“It’s time,” Seamus said, and they made their way down the ladder, each getting into a different boat.
The men rowed silently, the soft swish of the oars slicing into the calm water. At the designated spot, they attached the weights, and rowed backward. Seamus raised a stick with a white cloth tied to it and waved it several times in the air as the captain’s dinghy landed on the shore. From the left, men scrambled down a hill, shadows moving swiftly toward the water’s edge.
Zander jumped from the boat and approached the first man down the hill. “It’s a fine night for rum and ravaging,” he said to the first man. The sentence indicated he was the captain delivering the smuggled goods.
“Aye, and a better night for hunting elephant,” the dark figure said in return as half a dozen men joined them. He handed the captain a piece of paper wrapped around a coin.
As Zander put it in his pocket, he spied a puff of smoke from the right, then a flash of light. Water splashed next to his waiting boat.
“Bloody hell,” mumbled the man.
A high-pitched yell sounded, and shadowed figures raced down the opposite hill. Pistols fired. Zander drew his pistol, but someone jumped him from behind. He flipped the body over and fired. The man bounced off the ground, then fell still.
“Cut and run,” ordered Zander as he jumped into the skiff. “Let them fight their own battles.”
They rejoined the other boat, the sound of clashing steel and more gunfire disrupting the stillness of the night. He reloaded his gun as the men rowed. Seamus and the lead man of each dinghy drew their pistols and returned fire. No longer worried about noise, the men leaned into the oars and pulled the crew away and out of firing distance. Shots were returned, and another volley of gunfire was exchanged along the shore. Men cried out in pain or victory as targets were hit. Zander prayed the moon wouldn’t come out. His schooner looked like a hundred others in the dark. They could delay London for a week or so and arrive with their legal cargo, none the wiser.
“Do ye think it’s revenuers or another band of smugglers hoping to make an easy profit?” he asked Seamus.
“To tell ye the truth, I dinna care. As long as the night remains dark, and we get out of here.”
He patted his coat. “We have our proof the shipment was delivered. We’re not responsible for what happens after that.”
The quartermaster whistled when they approached the ship, setting the rest of the crew into action. “We’ll go as far out to sea as we can before dawn. Ye’ll have a little more time in yer quarters,” he replied with a grin.
Once back on ship, the wind cooperated, and the English shore fell away. Zander returned to the cabin to find Katie sitting up in bed, a book in her hand.
“You must be feeling better,” he said and laid his coat over a chair. Her hair had grown in the last month, the burnished red waves falling over her shoulder. He imagined the thick tresses falling down her back. Her naked back. Heat simmered low in his belly.
“Was there trouble?” she asked, her eyes still on the pages. “Has the contraband been removed?”
He paused, keeping his face blank. He knew Katie had seen him in the smaller hold but had never brought the subject back up. Zander snorted, reminded of the old pirate motto. Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.
“You understand what you saw must remain a secret?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Of course. I would never betray you.”
He held up a palm. “Good, and only a minor hitch. The delivery is complete. We’ll be delayed by a few days, though. I apologize for that.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“I won’t complain about the delay. I’ve waited seven years to meet my grandparents. A few more days won’t make any difference.” She patted the mattress. “Come sit by me.”
He swallowed. Her color had returned, the sparkle in her blue eyes a direct invitation. She was tempting, so tempting. With a deep breath, he poured a glass of wine and joined her. “How are you feeling?”
“The pain is better, but I get dizzy if I move too quickly. Patch said it was to be expected.” She chewed her bottom lip. Oh, how he wanted to do that for her. “What will happen in London?”
He settled into the chair and took a sip of the dark red liquid. “As you know, my sister and stepmother live there. I think, to avoid any embarrassing questions, we’ll have my stepmother go with you to call on your grandparents.”
“When we find them,” she added.
“Yes, but I don’t believe it will be too difficult. A wealthy merchant who disowned his daughter. I have connections who can make some discreet enquiries.” He offered her the glass of wine, but she shook her head. “My mother will find a respectable room to rent, deliver a note to inform your family of your presence, and accompany you to their home.”
“And then?” she asked quietly, once again studying the book.
“Hopefully, there will be a joyous reunion.” The knot had doubled in his stomach. He wanted to avoid the next question. He swirled the wine in the glass, finding it suddenly fascinating.
“Will I see you again?” There was a tremor to her voice that sent pain shooting through his chest. “You must know how I feel.”
Zander sighed. “I’m afraid—”
“So am I.” She reached out and took his hand. “Please, tell me you have affection for me as well.”
He tossed back the rest of the wine and stood. She threw off the covers and rose, her palms against his chest. And with that touch, the distance between them disappeared, along with his resolve.
You’ll regret this, whispered the voice of reason.
It won’t be the first time, he silently argued back.
He pulled her against his length. When he covered her mouth with his, he knew he was doomed. She filled an emptiness within him, the nameless hunger that all the endless wandering and daring voyages could never satisfy. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she raised her hips to press closer. Jesu! His member throbbed in response.
“Love me,” she whispered in his ear and bit his lobe.
