Crossed Swords

CROSSED SWORDS
Torrid Tarot
Ellora's Cave
ISBN: 9781419913525 (ebook) [buy]
ISBN: 9781419957437 (trade paperback) [buy]
Novel

Arabella Prescott's dreams of marriage were shattered when her fiancé was murdered by pirates. When she is kidnapped by the roguishly handsome Captain Fredrick Thorne, Arabella is determined to fight him with every inch of her being. She will not become the pirate's lover — no matter her body's unexpected desires.

Fredrick quickly discovers Arabella's weakness — him. Her feisty spirit amuses and her sweet innocence inflames, and when she resists his seductive touch, he forces her to submit to his desires — awakening intense passions even he had not foreseen. But with her sensual defeat comes a price neither are prepared to pay.

At the news of her kidnapping, Arabella's father, Governor Prescott, begins the hunt for Thorne's ship, Neptune's Sword, to save Arabella — and finally capture the most dangerous pirate upon the Caribbean. He will stop at nothing to see Thorne pay for his crimes at the end of the hangman's rope.

Reader Advisory: Crossed Swords contains scenes of forced seduction.


Reviews for CROSSED SWORDS

"4 1/2 Stars, TOP PICK!...LaCroix has outdone herself. This swashbuckling tale will have you offering to swab the decks, if it will put you in the good graces of the wickedly handsome pirate captain! There's plenty of action in and out of the captain's quarters to keep you flying through the pages of this sizzling story." ~ Romantic Times

"4 1/2 Kisses...Torrid Tarot: Crossed Swords is a magnificent book full of non-stop action and arousing sex between Arabella and Fredrick. Marianne LaCroix has written a book that kept me on the edge of my seat from the beginning to the end. The characters are very well written and believable. I so much wanted Arabella to say what Fredrick wanted to hear, I could almost feel his pain. I loved this book and highly recommend it." ~ Two Lips Reviews

"5 Stars...wonderfully written story about the powerful sea Captain and his prisoner falling in love...If you are looking for steamy sex, that will leave you seeking your own release, look no further...It’ s perfect!" ~JERR

EXCERPT FROM CROSSED SWORDS

Chapter One

Boom! Boom! Crash!

Arabella Prescott was shaken awake by the sound of cannon fire in the distance, then the crashing strike nearby vibrating the very walls of the governor’s plantation manor.

She threw back her bedcovers and dashed to the window. Peering out into the darkness, she saw the flash of a cannon shot from a ship in the harbor.

“Milady!” Betsy, her maidservant, burst into the room from the hall. “We’re under attack by pirates!”

“They would not dare attack Port Monmouth!” Despite her denials, the ship fired another cannon toward the town. Pirates were indeed attacking the British port on St. Crescentia Island.

“Milady, you must get to the cellar and hide. We have no time to lose!” Betsy darted about the room gathering clothes and other items to take with them into hiding. “They will be landing soon, and they are sure to come to the governor’s residence first!”

“Bloody pirates,” Arabella murmured.

“With your father away with the fleet, only a small battalion of new recruits man the fort. Untried young boys with muskets are no match for a horde of attacking pirates!”

Arabella turned to Betsy and took her cloak from the maid’s hands. “Once they discover Father gone, they will look for someone else to ransom.” Ransoming important people of the aristocracy and nobility, she knew, was a common pirate ploy for making money.

Betsy gasped. “Hurry! Hurry! We must hide. I cannot bear the thought of you in the hands of a pirate.”

“I have no intention of becoming a prisoner.” Arabella threw open the nightstand drawer and stuffed her jewelry into her pockets. She slammed the drawer shut when emptied and ran for the door. “Come, let’s get to the cellar.” She paused a brief moment and realized the cannon fire had stopped. “They will be here soon.”

Minutes later, Arabella, Betsy and several other house servants huddled in the cramped, hidden cellar, hiding from the pirates now entering the manor. They were rowdy and loud, firing their flintlocks into the air as they rummaged through each room. Meanwhile, Arabella and the servants remained still, praying the night would end.

“Where is Governor Prescott? Where are the servants?” a baritone voice called out. The voice was steady and cultured, with a recognizable British accent.

A British pirate attacking a British port? The thought made Arabella steam with anger. How could a man attack his own countrymen?

“The house is deserted, Captain,” one of the men called out in a cockney accent.

“They must be around here somewhere. Look for a hidden passage or cellar,” the strong voice called to his men. Arabella guessed this was the pirate captain.

