Prisoner of Passion is a historical romance about a young girl, seventeen-year-old Daphne Anne Collins, who is betrothed to marry a man she doesn't love. In order to escape her impending fate she runs away from home, only to find herself taken hostage by two drunkards at the local tavern. Unconscious and vulnerable, Daphne isn't aware that she has been rescued and taken aboard a ship. When she awakens, she finds herself staring up into the eyes of a mysterious stranger, thirty-five-year-old Damian Michael Bordeaux, and cuddled in his strong arms. Daphne soon realizes that her valiant savior has now become her captor. At first she fears the mysterious handsome man that keeps her in bondage, but each tumultuous adventure that lays in their path leads them one step closer into the other's heart, until they both become in the end a Prisoner of Passion.
Fairview 1886
“No! I will not marry a man I don’t love.” Daphne stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. She fell onto her bed in a helpless heap and sobbed into her pillow, as her cries of desperation distressed her parents to no end.
Her mother, Rose Ella, sat beside her daughter and stroked her long black tresses away from her face. “Please don’t cry. It hurts me to see you so upset like this.”
Daphne wept, her voice tainted with tears and confusion. “I wouldn’t be so upset if you and papa weren’t making me marry a man that I don’t love. I do not even know this man. How can I possibly marry him? Why is it I just now found out I was to be married off anyhow? Did I not have a right to know?” Her tear streaked face was grimaced with confusion as her solemn green eyes pierced her mother’s heart.
“We didn’t think it necessary to tell you until the time came. We had no idea he wanted you so soon until we received word a few days ago. He feels he has waited for you long enough and wishes to marry you now, instead of having to wait another year until your eighteenth birthday. Daphne, you have not even given this man a chance. Renée Watson has been an acquaintance of mine since I was a little girl. You’ll like her son Nathan.”
“He’s coming into town tomorrow and I may never see you and papa again.” she whimpered.
“Oh honey, of course you’ll be able to see us again.” she consoled as she stroked her daughters head with a soothing hand.
“I’m too young to marry an old man. Why can’t I marry someone my own age?”
“Daphne I hardly think you can call Mr. Watson old. He’s only thirty-two.”
“But mama, I’m just seventeen!” Daphne started to weep again and her body shook from emotion.
Her mother smiled to herself and patted her daughter on the back to reassure her. “Sweetheart I think you’re getting all upset for nothing. You should be happy that a prosperous man like Nathan is to wed you. Living in poverty your whole life like your papa and me is not the way to live. You know how difficult it has been for us. Don’t you want more for yourself?”
Daphne shook her head. “No! I just want to stay here. Please, mama. You have not even seen this man since he was a kid. What if he’s horribly ugly?” She looked at her mother and pleaded. “I don’t want some ugly old man to touch me.”
Rosé Ella got up from the bed and walked over to the door bewildered. “I’m tired of coddling you Daphne. You are not a little girl anymore and it is time you start acting like a woman. You will marry this man no matter how horribly ugly he may be and nothing is going to change that fact.” Rose Ella turned around and walked out the door, leaving her bewildered daughter to cry alone.
Daphne was beside herself. She didn’t want to marry a man she didn’t have feelings for and even worse, a man she did not even remember from her childhood. Daphne got up from the bed and started to pack her some clothes in an old laundry sack. “I’ll run away first before I marry a man that I don’t love!”
Daphne was a waif like girl that had a long black mane that fell down to her hips. Her eyes, which were a beautiful color of sea foam green, were a marked contrast next to her fair complexion. Her short five foot two inch frame only intensified her dainty stature and made her look even more youthful than her seventeen years. She hid her belongings under her bed and decided to wait until evening to attempt her escape. When she was finished, she went into the kitchen and sat down at the dinner table, her body in a slumped position as she sulked in tears. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and sat there with a somber pout, her bottom lip pushed out with downcast eyes.
Her father considered her bewildered state, shook his head, and sighed. “Pouting like a child isn’t going to change our minds Daphne. Mr. Watson will be here tomorrow afternoon and you will be going home with him.”
“But papa, why do I have to marry this man? Just because you and mama made a promise to some friends when I was small does not mean I have to hold to that promise. Why can’t I choose my own husband?”
“It’s more than a promise Daphne it’s our word. I vowed to him years ago that he could have you and he has waited all this time until you were old enough to take as his wife. Now Nathan has been patient. He has waited for you for a long time now. When he comes to visit us tomorrow I’m not going to send him away empty-handed.”
“Why did you have to make some stupid vow?” Daphne broke into tears and her body shook with dismay.
