“Ah, I see you have finally awakened.” The masked woman smiled, taking a step toward the bed.
She held up a hand and lifted her face bravely, speaking the first words that sprang to her mind. “You…you have stolen my precious jewels!”
The woman shrugged. “Perhaps I have. So what?”
Her mouth dropped in dismay. “Do you realize how expensive—oh, what is wrong with me! Of course you don’t care one bit what I think. You enjoy pillaging priceless jewelry and other trinkets for your own selfish gains. I am just one of your many victims.”
The masked woman took another step forward.
“S-stop right there, you scoundrel!” she screeched.
“And what if I don’t?”
Her finger shook as she pointed. “I will scream.”
She flinched as the woman let out a husky laugh. “Go ahead. We’re miles out at sea, as you can tell. It’s only me and my boys here. They’re used to hearing a woman’s screaming coming from my cabin.”
She pressed a palm to her chest and frowned. “You apparently know me.”
She gave Daisy a wide smile. “Oh yes, Princess Daisy. I know you very, very well.”
“But how.…” She glared at the woman standing only a few feet away, taking in her dark boots, the tight fit of her breeches, and the jagged scar and black mask covering her eyes and head.
Suddenly, she knew who stood before her.
“You’re her…the nasty lady pirate Dread all the papers talk about.” She sat up on her knees and looked at Dread in awe and trepidation.
“Nasty?” Dread sounded unconcerned. “You could say that. What else do the gossip rags say about me?” She took another step closer.
“How you destroy other ships and terrorize innocent people, including my fi-fiancé Lord Humphrey.”
Dread spat on the floor. “I can’t believe you’re going to marry that jackass.”
She grabbed the edge of the headboard to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she became woozy in part from fear because she was at the mercy of this pirate queen whose rule was law on this vessel.
The Prince’s Groom (Pirates of Flaundia #2)
Mr. Martin, the former first mate of an infamous pirate captain is mourning the loss of his young lover. He and Thomas de Fleurre, an exiled prince turned gentleman landowner, had a passionate affair on a tropical island paradise for a very short time. Thomas decides to end their relationship since Martin is a wanted man on the run for a twenty-year-old crime he didn’t commit.
Thomas longs for the frank speaking Martin, who not only ravaged his body, but his heart and soul. He has moved on, finding happiness in the arms of another man, but can’t stop thinking about those hot steamy nights where Martin made his every fantasy a reality.
Martin’s past comes back to haunt him as he arrives on Thomas’s doorstep to finish what they started. But then Martin must put his life on the line to save Thomas from an unstable woman who is obsessed with claiming Thomas as her own.
With a dangerous highwayman also terrorizing the land who has close ties to Martin, Thomas becomes a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse. It’s up to Martin to save Thomas and hope they can sail away on their tide of passion, where he will end up being the Prince’s groom.
Excerpt:
“There you are, lad. I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere.” The older man strolled toward him with a bright grin on his face.
He looks at me as if he loves me. He clasped his hands behind his back to stop from reaching out and taking Martin in his arms. He was so wrong. Martin didn’t love him. Desired and lusted for him, yes. But loved him? No.
He remained silent as Martin cupped his cheeks and tipped his head back. He swallowed, overcome with the need to get down on his knees and worship the man’s cock. He had never experienced anything like it. He would never forget him as long as he lived.
“What are you thinking of, Your Highness?” Martin licked his lips.
He clenched his fists, wanting desperately to run his fingers through the dark goatee, spread his palms on his bald head, and press kisses on the elder man’s face. He frowned. He didn’t even know how old Martin truly was, let alone his first name.
“Please don’t call me ‘lad.’ And certainly not ‘Your Highness’. I’m very much a man and no longer a prince, and haven’t been for many years. I would have no idea how to run a country even if given the chance.” He added the last as an afterthought.
Martin released his neck and slid his hands down the younger man’s body until he seized his ass and cupped both cheeks. Thomas moaned in response. His eyes flicked shut, and he inhaled deeply, smelling the dark yeasty ale Martin had drunk earlier in the night. He barely stopped himself from placing his lips on the bushy jaw and sucking there.
“You’re in a bit of the bite, now, aren’t you?”
He snorted. Martin’s way with words always made him smile; it was one of the things he adored about him.
“Mr. Martin, I wish I could place your dialect. It’s a strange one indeed. Where did you say you resided again?”
“Nowhere important.”
He opened his eyes and held back from fixing the front of his breeches. His prick had risen, and it was most likely noticeable to a roving eye. But since he was alone with Martin, his erection wasn’t a cause for concern. He disregarded his want, however, and allowed ire to grow in its place.
“I find it odd that although we have been intimate in every sense of the word, you still won’t give me a straight answer about your past or who your people are. Why is that? He eased out of Martin’s embrace and leaned against the headboard of the four-poster bed.
Martin wiped the crown of his head, muscular biceps flexing under his sleeveless tan shirt. His lover never wore a jacket, and his shirt was always missing the sleeves.
“I’m not one to share too many details about myself. The less you know, the better.”
He unbuttoned his own dark-blue coat, allowing his body to cool in the humid air. “For whom, Martin? Or is that even your real name? Why won’t you tell me your first—”
“We’ve been through this already. Why harp on the issue again? There are more important things to do than gab about our secrets.”
He lifted his hands and then dropped them to his sides. “See, that’s the difference between you and me. I have no secrets. I’m an open book. You, though, are a mystery that refuses to be solved.”
“Oh, you’re an open book? Heh. That’s one lie you have been tellin’ yourself right along, Thom.”
What in God’s earth is he talking about? “I must have misunderstood just now. When have I ever lied?”