"Then don't make me angry. I won't have you running naked about the ship."
She slammed the door behind her.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she stalked down the deck The arrogance of his last words had been the final straw. She had lost too much tonight. When he had taken her, she had felt completely dominated, totally possessed. She couldn't let him have total victory.
The next night she paused outside Jared's door to gather her courage. How foolish to be shaking like this. She had made the decision and she would not back down. She mustn't think, just do it.
Cassie drew a deep breath and threw open the door. She strode into the cabin and slammed the door behind her.
"One hour after supper, Your Grace. Just as you commanded. I hurried to be sure I wouldn't anger you."
He stared at her in astonishment. "My God."
"Why are you glaring at me? I've done everything you told me to do." She touched the sarong she had wrapped around her upper body and shoulders. "And I'm no longer bare-breasted, you see? Doesn't that please you?"
She was naked from waist to feet. His gaze moved from bare hips to the tight curls that surrounded her womanhood. "Damn you."
Triumph. She felt a fierce surge of satisfaction. "I passed two of your seamen on the way to you, but I assure you they didn't get one glimpse of my breasts." He was rising from the bed and she braced herself. "Though they did stare somewhat and-" She broke off when he grabbed her shoulders. She lifted her chin and injected a mocking note into her voice. "I told you that you didn't know what you wanted. Surely this isn't reasonable. Why are you so angry?"
"You know very well why I'm angry," he said through his teeth as his hands tightened with bruising force on her shoulders. "I could strangle you."
She glared at him. "You can't have everything your way. I won't have it."
He shook her. "So you parade like a whore inviting every man to use you. You're lucky you weren't raped before you reached here."
"What difference if I'm raped by them on deck or you here in the cabin?"
"Believe me, you'd know the difference. I've never raped you." He shook her again. "Have I?"
"You're hurting me. Isn't that the prelude to rape?"
"I want to hurt you." Nevertheless, his hands loosened slightly. "I'd like to-"
"Strangle me," she finished for him. "I know. You needn't repeat yourself. It grows boring."
She saw at once she had gone too far. "I would hate to bore you," he said silkily. "Let me see… now what can I do to entertain you?" His hands left her shoulders and moved down to cup her hips. "You obviously want attention paid to this portion of your body. The invitation is so blatant."
"You know I meant no invitation."
"Part your legs."
"No."
His fingers moved probingly, skillfully. She tensed as a ripple of heat went through her.
"You know you like my hands on you."
"That doesn't mean I'll let you"-she gasped as his fingers stroked that most intimate part of her-"fondle me."
"Fondle?" He searched and found; his thumb and forefinger plucked at the nub. "Do you mean this?"
She shuddered as the muscles of her stomach clenched with need. She didn't answer.
Her silence seemed to make him even angrier. "Damn you." He stripped the sarong from her upper body, picked her up, and carried her toward the bed.
"I don't want you to do this," she said desperately.
"Then why did you come? You knew what would happen." He sat her down on the bed and knelt on the floor in front of her. He pushed her legs apart and looked at her. The blood surged to where his gaze was fastened, pulsing, hot, tingling. She felt naked, exposed, owned.
He said thickly, "I suppose I shouldn't blame you for wanting to display this treasure. You're very beautiful here."
She tried to close her legs, but he held them open with merciless grip.
"But I do blame you." His eyes were suddenly blazing up at her. Three fingers entered her, deep, thrusting.
She gasped as the intrusion sent a bolt of heat through her.
He withdrew and plunged and plunged again in pace with his words. "I-don't-want-you-ever- to-do-it-again."
Dark pleasure was cascading through her. She must not give in to it. This was not the sensuality he had shown her last night-this was violent and merciless. "I'll do-what I wish. You can't force me to-do otherwise."
"The hell I can't." He pushed her back onto the bed and loomed over her. "I'll see that you're not tempted to-" He stopped and closed his eyes. "God." His features contorted, then he got off her and stood up. "Did I… bruise you?" he asked curtly.
His withdrawal had come so suddenly, she couldn't quite comprehend it. She just stared at him.
"Well, did I?"
"No." She felt as exhausted as if she had been through a hurricane, but there was no pain.
He lay back down beside her and drew her into his arms. "Don't do this to me again." His words were muffled in her hair. "It's not safe. That's the closest I've ever been to raping a woman."
His embrace was tender, and that was as bewildering to her as the violence. She had never really known tenderness from him. She wanted to stay there, to yield to it just for a moment. "You don't understand, I can't let you-" She broke off and then said wearily, "I cannot promise."
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he rolled away from her and onto his back. "I see."
She had the uneasy feeling he spoke the truth, that he had seen her desperation to retain some control in these encounters.
He said, "Very well, but I'd advise you to find tamer ways to challenge me."
She had no other way. He held all the weapons. "I'll wear what I like."
"The devil you will. Don't you ever give-" He shook his head. "All right, wear whatever suits you. Come to me naked. Come to me in a ball gown. I don't care."
She was surprised at the surrender. "You don't?"
"Well, I'd prefer the ball gown." He smiled crookedly. "You'll remember I like to unwrap my packages."
His words brought back that scalding discomposure she had felt at supper. Ridiculous that mere words could shake her when she had just experienced the most sensual of intimacies with him. "I don't have a ball gown."
"No? We must take care of that once we reach England." His hand reached out and lazily rubbed her belly. "Red, I think. I like red, and it would be beautiful with your dark hair."
"I've never worn red. Clara thought it was a heathen color." She stiffened beneath his touch but then relaxed as she realized the caress was without sensuality. It was soothing, almost affectionate, and as sexless as the way he stroked Kapu. "Don't be foolish. What would I do with a ball gown? I'm not going to England to go to balls."
"That's right." He snapped his fingers. "How could I forget? But I do go to balls on occasion. I suppose if you're to remain close to me, you'll have to masquerade as a footman." His gaze wandered to her breasts. "No, the encumbrances to that plan are too… sizable. Oh, well, I'm sure you'll think of something."
He was joking, she realized incredulously. After the tumult and intensity, it took her off guard. "That's not amusing."
"I'm devastated you don't appreciate my wit. It is a bit crude for the taste of most women of my acquaintance, but you're not like them."
She felt an odd pang. No, she would never be like the women of Jared's world. She would never have the gentleness or meekness. She would never have the grace or sweet ways.
"What's wrong?" His smile had faded as his gaze searched her face.
"Nothing." She didn't look at him. "I wouldn't want to be like your fine ladies, but I'm not crude. I would bring no shame to myself in your grand ballrooms."
"Christ, I didn't say you were- Look at me."
"I don't want to look at you."
He reached out and grasped her chin and turned her face toward him. "Now I truly have hurt you."