Captured

Miriam stirred sleepily, wiggling deeper in the rumpled white sheets. The gentle rocking of the boat did little to rouse her from the depths of slumber, lulling her on a plane of contentment. She rubbed her cheek over muscled warmth, luxuriating in the feel of it pressed against her front.

She felt protected, safe. Miriam stilled. She lay on her side nestled against a hard, tanned chest, her hand resting on a very male hip. Her head was cushioned by his arm, his thigh between hers. Fingers rested inches below her breast. Her lashes rose, her sky blue eyes locking with devilish green ones. Oh.

"My sleepy mermaid awakes."

She couldn't hold back the blush at those husky words. He must have come to bed after she had fallen asleep. Turning in his arms, she struggled to sit up on the narrow bed and presented him with her back. Her hand ran reassuringly over her linen chemise.

Tanned fingers caught a ribbon of silvery blonde hair that had escaped her long braid. A quick glance over her shoulder discovered him lying on his back, one arm propped beneath his head. The sheet rested low over his hips, revealing a sinful expanse of ridged flesh. Finding her eyes traveling down a curious path of hair over his belly, she swiftly tore them away and turned back to face the cabin. Was he naked beneath?

"Would you like to kiss me?"

Her eyes widened at his scandalous proposal. "No!"

"Would you like me to kiss you, then?"

Yes. "No!" Oh, her mother would be so mad if she discovered Miriam's unladylike thoughts. It was bad enough that she was forced to share a cabin and a bed with a pirate until he delivered her to her fiancé. It was worse than bad that she had invited him to kiss her, and ever since wanted to repeat the delicious experience. And he seemed to know it.

Miriam sat there indecisively with his leg pressed against her hip. She could stay abed with him, or dress in his presence. Neither option appealed to her sensibilities. Just then exploring fingers traced down her back, making her tingle. She slid from the bed like a jack-in-the box just before the fingers caressed her bottom.

She turned scandalous eyes on him. He merely smiled. She spun about and crossed to her chest of clothing he had brought to their cabin last eve.

They should have arrived in port during the night, and Miriam was eager to be on dry land and put some space between herself and Devlin's lips. Cooped up in his cabin with nothing to distract her thoughts was doing crazy things to her sense of inner peace.

She drew a simple day gown of rose pink brocade from the chest, before gazing at Devlin over her shoulder. As if sensing her silent plea, he threw his arm over his eyes with a sigh. She turned and drew her chemise over her head and quickly folded it. Slipping on a fresh chemise, she then hopped into her gown. Finding stockings, garters and slippers, she sat on the closed lid of the chest. Propping first one leg, then the other, on the desk chair, she rolled up her stockings and slid her garters in place. Rising, she slid her feet into her fine pink leather slippers.

"Could you..." she turned toward the bed, her hand holding her bodice against her breasts. Devlish green eyes met hers. Miriam blushed at his unforgivable boldness, feeling hot and quivery in strange places.

Struggling with the tiny puffed sleeves sliding down her arms, she pinned him with her best glare. "You sir, are a rogue and a scoundrel."

"Come here." He patted the bed beside him. He sat up, his muscles rippling. The sheet dangled precariously low over his hips. Miriam felt her knees turn to jelly. At her look of curiosity and wariness, he added "lest you wish to remain unclothed for my benefit."

Devlin watched as she approached him shyly. His intention was to seduce her thoroughly. He had lain with her in his arms, her innocent body pressed against his wearing a fine chemise, and nothing beneath. He was very much afraid he would have to kill her fiancé and remove all thoughts of him from her mind. That, or this need to have her beneath him, around him, would surely kill him.

Miriam sat on the edge of the bed and scooped her silver blonde braid over her shoulder. His body throbbed, and it was all he could do not to lay her down on the bed and push up her skirts and take what was his to take. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge Miriam wasn't ready for him yet. That much he had learnt the hard way. She had been shocked and hurt when he had begun to sheath his shaft in her soft warmth the first morning of her captivity. He bit back a groan as he felt himself harden at the remember feel of her closing around him.

Miriam held her breath as he skillfully laced her up. The scent and warmth of him, the feel of his hands unknowingly caressing her back, was distracting. Think ladylike thoughts, she ordered herself. Don't think about his mouth, or his hands, of the feel of him pressed against her. Her only saving grace was that he was a pirate: he had to have this effect on all women.

