Island Flame by Karen Robards

thought of him going through her belongings.
    “As I said, my lady, they are worth a great deal. And they belong not only to me, but to my men. I could not in good conscience give them away. Of course, if you were of a mind to buy them.…” His voice trailed off, and he swung himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, surveying her mockingly.
    “You know I have no money,” she said bitterly.
    “Who said anything about money? Perhaps we could arrange a trade, you and I. Say, for instance, a gown … for a kiss.”
    She stared at him, her temper rising. So he hoped to arrange a trade, did he? He must think that she was simple-minded. A kiss was the very least of what he had in mind.
    “Well, Cathy?” he said softly, watching her. “A gown for a kiss. That seems a fair enough arrangement.”
    Cathy stared at him, trying to divine the thoughts behind that dark, mocking smile. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in the back of his eyes like a tiny raw flame. Cathy began to feel frightened. He looked so strong, so very male sitting there, and he was eyeing her as a hungry cat would eye a particularly appealing mouse. She swallowed, then met his gaze squarely, her chin high with defiance.
    “I would sooner kiss a pig!”
    He did not seem at all angry at her rude reply. On the contrary, he gave a bark of delighted laughter.
    “So you would sooner kiss a pig, would you, Lady Catherine? Are you sure? I doubt very much if, in the course of your peculiarly sheltered life, you’ve ever had the opportunity to kiss anything, much less a pig. So youreally have no basis for comparison. What you should do is kiss me, then go out and kiss a pig. Then you could compare the two kisses and decide which you prefer.”
    He was mocking her, laughing at her, and she felt a murderous rage begin to burn in her veins. Never before in her whole life had anyone dared to laugh at her! And now this arrogant man had the temerity to make her the butt of his joke! Her eyes glittered with anger, and her lips parted in something closely resembling a snarl.
    “I hate you!” she hissed at him, her blue eyes seeming to throw off sparks.
    She looked very beautiful as she panted fire and defiance at him, and Jon found himself wanting her so badly that he ached. She reminded him of an angry red vixen at bay. … He stood up, and began to move toward her very slowly, stalking her.
    Cathy jumped to her feet as he moved, leaving the sheet she had been clutching for modesty’s sake behind. Her breasts were sharply outlined beneath the linen nightshirt. Jon smiled broadly, and she began to back away, dodging behind the table. He followed her relentlessly, smiling at her, coolly confident of the outcome of the game.
    Cathy retreated as far as she could, and found herself backed up against the wall. He snaked forward, his arms shooting out on either side of her to hold her in place. She looked up at him, her eyes widening with sudden realization. This, then, was to be the showdown. She felt tongues of fear lick at her insides. He was close, so close she could smell the warm musky odor of his body. His eyes glittered down at her dangerously, and his mouth curved in a wicked smile.
    Cathy had never lacked courage, and it stiffened her spine as she glared at him.
    “You let me go, you animal!” she spat at him, her eyes daring him to touch her.
    “So I’m an animal, am I?” he drawled, his eyes glinting down at her. “But that should appeal to you, my lady. After all, you just admitted to an astonishing partiality for pigs. Now you can see how you like the kind of animal I am.”
    He bent over her deliberately, and Cathy closed her eyes, turning her face away and trying to push him back with both hands against his chest. Her efforts were futile. His mouth grazed her averted cheek, burning her, and then his hand was beneath her chin, forcing her head around until his mouth covered hers. His lips seared her mouth. She kept her