The moon’s silver-tipped
beams revealed the glimmer of tears over the curve of her face.
Intrigued, Jason ran his fingers over the high ridge of her
cheekbones. Casting the blindfold to the floor, he watched her lids flutter
open. Cathy met his gaze, her eyes as deep blue as a storm-tossed sea. The
desire to comfort her washed over him as he swept away the tears.
“You were crying,” he murmured, grazing the pad of his thumb
over her velvet soft skin. “Did I hurt you?”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“Did I hurt you?” Jason asked again. He stroked her cheek
until she turned back to face him. “I want you to tell me the truth.”
“You did not hurt me,” she choked out the words.
The tremor in her voice struck him like a fist to the gut.
“You were weeping.”
“My tears were not from pain…the pleasure…it was
overwhelming.”
Jason could not restrain his deep satisfaction at her words.
“You are learning to enjoy my touch,” he whispered as he removed her bindings.
“Too much.” Her voice was a tortured sob. “I should not
enjoy the things you do to me.”
He stroked her wrists, soothing, caressing, as he gathered
her against his chest. “Ah yes, I’d forgotten. A respectable woman would rather
die than succumb to the pleasure I could offer her.” His words teased a hint of
a smile to her lips. “You know how I feel about respectable women.”
She sniffled and burrowed against him. This was not a part
of his plans, he reminded himself, enfolding her in his arms. He’d never envisioned
holding Catherine, soothing her with his touch, enchanted by the longing in her
eyes. The softness of her feminine curves molded against him, filling an
utterly unfamiliar need.
Was she his captive, or was she a treasure he’d unwittingly
had the good sense to seize? Her slight trembling betrayed her reaction to his
maleness. She’d been loved thoroughly until she came apart in his arms and now
she quivered with response to his nearness. Would he ever find a woman who
inflamed his senses the way Catherine did? Or must he consider the maddening
possibility he had no choice but to keep her for himself?
Chapter Six
Cathy nestled in her captor’s corded arms. The thick mat of
curly hair on his hard chest tickled her nose as she burrowed against him. His
strength and warmth filled her with a languorous fulfillment. Sated and
gloriously relaxed, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the soft, musky
scent that surrounded them, and drifted to sleep.
When she awoke, she was alone. She stared at the ceiling, oddly
bereft at the realization he’d left her in his bed, covered with a sumptuous
quilt. A knock on the door stirred her from the last twilight of sleep. She
pulled the bedclothes around her and sat up in bed as the door opened.
“Good morning, Miss Catherine,” Taylor greeted her with
bland warmth. “I trust you slept well.”
“Very well.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing as his observant
gaze traveled from the bed to her discarded gown on the floor.
“I’ve brought you another dress. This one will be more
appropriate for the morning hours.”
“Please leave it on the bed.”
“As you wish.” His mouth hitched in a faint smile as he laid
the garment on the rumpled quilt. “The captain expects you to join him for
breakfast.”
She reached for the dress. Her gaze swept over the simple
yet lovely empire waist gown. The soft cerulean fabric felt cool and smooth
against her fingertips. She held it to her, tucking it beneath her chin,
picturing it on her body.
“Do you like it?” Taylor asked, sounding hopeful.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Captain Kane selected it for you,” he stated
matter-of-factly.
She blinked at the words. To think that the man who’d
seduced her, who’d abducted her from her home and made her want him beyond any
semblance of sanity, actually saw to it she’d have garments to wear that
pleased her…and him. Maddening to think he exerted such complete
beams revealed the glimmer of tears over the curve of her face.
Intrigued, Jason ran his fingers over the high ridge of her
cheekbones. Casting the blindfold to the floor, he watched her lids flutter
open. Cathy met his gaze, her eyes as deep blue as a storm-tossed sea. The
desire to comfort her washed over him as he swept away the tears.
“You were crying,” he murmured, grazing the pad of his thumb
over her velvet soft skin. “Did I hurt you?”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“Did I hurt you?” Jason asked again. He stroked her cheek
until she turned back to face him. “I want you to tell me the truth.”
“You did not hurt me,” she choked out the words.
The tremor in her voice struck him like a fist to the gut.
“You were weeping.”
“My tears were not from pain…the pleasure…it was
overwhelming.”
Jason could not restrain his deep satisfaction at her words.
“You are learning to enjoy my touch,” he whispered as he removed her bindings.
“Too much.” Her voice was a tortured sob. “I should not
enjoy the things you do to me.”
He stroked her wrists, soothing, caressing, as he gathered
her against his chest. “Ah yes, I’d forgotten. A respectable woman would rather
die than succumb to the pleasure I could offer her.” His words teased a hint of
a smile to her lips. “You know how I feel about respectable women.”
She sniffled and burrowed against him. This was not a part
of his plans, he reminded himself, enfolding her in his arms. He’d never envisioned
holding Catherine, soothing her with his touch, enchanted by the longing in her
eyes. The softness of her feminine curves molded against him, filling an
utterly unfamiliar need.
Was she his captive, or was she a treasure he’d unwittingly
had the good sense to seize? Her slight trembling betrayed her reaction to his
maleness. She’d been loved thoroughly until she came apart in his arms and now
she quivered with response to his nearness. Would he ever find a woman who
inflamed his senses the way Catherine did? Or must he consider the maddening
possibility he had no choice but to keep her for himself?
Chapter Six
Cathy nestled in her captor’s corded arms. The thick mat of
curly hair on his hard chest tickled her nose as she burrowed against him. His
strength and warmth filled her with a languorous fulfillment. Sated and
gloriously relaxed, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the soft, musky
scent that surrounded them, and drifted to sleep.
When she awoke, she was alone. She stared at the ceiling, oddly
bereft at the realization he’d left her in his bed, covered with a sumptuous
quilt. A knock on the door stirred her from the last twilight of sleep. She
pulled the bedclothes around her and sat up in bed as the door opened.
“Good morning, Miss Catherine,” Taylor greeted her with
bland warmth. “I trust you slept well.”
“Very well.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing as his observant
gaze traveled from the bed to her discarded gown on the floor.
“I’ve brought you another dress. This one will be more
appropriate for the morning hours.”
“Please leave it on the bed.”
“As you wish.” His mouth hitched in a faint smile as he laid
the garment on the rumpled quilt. “The captain expects you to join him for
breakfast.”
She reached for the dress. Her gaze swept over the simple
yet lovely empire waist gown. The soft cerulean fabric felt cool and smooth
against her fingertips. She held it to her, tucking it beneath her chin,
picturing it on her body.
“Do you like it?” Taylor asked, sounding hopeful.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Captain Kane selected it for you,” he stated
matter-of-factly.
She blinked at the words. To think that the man who’d
seduced her, who’d abducted her from her home and made her want him beyond any
semblance of sanity, actually saw to it she’d have garments to wear that
pleased her…and him. Maddening to think he exerted such complete
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