"Jocelyn..." He ground out her name in warning. "We can't do this."

"Yes, we can. I want you to." She moved her kisses along his jaw. His day's growth of beard tickled her lips.

His breath fanned her cheek. "It's not as simple as that."

"But it is." She arched into his touch again. "I'm not a child. I know what is at stake. But I can't deny it one more moment. I need your touch. I need you to cease this ache in me." She slid her hand over the ridges of his abdomen and skimmed the top of his waistband.

"You're promised to another man. I won't ruin your life by taking what belongs to him."

She kissed the side of his neck. His skin was salty as the sea. "I promised nothing."

"Your father--"

"Won't know. He'll believe whatever I tell him. Please, I cannot speak of my father while my breast is in your hand and all I can think about is how I want you to stop talking and kiss me again."

"God woman, you would tempt a saint." He circled her ribs with his wide hand and brushed a thumb across the hardened tip of her nipple. The sensation of that simple touch sent bolts of heat directly to her sex.

She gasped against his mouth. "You are no saint."

"No, I am not," he growled.

"Do you want me?" Jocelyn whispered. Almost afraid of his answer. Never had she left herself so vulnerable to a simple question. If he said no...

Ric took her hand and ran it over the hard ridge of his erection. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

"Then take me. I'm yours."

In one fluid move, Ric laid her on her back and stripped his shirt away before covering her body with his. When he bent to suckle at her breast, she didn't think she'd survive the rush of pleasure radiating through her.

"Ric..."

He pushed her ruined skirts out of the way. His hands stroked the inside of her thighs pressing them wide. She opened for him, as if by instinct. Her body somehow knowing what she needed to do to cease her building desire.

Ric moved his mouth and began lavishing equal attention to her other breast. She tangled her hand in his hair, holding him to her, thinking nothing had ever felt quite as wonderful.

But when his fingers parted her, stroked the tender folds of her, she cried out to him again. He pressed two fingers into her, making her writhe with pleasure.

Ric moved to kiss her. "You're wet for me."

"Is that bad?" She panted.

"No... that's good. Very good." As if to prove his point, he spread the slickness over her swollen flesh.

Jocelyn closed her eyes. Her thighs trembled. Lights sparked behind her eyelids.

"The first time..." he began.

"I know." She gasped, past the point of caring. The same country girls who described their kisses had also whispered about this. There'd be pain and a bit of blood. If it all felt this good, how much pain could there be?

"I'll be as gentle as I can." He moved his fingers inside her, preparing her.

"I know...please..."

Ric fumbled with the front of his breeches and positioned himself between her thighs, bracing himself above her balancing with one arm. He continued to stroke her, building the pressure within her, making her ready.

Taking himself in hand, he pressed the head of his penis against her opening and eased into her.

Jocelyn's first thought was there was no way he'd fit, but still he pressed forward. Pleasure and pain collided. She clutched at his hips. Her body trembled and tensed.

"Relax, Jocelyn... you need to breathe." He held himself still. Nipping at her mouth.

"I am breathing." She lied.

"Kiss me," he murmured against her lips.

She did as he asked. Her body pulsing against the push of his.

In one sharp thrust, he broke through her maidenhead. Fire burned inside her. The searing bite of pain bringing tears to her eyes. She shoved at his shoulder and cried out as her body reacted out of instinct and she tried to get away from the pain. She looked at him in panic when he wouldn't move.

"It's done. Shhhh...I'm sorry." Ric panted. He cupped her cheek with one hand and forced her to look at him. "I know it hurts. Be still for a moment, it won't last. I promise. It's only the first time. Lie still." His body seemed to shimmer as he held himself steady. Sweat shone on his brow. "Let me know when it lessens... I'll not hurt you again."

Jocelyn nodded and whimpered. "I know."

"You're so beautiful." He continued to murmur, telling her how lovely he found her skin, how sweet the taste of her breasts, and how tight and heated she was inside. And he waited. His jaw tensed with the effort, but true to his word, he never moved until at last the sharp edge of the pain lessened within her and her body once more pulsed with pleasure.

"It's better," she took a shaky breath.

He withdrew slightly and pushed in again. "Better?"

She needn't answer him. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Her hips made a slow roll.

Ric moved again faster this time. Pulling out and thrusting in. Each drive of his body pinning her to the floor and pushing deeper. He dropped his forehead to her neck as he rocked into her over and over.

