Bad Boys Ahoy!

Chapter One

British West Indies, February 1813

He'd stolen a bride.

Sebastian Blake gripped his knife with white-knuckled force and kept his face impassive. If the beauty in front of him were to be believed, he'd stolen his own bride.

He watched as her chin lifted with defiance and her dark eyes met his without fear. She was tall and slender, with blonde curls tumbling down from a once-stylish arrangement. Her lovely watered-silk dress was torn at the shoulder, revealing a tempting display of creamy breast. A sooty handprint marred her flesh, and unable to help himself, Sebastian reached out and rubbed the offending mark away with gentle strokes of his thumb. She stiffened, and lifted her bound hands to knock his away. He met her gaze and held it.

"Tell me your name again," he murmured, his hand tingling just from that simple contact with her satin skin.

She licked her bottom lip, and his blood heated further. "My name is Olivia Merrick, Countess of Merrick. My husband is Sebastian Blake, Earl of Merrick and future Marquess of Dunsmore."

He lifted her hands and stared at her ring finger, noting his crest etched in the simple gold band she wore.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned away, striding to the nearest open window for a deep breath of salt-tinged air. Staring out at the water, he espied the debris from her ship bobbing in the waves. "Where is your husband, Lady Merrick?" he asked, keeping his back to her.

Hope tinged her voice. "He awaits me in London."

"I see." But he didn't, not at all. "How long have you been married, my lady?"

"I fail to see-"

"How long?" he barked.

"Nearly two weeks."

His chest expanded on a deep breath. "I remind you that we are in the West Indies, Lady Merrick. It is impossible that you were married only a fortnight ago. Your husband would not be able to await you in England if that were true."

She was silent behind him, and finally he turned to face her again. It was a mistake to have done so. Her beauty hit him with the force of a fist in his gut.

"Would you care to explain?" he prodded, relieved he sounded so unaffected.

For the first time, her bravado left her, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "We were married by proxy," she confessed. "But I assure you, he will pay whatever ransom you desire despite the unusual circumstances of our marriage."

Sebastian moved toward her. His calloused fingers caressed the elegant curve of her cheekbone and entwined in her hair. Her breath caught, and her lips parted in response to his gentle touch. "I'm certain he would pay a king's ransom for beauty such as yours."

Through the smoky smell that clung to her, he could detect the arousing scent of soft woman, warm and luxurious. He reached for the blade strapped to his thigh and withdrew it.

She flinched away.

"Easy," he soothed. Sebastian held out his hand and waited patiently for her to step forward again. When she did, he sliced through the rope that tied her hands together, and sheathed his knife. He rubbed the marks on her delicate wrists.

"You are a pirate," she murmured.

"Yes."

"You have taken my father's ship and all of its cargo."

"I have."

Her head tilted backward on the slender neck, and she gazed up at him with melting chocolate eyes. "Why, then, are you being so kind to me, if you intend to rape me?"

He caught her fingers and placed them on his signet ring. "Most would say a man cannot rape his own wife."

She glanced down and gasped at the heavy crest that mirrored the one on her own band. Her eyes flew up to his. "Where did you get this? You can't possibly…"

He smiled. "According to you, I am."

Olivia stared up into intense blue eyes and felt certain her heart would burst from her chest. Her mind faltered, stumbling over the shocking revelation that the notorious Captain Phoenix was claiming to be her husband.

She backed away from him in a rush, and he reached to steady her when she started to fall. A whimper escaped as his touch burned her skin. The day's events had shaken her, but it was the gorgeous face of the infamous pirate that made her legs feel weak.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his presence sucked all of the air from the tight confines of the cabin. His black hair was unfashionably long, and the darkness of his skin betrayed how much time he spent outdoors. He was wild, untamed-a man of the elements.

She'd watched, fascinated, as he'd swept onto her ship and took command of it within moments. Phoenix had executed the attack with brilliant precision-not one man was seriously injured, and no one had been killed. Having spent most of her childhood on her father's ships, Olivia recognized skill when she saw it.

The way he'd used his sword and barked commands, the way loose tendrils of his hair had blown across his face, the way his breeches had delineated every stretch of his muscular thighs-she'd never experienced anything so thrilling. So exciting.

Until he'd touched her.

Then she'd discovered what excitement truly was.

Now she watched, mouth agape, as his long, elegant fingers went to the open collar of his shirt and plucked at the laces. Phoenix tugged the billowing linen from his breeches and drew it over his head.

"Good grief," she gasped, startled by the heat that tore through her veins and flushed her skin as his chest was revealed to her. Her breasts grew heavy, the tips aching.

Phoenix smiled, well aware of the effect he was having on her. His body moved with arrogant grace, powerful muscles rippling beneath tautly stretched skin. Dark hair spread lightly over his chest, tapering to a fine line that traveled down his stomach to disappear beneath his waistband. His arms bulged as he shook out his shirt and stepped closer.

She'd never seen a bare-chested man. Even on her father's plantation, the workers were required to remain clothed, her doting father's way of shielding her maidenly sensibilities. Despite this lack of knowledge, she was certain no other male could claim Phoenix's magnificent form.

Olivia snapped her mouth shut and waited until he was close enough so she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. It took everything she had to resist touching him, to resist burying her face in his chest and breathing him in. He smelled wonderful, a sun-warmed and salted male in his prime. His hands came toward her, his hot gaze dropping to the exposed curve of her breast.

"Hell's teeth!" he growled as the edge of his blade met his aroused cock. Incredulous, Phoenix looked down at her hand, then again at her face. He released a slow, wary breath. "I wouldn't recommend castrating me, sweetheart. One of your duties, after all, is to bear my heirs."

She inhaled a shuddering breath. "I do not believe for even a moment, Captain, that you are Lord Merrick." But the idea was not distasteful. Romantic notions and girlish fantasies-

Phoenix met both of those and so much more. Her father would never have approved of this man, a pirate worlds apart from the carefully selected earl she'd been told to expect. The pirate would not be to any father's taste, but he suited her secret desire perfectly.

Phoenix's brow arched in sardonic amusement. "But you cannot be certain. Have you ever met your husband?" Her hand shook nervously, and he winced. "Steady, love," he cautioned. "You may one day desire the appendage you are so grievously threatening."

"The only appendage of that nature I'll be desiring is my husband's," she retorted.

She watched his grin come back in full force, revealing a dimple on the left side of his lush mouth. How could a pirate have a dimple?

"I'm relieved to hear that." His voice was deep and seductive, purring like a predatory cat. "I wouldn't be agreeable to an adulterous wife."

"I am not your wife!" she snapped, flustered by his charm and her response to it.

"If what you say is true, then you are indeed my countess. And despite-," he shot a pointed glance at his blade, "-your charming introduction, you are not displeased with me as a spouse."

"How can you say that?"

"I didn't. Your nipples did. They are hard and aching for my touch, pressing so delightfully against the bodice of your gown."

With a horrified gasp, Olivia covered her breasts, and he easily plucked the wicked knife from her fingers. He handed her his shirt. "Here. Cover yourself until I can locate your trunks. I have no wish to display your bountiful charms to my men. We've been at sea for months, and their control is stretched." He eyed her appraisingly for a long moment and then chuckled. "Bold as you please," he murmured.

She stiffened, wondering if Phoenix found her deportment unappealing, and was disturbed to realize that she cared if he did. All of her life, she had accompanied her father on his frequent trips to London. With a child's awareness, she'd quickly discerned that Polite Society disparaged them because of their common background and her father's work in trade. To protect her feelings, Olivia had learned to disregard the opinions of others. But the pirate's opinion mattered. More than it should.

"I've learned to care for myself," she said defensively.

His dimple flashed again, momentarily stunning her wits. "I'm not complaining," he assured her. "Your father is well-known to me, sweet. I am aware that he is a busy man. I'm pleased you acquired some independent thought and intrepidness." He moved toward the door, apparently unaffected by the attraction that seared her senses.

"Wait!" she cried. Unreasonably, she didn't want to be left alone. His crew was a coarse lot. They'd pinched and groped her, tugged at her hair, and ruined her gown. Intrepid she might be, but a glutton for punishment she was not. "You cannot leave me here alone!"

Phoenix paused on the threshold, his features softening. "No one will come into this cabin without my permission. You'll be safe here."

She shook her head in denial. Her hands began to shake as they clutched his shirt against her chest, the garment still warm from his body and scented of his skin. "Don't leave me."

"I must go," he replied gently. "I have to give orders to my crew, secure your ship, and locate your belongings." He frowned. "Where is the proxy?"

"It was returned to England with the solicitor immediately after the signing."

"Who signed for me?"

Olivia started at his angry tone, and the first seeds of doubt entered her mind. "Lord Dunsmore," she answered softly.

His eyes narrowed. "And you didn't find it odd that your husband didn't come for you himself? You never wondered why he was unable, or unwilling, to at least sign the proxy even if he couldn't be bothered to marry you properly?"

Her bottom lip quivered at his sudden vehemence, and she bit it to hide the betraying movement. But Phoenix was too perceptive. With a muttered oath, he came back to her. His thumb brushed across her mouth, freeing her lip from her teeth. His gaze remained anchored to the spot where he had touched her. Olivia couldn't breathe. Her lip burned.

"You are a beautiful and desirable woman," he murmured. "Why settle for marriage with a man sight unseen?"

"I'd hardly call marrying a marquess 'settling,'" she whispered against his thumb.

He stiffened, and dropped his hand from her. "For the title, then."

Olivia shook her head. The title was important to her father. All she'd ever wanted in a marriage was passion, like her parents were reputed to have had. "It was my father's wish that I marry Lord Merrick. I could not defy him."

She was all that her father had. To disappoint him or sadden him was more than she could bear.

Phoenix searched her face for a long moment. Then he turned and left the cabin without another word, taking with him all of the crackling energy he exuded.

Sebastian assessed the blessedly minor damage to his father-in-law's ship and cursed his father for putting him in this predicament. He leaned against the railing and closed his eyes as the salty breeze ruffled his hair.

The sea had been his demanding and quick-tempered mistress for five years now. Disregarding his past, she had welcomed him with open arms. She had soothed the hurts that had caused him to flee his home and had given him an existence as distant as possible from the one that had pained him. Now a new life had been created for him without his knowledge or consent. Miserable as he was to admit it, Sebastian had no doubt Olivia was telling the truth.

What exactly the marquess had intended by marrying him off he couldn't fathom. He hadn't been in touch with any member of his family in years. What had they planned to tell the poor girl when she arrived and found her husband missing?

He snorted. "Girl" was incorrect. Olivia Merrick was all woman. His woman. His wife.

Hell and damnation.

Sebastian kicked aside an abandoned sword and cursed so foully that all the men on deck looked his way.

For all intents and purposes, he was married. To the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and the daughter of Jack Lambert, one of the richest merchants in the world. If marriage had been a goal of his, he'd have been pleased. But he didn't want to be married. He had no desire to return to England and assume the role that should rightfully have gone to his brother, Edmund.

"Phoenix."

Sebastian turned to face Will, his first mate, a burly man whose enormous physique contrasted sharply with his harmless-sounding name. "What is it?" he asked curtly.

"We found 'er ladyship's things." Will's bushy mustache twitched. "I've never seen the like. A bed, and bath, and fresh water stored for the use of it. But when we tried to take 'er trunks into yer cabin, she damn near shot Red's 'ead off."

"Shot him?"

"Aye, wiv yer pistol."

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to ward off a headache. Damned vixen, he thought, but a reluctant smile curled his mouth nevertheless. Olivia had fire and spirit-qualities he admired in his bed partners.

Good God! Horrified, he shook the thought right out of his head. No. He was not going to even think about bedding her. Bedding her meant keeping her, and he sure as hell wasn't keeping her. She deserved better than a pirate.

"I shall see to her," he grumbled. "Have the men begin repairs to her ship. I want to return Lady Merrick to her father posthaste."

He was briefly surprised at how easily he used his title to refer to her, and then hastily shoved the thought away.

"Aye, Captain." Will's laughter followed him below deck.

Sebastian rapped on his cabin door. "My lady? 'Tis I. I'm coming in." He entered cautiously, peeking his head around the door and searching out her shapely form. He found Olivia sitting at his desk, drowning in his shirt, leveling a pistol at his chest. The mere sight of her made him ache. Golden and determined, she was a tigress.

"Do you know what you're doing with that?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

He kicked the door shut behind him and headed toward the sideboard for a much-needed libation. Her gaze burned into his back, causing him to smile. "Care for a brandy, sweet wife?"

"Is there any proof you are my husband?" she asked curtly.

"Is there any proof you're my wife?" he retorted, pouring her a glass of the deep red liquid with the hope that it would soothe her ill humor.

"The ring…"

Sebastian held his hand over his shoulder and waggled his ringed finger at her.

She snorted.

"Who taught you the use of a pistol?" he queried as he warmed the liquor over a candle.

"The foreman on my father's plantation."

When he turned to face her, he found his gun resting on the desk and Olivia staring pensively out the window. "Your father approved?"

"My father doesn't know. I wanted to learn. There was no cause to distress him."

Withholding a smile, Sebastian moved toward her, admiring her elegant profile, with its pert nose and obstinate chin. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and the thought of claiming that lush mouth with various parts of his body nearly made him hard. He set her brandy atop his nautical charts and propped his hip against the desk.

"What are you thinking, love?" he prodded gently.

She reached for the snifter without looking, and he pushed it into her hand. "That you should put on a shirt."

"I'm quite comfortable, but I'm touched by your wifely concern."

In the midst of a large swallow, Olivia choked. He thumped her back until she waved him off. "I'm fine!" she gasped. Wiping the tears from her lashes, she glared at him. "What are your intentions, Phoenix?"

Sebastian reached over slowly, giving her time to draw away. She didn't. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered wildly as he rubbed the cuff of his shirt, brushing the edge of his finger deliberately along her bared wrist. He felt her shiver and hid his satisfaction. The attraction, it appeared, was mutual.

"The men have begun the necessary repairs to your ship. It should be seaworthy again within a sennight, at which time we'll head to the nearest port. I will leave my ship and travel with you to England. We shall arrive on British soil, seek out our parents, and unravel this debacle. Then we can obtain an annulment and part ways."

"Oh… I see." Olivia looked out the window again.

Sebastian sat tensely at her silence.

"What if I don't wish to have the marriage annulled?" she queried finally.

His eyebrows shot up. "You wish to be married to a wanted criminal?"

Her brief side-glance was intriguing and arousing, showing a surprising lack of fear. By all rights she should be terrified, yet she appeared completely at ease. She swirled the rest of the brandy in the snifter, watching the play of light with undue attention. "Lord Merrick is not a wanted man."

"Do you believe I am Merrick?"

Olivia shrugged. "I'm reserving judgment at the moment."

He downed his brandy and then moved to the hammock that hung across the corner. Hopping in, Sebastian settled his hands behind his head. "You appear quite comfortable for a woman in the bedchamber of a pirate."

She blew a loose lock of hair off her face. When it fell right back into its previous annoying place, she reached up and freed the entire glorious mass. His body hardened instantly. Olivia Merrick was stunning, a siren.

"I don't appear to have much choice in the matter, and so far you have deported yourself much better than the men under your charge."

"I apologize for your mistreatment," he said, watching her plait her waist-length hair. He'd never observed the act before and was startled to realize he enjoyed the intimacy of it. "It will never happen again."

Tossing the finished braid over her shoulder, Olivia downed the rest of her brandy in one gulp. Her eyes watered, and she waved at them with her hands.

Sebastian couldn't contain the obvious question. "Why would you wish to maintain the marriage?"

A moment passed before she found her voice, and when she spoke, it was husky from the fiery abrasion of the potent liquor. The thrill elicited by the throaty sound made his cock strain against his breeches.

He imagined for a moment that she was hoarse from passionate cries of his name, pleasured sounds he'd call forth with deep, drugging thrusts of his cock into her lush body. Sebastian knew already she'd be hot and wet. Olivia was a passionate woman in ordinary matters. In the bedroom, she would most likely burn a man alive.

"For all the reasons I agreed to the marriage in the first place," she murmured. "To please my father, to run my own household, to have children and the security of a man's name." She ran a fingertip over a delicately arched brow before locking gazes with him again. "No one knows your secret, and I certainly won't enlighten anyone. I will have the protection and status of your name, with none of the inconveniences of a husband. In fact," she said, obviously warming up to the topic, "if you are indeed Sebastian Blake, the situation pleases me in a way it didn't before."

He stroked his hand down the center of his chest, noting the way her eyes followed the movement with ravenous attention. "You would maintain my house, bear my name and my children?"

"Of course," she replied, blushing as her gaze returned to his. "I am aware of my responsibilities as your… er… Lord Merrick's wife."

"You would have to welcome me to your bed." He paused for emphasis. "Often."

Her eyebrow lifted. "If you are who you claim to be, I would welcome you eagerly."

Sebastian stilled at that. In fact, he couldn't move. The image her words brought to mind had him throbbing painfully. "My title would elicit eagerness in you?"

"I am not that shallow," she said, with a lift of her chin.

"Then my form is what you find so attractive?"

Olivia snorted. "Attractive? You are a heathen."

He shot up, setting the hammock swaying perilously. "A heathen?"

"Yes, look at you." She waved in his direction. "Your hair is unfashionably long. Damn near as long as mine."

"It is nowhere near that long!" he argued, put out. "And don't swear!"

"And your muscles," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken at all.

"What about my muscles?" he growled.

"They're huge. You look like a savage." She rose from the chair and moved to stand in front of the window.

"A savage?" he sputtered, his feet hitting the floor with a thud.

"Most definitely." She coughed, her shoulders shaking.

Sebastian stalked toward her. "I'll have you know, most women find me irresistible."

"Really?" she drawled, sounding unimpressed.

"Yes, really. I was quite the rake when I resided in London," he bragged, unaccountably upset by her dislike of his appearance.

"I'm certain you thought you were," she choked out. "Or perhaps you were more civilized at that time."

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. He spun Olivia around to face him, only to discover she was laughing, her lovely eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.

"You're mocking me." He smiled against his will.

"Just a little," she gasped, clutching her stomach.

She was either mad from the stress of the day's events or… enchanting. Sebastian became engrossed in the intimacy of their shared amusement, the rest of their problems fading into obscurity. His hand came up and drew a line down the bridge of her pert nose, which she wrinkled when he tapped the tip.

Olivia stared at him with admiration in her dark eyes, a look that salved the sting his ego had felt mere moments ago. "A savage with a delightful dimple," she murmured under her breath, brushing her fingertip along his cheek.

"Why are you out here?" she asked almost breathlessly. "You, a nobleman of vast wealth and prestige. Why turn to piracy?"

"Ah…" He ached to pull her closer. His throat tight, his hand dropped to her shoulder. "You believe me."

She snorted again, a thoroughly unladylike sound that he found charming. "I'm just foxed is all, and willing to indulge you for the moment."

"My lady, you should pay greater attention to your choice of wording. You have no notion of the indulgences I require." At her confused frown, Sebastian clarified, "I am no gentleman."

"You are an earl, my lord."

"It's a title, Lady Merrick, and it has nothing to do with my character."

"You have been trained and bred for your-"

"I have been cursed," he said hotly. "My older brother, Edmund, was to bear the title, but he was killed in a duel five years ago."

"A duel?" she repeated, her eyes widening. "How dreadful! I am sorry."

"Yes, well… so am I, I assure you. Especially since he was defending my honor." He gave a harsh laugh. "As if I had any to quibble over."

