His eyelids flickered and opened, his sea-blue eyes gazing at her in confusion. She caught her breath. “I do hope your wits aren’t scrambled. Do you remember what happened?”
He frowned; then, in a raw whisper, he said, “We fought a battle with two corsair galleys. That can’t have been a dream because my throat is so sore I must have been shouting, which I generally do when in a battle. How did it turn out?”
“We won. Mr. Landers says our casualties were surprisingly light. The surviving pirates were disarmed and their ship dismasted, and they’ve been left to find their own way home,” she said succinctly. “How do you feel?”
“As if I’ve been kicked in the head by a horse.” He raised his hand feebly toward the bandage.
She caught his hand and gently tugged it down to the bed. “Best to leave the wound alone. Your surgeon’s mate said you were grazed by a pistol ball and he wasn’t sure how badly you were hurt, but that it would be a good sign if you woke and talked coherently. Which you’re doing, so the head injury hasn’t scrambled your wits. But you’re liberally splashed with blood from other wounds.”
“Most of it isn’t mine. I think. Fighting with blades is messy.” He started to lift his bandaged arm, then winced and lowered it.
“The mate said I could give you some laudanum if you’re in pain. Shall I mix up a draft?”
“Only water, please.” He gave her an uneven smile. “Holding your hand is better medicine than opium.”
She realized he was still clasping her fingers, so she gave a gentle squeeze before pouring some water and helping him drink. As she settled him back on his pillows, she said, “I’m happy to oblige. And if you want to hold a tail, The Spook is lying on your other side.”
His eyes lit with amusement and he turned his head gingerly. “So he is. And mercifully unencumbered by rats.” He moved his left hand a few inches so he could scratch the cat’s head. The Spook bumped Gabriel’s hand enthusiastically.
“He spent the battle with us, then must have left to find you when Mr. Landers came to collect us. Constance is above decks treating injuries.”
“Did Malek make it through the fighting?” Gabriel frowned. “I remember seeing a huge corsair coming at him from behind and using my one pistol shot on the fellow, but I’m not clear what happened next.”
“Malek was here earlier. One arm is in a sling, but he’s otherwise intact. He said you saved his life, so I presume your shot was accurate.”
“That’s right, the giant corsair went down,” Gabriel muttered. “I must have been shot just after that.”
“Malek said you’d saved his life again, but referred me to you about your shared history.” She smiled wryly. “I may never learn what that history is, other than that it’s a long story for another day.”
He gave a breathy little laugh. “Which is still the case.” His expression sobered. “It’s not a story I like telling and I don’t have the energy to explain it all now, but I swear I will later.”
“I shouldn’t be keeping you talking when you’re exhausted and wounded,” she said with compunction. “What matters is that there will be a later. I was rather worried about that.” She raised his hand and kissed his fingers. “I should leave you to rest and see if I can help with the other wounded.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “Stay,” he whispered.
She hesitated. “There is nothing I’d like more, but I don’t want to cause more trouble, given how possessive Malek is about his merchandise.”
Gabriel’s expression darkened. “You are no one’s merchandise! As for causing trouble, well, the usual rules of decorum are suspended after a battle, and Lord knows I’m in no condition to compromise you.”
Giving in to temptation, she said, “Very well. If The Spook doesn’t mind.”
Gabriel smiled. “He likes you, and the bed is large enough for the three of us.”
He tugged on her hand and she yielded, swinging her legs onto the bed. “Let me know if I hurt you.”
“You couldn’t,” he assured her. “Not enough to matter.”
She stretched out carefully on her side next to him, every part of her tense, tired body gradually relaxing as she settled into place with his right arm around her, her head on his shoulder, and her hand spread out on his chest. He released his breath in a sigh of contentment. “You feel so good,” he whispered. “Soft and lovely and right.”
“And you feel warm and solid and safe,” she murmured. “The only other time I’ve slept with a male was when I was very small and crying frantically during a horrid thunderstorm that I thought would tear the house down. My favorite brother, Hal, heard me crying and took me to his room; he tucked me beside him and told me I was safe.” She swallowed hard, wondering if she’d ever see Hal again.
“He sounds like a good fellow.”
“He is. All my brothers and sisters are good people. I’m the black sheep.”
His arm tightened around her. “Which is why you’re so interesting.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said with a little laugh. Then she covered a yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. You’re the one who fought a battle.”
His hand stroked her waist and hip soothingly. “Fear and anxiety are tiring, and you’ve been living under a very dark cloud for months.”
She closed her eyes, feeling tears stinging. “I’ve tried to stay strong and optimistic,” she whispered. “I don’t know how well I’ve succeeded.”
“I think you’ve done very well, my lady bright.”
She liked that as a nickname. “I’ve had trouble believing that I might spend the rest of my life locked in a harem, all traces of Lady Aurora Lawrence obliterated and my identity reduced to ‘the blond slave,’ probably with a name assigned to me. But the closer we get to Constantinople, the more real it seems.”
“Lady Aurora will not be obliterated!” he said firmly. “Never forget that even if you are forced into a harem, it won’t necessarily be forever. Much may happen, and you have friends.”
She closed her eyes, and prayed that he was right.
