Title: How to Buckle Your Swash Without Even Trying
Author: Whimsicle-1
Feedback: Always welcome at Whimsicle.dreams@gmail.com
Disclaimer: The props and characters all belong to Amblin. The actual arrangement of words, not to mention a level of mild kinky that is not an undertone are all mine and I can only pray that more official entities will totally overlook them.
Author's Note: Ever have a story where you firmly plan on zigging only to have the characters decide to zag. This is that story. It was all supposed to come out differently, but...well...the characters dictated otherwise.
Summary: Some characters have very active fantasy lives.

How to Buckle Your Swash Without Even Trying
By Whimsicle-1

Poking his head inside Kristin's postage-stamp sized office, Nathan Bridger raised his eyebrows as he noted the doctor's posture. She was hunched over, glaring at the computer screen, her fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard. As he watched, she muttered an impressive array of obscenities, one on top of another. "Having trouble?" he questioned through a grin.

She pivoted in her chair to glare at him. "This," she accused, gesturing to her computer, "is your fault."

"Who me?" Nathan inquired too innocently.

Westphalen's dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't you even try it," she warned him. "This is your nasty little bit of revenge for my visiting Malcolm. Apparently being kidnapped by the 'Butcher of Bosnia' wasn't quite enough for you." She reached back with her right hand, flicking the computer screen. "You had to add enough paperwork to sink a bloody battleship to the tally."

Nathan struggled without much success to tamp down a chuckle. She was right about his motives, but if he didn't get himself under control, she was going to hurt him. "Now, Doctor, you know as well as I do that U.E.O. regulations mandate these things, not me...sort of like your leave time." He displayed a smooth smile that earned him another flashing glare. It occurred to Nathan that he was taking his life in his hands, but there was something childishly satisfying about teasing her.

A sarcastic smile curved Kristin's mouth upward, but she didn't argue. "Are you here for a reason, or just to gloat?" she inquired icily after a beat.

"I never gloat," he denied the charge as he leaned down into her space, well aware of the subtle arc of sexual tension that flared between them. "I just make sure I'm always on the winning side." He flashed an overbroad smile. "Actually, I'm rather famous for that."

Kristin carefully settled her palms on the armrests. "Really?" she drawled, teeth grinding together in frustration.

"Really," he confirmed, reaching past her shoulder to tap the computer screen. "And as for this...well, Doctor, your position comes with a lot of responsibilities that just have to be seen to before any time off."

Dark eyes narrowed faintly.

Nathan grinned, enjoying her obvious fury even though instinct told him he'd pay for it somewhere down the line. Normally, he wasn't one for such power games, but he was damned if he'd see her run off to have Malcolm soothe any leftover fears from their kidnapping. A mountain of paperwork took care of that little problem quite neatly without actually doing what she seemed to be hinting at and making any kind of commitment.

"So that's what this is about," she growled. "You heard about Malcolm's invitation."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied.

"Y'know, Nathan, you could have just asked," she bit out, discarding his denial for the untruth it was.

No, no, he really couldn't have. That would have been admitting that her little accusation that he was jealous was somehow true. Still he'd been feeling possessive since realizing Malcolm was in hot pursuit. He was also annoyed that she seemed to be responding to Malcolm even though he knew it was his own damn fault. She'd given him enough opportunities to make some kind of move, and he'd ducked, avoided and generally run like hell whenever things got too close. Which made his very primitive male desire to mark her as his property so ironic that even he was aware of the insanity of it. However.... 

His gaze dropped and he eyed the silky cupid's bow of her lips.

He'd tasted that mouth before, knew perfectly well the sweetness of those lips and the heat of her breath. But one kiss when he'd thought he'd never see her again was a completely different animal from that same kiss if he knew he was going to be locked on the same boat with her for months on end.

One was sweet, longing, and a little innocent, and the other was the start of something that still felt like a betrayal to a woman he'd loved more than life. That it was also against every rule in his U.E.O. manual was only a bonus.

And maybe Kristin was right and he was just jealous.

Hell, no maybe about it. He wanted to knock Malcolm's teeth down his throat every time he thought about the two of them together, but Kristin had made it pretty plain that she didn't plan on waiting around on the off-chance that he might think about possibly one day, many years hence, consider being ever so slightly more than friends.

In fact, she'd made it very plain that she was interested, but if he wasn't, she was quite content to move on.

To Malcolm.

Nathan's teeth gritted at that thought.

And who was he kidding? He was every bit as interested as she was, possibly moreso. He wanted her in every way it was possible to want a woman, and probably a few more that hadn't been invented yet. He just wasn't sure he was ready to deal with the next step.

Maybe it was time he stop running like hell and take things exactly where they both wanted them to go. And maybe if he didn't, paperwork wouldn't do a damn bit of good to keep her from his old friend. She was more than headstrong enough to take his little revenge as a direct challenge, and seeing her with Malcolm again might just kill him. 

Maybe it was time.

He leaned a little closer, well aware of the scent of her perfume swirling around him. God, she smelled good.

Definitely time.

His heart hammering in his chest, he moved to close the final distance.

Only to come up against solid pressure as she braced both hands on his chest and shoved. He fell back a step.

"Sorry," Kristin began in a voice that dripped ice crystals, though her smile was saccharine sweet. "I've got so much work to do."

Nathan swallowed hard and worked a hand through his hair. So that was how it was going to be. "Cute," he exhaled, chest pumping as though he'd just run several miles. He folded his arms across his chest in an unsuccessful attempt to look nonchalant. "So, what are your plans for the evening?" The question was deceptively casual and belied by the steady tension in his muscles. Having come to the conclusion that it was time to act on the attraction, his nature was to simply push forward. Apparently that wasn't her plan, however.

Kristin grinned approvingly, enjoying her measure of victory as she noted the jealousy and frustrated lust that lurked in his eyes. "Paperwork," she said innocently. She gestured to a box of DVDs. "And if I'm feeling really adventurous, I might play a movie while I work." She put extra emphasis on the last word to twist the knife.

Nathan sighed softly and made a mental note to never again plot any kind of revenge against this woman. She knew exactly how to hit back. "Most of the reports are really rather unimportant," he offered a little queasily. "You could delay getting them done..."

Kristin shook her head. "No, no...U.E.O. regulations...remember?"

"Damn," Nathan breathed. "Hoist by my own petard," he muttered disgustedly.

She smirked triumphantly, turning back to the glowing computer screen. "And it's such a cute petard too," she chuckled nastily. "Pity, I've got all this paperwork ahead of me...could be weeks and weeks worth by the look of it."

"Weeks and weeks, huh?," Nathan complained. He didn't think she'd actually follow through on her threat, but then again, she was one stubborn woman. Of course, he could back down, apologize, capitulate, and generally let her win. Problem with that plan—he was an almost equally stubborn man.

Not wanting to look too closely at his options, he distracted himself by focusing on her stack of movies. The first one he picked up was an old Robert Shaw pirate movie: Swashbuckler. He tossed it back and grabbed another: The Spanish Main this time. He frowned and grabbed several, flipping through them with raised brows. The Sea Hawk, The Crimson Pirate, Pirates of the Caribbean, Captain Blood, and Cutthroat Island all went by. "Uh…Kristin," he murmured to gain her attention.

She looked up, peering at him over the top edge of her reading glasses.

Nathan fanned the disks so she could see them. "I'm starting to notice a trend here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she muttered and went back to her computer screen, betrayed only by the flush staining the high curve of her cheekbones.

"Right," Nathan chuckled. "It's pure coincidence that every film in here involves pirates."

"I like movies with sailing ships," Kristin muttered defensively.

"Then why not Horatio Hornblower or Mutiny on the Bounty?"

"Gregory Peck is too stiff in Hornblower, though I do like the cut of his uniform," she murmured with a note feminine appreciation before continuing, "As for Bounty, I don't care how politically incorrect it is, I don't like Brando movies."

Nathan leaned close to her ear, curving his hands to her narrow shoulders. "Or maybe you just prefer to fantasize about being ravished by some charming rogue?" he whispered suggestively, his warm breath ruffling her silky hair. Maybe that was Malcom's appeal. And maybe it was time Nathan tried for a little of that devil-may-care approach.

Kristin turned her head to peer up at him with an arch look. "Not bloody likely," she murmured forbiddingly before turning back to her computer monitor.

Nathan massaged her shoulders with firm strokes as he leaned forward. "Admit it," he whispered near her ear, his tone intentionally seductive. "The thought of being carried off by some daring buccaneer excites you."

She allowed the massage, but didn't say anything.

