"Hug me."

"What?"

He opened his arms, and she embraced him. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. It seemed like forever since they'd been so close.

"Harder," he said. She gripped the hard muscles of his back.

She prayed this time he'd keep his promise, because she doubted she could bear to part from him again.

Though it took some careful negotiating from both Sparrow and Lock, the tavern keeper finally agreed to allow him back inside as a patron.

"Now remember, no causing trouble," Sparrow warned before she resumed her performance.

"They can watch and whistle," he said.

"That's right."

"If one of them touches you, I'll break his arms."

Sparrow cast him a warning look as he settled onto an empty seat and ordered a meal from the serving maid. He scarcely noticed when the woman brought the food, as all his attention focused on Sparrow.

Seeing her again made his stomach too tense to eat, yet less than an hour ago he'd been starving, after having spent the day hunting and skinning. Since looking for Sparrow, he'd been unable to settle in one place long enough for a permanent job. At first, he'd hunted and fished enough to keep himself alive while searching for her. Then he realized, once he found her, he'd have even less to offer her than before. If he intended to marry her, he'd need some means to do so. He'd begun hunting, selling and trading meat and fur. With a wagon he'd bought, he was able to store the goods he traded for and often stopped in marketplaces where he made more sales. Though far from wealthy, he could easily support a wife, and as soon as he could settle in one place, a family as well.

You're getting ahead of yourself, Lock. She hasn't even said she'd marry you again.

He watched her as she danced, the motions of her supple body making him hungry for something other than food. He could scarcely believe he was with her again, that moments ago she'd been in his arms and in a few hours would be again.

How could you have been such a fool to have pushed her away? He hadn't considered her at all when he'd been on the Lady Fire. He thought he'd given her enough attention, but he finally realized attention hadn't been the problem. Looking back on the changes that overtook him on the pirate ship made him feel shame such as he'd never experienced. Before Sparrow, he hadn't known enough to feel ashamed of his actions. Piracy had been a step up from the brothel. It had been the highest achievement a person could aspire to in the Archipelago. Pirates were revered there as the Knights of the Ruby Order were respected in the rest of the world. Respect! No SothSea captain ever commanded respect, only fear and loathing. He must have been insane to want loathing over love.

When he'd walked into the tavern, the last thing he'd expected was to find Sparrow dancing half-naked on a table like a common wench. What was worse, she seemed to be enjoying it. But why shouldn't she? Hadn't he enjoyed dancing in the Empress's compet.i.tion? He understood how infectious dance could be. Even watching her, he wished he could join her.

As she spun, catching a tambourine Opal tossed her, he glanced around the tavern at the other patrons. Every man had his l.u.s.ty eyes fixed on Sparrow. The women, on the other hand, either glared at their male companions or focused their attention on their food and wine. Why should they be interested in watching a half-naked woman-no matter how beautiful-perform a seductive dance? If there was a male dancer, that might be a different story...

Lock smiled inwardly. Now there was an idea! He'd have to talk to the tavern keeper.

"Well, I'll say one thing, you're persistent," Opal glanced at Lock as the three of them walked back to the gypsy camp.

"I wasn't about to let her go." He reached for Sparrow's hand.

Sparrow smiled at him, loving the warmth of his touch and the affection in his eyes. She'd missed him more than she realized.

"He's incredibly stubborn," Sparrow told her friend. "Don't you remember how he searched the camp that first night?"

"I hate to admit it, but I find that kind of stubbornness very romantic." Opal sighed. "Imagine having a man chase you across a continent."

"Romantic, is it?" Lock's eyes glistened with humor as he looked at Sparrow. "You think so?"

"Don't press your luck," she said, but tightened her grip on his hand.

Firelight from the camp shone ahead. The silhouettes of caravans, horses, and people shone against the backdrop of hills and forest. Rays of pale moonlight shimmered on the lake running through the field.

The three stopped walking, and Opal said, "I'll leave the two of you alone."

"I'll be right there," Sparrow told her.

The slender girl glanced over her shoulder, her white teeth flashing in the night as she smiled and walked to camp. "Don't hurry, my friend."

Sparrow and Lock turned toward the lake, the lush gra.s.s soft beneath their booted feet. She looked at him. "I really should be getting back. It's very late. You have to be up early in the morning to hunt, don't you?"

He paused and tugged her behind the trunk of an enormous old willow tree, out of sight of the camp. He bent, one hand cupping the back of her head as his mouth claimed hers. Sparrow slid her arms up his back and stood on tiptoe to better reach him.

"Lock, I have to go."

"I know." He drew her into his arms and sank onto the gra.s.s, his pale eyes fixed on hers. He loomed over her. Sparrow's heartbeat quickened as she felt the warm length of his body over hers. One of his legs slid between hers. His hard c.o.c.k nudged her inner thigh. How she longed to reach into his trousers and wrap her fist around the pulsing steel wrapped in velvet skin! He kissed her. Though he supported most of his weight on his forearms, she felt the hardness of his chest press against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her eyes slipped shut as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck.

"Lock, we have to stop," she murmured, lost in sensation. His lips and tongue traced the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s while one hand untied the front of her vest. She whimpered with pleasure as his lips captured one of her nipples. It had been too long since they'd been together and his touch felt so, so good! His scent of clean skin and sensual musk aroused her to the breaking point. She buried her fingers in his hair, knowing she should stand her ground and go back to camp, but wanting nothing more than to surrender to him completely. If she gave in to him now, he'd think she wasn't serious about making him prove himself. She wanted him more than anything, but only if he'd truly given up pirating. His tongue trailed down her stomach while his warm, callused hands kneaded her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His fingers moved lower and tugged at the waist of her pantaloons.

