“Yes, well… Not to worry, I told her that was unacceptable and that tomorrow, as soon as we docked, we would move to the plantation to start our new life.”
Alastair looked up at that. “She could stay. You both could.”
For one very brief moment, his heart filled his throat and he couldn’t breathe. But then he stamped out the surge of elation, and unfortunately anger filled its place. “Oh, not you also. Is this whole ship filled with dreamers? And you, sir, are old enough to know better, whereas Lydia is still almost a child. I hope you were not filling her head with this nonsense. Or your first mate’s head either.”
Unable to sit any longer, he stood and then prowled around the small room.
He barely heard the next ridiculous thing Alastair said.
“Rhain, I have rarely cared for anyone. Damnation, I hardly even know my own family. But I have come to care for you. Both of you really, but you in particular.” With his head bent, his long, unbound hair hiding his face, Alastair continued. “I find myself thinking of ways to delay arriving at Dominica.”
At Rhain’s gasp of surprise, he turned and continued, those black eyes staring directly at him. “Don’t even think that. I did nothing to delay your trip, although I did fantasize about doing so.” He stood and walked over, placing a hand on Rhain’s chest. “You, my prickly bastard, I will miss greatly.” And he leaned in for a light, tender kiss, his eyes closed.
Rhain watched emotions play over the handsome face before he himself got caught up in the kiss, deepening it. “God, Alastair.” He mashed his hardening cock against his lover’s already rock-hard member. “I want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” Actually, he needed to claim Alastair so utterly and completely the man would never forget him.
They stumbled to the bed, undoing each other’s clothes. They were naked and writhing against each other in moments, kissing as if their survival depended on it. But Rhain wanted, needed, more. He slid down the lean muscled body, unfastening, unbuckling, and untying as he went, and took a good look at the fine long cock, wanting to taste it. He did.
He licked up the length and then wrapped his mouth around the silky-hard rod and sucked all the way to the base. His nose pressed in the crease of Alastair’s groin, and he inhaled the fragrance so unique to this man.
How does one describe a scent if words cannot capture its essence? But he knew he would remember that smell, that taste, until the day he died. Would remember it, alone in his bed. While gray-haired and remorseful. Damn it all to hell.
Alastair moaned and pumped his hips, one hand in Rhain’s hair pulling, hips pushing. A board on the bed groaned in protest.
It was going to end too soon, like this. He wanted more.
He pulled off and issued one of his own commands, “Turn over.”
Alastair’s eyes flew open at the harsh utterance, but he turned over. One knee caught Rhain in the gut, and it took a moment to straighten out arms and legs.
God, Alastair had a fine arse. His cock throbbed with a need for release as he ran his hands down the lean, firm cheeks. His fingers roamed into the tight recesses where the skin darkened. He placed his thumb on the puckering hole, and it constricted, then relaxed, just enough for the tip of his thumb to breach the surface.
He almost came then and grabbed his sac with a pinching twist to keep from spilling. He took a deep breath and was under control again. He pressed at Alastair’s anus harder until his thumb slid all the way into that dry passage. In his need, he’d forgotten to prepare his lover with oil. Damn.
He spat, thought better of it, then bent down and kissed the entrance that he would conquer, would own.
Alastair groaned, “No,” when Rhain removed his thumb, but started whimpering when Rhain pressed his lips and tongue in its place. He kissed and licked and pressed in as far as he could go, loving the way his lover writhed under him, the musky taste on his tongue. “I’m going to take that arse. I’m going to own it, and you will never ever forget who plowed you this night.”
“Yes, Rhain. Now. Do it now.”
He almost forgot the oil again in his lust-filled haze. But at the last moment he remembered, and then lunged across the room and had the oil back before he could exhale.
They made quick work of the preparation, not sure if it was his or Alastair’s impatience as the man bucked back against his fingers just as Rhain pushed into the tight hole he longed to possess.
