Rafe growled. “Riley of course! She had her doubts when we met, but I’ve proven myself now and there’s no reason she shouldna want me. I’ve asked her to marry me. We can keep the smithy running if…” “Marry you! For Christ’s sake, Michael, the woman belongs to me! Have you forgotten the reason for being on these bloody shores?” “Aye, Rafe, I have. I didna think even you’d have the balls to travel an ocean for a contract. If ‘tis that important to you, I’ll buy her.” “She’s not for sale,” Rafe snarled, “and you couldna afford it. I’ve come to claim her and she returns with me.” “Then there’s a problem between us. What have you told her?” “Nothing as yet. I was looking for you. Of course ‘tis hard to find a man that doesna exist, Master Kavanaugh.” “Not as hard as it should have been,” Michael mumbled. “Now that I know you’re not lying in a shallow grave with an arrow in your back, I can get the hell out of here. The Lioness sails back to England in a few days. I plan to be on it, with Riley. Are you returning or staying here in your new life?”
“I’ve no desire to go back, Rafe. Life’s good here. I’ve lost my taste for Southwark. That place would kill me now. And Fallen Angels may be the best stew on the Thames but I canna go back.” “I understand,” Rafe said. “I’ll leave you money…” “And I canna allow you to take Riley there.” Rafe put his hands on his hips. “I’m trying to be generous here, Michael, and I’d appreciate your cooperation. You can stay but the girl comes with me. She was sold to me with clear intent and the contract…” “Fuck the contract, Rafe. You’ll not turn her into one of your whores.” “My whores are some of the best treated, wealthiest women in London.” “They’re still whores,” Michael said. “They’ll fuck anything with a coin and for less than that you can have your cock sucked by the best. You’ll not have her.” Rafe picked the bench up from the floor. He stared at it for a moment and finally met his brother’s eyes. “I’ve already had her, Michael.” Michael plunged his hands into his hair. “Oh, Christ, Rafe! Tell me you didna fuck her. She’s mine.” When Rafe didn’t answer, Michael stormed across the room. For one moment, Rafe didn’t move. He deserved everything his brother had to give. He saw Michael draw back his arm, saw his hand clench in such a powerful fist it surprised the hell out of him. He stood still until the last possible moment, then raised his hand and caught Michael’s punch in the palm of his hand. He grabbed his brother’s arm and twisted it behind his back, dragging him to the floor. “You had no right!” Michael said. “’Twas a violation of a contract and your own fucking principles. And damn it, Rafe, I’m bloody in love with her!” “I didna know that,” Rafe said quietly. Michael groaned and pulled himself up against the hearth. He leaned his head back against the stones, his eyes gazing across the room, his hands draped over his knees. Rafe hunkered down beside his brother. “You may think you’re the bloody king of Southwark, Rafe, but you canna go through life taking whatever you bloody want.” “Is that bit of wisdom something you picked up here?” Rafe asked. “’Tis something I shoulda been taught years ago,” Michael snarled. “But between having a whore for a mother, a father who cares not if I live or die and a brother who’s the biggest bastard on either continent, it slipped through my life lessons.” “You didna answer the question.” “Aye, I learned it here! In the last year I’ve worked hard, Rafe. I’ve proven myself to these people. I’ve a viable future as a miller and stand to inherit from the Blakes because they’re kind decent people and actually care about me.” “And yet you’ve been in gaol.” “’Tis harmless fun. My mates and I get into some scraps. This time Phillip Perkins thought he’d been cheated and he got a little riled. I’ve paid him back. I take care of my debts.” “And yet you failed to take care of business for me.” Michael rose to his feet and paced around the keeping room. Finally he headed toward the cabinet. “I had every intention of doing what you ask. For a month I stayed at the Stag and I just watched them. Peter was alive then but it was clear to me the girl kept
everything together. She pushed her father out the door in the morning, kept his books, gathered his accounts, and she paid a hard price for it.” “What price?” he asked quietly. “The poor lass was always covered in bruises. It broke my heart just seeing her every day but I couldna resist watching her. She wound her way into my heart, Rafe. She’s filled with every good quality a person can have.” “And some bad ones as well,” Rafe said. “Aye, but she’d not have survived without them. The night Peter Sullivan fell into that pit should have been the happiest day of her life and yet…” “He fell into the pit,” Rafe echoed. “Aye. Drunk. Stumbled and hit his head I guess. Fell face first into the pit. Took him a few days to die and Riley cared for him as though he didna lie in the bed with his life oozing out of the burns on his body. When he did finally die, no one saw her for nearly a month. Poor Brian wandered the village and some of the women took pity on him. Mistress Blake was one. ‘Tis how I met her because I followed the boy out to the mill. I didna know what was on his mind that day and I feared to find out.” Michael had found the whiskey bottle and took a long drink. “After that, I couldna tell her. When she finally came out of the cottage she seemed different. More alive. And when I thought of her spreading her legs on one of your velvet draped beds I thought I’d do anything to stop it. And I did. I gave up my life with you and chose a life here.” “And you love her,” Rafe said. “Aye. I’d do anything for her,” Michael said. “I want to make her happy.” “When happiness is real, ‘tis a wondrous thing. When ‘tis false, disaster follows.” “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” Michael said. “Would you want a woman that’s been fucked by another man?” “I don’t care about virginity,” Michael said, “never have. I’ll take Riley as she is.” “And if the man that fucked her was your brother?” “Did she come to you willingly?” “Aye,” Rafe said. “Would that be your interpretation of willing? Did you take off your shirt? Open your breeches? Play any of your games that leave a woman very little choice?” “No, Michael, ‘twould be willing. ‘Twas her choice. There was no force.” “No bargaining? ‘Tis a special gift you have, your ability to bargain. I suspect some day it will get you into heaven.” Rafe grabbed the bottle from Michael’s hand. “There might have been some bargaining,” Rafe murmured, “but have no doubts, Michael. No amount of bargaining will get me into heaven.” “I love her, Rafe,” Michael said. “I don’t know what’s been going on between you, but it doesna matter to me. I want to make her happy.” Rafe poured the whiskey down his throat. When he met Michael’s eyes, he saw a glimmer of something there that spiraled that little nag of guilt he’d been having into full blown culpability. Michael trusted him to make things right. The headache tugging at his consciousness hit him like a sledgehammer and it pounded into his head. Michael’s eyes had a glint of belief and there was something there that Rafe had never seen in Michael’s eyes. Hope.
“You’ll leave?” Michael asked. “Not yet. I’ve some thinking to do.” “Do you promise not to touch her again?” “No, I canna promise that.” “Christ, Rafe, why not? She means nothing to you! Past the Stag is a house and Tabitha Atkins…” “I’ve seen Tabby,” Rafe said, “and I don’t fuck whores.” “But you’ll fuck the woman I love?” Michael asked. “Aye,” Rafe said. “It appears so.” “And what if I tell her why you’re here?” “Then you’ve lost, Michael, because the moment she knows, I’ve no choice but to carry her on board the Lioness as my legal property. And there’s not a chance in hell that you’ll ever have her.” “What a bastard you are,” Michael said. “Aye,” Rafe said, “but I’m a rich bastard, Michael, with a piece of paper that tells me I own the most beautiful woman on this island. Would you trade places with me?” “In a heartbeat,” Michael mumbled. “You should have brought her to me, Michael. I might have given her to you as a gift for services rendered.” “Not bloody likely.” “No, but you’ll never know now, will you? Give me a few days. I’ll think about what you’ve said.” “But you’re still going to fuck her.” Rafe nodded. “I canna seem to stop.”
Chapter 21 As Brian cleaned the coal and ash from the forge, Riley waited. The evening passed slowly. The sun sank lower in the sky and as the courtyard was bathed in shadows she found herself standing at the window peering across the stones, anticipating the door opening. She saw no movement through the window. When it was pure dark, Logan had not yet come for her. She didn’t know why she was so afraid to enter her own house, but she was. Finally when Brian complained that he was fairly starving, they hesitantly entered the cottage and found it empty. They had a quiet supper and afterwards Brian read while Riley washed the dishes and cleaned the cottage. She finally sent him off to bed and sat down to wait. She was nodding off at the table, her head resting on her folded arms, when the door crashed open and shivered on its hinges. She jerked up and when she saw the look on Logan’s face, she wished she had somewhere to hide, but the shadow of his big body left her little choice. He moved into the room, slammed the door behind him and stood in front of the bedroom door. Standing was too firm a word. He appeared to be swaying. He reached out and put his hand against the wall to steady himself. His voice, thick but not yet slurred, curled out of the shadows. She could smell the sickening stench of rum wrap around her from across the room. “I didna expect to find you here,” he said. “I can see that,” she said. “You don’t look in the best shape. In fact, you look fairly drunk off your ass.” “And you’d know something of that, lass,” Logan said. Riley flinched. “I’ve not had a drink this whole week.” “’Tis hard to know what you might be doing behind my back,” Logan said. “I canna trust you.” “I’ve given you no reason…” “More men pass through this door than visit the White Doe. Have you taken up a paying occupation then? Perhaps one that takes less stamina than running a smithy? You should talk to Tabby. She seemed eager to hire you.” “I’ve no wish to talk with you when you’re like this,” Riley said. “And I’ve no wish to talk to you,” Logan said. She rose slowly from the table, afraid to make a sudden move. He looked slightly unpredictable. His dark hair was hanging in his face, hiding his eyes from her. He was either so drunk he was going to fall on his face or just drunk enough to hit something and she could not decide which it would be. “I’ve a need for some quiet,” he said. “Go to bed.” “I intend to,” she said. “Move out of the way.” Logan leaned against the bedroom door and folded his arms. A smile crossed his face, but it was a mocking grin, daring her to come closer. “I’m not much in the mood to take orders from you tonight.” She put her hands on her hips. “Then I’ll wait until you fall down. ‘Tis unlikely to be very long. You seem pretty unstable to me.” “I’m stable enough,” he said.
“Since you’re not in the mood to talk to me, let me through. I’ll go to bed and leave you to your misery. I was waiting to see if you’d make it home. Now that you have…” She tried to scoot behind him but he put his hand against the door, blocking her. He laughed. “Home? Is that what this place is for me?” Riley pushed at his arm but he leaned his weight into it. “’Tis where you live,” she said. He tossed the hair away from his face and moved his body in front of hers. When he raised his other arm and captured her between them, he leaned toward her. The fumes from the rum swirled in the air around him. He smelled like he had bathed in it. “So I live here,” he said. “Does that make it a home? “’Tis where you eat, work, sleep.” He nodded thoughtfully and at each nod, Riley feared he would not be able to raise his head. He was staring at her breasts. He moved one hand and let his fingers brush the skin above her bodice. His eyes rose to hers, peering at her between strands of hair. “I sleep in your bed,” he said, “and fuck you every night but that doesna make us married.” “You seem comfortable enough,” she said. “Aye, in your arms it seems so, but ‘tis not enough.” “Then go home, Logan. You’ve said it enough times that you hate it here. Get back on the Lioness and leave this place. You’ve found your brother now. You know he’s alive and you know he wants to stay. Why don’t you leave us so we can all get on with our bloody lives?” “I’m thinking of it,” he said softly. “’Tis unlikely there’s much room in that head for thought. You positively reek. Where have you been?” “Somewhere more welcoming than here,” he said. “I wasna in the mood for you.” “’Twas obvious. You never came to get me.” “Because I wasna in the mood for you,” he repeated. “Aye, I can see you weren’t in the mood for much of anything but drinking. Were you at the Stag?” “No, lass, the Leaping Stag is where men gather to play cards, to discuss politics and talk about the monotony that is their lives. I may be stuck in this paradise but I’ve no interest in becoming a man like that or cozying up to the village elders and finding a place for myself in this sorry excuse of a colony.” “So you were at the White Doe,” she said. “Aye, lass, a pleasant place to drink some rum, have some conversation and the perfect place to forget.” “And what might you be trying to forget, Logan? What an absolute bastard you can be?” “No, lass, I canna ever forget that. I was trying to forget you.” “You seem able to forget me well enough,” she said. “I waited in that bloody shop for hours.” He didn’t appear to be listening to her. His gaze was locked on his fingers as they brushed across her skin. “No matter how many mugs I had I couldna erase the sight of what I saw today,” he said softly.
