At dusk, the Captain came for her. He stood in the doorway of her cabin, dressed in his usual tight britches and a clean linen shirt, open at the neck showing the tattoo on his brown skin. in his strong hands he was holding a thin strip of leather.
"I am sorry to have to do this to you," he said in a soft voice that made her tremble, "but if you wish to come aboard with us, I must bind your wrists. I have kept our betrothal a secret and the crew think you are a hostage."
Letitia eyed the restraints with a shiver of fear. "Why would you have told them that?" she asked, her voice a tremulous whisper.
He sighed and stepped nearer to her. She inhaled the salty scent of him and despite the fear of what he held in his hand, she felt a familiar quickening stir in the core of her. She breathed him in as he came closer, and goosebumps of both fear and arousal pricked her arms as he reached for her. She gasped as he took hold of her hands and turning her around, held them behind her back. His breath was warm on her neck as he murmured into her ear in his deep, refined voice, "It's for your own safety, my sweet. Women are not allowed on board ship." And she felt the cold leather wrap around her wrists as he bound them together.
"But you are the Captain," she said, her voice coming out in a slight moan, her back arching slightly as his hot mouth slid against her neck, and his strong hands pulled the restrains tighter.
"And I cannot be seen to be breaking my own rules," he sighed, running his hot hands down over her hips and grasping handfuls of her skirts as he pulled her against his hard body, "Even for my own fiancee."
Then he abruptly spun her around and grasping her chin in his rough hand, gave her a look so full of longing she almost swooned and his fingers clamped around her neck to hold her upright. "By God, you are so beautiful," he growled. "What I would like to do to you!"
Her mouth opened with a silent plea as his hand tightened around her neck, and he stared down at her with darkening eyes, his fingers digging into her delicate skin. Then suddenly his mouth was on hers, taking her with an untamed passion and she kissed him back, only able to touch him with her lips, pushing her whole body towards him with a wanton and furious need for more. His hand left her neck and grasped her breasts, pulling at her chemise, ripping at the buttons, and then he dragged his lips away from hers and found a nipple, sucking at it through the thin cotton of her gown, lifting her breast up with his hand. She threw her head back and whimpered with the pleasure of finally having him lose some of his control. A feral growl was coming from his throat as his tongue lathed her sensitive bud and a flood of desire tore through her body, straight to the very core of her. She felt a shocking rush of wetness and an overwhelming need to be possessed, here, now, tied up like this, as roughly as he liked, she didn't care, as long as he took her. "Please!" she cried. "Oh Please!"
Tom was on the very edge. He was moments away from ripping open his britches, shoving her legs apart and hammering into her, especially when she began to gasp, "Please," in a breathy little voice and he realised he had achieved what he had wanted; to have her begging for him. But then he tore his mouth from her luscious nipple and looked down at her face, and saw her gazing up at him with a look of mindless, passive arousal and he realised that he had seduced the wrong woman. This was not the same woman who had allowed him to rip her nightgown from her body and had looked at him with such fiery passion. The woman who had invaded his dreams ever since.
His hands went to her shoulders to both push her away from him and steady himself and he took a deep breath. He looked at her torn chemise. Damnation, he could hardly parade her in front of a crew of horny pirates looking like that. What had he been thinking? He pushed her down onto the bed and returning to his cabin found one of his own linen shirts.
When he returned, she was still sitting where she had left him, her hands uncomfortably tied behind her back, her beautiful black hair falling around her shoulders, a dazed look on her face. He tried not to look at the swell of her breasts escaping from the torn chemise as he untied her hands and helped her to pull the shirt on, then tied her wrists together again, this time in a more comfortable position at the front. The whole time, she gazed at his face, her eyes fixed on his mouth. He wanted to tell her who she really was, it was on the tip of his tongue, but if he told her she would probably never forgive him and he did not think he could stand that. Maybe he should take her onto Pearl Island and just leave her there? Someone would pay a good price for her. That would be the cowards way out, but what a relief it would be!
Letitia stared at the Black Orchid's face in the dim light of the cabin. She had just had a sudden vision of him standing over her bed, his sword in hand as she cowered in a ripped nightgown. If he were her fiancee, when on earth had this scene taken place?