“Renee was your mama’s best friend growing up and her husband was mine. They were born with money and they knew we had a hard life as kids. They saw how hard we struggled to get by when you were born and they told us when you were old enough that their son would wed you. They were doing us a favor Daphne, a big one. We didn’t want you to end up like us poor peasant farmers. Mr. Watson was born into money. He can take care of you like nobody else can.”
Daphne lost her appetite and only picked at her food. Her parents could tell she was distraught over the news and watched her with concern. Rose Ella became irritated and quipped. “If you’re not going to eat anything then go and take your bath. I want you looking sharp for your new husband tomorrow.”
Daphne got up from the table and went to her bedroom. As she slipped into her warm bath, she began to cry, and her tears fell about her creamy white cheeks. She scrubbed her face and washed her long black curly hair. She pulled the dampened curls about her shoulders and let them hang down past her right breast, then sunk deep into the tub. She wondered what kind of man Nathan Watson was and her mind became troubled.
When evening came, everyone had settled into bed for the night. Daphne waited until the house was silent and her parents were asleep before she attempted her escape. She grabbed her laundry sack that held her clothes, then tiptoed quietly through the kitchen and unlocked the front door. Within moments of her escape, Daphne hastened down the dirt road that led into town.
She didn’t care where she ended up as long as she went as far away from home as possible. The dark road appeared to cave in on her as the branches on the trees protruded out like crooked fingers, almost as if they reached toward her in the shadows of night. The moon was full and lent her enough light to see up ahead in the distance, but it swayed in and out behind the stormy clouds that passed overhead.
She picked up her pace as the sounds of crickets and frogs echoed into the stillness, and she shivered with fright when the howling of wolves came from behind her. Within the hour she saw the small village up ahead, its quieted roadways not inhabited with horse and carriage, and the vender’s tables that lined up about the sidewalk during the day were now empty. Nobody was about, the town asleep at that hour, and Daphne looked around the quiet roadway in hopes that someone could help her. The merchant ships wouldn’t be in until mid afternoon, and she had to find somewhere to stay until then. She heard a ruckus and turned around startled, and an old man staggered out of the local tavern. There were loud voices and people laughed in incoherent speech, and Daphne walked over to see if someone could offer her assistance.
She tried to peek through the dirty window, but the caked on mud made it impossible to see inside. With her dainty fingers, she rubbed a spot clean and peered into the tiny tavern. She saw women dressed in scanty clothes, their breasts precariously perched atop their corsets, as they roamed the room for love-starved men. She hesitated before she entered, for these people were not her kind. Her youthful innocence was a drastic contrast compared to the loose women within and Daphne found an unoccupied corner of the room and went to sit down.
She concluded that she would wait there until morning, wait until the ships came in. Her parents would never think of looking for her in there, and she settled in for the remainder of the night. She felt someone staring at her and with a curious gaze looked across the room. A man peered at her from the corner of the tavern, his likeness hidden in the darkened shadows.
She felt her skin crawl as he studied her, his lingered gaze intense and never wavered, and she shivered from consternation. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and laid her head upon the table. She tried not to notice him, tried to pretend that she was not aware of his fascination with her. The old bartender studied her also and staggered over to her table. “Missy, what do you think you’re doing coming in here?”
Daphne swallowed hard and with a shaky voice explained. “I’m waiting for the merchant ships. I am to catch a boat in the morning.”
“That’s a mighty long wait you’ve got missy, you can’t just camp in here for the night, it’s not allowed. If I allow you to stay the night, all the other homeless beggars will want to stay the night as well. This is not a soup kitchen.”
Daphne felt overwhelmed by her circumstances and she burst into tears. “But I have no where else to go.”
“A girl like you should be at home with her ma and pa.”
She shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks. “I can’t go home sir, because I have run away. My parents have arranged for me to get married to a man that I’ve never met. He will be here in the morning and I must leave before he finds me. Please let me stay in here. This would be the last place my family would happen to look.”
The old man shook his head very sorry. “I wish I could help you missy, but I can’t let you stay in here the night. Unless you plan to buy booze and loose women I will have to ask you to leave.” He walked away from her and went back behind the bar. Daphne gathered her belongings and as she walked toward the door to leave, she could feel the stranger’s eyes bore into her. His gaze followed her and left an uneasy knot inside her stomach as she left the tavern. She walked around the corner and into the alleyway. She knew it was dangerous to stay in the alley after dark, but she didn’t have a choice in the matter, and she approached it with caution. She found a vacant corner and went to lie down, then rested her head upon her small laundry sack and used it as a pillow.
The night air was crisp against her skin and she gathered her shabby cloak about her shoulders. She heard noises up in the distance and with a careful eye studied the dark alley. She saw something moving in the shadows and sat up with a sudden fright. She pulled her bag into her chest and squeezed it against her with nervous anticipation.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice a fearful squeak. She heard faint voices in the dark and called out again. “Hello?” Within that instant, Daphne saw two men approach her through the shadows. She screamed and her shrill cries echoed through the alley. They grabbed her and swung her about.