When he slipped into the puckered opening, watching Alastair’s athletic body and lush hair skimming his shoulder blades and slipping down to brush the sheets, hiding that beloved face, Rhain nearly cried his joy and screamed his pain. The pain of knowing this was their last night.
He pounded into his beautiful captain. The man’s arse cheeks flexed and relaxed with his own thrusts, his hair swaying in an intoxicating flow of ebony with each movement. But Rhain could not force his way close enough, nor deep enough.
He grabbed Alastair’s shoulders and pulled him up against his own chest. The man groaned and almost melted as Rhain pummeled his sweet spot.
The creak of the wooden bed, the sound of balls slapping arse, and the pop of air compressing inside his lover combined in a vulgar enhancement to their lovemaking.
Alastair shot as he yelled, “I love you. Fuck. Love. Goddamn you. Don’t… You can’t… I love you.”
The declaration, meaningless given the intensity of the fuck, forced his own climax nonetheless, and Rhain yelled answering curses of pleasure and anguish in his lover’s hair. “Yes, come around my cock. Take my seed. Be my…”
Years of pent-up anger and fear rushed out with his seed, and he sobbed—just once—into Alastair’s sweat-matted hair.
They sank to the mattress as their muscles fatigued. Rhain’s prick slipped out as they collapsed, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.
Chapter Eleven
The next afternoon, Rhain draped a comforting arm around Lydia, who clutched a handkerchief, twisting the tortured cloth this way, then that. Occasionally the cloth was used to wipe angrily at her wet cheeks.
Breakfast had been a quiet affair as they tacked around the leeward side of Dominica. Alastair ate little and stared into his tea. Rhain, for some unforeseen reason, was ravenous and ate his share and more. Neither of them talked until it was time for Alastair to perform his captain’s duties.
Dressed and looking finer than a five-tier cake, Alastair said, “We will have little privacy above deck, so I will say good-bye now.” He held out a strong, elegant hand, and they shook, slowly. “I have enjoyed your company beyond imagining, and hope…” His voice broke. “We will see each other again soon. My dear, dear prickly bastard.” He smiled a slow half smile and stepped gently into Rhain’s embrace. “Be happy.”
Rhain nodded, terribly close to tears.
And then Alastair was out the door, off to his myriad mysterious duties.
For an hour, he and Lydia stood watching Dominica grow on the horizon, neither mentioning that Dominica looked nothing like the paradise they’d envisioned for the past several months. The port town was flat for many miles until steep peaks shot up with pale lavender and brown streaks. Nothing was green. A dry yellow-brown that looked like mud engulfed the majority of the island. A disturbing, ugly haze blanketed the town all the way to the slopes of the mountains.
Surely, they would not live close to this town. The air in London would be considered clean compared to that of this humid, stewing, smoke-clogged location.
“Rhain? I am somewhat worried about this.”
Truth be told, he was as well and could do nothing but squeeze her shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. Our plantation will be miles away from this…place.”
Lydia sobbed, and Rhain’s heart clenched for her pain, and his own.
An hour later, they were smoothly slipping into a dock surrounded by the sooty miasma belched from a sugarcane rendering factory.
The port appeared lawless. Whores flashed skin, white, brown, and black.
Breasts on display. A handful of sailors on the ship docked next to theirs sent taunting jeers, vulgar gestures, and bare arses wiggling at them.
Lydia tsked and turned from the view. “This place is vile. Resembles a madhouse. It is lawless. Are you certain we are in the right place?”
He kissed her knuckles. “You can be assured that I will make certain of that before you have to dirty your pretty dress.” His flippant tone was meant to amuse her, but next he said seriously, “Stay on board, Lyd. Until I ascertain the situation. Yes?”
“Yes,” she agreed.
He wound his way through the crowds, past bedraggled men and women, many struggling with handcarts, some with wheels that wobbled precariously; other carts were pulled and limped sideways, like they were about to topple, pivoting on a center axle that chewed small chunks out of the planking of the dock.
