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report of this at once,” Stapleton said as he grabbed a pair of breeches and bolted for the door.
    In a flash Liam pulled his pistol and trained it on Stapleton's head.
    “That won't be necessary, O'Shea. If Johnny knows what's good for him, he'll make that report without mentioning exactly where he got such information. Right, John?” Grace leveled her eyes in an unnerving stare.
    “But of course, milady. No one would believe that the Lady Whitmore was actually the notorious Captain O'Malley, anyway.”
    “It's just that kind of wisdom that will keep you alive long enough to be appointed governor yourself someday,” she smiled at him.
    Stapleton ran from the room before terror could overtake him. The poor manservant scrabbled across the floor in his wake.
    Liam chuckled once they were alone. “That worked out pretty well, I'd say,” he grinned to himself.
    Like a viper striking, Grace slapped him across the jaw. “You foolish idiot, you very nearly ruined everything with that stunt,” she hissed and spat.
    “If I had waited much longer, you would have had to take the pleasure of his bed again.”
    “He was more adventuresome than most,” she muttered.
    Liam grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her close. “The passion that burns deep inside you is too dangerous for most men to take. They would be consumed in the conflagration,” he breathed hotly against her ear.
    “And you are not like most men?”
    “You need someone who burns as fiercely as you do, Grace.” To prove his point, he burned a scorching kiss upon her mouth.
    He trapped her body against his own, but as the kiss began to fade, she regained her senses. She forced her arms between them and with all the strength she could command, she shoved him away.
    “Passion's fires, indeed,” she sneered. “I've been burned by you before, Liam O'Shea. You can be sure I won't be doing that again.” Her eyes were bright with deep anger and old pain.
    In a moment of defeat, Liam dropped himself to the edge of the bed and held his face in his hands.
    “Every time I'm in the same room with you, I burn. When you're gone, I ache. You are nothing but constant torment to me,” he murmured, almost moaned. His voice was barely audible in the quiet room. “Please, Grace, end my misery.”
    Somehow he had managed to soften some of the scars he'd left on her heart. She took two steps forward to reach him where he sat. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and planted a kiss upon his head. He dropped his hands and caressed her bare ankles. A sigh crossed her lips as she wrapped him in her arms and cradled his head against her heart.
    Her heartbeat gently pulsed in his ear and her womanly scent filled his nostrils, and he began to caress her bare feet and work his hands up her legs. Without much thought, she began to rub the back of his neck. As his warm hands reached the back of her bare thighs, she cupped his jaw and tilted his face up to hers. His eyes were soft, but beginning to darken with the wildness that resided within.
    Her eyes closed as his mouth drew nearer to hers. The warmth of his mouth burned hers like a shot of the finest rum. The kiss ignited the inferno within both of them. He grasped the roundness of her bottom in each hand and pulled her closer. Her head dropped back as he began to kiss and bite her brests.
    A sweet throaty moan escaped from her. Liam released his grip and tugged the nightdress off over her head. She took a step back to escape the gown and stood naked before him, wrapped in nothing but the light streaming in from the window.
    Burning for the full touch of her flesh against his own, Liam tugged off his shirt and breeches. His cutlass fell clanging to the floor. He pulled Grace down onto the bed with him.
    “So help me, Grace, but I need to claim you for myself or wither away without ye,” he whispered hoarsely to her as he kissed, petted, and wrapped himself around her.
    She felt her own need for the kind of fulfillment he