“So what did it take to forget? Did you find your forgetfulness between the legs of a whore?” He pushed himself away from her and gave her a disgusted look. “I don’t fuck whores.” “Were you with Tabitha Atkins?” “A touch of jealousy, lass? Seems a bit late for such a thing and a bit impertinent coming from you.” “From me? Tabitha Atkins was practically sitting in your lap when I saw you together.” “There was no practically about it tonight, madam. My lap held many women tonight.” “And did they rob you blind? I hope you didn’t take your entire bag of coin. What price did you pay for their attention?” “I’ve never paid for a woman’s attention. ‘Tis something given quite freely by most. ‘Tis your price that seems a bit steep at times.” She took several cautious steps toward the door and tried to slip through the gap between his body and the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t you?” He caught her wrist and yanked her against him. The smell of the rum nearly stole her breath and though he seemed a bit unbalanced, his eyes were lucid, glittering with a dark obscene hunger. The ferocity of his eyes drilled into her and the tight grip clamped around her wrist made her freeze against him. “I’m not much in the mood for games tonight, Riley.” “Neither am I,” she said. His arm snaked behind her. Before she had a chance to move, his hand was following the swell of her bottom, his fingers sliding roughly between the cheeks, stretching against the thin fabric that separated her flesh from his hand. It took every ounce of willpower she had to stand still as his fingers probed and prodded. There was nothing gentle about his touch. It was a harsh violation meant to frighten her, to show her he could take what he wanted, to prove she had no control. The tip of his finger was nestled in a place that sent a flicker of dread through her. The fabric of her skirt seemed to offer little protection against his relentless quest to strain the limits of her tolerance. His finger nudged into her most private area and she recoiled pressing her pelvis forward. The hard length of cock that swelled in his breeches lunged against the softness of her belly. “You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, lass.” “You said no games,” she whispered. “And I play no games,” he said. “I’m about serious business here. The price I’m paying for your favor is far too steep. ‘Tis less costly at the White Doe and the quality of service is higher.” The pressure of his finger increased and Riley’s muscles clenched. His soft laugh spilled across her face with the intoxicating rum fumes and he forced his finger further. Riley gasped and lurched against him. His cock leapt eagerly. “I deserve more,” he said, “considering what I pay here.” “This is not the way to get more,” she said. “It appears to be working,” he said. “You’re pressed against me.”
“I’ve no choice. Why are you doing this?” “I’ve a need to take tonight,” he said. “I’m tired of paying your price. ‘Tis give, give, give with you.” His finger thrust harder and penetrated her soft flesh. The raw scratch of the fabric scraped into her. The anxiety and confusion she felt was suddenly displaced by a cold rage. It swept through her and gave her courage to lift her face. His eyes were hard sapphires filled with a need to inflict torment, to consume her tension and unease. The look in his eyes inflamed her anger. “I’ve done nothing but give to you.” “You give what you want to give,” he said. “’Tis time to have something I want.” “So you’ll torture me?” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers as his finger probed further into her. She tried to nudge away from the penetration but he pushed harder, following her movement. “’Tis not torture,” he said. His lips caught at hers for a brief instant, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip. “’Tis practice.” “Practice for what?” she breathed. “I’ve a need to have you tonight,” he said. The slight bit of courage she had evaporated into the rum-soaked air around her. Fear began to nibble at the edge of her mind. “You have me every night,” she whispered. “I’ve a need to have you in a different way,” he said. “In a way no man will ever have the balls to take you. I’ve a need to have what you’ll not give willingly to another man in your lifetime.” Her voice sounded weak, helpless and she hated that she sounded so afraid. “And what will that accomplish?” “It will make you mine.” “I am yours,” she said softly. “No, lass, you’re not, but you will be.” His finger thrust into her, hard and fast. Her legs buckled as she gasped and his hand cupped her bottom holding her tight against him. She felt the fabric within her tear as his finger buried deep inside. Her heart was pounding and pressed so tight against him she could feel his heart as well. It was beating with a powerful rhythm that belied the stoic tranquility of the eyes that stared into hers. His finger began to move in her, sliding gently, but the sensation was not gentle. It felt too raw, too primitive and it tore through her. His cock was throbbing. She felt the beat of his pulse and the steady thump of it against her as it struggled against his breeches. She was afraid to move for fear of stirring him to do something violent. She could never let him do what he wanted. Her mind raced trying to think of something, anything to get him away from her. His finger was stroking her deep inside, rough flutters against tender flesh. Her muscles clenched involuntarily and she tried to relax, but it was so hard because something about his face warned her this was only the beginning. Practice. She wanted to pull away, but his finger was too deep and his other hand was clutching her bottom in a strong grip. When she made the slightest movement, a tiny arching of her hips away from his hand, he punished her by plunging his finger deeper.
“You might want to stand still, Riley,” he said. “Let me do what I want and everything will be fine.” “I can’t let you,” she said. “’Tis not a choice I’m giving you.” He was watching her face, his eyes drifting to her mouth when she wet her lips, to her jaw when she ground her teeth, to her eyes when her lids fluttered helplessly. He seemed intrigued by the slightest movement. While he slowly withdrew his finger he studied her and for one moment she thought it was over, but he drove it into her again, hard, quick, so fast her body lunged against his to escape and a cry tore from her lips. He smiled, a chilling smile that scared her. “Do you like it?” he asked. “Please let me go.” “Don’t fight me,” he said. “Enjoy it.” “I can’t,” she breathed. “You’re hurting me, Rafe.” “No, I’m not,” he said. “Relax. Let yourself feel it. Give me what I want.” “Oh, God, Rafe,” she breathed. “What do you want?” “You.” His head dipped toward her and his mouth fastened on hers. His finger slid deeper as his tongue pushed into her mouth. She struggled for a minute but she paid the price. He withdrew his finger and even as she breathed a sigh of relief, she heard the rip of fabric, a cruel sound in the quiet around them. She moaned as he plunged two fingers into her, a harsher violation, stretching her flesh, digging into her with relentless strength. She arched her hips and whimpered against his mouth. She was too frightened to draw a breath. His mouth continued to roam across her lips and his fingers were driving in and out, a steady motion that gave her a token of false security. She closed her eyes because she could not look at his. He seemed lulled by the repetition and his kisses had become soft, tender, gentle traces of his lips on her face. “I want you to surrender to me, Riley,” he said. “I want you to be mine. You’ll give me what I want.” “No,” she said. “You’ll have to take it.” She realized what she said too late. She opened her eyes and met his. There was a savagery inside this man that she could never have dreamed of. His eyes were sparkling with a predatory glint, a hunger that had no boundary and a raw sexual need that scared the hell out of her. His fingers ground into her and she felt tears of shame and frustration struggling to the surface. She blinked them away because they seemed proof of the wicked turn her life had taken. There was no shame in debasing herself to a man with no moral center especially when her own moral center had ceased to exist. This man wanted everything she was. What was he doing to her? Each time he touched her it became harder to let him go. Even now in her fear, her confusion and her shame he was stirring feelings within her that made her want to hide her face against his shoulder and relinquish everything she was to the hands that spread magic through her body. She would fall with him to the floor, spread herself open and let him have anything he wanted, but if he knew that she would have nothing left. “I could take it, madam, but ‘tis more pleasurable for me if you’re willing. And far less painful for you.”
“Don’t threaten me, Rafe.” “’Tis not a threat,” he said. “I’m not willing,” she said. “This is rape.” A flicker of surprise crossed his face. His brows rose as his fingers began to slide in and out again. “Indeed? It doesna feel like rape to me. Your body is tight against mine. Your mouth has taken my kiss and this tight beautiful little ass of yours is starting to respond to the pleasure. I can feel it.” He covered her mouth with his when she opened her mouth to protest. His tongue swept between her lips and for one insane moment she tugged at it. When she heard a satisfied chuckle deep in his throat, she groaned and twisted her face away. “Every time you touch me I feel like I’m being pulled further into hell.” “’Tis not hell,” Rafe said. “’Twould be heaven if you allowed yourself to let go.” “There are no men like you in heaven,” she whispered. “You’re probably right, darlin’. Are you ready for three? Or would you like to skip three and take my cock now?” “I’ll take nothing from you. I’m telling you to stop.” “There’s my girl,” he said, “although I admit I’m disappointed.” He withdrew his fingers slowly and then cupped her ass and squeezed hard, dragging her against him. “We’ll continue later,” he said. “No,” she said. “’Tis over for tonight. You stink of liquor and harlots.” He moved his hands over her bottom in a leisurely caress. “I’ll go wash and you, beauty, will stay right here.” He gave her a swat, then went across the room in search of a towel and the soap. He headed toward the back door, glancing over his shoulder. “What price would you demand for a fuck tonight?” Her hands curled at her sides and he laughed. “You think about it while I’m gone.” The moment the door closed she screeched into the quiet room. She paced the room like a caged beast, prowling along the shadows, looking for something to throw. She wanted to hear shattered glass, exploding shards, the crack of something as it broke. She reached out several times to palm something in her hand but reconsidered. She had nothing to spare, no obsolete pieces of anything she could blithely break into smithereens of rage. But when she heard the door open something snapped inside of her. She grabbed the first thing she saw and hurled it toward the door with all her might. Brian’s ink bottle shattered against the wall leaving a black stain that oozed all the way to the floor and spread a glossy coat of ebony liquid onto the wood. Rafe lurched backwards narrowly escaping being dowsed then hesitantly stepped over the shards of glass and inky mess. “Christ, wench, you’re costing me a bloody fortune.” He tossed his dirty clothes into the corner and tore the towel from his hips. Naked, he crouched down and Riley watched as he soaked up as much of the mess as he could, gathering the glass in the cloth. The muscles of his body flexed as he reached for all the pieces, trying to keep his balance. When he tossed the rag into the hearth, the hiss of the liquid escaped into the room and a gray greasy smoke curled among the logs and rose up the chimney. He turned to her, hands on hips.
