Pirate Wolf Trilogy by Canham Marsha

Author:Canham, Marsha
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, adventure, historical romance, pirates, sea battles, trilogy, adventure romance, sunken treasure, spanish main, pirate wolf
Publisher: Marsha Canham

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Heave, damn you! Put your weight behind it!”

Exasperated, Juliet vaulted over the deck rail and joined the men who were in the process of winching a heavy thirty-two pounder on board the Iron Rose. An inspection of the guns had revealed a hairline crack in one of the barrels, a flaw that could prove fatal if the cannon overheated and blew apart. The crew had disassembled the gun carriage and slung ropes around the barrel to hoist it out of the cradle and drop it over the side.

Juliet wrapped her gloved hands around the cable and added her weight to that of the men heaving and straining to lift the brass culverin into its wooden cradle. The effort left her winded after only a few moments and she found herself sweating and gritting her teeth to keep her feet from skidding out beneath her. Though she refused to think about it, she knew full well why her energy reserves were depleted. She knew it every time she walked or sat or ran her tongue across lips that felt so puffed and tender she imagined every man on board the Rose was snickering out the corners of their mouths.

She still wasn’t entirely sure herself what had happened last night, how she had ended up in Varian St. Clare’s bed. She had been restless, too full of herself—and wine—after her triumphant return to the Cay, and all that coltish energy had somehow been converted to lust. Now, in the harsh light of day, every scrap of wind that pushed her shirt against her skin had her nipples peaking like small beacons, every time her hair swept her neck or cheek she imagined it was his lips searching, nuzzling, whispering against her ear.

The tenderness between her thighs was a constant reminder. She ached in places she had not known she could ache. When she glanced up—innocently or otherwise—toward the big stone house on the hill, all she could see was the bed they had shared, the splash of his dark hair on the pillow, the sprawl of his naked body on the bed. That would, in turn, make her remember how he had looked last night with the candlelight gilding his shoulders, his muscles bunching and flexing as he arched above her, his every sinew straining with intent.

She should never have touched him. It had been a foolish, reckless, careless impulse and she was no better off for having burned half the night away in his arms. This was no time to be distracted by a handsome face, an incredibly inventive mouth, or a dangerously seductive body. Dear God, he had only needed to trace a fingertip along her hip to bring her crawling over his thighs.

Worse, she had crept out of the bed like a thief before dawn. She had come on board the Iron Rose and worked alongside the men, hoping that pure physical exhaustion would erase any more foolish thoughts she might have.

The rope slipped through her gloves and she scrambled for a fresh purchase.

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