The Lady and the Dragon

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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

512 Forest Lake Drive

Warner Robins, Georgia 31093

The Lady and the Dragon

Copyright © 2007 by Shelley Bradley

Cover by Scott Carpenter

ISBN: 1-59998-471-7

www.samhainpublishing.com

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2007

The Lady and the Dragon

Shelley Bradley

Dedication

To Angie and Crissy. Thank you for giving my first book a second chance.

You are wonderful to work with!

The Lady and the Dragon

Chapter One

1813

“What do you mean, blackmailing Manchester is out of the question? The old bastard doesn’t have a single vice?” Drexell Cain demanded, fists clenched as he leaned across the warped surface of the pub’s battered table.

Within the seedy inn’s common room, raucous laughter exploded and drunken singing abounded. The smell of old liquor lingered. His friend, Gregory Bryce, Viscount Monroe, dressed in a fine coat of Devonshire brown, looked as out of place rubbing elbows with the dockside scum as the Prince Regent would.

Greg shook his head. “Not one sin, my friend.”

“Damn!” Drex pounded a fist into the table. “I’d hoped he was following Melville’s lead and using the Admiralty’s money to speculate for his own profit.”

“Why should he? Manchester is nearly as wealthy as the Admiralty’s treasury.”

“The old bugger can’t be perfect,” Drex insisted. “Isn’t he sampling the goods in any bedroom but his own? What about gambling debts?” He raked a tense hand through his hair. “Did you check at White’s and Watier’s?”

“I’ve come as close to the man as I can without moving in like some spinster aunt. He doesn’t indulge in tête-à-têtes or drink. He even runs with the tediously dull crowd at Boodle’s.”

“Sounds like a damned saint.” Drex swore.

“Indeed, our Lord of the Admiralty appears the utmost in devoted family men. He is deeply involved in his granddaughter’s life and attends services at Mayfair Chapel every Sunday.”

“No man is without at least one weakness. He must have a flaw of some sort…” Drex pressed on, his voice urgent.

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Shelley Bradley

“I found nothing, nor did the detective we hired,” Greg insisted. “Drex, you must try to free Ryan in other ways or you will get yourself killed. How do you know he is still alive? It’s been four years. The conditions in the Royal Navy—”

“Are deplorable. I know.” Drex grimaced. “But damn it, Ryan is my twin, my only family and my responsibility.”

“He chose a life at sea.”

“He didn’t choose life in the Royal Navy,” Drex bit out. “True, he wouldn’t be at the whim of the Admiralty if he hadn’t run off to seek adventure. I fully intend to make Ryan see that he has obligations, a wife and son who need him.

I won’t make excuses for him, but he deserves his freedom.”

Greg sighed. “Very well. What other brilliant suggestions do you have?

Blackmail is out of the question.”

Drex swallowed a lump of anger and thumped his fingers against the table.

“What about the signet ring I showed you? Were you able to find out who my scoundrel of a father is?”

Greg nodded, then paused. “The Earl of Ashmont.”

“He sounds like a man of consequence, then.” Even if he only used his position to impregnate his upstairs maid and cast her into the squalor of London’s streets. But Ryan’s plight insisted he ignore the fury and resentment pounding in Drex’s veins. “Perhaps he can work with Manchester’s office to—”

“Drex, he is not well. He’s spent the last twenty years holed up in his country house in Devonshire and does not have the political connections needed. But I spoke with him—”

“He knows someone who can help?”

“Damnation, Drex, no. I am telling you that he has been searching for you and Ryan for fifteen years. He knew nothing about you until he received your mother’s diary by post shortly before she died.”

Drex spotted a man with a ragged beard on his mean face staring intently two tables down and lowered his voice. “You told him my name, my identity?”

“No, of course not. But the man wants you in his life.”

Drex suppressed a surge of icy rage. “I’ve had no use for him in twenty-eight years. If he can’t help me with Ryan’s release, I have no use for him now.”

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The Lady and the Dragon

“If that is truly your sentiment, the only other suggestion I have is diplomacy. Perhaps it will prove fruitful if you try again.”

“Like hell.” Drex gripped his mug of ale in white-knuckled fingers.

“President Madison spares little concern for Ryan and the other Americans the Royal Navy has impressed. He’s more intent on creating peace, even if it’s false.

Besides, the British Admiralty simply thinks they’ve reclaimed their own.”

Greg winced. “Technically, Drex, you and Ryan are their own, being London born. The Admiralty doesn’t care how long you’ve lived in America. To them, you’re English citizens.”

Drex took a sip of flat ale. “Another reason Madison’s administration was reluctant to get involved.”

“Indeed, but what other options do you have?” Greg leaned in, his voice dropping. “You haven’t found Ryan by traipsing the seas in the guise of the Black Dragon, as you’d hoped.”

Drex nodded gravely before adopting a rueful grin. “But more than a few of His Majesty’s ships have met a watery grave. A sunken warship is one that can’t impress more Americans.”

Greg raised a pale brow. “With that outlook, it’s no wonder you have a huge bounty on your head. God, for five thousand pounds, I might be tempted to turn you in myself.” Greg laughed. “Then again, if you were caught and hung, Chantal would murder me for allowing that to happen.”

With a hollow laugh overshadowed by drunken revelry, Drex scanned the crowded room absently, trying to erase the guilt that stung from his failure. He hadn’t returned Ryan to his wife, Chantal, as he’d promised. Closing his eyes, Drex rubbed his aching forehead, mentally scrutinizing other solutions.

Surrender was unthinkable, defeat unacceptable. He would find Ryan, alive, and force his brother to learn responsibility. Or he’d die trying.

Shaking the dismal thought away, he glanced across the poorly-lit tavern. A burly hunk of a man slid his beefy arm around a serving wench. The slender girl swatted him and danced away. Watching the two, an outrageous idea jolted Drex.

He tossed it around, examining it from every angle. It was easy, almost flawless—and too good to pass up.

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Shelley Bradley

“What is his granddaughter’s name?” he asked suddenly.

Greg swallowed from his cup, prolonging Drex’s suspense. “Lady Christina Delafield.”

“What do you know of her?” Drex prompted impatiently.

Greg grinned. “Manchester may control the Admiralty with an iron fist, but that hoyden has proven unruly since her nursery days. Impulsive through and through. Haughty as only a woman born to extreme privilege can be. A beauty, yes, but her grandparents, who have raised the chit, can scarcely control her.

Why do you ask?”

Through the smoky air, Drex leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Because if I can’t hold a scandal over his head, I can hold his granddaughter hostage. When he releases my brother, I’ll let the girl go.”

“Have you gone mad?” Greg’s brown eyes grew impossibly wide. “You cannot mean to add abduction to your crimes. You’re wanted for espionage, thievery, illegal trade, and if they catch you, you can tack on treason, too.

Perhaps it’s time to quit.”

“Quit? Not yet. This is my last chance to make the Admiralty meet my demands. All I have to do is exploit Manchester’s weakness, his granddaughter.” Sitting back, Drex sipped his ale. “After that, I’ll gladly retire the Black Dragon and leave my criminal life.”

“That is absurd!” Greg insisted, tossing his hands up in emphasis. “You cannot kidnap the girl.”

Drex smiled, his grin deceptively pleasant. “Of course I can…with your help.”

“Oh, no.” Greg shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not. You saved my life once, and though we’ve been friends for ten years, I am not willing to dig myself a grave for you. I’ve already arranged for you to meet an arms dealer and secured papers for you to dock here in London. Nor did I mind spying on Manchester, but I won’t assist you in anything this devious. You’ll ruin her for polite society and any sort of marriage.”

“If I don’t, and Ryan is still alive, he will die and Rory will grow up without a father, as Ryan and I did. I can’t break my promise to Chantal.” Dragging in a

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The Lady and the Dragon

deep breath, Drex reached for his mug and offered, “Look, I’ll make it easy for you. You know her, right?”

“Yes, through Manchester, of course. And were she to disappear, she could—”

“I’ll make certain she can’t point the finger at you,” Drex assured. “Can you think of a social event where you plan to see her?”

“Manchester has decided to cut her season short, which can only mean she has done something beyond the pale, and will send her to a ladies’ school in Switzerland.”

“A ladies’ school?”

Greg smiled. “I told you, she is quite a hellion. Circumspect is the last word anyone would use to describe her behavior.”

Drex clenched his fists anxiously. “When does she leave?”

“Next week.”

“Does Manchester have any upcoming social engagements she might attend?”

Greg paused. “Tomorrow night. His political crony, Lord Hartford, will host a ball. But—”

“Perfect. Tomorrow night it is.”

“Drex, no. You will undoubtedly scare the poor girl. Lady Christina is high-spirited, I grant you, but far too sheltered for your—”

“I promise, I’ll be gentle.” Drex smiled mischievously.

Greg snorted in disbelief. “And I’m Henry the Eighth.”

“I won’t touch the girl.”

“That is irrelevant. Everyone will believe you did.”

“Lady Christina and whichever husband Manchester chooses for her will know the truth.”

A long sigh signaled Greg’s defeat. “I let you talk me into the most outrageous things.” He turned and shouted, “Another ale!”

* * *

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Shelley Bradley

The short, gruff man tossed a scowl over his shoulder. “When did ye say you made this appointment with the cap’n?”

“Several days ago,” Christina answered, calling on the acting skills she’d last used two nights past when she made her bow on the London stage.

Beneath her cloak, she adjusted the tight collar of her carriage dress and pulled on the bishop sleeves clutching her wrists.

“And it’s personal, ye say?” the man prompted, frowning.

“Quite.”

He shrugged. “Watch yer step,” he advised from the dark bowels of the companionway. “It’s hard to see these here footholds when the sun’s goin’

down.”

Christina held in a sigh of frustration. Clearly, this man did not understand the urgency of her situation. In his defense, no one had ever threatened him with Swiss finishing school, where girls literally disappeared from polite society for years. She shuddered. He, a free-roaming sailor, had never been denied the opportunity to experience life. And she would not allow her grandparents to prevent her from experiencing hers. Aunt Mary awaited in the Bahamas and had offered to teach Christina all about her business.

The odd little man glanced over his shoulder. Anxiously, she gestured for him to go ahead. “Go on. I’m following.”

He trudged on, mumbling incoherently.

She continued to trail the narrow-backed man down the cramped companionway, her nose wrinkling from the stench of the Thames that permeated the ship’s damp wood.

As she’d paid a lad working the docks to discover, this ship was the only one leaving for Grand Bahama. She’d hidden since last night in a longboat beneath a greasy tarp slathered in animal fat and vowed to sail with this tub.

Although Grandfather would probably never think to search for her among London’s seedy docks aboard a merchant ship bound for the Bahamas, she knew better than to underestimate him by waiting for a more optimal means of escape.

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The Lady and the Dragon

Christina’s shipboard guide halted at the end of a hallway, bringing her out of her reverie and back to the present. He knocked on the door before him.

“Who is it?” a deep voice, sharp with impatience, barked from behind the closed door.

His tone pierced Christina with a needle of doubt. Would he refuse her?

Pulling the collar of her cloak up to cover cold ears, she lifted her chin. She couldn’t let him turn her away. Her future depended on convincing the captain to accept her as a passenger. Otherwise, years of a cold Swiss castle’s walls awaited. All because she’d spent a few trifling hours acting on a London stage!

“Cap’n, it’s me, Hancock.”

“I figured as much. What is it?”

“There’s a woman here. Says she’s got business with ye.”

“If I’d wanted a woman’s business, I would have had one last night.”

Christina gasped. The man had intimated she was a—

“Not that type of woman, Cap’n.” Hancock cleared his throat. “A lady.”

“That variety of female I have no use for,” he said in a hard-edged tone. “Get her ashore now. We sail within the hour.”

His words plummeted to the bottom of her stomach, along with her heart.

She had to persuade him, had to stay on board. If she failed, her grandfather would ensure she surrendered her freedom indefinitely and never saw Aunt Mary again.

Hancock nodded. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

He faced her, his back pushed against the door, as if looking to add mettle to his spine. His puffy, wind-worn face clearly bore reluctance. “Ye heard the cap’n, miss.”

Reining in her panic, Christina stole a glance at the warped wooden door.

He didn’t have time for her? Well, she’d insist that he make time.

A plan forming, Christina nodded tragically, eyes cast downward. “I understand.”

Hancock frowned suspiciously.

Ignoring that, Christina stepped aside. “Please, lead the way. It’s so dark, I shall certainly trip without your help.”

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Shelley Bradley

Hancock shrugged, then took the lead. “Follow me.”

She smiled before he turned to the ladder-like stairs.

Hancock stepped forward; Christina drew in a quick breath and whirled to face the captain’s door, white-gloved fingers clutching her valise. She clasped the cold latch and lifted. The door opened with a quiet click. She dashed inside.

The captain’s naked back, golden and muscle-hardened, filled her vision.

She stifled a gasp at the snarling black and green dragon tattoo dominating one shoulder blade. Its open mouth breathed fire across the width of his back, to his other shoulder. The curling tail wound around a powerful biceps.

She couldn’t move, could not tear her eyes away. A tattoo? Dear God, what kind of a barbarian would have that arrogant monster permanently embedded into his flesh?

One without the worries or scruples of a gentleman.

Uncertainty assailed her. This man was the antithesis of all she’d known, spawned from an opposite end of the Earth. She knew nothing about his less-than-civilized world. Would she survive long enough to see Aunt Mary in Grand Bahama? Trembling, she shoved the dismal thought aside and glanced about his cabin.

An exotic, Oriental aura dominated the space, which looked half the size of her dressing room. A burning taper filled the room with a pungent musk. Her shocked gaze fixed on the dramatic austerity of the black decor, relieved only by the pale wooden walls. An ebony and emerald silk coverlet on his bunk boasted the same scaled symbol of fire and power as his shoulder.

He reached for his shirt and pulled it on, concealing the intimidating dragon from her view. She swallowed in relief.

Feet planted apart, broad shoulders filling his black shirt, he tucked the cotton garment into skin-tight, biscuit-colored breeches. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

Startled by his acknowledgment, she stammered, “But I must speak with you. Please. Five minutes.”

He whirled to face her. The sight rooted her in place.

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The Lady and the Dragon

A scrap of black silk stretched along the upper part of his square face, from brows to the bridge of his nose. She shivered. Only one type of man wore a mask: the dangerous kind.

The sight of his hard, bearded jaw arrested her next. A wall of power surged toward her as he stepped closer. Christina could not decide if she should attribute the feeling to the foreboding impression he made with black shirt, black mask, black beard, black eyes…or the displeasure thundering across the hard angles of his face. Then again, perhaps the sleek ebony length of his hair grazing his mammoth shoulders and the golden ring dangling from his left ear roused her unease. Either way, he was no one to trifle with; he’d made that abundantly clear without a word.

“W—why do you wear the…mask?” she stammered. “Oh, my… You hide your identity.”

“Hmm. Perceptive.” His low quip cut and didn’t invite further conversation.

But she could not give up and return home. Life in Switzerland was much more abhorrent. And cold.

Hancock burst through the door. “Cap’n, I’m sorry. The vixen tricked me.”

He turned to her, his look less than friendly. “Come on. The cap’n wants ye gone.”

A crooked smile curved the captain’s mouth as he waved the man away.

Christina did not find his expression comforting.

“No need,” he assured, his gaze shifting to regard her. “I’ll handle her.

Dismissed.”

The little man glanced from her to the captain, then back again, smiling now. “Aye.”

Hancock closed the door behind them, leaving them alone. In the ensuing silence of the small cabin, the captain scanned her with a thorough gaze.

She crossed protective arms across her chest and buried her apprehension.

“I came to make you a proposition, Captain.”

“A proposition?” His already suggestive tone dropped to a purr that set her instincts on full alarm. He leaned his hip indolently against the small cherry-wood desk bolted into the cabin’s wooden floor. “Well, now you do have my attention.”

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Shelley Bradley

Christina gasped. The cur actually had the nerve to smile! She trembled, and he grinned like a well-fed cat.

They stood on opposite ends of the minuscule cabin—three steps from each other. The captain pushed away from the desk; his stride ate up one of the precious steps separating them. With her back at the door, Christina had nowhere to retreat.

She struggled for her next breath. The scents of salt, incense and man filled her nose. She forced herself to hold his stare, even as a tingling awareness of the captain rose inside her.

“I am talking about a business proposal,” she corrected. “And I will thank you to stop leering at me.”

An infuriatingly insolent grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Don’t thank me; it won’t happen.”

He stepped closer. Closer still—only a breath away, a breath nearly shared.

His gaze touched her face. The massive breadth of his chest rose a mere inch from hers. His presence swirled around her like a gust of hot wind. She found her gaze trapped deep in the intensity of his dark eyes.

“If you don’t wish to be leered at, don’t wander where you aren’t welcome.”

His breath fanned across her cheek as he lifted a hand toward her.

Dear Lord, was he going to touch her? Christina’s gaze ricocheted around the cabin, looking for somewhere to shift out of his path.

His hand neared her waist. Her breath caught in her chest. Closer, closer his outstretched fingers came…until he nudged her aside and opened the door.

“I expect you to be gone when I return,” he said, then turned his back on her without another glance.

“Wait!” she demanded before he could leave. “What about my proposal?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Please listen,” she implored, clutching his sleeve. “You have not heard my idea.”

He turned to her with a scowl. “I don’t need to.”

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The Lady and the Dragon

“Please, I’m desperate. Do you think I would have come here, suffered you calling me a light skirt and virtually risked my life to barge into your cabin if I was not?”

After a weighty pause, he replied, “Not unless you’re a half-wit. Are you?”

Christina swallowed her anger and forced herself to meet his stare. “I will not leave until you listen.”

His dark eyes behind the ebony mask gleamed as they scanned her up and down, heightening her anxiety—and awareness. She bit her lip in worry, wondering how to shift the conversation back to her purpose—hoping the warm, foreign vibration plaguing the pit of her stomach would cease.

“Perhaps we could do business…for the right price.” A provocative note inched back into his voice. “What do you seek?”

His aim was to intimidate her, and blast the man, he’d hit his target. Her heart thudded; she felt hot and cold all over. Christina took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I require transport to Grand Bahama. My—my…husband is awaiting me there.”

The man quirked a jet brow in speculation. “Husband? How long has it been since you last saw him?”

“T—two years.”

The captain turned and stepped toward her, closing half of the much-too-close distance between them. His presence was looming, capable of more powerful impact on her beating heart than either his voice or his frightful, colorful tattoo.

He grasped her chin between firm fingers. She bit her lip, feeling shaky and hot as his gaze probed her face.

“You can’t possibly have been married for ten minutes, much less two years. What is it you truly want?”

“I—I’m telling the truth.”

“Princess, two years ago, you were still in the schoolroom. And if you’re married, why are you uncomfortable with a man’s eyes on your body? Why do you blush at the sight of a man without his shirt?”

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Shelley Bradley

She cursed his power of perception—and the guilty flush creeping up her cheeks. “You are not my husband. I am prepared to pay you two hundred pounds for transport to Grand Bahama. Why should you need to know my reasons for traveling?”

Instantly, his lazy manner disappeared. His hands encircled her arms, pulling her disconcertingly close to his muscled, half-covered chest. She released the valise. It hit the wooden floor with a deafening thud.

“Because I am the captain here, not a servant hired to do your bidding. I give the orders and I make the decisions.” He released her, retreating to his desk. “The answer is no.”

“But I offered you two hundred pounds!”

“It would not have mattered if you’d offered me two thousand,” he growled.

“This is not a passenger ship, I’m not a nursemaid, and I don’t need you tempting my crew to mutiny.”

“Tempting? I assure you I am no light skirt!”

