Free Blind Allegiance by Violetta Rand

iniquity.
    By the time the only candle in the room had burned down to a waxy nub, Noelle had been tossed and turned about the windowless cabin more than a dozen times. She had sailed on many occasions between southern England and Ireland, always nestled closely to the shoreline, but the open sea was perilous. She eyed a bruised elbow, and now her left knee stung, too. Enough was enough, no more tumbles off the bed. She stripped the covers and made a bed roll on the floor.
    Howling winds buffeted the ship. She imagined the black-capped waves ripping holes in the polished wood and nearly vomited when the ship went vertical. She grabbed the bed frame to stay stationary. The vessel surged upward again and came crashing down. Noelle bounced and landed hard. The worst jolt yet.
    She had to get out of there, trembling as she imagined a watery grave. Pray Noelle Marie—pray fervently . With no rosary beads or prayer book to read from, she had to rely on verses or prayers she had memorized over the years. Heart pounding, she prostrated herself. Comforting visions of an earthly paradise eased her mind as she whispered the verses over and over again. Surely, no harm could befall her wrapped in the protective arms of her beloved Christ.
    Hours later, the door burst open. A dripping-wet Randvior stepped inside and almost tripped over her. He muttered something under his breath as she turned and watched him walk to the cupboard. He opened it, withdrew a new taper, and lit it by the wick of the nearly spent candle. He placed it in a holder he picked up off the floor as she sat up.
    The worst must be over for he would have never abandoned his men in the middle of a squall. She visualized what he must look like working the riggings and sail with those strong arms. In the muted candlelight, his eyes were purely electric, any amusement long gone. With his wind-blown hair and raw masculinity seeping from every pore of his body, he looked as untamed as the ocean. Dangerous conditions could break any man. And she feared a tempest of this proportion stirred her companion’s emotions. Eyes are the windows to the soul and his spoke violence.
    He knelt and ran his fingers over the curve of her hip. His eyes never wandered from her face. “Stand up,” he commanded.
    She obeyed.
    Randvior looked capable of striking at any moment. Unsure and afraid, she stiffened when he climbed to his feet and towered over her. A moment of silence passed between them, but she heard the thunder of war drums pounding in her ears. A spell of nausea was followed by a wave of guilt because she knew she was wrong for wondering what it would feel like to be buried in those massive arms.
    “What were you doing on the floor?”
    “I . . . was . . . praying . . . for the soul of this ship,” she stuttered.
    He nodded.
    Noelle lost courage. Nothing could protect her from this man. Suddenly, Randvior leaned down; his tongue was hot and hard as it broke the plane of her lips. Naturally, she wanted to fight, threaten, and scream—maybe escape. Everything seemed wrong as strange sensations seared through her flesh. Hadn’t she anticipated this moment the first time they met? A telling premonition or perhaps she needed something only he could offer. Release after years of holding back her deepest feelings and hostility. She knew she should deny him, but this felt too good and she could not suppress her desire any longer.
    Randvior’s tongue probed deeper and she opened to him. He groaned inside her mouth and it reverberated up her spine. She matched his scorching kisses with virginal exuberance as a large hand cupped her right breast, and the other anchored her against him. Calloused fingertips prodded and tickled the hardening nipple through her dress.
    He licked his way down the column of her neck, moving his tongue in tiny circular patterns. His hands dropped lower, utterly delighting her, exploring every inch of flesh between her stomach and upper thighs. He paused when