Poverty permeated the very air here, with the grim and desperate looks on the workers’ faces. It was apparent they lived from one moment to the next. No work, no pay, no food.
One man strutted across the wharf with a mission. Long gray hair under his cap bounced in the breeze. His jaunty step suggested a recent windfall. Or perhaps he was on his way to meet a lover.
A lover.
All of a sudden his lungs clenched tight. It was impossible to take a deep breath. The realization that he would likely never see Alastair after today nearly sent him to his knees. Leaning against a pylon, he tried to regain his bearings. One breath. Two. Three.
Pushing away from the supporting post, he stood on his own feet, took a breath, then continued on his quest. It did not matter what his body desired; what mattered was making a home for Lydia and himself.
Once determined, it took no time at all to find the local acting port authority among the querulous crowd; he simply looked for the cleanest face in the throng, which turned out to be a young man by the name of Thomas Green. A soft-spoken and highly competent man, he assured Rhain that the situation on the island was calm, except at the port town. Apparently, the storm brought all the people with damaged homes and injuries here for help. The excitement of the storm and the crowding turned some people rough and loud, the man said. Once outside town, everything is orderly and reconstruction is underway.
He hated to ask, but he needed to know. “Was anyone killed?”
“I’m afraid so. We don’t know how many yet, but my guess is several hundred.”
“Thank you for your help, sir,” he said as he fought the tightness in his neck and shoulders. He hoped his plantation and foreman were undamaged and unhurt. He wished he were a good enough person to say his concern stemmed from compassion to the people harmed, but he knew deep down that he was not such a good person. His main concern was for Lydia’s continued comfort.
Forcing his worry away, Rhain admitted the man impressed him with his helpfulness, even sending a wagon and driver to convey them and their belongings to the plantation. Rhain set aside his concerns and directed the unloading and reloading of their belongings onto the large, two-horse wagon. The thing did not seem all that sturdy, but it did hold up under the weight of their crates.
That done, there was nothing left to do but gather up Lydia and wish a farewell to the crew. At the thought, Rhain’s optimism died a bright, vivid death.
Alastair stood by and watched the whole exchange. Rhain, that young fool, was really going to leave and take his fragile sister with him. The damn, damn fool.
He met Rhain as the man came up the gangplank. “A moment of your time?”
“Certainly, Captain. In fact, I came to see you and to collect Lydia.” He smiled and looked much too young to be going off alone with no one to protect him and his sister.
He came to say good-bye? A brief painful lurch occupied his chest, and he could not speak momentarily. He took that time to steer Rhain to a more private location so they could talk quietly.
Behind a few well-placed barrels, he pulled Rhain close and caressed the silky surface of his clean muslin shirt. “The environment here is not right. I have rarely seen a town so out of control.”
“Not to worry, the mayhem is only due to the storm damage and the plantation workers swarming the city for help. The port authority told me all about it; he is quite accommodating in fact, and said things will settle in a few days.”
“Rhain—”
“Don’t worry, Alastair. I will whisk Lydia out of town right away, and we will be safely at our plantation and away from the rabble in no time. I was assured all is safe.”
“Be that as it may, I think it will be safer for Lydia to stay here, with your belongings. I can send an armed escort with you until you make certain all is well at your estate.”
The infuriating boy laughed. “Says the man who scoffs at storms and chases other ships. I thought you were fearless.”
He allowed that compliment to fill his aching heart, but he would not be distracted. “I must admit I am worried about the two of you.”
“You think I can’t take care of myself and Lydia? That we need a governess? We don’t need your services any longer, Captain. But if truth were told, I worry at times that I’m not capable enough. Right now, I want to fall into your arms and let you take care of everything. But I cannot do that. I belong on land, Lydia belongs on land, and I must get this plantation working for both our sakes.”
