Virgin Star by Jennifer Horsman Read Free Book Online

lined the floor. The man had enormous feet! She searched through the finely tailored clothes: cotton and silk shirts, a number of coats, short sack and formal, a riding cape, and dozens of trousers, all of them huge. Nothing she might wear without drawing more attention than if she were bare-skinned.
    Had the degenerate undressed her, then hid her clothes?
    Her hands went clammy, her legs went numb. Panic stole her breath. She closed her eyes, feeling feverish with confusion. For the love of God, what was happening to her?
    She steadied her pulse and breathing. She needed answers even more than she needed clothes. With no choice, she abandoned the clothes closet and returned to the bed. She climbed a top. Light as a whisper, not touching him at all, she straddled the sleeping giant. She held her small weight poised as the razor-sharp edge of the blade rested a hairline from his jugular vein. She knew the exact point to cut and with how much force.
    She knew it from experience.
    The same hard-earned experience guided a keen intelligent assessment of her victim. Unusually tall for a man—he would be awkward and slow. Sleeping on his back with his hands behind his head as if he had not a care in the world. As if he might wake whistling. He had impressive biceps, and the telling display of athletic veins beneath sun-washed skin said these muscles were well exercised. The uncommon strength could only be got by simple hard labor. No doubt he was dull-witted to boot.
    No matter. The numerous scars on his upper arms and shoulders suggested that while he might be a veteran fighter, he had been frequently wounded. Long blond hair as straight as straw seemed to indicate he was indolent and slatternly. The stranger's rugged features were handsome and striking: a broad forehead, a long face, thick bushy brows, and high cheekbones, prominent large nose, strong square-cut jaw, and generous mouth. This was of no import. Only his answers mattered.
    Seanessy's dreams filled with images of the girl he treasured, Ram, his much-loved brother, and his nephews, little Sean and Joshua. They swam in the sea as Chinese junks filled with dark-skinned people surrounded them, shooting poisoned pellets from blowguns while laughing at their frantic struggle. The laughter sounded louder than a wailing wind.
    In this dream he watched from his ship's bow, tossing coins in the air, as O’Connell, Clives, and Wilson shouted from his side. He couldn't understand what they were saying. He only knew the desperation to save Joy and Ram arid their two boys more precious than any other life, and a mounting terror as the coins kept landing facedown.
    "Kill first! Wonder later!"
    The amber gaze watching him narrowed, before she realized the man was dreaming.
    A dream changed, altered, grew, with the sudden feel of a slight weight riding him. Hot and always filled with lust in the mornings, Seanessy’s dream faded, changing with images of Molly's red hair, her plump figure riding him as his hands curved around her heavy voluptuous breasts.
    He opened his eyes.
    Only to see this was not Molly. His disappointment felt swift and powerful as he woke to see thick and crinkled gold hair tumbling over a nightshirt, framing a flushed face and brillant amber eyes. Absolutely dazzling eyes, he saw. Paper-thin, raven-black brows arched over the shining pools, the color startling against the gold-blond hair: He felt the slim thighs a hair's breadth from his skin. Heat grew in that mercilessly thin space where they almost touched.
    "Child, I like my women wanting, but comely as you are, you look too young and definitely too frail." He sighed and relaxed into the pillows, closing his eyes again, trying to remember who she was. "I'd likely rip you in two."
    This made no sense to her, and her brow creased with confusion. Seanessy's mind was coining fully awake, but he still could not remember where he had seen the girl before. He opened his eyes again and demanded, "Who the devil are