Zander growled, lifted her in his arms, and laid her on the mattress, lying next to her. His lips brushed hers gently, stroking the hair from her face, careful not to disturb her bandage.
He’d love her for just a little while. Explore her body, savor her scent and the satin of her skin. It would give him something to remember when she was gone. For he knew they must part when they reached land. He could no more swallow the anchor and give up the sea than he could deny his feelings for her. Her heart would mend; there would be suitors lined up at her door. And Zander’s conscience would rest easy.
Her hands cradled his face; her lips brushed his. He hooked a finger into the ties of her shirt and tugged. The material fell away, exposing a breast. Her hand flew up to cover it, and he gently pushed it away. Feathering kisses along her jaw, down her throat, he stopped at the point of her cleavage, his tongue dipping between the ivory mounds.
Katie gasped.
Zander smiled.
He traced one pink bud, then pulled it into his mouth, sucking until it formed a perfect peak. Her fingers threaded his hair, her head pushed back into the pillow as he gave the second breast the same attention. His palm moved slowly down her belly, to the junction between her legs, and cupped her womanly curls.
“Zander,” she whispered, her tone fragile.
“You were made to be loved,” he rasped, and his lips returned to claim hers.
His fingers slid between her folds, finding her slick with desire, and stroked her until her hips rose in answer. His thumb circled her nub, smiling when she moaned. She was exquisite. Her body was soft curves and silken hair, with skin that begged to be caressed. Her nub hardened; her breath came rapidly. He slid a finger inside her. She arched and cried out, her hands clutching his hair. He added another finger and began the rhythmic strokes, bringing her higher and higher. Zander watched her face as she reached her climax, her bottom lip trembling, eyes closed
. She cried out and let the shudders rock through her.
As she lay panting, blue eyes glazed with the aftermath of passion, he gathered her in his arms and held her.
“Oh, m-my.”
“Does that mean you enjoyed it?”
She nodded against his chest. “What about you?”
“I’m content as Stormy when he’s cuddled on your lap.” Zander laid his cheek on the part of her hair not covered by the bandage. “How do you feel?”
“Heavenly.” She sighed. “And exhausted.”
He chuckled. “I meant your head.”
“I only feel… what was the word from that poem last night? Languid.”
They lay in silence for a long moment, then her steady breathing told him she’d fallen asleep.
He kissed the top of her head, wondering if his life would ever be the same.
Katie woke, her cheek against something hard. Her lids flew open. She was wrapped in Zander’s arms. She watched his chest rise and fall, the steady breathing of a sound sleep. His shirt was untied and open, revealing dark chest hair. She touched a fingertip to one springy curl and giggled. He stirred. She bit her lip and held her breath until his even breathing returned. With a finger hooked at the bottom of the shirt’s V, she peeked inside. The shadow of hair continued down his center, over a flat, muscled stomach and into… she dropped the shirt.
Her eyes traveled the length of him, down the linen to the snug trousers, remembering the day she’d darned his torn shirt. She moved her hand over the material that hugged his hips. Her pulse raced. What did he look like under the flap? Katie’s eyes widened as the material tented, and she poked at the protruding hardness. This only made it larger.
“Goodness.”
“I’m afraid it has a mind of its own,” Zander said in a hoarse but amused whisper. “I suggest you return your attention above my waist.”
Her face flushed, then he was on top of her. His mouth claimed hers and the sensations she had thought she’d dreamed came rushing back.
“Oh, how I’ll miss you,” he whispered as his lips moved down to her chest.
“What?” She struggled to make sense of his words through the sensual fog in her brain.
“I.” A kiss between her breasts. “Will.” His lips brushed one nipple. “Miss.” Then the other. “You.” His hand cupped her mons, his fingers stroking between her folds.
Her hips arched, and she fought for some sense of reason. But there was only Zander, his mouth on hers, the delicious friction between her legs. Then stars burst beneath her lids, and she cried out. The tremors consumed her body on the inside, his touch leaving a scorching path on the outside. His fingers continued their slow, steady ministrations as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her.
When he gathered her in his arms again, he stroked her arms until her pulse slowed. The fog slowly lifted, and she tipped her head back, wincing at the ache in her temple.
“You will miss me?”
He nodded against the top of her head.
“But I thought if we, if a man and woman, that—”
His sigh ruffled her hair. “Your virginity is still intact, Katie.” He bent and kissed her. “You have no idea what a sacrifice that was for me.”
“Then take it.”
“You don’t understand. We’d have to marry.”
She pushed up on an elbow and faced him. “Tell me you don’t care for me.” A smile tipped her lips when he turned away. “You do.”
“It’s not that simple. I lead a different kind of life not suited for a woman.” He sighed, his frustration evident in the hard line of his mouth. “You could be out at sea for months at a time.”
“I like the ocean.” She wouldn’t be put off. Her heart said this man had been sent to her by her mother. “Is there another reason?”
“I’m sure you want a family someday. A ship is not an appropriate place to raise a child.” His smug tone told her he thought the argument was over.
“How do you know I want children?” She bit her lip at that fib. Children were important to her. A family of her own. What lovely babies she and Zander could have.
“I see you with the cat.”
