Why were these confessions so d.a.m.ned hard? Why did the walls feel like they were closing in? He swiped at his damp forehead.

She waited, waited for him to say more. And more he had to say. "I would never have lured the Rowena had I'd known there'd be a sudden storm. Nor had I known you were on board. I would never have brought harm to someone so beautiful, so innocent."

Drake reached to touch her cheek. She ever-so-slightly tensed, and he let his hand drop away. He cleared his throat and lowered his head.

"I learned long ago honest work never goes unpunished. A man can work long, hard days to feed his family, be G.o.d-fearing, abide the laws placed upon him, and pay his levies. These things are never enough. Someone always wants more and they will squeeze it from him until he has given them his last breath. Then they take it from his loved ones." A bitter taste coated his tongue. How he hated bureaucracy. "Why? So a politician can get fat off the sweat of peasants, farmers and shop keepers? So he might dress in the finest fashions, eat delicacies from around the world, lounge in furnishings fit for kings and prance around as if a glorified idol?"

Heat flooded his face. He must keep his anger in check.

"I've no desire to live an honest life so that a man cloaked in politics can steal from me. I take advantage of opportunity and I'm a mercenary. I follow where the money takes me. Sometimes, opportunity needs coercion. I'll not apologize for making my unprincipled means. 'Tis better to come about my intangibles perfidiously than to be an exploited mule."

His reasoning was not acceptable by any means, yet he wanted her to know why he chose his occupation. He liked that word-occupation. Why he wanted her to understand baffled him, but it was important she did. Even if she didn't agree.

"How does that make you different than a corrupt governor?"

"I don't need to live like a king, but each day I do live will be spent of my own will, free from domination, and free from the shackles of caring too much."

"Caring too much about oppression, or do you speak of personal matters?" She gave him the full effect of her pale eyes. His knees could have buckled under their childlike sincerity. He willed himself to not look away.

"Both." He sank down into a chair. Memories crept out of the recesses in his mind. Where was his d.a.m.ned liquor to chase them back into the darkness? He rested his fist against his mouth, irritated.

The angel stood before him, wreathed in sunbeams, and waiting patiently.

"My father, a modest farmer, worked his fingers to the bone. My sister, brother-in-law and I worked the fields with him, while my mother tended the cows, mended the clothes and prepared meals. Everything we grew was stripped from us to fuel the demand of commerce in the harbor."

Drake fastened on images of his family. His father laughing, giving his only son a hand up from the ground after he had spooked the horse pulling the plough and had fallen. Mama, covered in flour, humming by the cooking fire. Leopoldo, Giana's new husband, affectionately rubbing her growing belly. Mama's tears as the tax collector took the last cow. The hurt in Father's eyes as he sent Drake to scrounge for food. How Drake wanted to stay and help Leopoldo pull the plough. Drake wished desperately he could have done more.

"My father gladly received the pittance he was given for the betterment of Havana. A strong community is built by a strong foundation, he would say. Havana was growing and he was proud to be a part of that foundation. Governor de Barca became greedy and wanted more colonial control with the harbor strengthened as a key Spanish port. He increased taxations so there was nothing left after the tax collector visited. My family struggled to put food on the table, and with my sister nearing the end of her pregnancy, there was cause for concern. Hope was all we had.

"Governor de Barca, his military commander Mancho Diaz and two soldiers visited farmers who'd fallen behind paying levies, including my father's. If he could not pay, de Barca considered our land forfeited. De Barca began to ride off, but my father grabbed his horse's bridle, begging for more time, for mercy. De Barca yelled he was being attacked."

Sweat beaded on his brow, as if he stood under the baking sun back home all those years ago bearing the stifling August heat. Drake remembered clearly de Barca's cold sneer as if his father were rotten filth, and how he calmly ordered Machete to subdue the traitors who had turned against their country.

"Machete rode up behind my father and struck him down. My mother, wailing, rushed to his side, but Machete wheeled his horse around and struck her down, as well. The governor never looked back as he spurred his mare ahead."

