She sobbed and rocked, returning his pressure. He repositioned himself, then drew back and thrust again. His pelvic bone brushed her nub. He moved in and out of her. Over and over. A quivering began deep within her. His mouth covered hers a second before the tremors shook her. Her very womb seemed to contract and release, sending waves of pleasure through her, sweet and hot, like boiling honey. She was consumed.
She lay beneath him, listening to the rasp of his breath. His cock throbbed within her and his scent, musky male and exotic sandalwood, surrounded her. But he was a part of her, deeper than this physicality. She never wanted this moment to end.
He began to withdraw. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, clutching him tight.
He groaned, the sound echoing with an odd note of sadness or regret. His body trembled. And then he was with her again, becoming even more a part of her, merging with every particle of her. Hot surging erupted against her inner walls. The ferocious outpourings of his body seemed to rock her to her very foundations. Satisfaction melted her bones; something more profound than her own orgasm. A joy at having pleased him.
He collapsed upon her and breathed heavily for several moments. His heart beat against her breast, his breath blew warm over her ear.
Close. Oh mercy, they were closer than close.
He withdrew and rolled on his side, facing her.
She sat. Warmth like viscous silk gushed from her. The most luxurious thing she’d ever felt. She bent forward to look between her legs. Whitish, thick fluid was spilling from her core. His seed. Him, inside her. She put her fingers to herself and touched it, testing the texture. This was the tangible evidence that she had drawn his passions from him. The intimacy of his essence there inside her made a lump form in her throat. She had never thought about that, how a man left part of himself in a woman. She had never considered how it would feel to actually experience such a thing. Every nuance of this lovemaking business was a new revelation to her. It was all so beautiful.
A sharp intake of breath startled her out of her fascination.
She looked up and found his gaze fixed between her legs. On his essence spilling from her. On her fingers touching his seed.
He surged forward and put his mouth to hers, open, his tongue ravishing hers as if he would devour her whole. The unexpected heat and ardency of it took her breath. He continued kissing her, almost violently, until lack of air forced her to push at his chest. He released her.
She gulped for air while his eyes seemed to pierce into her.
“You make me want you all over again.” His voice was husky and intimate. Hungry.
A surge of excitement made her mouth go dry. “Could we—? Could you—?”
He laughed softly. “I could—in a while—but you’d be too sore. You are not that far removed from a virgin.” He ran a caressing hand lightly down her back, sending chills over her and tightening her nipples. “You should go find your own bed now.”
“Oh.” A feeling of being suddenly let down welled in her chest. Then she brightened. “But we could tomorrow, could we not?”
His expression sobered and he shook his head. “We can’t do this again.”
He sounded so final that it put a cold layer over her warm, satisfied joy.
“But why ever not?”
“Because you’ll get with child, if you aren’t already.” An edge entered his voice. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Cling to me and keep me from pulling out.”
“I—I didn’t think about you—you—doing that. I just didn’t want you to leave me.”
“Darling, I wasn’t going anywhere, but I had to come. It wasn’t as if I was getting up and leaving the chamber.”
“I didn’t mean physically, I mean you were withdrawing yourself wholly.”
His sensual lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “You say the oddest, female things.”
“I am sorry.”
“Well, don’t do that again. Else I’ll get you with child and then you’ll have no choice but to marry me. And believe me, you don’t want that.”
Drowsily, she closed her eyes. Anna had told her that John had said a woman wouldn’t likely conceive too soon after her courses. And hers had just ceased two days before. She curled closer to his strong body with no regrets for what she had done. She would remember the sensation and satisfaction of it her whole life.
The power of the thing between them—this infatuation, he’d called it. No one could just stop something like that once it was set in motion. She’d never dreamed of anything so intense or wonderful. She wanted to experience it fully, to feel everything it had to offer. Even the pain. He was wrong.
No matter how long things lasted between them, she wouldn’t regret it. She would enjoy being his while she could. More than that, she needed the experience to grow as an artist. No artist, no matter how talented, could fully depict emotions she’d never known.
She would be as sophisticated about things as he was. She could explore him and their attraction and not be pulled off her mission. She could be his lover and not lose herself.
* * * *
The tantalizing aroma of coffee drew Emily to the dining room. Alex sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair, relaxed and drinking a cup while he attentively listened to James recounting some of the dinner conversation from the night before.
His eyes flickered to where she stood, hesitating in the doorway.
“Good morning, Miss Eliot.”
His steady blue-gray gaze dominated her attention. Every detail of the night before came rushing back to her; a vivid, sensual memory. Her inner muscles clenched and a slow trickle of wetness began to flow. She had one question burning in her mind. When would they be alone again, with his weight pressing her down into the feather bed? Five minutes from now would be too long.
A sudden clatter of cups into saucers startled her into awareness of the other two men as they came to their feet at the same time. Alex followed. Peter and James both gaped at her as if she was an apparition. Then Peter smiled, appraising her warmly. Maybe too warmly. James scowled skeptically at her.
Peter hurried to pull her chair out. She sat and the gentlemen followed, except Peter who, after asking what she’d like to eat, returned with a plate of fried scrapple with pepper and onion relish.