"He must have loved you very much."

"Edmund loved the title," Sebastian scoffed.

Olivia met his intense gaze without flinching. "What happened?"

He longed to make some flip, roguish, or snide comment to deflect her prying. He wanted to sneer at her and cut her, scare her, and push her away. But his next words would do the deed just as well. "I foolishly compromised a young lady. When her older brother came to me and demanded that I marry the chit, I refused. She was no innocent, as I knew firsthand. And the way we were caught left no doubt in my mind that I'd been snared in a trap."

Her hand flew to her mouth, and his own mouth curved derisively. "Instead of demanding satisfaction from me, her brother approached Edmund, whose damned sense of honor prevented him from refusing. I learned of the duel only after it was over. My father woke me from my bed with the news." He didn't even attempt to hide the bitter edge that crept into his voice. "I was foxed and debauched when he shouted the congratulations at me, as if I'd planned Edmund's demise." He closed his eyes. "Edmund was groomed for his place. I, on the other hand…" His voice trailed off.

Why was he telling her these things? The words falling from his mouth had never left his lips before.

"You, on the other hand, are too wild and untamed for such a station," Olivia finished.

Sebastian opened his eyes to find her facing the window, allowing him a modicum of privacy to collect himself. He moved to stand behind her, close enough so that his breath stirred the strands of hair at her crown and her evocative scent fired his blood. His hands clenched into fists.

"I'd wager you were a wild child," she continued, her honeyed voice pouring down his spine, hardening his cock. "You most likely could not bear to sit through your lessons, got dirty regularly, kissed girls you had no business kissing, and defied your father at every turn just to spite him for having such a perfect firstborn-a sibling you could never hope to measure up to."

Stunned at her perceptiveness, Sebastian stared sightlessly out the window.

"Am I close?" she asked.

"Too close," he admitted gruffly. "How did this conversation progress so rapidly to the deeply personal?"

"Your remarkable eyes betray the ruthlessness of your nature and your restlessness. I've been pondering what circumstance could possibly have driven you to this life you live." She turned to face him. "Did your father tell you how sorry he was that it was not you who had died instead of Edmund?"

His breath hissed out through clenched teeth. Olivia looked through him, into him, seeing things she had no right to see. Her eyes filled with a sympathy he didn't want, damn her. Lust, yes. Passion, admiration-he wanted all of those from her. But pity…

His teeth ground together until his jaw ached.

"So you are determined," she continued, flaying him with her words, "to prove to him and anyone else paying attention that he was indeed correct and you are a worthless 'spare' for his heir. Being the man you are, you can do nothing half-measure. No, you had to rebel in the worst possible manner. Perhaps you've even hoped to be caught in the midst of your misdeeds. Then your father's humiliation would be complete. Why else would you wear the signet ring that betrays you?"

He longed to smash something, to tear something apart. Furious, torn open by her censure, Sebastian grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to him. His voice came low and full of scorn. "Your words reveal the astonishing depths of your naivete."

Her lovely face flushed at his disparagement. "I have given you no reason to be cruel."

"Perhaps I am always cruel," he jeered, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. "You know nothing of the man I am."

Her chin lifted, her eyes sparked with anger. "Unhand me, Phoenix. Now."

He pulled her closer. "What would you know of rebellion?" he growled. "You, the dutiful daughter, marrying a man sight unseen to please your father. I'd wager you've never rebelled in your life!"

"I have!" she yelled, shaking with fury. Her lips, red and moist, parted with her rapid breathing.

He arched a disbelieving brow, his entire body hard with anger and fierce desire. "When?"

"Right now." And then she yanked his head down and mashed her lips to his.

Chapter Two

He wasn't kissing her back.

Olivia noted that fact immediately, but her stubbornness would not allow her to desist, even though her pride begged her to cease her foolishness.

"Kiss me, damn you!"

He'd caused this fever in her blood with his half-dressed state and fierce eyes. Phoenix was driving her mad, drawing her to him while pushing her away.

"Don't swear!" he muttered.

And then his arms came around her, and his mouth moved hungrily over her own. His tongue swept across her lips, teasing, urging. He tasted like brandy and wicked things, and her core throbbed in response. Her lips parted in a breathless gasp, and he took the invitation to slip inside. His tongue sought out hers, brushed across it and under it, finding sensitive nerve endings and stroking them with velvety licks.

Oh. Dear. Heaven. The man knew how to kiss. Her toes were curling in her slippers.

Angry and possessive, hungry and bold, Phoenix took over her senses with blatant skill. Unable to resist, she surged into him, wanting more. More of him.

"Steady," he murmured, securing her body against his strength, his large hand moving to her neck and tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder, keeping her still for the ravishment of his mouth.

Olivia moaned when his other hand slipped beneath his shirt and found the curve of her breast, wrapping around the underside, testing its weight. His thumb caressed in gentle strokes, teasing her. Over and over Phoenix circled the straining peak, causing sparks of pleasure to radiate outward and down to the place between her legs.

Oh, why wouldn't he touch her where she ached?

"Touch me." She grabbed his wrist and thrust her hardened nipple into his palm. "Here." She moaned as her body melted. "Oh, God… touch me everywhere."

"Olivia." His kiss lost its faint trace of gentleness. He devoured her, his tongue thrusting rhythmically into her mouth, his fingers plucking and twisting, pulling on her nipple, until she wept from her core. Olivia ached all over. Her skin was too tight, too hot. She wanted to rip her clothes from her body and press her nakedness to his. Instead she caressed his skin, squeezing the bone and sinew beneath, relishing the way his body shuddered against hers.

Lord, he smelled heavenly, like the wind and the sea, passion and pure male. When the knock came at the door, she didn't even register it until Phoenix pulled away.

"What is it?" he called hoarsely, one hand still working at her breast while the other pressed her heated face into his throat.

"Captain, we're 'aving problems wiv the other crew," Will bellowed through the closed portal.

Phoenix growled his frustration. "I'll be on deck in a moment."

Heavy footsteps moved away from the door.

"No…" she protested, lost in the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the taste of his mouth. She would give anything for a respite from the madness that claimed her and knew instinctively that he was the cure.

He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. "I must go, sweeting, while I'm still able."

"No." She tugged his neck toward her open mouth, and at first he resisted, then he crushed her against him, tight enough to feel the heat and hardness of his desire through her skirts. Olivia kissed him desperately, wantonly, hoping to make him as mindless with need as she was.

Phoenix thrust her away with a curse. "You're flirting with the devil," he bit out. "Cease, before you get burned."

She winced as the door slammed shut behind him.

Olivia wasn't certain how much time had passed, but the sun had moved steadily across the sky and she knew the day was close to ending. The wind had picked up, pushing a welcome breeze into the cabin, cooling the air and her blood. Mortified by remembrances of her earlier behavior, her face heated and she squirmed in her seat.

What in God's name was the matter with her? She'd never in her life kissed a man, let alone touched him or begged him to touch her. And Captain Phoenix of all people! A man reputed to be as dangerous and deadly as a viper. Why didn't she fear him? Why did she wish to bare herself to his gaze and open her body to whatever he desired?

A knock sounded, and she moved quickly to the desk, collecting the pistol. "Yes?" she shouted, her heart racing. Had Phoenix returned?

The door opened. "'Tis Maggie, milady," her abigail called.

Olivia released a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment. The young servant entered, followed by three sailors. Two of the men hefted yokes with steaming buckets, and the third held her small hip bath. They poured the hot water and then brought in her trunks. Shooting wary glances at the pistol, the pirates departed the room with haste, and Maggie shut the door behind them.

"Are you well?" Olivia asked with concern, wondering how the young girl had fared in the company of Phoenix's men.

"Um?" Maggie hummed distractedly as she stepped over to Olivia's trunks and began to sort through her clothing. "Oh, yes. Quite well. His lordship made certain of it."

The abigail came to her and easily tugged the huge shirt over her head. When the sleeve caught on the gun, Olivia set the weapon on a trunk and laid the shirt next to it. She missed the garment immediately, infused as it was with the scent of Phoenix's skin.

Maggie began to loosen the fastenings to her gown.

Looking over her shoulder, Olivia asked, "What if he should return?"

The maid chuckled. "Little chance of that happening. He's fixing the main mast."

"What?" Olivia shot a worried glance out the window. The wind continued to pick up speed. "Why didn't he delegate the task?"

"He said it was too dangerous with the wind blowing like it is."

"Good God!" Olivia headed toward the door. He could be killed. And for some odd reason, she couldn't bear to think of it.

"Milady! You cannot go out there now. Your gown…"

Olivia clutched her bodice and ran from the room. When she gained the deck, she looked up at the sky in horror. Still bare-chested, Phoenix clung to the mast, his powerful muscles bunched with exertion, his silky hair blown loose from its queue and whipping around his face. From her vantage, his large form seemed tiny, and yet he appeared at home in the turbulence. His movements were sure and efficient as he struggled against the gales, no fear evident in the expertise of his actions. In fact, no one around her seemed even remotely fearful. Her heart, however, beat a panicked rhythm, ready to burst from her chest.

She sensed the large presence that moved up to her side, and turned to look at the red-haired man she'd nearly shot earlier.

"Ye shouldn't be up 'ere on the deck," he grumbled. "The men can't 'elp but ogle ye, and the captain won't be liking that at all."

"I tried to tell her," Maggie muttered as she came up behind them.

"What the devil is he doing?" Olivia cried, loose hair from her plait blowing around her face until she could barely see. "Can't the repair wait until the wind dies down?"

Red shrugged. "Surely. But 'e was already up there, so 'e might as well finish."

As the wind whipped by again, she returned her gaze to Phoenix. She screamed as he lost his grip and was blown free, his body dangling precariously by the rigging. He was suspended there as the wind flew by, and then his hold began to slip. Unable to watch, Olivia turned to Red and buried her face in his chest, her fists clutching handfuls of his filthy shirt. No one could long survive being battered against the mast like a flag.

"Damned stupid fool!" she cried into the pirate's chest as the men on deck scrambled into action.

It was unreasonable, this horrid fear that clawed at her vitals and tortured her mind. Phoenix was a stranger of only hours' acquaintance. But they'd been intimate. He'd touched her in ways she'd never touched herself. He'd made her feel reckless and wild. She'd felt alive-

Warm hands gripped her shoulders and turned her, pressing her face into salt-flavored bare skin. "Hush, love," Phoenix's deep voice purred in her ear, his warm breath fanning across her neck, his hair blowing around them.

Olivia sank into him with relief. Her fingers clawed at his back, pulling him closer. "You bloody idiot!" she scolded.

He chuckled. "Don't swear, sweetheart. I'm fine."

She pulled back and slapped his chest with a smack that tingled her palm. "You won't be when I've finished with you! Are you daft? What were you doing up there in weather such as this?"

It was then that she saw his arm, bleeding and chafed raw from the coarse rope that had saved his life. "Oh… look at your arm." Her hands went to the injury, and her eyes flew up to his.

"It's nothing," he said dismissively, absently rubbing the spot where she'd hit him.

Maggie leaned over. "I can make my grandmother's healing tea. It'll take a bit to cook up, but it works miracles."

"Yes, do that." Olivia returned her gaze to Phoenix as the abigail moved away. "I have some salve to put on this. Return to the cabin and allow me to tend it."

The blue of his eyes darkened. "I suppose you'll insist, and threaten me with some weapon or another."

"If I have to."

He offered a mocking half-bow. "After you."

Clutching her bodice, Olivia hurried down to the cabin, willing her heartbeat to slow. Her entire face was marked with his scent. Salty and spicy, it was a richly masculine smell of hardworking male and pure Phoenix. Every breath she took was redolent of the faint traces of his cologne and his unique fragrance.

She threw open the door and rushed to the smallest of her trunks, all the while agonizingly aware of his presence behind her. Delving around, Olivia found the small jar of medicinal salve and straightened, turning to face her pirate captor. He stood just inside the closed doorway, watching her intently, his hands fisted at his sides. The room drew in, shrinking, until there was nothing but Phoenix and her and the powerful attraction between them.

"Come closer," she urged.

His brows drew together as his gaze dropped. Olivia followed it, catching sight of her gaping bodice offering him an unhindered view of her breasts. She hastily covered herself, embarrassment heating her cheeks. His face was hard, his body as still as stone, a statue of a god rendered in flesh and bone.

Turning her back to him, she set the salve jar atop her trunk and retrieved the shirt he had given her earlier. "If you rub that into your-"

She stumbled into silence when he appeared at her side.

How a man as large as Phoenix could move with such stealth she couldn't fathom. He stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and the warmth of his breath as it gusted across her shoulder in unsteady measure. He tugged the shirt from her hands and tossed it away. Wordlessly, he reached for the jar and opened it, scooping up a small amount of the salve. Olivia watched unmoving, arrested by his proximity, as he set the jar aside and picked up her hands. He began to rub the salve into her chafed wrists, his touch strong yet gentle and soothing. The moan that rose in her throat escaped without thought.

"You like my touch," he whispered hoarsely, "don't you?"

Helplessly, she lifted her face and stared into his eyes. She swallowed hard. "It burns."

Phoenix nodded, his gaze knowing. "Offer me your mouth." Although his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the command.

Caught in his spell, Olivia's lips parted as his head dropped to hers. At the first contact, her knees went weak. She would have fallen if he hadn't drawn her close. Her senses flooded with his taste, her body softening instinctively for his. His head slanted, finding the perfect fit, and his tortured groan made her dizzy.

Arms around her waist, Phoenix lifted her feet from the floor and carried her to the small corner table. He kicked the chair aside and laid her on the polished surface. Following her down, his mouth never left hers, his tongue sweeping inside with caressing licks.

He gripped the torn edges of her gown, and with a harsh, impatient tug, he ripped the garment and the chemise below it to the waist. His hands went immediately to her aching breasts, plucking the tips, twisting them, the way he must have sensed she desired. Her sex flooded with moisture. He was ravishing her, pillaging and plundering, and it was just what she wanted him to do, what she'd wanted him to do since he'd first come onto her ship.

Olivia moaned into his mouth. "What are you doing to me?"

"What are you doing to me?" he retorted harshly. "Only hours I've known you, and already you drive me to madness." He nuzzled her throat, then blazed a burning trail of open mouthed kisses to her breasts. "I want to devour you, fill you with my cock, ruin you."

"Phoenix…" She shied away from the tumultuous sensations that were entirely new to her, but she could not escape him. The pirate held her pinned, his hard body pressed between her spread legs. He sucked a straining nipple into his hungry mouth, the combined effect of his tongue strokes and the rhythmic pulling causing her to grip his hair convulsively. Unable to help herself, Olivia arched upward and rubbed herself against the straining length of his erection. Pleasure speared through her, hot and searing. Stunned, she sank back onto the table.

"No," he ordered around her breast. "Don't stop…" He ground his cock into her, moving his attentions to her other breast, and Olivia moaned loudly, her body on fire. Phoenix pulled back far enough to push the volume of her skirts out of the way. His hand brushed the damp curls of her sex, and he stilled.

His gaze moved to hers as he slid a long finger through the slickness of her desire and parted the soft folds. He circled and rubbed the tiny spot where she ached, causing her back to arch on a startled cry and moisture to flood his hand. Groaning, he eased inside her. She murmured a faint protest, but her hips lifted of their own accord, pushing into the wicked invasion.

"You're so hot, so tight." His finger slid in to the base. With his free hand, he lifted her leg until her slippered foot rested on the surface of the table. Then he pushed her knee outward, completely opening her to his gaze. He stared at her sex and withdrew his finger. Olivia watched, fascinated, as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked his finger inside. "Ummm," he purred, the sound deeply sexual.

He lifted and spread her other leg as he had the first. She flushed, knowing she looked wanton, her gown ruined, her breasts exposed and damp from his mouth, her sex open and glistening with her lust for him.

Phoenix brought both hands between her legs-one spreading the sheltering lips while the other slipped the long, calloused finger back inside her. He began to pump in and out, his gaze arrested by the sight. Her hands gripped the rounded edges of the table, her lower lip caught in her teeth, as she struggled to remain silent. She wanted to cry out, to scream. It felt so wonderful she could hardly bear it. Tension built, coiling in her stomach and shooting outward in hot waves. She didn't understand it, but her body knew, her hips lifting in counterpoint to his movements.

She was so wet, so wild, for him, Olivia could hear the sucking sounds of her body as it tried to hold the plunging finger within her. And then there was more of him inside her-two fingers, drenched in her cream, thrusting in and out. She released her lip and cried out, her body shuddering.

"Please…" she begged, but she didn't know for what.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he growled. "The feel of me inside you. You'd like my cock, wouldn't you, sweet? Stretching you, filling the emptiness that my fingers cannot."

His intense blue eyes remained locked on the place where he claimed her, as he slowly slid down her body, his skilled fingers never ceasing their torment. He licked his lips, and his scandalous intent became apparent. "No," she whispered in protest.

"You will not deny me this," he bit out. "A small taste of heaven before I return you."

Olivia knew propriety dictated she stop him, push him away, but she couldn't, not when Phoenix looked at her the way he was doing now. She rose onto her elbows and watched his mouth descend, his tongue slipping like fire through the petals of her sex.

She ground her hips restlessly into the table. It was horrible and wonderful and wicked. And she loved it, loved how he made her feel, loved to watch him so totally focused on her. His expert tongue lapped her aching sex in a way that soothed and excited at the same time. Olivia spread her legs wider, arching up into his mouth, feeling empty just as he said she would, despite his rapidly stroking fingers. With frightening understanding, he seemed to know exactly what she needed, his tongue held rigid as it flicked against the source of her torment, the source of her pleasure. Phoenix dropped to his knees, concentrating the full extent of his skill on pleasuring her mindless. Higher and higher he pressed her, making erotic sounds of enjoyment against her flesh, until she couldn't bear it any longer. His fingers moved faster, his tongue lapped harder, his growls grew louder-

Her orgasm made her scream, her entire body stretching taut across the table and shaking with sensation as she convulsed in ecstasy against his mouth.

He remained between her legs, sliding his fingers from her and replacing the loss with his tongue until she regained control of her breathing. Only then did he stand and cover her body with his.

"Phoenix…"

He pulled her against him, his body rigid and damp with sweat. Olivia knew he had not felt the same pleasure he had given to her.

"Tell me what to do," she begged against his throat. "Tell me how to please you."

"You did," he assured her in a gruff whisper. "To feel you come in my mouth… 'twas a singular experience, love."

"I want-"

"I know what you want," he interrupted dryly.

"Please. I want to pleasure you as well."

"No."

Her eyes slid closed, and her head fell to the side, away from his mouth. "You don't want me… that way."

"Look at me." Phoenix clasped the sides of her face in his large hands and forced her to face him. His fiery blue gaze burned into hers. "It is not a question of wanting you, but a question of wanting the best for you. I am not it."

Her eyes stung, her emotions scattered and confused. "I just want to please you."

He sighed. "You ask for more control than I am capable of."

She searched his face, so austerely handsome and passion-flushed. Something in his eyes-a wary softening-tugged at her heart. She brushed her fingertips across his mouth, and he pressed an urgent kiss against them. Reaching for his hair, Olivia brought it around to frame his face. "You are the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen. I want to touch you all over, put my mouth on you, make you wild for me…"

"Olivia." His voice was a pained whisper as his eyes closed on a ragged breath. "Damn you."

