Their tongues danced in and out of each other’s mouths. All the while, the captain stared at her. Faryn found herself licking her lips. Wishing she too could share in a kiss like that.

Wicked girl! What was she thinking? To have such thoughts… Her family would be ashamed! Her betrothed would surely break their engagement. This place was bad. Very bad. And yet…

Her eyes were opened to so much surrounding her. Her mind could never forget the experiences she’d had, the things she’d seen and felt.

She flicked her gaze to the floor, where she tried to count the marks of imperfection in the marble.

She’d only gotten to four before a pair of black leather-booted feet came into view.

“Leannan.” The captain held out his hand to her.

Take it and she was saying aye to this fate. Run, her mind screamed. Run and never look back!

She took his hand, the flesh and bone overwhelming her own with its sheer size, and she was by no means a dainty miss. Faryn was the height of most men, although slender.

“Ye are mine now, lass.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear, causing a shiver to race along her spine. “But even the bargain I struck doesna make ye free from the queen. She has a

request.”

Faryn looked up into dark eyes, hoping to find a measure of comfort in them. For this was her champion who would take her away from this place, even if it was to be his slave in return.

Somewhere, deep inside him, she sensed goodness. Although not readily visible on the surface, she felt it. She trusted her instincts most of the time. Could she trust them now?

“A-a request?” she stammered, unable to get control of her vocal cords.

“Aye, leannan.”

Faryn peered over his shoulder and watched as the servants ushered the other slaves from the room. Orelia slinked into the background, seemingly melding into the shadows from which she’d emerged.

“Captain, we both know that I am a well-educated woman—unless, that is, ye are not aware that a woman of my status would have been taught a few things, unlike a common serving wench. Tell me no lies, Noir, for I am not naïve as ye may have convinced yourself.”

The captain took her by the elbow and guided her into a dimly lit corner.

“It is not often we have a virgin come to Orelia’s court, leannan. Ye heard her speak of spilling virgin’s blood?”

“Aye, she means to sacrifice me to whatever gods it is she prays to.” Or preys upon. Faryn lifted her gaze to the ceilings, for the first time noticing their domed design with intricate scene paintings, but the tears pooling in her eyes blinded her vision.

“Dinna speak ill of her, for she is willing to be kind to ye. Instead of sacrificing ye, she is allowing for another type of blood.”

Faryn frowned, her gaze returning to the captain’s. “Well?” she said in mock exasperation, hoping he did not see through her bravado.

“She will allow for virgin’s blood to be spilled… In other words, your maidenhead to be taken in front of witnesses.”

Faryn felt every single drop of blood rush from her face down her neck and into her chest, before pooling in her stomach like burning lava. She was going to retch.

“Lass,” the captain said, but his voice sounded hollow, distant. “Dinna be so discontent. For the price of your virginity, she is willing to let ye go with me. And I am willing to rethink your earlier bargain.”

Faryn glanced around her, her eyes glassy. The captain’s lips continued to move but she couldn’t hear the words that were coming from his mouth.

He gripped her shoulders, appearing to attempt to regain her attention, but she was lost.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she started to fall.

Wraith caught her just in time.

Despite being pale as a ghost, her flesh was warm, the heat of it seeping through his garments.

He wasn’t such a monster. He offered her freedom in exchange for one thing. Well, two, he supposed. Virginity and a large sum of her family’s fortune. But the payment was nothing compared to the gift he was giving her. Besides, was that not unlike a marriage? The bride often brought her virginity and a dowry to the union. This was the same thing.

Didn’t she realize he would take her maidenhead with kindness, give her pleasure in return for her sacrifice?

Ballocks!

The fact that he wanted to give her pleasure at all sent the blood rushing from his face. But he liked to pleasure all women. Why would it be any different with the slave lass?

Her silky hair fell over his arm and she moaned in her unconsciousness.

“You have such a way with the ladies.” Orelia laughed as she walked across the room, her gaze roving over the lass in his arms.

Wraith chuckled mercilessly. “Wouldna ye know?”

“I’d like to know again. Now.”

