Kit Black by Monica Danetiu-Pana Page B

ridiculous I must have looked to him two years ago. How disgusting and poor. It made me shudder to think of it, of his telling me to take a bath. As if I didn’t know what I was to him. I wondered what his son looked like. Small, dark, and full of mischief like Sandrine was, or tall, well built, and tawny like Armand?
    A sound startled me. I looked up to see him standing there, his hair silvered by the moon. It was too dark to read the expression on his face. I hastily got to my feet, but he blocked the door and I found myself with my back to the wall like a cornered animal. I wanted to tell him to go away, to leave me alone. I wanted to ask him to kiss me, to touch me as I had dreamed of his doing.
    It took him two steps to cross the space, take me in his arms, and press his open mouth to mine. He pushed me up against the wall, his hard thigh wedged between my trembling legs. The mere touch of his fingers on my arms caused me to quiver, heat and desire suffusing my body. He lifted me above him, so that he had to bend his head back into the kiss, and so that I straddled his hard thigh. It was strange that he wanted that. To be beneath me. Strange and so beautiful.
    The kiss seemed to build like a fire: a spark, a trickle of smoke, a finger of flame, and then a raging fire that threatened to consume us both. I wrapped my arms around his wide shoulders, burying my fingers in the thick locks of hair at the back of his neck. It wasn’t until his hand cupped my bare breast, which had somehow escaped my bodice, that I realized what we were doing. I found the strength to tear myself away, to push at his hard chest with all the grit I had, just to get him away from me. I almost tumbled over as he released his hold. I had to use the wall to support myself. I could hardly draw a complete breath.
    â€œWhy are you pushing me away?” he had the nerve to ask.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou seemed to be enjoying that.” His shaky fingers ran through his hair. He was visibly shaken.
    â€œHow can you be so cruel?” my voice cracked and strained, low enough that others in the gardens would not hear us. I touched my swollen lip. Blood came away on my white satin glove.
    â€œMe? Cruel? And you don’t call coming here and flaunting yourself with your pirate lover cruel?”
    I was shocked by his words. “I didn’t flaunt myself, I had no idea that you lived here.”
    â€œI don’t live here. This is my father’s home.”
    â€œI don’t care who lives here! I want nothing more than to leave, and if you will step aside I will do just that.”
    â€œWhat is he to you?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œDon’t be obtuse. I meant Jean Laffite. Are you sleeping with him, Kita? Is that how you finally got your fine ship?”
    I launched myself at him. I’d have scratched his eyes out if I’d had any fingernails. He grabbed me by both wrists. I was a strong woman, far stronger than most, but no match for him. His fingers dug into my forearms, his arms locked like steel bars.
    â€œCalm down,” he said.
    â€œMe? You’re the one who started this. You’re the one making accusations. You’re the one who accused me of sleeping around to get my own ship.”
    â€œSeems logical knowing you.”
    â€œGod, how I hate you! As if you have any right to accuse me of anything, you rutting pig.” I tried to kick at his shins.
    â€œI offered you a home once. I would have given you anything.”
    â€œUnder your wife’s nose. Your beautiful, sweet wife. The mother of your son.”
    He had the grace to wince.
    â€œLet me go.”
    â€œIf you will speak to me. If you will let me speak to you, calmly and rationally.”
    â€œI can’t be rational. You make me feel insane.”
    He jerked me against his chest. “You do the same to me, Kit Black. For two years, not a day has gone by that I have not thought about you. I have dreamt of you. I have