The screaming, the cries, they pulsed in his ears. He raked his hands across his ears and through his hair. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, the memories unfolded with clarity. A vague silhouette moving within his vision dropped on the bed across from him. He tried to focus on Gilly, but the nightmare was too vivid.

"The soldiers grabbed Giana and Leopoldo. But I, I rushed Machete and pulled him from his horse. At fifteen, I was a lanky beanrake, no match for a larger man like Machete. Machete smashed his sword's handle into my face and beat me until I could hardly move. As I lay on the ground, he tried to skewer me. I rolled, but was unable to avoid his blade entirely. Leopoldo wrestled away from his captive and hit the soldier holding Giana. That cost him his life with a bullet to his forehead. And Giana, my precious sister, went into hysterics. She fought, clawed and kicked. She spat at Machete, called him vile names. Somehow, she wrenched an arm free and slashed Machete across his cheek with her nails, drawing blood."

Drake smiled. The scar of Giana's spirit was still visible on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's face. Then his smile faded.

"I begged Machete to spare her over her continual screaming. I begged for him to kill me instead of my sister."

What came next proved Machete had no soul. Drake licked his dry lips.

"He gored her through her belly. Her shock, her horror, it tore through me. I reached for her, dragging my body to her. Machete kicked me in my wound and I fought to keep conscious. Machete and his men rode off. I'm certain he thought I would die. I bled in the dirt, listening to hoof beats and dying sobs, until the only thing I could hear was the wind." He paused, recalling the taste of blood in his mouth, the grit he breathed, the windmill gra.s.s swaying in the breeze. "If only I had fought harder, smarter."

"You were just a boy."

Drake tore his gaze from the mists of the nightmare. Tears stained Gilly's cheeks. He lamented over how much he made her cry. He hated to see her that way. Never had he wanted to share his torment with anyone. Why did he with her, his precious songbird? She didn't deserve to receive his pain.

"Had you done any more you would have died, too," she said.

She was right, of course. He had told himself the same over and over. The awareness didn't ease the guilt, but he had his ways to ease the burden.

"I will avenge their deaths," he declared. "Then I will be free."

"Will you? Did killing de Barca bring you closer to peace? Yes, I heard you in the church. I understood you killed him and why."

"He had to die. Ordering my family's deaths under false defenses made it easy for him to take our land. Machete has been harder to get to over the years. But his time has come."

"I wonder, when you take Machete's life if you will be the same person. Will you still be aloof and cold?"

He knew exactly what she meant. How he had treated her, how he had ravished her, was unforgivable. The guilt was beyond any other. Like a splinter beneath the surface of the skin, that particular offense ached upon his soul.

"Gilly." He slid off his chair and knelt before her. "I have spent my whole life trying to protect women from the indulgence of depraved men. Somehow, I failed to protect you from me." Gliding his hand into hers, he looked down to summon his courage. Odd he hadn't trouble with his bravery before. "I never meant to hurt you, never meant to force myself upon you."

He chanced a glance up. More tears streamed down her face and the breach in his heart widened. He didn't think his heart was able to break, but here it was crumbling into dust. "When I am certain Machete cannot harm you, I will arrange to have you taken anyplace you desire. You will be safe, Gilly. I promise."

Why was this so hard? He was a h.e.l.lish pirate, feared throughout the Caribbean, unafraid of battle, violent temperamental seas and hanging from the gallows. He laughed in the devil's face, daring the demon to drag him to h.e.l.l. And yet he was terrified of the feelings this woman evoked. "I know I don't deserve it, but I hope that you can forgive me."

Her hand slipped from his. Quivering lips parted to answer him. He waited for her to vilify him, to rake him with curses for sullying her virtue. He wanted to hear how he defiled her and how she hated him for it. No, he needed to hear it.

A knock at the door startled her and they both shot to their feet.

"Who's there?" Drake drew his pistol, edging to the door.

"Your spirits, senor," called the voice from the other side.

Drake opened the door, pointing his gun at the young man holding a tray. The lad stiffened upon seeing the weapon. "It's about time," Drake mumbled. He motioned for him to put the tray on the table and take his leave.

Gilly wiped her tears and popped the cork from the bottle. The amber liquid gurgled from the neck into a metal cup. She couldn't have her poison, so she'd drink his. He was taken aback when she handed him the cup instead.

