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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 26

Devious Plans

The knock came again. Kate glared at the door as if she could eviscerate the idiot on the other side. “For crying out loud, come in!” But all she could produce was a strained whisper, as if she’d been sobbing in her sleep. Which was ridiculous. Really.

Footsteps moved away, a voice murmuring something to the receptionist.

With a muttered oath, she sprang to her feet, knocked her hip on the corner of the desk and cursed even louder. Rubbing the sore spot, she wrenched the door open. At the far end of the corridor, the receptionist was reaching forward to take a pile of documents from a man with long blond hair, confined in a neat pony tail. He wore an elegantly tailored suit in a charcoal gray. Shazelle’s upturned face was a study in feminine appreciation.

Peter had had hair like that.

Ruthlessly, Kate slammed the lid down before the thought could take on a life of its own. She made a mental note to do a background check on the Rossetti woman. There had to be some dirt somewhere. Everyone had a dirty little secret.

“No problem,” Shazelle was saying, heavily mascaraed eyelashes fluttering like centipedes on speed. “I’ll see she gets them.”

The man murmured something in response that made the girl flush with pleasure. Straightening, he turned toward the foyer and the elevators, his lean body moving with compact grace. Fine, very fine, thought Kate, enjoying the scenery. Of course, Armani did tend to have that effect. The elevator swished open, the man entered, pressed the button and about-faced.

Holy shit.

Designer spectacles that magnified glorious sea-blue eyes, a straight nose, sexy mouth.

“Peter.” She thought she’d shouted, but the word got strangled in her throat.

He gave her a quick appreciative glance up and down, all male. But after a second, his grin stalled, a crease appearing between his brows. The doors of the elevator slid closed on his puzzled face.

“No, no!” She pounded at the `up’ button, almost sobbing with frustration. “Come back, come back!”

***

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I’m terminating Yahoo with EXTREME PREJUDICE.

BOOOOOM!!!

It might be free, but hell - you get what you pay for! I’ve been using Yahoo for my monthly newsletter since the very first issue (in May 2006) and I have finally had EEEENOUGH!

From this moment on, I’ve shifted my newsletter - that is, my whole newsletter ‘family’ - to another service. One that’s professional. Sure, it costs, but dammit, it actually works!

CLICK HERE TO SUBSCRIBE!

There are free gifts on joining. *hint, hint*  *cackle*

(NOTE: Existing subscribers should have come along for the ride. If you’re worried about anything, email me and I’ll sort it out.)

I love these folk, they really are ‘family’ to me, and I try to offer them special stuff that you can’t get elsewhere - exclusive excerpts, free books, regular contests, glimpses of my life. Then of course, there’s the ongoing saga of Rackety Kate and the Pirates.  *grin*

So what does Yahell do???

Hah! It stops sending the newsletter to bunches of my faithful subscribers.  And it’s totally random - differs from one month to the next. If I send the newsletter a second time in a month, it doesn’t help, the same people miss out and the rest are irritated by getting it twice.

Either I look like a slack tart who doesn’t care and can’t be bothered, or an overanxious pest who floods your inbox.   Grrr…

Right. *settles feathers* Rant over. Thanks for listening. I’ve changed all the links on my website and this blog to point to the new service.  If you’re not already a member of my ‘family’, give it a try. Sheesh, sounds like a serial killers’ commune, doesn’t it? I’m harmless. Honest. Heh heh.

Anyone else have something they’d like to get off their chest about Yahell? *snort*

 It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 25

Bumps and Briefs

The story so far:
Duka and the Duchess, Harley and Chan, all disappear into the night, well-satisfied. Kate’s pretty happy too, cuddling up with Jack and dropping off into a happily exhausted sleep. If it wasn’t for the ominous tap, tap, tapping of the Rossetti woman’s keyboard…

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Sometime during the night, Kate woke, tears streaming down her cheeks – even though she never cried. She couldn’t recall the substance of her dreams, but her arms and legs were twined about Jack’s sleeping form as if he were about to be torn from her. Over the regular soothing boom of the surf, she heard the sound she dreaded - tap, tap, tappity, tap. Stubbornly, she clung even harder.

“No,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I won’t leave him. You can’t make me.”

Tap, tap, tap. The sound sped up, the little clicks running together, merging into a long murmuring rush like tropical rain on the roof. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

Kate’s eyelids drooped like lead shutters. She struggled. “Jack!” She shook his shoulder.

