The Passion

Chapter One

British West Indies, February 1813

The scene was pagan-the half nude man bound in chains, his sinewed torso bronzed by the Caribbean sun. Silhouetted against the ship's tall masts, he stood defiant, unbowed.

For a brief instant Lady Aurora Demming felt her heart falter as she stared up at the frigate's railing.

He might have been a statue carved by a master sculptor, all rippling muscle and lithe strength… except that he was flesh-and-blood male, and very much alive. Sunlight warmed the hard contours of his body, gilded the dark gold of his hair.

That tawny shade of gold was heart familiar. At first glance Aurora had flinched with the memory of another face forever lost to her. But this brazen, nearly naked man was a stranger, possessing a raw masculinity quite unlike her late betrothed.

He was stripped down to breeches, but though he wore the chains of a prisoner, he remained unbroken, his gaze fierce and remote as he stared out over the quay. Even from a distance, his eyes seemed to glitter dangerously, giving the impression of simmering anger tenuously controlled.

As if he felt her gaze, his focus slowly shifted and locked on her, riveting her in place. The bustle and noise of the waterfront faded away. For a fleeting moment, time ceased and only the two of them existed.

The intensity of his stare held her motionless, yet Aurora felt herself tremble, her heart suddenly drumming in a painful, almost wild rhythm.

"Aurora?"

She gave a start as her cousin Percy recalled her to her surroundings. She stood on the harbor quayside of Basseterre, St. Kitts, before the shipping office, the warm Caribbean sun beating down upon her. The pungent smells of fish and tar permeated the salt air along with the raucous cries of seagulls. Beyond the busy quay stretched brilliant blue-green waters, while in the distance rose the lush, mountainous island of Nevis.

Her cousin followed the direction of her gaze to the prisoner on the naval frigate. "What has you so fascinated?"

"That man…" she murmured. "For a moment he reminded me of Geoffrey."

Percy squinted across the quay. "How can you possibly tell at this distance?" He frowned. "The hair color is similar, perhaps, but any other resemblance must be superficial. I couldn't imagine the late Earl of March as a convict, could you?"

"I don't suppose so."

Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the fair-haired prisoner. Nor could he from her, it seemed. He still watched her as he stood at the head of the gangway, prepared to disembark. His hands manacled, he was guarded by two armed, burly seamen of the British navy, but he gave no notice of his captors until one jerked viciously on the chain that bound his wrists.

Pain or fury made his fists clench, but he offered no other sign of struggle as he was herded at musketpoint down the gangway.

Once more Aurora heard her name called, this time more firmly.

Her cousin touched her arm, his look full of sympathy. "Geoffrey is gone, Aurora. It will do you no good to dwell on your loss. And your grief can only prove detrimental to your upcoming marriage. I'm certain your future husband will not appreciate your mourning another man. For your own sake, you must learn to quell your feelings."

She had not been thinking of her loss, she was ashamed to admit, or the unwanted marriage her father was forcing upon her, but she nodded for her cousin's benefit. She had no business showing an interest in a barely dressed stranger. A criminal, no less. One who evidently had committed some heinous crime to warrant such savage punishment.

With a small shudder, Aurora forced her attention away. The primitive display was no sight for a lady, much less a duke's daughter. She had rarely seen so much naked male flesh at one time. Certainly she'd never been shaken by a man, as she had been moments ago when he caught her eye.

Chastising herself, she turned to allow her cousin to hand her into the open carriage. She'd come to the docks with Percy to confirm her passage to England. Because of the conflict with America and the danger of piracy, there were few ships leaving the West Indies. The next passenger vessel was scheduled to depart the island of St. Kitts three days hence and was only waiting for a military escort.

She dreaded returning home and had delayed as long as she dared, months longer than originally planned, using the excuse that travel was dangerous while a war raged. But her father was adamant that she present herself at once to prepare for her wedding to the nobleman he'd chosen for her. In his last letter he'd threatened to come and fetch her himself if she failed to honor the agreement he had made on her behalf.

Aurora had one foot on the carriage step when a disturbance across the quay made her pause. The prisoner had reached the end of the gangway and was being harangued to climb into a waiting wagon, obviously a difficult task because of his chains.

When he moved too slowly, he was given a savage shove that sent him stumbling almost to his knees. Saving himself by clutching the wagon's rear gate, he drew himself up and turned to eye his guard with a contemptuous stare.

His cool insolence seemed to infuriate his tormentors for he received a musket butt to the ribs, which doubled him over in pain.

Aurora's cry of protest at the vicious attack lodged in her throat when the prisoner swung his chains at the guard. It was a futile gesture of defiance, for he was bound too tightly to effect any real damage, but apparently his rebellion was the excuse his guards wanted.

Both seamen set upon him with the stocks of their muskets, driving him to the cobblestones with cries of "Scurvy dog!" and "Bastard sea scum!"

Aurora recoiled in horror at seeing someone treated so viciously, without mercy. "For pity's sake…" she murmured hoarsely. "Make them stop, Percy!"

"It is a naval matter," her cousin replied in a grim tone, speaking in his role as lieutenant governor of St. Kitts. "I have no justification for interfering."

"Dear God, they'll beat him to death…" Without waiting for a reply, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the commotion.

"Aurora!" She heard Percy curse under his breath, but she never slowed her steps nor paused to consider the danger or the madness of intervening in the violent dispute.

She had no weapon at hand and no clear plan beyond attempting a rescue, but when she reached the guards, she swung her reticule at the nearest assailant and managed to hit the side of his face.

"What the 'ell…?"

When the startled seaman flinched at the unexpected attack, Aurora left off her flailing and pushed her way between the fallen prisoner and his assailants. Hiding her own fear, she sank to her knees, half covering the nearly unconscious man with her own body to shield him from being struck again.

The guard swore a vulgar oath.

Coldly furious, Aurora lifted her chin and stared up at him, silently daring him to strike her.

"Ma'am, ye've no business ‘ere," he declared angrily. "This man is a vicious pirate."

"You, sir, may address me as my lady," she replied, her normally serene voice almost fierce as she called upon the power of her rank. "My father is the Duke of Eversley and claims the Prince Regent and the Lord High Admiral among his close acquaintances." She could see the sailor assessing her and her attire; her fashionable silk bonnet and walking dress were the gray of half mourning, with only a touch of lilac trim on the lapels of the spencer to relieve the severity.

"And this gentleman," she added as Percy hurriedly reached her side, "is my cousin, Sir Percy Osborne, who happens to be lieutenant governor of Nevis and St. Kitts. I would think twice before challenging him."

Percy's jaw tightened at her declaration, and he murmured in disapproval, "Aurora, this is quite unseemly. You're causing a spectacle."

"It would be more unseemly to stand by while these cowards murder an unarmed man."

Ignoring the guard's glare, she glanced down at the injured prisoner. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be conscious, for his jaw was clenched in pain. He still looked half savage-his skin glistening with sweat and blood, a growth of dark stubble shadowing his jaw.

His head seemed to have suffered the worst damage. Not only was his temple bleeding profusely, but his sun-streaked hair, a much darker gold than her own, was matted black with dried blood, evidently from an earlier injury.

Aurora tensed as her gaze dropped lower, yet even so, she felt her heartbeat quicken. The raw masculinity that had unnerved her at a distance was even more obvious this close, the sinewy hardness of his body unmistakable. His sun-bronzed chest and shoulders rippled with muscle, while the canvas breeches hugged his powerful thighs.

Then he opened his eyes and fixed them on her. His gaze was dark, the rich hue of coffee flecked with amber. His intent stare gave her the same jolting sensation she'd felt earlier: the feeling of being totally alone with him, along with a keen awareness of her femininity.

Nearly as strange were the tender feelings of protectiveness his injuries engendered. Gently Aurora reached up to wipe the smear of blood from his forehead.

Chains jangling, he grasped her wrist. "Don't," he muttered hoarsely. "Stay out of this… you'll be hurt."

Her skin burned where his fingers touched, but she tried to ignore the sensation, just as she disregarded his entreaty. At the moment she was less interested in protecting herself than in saving his life. "You don't expect me to watch your murder, do you?"

The pained smile he gave her was fleeting as he released her wrist and struggled to push himself up on his elbows. For a moment he dizzily shut his eyes.

"You need a doctor," Aurora said in alarm.

"No… I have a hard head."

"Obviously not hard enough."

She had forgotten they weren't alone, until her cousin leaned over her shoulder and gave an exclamation of dismay. "Good God… Sabine!"

"You know him?" Aurora asked.

"Indeed, I do. He owns half the merchant ships in the Caribbean. He's an American… Nick, what the devil are you doing here?"

He grimaced in pain. "An unfortunate encounter with the British navy, I fear."

Aurora realized his speech was much softer and flatter than her own clipped sounds as her cousin turned to the guards and demanded an explanation.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is this man in chains?"

The guards were spared having to reply when their commanding officer joined them. Aurora remembered having met Captain Richard Gerrod at some polite government function a few weeks before.

"I can answer that, your excellency," Gerrod said coolly. "He is bound in chains because he is a prisoner of war, condemned to be hanged for piracy and murder."

"Murder, captain? That is frankly absurd. You must have heard of Nicholas Sabine," Percy insisted, pronouncing the American's name Sahbean. "He is a hero in these parts, not a murderer. Obviously you have mistaken his identity."

"I assure you I have mistaken nothing. He was recognized by one of my officers on Montserrat, where he was reckless and arrogant enough to visit a woman in the midst of a war. He most certainly is the notorious pirate Captain Saber. Not only has he commandeered at least two British merchantmen since the war began, but he sank the HMS Barton just last month."

"It was my understanding," said Percy, "that the Barton's crew was saved from drowning by that same pirate and deposited on the nearest isle."

"Yes, but a seaman died in that engagement and several more were injured. And Sabine nearly killed one of my crew yesterday while resisting arrest. He has indeed committed acts of war against the Crown, Sir Percy. Acts punishable by death."

Percy turned to the fallen man. "Is this true, Sabine? You're a pirate?"

Sabine's half smile held cold anger. "In America we use the term privateer, and we've never yielded the right to protect our own ships. The Barton was attacking one of my merchantmen and I intervened. As for commandeering your vessels, I considered it a fair exchange for the loss of two of my own."

Aurora wasn't as horrified as perhaps she should have been at the accusation of piracy. With their two countries at war, Britain considered any armed American ship culpable. And Sabine should indeed have a right to defend his own ships. She knew her cousin would agree. Though such political beliefs were disloyal to the Crown, Percy considered the war a mistake and Britain primarily at fault for instigating it. The charge of murder, however, disturbed her greatly…

"Pirate or not," Percy said to the captain, obviously troubled, "there will be ramifications for taking this man prisoner. Are you aware Mr. Sabine has any number of connections to the Crown? Including several island governors as well as the commander of the Caribbean fleet?"

The captain scowled. "His connections are all that stopped me from hanging him out of hand. But I doubt that will save him. When Admiral Foley learns of his crimes, I'm certain the order will be given to execute him." Grimly Captain Gerrod looked down at Aurora. "My lady, you would do best to keep away. He is a dangerous man."

She suspected the American was indeed dangerous, but that hardly justified the guards' vicious brutality.

"Oh, indeed," she said scornfully, rising to face the captain from her full height. "So dangerous your crew must beat him senseless, even with him trussed up like a Christmas goose. I quite fear for my life."

Gerrod's lips tightened in anger, but Percy quickly intervened.

"What do you intend to do with him, Captain?"

"He'll be turned over to the garrison commander and imprisoned in the fortress until he can be executed."

Aurora felt her heart clench at the thought of this vital man losing his life. "Percy…" she implored, gazing at him.

"I'll thank you, excellency," Gerrod said darkly, "not to interfere with the performance of my duty. Get to your feet, pirate."

Sabine's lip curled, his simmering hatred of the captain evident in the blistering heat of his dark eyes. But his fury remained tightly controlled as he struggled to his knees.

Aurora helped him stand, lending support when he swayed, and felt her pulse quicken as his hard body momentarily leaned against her. Even bruised and bloodied, the overwhelming maleness of him affected her.

Her cousin must have been reminded of the impropriety, for Percy gently grasped her arm and drew her away. "Come, my dear."

Obviously stiff with pain, Sabine moved toward the wagon. Aurora flinched when she saw the bloody lacerations marring his broad shoulders and muscular back, and again when one of the burly guards grasped his arm and urged him into the wagon.

Helpless, Aurora bit her lip to keep from crying out in protest.

Captain Gerrod gave her a stern glance as both guards climbed in after the prisoner, but he addressed her cousin. "I hadn't planned on escorting the prisoner to the fortress- I should be preparing my frigate to sail for the American seacoast to join the naval blockade. But I see I must, to ensure my orders are carried out to the letter."

"I intend to visit the fortress myself," Aurora threatened rashly, fearing what they would do to their prisoner once they were alone. "If you dare beat him further, I promise you will regret it."

She felt her cousin's fingers tighten on her arm in warning and barely refrained from shaking off his grasp.

The captain gave a stiff, angry bow, and then climbed into the front passenger seat and ordered the elderly black driver to drive on. Aurora and Percy watched as the pair of draft horses drew the wagon away.

"You will not involve yourself further, Aurora," Percy muttered under his breath.

Stubbornly she freed her arm from his tight grip. "You don't condone such vicious treatment, I'm sure of it. If Mr. Sabine were an English prisoner in American hands, you would expect him to be dealt with humanely."

"Of course I would."

"What will happen to him?" she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

Percy didn't respond at once, which confirmed her worst fears.

"Surely there will be a trial," Aurora protested. "They wouldn't hang someone of his consequence at once, would they?"

"It may not come to hanging," her cousin answered grimly. "The admiral might very well show leniency."

"And if not? Can you intervene?"

"I have the authority to overrule an admiral's commands, but doing so would perhaps mean the end of my political career. My views on the war are frowned upon as it is. And setting free a condemned prisoner would likely be considered treason. Piracy and murder are grave charges, my dear."

Aurora gazed back at Percy bleakly. "You must at least send a doctor to see to his injuries."

"Of course. I'll speak to the garrison commander myself and see that Sabine receives proper medical care."

She stared into his blue eyes that were so much like her own and could read the concern there-as well as the comment he didn't voice.

What did it matter if Nicholas Sabine's wounds were treated if he shortly was to hang?

Percy's wife was alarmed by the bloody condition of Aurora's gown, but less appalled by the reason than might be expected.

"I don't know that I would have had the courage to intervene," Jane said thoughtfully when she'd heard the tale.

The two women were alone in Aurora's bedchamber. After Percy had escorted her to his plantation home and then left to fulfill his promise regarding the prisoner's medical treatment, Aurora's maid had helped her change her gown and then took it away for cleaning. Lady Osborne remained to get a more detailed, private accounting of the morning's events.

"I don't think it particularly courageous to stop a man from being beaten to death," Aurora retorted, still outraged by the morning's incident. "And my intervention seems to have done little to change his fate."

"Mr. Sabine has prominent family in England," Jane said more soothingly. "The Earl of Wycliff is his second cousin. Besides possessing enormous wealth, Wycliff has always commanded a great deal of power in government circles. He could very well intercede on his cousin's behalf."

"They may hang him long before news of his imprisonment reaches England," Aurora replied darkly.

"Aurora, you haven't developed a tendre for Sabine, have you?"

She felt herself flush. "How could I? I met the man only this morning, and just for a moment. We were not even formally introduced."

"Good. Because frankly he isn't at all a proper sort of gentleman, despite his connections. Indeed, I suspect he is rather dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"To our sex, I mean. He's an adventurer and something of a rake-and an American, besides."

"Percy called him a hero."

"I suppose he is. He saved the lives of some two hundred planters during a slave revolt on St. Lucia a few years ago. But that hardly makes him acceptable. Common gossip says he is the black sheep of his family who spent his adulthood traveling alien lands and engaging in any manner of wild exploits. Only after his father died did he become the least respectable-and only because he inherited a fortune and took over the family business interests."

"You haven't accused him of being much worse than half the wild young bucks in England."

"He is indisputably worse, I assure you. Otherwise he would never have been accorded membership in the notorious Hellfire League, despite being sponsored by his cousin, Lord Wycliff."

The Hellfire League, Aurora knew, was an exclusive club of the premier rakes in England, dedicated to pleasure and debauchery. If Sabine was a member of that licentious association, he was indeed wicked.

"And you cannot dismiss the fact," Jane added pointedly, "that he is a condemned pirate, with blood on his hands."

Aurora looked down at her own hands. One of her dearest friends, Jane was both attentive and shrewd enough to evaluate a situation objectively – attributes that made her an ideal politician's wife. Percy quite rightly adored her, a sentiment that was wholly reciprocated.

"Aurora," Jane said, "is it possible you've become absorbed with this man to escape your own concerns? Perhaps you are trying to ignore your own plight by involving yourself with a stranger's fate."