A roguish smile tilted the sensual slant of his mouth and lit up his dark gaze. “That hardly makes you less tempting.”

Christina gasped. “How dare you?”

He raised a wolfish brow. “Just like this…”

The captain whipped his arms around her and crushed her against the hard width of his chest. Standing frozen in shock, she felt his palms glide down the length of her spine in a commanding sweep and stop at the small of her waist. He pressed her closer, flush against his body. Christina was too shocked by his behavior—and the maelstrom of tingles screaming along the surface of her skin—to do more than gape.

Without pause, he claimed her lips by covering them with his own. He possessed them. His kiss was not like the tender, tentative brush of lips she’d received from an over-eager beau. No, this was much different. The bold exploration of his lips…and then, oh God, his tongue, exploded inside her, lashing her with a stunning blast of heat. He pulled her to return the kiss, tongue and all.

The man tasted of coffee and sin. His hands pressed her deeper into his body before he slanted his lips across hers again as if he had every right to. His

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soft beard rasped against her chin as he penetrated the seam of her lips with his tongue once more. A shocking liquid honey flowed through her veins. Knees weak, she melted against him, encircling her arms about him to touch the warm skin beneath his collar. He groaned in answer.

My God, what am I doing?

Kissing a masked criminal, came her answer before she wrenched from his embrace with a gasp and stepped away.

Heat crawled up her cheeks and shock slid through her system. He’d proved his point. She didn’t belong on this ship, not with a man like him at the helm. Adventure often lured her into less than exemplary situations, but she hadn’t planned on suicide.

Still, she could not risk waiting for another ship and a more civilized captain.

Angered by his presumption—and her own response—she hissed, “Take your bloody hands off me!”

“I’ll touch you if I want. This isn’t your kingdom, princess. You can’t waltz in here and make demands. On this ship, I am master of everything…and everyone. Right now, that includes you.”

Clearly, his bullying ways weren’t any different from Grandfather’s. Her determination rose another notch. “You will not ever maul me in that fashion again.”

He met her stare with a chilly smile. “I can agree to that easily, since you won’t be on this voyage.”

The captain whirled about. “Hancock!” A moment later, the small crewman reappeared, and the captain said, “Have someone escort this lady off my ship and get your ass back here.”

“But…but—” she blurted, realizing she’d ruined her chances of escape with her defiance. “Yours is the only ship leaving for the Bahamas this evening. I must be on it!”

“That’s not my problem, princess.”

“But you must understand—”

“No, I mustn’t. Nor do I want to.”

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Shelley Bradley

Hancock came toward her, awkwardly taking hold of her arm.

Desperation fired Christina as she tossed him an entreating glance.

“Captain…”

Arms crossed, jaw tight, he looked away.

With chin lifted and hopes sinking, Christina grabbed her valise and exited.

After scrambling up the ladder to the brig’s deck, she eyed the silhouette of London’s dingy, gray docks through the evening’s golden mist, inhaled the putrid scent of the Thames in the heavy, humid air. Was Grandfather searching for her even now, ready to sweep her away to a remote Swiss hell?

Her gaze drifted down the passageway, in the direction of the ship’s arrogant, handsome captain. Her choices were clear: Her grandfather’s machinations for the rest of her life, or the captain and his insolence for a few weeks?

No choice, really.

Hancock called to a sallow youth named Randy, who raced to their side.

The young man stared at her with pale blue-gray eyes in a malnourished face.

Adolescent peach fuzz dusted his chin.

“Since this is yer first voyage with the cap’n, I’m going to start ye off easy.”

Randy swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thin throat. “Yes, sir.

Thank ye, sir.”

“Take this lady ashore. We’re castin’ off soon.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Hancock nodded and turned away, fixing his attention on another sailor and his sloppy rigging.

“Well, miss… Ah, step this way.” The boy pointed to the gangplank off the port side of the massive brig.

Studying his threadbare shirt, Christina said, “Randy; is that your name?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Poor thing. He looked terrified. “Do you have any family?”

He nodded. “A wife and a wee lad.”

Her eyes widened, not completely with feigned shock. “And you’re here at sea instead of with them on shore?”

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Dropping his head, Randy shuffled his worn boots on the immaculate deck.

“Times are tough. Got to take wot work I can.”

“Well then, Randy, I have a job for you.” Again, Christina studied him from his ill-cut hair to his faded breeches, and knew he would jump at her offer for much less money. With a satisfied sigh, she decided she would consider her upcoming offer a donation to the needy. “How would you like to make two hundred pounds?”

* * *

Half an hour later, Drex stood on deck, watching the sun and its golden brilliance descend below the horizon.

Her hair had been that color, he decided before banishing the thought. She was… He didn’t know exactly who she was, but he knew what she was: Trouble. Anyone could see that. He’d done well to send her packing.

So why were thoughts of her lingering about him like a sultry perfume?

She’d been desperate. Completely. He had recognized his own emotion in her exotic green eyes. Had his circumstances been different… But they weren’t.

How could he possibly cart the hoyden to Grand Bahama while holding Manchester’s granddaughter captive and running a shipment of Brown Bess rifles for the American Army? Impossible.

Kissing her had been a big mistake. He’d meant only to intimidate her, but the moment he’d begun devouring her mouth, their contact had exploded into a hell of a kiss. Drex had not expected to enjoy it. He had. Too much.

“There you are!”

Whirling at the shout, Drex found Gregory crawling up the ladder to deck, then running toward him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in disbelief. “You’re supposed to be leading Lady Christina into our trap.”

“Drex,” Greg panted. “Must…leave. Go.”

“We will casting off as soon as Lattimer arrives with the girl. What—”

“Lady Christina…gone.”

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Shelley Bradley

“Gone? Where? How?” He studied Greg’s flushed face for answers. “What the hell is going on?”

“Not the problem. Manchester.”

“What?” Drex snapped. “You’re not making sense.”

Greg gulped air, then said, “To coin a phrase, the British are coming. This time,” he paused for breath, “to arrest you.”

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The Lady and the Dragon

Chapter Two

A cold flash of fear washed through Drex as Greg’s words sank in. “Arrest me?” He raked a hand though his too-long hair. “How? I’ve been so careful.”

“A bloody anonymous note. Less than an hour ago,” Greg panted. “I was with Manchester when a messenger delivered it. He hasn’t had much time to prepare.”

Another chill coursed through Drex. He lifted his fingers to his mask. “And my identity? Does he know that, too?”

Greg shook his head. “The note didn’t disclose your name, thank God. But you cannot breathe easy yet. Your escapades on the high seas are practically legend.” Greg scoured the dock with a worried gaze. “You’re an embarrassment the Admiralty wants eliminated. Make no mistake, Manchester will go to any lengths to see you hang.”

“Damn it!” Drex scanned the docks of the East India Company, panic gnawing at his gut. “I’ve got to get out of the harbor. Manchester can trap me too easily here.”

Greg held out his hand. Drex shook it, then pulled his friend into a brotherly hug.

“Godspeed, and be careful.” Face tense, Greg stepped away.

Drex clasped his friend’s shoulder in reassurance. “Thank you for everything. I’ll be in touch.”

After a nod, Greg sprinted down the gangplank. Drex watched him go with a curse. All his plans were ruined now. The Admiralty knew of his presence and Lady Christina had disappeared. What else could go wrong?

Drex turned and shouted, “All hands! Up anchor, ahoy!”

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Shelley Bradley

Men of all sizes and ages sprang to his bidding in seconds. Some turned the heavy capstan, raising the anchor. Others climbed rigging and unfurled the headsails against the breeze. A few trimmed the remainder of the sails, while more experienced hands swung the foreyards about to their sailing positions.

“Hurry!” he whispered to the stationary ship seconds later. “Move your wooden ass out of here.”

Finally, the vessel succumbed to the pressure of the breeze and the bow tipped into the water. The Dragon’s Lair was away.

The frigate gained by mere feet, at a pace even a snail would be ashamed of.

The mouth of the East India harbor yawned before him, the far-reaching chasm wide open. Beyond that lay the Thames and freedom. But other vessels, schooners, barks, brigantines floated in the still water, scattered around him.

Few flew an identifying flag. Drex prayed none were the Royal Navy, lying in wait to surround him and his crew.

He glanced up at the gray, cloudless sky. Where had this morning’s stiff breeze disappeared to?

Minutes ticked away; The Dragon’s Lair crawled through the water. Drex paced the deck, observing the still around him with trepidation. Where were the boys in blue hiding?

From the aft crow’s nest, his crewman Davie boomed, “Look, Captain!

Behind us. Limeys!”

Drex whirled to find a sea of blue-jacketed sailors marching double-time past a warehouse—and up the docks toward him. From his spyglass, Drex saw their stern captain in a stiff-backed stride leading soldiers who carried Brown Bess rifles, exactly like those in his hold. Drex knew what the lethal weapons could do in the hands of men trained to use them.

His friend and first mate, Hancock, stood beside him on the quarterdeck.

“What’ll we do, Cap’n? Shoot èm?”

Drex paused, watching the Navy men swarm aboard dinghy after dinghy, then push from the dock. They rowed in unison, each dip of their oars bringing them toward The Dragon’s Lair.

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The Lady and the Dragon

“Not yet.” He shouted to the crew, “Ready your rifles, but hold your fire.

Load the cannons and listen for my call. Start a starboard tack into that breeze and keep at it!”

“Aye,” the men shouted as one.

“We’ll outrun those limey bastards,” cried another.

Hancock turned away. The British continued their advance.

Sweat broke out across Drex’s back as he stood stock still, fists clenched, while The Dragon’s Lair inched across the water in a right-facing glide. Off the larboard side, the British sailors rowed toward him, each strong arm in synchronicity.

He could see the fear in one sailor’s wide eyes, the awe in another’s gaping mouth, as they confronted a notorious adversary.

None of those faces belonged to Ryan.

On the Navy Captain’s square countenance, Drex read confidence in his smile of anticipation. The man sensed victory, and, as the half dozen small boats pitched and glided closer, Drex feared the captain’s instincts were correct.

The first dinghy bumped the frigate’s side. Then another. Uniformed men from each small boat reached for a rope and hook. Once thrown, the sailors would board The Dragon’s Lair and fight. If victorious, they would capture every man aboard. Drex had no illusion about their punishment; he and all his crew would die. His heart banged against his chest when he thought of the grisly manner in which the British killed men they considered traitors.

He shouted to his crew, “Take aim at any man in a blue coat.”

The rag-tag bunch of men rushed to the rail, rifles poised for battle.

Drex hesitated, then raised his own rifle. “Fire!”

The kick of the weapon set him back a step while explosion after explosion rent the air. A British sailor fell back into the boat, clutching his arm. Another, with a ball though his head, fell into the water with a final splash. Drex swore.

The Navy Captain, chest heaving, screamed orders at his men, who scrambled for their weapons. Drex noted with grim satisfaction the efficiency with which his own crew reloaded.

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Shelley Bradley

Hearing the clink of a metal hook against the rail above the bow, Drex spun. As a sailor swung over the side, he raised his weapon and pointed it at the intruder. When the man hopped on deck, the barrel of Drex’s rifle greeted him.

Another volley of explosions sounded. The scents of gunpowder and blood mixed with salt in the pungent sea air.

“Do you want to die?” Drex asked the young sailor.

The man swallowed. “N—no, sir.”

A blessed gust of wind seized the air, filling the Lair’s sails. The frigate surged forward. Drex saw the Navy’s dinghies struggle against the gale. Relief slid through him.

The wind showered Drex with cold sea spray. “Dive over the side and tell them I pushed you.”

The wide-eyed boy hesitated an instant before leaping over the railing and into the harbor.

Drex lowered his gun with a sigh and kicked the hook into the water. He was getting too damn sentimental for life at sea.

The wind kicked up again in a reassuring gust. Drex whooped in triumph as relief slid through him like hot syrup. By damn, they were going to outrun the British.

“Cap’n!”

Fighting the gust carrying the Lair even further from the Navy boys, Drex whirled to find Hancock striding his way. His friend wore a giant grin. “We made it! And only three men hurt. Don’t worry none; ain’t more than scratches.”

Eyeing the British dinghies, now looking much smaller as his frigate coasted forward, he asked, “How many of theirs dead? Two?”

“Four, I think.”

Drex grunted, his lips pursed with regret. “Another offense Manchester will hang me for if he catches me.”

Hancock nodded silently.

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The Lady and the Dragon

With a wave and a “Carry on,” Drex strode to the quarterdeck to take the helm and scan the horizon for more surprises. As if this day hadn’t hurled enough surprises at him already.

Damn! Who could have written Manchester an anonymous note? No one else but Greg knew of his recent activities in London. Had he been followed?

Perhaps, but why an anonymous note? Did he have a traitor in his midst?

Drex shook his head tiredly. This facade of the Black Dragon was becoming increasingly complicated. It had started simply; he chased and boarded British warships by catching them off-guard at night. After searching the crew and not finding Ryan, he set the men in dinghies with food and fresh water, then burned the ship. Tidy and effective, with no loss of life.

The crown had put forth a bounty for him, dead or alive for his slow assault on their fighting force. Slowly but surely, every heinous act committed on the seas thereafter was attributed to his name. The bounty had doubled in four months.

The gun running was an added complication he didn’t need. But Ryan’s wife and son were Drex’s responsibility to feed, clothe and house. He’d taken a loan in order to buy the Lair, and after that, funds had run low. Louisiana’s Governor Clayborne had mentioned the American Army paid top dollar for new weapons to aid the war effort. Drex hadn’t had much choice.

And now, if he made it back into London safely, he’d have to search for the mysteriously missing Lady Christina. He sighed.

The Dragon’s Lair approached the mouth of the harbor, revealing mercifully light traffic on the malodorous Thames. God, he’d love to put London and his bad memories of the city behind. But the Royal Navy had Ryan imprisoned out there…somewhere.

And Lady Christina Delafield, wherever she was, held the key to Ryan’s freedom.

* * *

Fighting a cry of despair, Christina hugged herself tightly and drew her legs beneath her. She stared at red-eyed rodents through the black shadows of the

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ship’s hold. The little beasts eeked in warning as they scurried toward her biscuits.

She hated rats, almost as much as she hated the dark. They had been constant, clawing fears in the countless hours since stowing aboard this rocking tub of a ship.

As if facing her two worst terrors hadn’t been enough, gunfire had started, accompanied by a chorus of screams. She feared she’d been doomed to drown before leaving London’s shore.

Something with spindly feet darted across her fingers. She smothered a shriek with her hand. The scents of dust and rotting wood exacerbated the feel of grit and salt coating her skin. Sleep had been impossible with a splintered, unforgiving plank against her back. Exhaustion seeped into her.

Yet the frights and discomforts seemed no more horrible than the captain’s displeasure once he discovered her on board. His demand that she leave had been clear; he was articulate like Grandfather. And just like her elder, she didn’t imagine the captain would be delighted she had disobeyed him.

Just how angry would he be? Enough to make her walk the plank? Or maybe he’d choose a good whipping with a cat-o-nine tails. She shuddered.

Perhaps stowing on board hadn’t been the most brilliant idea after all.

Christina stood. Whatever punishment he chose, she would endure. Aunt Mary had always preached that the truly independent woman found strength in handling life’s unpleasantries. She would simply have to slot the captain into the category of perturbing, in more ways than one.

What if he subjected her to another wicked kiss?

She shoved the rebellious thought from her mind and fought the rise of sensation that possibility evoked. Perhaps she had only imagined the experience pleasant because she’d been overwrought. Over the course of the voyage, surely she would come to find the masked captain no more entrancing than the latest opera.

The thought gave her strength as she scrambled up the rope ladder toward the hatch. As she reached the top, a sliver of muted light leaked through the cracks, indicating afternoon had faded to twilight. Taking a deep breath, she

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The Lady and the Dragon

the door open, elated to be free of darkness and rodents. Yet she prayed neither death nor ravishment awaited her at the captain’s hands.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she drew in a salty breath. Milky stars winked above in a sterling-shaded dance. The cool evening breeze brushed her cheeks, filtering her limp hair. She felt somehow better prepared to face her fate. Now, if she could just find the captain before anyone else found her…

“Holy cripes!” A young man yelled. “Cap’n, it’s a woman!”

Whirling to the sound, an anxious jolt shot clear to her stomach. So much for finding the captain first. She held her breath. What now? Smile and try to justify her reason for stowing away? Or simply lie?

Trying to maintain an appearance of calm, she stepped from the hatch and closed it behind her. “Hello.”

The tow-headed man swallowed, a nervous twitch plaguing his wide, pale eyes as he stared for an agonizing moment.

Christina stepped closer. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

He retreated a stumbling step, his eyes riveted to her as if she were a ghost.

“Cap’n!”

A moment later, Christina heard heavy footsteps behind her. Slow footsteps. Methodical. Reminiscent of controlled anger.

The captain.

Shoulders stiff, chin lifted, she turned to face him slowly. The sight of his massive chest, half-covered by a flowing white shirt, filled her vision. A wide expanse of golden muscle bisected the front of the shirt as it blew in the breeze.

Her gaze made a surreptitious journey over wide shoulders and a strong, bronzed neck. She tried hard to bypass his lips, but her eyes had other ideas.

For a moment, she succumbed to a foolish urge to study the mouth that had dominated hers so thoroughly.

Realizing the turn of her thoughts, she thrust her gaze up to his. A mistake.

His black eyes, surrounded by that mysterious, silky mask, gleamed with displeasure. Her nausea returned in an inundating rush.

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Shelley Bradley

Christina shifted her gaze to more comfortable surroundings and discovered a crowd of motley sailors scattered about. From young to old, their expressions ranged from suspicion to awe.

“Get back to your posts, men,” the captain directed, his stare never wavering from her face.

With nary a glance or raised syllable, the men scrambled to do his bidding.

Images of her grandfather and the power he wielded over his own entourage detonated warnings within.

“I ordered you taken ashore.” The captain’s voice was calm but menacing.

Christina stood tall, straightening her spine, praying for courage.

“I…stayed.”

“Clearly. Your presence here explains my young crewman’s disappearance, I suppose. You paid him for his perfidy?”

Again, his tone was placid, but Christina detected a calm before the storm.

“The two hundred pounds you refused. I apologize, but I’m desperate—”

“I gathered that the first time.” He stepped closer. His size alone intimidated her, but she would not retreat. “I also recall informing you that this isn’t a passenger ship.”

She resisted the urge to flinch as his voice rose. “You simply must understand…”

Mercy, what was she going to tell him? Hello, I’m Christina Delafield. My grandfather is the Duke of Manchester. Though, he probably has a reward out for my return as large as a king’s ransom, would you take me to Grand Bahama instead? Yes, that would motivate him to rescue her from Swiss finishing school and see her safely to Aunt Mary.

“Understand what?” he demanded. “You’ve already pleaded a deprived husband. What next, a dying mother?”

Sarcasm edged his tone, multiplying her anxiety. She needed to concoct a story—fast.

“Actually, yes,” she blurted, stalling for time by searching her reticule for a handkerchief. Certainly now she couldn’t tell him her mother had been in the grave for ten years.

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The Lady and the Dragon

With a glare, the captain unknotted the knotted kerchief tied about his biceps and thrust it at her. “Go on.”

After a moment’s hesitation disguised as a delicate sniffle, she answered,

“My mother is dying of a weakening sickness. The physician says she has less than three months.”

“Then why aren’t you with her instead of plaguing me?”

Why, indeed? “Well, Mama’s last wish is to see her sister, my Aunt Mary, again. So I promised my mother I would fetch her.”

He shot her a skeptical glance. “And what does the rest of your family think of this journey? I doubt they approved of you, a young, unmarried woman, traveling alone.”

