compulsion to tear off limbs overwhelmed him. With nary a thought for the impropriety of barging in on a most intimate act, Damian stormed into the storage nook—and smiled.
It wasn’t much of a smile. A quirk of the lips, really. He rarely expressed the sentiment of amusement. He didn’t have much in life to be happy about. But this…
Damian cocked his head to the side to better view Belle’s plump behind wedged firmly between two wood posts.
She was stuck.
And she groaned with each failed attempt to get un stuck. The lofty posts, it seemed, were quite determined to keep her ensnared. Damian didn’t blame them. He would love to have Belle in a similar position—in his bed.
Dismissing the wistful fantasy, he was content to observe her wiggle for a while. How did she find herself in such a precarious position? Eyeing those voluptuous curves, though, was it really a wonder she got trapped?
The ship dipped forward.
Damian heard something roll across the floor.
Mirabelle cooed. “Oh, there you are—”
Her cooing quickly turned to shrieking.
Damian noticed the rat scurry by and disappear through a crack in the planks.
But the trinket continued to tumble toward Damian.
He lifted his boot and stepped on the bauble. Arching forward, he picked up the shiny ornament.
A ring.
He eyed the jewelry carefully. It was a large ring. Too large for a woman’s finger. Crafted from gold, the emblem in the center depicted a winged hourglass.
Time flying away.
And so it was. He could stare at Belle’s delectable arse all day long. Nothing would ever get done.
Enough of the frivolous pleasure, he told himself. He was on a mission to avenge his brother. And while he wasn’t the least bit looking forward to the task at hand, for it would bring him even more unease, he couldn’t very well leave the woman squished between two posts like that.
Stifling a groan, Damian slipped the ring over his finger. Without a word to Belle, he came up behind her and spread his legs apart.
She gasped. “Damian!”
He hooked his arms around her belly, the twitch in his groin painful. Bloody hell, it was hard to be slumped against her in a most intimate way. Such a perfect position to take her hard.
He tugged.
Out popped Belle—and they both crashed to the floor.
“Get off me, Damian!”
Rather obtuse of her to say such a thing, considering she was sitting on top of him, every delicious curve rubbing against him, taunting his shackled arousal.
“You mean ‘let go,’ don’t you, Belle?”
She scrambled to her feet as soon as he opened his arms. “I told you to stay away from me.”
“Aye, you did.” Damian was more slow to stand, the stiffening in his groin uncomfortable. “So should I stick you back between the posts and holler for one of your brothers to come instead?”
She made a wry face.
“I didn’t think so.” He dusted off his trousers. “Well, Belle, don’t I get a thank you for my effort?”
“Effort? Was it really so grueling? I’m sure you found the whole thing rather amusing.”
Don’t forget arousing.
He slipped the ring off his finger and held it in the air. “Looking for something?”
Belle eyed the bauble, then snatched it from his grip.
“You’re welcome,” he drawled, and headed for one of the crates. He had to look away from her. She only stirred in him unquenchable lust…confused his senses…made him restless. It was pure torment being so close to her.
Lifting the lid, he searched for the canvas.
Mirabelle slipped the ring on a chain. “It broke.”
He paused to glance at her. “It seems fine to me.”
“Not the ring, the chain.” She sighed. “I can’t wear it anymore.”
He went back to work, rummaging. “It looks familiar.”
She stopped fiddling with the clasp to stare at him. “What does?”
“The ring.”
“How?”
Damian closed the lid. No canvas. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it before, I think.”
“Where?”
She sounded rather desperate. Or was it
It wasn’t much of a smile. A quirk of the lips, really. He rarely expressed the sentiment of amusement. He didn’t have much in life to be happy about. But this…
Damian cocked his head to the side to better view Belle’s plump behind wedged firmly between two wood posts.
She was stuck.
And she groaned with each failed attempt to get un stuck. The lofty posts, it seemed, were quite determined to keep her ensnared. Damian didn’t blame them. He would love to have Belle in a similar position—in his bed.
Dismissing the wistful fantasy, he was content to observe her wiggle for a while. How did she find herself in such a precarious position? Eyeing those voluptuous curves, though, was it really a wonder she got trapped?
The ship dipped forward.
Damian heard something roll across the floor.
Mirabelle cooed. “Oh, there you are—”
Her cooing quickly turned to shrieking.
Damian noticed the rat scurry by and disappear through a crack in the planks.
But the trinket continued to tumble toward Damian.
He lifted his boot and stepped on the bauble. Arching forward, he picked up the shiny ornament.
A ring.
He eyed the jewelry carefully. It was a large ring. Too large for a woman’s finger. Crafted from gold, the emblem in the center depicted a winged hourglass.
Time flying away.
And so it was. He could stare at Belle’s delectable arse all day long. Nothing would ever get done.
Enough of the frivolous pleasure, he told himself. He was on a mission to avenge his brother. And while he wasn’t the least bit looking forward to the task at hand, for it would bring him even more unease, he couldn’t very well leave the woman squished between two posts like that.
Stifling a groan, Damian slipped the ring over his finger. Without a word to Belle, he came up behind her and spread his legs apart.
She gasped. “Damian!”
He hooked his arms around her belly, the twitch in his groin painful. Bloody hell, it was hard to be slumped against her in a most intimate way. Such a perfect position to take her hard.
He tugged.
Out popped Belle—and they both crashed to the floor.
“Get off me, Damian!”
Rather obtuse of her to say such a thing, considering she was sitting on top of him, every delicious curve rubbing against him, taunting his shackled arousal.
“You mean ‘let go,’ don’t you, Belle?”
She scrambled to her feet as soon as he opened his arms. “I told you to stay away from me.”
“Aye, you did.” Damian was more slow to stand, the stiffening in his groin uncomfortable. “So should I stick you back between the posts and holler for one of your brothers to come instead?”
She made a wry face.
“I didn’t think so.” He dusted off his trousers. “Well, Belle, don’t I get a thank you for my effort?”
“Effort? Was it really so grueling? I’m sure you found the whole thing rather amusing.”
Don’t forget arousing.
He slipped the ring off his finger and held it in the air. “Looking for something?”
Belle eyed the bauble, then snatched it from his grip.
“You’re welcome,” he drawled, and headed for one of the crates. He had to look away from her. She only stirred in him unquenchable lust…confused his senses…made him restless. It was pure torment being so close to her.
Lifting the lid, he searched for the canvas.
Mirabelle slipped the ring on a chain. “It broke.”
He paused to glance at her. “It seems fine to me.”
“Not the ring, the chain.” She sighed. “I can’t wear it anymore.”
He went back to work, rummaging. “It looks familiar.”
She stopped fiddling with the clasp to stare at him. “What does?”
“The ring.”
“How?”
Damian closed the lid. No canvas. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it before, I think.”
“Where?”
She sounded rather desperate. Or was it
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