The older man held her in a fierce hug, blinking back his own emotion. “I’ve been searching forever and a day, my little one. Forever and a day.”
Zander quietly backed out of the cabin and closed the door, a bittersweet smile on his face.
Katie paced her bedroom. She had been in her grandfather’s townhouse for a month. She stopped in front of the Cheval mirror and glared at her reflection. Pomona green muslin flowed over her hips from a high waist. An ivory satin ribbon graced her waist and hair, now pulled up in a loose chignon, curls spilling along her nape. The soft leather shoes tapped the floor. She longed for Zander’s linen shirt and loose duck trousers, to feel the deck sway gently beneath her feet. Sleep had eluded her the first several nights on land.
“Ye’re between the devil and the deep blue sea,” she said to Stormy, who purred and rubbed against her legs. “I either stay trapped in this room, or go to the parlor and meet the next addlepate who wants my father’s money.”
London had been a disappointment to Katie. While she loved Grandpapa, the rigid social rules and empty conversations were intolerable. Not one of the well-dressed, well-mannered suitors had interested her. Spinsterhood was becoming an appealing option. With a sigh, she scooped up the cat and made her way downstairs.
“Miss Katherine,” the blond gentleman said, rising.
“Mr. Tomblin,” she acknowledged and joined him near the hearth. A maid poured them both tea, then settled in a far corner. “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but…” But, what? She had no good excuse, and she certainly couldn’t tell him the truth.
“Beauty such as yours is worth the wait,” he replied in a high, nasally voice. His pale hands tugged at the perfectly tied cravat. He had a nervous but efficient air about him. Every hair in place, not a speck on his dark coat or trousers, shoes polished to a mirror gleam.
Katie stopped the imminent eye roll at his flummery. Perhaps she’d have some fun with the dandy instead. “I’ve been worried about Stormy. Would you be so kind as to assist me? I’m afraid he might have a bad tooth.”
“Stormy?” he asked. “A what?”
At the sound of his name, Stormy appeared from under her chair and jumped into Katie’s lap. “This is my cat, Stormy. You do like animals, don’t you Mr. Tomblin?”
His small eyes somehow narrowed as he gazed at the feline with distaste. “I suppose I don’t mind them, however—”
“Oh, thank you!” She lurched forward and plopped the cat on his lap. Petting Stormy’s head, she tried to open its mouth. The animal hunched, its back paws digging into the man’s lap.
“Good God,” Tomblin said, attempting to rise. Stormy began swishing his tail furiously, the tip swiping back and forth across the man’s nose and eyes.
Raaaar! The cat screeched, then hissed, his back humping up before he leapt away.
“Oh, Mr. Tomblin, my apologies. I don’t know what got into Stormy. Oh,” she said, dabbing her handkerchief on his cheek. “I’m afraid you’re bleeding.”
“I’m afraid I’m-I’m”—he sneezed violently—“leaving.” He stood, sneezed again, and tried to brush the copious amount of gray fur now covering his lap. “A gentleman does not expect to be… abused when he pays call to a lady.”
“No, sir, I suppose not. Well, at least let me see you to the door,” Katie said cheerfully. “Would you like my handkerchief since it’s already stained?”
“No, thank you on both accounts.” Mr. Tomblin stormed from the parlor.
She picked up Stormy and giggled. “I’m sorry, my sweet, but I just couldn’t resist. And we had to get rid of him somehow.”
A knock at the door distracted her. “Come in.”
Her grandfather entered. “I see you’ve chased away another poor soul. Really, Katherine, the man looked apoplectic.”
She sighed. “He was so shallow. And I really don’t like light-haired men. Or skinny men.” Katie plopped down in a leather chair. “Do you regret having me come to live with you?”
A knock at the door distracted her. “Come in.”
Her grandfather entered. “I see you’ve chased away another poor soul. Really, Katherine, the man looked apoplectic.”
She sighed. “He was so shallow. And I really don’t like light-haired men. Or skinny men.” Katie plopped down in a leather chair. “Do you regret having me come to live with you?”