“And I want to show ye.” His mind revolted at anything having to do with Orelia but in order to gain the girl, he would have to acquiesce to her. “Let me take her to my rooms, where she can sleep away her shock. I shall come to ye directly.”

“Nay,” Orelia snapped. “That will not do at all.”

His gut clenched. What was the ungrateful bitch up to now?

“I await your commands, my queen.”

“Tie her to the bed in the sacrificial room.” Her lips curled in an angry way, making her beauty diminish a fraction. “You can make love to me lying next to her.”

“As ye wish, my queen.” How the bloody hell was he going to get out of this? And her calling it making love when it was anything but? Now he was to be the sacrificial lamb.

“Come, my pirate captain, I ache with wanting.”

Wraith dutifully followed Orelia, glad of only one thing. If the lovely Faryn lay next to them, at least he would be able to gaze on her and pretend it was she he was lying with and not Orelia. He furiously counted down the days he had left to serve this vicious pirate queen. The day he would owe her nothing.

Nevertheless do his duty now he would, and he would do it well, for it was the only way to escape this place both alive and with his own bargain for freedom. The lass had no idea how much was riding on her. Not only her own life, but also his.

Faryn awoke to the throaty moans and shouts of a woman laying so close it could almost be right in her ear.

Her world was also rocking. Back and forth. Had she been returned to the ship? She tried to sit up but her hands were bound tight to something. She tried to move her feet but they too were bound.

Her world was still black. But then again, she hadn’t opened her eyes yet. She blinked.

The moans grew louder, the rocking fiercer. There were sounds of flesh upon flesh. Carnal sounds.

Faryn turned slowly to her right.

Dear Lord! The woman was right next to her ear.

Queen Orelia lay next to her. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy as a man, bare, bronzed and full of sinew and muscle, buried his face against her breasts and his fingers digging into her hips as he thrust between her legs…

Faryn gasped, her eyes widened. She looked about her. The room was dark except for the lighted candles surrounding the massive bed. She was bound with white ties about her ankles and wrists.

Thank God, they had not gagged her as well.

She opened her mouth to speak, to shout out, but she couldn’t find her voice. And even if she did, the sounds the woman was making would surely drown out any pleas she could issue.

Where was the captain? Hadn’t he promised her freedom? Safety? Had he lied?

She pulled at the ties but that only seemed to make them tighter.

She glanced around frantically. Trying to see something, anything—what she wasn’t sure of. She did know that once she saw whatever it was she was looking for, she would know.

The woman shrieked one last time, her body quivering for what seemed like minute upon minute

upon minute, and then she stopped and the man leaning over her stopped thrusting.

“Oh captain, my captain, you still know how to pleasure a woman,” the queen crooned.

Captain? Had she truly said captain? Was it Noir who’d pleasured the queen? Faryn’s eyes widened as her gaze roved over the man whose face was turned away. The dark hair matched his but truly that was all she could recognize, for she’d only ever seen him clothed, and this man…was most definitely not clothed.

But then she saw him, standing across the room. Captain Noir. He was not the one who’d been with the queen after all. His low voice rumbled as he spoke. The black cape and linen shirt he wore had been removed, and his back was to her.

His shoulders and arms rippled with muscle. His back bulged and flexed as he moved, and the way he stood, she imagined as no lady should, that beneath the tight breeches the most beautiful, muscular, round, hard halves of a male’s buttocks were waiting to be discovered. He could have been forged from one of the many godly statues and paintings she’d gazed on. His legs were long, lithe, and strong.

She swallowed hard, belly quivering.

Captain Noir was more than a man. And that was only her impression from seeing him from behind. If he were to turn around… If he were to stand before her and she could see his chest…

Her heart pounded. Her breaths were shallow. Her mouth was suddenly dry. She wouldn’t mind at all if Noir, this god were to do the same to her that the other captain had done to the queen.

Was there room to hope? If the queen were insistent that Faryn’s virgin’s blood be taken… Could it be…? Could he be the one to see to the ghastly farce of bedding her before one and all?