Nathan's lips turned upward in a lazy grin, playing the part as he wove a fantasy. "I hadn't intended to take the English schooner. Her cargo wasn't worth a farthing, then I saw you on the deck, and I had to have you...the woman I gave up in favor of the pirate's life—"

"Helluva a spyglass, since you can't even read a newspaper without eyeglasses," Kristin muttered, refusing to be drawn in.

Nathan flashed her a dirty look, but didn't break from his scenario. "We caught your ship in a few hours. Your captain knew he was bested and didn't even try to put up a fight...but you did..." Turning her chair around, Nathan grinned down at her and leaned forward to brace his hands on the armrests.

Despite her attempts to seem disinterested, Kristin shivered gently. Damn him for figuring out her weakness, especially when she'd had every intention of punishing him for his childish bit of revenge. And what he apparently had in mind definitely did not qualify as punishment. Dammit, why did he have to decide he was ready to take the next step now?

Triumph lit a fire behind Nathan's eyes. "You came at me with a sword, spitting like a cat--"

"Really, Nathan, I had no idea you read novels like that," she taunted in an effort to distract him.

It didn't work.

"I could have had my men take the sword, but you offered a wager. Your freedom if you win, your body if I win." He eyed her from head to toe, his expression appreciative. "Someone taught you how to use a sword well, but the fight ended quickly." He flashed a sly smile. "I cheat."

"I believe that," Kristin exhaled. God knew, he was cheating now.

"In my cabin, you were shy--"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Virginity is no longer an option, not even in your fantasies," she pointed out with a fine edge of sarcasm.

Nathan pulled up short. She had a point. He decided to change tactics slightly. "Your experience would increase your value on the open market." He outlined her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "Not that I care. I won't be selling this prize."

"Really?" Kristin drawled and nipped the point of his thumb.

Nathan felt his pulse pick up in response to the raw promise in her eyes. "I'm no fool," he exhaled.

Kristin slid her hands up the broad plain of his chest. "I don't know about that," she whispered and shoved—hard. Time to bring things back under control. Her control.

Nathan stumbled backwards, bumping into a cabinet. It took him a heartbeat to regain his balance and by the time he did, Kristin was out of her chair, her expression wickedly alluring. She brushed her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, testing the muscles under his uniform. "You see, your mistake is in presuming I want to be ravished."

Caught by surprise, he could only stare. This wasn't the response he'd expected at all. His eyebrows drew together in a flummoxed frown as she pushed again, unbalancing him just enough that he was forced to lean against the cabinets at his back.

"In reality, I want to the do the ravishing." Her voice dropped to little more than a throaty purr. "I'd have the stuffy captain of the ship I just captured brought before me in manacles and offer him a choice. Satisfy me in bed and his ship may go free. Fail, and captain and crew walk the plank." She seemed to take a rather worrisome amount of pleasure from the notion of that ultimatum.

Nathan swallowed hard. He'd always suspected she had a touch of the dominatrix in her soul. Now he was sure of it. On the other hand, the sensual promise in her eyes was enough to make a strong man beg. Particularly one who'd been celibate as long as he had. The words were on the tip of his tongue when she abruptly backed up a step.

"Whoops," she said cheerfully and pointedly glanced down at her watch. "Time's up! Say hullo to the plank," she instructed as she shoved him out the door, then tugged it shut in his wake.

Nathan was still standing in the corridor, not entirely certain what had just happened when she spun the lock with considerable authority. "Not fair," he mumbled and leaned his forehead against the steel door. It didn't do much to help cool his raging hormones, but it was better than nothing.

"Er...Cap..." Crocker's voice reached his ears only a few moments later. "You okay?"

Nathan straightened, struggling against an embarrassed flush as he pivoted to face his friend, praying that his recent state of...excitement...was no longer apparent. "Fine," he croaked.

Crocker's eyes flicked back and forth between his friend and the door to Westphalen's office. "Like that, is it?" he commiserated at last.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bridger denied too quickly.

Crocker snorted, but didn't bother to call his old friend a liar. "Come on," he said, and clapped a friendly hand to Nathan's shoulder. "I'll buy you a drink. You look like you could use it."

Nathan didn't argue. "You have no idea," he muttered at last.

@ @ @ @ ------------------- @ @ @ @

In her office, Kristin dropped her forehead to her desk, uncertain that throwing Nathan out had been such a good idea. The look of surprise on his face had offered a nice moment of revenge, but she really was hoping to move things forward on that front and he did finally seem to be getting that idea himself.

And he had definitely hit upon her weakness where men were concerned. Rogues. Lying, thieving, charming rogues. And as nice and kind and decent as he was, Nathan Bridger had just enough of that defiant edge and twinkle in his eye to appeal to her most base instincts.

In fact, the truth was she almost wished he'd just ignored the lock and pushed his way back in. Much as she loved his company, she sometimes wished he could be a bit less nice. 

Kristin sighed heavily and worked her hands through her hair, massaging her temples, working her fingers back under her head in concentric circles. She did that for several minutes, consciously steadying herself and clearing her head before finally going back to the much-hated paperwork.

Long hours passed before she finally quit, her back and shoulders aching painfully. She didn't even bother to stop for dinner, just stumbled back to her cabin, barely sparing the time for a quick shower before falling into bed. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Within an hour, she entered the REM state, eyes dancing beneath her closed lashes as the dream world closed around her:

The sea was choppy, the thick scent of salt hanging thick in the air. A hard northwest wind filled the sails of a tiny clipper ship it cut through the rough waves. Captain and crew were breathing hard and scurrying about the deck in a state of near panic while behind them, another ship cut through the waves, gaining steadily. Never intended for speed or combat, the merchant vessel was pushed to limit and still losing ground.

The frigate had appeared out of the early morning fog and was now advancing in her wake. Atop the mizzen mast fluttered a black flag bearing a skull and crossbones---a pirate flag.

The captain paused in his duties as he noted the woman standing on the aft decks, staring back at the rapidly advancing warship. "You should get below, Ma'am," he said with automatic courtesy.

She nodded and wrapped a silk shawl tighter around narrow shoulders. "Their captain watches from the bow," she pointed out.

The merchant captain's eyes followed the line of her arm until he spotted the dark figure. "Aye...Nathan Bridger..." he said softly.

"You sound as though you know the man."

The captain nodded. "Aye. He was an officer in the King's navy before he turned pirate."

"He's English then?"

The captain shook his head. "Born in the Americas. Bastard son of the Duke of Kent, though the old bast—man refused to accept him. They say that's why he goes after English ships."

Lady Kristin Westphalen shivered with an instinctive frisson of something akin to fear. "He sounds a blackguard."

Crocker shrugged. "He's not so bad," he admitted cautiously. "But you should get below. The man I knew would never harm a woman, but I don't know how he's changed since..." Crocker trailed off, then shooed her on her way as he returned to his duties.

* * * * * *

Aboard the pirate ship, the first mate hurried to join his captain at the prow. "We'll be on them within the hour," he informed Nathan Bridger.

Bridger glanced back and he nodded approvingly, pressing the sections of his spyglass together as he commented. "Crocker sent her below."

Ford folded heavily muscled arms across his chest. "Tell me again why we're after a ship that isn't carrying any cargo of significant value?"

"She's English. We chase English ships."

Jonathan Ford nodded. "Yes, we do," he agreed, "but usually they're rich English ships. In this instance, you seem far more interested in the redhead above decks than any treasures below."

"I'm a pirate," Nathan pointed out without looking at the younger man. "I steal what I want, and the treasure I want is now below decks. Does that make you happier?"

Jonathan Ford let out a long-suffering sigh. "One wench is much the same as any other---"

"This is no wench," Nathan said with quiet intensity. By the time he turned to look at his friend, his expression was lighthearted, but something more serious still lurked in his eyes. "We can take the Sea Wind ship easily enough. Crocker'll not even put up a fight when I offer him a chance to escape with his ship and crew intact."

"I've never met the man, but from what you've said he's a gentleman at heart. He may be willing to fight to protect the woman."

Nathan stroked his close cropped beard thoughtfully, comfortably certain that she would never allow that to happen. "I'll tell you what," he said at last. "If Crocker puts up a serious fight or the woman has the face of a cow, then we'll leave."

"You promise?" Ford demanded.

Nathan laughed and nodded. "On my honor."

Ford smirked. "That would be more of a comfort if I didn't know you have no honor."

Nathan only laughed, leaving Ford sputtering as he returned to his duties.