She cast her gaze down, hoping to look forlorn instead of frantic. “The only other member of my family is my younger sister, Helen. She stayed home to care for my mother.” A sister named Helen? Her imagination was indeed fertile today.

“Where is your father?”

“Poor Papa. He was such a happy little merchant,” she lied as fast as her tongue would speak the words. “He died of the same weakening sickness Mama has.”

He cocked a considering brow. “And I’m to understand your Aunt Mary lives in Grand Bahama?”

Christina smiled in a way she hoped the captain found grateful. “Exactly.”

“If you’re on such a saintly errand of mercy, why didn’t you tell me that to begin with, instead of inventing a husband?”

“Well…” Christina hesitated, her mind frighteningly blank.

Well what? The captain’s suspicious stare told her he was already skeptical of her latest tale. The crew hovered nearby, pretending involvement in their chores.

“You thought you’d be safer from lascivious attentions if the crew and I believed you were married?”

The excuse seemed so believable that she overlooked his mocking tone.

“You are clever to have figured me out so easily.”

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The captain stepped closer still, until only a whisper of wind passed between their bodies. Christina was cognizant of a tingling pull, the oddest urge to touch the vital, solid breadth of him. The intermingled zip of fear somehow added to her excitement.

Blast it all, she was fighting for her freedom, her life! She did not want to grovel for it, especially in front of dozens of prying eyes, especially to him. In a couple of weeks, she would be a scrap of a memory to him. For her, he would bridge the way from a life controlled by Grandfather to the shore of independence and women’s rights.

“Your reason for stowing away makes no difference. Either way, you’ve made a big mistake.”

He looked so sure of himself, that Christina felt a surge of apprehension.

“Have I?”

For a long moment, he studied her, a furrow creasing his dark brow.

Christina’s anxiety multiplied.

“Do you know the name of the ship you’re on?” he finally asked.

“No, I chose the first one bound for the Bahamas.” At the time, it had hardly mattered which.

His deprecating laugh sounded between them, further rousing her unease.

“Welcome, princess, to The Dragon’s Lair.”

In an instant, his stowaway lost all color in her beautiful countenance.

Clearly, she’d heard of his exploits. And while Drex was glad he’d finally penetrated her bravado, he needed no great genius to see she was terrified.

After a series of rapid blinks, she swallowed hard. “Does that mean… Are you…?”

He flashed her a shark’s smile. “The Black Dragon.”

“Oh, dear God.”

If possible, she paled another shade. Part of him was angry as hell she’d defied him, since her presence didn’t fit well with his plans. He had to punish her, he thought with a disgusted sigh. Order and equality had to be maintained

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The Lady and the Dragon

with the crew. He couldn’t afford to tolerate stowaways. But he saw no purpose in frightening her further, especially if she had told the truth about fulfilling her mother’s last wish, something he had not had the opportunity to do, to his deep regret.

“What is your name?” he asked.

Mutely, she retreated two unsteady steps, then a third. Frowning, Drex pursued. Damn it, was she going to faint?

When her back hit the mainmast, she gasped, jumping with fright. Drex reached out to steady her. The minx whirled about and scrambled away until he grabbed her arm.

As he turned her to face him again, her rigid body trembled. On her pale face, he read a struggle for courage as she lifted her chin and asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

Drex suppressed a laugh. Whatever lies she’d heard about him must have been greatly exaggerated. “At the moment, ask your name again.”

“My—my name?”

He raised a challenging brow. “I assume your mother named you before her illness.”

She pulled on her arm discreetly. He let her go without a word. She paused, then choked, “Lillianne. Are you going to throw me overboard?”

“Can you swim from here to Grand Bahama?”

Around her, some of his men chuckled. She cast desperate glances in their direction. “I cannot swim at all.”

“Then we’ll have to think of something else.”

She stepped back. “Oh God, you’re going to whip me.”

He shook his head. “That’s really my least favorite method of punishment.

Too messy.”

“That only leaves…” Lifting her chin another degree, she met his gaze directly. “Please, if you’re going to ravish me, don’t do it in front of the other men.”

Another chorus of guffaws sounded from his crew. Drex stifled a groan.

“Hancock!”

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Within moments, his diminutive first mate appeared. “Take our…guest to my quarters.” He addressed her again with a brief glance. “I’ll be below shortly.”

* * *

Christina hovered in a corner of the captain’s cabin, recalling the last time she’d been here. The dragons—sewn on his bunk, tattooed on his back—now made sense. What a terrible tangle! From the unpleasant prospect of a Swiss prison, to the savage master of the seas, the Black Dragon. If her situation deteriorated any further, she’d soon be meeting the Grim Reaper.

Mercy, she was exhausted. She had slept mere minutes both of the nights she’d spent below. She glanced again at the captain’s precisely-made bunk. It looked inviting, as if she could rest on that soft surface in sweet slumber for hours.

But the captain was coming for her, probably sooner than later, and she needed her wits about her to stay alive and out of his bed. She only thanked God she’d had the presence of mind not to blurt out her real name when he told her his identity as her grandfather’s number one nemesis. Now she’d have to remember to answer to her middle name for the rest of the voyage.

The short man, Hancock, entered and tossed her a blanket, along with a suspicious scowl. “Are ye hungry or thirsty?”

Christina grabbed the soft, woolen cover and wrapped it about her. “Both, and I require a change of clean clothing. My valise is below, in the hold.”

“I’ll find ye something for your stomach. You can fetch yer clothes later.” A smirk shaped his mouth. “After the cap’n is finished with ye.”

On that ominous note, Hancock exited, shutting—then locking—the door behind him. Dread plunged her stomach somewhere between her feet. She was trapped here, at the mercy of a vicious privateer who ate small women like her for snacks. And soon, he would descend to his cabin, ravish her and do God knew what else.

Her voyage to the Grand Bahamas seemed doomed to be less

adventuresome, and more hellish, than she’d ever imagined.

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The Lady and the Dragon

She fought surging panic at the thought that dark, dangerous stranger would ruin her, of the pain his defilement would bring. Or would ruination at his hands be as enjoyable as their kiss?

No. Notorious privateers weren’t noted for their gentle natures, and she wouldn’t play whore to one. Why, she’d heard Grandfather say the Black Dragon had once executed an entire boat load of nuns, after ravishing them, of course. Not the kind of lover she’d imagined having someday. But if Grandfather’s tale was true, why hadn’t the captain harmed her yet?

She shrugged the question away. Whatever the outlaw had in store for her, she would face with strength and dignity. She would persevere—especially if she had a weapon.

Upon cursory inspection of his small cabin she found nothing but charts, nautical books and a compass. Not a single personal effect lay visible, and somehow that failed to surprise her. The captain could not be described as a personable man.

The key jangled in the lock. Christina whirled to the sound and watched with frozen horror as the door opened. The Black Dragon dominated the portal an instant later, assessing her with a long, expressionless stare behind that imposing black mask.

With a whispered oath, he turned away to his desk and removed the thong restraining the inky length of his hair. As it fell around his shoulders, Christina peered closer, studying his stiff, bearded profile as he paused and placed wide palms on the desk. He closed his eyes, bowed his head and heaved a wide sigh.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You should be in London with your mother and sister, or wherever you truly belong.”

She squared her shoulders in defense. “I had to leave. If you believe anything, believe that.”

He speared her with a glance. “I have trouble doing so, knowing you lied to me.”

Christina said nothing.

With a disgruntled nod, he opened swung his gaze to her. “Stowing away isn’t without consequence.”

She swallowed in apprehension. “Can we discuss what—”

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“No.” His single syllable cut her short. “I make the rules and mete out the punishments.”

Autocratic and implacable, just like her grandfather. And although her elder was more given to fits of shouting, Christina found the Black Dragon’s hushed threats more powerful.

He raised his brown fingers to the top button of his shirt. Her gaze riveted on the captain in terrified fascination, she watched as he unfastened that and the other three below it, one by one, baring a wide expanse of satin bronze muscle.

Christina backed away until her back collided with a wall. “Dear God, your plan is to ravish me.”

The captain cast her a sidelong glance, brow arched above his mask.

“Ravish?” He mulled over the word, then added, “No. I have no intention of touching you.”

Surprise lashed her. “You don’t?”

His deep stare lasted an endless moment. “I learned my mistake the first time.”

Even though she sensed an insult somewhere in his comment, Christina let out a sigh of relief as the captain doffed his vest. “I—I’m pleased to hear that.”

The captain peeled his shirt up his torso, exposing the sculpted width of his chest. Christina couldn’t stop the hungry slide of her gaze he revealed his golden body. He slid the garment down the hard ridges of his arms, and images of clinging arms and impassioned kisses arose in her mind. She shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t suppose you enjoyed your two days in the hold?”

Ripping her gaze from his bare torso, she shivered at the memory of the rodents and the thick darkness. “Heavens, no. Terrible place!”

He crossed the room and opened the door. “Hancock!”

Within moments, the small man appeared, his mouth twitching with amusement. “Aye, Cap’n?”

“See that Lillianne has all the blankets, food and water she needs.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

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“And see that they’re put down in the hold she emerged from. She’s going to spend more time down there.”

The moment he shut the door, Christina whirled on him. “What? You cannot mean that!”

“I do,” he assured before he looked away.

The thought of being trapped in that perdition again sent Christina into a panic. “I beg of you, do not make me spend another night with your rats.

Please.”

Hands braced on his hips, he shot her a questioning stare. “Are you saying you would rather spend the night with me?”

She stole a quick glance at his bed, easily wide enough for one…but a cozy squeeze for two. “Neither idea appeals.”

“So it makes no difference whether you bed down in the hold or my bunk with me?”

Christina glared at him. “You said you weren’t going to touch me.”

In two steps, he closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms. “I said I didn’t intend to touch you. I’m not making any promises.”

Christina glimpsed heat beneath the thunder and dark control in his silk-surrounded eyes. Did he, deep down, want her?

A shiver of thrill feathered down her spine, intensified by the sight of his fierce, muscled shoulders. The feeling made no sense, she knew. Yet she had the premonition that his touch might be one of the most exciting experiences of her life.

No. These runaway thoughts had to stop. The captain wasn’t exciting. He was boorish and rude and destined to make this journey miserable and painful.

But if that were true, why didn’t he simply beat or rape her? She was at his mercy, his stowaway to punish as he pleased. If ravishing or hurting her would please him, why didn’t he simply be done with it?

Whispering an oath that would have made her grandmother faint, he pulled away from her. He jerked the door open and yelled, “Now, Hancock!”

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The first mate’s uneven footsteps alerted Christina to his presence moments before he appeared in the doorway. The man took her arm in his blunt, brown fingers.

Christina dragged her feet, looking back at the captain, whose dark, unfathomable gaze clung to her.

“We’ll talk about the rules governing the rest of this voyage when you come up again.”

“Do not do this!” she shouted from the door. “If you have any mercy—”

“Mercy is a luxury I cannot afford.”

He turned away and reached for a clean shirt, his movements slow, almost somber. Then he addressed Hancock. “Take her down. Bring her back to me at sundown on Thursday.”

* * *

Journal,

The old earl has lost his mind. Viscount Monroe showed him a signet ring and explained to Ashmont he has not one son but two. It does not bear thinking, the ruination of all my carefully laid plans! To validate the tale, I had my footman follow the viscount. He next met with none other than the Black Dragon, and in a seedy tavern! My man overheard much of their conversation. Wouldn’t Ashmont be a proud papa if he knew his long-lost son was a notorious criminal? Maybe then he would be less eager to name the boy his heir.

I took action, just in case the Black Dragon is actually Ashmont’s son, as Monroe claims. I tried to eliminate him and do my country a great service at once.

Damn the Admiralty for botching the privateer’s capture. That scourge of the seas has fled to God knows where. But if he stands in my way, I will find and destroy him.

* * *

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The Lady and the Dragon

The wind blew like a cool sheet across his bearded cheeks as Drex stood on deck, hands clasped behind his back, and stared at the late-afternoon sun.

Thursday afternoon, to be exact. He tapped his foot impatiently on the wooden deck beneath him.

Damn it, he should be angry. The girl had barged onto his ship and refused to take no for an answer. Then when he’d ordered her removed, did she leave?

No, she paid a member of his own crew to disregard his authority and abandon ship. Two days in the hold she hated seemed a fitting punishment.

But he wasn’t angry as much as he was worried. The terror on her face at the mention of the hold was too acute to miss. And her soft hands and well-made clothing told him eloquently that Lillianne wasn’t accustomed to rodents and dark corners. Her desperate pleas reverberated in his head, warring with the knowledge that if he didn’t punish her, trouble with Talbot or any of the others could be just around the corner.

Adding to his foul mood was the fact he’d had to threaten twenty lashes to the first man who laid a finger on her dewy alabaster skin, worsening morale.

Hell, he’d known from the first moment he’d seen Lilli, all anxious green eyes and sunshiny, wind-tousled hair, that she could only be trouble. More trouble he didn’t need. And when she emerged from that hold, he had to make damn sure she didn’t interfere—or distract him with her saucy allure again.

Ryan’s rescue was too important to succumb to this perturbing case of lust now.

Drex heard shuffled footsteps behind him, heralding Hancock’s arrival. “It’s almost sundown, Cap’n.”

He replied with a solemn nod.

“What are ye gonna do with her, friend? Put her off?”

A long pause ensued before Drex said, “I can’t risk stopping anytime soon with the British at my back. Besides, to save Ryan, I have to sail to Grand Bahama, re-rig the ship, contact Greg for new false docking papers, then sail back to London. I won’t waste precious time docking at another port.”

Once back in London, he had to execute his plan, whatever that might be, to find and abduct Christina Delafield without a flaw, then negotiate her

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ransom. Drex didn’t delude himself, the process would take months, a period during which anything could go wrong—and Ryan could die.

“The men are restless with her on board. Don’t think they can rightly decide whether to give in to lust or superstition.”

“I suspected as much.” He sighed, wondering just what he would do with his beautiful nuisance of a stowaway. “Put her in your cabin for the rest of the voyage, Hancock, and move to the infirmary. I’ll watch her closely to keep her out of trouble.”

“I’ve no doubt ye’ll do just that.” Hancock laughed. “Ye’ve been staring at the door to that hold all day.”

He turned to his friend with a frown. “Have I?”

Hancock nodded. “And fidgeting too. I’ve known ye for ten years, and I’ve never seen a woman distract ye so much.”

Drex cast a warning glance at the other man. “Go to hell.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” But the laughter didn’t leave his voice.

Turning away, Drex focused on the setting sun again. Another twenty minutes, then he could confront the girl, establish his absolute authority. He sighed. Be sure she was all right.

Then what would he do with her?

That question had plagued Drex for two days, during which he’d tried to put her—and their kiss—out of his mind. But his mind had been rebellious, filling instead with images of damp, naked skin and hungry sighs as her flesh filled his hands…while his filled her body. Worse, for her safety and the even keel of his crew, he’d have to declare Lilli his. His to kiss, to undress, to touch at will. His to take whenever and however he wanted. A disturbingly heady thought.

She was a pretty piece, damn it, with a graceful slope to her neck and a ripe curve to her breast. When sailors had invented the lore of mermaids and muses, they’d had a woman like Lillianne in mind. Drex wasn’t immune.

“I’ve moved my belongings below,” Hancock’s voice sounded from behind him minutes later. “Want me to bring her to ye now?”

-38-

The Lady and the Dragon

Staring at the sun, Drex shook his head. “It’s not time yet. I suspect Talbot is looking for any partiality to use against me. Until we can put him ashore in Grand Bahama, I don’t want to give the man any reason to grumble to those who are still angry we cut their leave in London short.” He paused, irritated and edgy. “I have to be exact with her punishment.”

“Aye. Maybe it would be best if ye waited. I can fetch her in ten minutes, when the sun’s fully down.”

Drex glanced again at the deepening pink and orange shadows of the sky transforming the puffy clouds to molten. Impatience cut into him like an arctic wind. He restrained it. “I’ll be below. Bring her to me then.”

-39-

Shelley Bradley

Chapter Three

Taking a deep breath, Christina struggled to put one foot in front of the other as she descended the stairs into the companionway. She barely noticed Hancock behind her. Giving the Black Dragon a tongue-lashing was uppermost in her mind. She didn’t care if the captain threw her overboard for it. After four sleepless nights, she already felt half-dead.

When they reached the final door, Hancock stepped around her. Through heavy, scratchy eyes, Christina watched him knock.

“Come in.”

The Black Dragon’s curt reply navigated a chill down her spine. He was a criminal who behaved like a dictator, the latter of which he had in common with her grandfather. It both annoyed and unnerved her that she’d escaped one autocrat, only to fall into the hands of another.

Just a few more weeks, she vowed as Hancock opened the captain’s door and prodded her forward. Then she would be with Aunt Mary, enjoying the independence of a modern woman.

Christina swayed tiredly before shuffling toward the captain, who sat on the edge of his bunk. The weary fog of her mind deciphered his fathomless expression, a furrow between his dark brows, made more forbidding by that dratted black mask.

“That will be all, Hancock. Show yourself out.”

As if from a distance, Christina heard the click of the door that signaled the first mate’s departure. The Black Dragon’s gaze zeroed in on her, and she almost wished she could have followed the older man. Almost. She still had a few words for the captain.

-40-

The Lady and the Dragon

“I hope over the last two days you’ve had time to decide to be reasonable,”

he said without preamble.

Reasonable? She stood here, exhausted and paradoxically thrumming with an anger consuming enough to keep her upright, and he assumed she was willing to be reasonable? It was just like a tyrant to assume everyone else would agree to his demands.

Fury gave her a needed burst of strength. “Captain, I realize I stowed away on your ship. However, I am not a child and do not require your direction.”

“Only children are oblivious enough to barge in where they are not welcome. What does that make you, then?”

“A desperate woman on a mission. Can you not understand that?” She flung her arms wide. “Your mission is to destroy the Royal Navy. My mission is simply more…noble.” Even with her lie, that was true. Escaping a tyrant to seek freedom was far more righteous than destroying a fighting force, regardless of the losses of life and limb inflicted.

He bolted from his bunk and grabbed her arms. “You have no idea what I’m about. You were foolish enough to sneak onto a ship with men who make war.

This is dangerous business, not an afternoon of tea in the parlor. Most of these men haven’t seen a woman in months, much less a specimen like you, princess. Before you flounced on board, did you consider that there could be consequences to stowing away with a hundred randy men?”

She hadn’t, not in those terms, but why confess that? “I put my purpose above my safety.”

He turned away with a disgusted grunt. “Clearly. You’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

“I do not appreciate your implication.”

“I don’t appreciate your reckless intrusion. I have a ship with a restless crew and business to attend to. Your uninvited presence here puts both in jeopardy.”

Swaying slightly with fatigue, she steadied herself and shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “And locking me in the dark with rats helps you to keep control?”

He ground his teeth together. “No more pranks. Follow a few simple rules.

That way, we all have a good voyage, and you reach your aunt in one piece.”

-41-

Shelley Bradley

His words made sense, and his request didn’t sound too difficult. It didn’t sound very exciting, either. Then again, her stint on a pirate ship had not been nearly as thrilling as she’d hoped. At least he’d finally agreed to take her to Aunt Mary. Perhaps she should agree to his terms, but she was too tired to think clearly. “What kind of cooperation?”

“One, report at six every morning and six every evening for duty in the galley. Two—”

“Six in the morning?” Christina groaned. “Is the sun even up at that hour?”

He laughed. “The discipline will do you good.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve had my share of discipline. I find its value overrated.”

A scowl turned his full mouth down at the corners. “But if you want to stay on my ship in one piece, you will obey. Rule number two, don’t go on deck without me.”

“I cannot breathe fresh air without your permission?”