Phoenix stood, and opened the placket to his trousers, moving so quickly she had no time to see him. He leaned over her, and she felt him, hot and hard, in the crease of her sex. She shivered, her body slowly coming to renewed life.

"Hold me tight."

"Yes…" She held onto him like a woman drowning.

And then he rotated his hips, moving his cock easily through her slick lips. She tensed, expecting stretching and pain, but it never came. He began to move against her, a driving, urgent rhythm of his hips against hers. His cock was hot and hard as he pumped through the folds of her sex, his tight balls slapping against the damp opening to her body. But he kept away from the full consummation she craved.

"Wrap your legs around me," he gasped. "Move with me… yes…" His skin turned hot under her hands, his breath heaving from his lungs.

The heavy weight of him moving so feverishly between her thighs renewed the ache within her. Wanting to experience the pleasure again, Olivia writhed beneath him, clawing at his back, as her body rushed for the precipice. She sobbed when the rapture hit her, and then Phoenix tensed, rock hard, against her. Burning dampness flooded across her stomach in pulsing jets.

He cried out her name as he shuddered in her arms.

Sebastian buried his face in the fragrant curve of Olivia's neck and damned himself for being a heartless cad. His control was a source of pride to him, but he'd had none of it today. From the moment he'd seen her on the deck of the Seawitch with her chin tilted defiantly and a far too heavy sword in her hand, he'd been captivated. As the day had progressed, he'd become more and more enamored with her. Her beauty alone was impossible to resist, but the fire, the passion… He could no more have resisted touching her than he could have chosen to stop breathing.

She'd been trying to assist him, to tend to his wounds, as no one ever had. And he'd repaid her by staring lustily at her exposed breasts and stripping her of his shirt when she'd wished to cover herself. Olivia had been willing, eager, but he should have walked away for her own good. He could never be the husband she deserved. Despite this, he'd spread her out, a feast for a starving man, and debased her with his ravenous touch.

And damned if he didn't want to do it again. Immediately.

Sebastian rose onto his elbows and gazed down at Olivia's beautiful face, flushed with his passion. He almost inquired if she was well, but the dazed look in her eyes answered the unspoken question. His expression most likely mirrored hers.

Placing a swift, hard kiss against her parted lips, he untangled his limbs from hers. Olivia was all heat and desire, a fiercely passionate woman who, even in her innocence, had pleasured him almost beyond bearing. Untried and unschooled, she hadn't the guile to hide her response or to play any games. He'd felt wanted, needed, in a way no one had ever made him feel before.

Staring at her taut belly, shiny with his seed, Sebastian was swept with an overwhelming wave of possessiveness. He wanted to mark her like this everywhere, brand her completely, so that no other man would ever touch her. Her drowsy eyes followed him with such warmth it took his breath away. The way she looked at him, her palpable panic when he'd slipped on the rigging-how long had it been since anyone had cared for his welfare? So long ago he could scarcely remember it. Only his gratefulness for her tender regard had prevented her complete ruination.

Sebastian ached at the thought of returning her to her father, wishing he could spirit her away and keep her safe from the choices of his past, choices that made it impossible for them to ever be together. Never before had he regretted anything he'd done. Now he regretted it all.

"I'd offer you the bath," she murmured, "but the water is certainly cold by now."

Looking at the small hip bath, he smiled. "It's perfect. Thank you."

He retrieved a towel from the washstand and dipped it in the cold water. Then he went to her and cleansed his lust from her body, his cock hardening again as her nipples puckered under his touch. Olivia was so small compared to him, such tiny, sweetly curved perfection. And he'd rutted upon her like an animal.

Cursing silently, Sebastian turned from the arousing sight of her and quickly stripped from his breeches. With a soft hiss, he sank into the chilled water. He glanced at his wife, biting back a grin as she slid from the tabletop and looked modestly at the wall.

"Aren't you curious to see the part of me that you so recently pleasured?" he asked.

She blushed. Keeping her eyes averted, Olivia moved to her trunks, holding the ruined gown against her swollen nipples. She was a ravishing vision, and his body was already eager for a repeat performance. Sebastian scrunched down in the too-small tub and concentrated on the chilly temperature of the water to cool his blood. It was a testament of paternal love that fresh water was set aside for this purpose.

He frowned when she pressed a bar of fine, French-milled soap into his hand. Scented of musk and bergamot, it was definitely a masculine toilet item.

"Why do you have a man's soap?" he asked sharply.

Damnation. He was jealous!

Some of the afterglow faded from her eyes. "'Tis my father's favorite. One more or less will not be missed." She turned away, but not before he caught the hurt evident on her delicate features.

Sebastian almost apologized, and then reconsidered. It was best if Olivia did not come to care for him, a circumstance made more likely by the intense passion they'd just shared. Distance had to be created between them-for both their sakes. Apparently, he had a fondness for this woman-his wife-that was too threatening to even consider.

Rushing the rest of his bath, Sebastian dressed in silence, eager to flee the intense feelings Olivia engendered. On his way out, he paused in the doorway. "A few of the crewmen will be down shortly to dump the tub water. I'll order more to be heated for you. For God's sake, don't shoot anyone. It will take some time…"

"I understand. Thank you." She remained intensely focused on straightening the already orderly contents of her trunk.

He stared at her stiffened spine and couldn't hold back the feelings that twisted and writhed inside him. He clenched his jaw, forcibly withholding the reassurances she obviously wanted, and deserved, to hear. Only minutes ago they'd shared a blinding closeness, and now they were no more than awkward strangers. Instead of bringing ease from his restless agitation, the gulf between them ripped him deeply.

Miserable, he left without a word, the door shutting behind him with an unmistakable click of finality.

Olivia woke to the feel of a steady breeze. From the rolling view outside the windows, she knew they'd raised sail. She looked around the room and found herself alone. Phoenix had not returned the evening before, nor, it appeared, after she'd retired for the night.

There was a knock at the door, and her heart leapt as she rushed to answer it, eager to see Phoenix again. Instead it was Maggie who stood there. The abigail entered with a bright smile, unaware of her mistress's disappointment.

Olivia tried to hold her tongue, but her curiosity won out. "Have you seen Captain Phoenix about today?"

"Aye," Maggie said with a cheerful lilt. "Early this morning, before he went with the Seawitch. We're on our way, milady. The crew said we should put into port in Barbados within a few days."

The Seawitch. Olivia's heart plummeted into her stomach. Phoenix had moved to her father's ship to get away from her, that was painfully obvious. Her face heated with embarrassment. He most likely thought her the worst sort of wanton. And hadn't she been?

Wretched, she shook her head. She'd been mindless with desire, but the pirate certainly had not felt the same. He'd had the presence of mind to keep her maidenhead intact, a circumstance that said clearly he did not desire to take her as his wife. He would escort her to England, obtain his annulment, and sail off without looking back. She, on the other hand, would spend her days pining for the husband she hadn't wanted, only to discover he was all she wanted.

Olivia spent the three days it took to reach Barbados ensconced in Phoenix's cabin. Bored and crying miserably every time she remembered her abandoned behavior, she resorted to snooping to distract herself. Rifling through his drawers, desk, and cupboards, she found ribbon-bound letters from the Marquess of Dunsmore addressed to Sebastian Blake. She found legal documents that bore his seal and wanted posters displaying his alias. She'd strongly suspected, of course, or she would never have given her favors so freely. But by the end of the three days, she had no doubt.

She was married to a pirate. The thought thrilled her.

Now she needed to discover a way to keep him.

Chapter Three

Sebastian waited for Olivia at the bottom of the gangplank with deplorable impatience. He hadn't seen her in a sennight, and that was a sennight too long in his estimation. Before moving to the Seawitch, he'd ordered Will to secure lodgings for her at the local inn when they docked, certain she would relish the opportunity to sleep in a bed after spending three nights in his hammock. She had probably been exhausted. He knew he was. Her cabin on the Seawitch had been hell on earth, a decadent room showcasing a massive, velvet-draped four-poster bed.

The nights had been torturous, the silk sheets infused with her scent, a lingering redolence that burned through his blood. He'd dreamed of her naked and spread beneath him, his aching cock thrust deep inside her body, a ripe nipple trapped between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

The overwhelming need to fuck had forced him into town to find a lusty wench. He'd found several, fondled a few, kissed a couple, and left them all. Not even the most skilled whore could kiss like Olivia, who kissed him as if she would die if she couldn't have him.

He was quite simply mad for her, thoroughly besotted.

Sebastian rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension there. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked toward the inn, immediately grateful for the cane he affected. It supported his buckling knees when his wife came into view.

The entire town seemed to freeze, the bustling noises fading into obscurity until only the cry of seagulls remained. The crowd parted, revealing Olivia's golden beauty as she strolled toward him. Her rich tresses were piled atop her head-careless, artless curls tumbling in studious disarray. Her taupe-colored gown was of the finest silk, shimmering in the island sun like light on rippling water. It showcased her full breasts, tiny waist, and creamy skin to perfection. She wore a broad, feathered hat at a jaunty angle that shielded most of her face from his view, but revealed the full red mouth that had ruined him for any other. He was speechless, breathless, agonizingly aroused at the mere sight of her. Olivia was a diamond of the first water. And for the moment, she was his diamond.

For the first time in his life, Sebastian was grateful to his father.

During the last several sleepless nights, unable to keep her from his thoughts, he'd contemplated their present circumstances. Olivia wanted to maintain their marriage, if he could prove his identity. He collected that the benefits of such a union would be numerous for both of them. She deserved better than him, of course. He'd tried to tell her. If she insisted on having him, what fool would he be to cast her aside? He was not a foolish man. Reckless and selfish perhaps, but certainly not foolish.

The vision that was his wife stopped before him, and to his amazement, she dropped into a curtsy so low her forehead would have touched the dirt if not for the brim of her hat. Sebastian scowled. What in hell was she doing?

"My lord," she murmured in deference.

The town immediately resumed its frenzied activity.

Reaching down, he yanked Olivia to her feet. She shielded her eyes from him with her hat, a meek gesture that was not in keeping with her fiery nature. He wanted, with a soul-deep need, to see her lovely eyes and look upon her beautiful face. Annoyed with her behavior, Sebastian spoke harshly. "What is the matter with you?"

It wasn't possible, and yet her head dropped even lower, until all he could see was the top of her blasted hat.

"I apologize if I have displeased you again, my lord. I meant no offense."

Again? What the devil was she talking about?

Sebastian gripped her elbow and dragged her up the gangplank, not stopping until they reached her cabin, where he thrust her in first and slammed the door shut behind them. Frustrated by her hat, he removed the offending article and tossed it aside. Her lovely visage was revealed to him, as well as her tears. Immediately, he felt contrite. He was a cad.

"What ails you?" he queried, drawing her into his embrace. Olivia stood stiffly for a heartbeat before melting into him.

"You're angry with me."

"No," he denied, his hands stroking the curve of her spine. "I'm confused."

She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. "You think I'm a wanton."

His confusion remained, but his mouth curved against her hair. "Perhaps a little."

She sobbed louder.

"But I like it," he amended hastily.

"You don't!" she argued in a muffled voice. "You left me so I wouldn't throw myself at you again. And I won't. Never again, I vow."

Ah! Sebastian grinned like an idiot.

He kept his voice low and soothing. "I'd have ravished you further, Olivia, if the ocean hadn't been between us. You were distraught. Your ship was attacked, you were abused, and your husband was revealed to be a criminal. It would have been dishonorable of me to take your body under those conditions. Bad enough I took the liberties I did."

She struggled away from him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"You are not an honorable man! You said so yourself. You refused to marry a woman you compromised, and yet the woman to whom you are married is left a virgin." She stomped a slippered foot. "I am not a fool! Admit the truth."

"The truth?" He arched a brow. "As you wish, sweeting. The truth is, I want you desperately. I want to take your lush body, spread it beneath me, and ride you until you can't move. I want to breech your precious maidenhead and ruin you for any other man. I want to hear you moan my name while you come around my cock. I want to fill you with my seed over and over again, until you think of nothing but me and how well I can pleasure you."

Eyes wide, her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. "Good heavens."

"Heaven," he purred. "Yes, I suspect it will be."

"It is your right to… to do those things… if you truly want to. I am your wife."

Sebastian crossed his arms. "Certain of that, are you?" He bit back a smile. He'd hoped she'd be curious.

Her chin lifted. "Yes, I am certain of it."

"You went through my things."

She nodded.

"And what do you think of this development?"

Olivia clasped her hands, dislodging her lush breasts until they threatened to escape her low bodice. His mouth went dry as the desert, lust and appreciation flaring hot and heavy in his loins. Perhaps when his ardor faded, he would regret claiming his bride, but he couldn't think of that now. He couldn't think at all.

"I think 'tis a good thing you like my wantonness, because I am about to become decidedly more wanton." She took a deep breath. "I want you to seduce me now. Make me your wife in truth, so when we return to England you won't cast me aside."

His heart stopped beating. Or rather it dropped between his legs and throbbed violently. "Why?" he asked, wanting her to admit that she wanted him badly enough to compromise herself. "Are you that determined to please your father? By all accounts you are his pride and joy. You can do no wrong in his eyes."

"I have never done wrong!" she snapped. "In his eyes or otherwise."

Sebastian held his tongue, startled at her vehemence.

Her knuckles were white with tension when she spoke. "My mother died giving birth to me. How could I refuse my father anything, when he lost everything that mattered to him forme?"

"I see."

It shouldn't matter why Olivia wanted to remain married to him. He hadn't wanted a wife to begin with and had no life to offer one in any case. But his stomach clenched into knots, and cold sweat dotted his brow. "So you follow his every dictate, including marriage to a stranger, to keep him happy."

Her gaze burned into his. "Yes, I married you because my father asked, but that is no longer the reason I wish to be wed to you. Now I care only for myself and what I wish to have."

Sebastian stood frozen, aching, feeling the weight of her silken net entrapping him and yet unable to fight the pleasure it gave him. The decision was made without thought, only feeling.

Olivia offered him everything a man could want-a family, someone to care for him and miss him while he was away, a home to return to, a passionate body to sink into, a beauty to appreciate, and a strength of spirit to admire. For years he'd disparaged such comforts, swearing he needed only his wits and will to survive. He'd never allowed himself to wish for things that were not meant to be his. Then Olivia had come into his life with the promise of happiness he didn't deserve. Selfish and self-centered as he was, Sebastian couldn't refuse.

"And what do you wish to have?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh!" She tossed up her hands and stalked to the window, her spine rigid. "Go away, Merrick. I have embarrassed myself enough for a lifetime."

Sebastian shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, and yanked his shirt over his head.

"Leave, my lord," she said curtly, her back to him.

"No." He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled off his boots. As the first one hit the floor with a thump, she turned to face him.

"W-what are you d-doing?" she sputtered.

"Disrobing," he replied. "Garments are a hindrance to lovemaking." Sebastian dropped the other boot and removed his stockings. He stood up and shucked his breeches, his painfully aroused cock springing free of its confinement.

Olivia gasped at the sight. "Good grief!"

His cock was huge. Dear God in heaven. "That-"she pointed with her finger-"will not fit!"

Along with the butterflies of fear that took flight in her stomach were tendrils of excitement, rich and heady. From her very first sight of the dashing pirate, he'd had that effect on her. Olivia couldn't deny that it was thrilling to know she had a similar effect on him. It seemed her peculiar boldness was not so unappealing to him after all, a realization that filled her with relief.

His brilliant blue gaze lit with amusement, and his mouth curved, revealing his charming dimple. "Thank you, sweetheart. You've just given me the greatest compliment a woman can bestow upon her man."

Olivia stilled. Her man. Her husband. Hers.

She wanted more of him, a lifetime of him. Sebastian Blake-outlaw, pirate, peer-could make all of her fantasies a reality. Whatever doubt she felt melted away.

He was gorgeous. Fully naked and bared to her view, he was perfection. Rippled with muscle, taut with desire, heavy with arousal-her mouth watered at the sight of him.

She tore her gaze from his raging erection and looked up into those intense blue eyes. "You will have me then?"

"With pleasure. Since you are so determined to have me." His gaze softened. "Do not concern yourself with the fit," he soothed. "I'll make you wet and hungry for me, sweet. So dripping and ravenous that my cock will slide deep within you like a hot knife in butter, and you will melt just the same."

Dampness flooded her thighs. "Your voice is amazing," she murmured. "My brain simply ceases to function when you speak."

"Olivia-"

"Release your hair," she interrupted. "I like it better loose."

Sebastian walked toward her, tugging out his queue as he came. Truly his hair was not nearly as long as hers, but it did reach the bottom of his shoulder blades, and when he walked the inky black silk flowed over his broad shoulders. He looked like a pagan god, tanned to the waist and built for pleasure.

Her pleasure.

"I am no marital prize," he warned. "I am not any kind of prize."

"You are a treasure." Olivia took a hesitant step toward him. "Just the way you are."

Sebastian held out his hand, and she flew to him, throwing herself into his warm embrace. She gripped the back of his neck and pulled his smiling lips down to hers.

Warm and sweet, his voluptuary's mouth brushed feather-light across hers. She tried to draw him closer to taste him more fully, but he easily held back, his strength so much greater than hers.

"We have weeks to travel, love," he reminded her gently. "All the time in the world to compromise me completely. No need to devour me whole."

Experiencing the novel sensation of feminine power over a stunning man, Olivia experimented with wielding it. "You are mine, my lord. I can do as I please with you."

Sebastian's arms tightened around her, his breath hissing through his teeth as if she'd burned him.

She cupped his cheek with her hand, studying him. "No one has ever claimed you before," she murmured perceptively, wondering what had happened in his life to mold him into the man he was today-a wanted man. She should be terrified to link her fate with his, but all she felt was wonder. "I do so with pride."

Her husband rewarded her with a searing kiss, his hands cupping her buttocks and pressing her into his steely erection. He released her too quickly, circling her, making her ache simply from the heat of his gaze. And then he stilled behind her, silent, the rapid rush of their breathing the only sound in the room.

Olivia waited. Waited for him to move, to touch her-anything at all. Just before she turned in frustration, she felt his hands, sure and knowledgeable, on the fastenings of her gown. Breathless, she shivered under the faint brushes of his fingertips, fingers that had been inside her body, stroking her to rapture. With a soft press of his mouth on her shoulder and a bold sweep of his arms, Sebastian pushed her dress and corset to the floor.

For a moment, only a moment, Olivia was jealous over his obvious expertise at removing women's garments, and then she wasn't jealous, merely comforted. She was in good hands, skilled hands. Hands that knew all the secrets of a woman's body and the places that brought her the most pleasure.

With infinite slowness, those expert hands slid over her breasts, down her waist, and into the apex of her thighs. They bunched up handfuls of her gossamer thin chemise, the fingers rubbing gently across her sex as they pulled the garment up her thighs bit by agonizing bit.

Her husband's hard chest pressed against her back, his shoulders surrounded her, his heat consumed her, his breath gusted harshly against her ear. He was exceedingly powerful and so much larger than she was. He dwarfed her, yet Olivia was unafraid, finding comfort in his strength and reassurance in the tenderness of his touch. A brush, a sweep, his calloused fingertips teased her mound until she melted against him with a plaintive moan. Her breasts swelled and grew heavy, her body trickling moisture down the inside of her thighs.

Just as she was certain her knees would give way, those skillful hands dragged up her torso, brushing across her erect nipples before tugging the chemise over her head. She sagged into the shelter of his chest, loving the feel of his bare skin against hers. Sebastian had barely touched her, but already she hovered on the edge he'd pushed her over before. His devilish chuckle rumbled in her ear. He knew it.

