"And don't ever come back!" Sparrow bellowed after the dispersing crowd. She slammed the door shut and glared at Lock. "Are you crazy?"

He shrugged. "Looks like they accepted my invitation from the other day."

"Who are you to extend any invitations to my house?"

"I can't believe you were fool enough to throw away that money. The pan was almost full to the top. Another hour or so, and you wouldn't have had to farm for the rest of the year."

"What is wrong with you? Is profit all you care about, that you'll sell yourself even when you don't have to?"

"I'm a slave!"

Sparrow tossed her hands skyward and began preparing dinner. "Put on your clothes!"

"It's a warm night and I'd rather have it blowin' in the breeze."

"Well I wouldn't!"

"You're a liar."

Sparrow's jaw tensed and she spun, pointing a wooden spoon at him. "My life is not so pathetic that I get my pleasure from watching a filthy pig like you grabbing his own privates!"

He winked. "I sailed around the wild blue sea looking for a woman of l.u.s.t. On one sunny sh.o.r.e I met with a wh.o.r.e, and devoured her golden tanned bust."

"Stop saying those disgusting rhymes!" Sparrow hissed.

"Outside the brothel beneath the sky blue, I handed the madam a coin for a screw-"

"I said stop!"

Lock sat against the wall chuckling. "Forgive me, Princess. I'm just a rotten sea-dog and have forgotten about your sweet virgin ears."

"Why must you make everything so difficult?"

A broad smile flashed across his handsome face as he chimed, "I heard about old Madeline, whose p.u.s.s.y and t.i.ts were so d.a.m.n fine..."

Sparrow clenched her teeth and tried her best to ignore him. She'd begun to realize that Lock, like a child, would continue pursuing the forbidden. He'd soon tire of taunting her-or run out of limericks. Either way, Sparrow would win.

Sparrow guided her wagon toward her barn as the sun set in the clear summer sky. The day had been uncomfortably hot, and the night would apparently be little better. After working around the farm, she'd hitched one of the horses to the wagon and driven to the village for some goods. Due to the heat, she kept her horse to a slow pace and enjoyed the peaceful landscape of rolling hills and distant woods.

At the barn, she unhitched the s.h.a.ggy-maned chestnut mare and unloaded her supplies. With a sack of wheat slung over her shoulder, she made her way to the house.

Sparrow dumped the sack in a corner of the room and brushed sweat from her forehead. "It's hot out there."

"You want hot? Go to the Archipelago," Lock said.

Sparrow noticed he'd again discarded his tunic and wore only his loincloth, revealing the length of his steely legs. She gazed at the hard lines of his chest and abdomen. His hair dangled down his back in a thick braid, loose at the end since he had nothing to tie it with. She thought what a pity it was for such a fine-looking man to be stuck in a room. If she didn't devise a way to allow him some exercise, he'd loose that gorgeous body of his.

"Are you hungry?" Sparrow asked. "I bought some loaves of bread in the village, and-"

She stopped mid-sentence as the door burst open and two men, both dressed in dirty, sweat-stained shirts and trousers and each armed with a dagger, stood in the doorway.

Lock glared at the two men who strode into the house. Both were tall and thickly built, one with lanky blond hair, the other with balding black. When the black-haired one leered in Sparrow's direction, Lock noted he was missing two front teeth.

The blond advanced on Sparrow who grasped the closest weapon-the broom- and rammed the wooden end into her attacker's gut. He gasped as the blow landed, but recouped quickly and jerked the broom from her hand, dragging her toward him.

"Saw you leaving the village alone, la.s.sie." The blond licked Sparrow's ear and she flinched with disgust. Lock's heart pounded with rage. If he was free of his chains, he'd have ripped out the man's tongue!

"Looks like she ain't alone," the black-haired man glanced in Lock's direction. "That's one big man she's got chained to the wall. Maybe she ain't as sweet as she looks."