He cocked a brow above that black mask. “Three, don’t disobey me again.

That doesn’t sound too hard, does it, Lilli?”

Christina tried to meet his gaze. A wave of exhaustion engulfed her and she found herself groping for the support of his desk, instead.

At her silence, he turned his watchful eyes to her. In mute apprehension, she observed his approach and unwavering dark gaze, bracketed by the implacable black of his mask. He came closer, too close. Christina, confronted by his raw power, stepped back.

Her retreat wasn’t fast enough. The Black Dragon reached for her chin and lifted her face to his gaze. He studied her for a long, suspended moment.

Christina wished she could read his thoughts. Did he want to kiss her again, or just kill her?

“You look ready to collapse.”

Piqued, Christina jerked her chin from his grasp. “Your concern is a tad belated, Captain.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “When did you last sleep, Lilli?”

-42-

The Lady and the Dragon

His gentle whisper soaked into Christina’s senses. Closing aching lids over gritty eyes, she struggled to open them again. “The night before I came on board.”

“Four days ago?”

His astonishment was audible, thrilling Christina with a shot of satisfaction, even as her heavy eyes slid shut again.

“Damn it,” he swore as he reached for her. Before Christina could protest, he swept her up in his arms, against his chest, and strode to the door opposite his bed. With a dazed sense of unreality, she noted it opened to another smaller, less colorful cabin.

In two strides, he set her on her feet and turned her about. Before Christina knew his intent, he’d dispensed with the fastenings of her dress with the deftness of a lady’s maid.

The garment slid off her shoulders, whispered down her body, to pool in a heap of stained pink twill at her feet. She looked from her dress to the captain over the ridge of her near-naked shoulder. He stared back wordlessly. The muscles in his jaw flexed as his fingers encircled her waist.

His touch was firm and hot. He nearly encircled her middle with his huge hands. Apprehension and excitement crashed through her. Maybe he had cast aside his intent and decided to ravish her. She should blast him and send him away, a fuzzy part of her mind realized. Instead, she stared.

Behind her, he stood. Memory reminded her of his shoulders, wide and taut. And, peering over her shoulder, she couldn’t miss his chest, inch after inch defined by hard labor and half-exposed by the black vest he wore. His skin rippled like molten gold stretched tautly over muscle and sinew. She swallowed.

“Turn around,” he demanded.

“Unhand me.” She struggled in his grip. Why couldn’t she yell, tell him she would not be manhandled? Blast her weariness!

The captain ignored her. His hands worked at her petticoats next. She tried stepping away to avoid this invasion of her person, but he pulled her back to him with the ties.

-43-

Shelley Bradley

Her back collided with his chest, searing and unyielding. He raised his hands to clasp her bare shoulders and steady her, igniting a head-to-toe spark.

His fingers were gentle as he drew her closer. His warm exhalations on her neck sent a shiver through her. She struggled for her next breath. How could he make her feel so shaky and hot at once?

“Stay still.” His whisper sounded oddly choked.

As soon as the petticoats puddled about her feet, he lent his fingers to her corset. This had to stop. The hot, fluttering sensations swirling through her resembled those her married cousins had tittered about. She refused to believe she could feel so wantonly about a pirate who, according to rumor, ravished nuns. She could not want a man who ordered her about like a child. She was simply tired.

With the last of her energy, she turned to face him, arms crossed protectively over her breasts. “I can finish the rest.”

Heat blazed across his taut face, lighting his black eyes. He drew in a deep breath. “Maybe it’s better that you do.”

* * *

The following morning, Drex lingered around the kitchen, waiting for Lilli to appear. He didn’t want to see her of course, just make certain she followed orders.

Who was he fooling? Visions of Lilli’s naked shoulders, the narrow curve of her waist, the downy skin at the nape of her neck, tortured him all night long.

He still hadn’t quite forgotten the catchy little gasps she made when he kissed her. His imagination fueled fantasies about the sounds she’d make during climax.

If he was smart, he would avoid touching her again. Hell, he should avoid even thinking about touching her. She was too willful, too mischievous. If he wasn’t careful, Lilli could work her way into his head and distract him from his goals.

Six-thirty arrived; Lilli didn’t. He wasn’t surprised.

-44-

The Lady and the Dragon

With long strides, he made his way to his cabin, wondering if the woman could do anything she was told. Subservience clearly wasn’t one of her virtues.

He paused before her door and heard… humming? Temper cresting like a tidal wave, he flung the door open.

With a gasp, she snapped her gaze up to meet his and stood half-naked, frozen in open-mouthed shock. The room seemed to shrink around them, slowly squeezing the air from Drex’s lungs.

In a single glance, he took in the view he had avoided last night: Lilli’s long legs bare below filmy linen. The silhouette of her small waist curving beneath the snowy, oblong chemise. The tips of her breasts outlined beneath the translucent fabric and accentuated by a plethora of pink embroidery that drew a man’s attention.

She definitely had attention…from every part of his body. He leaned against the door for support, fisting his hands. It was either that or strip the damn chemise away with a long, well-placed rip.

With a shriek, she reached for a blanket and draped it across her front.

Unfortunately, Drex couldn’t tear his gaze from the delicate slope of her shoulders…or his imagination from what he could do to the rest of her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Did no one teach you to knock?”

“I’m not accustomed to having a woman on board.” He told himself to look away. But after he blinked, he found himself still staring.

“What do you want, Captain?”

Dangerous question. What he wanted from her, she wouldn’t give and he shouldn’t fantasize about. Besides, her kind usually exchanged vows for a tumble, and a wedded life with Princess Lilli would be a disaster of epic proportions. She was too much a child, trapped in too womanly a body. They’d kill each other in a week…after spending six days in bed.

He sighed. Damn, this voyage was doomed to be a frustrating one.

“I thought I made myself clear yesterday when I told you to report to the galley at six this morning,” he said.

She lifted her creamy shoulders in a shrug. “I’m going.”

-45-

Shelley Bradley

“When?” he barked. “It’s six-thirty.”

“I shall go soon as I finish dressing.” She clutched the blanket closer to her chest. “For that to happen, you must first leave. And stop staring at me!”

She had a real talent for making his temper soar. Unfortunately, his desire to strip her, fill her and feel her dainty nails clawing his back wasn’t far behind.

He crossed the floor and curled his fingers around her arm. “Listen, princess. I said six, not six-thirty. Not when the mood strikes you. You have five minutes to dress in privacy. Five minutes,” he stressed. “After that, I’m coming in, and I haven’t decided if I’ll dress you myself…or undress you.”

Drex closed the door on her sputtering with a smile. Ah, he did enjoy irking her. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman distract you this much, Hancock’s assertion came back to him. She did distract him. And he needed to divert his mind from the spirited minx and refocus it on saving Ryan.

Regardless, he pressed his ear to the door. He heard grumbling, picked up

“brute” and “tyrant” among her mutterings. Then came the whispered rustling of cloth. His imagination burst with images of sheer fabric brushing the silk of her skin and puddling at the floor, leaving her a naked Venus.

In three seconds, Drex felt his cock harden. Adjusting himself, he leaned against their adjoining door with a groan, wondering how he was going to keep himself from storming through it some night when his body craved the pleasure a tempting morsel like her had been created to give.

Perhaps Greg had been right; maybe he should have found a willing wench in London to satisfy him. Too late now. He was stuck on The Dragon’s Lair, just him and Princess Lillianne—and a small door without a lock separating them.

Heaven help him. Images of a nearly naked Lilli assailed his heated brain, and his restraint was already hanging on by a thin thread.

A long minute later, Lilli emerged with golden hair demurely pinned atop her head, revealing her soft nape. Restraining an urge to kiss her there, Drex studied the rest of her. She sported a blue round dress frothed with lace—and a snug, square-necked bodice that did nothing to hide the creamy swells of her breasts.

Drex clenched his teeth. “Don’t you have something else to wear?”

-46-

The Lady and the Dragon

“I packed in a hurry.” When he tossed her a suspicious glare, she added,

“My mother’s condition was worsening. I couldn’t concentrate on something so trivial.”

He eyed her with pure pleasure, knowing his crew would, too. “You didn’t pack anything more…modest?”

“This dress is perfectly fashionable,” she protested. “Besides, I only brought two others with me, and they’re much more revealing.”

And he’d get to see them in the days to come. Not a comforting thought.

“If you’re going to wear that, don’t even speak to the crew.”

She glared at him. “Are you always surly?”

“Are you always willful?”

She glared at him, saying nothing.

Drex led her out the door, and they made a silent journey to the galley. He walked behind her, giving directions…and eyeing the alluring sway of her hips.

When they reached the small sunlit kitchen, a mess of ten men inhabited the room. A chorus of spoons clinking against clay bowls echoed against the wooden walls. No one said a word. In the stiff silence, his crew stared hard at his gorgeous stowaway.

Drex cleared his throat. “Men, Miss Lillianne will help in the galley. She will not help you with anything else. Understood?”

A hodge-podge of nods answered him. “No one is to touch her. Am I making myself clear?”

With that, he slipped a possessive arm about her waist. He felt her turn as stiff as a hurricane gale as she whirled to face him, incredulity widening her emerald eyes.

When she opened her mouth to protest, he knew he had to shut her up.

Fast.

Drex covered her lips with his own. She gasped into his mouth, her small hands making fists against his chest. Aware they had to be convincing, he clutched her to him and took possession of her soft pink lips again. His insides sizzled and blazed like the sun at the equator. He drew back for a ragged breath, saw her stunned expression, then devoured her again a man starved.

-47-

Shelley Bradley

She tasted good, like a sweet mint. He explored deeper, thrusting into her mouth. His blood felt as if she’d replaced it with boiling brandy. The thick liquid sluiced through his veins to collect just beneath the buttons of his now-tight breeches. He pressed his erection against the lush heaven of her curves.

Lilli squirmed and gasped. He redoubled his effort so she wouldn’t give the game away, stroking her back with needy hands and coaxing her tongue to mate with his.

The vision of her half-naked in that sheer chemise suddenly stormed his memory, shooting an erotic jolt through his body.

He inhaled the sultry scents of sea air and the flowered perfume of her skin. She’d probably never soften in his embrace, but for some damn reason, he ached for her to. In a last wishful effort, his tongue swept around hers, even as he filtered his fingers through the tendrils of hair lying in loose gold curls around her face. His thumbs traced tiny circles on her neck.

Amazingly, her body lost its starch, swaying against him like a wind-puffed sail. Her fists uncurled, flattened against his chest…then slowly curled around his shoulders. In a heartbeat, he pulled her right against his cock, not giving a damn how much of his arousal she felt.

Drex swallowed a groan, but he heard one from their audience. What he’d planned as a warning had suddenly become entertainment. Not a wise idea.

With effort and reluctance and a lot of regret, he broke the kiss.

Staring down into his stowaway’s wide-eyed, swollen-lipped face, he tried to convey a warning to hold her tantrum. Instead her expression held a blank stare, as if she were…dazed. Interesting possibility for a pleasure-filled voyage since he had never believed she would respond to him as a woman. But no, she would not assent to sharing mutual pleasure for its own sake, and he certainly didn’t need to lose sight of his priorities because he was busy seducing her.

Everything about her signaled trouble.

Holding Lillianne to him, he bellowed. “Any questions?”

Not a breath broke the silence.

He smiled icily. “Splendid.” At that moment, bells chimed, ringing seven o’clock. “Get to your posts, men.”

-48-

The Lady and the Dragon

With gazes carefully averted, the ragtag bunch filed out, one by one.

Knowing Lilli’s explosion was imminent, he gestured Pauly, the cook, to follow the crew.

She shattered the three seconds of blissful silence with a huffy gasp. “How dare you? Why on earth—”

“To protect your pretty hide, Lilli.”

Flashing green eyes widened with incredulity. “Protect me? By ravishing me while your crew watches?”

Drex gripped her shoulders. “First of all, I kissed you to brand you mine.

Now you have less chance of being, as you so quaintly put it, ravished by another crew member.” He pulled her closer and growled, “Second, if I had been trying to ravish you, you’d already be naked, on your back, and screaming my name.”

Her expressive face displayed a booty chest full of panic—and a sailor’s ration of curiosity. But that minuscule amount of intrigue almost proved too much for his control.

What was it about this hoyden that made him so hot?

Abruptly, he released her with wide-spread hands and retreated a step. “I’ll send Pauly back in to instruct you on the finer points of shipboard cooking.”

Drex brushed past her, but felt her curious gaze burning his back. Inside, he sizzled. Damn it, he had to get her dewy mouth and tentative response out of his head. Her tangy-floral scent, her clenched fingers, her erratic breathing when they kissed, all raised hell with his self-control.

Glancing over his shoulder, he warned, “If you want to keep your bed a solitary one, don’t kiss me back again.”

* * *

Christina spent the day in a daze. Her brain registered the sound of the cook’s voice as he instructed her about the various instruments in the galley.

But her concentration wandered elsewhere. As he spoke of the Friday diet consisting of oatmeal, cheese and dried peas, she could only think about the captain.

-49-

Shelley Bradley

My God, she’d allowed the Black Dragon to kiss her, not once but twice.

And instead of revulsion, she’d felt…tingles. Heat. A slow-burning desire firing her blood for more. Definitely not anything her grandmother would approve of.

Nonetheless, the memory of his firm yet gentle lips on hers prompted her to consider kissing him again, as he’d warned against, just to feel his reaction.

Part of her was strangely giddy when she should have been repelled.

Absolutely horrified to have such a heathen touching her. Something was wrong with her. Only that explained why she found such a dangerous man so intriguing. Yet it was more than his looks. She knew a bevy of dashing blades, all respectable peers, eager to win her favor. They bored her.

With a flash of insight, she knew why: The masked, tattooed captain possessed something all the ton’s fops lacked—a passion for life. She saw it in his intent expression, heard it in the bark of his orders, tasted it in the flavor of his kiss. And she responded to him on a level so elemental, it vibrated within her.

Dear Lord, was she a candidate for Bedlam? Maybe exhaustion was simply taking its toll on her thoughts.

As the morning shadows lengthened into afternoon, Pauly gave her small chores. The first, fetching ingredients about the galley for the meal proved easy, if tedious. The second, slicing rations of cheese, became more difficult and less appealing. In an effort to keep her nose away from the smelly cheese, she winced and looked away—and sliced right into her finger. She tried to ignore the wound and finish her task, but bled on most of the meal instead.

Pauly was not pleased. Nor did she imagine the captain would be.

Mumbling something beneath his breath, the crusty cook sent her away—

without a reminder to come back for the evening mess. Christina couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or insulted.

Upon leaving the galley, she tip-toed her way about the maze of the ship, trying to find her cabin again. She passed one sailor, a tall man in a blue vest, shockingly minus a shirt.

Averting her gaze from his exposed flesh, she began, “Excuse me, can you…”

-50-

The Lady and the Dragon

The ill-dressed man walked past, gaze trained down as if she didn’t exist.

The fear on his craggy face bespoke the captain’s warnings. The Black Dragon had to be the most dreadful kind of ogre to inspire such fear. The overbearing, over-handsome lout!

Sweet heaven, the man was too much like her grandfather. Dictatorial, unbending, unhearing, unfeeling. Oh, his tactics were different. Grandfather claimed his iron-clad decisions stemmed from his care and concern for her.

The Black Dragon used her uncertainty of her tenuous position here, of him, as a means of control. Well, just as she had thwarted Grandfather, she would not allow the captain to get the better of her.

A difficult task, however. The man seemed to know her every thought. He awakened her senses and confused her so easily.

When she passed the next sailor, a stocky red-haired giant, she again asked for assistance. He turned to her, the lust burning in his gaze rooting her in place.

“Come here, sugar. If you’re lost, ol’ Talbot will be mighty glad to help ye find yer way.”

“A—actually, I just remembered how to find my cabin.”

“C’mon, now. Don’t be afraid.” He grinned, showing the gaps where his missing teeth had been. “I’ll be your friend if you’ll be mine.”

His leer told her friendship was the last thing on his mind. Restraining her panic, she mustered up her haughtiest expression. “We are not acquaintances, sir, much less friends.”

“Come closer, and we’ll get to know each other real well.” He inched nearer and reached for her.

Christina jumped back and sprinted away, the sounds of Talbot’s mocking laughter ringing in her ears.

With an uneasy sigh, Christina continued, and to her relief, stumbled across the correct companionway a few minutes later. As she opened the door to her cabin, she heard a series of bells chime in the distance.

Even this motley bunch had some order, she thought sleepily, groping for her narrow bed. She lay down on the lumpy mattress and pulled the limp

-51-

Shelley Bradley

blanket up under her chin. She was used to far better, but at the moment, the bed felt like heaven.

Briefly, she worried about Talbot, but decided he wouldn’t be bold enough to barge into the cabin adjoining the captain’s.

The next sound she heard was a door slamming against a wall. She lifted a groggy eye, fearing she’d made an incorrect assessment of Talbot. Instead, the Black Dragon stood in her portal, wide chest rising with short, angry breaths, long, dark hair framing a taut, black-masked face.

“Now what?” she groaned.

“You’re late. Again.”

She stretched. “I overslept. I was tired.”

He stared, his dark eyes following her every move. “The men are hungry. It’s six-thirty, the evening meal will begin soon, and I want you back in the galley.”

Christina pulled one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings out of memory.

“And people in Hades want cold water.”

With an oath, he stormed across the room to her bed. Christina tried to scramble away, but he snatched her into his grasp, holding her against his chest with a ferocity that made her tremble.

“Don’t you understand? If you don’t work, the crew will do everything possible to make your life complete hell.”

“More than you’ve done?” she asked archly. At his warning glare, she smoothed her dress irritably. “All right. I’ll go.”

“Good. The men appreciate a female’s cooking now and again,” he said as he followed her out the cabin door and headed through the companionway.

Obviously, he hadn’t talked to Pauly. “They will hardly appreciate mine.”

“It can’t be too bad,” he argued.

Since she’d never cooked before, Christina knew better. But to admit she’d never stood before a stove would reveal too much about her identity. Instead, she mumbled, “We’ll see.”

They strode into the galley, currently devoid of anyone save the cook. “Ask Pauly for instruction.”

-52-

The Lady and the Dragon

After that brief command, the captain left. And Pauly gave her a job she knew she’d botch: cooking oatmeal.

After dumping a bucketful of the flakes into a tub of boiling salt water, he told her to watch it. For what, she wanted to ask, but didn’t dare for fear they’d discover her ignorance and realize she was no impoverished merchant’s daughter.

Pauly left to find an additional ration of peas and bring up another casket of ale.

A boring half hour later, the bearded cook peered over her shoulder at the slop of oatmeal.

“Good Lord! What’d ya do to it?”

Wide-eyed and aware she’d done something wrong, she answered, “Nothing.

I—I watched it, just like you said.”

“Ya didn’t stir it?” He sounded shocked.

“You didn’t say to stir it.”

“Hell’s bells, I didn’t think I had to.”

With that, he reached for a long, wooden spoon and stuck it in the mushy substance. The spoon stood straight up.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He waved her apology away with his usual bluster. “It won’t be the worst the men have eaten. Go finish pourin’ them mugs of ale.”

Christina scurried about the kitchen, feeling three inches tall. Too bad no one here was going to ask her about the latest fashion or who sat where at haut ton dinners. Those facts she could recite in her sleep. But cooking? She knew nothing about that.

With a sigh, Christina began pouring ale. Behind her, she heard footsteps.

That purposeful cadence could only belong to one person: The captain. As Pauly put it, hell’s bells. Why was he here?

Jaw clenched, she turned to face him. Thrusting the pitcher on the counter to prepare for confrontation, she nudged it against an object on the edge of the counter.

