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against hers made her senses reel. She felt breathless, dizzy, as though she tumbled head for heels, swept toward some distant shore on a rushing, crashing wave.
    She knew she could end the kiss. For all his bone-squeezing hold, Blake wouldn’t force her to give more than they’d agreed upon. She’d taken enough of his measure by now to know she could jerk her head back, push out of his arms and call the matter done.
    She should do just that. A tenuous thread of common sense told her clinging to him like this was dangerous. Yet everything that was female in her gloried in the feel of him, the hardness of him.
    His heart pounded beneath her palm. His muscles corded as taut as an anchor cable. His shaft rose to strain against her hip, thick and round and stiff as a ship’s mast behind the flap of his trousers. In response, a liquid heat swirled low in Sarah’s belly. She ached to let the fires burn out of control once, just this once.
    And why should she not?
    The question speared through the swirling mists and lanced into her heart. James had sent her to seduce this man. Why not take what pleasure she could, whilst she could? Why not give substance to the reputation she’d woven for herself over the years with her reckless daring and disdain for the conventions?
    Why not taste passion, just this once?
    Blake must have sensed something of her tumultuous thought. Slowly, inexorably, he did whatSarah could not bring herself to. Raising his head, he broke the spell.
    Or so she thought, until she looked into his eyes. They blazed down at her, lit with the same hunger that gripped her. In that one reckless moment, she committed herself to the flames.
    “Don’t speak,” she whispered. “Please! Just…Just take what I offer.”
    Pinpoints of blue sparked in his eyes as anger crowded aside desire. “I’ve already told you,” he snapped. “You aren’t required to sacrifice yourself for Sir James.”
    It took every ounce of courage she possessed to admit the truth. “This would not be for James. It…It would be for me.”
    The whispered admission stunned Richard. Had Carpenter’s Mate Jenkins spoken the truth? Were the shipboard rumors true? Was the lady indeed no better than a waterfront whore?
    His instincts said no, that there were forces at work he didn’t understand. Yet here she was, offering herself to him like a two-penny slut. Damned if he wouldn’t show her how close he was to taking what she offered. Tightening his arm, he canted her hips and pressed her belly hard against his.
    “You can feel how much I want you. If we start again, know that I won’t stop at a kiss.”
    “Nor will I.”
    The husky promise dragged hard on the sea anchor Richard had tried to throw out. The naked need in her face snapped its cable right in half.
    He didn’t begin to understand the dark currents swirling between this glorious creature and Lowell. At this point, he didn’t want to understand them. All he knew, all he cared about, was that the lady burned as hot for him as he did for her.
    More than willing to accommodate her, Richard swooped down and captured her mouth with his once more. She arched against him, supple as a swan and every bit as sleek. Arms twined around his neck, body straining against his, she made no attempt to hide the hunger that mounted with every breath, every slide of breast against chest, belly against hip.
    They were both panting when he dragged down her arms and turned her around. His body screamed at him to lift her skirts, unbutton his trousers and give them both the release they craved. They had not much time.
    Still, he couldn’t bring himself to simply bend her over the table and rut with her. Despite the doubts Jenkins had planted, despite the fact Richard was already sweating with the effort of holding back, he would take her with some attempt at finesse.
    A few quick fumbles freed her hair from its pins. It spilled over her shoulders and down her back, a river of gold-tipped red.