LITMIR.BIZ

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you? This was done for your safety and freedom.”

      “I ain’t exactly in irons.”

      Diana had no idea where her sweet, proper brother had gone. “I was speaking of your future freedom. In exchange for it, I’ve promised to bring these men to England where they’ll hang.”

      His blue eyes nearly popped out. “You have no bloody right to do this to me or them.”

      “Enough, Peter.” Tristan’s rumbling voice cut through the other noise. “Your sister deserves your respect.”

      Peter lowered his face and stood silent as a statue, obeying Tristan far too readily.

      Even with his hands bound behind his back and facing certain death, Tristan was quite relaxed, his stance belonging to one who ruled and seduced.

      Unnerved, she stepped back. “Reeves.”

      The muscular seaman finished restraining a pirate. “Yes, miss?”

      “If Captain Kent’s unable to hold his tongue, gag him.”

      Peter inhaled sharply. “No.”

      “Quiet.” Tristan gave the boy a hard look. “Not another outburst, understand?”

      Peter nodded obediently.

      She frowned. “You just gave your final order, Captain. You’re no longer my brother’s master to whip and beat him as you see fit.”

      “You’re making a great mistake about what truly happened.”

      “I’m warning you.”

      He lifted his dark eyebrows. “Against what? I have no desire to do anything except to please you while you please me.”

      Her pulse raced. “Please you? I’d rather die.”

      A smile played across his sensuous lips. “You want the same as me. You’ve much to learn. I look forward to teaching you.”

      Heat flooded her chest and throat. She took Peter’s arm to hurry him along. “We must go.”

      He wouldn’t budge. “To where?”

      “I’ll explain further once we board the Lady Lark.”

      “I can’t leave these men or me captain.”

      “It’s my, not me, as you well know. Please stop speaking like a common pirate.”

      “Why? It’s what I am.”

      “No. Never say such a thing again.” She tugged his arm, but couldn’t pull him more than a few steps. “Will you move, please?”

      “Not from here.”

      She’d risked everything to save him and received this behavior in thanks? She wanted to shriek. “Be grateful for my rescue. Don’t you understand? Your time with Kent has come to an end.”

      “And yours, Diana, has only begun.” Gone was Tristan’s patient manner and seduction. He was determined and dangerous now, befitting the pirate he was.

      She tingled with fear and an emotion she didn’t want to identify. Something akin to excitement, which was mad. She pushed her feelings aside. “It would be best you heed your own advice, for words do have power. They should be used with great care.”

      “They have been.”

      Chapter 2

      Diana stared, then lifted her chin.

      Tristan fought a smile. Her trembling mouth and lingering gaze proved her uncertainty and interest. She didn’t understand him, was determined to hate him, but wanted him nonetheless. As he did her. His cock strained against his breeches, craving her inner heat. The reverend’s courageous and honorable daughter would bring him endless pleasure. He had yet to touch her, but already she belonged to him, no other.

      She pivoted. Her braid swung, its dark color making her complexion seem even paler. In the future, he wanted her clothed in nothing except her glorious mane and two jewels he’d have her wear. Hopefully, she wouldn’t fight him too much on his fantasy.

      She pulled Peter toward the Lady Lark. At her endless words and flailing hand, the boy wilted. He’d met his match in her, but he wasn’t yet a man.

      The sorry souls who were men had paid the price for their drunkenness, the situation past control.

      “Captain.” Henry Wells staggered across the sand, lost his balance, and toppled over. “What in the hell is going on?”

      Reeves hauled the pirate to his feet. “You’re going to hang.”

      Henry wailed.

      One of Diana’s men grabbed Tristan’s arm. He made no move to fight. Yet. “My book, if you please.” He inclined his head to Homer’s tale. “I would never forgive myself if I left my mother’s most prized possession behind.”

      The man squinted at the cover. “That the Good Book?”

      Even from where he stood, Tristan could read the title. His captor could not, no different from other illiterate mariners. “It remained with her till the very end.”

      The man’s rough features softened. “Mine died in Newgate.”

      “A terrible place.” Tristan’s mother had spent much of her brief life in the prison. During his visits to her, he’d endured the stench from too much humanity caged like animals, and had been horrified at the prisoners’ endless screams. They convinced him never to exist in filth, nor let anything or anyone steal his self-respect and hope. He would live and die clean. He’d always be free. “When I’m there myself and surely when I hang, I want her book with me.”

      The man trudged through sand to fetch it.

      In the confusion and activity, no one watched Tristan. Inside a mangrove stand a doubloon flashed, the gold coin reflecting the firelight. The coin glinted repeatedly, spelling out James Sullivan’s message.

      Good man. Tristan suspected James hadn’t kept a proper watch because he’d helped Peter collect the crew’s water. Upon their return, the boy had probably stumbled unknowing into camp while James, who was far more experienced, had held back.

      Tristan inclined his head to where Diana had pulled Peter.

      The coin flashed in answer. James understood what to do.

      Tristan’s captor strode back. He shoved the volume beneath Tristan’s arm and led him across the sand.

      To the promise of freedom and the reverend’s wondrous daughter, Diana Fletcher.

      * * * *

      Despite a chair in the great cabin, Peter sat on the floor, legs pulled to his chest like a common pirate, not the proper boy Diana loved and had raised. Holding back sorrow, she stepped around him to get a better look at his back. He shifted, hiding it. She hurried to his other side. He twisted away.

      She stilled. “Please let me see your injuries.”

      “Ain’t got none.” He scooted back and slumped against the wall. “Them’s scars.”

      Good Lord. This wasn’t what she’d expected from their reunion. Peter should have been weeping, clinging to her as a frightened young boy would, grateful for his rescue.

      She sank next to him, wearier than she’d ever been. “Why did you run off to sea?”

      He shrugged.

      “Talk to me, please.”

      “Why? Won’t change nothing.”

      “Anything. I want us to be like we were before, sharing our woes and happiness.”

      “Ain’t going to happen. I’m a man now.”

      She wasn’t certain

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