“These are only excuses.” She laid a palm on his cheek and took a deep breath. “I love you, Captain Alexandre Lecroix. And I will fight for you with the same resolve that helped me gain my freedom.” When he opened his mouth to argue again, she kissed him.
“It won’t work, and I don’t want you disappointed when I leave you in London.” He rose and tied the strings on his shirt. “You will discover a whole new life, and this one will fade. It will be a fond memory. I will be a memory.”
Katie studied his face, the stubborn jaw covered with light stubble, the determination that glittered in his dark eyes. He was sublime, and he loved her. She knew it with every fiber of her being. Instead of arguing, she gave him a radiant smile.
“I’m so hungry,” she said, deciding the extra time at sea would give her a chance to come up with a plan. “Shall we have breakfast?”
Chapter Ten
Whistle For the Wind
The port of London was hectic. Zander didn’t mind the bustle if his time on land was limited. His soul always longed for the calm of the sea by the end of a week. He had stopped to see his mother, who had agreed to help him with Katie.
“I haven’t seen you in almost two years, mon coeur, and you cannot stay?” The older, petite woman pushed a dark, graying strand behind her ear. She wagged a finger at him, her coffee-brown eyes indignant.
“I’ll be back, but I may need your help in the meantime,” he said and embraced Melissandre with true affection. “I’ll take you and Rose out for night on the town before I leave.”
“Promise?” She kissed his cheek. “When will you give up this marauder’s life and come home. I want grandchildren to keep me busy in my dotage.”
He laughed. “You’ll never grow old, Mel. Your spirit is too young.”
He left a bag of coins on her hall table, ignoring the protests. “Let me ease my conscience and know that my mother never wants for anything.”
“Except your company.” Her eyes glistened as he shrugged into his coat. “Rose will be upset she missed you. Will you stop by the Franklin house to see her? Or should I send a note?”
“If she cannot get time off, I’ll stop by. Believe it or not, Mel, I miss my girls just as much as they miss me.” He kissed the top of her head and left, her parting words in French drifting down the steps after him. His next stop would end his business dealings in duty-free goods.
Zander straightened his deep blue coat and smoothed back his hair, replacing his hat. He entered the building, blocks from the wharf, and climbed the stairs to the office of Mr. Josiah Beddleton. The Englishman greeted him warmly.
“Captain Lecroix, it’s good to see you.” The businessman held out his hand, shaking the captain’s and accepting the voucher and coin wrapped inside. The coin had been included to ensure the paper had not fallen into the wrong hands. Without the silver, Beddleton would know something was amiss and claim ignorance about any arrangements. “I’m happy to say, after a slight mishap, the goods were delivered.” The older gentleman returned to his desk and sat down. His silver hair gleamed in the morning light, and the lines around his blue eyes creased as he smiled. He watched the merchant write out the bank note, his long fingers making graceful slants as the nub scratched across the paper.
“Then we shall conclude our business.” Zander hesitated, then plunged ahead with his announcement. “This will be the last shipment. I am looking toward other horizons.”
“Less dangerous ones, I presume?” Mr. Beddleton paused in his writing. “I could inquire to renewing your letter of marque.”
Zander shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid my decision is made.”
“Honestly, I’ve been considering the same. I’ve made a tidy little sum from the war. If my wife were still alive, I’d have quit long ago.”
&
nbsp; A thought struck Zander. “Sir, perhaps you could help me solve a mystery.”
Beddleton glanced up, curious. “If I’m able.”
He gave a brief summary of his encounter with Katie, her story of an unknown grandfather, and her escape on his ship. His eyes narrowed as the older man’s complexion paled.
“Could you describe this young lady?” Beddleton asked in a raspy voice.
“Flaming red hair, petite, vivacious, blue eyes…” Zander’s voice trailed as their gazes locked. The man’s blue eyes were suddenly familiar.
Beddleton pulled out his pocket watch and flicked it open. On the opposite of the timepiece, was a portrait of two women. One older, one Katie’s age. Zander’s mouth fell open. “That’s Katie,” he whispered, pointing to the younger woman.
“No,” said Beddleton, his voice cracking. “That’s my daughter. I’ve been searching for my granddaughter for seven years. A hired detective finally located her months ago in Boston, only to find she’d disappeared again.”
“On my ship.”
“May I return to The Escape with you?” the older man asked, leaning forward to hand Zander the bank note.
“Of course.” His mind raced. He had anticipated more time to say goodbye. This was unexpected, though good news. So, why did he feel so miserable?
An hour later, the men crossed the gangway and boarded The Escape. The wharf was loud and chaotic, cargoes coming off some ships and loaded onto others. Voices called to friends or snapped out orders. They clambered down the companionway, and then to the captain’s quarters. When he opened the door, Katie jumped to her feet.
“Zander, I was just thinking—” She halted as her eyes locked on to the silver-haired man.
“This is Mr. Josiah Beddleton.” He watched the emotions pass over Katie’s face. Confusion, recognition, then tears sparkled in those blue eyes, so like her grandfather’s. “And this is Miss Katherine Wilken.”
“Grandpapa?” she whispered and flung herself into the older man’s arms. “You’re just as I remember from that night.”
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