Aurora laced her fingers tightly together. Quite possibly her sympathy for Sabine was greater because of her own difficult situation. She could identify with him; she knew what it was like to be powerless to effect her own future, to have her life not be her own. He was at the mercy of his captors, while she was subject to her father's dictates – and was soon to be ensnared in a supremely distasteful marriage.

Jane must have read the truth in her expression, for she said gently, "You have more important worries than a pirate's fortunes. You would do far better to forget this incident entirely." She rose to her feet with a soft swish of silk skirts. "Come down to luncheon when you are ready. You'll feel better when you've eaten, I daresay."

Aurora, however, did not feel better, nor did she have any appetite. She merely toyed with her food as she anxiously awaited word from her cousin.

When the message did finally come from his offices in Basseterre, Percy's note said little other than to reassure her that he'd spoken to the garrison commander, who promised to have the fortress physician examine the prisoner's injuries.

Aurora shared the note with Jane and pretended to dismiss any further thought of the matter. A short while later she excused herself, claiming she needed to contemplate her packing for her return to England. But she made absolutely no headway. Instead she found herself staring down at the floor, remembering a pair of dark eyes gazing at her intently, and the trembling way it had made her feel -

For mercy's sake, stop thinking of him, Aurora scolded herself.

Logically she agreed with Jane. It was far wiser to put the notorious pirate out of her mind. She would be leaving St. Kitts in a matter of days. And she had her own serious troubles to deal with – namely her imminent engagement to a domineering nobleman some twenty years her senior. A man she not only didn't love but actively disliked for his imperious, overbearing manner and his strict, almost puritanical adherence to convention. A public announcement of the betrothal would be made upon her return to England.

For a moment Aurora felt the same jolt of panic the thought of her impending marriage always engendered. Once they were wed, she would be a virtual prisoner to decorum, indeed would be fortunate to be permitted even an original thought of her own. But as she'd done for months, she forced her disquiet away.

Abandoning the notion of planning for her voyage, she picked up a book of poetry. But when she tried to read, she was unable to focus on the page. Instead she saw the blood-stained features of Nicholas Sabine as he lay helpless at her feet, half naked and in chains. When she tried to push him out of her mind, she failed miserably.

She didn't have to close her eyes to picture him lying in a prison cell, wounded and in pain, perhaps even near death. Would he even have a blanket to cover his near nakedness? Despite the warmth of the Caribbean sun, it was still winter. The brisk ocean breezes blowing off the Atlantic side of the island could make the nights quite chilly. And Brimstone Hill Fortress, where he had been taken, was perched high on a cliff, exposed to the elements.

More alarming, a condemned prisoner could disappear forever in the vast, sprawling warren of dark chambers and narrow passageways of the fortress. Its massive citadel was defended by seven-foot-thick walls of black volcanic stone that had taken decades to construct.

She'd once attended a military reception at Brimstone Hill with Percy and Jane and found even the officers' quarters unwelcoming. She shuddered to think what the prisoners' accommodations were like.

It was no consolation to remind herself that she'd done all she could for him. No use arguing with herself and demanding that she be sensible. She had never been able to walk away from anyone in such a vulnerable position.

The past years would have been easier had she been capable of simply ignoring her conscience, of controlling her protective urges. If she could have maintained a proper detachment when her father vented his wrath on his hapless dependents. But she could never be so unfeeling.

And now all she could think of was Nicholas Sabine, vulnerable and helpless, at the mercy of his brutal captors.

Perhaps if she paid him a brief visit, just to make certain he was being cared for, she would be able to ease her mind enough to forget him…

Feeling her anxiety lessen for the first time since the disturbing incident on the quay, Aurora quietly set down her book. Her heart took up an erratic rhythm at the prospect of seeing the American again, yet she repressed the forbidden feelings as she went to the bell pull to ring for her maid.

She would be defying propriety with a vengeance, perhaps even risking scandal, to visit a condemned pirate in prison, yet this could well be one of the last acts of independence she would ever make.

Chapter Two

I should have trembled in fear, but his touch held me spellbound.

He was dreaming again. Of her. The savage throbbing in his head eased as she bent over him. The tender brush of her fingers on his feverish brow was gentle and soothing, but her touch roused a worse throbbing in his loins.

She was the essence of every male fantasy – angel, Valkyrie, goddess, sea siren. She was golden temptation and primal torment. He wanted to draw her down to him and drink of her lips. Yet she held back, just out of reach -

"You there!"

He awoke with a start, memory and pain flooding him with brutal intensity. Woozily Nicholas lifted a hand to his aching head and felt the bandage there. He was lying on a bare cot, no longer bound by chains. The musket butt prodding his sore ribs, however, was regrettably familiar, as was the burly guard hovering over him.

"You there, bestir yerself!"

His blurred vision steadied. He'd been taken prisoner, he remembered, and brought to the fortress on St. Kitts, where he would probably hang for piracy and murder. At first he'd paced his cell like a wounded animal, his frantic thoughts on his half sister and the debacle he'd made of his promise to protect her. But exhaustion and pain had finally forced him to lie down. He'd fallen into a tortured slumber, only to begin dreaming of the golden-haired beauty who had defended him so valiantly on the quay.

What the devil was he doing? Nick swore at himself. Lusting after a strange woman, no matter how beautiful or courageous, was completely mad under the circumstances. Instead he should be focusing on his sister and ward, trying to think of a way to ensure her safety once he was dead…

"I said bestir yerself! There's a lady to see you."

Nicholas slowly raised himself up on his elbows. Beyond the guard, the cell door was partway open…His gaze shifted and his heartbeat seemed to stop.

She stood there just inside the dim chamber, tall, slender, regal as a princess. Even with the hood of her black cloak casting her exquisite features in shadows, he knew her. Yet unlike the avenging angel he remembered from the quay, she appeared hesitant, uncertain. Wary.

"I'll leave the door ajar, milady. If ‘e gives you a 'int of trouble, you just call out."

"Thank you."

Her voice was low and melodious, but she said nothing else, even when the guard had left the cell.

Wondering if his vision was an illusion, Nicholas slowly sat up. The watery beam of sunlight filtering through the tiny barred window highlighted dust motes dancing around her dark skirts, but did little to illuminate her features.

Then she pushed back the hood of her cloak, uncovering her bright hair, which was coiled in a smooth chignon, giving Nick a jolt of sexual awareness. Her uncommon beauty seemed to light up the dark stone cell.

She was quite real, the living fantasy of his dreams… unless he had died and this was his version of heaven. Followers of the Muslim faith believed a blessed man would be surrounded by beautiful maidens upon reaching Paradise. The pain from his injuries, however, made Nicholas suspect he was still in temporal form.

She was gazing at him in surprise, studying his face. Then, as if she realized she was staring, she flushed a little and shifted her gaze to the bandage that wrapped his head.

"I see they at least summoned a doctor. I was afraid they wouldn't. No, please don't get up on my account," she added when he tried to rise. "You are in no condition to stand on formality."

"What…" His voice came out too hoarsely, so he cleared his throat and began again. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to make certain you were all right."

Nicholas frowned, trying to sort out the confusion in his aching head. Perhaps the blows had indeed rattled his brain.

No lady would risk her reputation to enter the bowels of a prison on behalf of a stranger. And she was every inch a lady, he knew – blue-blooded to the core. In fact, hadn't she claimed to be a duke's daughter when she'd dressed down that seaman this morning?

Nicholas stared at her, wondering if he'd missed some vital clue to the enigma she presented. Then a sudden thought struck him.

Was it possible she was here to deceive him? Was that bastard Gerrod up to some sort of trickery, using her to ferret out information?

Nick's eyes narrowed in suspicion. His ship was still at large in the Caribbean, for he'd gone alone to Montserrat to fetch his sister – aboard a Dutch fishing ketcli – not wanting to risk the lives of his crew on his own personal mission. But Captain Gerrod was fiercely set on determining the American schooner's whereabouts.

It could greatly advance the captain's naval career to capture an enemy ship – which was a likely reason, Nick suspected, that he'd been spared immediate hanging. That, and the fact that Gerrod hadn't wanted to make any political missteps by offending his prisoner's illustrious connections.

Grimly Nicholas contemplated his beautiful, unexpected visitor. Was she somehow in league with Gerrod? Her compassion had seemed entirely genuine this morning, and so had her animosity toward the captain. But perhaps she'd somehow been persuaded to work with Gerrod against him.

Had she been sent here to torment him? To tempt a condemned man as if holding out the promise of water to a man dying of thirst in a desert? The stark possibility that such beauty and kindness could be a ruse stabbed Nick with anger.

His jaw tightened. He would do well to remember their nations were at war. As an Englishwoman, she was his enemy, and he had to be on his guard.

She seemed uncomfortable with the way he was watching her, and when he deliberately dropped his gaze lower to linger on her breasts, he thought he saw her flush in the dim light.

"I don't believe we were properly introduced, madam," he prodded.

"No. There wasn't time. I am Aurora Demming."

An appropriate name, he thought irrelevantly. Aurora was Latin for dawn. "Lady Aurora. I remember. You made mention of it on the quay."

"I wasn't certain how conscious you were of your surroundings."

At the reminder of the assault, Nicholas raised his hand to feel his bandage. "You find me at a disadvantage, I fear."

An awkward silence stretched between them.

"I brought some items you might need," she said finally.

When she took a tentative step toward him, he focused on the bundle she held in her arms. She seemed oddly nervous as she set her offering down on the cot and glanced around the dim, spartan cell. "I should have brought candles. I didn't think of it. But here is a blanket… some food."

Her gaze met his briefly and then slid away. "I also borrowed a shirt and jacket from Percy's overseer. You seemed larger than my cousin…"

It was his state of undress that was tying her tongue, Nicholas realized. If she was like other gently bred ladies of her station, she would hardly be accustomed to visiting a half-nude man or estimating the size of his physique.

"How did you get past the guards?" he asked cautiously.

She seemed grateful for the change in subject. "I prevailed upon the garrison commander, Mr. Sabine." Her smile was fleeting. "Actually I resorted to a slight deception. I implied that my cousin Percy sent me."

"And did he?"

"Not exactly."

"I thought Gerrod would have forbidden me any visitors."

"Captain Gerrod has no authority over the fortress garrison, nor is he much liked here on the island."

"Then he didn't send you to question me?"

A look of puzzlement drew her fine brows together. "No. Why would you think so?"

Nicholas shrugged. If she was dissembling, he would be much surprised. But if she had an ulterior purpose for coming here, he couldn't fathom what it was. Did she want something from him?

When he reached for the bundle she had brought him, she retreated a step, as if fearing his proximity. He withdrew the shirt and carefully pulled it on, wincing at his aching muscles.

"Forgive me, my lady," he mused aloud, "but I fail to understand your reason for championing me, a stranger, and a condemned prisoner, at that."

"I didn't care to see a man murdered before my eyes. It seemed the captain was far too eager to find an excuse to kill you. At the very least his men would have beaten you senseless."

"That still is no reason for you to play Lady Bountiful, bent upon kindness and good deeds."

The cynicism in his tone made her chin lift a degree. "I wasn't satisfied that you would be cared for."

"And you wish to make my final days more comfortable? Why?"

Why indeed? Aurora wondered. It was impossible to explain the affinity she felt for him. Even harder to deny. He was a privateer at the very least. A violent man. One with blood on his hands.

And now that he was no longer defenseless, his effect on her was even more forceful. He'd been given a chance to wash off the blood, and his handsomeness was astonishing, even with the stubble on his jaw. That rough growth along with the strip of muslin wrapping his head gave him a rakish appearance, making him look very much the lawless pirate.

She could well see why her cousin called him dangerous with the ladies. He had the sinful allure of a fallen angel, with hair the color of amber, and a face whose planes and angles were beautifully sculpted. The brazen sight of his bronzed shoulders and hard-muscled arms, too, had stirred an odd fluttering in her stomach.

Yet his face could have been carved in stone now, and the cold insolence of his stare took her aback. He seemed highly mistrustful of her motives – which was not so surprising, since she wasn't certain of them herself.

Her reaction to his beating this morning had been purely instinctive, perhaps because intervening in violent disputes had become an ingrained habit with her. More times than she cared to count she had stepped in to shield defenseless servants in her father's household from his irrational fury.

But that didn't explain the urgent need she'd felt to reassure herself of his well-being. Perhaps her affinity for this stranger – this inexplicable familiarity – was simply because his coloring so closely resembled that of her late betrothed, a man she had loved dearly.

"I expect I came because you remind me of someone who was very dear to me," Aurora replied rather lamely.

When he raised a skeptical eyebrow, she averted her gaze from the expanse of sun-warmed flesh on his bare chest where his shirt remained open.

She stood stiffly as she felt his eyes moving down her body, touching her breasts in insolent perusal. He seemed to be assessing the gown beneath her cloak, a severely cut day dress of charcoal gray bombazine.

"You wear half mourning," he observed. "Are you widowed?"

"No. My betrothed was lost at sea some eight months ago."

"I don't recall seeing you on St. Kitts before."

"I arrived last summer. My cousin and his wife were visiting family in England shortly after the tragedy occurred. They thought a change of scene might help me to forget my grief and so invited me to return with them to the Caribbean. We set sail before word reached England about America's declaration of war. Had I known, I never would have come. And in fact, I will be returning in a few days."

Aurora was aware her voice had dropped and knew he must have heard the bleak note of reluctance she couldn't hide. The last thing she wanted was to return to England and face the fate that awaited her there.

Nicholas Sabine was still studying her, as if trying to determine her veracity. "You don't seem particularly eager to go home, my lady. I should think you would be impatient after all this time away."

Her smile was pained. "I suppose my lack of enthusiasm stems from the marriage my father has arranged for me."

"Ah," he said knowingly. "A cold-blooded contract. The British upper class are so very fond of selling their daughters into marriage."

Aurora stiffened at his presumption. She had not meant to share personal confidences with Mr. Sabine, nor did she care for the intimacy of this conversation. "I am not being sold, I assure you. It is more a matter of social expedience. And my father wishes to see me well settled."

"But you are not exactly willing, either?"

"His would not be my choice for a husband, no," she admitted quietly.

"I wonder that you haven't considered rebelling. You don't strike me as the meek type. On the quay this morning you were a veritable tigress."

"Those circumstances were hardly ordinary," Aurora said, flushing. "I am not in the habit of challenging convention."

"No? And yet you are here. It was rather unwise to risk your reputation like this, you must admit. Where I come from, ladies don't visit convicts in prison."

"They don't in England, either," Aurora replied, forcing a wry smile. "I am entirely aware of the impropriety… and normally I am quite sensible. But my maid accompanied me, at least. She is waiting outside in the corridor… along with the guard."

The pointed reminder of the guard seemed to have no effect on Mr. Sabine. He buttoned his shirt slowly, regarding her from under long dark lashes.

When he stood, she took a wary step back. She was tall enough that he didn't dwarf her with his broad-shouldered, long-limbed body, but this close his masculinity was almost overwhelming, his nearness threatening.

"You aren't afraid of me?" he asked, his silken tone sending shivers down her spine.

Unsettled, Aurora fought for control of her rioting senses as she stood her ground. She was afraid of him. Of his intensity. Of the way his raw virility made her heart pound. "You don't seem the sort of man who would hurt a woman," she replied uncertainly.

"I could take you hostage – had you thought of that?"

Her eyes widened as her uneasiness rose. "No, I hadn't Percy says you are a gentleman," she added, suddenly doubtful.

His smile flickered as he closed the distance between them. "Someone should have taught you not to be so trusting."

Reaching out, he captured her wrist in a light grasp. His fingers seemed to burn her skin, yet she was determined not to show how unnerved she was by his touch.

"Someone should have taught you better manners," she retorted coolly, adopting her most regal air. When he didn't release her, she stared him down. "I did not necessarily expect gratitude, Mr. Sabine, but neither did I expect to be manhandled in this fashion."

The hardness in his dark eyes abated a degree as he let go of her hand. Several heartbeats later he lowered that taunting gaze. "Pardon me. I do seem to have misplaced my manners."

Absently she rubbed her wrist, where his touch had branded her. "I understand you have had a difficult time. And you are an American, after all."

His smile was mocking. "Ah, yes, a heathen Colonial."

"You must admit you are very… direct."

"And you must realize condemned men are given to desperate acts."

Her expression sobered as she remembered he was to be hanged. "Percy means to exert his influence on your behalf, but he might very well lose his post were he to demand your release. He is already suspect for sympathizing with the American cause. He believes the war is absurd, and that we British are more at fault than you Americans."

Nicholas stared down at her beautiful upturned face. If she was innocent of duplicity, he had greatly wronged her. He felt a savage anger toward many of her countrymen, but he should never have taken his fury and resentment out on her.

"Forgive me," he said grudgingly. "I am indeed in your debt. If I can ever repay the favor…" He let the comment slide, knowing he was unlikely now to be in a position to repay her kindness.

A sudden sadness filled her eyes. "I wish there were more I could do."

"You've done enough already."

She bit her lip. "I suppose I should be going."

Nicholas found himself staring at her mouth. "Yes."