He continued to walk the wooden floor above their hiding place, and she held her breath when he stopped just above her. She could only see the shadow of his boot through the boards. He tapped his foot and dust floated down. She turned her face away, covering her mouth with her hand, fighting a sneeze.

She squeezed her eyes shut and froze, hoping he wouldn’t hear them just below him.

He stepped away and she exhaled. Her body shook and the servants clutched each other in fear. Arabella looked at Betsy to see her eyes wide with terror.

Then a board was lifted away and dust filtered down upon them again. Light from a lantern illuminated the frightened group, and Arabella turned her eyes to the man now towering over her.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” His voice was hard but held a trace of humor.

Several of the pirates lifted away the boards covering the hidden cellar, but Arabella kept her gaze locked with the captain’s.

He stood in command, a man of power, strength and dominance. He was tall, tanned and roguishly handsome, dressed in a dark brown coat with silver buttons, brown breeches, black boots that reached his muscled mid-thighs—and a flintlock in one hand cocked at her face. She gulped and found her voice. “I am Governor Prescott’s daughter, and in his absence, I demand you cease your attack upon Port Monmouth immediately!”

He smirked and breathed a soft laugh. “I come looking for the governor and instead I find his daughter—hiding bravely in a root cellar.” He eased the pressure upon his flintlock and tucked it into the waist of his breeches.

At least he wasn’t aiming at her anymore.

He got down on one knee and offered his hand. “Allow me to assist you out of your retreat, Miss Prescott.”

Loath to allow him to help her, she reluctantly took his hand and climbed out of the cellar. The warm touch of his hand was strangely appealing, but as soon as she was out of the cellar she drew her hand back as though it had been burned.

“Now what was it you demanded?” he asked lightly as his sea-green eyes roamed over her figure.

“Stop this attack immediately.”

“Hmm.” He began to circle her and she caught a glimpse of his long, pale blond hair tied back in a queue. The tail of silky hair trailed down his back, and for a split second, she wondered how those strands would feel between her fingers. “Stop the attack,” he repeated, bringing her attention back to his classically chiseled, tanned face. “Not sure there is any reason to continue if Governor Prescott is not even here.”

“So you will leave?” She wanted him to leave—right now. He was much too handsome and…what was that odd feeling in the pit of her belly at his close proximity? Whatever it was, she wanted it to stop. It was much too disturbing to ponder.

He stood behind her for a moment then stepped around to face her. “Oh yes, we will leave.” His small smile made her heart leap. Even the scent of the sea clinging to his clothes seemed to wrap about her body, provoking a reaction she didn’t want to explore.

She narrowed her eyes. No pirate would just leave so easily.

“Gents!” he called to his crew within the room. “The lady requests we leave Port Monmouth!”

They responded with vile refusals and boisterous laughter.

He turned back to her and with an evil glint in his eye, he said, “I say we leave as she asks, but that we also extend our hospitality to Governor Prescott’s daughter aboard Neptune’s Sword in place of her gallant father.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Arabella ground out and stepped forward to strike him, but he caught her hand before she met her target.

“You, Miss Prescott, will be ransomed to the governor.”

“You can’t take Miss Prescott!” Betsy called out. She was held back by one of the crewmen.

“Take her we will.” With his commanding grasp on her forearm, he pulled her to him, and she was painfully aware of his hard body against hers. The smells of the sea and his natural masculine scent mingled in her nose, and the junction between her legs ached and moisture seeped from her body. “She will be our special guest,” he added in a low, husky voice.

He turned to Betsy and announced, “Tell the Lord Governor Prescott that we will ransom his daughter for forty thousand pieces of eight, and will exchange gold for her freedom in a fortnight, on the northern beach of Isla de Margarita. If he wishes to have her back, he will pay. And no tricks. Understand?”

Betsy nodded nervously.

“I am not going with you,” Arabella whispered heatedly to him.

His face mere inches from hers, she couldn’t help but glance at his lips and wonder what they’d feel like.

Insanity! She shouldn’t be thinking such scandalous things. He was nothing but a mangy dog, unworthy of any proper lady’s attention. He threatened her, and she was panting over his arm holding her steady and the powerful body flush with hers. What kind of woman was she? Certainly she wasn’t a weakling who would allow such a scoundrel free rein over her fate. No, she was not weak—she must fight!

As though reading her mind, he laughed softly. “You will come with me even if I have to carry you kicking and screaming.”

“You are despicable,” she spat.

He leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers. “I’m a pirate, luv. That’s my job.”