"Let me go!" Sparrow rammed her elbow into her captor's gut and stomped on his foot with her booted heel.

He gasped in pain, loosening his hold. She reached for the broom again. The blond lunged at her, his dagger drawn, and grasped her even harder, one arm around her waist while his other hand pressed the blade to her throat.

"Move again, la.s.sie, and I'll cut your throat."

Lock clenched his teeth and lunged, blind rage making him momentarily forget he was bound. He nearly fell as the chains tightened.

"Nice, doggie," the black-haired man sneered in Lock's direction.

"See if she's got anything worth taking in this dung heap," the blond called to his companion. "I'm going to entertain myself before I go."

He flung Sparrow so hard on the bed that Lock saw her teeth jar, still she kicked at her attacker as he approached. He raised his dagger. "Keep it up, la.s.sie, and I'll cut you up from your toes to your ears!"

Sparrow's eyes met Lock's briefly, and the fear in her expression made his stomach twist in a manner he'd never experienced-not even during his torture. If only she could throw him the key! d.a.m.n the key, he thought, grasping the chains, curling them around his hands. He pulled with every bit of strength he could muster. The bounty hunters had done their job well, and the chains were firmly rooted in the ground. Lock continued pulling, every muscle in his body feeling as if it had burst into flames. Sweat ran into his eyes, and the chains cut into his palms, making them slick with blood. He felt the metal pulling loose.

"Hey! What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" The black-haired man shouted. He leapt on Lock's back, his dagger drawn. Lock jerked his arm backwards, and the man crashed into the wall, blacking out as the back of his head struck wood.

Across the room, the blond was too busy fighting with Sparrow to notice his friend's mishap. Lock grasped the chains again, and with one supreme effort, tore them from the ground. Without losing a second, he dove across the room, wrapped the chains still dangling from his manacles around the blond's throat, and squeezed.

The blond dropped his knife and clawed at Lock's hands in an attempt to free himself. The man's body flapped like a fish in Lock's deadly embrace, but he was unable to make a sound as his breath was completely cut off. Lock waited until the man lay limp in his grasp before snapping his neck to ensure death.

He picked up the fallen dagger, walked to the other unconscious thief, and rammed the blade through his heart.

Lock stood, panting, his hands b.l.o.o.d.y and stinging, and turned to Sparrow. She sat on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest, tears streaking her face, her eyes fixed on him with terror. He had the oddest urge to take her in his arms and soothe her. As he stepped closer, she leapt off the bed, backing away from him.

"G.o.ddess help me," she whispered.

"There is no G.o.ddess!" Lock snapped, wondering why her fear of him affected him so much. He had to get away from her, away from this mad village ruled by women where men were kept chained like animals. He needed to get back to SothSea where no one cared about anyone but himself, and the women didn't have innocent eyes and a sense of honor. "Now give me the key!"

Sparrow stood as if frozen. With a growl, Lock dragged her to him and reached into the waistband of her pants where he knew she kept the key. She punched him hard in the stomach, but he scarcely felt the blow. When she grasped handfuls of his hair and pulled, he gritted his teeth. That he felt.

He found the key and shoved her aside as he unlocked his bonds. He tugged the boots off one of the dead thieves and dragged them on, slipping the key into it before he pulled on his tunic. As he strode through the open door, he forced himself not to look back. He knew if he looked, if he saw the frantic expression in her beautiful blue eyes, he might do something stupid, like kiss her again. If he did that, then he'd have to make love with her, and if he made love with her, he knew he'd never, never let her go.

At a steady pace, Lock headed for the distant woods. The clear night and full moon made traveling easy. Though he wasn't quite sure where he was headed, he knew he could live in the forest until he made a decision about the best way to catch a ship back to the Archipelago.

And while I'm on my way to freedom, Sparrow will be tortured for the sole crime of showing me compa.s.sion. He remembered all too clearly the agony of the lash, the strain of the rack that threatened to tear his arms and legs from the rest of his body. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still smell the burning coals beneath his ravaged back, could smell his flesh burning as the knife carved symbols into his arms. Thief. Murderer.

