Fallen Angel Read online

  Fallen Angel

  By Peppa Swanz

  Time travel, pirates, desire and true love that defies the gods.

  Eliza fell asleep in her cabin on a sexy singles cruise and wakes in the past on the ship of the dreaded pirate James Butler. In the past she finds a life and world she had only imagined and in the pirate’s bed she find desire and rapture like she had only dreamed in her wickedest fantasies.

  James is a pirate, heart and soul; he loves his life on the sea and is very protective of his crew. But what is the secret that holds him back from letting Eliza into his heart?

  Fallen Angel is a swashbuckling adventure, lush with vivid sea life, exciting, heart pounding battles, evil villains, and steamy, graphic, love scenes that will have you turning up the fans and heading for a cool shower.

  ~*~

  Lydia, Night Owl Review, 4.25/5 Stars!

  "This excitingly erotic tale…keeps you on the edge of your seat."

  (This title was previously published under a different pseudonym: Sandra Fowke. For personal reasons the author needed to publish her work under a new name.)

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Peppa Swanz

  Fallen Angel © November 2011 Peppa Swanz

  All rights reserved

  Kindle Edition

  Chapter 1

  “That arrogant pig!” Eliza Jackman couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this angry. “I swear, when I get my hands on him, I’m going to wring his worthless neck then dance and sing on his shallow grave.”

  As she paced the old style cabin she wracked her brain. How the hell did she get here? The last thing she remembered was sleeping in her comfortable bed on board the Mary Angeline, a sexy singles cruise ship on which she was vacationing after a disastrous break-up with that pathetic, soon to be dickless, ex-boyfriend.

  The small room she had woken in was lit by two thick candles on either side of the cabin. A large desk was situated firmly against a far wall, and there was an old style bunk shoved into the corner. The cabin was sparsely decorated but what there was, seemed well placed and pleasing enough. At least the decorator had half a brain and some taste, unlike the jerk of an ex-boyfriend who planned this pathetic attempt at re-igniting her non-existent passion.

  All the same, she had to admit, the flickering light and the rocking of the ship was exciting. She could never deny that she found the idea of being kidnapped and ravished by a sexy pirate thoroughly arousing. But her secret pirate fantasy had absolutely nothing to do with Sean Harrison, and if she had anything to say about it, it never would.

  She paced some more, wishing she could find something of worth to smash. She tried the door again. Shit, still locked.

  At the sound of footsteps, she drew back from the door and stood, hands on hips, waiting. No way was this little-black-duck going to play the simpering maiden to that over-grown child’s game. She lifted her chin and glared blazing holes into the door as she heard the lock click and watched it swing open with an audible creak.

  As soon as she saw Sean’s smug grin, she was going to slap it off his face, march out to the nearest phone and call the police. A night in the watch-house should suck some of the wind out of his sails. Her lips twitched at her thoughts but she carefully schooled her expression again into that of parental impatience, one she had perfected over the three years of their relationship.

  But it was not Sean who poked his head around the door. The man was older, in his fifties at least and dressed scraggily in a dirty washed-out yellow shirt and what looked like brown britches, also covered in grease and something else. He stepped awkwardly into the room and though he met her eyes briefly, he seemed to be averting his gaze as he placed a tray, balancing an ill-shapen bottle of what she hoped was wine, on the desk.

  She wasn’t aware that she was staring until he spoke up, his voice gruff but somehow timid. “Begging your pardon, Miss.” He met her eyes for a second before bowing his head again. “But the captain has asked me to inquire after your name.”

  With a sugar sweet smile, Eliza sat on the edge of the bunk. “You can tell the Captain that he knows very well what my name is, and that I have no intentions of playing this childish game.” She paused and with a cheeky smile added, “At least not with him.”

  The man shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable, biting at his lower lip as he moved towards the door. “Please, Miss, I hate to be rude, but the Captain was very insistent that I get your name. He won’t be pleased if I return to him without it.”

  He actually looked scared. She observed him more closely and her heart clenched. By the looks of him, even if what he was wearing was required costume, he was probably on minimum wage with a wife and three children.

  “What is your name?” she asked, and gave him what she hoped was a warm smile when his eyes flicked to hers and then averted again. She tucked a stray lock of red hair behind her ear—she must look a fright!

  “Smith, Miss. Francis Smith.” His lips stretched into an almost child-like smile that she couldn‘t help but return.

  “Well Mr. Smith, you can tell Captain Harrison that, as he is very well aware, my name is Eliza Jackman.”

  His face brightened and Eliza made a mental note to give Sean an extra hard thump for Frances’ sake.

  “Thank you, Miss Jackman,” he said quickly and scampered towards the door, but as he reached it he suddenly turned, his expression confused. “Begging your pardon, but the Captain’s name isn’t Harrison. You are on board the Fallen Angel and the man that be asking is Captain Butler.”