"Is there something else you need?"

He flashed a wry smile that held grim amusement.

"Aside from a key to my cell door and a fast ship to make my getaway? A bottle of rum wouldn't go amiss."

"I… shall try."

"No, don't. I was jesting."

He reached up to brush her cheek lightly with the back of his knuckles. Her lips parted and he heard her soft intake of breath. Nicholas felt his loins stir.

"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly. "For your own good, you should stay away."

She nodded and took a step back, her blue eyes misting. As if unable to speak, she turned without another word and fled the gloomy cell.

With a clang the door swung closed behind her, no doubt drawn shut by the prison guard. Nick bit back a curse at the grim reminder of his imprisonment.

For a moment he stood there, breathing in the faint scent of lilacs she'd left behind and wanting to hit something. He wished to hell she hadn't come. Whether intentionally or not, she had set his blood on fire.

Amazing, considering the sort of woman she was – blue-blooded, proper, straitlaced. The exact opposite of the women he was usually drawn to. Yet if he were free, he might very well have pursued her.

If he were free…

His jaw clenching at the reminder, Nicholas glanced up at the high, barred window of his cell. Damn it to hell, he had to get out of here – or at the very least find a solution to his crisis.

Turning, he began to pace the narrow confines of his cell, his thoughts once again caught up in turmoil. What would happen to his sister once he was dead? He'd sworn a solemn oath to his father to see to her welfare, but because of his blundering miscalculation, he'd been taken prisoner and rendered powerless to help her.

His unaccustomed helplessness left him seething, filled with a furious need to take action, no matter how futile. His pacing became more agitated… until suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt. Nicholas stared unseeing, a wild notion invading the back of his mind.

He had never feared death, although he'd always taken immense pleasure in living his life to the fullest. If he were hanged, his chief regret would be his failure to honor his promise. There might still be a way, however, for him to discharge his responsibilities, albeit from beyond the grave.

Lady Aurora Demming.

She could be the answer.

Or was he insane?

He started to rake a hand through his hair but stopped when he encountered the bandage – a bandage that had been her doing. He'd been mistaken about her, obviously. She was kindhearted, caring; her concern for him was evidence of that. She wasn't in league with Gerrod, or anyone else for that matter. She was indeed an angel of mercy.

Angel and siren, Nicholas thought, remembering her eyes that were the color of sapphires. She was also younger than her regal, aristocratic manner suggested, perhaps barely twenty. Yet despite her recklessness in first coming to his rescue and then visiting him in prison, she was no doubt well bred and virtuous… and high ranking enough to command respect, if not awe, among the beau monde. As a duke's daughter, she would have entry into the loftiest echelons of British society.

Recklessly Nick flung himself on the cot, ignoring the angry protest of his bruised body. His thoughts spun furiously as he stared up at the grimy ceiling overhead. He had no desire to drag the lady into his concerns, but if it meant protecting his sister, he would use the Devil himself. He would utilize Lady Aurora to help his ward, take advantage of her prominent standing in English society…

His mouth curled in a grim semblance of a smile. He must still be reeling from the blows to his head if he was entertaining such fantasies. It was highly doubtful a duke's daughter would lend herself to a mad proposal admittedly conceived in desperation. He intended to make her sacrifice worth her while, of course, yet even so she might refuse.

Well then, he would simply have to convince her.

He had no choice. If there was the slightest possibility of fulfilling his promise, he had to seize it.

Chapter Three

When he summoned me to his chamber, my heart lodged in my throat.

It was irrational, Aurora knew, to brood over a stranger she had met for a brief moment and would never see again. Yet even in sleep she could not forget him. Aurora tossed and turned the entire night, her dreams dark with images of Nicholas Sabine struggling to break his chains while she was powerless to help him.

When the hangman's noose tightened around the strong column of his throat, she woke with a start, her heart pounding in fear. Unable to bear the grim visions any longer, Aurora hurriedly dressed and went downstairs, where she found Percy eating breakfast before he left for his offices. She joined him at the table but declined anything but coffee.

"Will you go to the fortress today?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual yet knowing she failed.

Percy gave her a concerned look. He hadn't approved of her visiting the prisoner yesterday, even on a mission of mercy for a man who was his friend. Indeed, he'd been a bit startled to hear of her boldness.

"This is not like you, Aurora. I know you must be aware of the impropriety of your behavior. Normally you show more consideration to your position in society."

Aurora lowered her gaze, knowing her cousin was right. Yet she hadn't been herself since she first laid eyes on Nicholas Sabine. She couldn't explain her desperate concern even to herself, let alone to her cousin.

"I simply abhor seeing anyone treated in such a terrible fashion," she prevaricated.

Percy's gaze held sympathy. "My dear… you should prepare yourself for the worst. Word was sent to Barbados yesterday, asking the admiral's permission to hang Sabine. We may learn the answer today."

She felt her stomach clench with fear. She had hoped he might be spared that dire fate, if only because of his prominent connections.

"I promise I will let you know the verdict as soon as I hear," Percy assured her.

Aurora nodded, not trusting herself to speak with the ache in her throat.

She was glad when Percy turned the subject to more mundane matters, and gladder still when he took his leave. When she was alone, she rose and went to stand at the breakfast room window, gazing out, unseeing, at the sun-swept lawns with their tall, swaying palms and splashes of scarlet bougainvillaea.

She was mistaken to have visited Nicholas Sabine in his prison cell, she realized. Not simply because of the impropriety, but because she'd only gained more vivid images that made him harder to forget. It was impossible to stop thinking about him. She could still feel his overwhelming presence – the forbidden sight of his bare, sun-bronzed skin, his quiet touch on her cheek, the tenderness in his dark eyes…

Aurora bit her lower lip, chastising herself for her foolishness. Hadn't she learned it was better not to care too deeply for anyone?

She had lost the two people who were most dear to her. Her mother several years ago. Then, more recently, her betrothed, Geoffrey Crewe, Earl of March.

Her long-planned future had shattered when Geoffrey perished at sea. She'd been engaged to him practically from the cradle. As her father's nearest though distant male relative, Geoffrey was next in line for the dukedom and the vast Eversley estates. And Father was determined to keep the title for his grandsons, since an ignoble physical condition had left him unable to sire any more children.

Aurora understood why he so badly wanted a son to continue the line of inheritance that had been unbroken since the reign of Henry II – and why she had always been his biggest disappointment.

She would have been happy to have been born male, for then she could have avoided the fate her father had determined for her. She hadn't even recovered from the tragic news of Geoffrey's death when her father quietly accepted on her behalf the suit of a noble crony – the illustrious Duke of Halford. No matter that she could scarcely bear to contemplate marriage to such a man, or that he had already outlived two young wives, losing one to childbirth and one to a bizarre drowning accident. Halford was wealthy enough to buy a duke's daughter, and his lineage went back even farther than Henry II.

Her father didn't see the union as punishment. He claimed he merely wanted to see her settled and well provided for, safely wed to a title and fortune when the Eversley title passed out of their direct family at his death. With a bitter sigh, Aurora wondered if in truth he simply wanted her off his hands, so he would no longer be reminded of his failure.

When Percy and Jane had invited her to visit their home in the West Indies, she'd accepted gratefully, not only hoping her grief would heal more readily in fresh surroundings, but also wishing to delay her unwanted marriage as long as possible. The intervening months, however, hadn't diminished her revulsion at the necessity of becoming Halford's bride. She dreaded returning to England now, where her illustrious suitor was reportedly growing impatient to publicly announce their betrothal, but she'd run out of excuses to tarry.

Clenching her hands into fists, Aurora turned away from the window. Ordinarily she would have gone riding to work off her feelings of frustration and helplessness or joined Jane in making her weekly round of charitable calls, a responsibility Jane took very seriously as the lieutenant governor's wife. But Aurora didn't want to be away from the house if word came about the American prisoner.

Instead she fetched a shawl so that she could pace the grounds in view of the front drive. It was hard, though, to remain passive, to sit idly by while the world was ruled by men.

How different her life would be were she a male, Aurora reflected fiercely. How much more freedom she would have. She would have relished possessing a measure of control over her existence. Were she a man, she would have had the power to influence her own future… and others' as well.

Perhaps then she could actually have helped Nicholas Sabine, instead of being forced by propriety to accept a woman's lot and wait impotently at home for word of his fate.

The afternoon was well advanced by the time Percy returned home. Aurora had been watching for him anxiously from the drawing room and so was able to meet him at the front door.

"I am glad to find you here, my dear," Percy said quietly. "I thought you might have accompanied Jane on her calls."

"I wanted to hear the news."

Waving off the footman who stood ready to take his hat, Percy met her gaze with reluctance. The grim expression on his face told her without words the news she dreaded hearing.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a cry.

"Aurora, I'm sorry," he said simply. "The admiral was disinclined to be merciful."

For a moment her cousin remained silent, as if giving her time to compose herself. Then he took her hands in a gentle grasp. "My dear, this is obviously a wretched time, but I have a serious matter to discuss with you."

Still numb with shock, Aurora scarcely heard what her cousin was saying.

"There has been an unanticipated turn of events." He paused, a troubled look on his face. "Nicholas Sabine has a… request to make of you."

"A request?" she repeated hoarsely.

"I spoke with Nick after the admiral's decision became known," Percy explained in a low voice, "and he sought my opinion of a rather wild notion. I did not refuse him outright, for I thought you should hear him out and decide for yourself. It is an extraordinary proposal… but then these are extraordinary circumstances."

"I… don't understand. What does he wish to ask of me?"

"He would like your help, actually. It seems he has a duty he must fulfill, yet now he will no longer be alive to do so."

"What duty?"

"Sabine has a ward, a half sister who lives on Montserrat. The young lady urgently needs the protection of someone of your consequence, as well as an escort to England. And since you are planning to return there shortly… Well, there is more, but I don't want to influence you unduly. You should hear the proposal directly from Sabine himself. If you are willing to listen, I will accompany you to the fortress at once."

"You mean now, at this moment?" Aurora asked in confusion.

"Yes, now." He released her hands. "Time is growing short, I'm afraid. The hanging has been put off until tomorrow, but after that…"

His voice trailed off, yet Aurora was grateful that he failed to put the rest of his sentence into words.

She had never again expected to see the bold American who had touched her life so fleetingly. Thus it was with a heavy heart that Aurora returned to the fortress prison. She felt a hollowness in the pit of her stomach as she preceded her cousin into the dim cell.

Nicholas Sabine stood with his back to her, a shaft of sunlight gilding his fair hair. He was fully clothed this time, she noted absently. Someone – perhaps Percy – had provided him with a coat and a pair of Hessian boots, so that he more closely resembled a gentleman of means than a savage pirate or a condemned prisoner.

When he turned slowly to face her, however, he still had the same powerful effect on her; she felt her heart quicken in her chest as she met the dark intensity of his gaze.

"Thank you for coming," he said in a quiet voice. He glanced at her cousin. "Might I presume further upon our friendship, Sir Percy, and ask that you allow us a few moments in private? Lady Aurora will come to no harm, I give you my word."

Percy nodded, although reluctantly. "Very well. I shall wait outside in the corridor, my dear."

Her cousin withdrew, leaving the door partly ajar. Sabine's half smile was fleeting, almost ironic, as he noted the precaution.

Returning his gaze to Aurora then, he gestured with his hand, indicating the cot. "Would you care to sit down, Lady Aurora? I think you might want to be seated to hear what I have to say."

"Thank you, but I prefer to stand," she replied politely.

"As you wish."

His dark gaze was riveted on her as he contemplated her in silence. Aurora withstood his piercing assessment with uncertainty, wondering what he intended to ask. When he didn't speak, her gaze went to the bandage at his temple. It seemed clean and a bit smaller than yesterday, as if it had been freshly changed. She was about to inquire how his head wound was faring when he spoke.

"What has Percy told you?" Sabine asked.

"Only that you need my help for your sister."

"I do." He eyed her speculatively another moment, then turned to pace about the small cell like a caged cat – lithe, graceful, on edge. "You may call me mad, but I ask you to hear me out fully before you decide."

His sense of urgency communicated itself to her, making her uneasy. "Very well, Mr. Sabine," Aurora prodded. "I am listening."

"I suppose I should begin by telling you a story – a love story, if you will. But I fear it may shock a lady of tender sensibilities. Are you game to hear it?"

"Yes," Aurora murmured doubtfully.

He continued to stalk the floor, keeping his voice low as he spoke. "There once was a man – an American – who went to England and fell in love. The lady returned his affection, but any union between them was doomed from the start. Not only was she quite young, but her family would never have permitted her to wed beneath her class. Even more damning, he already had a wife and a young son, with another child expected shortly.

"Refusing to dishonor her or his marriage vows, he left England, determined to vanquish his feelings and never see the young lady again. But business concerns required his return a few years later, and he discovered her nearly in despair. She was to wed an older gentleman whose physical deformities rendered him a monster in her eyes: As his bride, she would reside on her husband's remote estate, away from everything she held dear.

"She couldn't bear to be imprisoned in such a marriage and believed her life was at an end, without her ever having lived, or ever knowing passion. And so she begged the man she loved to show her what true intimacy was. Unable to resist her plea or deny his feelings any longer, he became her lover."

Sabine paused in his tale and glanced at Aurora, as if to gauge her reaction. When she managed to keep her expression noncommittal, he went on. "Their illicit affair lasted only a few months, for he had to return to his family and to his responsibilities. Shortly afterward, however, the young lady discovered she was with child."

Aurora winced inwardly. She could well imagine the scorn an unwed young woman would face if her enceinte condition became known. "What happened?" she murmured.

"Not surprisingly the lady's engagement was promptly dissolved. To quiet any scandal, she was married off to a younger son of an Irish nobleman and banished to the Caribbean to live, while her outraged father washed his hands of her. The lady died last year, without ever being reunited with her family. She left behind an only child, a daughter."

"Your sister," Aurora said gently.

Sabine drew a slow breath. "Yes. My half sister, to be exact. As you've guessed, the lady's lover was my father."

"Did he know about the child?"

"Not at first. But she wrote to him when her husband passed away, telling him what had happened. My father supported her financially for years, even though he couldn't publicly acknowledge the child. He felt it necessary to keep the secret from his family, to spare my mother the shameful knowledge of his love affair. He died four years ago, but on his deathbed, he told me about his daughter and exacted a promise from me to take care of her."

Again Sabine flashed that ironic half smile that tugged at Aurora's heart. "I could hardly refuse to honor his dying request, could I? Truth tell, I was never the ideal son. Our relationship was always… strained because I had no serious interest in taking over the shipping firm he had built. My father, you see, was a nephew of the sixth Earl of Wycliff, but with little prospect of inheriting the title. Before the war with the Colonies, he immigrated to Virginia to make his fortune. And he far exceeded even his own dreams, building a formidable empire from almost nothing. Yet I preferred the life of an adventurer to following in his footsteps. When he died, though, I felt compelled to assume the responsibilities I had always neglected."

"Did you meet your sister then?"

"Indeed. My first act was to visit her on Montserrat. She bears the name of Kendrick, the Irishman her mother wed, but she's always known the story of her birth. Her mother wanted her to understand she was a child of love."

"Captain Gerrod said you went to Montserrat to see a woman," Aurora remarked thoughtfully.

Sabine's mouth curled at the mention of his nemesis. "Yes, my sister. She is almost grown up now – nineteen – and actually quite a beauty. She's also my ward. Her mother succumbed to a fever last year, shortly before the war started, and left Raven's wardship to me."

"Raven? That is an unusual name for a young lady."

"Perhaps, but it fits. She was born with hair black as a raven's wing, a throwback to one of my family's Spanish ancestors, apparently. And she is unconventional in more than just appearance. When I first met Raven, she was a complete hoyden, more at home in a stable or in a beach cove playing pirate. But lately she's made an earnest attempt to conform and conduct herself as a proper English lady. She's determined to realize her mother's dream for her – to be accepted by her English relatives and take her rightful place among the nobility. And one major obstacle has been overcome. Raven has been invited by her grandfather to live in England."

"Her mother's father?"

"Yes. He is Viscount Luttrell, of Suffolk. Perhaps you're acquainted with him."

Aurora searched her memory. "I've met him, but I never realized he had a daughter."

"Because Luttrell disowned her twenty years ago. But recently he had a change of heart. When he learned of his daughter's death, he regretted never attempting to reconcile. His health is failing now as well, and he wants to meet his only granddaughter and see her established in society. Raven's aunt has agreed, albeit reluctantly, to formally present her, but it's questionable how readily Raven will be received by the ton, given the dubious circumstances of her birth. She's anxious – passionate, even – to make a good match so she will be welcomed by the society that shunned her mother. Her path would be far smoother, certainly, if she had someone of elevated social status to befriend and advise her."

"And you wish me to be that person."

"Yes." His dark eyes met hers with unwavering intensity. "I don't care much for being a supplicant, Lady Aurora. It doesn't set well with me. But I would be grateful if you would extend the same kindness to my sister that you showed me yesterday."

