He’d been a foolish man, but a foolish man she’d dearly loved.
Nicholas sat up and she instantly missed the weight of him and the warmth of him. He stared at her for long moments, as if thinking hard about something.
“We should get back,” she said. “Phin is probably wondering where I am.”
“Don’t leave. Not yet.”
She wanted to close her eyes and weep. She wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it all. Instead she said, “We can’t pretend anymore, Nicholas. We are what we are. Picnics and waterfalls and late night visits aren’t going to change reality.”
He stood slowly, uncoiling himself from the rock and holding his hand out to her. She wasn’t wearing a voluminous gown, and propriety had fallen by the wayside between them a long time ago, but she put her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand. They were face-to-face, the masculine scent of him mingling with the heat and dampness of the waterfall. He smelled so good.
He jumped off the rock and held his arms out to her and God help her, she put her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to lower her to the ground. Her body slid against his, not an accident, she was sure. Her nipples, under the tight restraint of her bindings, puckered and she drew in a shocked breath. Before she could push him away, or better yet, pull him closer, his hands were gone, as if their bodies brushing had absolutely no effect on him.
Or maybe it had. He pulled his shirt off, revealing the chiseled muscles she’d run her hands over the night before. “What are you doing?” Her voice came out as a squawk.
He deftly unbuttoned his breeches and stepped out of them. Thank the Lord he was wearing underclothes.
He turned that damned smile back on. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, my love.”
My love? She shook her head. No time to think about that when he was getting naked in front of her.
“But you can’t—”
He turned, completely unabashed at his nakedness, and walked into the water.
Her hands flopped out to her sides, her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Magnificent. He was truly magnificent, with all those hard muscles rippling in the sunlight. She’d seen naked men before, but none had the impact this man did. He left her breathless, her legs weak, her pulse skittering. He left her with a need so great she was barely able to control it. Last night had merely been the prelude to what could easily be a wonderful interlude. But allowing it meant Nicholas would get another chance to worm his way into her heart, and that, she must protect at all costs. She couldn’t afford the devastation he would leave in his wake.
He was chest-deep in the water, droplets shimmering on his muscled chest and in his slicked-back hair. She licked her lips, suddenly thirsty.
“Join me,” he said.
“I …” She looked from him, to the water, then back. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Quite possibly, she’d never wanted anything more than to walk into the water with him. But as she’d once heard, this way be dragons.
“Please, Emmaline.”
The please touched her, weakened her. “I can’t.”
His smile faded while his arms moved the water around him, making soft ripples that would be so cool on her heated skin. He walked toward her, the water fanning out behind him. He was like those legends she’d heard about, when she was in Ireland. Selkies. Men who lived beneath the sea and shed their skins to become human when they left the water for land.
All the stories she’d heard were romantic tragedies. Nicholas was her selkie.
The water receded from him, revealing his tightly muscled stomach, and the underclothes he might as well have not been wearing. They were plastered to his skin, and she could nearly see through them. Last night she’d only caught a glimpse of his strong legs. Today she saw the scar running down the outside of his right leg. An angry, painful-looking red welt.
He stopped in front of her, water dripping off him to pool at his feet, and held his hand out to her. “Come with me, Emmaline.”
Her shoulders drooped. This was madness. They shouldn’t be here at all, and yet she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.
“I can’t swim.” She lifted her chin, refusing to be embarrassed. Most sailors couldn’t swim, believe it or not, and she was one of them.
“It’s not deep. You can easily stand, and I will be there for you if you need me.”
A small sound escaped her. If she needed him? Oh, she needed him all right. Again she looked at the water, so cool and inviting, then at Nicholas, still dripping wet, more beautiful because of it. Yes, he was her selkie and they were doomed, just like in all those selkie stories she’d heard. Despite that, she stepped forward.
His hands went to her shirt and pulled on the string tied at her throat. She swallowed, but made no move to stop him. After all, this was what she wanted. One more time. Just one more time with him, then you must walk away.
His eyes darkened as he reverently placed his hands beneath the hem. Cold fingers touched heated skin and she jumped at the sensation. Slowly he raised his hands, taking the hem of the shirt with him. When he could push it up no more, she lifted her arms and he whisked it off her.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Binding. It’s easier to work when dressed this way.”
Sometimes she hated her breasts. They got in the way of her work, because men seemed to concentrate on them, and they were ponderous when she was careening or repairing. But right now, this moment, they ached for Nicholas’s touch.
