Louise Allen - Seduced by the Scoundrel

‘You ask too many questions,’ Luke said, his eyes still trained on the sea. ‘That is dangerous, be quiet.’

A threat—or a warning? Averil put down her empty plate and mug and studied his profile. She could believe he was a man of violence, one who would kill if he had to and do it with trained efficiency, but she could not believe now that he would kill her. If he had been capable of that, he would have been capable of raping her last night.

‘It is less dangerous to tell me the truth.’

‘For whom?’ he asked. But there was the slightest curve to the corner of his mouth and Averil relaxed a little. ‘Perhaps later.’

The rowers were close now and she could see Tubbs at the tiller and Hawkins heaving on an oar. Some sound must have escaped her lips for Luke turned towards her. ‘They won’t hurt you—you are mine now.’ He dipped his head and the shock of his mouth on hers, here, where the men could see them, froze her into immobility. It was a rapid, hard kiss on the lips, nothing more, but it felt startlingly possessive and so did the way his hand stayed on her shoulder when he stood to watch the men land, his pocket watch in the other palm. That big hand would curl into a formidable fist in her defence. She could feel the pressure of each finger and shivered—how would it feel if he caressed her?

‘Not bad,’ he called down to the rowers as they splashed through the shallow surf and up the beach. ‘You could do better. The rest of you, get going. On my mark—now!’

There was a scramble as the others heaved themselves aboard and began to back-water away from the shore. The first crew, without a backward glance, made for the fire and the food Potts had left for them. Then they saw Averil on her rock and they slowed like a pack of dogs sighting a cat, their eyes narrowing.

Luke left his hand where it was for a moment longer, then strolled down to meet them. ‘Close your mouth, Tubbs, or something will fly in,’ he said mildly. The man muttered and a snigger went round the group as their eyes shifted between Luke and Averil.

She wanted to run. Instead she got to her feet, picked up Luke’s plate and walked down to the fire. ‘More bacon, darling?’ Somehow she produced the purr that her friend Dita had managed to get into the most innocuous sentence when she wanted to flirt. Dita, who was probably drowned. Averil blinked back the prickle of tears: Dita would have both charmed and intimidated this rabble.

Close now, they gawped at her and Averil remembered what Luke had said about the wolf pack. These men eyed Luke as much as they ogled her, on the watch for his reaction, edgy as if they waited for him to snarl and lash out if they encroached on his property.

‘Will the others beat your time, do you think?’ she asked, direct to Tubbs.

He blinked, startled, as if the frying pan had addressed him. ‘I reckon we’re better by a length,’ he said when Luke did not react.

‘The boat looks very manoeuvrable. At least it seems so to me. I have been on an East Indiaman for three months, so any small boat looks fast.’ She sat on the grass by Luke who had hunkered down, apparently intent on the gig. Without looking at her he put out his arm and tugged her closer and the men’s eyes shifted uneasily. Now what? Instinct told her to keep talking to them, make them acknowledge her as a person, not a commodity, but she dared say nothing that would seem as if she was probing into their purpose here.

‘Had a lot of treasure on it, did it?’ Dawkins said.

‘Not bullion, I’m sure. But there would have been silks, spices, gem stones, ivory, rare woods—those sorts of things.’ There could be no harm in telling them; the cargo would have gone down or been ruined by the water.

‘You come from India, then?’ one of the men asked. Luke began to stroke the side of her neck languidly, as a man pulls the ears of his gun dog while they sit and wait for the ducks to rise to the guns.

Averil found she was leaning in to him, her lids were drooping … She made herself focus. ‘Yes, India. I lived there almost all my life.’

‘Ever see a tiger?’

‘Lots of them. And elephants and huge snakes and crocodiles and monkeys.’

‘Cor. I’d like to see those. Did you ride on the elephants?’

They asked questions, and she answered, for almost twenty minutes. She felt better, safer in their presence now. Almost safe enough to be alone with them, she thought and then caught Dawkins’s eye and almost recoiled. What the big man was thinking about was plain to see and her whole body cringed against Luke.

His hand stilled. ‘What?’ he murmured.

‘Nothing.’

He stood, pulling her to her feet. ‘Just time to show you that washing I want doing. Timmins, bring a bucket of hot water and one of cold from the well.’

‘I suppose you realise I have never washed a garment in my life, let alone a male one,’ Averil said as they walked back to the old hospital.

‘Men’s clothing ought to be easier,’ Luke said. ‘No frills, no lace, stronger fabric.’

‘Sweatier, dirtier, larger,’ Averil retorted. She lifted one hand and touched her neck where he had been stroking it. The skin felt warm and soft, and her own touch sent a shiver of awareness through her that was disconcerting. She had not wanted him to stop, she realised, shamed by her reaction. What was the matter with her? Was she naturally a complete wanton, or was it shock, or perhaps simply instinct to try to please the man who could protect her?

‘You are a belligerent little thing, aren’t you?’ Luke said as they stepped into the hut.

‘You would be belligerent under the circumstances,’ she snapped. ‘And I am not little. I am more than medium height.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, and turned, trapping her between the wall and his body. ‘No, not little at all.’

‘Take your hands off my … my breasts.’

‘But they are so delightful.’ He was cupping them in his big hands, the slight movement of his thumbs perceptible through the linen of the shirt.

‘Don’t,’ she pleaded, as much to her own treacherous body as to him.

‘But you like it. Look.’

Shamed, she looked down. Her nipples thrust against the fabric, aching, tight little points, demanding attention.

‘I cannot help that reaction, any more than you can help that, apparently.’ The bulge straining against his breeches was very obvious. Luke moved back a little and she remembered another of her brothers’ lessons. But his reactions were faster than hers. No sooner had she begun to raise her knee that she was flat against the stones, his weight pinning her.

‘Little witch,’ he said and bent his head.

The kiss was different standing up. Even though she was trapped Averil felt she had more control, or perhaps she was just more used to the sensations now. She found she no longer wanted to fight him, which was disconcerting. She moved her head to the side and licked into the corner of Luke’s mouth, then nipped at his lower lip, almost, but not quite hard enough to draw blood. He growled and thrust his pelvis against her, blatantly making her feel what she was doing to him.

Averil let him take her mouth again, aching, wanting, despite the part of her mind that was screaming Stop! She was going to have to sleep with this man again tonight—was he going to be able to control himself after this?

‘Damn it,’ Luke said. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes dark, his breath short. ‘I think you’ve been sent to try my will-power to the limit—’

The door banged open behind them, and he turned away so abruptly that she almost fell. ‘Over there by the table, Timmins.’

The man put down the buckets and walked out while Averil hung back in the shadows behind the door. He must have guessed what they had been doing, she thought, her face aflame.