Nicholas Sabine was obviously a man accustomed to getting his own way, Aurora thought Helplessness would not be a sensation he would welcome. Yet she had no difficulty answering his entreaty. Her heart would have to be hard indeed to be unmoved by the girl's situation. "Of course, Mr. Sabine. I would be happy to do whatever I can to make her entry into society successful."

His face softened only a degree. It surprised her that his relief wasn't greater until she remembered his other concern. "Percy mentioned that your sister needs someone to accompany her to England, as well."

"She does." He resumed his pacing, his movements tightly controlled. "Before the war began, I had planned to transport Raven to England on one of my own ships. But as an American, I would hardly be welcome there now. My cousin Wycliff's too occupied trying to defeat the French to fetch Raven, and it could be years before you Brits finally prevail against Napoleon. I have a cousin on my mother's side, but he's American as well."

Sabine started to rake a hand through his hair, stopping when he encountered the bandage. "I had arranged with Wycliflf to utilize a ship from his Caribbean fleet while I merely provided Raven armed escort across most of the Atlantic. In fact, I went to Montserrat to arrange the final details of the voyage with her. Unfortunately I was set upon by Gerrod's crew. And now that my fate has been settled…"

Aurora felt her throat tighten at the thought of this vital man losing his life.

"Well," Sabine continued with a hard smile, "despite this setback, I intend to do everything in my power to fulfill my promise to my father and ensure my sister's welfare. Which is why…" He paused again, this time studying her from beneath his thick lashes. "… why I would like to make you a formal offer of marriage."

Aurora simply stared, not comprehending. After the space of a dozen heartbeats, she realized she had indeed heard him correctly. She drew an uneven breath. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious." His beautiful mouth twisted without amusement. "I assure you, I do not take the prospect of matrimony lightly. I have never before proposed marriage to a woman – and would not be doing so now, if the circumstances were not so dire."

Still stunned, Aurora could only stare at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. Moving over to the cot, she sat down as he had first suggested, needing the support after all. Her mind was racing with shock, bewilderment, as she tried to form a reply. "Mr. Sabine, I don't…"

"You said you would hear me out before you gave me an answer."

She lifted her gaze to his. "Yes, but… Are you not aware that I am expected to marry when I return to England?"

"So Percy informed me. You are promised to the Duke of Halford. But I understand the engagement is not yet official."

"No. We could make no public announcement while I was in mourning for my late betrothed. But my father is set on the match."

"But what about you, Lady Aurora? I gathered that you were reluctant to wed your father's choice. Was I mistaken?"

"No, you weren't mistaken," she admitted in a low voice.

Sabine moved to stand before her, holding her rapt attention. "Then consider the advantages of a union between us. You wouldn't have to wed Halford. That alone should prove a strong incentive. I remember the duke from my last visit to England three years ago. He must be more than twice your age, and as arrogant and puffed up with his own consequence as any nobleman I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Is that what you want, a lifetime of imprisonment as his wife?"

When she didn't answer, he continued. "There are other advantages as well. I assure you, I would make the inconvenience to you financially worth your while. I am a wealthy man, Lady Aurora, with a fortune that probably exceeds Halford's. I took the liberty of discussing the possible particulars with your cousin, and he's satisfied that the settlement I'm prepared to make would leave you a wealthy woman. You would have complete financial independence from your father. Just think. You would no longer be obliged to remain under his thumb or wed his choice of suitors."

The thought of no longer being subject to her father's dictates was vastly appealing. Even so…

"I suspect," Sabine pressed, "that you would find me a more agreeable husband than Halford. But even if not, it isn't as if you would be tied to me for life – Or actually you would. But our marriage would last only a few hours, a day at most. After that you would be my widow."

Aurora flinched at his casual reference to his intended hanging. He was making light of his desperate situation, clearly. But when she searched his strong, masculine face, she realized he did not want her pity. His entire focus was only on seeing to his sister's welfare.

"I realize I would be taking advantage of your kindness," he murmured, reaching down to take Aurora's hand in his larger, more powerful one, "but I am lamentably short of options."

Unnerved by his touch, she withdrew her hand and rose, moving past him to pace the floor herself.

"I've told you, Mr. Sabine," she said with what she thought was reasonable calm, "I would be happy to help your sister… without any formal arrangement between us. Surely it isn't necessary for us to wed."

"Perhaps not, but it would greatly improve the odds of securing Raven's future. If you are related to my ward through marriage, you would have every right to guide and influence her foray into society. In fact, if you were willing, I could turn her wardship over to you." Sabine let that sink in before adding, "That might be impossible if you marry Halford. I imagine he would object to his duchess associating with a… an unusual young woman like Raven. He's a stickler for propriety."

"So he is," she agreed absently.

"As your husband, he could forbid your having any connection with my sister."

Aurora raised a hand to her temple. Halford not only could forbid her, but no doubt would. "Even so… marriage to you is such a drastic step…"

Visibly schooling his impatience, Sabine forced his mouth into a semblance of a smile. "Perhaps you might be more amenable if I took a different approach. If I attempted to flatter you and cosset your sensibilities."

She stiffened defensively and shot him a glance. "My sensibilities do not require cosseting, Mr. Sabine."

"No?" For the first time his smile reached his eyes. "I didn't think so." Then he sighed and dropped his voice to a murmur. "I do regret having to propose to you under such distasteful circumstances. Ordinarily I would try to employ all my powers of persuasion, but I'm afraid I haven't the time to try to charm you. I wouldn't be lying, however, if I claimed to be utterly besotted by your beauty."

Aurora found herself staring at him, wondering if his admission was mere cajolery. Doubtless Nicholas Sabine had a ruthless charm that he could wield to lethal effect.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to the conversation at hand. "I cannot simply agree to marry you, Mr. Sabine. There are other practicalities I must consider."

"Such as?"

Such as the fact that Nicholas Sabine was not the kind of man she would ever willingly choose as her husband. She had never met so compelling a man, or one who had made such a forceful impact on her. There was a sense of danger about him, an intensity that was intimidating, if not frightening… although his ferocity now might be driven by his concern for his sister. "If I were seeking a husband, a pirate – an American one – would not be my first choice. By your own admission, you are a violent man."

"I don't recall ever making such an admission."

"What of the man Captain Gerrod mentioned? He said you nearly killed one of his crew while resisting arrest."

Sabine's jaw hardened, but he met her gaze unflinchingly. "A man was wounded, true, but at the hand of his own crewmate. I was unarmed when I was set upon by some half dozen seamen. When I fought back, one drew a knife, and in the melee, another fell against the blade. I saw what happened just before I blacked out. I suppose I was struck over the head with a bottle."

He raised his hand to his head wound, indicating the damage the bottle had done. Then his expression softened. "I understand why you would be reluctant to accept my hand. I'm a man about to be hanged as a pirate – not at all the sort a lady like you should be associating with." He laughed softly to himself. "Indeed, if you were my sister, I would not allow you within a mile of me. But in my own defense, whatever acts of privateering I committed, I did to save my father's legacy. Your countrymen are set on destroying everything he worked for, and I swore to him I would keep his empire flourishing under my direction."

His dark eyes were intense as he gazed at her. "My fatal mistake was in thinking I could elude the British navy on Montserrat. I was careless. It's ironic, actually. I had taken a room at a tavern and was preparing to call on Raven when I was recognized by one of Gerrod's officers. The same lieutenant whose life I'd spared a month earlier when I saved the Barton's crew from going down with their ship."

Aurora frowned. It had been a noble gesture to save an enemy crew, certainly, but that did not make Nicholas Sabine a saint. "Gerrod called you Captain Saber. That is hardly the title of a gentle man."

"Saber is a nom de guerre, merely that. Calculated to make the enemy consider twice before attacking my ships."

Her expression troubled, Aurora searched his face. "But you were charged with murder as well as piracy," she murmured.

"Regrettably men die in war, Lady Aurora," he returned coolly. "I make no apology for my privateering. And I assure you, Gerrod and his ilk are hardly innocents themselves. Any number of Americans have been killed by the British navy, some of whom were my friends. I've had crewmen, illegally taken by your press gangs, who were savagely beaten like animals, some who died in service – Sabine stopped himself and took a slow breath. His anger under control, he moved to stand before her, "My own past is not entirely spotless, but I have never been guilty of murder. And I have never shown violence toward any woman, ever. I promise you solemnly, you have nothing to fear from me."

No, Aurora reflected. Nothing to fear but what he made her feel. His mere nearness made her pulse race, made her skin warm and her body feel flushed with awareness.

"And keep in mind," he pressed, "the short duration of our union. Even if I were the kind of man you claim, you wouldn't have to suffer my company for long. I certainly can refrain from acting the savage pirate for the brief term of our marriage."

Aurora felt an ache in the vicinity of her heart. She couldn't believe this man would soon die. He radiated vitality and vibrant life…

"What you are proposing sounds so… cold-blooded," she said finally, grasping at straws.

He shook his head. "Think of it as a business arrangement. Ladies of your class commonly enter into such agreements."

It was not common for ladies to marry only to lose their husbands the next day, Aurora thought in dismay. "So you wish this to be a simple business arrangement?"

"Not precisely." She heard him draw a slow breath. "I should make my meaning clear, Lady Aurora. Our marriage would not be in name only. To be legitimate, it must be fully consummated."

Her gaze locked with his, searching. His fathomless eyes were steadfast, unwavering in their intensity.

"I want no question of the legality of our union," he said levelly, "or the possibility that it could be set aside. Your father is a powerful man, as is Halford. I don't care to see my efforts to secure my sister's future go for naught."

Her heart faltered in its rhythm as she understood his meaning: they would share a bed as husband and wife.

Taken aback, Aurora stared at him. She had seriously been considering his desperate proposal until he added that disturbing condition. The possibility of physical intimacy with this man unnerved her. The thought of giving herself to a stranger – But was that not what she would be required to do when she wed Halford? This man, no matter how intimidating, was infinitely more appealing than the aging duke. She felt her pulse quicken dangerously.

Sabine was still watching her. Holding her gaze, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. But instead of kissing her fingers, he turned her hand over and kissed the tender inside of her wrist. His lips on her sensitive skin felt like a brand and sent hot and cold shivers through her.

"Will you consider becoming my wife for a night, sweetheart? I think I can safely promise that you would not find your introduction to the marriage bed onerous."

Her breath caught in her throat at the images his promise conjured in her mind. That and the seductive sensuality in his eyes held her so spellbound, she couldn't reply.

His gaze dropped to her lips. "I regret I'm not able to court you as you deserve. A woman as lovely as you should have an equally lovely setting… moonlight, roses, whispered promises…" He leaned toward her, his breath fanning her lips…

When Aurora stiffened instinctively, however, he stopped. Instead of kissing her, he spoke in a velvet-edged voice. "I cannot believe you truly fear me, Aurora. Not a woman of your rare courage. I saw the fascinating change in you yesterday, from proper lady to avenging angel."

Warily she searched his face. Stubble still shadowed his jaw, giving his handsome features a dangerous aura. He might claim not to be a pirate, but he still resembled one. She was not often intimidated, but this man disturbed her with his vital masculinity. She was even more unsettled by the forbidden sensations he aroused so easily in her. The raw, powerful sexuality emanating from him was palpable, the tension between them very real.

"Give me your hand, sweetheart. Touch me…" Taking her hand, Sabine guided her fingers to his face. "I am flesh and blood, just like you. Not so very threatening."

He was indeed threatening. He made her breathless, fluttery inside. And yet there was something warm and tender in his eyes that allayed true panic.

"This doesn't frighten you, does it?" he asked, drawing her fingers to his lips, letting her touch him there.

"No…" she murmured truthfully.

"What of this?" When he brushed her mouth with his, his lips were warm and soft – soft as the caress of a butterfly's wing. An unmistakeable yearning flooded Aurora, along with an unfamiliar hunger she could only call desire.

She stared at him, dazed, as he drew back.

The husky texture of his voice stroked her as brazenly as the hand that rose to graze the line of her jaw. "Have you never been kissed before?"

"Yes… By my betrothed."

"But not a true kiss, I imagine. A true kiss is more than a meeting of lips. It's a mating… of mouth and tongue and breath… An intimate knowing." His fingertips traced the line of her mouth. "I want to truly kiss you, angel."

His delicate touch made her shiver. "I… You shouldn't…"

His smile was soft, indulgent, tender. He had a beautiful mouth, especially when he smiled.

"In circumstances such as these," he replied, "it is not improper for a man wooing his lady to claim a kiss. This is my sole opportunity to persuade you to become my bride. Perhaps the last time I will ever see you, ever touch you. Will you deny me my last chance to fulfill my father's dying wish?"

"No," she whispered, helpless to resist.

This time when he bent his head, she didn't stiffen or pull back. She let him draw her into his arms, let him hold her as a lover would.

His kiss was like nothing she had ever experienced. His mouth was hot, wet, open against hers, bold and unexpectedly intimate. Her nostrils filled with his scent, her mouth with his brazen flavor, as shocking pleasure assaulted her senses…

Her wanton response dismayed her, yet to her surprise, he was the one who abruptly ended the kiss.

"Perhaps this was a mistake," he said, his voice unsteady as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I thought I would have more control…"

Drawing a deep breath, he slowly drew away to capture her gaze. "No," he said with more composure, "judging from your response, I wouldn't say you feared me. You felt the same fire I did. The signs are all there. Your pulse has quickened, your skin is flushed…"

Her heart racing, Aurora stood mutely, torn between dismay and desire as he so perfectly described the sensations that were overwhelming her. She shouldn't be feeling this way, experiencing these powerful, forbidden feelings for a stranger. Never had she had such a primal reaction to a man, a reaction no lady would acknowledge.

"And that is only the beginning, sweetheart. There is much more I could show you. Give me that right, Aurora."

His eyes had darkened with sensuality and were as fathomless as midnight, Aurora saw. Captivated, she stared into them.

His voice dropped lower. "Your cousin believes he can secure a special license in time for us to wed tomorrow evening. I would consider myself the most fortunate of men if you would do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage."

Aurora shut her eyes, struggling to recover her dazed senses. Her mind was spinning, and she felt a similar chaos in her heart, a tumult of hope, fear, doubt. Did she dare consider his mad scheme? It was so very tempting, and yet undeniably daunting as well.

"You are my best hope, angel. My only hope. One night. Can you give me that?"

She swallowed thickly.

"Must… I answer this moment?" she said at last. "The decision you are asking me to make is a profoundly serious one. I need time to consider."

"Of course." His gaze held sympathy. "But however much I dislike pressing you, perhaps I should remind you that time is running short."

"I know." Her tone was bleak.

She stepped back, out of his embrace, and was unsurprised to discover how feeble her knees were. She didn't need Mr. Sabine to remind her of the urgency. He was to hang tomorrow – unless she consented to become his bride.

Then his execution would be delayed long enough for them to wed.

Her eyes were burning as she gazed up at him, her throat tight. So tight that she couldn't manage another word.

Turning blindly, she made her way outside the cell, where she leaned weakly against the stone wall. A shudder passed through her as she thought of him dying -

"Aurora, are you unwell?" Percy's concerned voice asked. She had forgotten entirely that he was awaiting her in the corridor.

Unable to speak, she shook her head.

"Come, we must get you out of this dungeon and find some fresh air."

She was grateful when her cousin took her arm and led her along the dim passageway and up a narrow flight of steps. When she reached the open air, she drew a deep breath, trying to contain the turmoil of emotions that were tearing at her inside.

Percy waited patiently while she struggled to regain her composure. "So," he said finally, "I take it Sabine proposed?"

"Yes." Her voice held an edge of bleakness she couldn't hide.

"And did you give him an answer?"

"Not yet. I couldn't… not so quickly. I told him… I needed time to consider such a drastic step."

"Well, of course you do. I can only imagine what a difficult decision it must be for you – to defy your father and wed a stranger. Perhaps we should go home and discuss it with Jane."

She gave him a forced smile. "Yes."

Percy led her to the waiting carriage and handed her inside, then took his place beside her. Aurora sank back against the squabs and stared blindly out the window.

She shuddered to think how her father would react, the rages she would have to endure… Yet it wasn't only withstanding her father's inevitable explosion or marrying a stranger that made her decision so difficult. She was being asked to wed a dead man.

Still, it was the thought of Nicholas Sabine dying that was breaking her heart.

Chapter Four

I cannot comprehend the power he holds over me. How is it possible when I have known him such a brief time?

"So he has proposed a marriage of convenience to safeguard his illegitimate sister's future?" Jane asked thoughtfully when she'd heard the tale.

The three of them were in the drawing room – Percy on the settee beside Jane, relating the particulars of Sabine's proposal, while Aurora stood at the window, too restless to be seated.

"Yes," Percy replied. "Except the girl isn't considered illegitimate, nor is her illicit conception common knowledge. The affair was hushed up long ago."

Jane pursed her lips in contemplation. "I can understand the advantages to Mr. Sabine's sister, but how would Aurora benefit by marrying a pirate?"