  Something in Eliza’s mind clicked and she groaned. The book was called Death and Honor, a history of Piracy in the golden age, and she had been reading it that morning—in fact she had fallen asleep with it open on the page about James Butler, and not for the first time.

  “Wow, he actually took notice of something I read,” she said, honestly shocked. It looked like Sean was getting serious—or just more insane. “That would be the pirate James Butler, right?”

  “That is correct. Have you heard of the captain, then?” His face seemed to lighten as he looked up at her, careful not to ogle her scantily covered breasts and bared abdomen.

  “Yes, I’ve just finished reading about him in fact.” She sighed. “Look, this is all really nice, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate all the hard work you’ve put in, but this isn’t going to happen. So if you could just tell Sean to get in here, I’ll make sure that you are all paid well and with an extra-large tip too,” she said in a tone she hoped was comforting, then rushed on to add, “And I’ll be sure to tell all my friends how lovely this room was and how perfectly adorable you were and how amazing this—theme ship—is.” Damn, she was babbling.

  “I am sorry, Miss, but I don’t know anyone by that name and…” His eyes glazed as he looked at her, his brow furrowed and for a moment she was afraid that he was going to pass out. “As for those other things you said...I have no
answer and to be honest, Miss, you are starting to make me head hurt, so I’ll take me leave.”

  “No, wait!” she cried as he quickly scampered towards the door and shut it firmly. “I’m sorry, please wait—Hey! What are you doing?” She suddenly screamed when she heard the lock turn. “Let me out!” she yelled, banging her fists on the door. “This is illegal imprisonment! You let me out or I will bring every officer I can find and have you all arrested! You’ll see jail and I’ll sue!”

  But her words went unheeded and, to her fury, she was sure she heard a chuckle from the other side of the door as the footsteps drew away. “No!” she yelled and screamed again as she belted her fists against the door. “Damn you, Sean!” she screamed one final time. “If you think I’m taking you back after this, you have another thing coming.” She spun away then spun back towards the door and added, “And I mean coming off!”

  Her fists were sore and she was out of breath by the time she stopped with a final scream of frustration. She paced the room again and finally, resigned to the fact she was stuck in the cabin, sat on the bed and conserved her strength. She was going to need it when she beat the living shit out of her ex.

  Looking around, she spotted the wine and grinned.

  No! Drinking right now would be a very bad idea. She glared at the door. It would serve him right if she drank all the wine and threw up on his shoes.

  “Okay, that’s disgusting.” she said to herself, laughing at how off-balance her mindset had become. “I need to calm down,” she said firmly and grabbed the bottle.

  On reflex, she inspected it and a sniff revealed something alcoholic and sweet but not poisonous—hopefully. She took a drink. It was good, very sweet with an odd aftertaste.

  She took another sip and swished it around her mouth. Actually it tasted more like rum—wait, it was rum—Mm—mixed with water and lime and something spicy that she couldn’t put her finger on.

  With another few drinks she felt the smooth tingles of the rum working on her mind and body and stumbled slightly to the side. “Well, I think I have a pretty good calm coming on,” she slurred and glared at the door again. “For all the good it’s done me.”

  With a frustrated growl she picked up a vase off the little side table and was about to throw it when she heard a slow rhythmic sound that could only be made by someone big, stomping in heavy boots towards the door. A key rattled in the lock and the sound of a deep muffled voice swearing impatiently made her gasp. With a final clank and thump the door was flung open to reveal—Not Sean.

  Oh no, this man was definitely not her ex-boyfriend. For one thing he was a good foot and a half taller and simply radiated heat and strength. Long curly black hair fell down his back and seemed to be tied with what looked like a white ribbon. A few stray stands had slipped out and shadowed half of his face. Easily the most ruggedly handsome she had ever seen.

  A square jaw, speckled with whiskers, and a slightly kinked nose—obviously he’d been in a nasty fight or two, but it merely added to the effect. A long, curved scar ran from the corner of his eye and under. The man screamed danger and sexuality from every pour and she found herself responding to his call despite her anger and frustration. Her body shivered and her mouth went dry. This was bad.

  Eliza let her eyes drop to his dirty white shirt, long dark red coat and matching britches, almost a mockery of the old British uniform. He was soaking wet and looked generally pissed as he glared at her from the doorway. His eyes raked down over her, quickly heating, body and she suddenly felt under dressed in her sleeveless blouse and pleated mini-skirt. She’d dressed for the Cheerleaders and Fullbacks party that was supposed to be happening right now, and at that moment wished that she’d given it a miss.

  His lip curled and Eliza cringed as the man stepped forward. Each step seemed to echo through the cabin and send shivers down her spine. He circled her slowly, looking her up and down, the occasional grunt or muttered word making her turn with him. And she felt her cheeks flush when his eyes finally settled on her pushed up breasts.