The pain was gone. In its place, a low fire burned inside her. Jocelyn moved against him matching his rhythm. When he raised her leg to hook her knee around his waist, his thrusts became faster, deeper, reaching a new place within her.

Soon, she couldn't keep up with him. Holding on as he called out to God, he seemed to grind himself into her, as if he wanted to imprint the pattern of his skin upon hers. His body curled over her and he stilled at last. Ric kissed her neck, panting, before finally withdrawing from her and rolling to her side.

Jocelyn was afraid to move. Was he done? Her body hummed with the new sensation. Was that all there was to it? She didn't know what to say. Were there proper words?

She looked over at Ric. His eyes were closed. He was still trying to catch his breath. A sheen of sweat glistened on his chest as he raised one bare knee.

Opening his eyes, he met her gaze. "Are you well?"

She nodded, still unsure what words to speak.

"I never intended this to happen between us, Jocelyn. But I'm not sorry it did."

She lifted herself to balance on her elbow as she pulled her skirt back into place. "Neither am I."

He reached for her shirt and handed it to her before he rose and slipped back into his pants. "I came down here out of concern. After the skirmish, I looked and you'd disappeared."

"I was overwhelmed." She held her top to cover her breasts and watched him dress.

"You were amazing." He crouched next to her and cupped her cheek. "Both above deck...and below."

Jocelyn's cheeks warmed and a flush rose on her chest.

He fingered her hair. "I wish you hadn't done this, however."

She pulled a curl straight and allowed it to spring back. "It will grow again." She shrugged a bare shoulder and smiled. "The cabbage crew needed it more."

"Get dressed. Your hand has bled through the bandage. It needs tending." He tucked her hair behind one of her ears. "And we need to talk about what's happening...between us." Ric stood to his full height. "I'll be waiting for you in the galley."

After he left, Jocelyn rose and cleaned herself as best she could. She wasn't in a hurry to join Ric. Somehow she knew both the tending of her hand, and the discussion to follow wouldn't be painless.

But she hadn't lied to him earlier. She didn't regret a single moment of what happened. And she wasn't as nave as he believed her to be. Ric may hereafter hold her heart, but he didn't hold her future. He would insist the plan to bring her to her father remain unaltered, and she had no unrealistic notion to believe otherwise.

And yet, everything was changed. In ways she had yet to figure out. She ran her fingers through her newly cropped hair. Smoothed a hand over her chest. A new lightness filled her.

No, she didn't regret a thing.

Chapter 17.

Hornbach hauled ten of the "cabbage crew" into the galley and dropped them on the end of Ric's makeshift desk. "What the hell am I to do with these now?"

"Save them," Ric looked over the pile. "Can't tell if we'll need them again." He reached over and pulled a bit of Jocelyn's hair from under a battered hat. The dark spiral curled around his finger and he smoothed the strands with his thumb.

"When you're done there, I'll need you to gather the surgeon's bag. Jocelyn may need a stitch or two in a wound across her palm."

"Maybe you should do the stitching, Capt'n. Other than Tupper's head, last time I sutured a wound, I ended up stitching me own shirt te the man." Hornbach lifted the tail of his shirt and shrugged. "'Blood makes me a wee light headed."

Ric rubbed a weary hand over his forehead. Four men, two women, two lads and a surgeon who faints at the sight of blood. The sooner he remanned this crew the better. "Bring me the supplies, and I'll do it myself."

"Smart decision." The man huffed. Relief crossed his features. "That's why we done made ye the capt'n."

He'd take care of Jocelyn's hand. Clean the wound. Stitch together the skin. Was it his day to do nothing but cause the woman pain? He pushed the ship's logs away and grabbed for his mug of rum.

He rolled his shoulders trying to ease the tension there, but could only imagine the placement of five perfect fingernail crescents marring him where she had dug her fingers into his arm at the first thrust through her maidenhead.

Ric groaned and dropped his head. What had he been thinking? He hadn't. He'd been riding the frenzy of battle and a blinding need to make sure she was all right. Finding her in tears had torn the heart from his chest. Then she'd kissed him. Bared herself to him. Laid his hand upon her breast.

Damn it, he was only human. Even now, the image of her naked to her waist brought a renewed tightening in his breeches.

Ric studied the length of hair about his finger. Her cutting her beautiful locks was not the only thing that couldn't be undone. Yes, he could stitch the wound on her hand, but he couldn't stitch her hair back to where it was, or restore her purity.

