Run Wild

by Shelly Thacker

  “I can’t blame him for what I am.”

  “But what you are now is not what you were all those years ago,” she insisted. “You’re not the same man you were then. I know that even if no one else does. Even if you can’t see it—”

  “Samantha—”

  “You’ve changed,” she said stubbornly. “The good and honorable side of you, the side that the navy guards on that prison hulk tried to beat out of you, is still there. They failed, Nicholas. They didn’t destroy you. The good... the love,” she amended quietly, “has been right there, all along, hidden deep inside. Waiting for you to reclaim it.”

  His eyes gleamed brightly as he gazed down at her, his expression one of astonishment that was very close to awe.

  “And now you have,” she whispered, sliding her arms around him again. “You have. You are a good man. You deserve forgiveness. And love.”

  His arms enveloped her, and she both heard and felt all the breath leave him. “You can forgive what I’ve done?” he choked out, his hold on her fierce, his voice raw with emotion. “Even knowing the truth?”

  “The truth is that you’re not a harmless planter. But you’re not a dangerous pirate, either. You’re a little of both. Innocent and outlaw.” Her voice grew softer with each word. “Like me.”

  Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands, as he had done so many times with her. “The truth is,” she whispered, “that ‘they’ were wrong about you, Nicholas Brogan. And I’m not one of ‘them.’ I can’t condemn you. I know you too well.” She pulled his head down to hers, parting her lips for his kiss. “And I love you too much.”

  Chapter 27

  A rumpled pile of clothes lay forgotten on the floor, skirt, petticoat, breeches, shirt discarded by impatient hands. The sheets felt soft and cool beneath her as Nicholas lowered her to the bed, his touch gentle and strong as his fingers glided along the curves of her body. Her heart pounded with a rhythm as tender and fierce as the kisses they shared, while the lamplight bathed them both in gold.

  Balancing his weight on his braced arms, he lifted his mouth from hers, eyes sparkling with what might have been a trick of the light... or dampness. Sam felt her heart unravel as she realized he was still trembling, still overwhelmed by the words she had spoken.

  Twining her arms around his neck, she whispered them again. “I love you.” She pulled him down to her, wanting no distance between them, ever again. “I love you, Nicholas Brogan.”

  He gazed at her as if he would be content simply to look at her for all eternity. Then his name on her lips became a sigh of desire as his mouth covered hers once more, his hands caressing, claiming. The rough silk of his beard against her jaw, her chin, sent tendrils of fire unfurling through her, the mat of hair on his chest creating delicious friction against the sensitive tips of her breasts.

  She opened beneath him, welcoming the satiny glide of his tongue against hers as she welcomed the heat and hardness of his body. His weight pressed her down into the mattress, his fingers seeking her feminine heat. She gasped as he parted her intimately, heard his groan of pleasure and need as he discovered the hot rain below.

  His mouth left hers to close over the tight pearl of one breast, wringing soft cries from her lips. The heat of his mouth, the wet touch of his tongue made her arch beneath him, offering more of herself. All of herself.

  With feather-light brushes of his thumb, he teased the downy triangle between her thighs, the sensitive bud hidden within, until she was writhing beneath him, pleading, whispering helpless words of need. She buried her fingers in his dark hair, drawing him back to her, wanting more of him. All of him.

  His arms circled her as if he were embracing life itself, holding on with all his strength. Her lips parted as their mouths met in a kiss so deep it felt infinite, their breath and longing joined, pulses racing. They had been away from one another only a few days and it felt like an eternity. Dear God, she had missed him.

  She had ached for this, during too many long, empty hours—for his kiss, his tenderness, for the indescribable feeling of having Nicholas with her, beside her, part of her.

  Losing him had shattered her heart, but with every kiss, every touch, every emerald-fired glance, he mended and healed, restored and renewed. He made her heart beat wildly and her soul sweep toward the heavens, with his.