“Anything else you’d like to throw at me?” “I’d like to throw everything, but I can’t afford it.” “Neither can I,” he said, “but punches are free, lass. Take your best shot.” He lifted his chin. “Don’t tempt me,” she said. “And put on some damn clothes.” “’Tis time for bed,” he said. “Then go there,” she snapped. “I intend to,” he said, “but you’re coming with me.” He reached out, but she sidestepped quickly. For a brief second he looked puzzled, then a look of annoyance settled on his face. He cocked his head, waiting for what was to come. “We need to talk about today,” she said. “Ah, the talk. Well, I felt that coming and frankly I’m not in the mood for it. I’m tired and wish to go to sleep. If ‘tis banter you seek, I suggest you find another of your lovers.” When he headed toward the bedroom, she clutched his arm. “I have no other lovers.” “It doesna seem so, lass. This town is fairly crawling with men trying to get into your bed.” “You’re the only man that’s been in my bed. You know that.” “Yet it seems a tight squeeze to me at times. Filled with promises to others.” He turned toward her and his eyes darkened as they lingered on the curves of her face, wandering over every inch of her. His fingers followed his eyes, touching her gently, skimming across her flesh. “’Tis not surprising to me that other men want you. How long did you think to avoid Corrigan’s advances? Michael’s? ‘Tis hard to believe neither of them came even close to taking what I had.” His voice was soft and she found herself leaning toward him as the lilt of his tone drew her closer. The words he murmured sounded like poetry. “How many times did their hands dip inside your blouse and cup your naked breasts, caress your nipples into hard peaks? How often did they raise your skirt and press warm fingers into the heat between your thighs and feel the cream spread across your pussy? When their mouths touched yours, did your lips open and draw their tongues inside with the same passion you’ve shown to me? Does your body press against theirs with greed, with hunger, with an unquenchable fire that drives everything but lust from your mind? Does cum drip from your pussy with the mere touch of their hands?” His hands were sliding down her arms, drawing her closer. His mouth touched her and he whispered against her lips. “Would their cocks slide into you as easily, as gratefully, as longingly as mine? Would their arms hold you as tight, their lips search yours with the same need? Could any other man give you the pleasure I do? Would you come with another man as wantonly as you come with me?” She could do nothing but moan. “Answer me, Riley.” “No,” she murmured. “Only you.” He twisted her around and her skirt was suddenly wrapped around her waist. He pressed one hand against her groin and drove into her from behind so fast she nearly fell. He leaned back against the table and pulled her hard against him, burying himself deep. He moved his hands to her hips and her head fell back to his shoulder. His face dipped,
rooting in her hair, nuzzling into the side of her neck. He began to move her back and forth on his cock, his hands tugging her hips back, pushing her forward. One hand slid between her legs and began to rub, hard circular movements that made her breath catch. Her bare bottom slapped against his pelvis as he tugged her faster, urgently. She felt his desperation in the quick hard yanks, in the way his hips pushed against her, in the deep penetration of his cock into her body. Her muscles seemed to stretch to take every inch, tightening around him eagerly, drawing him deeper, pulsing to hold him. Her body was trembling and only his hands held her upright. He rammed his cock into her again and again, harder, deeper, faster and the pleasure became so intense she cried out. “No man will ever fuck you like I do, Riley.” “I know,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.” She lifted her face and searched for his mouth. His lips caught at hers, hot, wet, feverish. “No other man will ever be enough for you.” His mouth became hard, relentless, terrifying. She let his mouth tear at hers because there was no choice. His teeth scraped across her bottom lip when he pulled away. He had so much on his mind and hers was empty, exhausted, struggling to understand his words, concentrating only on the sensations below her waist, the fire their bodies had created. His tugging became more erratic, violent, his cock a brutal weapon that pumped in and out without mercy. And the hand between her legs was still rubbing. Her flesh felt raw, bruised, battered. His breath against her face was heavy. “There’s something in you only I can set free.” “I know,” she whispered. “God, Rafe, stop talking. Just fuck me.” He yanked her back viciously and his fingers dug cruelly into the tender skin of her hips. His voice was a deep hard growl in her ear. “This hunger in you, Riley … it belongs to me. Only me.” She nodded. She could not find the breath to speak. Her body shuddered and fell helplessly against him. She heard herself moan as the climax tore through her and her muscles locked around his cock in a convulsive flutter. Rafe’s breath caught in his chest but he kept talking, forcing her to stay with him when her entire body seemed on fire. “You’ll give it to no other,” he said. “Say it. Promise me.” “I won’t, Rafe. I promise.” “You’re mine, Riley. Give me what I want.” She groaned. “Take it, Logan. Take whatever you want.” His cock slipped from her even as her muscles tried to hold him. He spun her around and she slammed into the table. He caught her wrists and stretched out her arms, laying her hands flat. “Don’t move.” His hand slid between her legs, brushing against the vibrating flesh. She trembled as he dipped his fingers into the creamy moisture that oozed from her body, then trailed upward to spread it over the tender cleft of her bottom. His touch was gentle, his fingers caressing the soft skin. With each pass his finger pressed harder against the tight slit, until she grew accustomed to his questing finger. She felt his cock slide between her legs and for one heavenly moment he dipped into her body. She felt the tip penetrate the lips of her pussy and she relaxed as he began to push inside. He pulled from her quickly and she felt the velvety tip slide up and delve
between her cheeks. His hands were on her buttocks, spreading them as his cock spread her fluids. The head of his cock pressed against her warm slit and she tensed. “I will have all your virginity, Riley.” “I’m not going to stop you,” she whispered. She curled her hands into fists and pressed back against him. The sensation of the soft flesh of his cock against her was intensely arousing, both frightening and exciting. It was all the encouragement he needed. With a steady pressure he pushed the head into the tight vulnerable opening. Riley clenched her jaw and tried to breathe. Everything inside of her told her to move, to fight, to pull away from the invasion. Rafe’s hands swept across her back, slow caresses up and down her spine. His fingertips began to knead her flesh and draw the tension from her body even as his cock tried to nestle inside her. She began to relax, concentrating on the gentle movement of his hands. When he pushed against her, she gasped and clenched her muscles. “Darlin’, ‘tis not going to work if you do that. Relax. Trust me.” “I can’t. ‘Tis too big. It hurts.” One hand reached beneath her and found her breast. He began to tease the nipple through the fabric of her shirt, twisting it softly in his fingers. She sighed when she felt his other hand touch her between the legs. Immediately her body began to quiver. “You’re distracting me,” she said. “Aye, lass.” “This is wrong, Rafe. ‘Tis shameful. Wanton. Depraved.” “No, ‘tis something between lovers. ‘Tis the most intimate of carnal pleasures, part of the joys of the flesh. Just one more thing we can share, just the two of us. Only with me, Riley. Remember that.” She could only moan. His fingers continued to massage her nipple, her clit, the movement of hands in a tandem rhythm that spread delicious sensations through her entire body. And beneath it all there was a tension created that yearned for some kind of release. His soft voice drifted around her, a quiet melody to listen to, a rhythm to concentrate on while he forced his way through the barriers of her flesh. “I have a need to own every inch of your body. Both inside and out. I want to feel every muscle touch me, every pulse of your heartbeat, every nerve fire like lightning under my hands, through my cock, in my mouth. Concentrate on my hands. Think of the waves of pleasure that spiral through your body, think of the throbbing in your clit, think of your breasts aching to be sucked, think of fucking me again and again and again until our bodies are spent. Think of all the pleasure that can be ours, Riley. Think of what we can do to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning. Every night. Every touch of your hand, every kiss, every time you glance at me, my cock swells and belongs to you. Let me give you as much as I can.” “You’ll not hurt me?” “Am I hurting you now?” “No.” “Can you feel me inside you?” She became aware that he was moving within her, rocking against her in slow gentle strokes. There was an uncomfortable tightness in her buttocks but no pain. She felt the tug of his cock against her flesh, a tension as he pulled away and pushed slowly back
inside. She surrendered to the movement, the pressure, the questing hands between her legs. “Are you well, Riley? Is there pain?” “Not much,” she said. “You’re not deep. I can feel it.” “You canna take me deep. Not here.” “Maybe another day,” she said. His voice was rough now, filled with anticipation, and a shiver of excitement. “Maybe, lass, but I’d not count on it. I’m a big man and I’ve no wish to hurt you. ‘Tis far enough today. I’ll not last much longer. Come here. I need to feel you.” He reached beneath her and tugged her against his chest. The heat of his bare skin burned her through the cloth between them and her shirt dampened as the glaze of sweat coating his chest touched her. His cock buried a little deeper when he settled her against him. There was a flash of pain that tapered to discomfort. His hand reached between her legs again and he began to pump gently against her bottom. She reached behind her and tugged at his hips. “You can go deeper, Rafe. I can take it. Just go fast like the last time.” “Ah, lass, I…” “Do it, Logan. You want to. I’m giving it to you. Take it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Alright, lass, I’ll drive into you hard when I climax. But be sure because I won’t be able to stop it.” “I’m sure.” “I’ll wait till you come.” His fingers tore through her like lightning. Just the brush of them against her clit spiraled wave after wave of excruciating pleasure through her body. As her body quivered helplessly against him, she felt him tense against her and he rammed into her hard and fast just as his fingers locked on her clit and squeezed. She cried out as the orgasm ripped through her, locking her in a powerful grip that swelled through every nerve in her body. The pleasure coursed through her body with aching speed, her vaginal muscles clenching and throbbing as her clit pulsed in rapid painful beats. An ache of pleasure rolled through her whole body like ocean swells in a coming storm. Rafe clutched her tighter and she felt his body shudder against hers. He dropped his head against her hair and still his hand continued to move between her thighs, slow steady strokes as he pulled from her body. She was trembling so violently she nearly collapsed. He twisted her around and swept her up, his arms tight around her and his mouth capturing hers fast, tearing the breath from her as his tongue forced her mouth open. When he pulled his mouth from hers, he whispered against her lips. “’Tis not shameful to belong to someone, Riley Sullivan.” She shook her head as he settled her on the table. “Sit for a minute. I’ll get some water. There might be … a little blood. When I come back, we’ll talk.” “About what?” “About the future.”
Chapter 22 When Rafe came back to the cottage, he was still naked and his body dripped water all over the floor. He was the most uncommonly clean man she had ever seen. He seemed obsessed with it. He got a towel, put his bucket on the floor and settled down in front of her. He flung his wet hair back from his face then slowly began to undress her, unlacing her blouse and sliding it over her head. When he pulled her from the table to remove her skirt, Riley glanced toward the bedroom doors. “Brian could come out,” she said. “Brian was not in your head once this evening,” he said. She smiled, suddenly feeling very shy as his hands tugged at her skirt. “You steal all the thoughts from my head.” “Brian willna come out. I’ve told him once he’s in the bedroom to stay there. I told him he might not like what he sees. The water is cold, so be prepared.” The skirt dropped to the floor. He dipped the towel into the bucket and when it touched her skin, Riley shrieked. He glanced up with an evil grin. “’Twas fair warning.” He bathed her completely, running the cloth over every inch of her flesh, then paying special attention to the softer parts of her body. When he was finished, he twisted her toward the bedroom door and gave her a swat. Laughing, she jerked away from his hand. When she paused in the doorway to glance over her shoulder, he wasn’t watching her. He was staring at the floor, his hands dangling over his knees, the cloth he had moved so tenderly over her body twisted in a vicious knot in his fist. He seemed fine when Riley came out of the bedroom dressed in a chemise. He was pouring them tea. He was still naked and she tossed a pair of breeches toward him. “I’ll not be able to talk staring at you like that.” When he pulled the breeches over his legs and settled them loosely on his hips, the sight was almost worse. Every muscle in his body was emphasized and the propriety of the breeches beneath his bare chest sparked an illusion of some untamed mythical beast bound by civilization. He seemed a man stranded in a primitive paradise, clinging to the last of his world but captured unmercifully by the wildness of the natural world. And he refused to lace them. There was an unbroken line of dark hair from his chest to the V where his pants opened to moist secret hollows. She was sorry she had made him dress. She wanted to reach into that secret hollow, pull out his cock and trace it with her tongue. And when she had licked every inch, she was going to… He held out a cup toward her and she settled down on one of the benches. She felt an ache tug through her when she noticed he had given her the one that wasn’t chipped. He startled her by jumping straight into what seemed the middle of a conversation. “The Lioness sails in a few days.” He dropped to the opposite bench and propped his foot on the nearby chair, draping his arm across his knee. Riley’s stomach lurched. The sight of such a casual stance, the way he lifted his cup to his lips, the glance of his eyes over the rim, made her heart pound. It was as though the last hour that passed between them had never happened. He looked like a man chatting with a friend, discussing the weather, the crops, the price of tobacco.