"I have been angry with you, Thayer, so very angry. And I am still angry. But not for the reason you think."

She looked to the wooden beams in the ceiling and chuckled. What in G.o.d's name was there to laugh about?

"You lured me the way you have pa.s.sing ships. You play with my affections and then cast me aside. I suppose I should be angry with myself for letting you. I'll admit, 'Twas my fault for misreading your intentions. Confound it, I'm not sure what I thought to expect from a dangerous, worldly man such as the likes of you. I've no experience in the matter. None at all. May I? I desperately need a drink."

He nodded, but she had already begun to pour herself a cup. Gilly swallowed the liquor in one gulp. She hissed and poured herself another.

"This brandy is watered down. We should complain to the owner. I bet he charged double for what this is worth, too. How on earth are we to enjoy this if it doesn't burn our throats? Brandy should be strong, don't you think? It's going to take more than two bottles-"

She glanced up at him. His mug must've reflected the whirlwind of confusion he felt listening to her rattle on because she let out a long sigh.

"What I want from you, what I wanted from you that night we, um, in my cabin, I wanted you to be with me. Me. I acted like a hussy and I feared that I had misled you. I was scared that I would mean no more to you than a pa.s.sing night of strumming. I wanted you to fall for me the way..."

A bank of tears filled her troubled eyes. She bit her lip before looking up to him. "I destroyed what could have been the most beautiful night of my life. It is I who should ask for forgiveness. I put you in a terrible position, Thayer. 'Twas my fault for being a flighty girl with silly ideas."

Did he understand her correctly? "I didn't hurt you?"

She shook her head.

The weight of guilt crushing him eased, but not entirely. He should be thrilled, should be released from the shame he'd carried since that night, but something pecked at his mind's core. Despite what she claimed, he had a hand in damaging her dignity.

"I agree. What happened was your fault."

The poor, sweet la.s.s shot him an incredulous look.

"You beguiled me in a way no other woman has and caused me to do the unthinkable. I began to care more than I should have allowed. I've never chased a quarry afraid she might get away. I've never gone into battle unsure if I will be victorious. With you, it was possible to lose. I don't lose. And so I approached you with the same strategy I would a prize on the open ocean. I bear some responsibility. I should have been mindful of how you felt."

What the h.e.l.l was he thinking baring his soul? Vulnerability did not suit him. He cleared his throat, glanced out the window to his ship and finally drank from his cup.

"You care for me?"

"Yes, Gilly. I do."

She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. He reached back, extracting himself from her hug. "That is why I'm sending you away when this is over. Tonight."

"No. I won't go. I want to be with you."

"Gilly-"

"I want to be with you always."

Drake was speechless. Women had pined for him many times before, whispering promises of unimaginable desires. But he was a scarred man and left his doxies with no pretenses he'd return. Where did he go wrong? Why would Gilly want to waste her life on the likes of him? Indeed, a life with her might be glorious. His parents' marriage had been one of happiness. Theirs was one of true love, even in hardships. Drake saw it in their smiles, the way they held hands during prayer at dinner, the kiss they shared every morning before starting the day's grueling work. 'Twas dangerous to love too much. He needed only to look to the deaths of his parents and Giana and her husband to be reminded. He would not put anyone in harm's way because he foolishly loved them.

Most especially Gilly.

Chapter Eighteen.

"It's heartless to say you care and then turn your back on me. Please, Thayer. Don't send me away now."

"I am heartless, love." He must be to shut her from his life.

"I don't believe it." Gilly spoke scarcely above a whisper. She slipped her wrists from his grasp and cupped his face in her palms. He'd never felt hands so soft against his whiskered cheeks, two days beyond a clean shave. In momentary weakness, he closed his eyes, giving in to their gentleness. "Give me time," she said. "Let me change your mind."

"I won't change my mind. For your safety, I won't."

Her hands fell away and her eyes dipped to his bandolier. He sensed a change within her. Her sadness, it seemed to evaporate, or perhaps shift into something resembling determination. She ran a finger over the leather straps holding one of his flintlocks close to his chest.