Jack opened one sleepy hazel eye. “Humpf?” he said.

“Hold onto me! Don’t let me go!”

“‘Course not.” Jack slid a warm, appreciative palm over the curve of Kate’s backside. “Never gonna…let…you…let…you…” His words trailed away and his lashes fluttered down.

“Jack? Jack!” When she tried to rouse him, he simply drew her closer, nuzzling the skin under her ear, mumbling unintelligibly. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was drunk. “Hate you, Rossetti,” she muttered. “Hate—” But she was overtaken by a jaw-cracking yawn. Her head swam, images flashing by beneath her eyelids – Duka, with the Duchess over his knee, her upraised bottom a delightful stinging pink; Peter, stretching up to release Tom Cavanagh’s bonds and Tom flushing brick red as he did it; Harley’s bad boy grin and dark tossing curls; the Comte de Nothos, his pale perfect body and shining pointy teeth. Then there was Jack – his tiger gaze, his body cradling hers as they floated in the jungle pool, his hard length buried as deep inside her as it would go. His kisses – hot and wet and searching, tender and coaxing.

Everyone she’d met on Sweet Sisters Isle had found their happiness, even Ess and Tess, the Hormone Harlots. There was nothing left for her to do – except love Jack for the rest of her life. Oh God. Nothing left to do. Nothing at all.

Each vision pulled her further into the dark velvet of unconsciousness, sleep cushioning her like a soft warm blanket, safe forever in Jack’s arms.

It was a lie. She wasn’t safe at all.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 24

Beginnings and Endings

The story so far:
Duka and the Duchess appear to have formed some sort of pact. Meanwhile, Harley and Chan are moving things right along to their inevitable conclusion – until the clock chimes. Oh, no! They’ve run out of time!

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Duka turned his head, his cheek brushing against the soft, white skin of the Duchess’s belly. Imperiously, he snarled, “Don’t stop, ye bastards. You started this, are ye men enough to finish it?”

Out in the garden, Kate held her breath, Jack equally motionless beneath her. The playful little breeze had dropped, the night air balmy and still. Thank God, the crazy Rossetti woman had shut up, not even the faintest tappity, tap of her fingers on the keyboard.

“Oh aye,” growled Harley. “I’m man enough to make ye scream.”

The First Mate was shuddering now, full body tremors, head to toe. Gritting his teeth, he grunted a negative. The Duchess pressed even closer, whispering in his ear.

Harley leaned forward to sling a muscled arm around Duka’s neck. “You’ll never last,” he hissed. “Give it up for me, man.”

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 23

Racing the Clock

The story so far:
Duka is proving remarkably recalcitrant about his submission. The time he promised is slipping away when Harley has an inspiration.

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Kate locked her ankles in the small of Jack’s back and wrapped her arms around his neck. With a luxurious wriggle, she ground down harder on the magnificent length inside her. God, he was buried so deep, she swore she could feel him under her heart. Only then did she follow his gaze.

Her mouth dropped open. Who cared if this was a dream? She’d never forget it - ever.

His hands chained above his head, Duka knelt in the centre of the floor like some pagan sacrifice, his taut body an offering to the dark gods of lust. His head was tilted right back, the Duchess leaning over him, his head cradled in her pale hands, feasting on his mouth. Chan sprawled in front of him, propped up on a pile of pillows, slightly in profile to Kate and Jack, out in the garden. The position meant Kate could see the necklace of dark bruises decorating the smooth strong column of this throat. It also meant she could observe his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to swallow Duka’s fabulous girth. Kate’s mouth watered, just looking. She couldn’t imagine what effect the sight must be having on the Duchess, but every few seconds, the other woman flicked a glance at the tableau from under her downswept lashes. Duka eyes were tightly shut and beads of sweat dotted his brow. His chest heaved with the force of his respiration.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 22

Love’s a Trap

The story so far:
Jack and Kate are safely hidden in the garden, ready to witness Duka’s submission to Harley and Chan. But no one has counted on the Duchess – except, perhaps, Duka.

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

“I hate you,” the Duchess said. “God, how I hate you.” Without warning, she went up on her tiptoes, kissing Duka so hard she almost knocked him back a step. Reaching up, she raked the blindfold away.

In the process, she cannoned into Harley’s arm. He cursed and Duka grunted. But the First Mate’s huge hands came up and clamped onto the Duchess’s shoulders, pulling her hard into his chest. They both hissed when her pale breasts collided with the hard slabs of his chest.