When she lifted her cup, she saw her hand was trembling and it took all her might to keep it steady. Do something. Say something. Beg him if you have to. Promise him anything. “Do you plan to leave when she sails?” “I’m thinking on it,” he said. “You said it earlier. I don’t like it here. I’ve a business at home to run and though Gabby is sure to keep it going, I canna be gone for long. I’m not the most trusting person, even if she is my own sister.” “What kind of business do you have?” “’Twould be of no interest to you,” he said, “but I should get back to it. I’ve found my wayward brother. ‘Tis one of the things I came to do.” “And the other things?” “I’m still thinking on the others.” “And Michael? Will he be staying?” “Do you wish to make my brother a home?” “That’s not what I said. I just…” “’Tis what I heard in your voice,” Logan said. “I wish Michael to return to Southwark with me.” “Let him make his own choice!” “You want him to stay?” Logan asked. “He wants to stay. Give him a chance to be happy.” “You didna answer my question.” “I wish him to stay because he wants to make a life here.” “With you?” “Aye, he wants to make a life with me. He’s asked me to marry him dozens of times.” “And you said…?” Riley took a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes. “The last time he asked … I said I would consider it.” “So you’ve a commitment with Michael yet you’ve been fucking me. Is there a reason why you never mentioned you had a lover?” “I’m not Mick’s lover,” she whispered. “Oh, aye, lass, you are.” “Nothing’s happened between us, Logan. You know that. If you’re angry because of the kiss…” “I’m not angry. I wasna happy about the kiss, but…” “I’m a grown woman. I should be allowed to kiss a man if I want to.” “Did you want to?” he asked. Oh, if she knew the answer to that her life would seem so much simpler. “Part of me did,” she said. “The part of me that knows he loves me and will be here for me tomorrow. ‘Tis the part of me that knows he wants to stay here.” Logan toyed with the handle of his tea cup. When he lifted it to his mouth, it looked too small in his hand, far too fragile. She felt like that in his arms. “Is that what love means to you? Being here tomorrow?” The intensity of his eyes was stealing her concentration. “You’ve made no promises to me,” Riley said. “I know, lass, I’m placing no blame here. I’m trying to reach a decision.”
“‘Tis important to be able to rely on people, Rafe, to know they’ll be there for you, to…” He gave her a sweet smile. “You should get a dog, lass, ‘tis the same.” She barreled ahead, ignoring his stupid opinions. “To support you, to comfort you, to talk with, to laugh with, to hold you on a cold winter night.” He leaned across the table and put his hand over hers. It was rough, hard but so warm. On a winter night, she could lie in his arms and not care how much the storm raged beyond the walls. If only he would stay… “Is companionship and conversation all you seek? You say nothing of heat, of fire, of passion. Do you not want a man that makes your heart pound, your limbs tremble, your mouth yearn for a kiss? Do you not want a man that fills your senses, dominates your thoughts, and makes your body ache with need?” He squeezed her hand then drew back again. “Aye, I want all that,” she said, “but I can’t have both.” “You should fight to have both, Riley Sullivan.” “I’ve grown so tired of fighting,” she said. “I want a man who wants to be with me, who can’t live without me. I hope the love will follow.” “Love just is, Riley. You canna will it into existence.” “Michael loves me,” she whispered. “I know. He doesna even care I’ve fucked you.” Riley smashed her hands down on the table and the cups rattled. She jumped to her feet and when she flung her arms up in disgust, she hit her cup and it crashed to the floor. “You told him?” “It slipped out,” Logan said. “I see now it was not the wisest thing to say, but ‘tis done. You broke your cup.” “I don’t care about the bloody cup!” “’Twas the only one that wasn’t chipped,” he said. “I’ll buy you new cups tomorrow.” “You lied to me! You said you’d tell no one!” “My brother is hardly no one,” Logan said. “And like I said I didna mean to tell. ‘Tis done, Riley.” He stood up and came around the table. He began to pick up the pieces of broken glass, laying them gently in the palm of his hand. When he dropped them into the hearth he turned to her but she was still fuming. She could not believe he had told Michael anything that happened between them. He caught her flailing arms and wrapped his around hers. His mouth was searching for hers, but Riley pushed against him. He was relentless but she ducked under his arm and he stumbled against the table. “Damn it!” He reached down and plucked a piece of glass from his foot. “Stand still, wench. I canna kiss you if you’re moving around so much.” “I don’t want your kisses,” she said. “The bargain is over. You can leave my house in the morning.” “First of all, mistress, the bargain is not completed until I say so. ‘Twas part of the deal, if your memory doesna serve you. Second, the Lioness doesn’t sail for days yet and third, this is my home, as you so conveniently pointed out.” “Not any more,” she said. “You had no right to tell Mick anything. What happens between us is private.”
“’Tis more than private, lass. ‘Tis a God damned secret. You keep me well hidden. How is it the man in love with you doesna know there’s a stranger in your house?” “He’s been in gaol,” Riley said. “I never visit him when he’s sent to gaol. ‘Tis part of his punishment.” “Ah, now there’s a punishment I’d like you to inflict on me—denial of your very presence! What must I do to get such a punishment?” “Just keep it up,” Riley snarled. “You’re dangerously close to getting it now.” His eyes narrowed as he peered at her. He looked dangerously close to inflicting his own brand of punishment and she remembered how hard he had swatted her bottom. “And when Michael came here? You didna think it wise to tell him then?” “I didn’t want him to know,” she said. “Do you bloody think, woman? Were you planning to hide me for the next several months? Did you think no one in this fair village would see fit to tell him you had a new betrothed? ‘Tis fairly fickle you seem, Riley Sullivan. You change the man in your life as often as you change your apron. And Corrigan? How many times has he been here? How many times have his hands touched you and you did not think it necessary to tell me?” “You don’t own me, Logan. I can have anyone I like touch me.” “You’re bloody wrong about that,” he said, “and ‘tis obvious you care little what any of us think. You’ll steal the best of each of us to get through this life of yours, but eventually you’ll have to choose.” “I’ve already chosen,” she said. “And whom have you chosen? The man you hold on a string around your finger, the man you promised to marry, or the man who fucks you in your bed?” He slammed his fist against the table and Riley jumped. “God damn it, Riley, you shoulda told me there was someone in your life!” He began to pace and she tried to stay out of his way. But she had learned over the last week that Rafe Logan was a big man and when he was on a rampage there was nothing to do to stay out of his way. “I canna believe I’ve been fucking the woman my brother loves! I’m a cold hearted vicious bastard every day of the fucking week, but I’m not the kind of man that does something like that.” “’Tis not your fault,” Riley said. He whirled around so fast he nearly knocked her over. “And how is it not my fault? Is it someone else’s cock buried in you night after bloody night? Someone else’s tongue in your mouth? Someone else’s arms wrapped around you while we sleep? Because the last I looked, lass, it was me! Christ, what a fucking mess. I’ll wring Michael’s bleeding neck for putting me through this. If he had done what I sent him to do, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t sought to hide from me, none of this would have happened. And if you had told me the truth, none of this would have fucking happened!” “There was no truth to tell,” Riley said. “He’s in love with you!” Logan cried. “He’s in love with everyone,” Riley said, “and everyone’s in love with him. ’Tis the way he is. He’s kind, generous, friendly and naturally lovable.” “I happen to know my brother,” Logan snapped. “And did he ask everyone to marry him? Or was it just you?” “Just me,” she whispered.
“And ‘tis obvious you have feelings for him as well. What I canna understand is why you sought me out when all you had to do was ask Michael for help. He has everything you need.” “But he doesn’t have everything I want.” “And what is it you want?” Riley gave him a hesitant glance and took a step toward the bedroom door. “It doesn’t matter what I want any more. I … just want to go to bed.” He swept his arm in the direction of the door. “Don’t let me stand in your way. Don’t let me interfere in any part of your fucking life. ‘Twas a miserable bargain from the start.” He strode across the room and grabbed the whiskey bottle from the shelf. He straddled one of the benches and pulled the cork out with his teeth. She watched him take a long swallow. She knew she should leave it alone. She knew it would be so much safer to crawl into the bed alone and let him drink himself into a stupor. But Riley Sullivan had a hard time leaving things alone. “Mick didn’t seem surprised to see you here today.” “His name is not Mick,” Logan barked. “’Tis Michael. And no, he wasna surprised.” “You sent him here to collect on the contract,” Riley said, “and he fell in love with me instead.” “Aye,” Logan muttered. “He obviously canna be trusted with a simple God damned assignment.” “When you told him about … us … was he angry?” “There is no us, Riley,” Logan snarled, “but if you want to know how he feels, ask him your bloody self.” “He didn’t want to see me? Talk with me?” “No, lass, he didna have any desire to speak with you. Finding out your woman is fucking a man behind your back takes a lot out of a man. And when you discover that man is your brother you come to view the world as a slightly different place. Perhaps Michael just didna want to see your face. I know he didna want to see mine.” “What did you tell him?” Riley asked. “The bloody truth,” Logan said. “That I wanted to fuck you and I did.” “But you didn’t know, Logan. You didn’t know how he felt.” “I told him so, but it doesna make a difference.” “It should,” Riley said. “If he’s angry with anyone it should be me.” “Oh, no, lass, he’s not angry with you,” Logan said. He took another drink. “Michael’s too good a man to be angry with you for something that wasna your fault. He knows what kind of man I am and he knows what I do to get what I want. He’s angry with me and that’s the way he’ll stay.” “We’ll stop,” she said. “We’ll stay away from one another. We can fix this.” “No, lass, I’m afraid we canna fix it.” Logan took another drink. “I told him I wasna going to stop and ‘tis obvious after what just happened here I canna stop.” “Oh,” Riley said. Logan stared at the whiskey bottle between his legs. His voice was quiet and Riley had to move closer to hear him. “But there is one way to fix it,” he said. “’Tis really the only way and I’ll do it because he’s my brother. When the Lioness sails, I’ll be on her.”
Riley moved closer, watching him warily. He seemed to have lost the will to fight with her. She ran her hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and bunch under her palms. He leaned into her body and Riley pulled his head back against her, drawing his hair back from his face, raking her nails over his scalp. She heard a long sigh escape him. “’Tis a mess,” he said. “If you’d told me…” “I didn’t know he was your brother,” Riley said, “and any other man would have meant nothing to you. The name Mick Kavanaugh would not have deterred you. You cared little for Daniel’s interest.” “Corrigan doesna deserve you,” Rafe said. “And Michael does?” “Aye, I would give him all I can. Michael deserves to be happy.” “And you, Rafe? Don’t you deserve to be happy?” “I’ve not been happy more than a hundred days in my bloody life. Happiness means nothing to me. It always leads to disaster for me. I’m better off without it.” “And what about me? Do I deserve to be happy?” When he nodded under her hands, she moved in front of him and straddled the bench facing him. “It would make me happy to have you, Rafe. I want you to stay with me. If you don’t want to stay here, you can be honest. There should be truth between us.” “I canna stay here with you.” “I asked what you wanted,” she said. He met her eyes but refused to answer. “You’ll deny yourself what you want?” she asked. “I don’t want you,” he said. “Not any more.” She tugged at the ribbon of her chemise and Rafe watched as her hands slowly lowered the straps over her shoulders. When she pulled her arms free, he took another gulp from the bottle. “What are you doing?” She allowed the cloth to dip slowly and saw his eyes drop to roam over the exposed skin. When she let the cloth slide into her lap, she took the bottle from his hand and set it on the table. “Give me your hands.” He shook his head but she gripped his wrists and pulled his hands toward her. She tucked them over her breasts and his fingers opened and stretched to spread across her flesh. He took a deep breath. “What are you trying to prove here, lass?” “That you’re a liar, Master Logan. I know you still want me.” “It doesna matter what I want.” “It does matter. It matters very much what you want. Touch me. Show me I’m not wrong. If I’m wrong, walk away from me. I’ll let you go.” His thumb brushed her nipple hesitantly. She leaned toward him and his hands curled tight around her breasts. She brushed the hair from his face and his eyes lifted to meet hers. “I’ve already made my choice, Rafe. ‘Tis time for you to make yours. You said I belong to you now. Is that how you really feel?” His hands slid around her back and he yanked her forward, pulling her between his knees. As his mouth devoured hers, she reached between them and found his cock,
stiffening, rising between the flaps of his breeches. His hands were roaming across her back, over her breasts, pushing the chemise lower over her hips to gain access to her flesh. When he grabbed her hips, lifting her over his legs, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He slid into her fast and hard, pulling her close, burying deep. His kisses were stealing her breath. “I shouldna do this,” he said. “I want you to,” she said. “’Tis all I want. You’re all I want. He’ll forgive us if he knows the truth.” “And what is the truth?” Rafe asked. “This,” she whispered. “The truth lies between us. We can’t let each other go. ‘Tis destiny, Rafe. The answer to a prayer.” “I don’t believe in destiny. I don’t believe in prayers.” “Do you believe in me?” she asked. “Aye, lass, I believe in you.” “Then ‘tis enough. I want the heat, the fire, passion. I want it all and you’re going to give it to me.” “And when tomorrow comes?” “I don’t care about tomorrow. Show me you want me today.”
