“Not tonight, vixen. Tonight I will be your fantasy.”
He ushered her across the deck to a small door. Beyond was the captain’s cabin, Raven presumed. It was lit by flickering sconces and luxuriously appointed, unlike any real pirate ship she could imagine. Black satin sheets and red silk pillows embellished the large bunk, while gilt mirrors adorned the opposite wall.
On a peg hung a filmy garment, which Kell handed her. “Your costume, my sweet.”
Raven eyed the gossamer nightdress. “That fabric will be as revealing as wearing nothing at all.”
Kell’s wicked grin flashed again. “I believe that is precisely the point.”
On the captain’s desk lay a jeweled chest from which he withdrew a demimask. “For anonymity,” Kell explained, handing it to her. He also withdrew several gauzy scarves.
“What are those for?” she asked, although suspecting.
“For tying your wrists. Have you never indulged in bondage with your fantasy lover?”
Raven shook her head, and yet Kell’s suggestion didn’t shock her; there were several incidents of such erotic delights described in the journal.
“Then you can let your imagination run riot,” he said. Her uncertainty must have shown on her face, for he added in an amused voice, “Do you think I would hurt you?”
“No…not really.”
“Here, you will need these as well.”
He gave her the bag of sponges and left her to undress while he donned his own costume.
When she was attired in the diaphanous nightdress, Raven sat in the captain’s chair to wait. She was glad for the coal brazier that warmed the cabin, yet she found herself shivering, not because of the cold or her near nakedness. Despite her misgivings, the thought of the night to come was dangerously exciting.
Moments later her heart turned over when she looked up to see her pirate filling the doorway. He wore a billowing white shirt and tight black breeches and thigh-high boots, while a dagger was tucked into his sashed waist. The demimask concealed the upper part of his face, but she could make out Kell’s gleaming gaze as it roamed over her revealing nightdress.
“Stand up,” he commanded in a low voice. “Let me see what treasure my men have brought me.”
She rose slowly, her heart thudding in her chest as he boldly surveyed her, measuring her rose-hued nipples and the dusky curls crowning her thighs.
“Exquisite,” he said with a satisfied smile. Taking her elbow, he drew her toward the door. “You will come with me, captive.”
When she held back, he withdrew his dagger from his sash and held it menacingly to her throat. “Remember you are my prisoner, mademoiselle. I can have you thrown overboard in an instant.”
Uneasily Raven complied, telling herself she should enter into the spirit of the fantasy.
The pirate led her from the cabin and across the deck to the mast, where he turned her to face him. Sheathing his dagger, he forced her arms behind her and secured her to the timber with the scarves. Then he leaned forward to kiss her, pulling her lower lip between his teeth and nipping softly.
When she made a sound of protest, his hand went to her throat and held her still as he pressed his full length against her. He kissed her more thoroughly then, his tongue plunging deep while he moved his hips in a slow, rotating motion that made her pulse race.
Raven’s breath was coming in soft pants when he finally drew back. Reaching to his waist, he brandished the dagger again, startling her. With the point, he drew a slow line down the valley between her breasts. Then turning the blade, he deliberately sliced her nightdress from throat to hem, exposing her pale body to his view.
Raven couldn’t stifle a gasp.
“There is no use crying for help,” he chastised. “My crew does my bidding.”
The cool air caressed her naked skin, puckering her nipples. Raven wet her lips, staring at him. She was completely at his mercy. The knowledge made her tremble, even as it thrilled her.
He saw her convulsive shiver and smiled. Returning the dagger to his sash, he lifted the curtain of her hair, drawing the long tresses over her pouting breasts. He was playing with her, prolonging the moment, Raven knew.
“Such smooth, white skin,” he said in approval. He stroked his hand over the swelling mounds of her breasts, cupping the ripe fullness in his palms. “Such lush flesh.”
His fingers traced a circle around her jutting nipples, making her arch against the delicious sensation. “These ripe buds are just waiting for me to taste them.”
She bit her lower lip hard, trying not to respond as he pulled at the swollen crests. Yet shameful pleasure flared wherever he touched her.