“Ah sweetheart,” mumbled Duka against her lips.

“Shit, can ye hear yerself, man?” snorted Harley.

With a flick of one big brown paw, Duka sent him reeling into the wall, so hard the building shook. Rebounding, Harley disappeared into a pile of cushions. The First Mate didn’t even look up.

Kate pressed her face into Jack’s warm, hard chest to stifle a giggle. His whisper stirred the hair on her temple. “Told ye.”

By the time Harley’s head had emerged from the devouring embrace of silks and satins, the Duchess had half-climbed Duka’s body as if he were a tree, a sturdy jungle giant. He had one palm braced under her raised thigh, his other arm cinched around her waist.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 21

Spectator Sport

The story so far:

The auction’s over. As Jack promised, everyone seems to have obtained their heart’s desire – except Duka. Desperately worried about the First Mate’s Happy Ending, Kate follows Jack into the forests of Sweet Sisters Isle

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Warm lights twinkled in the darkness ahead. Kate tugged on Jack’s hand, drawing him to a halt on the path. “Wait,” she said. “Jack, this is all wrong. Duka’s not the right sort of man. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

Jack gazed down at her, his eyes fathomless pools in the moonlight. “Oh ye of little faith.” In the dark shadow if his trim beard, his teeth flashed in a grin. “Is Peter happy, do you think?”

Kate quivered as a warm questing breeze caressed the nape of her neck. Even without the assistance of the Hormone Harlots, her imagination supplied a mental picture of Peter entwined with big Tom Cavanagh. Peter was nuzzling the First Officer’s chest, his hands busy somewhere else out of sight. Tom’s head fell back and his mouth opened in a helpless groan of pleasure. Kate could have sworn she heard Peter’s delighted chuckle floating on the still night air. “Uh, I guess so,” she said.

“Remember how you pleaded for him, pretty Kate? The crafty little shit.”

Kate wet her lips. “Perhaps I did.” She stiffened her spine and glared. “What of it?”

“I said you’d owe me for that.”

“I never agreed to any such thing!”

Jack’s grin had the devil in it. “Near enough, sweetheart.” He caught her up against his chest, brushing his warm lips over hers in a tingling caress. “Near enough.”

When he set her down, Kate had to clutch at his arm for a moment.

“C’mon,” he said. “Just around the bend.”

Every nerve ending throbbing in concert, Kate let him wrap her fingers in his and draw her forward.

Duka’s home turned out to be very like Jack’s, a large palm-thatched bungalow, but Jack led her to an inconspicuous gate half-hidden by a great overhang of some delicious-smelling flowering vine. Bending his head, he murmured, “You can speak, but not too loudly. All right?”

At Kate’s nod, he opened the gate, ushering her into a dark space full of the gentle rustle of fronds and the pale faces of topical blossoms. Cool, velvety grass brushed her ankles as he led her over to a rattan-cane couch, long and low, furnished lavishly with pillows and cushions and throw-rugs.

In contrast, the empty room they looked into was lit up like a stage, big brass lanterns hanging from the rafters, sliding screens drawn away to open it up one entire to the night breeze. To anyone indoors, she and Jack would be cloaked by the darkness of the garden, virtually invisible.

Voyeurs.

***

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Don’t know what a twofer is? No, not a toothache! It’s a cricketing term, though more usually cricketers talk about a “five-fer” - that is, a bowler taking five wickets in an innings.

Well, my dears, I’ve got me a TWOFER - and I’m so pleased and proud I could just burst!

You may remember STRONGMAN was a finalist in the Passionate Plume Awards for erotic romance (Futuristic/Fantasy/SciFI category). Well, it WON!!!!

Yip-yip-yipee!!

That is wonderful enough, but the most exquisite icing on the cake is that this makes TWO YEARS IN A ROW. (Sorry about the shouting, BTW. I’m a trifle - ahem - excited. *grin*) TAILSPIN won the same category last year.

Is that not cool?

 I’ll have a pair of these cute charms to put on my bracelet. 

I am writer, hear me jangle. *smile*

I’ve had a quick look at the list of Passionate Plume winners and I don’t think anyone else has got a twofer before. But then, I was very excited at the time, so I could have missed it. (Passionate Ink is a Special Interest Chapter of Romance Writers of America for erotic romance writers.)