Chapter 23 Rafe sprawled on the bench, thoroughly exhausted. He could barely lift his head up. The drunken stupor he’d had earlier was gone, replaced by a totally new sensation. He thought he might be sexually spent. It had never happened to him in his entire life. His cock, still an impressive sight he was happy to say, lay curled over his groin lazy and drained. Even the beautiful sight of Riley’s bare breasts was not enough to cause a twitch. She ran her hands along his thighs and playfully gave him a tug. His cock leapt a little at her touch. “A little tired?” she asked. “Wench, I think you’ve killed me.” “There are worse ways to die,” she said. She leaned forward and slid her arms up his chest and over his shoulders. She crawled up his body, her hair trailing across his naked skin like silken threads. She placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. “Where are you finding this energy, lass? I’ve not enough to kiss you back.” “You can kiss me back tomorrow,” she said. She knelt between his thighs and gazed down at him. She was tugging at her bottom lip, a sure sign he wasn’t going to want to hear what she had on her mind. Her green eyes were dark but the tiny golden flecks sparkled as the hearth light touched them. He watched her from beneath half-closed lids, hoping she’d stay quiet, but her eyes were roaming across his face with a quiet will. She looked far too serious for a woman that had just been fucked. “What’s on your mind, darlin’?” “You.” “Aye, I can see that. Anything in particular? Or just me in general?” “Something particular.” He smiled. “Let’s hear it then.” Her tongue poked out to wet her lips but her teeth went back to gnawing. She took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to leave here. I want you to stay. With me.” Her teeth were chewing so furiously she’d have no mouth left to kiss on the morrow. Inwardly he groaned because he didn’t want to have more of this conversation tonight. He was far too tired to think straight, to reason with her, to break her heart and tell her he could never be the kind of man she deserved. He was going to tell Michael to stay, to keep her safe, to make her happy. But for now, he still wanted the last few days with her. He needed the next few days with her to let her go. Anything he could possibly say was going to ruin that. “Riley, we should talk about this later,” he said. He lifted up and reached out to take her arms. “I have some more thinking to do…” He heard the rustle of the parchment, the quiet flap as it unfolded in the air and the subtle drop when it hit the floor. He held his breath for one moment hoping she wouldn’t notice but he hadn’t had a lucky day in his entire life. Something about being a Logan drained the luck from a man. Riley scooted away from him, reached down and swept up the parchment. “This fell out of your pocket.”
She started to hand it to him and his fingers reached out to snatch it from her. He felt too eager, too desperate, too frightened and all of those feelings proved him right because when she glanced down, she paused and pulled it back toward her. “Peter Sullivan is written at the bottom of this paper,” she said. “Aye, lass. Give it to me.” Her eyes lifted slowly and she cocked her head. “Is this his contract?” Rafe’s heart began to pound in his chest and he wondered vaguely if a thirty-one year old heart could simply burst out of fear. He had never been so scared in his entire life. He found he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak and suddenly couldn’t even meet her eyes. His eyes darted away proving what a coward he really was. If she opened that paper he was a dead man and every chance he had for one more perfect day in his life would be gone. Didn’t a man deserve more than one hundred and fourteen days of happiness in thirty-one miserable years? Christ, Logan, take it from her! Just grab it out of her hand, run, tear it up, throw it in the fire, do anything, but don’t let her read it. She’ll never let you touch her again. She’ll never speak with you again. She’ll never look in your eyes again. You canna live without her eyes on you, Logan. You canna live without her touch. Take the fucking parchment! Riley stood up and it was suddenly too late. “Riley.” Her face shot up as her hands began to unfold the paper. “Give me the parchment.” “No, I want to see what Peter signed.” “Don’t read it, darlin’. Just let me have it. Please.” She shook her head and her eyes drifted over the paper, skimming the lines. When her eyes lifted to his, he saw confusion there and he had one more chance. “My name is on this paper,” she said. His skin was on fire. His heartbeat had escalated to a thunderous pounding. It was so loud it was drumming into his head and the blood was racing so fast in his veins he thought he might pass out. He tried to keep his voice quiet, calm, but he knew he hadn’t because she flinched. “Riley, give it to me. If you willna give it to me, throw it in the hearth.” She backed away from him, cast one doubtful look at him then dropped her head and began to read. He knew exactly what it said. He knew it wouldn’t matter to her what sum was listed in the paper, an incredible amount of money for the purchase of any single man, woman or child. It was enough to buy five or six healthy indentures with money left to clothe them but no price had been too high that day. Rafe Logan had wanted the girl. When he had seen the luscious blond hair, the small budding body, the flash of the exotic green eyes, he had known he could make his money back a hundred-fold in the first year. She had a face and a body that a man would pay any amount to possess. The contract proved it because he had paid a veritable fortune. Her eyes had touched him that day, swept across him with a disdain he thought amusing in a child that clearly had nothing. He wondered even then how she found the courage to stare so blatantly toward a man who had everything. He had seen a dignity and pride in her young face and felt a curious sense of loss when her eyes touched him. Living on the streets of Southwark was a hard life and girls that held more in their lives
than Riley Sullivan had lost their souls there. A quiet passion had lurked in her eyes, a passion that held shadows of secret fantasies, wishes flung into the starry night sky and dreams for the future. Surrounded by an impoverished cluster of smaller children, that strange alluring girl had radiated warmth and vitality in the dreary gray morning. Standing in front of the splendor of Fallen Angels and dressed in a drab brown rag, Riley Sullivan should have felt defeated but she seemed filled with a lively unquenchable spirit. He had seen hope for tomorrow in the green depths of her eyes and he’d felt a disturbing need to caution her against hope. Hope offered nothing but false promises and Rafe Logan was the killer of dreams. Nothing that day could have stopped him from buying her soul. He had drafted the contract with an excitement he rarely found in his daily life. The paper said that Peter Sullivan was selling his daughter Riley Sullivan to one Raphael Logan, proprietor and owner of Fallen Angels, term of ownership to be concluded at the owner’s discretion. It offered no recourse, no barter, no hope. He owned Riley Sullivan for life and as Rafe watched Riley’s face dissolve into something very close to grief, he realized that an entire lifetime with her was not enough. Her hands were shaking as the paper fluttered to the floor. It lay between them like a dead man in purgatory, caught between heaven and hell with no hope of entering either place. Rafe wanted to pick it up, shred it, burn it, destroy it, but it was too late. Riley couldn’t take her eyes off it. “I remember you,” Riley whispered. “Things were confusing then, chaotic, and we moved around so much. I began to think I’d dreamed you.” He shook his head for a minute. He couldn’t believe she was actually speaking to him. Her voice in the quiet room sounded faraway, another lifetime. “You were everything I’d ever wanted. Dark, mysterious, dangerous. I remember you staring at me and when your eyes touched mine…” She reached up and absently wiped a tear from her face. “…well, for one minute, I thought … I thought all my prayers had been answered. Your eyes were as blue as the ocean at midnight with silver flecks like stars in the night sky…” Her head snapped up. “What’s Fallen Angels?” she asked. “My business.” “What sort of business?” “’Tis a house. I … own it. I run it with Michael and Gabrielle. We … well, ‘tis a house, Riley. Just a God damned house.” He raked his hands through his hair and thought his head might explode. “Christ, Riley, don’t make me say it.” “I want to hear it,” she said softly. “My da sold me to you. I want to know what kind of life you had planned for me.” He took a step toward her but she backed away. Her eyes drifted once again to the parchment on the floor. He kicked it away and her eyes shot up. “Tell me!” she screamed. He slammed his palms against his eyes and rubbed hard. Damn it, his eyes were burning, filling with hot fluid and if it leaked out he was undone. He ran his hands down his face, thinking he had contained it all, but he felt a drop slide from the corner of his eye and he wiped it away furiously. “A brothel, Riley. Fallen Angels is a brothel. ‘Tis the best in London.”
“A brothel,” she repeated. “A bawdy house. A stew. A place where men go to fuck whores. A place where women will do anything for coin. And you bought me to make you money.” She cocked her head as though trying to understand the very simplicity of it. He had never seen a woman with such a vicious look in her eye. The venom he saw there should have killed him with her glance alone. The tranquility and peace he had often found there suddenly looked like the turbulent waves of a storm-tossed sea and he knew she would be as merciless as a hurricane spawned out of torrid tropical heat. “When I looked at you that day, Rafe, I saw everything I had ever wanted. When you looked at me that day, what were you seeing?” “You, Riley. Only you.” “Get out,” she said. She dropped to the floor and snatched up the parchment, crumbling it in her small hands. She slammed the wad of paper against his chest. “Take your bloody contract, your filthy carcass, your fucking lies and get out!” She shoved him as hard as she could and staggered back, colliding with the table. Rafe spun around and hurled the parchment into the fire. He watched it burn for a moment wanting the evidence of the nightmare destroyed. When he turned back she was furiously wiping at her face. Her cheeks were wet and a single tear dripped from the edge of her jaw to fall against her breast. He reached out and wiped it away. He stared at the drop on his fingertip, then lifted his finger to his lips. She was yanking her chemise over her shoulders. “Get out before I stick a knife in your gut.” He was lacing his breeches as he walked into the bedroom. He dressed quickly and wasn’t even sure he had everything on when he left the room. He was putting his arms into a jacket when she ran across the room, launched herself toward him and smashed her hands against his chest. He fell back against the wall and caught her against him. The sounds of her sobs filled his head and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. “Why did you do this to me?” she whispered. He ran his hand through her hair and cradled her face against his chest. “’Twas business, darlin’, nothing more.” “And the rest?” “’Twas a little bit of heaven I thought to steal,” he said, “but I’m not much of a thief. I’m a much better whoremaster. Some day I’ll learn to stop trying to be something I’m not.” He lifted her face in his hands. Her eyes were now filled with such sorrow he knew no amount of tears would wash it away. Her lips were trembling when he put his mouth gently against hers. “Rafe, I feel like I’m dying inside.” A sob ripped through her and she pressed her forehead against his chest. “I can’t breathe.” “’Tis heartache,” he said. “’Twill pass in time.” Her soft voice drifted up to him and ripped through his heart. “Rafe, don’t I belong to you any more?” “Aye, darlin’, you always have.” He kissed the top of her head, then pushed her away. “Goodbye, lass.”
When he stepped into the darkness of the night and pulled the door closed, he heard her fall against it and slide to the floor. The sounds of her sobs wound through the night air as he walked toward the White Doe.