"I want to look at you," he whispered, his tongue swirling in the shell of her ear before he turned her around.

Olivia forced herself to remain still as his brilliant blue gaze raked her from head to toe. His large hands reached out and brushed along the top of her shoulders before sliding down her arms, leaving tingles in their wake. His fingers linked with hers, and he pulled her closer.

"Beautiful," he breathed before placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "You are the most ravishing creature."

His hands left hers and slid up her sides in a tickling caress before finally… finally!… cupping her aching breasts. She moaned, drowning in his skilled seduction. She'd known her pirate would be like this, focused and intent, wickedly precise in overtaking her senses with his touch, his voice, his proximity-Sebastian plucked at her erect nipples, tugging and twisting, before he lowered his mouth and licked the hard tips. "Look at me," he ordered.

Olivia forced herself to meet his gaze, warmed by the need that smoldered there. She licked her bottom lip nervously, and he groaned, his mouth swooping down to press against hers. His tongue thrust deep, hinting at what was to follow. One hand kneaded her breast, while the other grabbed her wrist and brought her hand to his cock.

She gasped as the silken weight of him burned her palm. It was not what she'd expected, smoother and softer than the finest silk, yet hot and pulsing with life. She wondered how it would feel inside her. Would it burn her with heat? Stroke her with softness? Olivia shivered with anticipation. Regardless, she knew it would pleasure her. Everything about her husband pleasured her.

Sebastian curled his fingers over hers and moved her hand up and down his length in a hard, fast rhythm that soon had him shaking against her. Once she had the way of it, he left her to pleasuring him and slipped his hand between her legs.

He was everywhere at once-in her mouth, against her breast, in her hand, inside her sex. It was all too much, and yet it wasn't. She wanted… "More," she urged.

He smiled against her mouth. "Siren. Found at sea, and luring me to matrimony."

Olivia pulled back, releasing his shaft.

Another of his fingers slid upward into her heat, and she was trapped, impaled in place.

"I'm not complaining," he assured in a silky whisper.

With an arm around her waist, Sebastian lifted her feet from the floor, his fingers still embedded within her as he carried her to the bed. He turned and lay down first, draping her across him, his arm trapped between them, his fingers still pumping into her. Her eyes slid closed on a moan as her body clenched around the welcome invasion. Desperate, she writhed over his hand.

Her blood was thick as syrup and hot, making her sweat. Olivia dropped her head to his chest and felt his nipple brush her cheek. She turned slightly and sucked it into her mouth, as he had done to her. His breath hitched in his throat, his body hardening beneath hers. Reaching for his cock, she began stroking it again, hard and fast like he had shown her. She felt naughty and wanton, a wild woman in his arms. Her hips rocked against his hand, pushing him deeper.

"No more," he growled. Rolling her beneath him, Sebastian spread her stocking-clad legs with his own. He paused, the hairs on his chest scraping across her aching nipples. His fingers slipped out of her, and he spread the cream from them around her swollen opening. He moved higher, rubbing the slickness over her aching bud, making her squirm and beg beneath him.

"Sebastian…"

He buried his face in her neck. "Say my name again."

"Sebastian… help me… I burn…"

"Yes, love," he encouraged, his fingers sliding faster. "Burn for me."

Her back arched, her eyes flew open, she hung on the edge… so close… so close…

Olivia cursed him when his hand left her sex and moved to her knee.

"Patience," he murmured hoarsely. "I will take you there."

He pulled her legs to his waist, and the heavy heat of his erection prodded her dripping opening. His gaze locked with hers, his forehead beaded with sweat. He lowered his head and mumbled, "Sorry, my love," just before he thrust hard and deep within her.

Olivia bit back a cry, startled at the pain that obliterated her pleasure. She held still beneath him, tears filling her eyes and spilling over.

Sebastian's tongue lapped up the wetness with the long, slow drags of a cat, soothing her even as he pressed inexorably inside. "If I'd gone slowly," he explained, "the pain would have been worse." He cradled her head in his hands, his eyes soft and tender with regret. "There is some good to this discomfort you feel."

"What is it?" she gasped. She could see his concern, felt it in the reverence of his touch.

"I am well and truly compromised. You shall have to marry me, or I will be ruined."

Unable to help it, Olivia laughed, even though it hurt. "Lucky for you, my lord, that we are already wed."

"Ah." He withdrew and then slid forward again, frowning when she winced. "I am a lucky man. My reputation is saved." The pain began to lessen even as he finally buried his cock to the hilt. His ragged groan made her shiver. Dropping his head to her breast, he suckled her.

His big body strained and flexed as he started a rhythm and maintained it, pumping deep within her, his raven hair a curtain around them. His mouth was magic, his tongue swirling around the erect crest of her nipple. The steel of Sebastian's cock began to burn, a wondrous sensation that intensified with the erotic sounds he made.

"Spread your legs," he begged, gasping with obvious pleasure when she opened, giving greater access to his thrusts. "Press your body against me. God, yes… Livia…"

The fierce Captain Phoenix was clay in her hands.

Olivia arched upward, feeling his skin cling to hers with his sweat. She gripped his contracting buttocks, amazed at their feel, hard as stone. He swirled his hips, grinding into the source of her pleasure, and tingles spread outward, flushing her skin. He pressed into her again, repeating the movement, drenching her body in sensation.

His hips thrust and circled in an endless cycle, over and over, sweeping her higher. His touch was oddly gentle, despite the pistoning haste of his movements. His tenderness swept into her heart, bringing tears to her eyes. Olivia whimpered, lost in his possession. He felt so good, the friction so deep, the stretching exquisite.

"Yes, love…" His voice, thick and slurred with pleasure, enflamed her. "You feel… so damn good…"

He filled her with quick, hard strokes, no longer able to be gentle, and she didn't care. She didn't want gentle. She wanted passion-his passion.

Deep inside, her womb began to clench, then spasm. Arching her back on a scream, she shattered, her inner muscles clutching greedily at his invading shaft. Sebastian pinned her hips, holding her in place for his thrusts, drawing out her pleasure until she thought she would die of it. Only when she sagged into the mattress did he follow her, shuddering against her, gasping her name, filling her with scalding heat.

When it was over, Olivia lay stunned, clinging to her husband as the only anchor in a whirl of decadent pleasure.

It was forever before he spoke, his voice still passion-hoarse. "Hopelessly compromised," he murmured, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Sebastian crossed the moonlit wharf in rapid strides. He was late for his meeting, but his tardiness was of little consequence to him. All that mattered at the moment was his sleeping wife and the panic she would feel if she discovered him missing.

Olivia was uncertain of his attachment to her, as he was himself, but she had given her body to him regardless, trusting him to be a gentleman and claim her as his bride. Nothing could force him to do the honorable thing. He was certain he could return her to her father and successfully fight the proxy. She was intelligent, and he'd been honest about his history, but she had taken him to her bed despite the risks.

She was the first person in his life willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, the first person who truly wanted him, not just for an hour's pleasure or two, but for the rest of her life. He refused to lose her regard. Especially over the distasteful errand he was presently attending to.

Sebastian entered the seaside tavern and paused on the threshold, allowing his eyes to adjust to the interior.

"You're late, Phoenix."

He turned his head toward the voice. "Pierre," he greeted coldly. "Dominique."

The French pirates lounged by the door, and Sebastian felt a twinge of satisfaction. Their position was excellent. After what he planned to say, a hasty egress might well be required. In anticipation of trouble, he had set his own ship to sail that morning, lessening the targets that could be used to wound him.

The two identical brothers remained seated, gazing at him with soul-weary eyes. Sebastian was aware that most of the lightskirts in town found the Robidoux brothers attractive, but not a one would service them. The siblings' sadistic carnal tastes were well known to all.

He looked them over with loathing. Many times over the last year he'd regretted his decision to join with them. One evening, inebriated and wretched, hating his life and the depths to which he'd sunk, he'd shared a bottle with the Frenchmen, and they'd shared an idea-rotating voyages with a split share. At the time, it had sounded like a reasonable plan and one that would lessen his risk.

Now it was his most lamented decision. Where he made every effort to spare lives and had yet to take one that wasn't actively trying to take his, Pierre and Dominique killed and tortured just for their amusement.

"Word has it we're divvying up an amazing booty," Dominique drawled in his unctuous voice. To the ignorant eye, he appeared to be the more civilized of the twins. Sebastian, however, knew him to be the more vicious. "I saw part of the spoils crossing the wharf to you this afternoon-a prime article. The curtsy was a nice touch. You've broken her well, Phoenix, although I personally prefer a bit of spirit in my lovers."

Sebastian's insides coiled with repressed violence, and his hand slid to the blade strapped to his thigh. The thought of these men within viewing distance of his wife made him physically ill. He'd known this confrontation would be difficult, but he'd failed to consider the danger to Olivia, assuming her to be far removed from the devil's bargain he'd made long ago. "There has been a change of plan," he said. "I'll be paying your share in coin."

Pierre leapt to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. "Bastard!" He shot a furious glance at his brother. "I told you he couldn't be trusted!"

"Calm down," Dominique growled. "I'll see that you receive your fair share."

"Like hell!" Pierre retorted, his voice lowering, but his rage no less evident. "I'll claim my fair share now. I've heard the tales of the cargo in that fat-bellied merchant-fine French laces and brandy, Oriental vases and plates, rich materials, exotic spices, and chests of gold. We've not had a catch of such magnitude in the last year, and it may be just as long before another like her comes along." The Frenchman turned a feral grin toward Sebastian. "If you refuse to share the wealth, my Judas friend, I may be required to come and get it myself."

"I should like to see you try," Sebastian scoffed. "I'll burn the ship and its cargo before that happens."

Dominique placed a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder and eyed Sebastian speculatively. "You're breaking the code, Phoenix. Slitting your own throat, I'd say. Is that what you want?"

Sebastian laughed. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic, Robidoux." He tossed two hefty purses onto the table. "Take your guineas and be happy. You should be grateful. I've saved you the trouble of disposing of the items."

Pierre snatched up his purse and hefted the weight in his hand. The gleam in his eyes betrayed his pleasure at the sum, but it wasn't enough. "I want the woman too."

"No!" Sebastian said, far too quickly. He took a rapid, deep breath, damning himself for revealing an interest he should have kept hidden.

Dominique's eyes narrowed as he collected his purse. "Give him the woman, Phoenix, and we'll call it even."

"She's not available to you, gentlemen." He took a step back, suddenly anxious to be with Olivia.

"She has a maid," Dominique drawled, his brittle gaze brightening with malice. "And her garments are costly. A devilish good piece that one. I'd wager she's worth something to someone. Beauty like that is expensive, wouldn't you say, Pierre?"

"Yes, certainly," Pierre agreed. "A small fortune for that bit of fluff."

Sebastian paused. "Leave the woman out of this. You have your shares. Our transaction is completed."

"But I feel as if I've pulled the short stick," Pierre whined. Then he smiled. "I'll pay you for her, Phoenix." He opened the purse Sebastian had just given him. "How much?"

"She's not for sale," he bit out, his forehead beading with sweat. The situation was rapidly slipping from his control.

The barmaid came by, setting two overflowing mugs on the table.

"Celia," Dominique purred. "Your sister works at the inn, non?"

She eyed the pirate warily. "Aye."

"Hmmm. What tidbits did she share about the guests? More specifically, what did she say about the worn-"

Sebastian drew his knife and stabbed it into the table with such fury the wooden surface cracked down the center. "There will be no more discussion of the woman!" he snarled. "Forget you saw her, forget you heard of her, forget she exists." He grabbed the startled Pierre by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the table. The Frenchman stared wide-eyed at the knife, which was only a hair's breadth away from the tip of his nose. Sebastian bent over him. "Have I made myself clearer this time, Robidoux?"

"O-of course!" Pierre gasped.

Sebastian shoved him to the floor with a grunt and yanked his blade from the ruined table. "I've finished here."

He backed out of the tavern, his heart racing. Turning, he ran to the Seawitch. The alert was given as he hit the gangplank, and the crew leapt into action. They cast off, catching the faint evening breeze and moving with torturous sluggishness from the quay.

He didn't relax until the island was a mere dark shape in the vast ocean. It wasn't finished, he knew. The Robidoux brothers would make trouble, for when Pierre was upset he would not cease his harping until Dominique took action. And Dominique Robidoux was a man to be reckoned with.

Sebastian made his way to Olivia's cabin and undressed silently. He slipped between the silk sheets and curled around her sleeping back. At the first touch of her skin, he became erect and fully aroused, aching for the comfort of her body. He lifted her leg over his hip and she roused, but made no protest. He dipped his hand between her legs, feeling his thick cream coating her sex and inner thighs. Like the beast he was, he found deep satisfaction in the primitive claim.

"Do you wish-" she whispered.

"No." He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. "Yes. But you're sore. I can wait."

"I don't want you to wait."

"But you will. Soon enough you'll be begging me to cease my constant demands."

"I'll never tire of you, my lord," she assured him in a sleep-heavy murmur that caused him to press against her with a groan. Olivia spooned against him, nuzzling her luscious derriere against his enflamed cock with a trust that left him breathless.

His stomach clenched. She'd entrusted him with her life, and he'd endangered it already.

He had to put as much distance between them as possible and at the soonest opportunity.

"Who is she, Dominique?" Pierre asked, staring after the vanishing ship.

"The Countess of Merrick. What would you wager that Phoenix has gone to ransom her for a fortune we won't get our share of?"

"I don't make bets with you. You always win."

Dominique smiled. "And we'll win this time too."

"How so?" Pierre asked curiously.

"You'll see, brother. You'll see."

Chapter Four

Sebastian stepped onto the deck and turned completely around before spotting Olivia. Sitting on a barrel at the foredeck, she looked pensively over the water. He deliberately made his steps heard so as not to startle her. He smiled as she lifted a bottle to her lips and drank from it. "Care to share, love?"

She passed him the wine. "How was your dinner with the captain?"

"I'm not certain. I was distracted."

"Oh? With what, may I ask?"

"With visions of you, naked in bed, eating supper without me."

"As if I would ever eat naked," she scoffed. "And in bed no less. I, for one, do not relish crumbs on my linens." Her mouth curved in a contented smile. "Do you never think of anything other than sex?"

"Certainly. Just this afternoon I wondered what you were doing in the West Indies."

Her smile faded.

It was the first time either one of them had broached the subject of their pasts. There had been a silent agreement between them to live only in the moment, but they approached England far too quickly. Soon they would present themselves to the world as Lord and Lady Merrick, yet they were hardly more than intimate strangers. He knew her body in minute detail, but her past and visions for their future remained a mystery.

Olivia sighed. "My father maintains a plantation there."

"And you prefer it to London?"

"I enjoy the freedom."

Sebastian frowned. There was something she wasn't telling him. "And what of the Season? You are a diamond, my love. Your popularity is assured."

Even as he said the words, his gut clenched. Men would swarm around his wife like bees to honey, her marital status making her even more desirable. The thought of other men drooling over Olivia while he was at sea made him murderous.

She looked out over the water, avoiding his gaze. "In the past, I've enjoyed the Season. I simply didn't feel up to it this year."

There was more, he knew, but Sebastian hesitated to press her further. Their time on the ship had been idyllic, and he didn't wish to ruin it. Harsh reality would intrude soon enough. "And now that you've wed, do you intend to make England your home?"

That comment brought her gaze back to his. "Of course. Your home is my home now."

"My home is at sea."

Olivia nodded her agreement without hesitation, causing a sharp pain in his chest.

What had he expected? That she would cry and beg for him to remain with her? Hadn't he capitulated merely to sate his lust, with the added bonus of acquiring the wife and heirs his cursed title demanded? Simply because he'd found his desire unquenchable and his need of deeper origin than he'd realized, did not mean his wife was experiencing the same.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and absently stroked the side of her throat with his thumb. "I shall visit you often." He felt, rather than heard, her deeply indrawn breath.

Olivia leaned into him. "How often is 'often' to you?"

"I should pose that question to you, sweet," he replied, passing the decision to her, while in truth he knew he would crave her and seek her out like a thirsty man would water. "We are in this marriage together."

She hesitated before speaking. "Should you decide to come home at least every six months, you will be able to ascertain if I am breeding or not."

Sebastian stilled. "Breeding." Good God. He could imagine it, picture it clearly-Olivia increasing with his child.

"You're hurting me," she whispered, her hand prying at his fingers on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Dazed, he handed her the bottle and began to rub the marks left by his fingertips. "You startled me."

"So I gathered. But it was you who said that one of my duties would be to bear your heirs."

Duty. Not pleasure. Heirs. Not children.

Suddenly there was a distinction between them, one that irritated him and made him restless.

He reached for her hand. "I should like to retire."

Turning, she searched his face. He could feel the air altering around them, shifting even as their relationship did. What was happening? Sebastian stood rigid under her scrutiny. What did she see in him with those dark eyes that bored right through him?

He was profoundly relieved when Olivia placed her hand in his and followed him to their bed, where heady pleasure and drugging forgetfulness awaited them.

Sebastian stared up at the ruby red velvet canopy and sighed with contentment.

Olivia's heated breath puffed across the head of his cock. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

He glanced down to where his wife lay prone between his legs. She'd spent the last hour in studious examination of his member, tracing every vein, caressing every bit of his hard length with her hands and mouth, purring her delight like a cat with cream. She made him feel supremely masculine; a man appreciated completely by his mate, her admiration a welcome salve after a lifetime of feeling insignificant. At least in this one endeavor, that of being Olivia's husband, he had not been found lacking. "You," he answered. "This bed. Our marriage."

She crossed her hands on his upper thigh and rested her chin upon them. "Do you have regrets?" she asked in a steady voice, even as her expressive eyes showed her worry.

He reached down to caress her tumbled hair. "No. Come closer."

Olivia rose to her hands and knees, her full breasts swaying as she climbed along the length of his body. She'd become quite comfortable with her nakedness over these last weeks, and he appreciated their growing familiarity.

She purred with pleasure as she draped her body over his. He reached up and pulled her hair to the side so he could nuzzle her throat unhindered.

"Sebastian."

"Umm?"

"Tell me about your family."

He sighed. "They are a pack of vultures, sweeting. The entire lot of them."

"Surely there must be some members of your family whose company you enjoy."

"I was quite fond of my brother, Edmund."

She frowned. "What about your mother?"

He stared at the canopy again. "There is nothing I can tell you, other than she was very beautiful, and I know this only because I've seen her portrait. I don't remember her at all."

"How did she die?"

He slid his hands through her hair and cupped the back of her head. "I don't know that she is dead. She ran off when I still an infant."

"Oh, Sebastian." Having caught the bitterness in his voice, hers rilled with sympathy.

He choked out a laugh. "Don't pity me, Olivia. I won't have it. I don't want it."

"I won't," she soothed. "I know how it is to grow up without a mother. You and I are so alike, in the most unexpected of ways." Her small hands came up to cradle his face. "Do you know why she ran away?"

"Marriage to my father would do it, I would say. You'll never have the misfortune to meet a colder or more vicious man."

"That is something I cannot imagine." Olivia fell silent, her fingertips drawing circles across his chest. "When was the last time you saw your father?" she asked finally.

He didn't want to think about the marquess. Ever. "Five years ago."

"Are you worried about seeing him again?"