“Damn you, boy. You are not thinking clearly; your head is in the clouds about your land, so you can’t see the danger around you.” Not the best thing to say, especially after Rhain had just opened up and expressed a weakness. Exposed his underbelly, so to speak.
Rhain’s temper and pride obviously got the better of him. He puffed his chest out and scowled.
No one would be able to convince him at this point. Alastair knew him well enough to surmise that much.
So all he said was, “We will be here for seven days if you have need of anything.” Or if you just want to see me, he thought. “The crew needs some shore leave.” He lied. The only reason they would stay in this hellhole was to make available a safe retreat for the two underprepared landowners.
In the end, they parted in anger. The last thing he hoped to accomplish. But perhaps in the long run anger would make it easier for both of them.
Rhain hurt.
Every single piece of him hurt, from the inside out. Including his hair. Even so, he held his head high as he helped Lydia leave the ship. Why had he held on to his pride and left Alastair furious instead of kissing the man stupid?
“Ouch,” Lydia said and tried to yank her arm out of his viselike grip.
He let go immediately. “I am very sorry, dear. Wasn’t paying attention.”
She glared at him for what must have been the twentieth time that day.
God, he felt awful. He didn’t realize leaving Alastair, knowing he would likely never see the man again, would be so difficult. He wanted to turn around and head back up the gangplank to the man, grab him, and take him directly to bed. He ran a shaking hand over his sweat-slicked face.
The man said he loved him. Of course, the words were uttered during a heated fuck and meant nothing. Alastair had been carried away by the intensity of the moment, that was all. However, at the time…it meant the world to Rhain. He wanted, needed, more time. Time to enjoy, time to see where this could lead. Time they didn’t have. So there was no chance to determine how deeply he loved. After all, he thought he’d loved Robert once.
They reached the wagon where two of Alastair’s sailors stood about, making certain nothing was stolen. He handed Lydia up on the wagon seat. She slid to the middle next to the driver and fluffed her skirts, still not looking at him.
Knowing it was a monumentally bad idea but unable to stop himself, he looked back at the ship, at Alastair. The man looked as stoic and beautiful as he had the first night they’d met. Now, standing at the quarterdeck, one foot propped on the lowest rail, a hand holding an overhead rope, he could have been the King of England himself, for all the power he held over Rhain at that
moment.
He couldn’t breathe. Blinking rapidly, he rubbed at his constricted throat.
Alastair leaned forward a few inches, his hand flexing on the rope.
Call me back. Call us both back.
There was no last-minute declaration of love or even longing. Which was for the best. Rhain turned, climbed into the wagon, and told the driver to, well, drive.
There was a bounce of the boards. He looked back. One leathery sailor had hopped on the back. Looking up in time, he saw Alastair point to another, toothless, sailor, who immediately jumped on the overloaded wagon as well.
Rhain glared at the seamen as one of them started singing an off-key ditty about an amply chested woman.
They rolled away, leaving the Hurricane behind.
Alastair clasped and unclasped the rough rope and watched the stretch of road where Rhain and his ragtag group disappeared not five minutes before, telling himself no one would follow them to murder, rape, and steal all their belongings.
“I can’t believe that young fool,” Dunn snarled in Alastair’s ear. “The damn foul air is already starting up Lydia’s cough.”
Alastair whipped his head around at the slur on his lover’s name, but Dunn continued.
“And I don’t like the feel of things. Too much riffraff peddling and sneaking about. Tells me there is no or very corrupt law and too much poverty.”
He agreed.
“Poverty leads to violence. Why did you let them go?”
“What choice did I have? What? You want me to cuff Rhain—Mr. Morgan—in irons and leave him shackled with Balls?” His response was much too heated, he could tell from Dunn’s startled expression, but damn, he had never felt so helpless.
“We are staying for seven days. Arrange the crew’s watches.”
Dunn spluttered.
“I want to be here if those two need help.”
“Captain, this place is a powder keg. You certain we can safely stay for seven days?”
His Pirate (Second Chance Book 2) Page 12