The captain of the Sea Quest shook his head, still laughing softly as he turned his eyes back to the sails of his prey. He had every intention of keeping his promise to Ford, or more correctly, he was certain he wouldn't need to. Even at that distance he'd recognized her through his telescope and knew perfectly well that her face matched perfect curves and easy grace. Once before he'd watched her from afar, desperately wanting make her his own, yet still idealistic enough to remain in the shadows. Bastard sons weren't for women like her. He'd accepted society's rules then, perhaps hoping to one day earn his way into his father's graces. Now he knew better. Then she'd ended wedded to an earl—by all accounts a profligate son of a bitch who in no way deserved her. Now widowed, it was rumored she was headed to the islands to wed the Duke of Lansdowne.

Nathan's lips compressed to a thin line.

It looked like Lansdowne would have to find himself another rich widow to pay for his excesses.

Because this one was going to have other plans very soon.

* * * * *

In her cabin, Kristin could hear the sounds of activity overhead and catch hints of the crew's panic. She didn't wait to see if the pirate ship would overtake the merchant vessel. It seemed obvious it would. Perhaps the pirate captain was as honorable as Crocker insisted, but she would be a fool to trust that idea. After all, pirating was seldom the career choice of honest men.

She quickly loosed the stays on her gown, slipping it down off her shoulders to let it fall to a puddle at her feet. Petticoats and the much-hated corset soon followed to be replaced by the men's clothes she'd worn for her fencing lessons with James. The pale, linen blouse was voluminous on her slender frame, but a sword belt took care of that problem, and the soft, fawn knickers fit like a second skin. In James' tiled studio she'd worn leather-soled shoes, but the deck above was likely to be slick with blood and water so she opted to go barefoot rather than risk a slip at a bad moment. A heavy cloak over the top would conceal her costume until she needed the freedom it offered.

Lastly, she lifted the long wooden sword case from her things, staring at it momentarily before flicking the latches open. The rapier inside was beautifully made. An intricate guard curved over the wire wrapped surface of the hilt, and the razor sharp edges of the blade glinted even in the dull candlelit interior of her cabin. A pair of black suede gloves lay folded in one end of the box and she carefully tugged them on before lifting the weapon. It was light and exquisitely balanced. James had paid a fortune for it before his death.

Overhead, there were a series of heavy, clanking thumps, followed by an army's worth of footsteps.

Kristin's heart lurched with tension.

They'd been boarded.

She waited, expecting to hear sounds of combat and was surprised when they didn't come. Had the captain surrendered without even a token attempt at resistance? She was still standing there several minutes later when someone knocked on her door. Uncertain what to do, she froze.

A man's deep voice, muffled by the door, reached her ears. "You'd best open up, Miss, or I'll break it down."

Squaring her shoulders, Kristin flung the cloak around herself, hiding the sword within the confines of the heavy fabric, then clicked the latch and opened the door.

The dark skinned man standing in the corridor was obviously one of the pirates, clad as he was in a loose shirt and dark breaches rather than a naval uniform. He looked at her with an oddly sympathetic expression and cursed softly.

"What?" she exhaled nervously.

He reached out, tipping her chin up and cursed again. "I was rather hoping you'd have the face of a cow," he sighed, then gestured her through the door. "Move."

Not bothering to argue, Kristin stepped around him, careful to keep the sword positioned so that it couldn't accidentally brush him.

She stiffened as she stepped on deck.

The scrawny, short-handed crew of the merchant ship stood on one side of the deck, their only weapons a few poorly-made swords and whatever pieces of equipment they could find on the ship that might serve. To a man, their expressions were ones of sheer terror.

On the other side of the deck stood the pirate crew, burly, well-armed, and confident of their ability to win any fight. They looked more bored than anything else.

Between the two groups stood the captain of the merchant vessel and beside him, a tall, lean man with dark, greying hair, a close cropped beard, and sun darkened skin. A wicked smile twisted his mouth as he laid eyes on her. "Lady Westphalen," he drawled, his gaze roving over her with only slightly less intensity than an actual hand. "I'm pleased to see you're everything I'd hoped...and more."

Kristin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Do I know you, sir?"

The pirate shrugged one shoulder, his eyes gleaming as he studied her. "Not yet, but you will," he pronounced confidently.

She glared at him with regal disdain. "Explain yourself," she demanded, refusing to be cowed the way he doubtless hoped. She wasn't some weak-will girl to melt into a puddle at his feet.

He tipped an imaginary hat. "Nathan Bridger, captain of the Sea Quest, at your service. I find I desire your company."

"I see," she exhaled sharply. So much for Crocker's thesis that the pirate captain was an honorable man.

Captain Crocker stepped forward. "My crew and I will defend you to the death, M'lady." He flashed an angry glare at his old friend. "I can't believe you've sunk so low," he chastised, hoping to shame the other man into a different course.

Bridger shrugged, but his eyes never left the auburn-haired figure standing several feet away.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his crew and the merchant crew.

"They don't stand a chance," Nathan informed her of what she already knew in a low, oddly soothing voice. "You can prevent that bloodbath." He reached out a hand to her. "All you have to do is come with me."

Her dark eyes slid over the frightened faces of the crewmen poised to fight, and she shook her head as her gaze returned clash with the pirate's. "I won't see any man's blood spilled to protect my virtue." Her lip curled disdainfully on the final word. She'd never understood the emphasis put on such things.

Bridger nodded in appreciation. "Good." He flexed long fingers to urge her forward. "Come along then."

"Damn you," Crocker hissed but didn't move, helpless to do what honor demanded without getting his crew killed.

Bridger shrugged. "I was damned long ago, old friend," he said agreeably. The woman still hadn't moved so he stepped forward, ready to reach for her.

She stepped back a pace, running into his first officer where he still stood behind her. "That doesn't mean I intend to come with you," she snarled.

Bridger's brows rose, his expression politely curious. He gestured to their surroundings. "If you don't intend letting them fight, I'm not sure how you plan to avoid going with me?" Ford was ready to grab the woman if she tried to run, but Nathan waved him away, then gestured her closer. When she didn't immediately move, he sighed softly. "You have my word, I won't use force...at least not until I've heard you out."

Careful to keep the front of the cloak closed, she drew nearer. "I offer a wager, Captain. If I win, this ship and my person both go free."

"And if I win?" The pirate captain asked, his curiosity engaged.

"I go with you."

He shook his head. "You'll do that, either way." He paused to consider her offer. He was certain he could win her over, but it would be far easier if she wasn't fighting him every step of the way. "I'll tell you what," he began his counteroffer, "I'll take your bet, but with slightly altered terms. You win, I'll release you and the ship...."

"And if you win?" she demanded when he didn't immediately continue.

He leaned closer, staring deeply into her eyes. "You come to my bed...willingly." He paced around behind her, his voice dropping too low for anyone else to hear. "Naked, warm, and ready for pleasure."

Against her will, Kristin's breathing roughened with unwanted excitement. He was the first man in long time to actually challenge her and she'd always thrived on challenge. She glanced back to find him studying her carefully. He wasn't precisely handsome, but there was something compelling about his sharp features. Pity she was going to have to kill him.

He reached out to brush a finger over a stray curl of auburn hair, fingering the fine strands as he waited for her response. "So what will it be, Kristin?" he questioned when she still hadn't answered a moment later.

Throwing off the momentary paralysis, she sharpened her gaze, hoping to put him in his place. "I'll take your bet." She'd beaten James plenty of times and he'd been trained by the best. The pirate might be stronger than she, but James had taught her how easily skill could beat brute force.

Bridger's eyes glinted triumphantly. "Good," he whispered, convinced he could best her at any contest she might choose. He backed away a step, grinning as he questioned. "So, what's the game to be...canasta, chess…checkers?" he allowed in deference to her femininity.

Kristin's eyes narrowed dangerously. She was going to enjoy carving his arrogant heart from his chest. "No," she said softly and shrugged out of the heavy cloak. "Swords," she snapped and swung her weapon for his chest.

Nathan yelped and leapt backward just in time to avoid the deadly arc of the blade. Scrambling, he regained his balance just in time to duck another swing. Intent on not frightening the lady, he'd left his weapon behind. Now she was on the verge of skewering him while his crew looked on, too busy admiring the cut of her jib to offer any help. Of course, if he hadn't been so busy trying to stay alive, Nathan would have joined them.

She slashed again and he dove around one of the huge masts, using it for cover while he regained his footing.

"Captain!" Jonathan shouted and tossed the other man his own weapon. Bridger caught it by the hilt, bringing it to bear just in time to parry the fast thrust she delivered as she came around the mast after him. Several quick vollies followed, then he deliberately stepped forward, using raw strength to push her back several steps.

Realizing she couldn't hold her ground with him shoving her like that, Kristin backed off to regroup, glaring at the pirate as he straightened himself and turned a chiding smile her way.

"Now, M'lady," he scolded, breathing hard despite his seeming nonchalance. "This really isn't a good idea." He used in own weapon to gesture to the epée in her hand. "You could get hurt with one of those."