  They were both sheened with sweat, shuddering in the grip of passion before he gave in to her, to them both, pressing her back into the sheets. He gathered her beneath him, enfolding her in his strength, his potent power, every muscle taut as he positioned that rigid, male part of him at the damp entrance to her body.

  He brushed fevered kisses over her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, then pressed forward in a single thrust that dragged a groan from deep in his chest. She instinctively arched her hips, taking him deeper inside her, moaning at the feel of his heat and hardness becoming part of her in that ancient, mysterious way.

  Every part of her felt shimmering and alive as he began to move, withdrawing and then surging forward until he possessed her completely. The sensation of being utterly joined to him made time seem to slow, to stop. The night, the glow of the lamp, the smooth sheets beneath them faded from her awareness and there was only the two of them, together. The sound of his breath, the musky scent of his body, the way they fit so perfectly together, as if God had made them exclusively, exquisitely for one another.

  Each slow stroke sent a cascade of pleasure through her. Her silken depths yielded and enveloped him until whirls of fire spun tight within the core of her body. His darkness and strength blended with her pale softness until each became lost in the other, giving and taking, surrendering and claiming, loving and loved.

  Together, as one, they moved until a fullness began building inside her, a sweet pressure that sent her rushing toward a breathtaking height she had never reached before. The feelings became so intense she thought she would surely die of them, knew instead that they gave her new life.

  All at once, they reached the peak and soared over the edge together. She felt the sensations shatter around and within her, her cries of pleasure a softer echo of his deep groans as waves of ecstasy swept them both. Washed by heat and light, they kissed, trembling with their mutual release, tumbling through the heavens, two made one, now and forever.

  Her mind and heart repeated the words as she drifted down through a fog of bliss.

  Now and forever.

  ~ ~ ~

  The silence of night still enveloped the house some time later as she lay beside him, resting her head on his chest, tracing the muscled ridges of his ribcage lightly with her fingertips. They hadn’t moved or even bothered to straighten the rumpled sheets, too drowsy and sated to do anything but hold one another.

  “I missed you, Nicholas,” she whispered. “It almost frightens me, I missed you so much. Without you, I felt so...” Words could not explain the feeling.

  “Lost,” he finished for her softly. “Alone. Hollow. As if some vital part of you had been torn away.”

  She lifted her head. “You felt the same way?”

  A strange, pained smile tugged at his lips. “Every step I took was a reminder that you weren’t with me.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t get used to the feeling of not having you beside me. I even kept that shirt you wore in Cannock Chase, because it carried a trace of your scent.”

  She smiled at him, then ducked her head before he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. He cared about her. Even if he couldn’t say the words, he cared. “Nicholas, please don’t leave me again.”

  “You deserve better, angel,” he said roughly. “Better than an impoverished ex-pirate and a small house on a swampy island, where it’ll be a daily damn struggle to earn some kind of living from the land. You deserve your dream. Jewels and velvets and Venice.” He stroked her cheek. “But I’ve taken that from you, too. Along with your innocence. And I can’t even bring myself to say I’m sorry. Because I’m not. Selfish bastard that I am, I wan
t you with me.”

  She closed her eyes, sliding her arm around him to hold him tight. If she had to spend the rest of her life trying, she would help him see that he was worthy of the gift of her love. She didn’t care how long it might take. “Then come with me. Don’t send me away with Masud,” she pleaded. “Nicholas, you and I have both spent too many years alone, thinking we had to live that way to survive. Trying so hard to be strong. But strong only takes you so far.” She held him fiercely. “Love has to take you the rest of the way. I can face anything as long as I’m with you.”

  It was true. And she would stay with him for all the days of her life, whether or not he ever said the words she longed to hear.

  “I love you, Samantha.”

  She gasped, lifting her head, gazing down at him in wonder. It was as if he’d read her mind. The words flowed through her like sun and water, warm, precious, life-giving.