Sebastian considered that for a moment. "I don't believe so. After all, I am returning with the bride of his choosing. He should have no complaints, at least none outside the usual, which entails everything else about me."

Olivia took a deep breath, the movement pressing her breasts more fully against his chest.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he urged when the silence stretched out.

She hesitated, then her natural forthrightness won out. "Would I have been your choice for a bride? Or did you-"

"Yes," he interjected, deducing the nature of her query. "If I'd been of the mind to be leg-shackled, I would most definitely have selected your fetter over any other. And no. What is between you and I has nothing to do with my father. If you think on it further, love, you will see that discarding you would have served my rebellion better."

She sighed and offered a relieved smile. "When will we arrive in London?"

"A week perhaps."

"That's all?" Her smile faltered, then faded completely.

Sebastian frowned. "Why so miserable, sweet?"

With a wriggle of her hips, she positioned his cock at her entrance and engulfed him easily, her passage slick with his seed.

His breath hissed out through his teeth as pleasure, searing and almost painful, coursed through his blood. "Dear God," he groaned. It was like fucking his way into a velvet fist, every time more astonishingly rapturous than the last.

"Do you intend to leave me immediately after we return?" Olivia rose up to a seated position, taking more of him into her body until the dark honey curls of her sex tangled with his black ones and he felt the warmth of her womb cap his erection. The visual and physical combination made him swell even further inside her, stretching her until she moaned.

"W-what?" He couldn't think.

She rose up on her knees and then slid back down along his shaft, killing him softly. "Will you leave me in London immediately?"

He caressed the satin skin of her thighs, his entire body consumed with fever. "No… I don't know…" He gasped as she rode him again. Lightning bolted into his spine and radiated outward. "What do you want… me to do?"

Olivia undulated around him, over him, against him, her fingertips swirling over his flat nipples. Damn, she'd become so familiar with his body, she played it with the skill of the finest courtesan. She knew just where to touch him, where to stroke him, to turn him to putty in her hands.

"I want you to stay with me, just for a short time." She moved again, slowly, caressing his throbbing cock with silken, drenched heat. Sebastian gritted his teeth, his back arching against his will. "There will be balls and luncheons in our honor, callers to our home. I don't want to endure it all alone."

She tightened her inner muscles on him and tweaked his nipples. His sac grew tight, his seed rising, heating. Bloody hell, he was ready to spend himself and she had just begun.

"Of course, love," he groaned, willing to give her anything she asked. "There's no rush… for me to depart. I'll stay… as long as you… think is best. Just do that again… oh, yes… again…"

Olivia's smile was triumphant as she rested her palms flat on his chest and began to ride him in earnest, lifting and falling in a pounding rhythm, moaning in a way that drove him insane. The part of his brain that still functioned realized she'd managed him to her liking with the use of her body, but the part of him presently being milked inside her didn't care. She loved his cock-loved to ride it, kiss it, suck on it-and he loved to give it to her. He was mad for her, mad for her pleasure, mad for her touch.

As her body spasmed around him and she cried out his name, Sebastian found he didn't mind being managed at all. He clutched her hips in his hands, holding her still while he thrust upward into her, prolonging her pleasure. Only when her head fell forward in exhaustion did he allow his own release, spurting his seed in endless bursts against her womb, his body wracked with a pleasure so piercing it robbed him of all thoughts but one: she wanted to keep him with her.

"What in hell are you doing?" Olivia cried as she stepped into the cabin.

The knife in her husband's hand clattered into the bowl of water on the vanity, creating a fine mess. Sebastian stood in front of her cherry-framed mirror, naked from the waist up and impossibly gorgeous. As always, her heart skipped a beat just looking at him.

In the last few weeks, he'd shared daily living with her in every way a man would share his life with his wife. He'd observed her in the bath, watched her eat, and assisted her toilette. In return, she'd become fascinated with watching his masculine ablutions. She relished brushing his hair and mending tears in his clothing. She adored taking care of him and giving him the affection he'd gone so long without. Sebastian absorbed every drop with an awed appreciation that tugged at her heart.

"Damnation," he groused, brushing the splattered water off his torso with a towel. "You are like to scare the wits from me, woman!"

"I'll be scaring more than your wits if I ever find you attempting that again!"

He took a deep, slow breath. Olivia set her arms akimbo and tapped her foot indignantly.

"You said it was unfashionably long," he explained, still holding his hair in his hand.

"So it is."

"Well, we're docking in a few hours."

"I'm aware of that." And she hated it, hated that soon they would lose the wondrous intimacy of their long sea voyage and endless days of pleasure in their bed. Within hours, she would be simpering and smiling at the vultures of Society, the very ones who had picked her flesh to the bone only a year ago. And she would have to share her darling husband with them, a man who bore wounds that still festered. The thought made her stomach turn.

"Therefore I'm cutting it," he said curtly.

"No, you are not."

His blue eyes met hers, capped with a frown. "Make sense, Olivia, and hurry up about it!"

She released her breath and stepped toward him, not stopping until her body was pressed against his. She wrapped her arms around his lean waist. "I like your hair the way it is."

Disbelief etched his handsome features.

"I like running my fingers through it when you are sitting down and I'm standing at your shoulder. I like seeing strands of it left on my pillow. I like it swaying around my shoulders when you are thrusting deep inside of me." With gentle fingers, she pried his hair from his tense grasp and rubbed her face in it.

"I was cutting it for you," he said hoarsely.

"Keep it for me," she whispered, meeting his intense gaze. "When we stand in crowded ballrooms, I will see your queue and know that you are mine. I will be reminded of how wild you are, how you struggle against the bonds that hold you, and I will think to myself, 'He chose the bonds that bound him to me.' And I will be happy."

Her hands stroked up the rippled expanse of his torso and came to rest over his heart. It beat beneath her palm in a panicked rhythm.

"God, Olivia," he breathed in a strangled whisper. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Stepping backward, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the bed. "We have a few hours left. Why don't you show me?"

Sebastian looked out over the smelly, sooty mess that was the London wharf and, despite his best efforts, felt his stomach tie up in knots. He'd fled England the day after Edmund died and had never returned, had never wanted to, still didn't.

He sighed, taking comfort in Olivia. He would not be alone in this. His wife was thoroughly consummate in the social arts.

"Good God!" she cried from behind him.

Frowning, he spun on his heel. "What is it, love?"

Olivia stood just outside the stairway, resplendent in a blue silk damask gown with lace-edged bodice and sleeves. A shiver of awareness flowed through him, bright and insistent.

Her hand was pressed to her heart. "You… good grief…" She shook her head slowly. "Damn, you stopped my heart for a moment."

"Don't swear," he admonished with a roll of his eyes.

His wife had spent far too many days at sea with foul-mouthed sailors, which was understandable considering her father's trade. While he admonished her regularly, in truth he found her colorful speech rather charming. The small foible made her seem less perfect and more real, more his. After all, he was a man of overwhelmingly numerous faults.

He waited patiently for her to explain the cause of her distress. Then Sebastian noted the feminine appreciation that lit her eyes and the smile that curved her lush mouth. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he had to admit she looked completely besotted. With him. He grinned. "I take it you approve of my attire."

Olivia glided toward him, all graceful elegance and luscious woman. "You look quite dashing. Magnificent, actually."

She pressed herself against him, heedless of the sailors who swarmed the deck and the pedestrians who moved along the crowded wharf. Her hands slid along the lapels of his fine wool coat, down the intricately embroidered silk of his waistcoat, over the bulge of his cock in his snug breeches, and around to the curve of his ass. Thankfully, her wandering touch was hidden from view by his long coat.

"You, my gorgeous pirate, polish up beautifully." With a firm grip on his hips, she tugged herself toward him, smiling wickedly. "Your cock is hard. Do you never tire of bedsport, Captain Phoenix?"

Cupping the curve of her neck, he pressed an ardent kiss to her forehead. "Impossible with a wife as lusty as mine."

He frowned at her use of his alias, reminded of a task he had set for himself and never accomplished. "Wait for me a moment, sweet. I must speak with the captain."

She looked up at him curiously, but did as he asked without question.

It took only a moment to locate the man he sought. "Captain, did you have the opportunity to speak with your crew about my identity?"

The captain's smile peeked out from his bushy gray beard. "Aye, milord, but as I tried to tell you, the men are loyal to Lady Merrick. We've all been with 'er father, Mr. Lambert, since she was a babe. As far as pirates go, yer crew were the only ones what could catch us. You kept the damage to a minimum, and ye didn't 'urt the lass even before you knew she was yer wife. The men on this ship can respect that."

Sebastian nodded, relieved.

A sharp screech from the quay and his name shouted in Olivia's angry voice had him running toward the gangplank. With a quick eye, he took in the rigid set of her spine, the reticule swinging from her fist, and the finely dressed man who covered his face with his hands, cursing foully. It was easy to deduce that she'd been accosted in some manner she'd found offensive and fought back, as she was wont to do.

Filled with furious possessiveness, Sebastian launched himself at the man, no questions asked. Two quick punches, one to the face and the other to the diaphragm, had the lecher moaning in misery.

Satisfied, Sebastian leapt to his feet, straightening his waistcoat, and went to his wife. "What happened?" he asked gently, visually searching for any evidence of injury or insult to her person. Olivia's face was frighteningly pale.

"That man-" she stabbed a finger at her assailant, "-wants a trip to Bedlam! He kissed me, then called me his wife!"

Sebastian shot a curious glance at the man on the ground and gasped. Now that his face was no longer hidden, the visage was startlingly familiar. "Bloody hell, Carr! What the devil are you doing assaulting my wife?"

"You know him?" Olivia asked in astonishment as Sebastian helped Carr to his feet.

"Unfortunately, yes," he muttered. "This deranged man is Carr Blake, my cousin."

Carr glanced at Sebastian and then Olivia with watering eyes. "Damnation, Merrick! What are you doing here?"

Sebastian arched a brow. "I am escorting my wife to our home. What are you doing here? And kissing my wife, for Christ's sake! Are you mad?"

Carr swallowed hard.

Sebastian lifted his gaze and spied the waiting carriage. The equipage was new, not one he recognized, but the crest emblazoned on the door was his. "You've been using my carriage?"

Olivia placed her hand on his arm. "He called me his wife," she choked out. "He came in your equipage."

Sebastian shot a look at her, saw her blanched features, and felt his mouth fall open as the pieces fell into place. "Oh, hell!" He turned to Carr, his nails digging into his palms as he resisted the urge to throttle his relative. "Tell me, cousin, that you are not here pretending to be me."

Carr winced a split second before Sebastian's fist knocked him into oblivion.

Olivia said nothing during the ride to Dunsmore House. She couldn't have managed speech even if she'd desired to, what with her mouth being dry as the desert and her throat clenched shut with apprehension. Her discomfort only worsened as the carriage rolled to a halt in front of the imposing manse.

Sebastian vaulted down and stared up at the elegant facade. "Remain here."

"No," she argued. "I'm coming with you. You are not facing your father alone."

He looked over his shoulder. "I don't want you anywhere near him!"

"I don't want you anywhere near him either, but you insisted we come." She lifted her chin. "Go in there without me, and I'll follow you, I vow."

Sebastian's face was grim as he assisted her down. He glanced at the footman. "Wait here," he ordered.

Olivia shivered at her husband's starkly austere features. He led her inside, ignoring the horrified butler. They ascended the stairs, heading directly to the study, where masculine voices could be heard. His hand at the small of her back was firm and steady, despite the inner turmoil she sensed. She'd never seen him in such a mood, something akin to murderous rage, and she realized at that moment what had prompted his fierce reputation.

They entered the room, again without knocking, and Olivia paused, frozen on the threshold, shocked to find her father in a wingback chair in front of the fire. Sitting opposite him was a man who looked remarkably like Sebastian and nothing like the decrepit, miserly man she had pictured in her mind.

Jack Lambert stood, his golden hair glinting in the light of the fire. "Livy, sweet!" He came to her and kissed both of her cheeks. "You're late, by weeks. I was worried sick. Agents at the shipping office have kept watch for the Seawitch. Your husband made haste to retrieve you when word came that she'd put into port." He looked past her to Sebastian, eyeing him speculatively. "Where is Lord Merrick? And who is this gentleman?"

Sebastian clasped her father's outstretched hand and dipped his head respectfully.

Olivia shot a scathing glance at the marquess. "Lord Merrick, may I present my father, Jack Lambert. Father, this is Lord Merrick."

Her father scowled. "The devil you say!"

"You've been deceived," Sebastian explained softly.

Her father turned to the marquess, frowning in obvious confusion.

Lord Dunsmore rose from his chair with arrogant indifference. He was as tall as his son, but slender and elegant in his build. He was almost frightening, with his cruel mouth and harshly lined eyes. "Sebastian," he drawled. "I see your penchant for ruining the best-laid plans is still in evidence."

Sebastian's arm stiffened under Olivia's fingertips.

Her father's face turned a mottled red. "Explain yourself, Dunsmore!"

The marquess arched a sardonic brow, the depths of his eyes showing no emotion at seeing the son who had been absent for years. "I think I'll leave the explanations to Merrick."

Sebastian stood for a moment, his face an impassive mirror of his father's as the two men stared each other down, the animosity between them palpable. Olivia tugged on his arm to draw his attention back to her father. He took a deep breath. "Mr. Lambert. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I thank you for the hand of your daughter, whom I treasure."

Her father raked Sebastian with a more penetrating gaze. She knew what he saw-a tall, massively built male with the tan and muscles of a manual laborer. With the long hair and icy expression, Sebastian was intimidating.

"Are you satisfied with this union?" her father asked gruffly. "I was able to ascertain some of the character of the man I thought was the earl, but this man next to you is a stranger to me."

She gave a tremulous smile. "I am most pleased, Father. Merrick has been wonderful."

Her father shot her a skeptical glance. "I researched Sebastian Blake thoroughly before signing the marriage agreements. He was known to be a scapegrace in his youth, an incorrigible. But the man I met was polished and civilized." Unspoken was the notion that Sebastian was none of those things, but she heard it nevertheless.

And so did her husband.

Olivia winced, her heart aching. She hugged Sebastian's arm closer.

"We can procure an annulment, Livy," her father persisted. "I want you to be happy."

"No annulment," she said firmly, feeling Sebastian's body become taut as a bow.

"If I know my son," the marquess drawled, "it is far too late for an annulment. Don't whine, Lambert. You bought your daughter an earl, and she acquired one. No harm done."

Olivia gasped at the insult, instantly reminded of how cruel the peerage could be to those they deemed beneath them. Her feelings meant nothing to this man. She meant nothing. To him, she was no more than a breeding mare and a fat purse. Despite her lifelong pursuit of indifference, she couldn't deny that the marquess's callousness stung.

Sebastian glanced at her. Attuned to her feelings by weeks of deep intimacy, he leapt to her defense.

"Damn you!" he snarled. "Were you that desperate for an heir to your precious title? To send Carr to my wife…" He took a step toward his father, who hadn't the sense to move away. "I'd have killed you both if he'd touched her in my name. I've a mind to kill you anyway."

"Sebastian, no!" Olivia cried as she saw his hands clench into fists. "He's not worth it."

The marquess dismissed his son's fury with an imperious wave of his hand. "You had no knowledge you were even married. You showed no interest in the Dunsmore lands, the tenants, or your duty to the title. Something had to be done."

Sebastian laughed, a hard, bitter sound. "Those are your responsibilities until you die."

"You must learn your place!" Dunsmore barked. "Accustom yourself to your future duties, create issue."

Sebastian shook his head. "Stay out of my life and my business. Stay away from my wife. I won't tell you again."

Her father reached for her. "Come, Olivia. We're leaving."

"She goes nowhere without me," Sebastian warned without taking his eyes from his father. "You are welcome to stay in my home if you like, Mr. Lambert, but Olivia's place is with her husband. With me."

"I don't even know you!" Jack bellowed. "How can I trust my daughter to your care?"

"Father!" she beseeched, alarmed at his vehemence. She had no wish to defy him, but Sebastian was her life now. She prayed she wouldn't be forced to choose between the only two people who mattered. "Please!"

"You shall have plenty of opportunity to become acquainted with me," Sebastian said as he returned to her side and reclaimed her arm in an obvious declaration of possession. "My father is correct. It is far too late for an annulment." His implication was clear-she'd been compromised.

Olivia flushed, mortified.

Her father searched her face, his own tight with concern. "Livy?"

"Come with us, Father." She glanced at Lord Dunsmore. "I do not think I can remain here another moment."

Sebastian nodded. "I agree. We've finished our business." He gestured with his free hand toward the door. "Mr. Lambert. Will you join us?"

"Of course." He shot a furious glare at the marquess. "I am not done with you, my lord. You should have held a care for your reputation. I care only for Olivia."

Dunsmore arched a scornful brow. "Of course. You care so much for your daughter, you would marry her to a stranger without even an introduction. You're a paragon of paternal affection."

Jack flushed. "I considered her welfare. You cared only for your own."

Olivia stared at the marquess and was certain she'd never met a man as devoid of emotion. He appeared to care nothing for the enmity directed toward him from all sides. She shivered merely from being in the same room with him and wondered how a man as warm and vibrant as her husband could have come from such a father.

"Where is your gratitude, Sebastian?" the marquess asked. "I procured you a beautiful bride and a hefty dowry. Of course, she's not but a merchant's daughter, but since you weren't here to see to the matter yourself, you should be appreciative in any case. In fact, you strike me as unfashionably smitten, which suits the rest of your appearance."

The hatred that poured from Sebastian poisoned the air. "You may insult me at your leisure, Father, but keep your talons out of my wife. It is only my… appreciation for her that prevents me from tearing you apart with my bare hands."

The marquess laughed. "I believe you could do it, too. Look at you! You're like a savage. Dark-skinned, long-haired, and built like an ape."

Olivia whimpered in agony, knowing that Sebastian was bleeding from wounds she had helped to inflict. She had teased him with those same descriptions, but now he would wonder and think himself less of a man, when in fact he was more of one than anyone she had ever met.

"He's beautiful," she snapped. "You're a fool for failing to see how wonderful he is. The loss is yours." She tugged at Sebastian.

With a jerky nod, he gestured for her father to precede them.

Just as quickly as they'd arrived, they departed, her father following in his carriage. As they jolted forward, she moved to sit beside Sebastian, wrapping her arms around his stiff body. She watched Dunsmore House roll by the window, wishing it and the man inside a good riddance.

Chapter Five

Sebastian paced the length of his room in furious strides, damning himself for a fool for thinking he could return to England and survive the experience unscathed. Over and over he played the afternoon's events in his mind. What would have happened had he not intercepted Olivia's ship? Would she have arrived and been duped into thinking Carr was her husband?

The ruse wouldn't have lasted long. His father must have intended for Olivia to go straight to Dunsmore House. A few months to assure a pregnancy, and she would have been too devastated to ever leave. The thought made him sick, it was so heinous. And he'd brought his wife back to this cesspool. Now she knew just how vile was the blood that flowed in his veins.

The adjoining door opened softly behind him. When Sebastian turned to face Olivia, he stilled, devastated to see her attired in a white lace night rail and robe that had to be part of her trousseau.

Her dark eyes skimmed over him, noting that he was still fully dressed. "You're leaving," she said flatly.

He stood there, sweat instantly misting his skin. He wanted to say something, anything, to erase the wounded look from her eyes, but his mouth was too dry.

"When?" she asked in a pained whisper. "Now?"

His voice came colder than he'd intended. "You said you wanted an absent husband."