“My only regret,” he said with a smile, “is that your grandmother did not live to meet you. The two of you would have made an invincible pair.”
“At least we have each other.” Katie raised on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“Would you join me for tea in the library?” he asked. “I have something to discuss.”
She wondered what it would be this time. He’d been pressing her to attend social functions. So far, she’d been able to avoid any gatherings after her first introduction to her grandfather’s acquaintances. Visitors had consisted of a few curious mothers, wondering if Katie was competition for their daughters, and the suitors who were interested in her inheritance. A public event, with eyes on her, the unasked questions, the whispers that were sure to be murmured behind decorative fans. The thought terrified her. She’d rather face another deadly storm on The Escape.
Katie poured tea for two and settled into the overstuffed wingback chair. The fire crackled cheerfully, and her eyes tracked the portraits of her relatives above the mantel. It was still so strange, living in this fine house, luxuries at her fingertips that she’d never imagined. But it was her grandfather that warmed her heart. She had liked him right away. She had loved him soon after. Warm and generous, and so very lonely.
“You look lovely in that shade of green,” he said after taking a sip of the tea. He sat next to her, his long legs stretched out before the fire.
“Thank you.” Her fingertip traced the rim of the delicate china cup; her toe tapped against the Axminster rug. “Is that what you wanted to discuss?” Katie didn’t like the sadness in his eyes. Her stomach tightened. Was he ill?
“Are you happy here?”
The question took her by surprise. “Of course, Grandpapa. How could I not be? You’ve showered me with gifts, given me everything a girl could possibly want.”
“Yet, you haven’t ventured from the house.” He paused. “You’re quite the talk around Town. Suitors have been leaving their cards daily.”
Katie chewed her lip. “I’m not interested in marriage, Grandpapa. And those men are only interested in furthering their connections. Can I not enjoy my time with you?”
“I’d like nothing better, but you will grow tired spending all your time with an old man.”
She set down her cup and knelt before him, and clasped one of his large hands in both of hers. “Never. We are family. We only have each other, and I love you with all my heart.”
“You deserve children and a family of your own. I would love great-grandchildren to bounce on my knee.” He stroked her hair. “Your mama and grandmother would be most unhappy to know you’ve isolated yourself in this drafty old house.”
“It’s a lovely home and I’m thankful to be here.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek.
“I have some news.” He hesitated. “As you know, I had business dealings with the captain of The Escape.”
Her breath left her. She couldn’t breathe. Zander had haunted her nights. An ocean of tears had spilled from her eyes the first two weeks. Then anger had taken over. A coward. Alexandre Lecroix was a coward for leaving her, no matter the ridiculous excuses he’d offered. He loved her; there was no doubt in her mind. The dashing privateer had stolen her heart and ruined her chances to love another. No other man would compare.
“We both decided, after a narrow escape, to return to law-abiding transactions. He has continued shipments for me, and, well, is presently anchored here.”
The blood pounded in her ears. She shook her head. “Zander is in London?”
“Yes, he arrived two days ago.” He leaned forward. “I want to know if y
ou still care for him.”
She swallowed. “What does it matter?”
“If you love him, child, we will find a way. Do you trust me?”
Katie let the tears fall and reached up to hug him, her arms squeezing his neck tightly. “I love him, Grandpapa. My heart is only half-beating. I need him like the night needs the day, like a ship needs the ocean.”
“I thought so. As much as I would like to keep you with me, I fear it’s not for the best. Your grandmother has been visiting me in my dreams, scolding me for being selfish.” He chuckled. “So, here’s my plan.”
“Under way, Captain,” Seamus said with a grin.
“Respectability seems to suit you,” commented Zander, eyeing the Scot. “What has you so jolly?”
“Och, nothing in particular. A steady wind, a fine lass at the next port, and good whiskey waiting in my flask. What else could a mon ask for, eh?” Seamus slapped him on the shoulder. “Patch wanted to see ye in the galley when ye have time.”