His lips pressed against her creamy skin just above her shoulder blade. Her lips parted on a soundless gasp. She rose from the bed, her skirts swirling as she turned to face him. The look in his eyes made her heart flip flop.

"Dev-lin."

Devlin shrugged, and the sheet dipped lower. "I am a pirate, Miriam. It is in my nature." To seduce you of your innocence, he added silently.

He rose from the bed, and she spun around, her face flaming. The shadowed part of him peeking through his unlaced breeches might not have possessed any manly mystique had her reactions been slower. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her gown felt tight across her chest.

Her mother always told her proper lady's never found themselves alone with a man because they were unable to control their urges. Only now did Miriam begin to suspect what her mother meant by "urges"; it was the urge to shock and flaunt.

"I will kiss you and caress you. You will have to forgive my small transgressions."

Miriam's eyes widened. What did that sound so...nice? If only her mother knew, she would take a belt to Miriam! "My fiance-"

"Is not here," he interjected smoothly. She gasped as he caught her wrist and spun her around. "And it is my intention to kiss you every morning."

He crowded her up against the cabin door, and she struggled to cope with the overwhelming surge of sensations. Thankfully he wore breeches, yet the expanse of tanned flesh over his belly and chest was distracting. "W-why every morning?"

"If you were a man, I would make you work for your board and passage. As it is," he eyes dropped to the hint of cleavage above her lace trim. "It would not do. Yet my crew rely on me to be fair."

Miriam didn't know what to say or do. Her body felt as though it was an ice-lolly melting beneath the warm English sun. She moistened her lips. "A-and is it important to you, to be fair?" Fingers trailed up and down her arm, occasionally brushing the side of her breast.

"Even pirates have a code to which they abide by. My men already know I give you special privileges. They wash on deck, with little privacy, unlike my captive mermaid."

Miriam imagined him standing on deck, the sun gleaming on his dark hair as he tipped water over his up-turned face. Rivulets would stream down over his chest and flat belly to... "Oh," she whispered. Devlin gazed down at his blushing mermaid, wondering where her thoughts had led her. Gently he tucked a slivery blonde strand behind her ear. "Miriam."

"Mmm..." she replied distractedly. He tipped her chin back, gazing into her sky blue depths.

"We were discussing your special privileges, and how you intend working your passage."

Miriam nodded determinedly. "It is important to be fair."

"So we agree." His chest expanded with each breath, and Miriam was interested in the way the cushioned her breasts. "For every meal, every bath, every night spent in my bed, you must forfeit a kiss."

Miriam nodded again, then her eyes widened. "I beg your pardon! We agreed to no such thing!" His expression was as innocent as a pirate's could be. Which wasn't very much, she grumbled to herself.

Just then the timber door thundered at her back. Caught off guard, she jumped into his arms, her slippered foot stepping on his.

"Sir, Captain needs you on deck."

Devlin scowled at the interruption. His fingers stroked up into her mane at her nape, his other tightened about her waist. "Tell my brother I will be along shortly."

"He told me to say Langdon and his men were aboard."

Devlin swore, resting his chin on top of her head. He physically had to force himself to let her go. First he let his hands fall to his sides, then he stepped back. "I won't be long. But I need you to hide." He turned and quickly laced his breeches as he strode across the cabin.

"Why? Who is a Langdon?" she asked, worried blue eyes watching him. She couldn't help but be impressed as he tugged the shirt on over his back, then bent over and grabbed his boots, presenting her with an interesting sight of his derriere.

"He provides us with supplies. If he's sailed out to meet us that means it's not safe to go into port." He tugged her by her hand toward the bed. Leaning over, he gripped the mattress and pushed it high toward the wall, revealing a coffin like space in the carved wooden base. Tiny bits of light filtered through the pattern.

"Oh, no." Miriam shook her head, backing away. She folded her arms across her chest, resistance in every line. "I don't see why I need to hide."

Devlin's lips twitched before straightening. He gazed at her sternly as he strode toward her. "It wouldn't do for slavers to hear of a pale blonde beauty onboard. We wouldn't be safe from attack."

Miriam's eyebrows rose at the horrid thoughts that crossed her mind. She could not deny the sense in keeping out of sight. Still..."But you said your ship was the fastest, and that none could match it in speed."