"So could you," she snarled with deadly intensity.

An appreciative murmur went up among his crew and Nathan turned a warning look on his men, instantly silencing them. He turned his attention back to the woman. Her stance was good, her manner confident, and the sword she bore perfectly balanced. Damn. It looked like she knew what she was doing.

"Methinks, the lady prefers a different sort of sword to the one you intended, my friend," Ford laughed.

"Shut up!" Nathan snapped angrily before addressing his quarry again. "I don't want to hurt you."

"That's funny," she shot back. "Hurting you gives me no qualms whatsoever."

"I can see that," he ground out as her sword flashed, forcing him to parry quickly to keep from bleeding all over the deck. As she fell back again, he made a quick slashing motion intended more to frighten her than draw blood. "We never decided the terms of victory," he reminded her while she was still regaining her balance.

"To the death," she growled, instinctively certain that nothing less would actually stop him no matter what pretty promises he made.

"I can see why you would like that one, but..." Nathan allowed, admiring her determination even if he had no intention of allowing it to prevent him from getting what he wanted, "it would substantially reduce the value of my prize."

"If you're so confident you'll win, why worry about it?" she hissed and lunged again.

Nathan blocked the move, but it took some effort. She was good. Very good. It was highly unlikely she could beat him, but if he wasn't careful she'd wind up bandaging his wounds along with looking after his other needs.

The two circled each other, both so focused they forgot about the watching crews who had already put aside their previous enmity in favor of enjoying the show. One of the merchant sailors was even playing bookie and taking bets from both sides.

"Excellent form," Nathan told her as he released a fast moving flurry of blows designed to test her skills to the limit without causing any injury, "but you need to understand that fencing and fighting aren't the same thing at all."

"Given that I plan on killing you, I think it hardly matters," she shot back even as she slipped the tip of her sword under his guard just enough to tear one of his sleeves, but not enough to draw blood.

Both crews seemed to find that particularly humorous, and Nathan cursed. She wasn't backing down at all, and with his own crew egging her on, might just push things until she got hurt. "I told you, I'm not interested in killing you," he reminded her as he attacked again, raining blunt, hammer blows on her sword in an effort to batter her into exhaustion.

Unable to bear the pressure, Kristin fell back under the fusillade of fast blows. If he kept that up, she didn't have a chance, she realized. She was still trying to regroup when he slowed his attack, giving her a moment's respite as he leaned into the space between them.

"Victory comes with first blood," he offered.

Breathing hard from the strain of the fight, her muscles starting to tremble with the effort required to parry his blows, she realized her chances of slipping a killing blow under his guard were almost nonexistent. Still, she'd gotten close a few times. First blood was possible. "Deal."

"Good," Nathan whispered, then stepped back a pace as he released a dizzying flurry of blows designed to force her backward without causing injury.

Wrist aching from the effort required to parry his attack, Kristin tried to find an opening she might exploit, but his guard was perfect, the swing of his blade too fast to track. Dear Lord, James had been the best swordsmen among the young men she'd known, but this man would have eaten them all alive.

"Ready to surrender?" he invited when she momentarily faltered.

Straightening her shoulders, Kristin shook her head. "Go to hell."

"We really don't have to play this game," he teased. "You've made a more than sufficient effort to defend your honor." His sword flicked, slicing through the tie of her blouse to reveal the soft curves underneath. "Now you can—" The teasing turned a yelp as her blade abruptly shifted course and he barely yanked his hand back in time to avoid being laid open. "That'll teach me to get too distracted," he growled, careful to keep his eyes from straying.

"Indeed," she taunted, eyes glittering with excitement over the near-victory. "Maybe you're the one who should surrender...unless you're eager to bleed."

He grinned, enjoying her fierce beauty. A few drops of blood would be well worth the price to have her, but he was hardly eager to pay that price. "I don't plan on doing any bleeding," he shot back as he blocked another thrust at the last moment and reminded himself to keep his mind on the fight. He'd have all the time in the world to enjoy the lady's charms soon enough, but she was too good for him to take too lightly. "Time to end this," he decided out loud.

Her sense of triumph short-lived, Kristin barely had time to draw breath before he loosed another fusillade of fast blows thrusts and slashes. None came close to drawing blood. Instead, he drove her back, controlling her path and putting her right where he wanted. Even though she realized what he was doing, she couldn't find a way out of the trap he'd laid until she stumbled and fell hard against the door to the lower decks. She saw Bridger fling his weapon away and tried to bring her own up between them, but he wrapped strong fingers around her hand, forcing it back against the door as he closed in on her. They were both gasping and flush with exertion. Kristin's eyes were drawn upward to his implacable features as he pressed close, molding her body to his  until she it seemed as though she could feel every inch of his solid frame pressed against her own.

"Accept it, my dear, you've lost," he breathed before he claimed her mouth with his own, giving her no chance to refuse as he tasted and explored the warm depths.

She tried to drive a knee into his groin, but he twisted just in time and the blow glanced off his inner thigh.

"Damn," Nathan gasped and jerked his head back. He had to give her credit, she really wasn't one to give up easily. "Stop that!"

She shook her head. "You haven't drawn first blood."

"Dammit, woman," he snarled. "I don't want your blood."

"But I damn well want yours." She lunged wildly in an effort to free herself and get her sword between them.

Nathan responded by slamming her into the door at her back hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. He cursed softly, knowing she wouldn't accept his victory until she was forced to. Arms and shoulders flexing with controlled power, he dragged her hand, still gripping the epée, away from the door.

Kristin ground out a curse, every muscle taut as she fought him, but she barely slowed his progress as he forced the weapon between them. Under his control, the blade just barely nicked her left shoulder, cutting through the gauzy fabric of her shirt and drawing a single bead of blood.

"First blood," Nathan growled, then stripped the weapon from her hold and flung it aside. He cupped her jaw in one strong hand, forcing her head up. "I'm your master now," he panted, then claimed her mouth again. When the kiss broke, he lifted her high into his arms, careless of her struggles as he flung the command over his shoulder. "Jonathan, see to casting off. You have the helm. And bring the lady's sword. It's a fine weapon and I've earned that as well."

Despite Kristin's best efforts to break free, they were in his cabin before she hit her feet again, and then, it was only because he let her down. She stumbled away from him, snarling every four-letter curse she could think of. For a lady of her station, it was a surprisingly vast collection.

Nathan's brows rose. "Impressive," he allowed. His brief surge of anger over, he smiled. "But don't you think it's time to honor your wager. You did lose the fight, after all."

"Go to hell!" she spat furiously.

He canted his head to one side, appearing to consider the command. "And here, I thought you were a woman of your word."

"Would you have done so if I drew first blood?" she demanded.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, but then, I'm a pirate. We're supposed to cheat. You're a lady. Your word should be as good as gold."

"Go to hell," she repeated.

"You already said that," he reminded her helpfully. "However, I feel the need to point out that if all bets are off, I'd feel duty bound to finish what I started aboard the merchant ship."

"You can't. There's nothing of value aboard her and you know it," she swore.

"Oh, but I can," he warned her. "And when I raid a ship and don't find anything I want, I've been known to put it to the torch."

She froze. "You wouldn't," she whispered uncertainly. Crocker hadn't mentioned anything like that about Bridger, but then again, he'd been convinced his former friend was a gentleman who'd never harm a woman, so his judgment was very much in question.

His expression remained perfectly neutral. "Are you willing to bet their lives on that?"

"Damn you," she exhaled. He knew she couldn't.

"Yes," Nathan agreed and advanced on her in a heartbeat.

Kristin backed away and was soon pinned between the wall and his solid figure. She swallowed hard, staring up at him through wide eyes, taking in the intensity in his hazel eyes, the power in his broad shoulders, the relentless set of his mouth. His gaze held her prisoner. She couldn't look away.

Tapered, well-made fingers lifted to slide over her face, tracing the planes of her face with featherlight strokes. She jumped, startled by the subtle nature of the caress, unable to deny the cool rush of pleasure that followed his fingers as they moved over her skin. "Still so perfect," he exhaled.

"Still?" she breathed and felt him tense. "Do I know you, sir?" she demanded.

Reminded of old humiliations, he tensed. "No more than you knew any young sailor far beneath your notice," he ground out as his fingers slipped under the gaping band collar of the blouse. Not giving her time to ponder his answer, he applied just enough pressure to split the fabric down the center.

Kristin instinctively started to cross her arms across her chest, but he caught her wrists, forcing them aside as he stared at the pale strip of flesh visible in the open front of the shirt. Her stomach knotted with fear, but then he looked up, the expression in his eyes almost sad.

