His chin came up. “I swore to protect you.”
I gaped at him. Surely he understood what I was asking. “I don’t care about my safety,” I snapped, “that’s not important right now...”
“It is to me.”
“Why?” My last word was a shout, and Jeremiah straightened up. I waved my hands around my head, unable to contain my energy. Giving an exasperated groan, I turned away, rubbing a hand over my face. When I looked back, that stoic mask was back over his face, and I suddenly wanted to cry again. “Why do you think you can claim me, yet reject my love?” I murmured brokenly. “What gives you that right?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and I almost turned to leave when he finally spoke. “Love isn’t a happy ideal in my family.” The mask threatened to crumble for a moment before clamping back in place. “I don’t wish for the...complications love might bring.”
My shock at his attempt to justify his actions faded quickly. “That may be so,” I conceded, “but my parents were happily married for twenty-four years before they died. My grandparents, fifty-two. The words meant something to me.” I sighed. “I never asked for you to reciprocate, I only wanted to tell you how I feel.”
But Jeremiah just shook his head. “That word is a mere platitude. If the affection is there, why does it need to be named?”
Platitude. That word again. Oh, how I hated that word. My hands balled into fists, insides quaking at the sudden rage it induced. “You won’t even try to see my side, will you?” If it didn’t fit in with the way he believed, it was wrong. Was this the real Jeremiah? Had I been so blind this entire time?
“Fine,” I snapped, not bothering to wait for his answer. “No love then. Let’s see what that feels like.” Without bothering to think about what I was doing, I grabbed his head and hauled his face down to me.
The kiss was a disaster from the start, but I didn’t care. I’d surprised him, that was obvious, but Jeremiah recovered quickly. He pulled back and I followed, determined to teach him a lesson, if I only knew what lesson that was.
“Lucy,” he growled, hands clamping around the tops of my arms. I abandoned kissing his mouth and moved down to his neck and he froze, not pushing me away. The acrid taste of sweat and salt water filled my senses, and for a moment I forgot myself. I skimmed my teeth along his skin and felt him shudder against me. My hands moved under the shirt, tracing the familiar pattern of muscles there. I heard the sharp intake of breath when I pressed myself close, nipping lightly at one nipple through the thin material of the shirt.
No love.
Pulling my hands off his body, I wrenched free of his grip and sank to my knees. I could see instantly that he was turned on by the play; his pants bulged beneath my fingers as I worked the clasps. He tried to grab my arms to pull me upright as I worked the clasps to his pants and I pushed at his hips. While he grabbed the bunk for support I unhooked his pants and reached inside.
“Lucy, stop.”
“No love, you say,” I muttered, ignoring him. “All we had was sex and a little danger. Why stop now?”
“That’s enough.”
Hands gripped my arms and hauled me up to my feet. Jeremiah’s face filled my vision. “It wasn’t just sex,” he exclaimed, shaking me. “I was...”
Crack!
My hand smacked across his face, stopping whatever he was about to say. The blow startled him; Jeremiah blinked down at me a few times before releasing my arms. “Do you feel better now?” he said, lips compressing into a thin line.
My slap had been from a bad angle, with barely any force behind it. The callous disregard in his tone fired me up again. “No,” I answered, and balling up my fist I threw my arm into a hook, landing right in his jaw.
Pain bloomed almost immediately and I gasped. I saw Jeremiah stagger sideways at the blow but whatever triumph I might have felt was eclipsed by the agony in my hand. Moaning, I looked it over, tenderly probing the swollen flesh.
“Let me see it,” Jeremiah said, but I skittered away from him. At the same time, the door opened and both guards filled the entrance, presumably to see what was going on inside the room. Their presence made Jeremiah pause, and he seemed genuinely regretful as I straightened up. “Lucy...”
“Shut up.” Cradling my hand to my belly, tears of pain leaking from my eyes, I glared at him. “I don’t want to love you anymore, Jeremiah Hamilton,” I said, my voice cracking on his name. “It hurts too much.”
Not wanting him to see any more of my tears, I turned toward the door. The two guards parted to give me enough room to pass. I made my escape, fleeing upstairs to the empty cabin room and praying nobody would see me.
CHAPTER 6
I would have given into the temptation of staying inside for the rest of the trip had Captain Matthews not knocked on my door the next morning. “We just entered the Caribbean,” he called through the door. “Thought you might want to have breakfast with one hell of a view.”
The urge to say nothing, sit inside my little box and avoid any and all people to sulk, was strong. However, I’d never seen the Caribbean before; the furthest south my family had ever gone was the Carolinas for vacation. I got dressed silently, realizing it was rude not to acknowledge his offer, but when I opened the door the grizzled sea captain was still outside.
He whistled when he saw my wrapped hand. “I’ll take a look at that when we get up top. Rumor is you tried to take down that bigger brother; looks like you gave it a hell of a shot.”
I said nothing, but felt a traitorous smile tip one side of my lips. “He had it coming.”
“I’ll bet. Come on, Frank’s broken out the pineapple. Our little tradition whenever we’re down this way.”
Following the older man up onto the deck, something inside me eased as the warm sun caressed my skin. Being cooped up in that windowless room, I realized, had kept me grumpy; my mood immediately lightened as I took in the sunny skies. The boat still rocked in the waves, but not nearly as badly as it had when we were further north. Refreshed, I climbed the steps up into the captain’s deck to find Frank and Lucas already started eating.
“Hang on lass, let me get some ice for you.”
Matthews busied himself putting ice into a plastic bag, but when Lucas saw my swollen hand his jaw immediately clenched. He was beside me in an instant, picking up my arm delicately; I moved away, not all that happy with the Hamilton men at the moment, but he persisted. Thankfully he didn’t touch the still-painful digit, just giving it a close look. My knuckles had swollen overnight but I’d refused to put up a fuss. Pain medication and wrapping the hand in a towel before going to bed let me sleep.