-53-

Shelley Bradley

The captain’s eyes widened. He lunged toward her with a curse. She jumped out of his way.

A moment later, the sound of breaking glass resounded in her ears. Her eyes followed the clatter and found the lantern.

She watched with horror as the lamp rolled across the floor, saturating the wood beneath their feet with oil. It spun away from her and whirled toward the wood-burning stove.

Immediately, the captain barked at Pauly to grab towels. Even as the Black Dragon sprang into action, she lunged for the lantern, stopping it short of the stove’s fire.

With short, urgent strokes, Pauly threw the wet cloths down and began mopping up the liquid. The captain tore off his shirt, disregarding its flying buttons, and added it to the towels. The Black Dragon joined Pauly’s attack on the wooden floor.

“Help us mop this up!” he snapped.

Christina knelt to assist, but a spark from the stove arced into the oil. The two ignited an instant flame that tore across the floor in an orange-red line.

The captain shoved her away.

Both he and Pauly backed away from the line of fire zipping between them, but the cook was not fast enough. The blaze swept across Pauly’s hand, scorching his skin. The cook screamed, and the captain cursed, his ripe oaths hanging in the air, along with the ghostly, cloying smoke. He reached inside a cabinet and snatched a canister, then dumped its snowy contents on the fire.

Flour, she realized as she watched blaze smother and die. With chagrin, she cast a wary gaze to the Black Dragon. She hadn’t meant to start a fire. But as he returned her stare with a killing glare, she knew she’d made a giant mistake.

“How bad is it?” The Black Dragon approached Pauly with concern masking his fury.

“It’s nothin’.”

But that was a lie. His waxy skin proved the cost he paid to restrain his moan. His forehead beaded with rivulets of sweat as he pressed white lips together.

-54-

The Lady and the Dragon

The captain turned to her. “Why is it that, wherever you go, trouble follows?

Damn it, go to your room and stay there. I’ll be down to deal with you.”

Christina sent a remorse-filled gaze to the cook, who cradled his injured hand. “I really am sorry.”

As he nodded, she followed the captain out of the galley and made her way to the back of the ship and her cabin. Dejection pulled her shoulders down.

She hadn’t meant to hurt Pauly—or anyone. He’d been the most likeable person she’d met on board, largely because he didn’t say a word more than necessary. His expression told her he didn’t judge her or her reasons for stowing on board.

Sinking onto her bunk, she dreaded the captain’s arrival and their inevitable confrontation. She didn’t have to wait long.

He pushed the door between their cabins wide open and hovered in the doorway. Inhaling a deep breath, he stood too still, except for the rise of his broad, naked chest. Wishing he had donned another shirt, Christina tried to look away. But her gaze lingered on the sculpted angles of his hard, golden torso and the tattoo of the dragon’s tail encircling his arm. His skin resembled polished bronze. Her mouth went dry.

She’d never seen anyone like him in her eighteen years, not even on the few ship yards she’d toured with Grandfather as a child. With a shiver, she admitted he was magnificent.

Realizing she’d been staring like a dim wit, pride nudged her to meet his glare.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “That you’d torch the whole ship just to spite me?”

His growl raised her hackles. “Of course not.”

“Lilli, you can’t play with fire on a wooden ship!” He stepped into the cabin.

Its tiny space shrunk around her. “You’ll kill everyone. Did that occur to you?”

He clearly thought her dim. She was guilty of being startled by his approach. So she would use more caution in the future. But, in typical tyrant fashion, the Black Dragon shouted, just like Grandfather.

“The fire was an accident,” she defended.

-55-

Shelley Bradley

He considered her for a terribly silent moment before he lifted a dark, cynical brow. “Was it?”

“Of course! If you hadn’t sneaked up behind me, I—”

“I didn’t sneak,” he corrected. “I came to check on you when Pauly told me you’d cut yourself. How is your finger?”

She spun away, feeling chagrined and wondering why he cared. “I shall heal.”

He made no reply, and silence hung in the thick air, tinged with salt and damp heat. Christina felt the captain’s eyes on her back, his stare single-minded. Part of her wanted to apologize, but knew he’d only fling it back in her face.

“Let me look at it.”

He grabbed her hand, engulfing it in his, and turned her to face him. Half-naked, he stood too close for comfort. She edged away as the captain inspected the slice on her finger.

She stared at their joined hands. Calluses lined his large palm and sun-darkened fingers; tender white skin, nursed by her idle days, covered hers. His hand looked capable with sturdy, long fingers. Her own seemed ridiculously frail in comparison.

Long moments slid past before Christina realized the captain’s gaze had focused on her face. She raised her eyes to his, drawn by the probe of his dark stare behind his mask. For a moment, her memory lingered on his kiss in the galley this morning. The persuasive pressure of his lips, the swirl of his tongue around her own, igniting her internal fires.

“Who are you, Lilli? Really? Is that even your name?”

Not for anything could she afford to answer his questions. “Who are you behind that mask? Why are you hiding?”

He paused, as if deciding whether to answer. “When you’ve become as infamous as I have, you protect yourself in every way possible, especially your identity. I’ve no wish to end up dangling from the end of a rope after I’ve retired.”

-56-

The Lady and the Dragon

“Pirates retire?” He answered with a glower. Brow wrinkled, she asked, “But why wear a mask around your own crew? They must

know—”

“Only Hancock knows,” he cut in. “I don’t trust anyone else.” He settled closer to her with a tight smile. “Now that I’ve answered all your questions, princess, I want answers to mine. Is Lilli your real name?”

Christina dropped her gaze. “I told you it was.”

He cupped her chin. “You also told me your father was a poor merchant.

But your dresses are well made, Lilli. Your hands are very soft.” His palm slid across her fingers as if to make his point, and she shivered. “You’re educated and you can’t cook. None of that fits with an impoverished merchant’s daughter.”

“My father didn’t want us to work,” she said softly.

He grunted softly, clearly disappointed, then trailed his thumb over her cut once more. “Be more careful from now on.”

He released her hands and turned away.

Without thought, Christina touched his bare arm to stay him. “It was an accident,” she reiterated. “I promise.”

“Lilli,” came his exasperated sigh. “If you’re not careful, people get hurt.

And sometimes, damn it, they die.”

Christina flinched, realizing that if not for the valiant efforts of Pauly and the captain, the fire might have spread, destroying the ship, killing the crew, even the captain himself.

“The sea is exacting.” His voice dropped gravely. “So I have to be the same.”

“You believe it was an accident, don’t you?”

“Stay out of trouble, Lilli. I’m not your nursemaid.”

“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she said stiffly.

“In less than twenty-four hours, you’ve managed to agitate the crew and nearly set the ship on fire. I mean business, Lilli,” he grated out. “Think next time. Otherwise, I might not be around when you need saving.”

-57-

Shelley Bradley

Chapter Four

Thoughts of the captain whirled in her head as she attempted to clean flour from the small but sooty floor in the galley. Dangerous described him all too well. Why did the most exciting man she’d ever met come in the unsuitable form of a masked, controlling privateer?

She also feared discovery. Each time he inquired about her identity, his questions probed closer to the truth. The Black Dragon could not learn her real name. Ever. Lord knew what he would do to her. Take her virtue for revenge?

Ransom her back to her grandfather? As tired as she felt, despite a few hours’

sleep, she’d have to watch herself and keep her tall tales straight.

The men shuffled into the galley for their meal. With wrinkled noses, they sniffed at the odor of charred wood blending with salt sea streaming through the open gun ports.

Christina retreated to the counter beside the wood-burning stove as the sailors ambled to the galley’s lone table in silence. She set her rag aside, pressing wrinkles from her blue dress with a nervous brush of her hands.

The motley bunch wore greasy scarves about their necks and ill-fitting breeches below chests covered only by ropes, weapons or tattoos. One man, however, had donned what appeared to be a gentleman’s brocade vest.

Christina did not want to consider how the outlaw had acquired such a finely-made garment. Coercion, the kind that included sharp knives and bared teeth.

Two more sailors straggled in. Her palms turned sweaty. What would her friends say if they saw her behaving in this manner with these cutthroats?

The crew’s unfashionably long hair and coarse beards made her shudder.

The assortment of gold jewelry and gems that dangled from shocking holes in their ears, just like the captain’s, did little to ease her fear, either.

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The Lady and the Dragon

Christina sent them a stiff smile. The fact the crew gave her an equally wide berth lent her little comfort, given their quick but heated glances.

Then the last man ducked through the open doorway with a familiar swagger, and she almost groaned. Talbot, the brute who’d cornered her in the companionway as she’d asked for directions. As if the captain and his overbearing ways weren’t torment enough, now she had to deal with Talbot.

And judging from his obnoxious leer, the meal was going to be long.

Determined to look brave, she ignored him and met the stares of the others with arms crossed defiantly over her chest.

“Where’s Pauly?” one man asked suspiciously.

Christina gathered her courage and answered, “There was an accident. He’s resting.”

She hoped her crisp reply was enough to deter further questions. But their narrow-eyed expressions didn’t bode well. If they knew she had almost burned their cook alive, who knew what dreadful punishment they might see fit to mete out.

“See, I told ye she was dangerous,” commented a stout, dark-haired giant, his tone righteous. “Bad luck, mates.”

Another nodded, grumbling, “Only one thing a wench like her is good fer, and the cap’n ain’t bloody likely to share.”

The other sailors nodded in agreement. Their stares, a terrifying mixture of lust and distrust, added to the consensus.

To break the tension, Christina set out the food she and Pauly had prepared earlier. With shaking fingers, she circled the table, filling each plate, then tip-toed back with a sigh.

No one touched the food. Instead, the sailors stared at the meal, their faces a mixture of wrinkled brows and grimaces.

“What is this slop?” one asked, his eyes accusing.

“Pauly damn sure didna cook this mess,” asserted the first dissenter in a thick brogue. “Are ye tryin’ to poison us, lass?”

“I didn’t try to poison anyone. This is my dinner, too.”

-59-

Shelley Bradley

“She don’t belong on board,” he called again. “Just like I said before, she’s bad luck and she’s dangerous!”

Hancock, the captain’s surly first mate, considered her for a long moment.

Biting her lip, she stared back.

“If ye ain’t tryin’ to poison us, ye vixen, why does the food look so bad?” he asked.

Christina thrust her hands on her hips and stopped just short of stomping her foot. “Can you do better?”

Hancock grinned. “Probably not.”

Suddenly the others’ expressions turned from scowls and leers to guffaws.

Maybe they wouldn’t throw her overboard after all.

She peered curiously at Hancock. He shot her an unexpected wink before turning his attention to the fare on his plate. He had intervened, but why?

All the others began eating—except Talbot. The barbarian merely pushed his plate aside with a sly curl to his lips and ogled her from his perch at the end of the table.

“She obviously wasn’t made for cookin’. Look at them bosoms, all pretty and pink. Come here, sugar, and sit on Talbot’s lap.”

Nine pairs of eyes swerved across the room to rest on her. Their heavy gazes told her Talbot had been the only one cocky enough to speak their thoughts aloud. At that moment, Christina wished she’d had more time to pack adequately for this adventure. Her entire body burned with embarrassment and fear.

A skinny scrap of a man broke the long silence. “If we ain’t allowed to touch her, neither are ye.”

“Yeah,” said a bald man beside him. “If I don’t get no fancy piece like that, you don’t.”

Christina stared in shock, listening to the men haggle over her like she was a prime cut of meat.

“Quit whining, both of ye. There should be enough of her left after I’m through.” Talbot leveled Christina a ribald smile.

-60-

The Lady and the Dragon

Christina mimicked one of Grandfather’s frostiest looks. “Find some tavern wench to sit on your lap. I will not.”

Everyone in the room held their collective breath and turned their gazes on Talbot. Christina felt her hands begin to tremble as the lewd grin on Talbot’s face slurred into a threatening scowl. His biceps bulged as he braced meaty hands on the end of the table and rose. “I told you to come sit on my lap, wench.”

Swallowing the lump lodged in her throat, she squared her shoulders. “I would rather take my last breath.”

In the next instant, Talbot unsheathed a knife at his thigh. The blade gleamed under the shaft of sunlight streaming through the gun port. Christina gasped.

Before she could move, Talbot hurled the knife at her. The blade flew end over end before burying itself in the counter just inches from her abdomen with a heart-stopping thud.

He smirked when she gasped. “Listen up, girl. If you spread yer legs for the likes of the captain, you can do the same fer me. Now get over here.”

Christina’s gaze flew from the knife, then back to Talbot’s face. The ruffian’s glare of conquest ignited her temper.

She collected her nerves, along with the last of the oatmeal, and strode to Talbot’s side. The oaf sat back in his seat with a satisfied smile. “That’s what a man likes, a warm woman and extra food.”

“The cap’n’ll slice your back open if you touch his woman,” Hancock advised.

Talbot laughed. “Let èm try.”

“He’ll do more than try, mate,” Hancock warned.

Talbot’s feral gaze monitored her approach as she listened to the exchange.

Clutching the handles of the pot in her hands she strode the length of the table and paused at Talbot’s side.

“The captain will have no need to defend my honor, because I will not allow you to jeopardize it.”

-61-

Shelley Bradley

She turned the pot of oatmeal over—above Talbot’s head. Giant lumps of the slop slurped downward, tangling in his hair, dribbling into his eyes.

With an outraged howl, Talbot bolted from his seat, swiped oatmeal from his eyes and reached for her. Christina danced away from him to the accompaniment of the others’ wails of laughter.

Christina pressed her lips together to hold back her own chuckle. She should be terrified of the lout now that she’d embarrassed him. But she only felt triumph and a sense of relief.

Talbot shook his head to rid himself of more offending chunks of oatmeal.

The masses splattered across the table, the floor. The others clutched their bellies, hopelessly doubled over with laughter. Hancock winked at her again.

Talbot muttered an oath. “Get over here, ye uppity bitch.”

“That gives new meanin’ to taking yer meals!” pointed out one sailor between convulsions of laughter.

“Shut yer bleedin’ mouth,” Talbot shouted. Then he shot Christina a glare brimming with fire and hate. She took a reflexive step away from that menacing glint in his eyes. Suddenly, Hancock stood at her side, a light hand on her elbow.

With pursed lips, Talbot backed away from the table. He lunged for her.

Christina gasped, her heart racing. Seeing her fear, the bully stopped in mid-stride with a laugh.

“That’s right, girl. Ye should be afraid. I’ll find ye alone soon. After I’m done with ye, we’ll see who’s laughin’.”

A silent moment later, Talbot stormed from the galley.

Hancock turned to her. “He’s just talkin’ mad. Don’t worry. The cap’n won’t let anything happen to ye.”

Christina sent him a shaky nod, though she felt less than reassured. She didn’t protest when he urged her to sit down.

As she sank down onto the bench, the sailor beside her shot her a wide grin. He was missing his front two teeth. “That’s a brave lass! Talbot had it comin’ to èm, he did.”

Hadn’t this man called her dangerous five minutes ago?

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The Lady and the Dragon

Before she could reply, another called out, “Davie’s right. Seein’ a wee thing like you set Talbot straight puts me in a right good mood.”

Listening to the last man’s laugh, she turned to Hancock behind her with a questioning stare.

“He’s made everyone’s life hell. They’ve wanted to see him get his comeuppance for a long while.”

Christina suspected she’d made an enemy who wasn’t likely to forgive and forget, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Not when then others appeared to be accepting her. She turned back and smiled tentatively at all the sailors.

Watching them dig into the cold oatmeal on their plates, she hoped today’s incident worked to her advantage. Without help, she didn’t want to put Talbot’s threats to the test.

* * *

Drex ran to the galley, knowing he had missed most of the evening meal.

And in his absence, any man who hadn’t shown his stowaway the deference he’d demanded would know true punishment.

Down stairs and round corners he sprinted, hoping Lilli could handle the others as well as she had him. He took comfort in the fact Hancock had promised to help her, if needed.

Still, a burning inside him urged him to learn if any of his mannerless bunch had harmed her. They were fine sailors, maybe even the best. But he didn’t trust them around a beautiful woman like Lilli for an instant.

Hell, around her, he could barely trust himself.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the galley, Drex looked over the small crowd. He’d been prepared for almost anything, screaming, even blood.

Never the shimmering brilliance of Lilli’s smile.

She sat on one side of the table, just beneath the small window. The men had gathered all around her, like insects to their queen. The setting sun shone through the gun ports, illuminating Lilli’s golden hair, her sunny smile. The men spoke over one another in a rush of conversation.

-63-

Shelley Bradley

“I wrestled me an alligator once,” one of them boasted.

“That’s nothing,” assured another. “I fought off two of the fancy English soldiers all by meself.”

“Aye, ye did. And they be children next to the giants I fought on an island,”

a third bragged. “Scary buggers with one eye, they was. I killed èm all.”

Lilli threw her head back and laughed, the sound soft like trickling water from a spring. “Well, I do have some adventures ahead of me, then. How much more exciting than London!”

Drex stepped into the room, his footfall purposely heavy. As he expected, all conversation ceased.

The men jumped from their seats to attention. Lillianne stilled, her smile dying.

Why was it that every time he came within five feet of her, she welcomed him as warmly as a hangman? Though it was for the best, the fact she regarded him as the enemy irritated him.

“If you’re finished eating, men, resume your posts,” Drex commanded.

Nine men shuffled out immediately. Lilli tried to follow.

Drex grabbed her arm. “You stay here.”

He turned to a departing Hancock. “Where’s Talbot?”

His first mate burst into laughter. “Our little Lilli put ìm right in his place, and with no more than a bowl of oatmeal.”

Our little Lilli? He cast her a questioning glance.

She swallowed, then offered up a stilted smile. “The man made some rather rude suggestions. I poured oatmeal over his head.”

Drex bit back laughter. Talbot should be punished for whatever crude words he’d spewed to Lilli, but he doubted the man could be further humiliated. His beautiful stowaway becoming a bigger handful all the time, but he couldn’t suppress a flash of admiration.

“Don’t be angry,” she cajoled, batting her eyelashes like a practiced coquette. “He was behaving like a brute.”

-64-

The Lady and the Dragon

She was hopelessly mischievous, he decided, shaking his head. That probably accounted for the reason he couldn’t decide whether he should seduce Lilli or spank her.

“Oh, you are angry,” she observed, her red mouth turned down into a pout.

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Not here.” He released her and gestured to the galley’s door. “My cabin.

Now.”

Lilli grimaced, waved good bye to Hancock, then exited. He followed her down the companionway, focusing on her shoulder blades. But damn it if his gaze didn’t keep drifting lower, fastening on the graceful curve of her hips and her derriere. He really had to take his mind off of her body and all the things he’d like to do to it if he was going to confront her.

Once they reached his cabin, he pulled out his desk chair and pointed to it.

She hesitated, then sat. Unfortunately, standing above her provided him a disturbingly clear view down the front of her dress and the lush swell of her breasts.

He turned away. She was beautiful and spirited. As much as she created havoc on his ship, he couldn’t deny he wanted her. Badly. More today than yesterday. Tenfold more than the day he’d first laid eyes on her. And not for just her beauty. Her resolve was equally captivating, calling to him like the challenge of taming a wild sea, despite the fact that, like Ryan, her antics inevitably caused trouble.

God, was this sickness something he shared with the insane?

“Don’t be angry,” Lilli said suddenly, bringing him back to the present. “I had to do something!”

“I’ll discuss Talbot’s lack of manners with him later. Right now, we’re going to talk about your mission of…mercy.”

A flash of fear raced through her green eyes. She quickly masked it and rose to her feet. Planting her hands on her hips, she said, “You may not care what that heathen said to me, but—”

“I will deal with him. Separately,” he assured, lowering her to her chair with firm hands on her shoulders.

