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India Rookwood, daughter of an English lord, flees her country home in Scotland to escape her arranged marriage. She spends the night in the safety of Craogh Falloch only to be discovered by pirates. Taken to their captain, she sizes up the well built blond pirate reminiscent of the Vikings of old. She stands up to him and his demands, discovering in short order she stood before The Falcon, notorious pirate of legend and her father’s mortal enemy. From that moment on, India questions whether she can stand the against the tide of HIS WICKED INTENTIONS.
EXCERPT
Captain Rafe Blackthorne watched his men amble down the hill with a strange, resistant figure in front of them. It was a woman from the way her thin gown flapped in the breeze, and from her gait, she did not seem a bit happy about coming aboard his ship. Where did they find her? He growled low. No matter. He would frighten her into never coming back to this area again. The less people knew about his hiding place, the better.
He leaned against the mizzen mast with his thumbs casually jammed into the worn waistband of his threadbare breeches, idly watching her approach. Her presence could prove interesting. He hadn't had a woman aboard his ship for nearly a year, at least not since Jamaica. That particular female had been a whore who had stowed away in the hopes of heading toward a new life elsewhere. What she discovered later had been his price for her freedom. He had enjoyed himself quite thoroughly with his payment but had grown bored with her quickly so he dropped her off at the next port.
The new woman possessed hair as black as night, tumbling down her slender shoulders in soft, cascading waves. Her lithe form possessed high breasts, indicative of youth. He frowned. He would have guessed her to be much older from her stride.
She stormed up his gangplank, her fists clenched at her sides. His men halted their work and cast their gazes to this newcomer, a mixture of curiosity and lust written on their features. Grayson and the others lumbered up behind her. "Get moving, gel! Me captain is waiting!"
Rafe watched the expression on her face deepen. Her cheeks burned a deep crimson, a color he found extremely attractive. A woman normally did not sport such a hue until she left a man's bed.
"Where is this captain you speak of?"
He smirked. She possessed a fiery nature, one he could see himself enjoying.
She threw a look over her slender pale shoulder and noticed him. Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you looking at?"
"You."
"I wish you to refrain from looking at me. I doubt whether your captain would be pleased at this."
Rafe couldn't help but smile. He stood and towered over her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, he would be." He reacted instantly beneath his breeches to the whiskey-colored depths of her eyes, a mixture of innocence with a hint of deep secrecy. A slash of black lashes, a shade darker than her hair, framed those pretty orbs.
An inky eyebrow rose. "How so?" Her plump lips, rosy and red, emanated a silent enticement to be kissed. Perhaps he would have to accept her invitation and find out what else lay beneath her perfect exterior.
"Because I'm the captain."
Her shoulders fell back and her well-formed jaw dropped. "Yo -- you're the captain? You're the Black Falcon?"
His gaze traveled down, and he noticed the way her lovely breasts rose and fell in a quick rhythm, almost as if she could not control herself around him. He liked that -- sometimes. "Why do you find that so shocking?"
"No reason." She turned her face away from his as if she couldn't bear to look at him another moment more. "Why am I here?"
He turned to his first mate. "Why have you brought her?"
Grayson scratched his grizzled chin. "Well, Cap'n, I found her in ye cave, and I thought 'tis best I brung her."
"Good." Rafe turned to his new captive. "Who are you, girl?"
She lifted her blazing amber stare to face him, the previous emotions deepening and arousing the sleeping beast of desire within. "I will tell you if you let me go."
He took a reflexive step forward and gripped her slender arms. "Not until you tell me, will I let you go." Lust nipped at Rafe's loins as he visually caressed her face. Strong cheekbones framed her face, almost seemingly created by the finest sculptor, making for a perfect setting for her pert nose.
She lifted her determined jaw. "India."
"What an unusual name. Tell me, how did you come by it?"
"My parents named me after the country I was born in."
He shifted in his position. From the angle of her jaw to the curve of her cheek, she enticed him. He looked down again. She possessed a body he could see himself buried in all night. Gentle curves graced her form, from the gentle slope of her feminine shoulders to the indent of her waist. He could only imagine the treasures between those slender thighs -- his rod lengthened beneath his breeches. He shifted uneasily. "What's your last name?"
"Rookwood."
A cold chill passed up Rafe's spine, and he stiffened. That damned name! He ground his teeth in order to keep his emotions at bay. "Since I keep my promises, I will let you go, but not before I have shown you my hospitality as well as begged your forgiveness." He cast a glance to Grayson. "Take her to my cabin where she may wash in privacy."
Grayson tipped his fingers. "Aye, Cap'n." With that, Grayson guided India Rookwood from his sight to his cabin where she could clean up a bit.
Rafe smiled. What fortunate luck his enemy's daughter had fallen right into his hands, though he had not properly laid a trap for her, at least not yet. Rookwood would probably be worried sick. From what he knew of the evil bastard, he would stop at nothing to rescue his precious pawn. Well, Rookwood's search for his daughter would be useless. By the time Rafe did as he wished with her, the only good place for the girl would be a brothel or convent. After that, his revenge would be complete, and Ophelia's honor restored.
Rafe waited for Grayson to return then signaled his first mate over. The older man limped over and tipped his short, grubby fingers. "Tell the men to gather everything on board."
Grayson's gray eyebrows shot up. "We settin' sail so soon?"
"Yes. Be ready at eight bells."
"A delightful adventure with kidnappings, pirates, exotic locations, and sea battles that will keep you entertained to the very end. I am looking forward to reading more titles by Ms. Ranson."
Celtic Debbie -- The Romance Studio
Rating = 4 Hearts
"Tracy L. Ranson's historical romance novel starts dramatically and is absolutely riveting throughout... I thoroughly enjoyed this well-plotted, fast-paced story."
Snapdragon -- Long and Short Reviews
Rating = 4 Books
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