  He raked his fingers through her hair, drew her mouth to his, kissed her long and hard.

  “Then come with me,” she said when they came up for a breath. “Leave England with me—spare Foster’s life.” And save your own, she thought. “You’ve proven that you can care and give... and love. You can spare his life. Let him go.”

  “But there’s no way of knowing when or where Foster might show up again,” he countered. “I want to get you out of danger, not take you into danger with me.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Stubborn lady. You’d think we were shackled together or something.”

  “We might as well be,” she said firmly. “Because you’re not getting rid of me. And no blacksmith in the world is going to break that vow.”

  He smiled at her. But still, he hesitated. “It would mean spending our life running.”

  “I’ve always wanted to travel.”

  “I’m serious, Samantha. If I let Foster go, I won’t be able to go back to South Carolina.”

  “I hear Venice is nice.”

  His smile broadened and he chuckled. “Una villa sul mare Adriatico?”

  “Yes, a villa on the Adriatic.” She nodded. “Where did you learn Italian?”

  “Home, when I was small. My father was Irish, but my mamma was Italian.” He stroked his thumb over Samantha’s cheek. “All right, mio angelo. My angel. Let’s go to Venice and find your dreams in the sun.”

  ~ ~ ~

  London was a shadow on the horizon, a jagged silhouette in the light of dawn, and Sam had already discovered just how little she knew about ships.

  She did her best to stay out of the way as Nicholas and Masud worked the rigging and the wheel, trimming the sails, speaking to one another in what sounded to her like a foreign language—made up of words like “leeward” and “spritsail yard” and “thirty degrees on the port quarter.”

  The ship was barely larger than a fishing schooner. In fact, it might be an old fishing schooner, she thought, gazing down into the glassy waters of the Atlantic slipping by. She liked the wind in her hair, and the smells of wood and canvas, the sea-spray in her face.

  Clarice had been happy to bid them farewell—and not merely because Nicholas had said she could send word to her rich banker that the coast was clear and all pirates had abandoned ship. She had hugged Samantha, whispering in her ear, “You’ve got a chance, the two of you. The kind of chance most people don’t get in this or any other lifetime.”

  Remembering, Samantha grinned, her suspicion confirmed that beneath her worldly-wise, sophisticated exterior, Clarice was a genuine romantic.

  Standing up, Sam grabbed a pole-like piece of wood overhead to steady herself—only to have the opposite end connect with something solid.

  “Ow!” Masud rubbed his head, looking at her with a mournful expression.

  “That’s called a ‘boom,’ Samantha.” Nicholas laughed, standing a few feet away, securing the anchor. “For obvious reasons.”

  “I bruise easily, miss,” Masud protested. “And I try to keep from bleeding more than once a week.”

  “Sorry, Masud,” she said meekly. She glanced at his bandaged arm. “And I really am sorry about that, too.”

  “All right, all right,” he said gruffly. “I’ll agree to a truce if you promise to stop apologizing.”

  “Done.” She smiled.

  Nicholas came up beside her and kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go below and wait for me in my—in our—cabin.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” She gave him a salute and followed orders, though if there were only going to be the three of them manning the ship all the way to Venice, she would have to learn a little seamanship sooner or later.

  She clambered down the ladder that led into the dark belly of the ship, heading toward the back. Aft, she reminded herself, her mind and heart filled with thoughts of Nicholas and Venice and sunsets over the Adriatic. She opened the door to their cabin.

  And didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until the door slammed shut behind her.

  She whirled to find a tall, slender figure stepping forward from the shadows.

  A dark-haired young man with only one arm.

  “We meet again, Miss Delafield,” he said coolly, the gun in his hand glinting in the pale morning light. “Did you think you had seen the last of me?”

  Chapter 28

  Sam felt cold terror pour through her. “Foster!”

  He smiled. “I was waiting for Brogan to come below—but this is much better. You’ll make an excellent shield.”