She responded to his words with a wary lift of her chin.

-65-

Shelley Bradley

“Tell me more about your mother’s illness,” he began.

Her wary green gaze brushed his face before looking away. “She developed a very high fever and sleeps most of the day. She refuses to eat.”

“You’re very collected, Lilli,” he observed. “You haven’t wept once over the imminent loss of your mother.”

She pursed her lips together and clasped her hands in her lap. “We’re not very close, actually.”

He paced to the bed and sat, meeting her gaze at eye level. “You’re making a dangerous journey for a woman who doesn’t mean much to you?”

Placing a hand on her chest, she had the presence of mind to look affronted. “I am a dutiful daughter. Only someone dreadfully callous wouldn’t fulfill a dying mother’s last wish.”

“Naturally,” he replied, not disagreeing. But in her case, that truth seemed more of a convenience. “What kind of merchant did you say your father was?”

She tried to wave a casual hand through the air. Her fingers shook. “You know, spices, tea, that sort of thing.”

“He must have been a wealthy man, then.”

“No.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Where did you live?”

“I can hardly see that it matters.”

With a finger crooked beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his face. How could such guileless eyes be so full of untruths? “Then you won’t mind answering, will you?”

“As you wish. We lived in London,” she said, face carefully blank.

“Where in London?”

Her gaze darted about the room. “Not too far from Fleet Street.”

“Expensive neighborhood,” he commented.

“Well, we ah…lived above our shop.”

He feigned a confused frown. “I thought you said you lived not too far from Fleet, rather than on it.”

-66-

The Lady and the Dragon

“Our front door leads out the back, onto another street,” she babbled.

“Besides, father taught us to tell customers we lived elsewhere.”

“And your sister Ellen lives with you?”

“Of course, Ellen lived with us. Where else would she live?” She smiled, looking as tense as a sailor on his first trip up the rigging in a storm. “What is this all about?”

Even so, she tempted Drex to touch her, possibly even believe her. But he knew better.

“I thought you said your sister’s name was Helen?” he asked.

“Ah…” she faltered. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“No. I said Ellen.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees.

“So did you.”

“I’m sure you heard wrong,” she insisted.

“Where did this come from?” He tossed a brush set in pure silver in her direction.

She caught it, then glared back at him. “You took this from my valise! How dare you—”

“Because I don’t know who you are, Lilli, and you’re lying to me. Answer my question,” he demanded softly. “Where did you get that?”

She bit her lip. “It was a gift from an admirer.”

“Was this a gift from an admirer, too?” He tossed a delicate linen chemise in her direction, trimmed in blond lace, too expensive to belong to a poor merchant’s daughter.

Drex waited, praying she’d say no. She’d have to be some man’s mistress to receive undergarments from an admirer. Somehow the thought of Lilli willingly allowing another man to touch her, kiss the sweet lips he’d kissed, made him want to growl and bash in a head or two.

“I…ah, made that with scraps of material my father couldn’t sell.”

With a tight smile, he strode to a chest in the corner. He lifted the lid and tossed her a piece of black silk. “Since you’re so talented with a needle and thread, you wouldn’t mind making me a robe, would you?”

-67-

Shelley Bradley

Her panic-widened eyes answered Drex with more eloquence than another of her stammered lies.

Lilli’s mouth opened. No sound came out.

Drex leaned closer, pressing her against the back of her chair with his presence. “Why do you believe you cannot tell me the truth?”

Her green eyes widened. “You have hardly been forthcoming about your identity, either, strutting around while hiding beneath that beard and mask.

Who are you?”

“It’s not the same, Lilli. I could be executed if the crown learns my identity.

People I associate with could be implicated and punished to death,” he bit out.

“I don’t enjoy hiding behind this bit of silk. But I must.” He crouched down before her. “Unless you’re wanted by Manchester and his men too, I think you can trust me with your little secret.”

The panic in her green eyes transformed to something near fear. “I can’t tell you.”

Her voice was a raspy, quiet thing that barely cleared the air between them.

She bit her lower lip, looking like she’d had a vicious nightmare. For some reason, she roused Drex’s protective instincts almost as much as his loins.

Damn it. He was getting too sentimental for life at sea.

“Why? Because you’re running from someone?” he asked.

She nodded, the movement jerky. Her breathing sounded erratic as it clashed with the soft swish of the ocean against the wood of the ship.

He gentled his voice. “Do you think that someone wants to hurt you?”

“He—he doesn’t think so, but he would.” She cleared her voice and added,

“He would destroy me.”

“Who is he? Your father? A lover?”

Drex’s gut tightened as he waited for her answer. The idea of Lilli with a lover disturbed him—and for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.

Of course, his sentiment had nothing to do with the fact he looked forward each day to seeing Lilli, despite the mischief she seemed destined to create.

“I don’t think I should say anything more.” She lifted her chin and stood.

-68-

The Lady and the Dragon

Drex reined in a grunt of frustration. Why wouldn’t she trust him? If she was in danger, maybe he could help. If she had a cruel lover, he’d cheerfully volunteer to hang the man—by his testicles.

He stalked to the door and opened it. “We’ll talk about this again later. For now, stay in your cabin.”

“But Pauly… His injury is my fault. Shouldn’t I help to care for him or something?”

Drex shook his head. “He’s being taken care of. You need sleep for your morning mess. Besides, I don’t have time to play your guardian in the event some of the men decide you’re too tempting to resist.”

“Oh, bother. I don’t want to be cooped up in this stuffy cabin. I want to see the sun set over the—”

Drex grinned. “And people in Hades want cold water.”

The slamming of the door behind the captain didn’t hide Lilli’s sigh of frustration. As he made his way to Pauly’s cabin, he swore she had not heard the last of his quest for her true identity.

-69-

Shelley Bradley

Chapter Five

“I will not stay in this cabin,” Christina vowed once the Black Dragon had gone. Arms planted on her hips, chest puffed out, she mimicked, “Don’t move without my permission. Don’t breathe. Don’t think. Answer my questions.” She rolled her eyes. “Not bloody likely.”

Petulantly, she dropped her arms to her sides. It wasn’t fair. Why was she always expected to do as she was told while the men of the world enjoyed the freedom to indulge their every whim? She had dreams, too. A lifetime full of them.

Christina turned for the door. The captain’s trunk, tucked inconspicuously in the corner, drew her eye. Staying here had its merits. After all, if he’d searched her valise, that gave her a right to search his baggage as well.

Without pause, she stomped to the trunk and grabbed the gleaming black lid. Just what would he keep in his chest? Weapons? Skulls? Sunken treasure?

An anxious whirl wound about her stomach as she lifted the lid, expecting the worst. Nothing in her imagination had prepared her for the captain’s simplicity.

Bolts of silks and fine linen lay on top in a rainbow of color. With a puzzled frown, Christina set them on the floor. Below the cloth, she found an extra pair of his boots and black leather gloves. She reached again into the trunk, digging deeper. This time, her fingers grasped the spine of a book.

A book? Who taught notorious privateers how to read?

With a scowl, she pulled the tome free from the trunk. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, it read. The Black Dragon reading classics? And why something so tragically romantic? She would hardly call him the sentimental type.

-70-

The Lady and the Dragon

She flipped open the hard red cover. Inside, the flowery, faded script of a woman’s hand caught her gaze. To my beloved Ryan, read this tale and weep, yet know our love burns too bright to end in sadness. Forever, Chantal.

With numb fingers, Christina closed the book and set it back in the trunk.

His name was Ryan. It fit him, she supposed, though the sound was somewhat softer than the man himself.

And his love was a woman named Chantal.

The thought rose like an ache inside, even as denial surged hard in her belly. Maybe Chantal was merely the captain’s sister. She doubted it. The man would hardly keep the book with him if he did not treasure the tome.

Chantal. The name conjured up images of an exotic French girl with dark hair and cat-like ebony eyes. Christina sighed, irritated by an irrational surge of jealousy.

Or what if, dear God, Chantal was his wife?

She hardly cared. He was the worst sort of barbarian. Completely arrogant.

She hoped he did have a lover.

Even as she thought the words, her shoulders sagged. True, he was a tyrant, and she should be happy he had a woman in his life.

She wasn’t.

Thrusting her feelings aside, she rose and placed the items back in the trunk. She would not cry; there was no reason. The brute of a captain had a love, something she had never wanted. Independence was much more fascinating.

But the memory of the Black Dragon’s lips—Ryan’s lips—lingered. Closing her eyes, she relived the burn of his kiss. His possession of her mouth had felt so complete, so full of desire. Now she wondered if he’d been imagining Chantal while she’d been melting like butter in the summer sun.

After shoving the last of the material back into the trunk, she shut the lid and whirled for the door. Never mind the Black Dragon, or Ryan, and Chantal, his wife or mistress or whatever. She had some fresh air to breathe and her autonomy to maintain.

-71-

Shelley Bradley

She certainly hadn’t come on board to be ordered about like a child—or lose her heart.

* * *

Christina awoke in the infirmary with a cramp in her neck and a damp rag dangling from her limp fingers. The wick on the lantern burned low, and she could barely make out Pauly’s sleeping form. Rising with a stretch, she wondered how many hours she’d slept here. The ache in her back told her more than a few.

Quietly, Christina set the rag at the corner of Pauly’s bed. She wanted to ask him how he felt, but didn’t dare wake him after his painfully sleepless evening.

She crept to the door and exited. After ascending several ladders, Christina couldn’t resist a peek at the night sky.

A breeze warmer than any she’d known on England’s shores blew against her skin in a damp caress. She inhaled the scents of salt and wood and tang in the air.

Her mood was a restless one. Pauly would soon recover, so that no longer upset her. More importantly, she’d truly escaped Grandfather. And she had no illusions about her standing with the ton. If he ever found her and dragged her back to London, she would be a ruined woman no man of consequence would wed. No one would have to know that, other than a few kisses, she remained as virtuous as the day she’d been born. Grandfather certainly wouldn’t stoop to marrying her to a commoner. He would have to let her live her life peacefully with Aunt Mary. She should be pleased.

Christina made her way to a corner of the deck and leaned against its rail, lulled by the gentle swish of the white-capped water below and crisp whip of the wind above. Stars twinkled in a display more brilliant than any chandelier.

She felt awed by the serenity of nature, privileged to be wandering about its realm.

-72-

The Lady and the Dragon

The wrinkle in her happiness could only be attributed to the captain. Why, given his autocratic ways, did she have a hard time driving him from her thoughts?

His kisses lingered in her memory. It was puzzling, really. To be so…curious about a man whose face she had never seen. He could be horribly deformed. But given the bronzed flesh rippling all over his body with silent power and those fathomless dark eyes that could make her shiver with just a glance, she didn’t think so.

Even more odd, for a man of such vicious reputation, he had not harmed her. Not really. The hold had been unpleasant in the extreme, and her banishment there still infuriated her. Her duties in the mess hall were no picnic. But she was alive. He had not whipped or raped her. He’d made no mention of walking the plank or sharing her with his crew, only manning a stove. While she’d never imagined she would do anything as menial as cooking, the chore had hurt only her pride—and the men’s stomachs.

“You’re supposed to be in your cabin,” a familiar voice rang from behind her, ripe with displeasure.

She refused to turn his way. “I shouldn’t think a moment of air is too much to ask.”

He stepped up beside her and directed his next words to her profile. “You’re not safe on this ship alone. My men are well trained, but men, just the same.”

Christina shot him a sidelong glare. “Believe what you may, I can look after myself. I’m hardly a wilting flower.”

His laughter echoed in the air, rich and deep. “A wilting flower is the very last description I would give of you.”

“How would you describe me,” she paused, glancing askance for his expression, “Ryan?”

His laughter ebbed. His smile died, replaced by taut fury darkening his eyes beneath his mask. “What did you call me?”

Christina checked the urge to retreat a step. “Ryan. Is that not your name?”

“Searching my belongings, I see.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her closer.

-73-

Shelley Bradley

Christina tried to concentrate on the feel of rough fingers biting into her arm. The view of his golden flesh flexing beneath his half-buttoned shirt distracted her.

She whispered, “You searched mine.”

“If you were trying to find evidence to hang me with, sorry to disappoint you. Ryan is not my name,” he bit out.

“Then Chantal isn’t—” She broke off in mortification, unable to believe she’d almost asked the Black Dragon about his private affairs.

“My wife? My lover? No. I don’t have either.” He paused, gaze probing her with a heat far from comfortable. “Why ask?”

“I was merely curious about…” You. But saying it aloud was too much of an admission. “About the kind of man who becomes a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he bit out. “I don’t steal.”

There was a distinction between the two? She smiled and wriggled her arm free. The captain released it, wearing a scowl.

“So what kind of man becomes a privateer?” she asked.

“Don’t try to solve me, Lilli. I’m not a riddle devised for your amusement.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “Where did you last sail to before London?”

He hesitated. “New Orleans, if you must know.”

She drew in a quick gasp of surprise. “Do they really have swamps with scaly creatures?”

His compressed lips gave Christina the impression the captain was holding back a smile. “Outside New Orleans, yes.”

“How exciting! I think I would like to go there someday.”

“A swamp is hardly a place for a lady.”

“It seems no place is any place for a lady.” She frowned. “Life is extremely tedious when limited to needlepoint and drawing room gossip.”

He cocked a brow. “So you stowed on board my ship simply for an adventure?”

“Oh, no,” she protested. “I fled London.”

-74-

The Lady and the Dragon

“Why? I know you don’t have a sick mama or a sister named Helen. You can’t be a merchant’s daughter if you spend your days over needlework. What is the truth? Is someone chasing you?”

Christina nodded, thoughts racing. She still could not risk revealing her identity. He would likely strangle her posthaste—or worse, ransom her back to her grandfather.

“Who are you running from, Lilli? A shade more of the truth this time, if you don’t mind.”

But she did mind, which meant she had to make up something—fast.

Latching onto a tidbit of the latest scandal she’d overheard before leaving London, she said, “I—I ran from my lover. He’s quite mad.”

A lover. Drex absorbed her information in gut-churning silence. He wanted to deny her story, but held his tongue. Lilli was young. Too young to be married, perhaps, but old enough to have an illicit lover. Still, she had lied to him before, more than once.

“Mad?” he queried.

“Yes. Jealous of any man who even casts his eye my way.”

If her story were true, Drex could understand the man’s emotions. He felt them himself just listening to Lilli say that someone else had kissed her sweet berry lips and stroked the curves of her hips while sinking deep into her body, as he fantasized about during long nights, knowing that only a rickety door separated them.

“He’s dangerous,” she added.

Drex snapped his attention back to her. “Did he hurt you?”

Lilli merely looked away, leaving Drex to assume the worst. Yes, her tale could be yet another tall one, but something in her face, the pensive cast of her eyes, said she had been hurt. Besides, she had spoken before of a man who would destroy her once he found her. Maybe she told the truth this time.

A lump of fury settled in the pit of Drex’s stomach. How could a man, any man, look at Lilli and want to hurt her?

Drex ached to comfort her, but refrained.

-75-

Shelley Bradley

Her story explained much: The haste with which she had fled, the expensive gifts stashed in her valise, the skittishness she exhibited around him, especially when he had been shirtless. Even now, her wide eyes bespoke anxiety.

Had some bastard beat or raped her? An urge to do violence rose up inside him. “How did he hurt you?”

She glanced up warily, her small white teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Let us not speak of it, please. It’s past, and I will never see him again.”

Clenching his fists, Drex held a frustrated sigh. He wanted to know the truth, learn the scoundrel’s name and… What? Avenge her like some knight errant? Down that path lay dangerous thoughts and feelings. No matter what she said, Lilli was a lady, not the kind of woman who belonged on his ship. Not the kind who consorted with privateers born on the wrong side of the blanket.

Besides, he did not need Lilli and her penchant for trouble. Saving Ryan and keeping the British off his back were paramount. He needed to remember that fact when confronted with his stowaway’s artless smiles and mouth-watering curves.

A gust of ocean breeze swirled the salty air about. Beside him, Lilli shivered, hugging herself.

Drex eyed her short, puffed sleeves. Even in the moon’s buttery light, he could make out the goose pimples on her arms—as well as her hard nipples poking the light muslin fabric of her bodice.

He held in a groan as the tightening at the front of his breeches let Drex know his thoughts had wondered too far.

“Didn’t you bring a wrap from your cabin?” He tried to sound annoyed, but all he wanted was to press Lilli against him and feel her soft curves melding into his body.

“I no longer have one. The cloak I wore aboard smelled dreadfully of animal fat, so I tossed it into the water.”

He wanted to curse her for her impracticality, her lack of planning…and for being so damned tempting. Instead, he stepped in front of her to shield her from the wind.

“Go inside.”

-76-

The Lady and the Dragon

Drex’s words came out more harshly than he intended. His inexplicable urge to protect her warred with his desire to have her in his bed. Either he was going to shout at her—or touch her.

God, what if her latest story was true? If one man had frightened her from all others, she would hardly be in search of a new lover. True, he would gladly volunteer for the position, in any position she desired, given other circumstances. But he could not succumb now. Taking a lover who had Ryan’s aptitude for irresponsibility would be beyond foolish. He did not have the time for dalliance, no matter how much his body wished otherwise. Besides, if some man had hurt Lilli, he could not change the past, and she would hardly be likely to invite him into her bed or her body for a night of hard sex.

Instead of leaving, Lilli seemed to have her own agenda, as usual. She sidled closer to his back and shivered against him. Drex felt her breasts against his back, the wispy touch of her fingers on his arm. His cock tightened again in response.

“Damn it, Lilli. Stop shivering and go to your cabin.”

“But I was enjoying the fresh ai—”

“Now you’re finished.”

He grabbed her by the arm and began hauling her below deck. Predictably, she struggled.

“I won’t be ordered about like some naughty child.”

He gripped her tighter. “On this ship, you will.”

With that, he dragged her to her cabin and shut the door on her sputtering.

In his own cabin, he could hear her muttering through the closed door separating them. Clearly, she wasn’t happy with his behavior.

Neither was he. Continued rumination about whether Lilli’s breasts would fill his hands perfectly and how tightly her sex would grip his cock had no place in his plans to save his brother.

Drex lay down on his bunk with a sigh and tried to concentrate on who might have written the anonymous note to Manchester back in London. The mystery needed solving.

-77-

Shelley Bradley

The culprit certainly could not have been Greg. But had somebody overheard them talking at the tavern? Even so, how would that somebody know which club Manchester frequented?

And would Lilli’s skin, damp from their exertion, taste as sweet as pure cane sugar?

His thoughts had to stop, even if the throbbing between his legs didn’t. Her spirited unpredictability both fascinated and annoyed him, while her golden hair and smile drew him like a lighthouse in a storm. Damn it, how not to think of Lilli? He wanted her more each day. Denying that fact was like denying the tides of the ocean. Impossible in the face of such tangible proof.

Drex searched his trunk for the bottle of brandy he’d been saving for a sleepless night. Staring at Lilli’s door, trying not to remember it had no lock, Drex took a swig from the bottle and vowed not to stop until he’d emptied it.

* * *

Christina laughed into the crisp morning as she watched some of the men scramble about the ship’s rigging. The farther they climbed, the more they looked like rats fleeing a cat’s teeth. Oh, but the freedom. She could imagine the exhilaration of ascending into the heavens, witnessing the origins of the wind, feeling nature unencumbered against her skin.

Halfway to the sky, a sailor named Davie called down, “Aye, lass. If you think ‘tis easy to climb up here, ye be wrong.”

She stared up skeptically. “How hard can it be?”

“What could you know of a man’s job?” called another.

“It looks no harder than climbing trees,” she teased.

“Aye, is that so?” said Davie. “Yer welcome to prove yer skill, lass, anytime.”