"I won't hurt you," he abruptly promised and despite everything, she believed him.

"Why are you doing this?" she croaked, not understanding at all. There was something there, an intensity that made no sense.

"Because I intend to have you," he exhaled, then leaned close, his breath teasing her ear as he whispered, "and I intend to make sure you enjoy it."

A shudder of unwanted arousal slid through her, lighting sensitive nerve endings on fire. "You're very confident—"

"And you're excited," he breathed, understanding her far better than she would have liked. "Admit it," he taunted, "for the first time in a long time, you feel alive—"

"No," she denied on a gasp.

He ignored her. "Do you really want to go back there...back to all the fops and fools who underestimate you or try to control you because they're neither strong enough nor smart enough to face you on your own terms?"

Damn him for knowing too well how she sometimes felt. "You're wrong," she insisted and tried to twist away.

He refused to let go, instead levering her body up against his own as he drew her hands up and around his neck. "Prove it," he challenged as he ducked his head to taste a sensitive cord in her throat. "Take a chance...."

"I'm not afraid of you," she lied.

"Good." Then his mouth found hers, demanding, taking, plundering the very the air from her body.

A low moan escaped her lips and he drank it in, his hands spreading possessively on the curve of her hips to pull her close.

Tiny shivers slipping over her skin while heat flared, coalesced, then exploded outward, she threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, clinging tightly.

They were both breathing hard and trembling when he pulled back ever so slightly, his tough light as he brought his hands around and carefully spread the tattered edges of her blouse.

Still breathing hard, he brushed a tender kiss over the small injury on her shoulder, laving away the small spatter of drying blood. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he exhaled, genuine regret thickening his voice. "I never wanted that." He trailed his fingers down the center of her body. Again, his touch was incredibly light, contrasting with the brief moment of near violence. Her stomach muscles clenched as his touch dropped steadily lower, but he shook his head. "Not yet," he whispered as though he'd read her mind. "Not until you're ready."

She shivered a second later as his hands returned to their slow explorations and his mouth reclaimed hers. When he broke the kiss to trail a heated caress down the center of her throat, her head fell back against the wall, body trembling as arousal began winning the battle with fear. She gasped sharply when he abruptly lifted her off her feet, bracing her against the wall at her back to bury his face in the valley between her breasts. Kristin trembled violently, dazed by the hard rush of pleasure evoked by the twin teases of his mouth and beard moving against her flesh.

His chin still pressed against her breastbone, Nathan looked up at her through heavy lidded eyes. "You like that," he whispered triumphantly.

"Damn you," she gasped, but her tone lacked conviction.

Nathan smiled, enjoying the fine cut of her features twisted in passion. "Look at me," he commanded.

Kristin tipped her chin down, staring at him through glazed eyes. Primitive lust arced between them with unstoppable force. Pirate, kidnapper, whatever he was, she could no longer deny that she wanted him more than any other man she'd ever known.

Nathan slowly lowered her until their eyes were on the same level and the tips of her toes just touched the floor. "Say my name," he ordered huskily.

"Nathan," she breathed.

"Kristin." He nipped her lower lip, then darted his tongue out to soothe the slight injury. "Mine," he panted, lowering her feet all the way to the floor. He feathered kisses along the curve of her jaw, then down her throat as he peeled the loose shirt away from her shoulders and tossed it aside. "My name," he whispered again.

"Nathan," she repeated, her voice draining off into a low moan as his hands continued teasing soft flesh, then he ducked his head and she felt the wet heat of his mouth on her skin. "Oh, Nathan...." Hard shivers shook her slender frame with each soft caress while tiny pleading sounds escaped her lips.

And then suddenly he swung her up in his arms, his mouth finding hers as he carried her the short distance to his bed. Any struggles were over as he settled her on the mattress, then backed off just long enough to peel his shirt off.

Kristin couldn't take her eyes off him. Lamplight gilded his darkly tanned skin, highlighting, the sharp rises and hollows of bone and sinew. A spare man, he was built on a sleek line, but his body was well muscled and there was an animal grace to his movements that made her pulse accelerate. A side effect of the hard life he led, she supposed.

He returned to the bed, sitting down to fold one knee across the other and finish pulling his boots off.

Fascinated by the complex play of muscle across his back, Kristin pushed up on her knees, reaching out a tentative hand to trail it along his shoulder.

Startled by her light touch, he glanced back. She instantly yanked her hand away, but he shook his head. "Don't stop." He continued to watch her while she reached out again, outlining the solid band of muscle that blended into his bicep. "Keep going," he encouraged.

She fitted her fingers to his upper arm, trailing downward as she explored the corded muscles. His skin was warm and smooth against hers and rippling muscles flexed in the wake of her touch. When her fingers reached the back of his hand, he turned it palm up, and caught her wrist, lifting her hand to his chest. Kristin raised her other hand to his opposite shoulder, repeating the slow caress down his arm. When her hand reached his, he again lifted it to rest her palm on his chest. Her hands played over his flesh, making his muscles flex and jump with pleasure. Thoroughly enjoying the erotic play, Nathan leaned his head back against her breasts. Kristin shuddered gently at the erotic brush of his hair against her skin. He felt the soft shiver and purposely shook his head, knowing the soft strands would tease sensitive flesh.

The gesture drew a low moan, and she rested her chin on his shoulder.

Nathan's mouth turned upward in a victorious smile. Finally, he leaned forward to finish pulling off his boots while Kristin continued to investigate the corded muscles that criss-crossed his chest.

A moment later, his second boot clumped to the deck and he straightened, catching her hands to pull them down and around his waist. The position pressed her chest solidly against his back, molding soft flesh to hard. He guided her hands over his chest and belly, but she made no move to resist. Instead, she teased and caressed his chest and stomach muscles with greedy abandon, glorying in the texture and coiled power that lay just beneath the surface. She continued the sensual play until her fingers encountered his waistband and she abruptly froze.

"Go on," Bridger ordered quietly.

Kristin didn't move. "What am I doing?" she whispered huskily as sanity made a desperate attempt to reassert control. She tried to pull her hands free of his grasp, but he wouldn't let go. "I shouldn't be--"

"Shouldn't be what?" he interrupted raggedly. "Naked with a pirate, about to be well and truly fu--"

"Don't," she hissed sharply and tried to yank her hands away. This time he let her go and she fell over backwards, startled when he abruptly twisted and came down over her.

Kristin gasped, unable to help a low moan of pleasure as the full press of his body stimulated already excited nerve endings. "What do you want?" she panted.

He laughed softly. "I thought that was obvious," he murmured and ducked his head to taste the hollow at the base of her throat.

"You know what I mean," she groaned.

Nathan pushed up on his hands to stare down at her flushed features. "What do I want?" he exhaled. He leaned down, delivering soft nips and kisses as he continued to answer the question. "Everything... Every. Single. Inch. Of. You." His mouth found hers again, kissing her until she was breathless and trembling while his fingertips found the heart of her arousal. "Tell me you want that too."

"I shouldn't," she groaned, the denial melding into a low groan as his fingertips danced and played over silky flesh.

"Who cares what you should or shouldn't do," he whispered against her skin. "For once just do what you want."

She couldn't resist him, couldn't resist the throbbing passion in his voice, the rich promise of his body, the wicked pleasure that burned wherever his hands touched. "You," she exhaled at last.

He didn't give her time for second thoughts.

In moments, they were twined together, bare flesh moving against bare flesh, rich pleasure dancing along overheated nerve endings.

"God, I've waited too long for this," he panted.

Nails scoring his back, Kristin nipped the point of his chin. "Tell me the truth," she commanded.

"I've wanted you for years," he gasped, muscles flexing with effort, "and now that I have you, I'm never letting you go." He kissed her. "You're mine now...forever."

It was as though the raw declaration shattered a pent-up damn of passion. Kristin's head rocked back and a low, keening cry was torn from her throat as ecstasy broke across her. In an instant, she was aware of everything, the room around her, the body of the man joined so intimately with hers, the exploding rush of raw pleasure, the...

The fact that she was very much alone in bed...

Sitting straight up in bed and gasping for air, Kristin was momentarily confused as she stared around the darkened interior of her quarters. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding as though she'd run a mile and her skin was damp. She glanced at the space next to her on the narrow bunk and exhaled hard.

A dream. The whole thing had been nothing, but a dream. She flopped over, burying her face in a pillow.

But what a dream.

She was still almost painfully aroused.

Nathan Bridger as a pirate, dragging every available ounce of sexual response from her trembling form. And she'd begged for every bit of it. That'd be the day. She was sure he'd be quite horrified over the mere thought of anything so outrageous. In the confusion of the moment, she completely forgot that he was the one who'd started the erotic role-playing she'd cut short in her office.