Weakness flooded her legs. She knew if she didn't stop him then, within seconds she would no longer possess the strength to do so.

"Lock," she pushed his shoulders, "I have to go back."

He raised his head, his pale eyes brilliant with desire. Moonlight accentuated the white streaks in his kinky hair. The warm breeze tossed the unruly curls across his face. She brushed them away. He smiled and kissed her belly.

"I mean it." She slipped from him and stood, her body tingling from his touch.

"I've missed you, Sparrow."

"I've missed you, too, but we have to take this slow."

He touched his fingertips to her chin, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. He nodded in understanding and kissed her forehead. "I'll walk you back to your camp."

"Where are you staying?"

"Just over the hill, on the edge of the forest."

"Maybe you can stay with us? I'll asked Prem."

He shook his head. "No thanks. It's better if I camp alone."

Sparrow smiled. Lock seemed to have changed in so many ways, but in others, he was exactly as she remembered him. That's what made saying goodnight so difficult, because she knew just how it would feel to spend the night in his arms.

"Whoa." Lock tugged Sea Storm's reins. The horse stopped the wagon. Lock hopped off the wooden seat, patted the stallion's sleek rump, and stepped through the open door of the tanner's cottage.

The st.u.r.dy, middle-aged man glanced up from the table, a faded cloth band tied over his forehead, keeping lank gray hair off his face. He pointed at Lock with the chicken leg he was eating. "Got them hides you promised?"

"In my wagon."

The man tossed chicken bones out the small window behind him, wiped greasy hands on his trousers, and headed for the door. "Let's see aem."

Lock walked to his wagon and pointed to the skins.

The tanner examined the goods. "Not bad. Give you a hundred."

"You said two."

"Looks like you weren't too careful when you were skinning. Have to take off for that."

Lock narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with those skins."

"I ain't paying two for the likes of those."

"Well I ain't handing them over to you for one."

The tanner folded his arms across his chest and held Lock's eyes. "One ten."

"One ninety," Lock said, and the tanner laughed. Lock tried again, "One seventy."

"One thirty."

"One sixty or I take them to the next town."

"Next town's a day's ride."

"I'm not pressed for time."

The man picked through the skins and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "One sixty, then. Half now, half at the end of the week."

Lock laughed, reached across the tanner, and covered the skins. "Do I look like the village idiot? Waste of my time..."

"All right. All right. Come in and I'll pay you," the man grumbled. Lock followed and watched him count out the coins on the table covered with old grime and flakes of stale bread.

Lock placed the money in the pouch at his waist and helped the tanner unload the skins. With the skins gone, his next stop was the market. Two villages back, he'd traded for bolts of silk and wanted to sell them. He drove the wagon to the village square and rented s.p.a.ce for the day.

He was about to display the silks when he was distracted by the sound of shouting from the tavern across the road. Lock glanced over his shoulder and noticed a mob dragging a boy to the scaffold in the center of the marketplace.

The youth struggled, screaming, "I didn't do nothing!"

"Rotten thief!"

"Keep your hands in your own pockets!"

"He ain't gonna have to worry about that where he's going!"

Lock narrowed his eyes as a man in a green tunic, apparently the local sheriff, walked up the scaffold steps and strung a noose.

"No!" The boy squirmed, but several arms held him hard. "I don't want to die! I didn't take nothing!"

Lock's lip curled. He knew that boy! It was the same crewman who stole from his cargo on the Lady Fire! The one whose finger he'd chopped off.

"The little fool," Lock muttered. "Still stealing even after I lopped off his finger. Some people never learn."

The men dragged the boy up the scaffold. He stumbled, but the villagers made sure he stood straight as the noose dangled over his head. The boy's face drained of color, and even from such a distance, Lock saw him trembling.

Lock turned to his wagon then glanced back at the scaffold. He tossed his hands in the air and strode across the village, thinking to himself, You're going to regret this, Lock. Maybe you are the village idiot after all.

"Wait!" Lock bellowed at the crowd awaiting the execution. "Hold the hanging a minute!"

The men holding the boy, the sheriff, and the boy himself stared at Lock.

"What the h.e.l.l do you want?" the sheriff demanded. "This thief picked the pocket of nearly every man in the tavern-all within five minutes."

"I didn't take nothing," the boy whimpered.

"So you actually saw him take the belongings?" Lock asked.

The men on the scaffold exchanged glances.

"So which of you saw him steal?"

"His pockets are full of coins! All of ours are gone! That's proof enough!" bellowed a ruddy-skinned man who held the boy's arms behind his back.

"So you're saying possession of coins makes a man a thief? In that case, most of us here should be hanged."

"Where would a boy like this get so much coin?" the sheriff snapped. "He's dressed in rags."

"I once knew a king who traveled the countryside dressed as a peasant all in the name of fun," Lock said.

"He's already been charged. The sentence for theft in this kingdom is death, unless someone wants to pay his way out. You want to give up a chunk of your money for a no-good thief?"

"How much?" Lock spoke the words before he could stop himself.

"One fifty in silver."

"One fifty?" Lock snorted. "How much did he steal?"

"Doesn't matter. That's the price."

"All right," Lock sighed. "I'll pay the b.l.o.o.d.y one fifty."

Disappointed that their entertainment wouldn't come to pa.s.s, the crowd dispersed. The sheriff grasped the boy's arm and dragged him down the steps. He said to Lock, "Come to the prison house and I'll make a record of your payment, then you and the boy are free to go."

The boy stared at Lock, shock in his hazel eyes, as the three walked to the prison house.