Afterward, when his life had been an endless cycle of pain-pain when he breathed and moved, during wakefulness and sleep-Sparrow had been his only relief. Sparrow and even that old witch Shea-Ann with her salve and potions. It had been Sparrow, however, who faithfully applied the salve to his back. When his fever had climbed, it had been Sparrow who had sat with him day and night, bathing him with cool water and seeing to his most personal needs. He'd blamed his physical weakness for the strange feeling in his stomach whenever she touched him, but as he grew stronger, the feeling remained, eating at him from the inside like a fanged worm trapped in his gut. She made him feel things he'd never felt, like warmth and good humor. She was making him soft, and though he wanted to get as far from her as possible, part of him wanted to bury himself in her, body and spirit.

She'd been the only person in his entire life to ever show him a shred of kindness, and he'd left her with two dead bodies and the possibility of torture.

He thought of how her skin had felt when he'd fondled her. She was a strong woman, her hands callused from hard work, but the flesh of her round, warm b.r.e.a.s.t.s and sleek abdomen, as well as the rest of her body was soft as the belly of a baby animal. The idea of that tender skin being cut by the lash made him wince.

He glanced around, realizing he was partway into the wood, the trees dark, spiky silhouettes around him. He stopped, squeezing his hands into fists, feeling the hot sticky blood on his palms from when he'd broken free of the chains.

"d.a.m.n the crazy b.i.t.c.h!" he hissed through clenched teeth as he turned abruptly, stalking out of the woods and back over the fields toward Sparrow's farm. "I think her insanity has infected me."

Chapter Eight.

Sparrow sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, tears dripping down her face. What in the name of the twin G.o.ddesses was she going to do? She had two dead bodies in her house, and Lock was gone.

If he escapes, you get tortured until you faint.

"No way." Sparrow suddenly regained her self-control, wiped her eyes with her palms, and began packing her few belongings into a large sack. She'd set all her animals free, take one of the horses, and be gone by sunrise. She'd go to Shea-Ann's village and tell her friend what had happened. Maybe she could even settle there and start a new life. Maybe- Her eyes shot up from where she knelt, unloading the trunk at the foot of her bed. Lock strode through the door, his pale eyes brilliant with a barrage of emotions: anger, confusion, and something else Sparrow dared not hope for.

"You came back." She stood but didn't take a step closer to him.

His lip curled. "Can't have them taking the lash to you now, can we, girl?"

"I knew you cared. I knew it." She crossed the room and flung her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. His skin was damp with sweat, roughened by a dusting of hair, the muscles beneath hard. She felt his heart beating against her face, and she closed her eyes. He came back!

Sparrow felt Lock's arms encircle her, holding her close for several long, wonderful moments before he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away.

"I'll get rid of these carca.s.ses." He glanced at the thieves' bodies. "You clean this place up. No one will ever know what happened."

"Your hands." Sparrow grasped his wrists, her fingers reaching a little more than halfway around their thickness. She tugged him toward the table.

He pulled away. "We don't have time to waste."

"Those cuts are deep and dirty. Do you want another infection?"

He must have realized the sense of her words, because he sat quietly at the table while she cleaned and bandaged his hands. She kept her eyes focused on her work until she'd finished. When she looked up, she found him staring at her with an intensity that nearly stole her breath. He didn't speak, however, but stood, slung one of the bodies over his shoulder, grasped the other by the leg, and hauled them outside. Sparrow grabbed two buckets, and as she went to fill them in the well, saw Lock stacking the corpses on the sled she used to tote wood. He ripped open two empty sacks she used for storage and covered the bodies before he dragged them off and disappeared behind a hill in the distance.

Feeling a little sick, Sparrow cleaned the blood from her floor and arranged several chairs that had toppled over during the skirmish. Afterward, she lit a second lantern to brighten the room and started a pot of stew over the fire. The meal was nearly finished when Lock returned.