"I know what I said." She stared at him, her heart in her eyes.

Against his will, Sebastian held out his hand to her, and she ran into his arms, her softness and redolence enveloping his senses. How had he thought this would be easy?

"I don't want to leave you," he murmured into her hair, and then hated himself for admitting the weakness.

"Can you wait?" she begged. "Allow me to settle Father's concerns. A week or two at most, and then I'll go with you."

Sebastian felt his chest constrict painfully and his cock grow heavy with need. "You would do that?" he asked gruffly. "Live on a ship with me, without a home?"

"My home is with you." Her slender fingers encircled his wrist and moved his hand down between her legs. Then she curled her fingers over his to cup her sex. "You're so tense, restless like a caged panther." She arched her hips into his hand, rubbing herself against his splayed fingers. "Allow me to give you ease and help you relax. We can discuss everything in the morning."

Eyes closed, he pressed his mouth into her hair. "I don't trust myself with you. Not at this moment." He was so furious and disgusted, he could barely breathe, and with her body undulating against his hand, all he wanted was to throw her on her back and fuck her until he couldn't think, couldn't feel.

"I know you're angry and frustrated, but you'd never hurt me."

With a perverse need to argue, he spoke harshly. "You know nothing of me. I attacked your ship just for the amusement of it. Perhaps I'd have even raped you if you weren't willing."

"Oh, Sebastian." Olivia sighed. "If you wish to argue rather than make love, I suppose I can accommodate you. But at least be honest. You took my ship without the loss of one life. And rape?" She shot him an amused glance. "A man of your outrageous beauty would have no need. 'Tis lucky for you I am your wife, or I might have raped you."

He scowled, even as his soul ached with longing. "You said I was a long-haired savage."

"Heavens, you didn't believe that?" She stepped away from his flexing fingers and moved to the small circular table in the corner. Pouring a large ration of brandy from the decanter, she brought it to him with a provocative sway to her hips, her golden curls tumbling past her waist.

"You are the most decadent-looking man I've ever seen, Sebastian Blake. Dark as sin, more beautiful and seductive than the devil himself, I would imagine. I would not change a thing about you. It amazes me every morning when I wake up and look at you lying beside me. I pinch myself regularly to be certain I'm not dreaming-that you're actually mine, that I bear your name and title." Her eyes locked on his as her voice lowered seductively. "That I'll bear your children."

Sebastian took the glass from her, his hand trembling, downing the liquor in one swallow. "You sound as if you received the better half of the bargain."

"I did." Moving away, Olivia shrugged out of her robe and left it behind her on the floor. She reached the bed and leaned against the edge. "I am assuming by the bulge in your breeches that you wish me to stay in your room tonight."

His hand dropped to his side, his fist close to crushing the empty glass. "Stay if you like. I'm going out."

"With your cock as hard as a poker?"

His mouth curved mockingly. Best she witness the depths to which he could sink now. Fruit never falls far from the tree. "You needn't concern yourself with my cock."

"Whose concern would it be if not mine?" she asked with a soft snort. "You cannot go about town in that condition."

"I don't intend to."

Her eyes widened as she understood his meaning. "You intend to find a whore to sate your lust on?"

"Perhaps." Sebastian shrugged. "Or maybe I'll sample two. My need is fierce tonight."

Olivia stood, her hands clenching into tiny fists. "Why? When I am always eager for you?"

He laughed. "Yes, you do like my cock, don't you?"

"Yes, and I am not ashamed to say so." Her chin lifted, her dark gaze burning into his. "Take me, Sebastian, and spare yourself the coin."

Deep inside, his conscience writhed in shame, but he squelched it ruthlessly. "But after years of pirating, sweet, I have coin to spare. Or have you forgotten what I am?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I am well aware of what you are. You are my husband, and if you walk out that door and take a whore, you'll be my husband in name only-for the rest of your miserable life. Consider that, my lord, before you depart." Turning, she stalked toward the adjoining door.

It took everything Sebastian had to keep his face impassive, when inside he felt scraped raw. His hand reached out to her retreating back, and in his mind, he was screaming for her to return, his heart begging for her forgiveness. But when he opened his mouth, only bitterness came out. "I thought we discussed this when we first met. I can take your body whenever I choose. The law says a man cannot rape his own wife."

Olivia spun to face him. "I'm offering myself to you! You've no cause to find a whore."

"I want one."

"I'll be one."

Her statement hit him like a physical blow. "Beg your pardon?"

"If you want a whore, I'll be one for you." She came toward him, licking her lips and swaying her hips like a harlot. "What'll it be, govna? A rut? Or would you rather I suck your cock?"

The empty tumbler fell from his hand and rolled away, forgotten. "Stop it."

She cupped her breasts in her hands, pinching the nipples. "You can fondle these, govna, for a couple quid."

He gripped her shoulders, shaking her. "Stop it!"

Her gaze met his, full of anger and pain. "Fuck me."

With a curse, he threw her away from him. "You're not a whore, Olivia. You're my lady wife. Act like it."

"I'll act the part of anything you need," she said desperately. "The alternative is your leaving and our marriage ending. Despite the way you're acting, I know that's not what you want. You're hurting. Allow me to help you."

Damn her. He could bear anything but her loss, and she knew it. Yet the monster inside him was determined to push her away. "I don't want to make love, Olivia. I want to fuck. Is that what you want? Do you want to be fucked?"

Her lips parted, and he watched her swallow hard. Desire mingled with the other emotions in her gaze.

"Very well, then." Sebastian ripped open the placket of his trousers to ease the unbearable constriction. His cock, hard and swollen, sprung free. "Lift your gown and lay on your stomach."

Her eyes widened. "Sebastian…"

"Now," he growled. He watched with primitive satisfaction as Olivia scrambled to do his bidding. His blood heated further as her shapely legs and luscious ass came into view. He stepped up to her and caressed the silken curve of her thigh, rubbing his erection in the valley between her buttocks. Bending over to bite her earlobe, he whispered, "I'm going to use you, wife. Hard and deep, all night. You won't be able to walk in the morning."

Olivia whimpered, squirming against the edge of the mattress. He brought his hand back and spanked her. Hard. She cried out in astonishment.

"Spread your legs. Wider." Sebastian noted the wetness that dampened the curls of her sex. He ran his fingers through it. "Ummm. Always ready for me." He spanked her again, admiring the imprint left by his hand. He was filled with a violent need to possess her, to claim her, to prove to them both that it was too late to turn back now. As horrid and twisted and unworthy as he was, she was bound to him. Forever.

Sebastian licked the side of her face. "Are you scared, sweet?"

Swallowing hard, she shook her head. "I-I…"

"You what? You like it?"

"Do anything…" she breathed. "I like everything you do…"

"Good girl."

He slid his cock between her thighs, thrusting back and forth to coat the length of his erection with her cream. She arched her hips into the erotic caress, and he rewarded her with the barest penetration. He teased her opening with a shallow plunge and then withdrew, relishing her protest.

Sebastian slid his hands up her straining back, lifting her night rail as he went, licking along the curve of her spine. "Sweet Olivia. Obeys Daddy without question, but inside, she longs for a wicked man to ravish her." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "A pirate perhaps?"

She gasped and bucked against the scorching heat of his erection. "Please… don't tease…"

He stroked the burning skin of his wife's bottom. Pressing a hard kiss to her cheek, Sebastian pulled back when she turned her head to capture his mouth. "I won't be gentle," he warned. "I'm not capable of it now. Tell me to stop if this is not what you want." He slid halfway inside her dripping channel, shuddering as he fought to walk away if she asked.

She writhed beneath him, her long nails leaving scratch trails in the velvet counterpane. "Hurry, damn you!"

"Don't swear," he growled, then rammed his cock balls-deep into her.

Olivia cried out in agonized pleasure as Sebastian buried himself to the hilt within her, the force of his thrust shoving her hips hard into the edge of the mattress. He withdrew immediately and plunged again, stretching her almost beyond bearing. She felt a complete wanton, with her feet resting on the floor, her legs spread wide to better accommodate his frenzied thrusting. She was helpless, a stationary vessel for his lust.

He reached down and wrapped his fist in her hair to hold her still while he fucked her. The hard tugging on her scalp as she moved under his fierce pounding only goaded her excitement. "I love you," she gasped.

"God… Olivia…" His rhythm faltered, his cock burning hot as it stilled within her.

"I love you," she repeated, shuddering beneath him as he swelled until it was almost painful. Lord above, he was massively built. She was so aroused, cream leaked from her body, causing a sweet sucking sound as he pulled out of her. She thrust her hips back, sliding her body back onto his shaft.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he groaned, his thighs quivering against hers. "You like me at your mercy and desperate for you." Sebastian pulled out and then pumped back into her again, his fingers digging with bruising force into her hips.

"Yes, my love," she moaned. "Be wild for me."

And he was.

Pleasure built impossibly fast, the tight, heavy weight of his balls slapping repeatedly against her, until Olivia thought she would go mad with it. Her eyes slid closed as her entire body began to tremble.

Sebastian growled, and she felt the hard jerking of his cock as he began to come in scorching bursts against her womb. The hand at her hip moved between her legs and began a frantic rubbing against the hard nub that ached for his touch. She groaned at the wracking pleasure, face buried in the counterpane, spurred by the feel of his hot semen flooding her womb and the skilled swirling of his fingers against her. Incredibly his pace increased, and she flowed without pause from one orgasm into another. When he finally collapsed against her back, Olivia was certain she would be unable to move for days, just as he had threatened.

It was several moments before his crushing weight lifted from her. Cold air chilled the skin so recently heated by the press of his body. Somehow she found the strength to reach back and clutch his wrist. "Don't leave me."

Sebastian's calloused hand caressed her hip as he rose. "Allow me to undress, sweet."

She turned to face him, noting his averted gaze and guessing the cause of it. "I'm fine."

"I was rough," he muttered.

"Do you regret what just happened?"

He shrugged out of his coat, then went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. "No."

Olivia pulled her gown over her head and discarded it. "Then cease acting as if you do." She crawled under the covers and rolled to her side, listening to the sounds of her husband disrobing.

"Do you regret what you said?" he asked in a near-whisper.

She hid her smile in the pillow. "No."

His hard body curled behind hers, his mouth pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Lacing her fingers with the ones he held against her stomach, she fell asleep.

Later, she woke to the feel of Sebastian's hands roaming her curves, his body hot and damp behind hers. His skilled fingers slipped between her legs, dipping into her sex coated with his seed, and stroking until she moaned with desire. His mouth found the lobe of her ear. Helpless with pleasure, she arched into him.

His voice was gruff as he breathed in her ear. "Say it again."

"I love you."

Adjusting her hips, he slid into her from behind, filling her completely. He thrust within her, slow and luxurious, his hands kneading her breasts and rolling her nipples with his calloused fingertips. She begged him to hurry, but he continued to move with lazy strokes, whispering raw, carnal words that goaded her passion to a fever pitch. When he finally allowed her release, it stunned her with its force and she cried out, her fingers clawing at his. Sebastian stiffened behind her and then flooded her with heat, his velvety voice gasping and moaning her name in the darkness.

Sated, he held her tightly to him. "I'm sorry," he breathed against her skin. "I would not have done it."

Olivia didn't misunderstand. "I couldn't bear to share you."

"You never will, I vow."

Dawn intruded around the heavy velvet curtains when Sebastian reached for her again. She rolled into his embrace by instinct, half-asleep yet sensing how much he needed her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I don't deserve you."

"Shhh…"

"Tell me again."

"I love you." And her heart ached for him, this beautiful, wonderful man who'd had so little love in his life that he would beg for it from her. "I love you, Sebastian."

With her eyes closed, Olivia relied on her other sleep-hazy senses-smell, taste, touch. Every hard plane and ridge of her husband's body was so familiar to her questing fingertips. He whispered to her, incoherent sounds that made her feel safe and cherished. She tugged him closer, her need as fierce as his, until he rose above her and blocked out the whispers of light.

He anchored her thigh over his hip and thrust skillfully inside her. Over and over he brought her to climax, knowing her pleasures, understanding her wants as only an expert and attentive lover could. She could feel his tenderness spreading through every touch, every lunge. Giving a startled cry, Olivia felt the rapture wash over her, through her, and into Sebastian, who shivered against her and gave a low, pained moan.

Olivia woke hours later and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her left hand felt weighted, and she looked at it, coming to immediate wakefulness at the sight of the massive sapphire that graced her ring finger. Her heart tightened. She didn't have to look around to be certain.

Sebastian was gone.

As he threw open the door to his father's bedroom, stealth was not the primary goal in Sebastian's mind. Olivia's scent rose up from his skin as his blood heated with fury. His father had deliberately set out to destroy his wife to attain his own ends. Sebastian would not tolerate it happening again. His father would know that for a certainty in a moment.

He watched with grim satisfaction as his father shot up in the bed, startled by the sound of the door banging against the wall. The marquess glanced around with wild eyes.

"Hang it all, Sebastian! What is the meaning of this?"

"How fitting. The last morning we met was much like this, only it was I in the bed and you the wrathful figure in the doorway." The memory still made the bile rise in his throat. He smiled with wicked intent as his father paled. "Ah… so you see my purpose." He leapt onto the bed and pinned his father down, his hand forming a vice around the marquess's neck.

He would not leave his wife at the mercy of this monster.

"You are fortunate that I have no desire to be a marquess, or I would kill you now and be done with you."

His father's eyes bulged from the face that so resembled his own. What an odd bit of fate that was. Edmund had looked like their mother, sharing her reddish hair and moss green eyes.

"Sebas-For God's-" Dunsmore struggled like a man gone mad, his hands scratching at Sebastian's wrists, drawing blood, his legs kicking convulsively beneath the counterpane.

"Listen." Sebastian dropped his face to within inches of his father's. "You will stay away from my wife. Do not approach her for any reason. If I discover that either you or Carr went within seeing distance of Olivia, I'll kill you." His fingers tightened further, until his entire hand ached with the force he exerted. Then he released his father and moved off the bed.

The marquess rolled to the edge of the mattress and cast up his accounts on the Aubusson rug. "I-I'll… cut… you off…" he choked out, his stomach heaving.

Sebastian laughed derisively. "If only that were possible. But everything is entailed except for your money, and I have no need of it. Spend it, burn it. I don't care."

His father spat on the floor.

Sebastian headed toward the door. "Remember, Father. Stay away from my wife."

After making the appropriate arrangements for Olivia with his solicitor, Sebastian stood on the deck of the Seawitch, watching the London skyline shrink as he left England behind. Like a coward, he wanted to flee the mess that was his family, and he fought the temptation to give in to the urge. It would be so easy to leave all the ugliness and never return, to escape the life for which he had no desire and find freedom elsewhere. But he had Olivia now, and he would suffer any ordeal, accomplish any feat, journey anywhere, as long as he could have her and be with her daily.

He must free himself of his past-release his men, make arrangements for his ship, and sever his ties with the Robidoux brothers. He wasn't certain how he would survive the upcoming weeks without his wife, but it was too dangerous to bring her with him.

As England faded from view, Sebastian knew he would return as soon as he was able.

He'd left his heart behind, and he could not live without her.

Olivia barely made it through her morning toilet, consumed as she was by a dull, aching emptiness. She'd been so certain she could convince Sebastian to stay, or to at least take her with him, but part of her was not surprised that he had fled. It was a long-standing habit with him to run from his troubles. In his youth, he'd used drink and women to escape. Later, he'd used the sea and, for a time, her body. But apparently she hadn't been sufficient.

She'd stay in bed if she could, wallowing in the linens scented of his skin and their lovemaking, but her father was here and she had to attend to him. Olivia couldn't conceive how she would manage to survive the day, but the effort had to be made.

In the dining room, she filled her plate from the covered platters on the sideboard. Then she preceded the footman to the parlor, where her father sat reading his paper.

"Good morning, Livy," he greeted jovially.

"Good morning, Father." She pressed kisses to each of his rosy cheeks, then moved to the small table and chairs in the corner. When the footman set her plate and juice on the table, she dismissed him with a smile.

"You look positively lovesick," her father commented. "Are you that pleased with your husband?"

"I… yes." She had been, before he broke her heart, but she would never tell her father that. There was no way he could have foreseen what would occur when he endeavored to marry her into a title. And truly, wasn't this mess her own fault? She had known how Sebastian was when she'd determined to keep him. Only her own foolishness had allowed her to hope for more.

"I have to say, I had my doubts when I first saw him," Jack admitted. "I know his type, wild and unruly. Not the sort of spouse a father would choose for his only daughter. But after speaking with him this morning-"

Her pulse leapt. "You spoke with him this morning?"

"Yes. We ate breakfast together. He doesn't appear to be the scapegrace I first thought, though he has the looks for it. His handling of the situation last evening impressed me. He appears to be very protective of you, possessive even. I like that. He's also astonishingly well versed in seamanship, seems not the least put-out with my work in trade, and… well, anyway, I found I liked him much better than that cousin of his, the one I thought was Lord Merrick."

Olivia stifled a groan at the reminder. As if she hadn't enough problems of her own to attend to, she was now inextricably bound to the rest of the Blake family, and what she'd seen of the brood so far left a marked distaste in her mouth. "Did Merrick mention his plans to you?"

Her father folded his paper and looked at her curiously. "He said he left you a note. Didn't you read it?"

She was out the door in a moment, shouting for the butler. He came running out, panting with the effort to make haste. But he knew nothing of a note, so she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. She found a chambermaid making the freshly changed bed.

"Morning, milady," the young servant greeted with a quick curtsy.

"Did you find a note for me?"

The girl nodded and moved to the end table, returning with a slip of folded parchment.

Olivia murmured her thanks and retired to her room to read the missive in private. It was simple and heartbreaking.

Trust me. I will return.

Yours,

S

She sank to the floor and cried.

Chapter Six

London, England, June 1813

Stifling a yawn, Olivia perused the ballroom with a jaundiced eye. The event was a crush, therefore the room was hot and, despite the profusion of flowers, smelly as well. She had no desire to be here, but Dunsmore had insisted she attend.

One would think that the last four months would have wrought some change in their feelings for one another, considering how closely they worked together to ensure her social success. But such was not the case. She detested the horrid man as much today as the day she had first met him. Unfortunately, left to her own devices, she'd had no recourse but to seek out the marquess's assistance. She required his support to establish herself as Lady Merrick. Without him, the social acceptance that was due her would have been denied her.

Personally, Olivia cared nothing for the Beau Monde's regard, and if she'd had any choice, she would have remained at home and licked her wounds in peace. Her child, on the other hand, deserved a proper start in life, and it was for that reason alone she feigned interest in Polite Society.

Her hard work was rewarded with unequivocal success. Even Dunsmore was impressed, and she'd sensed an almost imperceptible softening in his attitude toward her. He would be thrilled to learn that she was enceinte and that all of his machinations had the desired outcome, but the knowledge was too precious to share. She suspected he would take a perverse pleasure in obtaining the knowledge before Sebastian, and she refused to give him the satisfaction. It was the final act of kindness she would ever bestow upon her errant husband.

She'd been devastated when he left, weepy and despondent. Then she'd turned furious.

She remained furious.

Olivia set her glass of lemonade on the tray of a nearby footman before she snapped the delicate stem in half. Sebastian had broken his word, left her to fend for herself among the wolves while he ran from his troubles. She would never forgive him for that. Never.

"Trust me," he wrote. Ha! He refused to trust her. Why should she be the only party in their marriage to extend such a simple courtesy?

