In truth, he didn’t need anyone to take a sudden interest in why the daughter of a duke would tie herself to a bastard. It was why they had to make it appear a love match. They had to be prepared for the fallout. That was his story.
He leaned closer, telling himself he was doing it all for his crew and his employer and friend.
The tease of violets plucked at his senses as he inhaled, so close he could breathe in her breath. He really didn’t need a wife who came with a dead duke and four underage hassles. But how could he regret his involvement when lives were at stake? Perhaps if he saved these five, it might go a little way to making good on the ones he’d sent to Davy Jones?
In that exact moment none of it mattered. He was already involved. Right now he just needed to kiss his future bride.
Finally closing the gap, he pressed his lips against hers, surprised when her nose was ice cold against the side of his. Taking a tiny, shuffling, half-step forward, his body came into contact with hers as the world around him fell away and it was only her taste and smell left. When he let his thumb slip beneath her chin and ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she opened to him. He was only vaguely aware of her bandaged hands as they rose to grip the lapels of his coat. Would she push him away? His touch remained gentle even though the beast inside roared to take everything he could from her.
God, why did she have to taste so good? Like the most exquisite French brandy, she warmed his insides, molten yet smooth. She let him explore, her spine still straight, her body tense, but at the first touch of her tongue against his, hesitant at first, she relaxed into him, her palms flattening against his chest as her head tilted to give him better access.
His hands smoothed over her shoulders, down her arms, and then fell away to rest on her hips through several layers of coats and God knew what else. Withdrawing his hands, he brought them to the front of her stomach and slipped them beneath the heavy fabric. He could barely feel her and wanted more.
No. Less.
God, he didn’t even know anymore. She was heaven and he was in hell.
A dull thud sounded as if from far away but then a throat being cleared noisily reminded him exactly where he was and what he did. Darius didn’t immediately break contact. He pulled away from the lusciousness of her lips but then rested his forehead against hers while he regained his breath and she hers.
What the hell was that?
“Cap’n? A word if you will?”
Damn Tarquin had poor timing. Or perhaps it was spot-on. “What is it?”
“The children,” he enunciated the word slowly but was it a warning? A reminder? “They have broth and biscuits for the lady.”
Darius finally turned, a smile on his face meant to reassure, not confirm, that he indeed was a wolf with an appetite for lamb. “Come in, come in, I’m sure Eliza would like to be waited on for a few hours.”
“I’m sure I would not,” came her firm reply.
Now that he was convinced she was in charge of her faculties, he stepped away and moved back towards the door. “Ensure she removes her coats once that fire is properly fed.” With a meaningful glance in Eliza’s direction he added, “I will see you tomorrow morning, love.”
She nodded. He wondered if she realised that she licked her lips. But then the girls swarmed her with admonishments and questions while the eldest boy glared daggers at Darius. That was his cue to leave.
Tarquin didn’t wait long to add his own censure. “I thought the girls were off-limits?”
“I have to marry Eliza come dawn. If she was going to be your wife, would you not want to at least make sure she doesn’t taste like hell-fire?”
“Does she?”
Darius thought about not answering but then he chuckled. “Surprisingly she tastes only of danger and complications. Ever since I saw her in the snow, I’ve had the distinct impression that she is going to bring with her my doom.”
“Just don’t take the rest of us with you,” Tarquin muttered.
“Where is everyone?” Darius asked, deliberately not answering what wasn’t really a question anyway.
“Duncan and Marcus have asked to see you the minute you were free of your bride-to-be.”
Ominous. He found some of his men in the kitchen, five of them sitting around a scarred table littered with full ale cups and empty stew bowls. Whatever they’d been discussing was discarded the moment he entered the room.
Darius spoke first, words he’d had on the tip of his tongue since his return that afternoon. “What happened to ‘none of them are to be harmed’?”
Marcus gulped the last of the ale in his cup and wiped a meaty hand over his beard before explaining. “’Tweren’t us. I was all set to break a window carefully with a hammer, Duncan was to fire a shot or two off into the woods and Wes was to shout and yell a bit but then we was shot at. Damn near got a hole blown in the side of my head!”
Darius raised a brow. “You’re telling me that at the very time you were going to scare the life out of the Penfold brood, someone else was there to do the same?”
Duncan muttered, “Told you he wouldn’t believe us.”
“If I was telling you the same story, would you believe me?” Darius said.
“There were two of them,” Wes confirmed. “Before we had