Zander scowled, wondering what the cook needed. Everyone seemed to be so damned happy today. He made his way to the galley, trying to keep his mind from Katie. A gray mass dashed in front of him, and he almost tripped. Merde! The cat looked like… He shook his head. London had brought back too many memories. When Zander collected his fee, Beddleton had rattled on about how well his granddaughter had adjusted to Town life, the suitors waiting in line, the money he’d spent on her wardrobe. What did she need with finery? The woman he loved was beautiful in a seaman’s duck trousers.
Love.
Yes, he’d finally admitted it. And what good did it do him? He might as well whistle for the wind.
He slammed his fist against the side of the narrow hallway. He wanted to rage at the Almighty for allowing him to taste heaven, then shutting the gates. Scream at destiny for luring him to happiness, then snatching it away. No longer did The Escape give him satisfaction. No longer did he find contentment when the sails filled and the bow cut through the whitecaps. He was a man stranded at sea, waiting for a breeze that would never come. For eternity. For Miss Katherine Wilken was the wind in his sail, and she was gone. “The devil to and no pitch hot,” he mumbled and shot a nasty scowl at Patch.
“Captain,” said the old cook, fingering his eye patch. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Sacre Dieu! Not today, Patch. I’m not in the mood.”
The cook scowled. “I was wondering if you could find somewhere else for the new ship’s boy to work. Too distracting for me. I can’t get anything done.” He cocked his head toward the other end of the galley.
Zander’s brows drew together, ready to lay in to the lad. He strode to the boy, his pace slowing as he grew closer. Red hair peeked out from beneath the tarpaulin cap, rounded hips swayed as a feminine voice hummed an old seaman’s tune. His heart thudded, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Katie turned, her cheeks pink, blue eyes dark with humor and… love. She fisted her hands on her hips.
“If you make me walk the plank, your crew will mutiny,” she said.
Zander couldn’t form a word, his jaw slack.
Mistaking his silence for anger, she rambled on, “It was my grandfather’s idea. He likes you, and he knew I was miserable. Rory helped with the plan, and Seamus and Patch were easy to convince.”
He swallowed, not knowing if he should rant or sweep her into his arms. He chose the latter. Her cap fell into the bucket, and he buried his face in her hair, holding her so tight she gasped for air.
“You can loosen your grip,” she choked out. “I’m here to stay.”
“Yes, you are.” Her spicy citrus scent teased his nostrils. Bergamot tea, he’d learned. The heaviness in his chest faded, and he lifted her into his arms. Never, never would he let her go again. He might not allow her to leave his quarters. That thought produced a growl.
“Say good night to Patch,” he ordered in her ear.
“Good night, Patch,” she repeated obediently.
“But it’s barely midday,” the cook argued with a knowing grin.
“It’s the last you’ll see of us until dawn. Tell the quartermaster we’ll be stopping at the nearest port. I need a marriage license.” He paused at the threshold. “And have him announce my wife will be completing the journey with us. Anyone who isn’t in agreement can find another ship when we anchor.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Zander strode to his quarters, twisted the handle of the door, and kicked it open. Once inside, he kicked it closed.
“Zander—”
He covered her mouth with his. Katie sighed. Setting her down next to the bed, she tried to speak again, and he laid a finger across her lips and shook his head. Slowly, he untied the strings on her shirt. He lifted her arms and pulled it over her head. The fiery waves had grown and fell against her pale skin, more beautiful than he’d imagined. He knelt and removed the trousers, helping her step out of them, then reached up and yanked her shift down.
He gently pushed her back on the bed, and she sat clutching the bedclothes, her breaths rapid. The stockings came off next, his hands caressing her from mid-thigh to her toes. He parted her legs, kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs, and stroked her nub with his thumb. Katie whimpered, then gasped as his tongue swiped between her folds. Her fingers raked his scalp, and heat poured through him. Jesu! He hoped he could last long enough to ready her.