Chapter 16
Though Rory was exhausted, she slept lightly, always aware of Gabriel’s breathing and movement in case he took a turn for the worse, but he didn’t. Under different conditions, desire would have moved to center stage, but tonight deep, deep peace at being in his arms predominated.
Twice, she jerked awake from a nightmare in which the bullet that had creased his skull had struck an inch to the right. His soft breathing and the steady beat of his heart reassured her, but she couldn’t help feeling a clutch of fear at the fragility of life. Then she pressed even closer to his warm sleeping body and gave thanks that he was still here.
She woke again at dawn, when the small portholes in Gabriel’s cabin were pearlescent gray in the morning mist. This time it was Constance’s soft voice that brought her out of sleep. “It’s time to get up and return to our cabin, Rory.”
Rory blinked and turned her head to see Constance standing in a narrow doorway that was concealed behind a shallow bookcase. Behind her cousin stood the rangy form of Mr. Landers, who had a supportive arm around her tired cousin’s waist.
Regretfully, Rory slipped from the bed. Gabriel’s arm briefly tightened when she moved away, but he didn’t wake. Rory rested her hand on his forehead. No fever. Then she bent and kissed his prickly jaw, feeling deep tenderness. “I’ll see you later,” she promised in a whisper.
She followed Constance from the cabin, closing the door before speaking. “The captain is doing well. What about the rest of the men?”
“We were very lucky,” Landers replied. “The butcher’s bill is three of Malek’s men dead, but all three of the medics, Constance, our surgeon’s mate Lester, and Malek’s man believe the rest of the wounded will pull through if there aren’t complications.”
“Which there shouldn’t be given the amount of spirits I poured on after cleaning the wounds!” Constance said wryly. “One of the sailors sto
od guard over the spirits to protect them from being drunk instead of used for treatment.”
“Thank heavens for such good news! Captain Hawkins will be very glad to hear that.” Rory examined the door Landers had closed behind them. “This paneling is fitted so well that it appears the passage ends here. The door was designed as a secret exit?”
“Yes, it can be useful for the captain to have a less obvious way to come and go from this cabin,” Landers explained. He touched an unobtrusive bit of paneling on the left side and the door silently swung out toward them before he closed it again. “This passage is very quiet so exits and entrances are unlikely to be seen.”
“A good door for smuggling women in and out of the captain’s cabin?” Rory asked with a touch of dryness.
“Yes, though I’m sure you’re the first. The captain isn’t in the habit of compromising ladies,” Landers said with a tired smile. “A hidden door could also be convenient in case of mutiny. The captain has never had one of those, either, but he likes to be prepared.”
“Given our current circumstances, discretion seemed wise.” Constance smothered a yawn. “Let’s return to our cabin, Rory. I’m ready to sleep the clock around.”
“You’ve earned it!” Rory turned away from the secret door, thinking how much she would like to be compromised by Gabriel.
Landers and Constance exchanged a private smile; then he returned to Gabriel’s cabin. Constance led the way back. This small passage opened to the larger one that their cabin was located on. It really would be easy to go to the captain’s cabin without being seen.
The thought gave Rory ideas....
* * *
Gabriel had always healed quickly, which was a convenient trait. By midday after the battle, he was on his feet, though his head ached and he moved cautiously. He wished he’d been more aware when Rory had spent the night with him, but his brain had been rather fuzzy. Having her there had been wonderful even though he could only hold her. Now he wanted more.
Landers reported that the Zephyr was on course and sailing at a good clip. He also said that the ship’s crew and Malek’s soldiers were more at ease with each other than they had been. Fighting side by side had that effect.
By dinnertime, Gabriel was well enough to join his officers and passengers in the officers’ mess. Rory gave him one swift, warm smile, but didn’t speak to him. She was being discreet, which was both wise and regrettable.
He hoped to see her when he made his last rounds of the ship, pausing at the taffrail to watch the sea, but no such luck. Tiredly, he returned to his cabin. He could use a good night’s sleep. He’d try to dream of Rory instead of slashing swords....
* * *
“Gabriel, it’s me.” A low female voice yanked him awake. Rory. Gabriel shoved himself up in his bed and was rewarded by a sharp pain from his head wound, but he didn’t care. “Rory, what are you doing here?”
“Can’t you guess?” She had come through the private door, and she closed it behind her. A faint light through the window revealed that she wore a long, dark robe, her golden hair was loose, and her expression was that of a mischievous and somewhat nervous angel. “The corsair attack made it blindingly clear just how uncertain life is here. I want to be with you as much as I can, for as long as I can.”
He felt as if he’d been struck in the head again. Unable to resist her, he rose and rested his hands on her shoulders. He couldn’t think of what to say, so he drew her toward him and bent into a kiss.
Her mouth was sweet and welcoming, and a little anxious. “Thank you for staying with me last night,” he said softly. “I’m sure that’s why I’m recovering so quickly.”
She laughed and relaxed. “Mr. Landers said you always heal quickly, which is a very useful trait at sea.”
“Or anywhere else.” He kissed her again, pulling her close so that her richly female body was pressed full length against him. His hands skimmed down her back, feeling the lovely curves under her robe. “You aren’t wearing very much, are you?”