Knowing the captain still slept, Christina strode to the ropes with purpose.

“All right, I shall prove it.”

“You canna climb wearing that!” Davie exclaimed.

Christina glanced down at herself, frowning. “Why ever not?”

“It’s not fit fer climbin’. Ye need…er, breeches.”

-78-

The Lady and the Dragon

Christina pondered his stammers. Where would she get breeches? In her cabin. Yes! She’d spied an old pair of Hancock’s lingering in an abandoned trunk. But a shirt…

Besieged with a plan, she ran to her cabin and grabbed the breeches.

Clutching the garment in hand, she tip-toed to the door separating her cabin from the captain’s. As she opened the portal, it creaked. She winced and crept farther into the room.

She discovered that the captain slept naked.

Besides the pile of discarded clothing at the foot of his bed, including yesterday’s breeches and his mask, her gaze roved across the privateer.

She took in the strength of his sculpted back. Broad, bronzed shoulders dominated over half of his wide bed as he lay on his stomach, exposing the beguiling dragon tattoo on his back. Below that, a trim waist tapered to narrow hips…then firm buttocks shades paler than his back. Slightly spread legs gave her a glimpse of the heavy sac between.

His nudity evoked tingling, warm sensations in places her grandmother had never discussed with her. Very like the time the Black Dragon had kissed.

What would the rest of him look like?

Christina knew she should be shocked. Instead, excitement zinged through her. Sneaking these forbidden stares felt deliciously scandalous…but the view was even more appealing. Of course, she didn’t have another man’s backside with which to compare the captain’s, but his enticed her.

The possibility of glimpsing his bare face gripped her next. She could not see his naked profile from where she stood, but if she tip-toed a few paces toward him, maybe she could get a glimpse of the countenance he took such pains to hide from the world.

One step. Then two. Getting close… A board creaked beneath her feet. She stood frozen to see if the sound had awakened him. Nothing.

She drew another step closer, restraining an oath when the floor beneath her creaked again. Christina held her breath as the Black Dragon stirred and rolled to his side, away from her. He grabbed at the blanket riding low on his hips and pulled up. The scintillating view of his buttocks disappeared.

-79-

Shelley Bradley

Fearing he would wake at any second, Christina cursed beneath her breath and tip-toed in retreat.

Blast it all, anyway. Her curiosity about the man’s face and anatomy would go unfulfilled. Why did the autocratic oaf rouse her interest?

Holding in a sigh, she bent and grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor, trying not to stare at the accusing eye of the captain’s dragon tattoo. She could have found a clean shirt, she supposed, but none lay in sight. This one smelled of him, man, salt, sea. Her insides tightened. Part of her wanted to stay with him and simply stare, but she refused to miss out on this new adventure that he, no doubt, would not approve of.

Christina darted for her cabin and threw on her borrowed clothing. The breeches fit well enough, as Hancock was a small man, except for the waist.

She snatched a ribbon off one of her dresses and belted it about her middle.

The captain’s shirt presented another challenge, however. The shirt tails hung to the middle of her thighs. One collar slid down to bare her shoulder.

Knowing there was no help for the shirt’s size, Christina gathered up the loose ends in front of her and tied a knot about her waist. She glanced down at herself with a grin, refusing to contemplate her atrocious breach of fashion.

Focusing on how displeased her grandfather would be if he could see her was much more gratifying.

Humming beneath her breath, she found her way to deck again and spotted Davie, who had returned to solid ground. “Now I’m ready to climb.”

The man’s eyes could have left his head, for all they bugged out of their sockets. “You canna mean to wear that.”

With an annoyed grunt, she picked up the dangling collar from her shoulder again and covered the exposed shoulder of her chemise. “You said I needed breeches. Now I have them.”

“Aye, no mistake. But look around ye, lass. Yer gettin’ more attention than a sea full of the Admiralty’s schooners.”

Christina glanced around to test his assertion. Indeed, all activity about her seemed to have stopped. Their gazes appeared all but sewn to her body. She stiffened her spine.

-80-

The Lady and the Dragon

“Let them stare,” she said coolly and reached for the ropes. “I intend to have fun.”

“But—but…” Davie called.

Christina stepped up on the first rung of what Davie called the ratlines, which led to the rigging. Ascending the first few feet wasn’t too difficult. She focused on the well-worn leather in her hands and maintaining the shifting footing beneath her.

“Don’t go too high, lass,” Davie warned.

“I shall climb to the top,” she assured him, laughing.

He protested with all the vehemence of a scandalized matron. “You canna mean to go to the topgallant. ‘Tis too dangerous.”

She grinned. “This is fun!”

Scrambling up farther, Christina chuckled into the breeze that had steadily turned warmer as they’d sailed south over the past weeks. A fine mist dampened her hair, her skin as the sun breathed golden fire on her face. This was living!

How many other of the ton’s misses could claim such adventure? Not a one.

She laughed as she licked sea spray from her face.

The wind kicked up. Christina ignored the gales that whipped her tresses across her face. More gusts followed, harder ones, tearing away the bow holding her hair at her nape. Suddenly, the ratlines teetered beneath her. As she held on for balance and tried to grip the ropes beneath her with her hands and feet, her heart pumped with wild anxiety. Then, the ropes flipped, forcing her beneath the ratlines. Her feet left the leather, and she found herself dangling like a rag doll in the wind. She looked down and panicked. When had she climbed so high? Only the vise-grip of her hands on the ropes prevented her from crashing to the deck in a heap.

“Hold on, lass!” Davie called, his voice faint in the wind.

A glance down confirmed that the crew on deck all stared up at her like a spectacle from a traveling fair, yet no one climbed up to help her.

The wind stirred again, thrashing her about. Her fingers ached. Her stomach crunched in fear. If she fell…

-81-

Shelley Bradley

Feet flailing, grip slipping, she kicked out, praying she could find some footing on the ropes in front of her again. Her feet caught—and slipped—

through the damp rungs. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and broke out across her back. Her arms ached with a fierce burn. She looked down again. The flat deck stretched beneath her like vengeful stone, as if to remind her she did not belong on board.

Then came the worst vision of all: the captain.

Shirtless and scowling, he strode out on deck, casting his masked gaze up in the lines, along with everyone else.

She knew the instant the Black Dragon saw her. He tensed, then pushed the sailor aside.

The captain launched himself onto the ratlines and scrambled up with a speed and grace that astounded her. Even climbing beneath instead of above the ropes, he sped toward her. Once at her side, he looped an arm about her waist and drew her against him. Instinct guided her arms about his neck. He speared her with a furious glare but she didn’t care. The instant he wrapped his arms around her, Christina knew she was safe. He loosed a string of colorful curses over the sharp wind as they descended. Disquiet blended with her relief.

On the deck, he set her down with a grunt. “Are you hurt?”

Christina stared mutely at his disheveled dark mane and bare torso. The mask and beard obscured his face. At the moment, his disguise didn’t matter.

Her heart chugged in her chest for a reason that had nothing to do with fear.

The dampness of her palms increased tenfold as she stared into the sharp, fathomless depths of his dark eyes.

“Are you?” He shook her shoulders.

She shook her head. “Ju—just my fingers.”

The captain grabbed her wrists and turned her palms up to him. Christina stared at the red pressure stripes marring her skin. A moment later, he released her with a curse.

Shoulders tense, he pointed an accusing finger at Davie. “You should have bound and gagged her to keep her off those lines, damn it.” Mouth taut with displeasure, he speared the man with a glare. “I’ll deal with you later.”

-82-

The Lady and the Dragon

Christina wasn’t allowed a word in Davie’s defense before the captain wrapped his fingers about her arm and dragged her down to his cabin.

Slamming the door and enclosing them in privacy, he shouted, “Are you completely insane? Or do you simply want to die?”

“I just wanted to learn,” she protested.

“Learn to be a corpse?” he shot back. “That’s what you would have been had you fallen. Damn it, do you ever think before you act?”

“Of course.”

He rubbed his forehead with a broad palm. “What if I hadn’t come up?

Davie’s too small a lad to have taken you down the ropes with him. You would have both died.”

Fury dripped in his voice, sparking Christina’s pride. She thrust back her shoulders. His shirt fell off her shoulder, exposing fine linen and white skin.

The rest of the damp garment clung to her breasts, riveting the captain’s gaze to her. Quickly, she clutched the collar and yanked the garment back in place.

“And what the hell are you wearing, besides my shirt?”

“B—breeches. I was told I couldn’t climb in a dress and—”

“And so you thought you’d do well to parade around in breeches before my sex-starved crew.”

“I was hardly parading,” she said through clenched teeth. “I just wanted to climb the ropes and feel the wind.”

“Do you have any idea at all what those men would do to you with any encouragement on your part and weakening on mine?”

“No one touched me,” she returned. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened? “ He curled his fingers around her arms in a tight grip.

“It isn’t over…”

An instant later, his mouth crashed down on hers. The uncompromising slant of his lips over her own stifled her protest. He wound his fingers into her damp tresses and pulled her head back to meet his punishing kiss.

Before she could think—could tell herself to fight—he deepened that kiss, stealing the air from her body. A dizzying wave swept through her until her head felt light, her thinking unclear.

-83-

Shelley Bradley

He parted her lips with an insistent slide of his tongue. Once he thrust inside her, heat flooded her belly and pooled lower. A hot zip of thrill shot through her as he caressed down her back, to her hips. His fingers splayed against her, pressing her closer, into the hardness between his legs. She moaned. Of their own will, her hands slid up the satin of his muscled chest.

She kissed him back, trembling with an ache she didn’t understand but desperately wanted more of.

Instead, he released her with clenched fists, his chest heaving as he drew in shuddering breaths. Christina watched the rise and fall of his broad, bronze shoulders with a tingle of excitement igniting her body.

“What else could they have done to me?” she murmured.

He shook his head and growled, “Don’t tempt me, Lilli.”

“What else?” she insisted huskily.

The Black Dragon stood staring, unmoving, as if in indecision. Christina tossed her hair off her shoulders, sending his shirt dipping low again. “What else?”

At her taunt, he swore beneath his breath and stared at her bared skin. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Tense moments ticked by, and Christina measured them by the wild thud of her heart.

“This.” The captain reached for the buttons of her shirt.

They seemed to unravel beneath his nimble fingers. He pushed it off her shoulders, baring her to the waist, except for a sheer, damp chemise. His gaze locked on her, fixed on the hard nipples pressed against the clinging garment.

The heat of his body, of his stare, sizzled her.

“Kiss me again,” she instructed.

He jerked his gaze up from her breasts to her face. She read a struggle in the downward slash of his brows, in the restraint in his frown.

She sidled closer and pressed her body against him. His breathing ceased for the briefest of moments.

Then he groaned and seized her lips again. His tongue wound its way into her mouth in an instant, as his hand trailed from her shoulder, down her aching breast. He cupped her, engulfing her sensitive flesh in the heat of his

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The Lady and the Dragon

palm. His thumb brushed across her nipple. Tingles splashed across her skin in a hot drizzle. Christina hoped he would do it again, but he caressed his way to her hip. With a gentle pull, he gathered her thigh in his hand and held it around his body.

Christina felt him press the hard stalk of his sex to the joining between her legs. A new thrill shot from her chest, all the way to her fingers and toes.

“You make me crazy, Lilli. Sometimes I can’t decide if I should throttle you or throw you in my bed.”

Before she could reply, he bent to her and captured her chemise-clad breast in his mouth. A burst of lightning seemed to split her in half with pleasure. She arched toward him. The captain answered by taking her buttocks in his palms and fitting her closer against him.

His teeth and tongue played with the bud of her breast, teasing it to an aching stiffness. Pleasure skittered down to her belly…and lower. She cried out, fingers clasped about his shoulders.

“You’re too damned sweet,” he murmured before turning his attention to her other breast and, with a nudge, rocked his hips against her.

Molten heat spread throughout her body, singeing her with a need for more. Little cries slipped from her throat as she peppered his bearded face, his salty neck, with feverish kisses.

Seconds later, he yanked his shirt from her body and let the transparent garment slip to the floor. He untucked her chemise from her borrowed breeches and fitted his hands beneath. Christina felt his hot palms against the chilled skin of her abdomen.

Feeling his way up her torso, he skimmed his thumbs across her sensitive breasts. Christina gasped at the dizzying sensation. Then he lifted her undergarment above her head. It, too, joined his shirt on the floor.

He swallowed hard as his eyes roved over her bared flesh. “Dear God,” he breathed. “You are…perfect.”

Before she could reply that she felt much the same about him, he lifted her against his chest, and set her on his bunk.

He followed her down, covering her body with his. “Is this what you want, Lilli? Do you want me?”

-85-

Shelley Bradley

She sighed. “Yes. Oh, yes. I’ve never felt like this, so alive. How wonderful and new!”

He backed away suddenly, withdrawing. Christina peered at him in confusion through the fog of her desire.

“You never felt like this with your lover?”

She shook her head, wishing suddenly she’d never told that lie, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment with the truth, either. “This all feels new to me. So exciting.”

“And you’re willing to take another lover, just like that?” He snapped his fingers. “Even though the last one hurt you?”

“Well, I—yes. You’re different. I trust you.” She frowned. “I thought you understood.”

“I do understand, Lilli. You’ve given absolutely no thought to the consequences and complications of letting me bed you. You were ready to jump into it, just like everything else in your life.” He reached for a fresh shirt. “Me today. Who tomorrow?”

“That is unfair! I just told you I’ve never felt this way. It made me realize how much I have missed by not—” Marrying. But she couldn’t say that. It was too revealing.

“Not taking another lover sooner?” He buttoned his shirt in a furious working of fingers. “I won’t be one of your dalliances, Lilli.” He shot her a scowl.

“And stay away from my crew.”

He stormed to the door. Christina rose from his bunk and grabbed her chemise, covering her breasts with the thin garment.

The captain turned back, anger narrowing his eyes. “Maybe your lover was jealous because you gave him reason to be, Lilli. I’m not about to play his replacement.”

-86-

The Lady and the Dragon

Chapter Six

Drex clapped the irons about Davie’s ankles, trying to ignore the pounding of his head due to the excess drink he’d consumed last night. The pounding in his loins didn’t improve his mood either, since the discomfort only roused a vivid vision of Lilli, half-naked and flushed, in his bed.

“I’ll come back for you tomorrow,” he told Davie. “After that, I expect you to stay away from Lilli. Is that clear?”

“Ye—yes, Cap’n.”

Turning away, Drex inhaled a deep breath of sea air. Davie assisting Lilli in her recklessness didn’t anger him as much as his own regrets. He should have bedded Lilli when she had given him the chance and purged himself of his obsession with her. If he had given in to what she’d wanted, what they both wanted, maybe he wouldn’t still be thinking about the honey perfection of her skin and the tight clasp of her wet sex.

But he had walked away. Drex couldn’t decide whether he should crown himself this century’s biggest fool or accept a medal for sainthood.

He shouldn’t touch her. More each day, he realized the scope of her ability to create trouble wherever she went. She, like Ryan, thought of nothing but the present, of the pleasurable moment in their grasp. Never of responsibility or consequences. Drex wondered if they could not comprehend them or simply didn’t care.

Undoubtedly, if he had become Lilli’s latest lover, there would be repercussions he could only begin to guess at, even if she didn’t realize it. He’d done right to simply walk away.

Too bad his body didn’t understand that.

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Shelley Bradley

Worse, he had no illusions. If she laid herself out on his bed again and invited him to take his fill, Drex knew he would not have the strength to resist.

* * *

Hours ago, Christina had finished her evening mess early, though her thoughts lingered on the captain all day. Her cooking had improved, not to Pauly’s level, but enough to make her smile. She knew now how Aunt Mary must feel, taking charge of her own business, seeing it function smoothly. She looked forward to being equally independent once on Grand Bahama.

Whistling a merry ditty some of the men had taught her, Christina strode into the night air, to the poop deck in search of the captain, and sighed at the thought of his kisses, of his hand on her breast. Even the thought made her tingle.

Independence was a fine thing, but his touch added a zing of spice. Since autonomy and pleasure matched like a fine pair of gloves, Christina saw no reason why she shouldn’t take advantage of their proximity. Besides, having a lover seemed so daring and modern. And the captain, as long as he did not try to control her, would make a dashingly scandalous amor.

According to the crew, the ship should be docking in Grand Bahama within the week. She pushed away an odd notion that she might miss the captain after they separated.

Without warning, crushing fingers closed about her arm. She jerked from the grasp and turned, ready with a sharp tongue.

Talbot hovered over her, his blue eyes boiling with malevolence.

“Release me,” she warned.

He merely laughed.

Wide-eyed, Christina jerked from his grip and backed away. Her back hit the rail. Talbot sent her a cruel smile, and her stomach plummeted to her toes.

Talbot advanced and a jarring shot pain up her spine. “Now that I’ve got ye all alone, bitch, I’ve a mind to teach ye how to treat a man.”

Christina wriggled for freedom. “Leave me alone.”

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The Lady and the Dragon

Talbot laughed. The eerie rumble sent slivers of fear slicing through her skin. “Ye ain’t going anywhere, `cept down on your knees, not until I say so.

You can go after I’ve had a piece of yer uppity arse.”

“I shall scream,” she threatened.

His meaty hands manhandled her shoulders. “I hope so. The watches’ll be changing soon. `Tis doubtful the crew will hear. So those screams will all be for me.”

Talbot’s clammy palms left her shoulders. Christina leapt away from the rail to run. He grabbed the neckline of her dress and pulled her back. Then he turned her to face him. The tips of his fingers pressed into the swell of her breasts, and Christina struggled, but he yanked on her round dress.

She screamed as the sound of rending fabric snapped at her lacerated senses like a whip.

Talbot grabbed her chin between brutal fingers and shook. “Keep yer screams to yerself until I’m fuckin’ ye. Then ye’ll have something to scream about.”

Warning shone in the feral glint of his eyes as he shoved her to the deck, despite her writhing and kicking. Her head struck wood with a painful thud.

She felt dizzy, couldn’t breathe. Panic rose.

Talbot laughed with evil glee as he pulled a knife from his boot and cut her petticoats away.

For the first time in her life, Christina begged. “Please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to pour oatmeal over your head.”

He whisked the blade of his knife to her throat. “`Tweren’t no accident, ye lying wench. Just like it ain’t an accident I waited to find ye without the Black Dragon to protect you.”

His knife glinted a sadistic silver in the moonlight. Christina’s blood roared in her ears.

Talbot stared at her, his ugly face furious, as he held her down with one hand around her throat. With the other hand, he pulled away the remnants of her dress and petticoats. Christina wished fervently she had not sworn off corsets in the name of women’s liberation and the ability to dress herself.

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Other than her chemise, she lay naked to Talbot’s mean gaze.

He pressed his blade to her throat, while his free hand dipped to her thigh.

“Now I’m going to get me a piece of wot the cap’n’s been keeping to himself.”

* * *

Cursing torn sails and unexpected winds, Drex rubbed a thumb and forefinger across sleep-weary eyes. Damn it, he’d spent most of the day seeing to endless details that made his massive headache all the more painful.

Worse, his thoughts had lingered on Lillianne, the feel of her body, the taste of her skin. His growing need to have her soft and wet and welcoming under him.

Drex trudged the last few steps to his cabin. He shrugged out of his vest and crossed the room to Lilli’s cabin, as he did each night. The gentle rise and fall of the blankets over her body somehow soothed and aroused him at once.

The sight had become a strange part of his evening ritual.

Tonight, he found her cabin empty.

He cursed. During the wee hours of the morning, where could she be? And why the hell couldn’t she stay where he told her to?