Percy answered readily. "Financially the marriage could be quite attractive for Aurora, since he means to settle a large jointure on her. His mother and two sisters in Virginia will inherit part of his fortune, and his shipping empire will go to an American male cousin. But Nicholas hopes to provide for his half sister without his mother ever learning of the girl's existence – or of his father's infidelity. Nick proposes to leave a substantial sum to Aurora, a portion of which she will hold in trust for Miss Kendrick. And he would ask Aurora to assume the wardship. If she's his wife, such arrangements would be unexceptional."

"True," Jane agreed, "but if he is hanged for piracy… Marriage under such a cloud would prove socially difficult for Aurora, if not impossible."

"Her standing in society should shield her somewhat. And remember, Nick is not without noble family of his own. His cousin, the Earl of Wycliff, will be a formidable ally."

"Yet she would return to England a widow, have you considered that?"

"Which could be a decided advantage. I've never liked the thought of her having to marry Halford. If Aurora is a widow, it wouldn't be proper for her to wed until a decent interval had passed, and Halford would have to look elsewhere for a bride. Of course then she would not become a duchess, which is a drawback."

Aurora didn't care for the way they were discussing her future as if she weren't present. "Am I to be given a say in the matter?" she asked.

Jane looked contrite. "Forgive me, dearest. I suppose we became carried away because we care so much. But Percy is right. You should give Mr. Sabine's proposal serious consideration."

"I thought you said he was dangerous," Aurora replied, frankly surprised by Jane's endorsement. "You called him a notorious adventurer, did you not?"

"Most certainly. Any man with his reputation would be dangerous to young, single ladies. But an offer of marriage changes the circumstances altogether. Matrimony can render even the worst sort of rakehell respectable. And this could very well be the answer to your dilemma, Aurora. I know how you dread having to wed Halford. As your husband he would be as controlling as your father, and you'll find it repugnant, being forced to live under his domineering thumb and to bear his children." Jane gave a delicate shudder. "Sabine is the lesser of two evils by far."

Aurora managed the ghost of a smile. "That is hardly a glowing recommendation for a husband."

"He isn't an ideal choice, I grant you. But his wealth can compensate for a multitude of sins."

"Do you realize how mercenary that sounds?"

"I am only being practical, Aurora. A generous jointure would allow you a vast measure of independence. You could not only escape your father's demands that you marry, but you could set up your own household as well."

"You would condone defying my father?" she asked skeptically, not quite believing Jane's seditious counsel. "He will be incensed if I am unable to wed Halford as I agreed."

Percy answered for his wife. "You were compelled to agree to your father's choice under duress, Aurora. He would never have permitted you to accept our invitation here had you not promised to wed Halford when you returned to England. In any event, I would be more deserving of his wrath than you. I gave him my word that I would look after your welfare. I believe, however, that by championing your marriage to Sabine, I would be acting in your best interests. Just not in the manner your father expected."

Aurora fell silent, thinking grimly of her stern, illustrious father. Not even Percy realized how violent the Duke of Eversley's temper could be. For the most part, she had been a dutiful daughter; rightly or wrongly, she possessed a strong sense of family loyalty and obligation due her rank. But she would be crossing her father with a vengeance by making such a scandalous marriage.

Jane rose and went to her, putting a comforting arm around her waist. "Perhaps I'm callous to say so, Aurora, but it isn't as if the union would be permanent. You could even look at it as if Sabine were merely lending you his name. Once you leave here, you will never see him again. You wouldn't have to spend your life tied to a man you don't love."

Reminded that Nicholas Sabine was to lose his life, Aurora squeezed her eyes shut.

"I know how much you loved Geoffrey, my dear," Jane murmured, apparently mistaking the reason for her despair. "But it will only compound your misery to be locked in a loveless marriage to Halford. You've had enough sorrow in your life."

Aurora looked down at her clenched hands to hide her reflections. She had loved Geoffrey deeply, but not in the way Jane supposed. Theirs had been a comfortable alliance rather than a grand passion. Geoffrey had been a gentle soul and one of the kindest men she had ever known, with a sharp mind he preferred to engage in scholarly pursuits.

His quiet, complacent nature was what had made the prospect of marriage to him so appealing, Aurora knew. She had cherished him for his temperament as much as anything – because he was so completely unlike her father. He would never try to rule her or dictate her every action or fly into rages at the slightest provocation, as her father did. As Geoffrey's wife, she would be free to live her own life, to control her own future. Indeed, Geoffrey was perfectly content to follow her lead in all matters, so long as he could keep his nose buried in his books. She had grieved at his death, but she'd loved him more like a brother than lover.

Her throat tightened with guilt and regret that she hadn't felt a greater passion for him, but she banished the bittersweet ache his memory always engendered and swallowed past her dry throat.

"Mr. Sabine," she said finally, "wants more than a marriage in name only. If we wed, he will insist on… on consummating our union, so no one can question its legitimacy."

That gave Jane pause, while Percy looked grave. He made none of the objections Aurora expected, however.

"Your father would indeed be unable to challenge the marriage then," Percy asserted. "And everyone knows Halford's preference for schoolroom misses. He will undoubtedly give up his pursuit of you if you're truly a widow and no longer a virgin bride."

Aurora couldn't help flushing at such plain speaking, even though she should be accustomed to it by now. The frank honesty and openness in the Osborne household was uncommon but admittedly refreshing compared to the stifling mores under which she'd been raised.

Seeing her discomfiture, Jane frowned at her husband, but then nodded slowly in agreement. "Mr. Sabine is injured, Aurora. He is not likely to be much of a husband to you. And you would only have to submit once. Furthermore… pray forgive me for being immodest, my dear, but I daresay Mr. Sabine has enough expertise to make the experience not… unpleasant for you."

It was Percy's turn to frown, but Jane forestalled his comment by asking him about the nuptial arrangements. "You can't possibly allow your cousin to be married in that dismal prison, Percy," she said emphatically.

"I doubt Nicholas would be allowed to leave the fortress, but the Brimstone chapel is quite adequate. The ceremony could be held there tomorrow evening, which would allow enough time to secure a special license and arrange for a solicitor to write out a new will."

When Aurora remained silent, Percy went to stand before her and take her hand. "You know, my dear, you don't have to accept Sabine's proposal, or Halford's either, for that matter. You are welcome to make your home with us for as long as you wish. You needn't return to England."

"Thank you, Percy," Aurora said quietly. "But my life is there, with my family, my friends."

"Well, don't let us browbeat you into making a decision you will regret."

She smiled briefly. "I won't." This was too important a matter to allow herself to be pressured even by her loving, well-meaning relatives. "I am profoundly grateful for your concern – grateful to you both," she said, including Jane in her glance. "But will you forgive me if I say I need some time alone to consider?"

"Of course we'll forgive you," Jane said warmly, giving her a gentle hug.

"Certainly," Percy agreed. "But I'm afraid you will have to make up your mind quickly. Nicholas Sabine is running out of time." "I know," Aurora said bleakly.

After fetching a pelisse, she made her way outside to walk beneath the palms. The Caribbean sun was setting, sheening the distant ocean horizon a glittering copper rose, but Aurora scarcely saw the beauty. Instead she saw a lean, bronzed face with dark, fathomless eyes gazing at her intently.

There were any number of reasons marrying Nicholas Sabine would be madness. He was a rake and adventurer and accused felon. They were enemies, their countries caught up in an interminable war. Her father would be outraged. Society would be aghast. Yet it was her own emotions that she feared most. Could she bear the turmoil of losing a husband to the gallows so soon after vowing to love and honor until death parted them?

She had already lost too many people she cared for, including the man who was her long-intended husband. And as irrational as it might be, she already grieved for Nicholas Sabine, when she'd known him for barely a day. Her emotions were far too deeply involved – and she would only compound her involvement by becoming his wife.

After Geoffrey's tragic death, she had vowed never to let herself care deeply for anyone again. She'd had more than enough of bereavement.

Coming to the edge of the palm-lined path, Aurora turned blindly back toward the house, grappling with her conflicting emotions. How had she come to this difficult choice?

Before Geoffrey's death, her future had been well established. As the Earl of March's wife she would have had everything she wanted out of life. Tranquility. A comfortable marriage. An agreeable husband for whom she held a strong affection. A large measure of independence. The hope of children.

After the tragedy of Geoffrey's disappearance at sea, she had tried to forget her grief, but her father had only compounded her misery by forcing her to accept another suitor. At least there was no chance of her being hurt by giving her heart to Halford.

Her lips curved in a bitter smile as she paused beside a palm tree.

She seemed destined to make a cold-blooded marriage. For her, true love was something only to be longed for and imagined. She would never know the kind of grand passion that poets spun legends about, the kind of intense, overwhelming love Raven's mother had known with Nicholas Sabine's father…

Nicholas Sabine. Aurora shut her eyes, remembering how he had kissed her earlier. The caress of his lips had been ardent yet restrained – and more arousing than any kiss she'd ever known.

He was nothing like Geoffrey. He was an adventurer and privateer, a man of violence rather than intellect. Bold and brazen rather than gentle and studious. Dangerous. His touch set her blood racing. His dark eyes promised pleasures she had never even dreamed of…

And yet he had honor. What other man would go to such lengths to fulfill a deathbed promise to his father? Would risk his life to see a sister he scarcely knew safely settled?

Aurora leaned against the thick trunk of the palm tree. How could she possibly refuse his plea? Her heart contracted painfully as she remembered the dim cell where he was imprisoned. Her predicament at being forced into wedlock couldn't compare to his desperate plight, but she knew what it felt like to be trapped. And she was his only hope.

She took a steadying breath. If she had to marry cold-heartedly, she would prefer to choose the candidate herself. And despite the drawbacks, there were excellent reasons to wed Mr. Sabine. Foremost was that she could escape a lifetime sentence as the Duchess of Halford. She would be in charge of her life for the first time since she could remember. She would be free of her father, of his rages.

Freedom. She hadn't realized how desperately she craved it until Sabine had offered it to her. She had come to the Caribbean seeking a haven, anxious to get out from under Father's tyrannical thumb. These past months had been like a balm to her ravaged heart, without the grim reminders of her lost loved ones or the strain and tension of living in her father's household.

It was unlikely she would ever have another opportunity like this. Marrying Nicholas Sabine was the only way she would have true independence. As his widow, she would have the tranquility she longed for.

Of course, the marriage vows would have to be consummated. One night. Can you give me that? He had implied that he could show her passion she never dreamed of, and she didn't doubt him. Yet she would have to surrender her innocence to him… Her mind sheared away from the thought of carnal intimacy with the dark-eyed adventurer.

Aurora exhaled slowly, ignoring the knot coiling in her stomach. The intimacy of the marriage bed would only make her emotional conflict worse. But if she could manage to get through one night without letting herself grow even more dangerously attached… If she forced herself to maintain a rational detachment, treating her marriage simply as a business proposition, to be concluded as swiftly as possible. If she simply did what had to be done…

Steeling herself, Aurora pushed away from the tree trunk, willing herself to calm. She might be making a very great mistake, but her decision had been made.

She would agree to become Nicholas Sabine's bride.

Tomorrow would be her wedding day.

"She accepted my suit?" Nicholas repeated, wanting to be certain he hadn't misunderstood his visitor's announcement.

"Yes," Percy assured him. "And furthermore, Commander Madsen has agreed to defer your sentence for another day so that your nuptials might go forward. You and Aurora are to wed tomorrow night."

Nick let out his breath slowly, releasing the tension that had knotted his gut ever since his capture. "You have my sincerest gratitude, Percy, for allowing me to present my case to your cousin, and for helping persuade her."

"I didn't have much of a hand in persuading her. Aurora made up her own mind."

"I imagine you underestimate your influence." Nicholas walked over to a table that now held a decanter and several glasses. "Will you help me celebrate my good fortune with a glass of wine?"

"Wine?" Percy frowned slightly as he glanced around the dingy prison cell. "I see you even have chairs now. Your accommodations seem to have improved since I was here last."

"Compliments of Commander Madsen, to express his regret at having to imprison me," Nick said dryly.

"Ah, yes. He said he owes you a debt of gratitude. I understand his brother's wife was one of the many people you ferried to safety during that uprising on St. Lucia six years ago."

"So he says. I'm afraid I don't precisely recall her."

"Madsen remembers it clearly enough. It's why he agreed so readily to delay your execution." Percy smiled faintly as he accepted his glass from Nick. "In fact, he seemed delighted to oblige. I think he's frankly angry to be left with the responsibility for carrying out such distasteful orders. And there is no love lost between him and Lord Admiral Foley, either. Madsen mentioned that he would much prefer to ship you to Barbados and let Foley deal with you."

"I'll have to see that the commander receives some significant token of my appreciation after I'm gone."

"A case of good French brandy would do nicely, I expect," Percy said with little humor. "As allies of the Frogs, you Americans have greater access to the necessities of life than we do." He glanced at the sleeping cot with distaste. "It would be even better if Madsen could be persuaded to find other quarters for you. My cousin deserves more suitable accommodations than the fortress dungeon for her bridal bower."

"She does indeed," Nicholas said with quiet grimness. "Don't worry. I'll make certain Madsen is persuaded."

"Good. But he may be willing to do it for Aurora's sake as well as your own. He's become rather smitten by her."

"I doubt he's alone in that – a woman as lovely as she is," Nicholas replied.

"Yes, but he would never have approached her while she was in mourning. Fortunately or not, her circumstances have shielded her from normal modes of courtship. In England she would have been much sought after for her rank if not her beauty, but her longstanding betrothal to Lord March kept any other suitors at bay, as did her father. I doubt Aurora is even aware of her effect on men…" Percy frowned. "Which reminds me, I feel I must speak up, Nick. My cousin is very much a lady. I hope you will go gently when you make her your bride."

Nicholas returned a cool glance. "I assure you, I have never mistreated a woman in my life."

"I don't believe you would intentionally harm her. I just meant… restrain your lust… keep your customary wildness under control. Aurora is nothing like your usual paramours. She's a complete innocent, with no experience in carnal matters."

"I will be considerate, I give you my word," Nicholas swore solemnly. "Now, perhaps we should discuss financial arrangements. The war will make it difficult for Lady Aurora to access my funds in any American banks, but I will write a letter for her to present to my cousin Wycliff in England. I'm certain Lucian will honor my wishes and provide her marriage settlement immediately. He can reconcile the amount with my estate once the war ends."

The two men spoke for a time about business matters – Aurora's jointure and what portion she would hold in trust for his sister and how the will should be written.

When Percy was satisfied the main contingencies had been accounted for, Nick changed the subject once again by saying gravely, "I would ask one more favor from you, my friend. Make certain Lady Aurora leaves St. Kitts before my sentence is carried out. I don't want my wife to see me die."

"That might be more difficult than all the rest," Percy replied slowly. "Aurora may very well refuse to leave you until the bitter end. She has a strong loyal streak, you see. She could feel obligated to stay until it is over."

"You cannot let her see me hang, Percy."

"No, I agree."

"Get her to Montserrat, by force if necessary. Wycliff's schooner should be docked there waiting to take my sister to England. They can embark directly from there."

"I shall see to it," Percy said earnestly. He met Nick's gaze. "I should be doing more to help you out of this damnable situation."

Nicholas grinned and reached out to shake his friend's hand. "You've already done more than I have any right to ask. Believe me, if I can see my sister safe, I will die at peace."

When Percy was gone, Nick lay down on the cot, his mind at ease for the first time since being taken prisoner. An odd sentiment, considering that tomorrow was to be his wedding day. Matrimony was an institution he had always ardently avoided, deploring any shackles that would restrict his much-cherished freedom. Ordinarily the prospect of taking a bride would have him rebelling, resisting with all his might. But his circumstances were anything but ordinary.

As was his bride.

Aurora Demming was a contradiction – surprisingly tough for a lady of her class and upbringing, with a stunning combination of regal elegance and allure.

Was he asking too much of her? She was the privileged, pampered daughter of a duke. Proper. Innocent. And enchanting enough to send blood rushing to his loins at the mere thought of touching her.

She was a beauty, the kind of woman to haunt a man's dreams, with pale gold hair and deep blue eyes and lush lips made for kissing.

When he remembered tasting those lips, another fierce stab of desire pierced him. Nicholas swore softly at himself. How would he manage to restrain himself? He'd had countless women. Passionate lovers who could wring a man dry. Bold, exciting ones who challenged his expertise and stressed the limits of his control. Tender ones who could satisfy his male hunger in a surfeit of pleasure. But he suspected making love to Aurora would be an experience unlike any he'd known. When he'd kissed her earlier, he'd glimpsed the fire of long-suppressed desire in her eyes.

He shut his own eyes, letting himself fantasize about his wedding night. He drew a sharp breath as he imagined having her cool beauty beneath him. The thought of rousing her to passion brought an ache to his body that had nothing to do with his injuries. A man could die happy after being in her arms.

Nicholas exhaled slowly, feeling his rigid muscles slacken.