Kristin sighed softly and pushed out of bed, stumbling into the tiny bathroom. She flicked on the lights and peered at her reflection in the mirror. "You have got to get over this obsession with dangerous men," she chastised herself disgustedly. She ran cool water into the sink, splashing it over her face before straightening and glaring at herself. "You married three dangerous men and divorced them. You have now found, a nice, sweet, thoughtful man, so stop having all these pirate fantasies.

The admonitions weren't working. She only had to think about Nathan in the flowing shirt and high boots, commanding her into his bed, and she was hotter than hell.

With a grumbled curse, she dunked her head under the spigot and flipped it on, pouring cool water across the back of her neck and into her hair. When she straightened, she worked her hair away from her face. Tomorrow—she decided in an instant—tomorrow, she'd go to Nathan and apologize for throwing him out, then if need be, she'd seduce him, throw him in bed, and make love all night long--not necessarily in that order.

@ @ @ @——————————--@ @ @ @

In his cabin, Nathan was still in bed, sleeping deeply with a touch of Crocker's Dutch courage, lost in his own dreams:

Captain Nathan Bridger stood at the bow of his ship, spyglass in hand, barely seeming to notice the chill wind that whipped his hair and coat-tails. The West Wind lay ahead of him, her sails at full as she ran from her pursuer. At the rate the Sea Quest was gaining on the pirate ship, it would only be a few more hours before they were on top of their quarry. Nathan's eyes turned upward, tracking the storm moving in on them. He could only pray the squall would hold off long enough for him to get his prey in the net. He'd been chasing Kristin Westphalen and her crew for two years. More than once he'd been within sight and each time she'd somehow slipped away, escaping into the night or the fog. Once they'd even locked swords, fighting their way across the battlements of a military fortress while her men rescued her first mate from the dungeons below.

The confrontation had been a wild one. They'd fought with rage and fury, until Nathan suddenly realized he'd drawn away from the important battle when the West Wind came around one edge of the point, her sails at full, the freed crewmembers laughing on deck. A rope was flung from an upper cross spar, and she caught it easily. He'd watched helplessly, knowing he probably couldn't reach her in time to do anything but push her to her death on the stones below and somehow he just couldn't stomach that idea. Wrapping the rope around her left arm, she'd leapt, body flying free for a moment before she dropped lightly to the deck. Waiting crewmembers steadied her, and she looked back at Nathan, throwing a jaunty wave before the West Wind continued around the other end of the point.

Now, he was close again only to find his victory dependent on the whims of the weather.

"What do you think the pirate's punishment will be when we catch her?" his first officer broke in on his thoughts.

Nathan glanced back at the heavyset, bearded man. "We haven't caught her yet," he growled, not wanting to think too much about her likely punishment. She was a beautiful woman, one he found curiously intriguing, and he hated to think of seeing her neck stretched by a rope. Unfortunately, woman or not, he had no reason to believe his government would show any pirate mercy.

"You admire her, don't you?" his mate asked.

Nathan shrugged powerful shoulders. "She's a hell of a sailor," he said simply.

Crocker flashed an assessing gaze skyward. "She'd better be. If the storm strikes while she's at full sail, she could crack the mast."

"So could we," Nathan pointed out practically.

In the end, the storm didn't give them the needed time. Driving waves and slashing rain came down on their heads while they were still more than a mile back. The pirate ship quickly disappeared into the darkness of the squall, leaving the crew of the Sea Quest to fight for their ship and their lives. The mast didn't crack in the racing winds, but two of the mains'ls tore as the crew was dropping sail, leaving huge rips that would require hours of repair once the weather cleared. With far more important duties at hand, the men simply shoved the huge sheets below decks, then returned to their posts, fighting the storm through the afternoon and into the night until it finally blew itself out somewhere before midnight.

Knowing they needed to get moving as quickly as possible, but also that his crew was stretched to the limit, Nathan scheduled the work in shifts so that everyone had a chance to get some rest. Taking the first shift, he supervised the sailors until the repairs were well underway, then wakened his third officer, leaving him in charge while he retired to his cabin. They'd need to resume the hunt soon. Best to grab any sleep possible while he could.

He slept poorly and awoke before dawn, barely pausing to rinse his face before dressing. He yanked on the navy blue tailcoat, and was about to tie his cravat when the call went up.

"SHIP OFF THE LARBOARD BOW!"

Nathan rushed up on deck just as the sharp prow of the West Wind broke from the cover of the predawn fog. She was coming to broadsides and cannons were at the ready.

Somewhere during the night, hunter and prey had traded places.

Well, he'd told Crocker she was a good sailor. Damned if she hadn't proved him right.

He shouted for crews to man the cannons, but with the West Wind coming in so fast, he didn't see how they could possibly be ready to fire. His men were still loading the gunpowder and none of the fuses were set when the frigate pulled abreast.

Shouting orders on the main deck, Nathan fully expected to be cut in half by a fusillade of grape shot. That would kill or wound the most men but still leave the ship sailable. But instead of opening fire the way he expected, the West Wind slowed, dropping sails as she made a slight turn to glide so close it was a wonder they didn't crash. Expecting a different line of attack, his men were still scrambling, grabbing for any weapons they could get their hands on when boarding crews swarmed across the decks, clubbing, battering, and hammering their way through the exhausted sailors. Already pounded by the storm and outnumbered, most of his men were quickly disarmed and forced to surrender.

Falling back to the foc'sle, Nathan continued to fight, but the enemy crew closed in on him, taking him down through overwhelming numbers. He lost his sword and coat in the melee and tore the right sleeve of his shirt nearly free before they got a good hold on his arms. Fully expecting the feel of a blade slashing his throat, he was caught by surprise when they slapped manacles on his wrists and shoved him through the crowd into an open space on the deck.

Battered and dazed, he stumbled on the water slick deck and had to struggle to keep from going down.

"Well, well, Captain," Kristin Westphalen's rich drawl rolled across him as he straightened, "we meet again."

Nathan's eyes were drawn to the slender figure he'd put his life into pursuing. She was as beautiful as ever, auburn hair loose and dancing on the wind, dark eyes sparkling with life. Black pants and knee length black boots molded to her slender form while a full-sleeved black blouse played about her torso, giving tantalizing hints of the body beneath. "Captain Westphalen," he whispered huskily.

"Scourge of the Caribbean," she finished for him, a smile playing over her full lips. "Poor Captain Bridger," she teased, gesturing to the manacles that bound his wrists together. "I suspect this isn't what you intended for this meeting."

Nathan ducked his head in acknowledgment and a dry smile touched his lips. "I had rather planned it another way," he admitted.

Kristin laughed, the sound full and throaty. "I knew you wouldn't expect me to turn and attack."

Infuriated, he lunged against the hands holding him back. "You're nothing but a thief," he growled.

His captor grinned triumphantly. "Of course," she agreed and reached out to run a fingertip along the sharp cut of his jaw. "And now I've stolen you."

Her men laughed in the background, but Nathan ignored them as he glared at her.

Westphalen waited a beat before adding, "And your ship."

"What about my crew?" Bridger demanded hoarsely.

For the first time, he saw a hint of sympathy in her expression. "Don't worry, Captain. Your crew will be returned home if they wish. If not, they may sign onto one of my ships. Either way, they won't be harmed so long as they follow orders."

Nathan nodded, and a muscle worked in his tensed jaw. "Thank you," he whispered the words as though they were torn from him.

Westphalen remained silent for a long moment, and he was painfully aware of her curious gaze. "Captain?" she spoke at last. "No pleas for you own future?"

Nathan shrugged. "I suspect that decision has already been made," he said grimly, fully expecting his own end at the point of her sword.

Her brows rose. "Indeed it has, Captain." A smile touched her lips at the way he braced himself for the thrust of her blade. "Relax, Nathan. I won't be making you walk the plank...yet." She turned her gaze on the men holding him. "Remove him to my cabin," she ordered briskly, then hurried away, shouting orders to her crew as she moved among them.

Knowing he'd been beaten for the moment, Nathan straightened his shoulders, shaking loose the hands that latched onto his arms. Posture straight, he crossed the gangplank to the West Wind under his own steam, ignoring the speculative gazes thrown his way by the watching pirates. His guards led him belowdecks and into the captain's cabin. The walls were lined with bookshelves and dark wood paneling and a myriad of scientific and navigational instruments crowded the room.

Despite the seriousness of his situation, Nathan craned his neck to get a better look at the eclectic collection, wishing he could spend some time studying the devices with his hands free.

"Fascinating, aren't they?" Westphalen's low voice reached his ears.

