Part 5 (2/2)

Lock couldn't explain the odd feeling that settled in his chest. Why should he care about Sparrow or any member of her family? He said, ”I'm no rapist.”

The healer made a skeptical sound.

”I'm not!”

”Well I'm proud of you!” Shea-Ann tossed him a disgusted glance. ”At least it's one foul crime you didn't commit-or so you claim!”

She followed Sparrow outside, leaving Lock alone with his thoughts.

”Seems like Sparrow's a bigger fool than I first thought. Her sister was murdered, but she takes me under her roof. She's just looking for trouble.”

Shea-Ann's accusation-one he knew the rest of the village shared-galled him. Yes, he was a thief, a murderer, a mercenary when the work paid enough, but he was not a rapist. To him, defilement was the worst kind of crime. Nothing made one feel as filthy as the unwelcome body of another devouring one's own.

The door opened, and the women stepped inside. Neither so much as looked at him as they sat down to eat. When they'd finished, Shea-Ann jerked her thumb in his direction, ”What about him.”

Sparrow's large eyes fixed on Lock. He bit the rude comment on the tip of his tongue, uncertain of why he restrained himself. He told himself she wasn't worth arguing with, and a night without food wouldn't bother him. He'd gone days without food when he'd been lost at sea.

She brought him stew, bread, and water.

”I'm going to the barn for a while,” Sparrow told Shea-Ann.

The healer yawned. ”I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

Sparrow waited until Shea-Ann slipped into bed before taking the lantern, leaving the house in darkness, save the glow of the remaining embers in the fire.

Lock sat with his back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. If he was in the Archipelago, he'd be lying in his own bed with the windows open around him. The salty sea air would blow through the house, and he'd drift off to the sound of gulls. Or maybe he wouldn't be in the house at all. Some nights he spent on the beach. He'd build a fire in the sand just below the shadow of the cliff overhanging the western beach. He'd watch the black waves licking the glistening sh.o.r.e.

The door opened, and Sparrow stepped in, her lantern glowing. She sat by the fire, tugging a shawl around her.

”Did she look like you?” The words slipped from Lock's lips before he fully decided whether he wanted to speak or not.

Sparrow's head snapped over her shoulder. ”You're still up?”

”So did she?”

”Who?”

”Who do you think? Your sister.”

”Why do you care?”

He shrugged.

Sparrow turned back to the fire.

Lock moved as close to the hearth as his chains would allow. While the nights weren't cold, they were much cooler than in the Archipelago. Sparrow had bought Lock an ankle-length tunic in the village so he could use it for warmth without removing his chains. At that moment, however, it wasn't cold that pressed him closer to the flames. The unfamiliar pang of regret about his earlier insult regarding her sister made him want to set things right with her. d.a.m.n the soft little b.i.t.c.h to h.e.l.l! Why did she move him?

”She was younger than me,” Sparrow murmured, ”but people always said we looked alike.”

Lock stared at the gentle curve of her cheek, the way the firelight danced across her freckled nose, and the emotions gleaming in her blue eyes. ”She must have been pretty.”

”Thank you,” Sparrow whispered, turning to him. Her gaze fixed on his and her lips parted as she drew a sharp breath.

Lock's pulse quickened when he remembered the kisses they'd shared only a short time ago. Never again, she'd said.

Sparrow's hands rested in her lap. He covered them with one of his own.

”What do you want?” she asked, her expression wary.

His hand slid to her elbow then gently grasped her upper arm as he tugged her to him. Her eyes fixed on his mouth as he edged closer, as if to kiss her. Instead, his lips hovered over her cheek and forehead. He kissed her temple then her earlobe which he took between his teeth and nibbled until she squirmed, a giggle bubbling in her throat. It was a fresh sound of genuine pleasure, completely different from the husky laughter and throaty groans of the women he was accustomed to.

Lock pulled her onto the floor, wrapping his arms around her as he ran the tip of his tongue over her ear, then nuzzled her throat.

”Your beard tickles!” She wiggled in his arms. Her knee brushed his c.o.c.k and Lock's arms tightened around her as their lips met. His tongue slipped into her mouth, slid over her teeth and tasted her every soft, warm nook. She uttered a contented sound as her hands splayed across his back, pressing him closer. Lock was glad he'd healed enough not to wince at her touch. Why didn't she clutch his chest, or better yet the swelling, pulsing c.o.c.k trapped between them?

From across the room, Shea-Ann murmured in her sleep.

Sparrow jerked in his arms and pushed at his shoulders as she whispered fiercely, ”Let me go!”

”What are you worried about?” he asked against her lips.

”Just do it!”

”Not until-”

”Sparrow?” Shea-Ann called in a sleepy voice. ”What's wrong?”

”Nothing, Shea-Ann!” Sparrow replied. Lock credited her with keeping a steady voice as he licked her neck and kneaded her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”I'm going to bed in a minute!”

When Lock began unfastening the ties on her s.h.i.+rt, Sparrow's hand cracked across his face hard. He dropped his hands from her s.h.i.+rt and chuckled.

”What's going on over there?” Shea-Ann demanded, sounding much less sleepy this time.

”I said nothing!” Sparrow's snapped then said more calmly, ”Goodnight, Shea-Ann.”

The healer grumbled to herself as Sparrow dimmed the lantern on the table and crawled into bed. She cast a glance in Lock's direction before snuggling beneath her blanket, and he grinned. The girl was loaded with pa.s.sion, and Lock was an expert at using sensuality to his advantage. One way or another, he'd gain his freedom, and maybe get a taste of the delectable little princess as well.

The following evening, Sparrow returned to the house at dusk. As always, her eyes immediately focused on Lock's corner of the room. The dishes and laundry had been done, and he was sprawled on his side, his head resting on one arm, his eyes closed. Sparrow felt her lips tug upward in a smile. When asleep, with those pale eyes shut and not flas.h.i.+ng fury and contempt, he was rather cute. His skin was smooth for a man who spent his life outdoors, his cheekbones beautifully sculpted. She knew the soft, delicious feeling of his parted lips against hers and she resisted the urge to kiss him.

Sparrow, you're losing your mind! The man is making you into a love fiend! All you can think about, all you dream about at night, is that rotten pirate's gorgeous, hulking body!

Her thoughts scattered as Shea-Ann burst into the house followed by another older woman with dark hair and eyes.

Lock snapped awake, squinting at the three women.

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