Everyone resumed eating and James and Alex discussed the Artemis, an East Indiaman under construction, and the need to recruit officers for her maiden voyage between Philadelphia and the Pacific Northwest and on to the Sandwich Islands.
“You’re looking for a physician?” she asked.
Alex turned to her. His eyes caressed her in unhurried appreciation of her form in the new muslin morning gown sprigged with delicate, apricot-colored flowers and a wide apricot velvet sash. Somehow, Mrs. Webbs had had the garment altered and waiting for her this morning. Blushing, she attempted to place her cup back down. It rattled against the saucer, spilling coffee on the cloth.
“Looks like we’re done for now.” James’ voice was a testament to irritation. He tossed his napkin to his plate and stood. “Come along, Peter—we’ve a busy day ahead.”
He hurried from the room. Peter made his farewells and followed him.
“Aunt Rachel and Nancy have their breakfasts taken to them in their chambers. You may do the same.”
The underlying edge to Alex’s words made it clear that he was issuing an edict. She bristled automatically but the sudden chill in his expression thwarted her sharp retort. She wondered what had caused that. James’ obvious impatience with her as the cause of Alex’s distraction? Obviously the breakfast table was a male domain and she’d unknowingly trespassed here. Uncomfortable and indignant by turns, she sought refuge in a long sip of coffee. She was beginning to understand what Grandmother had meant by the insufferable arrogance of gentlemen.
Alex was reading a letter, now, and seemed to have forgotten her earlier question.
“Are you lo
oking for a physician?” Emily repeated.
He looked up at her blankly. Then his expression sharpened with some emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Yes. An excellent opportunity for any young man seeking adventure.”
“I know a very good physician,” she said, twisting her napkin in her hands, made nervous by his inexplicable mood.
“Do you?” He leant back, drinking his coffee with a thoughtful air. “One willing to be gone two years—possibly more?”
“Yes—in fact he needs the distraction. Someone very dear to him recently died and I fear he will drown himself in his sorrows.”
He set his cup down and gave her a serious look. “He must have surgical experience.”
“Oh yes, he has—and he’s very smart, learns quickly. His mind is very open.”
“Is that a fact?” He regarded her speculatively, too coolly for her taste, when she wanted him to grab her and take her on the table.
“Yes, and you could help him gain more specific medical experience suited to a merchantman’s needs. There’s time before your ship leaves.”
“You’re correct, there’s time.” Alex smiled wryly. “But he wears a liberty cockade, doesn‘t he? Cheers each time the guillotine severs another moderate head?”
“How did you guess that?”
“I saw you with just such a young man in the Blue Duck.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t been aware that he’d watched her before Green’s attack had drawn his notice. For an odd reason, it flustered her. In everything, he was always at least a step ahead. She fidgeted her hands together. “He does those things just to thwart his father.”
He sat up, his brows drawing down as if in disgust. “Wonderful—a bloodthirsty, rebellious Jacobin as my ship’s doctor.” Drumming his fingers restlessly on the table, he shook his head with a rueful expression. “I really shouldn’t.”
“Please think about it.”
He laughed softly. “You plead so prettily for him. Just who is this young man to you? Do you have tendre for him, Emily?”
His eyes blazed almost angrily now, though his tone was light.
“No! Goodness, no. It’s just that I owe him so much—he saved my life.”
“Saved your life?” His coffee cup landed in its saucer with a decisive clatter. “Tell me more.”
“This fall, during the fever.”
“The fever?” His eyes widened. “You had the yellow fever?”
She laughed nervously. “I did, but I survived.”
He stared at her, in an expression of what looked like growing horror. He bolted up and landed in the chair beside her.
Chapter Eleven
Alex took her delicate wrist into his hand and studied its still-prominent bones. The lack of flesh to cover those bones. Yes, Jefferson had told him that her grandmother had died of the fever. Yes, she had mentioned that she had lost weight recently, but he had assumed it due to her poverty.
How had he so completely overlooked the obvious?
His heart seized up in his chest. It was a strange sensation, akin to physical pain yet not physical at all.
She jumped in her seat and pulled back. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“You could so easily have died.” He gripped her hand, wishing he might protect her after the fact, wipe away the ugly past with the strength of his body and will.
She shrugged. “I am alive and well now. That’s all that matters.”
Christ.
It was as though the shadow of death had come from nowhere to suddenly loom over her.
Inside, he was shaking all over.
What if, despite her relative appearance of health, there remained some lingering effect that could eventually—
He got up and called Sally, tapping his fingers on the table as he waited for her to come. Finally, she came running into the room, wiping her hands on her apron. Her gaze flickered from him to Emily, then she compressed her lips.
“Send Elisha to ask Dr. Howe to come around today,” he said.
Sally nodded briskly and hurried back out.
Emily frowned. “A doctor? But I am fine.”
“I’ll do what I think is best. Dr. Howe spent several years in the Caribbean—he understands tropical diseases better than most.”
She glanced down at the table and frowned. “But it has been weeks now. I am fine. I don’t need a doctor.”