"Mir-riam," he groaned as he scooped her up. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her body pressed against his. He carried her to the bed and laid her in the hidey spot. She glared up at him mutinously, crossing her arms. The movement made her breasts swell; the cloth strained over the firm buds of her nipples.

"I will have a hard time forgiving you for this, Devlin."

"I am your captor. There will be many things you will not forgive me for before this voyage is over." He leaned down and brushed his warm lips against hers. She tried to turn her face away, but his fingers caught her chin. His eyes locked with hers as he kissed her again, his mouth possessing hers. Then he rose, and with one last heated glance drew the bed down.

"What! I – you!" Her grumbles followed on his heels as Devlin strode from the cabin.

~*~

She must have dozed, for she was roused by the rocking of the boat. It was not the easy swaying of the port but of the open sea! Her fingers curled around the wooden carvings to steady herself while she gazed through the tiny holes. The cabin was empty.

She pushed at the board above her, but it was difficult from a lying down position. It only moved several inches before her arms gave out. Again and again she tried, her frustration mounting.

"Let me."

The bed swung back, revealing a handsome Devlin, while she felt hot and sticky. She stood up, ignoring the hand he offered. She tended to the dusting off of her skirts and straightening her bodice. Lifting her gaze to his, she found that she could met his on level. As the boat rolled, she had to clutch at his forearms. "We're at sea," she stated.

"A slight change of plans." Without warning, he wrapped one arm about her waist. He pulled her up tight against him as he swung her about. She quickly pulled up her feet and clung to him. He slid her down until her feet rested on the boards and she pushed herself away. She crossed over to the portal, pondering over the strange shivers racing down her spine. In the distance she could see the white sand of the distant coastline.

"Is something wrong?"

"Word of the attack on the Ambassador has spread, and so to of its rich, lovely passenger. There is a bounty on your head."

"What do you mean? Does someone wish to ransom me to my fiancé?" she turned toward him, her eyes troubled.

"No. There would be no ransom. There are men who would stop at nothing to possess a pale English rose for their harem."

Miriam swallowed hard and turned back to the portal. She had heard whispered stories of exotic harems filled with beautiful woman concerned with only pleasing their master's every dictate. She shivered, feeling vulnerable and confused. This darker side to people's realities was something she had been sheltered from all her life. She wasn't sure if she was thankful for Devlin opening her eyes to these things.

A timid knock sounded at the door. Devlin strode over and answered it. After a few quiet words he turned back, carrying a tray of food. Her belly grumbled. Her hand flew to her belly, a blush on her face as she met Devlin's amused gaze.

He set the tray down on the bed and sat down. Slowly she walked over and sat on the other end of the bed so the tray was between them. There were fresh rolls, butter, honey and jam and a pot of tea. Heavenly.

The cabin was quiet as they set about breaking their fast. Devlin tore open a roll, and held it for her while she buttered and spread jam over it. Then she did the same for him, passing him the spoon. His fingers curled about hers, so much darker than her own pale skin. It was moments before she remembered to tug hers free.

She couldn't meet his gaze as she nibbled on the bread, still slightly warm. The thought of those large, calloused hands on other parts of her body made her shiver. She remembered how they stroked over her belly, and lower, exciting strange sensations.

"Miriam, where do you go?"

Her face swung to his, realising she was day-dreaming. "I - I was just wondering how long it would be until I met my fiancé." At his disbelieving look, she rambled on. "I've never met him, nor him me. Of course, that goes without saying."

"What goes without saying?"

"That if I haven't met him, he hasn't met me."

"Of course," he replied solemnly. "Do you wish to marry him?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I? I'm sure I'll be happy with the husband my father has chosen for me. He is a Duke, and has acres and acres of land in the West Indies, so I am told." She brushed imaginary crumbs from her skirts, unable to meet his searching gaze. Would her fiancé kiss like Devlin?

"What about choosing a husband for yourself?"

"It's not the done thing."

"What if it was?"

"It isn't. So I won't."

Devlin had to smile at her stubbornness. The timid ice-princess was slowly disappearing. Each day more of her velvety petals seemed to unfurl themselves before his eyes. He rose and put the tray on the desk before turning back to face her, hands on hip. He waited, eyebrows raised. Finally she asked curiously "is something the matter?"

"There is the matter of my kiss."