He released her arm and she quickly moved away from him. He turned to give orders to his men and she saw it as an opportunity to run. She bolted out of the room and headed toward the entry hall. She heard the captain yell orders to catch her, but she was too quick. She ducked out of reach of several pirates chasing her. Dodging up the stairs, she ran to the only safe place she knew—her room.

Inside her bedroom she bolted the door. Turning, she scanned the room. No gun. No sword. Nothing in sight to use as a weapon. Then by the fireplace she saw the empty warming pan. She quickly grabbed it when one of her pursuers jiggled the doorknob, followed by the sound of fists pounding on the door.

There was nowhere for her to go other than out the window, which led to a steep one-story drop to the bushes below. She’d probably break her leg—or worse—attempting that.

As she considered her options, the door burst open, the bolt flying off the doorjamb with a crash.

It was the pirate captain.

She raised the warming pan in her hands threateningly.

“I’m not happy with you, Miss Prescott. Now put down that weapon and come along—like a calm, proper young lady.” His tanned face was hard and his voice was angry.

She raised the pan an inch higher. “I told you, I will not go with you.”

“And I told you, you will come along even if I have to carry you.”

“I’ll fight you the entire way.”

He lunged at her and she swung, but he caught her arm, twisting the pan from her grasp, the metal clanging loudly on the floor. She struggled against his hold, fighting him with every ounce of her strength. He pulled her around and pushed her down upon the bed, covering her body with his, holding her forearms down into the soft coverlet as she wiggled against him, his flintlock poking into her abdomen.

“Miss Prescott, I believe you will be quite a treat to have aboard my ship. Much more appealing than any old governor with a powdered wig and a box of snuff.” He adjusted his body over hers, and she realized it wasn’t only his flintlock she felt against her.

“Dirty pirate!”

“Now, now. You don’t even know me, luv. You may come to like me.”

“Never, Captain…” She realized she didn’t even know his name.

“Captain Fredrick Thorne at your service, Miss Prescott.”

She spat into his face and he shook off the little bubble of moisture. “You need a good spanking, I think. You’re a spoiled little wench.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t tempt me.” His eyes narrowed and he added, “Maybe you just need a good kiss.”

“I don’t kiss just any man who asks.”

“I’m not asking.”

Before she could reply, he crushed his lips down upon hers. Nothing could have prepared her for the assault inflicted upon her senses with his kiss. Her body seemed to melt beneath him and she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep along hers. She responded to him hungrily. Her reaction was beyond her control as she gave in to his kisses.

Deep, greedy kisses. He released her hands and she curled her arms around his head, bringing him closer. He placed a hand at her waist and felt his way up to her breast. He squeezed it gently and she whimpered in response.

He drew back slightly and she moaned. She dreamily looked up at him and stared.

What exactly just happened here?

“You did need a good kiss,” he said softly with an irritating smirk.

Her sweet surrender was short-lived as she grimaced, and with a heave of her leg, threw him off her. He laughed when she sprang from the bed.

He caught her wrist and stopped her from running again. Her senses were too jumbled to think clearly, yet she tugged at his hand. “Let me go. Please.” Her voice was weak compared to only a few moments ago.

“No.” Without another word, he rose from the bed and scooped her up over his shoulder. She screamed, but to no avail.

“Put me down, you dirty, vile, thieving bastard!” she yelled as she pounded his back.

“Tsk, tsk! Such language,” he scolded with a light slap to her ass. “I am beginning to wonder how a lady knows such vulgarity.” He carried her with ease out of the room and down the stairs.

“Are you inferring I am not a lady?”

He laughed and spanked her ass a bit harder. “I think you are a shrew, Miss Prescott.”

She gasped in horror. “I am not a shrew!”

“You are, and I am about to tame you into a willing, genteel lover.”

“I’ll never let you touch me.”

“Oh yes, you will, luv. You will beg for me to make love to you.”

“Never!”

He chuckled as he strolled out of the governor’s manor and toward the awaiting skiffs at the water’s edge. Arabella looked over to the village where screams and the rowdy yells of the pirates floated across the small beach. The pirates were terrorizing the entire village.

“You didn’t exactly fight me off a few moments ago,” he said, breaking into her worried thoughts of the Port Monmouth citizens.

He had to mention the kiss. She wanted to just forget that touch still burning her swollen, tender lips. “I was taken unawares,” she finally said, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

It was met with another smack on her rump and a masculine laugh. “Miss Prescott, I doubt anything takes you unawares.”