Chapter 24 Riley folded the clean clothes and packed them into the trunk. Soon all the evidence that Raphael Logan had ever been in her life would be gone. She wasn’t sure what would happen next and she was too weary to think about it. It seemed enough to get rid of the trunk. Brian hovered in the doorway. He had been watching her cautiously for two days and she had yet to discuss any of it with him. But he deserved to know. “You can take it now,” she said. “I don’t want you to go in. Knock on the door and ask for Mistress Atkins. She’ll make sure he gets it.” “I’ve always wanted to see inside the White Doe, Riley. Couldn’t I at least take a peek?” She stood up and turned to him. “Absolutely not.” Brian shrugged and gripped the edge. He had dragged it half-way through the door when he paused. He straightened up and looked her square in the eye. “What did you do, Riley?” “Do?” “To make him leave.” Riley began to fuss with the quilt, tucking the perfect edges more perfectly around the frame. She ran her hands over the soft fabric and suddenly swept it into a tight bundle. “Open the trunk.” Brian snapped the latch and flipped open the lid. She tossed the quilt inside, pressing hard, crushing it inside. When she slammed the lid with a snarl, Brian backed away. “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “You had to have done somethin’. He was happy, Riley. He liked swingin’ the hammer. He liked seein’ the pile of work dwindle every day. He liked starin’ into the forge when the work was done. And he seemed to like you.” “Well, he doesn’t like me any more, Brian. ‘Tis that simple. People change and I’m not … I’m not the easiest person to live with. You of all people should know that.” “Aye, Riley, I know it, but there was a bargain struck and he seemed the kind of man to hold to a bargain. We shoulda made him sign something. I don’t know what we’re gonna do now.” He grabbed the edge of the trunk and began to pull. “I suppose we’ll have to go to Corrigan, give him what he wants. Mick might be able to help some, but he wants to be a miller, for criminy’s sake. Can’t even think of why when there’s a smithy to be had for the simple price of marryin’ you.” The trunk was finally in the keeping room where it had started. Brian swung open the door and gave her a puzzled look. “Is all right with you, Riley? You seem … different.” She tried to smile but staring in Brian’s open concerned face was the last thing she needed to do. She dropped to the floor and burst into tears. Instantly he was beside her and she felt his arms, skinny until a week ago, hug her with a strength that surprised her. “I’ll kick his sorry ass back to England,” Brian said. “’Tis better this way if he can make you feel like this. Don’t worry about anythin’ right now. We’ll work somethin’ out.
I knew Logan was a good-for-nothin’, no-account devil. I should never have let him into our house. I should never have let him into the smithy, for criminy’s sake. A man like that doesn’t have what it takes to even be a smith and I can do without him hangin’ about all the time. Can’t even move about in my own house without him orderin’ me to stay put. He’s nothin’ but a cur, Riley, a blackguard with no heart, and we should be glad to be rid of him.” Riley swept the curls across Brian’s forehead. She cupped his face in her hands. “He liked you very much, Brian. Said you’d make the finest smith in the colony. Said he learned more from you than anyone else in his life.” “I knew that,” Brian whispered. “Take the trunk now.” “Just one peek?” She smiled. “No, Brian, not one.” Brian pushed the trunk through the open door and was just lifting one end when Daniel Corrigan nearly knocked him to the ground. Brian gave him his most disgusted look, then gave Riley a look that wished her luck. Corrigan barreled into the cottage and swept it with a furious glance. “Where is he?” “Who?” “For Christ’s sake, Riley, who do you think? Logan. I have a few things I need to discuss with him.” “He’s not living here any more.” “He has to be here,” Corrigan said. “He’s not at the Doe. Talked to one of the girls last night and I heard all about Raphael Logan. He was there one night and she said he left. I checked at the Stag and even a few of the cottages where the single men live. I could find him nowhere. I assumed he came back to you, although why you’d take him back after what I found out, I cannot imagine.” “What do you mean he’s nowhere?” Riley asked. Corrigan was pacing in front of her. He appeared to have almost forgotten where he was. His hands clenched rhythmically as he talked. “Do you know what kind of man has been living in your house? He’s a whoremaster, Riley. Owns a brothel in Southwark. Apparently a very nice place, but that’s beside the point. He knew Tabby Atkins years ago, almost married her if you choose to believe the stories. I found out why he came here. Ask him about the contract, Riley. Ask him why he was so eager to be in your home and use your body like a whore’s. He owns you, Riley Sullivan. He owns you for the rest of your life and he’s come here to claim his property and take you back to work at Fallen Angels. He planned to be on board when the Lioness sails. Do you want to be a whore, Riley? Because if you leave with him and go to Fallen Angels, that’s exactly what you’ll be and I heard that Raphael Logan doesn’t fuck whores.” “He told me that,” she said. But Daniel wasn’t listening. “Now the bastard’s gone and disappeared. That can not be good. What exactly has he said to you? Has he mentioned anything like this to you?” Corrigan finally stopped in the middle of the room. His brows furrowed. “You don’t seem surprised,” he said.
“I know about the contract,” she said. “I found out several days ago and I asked him to leave. He told me he’d be sailing on the Lioness.” “And you believed him?” “He threw the contract into the fire, Daniel. I don’t think he means to enforce it.” “You can’t trust a man like him, Riley. You have so little experience in dealing with people. You can’t know what his motives are for lulling you into complacency. He could come back here in the dead of night and steal you away.” “He’s not much of a thief,” Riley said. “He told me so.” Corrigan moved toward the door and gazed into the street as though he could wish Logan into his field of vision. Daniel Corrigan looked like he wanted to hit something. “A whoremaster, a thief, what’s the difference? The man has no principles, no morals, no decency.” “I lived with Peter Sullivan all my life, Daniel. I know what motivates a man with no principles. I’m an expert in dealing with unscrupulous men. I may have underestimated my father but I believe what Logan said. He means to leave here and forget I exist.” She fought hard to choke back a sob but Daniel must have heard it. His face swung toward her and there was such an incredulous expression of his face, she felt foolish and ashamed. “What is this then?” he asked. She turned away but he charged across the room and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. He cradled her shoulders and ducked his head to peer at her face. “Oh, Riley, tell me you’ve not fallen in love with the bastard.” “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I can fix this,” Daniel said. “I’ll find the bastard and make sure he gets on that ship. Once he’s gone, we can all get our lives back to where they should be. I’ll do whatever you want, Riley. You can keep the shop going. You can sell. You can hand it all over to Brian. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Just let me fix this for you. I want you to be happy.” “I was happy, Daniel,” she whispered. “For a week, I was happy.” “You can be happy again, angel.” When the tears started she couldn’t stop them. Daniel held her in his arms and let her cry.
Chapter 25 Riley wasn’t sure it was the best idea she’d ever had, but she could think of nothing else to do. She walked across the marshy grasslands between the village and hill that stood at the edge of the windswept field. The mill stood on top of the hill, its sails gathering the wind to harness some of the earth’s energy while she tried to gather her courage. If Rafe was not anywhere in the village, there was only one place he could be. Mick, Michael, may have been angry with his brother, but he wouldn’t turn him away. Mick… Michael. His name is Michael. Michael was far too generous, too good-hearted to turn anyone away. She would go to the mill and see Rafe’s face for just one moment, so she could be certain he was fine. And once the Lioness sailed she would forget his face, lock it somewhere deep inside where she’d never have to see it again. She’d done it before. She could do it now. She didn’t know what she would do once the sails of the Lioness disappeared over the horizon. Daniel seemed determined to hold onto her. Brian had been right. There were worse men than Daniel Corrigan. He would do everything in his power to give her a comfortable life, to offer her security, to make her happy. What difference did it make if everything she offered to him belonged to another man? Daniel seemed willing to keep it in the past where it belonged. She saw Michael’s figure in the distance. He was adjusting the angles of the canvas sails on the mill. Another perfect man in her life, although different from Rafe in every possible way. Michael was gregarious, charming and held in his heart an abundance of love that he spread around with his smiles. He had always made her laugh even on her worst days and if he spent a little too much time in the tavern enjoying the company of his friends, she had always been willing to forgive him when he brought her a daisy stolen from a field or a bright ribbon for her hair. Michael could offer her a happy life, one filled with breezy care-free days and passionate nights. What difference would it make if every time he touched her thoughts of another filled her mind and every time he spoke she heard his brother’s voice? Rafe said Michael would not hold malice toward her and she believed that. If Michael would forgive her, she would accept the forgiveness as a gift. And if he did not seem the answer to all her prayers, at least she could be grateful for the blessing of his smile. He waved when he saw her. He took one more moment for a final adjustment then started down the hill toward her. She felt tears start in her eyes and hated herself. She had done more crying in the last two days than she had since Catherine’s death. There should be no tears left in her body. Michael pretended not to notice her tears. His arms gathered her tight against him. The strong arms around her felt nice, solid, welcoming but something was missing. Her heart continued to beat its normal rhythm, her blood continued to flow through her veins in a steady passage. When he drew back and gazed into her eyes, his were the beautiful blue of a summer sky but she wanted the ocean depths, the mystery of deep dark waters and the glow of a star in a night sky. His sun-filled hair blew around his face as the wind blustered steadily across the field and she brushed it from his face, but it felt different
under her hands. She missed dark thick strands that fell across wide shoulders and down a back thick with muscle and sinew. Her entire body craved a different man, a different life. The ache that spread through her was painful. She felt lost, abandoned, hopeless. “Is this my lucky day, then, Riley?” he asked. “Have you come to accept my proposal?” When she didn’t answer, he gave her a tentative smile and her heart broke. Michael’s smiles were never tentative. They spread across his face without thought. “Well, I didna think so,” he said. “I’ve not had many lucky days in the last few weeks. Times will change though. I can feel it. I’m willing to wait. So if you didna come to make me the happiest man in earth, what brings you to Windy Hill?” “I wanted … I wanted to know if you’ve seen…” She couldn’t even say his name. Something inside of her hurt. “…your brother.” Michael fell to the ground and stretched his lean body in the grass. He propped up on his elbow and studied her as she dropped to her knees beside him. “Aye, I’ve seen him. He was here yesterday. We talked.” “And was he … well?” “Aye, lass. Raphael Logan is always well. ‘Tis the way he’s made.” He reached out and took her hand. He began to play with her fingers, curling his around them. “And you, lass? Are you … well?” She stared down the hill, gazing at the village in the distance. She shook her head. “No, I didna think so,” Michael said. He dropped her hand and sat up, draping his hands over his knees. “My brother is a … different sort of man, Riley. He’s proud, stubborn and, Christ knows, Rafe always thinks he knows what’s best for everyone. If he loves you, he’ll give you the world, but he’ll take none of the world for himself because he doesna think he deserves it.” Riley studied her hands, folded quietly in her lap. “He does deserve it, doesn’t he, Michael?” “Oh, aye, he does, lass. He’s done some things that he shouldna have done in his life and he’s treated people far worse sometimes than they deserved, but he takes care of his own. Considering the man owns a whorehouse, the women under his protection are treated like bloody gold and lucky to have a man like Raphael in their lives. My brother seems like a hard man at times but inside…” “Inside?” “Well, inside of him, Riley, is a man that’s afraid to have anything because he fears to lose it. ‘Tis easier for Rafe to stride through his life with nothing than to risk the heartache of loss.” Michael laughed suddenly, reached out and squeezed her hand. “He’s also the kind of man that doesna know a good thing when it bites him in the ass.” Riley smiled. “I’m a little that way myself at times.” “Aye, lass, you are. The question is what are you going to do about that? Rafe may have come here with a hard bitter purpose and a heart of stone, but that’s not how he’s leaving.” “How’s he leaving, Michael?” “The heart of stone’s been broken into shards, lass. Even I canna cheer him up.” Michael leaned forward and touched her face. “He’s in love with you, Riley.” “No, he’s not,” she whispered.
