Passion

At first glimpse he seemed infinitely dangerous, even barbaric. And yet something in his eyes called to me . . . British West Indies, February 1813 The scene was Pagan--the half-nude man bound in chains, his sinewed torso bronzed by the Caribbean sun. Silhouetted against the ships tall masts, he stood defiant, unbowed. For a brief instant Lady Aurora Demming felt her heart falter as she stared up at the frigate's railing. He might have been a statue carved by a master sculptor, all rippling muscle and lithe strength . . . except that he was flesh-and-blood male, and very much alive. Sunlight warmed the hard contours of his body, gilded the dark gold of his hair. That tawny shade of gold was heart familiar. At first glance Aurora had flinched with the memory of another face forever lost to her. But this brazen, nearly naked man was a stranger, possessing a raw masculinity quite unlike her late betrothed. He was stripped down to breeches, but though he wore the chains of a prisoner, he remained unbroken, his gaze fierce and remote as he stared out over the quay. Even from a distance, his eyes seemed to glitter dangerously, giving the impression of simmering anger tenuously controlled. As if he felt her gaze, his focus slowly shifted and locked on her, riveting her in place. The bustle and noise of the waterfront faded away. For a fleeting moment, time ceased and only the two of them existed. The intensity of his stare held her motionless, yet Aurora felt herself tremble, her heart suddenly drumming in a painful, almost wild rhythm. "Aurora?" She gave a start as her cousin Percy recalled her to her surroundings. She stood on the harbor quayside of Basseterre, St. Kitts, before the shipping office, the warm Caribbean sun beating down upon her. The pungent smells of fish and tar permeated the salt air along with the raucous cries of seagulls. Beyond the busy quay stretched brilliant blue-green waters, while in the distance rose the lush, mountainous island of Nevis. Her cousin followed the direction of her gaze to the prisoner of the naval frigate. "What has you so fascinated?" "That man . . ." she murmured. "For a moment he reminded me of Geoffrey." Percy squinted across the quay. "How can you possibly tell at this distance?" He frowned. The hair color is similar, perhaps, but any other resemblance must be superficial. I couldn't imagine the late Earl of March as a convict, could you?" "I don't suppose so." Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the fair-haired prisoner. Nor could he from her, it seemed. He still watched her as he stood at tJordan, Nicole is the author of 'Passion', published 2000 under ISBN 9780449004852 and ISBN 0449004856.