"My lady, would it be too much to hope that you still have a dance available?"

Olivia turned at the sound of the familiar drawl, eyeing Carr Blake with a sigh. The man wasn't truly evil like his uncle, just misguided and easily led. Regardless, she kept a close eye on him and maintained a rigid distance from his friendly overtures. The man had set out to deceive her in the most heinous manner imaginable, and that was an offense she would never forget. Still, she had appearances to maintain, and one of them was a feigned closeness to the Blake brood, distasteful as they all were. "Certainly. The set after next."

His blue eyes gleamed with excitement. "I am a fortunate man."

Again she was caught by the resemblance between Carr and Sebastian. They were very similar, both boasting shining black hair and startlingly blue eyes. But the resemblance was merely superficial. Carr was more like an exuberant puppy, while Sebastian was more of a panther on the prowl.

Olivia rolled her shoulders back and forced a smile, since most eyes were on her. Her relentless pursuit of the height of fashion had been a large part of her success, an expensive accomplishment achieved through her husband's largesse.

She sighed audibly. She would gladly have given up everything if it would have won her Sebastian's love. But it was too late for that now.

"Lady Merrick, I believe this next set has been reserved for me."

Olivia turned. "I believe you are correct, Monsieur Robidoux."

The dashing Frenchman bowed elegantly over her proffered hand. His golden beauty had won him wide regard with the members of the ton. It did nothing for her, but she flashed him her best smile.

He grinned as he escorted her to the gathering line of dancers. "You are even more ravishing tonight than usual, my lady."

She arched a brow. "Thank you, monsieur."

Robidoux had been brazenly forward with her since arriving in London a month ago, suggesting strolls through the gardens or drives in the park, all of which she refused. She braced herself at every meeting, his determination to be alone with her making her decidedly uncomfortable.

"Lady Merrick," he purred in his unctuous voice. "The Dunsmore title is an old and respected one, I've been told. And yet the earl who inherits it is not in attendance. In fact, no one has seen hide nor hair of the man in over five years."

She laughed-part in amusement, part in exasperation. The gossips were rife with speculation about the whereabouts of her husband. After all, it was odd for a missing man to suddenly acquire a wife. It was because of this unusual circumstance that Dunsmore's assistance had been necessary to establish her credibility. "I assure you, Lord Merrick is not a figment of my imagination."

Robidoux's fingers tightened on hers. "A beautiful woman should never be neglected."

She suppressed an unladylike snort. The man's advances were growing tiresome. "I am not neglected, Monsieur Robidoux."

"Where is your husband then? I would very much like to make his acquaintance."

"And so you shall, in good time." The country dance began, and she released a relieved breath.

The Frenchman's smile held no charm as they traversed the length of the line. "Perhaps you'd care to take a stroll in the gardens with me when the set is over?" he asked before they separated.

"No, thank you."

Olivia was grateful when the music faded to silence. One more dance was left in the set, but at least she was marginally closer to escaping Robidoux's company. Something about the man made her uneasy. His smiles never reached his eyes, and the way he looked at her made her feel… dissected.

"The Right Honourable Earl of Merrick," the majordomo intoned in his booming voice.

The entire room froze, a weighted silence settling over the mass of occupants like a thick fog.

Olivia turned, eyes wide, mouth agape. As the strains of the next dance began, her eyes were riveted on the tall, dark form descending the staircase.

Sebastian took the steps with his customary arrogant grace. It hardly seemed possible, but his skin was even darker, swarthy in a wholly unfashionable way that made her weak in the knees. The way he moved promised hours of untold delight and overwhelming carnal pleasure. Despite her deeply rooted anger, Olivia's mouth watered, her breasts swelled, and her sex clenched with every step he took.

The guests, released from their surprise, came forward to greet him, but Sebastian was oblivious to everyone else, his intense blue gaze locked on her. The heat that flared between them, even from a distance, brought a mist of sweat to her skin. She knew well the look he was giving her and understood she was in imminent danger of being ravaged senseless, yet she couldn't move, her heart racing. It took him mere moments to reach her, and yet it seemed as if an hour passed.

He held out his hand, and Olivia hesitated only an instant before accepting it, watching in breathless anticipation as he lifted her hand to his lips. Through her glove, she felt the spark that moved from his mouth, up her arm, and down to her core. She shivered.

Satisfaction curled the ends of his lips. "I have missed you, my love."

The rest of the ballroom waited anxiously for her reply, the music overly loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed her fury to show in her gaze, then she lowered in an elegant curtsy. "My lord."

Immediately the guests began speaking in frantic whispers.

Sebastian tugged her up, his expression possessive and bemused. "Time to depart."

She looked for Robidoux, prepared to offer his introduction, and frowned. The Frenchman had left the dance floor and disappeared into the crowd without a word of farewell.

"Now, Olivia."

"You have only just arrived," she hedged. Being alone with Sebastian would invite nothing but trouble.

He arched an arrogant brow.

She opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. Her husband was not a man who took well to being denied. Certainly not while he looked as if he would lift her skirts and sink into her body right here in the ballroom.

Giving an almost imperceptible nod, Olivia allowed him to tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow. She held her tongue until they were safely ensconced in the carriage, but the moment he reached for her, she slapped his hand away with her reticule.

"Damnation!" he yelped.

She smiled. "You will not be touching me again, I vow."

Sebastian eyed his spitfire wife in wounded astonishment. He'd noted the changes in her immediately. Olivia looked harder somehow, her eyes furious, her lush mouth pursed tightly together. He had hoped for a warm and eager reunion. Instead, his wife vowed never to allow him to touch her. What in blazes was going on?

"What in blazes is going on?" he growled.

She shot him an incredulous glance.

Hang it all, she was supposed to be pleased to see him! "Olivia, love-"

"Oh, please," she muttered. Staring out the window, she heaved a disgusted sigh. "You do not know how to love. You merely desire your allotted conjugal visitation."

"My conjug-" he sputtered. "Bloody everlasting hell! What the devil are you talking about?"

"Oh, I apologize," she replied in mock innocence. "Did I shock you? I meant your breeding rights."

"My 'breeding rights'?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "This is ridiculous."

"You would think so."

Sebastian sat in an agony of confusion. He had gone directly to their townhouse from the docks, only to discover her out for the evening. Learning from the butler that she had gone to the Dempsey ball, he'd changed quickly into evening attire and hastened to find her.

He'd been torn about making his belated first appearance as Lord Merrick at such a large gathering, and truly, the silence of the ballroom upon his arrival had momentarily flustered him. Then he'd found Olivia, and everyone else had ceased to matter. He would deal with the rest of the world tomorrow. Right now all he wanted, all he craved, was his wife's lush body pressed against his and her dark eyes warm with pleasure at his return.

"What have I done to anger you so?" he asked softly.

"I cannot believe you even have to ask. You left me here alone," she snapped. "In the midst of the vultures, after you promised me you would stay at least long enough to see me settled in Society. You could not even muster the courage to tell me good-bye. Well, my lord, if you cannot honor your promises to me, I am not bound to honor mine to you."

"Hell's teeth," he muttered. "It was in my keeping of that promise that I was forced to leave."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Aren't you going to inquire as to what I was doing?" he grumbled.

"No. It's far too late for that now. You should have discussed your plans with me before leaving."

Sebastian gazed upon his wife's luminous beauty, and he wanted to howl. She could not have stopped loving him. He would die if she had. "You love me."

Olivia snorted. "You flatter yourself."

"You do," he insisted. "And by God, you'll admit it!"

"I will do no such thing!"

"You will!" Oh, he sounded like a child, and he felt like one, chastened and eager to win back the love that made him whole. No one in his life had ever loved him besides Olivia. Well, perhaps his mother had, but what good did it do him when he couldn't remember it?

The carriage came to a halt, and before he could move, Olivia stumbled down from the carriage and ran into the house. Sebastian gave chase, startling the footman, who moved to lower the step. She ran past the gaping butler, who held the door open, and flew up the steps.

"Olivia!" he bellowed. He almost caught her, but he tripped on the runner as he rounded the corner, and the extra steps required to prevent falling on his face cost him. She reached her bedroom and slammed the door, ramming home what sounded to be a very substantial bolt. With an oath, he turned and entered his own suite.

Lock him out, would she? He'd just see about that. He strode toward the adjoining door that had no lock.

And realized the portal no longer existed.

She'd sealed the damn thing up and covered the wall with taupe damask so that no trace of it remained. Damnation, that was the final straw!

Sebastian exited to the gallery with angry strides and kicked the door to his wife's room as hard as he could, yelling a curse when it budged not one whit.

"It won't work!" she shouted through the door. "It's barred."

"Barred?" he shouted back, incredulous.

"Yes, barred. Now go away!"

His chest heaved with furious indignation. "Olivia…" he began warningly.

"Go away!"

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding, her arms wrapped around a pillow, as she stared apprehensively at the door. Long moments of silence passed, and still she fretted that Sebastian would return.

She was stricken to realize she had underestimated the power of his attractiveness. In the four months of his absence, she'd managed to convince herself that their passion would fade eventually. Now she knew it would never fade. Her love for him wouldn't allow it.

Still, she was grimly satisfied that she'd managed to thwart his amorous intent, if only for this evening. She was barely surviving every day, her heart aching with his loss. He certainly deserved whatever discomfort she could throw at him.

After a time, Olivia relaxed, somewhat deflated that he had given up so easily. With a sigh, she stood, tossed the pillow aside, and began to undress herself, no easy task with the row of tiny buttons running down the back of her gown. She was doing a fine imitation of a contortionist when impatient fingers brushed hers away. Startled, she screamed and spun to face her husband, who gazed at her with ravenous hunger and barely tempered frustration.

"How did you-" She glanced around his large form, spying the very top of a ladder resting against her balcony railing. "Dear heaven. The audacity."

Arching a brow, Sebastian tugged at his cravat. "I am a pirate by trade, wife. A barred door is no deterrent to me."

"Wh-what are you doing?" she cried as he deftly removed his waistcoat, tossing it over his discarded jacket.

"I've conquered. Now it is time to claim my booty. In this case, you." He yanked off his shirt, revealing his powerful torso and rippling abdomen. He had become darker in the weeks they'd been apart, his skin was now a beautiful mahogany. Her mouth flooded.

Good grief, she was going to drool.

"Put your clothes back on!" she snapped, clutching her loosened bodice to her breasts. "I'm furious with you!"

He grunted. "I've gathered that." He tore open the placket of his breeches and shoved them to the floor.

"Oh hell…" she muttered as his raging cock sprang free, hard as steel and massively engorged. Her nipples hardened instantly. Olivia forced herself to meet his gaze and saw the masculine satisfaction there. He knew damn well the effect his bare body had on her.

"Ah, see how much I've missed you, sweet," he purred in his luscious voice. "It's been too long since I was last inside you."

She swallowed hard. "I don't want you."

"Liar."

"I'm angry," she complained, her resistance melting as Sebastian took his cock in hand and began to stroke the silken length.

"This is how I've spent my nights, Olivia." His fingers curled around his shaft and pumped hard. "Visions of you had me begging for a release that was denied to me. Sleeping in that bed where we'd spent so many pleasurable hours making love was torture." His eyelids grew heavy as he pleasured himself. "Every night I would bring myself relief with pictures of you in my mind. Didn't you miss me as well?"

Olivia licked her lips, her gaze riveted to the dark hand that stroked his cock. She wanted him so badly she ached. She loved him. Despite everything, she still loved him.

"This changes nothing," she whispered. "It is only sex."

His grin was triumphant, and it pricked her pride. Sebastian might think he'd won this encounter, but she would prove differently.

She crossed the short distance between them and dropped to her knees. Grasping his straining erection, she pulled it down to her mouth and sucked it inside, swirling her tongue around the plum-sized head. His hiss of pleasure followed by the convulsive grip of his fingers in her hair betrayed her power. A few quick thrusts of his hips, and his thighs were straining with the effort to remain standing.

"Poor, sweet," she murmured against the wet head of his cock. "Perhaps you should lie on the bed before you collapse."

Pulling her upright, Sebastian possessed her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside just as he had thrust his cock. His skilled hands caressed her curves with disarming familiarity. Within moments, she was clinging to his powerful body, gasping with pleasure. He ripped her gown open, sending scores of tiny cloth-covered buttons flying in every direction. Excitement coursed through her blood, even as her mind still waged its protest.

"This changes nothing," she repeated.

"Remind yourself of that when I'm done," he growled arrogantly, shoving her dress to the floor. He spun her around and tore at her tapes, quickly divesting her of her petticoats and corset without care for the costly garments.

"Sebastian-"

"Umm… say my name again, sweeting. I love the way you say it."

She melted. "Sebastian."

He pulled her chemise over her head and tossed it aside before lifting her and carrying her to the bed, his mouth pressed firmly against her forehead. "I've missed you terribly."

Olivia shook her head, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She tugged the ribbon from his queue, freeing his silky raven locks. "I should be stronger. I should resist you. You've hurt me terribly. Perhaps if I had a blade or a pistol-"

"Neither one could keep me from you."

Then why had he left? More important, she needed to know why he'd returned.

"I love you, Olivia."

Stiffening against him, she leaned back to search his face. Sebastian stared back with tender blue eyes, and Olivia bit back a sob. She'd longed for his love, and she longed to believe it was real. But she couldn't trust him, and because of that lack, instead of joy, his words brought only pain.

"Why do you look so shocked, sweet? Surely you must have suspected how I felt." He laid her on the bed as if she were the most priceless of treasures.

"You came back because you love me?" she queried bitterly. "Only a besotted fool would believe that."

"I didn't come back because I love you."

She frowned, confused.

"I left because I love you."

Sebastian settled atop her and lowered his lips, effectively silencing her forthcoming questions with devastating kisses. His hard, expert mouth moved over hers, weakening her defenses, reminding her of the pleasure to be found in his arms. He rolled, taking her with him, freeing his hands to roam with questing tenderness. Hot flicks of his tongue caressed the roof of her mouth and stroked against hers. Lord, she'd almost forgotten how well the man could kiss!

His mouth was wicked, divine, and he kissed her as if he were feasting on the taste of her. Her womb clenched on the verge of orgasm. She wiggled her hips until his cock was wedged at the moist entrance to her body.

"Wait!" he gasped, tearing his mouth from hers, but she paid him no heed, sliding onto his throbbing cock with a pleasured moan. "Olivia!"

Instantly his torso bucked off the bed, lifting her with him, and he was coming deep within her, crying out hoarsely as his hot seed spurted with wrenching shudders. His arms came around her in a crushing embrace, his body shivering with powerful tremors.

Olivia held him close, wondering at the feel of him, hot and hard and jerking beneath her. When he was drained, she followed him back into the pillows.

"Ah, sweeting," he murmured hoarsely, stroking her spine. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stop it. It's been too long."

"I understand."

"Give me a moment to regain my senses, and I will pleasure you until morning."

His words, meant to entice, filled her with dread. She slipped off him while he was still too sated to stop her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Olivia ran a hand through her hair, dislodging her hairpins. "You left me, Sebastian."

"I had good cause," he insisted, rolling to face her. "Originally I agreed to stay only for the short time you asked of me. But when you told me you loved me, it changed everything. I realized I loved you and wanted to be with you, but I had my men to take care of, and my ship. I had to sever my ties with them before I could begin anew with you."

Olivia brushed away the tear that escaped and took a deep, shuddering breath. So much resentment, fear, and even a touch of wary hope warred within her that she was overwhelmed with emotion.

She looked over her shoulder at her husband, her heart aching at the sight of his resplendent nakedness and his beloved hair, spread out across her lacy pillows. Somehow the highly feminine trappings of her bed only emphasized his potent masculinity. But it was his gaze that most devastated her, full of longing and love and a hint of fear. She looked away, unable to bear it. "You were gone for four months."

His fingertips moved over her back in a rhythmic caress. "I gave my ship to Will and settled my accounts with the crew. It was my intention to cast off immediately and return to you."

"But you didn't."

"No," he agreed. "For good reason. There are twin brothers-pirates, I'm ashamed to say I associated with. I've angered them, and they are not men to forgive a perceived slight. The night we left Barbados they demanded you in payment of my debt."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Will informed me that the serving maid at the inn where you stayed was approached by one of the brothers. He asked questions about you, Olivia. He learned your identity. I could not allow the situation to progress any further. You were in danger because of me."

She spun to face him. "What did you do?"

Sebastian reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "I waited for the pirates to return to the island, and when they did, I fought with the more vicious of the two and killed him. The other managed to escape. I hunted him, but he's hidden himself away. I have every reason to believe he'll stay hidden. Pierre was never much of a threat without Dominique."

Olivia traced the swirling pattern in the Aubusson rug with her toe. "You could have told me of your plans."

"You were asleep," he explained defensively. "I'd kept you awake the whole of the night and thought it best to leave quietly. I wrote you a letter."

She stood and paced the length of the bed. "That was no letter, my lord. That was a few lines of hastily scrawled words."

"I was reluctant to write more," he admitted.

She paused. "Why?"

He met her gaze with such earnestness that her barely mending heart broke all over again. "If I'd delayed too long-if I'd attempted to say good-bye-I never would have been able to leave you, especially if you'd begged to come with me, which I suspected you might. Denying you would have been impossible, and it was too dangerous for you to accompany me." Sitting up, he crossed his long legs. "Olivia. My wife. My love. Can you understand?" He held his hands out to her, pleading.

"No, Sebastian." She shook her head. "You left for yourself. Not for me. You-"

"That's not true, damn it!"

"It is! You ran because that is what you do. You've been running your whole life-from your family, your responsibilities, everything. This time you were running from me." She growled with frustration and clenched her fists. "Beautiful, damaged man that you are. I thought I could fix you, heal you, but I cannot."

He leapt from the bed and caught her by the shoulders. "Listen to me."

"No, you listen to me!" She stomped her bare foot. "You broke my heart, Sebastian Blake. Left me to the wolves while you regrouped and gathered your defenses-against me't I was getting too close, becoming too important, you-"

"Important?" he scoffed, shaking her. "You are everything to me. I've given up all that I had for you!"

She snorted. "Well, you shouldn't have. You threw away what we had."

"No." He paled beneath his tan. "Don't say that. God… Olivia… don't ever say that!"

"I cannot rely on you."

"You can," he promised. "I shall never leave you again. I swear it. I could no more leave you than I could stop breathing."

"You broke your promise before. How can I believe you now?"

She would not survive it if he hurt her again.

"Damn it…" His hands slid down her arms. "Sweetheart." His velvety voice became soothing, seducing. "I love you, Olivia."

"Not enough." She pulled away. "It's too convenient for you to run. There is nothing to hold you to me."

"Our marriage, our love. I know you love me still."

"Apparently my love was not enough," she whispered bitterly. "Or yours."

When Sebastian caught her again, she could feel the desperation in his touch. "It has to be enough, Olivia. It's all I have." Lifting her, he carried her to the bed.

"You cannot get your way with seduction."

"Perhaps not," he muttered. "But I can sweeten your temper."

Sebastian stared up at the velvet canopy and listened to the sounds of his wife's rhythmic breathing. He'd loved her into exhaustion, but he was no closer to winning back her heart than he'd been before he started.

Of course, it wouldn't be so easy. When had anything in his life been easy?

Releasing a sigh, he admitted that wasn't entirely true. Winning Olivia's love had been easy, almost as easy as he'd lost it. God, what a mess he was in. If her love was gone…

No, he wouldn't think about that.