Nathan's head snapped around widening as he spotted his adversary standing just inside the doorway. He hadn't heard her enter which shouldn't have been such a surprise. After all, a thief couldn't afford to announce herself too loudly.

She nodded to the waiting guards. "You may go now," she dismissed them.

One of the two young men seemed uncertain. "Captain, are you sure? I can..."

Westphalen shook her head as she unbuckled her sword and lay it aside on her desk. "I don't think that will be necessary." She pinned her black-dark gaze on Nathan. "I'd like your word, Captain," she said quietly as she collapsed into a chair, leaning back to hook her feet over the edge of the desk, "that you won't try to escape or harm me when my men leave."

Nathan straightened his shoulders. "Since you hold my crew, I have little choice in the matter,' he said in an effort to avoid making any promises.

Kristin folded her hands together on her midsection, peering at him with careful consideration. "Nonetheless, I want your word."

He glared at her, but gave way. "You have it," he hissed.

"Go on," she ordered her men with an indicative tilt of the head.

Nathan never looked away from the relaxed figure cut by the woman in the chair, but he was well aware the instant the door clicked shut behind the two crewmen. He was bigger, stronger, and enough heavier than she that even manacled, he had a good chance of taking her down. He took a half step forward.

"If," the sharp timbre of her voice pulled him up short, "you're thinking of going back on your word, I should warn you that any such misbehavior on your part will reflect badly on your crew."

"Damn you," his low voice rumbled in his chest.

Kristin dropped her feet to the floor and stood. Despite the situation, Nathan couldn't help but appreciate her cool grace. She moved to stand before him, studying him with a careful eye.

Somewhere during the melee, he'd received a shallow cut across the midsection, and she brushed her fingers lightly over the small wound. "This must hurt."

He snorted disgustedly. "That's the least of my problems."

She trailed her fingers up his chest and over the outer curve of his bicep as she paced around him. "You have a point," she agreed. "And I have a problem."

"You have a problem?" Nathan repeated and flashed a look to where she stood at his side.

Her response was an enigmatic smile. "Indeed, I do," she confirmed, turning away from him.

As Nathan silently watched, she crossed to the bed, sinking down on the edge to peel off the soft leather boots that hugged the shapely length of her calves. She looked up after a moment. "You see," she began carefully, "the West Wind needs to put in to her home port for a refit. There's no place to drop you on our way, and you're too good a captain not to figure out where it is when we get there."

Nathan sighed softly. "And your solution?" he questioned grimly, fully expecting the worst.

She peeled off her second boot and dropped it to the floor with a solid thump. "I don't have one at the moment," she admitted blandly. She ducked her head again and peeled off her socks, tossing them aside as well. When she looked up again, a quirky sense of humor lit her dark eyes. "You could join my crew."

"No," Nathan dismissed instantly.

"I rather suspected you'd say that," she allowed. She pushed to her feet, stretching her bare toes. Finally, she braced her hands on her hips and ran an assessing gaze over his lean figure, pacing around him with steady, measured steps.

It took all of Nathan's willpower to stare steadfastly ahead and not follow her progress.

Her footfalls were perfectly silent making it impossible to track her by sound, and he jumped when her hands abruptly landed on her shoulders. She leaned forward and he felt her chin brush against his back while her warm breath ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck. "I guess I'll just have to keep you too busy to look out any windows until we break anchor." Her fingers spread along the breadth of his shoulders, subtly testing the strength and power hidden beneath his shirt and vest.

His brows rose and this time he did glance back. She was enough shorter that he could only make out the tips of her fingers and the top of her downbent head. As he watched, her hand disappeared from view and he felt her fingers trail down the tapered width of his back. She pressed her thumbs into the slight indentation of muscle at his hip line.

"Why do I get the feeling you're proposing something?" he asked doubtfully.

"Give the man a cigar," she whispered near his ear. She let her hands drop lower, shaping them to his hard thighs.

"In case no one's told you, it's a lot harder for a woman to force a man than the other way around."

"Force?" she drawled and moved on around to stand in front of him. "I'll have you know I've never had to force a man in my life."

Seeing the erotic promise in her eyes, he had no doubt she was telling the truth. "I'm a naval officer," he rasped in an effort to resist the temptation of what she seemed to be offering.

Kristin rested her palms on his chest. "I'm aware of that," she sighed. "And believe me, it's not my bloody preference." She slipped the buttons on his vest free, spreading the white satin lapels wide.

He would have brought his cuffed hands up between them, but she rested a hand on the cool steel, pressing them back down. "Oh, no," she warned him. "Refusal would be a bad thing."

"A threat?" he questioned darkly.

She lifted her hands to his collar, curving her fingers into the soft fabric. "No," she disagreed, "just a suggestion." Applying just enough pressure to separate his shirtfront, careless of the way mother of pearl buttons scattered across the floor, she spread the fabric then ducked her head to study the small wound at the base of his belly. "This should be cleaned before it infects," she commented, then straightened, noting the tight banding of muscle across his chest. "Very nice," she approved.

Nathan bristled angrily over the comment. "I'm not a prize cow," he snapped.

"No," she agreed cheerfully and let her eyes drop low on his torso, pointedly taking stock of all his assets. "More like a stud bull." She danced back several steps when he would have grabbed for her. "Now, now, Captain. Remember your crew," she reminded him.

Bridger caught himself, snarling a curse under his breath, muscles rippling from the effort required not to grab her and shake some sense into her.

Kristin wet a handkerchief from a small silver flask, watching him carefully as she drew near, visibly uncertain how he might react.

Something dangerous glinted in his eyes, but he didn't move against her.

She pressed the wet cloth against the wound, causing already taut muscles to tighten and jump and drawing a sharp gasp. "I'm sorry for the pain," she apologized.

"It's far less than I expected," he assured her.

"Still," she exhaled. "Perhaps, I can make up for it." She slipped her free hand under his shirt, crumpling the soft fabric out of the way as she leaned forward to taste his warm flesh.

Nathan experienced a violent rush of unwanted desire that only intensified when he felt her tongue wrap around a flat male nipple. His breath caught on a ragged shudder and he forgot all about the harsh sting of the disinfectant as her lips ranged over his chest.

Kristin chuckled softly and worked her mouth lower, outlining sharply cut abdominal muscles with tiny kisses until she was blockaded by his bound wrists. Looking up, she pushed his hands upward to gain free access to his lower torso.

It occurred to Nathan that he really should resist, but he was still human and pushing aside a beautiful woman he'd long desired simply wasn't in the cards. Instead he curved his fingers into the thick fall of her hair, playing with the silky strands as she darted her tongue into the indentation of his navel.

Kristin braced her hands on his hips and slid to her knees before him.

His breathing unsteady, Nathan's eyes met hers as she stared up at him through thick lashes. She slipped her hands down from his hips, massaging the work-worn muscles of his thighs with smooth strokes. "We've chased each other around these islands for two years now," she breathed, "using sailing ships for foreplay." She leaned forward, her warm breath ghosting across his flat belly. "And I, for one, am damn tired of waiting for the main course." She caught a fold of smooth skin between her teeth, nipping lightly, before brushing her tongue soothingly over the area, feathering soft kisses over the scratch her men had left.

Nathan groaned softly as her lips left burning trails of heat everywhere they touched. Feeling as though someone was ratcheting a band tighter around his chest, he tightened his hold on her hair, threading long fingers through the auburn mane.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," she abruptly commanded, her voice thick and unsteady.

"You've got to be kidding," Nathan panted. "However," he added, intentionally clanking the manacles together. "These are doing nothing for my mood."

Kristin looked up and shook her head slowly. "I don't think so," she whispered as she rose and drew his head down to claim his mouth with her own. "To the victor, the spoils..." she tapped the cuffs that bound his wrists. "Besides, I rather like you this way...and I suspect it's a great deal safer for me..."

She didn't give him time to argue, just tugged his head back down while her hands roamed freely. Pushing his clothes aside, she explored the rise and fall of hard muscle, probing and teasing until he could barely think straight and his body was screaming for satisfaction. A low, pleading moan escaped his lips, drawing a triumphant laugh from the woman bent on using his body.

Damn her! Refusing to let her win so easily, he fisted a hand into her shirtfront and used his hold on her blouse to all but toss her onto the bunk, tearing the front open in the process.

He should have been contemplating a way to get his hands on the nearest weapon to cut her heart out.

Should have.

Instead all he could think about was how the soft flesh revealed to hungry eyes would feel when pressed close.

"Damn you," he groaned as he came down over her.

"Damn you right back," she drawled, arching up to meet him halfway and pull him down with her.