"Well, Captain Drake, at least give me a few more hours. I've a quarry to pursue."

He smiled in spite of himself. Yes, determination, a hunter stalking prey. She'd come a long way from the timid mouse he fished out of the sea.

"I'm prepared to do battle." She pinned him with an impa.s.sioned grin.

"Battle will be risky," he said, gazing at her mouth. "Your blood will race, your heart will pound, and you will be left sweaty and breathless. Though the outcome may leave you rich, you will yearn for more, and more I cannot give."

"We shall see." She hooked her finger under the brace and tugged. He willingly let her lead him to the edge of the bed. "Should my strategy fail, the loss will be worth the pursuit."

"This I won't deny."

Without so much of a warning, Gilly nabbed him and kissed him, a starved child devouring a tasty morsel. His jacket caught on his weapons as she pulled and yanked to release him. He pried himself out of her clutches.

"Gilly. No. Hold on, sweetheart."

Round, doe eyes filled with humiliation and fear.

"Take it slow, love." He wanted this as badly as she, but he wanted complete control over what happened next. No more flubs. No more mistakes. He would show her exactly what she meant to him. This would be for her. "Let's not rush into battle. There is much to enjoy."

She nodded, understanding he meant not to make her uncomfortable.

"Sometimes, you must circle your quarry." He stalked around her, shedding his jacket as he came up behind her and whispered in her ear. "Tease her with the skirmish to come." Her floral scent wrapped tendrils of desire around his every nerve. He shrugged out of his bandolier and tossed it into a chair. "Don't raise your flag too soon." He swept her golden locks aside and kissed the milky white column of her neck. "Leverage is when she doesn't know what move to expect."

She shivered under his breath upon her ear. Such a sweet vulnerable spot. Drake knew all too well hot breath and a wet tongue upon a woman's ear was like a magical key unlocking her treasure box. She'd be ready for him before he removed her clothes.

He traced the outline of her ear and nibbled on her lobe while working the loops and b.u.t.tons of her gown. The fabric whooshed to the floor in a blue drift of silk. In a matter of moments, he had Gilly peeled from her stay, standing in only her shift. Even from his close proximity behind, he appreciated the way the flimsy material rested upon her hidden curves. He took in another taste of her throat and gazed down into the hollow between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. d.a.m.n but the rounded flesh rising from the valley beckoned for his touch. His hands snaked around her waist to claim her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Gilly arched back against him, giving him full access to cup and fondle her.

A sound much like a kitten's purr escaped her parted lips. She reached back and dragged her hand across the outer dip of his thigh. Heat seared to his groin faster than he would like. He must control the fire lest he burn out too soon.

She twisted around in his arms. Heavy lids partially hid her gray eyes laden with desire. Freckles dusting her adorable nose brought to mind she was still so young. "What would you do next, Captain?" she whispered. She bit her full puckered bottom lip like a coy and naughty child. But she wasn't a child. She was a full, blossomed woman. The coy and naughty part was debatable.

"I'd brand her as my own." Drake stared deep into her eyes before placing a chaste kiss to her luscious lips. Pulling back only a breath, he continued. "But, then, I branded her during my first pa.s.s around her bow."

He kissed her full on. Slow at first, supping on her brandy-sweetened lips. Her hands slid up his chest and wound through his hair at his neck. 'Twasn't enough, he needed more of her. He pushed his way inside her mouth where her tongue received him equally. Their kiss was not rushed. Urgent, yes. But not animalistic as before.

Still, she left him breathless.

"Does she surrender?" Gilly whispered against his lips.

"She should."

"Perhaps she would seek to even the advantage." She rubbed her hands over his shoulders and gently tugged on his sleeves.

"Having me naked does not give you an advantage."

"What? No more innuendoes?" she asked playfully.

"There is less negotiating when the battle begins. And the battle has begun, love." He removed his shirt, almost laughing under her appreciative scrutiny. Gilly feasted upon his chest, her mouth open and her lips tipped into a grin. Rendered speechless, again. He would be wise to remember this. The next time she began chattering endlessly, he'd simply remove his shirt to quiet the la.s.s. "Have I already won?"