He'd ruined her. It was as simple as that. He slammed a fist on the table. Risking his life back on Port Royal, fighting an angry mob to get her away from the auction block, threatening his position on this ship when he'd brought her aboard, and putting what was left of the crew in danger, all to keep her safe and unharmed. He'd vowed not to touch her. Made her forbidden to him. What a joke, he couldn't even save her from himself.

What was wrong with him? He wasn't a man ruled by his cock. Ric had more control than that. The last time he'd lain with a virgin, he'd been a bloody virgin himself. It wasn't as if he made a habit of leaving a trail of deflowered maidens in his wake.

Why couldn't he stay away from this one, small, powder keg of a woman? He needed to end this insanity this second. Nothing, and he meant absolutely nothing good could come of continuing this infatuation.

He ran the silk of her hair across his lip. Except...Ric closed his eyes to the memory. He could still feel her body wrapped around his. The perfume of their joining still clung to his skin. After her initial pain, she had begun to move like the sea beneath him, her hips cresting to meet his thrusts, dipping to begin another sensuous wave as he withdrew. Calling out his name like a seductive siren to pull him beneath the surface.

That's what she was--a siren. An old, crusty, one-legged crewmate he'd first served with on the Scarlet Night, Cookie Burrows, had often told him the tale of those watery temptresses. God rest him, Cookie loved to torture him with tales of ghosts and the supernatural. He'd be enjoying all this. Watching Ric get himself into such a mess. And with a skirt, no less.

Hornbach dropped a surgeon's chest on the table before him. Ric slipped the lock of Jocelyn's hair into his pocket before opening the chest. An entire box full of gruesome items to inflict more pain so that the patient might survive.

He lifted an amputation saw. So it would have to be with Jocelyn. Pushing her away and cutting her out of his life for good would cause them both pain, but it was unavoidable if they both wanted to survive.

"It's only a small gash. Surely, I'll still keep my hand."

Ric's head snapped up. Jocelyn stood at the end of the table. He hadn't heard her come in. His body pulsed at the mere sight of her. With her cropped hair, the elegant sweep of her neck and shoulders beguiled him. He stifled a moan. Which of these tools would he need to cut out his own heart? He fit the saw back into its appointed place. "We'll do our best, but if infection sets in, desperate measures may need to be considered," he teased.

Jocelyn sat next to him, her back to the table, giving him better access to her wound. "Desperate measures,"--she unwrap her hand--, "seems a daily occurrence here."

He met her gaze, before lifting her hand and lowering his eyes to inspect the cut across her palm. "They are." All the teasing had fallen away. The cutting had begun. "But there are times when they are the only option."

Jocelyn's hand throbbed. It had taken half a dozen stitched to close the deep slice across her palm. She cradled it to her chest as she pulled in cooling air to quell the slight queasiness she was feeling. Only part of it had to do with watching Ric sew up her palm. He'd barely spoken. It was as if they hadn't just left one another's arms. Hadn't made love. How had nothing changed between them?

"There you are. After the cannon fire, I didn't see you." Tupper joined Jocelyn at the rail. Smoke from her pipe smelled sweet. Leviticus rested on her forearm. "You did a fine job during the skirmish, pitching in like you were one of us. I like the hair, too. Quick thinking. It makes me toy with the idea of cutting mine, but Gavin wouldn't be happy if I did."

At Jocelyn's silence, Tupper turned to study her. "Are you well? You look pale."

"I'm fine." Jocelyn wished she'd ignore her. Stop staring at her so intently. Did it show, what she'd done? Jocelyn closed her eyes and prayed. Please, talk about the weather. Talk about anything else.

When Jocelyn opened her eyes, Tupper still stared. "Has something happened?"

She gave a quick smile before lowering her gaze. "I see Leviticus is free of his bandage. Are you letting him fly free?"

When Jocelyn dared raise her eyes, Tupper's shrewd green gaze pierced hers. "His wing was too damaged, it seems. He's not able to fly properly, but I'm growing accustomed to him. He's free to stay with me." Tupper bit the stem of her pipe in her teeth and petted the bird. Her wide gold ring caught the sunlight. "You know, you're good at that." She spoke around the stem.

"At what?" Jocelyn blinked at her.

Tupper pulled the pipe from her mouth and pointed the clay stem at her. "Diversion."

She feigned innocence. "I'm sorry?"

"When you don't want to talk about something," Tupper narrowed her eyes. "You deflect the question and change the subject."