She murmured, stirring restlessly. He reached over and tucked the counterpane more securely around her.

Olivia was his wife. He glanced at her left hand and breathed his satisfaction at the sight of his mother's sapphire. In reality, he had the rest of his life to win her back. But the truth was, he didn't have the rest of his life to wait.

He needed her love. Right now.

Olivia had shown him what it was like to be cared for, what it was like to be happy, not merely on the outside, but deep in his soul.

He couldn't take many more encounters with her disregard. His father's neglect had ceased to be of any consequence when he was still a child, but Olivia… His sweet, passionate Olivia. Her anger and remoteness were killing him.

Sebastian ran an agitated hand through his hair. Nothing to hold him to her, she said. He would change that.

He would bind himself to her, to the land, to his cursed family. He would prove to her that he could change, as long as she would be his.

As long as she would love him again.

Chapter Seven

Olivia woke with a start, immediately aware of her husband's large body wrapped possessively around her. She froze for a moment, wondering what to do.

"Morning, my love," he murmured in a deliciously sleep-raspy voice.

"Sebastian," she whispered, acutely conscious of the soreness of her nipples and the ache between her thighs. "I-"

"Shush, no arguing today." He moved, freeing her.

She leapt from his embrace and ducked behind the privacy screen, her heart racing with joy at finding him in her bed again.

Silly, stupid heart. A glutton for punishment.

As she washed with the cold water from the pitcher, she heard him rise. When the knock came to the door, she reached for her robe, then stilled midmovement, surprised to hear Sebastian order hot water for her bath, along with strong coffee. She heard the amused giggle of the chambermaid and shot a glance around the screen. Her eyes widened in horror to find Sebastian standing in the doorway wearing only a sheet. Furious, she stormed toward him, yanking him out of the way of the slamming door.

He bit back a roguish grin and arched a brow. "Yes, my love?" His gaze raked the length of her wet and still naked form. "I am always eager to oblige your carnal desires. No need to accost me."

"Oooh!" She turned from him, clenching her fists. "It is indecent for you to call the servants up here while you are unclothed!"

He laughed. "I would have retrieved a robe from my room, but the door appears to be missing."

Olivia turned to face him again, which was a mistake. Sebastian had discarded the sheet and stalked toward her with obvious sexual intent, his erect cock leading the way. "Damnation! Cover that thing!"

"I intend to," he purred. "With you."

She threw up her hands. "After last night, how can you possibly be so amorous? You hardly allowed me to sleep. I'm exhausted."

"'Tis your fault," he retorted. "I was fine until you started traipsing around the room naked."

"I was not traipsing!" she protested, hurrying toward the relative safety of the screen and her robe. "I was merely curbing your ridiculous flirting. She's a mere slip of a girl-"

"Exactly," he interjected, catching her about the waist and easily subduing her. "And my wife is more than enough woman for me. Jealousy and all."

"I'm not jealous!"

He dropped to his knees with easy grace and laid her down. He rose above her, his long hair hanging around them, and she paused her thrashing, arrested by the magnificent sight of him. He slipped a hand between her legs and grinned. "Ah, no foreplay required." Spreading her thighs wide, he thrust into her. "Umm… I missed the feel of you. You are even softer and more curvaceous than I remembered." His mouth latched around a straining nipple.

Olivia gasped as he filled her completely, infusing her with drugging pleasure. "The rug…"

"We'll buy another." He withdrew and then thrust again. Hard.

She writhed beneath him. "The servants…"

"They'll wait." Pulling her legs around his waist, he settled into a fierce, almost brutal rhythm. "God… Olivia… I love you…"

"Sebastian, you-"

"Hang it, woman! Cease talking."

He took her mouth with desperate kisses, his hard body straining over and inside of her. Her hands cupped his flexing buttocks, and she moaned, relishing the feel of his body working its way into hers. Deep inside, she could feel him, stretching, prodding, stroking her deeply with unfailing skill. Tucking his arms under her knees, he held her wide as he pumped inside her, driving her quickly to the edge and then shoving her over. She was crying out her pleasure when the knock came to the door.

Olivia shoved at his sweat-slick shoulders, mortified.

"Wait!" he growled, his pace quickening until he was pistoning into her without mercy.

"Sebastian!" she choked out. "They'll hear us!"

"Yes," he gasped. "Come for me again, and let the whole house hear you."

She moaned, arching beneath him, dissolving in voluptuous bliss. When the orgasm swept over her, she cried out again, unable to contain it. Sebastian cursed when he came, his entire body stiffening before melting into powerful shudders.

Sated, he pressed kisses against her throat. "I love you," he whispered.

And though her lips said nothing, her heart replied in kind.

Sebastian watched his wife over his newspaper at the breakfast table and made a concerted effort not to smile. @

Olivia refused to look any of the servants in the eye, blushing to the tips of her ears when any of them spoke to her. He found it fascinating. After all, the woman had nearly unmanned him with his own blade and threatened seasoned pirates with a pistol. But apparently those were deeds she was comfortable with. Having two footmen and a slip-of-a-girl chambermaid hear their abandoned fucking was more than she could bear with dignity.

He licked a dab of honey from his lip and felt contented. No woman could respond to a man the way Olivia had and remain unaffected. Not that he discounted her fury. He deserved it, after all. And he would pay whatever penance was required.

She was his better half, adept at all of the things he tripped over, and yet a match for the untamed and uncivilized man within him. She was his counterpart, his soul mate, and he'd hurt her terribly, an offense he considered unforgivable. But he would correct his mistake. He had to.

"What are our plans for the day, love?"

She glanced up sharply. "I… I have a meeting this afternoon. And then a fitting at the dressmaker's."

"Excellent. I have an appointment as well. What time is your fitting? I'll escort you."

Her eyebrows rose to meet her hairline. "Beg your pardon?"

"Well, I must meet with our man-of-affairs, sweeting, and make arrangements to visit the Dunsmore estates. It should be a lovely trip. We'll take a few months, and see them all."

"A trip?" she repeated, dumbfounded.

"That's what I said."

Olivia stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. He bit his cheek to keep from grinning.

Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. "Two o'clock."

"Lovely, just enough time to attend to my affairs." He pushed back from the table and dropped his paper over his plate. "I shall see you then." He gripped the back of her chair, tipping her on the hind legs until she was looking straight up at him.

"Sebastian! Good heavens, the servants…"

He kissed her breathless. "I love you."

Righting her chair, he left the room before she could reply, whistling as he collected his hat and cane from the butler and swept out the door. He vaulted into the waiting coach. It wasn't long before he stood on the landing of his man-of-affairs' small, nondescript office.

"Your lordship!" Benjamin Wilson quickly pulled the door all the way open. "I wasn't aware you had returned."

"I arrived last eventide. How are you, Wilson?"

"Quite well, my lord. And you?"

"Good. Did you hire the investigator I requested?" Sebastian handed his cane and hat to his footman, then moved into the office. He sank into a chair facing the desk.

"Of course!" Wilson assured him, slightly offended. "I am sorry to say, the man I hired was unable to gather as much information as I would have liked. After your departure, Lady Merrick quickly became all the rage, rendering it nearly impossible to make inquiries with any discretion."

Wilson opened a locked drawer in his desk and removed a file with a variety of protruding newspaper clippings. "Most of the information gathered about her came from these."

Sebastian made no move to open the folder. "I'll peruse them in depth later. Give me a condensed version, if you will."

"Certainly." Wilson sat back in his chair. "Lady Merrick's first Season was rather uneventful. Very little mention is made of her in the gossip columns other than casual references to her great beauty and sense of style. Her father's business in trade most likely made her unacceptable to most members of the Quality, and it was widely known that Lady Crenshaw sponsored her only because of the large debt Lord Crenshaw owed to Mr. Lambert."

Sebastian grinned. "I'd wager there is many a peer who regrets his pomposity now, eh?"

"Definitely, my lord," Wilson agreed, nodding. "You made a wise choice."

"I suppose I shall have to thank my father for that one day." Sebastian sighed. "Regardless, please continue."

"Lady Merrick's popularity increased tremendously during her second Season, when she caught the eye of Lord Haversham."

"The devil you say!" Sebastian cried, sitting bolt upright in his seat. Back in their Oxford days, Haversham had been a friend of his. But when Sebastian had turned into a completely worthless, dissolute, immoral scoundrel, Haversham had quickly put distance between them.

Wilson frowned. "Yes, Lord Haversham courted Lady Merrick doggedly for the entire Season. There was heavy speculation that he would be offering for her."

"Hell's teeth." Compared to the angelic Haversham, he was Mephistopheles.

"But in the end, Viscount Haversham did not pay his addresses. He cast her off quite unexpectedly in favor of Lady Chelsea Markham, the Earl of Radcliff's youngest daughter. She, in turn, cast him off in favor of Lord St. Martin." Wilson shook his head sadly. "The scandal that accompanied the very public jilting ruined Lady Merrick. She left London soon after and did not return until she came home as your bride."

He understood now why she had been hiding out in the West Indies and why her father had married her by proxy. Olivia had been running, too.

Sebastian was slightly put out to think that perhaps he hadn't been her first choice in husbands, but he quickly passed over the disgruntlement. She was his now; her past meant nothing.

Rising, he headed toward the front door.

"My lord! The clippings!"

"Burn them. I have what I need. Good work, Wilson. I'll be in touch. Make appointments to meet with the family stewards over the next few weeks."

Sebastian leapt into his waiting carriage and headed for home.

Olivia held a hand to her side and released a deep breath. The baby was beginning to move, tiny flutters of life that awed and amazed her.

"Ready, love?" Sebastian asked from the doorway.

She dropped her hand quickly. "Is it time already?" She swept past him, collecting her hat and gloves from the butler.

"Yes." Clutching her elbow, he studied her with a frown. "Are you unwell? You looked peaked."

"I'm fine. A bit tired is all."

He flushed, and she hid a smile. It wasn't fair he looked so rested when she was exhausted.

His touch was gentle and solicitous as he assisted her into the waiting carriage. Tucked against his side, Olivia wished the ride to Pall Mall were longer. If only she could convince him to stay with her forever. Against better reason, she hoped that he would.

As if he read her thoughts, Sebastian hugged her close and said, "I won't leave you again. I'll tell you that every minute of every day until you believe me."

"You may have to do that very thing," she replied, snuggling closer.

"Then I shall, my love. I shall."

And with Sebastian's heartfelt promise, she felt renewed hope. She rested her head against his chest and smiled. "I'm horribly smitten with you."

"Smitten." He grunted. "You're mad for me." He squeezed her and lowered his voice. "As I am for you."

Once they reached the busy thoroughfare, they left the carriage and began to stroll, stopping to window-shop as they made their way to the modiste.

"Lord and Lady Merrick."

They both turned. Olivia smiled at the approaching couple. The man, tall and superbly fit, boasted eyes of the most startling color. Somewhere between purple and deep blue, they were devastating. The woman on his arm, slender and graceful, offered a luminous smile.

"Remington," Sebastian greeted, offering his hand. "How are you, old chap?"

Remington shook it heartily and grinned. "I thought that was you, Merrick, although without the presence of Lady Merrick to confirm it, I would not have said anything. You look positively piratical. You need only an earring to complete the picture." He brought his companion forward. "Julienne, this is the prodigal Lord Merrick. Merrick, allow me to present my wife, Lady Julienne."

Lady Julienne smiled and offered her hand, shooting an amused glance at Olivia. "So there is indeed a Lord Merrick."

Olivia choked back a laugh.

Sebastian didn't bother-he laughed outright. "Olivia, love. Have you made the acquaintance of Lucien Remington and his lovely wife?"

She nodded. "I have."

"I've a favor to ask, my lord," Remington said. "I need some new horseflesh and was hoping I could convince you to join me at Tattersall's tomorrow."

"Certainly. Is there something in particular you are hoping to find?"

With a quick tilt of her head, Lady Julienne motioned her over. Olivia went gladly, leaving the men to their discussion. Julienne Remington was one of the rare, truly genuine people she'd met since returning to London. They shared a small affinity, both having once been ostracized by Society. Julienne, an earl's daughter, had married the notorious Lucien Remington, the bastard son of a duke. It had caused a scandal of drastic proportions, or so Olivia had been told. But from the looks of it, Julienne had made a wise decision. Remington was obviously completely besotted with his beautiful wife.

"I can see why you've kept him hidden," Julienne said with a mischievous smile as they strolled away. "Merrick quite overwhelms a girl, doesn't he?"

Olivia laughed. "Yes, he certainly does."

Julienne stopped before a milliner's and peered inside. "Look at that! Isn't it lovely?"

Looking at the feathered hat, Olivia nodded. "It is quite fetching."

"I must have it." Julienne moved toward the entrance of the shop just as a pastry cart passed. Enticed by the delectable scent of peach tarts, Olivia was suddenly starving. Her stomach growled. Loudly.

Julienne laughed. "Poor dear. Pregnancy will do that to you."

Olivia's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"I've birthed two sons, Lady Merrick. I recognize the signs." She waved her hand toward the vendor. "Go fetch your pastry, and I'll purchase my hat. We'll meet here when we're done."

"A wonderful idea," Olivia said with a grin. She went to the pastry cart and paid for her tart, her mouth watering in anticipation.

"Lovely day, isn't it, Lady Merrick?"

Recognizing the voice, she sighed inwardly before turning. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Robidoux."

As the vendor moved away, the Frenchman bowed to her and gestured toward a nearby bench. She looked past him to find Sebastian still deep in conversation with Lucien Remington. Reluctantly, she moved toward the seat.

And then she felt the barrel of a pistol pressed to her spine. She stilled, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What in blazes are you doing?"

"Go quietly, petite, and you will not be harmed. Scream, and I will shoot you down." The tone of his voice drove the point home. He was serious.

What was happening? She'd done nothing to rile this man, had in fact gone out of her way to be polite. No cause was given for him to accost her, and certainly not with a weapon. She looked wild-eyed toward Sebastian, but he'd altered direction and now faced away.

Her gloves grew damp with the sweat of her palms. The baby fluttered, frightening her further. In any other circumstance, she would scream and fight for her life. But she had her child to consider now, and she would do nothing to endanger the precious life.

"Go!" he ordered, bruising her back with a sharp shove of the gun.

She stumbled forward. "There are many people around, monsieur. Someone will see."

"I care not. After today I can leave this dreary country and never return."

"If something happens to me," she warned, "Lord Merrick will hunt you down."

He snorted dismissively. "Phoenix will be dead."

"Lord Merrick!"

Sebastian turned toward the panicked voice, startled to see Lady Julienne running toward him, skirts held in one hand and a hatbox in the other.

"Yes? What is it?" He looked past her. "Where is Lady Merrick?"

"I saw her walking away with that odd Frenchman." She turned to her husband, snapping her gloved fingers. "Oh, what is that man's name? The blond Frenchie with the greasy voice?"

Sebastian tensed, his chest tightening. "Robidoux?"

"Yes, that's it!" she cried. "Dominique Robidoux."

He stilled. "You mean Pierre. Pierre Robidoux."

"No, my lord," Remington corrected with a frown. "Julienne is correct. The man's name is Dominique."

Sebastian's gaze swept across the crowded thoroughfare. If what the Remingtons said was true, he'd eliminated the lesser threat and allowed the greater one to get close to his heart. "Which way did they go?"

Julienne pointed down the street. "That way, and just a moment ago."

Sebastian ran, heedless of the gawking pedestrians and the sight he made. He cared nothing for anyone. He never had. The only person who mattered was Olivia.

Blood roaring in his ears, he almost missed her cry. He stopped abruptly and veered down an alley, melting with relief to find Olivia and Robidoux waiting at the end. The minute he saw the Frenchman's face, he knew he'd made a fatal mistake. He'd killed Pierre, not Dominique. His hand lowered to his thigh, vainly reaching for the blade that wasn't there.

"Release her," he ordered, stepping closer. "I'm the one you want."

Robidoux laughed mirthlessly. "Imagine my surprise to discover the lady Pierre wanted was your wife."

Sebastian's hands clenched into fists, his heart racing in near-mindless panic. Olivia stood stoically, but her dark eyes betrayed her fear. "I'll pay whatever you desire if you allow her to go unharmed."

"I want my brother back. Can you give me that?"

Sebastian gritted his teeth and took another step closer. "You know I cannot."

"Very well then." Robidoux shoved Olivia toward him and raised the gun. "Your wife will die in your arms, as Pierre died in mine."

"No!"

Sebastian's agonized cry echoed through the narrow space as he reached for Olivia's stumbling form. He caught her close, spinning desperately to shield her with his back. The report of the shot was deafening, and he jerked as searing pain tore into his shoulder, barely missing his wife.

Suddenly Remington was there with pistol in hand, thrusting them out of the way. The second shot left a horrendous buzzing in Sebastian's ears, drowning out Olivia's sobbing. A quick glance backward assured him Robidoux was dead. Dropping his gaze to the rapidly spreading bloodstain on his coat, he prodded the wound with his working hand.

"It's nothing," he assured her.

She grabbed his lapels and attempted to shake him, her mouth forming words he couldn't hear but understood nevertheless. "Are you bloody mad?"

"Don't swear," he admonished with a roll of his eyes. Then he kissed her senseless.

Epilogue

Olivia rose from the chair next to the bed and felt momentarily dizzy, something that happened often as her pregnancy progressed. Sebastian was at her side instantly.

"What is it? You look pale." He pressed her back into the seat with his free hand.

"You're supposed to be in bed resting," she scolded.

"It's a blasted nuisance to be in bed all day. I'm wearing a sling, for Christ's sake. I'm not dying. You, on the other hand, look positively ill."

"It's nothing, darling. Truly." She'd been attempting to find the right time to tell him about the baby, but in the three days since he'd come home, so much had occurred that she could barely catch her breath.

His gaze narrowed. "I'll believe you when a doctor tells me the same."

"A doctor isn't necessary."

"You're not well," he insisted. "I've never seen you look less than the picture of health."

"I am completely healthy, Sebastian. If you settle a moment-"

"Like hell you are!" His wicked mouth tightened obstinately.

"I'm with child," she confessed with a sigh.

"What? Oh, God!" He dropped to his knees before her, his mouth pressing reverently to her forehead. "Bloody hell, why didn't you tell me before?"

"I never had the time. What with your persistent ravishment and the events of yesterday, when did I have the opportunity?" She leaned forward, burying her face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin.

"Olivia. Sweetheart." Sebastian pressed his mouth to her throat. "I love you. Please. You have to believe that."

"I do."

"I won't ever leave you again. If I have to journey anywhere, you'll travel with me."

She nodded. "I'm starting to believe you, my love."

"Yes. Believe me." He pulled back to look at her, his intense blue eyes filled with heartrending tenderness. "I'm no longer the man I was when I met you. You've given me reason to change, to hope. Reason to love."

Her small hands stroked his back. "Hush, darling," she soothed, trying to stem the flow of fervent words. "You're overwrought."

"Overwrought? Men do not become overwrought. I do not become overwrought."

Olivia cupped his face in her hands, smothering a smile. "Beautiful, sweet Sebastian. I've upset your delicate sensibilities."

He scowled. "Delicate sensibilities?"

"Yes, dear. I apologize. I'll have to be more careful the next time I tell you such news. You're high-strung."

"High-strung?" He released a frustrated breath. "Bloody everlasting hell, you've gone mad."

She pressed her smiling lips to his. "Don't swear," she admonished.

And then she kissed him breathless.