Both strong-willed and determined not to be easily vanquished, they tussled for several minutes, the wrestling match made up of equal parts lust and the desire to conquer.

Finally, Kristin came out on top, straddling Nathan's hips, the hanging tails of her blouse teasing his chest. Mouth curved in a sensual grin, she leaned forward, using her weight to pressure his hands over his head.

He allowed her the conceit of taking control, enjoying the feel of her body as she stretched over him, certain he could take command any time he wanted.

"I do believe I've won this round," she drawled, the warmth of her breath playing over his face.

"You think so?" he questioned wryly.

Her smile answered the question more effectively than words.

Confident he was enough stronger than she that the game was his to control, he moved to bring his arms down and show her just who was in charge.

Only he suddenly came up short. Jerking his head back, he abruptly realized that she hadn't just pushed his hands up, somehow she'd managed to latch the handcuff chain to a staple over her bed. A hard yank didn't even begin to knock it loose. Muscles straining, he fought with the cuffs and she made no effort to stop him until finally he sagged.

Laughing softly, Kristin trailed her fingertips down the length of his arms, outlining firms runs of sinew with the very tips of her fingers. "Tsk-tsk," she chided gently and trailed a single finger down bridge of his nose and over his lips. "I do believe you thought I hadn't planned for this."

Panting hard, he jerked on the chains. "I admit, I didn't expect that," he growled, frustrated lust making him more than a little desperate.

Kristin laughed softly and braced her hands on his chest as she leaned forward, sharp teeth toying with the point of his chin. "Well, let's see if we can make the next part a bit more fun."

It was as though she set about to make him crazy, her hands and mouth ranging over his lean frame until he arched and pleaded, sweat beading on his skin, incoherent pleas on his lips.

"I own you," she growled at some point, her voice muffled against his skin. "And you are definitely the finest prize I've ever captured."

The proclamation should have appalled him. Instead it only turned the blood in his veins molten, driving him to move with her, pleased by the soft, aroused sounds she made with every thrust.

Overhead, the chain pressured and slammed into the restraining staple with every desperate lunge of his athletic frame, loosening it bit by bit.

Lost in her own pleasure, Kristin didn't notice until he suddenly yanked his arms down and around her body, trapping her upper arms against her sides.

She let out a shocked screech and automatically started to struggle, but Nathan only rolled her beneath him, spreading his hands across her back supportively, so the thick metal cuffs wouldn't cut into her skin. "Looks like you're the prisoner now," he taunted as he took command.

"Very clever," she panted. Even with her upper arms pinned against her torso, she could still get her forearms around his waist and neatly blunted nails scored his lower back. "But you don't really think it'll get you off this ship, do you?"

"Who cares?" Nathan groaned.

Suddenly, the tightly coiled pleasure exploded behind his eyelids with almost painful intensity.

"Nathan," The woman underneath him groaned. "Please…."

Nathan found her mouth in blind hunger, opening his lips against hers to taste...

His pillow.

Blinking in confusion, Nathan sat up abruptly, throwing aside the pillow clutched in his arms.

He peered at the otherwise empty bunk in open amazement.

He was alone.

He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. Cottonmouth was one thing, but this was ridiculous. He swung his legs over the side of the bunk, bending double to press his face into his knees as he struggled to control his physical response to the dream, a task which was nowhere as easy as it sounded. God, now she was even driving him nuts in his dreams.

Finally, he pushed to his feet, massaging his lower back as he stumbled into the bathroom. He didn’t really mean to look at his reflection in the mirror, but the hollow-eyed man staring back at him refused to be ignored.

He’d never been meant for celibacy.

Without planning to, he stepped back, activating the com-link over one end of his bed. He fully expected her to take her time answering, and be sleepy and pissed off when she did pick up. Instead she answered immediately, her voice clear and bright.

"Westphalen here. What can I do for you?"

"Kristin?" his voice was thicker than normal. He couldn’t help but remember the swashbuckling image of her from his dream.

There was a brief pause before she answered. "Nathan?"

"I’m sorry if I woke you, I--"

"You didn’t," she broke in.

Nathan couldn’t think of a thing to say, and she seemed to feel the need to fill the silence.

"I was working...couldn't sleep."

"Ah." Nathan’s eyes slid closed. "I was sleeping, but I..." he worked a hand through his already mussed hair, still wound up enough that he was a little dazed. "I woke up...I-I had this dream," he admitted breathlessly.

"A dream?" she repeated.

Nathan wondered if he was imagining things, or if she seemed more than casually interested. That thought gave him a twisted sort of courage. "Yes."

There was a soft gasp on the other end of the com-link, followed by a nearly inaudible laugh. "You aren’t the only one," she exhaled at last.

He didn’t mean to admit any more, but the words were out of his mouth before he could call them back. "It was about you."

"Same here," she whispered, then clarified her meaning, sounding nervous. "I mean, I dreamed about you too."

The voice connection had an oddly anonymous feel to it. Standing in a darkened room, admitting the truth to her over the com was more like admitting it to the other half of himself than confessing to the woman he cared for. "It was those damn movies of yours," he accused. "I think they infected my brain."

She chuckled very softly, the sound wry and understanding. "Mine too," she admitted without elaboration.

"We're making each other crazy," he exhaled.

"More than a little," she agreed shakily.

"I dreamed you were a pirate…and I was your prisoner," he admitted before he could think better of it. A flush slid over his skin the instant the words were out of his mouth. He stood right on the edge of embarrassment. Her response would decide whether or not it turned to regret.

He was relieved a moment later when she sighed, "Great minds think alike apparently."

The knowledge that she was just as caught up in the lust and fantasies somehow made it all so much easier. It had been too long since he'd played these sorts of games with anyone but his wife. He was out of practice, but knowing that she was just as affected as he eased his fears of getting it all wrong. "I want you," he admitted at last, his voice little more than a trailing gasp.

"It's mutual," she assured him.

Good to hear because if she was still interested in Malcolm, he might just have to kill his old friend. Or at least geld him. Meanwhile, he desperately wanted to rush to her and fulfill every fantasy either of them could dream up until they were both sated and unable to move.

Unfortunately, he was smart enough to know that fantasy and reality are two very different things. It would be so easy to screw things up, and he cared too much for her to risk that. "It's too soon, isn't it?" he exhaled at last.

"A little," she agreed.

"But soon…" he trailed off meaningfully.

"Very."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the overwhelming lust cool a notch as he did so. "Maybe we should plan a movie night soon," he invited wryly.

"Or a poker game," she added.

He knew just the game to suggest. No, best not to go there when he was just getting the hormones under control. "I should probably let you get back to work," he sighed at last. Besides, he had an early shift.

"Mm," she mumbled.

"Kristin," he said before he could change his mind, "Malcolm…are you and he—"

"No," she responded before he could get any further.

Relief sweeping over him, he exhaled heavily. "Good…I…uh…just good…because…y'know…this thing with you and I…if you were interested in Malcolm, it would be difficult…but if you're not. If you're interested in me—"

"Soon, Nathan," she put him out of his misery before he could babble any longer, "very soon."

He nodded. Finally, with little more to say and the certain knowledge that he had a long day ahead of him, he cleared his throat. "I should probably...um...be going back to bed."

She was silent for a long moment, leaving him to wonder what was going through her head. Finally, she murmured, "Dream of me." Her tone made it as much a command as a question.

A hard shudder slid through him and he leaned his forehead against the cool, steel bulkhead near the speaker. "Count on it."

She chuckled softly, the sound low and sensual. "Good," she drawled. "I'd hate to think I was the only one."

Nathan grinned, the implicit confession doing good things for his ego. "Still too soon?" he whispered, his tone joking, though he wasn't sure what he would have done if she'd taken him up on the implicit offer.

"Only a little longer," Kristin assured him, then heaved a huge sigh. "However, I think I should probably go before we do something," she paused, clearly hunting for the right word before settling on, "impulsive."

Damn, she was right, but more than that, as much as he wanted—and he wanted, oh, how he wanted—he wasn't ready. "Goodnight," Nathan exhaled.

They finished their goodbyes, then broke the connection, leaving Nathan to stumble back to his lonely bed. Flat on his back, hands folded behind his head, he lay staring at the ceiling, his body aching pleasantly, a pleased smile curving his lips.

He was smiling that way as he slid off to sleep, her warm voice still echoing in his head to bring on new dreams.

While in her cabin, Kristin slid between the sheets, skin prickling with awareness, mouth turned up in a smile that bore a remarkable similarity to Nathan's, mind running with thoughts and fantasies that also ran similarly in parallel. And as sleep washed over her, it was accompanied by the sound of his voice and crash of waves....

End??

| Top of Page | Fanfiction Archive | Home |