“There can be lingering complications, Emily—it won’t hurt to be certain.”
“But I don’t need—”
“He’s coming and you shall submit to an examination and that’s an end to it.” He offered her a stern stare, just for good measure.
She stared back unflinchingly, her eyes sparkling with resistance. God, she faced everything in her life—even the threat of death—with that same mix of unflinching courage and stubbornness. It maddened him to no end.
And yet he couldn’t help admiring her all the more for it.
He also couldn’t help falling more deeply in love with her—
She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.
“Consider it part of your contractual obligation to me to stay in good health.”
Her chin jutted out and her face flushed. “Yes, sir, of course.”
Her voice was soft but he didn’t miss the hard edge underlying her words. He chose to ignore it. He’d got his way. He knew enough of women to let matters lie.
“Good girl,” he replied, then stood and prepared to leave.
“Alex?”
He stopped and turned.
Her large, lushly lashed, sherry-colored eyes were imploring. “What about John? Will you at least meet him?”
“I shouldn’t.” God, it was going to be this way with her. He couldn’t deny her anything. He gave an inward, wry smile. Then he sighed. Though he didn’t mind opening his purse to her, he couldn’t allow himself to make foolish business decisions.
“He really is a stellar physician and he is energetic, young and strong. One of the kindest people I have ever known. He’s twenty-four but very responsible for his age.”
Her voice had turned very soft—glowing. His chest seemed to seize up.
He recognized the feeling as jealousy and despised himself. That was exactly the sort of man Emily should have for a suitor—for a husband. He shouldn’t begrudge her a chance at true happiness.
He grinned at her to hide his discomfort. “Well, that sounds like quite an endorsement. Are you sure you don’t have tender feelings for this fellow?”
Her dark red brows rose. “No, it is not like that. He is a friend. He was good to me when I had no one and as a doctor he truly is all I have said he is.”
Well, then he’d better take a closer look at this paragon. “Have Sally send for him. I’ll interview him, but I promise nothing.”
* * * *
Alex sat at his desk, staring at the dark-haired young man who answered Dr. Howe’s questions with such quick yet well-constructed answers.
Dr. Howe turned to Alex. “He knows his business, Dalton.” The tall, thin doctor stood, his shock of red hair flaming in the sunlight from the window. “His mentor, Dr. Smith, is very well known to me. He’s on the right side of things.” Dr. Howe grinned.
Alex knew what that meant. The man didn’t follow extreme ideas like radical blood-letting and purging. He was pleased and impressed with that. It showed that, despite his political leanings, the man had common sense. The young doctor seemed to be all that Emily had said, yet he had no money. His father had cut him off and his practice and pocketbook had suffered greatly in the recent epidemic. It lay within Alex’s ability to change that, to give him a source of income.
“Dr. Abbott,” he said.
The younger man turned to him, a hard look on his face and fiery dislike in his eyes. Alex pressed his lips together to keep from grinning at such obvious jealousy. “Yes, Mr. Dalton, sir?”
“You’ve got a job if you want it.”
Dr. John Abbot’s face lost its mask of stiff def
iance and the brown eyes all but glowed with pleasure and excitement—for what young man didn’t dream of landing a job with good pay, travel and adventure?
In that moment of unguarded happiness, Alex saw into the younger man. He saw the innocence, the idealism. The purity. He could scarcely remember what it had felt like to be that young in spirit. A most unwelcome jolt of something hot and bilious green twisted through his guts. Envy.
“I don’t know, Mr. Dalton.” Dr. Abbot’s brows drew down and a vertical line showed between his eyes. “I’ll have to think about it.”
The younger man’s inner battle wouldn’t last long. Alex knew enough of human nature to ease off the pressure. “Of course. But let me know within the next month. We’re trying to tie things up.”
Dr. Abbott nodded and left, his stride swift and purposeful.
Alex stared at the doorway after he had left. The young doctor was exactly the kind of man Emily deserved for a husband.
And Alex hated him for it.
* * * *
In the parlor, Dr. Howe had thoroughly examined Emily and pronounced her well enough, though he warned her nonetheless about a lingering weakness of the liver and the necessity to rest and avoid sick people, malodorous or damp places and becoming chilled.
No sooner had Dr. Howe gone to visit Alex in his study than John had arrived, scowling and voicing his reluctance to be employed by a New England Federalist.
“Oh, please, John, don’t lose this chance,” she urged him.
He eyed her suspiciously. “And just what chances have you taken him up on?”
“It’s not like that.”
Well, not entirely. She drew her spine straight with a false dignity that almost hurt.
“He intends to help me publish my book.”
“Men like him don’t do favors for free—you watch yourself,” John said, whilst eyeing her very closely.
She couldn’t bear up under his scrutiny and she looked down.
“I know you didn’t meet him in Jefferson’s study, as he said.”
Heat spread over her face. “Now, John, I—”
“Emily, I was there that night at the Blue Duck.” He spoke very low. “And I have heard all the sordid talk of how you got yourself into a scrape and the mighty Mr. Alexander Dalton stepped in to save you.”
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