“Look what we have here, Mel. We’ve got a pretty little girl left all alone.” He held on to Daphne’s arms with a firm grip and she could smell the liqueur on his breath. “What do you think we should do with her?” he laughed, his wrinkled face covered with gray dirty stubbles and his clothes filthy with soot.
“Maybe we should take her back to the cabin and take turns with her. When we get bored with her, we can sell her to one of the foreigners that come by our way every month. I bet we can make a handsome profit off of such a fresh peach as her.” The other man was just as repulsive, his greasy black hair plastered to his head, and his clothes grimy and torn. The smell of perspiration permeated the air for they hadn’t bathed for days and Daphne thought she would throw up at any moment from the offensive odor.
Daphne screamed out, her frightened words mingled with sobbing pleas. “Please don’t hurt me, please!” She struggled to free herself but found the men’s grasp much too strong. “I’m begging you not to hurt me!” The men began pulling her by the arms. Daphne struggled with all her mite as the strangers dragged her to their wagon. She saw someone in the shadows and called out with pitiful pleas. “Help me, somebody help me!” One of the men slapped her hard across the cheek to shut her up and Daphne fell limp into his arms. He carried her toward the street and as they approached the wagon, someone called out to them.
“Where do you think you’re going with that girl?” The man from the tavern who had watched Daphne earlier that evening approached them, his tall lean frame clothed in solid black velvet with a long cape draped about his shoulders. His steel blue eyes darted back and forth at the perpetrators and waited for one of the men to answer him.
The older man who carried Daphne responded to his intrusion quite startled. “We’re taking her home, sir.”
“Are you taking her to her parent’s house or to yours?” the stranger questioned, his patience running thin.
“Back to her parent’s house, kind sir.” The old man looked nervous. “She had run away and we thought we would take her back home to her parents.”
The stranger nodded his head in acknowledgement and smiled at the two old men. He didn’t buy the man’s story at all. “So who are her parents or do you even know?” The stranger walked closer to them and stood to his full height. He towered above the older man’s short frame and opened his arms. “Perhaps I should be the one to take her home, kind sir, since you appear confused as to where her parents live.”
The old man trembled, the stranger much bigger than he, and with a shaky voice answered. “I don’t want any trouble. You can have her all to yourself if you like.” He put the girl in his strong arms and the stranger smiled well pleased.
“I would like that very much. I’ve never been fond of sharing.” He held the girl firmly in his arms, her body light as a feather in his grasp, and he turned away from them and carried her to his coach in haste. He approached his horse and carriage and the coachman opened the door for him. He entered inside with Daphne still in his arms. “Take me to my ship so I can see after the girl.”
“Yes captain, right away.” The coachman boarded the carriage and wasted no time in getting his captain to the waterfront where his ship docked for the evening.
Damian considered the small girl in his arms, her body limp and helpless in his powerful embrace, and found the idea of those two old men almost taking advantage of her enraged him. She was much too beautiful and innocent to inherit such a fate. He stroked her head and smoothed the long black tresses away from her delicate face. Damian could see why she would tempt the older men. She was unusually beautiful, her features perfect in every way.
Once they reached the ship at dock Damian carried Daphne aboard and took her to his cabin, then laid her down upon his bunk being careful not to wake her. He stood above her, his arms above the bunk above his head on a high beam, and admired the young girl before him. He smiled to himself at the thought of such a beautiful young girl asleep in his bed. He leaned down to undress her and admired her body as it laid motionless in her unconscious sleep, and with seeking fingers began to remove her ragged clothing.
Her flesh was warm against his fingers, her skin flawless white like a porcelain doll, and he admired her innocent yet sensual beauty. Her raven black tresses lay scattered about her shoulders, the cascade of ringlets in a curly mass about her breasts, and her dainty frame seemed to disappear amongst the mound of covers. He ran his hand down her side and trailed the gentle curve of her waist and well turned hip, and rested his dark hand upon her creamy white thigh.
He leaned down and inhaled her intoxicating scent, the smell of rose water still fresh on her skin. He ran his fingers through her silky hair, the long black tresses begging to be touched, and he ached for her deep within his loins. It had been too long since Damian had satiated his need for physical love with a woman, too long since he had found comfort in the softness of a woman’s femininity. With every ounce of his strength, he backed away from her. His body ached to find release in the warmth of her womanhood, which could not be any more beautiful and perfect. He covered her gently with a blanket and with a quiet stride left the room so his little friend could sleep in peace.