  After another moment of this, she lost all patience and cleared her throat loudly. “Ah, not to interrupt your ogling session, but I, am up here.” she said firmly pointing to her eyes and demanding that he meet them.

  But the second he did, she wished he would simply go back to ogling. His eyes were beautiful. Maybe that was the wrong term to use on a man, but that was the simple truth. They shone a deep, stunning green and seemed to speak volumes of a soul tarnished, just as she’d imagined. She felt herself sinking, deeper and deeper into those green eyes and had to shake herself out of the trance and avert her own gaze.

  It’s the wine, not him, the wine!

  The sound of his deep, wholly male chuckle made her teeth grind and she had to fight not to slap the smirk off his face.

  “Really, Miss Jackman, you can’t expect me not to inspect my new possession can you?” His voice was just as she’d imagined. Deep and gruff as though he had spent far too much time drinking and smoking. And what he just called her? “I must say you are a little more…” He paused to pick his words. “Fast—then I usually prefer, but Smith says you have a temper so I will assume your -” he waved a hand over her outfit, “- dress is for my benefit. But you will dress more appropriately in future. You are to be my doxy and I would prefer that my crew not be scandalized every time you need a little air.”

  Her temper snapped and without thought she grabbed a handful of his loose white shirt and pulled hard, feeling a wave of satisfaction at his shocked expression. “Now you listen to me, bucko. I am not your anything, doxy or otherwise, and I have had enough of this stupid bloody prank.” she hissed and was shocked to see his expression darken, but not with anger. She noticed that his bottom lip was slightly plumper then the top and felt the insane urge to flick out her tongue and taste it. Damn he was close.

  “Um, so…” she stammered not quite sure what she had been so angry about a moment ago, but his widening grin brought back her irritation. “I’d like to go home now, and you can tell Sean that I will never, ever speak to him again.”

  “Hmm…” He deftly released her hand from his shirt and held it in his larger one. “This, Sean, of whom you speak, I do not know him, but the way you speak of him tells me that he was you’re previous owner?”

  “No!” she bellowed and jumped away. “No one owns me, especially not him.”

  She watched in horror as his expression morphed into one of pity. “The life of a doxy is a hard one I’ll wager,” he said softly and stepped towards her, his fingers sliding a searing path up her arm, making her tingle in places that it shouldn‘t. “You found yourself in love with this Sean only to have him cast you aside when he grew tired of your quick tongue and precious gifts.” As he spoke his eyes drifted again down to her barely covered breasts, and she watched with bated breath as he sucked his luscious bottom lip between his teeth.

  As much as Eliza hated to admit it there was truth in his words. Sean had cheated on her, several times before she found him out. He had been begging her to return for the better part of three weeks, now, swearing that those other women meant nothing. As though that made a difference as though that made his infidelity less of a betrayal. Eliza had not seen it that way.

  Despite her anger and frustration at this situation, she felt her lip tremble and a single tear rolled slowly down her cheek. She had been so busy being angry at the selfish git that she’d forgotten how much his cheating had stung. But her feelings were mixed now with confusion as she looked at the man before her. His expression was true in its sympathy and he looked so much like the man in the picture, the pirate. But it wasn’t possible. That man had died over two hundred years ago. There was no way he could be standing here, wiping her tears and arousing a heat within her body that she had never felt.

  “J—James,” she stammered and looked pleadingly into his eyes. She wanted the truth, was this just some, admittedly farfetched attempt to woo her back into Sean’s arms, and if so why was
he allowing her to be seduced by the man of her wickedest fantasies? He had been too jealous to ever allow her to touch another man—he had hated her even talking with other men.

  This was wrong. There was no way that this was a joke or ploy as it would be next to impossible to find the exact double of her pirate in such a short space of time, and yet it was simply impossible for this to be him...

  Eliza’s head hurt.

  It was then that she noticed that he hadn’t moved. He still stood dangerously close and his hand still burned against her arm, but he was still. Watching the expressions shift across her face, and his head tipped slightly, possibly in his own confusion.

  “Eliza,” he whispered and it was like a cool breeze on a hot day, both soothing and enticing. “You are by far the most beautiful wench I have beheld, and I swear that I will not be so callous with your affections, as he.” His mouth inched closer and she gasped at the feel of his hot breath on her lips, the hint of rum making her mind reel, all thoughts of Sean forgotten in the presence of this man. “The man you call Sean is a fool, and I plan to enjoy the fruit of his stupidity to the full.”

  “I…” This was wrong! Very, very wrong—oh dear god, the wrongness. “Please...Please tell me your real name.”

  With a lopsided grin he wound his wet arm around her waist and she shivered with the chill of it against her heated flesh. “I, Miss Jackman, am Captain James Bartholomew Butler.”

  And she knew with a quiver of acuity that he was not lying. She licked her lips nervously and felt them tingle when his eyes dropped to her mouth, his expression hungry and she was shocked by his restraint as he swallowed hard and remained where he was, close yet not touching.