Wedding her was no mistake. If tomorrow was to be his last night on earth, he wanted it to be in the arms of a siren whose hair glittered with sunlight.

Chapter Five

He took my body with surprising gentleness, treating my innocence as a precious gift .

The ceremony took place as planned in the fortress chapel, with Jane and Percy and Commander Madsen in attendance. Yet when Aurora first laid eyes on her intended husband, she felt an unexpected shock. He had recently bathed and shaved, and the clean, chiseled angles of his face revealed a stunning handsomeness that made her breath catch.

He was dressed as a gentleman of means rather than a condemned prisoner, in a bottle green coat and pristine white cravat that contrasted attractively with his golden skin, while his sun-streaked mane had been tamed to an almost fashionable style.

Both the fresh bandage wrapping his brow and his unsmiling face, however, emphasized the somber nature of the event. A wedding should have been a joyous occasion, but no one in the bridal party experienced any joy, including the bride and groom.

Aurora chiefly felt numb. This strange ritual was not what she'd envisioned when as a girl she had imagined her wedding day. The heavy gold ring Nicholas Sabine presented her – his own, engraved with the emblem of a masted ship – was too large for her slender finger. And the light brush of his lips on hers when he sealed their troth was almost cold. But it was the grimness in his eyes that made her heart sink.

The dinner given afterward by the commander in his quarters was slightly less solemn but still awkward, for no one could forget what was to happen the following day. There were no toasts to long life or happiness for the bridal couple, and Colonel Madsen made no secret of his anger about being forced to carry out such a distasteful duty. He took his leave shortly after the sweets had been cleared away, brushing off Aurora's attempts to thank him for his hospitality and merely wishing the company a good evening.

Percy and Jane lingered a while longer and embraced Aurora fondly when they said farewell. It had been arranged for Aurora's maid to attend her, but when Jane wanted to summon the girl, Nicholas intervened, saying he would see to his bride himself.

He ignored Jane's frown of disapproval and Aurora's questioning look, but in a few more moments her cousins were gone, leaving her alone with the man whose name she now shared.

"I trust you will forgive me if I'm not eager for company," he murmured, throwing the bolt on the door and securing them inside.

"Of course," Aurora answered unevenly, not quite certain how she should behave or what he expected of her.

"Would you like some wine? Or perhaps something stronger?"

She started to refuse, but then changed her mind, realizing wine might help ease the tension that had suddenly seized her. "Yes, thank you, I would."

The commander's quarters were neither large nor particularly sumptuous; the chamber they occupied was both a dining room and parlor. But they were the best the grim fortress had to offer.

Aurora had been surprised to learn the colonel had leant his rooms for their wedding night at Nick's request. Even in prison her new husband was not completely powerless at influencing his fate.

When Nicholas went to the sideboard, Aurora absently toyed with the overlarge ring on her finger.

"You don't have to wear it," he said, observing her action.

"I am just concerned that I will lose it. Perhaps I should put it away for safekeeping."

"That might be wise."

She slipped it into her reticule, then clasped her hands together to keep them steady.

Nicholas poured a snifter of brandy for himself and a glass of sherry for Aurora, which she accepted gratefully. Then he raised his glass in mock salute before taking a long swallow of brandy.

Unable to meet his gaze, Aurora sipped her wine more slowly. She felt her heart skip a beat when her new husband indicated the adjoining door with a polite sweep of his arm.

"Shall we retire, my lady?"

Reluctantly she preceded him into the bedchamber. The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp and a low-burning fire. Aurora eyed the bed warily. The frame was rather narrow, yet the covers had been turned down invitingly and her nightdress had been laid out with evident care. Her mouth suddenly went dry.

She felt his gaze survey her as she stood frozen. After watching her a moment, though, Nicholas went to the hearth and stirred the coals, rousing a more lively flame. "My manners are remiss again," he said casually. "I haven't thanked you yet for accepting my proposal."

"It… seemed the most sensible course," she replied, fighting to keep her voice from sounding weak.

"And are you always sensible?"

"Usually, Mr. Sabine."

"Why don't you call me Nicholas? After all, we are husband and wife now."

Aurora shivered slightly at the reminder.

He turned to her, his gaze locking with hers. "Bridal nerves are not uncommon, I understand."

"I suppose not."

"I have told you before, Aurora. You have nothing to fear from me. You needn't look as if you are going to the guillotine."

She took a deep breath, chastising herself for being such a mouse. She had agreed to become his bride, and she would uphold her end of the bargain – or die trying.

"Do you know what is supposed to happen between us?" he asked when her chin lifted in determination.

"I have an idea. Jane told me generally what to expect. I am prepared to submit as your wife."

His eyes softened. "I am not interested in your submission, Aurora. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do. In fact, I think you'll find lovemaking quite pleasurable."

"Jane said… it might prove so with you."

His faint smile held more than a hint of charm. "I shall do my utmost to justify her faith in me."

When Aurora remained immobile, Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Come and sit by the fire, sweetheart. I won't ravish you, I promise."

Aurora searched his compelling eyes, finding a tenderness there that amazingly reassured her.

Two wing chairs were arranged before the hearth, with a small cherrywood table between them. Aurora chose the one closest to the door. Nicholas remained where he was, one booted foot on the hearth fender. His tone was thoughtful when he next spoke. "Did you ever consider that this marriage business might be terrifying for me as well?"

"You?" Aurora responded in surprise.

"Yes, me." His mouth twisted in a wry, self-deprecating smile. "I've never taken a bride before. Truthfully, I've hunted man-eating tigers in India with less trepidation."

She stared at him, not believing this man with his bold vitality had any conception of fear. She studied him a moment, unconsciously admiring his ruthless good looks – the strong jaw, the slashing brows, the sensual eyes with their long, dark lashes.

She wasn't genuinely afraid of him, although she didn't know why. A man with his history of violence should have frightened her. But he was still unnerving.

There was a leashed energy in his lithe, powerful body that was intensely male. An intensity that was sexual – there was no other way to describe it. All her senses came alive in his presence, her feminine instincts acutely aroused. That was what unnerved her, she realized. His powerful sexuality… and the dismaying effect it had on her.

"I expect we should discuss the arrangements regarding our marriage," he said after another moment. "I spent most of the day with the solicitors, trying to foresee various difficulties and making every legal provision I could think of. Financially at least you will be comfortably situated."

"Thank you," she murmured, suspecting he had introduced the subject now to give her something to think about other than the consummation to come.

"Raven, however, could prove a possible problem to my plan," Nicholas mused. "She won't be eager to accept you as her guardian – a total stranger. Nor is she likely to suffer the confining strictures she'll encounter in England, either from her family or society in general. Although she claims to have every intention of conforming in order to make a good match, she has an aversion to rigid rules. She's something of a rebel, I fear. Much like me."

His crooked smile was meant to put her at ease, Aurora suspected, but the sensuality of it had just the opposite effect. "I'm certain we will work something out," she said gamely.

"Good. I've written Raven a letter, telling her how our marriage came about and explaining how she stands to gain, but you may have to persuade her to accept you as her ally. I think she will, once she understands the lengths you've gone for her."

He hesitated. "I will be relying on you to guide her, Aurora. I believe we discussed the support she'll need from you once you reach England, but there is another matter I forgot to mention. Raven's mother reportedly left something in her personal effects for me to hold in keeping… a rare book, I understand. It was a gift from my father years ago. He told me about it before he died, but he wasn't certain what happened to it. He would have been gratified to know Elizabeth Kendrick kept it all this time. She told me she wanted her daughter to have it – but not until Raven is old enough, after she is wed herself. Now that you have charge of her, you will have to be the one to judge when to give it to her. I have no doubt you will act in her best interests."

"Of course," she murmured, wondering what kind of book inspired such concern.

He shifted his gaze to look down at the hearth. Firelight played over his beautiful features as he stared at the flames. "There is one other thing I would ask of you, Aurora. Will you promise me something?"

"What?"

"I want you to leave tomorrow for Montserrat."

"Tomorrow?" Aurora felt herself frown. "Must it be so soon?"

"I would rest easier, knowing Raven's welfare is in your hands."

A chill settled about her heart. He was to die tomorrow. How could she deny him this simple request?

"Will you promise me?"

"Yes," she said, her voice suddenly hoarse.

He gave a brief nod of satisfaction. "There should be a ship at Montserrat ready to take you both to England. Your cousin will escort you to the island and see you safely aboard. I regret the inconvenience, but there is good reason for haste. By now Raven no doubt has learned what befell me, and by going tomorrow, you may reach her in time to prevent her doing something totally rash – like setting out to rescue me."

"Very well." Aurora hesitated before murmuring, "It won't really be inconvenient. Most of my packing has already been done. Before… I met you, I had planned to leave for England the following day."

"Before I intervened in your life, you mean," he responded with a twist of his sensual mouth.

There was little she could say to that. Truthfully she was glad he had intervened in her life and spared her a repugnant marriage, but this hardly seemed the appropriate time to discuss her feelings.

Firelight etched his profile as he took another swallow of brandy. "Well," he added, rather easily for a man who was about to die, "at least it will all be over for you tomorrow."

She shuddered, not wanting to be reminded of the fate that awaited him.

Almost absently, he bent to stir the coals again, and a lock of tawny hair fell over the bandage wrapping his forehead. When he raised a hand to rake back his hair, she noticed the red stain seeping through the white muslin.

"You are bleeding," Aurora said, rising to her feet in alarm.

He touched the bandage gingerly, and a smear of blood came away on his fingers. "So I am. The gash must have opened when I washed earlier."

"May I look?"

He raised an eyebrow but made no objection when she reached up to probe beneath the dressing. "Please, will you move over to the light so I can see?"

When he complied, Aurora set both their wine glasses on the bedside table and turned up the lamp. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she carefully unwound the strip of muslin from around his brow. She could feel his intent gaze on her as she inspected the wound beneath the pad.

"I doubt this is what you planned for your wedding night," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

No, this was not what she had planned. Had Geoffrey survived, this night would have been far different for her.

She would not be preparing to give herself to a stranger, nor would she have been so unnerved by her husband's nearness the way she was with Nicholas Sabine. Or so strangely excited.

Aurora mentally chastised herself. She should not be thinking of Geoffrey or comparing the two men. Geoffrey was gone, and soon so would this man be.

Her sadness must have shown on her face, for he asked quietly, "Your betrothed… did you love him a great deal?"

She flushed, realizing he had mistaken the cause of her sorrow. "Yes."

Making an effort to shrug off her melancholy, she went to the washstand and wet the corner of a towel before returning to her new husband. "Your wound bled a little. The blood should be wiped away so it won't mat your hair."

"Please do."

"Forgive me if I hurt you."

"You won't." He didn't seem inclined to change the subject, however, as she gently cleaned his scalp. "You said I bore a resemblance to your betrothed."

"I thought so at first because of your fair hair. But I was mistaken about any real resemblance. You really are nothing alike."

"How so?"

"Geoffrey was a…"

"A proper gentleman?"

"A proper, gentle man."

"Do you not think I can be gentle?" Nicholas queried solemnly.

Her heart gave a fluttering leap. "This is not what you expected either, was it?" she asked, trying to ignore the sensations he aroused in her.

"To be truthful, I never gave matrimony much thought…"

"You never wanted to marry at all?"

His brows drew together thoughtfully. "I suppose I had a vague notion that someday I would marry and sire an heir. But I was too busy sowing my wild oats to entertain any serious thought of settling down." The half smile that flashed across his mouth was fleeting, before he gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders. "It's too late now for recriminations or deliberations on what might have been."

"I regret you were trapped into an unwanted marriage," Aurora replied, her voice rough with emotion.

Nicholas reached up to close his strong hand around hers, commanding her attention. "I don't mean to spend my last night dwelling on regrets." His dark eyes held her spellbound. "Do you think we could make a pact, sweetheart? For tonight we forget everything else that has happened?"

"I would like that."

"So would I." His voice was hushed. "Very well, this is our night. Nothing exists, before or after this moment. Tonight we live only for the present."

"Yes," she whispered.

He reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape. Time suddenly seemed suspended as he drew her head down. He meant to kiss her, she realized, her pulse leaping in an erratic rhythm.

His mouth was amazingly soft and tender when it touched hers briefly, yet it stirred a riot of unruly emotions within her. She wanted to turn and run, but when he drew back slightly, his fathomless gaze locked with hers, imprisoning her as surely as any chains.

Aurora felt her heart hammering as Nicholas leisurely took the towel from her limp grasp and let it fall to the floor. Hooking his arm around her waist, he urged her closer, between his spread legs, till her breasts brushed his chest. A tremor rippled through her.

With some futile thought of self-preservation, she pressed her palms against his broad shoulders, staring at him. His eyes, dark and sensual, told her clearly he didn't intend to stop at a kiss.

"Your wound…"

"Will survive. But I might not if I don't taste you soon."

Still holding her lightly, he slowly lay back on the bed, drawing her with him. Heat spread in her, catching hurtfully in her stomach as she found herself stretched fully on top of him, cushioned by his powerful body. She trembled at the stunning intimacy of this simple contact, the unfamiliar hardness against her softness, the warmth of his frame beneath her thin silk gown.

"Open your mouth this time, lovely Aurora," he murmured as he delicately teased her into parting her lips.

The intrusion of his tongue was slow and sensual, more erotic than anything she had ever felt before. For a long moment she remained rigid, experiencing the foreign sensation of his open mourn tasting deeply of hers. He was drinking of her, savoring her. It was tantalizing, the warm stroke of his tongue inside her mouth.

She could feel herself softening, her breath quickening in steady arousal, but her simple pliancy still was not enough for him.

He left off kissing her long enough to murmur in a husky voice, "Kiss me back, sweetheart," before his mouth found hers again.

Dazed, she let her tongue shyly move to meet his and was rewarded by his low, guttural sound of approval.

The pressure on her mouth deepened. A heavy ache began forming in her lower body as his intoxicating lips and tongue taught hers about kissing. His hands stroked down her back, bringing her hips even closer to his, exciting her further.

For long moments they lay together, tasting each other in the heated silence. Aurora lost any perception of time, any sense of herself. There was only the captivating awareness of Nicholas, of his raw masculinity and his sensual, drugging kisses, of his hard-muscled body beneath hers.

Eventually his caresses became more ardent; he claimed her mouth fully, dragging her into his kiss and sending delicious liquid sensations flooding through her defenseless body. Of their own volition, her fingers moved from his shoulders to curl in the waving silkiness of his hair. His mouth was a searing flame that stole her breath.

Helplessly she pressed closer to him, longing for something she couldn't name. She felt boneless, on fire… She felt as if she were falling…

It was only Nicholas, nudging her onto her back on the soft mattress.

Her eyes fluttering open, she stared up at him. She was trembling, her cheeks hotly flushed, her senses spinning.

His eyes watched her as his hand moved to the empire-waist bodice of her gown; she felt herself drowning in their shadowed depths.

When his fingers curled over the low decolletage, she tensed, but he bent to her again, his mouth hovering just above hers, heating her lips. "Don't be afraid to feel, angel. Tonight you can abandon reason and just let your senses rule."

When she made no protest, he gently tugged on the neckline of her bodice, then drew down the edge of her chemise over the top of her corset to expose the swell of her breasts that were pushed up by the stiffened fabric. With expert skill, he bared her nipples to the night air, making her shiver. When his bold fingers found one hardened bud that quivered there, she moaned involuntarily at the delicate-sharp sensation that shot through her.

"Has no one ever touched you like this before?" he whispered in her ear, his breath warm.

"No…" The word was a breathless gasp as his thumb moved slowly over the sensitive crest, circling and teasing.

Aurora shut her eyes, giving in to the pleasure he was determined to rouse in her. His warm, commanding mouth returned to claim hers as he gently tormented her aching breasts, leaving her whole body fiery with shame and excitement.

She was scarcely aware when he slowly drew up the hem of her gown or when he reached beneath the edge of her chemise. But then his stroking palm moved higher, brushing the soft, swollen flesh at the apex there, lingering.

Aurora went rigid. When she tried clamping her knees together, he insinuated his hand even deeper between her thighs.

He was breathing deeply, his lashes a dark sweep against his tanned face as he cajoled in a husky voice, "Open your legs for me, siren, and let me touch you."

Unable to deny him, she did as she was bid. Coaxing her further, he stroked the soft curling thatch of her womanhood. A moist, aching weakness pulsed to life in the secret place between her legs. She felt so strange, melting, throbbing… Instinctively she whimpered and arched her back, longing for some fulfillment that seemed to elude her.

Yet he seemed to know exactly what she wanted, needed. With exquisite care, his finger slipped between her cleft lips and penetrated her.

She gasped into his mouth, but he continued his tender assault, exploring, probing, learning her secrets. He was wooing her, his fingers sheathed in her pulsing warmth while the rough pad of his thumb brushed the now slick bud of her femininity.