“Zander,” she breathed. His thumb circled her bead, then his tongue began again. “Oh, my. What…” and then she fell back on the bed. Her taste coated his tongue, and when she wriggled, jutting her hips up for more, he slid two fingers inside. Back and forth, while he licked and sucked, the heat building in her as the bud hardened.
“Oh, God,” she cried out. Her hips bucked, and she writhed against the friction his fingers created. “Oh, God, Zander.”
He stood and ripped his shirt over his head and peeled off his trousers. He moved over the top of her, pulling her to the center of the mattress, and kissed her thoroughly. Katie cupped her face, looking into his eyes, still panting. “I love you,” she murmured. “I love you, I love you—”
He kissed her again, and his palms began kneading her breasts, rubbing the pink tips between his fingers until they pebbled. His palm skimmed her belly and cupped her mons, slick and ready for him.
“This will hurt briefly,” Zander told her as he moved over. “I promise the pain will only happen once. Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded, chewing on her swollen bottom lip. He brushed her tangled hair from her face and traced the fading scar at her temple. He kissed it, then used his knee to spread her thighs. His rod pulsed, stiff with need. As he pressed against her entrance, slick from her climax, he fought for control. Never had he felt such hunger, such desire for a woman.
Zander entered her slowly, easing in and out, letting her adjust to his size until her hips rose to meet his thrusts. When his tip encountered the maidenhood, he poised over her, pressed his lips to hers, and plunged in deeply. She made a little squeak, her eyes wide, and he paused to give her a lingering kiss. Then he began a slow, steady rhythm, building the heat and the pressure, until he was close to exploding. Her hips met his, thrust for thrust, and his member swelled with his impending climax.
Katie’s fingers dug into his back as she cried out again. This time he joined her, calling out her name, not caring who heard. He collapsed on top of her, her soft hands kneading his shoulders as his breaths came hard and fast. His eyes closed; he breathed in the scent of their lovemaking.
Zander rolled to his side and pulled her close. His heart thudded in his ears. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “Aye, Captain.”
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You must promise no more conspiracies. I suppose Seamus approved of your scheme?”
“I hope so. He’s promised to show me the pirate hideout, Scarba Island. Did you know his ancestor was a leader of The Devils of the Deep?” Katie snuggled into his
side. “Thornley MacLeod. What a ridiculous name for a pirate. No wonder he went by Thor.”
They lay in silence for a while, fingers exploring, caressing, becoming familiar with the other’s body. An odd emotion filled him, and he struggled to identify it. Could this be contentment? It was more than that. He felt… at home. As if this was where he belonged, beside this outrageous woman. It didn’t matter where they traveled, he realized. His home was with her. He smiled, understanding now why his stepmother would follow his father to a strange country, surrounded by a language she did not speak. The invisible walls of love surrounded a couple, made them warm, and happy, and satisfied. He grinned. Definitely satisfied.
“When did you know?” he asked, stroking her ruby tresses.
“When you kissed me on the wharf, I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Dark and mysterious. You made my knees weak.” She leaned back to look at him, her hair mussed, lips swollen, and never more beautiful. “Do you remember the first night you tutored me?”
“Yes, you ignored my warning about the French wine and fell asleep at the table.”
“You carried me to bed, and I asked you not to leave me.” She stroked his cheek with a finger. “You called me ‘little one’ like my mother used to. That’s how I knew she’d sent you to me.”
“So it was a ghost rather than fate,” he mused.
“What about you?” she asked.
“It was like a slow-moving ship, always in the distance. Then one moment, you look up and it’s right in front of you.” Zander thought back, realizing two of his crew had known it before him. “The night of the storm, when you hit your head, I recognized my panic and concern for what it was. Love.”
They would encounter more storms, more obstacles. As long as he had his sweet, infuriating, beautiful, clever castaway, the risks would be worth the voyage.
About the Author
Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. She resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule, and barn cats. Obsessions include wine, history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas. Her books have received the Golden Quill, Aspen Gold, Heart of Excellence, and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence.
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