  Her eyes on the gun in his hand, Sam backed away, toward the porthole. If she could just call for help...

  “Please stop right there, Miss Delafield. And don’t scream. Even if you’re bleeding from a bullet wound, you’ll still be useful to me.” He motioned her toward the door. “After you.”

  She froze. “How did you—”

  “I told you once before, I know a great deal about Brogan. Including who some of his old friends are. It wasn’t difficult to locate that doxy’s house.”

  “Clarice,” Sam gasped.

  “Have no fear, Miss Delafield. She’s alive and well and she’ll stay that way. Though she should choose her friends more carefully. I’ve been watching the house for several days. I followed the African when he went to the docks one morning, thinking he might lead me to Brogan. Instead he was checking on this ship. Apparently it was in need of repair, which proved fortunate for me. It was fairly easy to sneak aboard with one of the repair crews and stow away. I knew Brogan would show up eventually.”

  “I thought it was money you wanted. Not murder.” Moving only her eyes, Sam glanced around quickly, desperately looking for some weapon she might use.

  “The bounty is good for Captain Nicholas Brogan dead or alive—and after all he’s put me through, I’ve decided that dead will be safer. I’m going to do what I should have done in the first place.” He smiled. “Rather appropriate, isn’t it? A nice funeral at sea for England’s most infamous pirate. I think I’ll let the African live, so he can testify as to his captain’s identity.”

  “You told me once that you don’t kill without reason!”

  “I’ve got ample reason,” he snarled. “And you’ve got your own life to worry about, Miss Delafield. Cooperate with me or you might not live long enough to be thrown in gaol.”

  “You can’t kill us. You’ll never make it back to port.”

  “Don’t judge me by appearances.” He nodded toward his empty right sleeve. “I spent half my life at sea. I’ve enough experience to manage a ship this size quite well.” He motioned her toward the door with a flick of the gun. “Now move.”

  “You can’t do this,” she pleaded. “Nicholas isn’t what you think. He never was. You don’t know—”

  “I know all I need to know.”

  “But he’s no threat to you. He’s leaving England because he was willing to spare your life! And the reason he didn’t pay your blackmail demand is because he doesn’t have any money to pay you. He’s not rich. He has nothing. Nothing but this ship and..
. and me.”

  “How sweet. And how creative. Save your lies—”

  “But he’s not a ruthless killer! He was only a boy—”

  He cut her off with a vicious curse. “Shut up.” He pushed her toward the door. “Let’s go above and find him. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Samantha?” Nicholas called curiously, glancing up from his work as a familiar blonde head appeared in the companionway that led up from below. He smiled. “What are you doing? Have you come back to—”

  “Nicholas, it’s a trap!” she cried, scrambling up the last two steps in a rush.

  Someone caught her from behind and shoved her aside with a violent push. She struck her head against a boom and crumpled to the deck.

  Nicholas lunged toward her.

  And froze when he saw the gun pointed at him.

  “Hold it right there, Captain.” The intruder swung the pistol to encompass Masud. “And you, as well. Nobody move.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Nicholas snarled, his eyes still on Samantha. She moaned and sat up, apparently unhurt. Thank God.

  “I’m wounded that you don’t remember me. I certainly know you. I’ve been hunting you down for years. Step by step. Piecing your life together.”

  Nicholas finally turned his full attention on the intruder—a slender young man with dark hair.

  And only one arm.

  “Foster,” he spat.

  “Indeed. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Again.”

  Seething with rage, Nicholas grabbed the first weapon at hand—a knife he used for cutting rope.

  “Stay where you are,” Foster warned. “I’ve got enough bullets for you and your first mate and your little blonde mistress here.” He pointed the pistol at Samantha, who sat very still. “You’re not going to leave this ship alive, Brogan... but I could let them live. I haven’t decided yet.”

  Nicholas leashed his anger. He slid a glance at Masud. Together, they could take him, but neither of them would risk Samantha’s life.