She clutched at his shoulders, not certain she could bear any more, but he went on stroking, surging and withdrawing rhythmically, driving her on to greater heights, until instinctively her hips lifted and sought to match his pace.

Almost desperate now, she moaned and twisted under his hand, the coiled tension inside her growing more urgent with every stroke that rubbed against the bright center of sensation. All she knew was the devastating heat of his mouth on hers, the hot pounding of her blood, the fierce delight of what he was doing to her.

Suddenly the pleasure was too keen, too fierce to be borne. Frantic, she writhed beneath his possessive hand, yet the glowing spark grew till it seemed to shower her with burning embers. Aurora felt wave after wave of hot, shameful sensation wash over her helpless body.

His hand rose to cradle her throat, soothing her thundering pulse beat, while his mouth feathered kisses over her flushed face.

A long moment passed before the sensual reverberations waned. Her limbs felt weak, limp, her senses dazed by the bewildering surge of fire through her body.

Opening her pleasure-hazed eyes, Aurora stared up at him. Nicholas was lying on his side, supported on one elbow, watching her. She was sprawled inelegantly on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge, her skirts hiked up to her hips, totally exposed above her stockings and garters. His heated gaze drifted over her – her bare breasts with their peaked nipples, and lower, to the juncture of her naked thighs.

Her face flushing with awareness, she reached down to put some order to her dishevelment, but Nicholas stopped her by covering her hand with his own.

"There is no need for shame or shyness between us, angel."

She averted her gaze. "I behaved like a wanton. I am not usually so… licentious."

"Only because you never before had the opportunity. I suspect you are quite a passionate woman at heart. There is a fire inside you that you keep hidden…" When she remained silent, he raised his fingers to her chin and forced her to look at him. "A man finds an aroused woman incredibly desirable."

Her flush deepened. "I never imagined…"

"How pleasurable lovemaking could be?"

"Yes."

His half smile was indulgent. "That was only a taste, sweeting. There is more – much more – for you to learn about carnal desire. And with your permission, I intend to spend the rest of the night showing you."

Aurora returned his gaze solemnly. She wanted Nicholas to teach her about passion. She wanted to feel that bewildering fire again. Tonight could be her only opportunity, this her sole experience with lovemaking. She might very well never marry again. If so, she would never again know a man's touch, or know what it was to be a woman. Yet there could be complications…

"Jane said… there could be a child from our… union."

His gaze never wavered. "Jane is very practical, it seems."

"Yes. She wanted me to know the possible consequences of being with you."

"There are ways to prevent conception, but it is possible a child could result from our union. Would that be so very undesirable?" he asked.

A strange longing filled her at the thought. "No." She would want his child, she realized. To keep some part of him after he was gone. "It wouldn't be undesirable in the least."

His expression softened. "Then there is nothing for you to fear."

Nothing except losing my heart. But the thought fled when Nicholas surprised her by sitting up.

"I suppose we should begin by shedding all these unnecessary layers of clothing."

When he reached down to help her, she reluctantly accepted his assistance. "The light," she murmured self-consciously, rearranging her bodice to cover herself. The lamplight was too bright to be merciful.

Nicholas hesitated a moment, but then obligingly turned down the lamp, leaving only firelight to illuminate the room. "Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you."

He took her hand and brought it to his cravat. "You may do the honors, love."

"You want me to undress you?"

The faint curve of his lips was devastatingly sensual. "That seems a fitting place to begin if we are to conquer your nervousness. It's only unfamiliarity that makes you apprehensive, sweetheart. When you become accustomed to me, you'll find you have nothing to fear." His compelling eyes held hers while his husky voice cajoled. "You may take the lead, set the pace. I won't force you to do anything you don't wish to do. You are in complete command."

Reassured in some measure, she tentatively did as she was bid, removing first his cravat, then his coat and waistcoat and linen shirt. His boots and stockings he removed himself. When she hesitated, he followed with his breeches and drawers.

When he stood before her, his tall, nude body lean and hard and well-muscled, she stared spellbound.

"I am your husband, Aurora," he said, his voice a velvet murmur. "You needn't fear me. I am just a man, flesh and blood like you."

He was not at all like her, she thought skeptically, viewing his naked, sun-bronzed flesh and taut sinews. He possessed a broad chest and narrow hips and powerful thighs, like the statues of Greek gods she'd seen. And the alien hardness springing from the curling, dark gold hair at his groin made her heart beat erratically. She didn't fear him exactly, but neither was she in the least at ease.

"Now your turn," he murmured. When she hesitated, he smiled. "Of course you are accustomed to a lady's maid. Would you like my assistance?"

"Yes."

"It will be my pleasure."

He began with her hair, pulling out the pins and letting the pale gold mass cascade down her back.

"You have beautiful hair," he murmured, his fingers gliding through the silken tresses. "Like spun gold."

After a moment, his hands slid beneath her hair to the fastenings at the back of her gown. Well-bred and shy about her body, Aurora stood silently as he dispensed with her gown and corset and stockings. Her chemise was the last to go. Feeling the cool night air caress her nakedness, Aurora shivered.

"Your body is exquisitely lovely as well," he said, turning her to face him. "I intend to show you all the pleasures it was made for."

When instinctively she moved her arms in front of her body to hide from him, he gently pushed them aside.

"No shyness between us, siren." He ran a finger along her throat to the tip of her breast, the erotic feel making her draw a sharp breath. "What does it matter if I see your charms? Whatever secrets you share will be safe with me."

Her vision clouded at the reminder. Come tomorrow, he would be gone. Whatever intimacy they shared would go to his grave. But tonight was what mattered now. Tonight he was her husband, her lover. She could give herself to him without fear or shame. She could abandon her inhibitions, her natural reserve.

She reached up to touch his sensual mouth with her fingertips. "You said you wanted to forget," she reminded him, her voice soft. "Nothing exists, before or after this moment."

"So I did." Tender flames warmed the depths of his eyes.

He had beautiful eyes. Eyes that took possession of her wherever they touched.

He took a step closer then, bringing their skin in contact. The heat from his body leapt into hers, shocking, scalding.

Aurora trembled at the erotic sensation, feeling her breasts graze his chest, and below, the hot, throbbing maleness of him press against her stomach.

"Have you never wondered what it would be like to lie with a man? To feel his hard flesh deep within you?" Nicholas bent his head, his lips kissing a path along her cheekbone.

Yes, she had wondered, Aurora reflected dizzily. In the most secret corners of her heart, she had dreamed about a nameless lover who could rouse her to passion -

"But if you had," he answered his own question, "you could not properly admit it."

That brought a faint smile to her lips. "No. A lady would never admit to such things."

"No, never. But if you ever have wondered… now is the time to indulge your curiosity." Capturing her trembling hand, he enfolded it around the throbbing shaft of his manhood. "Touch me, love. Feel my flesh…"

Holding her breath at the alarming size of him, she accepted his bold guidance, learning the unique feel of him. The smooth velvet skin of his phallus. The granite hardness. The swollen marble head. The soft curling hair and heavy sacs beneath. He really was not so frightening. Not any longer. If she were honest, she would admit she found the differences in their bodies thrilling. His sheer masculinity called out to everything feminine in her.

His hands rose to her breasts then, cupping their lush swells. Aurora closed her eyes and sighed. How expert he was, she thought dazedly. His hands were a murmur against her body, his fingertips gliding over her flesh, fanning over her breasts in deepening strokes.

"You are enchanting."

He was the one who was enchanting, Aurora thought, unable to resist the exquisite languor that had stolen through her limbs. He had bewitched her.

Voluntarily her mouth sought his while she moved closer, straining to feel his flesh against her. A gratified murmur sounded deep in his throat.

He kissed her for the space of a dozen heartbeats, his lips at once soothing and arousing. After a while, though, he lifted her in his arms and settled her on the bed, then followed her down to lie beside her.

His eyes half shut, his gaze sensual and compelling, he began to stroke her aching breasts again, his palms rubbing the tautened globes, his fingers kindling arrows of impossible rapture in her tight nipples.

Aurora surrendered fully to him. It was magical to lie in his arms like this, to breathe in the warm, masculine scent of him, to feel his incredible touch. Then he bent his head, savoring her stiffened nipple with his mouth, and her breath lodged in her throat.

She wanted him, she realized. Wanted to experience the spark and fire between a man and a woman that he had shown her once before. His tongue flicked over the rosy bud, rasping slowly, before his lips closed to suckle the swollen crest. Aurora arched against the scorching heat of his mouth, her hands blindly seeking his hair.

He wanted her also, she knew it. She could sense it even before his erect manhood stirred heavily against her soft belly.

And then his wonderful, teasing fingers slid down once more between her moist thighs.

"You're wet for me." His voice was husky. "Your body is flowing with honey."

It was true. Her feminine cleft was sleek with wetness, her body aching shamelessly for him. She said his name, in a voice that sounded shaky, as he stroked the soaked bud. She should have been scandalized by his brazen passion, by her own wantonness, but all she could focus on was the magical caresses of his fingers and mouth.

She was trembling with desire by the time he left off arousing her breasts and shifted to cover her with his body. Sparing her most of his weight, he settled between her thighs and began kissing her again, holding her attention. She was hardly aware of his intentions until he began easing the velvet smooth head of his manhood inside her.

When she tensed, he kissed her more deeply, his tongue penetrating her mouth like his shaft was doing. Not allowing any resistance, his powerful thighs kept her own thighs parted as he slowly, slowly sank lower, pushing forward with inexorable pressure.

Aurora stiffened, gasping for breath. She felt sure she could never accommodate his enormous size, and yet her body was opening for him, stretching painfully, his alien hardness filling her…

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath.

He was not moving now. "Look at me, sweet siren." There was tenderness in his eyes as he gazed down at her.

She lay rigid, feeling excruciatingly full of him. "It… hurts."

He kissed her temple. "Only the first time. The hurt will go away and all you will feel is pleasure." His gaze plunged deeply into hers. "Trust me."

Incredibly, she did trust him. He lay completely still, waiting for her to grow accustomed to his impalement and the feel of his thick member deep inside her. Eventually she felt a blurring of the edges of her pain.

He brushed back a tendril of hair from her cheek. "Better now?"

"Yes." It wasn't unbearable now. The burning had lessened.

After another long moment, she stirred her hips, tentative, testing. The discomfort was definitely fading.

He feathered a kiss at the corner of her mouth as he withdrew, but when he carefully slid upward once more, she felt the rise of heat in her again. He kept up the slow, deliberate rhythm, coaxing her with his hard body, until hot, urgent longing began to clamor inside her.

The hunger was as timeless as man and woman. She whimpered feverishly, her nails digging into his shoulders as she instinctively matched his rhythm. He squeezed his eyes shut like a man in pain, his breathing rough as he moved inside her, thrusting gently into her melting flesh.

When she was on the brink of climax, he reached down between their bodies to find the engorged bud of her sex. Stunned, she arched against him, straining, crying out as the shattering, burning tumult broke within her.

Nick captured her wild moans with his mouth but never stopped, using all his skill to prolong her ecstasy as wave after wave of rapture convulsed her slender body. When she bucked and writhed against him, he clenched his teeth, striving for control, trying desperately to keep his savage need in check as he lay buried deep inside her.

It was too much. A great shudder moved through his frame as Nicholas at last let himself fill her with the hot desire that he'd felt for her from almost the first time he saw her. A hoarse moan ripped from his throat as he plunged into an endless raw pleasure so intense it seared.

Finally it was over. He was shaken as he lay there in the darkness, yet eventually consciousness returned. When he felt her trembling beneath him, a fierce tenderness engulfed his heart.

Easing his weight to the side, he pulled the covers up over them and drew her into his arms. His body wrapped around her, warming her, calming her.

They lay there together, weak in the aftershocks of pleasure. After a long moment, he lifted his head.

In the firelight, she looked like a wanton angel, with her tangled cloud of hair, her pale ivory skin, her lush lips swollen and wet from his kisses.

It was amazing that she should have such an effect on him, Nicholas thought absently. She was physically inexperienced, totally virginal, and yet making love to her had created a tumult of feelings inside him that were entirely unexpected. The fierce sweetness of it had possessed him totally.

Perhaps the marriage vows they had spoken meant more than simply a cold business arrangement, bonding them together in ways he had never intended.

Wife. The word was strange, engendering even stranger feelings of longing and need. He wondered if he would leave an heir, if they had made a child. A son… or a daughter. The thought brought an odd ache to the vicinity of his heart.

As if she could sense his bewildered reflections, the woman in his arms stirred. She was watching him, Nick realized, her luminous blue eyes searching. Desire knifed through him again, sharp and insistent, but he clamped down on his lusts, reminding himself of her virginal state.

"Are you all right?" he murmured, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"Yes." A sigh whispered from her. "That was… wonderful."

A smile touched his mouth as a fresh wave of tenderness flooded him. "I'm gratified you think so."

"Was that… was I… a disappointment for you?"

He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Quite the contrary, siren. I've never experienced lovemaking quite so delectable." At her slight frown of skepticism, he gave a soft laugh. "It's true. Perhaps you're too inexperienced to recognize the fierce control I had to exercise, but it was all I could do to keep from ravishing you." He leaned forward to brush a kiss on her nose. "I could make love to you all night long… but I suppose I must show some consideration for your innocence and let you sleep."

A look of sadness passed over her face, and she reached up to touch his mouth with her fingers. "I really don't want to sleep. If this is my only night with you, I want it to last as long as possible."

He gazed at her, wanting to chase away the shadows in her beautiful eyes. She was thinking of the morning to come, he knew.

Shifting his position, he eased over her.

"So do I, angel," he whispered huskily as his mouth lowered to find hers. "So do I."

Chapter Six

In his embrace I discovered the wonder and the anguish of desire .

Confusion was Aurora's first reaction as she slowly stirred awake. Her body felt unusually sensitive, her lips and breasts tender, while an unfamiliar discomfort throbbed between her thighs. Blinking at the sunlight filtering through the chinks in the shutters, she tried to place the strange, spartan bedchamber. More bewildering, she was pressed against a hard, warm, male body that was decidedly nude…

Memory came rushing back full force. Her marriage. Her husband. Nicholas Sabine.

For a moment she lay in his arms remembering, her cheek against his shoulder, their limbs entwined. For much of the night he had made love to her with exquisite tenderness and passion. What she had expected to be a brief, obligatory bedding had become a true wedding night. Nicholas had awakened her to desire, given her her first taste of ecstasy, leaving her trembling and shaken.

And she had surrendered to him completely, responding with an abandon verging on desperation. Despite their pact, the dire future he faced had added a primal urgency to their lovemaking.

Aurora bit her lower lip hard. Last night he had made her forget her sadness, but the dreaded morning had come. Today he would die.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't allow herself to care for him. He was a condemned man…

Yet it was already too late. She had begun to feel a deep affinity for her new husband, which made it all the harder to think of him dying.

The tears she'd been fighting started slipping down her cheeks and onto his bare shoulder. When she felt him stiffen, she realized he was awake.

Determinedly, she drew a shaky breath, trying to stem the flow of tears.

"I don't want you to grieve for me, Aurora," he said in a low voice.

"I c-can't help it."

"God, please don't cry… I would rather face a brigade of charging cavalry than one weeping woman." His hand came up to caress her cheek. "Your tears are the worst possible torture for me."

"I… I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes while his thumb carefully wiped the tears away. After a while she drew another shuddering breath, determined not to weep. Yet she could no longer bear to remain idle while he went to his death.

"This cannot be allowed to happen," Aurora vowed, her own voice low and fierce, "I won't allow it. I intend to visit the governor at once and compel him to stay your sentence. Sweet heaven, how could I have been so blind not to think of it before now?"

Disentangling himself from her nude form, Nick sat up, turning his back to her. "Might I remind you of your promise to help my sister?" he said quietly. "Your cousin has arranged to escort you to Montserrat today – this afternoon."

"I can't leave here as long as there is a chance your life could be spared."

Nicholas raked a hand through his hair. He had feared this very response from her. She wouldn't abandon him to his fate, not now. Not after the incredible night just past. The passion that had blazed between them had shocked them both, creating an emotional bond that would be hard to break.

With a silent oath, Nick glanced down at her to see tears glistening wetly on her lashes. It made him ache to see her crying, yet he couldn't allow his fate to come before his sister's. He couldn't take the risk. Somehow he had to sever the bond between them.

She was gazing up at him, her eyes intensely blue, her hair a golden cloud, her lush lips swollen from his kisses. She was as beautiful as anything he had ever seen. And as vulnerable.

Reaching for her hand, he raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss on her knuckles. "I thank you for making my last night a pleasant diversion, sweetheart, but it is over now. Since our marriage has been consummated, there is no longer any need for a pretense of affection between us."

When the color drained from her face, Nicholas locked his jaw. He wanted to take back the cruel words making light of the searing passion they had shared. But he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by the hurt in her eyes.

He forced himself to hold her gaze, even when she pulled back her hand and drew the covers to her breasts in a defensive gesture.