"Oh. Oh!" Why the scoundrel. Slipping from the bed, she strode to stand before him and drew his face down to hers in a fit of pique. The rasp of his whiskers teased her fingers. She intended pressing her lips against his cheek, but his face turned. Her lips pressed against his nose for a fleeting instant, before she stepped back.

"That, my mermaid, was not a kiss."

"Oh, then what was it, sir?"

Devlin had to brush his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. His ice-princess was back. "A peck."

"A peck? I can assure you, I do not peck."

"It was a peck."

"It. Was. Not. A peck."

"It certainly wasn't a kiss."

"Oh, and I suppose you've kissed dozens and dozens of women, so you would know what was a kiss and what was a peck?" She frowned. That hadn't come out right.

"Frankly, yes. How many men of your acquaintance have you kissed? I wish to know the evidence by which you judge that peck." He crossed his arms lazily, his expression one of extreme interest.

"Five. No, a dozen." She crossed her own arms beneath her breasts, her eyes flashing.

"Why, you little liar." He stalked toward her, and Miriam refused to back away. "I am the only man you have ever kissed."

"If you describe my kiss as a peck, then they were merely pecks." If possible, her chin lifted even higher.

"I have never pecked you, Miriam. You would know if I pecked you."

"Really? I can vaguely recall the incident, so it must have been - "

He kissed her. His fingers slid into her silvery blonde mane and he dragged her to him. His mouth slanted over hers, demanding, forceful. Her fingers gripped his forearms as he all but leant her back over the arm tight about her waist. His tongue plunged deeply, swirling in her depths and making her knees weak. The sound of the sea and men shouting on deck faded. Then his kisses changed, becoming an intoxicating caress of his mouth against hers. She felt the press on the soft bed beneath her. Her arms circled his neck, drawing him down to her.

A whimper escaped her as fingers closed over her breast, molding it to the shape of his palm. A thigh pressed between hers as he settled more weight on her. Her fingers explored his back, sliding beneath his shirt. She gloried in the feel of rippling muscle beneath her touch. It felt so right in his arms.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered against him mouth. They both froze, their gazes locked. Miriam blushed.

He settled on his arms, her softness cuddling his lower body. "No one has called me beautiful before."

"I suppose it is not very, um, manly," she managed. Her face was burning. She fiddled with his top button. The V of his shirt revealed tanned skin with a sprinkling of fine black hair to her curious eyes. "Perhaps I did peck you," Miriam finally admitted, not meeting his intense gaze.

"And the dozens of men you have kissed?"

"That's completely true," she replied, biting her lip.

"What am I going to do with a captive piece of baggage like you?"

"Soon you'll be rid of me." The smile she was trying to hide finally blossomed. Devlin abruptly rolled off of her, and she found she missed the warmth and weight of him.

He strode to the door. He gazed at her for long moments where she lay tumbled on the bed with sparkling blue eyes and swollen lips. His body ached. "Manly or not, it pleases me that I am beautiful in your eyes."

Devlin left, shaking his head. She had him wrapped around her finger without even trying. Imagine if she knew what she was doing.

~*~

Miriam woke the following morning to find she was no longer alone. Devlin hadn't come back that evening before, and she had eaten her meal in solitude. She had passed her time curled up with a thick book on wine making and wondering about the things Carly and Daemon were doing. Did Daemon kiss Carly like Devlin kissed Miriam?

Devlin lay beside her, his head propped up on his hand. His eyebrow raised. She knew that look.

"I don't recall agreeing to this," she mumbled, trying to draw the sheet over her head. His hand tugged it from her, and swept it away.

"We agreed that I must act fairly."

"Do you kiss all your captives?" she mumbled plaintively. Excitement curled in her belly.

"Only pretty mermaids." His fingers tugged on the ribbons of her bodice.

"W-what are you doing?" Her wide gaze met his.

"Kissing you properly. You owe me three kisses."

"Oh." It was suddenly hot and stuffy in the cabin. Miriam struggled to breath. Then another thought crossed her mind as she remembered their first kiss. "It won't hurt will it?"

"No Miriam, it won't hurt." He leaned down slowly, taking his time. She waited, her lips parting of their own accord. His lips touched hers, gentle, coaxing. It felt as though she was being sucked under by the raging current, and his mouth was her only lifeline.