“Oh, aye, lass, he is.” “Did he tell you that?” “He doesna need to tell me anything. I can see it on his face and I recognize it for what it is. ‘Tis how I feel.” “I know, Michael, and I wish…” Michael rose to his feet and pulled her up beside him. “Don’t waste your wishes on me. You must save them for yourself. With a man like Raphael, there will be plenty of times you’ll need a wish or two.” He wrapped his hands around her face. “But he will always treat you right, Riley Sullivan. He’s a very loyal, dedicated and trusting man when he loves someone and when you love him in return, he’ll give his soul to you without question. I’ve been lucky to have him in my life. I’d not thought there was a man luckier than me until today. Now I find I’ve just one more reason to envy him.” She started to speak and Michael put his finger across her lips. He shook his head. “I don’t need to hear it,” he said. “’Twill break my heart.” He studied her for a long moment then shifted his eyes toward the village. “Shall I walk you to the Doe?” “He’s not at the Doe,” Riley said. “Daniel said he’d left there. I thought he might be here. Could he have gone to the ship?” Michael’s handsome face crinkled. “He wasna planning to leave the Doe. Said he couldna stand to be on the Lioness any sooner than necessary.” His eyes widened suddenly and he tugged his hair away from his face, deep in thought. “Damn it!” Michael started down the hill, came back up, started down again and finally turned to her. He patted his pockets. “I’m a little short on coin. Have you any money?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a leather bag. “Is this enough?” Michael took the bag from her hand and peered inside. “Christ, woman, I don’t want to start a rebellion. I just want a little bribe money. Where did you get this?” She felt the blush spread across her face but she met his eyes squarely. “I stole it.” “From Rafe?” “Aye,” she said. “I returned everything else, and most of the coins, but I … I wanted this. I earned it, Michael. Do you have any idea what living with that man is like?” “Aye, lass, I know exactly what it’s like and I’m sure you earned every coin in this sack, but I’ll not need it all.” He reached inside and grabbed a handful of coins, stuffing them into his pocket. He started to hand it back, then snatched it back and took another handful. His smile was a beautiful gift. “I’ve lived with him too. And he’s going to owe me for this. On second thought, give me the bag. If ‘tis like last time, I’m going to have to buy him back.” “Buy him back?” “Don’t worry about it, lass. All will be well. ‘Tis a bad habit with him.” He sprinted toward the mill. He turned around at the top of the hill and called down to her. “Go home, Riley.” “Where are you going?” “I’ve some work to finish.”
“I want him back, Michael! Right now! I thought you were going to find him for me!” “Oh, aye, lass, I will, but it wouldna be good for Rafe if I saved him too bloody quick. I’m going to let him stew awhile. Give him all the time in the world to think things through. I’ll deliver him to you tonight. Put on your prettiest gown and wait.” With a wave, he disappeared into the mill.
Chapter 26 Rafe Logan sat on a damp floor in a pitch black chamber. He didn’t need to see anything to know where he was. In the hold of a bloody ship. He could smell the stinking rot of the wood, the decaying stench of old food, the foul ghostly odors of unwashed bodies. Once he got home he never intended to board another ship as long as he lived. Of course he hadn’t actually boarded this one. His entire body ached and the top of his head felt like it might actually explode from the pressure. Whoever had battered him unconscious had done a bloody fine job of it. He had no idea how long he had been out, but it had obviously been enough time to drag him to this vessel, toss him into this vile place and shackle him. Oh, aye, that was the best part. The shackles. They were cuffed to both ankles, thick bands of iron that fit around his legs like they were made just for him. A nice touch. No scars this time. His hands were free, a blessing considering he’d been pissing blood for a couple hours now. He now had an explanation for the dull ache in his back. Knowing why it hurt had not made him feel any better because seeing blood stream from his cock had not been a pleasant sight. He’d caught a glimpse of the blood earlier when a thin drizzle of light had managed to find its way through one of the bloody cracks in the bloody hull. He hoped to God when the ship sailed it didn’t have far to go. They’d not make it across the entire fucking ocean in a ship like this. In fact the longer he sat, the damper his ass got. He felt like he might be lying in a puddle of water soon. There was a plate of food sitting beside him. He could smell the greasy smear of fat that congealed on it and hear the flies that buzzed excitedly over what wasn’t fit for human consumption but was obviously a tasty meal for flies. He wasn’t about to touch it. He supposed it was safe to eat. The flies certainly hadn’t died yet. He’d considered it might be poisoned, but doubt had seeped through his muddy brain when he thought of the shackles. Whoever had gone to all the trouble of knocking him unconscious, beating him to a bloody pulp and trussing him up in this floating prison hadn’t wanted him all the way dead. Just a little dead. Hungry as he was, he still couldn’t bring himself to reach toward the plate. The smell of it made him want to vomit. He couldn’t hear much of anything with the exception of the friendly flies that buzzed around him like they were old pals. They were very interested in the blood smell that clung to him. He could feel it matted in his hair and there was a dried streak across his forehead. Once a little more water leaked into his new home he planned to wash. He had heard the screech of several gulls and the constant rhythm of the waves lapping against the worthless hull. He knew they were still in port. The ship rocked with a gentle motion that he associated with the river. There were none of the violent movements of being tossed about by the waves of the sea. If they were in port, there was a slight chance he could get out of this mess. He was still trying to figure out exactly what happened. He remembered talking with Tabby at the Doe and he remembered going out to the Blake’s to talk with Michael. His brother had convinced him in his roundabout fashion that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. According to Michael, Rafe had made many mistakes in his life, but this one was by far the biggest, the worst, and far and away the one that would ruin his
life. Michael thought he was a damn bloody fool. Rafe tended to agree but even as he listened to his brother chat his ear off about Riley Sullivan’s charms, he wondered why his brother was willing to give away the only thing he wanted for himself. When he left the mill it was near dark and he remembered standing outside Riley’s cottage, watching the glow through the window and thinking how much he wanted to go inside. There was no reason on earth she should let him into her house, but he thought she just might. He wasn’t sure what might happen after that but he hoped she might forgive him. The last few days had been a little hard and all he wanted to do was lie in her arms and feel her hand soothe the hair away from his forehead. Of course he hadn’t gotten a chance to see if she might forgive him because when he heard something behind him and turned … well, he didn’t remember anything after that. He’d been blindsided. Out of nowhere. Not a surprise considering he’d been distracted. Distracted? That wasn’t quite the right word for what he’d been the last few days. Obsessed. Closer. Insane. Closer still. There was only one thought in his head, one face in his thoughts. He could smell her skin, taste her mouth, feel her heat, see her eyes and hear her voice. All he wanted was her. It was time to be honest with himself. He knew now he’d never signed that contract for business. That little girl standing on the street had somehow stolen his heart before he knew he had one. That look he had seen in her eyes, the dreamy, starry-eyed hopes of a young girl, had been for him. She had opened her soul to him that day and shown him a glimpse of the future. Destiny. Fate. He was beginning to believe in all of it and starting to accept that he just might deserve to have what he wanted. That was a new insight because Raphael Logan never knew a good thing when it bit him in the ass. He intended to get out of this current mess. He was going to go to Riley and just tell her how it was. He was in love with her, she belonged to him and they were going to start a life together. That’s the way it was going to be. For once in her life, she was going to listen without that little huff she loved to make. He might let her huff once, but that was it. Of course getting off of the ship might be harder than he expected. The shackles were going to be a problem. When he heard the squeal of a rusty hinge, he should have been prepared but he wasn’t. The blaze of light poured through the open door and blinded him. He squinted, holding his arm over his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was heavenly. “Tabitha.” “Hello, Rafe. Enjoying the accommodations?” “I’ve had better,” he said. “What the hell is going on this time?” “You’re going on a little journey, Rafe. Barbados is a beautiful place I’m told. A tropical paradise. Unfortunately it will be hurricane season when you arrive.” “Barbados? Never been there. Marseilles was nice though. I never got a chance to thank you for that.” Rafe peered at the shadow in the doorway, trying to see even a glimpse of her face. All he could see was the cascade of flaxen silk spread over her shoulders. He leaned forward, his elbows draped over his knees. His back hurt but he wasn’t going to let her see it. “Why the fuck am I going to Barbados, Tabby?” “Because I can’t have you in Jamestown,” Tabby said. “The village is not big enough to sustain the competition. I’m a businesswoman, darling, and this is strictly a
business decision, not at all personal. I love everything about you and were the situation different … well, I’d drag you into my bed and keep you there for winter.” “I was planning to return to London, Tabby. Was all this necessary?” “I can’t trust you, darling. Love does funny things to a man like you. I’ve been watching you the last few days and when you stood outside her door last night, I just couldn’t take the chance. She’s got some kind of hold over you and knowing how you get when you’re in love … well, you can see why I had to make the decision.” “So you’re just going to ship me off to Barbados like some kind of cargo?” “No, Raphael, actually I’ve sold you.” “I don’t remember being yours to sell, Tabitha.” Tabby laughed. “Like that matters! How many people have you bought knowing it wasn’t really the right thing to do? You might want to ask Riley Sullivan how she felt when she was sold. It could give you a little perspective on your current situation.” “I know how she felt, Tabby.” Rafe pushed his back against the wall, gritting his teeth against the pain, and hoisted himself up to his feet. His head threatened to split wide open and when he moved, he felt a trickle of blood ooze down the side of his face. “I hope we didn’t hurt you too badly,” Tabby said. “I gave explicit instructions you weren’t to be damaged. Shall I send a doctor?” “One of the doctors in this paradise? No. I’ll take my chances.” “I’ll send someone. I can’t take the chance. You have no idea how much a man your size is worth. I got a bloody fortune for you. They’re desperate for people to work the cane fields. Apparently it’s quite a strenuous occupation and many don’t survive long.” She walked toward him, holding up the hem of her gown. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. But I’m a little worried about that blood.” “If I were you, Tabby, I’d worry a little more about what my future held. When I get out of here I…” “Darling,” she said softly, “you won’t be getting out of here. The ship sails with the next tide, probably a matter of hours now, and after that … well, I’m afraid it’s a whole different life for you. You never did like all the slush and snow of winter. Consider it an extended holiday.” Rafe folded his arms across his chest. “Do you think Barbados is far enough from Jamestown to escape my wrath?” “Are you threatening me, darling? Believe me, I’m not frightened. It’s brutal there. Like I said, a great many men don’t survive and, tough as you are, you’ll only last so long.” “I didna think you such a murderous bitch, Tabby.” “I prefer to be called a businesswoman, Rafe. I’d kiss you goodbye for your journey but the sight of blood makes me a little queasy.” She lifted her skirt and headed toward the door. Before she closed it, she gave him a little wave and blew him a kiss. “It was business, Rafe. Nothing more.” Rafe let his body slide down the wall. When he was sitting in his puddle he dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck.”
He thought for a minute he drifted off, either to sleep, or to the oblivion of a blackout, but in the next instant, his head jerked up as he heard the rusty rasp of the door again and the glow of lantern light flooded the room. Once again he was blinded. “Christ, Tabby, I’m not in the mood for any more of these bloody games! Get the hell out!” A key clanked against a metal ring somewhere in the shadow behind the light. “Easy, Raphael.” Rafe peered through the amber glow and found his brother’s face. Michael walked into the chamber, his boots slapping through a series of damp puddles. “Planning to go down with the ship, Rafe? ‘Tis getting a might deep in here.” “’Tis about bloody time you got here,” Rafe snarled. “You could give a man a bit of warning when you’re going to be sold off. ‘Twould have come in handy last time. That slave market in Marseilles was brutal. Fucking maniacs in France.” “Aye, but ‘tis a beautiful country.” “She was pissed off royally that time. Never assume a woman wants to marry you, Rafe. They don’t like it.” “Aye, I found that out the hard way.” “Took me awhile to figure it out this time considering you’ve not even fucked her since you’ve been here. What’s Tabby got against you now?” “Competition,” Rafe said. “Thinks I’m all set to open Fallen Angels New World or some such thing. Canna imagine the life of a smithy holds this much intrigue. I’m thinking I need to retire.” Michael hunkered down and began to unlock the shackles. “Planning to stay then?” “Would that bother you?” Rafe asked. The first shackle fell off and splashed into a puddle. Rafe stretched his leg out. “No, it wouldna bother me,” Michael said. Rafe saw him wink in the soft glow. “Could use a little family around from time to time. Thinking that between the smithy and the mill the Logans could own a chunk of this colony in no time. Although we’ll leave the whore business to Tabby. She’s a dangerous woman.” “Aye, she is that.” Michael twisted the key and the second shackle fell off. Rafe groaned and flexed his leg. “You look a little battered, brother. Canna imagine Riley’s going to be too happy to see you so poorly used.” Rafe struggled to his feet and Michael rammed his shoulder under Rafe’s arm to lift him. When he felt his brother’s arm wrap around his waist, he sank against him and accepted the help. “Will she be happy to see me at all?” Rafe asked. “Aye, Raphael. I canna understand it, but the lass seems fairly smitten with you. Doesna seem to matter that you bought her body, she seems to belong to you—heart, mind and soul.” “And you Michael? How do you feel about this?” “’Twasn’t my lucky week, Rafe. Lost in cards. Lost the girl. And lost all the money I stole from you buying you back. Tabby got a bleeding fortune for your worthless carcass.