With a sharp snap of his wrist, Drex donned his vest, then strode out into the companionway. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he swore the moment he got his hands on Lilli, he’d make her understand that he’d given her orders to stay in her cabin to protect her. Didn’t she understand that his men weren’t gentle or kind?

He stomped down the passageway. Blast her. What tangle had she wound herself in now?

Hot annoyance coiled through his veins, enough, he decided, that he might be able to forget her tempting curves once he found her. At least long enough to throttle her.

As he stepped onto the deck, he heard a muffled scream. High-pitched.

Definitely female.

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He tried running to the sound, but the wind distorted its direction. He ran anyway, praying he’d find her safe, unharmed.

A tight knot of dread filled Drex’s chest as he traced the deck from the bow and the port side of the ship, working his way aft. Nothing.

He raked a stiff hand through his long hair and sprinted for the larboard. If anyone had touched her, Drex vowed he’d make the man wish to God he had not—ever.

One long stride after another ate up the deck beneath his feet, along with his hope of finding her unharmed. God, what if she really needed him and he failed to find her in time?

Forcing down the wild beat of panic in his heart, Drex retraced his steps and listened for the slightest sound.

He heard her scream again.

This call sounded desperate. Fearful. Her cry made his churning heart pump ice in his veins at double speed.

He ran faster, rounding the aft of the ship and darting up the larboard side again. In the dark, between a pair of longboats, he spotted two struggling forms, the larger one pinning the smaller one down—and a torn pink dress cast aside like seaweed littering a beach.

He ran like a man on fire. With a savage grunt, he pulled his blade free, grabbed her attacker by his hair and yanked the man to his feet, shoving the knife at her attacker’s throat.

Talbot.

“Damn you!” Drex cursed.

Without retort, the crewman lunged back at Drex, knife in hand. He ducked and countered with a solid gut punch that had Talbot clutching his abdomen.

The bastard’s blade skittered to the deck. Drex leveled a kick to the man’s face.

Talbot fell to the deck, cursing and clutching his bleeding nose.

Drex threw Talbot’s knife overboard, sheathed his own, and bent to Lillianne’s shaking body.

He scooped her up in his arms and held her cold, delicate form against him. He thought of nothing, only felt a piece of his heart tear when she

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clutched at his neck and held on as if he was the only thread holding her between life and death.

He heard the odd rhythm of Hancock’s shuffle, and shouted for his first mate to summon the rest of his on-duty crew. Within moments, reinforcements arrived, taking in the discarded dress and naked stowaway with round eyes.

“Hancock,” he instructed. “Lock Talbot up in the hold. I’ll join you there shortly.”

Drex watched with cold satisfaction as Hancock and three others yanked Talbot to his feet and dragged him away. For the first time ever, he could honestly say he looked forward to a man’s whipping.

A sob sounded in his ear. Soft, almost silent, as if Lilli were trying to hold her feelings inside. The sound ate at his heart.

“Shh,” he whispered, groping for the right words to calm her. He stroked her hair, which had fallen loose during her struggle. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He felt her jerky nod against his neck and held her tighter.

“Look at me,” he instructed softly.

She didn’t move at all, except to eke out another quiet sob.

“Lilli, honey,” he whispered. “Look at me. Tell me if you’re hurt.”

Finally, slowly, she lifted her head to regard him with a wide gaze eyes drenched in tears. The dark spikes of her lashes framed dilated emerald eyes that saw him…but didn’t.

God, he had no idea what was wrong, what that bastard had done to her.

Drex feared the worst, and the images running in his head damn near made him sick, but he had to find out.

On trembling legs, he carried her across the deck and down the ladder to his cabin. Once inside, he eased the door shut and set Lilli on his bed. She looked tiny and pale against the giant black dragon that dominated his coverlet.

The urge to protect her rose strong.

Lilli lay on her back, staring at the wooden ceiling with sightless eyes and drenched cheeks. He lowered himself to the bunk beside her and reached for

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her hand. Her skin was ice cold. He covered her, then wrapped her against his body.

“You’re okay now, Lilli. Talbot’s gone,” he assured.

No response.

Trying to suppress panic, he maneuvered himself closer and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened momentarily, then after glancing at him, she relaxed again.

“What happened?” he asked in the darkness.

Lilli said nothing for a moment. He stroked her hair and held her tighter. A few moments later, she snuggled against his body and sighed.

“W—why did he…?” Her broken whisper stopped on a shudder.

Drex drew in a breath, looking for the words to explain man’s savagery.

“You humiliated him in front of his shipmates. He wanted to humiliate you in return.”

She shuddered. “I tried to stop him. He only said he wanted to get a piece of what you had been keeping to yourself. When I told him you—you had not…”

She inhaled raggedly, slicing him with both fury and a fierce need to protect her. Drex held her tighter.

“He laughed,” she choked. “And called me a lying slut.”

“Did he force himself—”

“No,” she interrupted, as if she couldn’t bear to hear the rest of his question.

Thank God. Relief shook him, and he held Lilli a little tighter. Talbot would definitely pay, not just for disobeying a direct order, but for shattering Lilli’s peace of mind. But that could wait. Right now, his terrified stowaway needed him.

That thought warmed a dangerous place in his heart as he felt her curl up against him, body to body, like a kitten.

* * *

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Christina awoke to the feel of a strange pillow. Hard, like satin steel. A pillow that moved.

Jarred out the last remnants of sleep, she opened her eyes. The sight of the captain in slumber, illuminated by thin morning light through a murky window, filled her vision. The man wore his mask in sleep tonight. She couldn’t deny that his scrap of black silk, combined with the dark beard and golden earring he sported added a dimension of power and mystery. The shimmering red vest half-covering his bronzed chest added to the image.

Last night, he’d come to her rescue just like a knight of old. Why?

Easing away so she wouldn’t wake him, she rose and discovered she was clothed only in his shirt, which carried his scent. Once, she would have blushed hotly at the thought of the Black Dragon’s eyes touching her near-naked form. Oh, she might still blush a little today, but adventure and adversity—and the memory of his comfort—made her see the event differently now.

Last night, she had gotten her first real taste of life on her own. An unpleasant one, to say the least. With a frown, she decided she had not handled herself well. Shouldn’t a woman of the world have been able to escape Talbot?

Leaning on the captain afterward like a child… Another slip in her modern-woman mode of thought. She had actually allowed him to carry her. No, welcomed it. Such behavior when she wished to rely solely on herself would never do.

She took a deep breath. Very well. She would thank the Black Dragon for his timely intervention, then learn to be more self-reliant in the future.

“Did you sleep last night?” His question broke the silence.

Christina’s gaze jumped up to his face. His gaze traveled the length of her body; his expression remained carefully blank.

She looked about for something—anything—with which to cover her bare legs. Her own clothes were in the adjoining room, and he lay on the only blanket in sight.

“Indeed. And you?” she returned nervously.

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Without a word, he rose and tore his coverlet from the bed. On slow footsteps, he approached. The combination of tenderness and concern in his eyes shocked Christina. Could it be the Black Dragon might be more than just the scourge of the seas?

He disappeared a moment later, coming to stand behind her, and draped the blanket over her shoulders. Christina clutched it to her breast thankfully.

“I’ll give you a minute alone.”

Nodding, she turned. Funny, the visage she’d always regarded as daunting now appeared gallant. “Thank you. For everything.”

He swallowed, looking as if he had something to say. But he remained silent.

A moment later, his hand rose to her shoulder. Christina felt the warmth of his fingers curl around her neck, sending little pinpoints of warmth and pleasure scattering about.

The Black Dragon nudged her closer. She went willingly. A moment later, she felt his lips gently brush hers.

“You’re welcome, princess,” he whispered, then left.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Christina stood beneath the baking summer sun, watching with mixed emotions as two sailors strapped Talbot to the mainmast.

Her attacker was stripped to the waist. The ample flesh of his middle hung over the waist of his breeches. His skin’s darkened tone almost disguised the faded scars criss-crossing his back.

Today, he’d get fresh marks. She shuddered.

Talbot turned an angry glare on her, then shouted at the captain, “I tell ye, the bitch deserved wot I gave her and more.”

“The same could be said of you,” the captain returned. His voice sent chills through her body, despite the overly-warm day.

Hancock approached the Black Dragon, whip in hand, then handed the coil of leather over. Revulsion turned her stomach.

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Talbot would have hurt her had the captain not rescued her. Still, she couldn’t celebrate this punishment.

“Wait,” she whispered as the captain raised the whip.

He lowered his arm and shot her an angry glare. “Damn it, he deserves this, Lilli. If I let him go, the others will believe they can behave like Talbot without consequence.”

She bit her lip, considering his words. “I know,” she said. And she did, even if she did not like it. “Must I watch?”

A muscle worked in the side of his jaw. “Maybe if you do, you’ll understand what happens when you step on deck without me.”

“But if you—”

“No more, Lilli. This is my ship.”

Without further hesitation, the captain raised his arm and lowered it with a snap. Talbot cried out. Christina looked away as a line of red oozed across his back.

He deserved his punishment. Christina knew it. But as usual, the captain wasn’t interested in any opinion but his own.

As the Black Dragon raised his arm again, she tore away from his side.

Christina heard him call her name as she ran the length of the poop deck. She didn’t dare stop.

Gasping for air, she ran in rhythm to the thud of her heart for her cabin and slammed the door behind her. True, the captain would find her soon enough, and she had no doubt he’d give her a full dose of his displeasure. Too bad. If he could do with his ship as he pleased, she would do the same with her eyes.

Christina sank down on her bunk, cheeks in her palms. Blast him, why did they always argue? Couldn’t they ever discuss anything but responsibility and truth? The man never listened to others. He always assumed she wanted his opinion and guidance. Just like Grandfather.

So why did all of her thoughts center around the boor? Yes, he possessed magnificent shoulders, and her remembrances of his backside were stimulating, indeed. But the man hardly ever smiled. She had only seen a grin

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crack his implacable expression once or twice. Did he even know how to have fun?

He wasn’t completely awful, though. The tenderness he’d displayed after saving her from Talbot’s attack had amazed her. She had never believed the captain capable of such gentle concern. And who had ever heard of a privateer who could read?

She sighed. The man was a paradox. He titillated and confused her, intrigued and annoyed her. And when they reached Grand Bahama, he would be gone from her life forever. She would miss the freedom of the wind in her hair, the sway of the ship rocking her to sleep. She feared, however, she would miss the captain most.

The sound of his door and footsteps in the adjoining cabin brought Christina out of her reverie. The captain had returned from Talbot’s whipping, and no doubt wanted a word with her.

She stood and smoothed the front of her dress. The click of his boots indicated that he approached the door. Perhaps she could distract him from his anger and indulge her desire for more of his kisses at once, persuade him to become her lover. Maybe then she would discover he was not nearly as fascinating as she fancied and would not lament their parting.

Maybe.

Christina inhaled deeply, her stomach aflutter, and waited for the Black Dragon to walk through her door.

* * *

Drex stood at the door separating him from his stowaway, hand perched on the latch, exhaustion turning his eyes gritty. He paused. How could he chastise her for running from the brutality of Talbot’s punishment? He would never have forced Chantal or any other gently-bred woman to watch such an event.

Although Lilli had more backbone, she was still a woman.

And therein lay his problem.

If he walked through her door, his anger wouldn’t confront her. He’d spent all of that on Talbot. No, frustrated desire and confusion would talk instead,

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and say God only knew what. He might yell. More likely he would strip her bare and make love to her.

She was trouble personified. But between her lies and half-truths, he’d formed dangerous feelings for her. He’d come to covet her. Why, he could not fathom. Lillianne went hand in hand with distraction. His brother needed him, damn it. His stiff cock could wait.

But he wanted her. Too much, too deeply to explain.

Lilli had gotten under his skin. Beneath his rhetoric, he feared that if he touched her, took her into his arms and into his bed, tasted her skin and her passion, that letting go two days hence when they reached Grand Bahama would tear out part of his heart.

Drex dropped his hand from the door’s latch and turned away with a sigh.

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Chapter Seven

From the deck of The Dragon’s Lair, Christina stared at the lush, green land of Grand Bahama soaking in the afternoon sun. Pristine white sand met water such a clear shade of blue-green, she saw the brightly colored fish swimming beneath the surface.

The island’s beauty was everything Aunt Mary had claimed in her letters, and freedom would be hers as soon as she found a way off the ship. So why hadn’t she demanded a row to shore?

Christina glanced over her shoulder at the Black Dragon barking orders at his crew. His shoulders appeared impossibly broad in a dark blue vest—with nothing beneath.

As if aware of her gaze, he turned in her direction and sent her a stare that singed her insides. She whipped her gaze back to shore, pretending interest in the swirl of afternoon activity.

To her right, two sailors led a shackled Talbot off the ship. The red-haired giant glared at the captain and sneered, “You ain’t seen the last o’ me!”

“If you know what’s good for you, I have,” the captain said, then turned to her, concern reaching her from his dark eyes.

She looked away. Why did the thought of parting with the Black Dragon make her ache? He was domineering and stubborn…and tender and occasionally fair-minded, something Grandfather never was, even in his finest of moods.

“Lilli?” he whispered from behind her as she stood at the rail.

She turned, meeting his dark eyes that seemed heavy with unreadable emotions. Something within her leapt. Maybe he cared a little. She didn’t want to examine why it mattered if he did.

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“I know you’re anxious to go ashore,” he said. “As soon as I clear port, I’ll take you.”

Then again, maybe he just wanted to rid himself of her.

Heart heavy, she nodded. “Thank you.”

“I have to meet with the port master, but I should be back within the hour.

You can pack while I’m gone.”

The captain stared for the barest of moments. For some reason, she couldn’t tell him she had already packed her belongings that morning, when she’d heard the call of “land ho!” Instead, she memorized his dark eyes framed by the ebony spikes of lashes, his strong jaw evident beneath his close-cropped beard, his lips, thin in fury and full in passion.

Christina wished she could touch him or talk to him, something to clear up the emotions whirling inside her. But he nodded and disappeared down the gangplank, and perhaps for the better. She hated good-byes. They were so teary and sad…and final. Besides, the captain was probably glad to be rid of her, and she shouldn’t make a fool of herself by hoping differently.

“Know where yer goin’?” Hancock asked as he approached.

She nodded. “My aunt’s.”

He chuckled. “So there’s an aunt, after all?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “I have not seen her in years, not since before my mother died.”

“The cap’n’ll see to ye when he returns from havin’ a few ales with the port master. God be with ye.”

Hancock turned away, and with him, her last chance for escaping the ship without the Black Dragon’s assistance, as well as enduring an awkward and prolonged farewell.

“Wait!” she called to him. “Could you take me ashore now?”

The short man studied her from beneath bushy brows. “The cap’n’d have me hide if I did. He wants to take ye himself.”

“It would be better if I left now. He’s a busy man and I…” She bit her lip. “I think I should go.”

Hancock paused, then nodded. “The cap’n’s been distracted of late.”

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Christina yearned to ask Hancock a dozen questions about his statement, but did not. Leaving the captain would be easier if she knew less of the man’s feelings.

“All the more reason for me to leave now.”

He frowned. “Get yer bag, lass, and hurry.”

She ran across the deck, winding through companionways that had seemed like a maze to her once. Inside her cabin, she lifted her valise and headed for the door.

At the sight of the captain’s closed door, she paused.

Though Hancock waited for her, she strode to the portal and lifted the latch. A rush of memories assailed her: their first conversation, which had also become their first argument. Their first kiss. His first display of tenderness.

The moments when he had almost become her first lover. All had taken place here.

Tears pricked her eyes. She swiped them away. A better life awaited her with her aunt. Under it all, the Black Dragon would always have a tyrannical, inflexible side. He would only act as a shackle, never giving her enough slack in the chain for independence.

Today, she would begin a new life of freedom. The Black Dragon and his meddling ways need not be a part, and without his constant proximity, she would forget him.

Grabbing her valise, she rushed out of the cabin and shut the door behind her. She ran up to the poop deck before she could change her mind. Hancock stood where she’d left him.

During the quick row to the shore, Christina studied on her new surroundings beneath the cloudless sky. She focused on the smells of spice, sweat and damp air. Anything but the captain.

Upon reaching the shore, Hancock helped her from the small boat. She took a closer look at the dock’s inhabitants. A rough crowd, with grimy clothing and probing stares. She looked away.

“I can obtain a hackney to my aunt’s. You needn’t trouble yourself further, Mister Hancock.”

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He shot her a dubious stare. “I already rowed ye ashore. The cap’n’d string me up if I let ye wander this rough town alone. Tell me where yer aunt lives.”

Christina recited the address. Hancock’s eyes widened with incredulity.

“Are ye sure, lass?”

She recoiled. “That is where I send her letters.”

“And ye want to visit?”

Christina stared at the first mate, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Actually, I wish to live there.”

Hancock’s face became a tight-lipped mask. “I see.”

What he saw, she didn’t know. Shrugging, Christina followed the man through the narrow streets surrounded by straw huts and luxuriant fields of green. Wild flowers of purple, yellow and white grew hither and yon, their perfume pungent in the breeze. Living here would be a relief, a balm to her soul. Especially if she could banish the Black Dragon from her memory.

After ten minutes of winding streets and rich foliage, Hancock stopped before an elegant house. Its pale hues and large windows invited tropical drafts. A large veranda ran the length of the dwelling and swept about its side.

Stained glass decorated the massive door, depicting a bare-breasted maiden on her horse.

The house was perfect, exactly as Aunt Mary described it. She would enjoy her life here, relish her freedom. All she had to do was say good-bye to Hancock and walk inside. Then she could start a new life and put the captain out of her thoughts.

“Yer sure you want to stay here?” Hancock asked.

“Of course,” she answered, wide-eyed. “It’s lovely.”

He sighed. Frowning, Christina watched Hancock turn away and step out onto the deserted street.

“Hancock,” she called out. “Tell the captain…” Tell him what? That she wondered if she would always regret their parting? “Tell him good-bye.”

“Aye, lass. I will.”

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Christina held her valise, watching as, a few moments later, the small man disappeared around the corner, and along with him, her last tangible reminder of the Black Dragon.

* * *

“I still cannot believe you’ve come,” her aunt said twenty minutes later.

“How exciting! We’ve years to catch up on.”

Awed by her surroundings, Christina nodded absently and turned her gaze to the drawing room. Hues of blue and burgundy, accented by dark furnishings dominated the room with an understated elegance. A Brussels carpet stretched across the floor, indicating her aunt’s good fortune. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes away from a Rubenesque nude that commanded the spot of honor above the fireplace, its gilt-edged frame lending elegance to an otherwise shocking painting. She smothered her surprise, since she’d always heard morals in the islands were somewhat lax.

“Is London as dreary as ever?” Mary asked.

“Indeed not. I saw interesting people during my season, but Grandfather would not allow me to converse with them.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “So the old man is still controlling?”

“It’s why I’ve come.”

A black-skinned maid shuffled in moments later and left a tea service. Aunt Mary poured two cups and handed her one.

Christina took the cup and drank. “I’m certain you’re terribly busy with your social club but I had nowhere else to turn. And I had so hoped you could teach me what you know.”

Aunt Mary sent her a long, measuring look as she sipped her tea. “Indeed, I think I can. But tomorrow is soon enough to start. You must be exhausted.”

Her aunt was right. The past six weeks with the Black Dragon haunted her.

Of all that she’d endured during their time together, leaving had been most difficult.

“You’re right, of course,” Christina answered finally.

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Mary rose. “My…club will be open tonight. The boarders to whom I rent rooms will meet here with some of the local gentlemen. But you rest up. I vow I shall introduce you to everyone another time.”

Standing, Christina nodded. Another time would be soon enough to delve into local society.

“Thank you,” she murmured.