The other reason I’m so pleased is that STRONGMAN is a male/male erotic romance and this is an “open” category. The judges must have considered not only the fantasy aspects, but the love story strong enough to win.

Don’t forget, members of my monthly newsgroup can read the free epilogue to STRONGMAN (try a taste here). You can join the newsletter here.

And I’ll be offering a free download of STRONGMAN in my next newsletter (in the next few days) to celebrate. Be there or be square. *grin*

 It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 20

Shrink to Fit

The story so far:

Somehow, Peter has managed to obtain not only Tom Cavanagh, but also his cat, the Lady Meroe. Now there’s only the Comte left. But who’ll be brave enough to bid?

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

The stage was strangely empty without Tom’s huge glowering presence and Peter’s sweet smile. Duka turned to wither the Comte de Nothos with a warning glare. “Keep yer mouth shut, matey, if ye know what’s good for you.”

By way of answer, the Comte’s lips pulled back from his teeth exposing his pointed canines. As his fists clenched, the lamplight gleamed off the silver chains around his wrists. Kate stared. She’d seen him flinch as sparks arced off the metal. Or had she?

Transylvanian Central Casting, without a doubt. She’d thought it from the first moment. That crazy Rossetti.

“Should be interesting,” murmured Jack, his breath stirring her hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at their faces.”

Kate studied the crowd. For once, the pirates were relatively subdued, muttering together, flicking sidelong glances at the lithe, dangerous form of the Comte.

What am I bid?” shouted Duka.

Silence.

Then, “A keg o’ brandy!”

“Three bolts o’ raw silk!”

“Five gold doubloons!”

Duka sighed as he glanced at Jack. “Cap’n?”

Jack shook his head.

Duka turned back to the crowd. “Ye ain’t even reached reserve, ye craven bastards.”

“If ye like him so much, take him yerself!” yelled the pirate with the eye patch.

Kate clutched Jack’s arm. “You promised!”

“Promised what?” His teeth grazed her earlobe as if he were deciding which delicious portion of her body to devour first.

Kate twisted to stare straight into those gold-shot hazel eyes. “You said the magic of Sweet Sisters Isle would work – that they’d all find their heart’s desire.” Thinking of the Comte’s sinister handsome face, his darkly seductive voice, she shivered. “Even him.” The words came out in a shaky whisper. Not like her at all.

Jack’s brow darkened. “Why won’t you trust me, Kate? I always—”

He needs someone to love, observed Ess, alighting on the toe of Jack’s boot and slithering down to recline against his top of his foot like a tiny, pink-clad houri.

***

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Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 19

Delightfully Devious

The story so far:
Duka has won his Duchess, but at the highest cost possible for a man like him. But he has a job to do. There are still more goods for sale…

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Duka stepped out from behind the screen. “Settle down, rot ye!” he roared.

One by one, the pirates quieted, save for the occasional rumble of laughter.

His natural dignity unimpaired, Duka eyed the crowd with profound disfavour. “We have an auction to finish, goods unsold. Shall we get on with it, shipmates?”

“Aye!” The shout echoed around the forest.

“But I thought we’d see…” whispered Kate to Jack. “You know…Duka.”

He was holding her so closely that when he chuckled, she felt the reverberation through her whole body. Goose bumps of delight paraded down her spine. “You thought pirates weren’t capable of self-control? Harley and Chan will wait a little for their pleasure, you’ll see.”

Actually, it was the Rossetti woman Kate had her doubts about. Fortunately, the excellent common sense of her readers kept the crazy one in check. They wouldn’t rush headlong into sensual gratification, no way. A smug smile curved her lips. Rossetti’s readers were people of restraint and self-discipline, intelligent and discerning in their pleasures.

Absently, she nuzzled Jack’s shoulder, thinking how wonderful he smelled, of clean linen and warm healthy man. Sighing, she glanced up in time to see Harley and Chan tugging the screens aside as fast as they were able.

The scene on the stage hadn’t changed. Tom Cavanagh was still fastened to his St. Andrew’s cross, his cat now curled up against one big bare foot. The Count de Nothos still smouldered in his silver chains, Peter lay lounging on the couch with the Duchess’s leash in his hand, while she sat neatly on the floor near his feet, looking down her aristocratic nose.

“Let’s get to it, lads,” called Duka. “What am I bid for this fine gentleman here?” He waved at Tom Cavanagh, magnificently helpless.

“Wait,” croaked the First Officer. “Dammit, man, wait!”

***

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