But things will get better. I can feel it. So shall I write the letter to Gabrielle, or are you man enough to do it?” Rafe ducked his head as Michael shifted him through the door. “Oh, I’m man enough,” he said, “the question is what do we tell her?” “That she now owns the finest stew in Southwark,” Michael said. “And to send money. You’re out of it, brother.”
Chapter 27 As darkness fell, Riley rose from the table to peer through the shutters every five minutes. She smoothed her dress, adjusting the bodice to show just the right amount of cleavage, and ran her hand across her braid, smoothing the wisps of hair that she knew must have come loose. She couldn’t seem to sit still. She was aware Brian was watching every move she made, but so far he had not asked her what she was waiting for. When she swung the kettle over the grate and began to pace back and forth in front of the hearth, Brian finally tossed his quill down onto the table with a disgusted groan. “Sit down, Riley! If you need somethin’ to do come help me with some of these words. This book is a little complicated.” “I can’t think of … whatever it is you’re doing right now.” “And I can’t think with the way you’re pacing around like some kind of wild animal. And why are you wearing your best dress? ‘Tis almost time for bed.” Riley ignored him and plopped down onto the bench. She cast a quick look around the cottage. “Does everything look nice?” Brian’s brow furrowed and his eyes darted with confusion between the hearth, the table, the windows. “Aye, it looks the same as always.” “No, I mean does it look clean? Cozy? Comfortable? Like a home? More than a place to eat, to sleep, to work? An actual home?” Brian rolled his eyes and gave her a funny look. “Aye, Riley, everything is fine. ‘Tis … all of that.” He reached out and pulled another book toward him. She sighed and drummed her fingers on the table. She finally reached out for his book and slid it toward her. She tilted her head. “What exactly are you working on?” “’Tis a book on alchemy, base metals. Blends and mixtures for strength and quality. ‘Tis one of the books Rafe … well, ‘tis one of those books. Master Evans brought it today while you were gone. Can I keep it?” Riley smiled and pushed the book back across the table. “Aye, Brian, you can keep it. ‘Twas a gift.” His gaze caught hers for a minute, staring at her with such a solemn expression that Riley was sorry to see such a look in his eyes. Brian was quiet for a minute then reached out and laid his hand over hers. “You’re a gift, Riley. He didn’t realize what a gift you were. I tried to tell him, but…” Brian sighed. “He was a bloody fool, I guess.” “’Tis sweet of you to say so, Brian.” “Well, you’re my sister,” Brian said, “but I’m not blind.” Riley laughed and when the knocking started it took her a moment to hear it. She stiffened as Brian swung his head in the direction of the door. He started to rise and Riley jumped to her feet. “Wait!” She ran her hands through her hair then started to shuffle parchments and books into stacks.
“Can I answer it?” Brian asked. “I’m … nervous,” she said. “Nervous? ‘Tis probably just Daniel Corrigan checking on you again. He’s been here three times today.” The knocking started again, this time with an urgent, desperate quality that made Riley rush across the room. She nearly knocked Brian out of the way flinging the door open. She saw Michael’s bright smile then her eyes darted to the bowed head of the man he held upright. “He’s had a rough day,” Michael said. “Perhaps you’d like to invite us in? He’s a great deal bigger than I am and he’s bloody heavy.” Rafe tried to raise his head. Riley saw his eyes lift to hers through the sweaty hair that fell across his face. She saw a soft smile flicker on his lips. She realized she must have looked terrified, frozen in the doorway, when his voice drifted toward her. “Relax, vixen. I’ll be fine. I just need to fall down for awhile.” She reached out and grabbed his face, tilting it up. When she pressed her lips to his, his mouth captured hers in an endless kiss that tore a moan from her. She pulled her lips away, trying to talk, trying to breathe, but he lifted his hand and tugged her toward him again. Her mouth opened and his tongue swept inside, stealing every thought from her head. He only released her because Michael was readjusting his load. When he jostled Rafe’s body, Riley came to her senses. She shot Michael an apologetic look and he shrugged. She touched Rafe’s face again, running her finger across the slash on his forehead. “Don’t ever leave me again, Rafe Logan,” she whispered. “I can’t breathe without you.” “No, lass, never. I havena breathed in days.” She stepped out of the way while Michael carried Rafe toward the bedroom door. Brian was already in the room, yanking the covers down and plumping the pillows. Rafe practically fell on the bed as the last of Michael’s strength gave out. Riley pulled off his boots and began to tug at his clothes. “In a minute, darlin’.” “Rafe, you’re bleeding. I have to see where you’re hurt, what I should do.” “The first thing you need to do is get the quilt you bought back on this bed. What did you do with it?” “I put it in your trunk,” she whispered. “Lass, I don’t give gifts to have them returned.” “I didn’t want it after you left,” she said softly. “And where is my trunk? I see you didna want that either.” “’Tis at the White Doe.” Rafe groaned and pulled Michael down beside him. “The bitch has probably sold everything already. ‘Tis filled with coin.” Michael’s brows rose. “I brought practically all the cash I had. I didna know what would happen here, what I’d need.” “Well, when you write to Gabrielle you better send some back then, or she’ll have your ass.” “Gabby will be fine. She’s enough left to run the business for years. Brian.” Brian stepped toward him hesitantly. “Aye, sir.”
Rafe motioned the boy toward the bed. “You offered me a gift once,” he said. “I’ve decided to accept.” “And cling to it with all your strength?” “Aye, lad, I’ve come home to stay, if you and your sister will have me.” Brian glanced at Riley. She nodded. “’Tis fairly obvious what she wants,” Brian said, “and I could always use a good striker.” “Good then,” Rafe said. He held out his arm and Brian rushed toward him. Riley watched as Rafe wrapped his arm around her brother. Brian buried his face in Rafe’s chest and gave him a squeeze. When he stepped away, he looked embarrassed. “’Tis probably not seemly,” Brian said. “Michael’s arm was wrapped around me, Brian,” Rafe said. “I’d not worry about what might be seemly.” “Aye, Rafe, but Mick’s your brother, I’ve heard, and…” “And if I marry your sister, will you not be my brother as well?” Riley dropped to the floor in a flurry of skirt and three pairs of eyes slid toward her. She saw Rafe’s rest on the cleavage that threatened to spill from her bodice. It had seemed a necessary evil this evening but now she wished she had been more conservative. She gave him a shy smile and he winked. “Still selling your wares, lass?” “Aye, sir, are you buying?” “I think you already belong to me, darlin’.” “You burned the paper,” she said. “Then we’ll have to replace it with a paper of a different sort. We’re going to make it official so I have no worries about my possessions disappearing. Besides, I canna have any bastards. ‘Tis time to break the Logan tradition.” His smile gave her enough strength to get off the floor. She sat at the edge of the bed while Rafe Logan gave orders. “The two of you go to the White Doe and get that trunk. Make up some story or another. Don’t let her know I’m not on my way to Barbados. I’ll deal with her on the morrow. Brian, no peeking through the windows. Let Michael carry the trunk from inside. And you, madam, come here.” He crooked his finger at her as Michael gave Brian a tug and they disappeared through the door. She saw Rafe’s lips form words but she didn’t need to hear them to know what he said. “I love you.” “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Come here and prove it to me. ‘Tis not a request.” She made a tiny move toward him and her arms were caught. He yanked her up his body and rolled her over, smothering her mouth with his. His lips roamed from her mouth to her throat and spread soft kisses on the swell of her breasts. “Riley Sullivan, you have fairly stolen everything I am,” he said. “I like to think ‘tis been given freely.” “Oh, lass, had I known what destiny had in store for me, I would have had you on that street in Southwark. I’ve lost five years of forever with you.”
“Five years ago we were not the same people,” Riley said. “’Tis not always possible to see our fates. Sometimes they have to be glimpsed through the eyes of others. I see my life in your eyes, Rafe. I see dark secret passion, deep love, the promises of starry dreams in the night sky.” “And in yours I see the peace of a pristine forest and the tempest of a stormy sea. Have I ever told you green is my favorite color?” “No, Rafe.” “I always see hope in your eyes, Riley, no matter what happens, your eyes are filled with it. Hope, dreams, wishes … love. I want that love to belong to me.” “It does,” she said. “It always has.” “Take off your dress.” “You’re hurt, Rafe. You’re…” “Aye, I know. I’m bleeding. But the last I looked I wasna dead. Take off your dress, wench, before I take it off myself. I’ve no desire to tear another of your skirts.” He winked. “Unless I have to. Are you going to be difficult?” He wrapped his hands around her face and captured her mouth. “You don’t want me to tend your wounds?” Riley asked. Rafe smiled against her mouth. “I’ve something else that needs tending first. I’ve a need to fuck you, Riley Sullivan. ‘Tis been days. I’m barely alive from the lack of it.” “You seem fairly worn. Not in your best shape.” “Aye, lass, but I recover quickly and I’ve thought of nothing but you. Now take off the bloody dress.” She began to unlace the bodice as Rafe struggled to tear the breeches from his legs. “My back is in bad shape, lass,” he said. “I fear you might have to do most of the work.” She dropped the dress to the floor and put her knee on the bed as Rafe settled back on the pillow. “’Tis well then, Master Logan, because I’ve a need to fuck you tonight.” Rafe spread his arms and Riley dove against his chest. “Have at it then, lass. I’m all yours. ‘Tis been said I’m the answer to a woman’s prayers.” “Are you the answer to mine, Master Logan?” “Aye, lass, every prayer you’ve ever had.” She gave him a kiss that tore the breath from his lungs then ran her hands down the length of his body. She loved seeing the look that came into his eyes. “Is this heaven, lass?” “I think it just might be, Rafe. At least as close as we’ll ever get.” “I’ll take it,” Rafe said. “Kiss me, Riley. Show me how much lies between us.” “I’ll need a lifetime for that,” Riley said. “But I can get a start on it tonight.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and when their mouths met, she knew she had found her piece of heaven. It was all she’d ever wanted and one little piece was more than enough for any woman. The End
About the Author: Amber Carlton is a proofreader by day but in the evening she tucks herself into a corner and escapes into another world. She lives in the Midwest, is married and the mother of two young men, 18 and 20, who seem content to live at home (which she secretly likes). In her “spare” time, she reads a wide variety of fiction, indulges in her Buffy-Angel addiction, and is a member and moderator of a fan board for a popular television show. She also enjoys spending time with her “real” and “online” friends. Amber loves to receive email from readers and can be contacted at
[email protected].
Meet LSB Authors At Http://Lsbooks.Net We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com for other exciting literary erotica romances. Weekend Games—Chris Tanglen Destiny's Magick—Rae Morgan Love Lessons—Vanessa Hart Portal—Sydney Morgann Bittersweet—Louisa Trent Business or Pleasure…or Both?—Rae Morgan and Jasmine Haynes And many, many more!!