"What did you do with them?" she asked.

"Don't worry. They won't be found."

"You probably have plenty of experience getting rid of bodies."

"Yes, and I have no qualms about getting rid of a third tonight, if you get my meaning," he sneered.

"You didn't come back to kill me," she stated. For the first time since she'd brought him into her house, she had no fear of him killing her.

His eyes swept her from head to foot, and his jaw tightened before he kicked out a chair and sat at the table while she brought over the dinner.

Lock ate slowly, silently, his eyes studying Sparrow until she squirmed in her seat.

"What?" she demanded.

"Just thinking about what I can do about this problem."

"What problem? You came back so I wouldn't get punished. It proves you care enough about me to give up your freedom."

"Give up my freedom?" Lock laughed. "I was starting to think you were swifter than you looked. I told you before, Princess, I'm no slave."

"What are we going to do then? If you don't run away, I won't have to keep you chained up anymore."

"And you call me arrogant."

"I'm not trying to be arrogant. You can live here."

"Or you could come with me."

"With you?"

"Why not? You could live at my house in the SothSeas. That way when I return from sailing, I'll have a wench warming my bed and not have to bother with the wh.o.r.es."

"The wh.o.r.es?"

"Do I look celibate to you, girl?"

"I thought you might have had someone..."

"Can't be bothered with one wench thinking she owns me-or so I thought. Looks like my taste might be changing." He grasped her hand across the table. She tried pulling away, but he held her fast and continued, "Once I teach you a few things, I wager you'll be better entertainment than any wh.o.r.e."

Sparrow's mouth opened several times, but she couldn't find the words to properly combat such an insult. Finally, she said, "You filthy, repulsive, vile, obnoxious-" Her words were silenced by his lips as he kissed her deeply, using his foot to drag her chair closer to his. One of his hands cupped the back of her head while the other grasped her waist and hauled her out of the chair and onto his lap. Overpowered by his strength, Sparrow could do nothing but straddle his legs and pray that she wouldn't humiliate herself by giving in to the desire coursing through her entire body.

His tongue traced her lips, slipped into her mouth and sought hers. Her fists opened against his back, and she slid her palms over taut muscle. He gently bit her lower lip. She shivered and mimicked his action, dragging a soft moan from his throat. The sound made her heartbeat quicken. Knowing he was as affected by their closeness as she gave her a feeling of power. Apparently Lock was attracted to "muscle-bound runts."

He stood, both hands grasping her b.u.t.tocks while his mouth continued plundering hers. Instinctively, Sparrow locked her legs around his waist. She buried her hands in his thick, two-toned hair and licked the roof of his mouth.

Lock crossed the room in two steps and lowered her to the bed. He lifted her shirt over her head, threw it aside, and shed his tunic. Sparrow's eyes opened halfway, unable to resist looking at his exquisite body. For a man of his size and height, he was lean, with little extra flesh, only thick bones and hard muscle. His bandaged hands caressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his fingertips stroking her nipples until his touch became a thrilling torment of pain and pleasure. Her breath became ragged, and she was lost in sensation. She closed her eyes and murmured his name as she felt him slip off her boots and trousers.

No man had ever seen her naked. She'd always been modest, but at that moment, nothing mattered except savoring every touch, every kiss, every caress he bestowed upon her l.u.s.t-driven body. She gasped when his finger slipped into her wet p.u.s.s.y and gathered moisture that he used to stroke her c.l.i.t. Sparrow panted as that marvelous finger quickened. Her nub felt so sensitive his touch almost hurt, and she felt ready to explode from need.

Suddenly his body covered hers, and her eyes flew open. His hair-roughened leg slid between hers, and she felt his c.o.c.k-hard as a metal pike beneath silken flesh-pressing against her crotch. She stared at him, surprised by the softness in his pale blue eyes. His lips were parted, his breath nearly as ragged at hers.