Schooling his features to impassivity, he rose and went to the washstand to clean away the results of the night's passion. He could feel her watching his naked back, but when he turned to dress, she averted her face.

"We had a bargain, you will remember," Nicholas said coolly as he drew on his drawers. "Your financial independence in exchange for supporting my sister. I trust you will honor our agreement."

Her chin came up at that, as if he had stung her pride. "Certainly I shall."

He was glad to hear the edge of anger in her tone; that was far more bearable than tears.

He donned his breeches, then sat in one of the wing chairs before the hearth to pull on his boots. "Your cousin Percy has all the documents you will need, and my letter to Raven as well. Show it to her when you reach Montserrat, along with my ring as proof of our marriage. She will recognize the ship emblem – "

Just then a thudding noise sounded in the outer room. Nick froze, while Aurora flinched. Someone was pounding on the parlor door. The garrison soldiers, no doubt.

"Sir, we have orders to return you to your cell," a brusque voice called out.

"One moment, if you please," Nicholas responded. "I have yet to finish dressing."

He drew on his second boot, then his shirt. Without haste he tied his cravat and donned his waistcoat and coat. All the while, Aurora remained silent, still stunned and hurt by his sudden coldness.

"So this is farewell," he said when he finally turned to her.

"I suppose so," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. She stared back at him, searching for any sign of the passionate, considerate lover she had known last night. There was none. He was a stranger again, his lean face beautiful and hard.

"I am counting on you to care for my sister," he repeated.

"You have my word," she forced herself to say tonelessly.

"And you will set sail for Montserrat today as you promised?"

"Yes."

"Then I can rest in peace."

When she put a hand over her mouth to hold back a sob, he took a step toward her, then stopped abruptly. A muscle tightened grimly in his jaw, but he remained silent.

He gave her one long last look before turning away. As she watched, Nicholas left the bedchamber without another word, shutting the door softly behind him.

Aurora stared after him numbly, wondering how he could have turned so cold after his exquisite tenderness last night. Wondering how she could bear the feelings of dread and anguish that were gnawing so relentlessly at her.

But there was still time, perhaps, to save him…

She had just thrown off the covers when a tentative rap sounded on the bedchamber door. Her heart skipped a violent beat, her first thought that Nicholas had returned. But the voice that called out softly was female and belonged to her personal maid.

"My lady, 'tis I, Nell. The gentleman… your husband… bid me see to you."

"Come in, Nell," Aurora said, hiding her fierce disappointment as she rose and went to the washstand.

Nell blinked to see her normally modest mistress entirely unclothed. "I… I've brought your traveling dress for the journey this afternoon, my lady, and ordered hot water for your bath – "

"No." Aurora shook her head. Soaking in a hot bath might have eased the unfamiliar aches of her body, but there wasn't time. "Thank you, Nell, but I will make do with wash water. And then you must help me dress quickly. I must pay a call on the governor at once, and there isn't a moment to lose."

She had to try to save Nicholas, even if it meant defying his wishes and breaking any or all of her promises to him.

Aurora found the governor, Lord Hearn, at his plantation home, where she pleaded fervently with him to intervene with the navy and spare her husband's life. It took all her powers of persuasion to convince him simply to consider such a politically damaging step. Even then, his lordship insisted on discussing the matter with his lieutenant governor first.

She wasted precious time searching for Percy, making a fruitless trip home. By the time she tracked him down at his offices, nearly three hours had passed since she had said farewell to Nicholas in their bridal bower, and the day had turned chill gray, with dark storm clouds threatening to the south.

When she met Percy coming out of his offices, his expression looked as grim as she had ever seen it. He greeted her tersely, saying he was just on his way home to find her. And when she began telling him about the governor's possible willingness to intervene, Percy shook his head. "Aurora, I am afraid it is too late."

"Too late? What do you mean?"

"I received a message from Commander Madsen only moments ago. He has already acted. Nicholas is gone."

Aurora felt herself turn white. "No… that can't be true."

"I'm sorry. It is."

"He can't be dead," she whispered hoarsely. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to stem her cry of despair as pain lashed through her.

After a moment, Percy reached out to take her other hand. "Aurora, you know Nicholas would not want you to grieve for him. He wished you to forget about him and move on with your life…Indeed, we should be leaving shortly to find his sister. Not only did I promise Nick I would escort you there this afternoon, I don't like the looks of the sky. A storm is brewing, and we should make haste if we hope to outrun it My yacht is waiting to take us to Montserrat – "

"I want… to see him."

He frowned. "I told you he is gone."

"I want to see his body. Please, Percy… I cannot go without saying good-bye."

He gave a heavy sigh. "I feared you might feel this way, that you wouldn't be convinced to leave until his fate was final. Very well. I will take you to see his grave, if you insist. He was buried at the fortress."

She stood over the freshly dug grave in stricken silence, her heart as heavy as the dismal sky, while tears slipped relentlessly down her face. There was no headstone or marker. Only bare, pungent earth to indicate the passing of the man whose vital presence had touched her life so briefly… and so powerfully.

Aurora bowed her head, fighting to hold back a sob. She felt cold, sick inside. And along with the salt of her tears was the bitter taste of guilt. Guilt for not trying to do more to save him.

Nicholas, I'm sorry.

"Come now," her cousin murmured at her elbow. "You have a promise to fulfill."

She nodded mutely, the muscles of her throat locked tight.

Percy understood why she'd had to come here. Only seeing Nicholas's grave could convince her that he was truly gone.

Only now could she accept the finality of his death.

She donned widow's weeds for the journey to Montserrat – a traveling dress of black bombazine that she'd originally worn to honor the memory of her late betrothed. No sooner had Aurora and Percy boarded his yacht, though, when the dark sky opened up. They were forced to wait nearly an hour before the rain diminished enough to permit them to set sail.

Aurora was glad for the storm, for the weeping sky and lashing winds mirrored her mood exactly. She watched dully from the captain's stateroom as the storm spent its fury outside.

The worst of the squall bypassed them to the south, but choppy seas made the short voyage to the nearby island rough. However, by the time they arrived, the angry clouds had turned to scudding fleece, with the sun making an occasional appearance.

Because of its rugged green hills and considerable Irish population, Montserrat was known as the Emerald Isle of the Caribbean, and after the rain, it glistened like a jewel in the sun. When the schooner dropped anchor, the passengers were rowed ashore. Percy hired a carriage, which swept them past rich flatlands planted in sugar cane toward gentle, tropical-forested mountains. The climb offered a magnificent view of the sea, yet Aurora scarcely noticed. She was grateful for her cousin's silence, for she wanted to be alone with her own dark thoughts.

Eventually the driver brought them to a halt before a plantation home. The house had a certain charm, boasting the arched stonework and shaded balconies of the West Indies, brightened by colorful bougainvillaea and hibiscus. But it had seen better days, as evidenced by fading whitewash and peeling green paint on the shutters.

No grooms or footmen came to greet them, and when Aurora and Percy climbed the front steps to wield the knocker, a long wait ensued before they heard the sound of movement from within.

A young woman opened the door. She was dressed in a plain blue muslin gown and held a pistol in her hand.

Aurora blinked to find the weapon aimed at her heart, while at her back Percy muttered an oath and roughly drew her aside, out of direct range.

The young woman lowered the pistol with a murmur of apology. "Forgive me. I expected someone else. We've had trouble lately…" Her voice trailed off.

"What sort of trouble?" Aurora asked, recovering from surprise.

"Some rather unpleasant visits by the British navy." Her mouth curled in derision, before she schooled her features to politeness. "What may I do for you?"

"We're here to see Miss Raven Kendrick," Aurora replied, although she knew this must be Raven. A rebel and a beauty, Nicholas had said. This young woman was certainly that, with her ebony hair and blue, blue eyes and her deadly looking pistol.

"I am Miss Kendrick" Raven answered. "And you are…?"

"Lady Aurora… Demming. And this is my cousin, Sir Percy Osborne. We are here on behalf of your brother."

A look of alarm crossed her face. "What do you know of my brother?"

Aurora swallowed, momentarily made mute by the ache in her throat. She felt Percy's hand at her elbow, supporting her.

"He was taken prisoner, that much I know," Raven declared. "Is he all right?" When Aurora's eyes blurred with tears, the girl's mouth went white. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"I… I'm afraid so."

Raven's eyes filled with grief. After a moment she turned away, bowing her head as she struggled for composure.

Finally, though, she turned back. "What happened?" she whispered hoarsely.

"It is rather complicated," Aurora answered in a low voice. "May we come in?"

"Yes… yes, of course." Squaring her slender shoulders as if bracing for a blow, she stood back to give her visitors admittance.

Three days later Aurora stood at the stern of a two-masted brig with her new ward, watching the island of Montserrat fade to a green speck on the horizon. It had been harder than she expected to say good-bye to Percy – everything had been harder with her heart so heavy. She would miss her cousin and Jane dearly.

Fortunately the past three days had been a whirlwind of activity, offering little chance to grieve. Aurora had spent the interval helping Raven make final preparations for her relocation to England: packing up her worldly possessions and closing the house, bidding farewell to the last few servants, and selling the last-remaining livestock, including a mare Raven was inordinately fond of. They both shared a passion for horses, it seemed.

During that time Raven had single-mindedly thrown herself into her tasks. She'd spoken little about her half brother, but Aurora suspected the girl mourned his death with a surprising intensity. Though Raven hadn't known Nicholas long – only a few years – during that short time she had apparently grown quite attached to him. Aurora thought it fortunate that she and Percy had arrived on Montserrat when they did, for Raven was indeed planning to leave the next day and go in search of her brother.

The girl had been shocked by his death and taken aback to learn about the change in wardship. But once she read Nicholas's letter, she offered little protest to the arrangement – confiding that she saw the benefit of having someone like Lady Aurora guide her in society and claiming to be glad for Aurora's consoling presence.

Aurora thought Raven showed remarkable courage in leaving behind the only life she had ever known. It couldn't be easy, traveling partway around the world to live in a strange country with scornful relatives she had never met, attended only by her maid and a faithful Irish stablehand named O'Malley, who apparently had appointed himself Raven's personal guardian.

Now, standing beside Aurora at the ship's railing, Raven kept her chin lifted and stubbornly set as she watched her home disappear.

"You have always lived on the island, have you not?" Aurora murmured in an effort to distract the girl's sorrow.

"The whole of my life."

"I know you will greatly miss it."

Her mouth quivered momentarily, making her seem younger and more vulnerable than her nineteen years. But she quickly controlled it. "It doesn't matter. This is what my mother always wanted for me." Taking a deep breath, Raven pointedly turned to face the bow of the ship. "And I have no family left now."

"You have me," Aurora said gently.

"I'm glad." She managed a tremulous smile. "I'm glad Nicholas found you."

Repressing the shaft of pain that pierced her at the remembrance, Aurora faced forward as Raven had done. "You shall make a new life in England, Raven. We both shall."

"Yes." Clenching her jaw, Raven slipped her hand in Aurora's.

Inspired by the young woman's courage, Aurora raised her gaze to the endless sea, where home beckoned. She, too, would have to leave the past behind and look toward the future. A future without Nicholas.

"A new life," she vowed in a fierce whisper.

Sleepless, Aurora lay curled beneath the covers of her bunk, watching as dawn spread rosy fingers of light through the shipboard cabin. The brig belonged to the Earl of Wycliff, and the cabin she shared with her maid was comfortably if sparsely appointed.

There was no reason to rise early. The voyage to England would last seven or eight weeks if good weather held, and this was but the first morning. Except for their servants, she and Raven were the only passengers on board, and they both made poor company at present.

The cabin was quiet except for the steady slap of waves against the hull and the breathing of her maid, who had finally fallen asleep in the opposite bunk after feeling ill much of the night.

Too quiet, Aurora thought regretfully. She could not be grateful for the solitude, her first since leaving St. Kitts. For the most part, she had managed to bury her own sorrow, avoiding thoughts of Nicholas above a dozen times a day, refusing to allow herself to dwell on her loss. At least until now. Now, in the quiet of dawn, the pain came rushing back with renewed force.

Closing her eyes, she fingered the ring he had given her, which she wore now on a gold chain around her neck. The metal was warm from her body and reminded her acutely of Nicholas and the searing passion they had shared on their brief night together.

Unable to bear the solitude of her dark thoughts any longer, Aurora rose and braced herself against the sway of the ship as she silently began to dress. Even though she would have been glad for the companionship, she had no wish to wake poor Nell. Perhaps if she went above deck, she might find the captain or one of his officers to bear her company.

She was extricating a shawl from her valise when she came across the parcel wrapped in layers of tissue paper. Her fingers traced the name written in a weak hand: Nicholas Sabine. The parcel had been left for him by Raven's mother among her possessions.

Aurora felt her heart twist strangely as she opened the wrapping. Inside was indeed a book as he'd expected, although not just any book. Aurora caught her breath at its stunning beauty.

The cover was inlaid with gold leaf and adorned at the four corners with clusters of semiprecious stones. Embossed into the gold was the title: Unepassion du coeur – par une dame anonyme.

A Passion of the Heart – by an Anonymous Lady.

Curious, Aurora opened the jeweled cover. The book was a journal, she realized, written nearly a hundred years ago, though it had been published more recently.

The first entry, also written in French, was dated September 3,1727:

It has been seven months since I was captured by Turkish corsairs and sold as a slave in Constantinople into the harem of a prince. Seven months since my gradual conversion from despair to desire, to unwilling love.

Only today was I allowed pen and parchment to set down my thoughts about my captivity.

I remember vividly the day I was brought before him as his concubine. I was so innocent then, a Frenchwoman of good family, unprepared for the mysteries of passion that awaited me at the hands of my new master. I could not know how profoundly he would affect me, awakening a woman's tender longing and hungry desire.

At first glimpse he seemed infinitely dangerous, even barbaric. And yet something in his eyes called to me…

Aurora shut her eyes, reminded so poignantly of the first time she had seen Nicholas on board the naval frigate.

Then, he had been a captive, bound in chains, and yet he had seemed just as dangerous, just as compelling, as the prince in the journal.

She moved on, turning pages that seemed worn and obviously well read. Nicholas had said the book was his father's gift to the woman he loved. Raven's mother had evidently loved him in return, if the condition of the pages were any indication. Numerous passages had been underlined, one of which drew Aurora's eye.

His hand on my breast was at once soothing and arousing, his skilled fingers stroking my taut nipple, a torment to my sensitized flesh.

A flush of embarrassment stung Aurora's cheeks at the explicitness of the text. She had promised to read the journal and decide whether it would be appropriate to give to Raven, but she could answer that question with one glimpse.

Nicholas could not have known the scandalous nature of the journal's content. She herself had never read anything so openly licentious. And yet she couldn't deny its forbidden allure. The Frenchwoman's erotic descriptions had a poetic, lyrical quality about them that was at once powerful and fascinating.

Her gaze settled on another passage at random: His bold touch inflamed my innocent senses, driving me to greater heights of pleasure, kindling the burning need in me.

Nicholas, oh Nicholas. She closed the cover, unsure she could bear to read something that brought back such tormenting memories.

Wrapping her shawl about her to ward off the dawn chill, Aurora hesitated a long moment before picking up the journal and leaving the cabin.

Above deck, the crew was scurrying over the brig, climbing the rigging and adjusting the innumerable sails. Not wanting to be in the way, Aurora went to stand at the rail.

After the dimness of her cabin, the bright sunrise blurred her vision. Or perhaps it was tears. She could barely see the vast ocean stretching out before her. The brilliant blue-green waters of the Caribbean had become the gray of the Atlantic, while a chill breeze buffeted the ship, making the canvas snap overhead.

Shivering, Aurora wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her face to the wind, glad for the numbing effect.

She stood at the railing for a long while, her heart aching as she remembered Nicholas. He had been so vital, so larger than life – For mercy's sake, stop thinking of him!

Somehow she had to force her memories of Nicholas out of her mind. That brief chapter in her life was closed. When she reached England, she would make a fresh start. She would begin a new life for herself, one free of emotional tumult. She would be her own woman, with no domineering father or commanding husband to control her or make her life a misery.

Faith, she should be counting her blessings rather than wallowing in sorrow for a man she hardly knew. Logically she should be grateful their marriage had lasted such a short time. She could never have been comfortable with Nicholas as a husband. His intensity, his passion, his raw virility, were too overwhelming…

Whatever bonds they had formed were physical. Bonds of the flesh, not of the heart. Their marriage had been a purely cold-blooded business contract, nothing more. And she would have to bury his memory with the same cold-blooded detachment.

With renewed determination, Aurora swallowed the ache in her throat and forcibly turned her thoughts to the journal she clutched in her hand. The lady had been captured as a slave but found passion in the arms of a magnificent stranger. What was her tale? How would her story end?

Anxious for the distraction, Aurora found a keg to sit on out of the direct force of the wind. Then, her heart taking up an unsettling rhythm, she opened the jeweled cover to the first page and began to read.

At first glimpse he seemed infinitely dangerous, even barbaric. And yet something in his eyes called to me…