She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I thought fewer clothes would make seduction easier.”
“All you have to do is breathe to be seductive!” His body tightened, and he made himself step back, his hands remaining on her shoulders. “But full-scale seduction would be a very bad idea,” he said, forcing himself to speak bluntly. “If all goes well in Constantinople, the state of your virginity will be no one’s business but your own. But if the worst happens, it will matter a great deal.”
She stiffened. “In other words, since I was certified as a virgin in Algiers, all hell will break loose if I’m not one in Constantinople. My value will certainly go down. Would I be whipped?”
“Perhaps. The range of possibilities is wide.” His voice turned grim. “You might be killed as tainted goods by an angry buyer, or Malek might be killed for claiming you’re a virgin when you’re not, or Malek might come after me with a pistol because he’d have a very good idea of who had despoiled you, as he so charmingly puts it.”
She drew a shaken breath. “I hadn’t realized the amount of havoc that might be wreaked. It’s damnable that what should be a private matter should cause such trouble!”
“Damnable and wrong,” he agreed. “But it’s the reality we must deal with.”
She leaned into him, hiding her face against his throat. “So I am to be denied the closeness with you I want so much.”
“Not necessarily.” He ran his fingers through the silky fall of her shimmering hair, finding the texture irresistible. “There is much intimacy possible that doesn’t involve ending your virginity, and there can be great pleasure in exploring that.”
“Oh?” Her voice brightened and she looked up at him. “I am willing to be enlightened. More than willing!”
Smiling, he drew her down to sit on the edge of the bed by him and drew her into another, deeper kiss. “Then let us explore the possibilities together, my lady bright.”
Chapter 17
Rory felt nervous as Gabriel pulled her down to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “This seems so . . . deliberate.”
“It is,” he said with a reassuring smile. “But we’ll do only what you want. Just being private together is a gift. No helmsman nearby, the main door locked, just us. And you can leave whenever you wish.”
“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered. The dim light of the lamp illuminated the strong planes of his face and the sea-blue eyes that met hers with unnerving honesty. He wore only drawers and a loose, open-necked linen shirt worn to softness.
Studying the neat bandages around his head and his arm, she asked, “How do you feel? You looked rather dire last night.”
“A bit of a headache, a sore arm. Nothing to signify.” He lifted her hands and pressed a kiss on the back of each. “Nothing to interfere with cherishing you.”
Most of her nervousness dissipated. “You are such a lovely man. You listen. A lot of men don’t listen much to women.”
“Their loss. Women are interesting.” He grinned. “And it’s my gain if the fact that I listen makes you think I’m lovely.”
“That’s not the only reason,” she said, laughing. He was also wise and kind and reliable, and the more she looked at him, the more attractive he became. Strong and masculine, with a well-muscled body and broad, powerful shoulders. “But if I say too much, you might become vain.”
“I’ve been accused of many failings, but vanity has never been one of them.”
“Then you’ve spent too much time at sea with only men around.” She skimmed her palms across those beautiful shoulders, then down his chest. The open neck of his white shirt revealed soft brown hair beneath. She brushed her fingertips over it, thinking that the differences between male and female were so very, very interesting. She leaned forward and kissed his bare throat while resting her hands on his taut waist.
He exhaled with pleasure and stroked his large hands down her back from shoulders to waist to hips. “I love that women have curves in places whe
re men don’t even have places.”
Desire began coiling through her. When they’d kissed at the taffrail, touch and taste and reaction had occurred so swiftly that there had been no thought. Now she had time to think and savor how much she liked touching and being touched by him. “I’m beginning to understand the meaning of sensuality. Of so many senses coming to life.”
She exhaled a soft breath against his chest, then nibbled her lips along his throat to his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. His wonderful, warm mouth, which opened under hers.
Hesitantly she touched her tongue to him, startled by how erotic that felt. Sensuality indeed! He responded with no hesitation at all. The kiss deepened and her eyes closed as she submerged herself in her tingling senses.
His hands had come to rest on her hips, holding her firmly in place, and the strength of his clasp created a flowing, liquid response deep inside her. As the kiss continued on and on, he pulled her up onto his lap so that she was straddling him. Her lower body responded to the increased closeness with enthusiasm and began pulsing against him.
He made a rough sound deep in his throat and untied her sash so that the robe fell open over her breasts. He cupped them with his large, excitingly male hands and said tightly, “When I saw you barely clad in veils, I was ashamed that you should be humiliated so. Yet more than anything on earth, I wanted to touch you, my lady bright.”
“You forced yourself to look only at my face,” she said with a breath of laughter. “I appreciated that because being seen naked by an Englishman was somehow more embarrassing than being ogled by strangers. But even more, I appreciated your giving me my cloak to cover myself.” She leaned forward to nip his ear. “That was then. This is now, and I love your touch and your admiration.”
“Admiration is too mild a word.” With his thumbs, he strummed her nipples. She gasped as electric sensations blazed through her and pooled in her most secret places. “I admired your strength and dignity, and fought a desperate battle to suppress my desire. But it has been there, waiting and hoping for such a time as this.”
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