“And how do we remove this binding?”
She reached behind her and untucked the end of the length of fabric she’d made to cover her breasts without a corset or stays. It worked quite well, and was more comfortable than any of the torture devices women were required to wear.
She held her arms out, and Nicholas unwound the fabric. When it fell away, he pulled in a breath and cupped her aching breasts in his hands. She wanted to moan at the contact, but swallowed the sound. His thumbs gently brushed her puckered nipples, and she jerked at the exquisite pleasure racing through her.
He took her hand and turned toward the water. She followed, pushing away her unease as she waded in behind him. Trust me. He’d asked her so many times, and still she’d held tightly to her trust. Walking into the pool was the ultimate trust she could give him.
The water surrounded her, causing her heart to beat frantically. She clutched Nicholas’s hand tightly, too afraid to act brave. He turned and faced her, his hands going to her waist.
“It’s c-cold.” Her teeth chattered, but the cold water felt good in the heat of the day.
He stepped back, pulling her along with him, until suddenly the ground beneath her gave way. She screeched, her legs flailing, her hands reaching for him.
He pulled her closer. “I have you, Emmaline.”
When she realized she wasn’t in imminent danger of drowning, she slowly relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of floating. She smiled and Nicholas laughed.
“Not bad, eh?”
She released one of his shoulders and moved her arm through the water, feeling the resistance.
Nicholas continued moving backward until they were at the waterfall. Then he was pulling her through it and the water pounded on her head, making her sputter. When they came out on the other side, they were in a dark, shallow cave, surrounded by rock on three sides, the cascading water at their backs. It was cooler in here, without the sun beating down on them. Her skin prickled with goose bumps.
Nicholas cupped his hand on the back of her head and urged her forward until he was kissing her. Unable to resist, not willing to resist, Emmaline wrapped her arms around him and let him hold her up while she kissed him back. The waterfall behind them drowned out all sound. A small part of her recognized the danger. Anyone could sneak up behind them, but she let the thought drift away like the petals of the India red water lilies dotting the water.
His erection brushed her leg, sending shivers through her. Slowly, he lowered her until
her feet touched the sandy bottom of the pool, releasing his other hand to explore her breasts and her stomach, brushing against the curls between her legs, but going no farther.
She made a frustrated sound and widened her legs, but he didn’t accept her invitation.
He broke away from the kiss to touch his lips to the tender part of her neck, her shoulder, the delicate spot beneath her ear. Each brush of his lips brought surges of delicious sensations. She hungered for more, ached to have him inside her.
“Please, Nicholas,” she whispered, begged.
“Ah, Emmaline. You are so beautiful.” He turned her around until her back was to his hard chest. “Lean against me,” he commanded. And she obeyed. His body easily took her weight. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.
His arm came around her torso, binding her to him. His other hand searched for and found the juncture of her thighs. His fingers delved inside and she cried out at the sweet invasion. His lips found the spot behind her ear that made her whimper.
Her breathing came in ragged gasps. Need coiled inside her, searching for exquisite release, and yet she held back, not yet ready for it.
“Come for me, Emmaline.” His whispered words pushed her closer. Lost in the world they’d created behind the waterfall, she could only press her head against him and her pelvis into his hand, rubbing rhythmically. All thought was incoherent and inconsequential. She was nothing but animal need and desire. She cried out with each thrust, uncaring if anyone heard, but knowing, in some part of her mind, that the sound of the waterfall drowned out her primitive cries of desire.
Nicholas’s breaths became pants against her skin. His hips moved in rhythm with hers, his erection pressing against the back of her leg, hard and hot.
“Let go, sweetheart.”
She arched her back, thrusting her mound into his hand and screamed his name, pumping and grinding as the world temporarily went black and Nicholas whispered in her ear, “Yes, yes, yes.”
When she finally opened her eyes, her muscles were weak and she didn’t have the energy to lift her head from Nicholas’s shoulder.
He moved her, positioned her and suddenly he was inside her, a low growl erupting from him. His fingers had never left her and they began moving again.
Surprisingly, it felt good and another explosion crept up on her. Drained from the first, she could do nothing but rest her body against his and let the sensation overtake her. His strokes were long and slow, pulling almost all the way out before slowly, frustratingly slowly, inching his way back in. His fingers pressed against her nub, and with his hardened member inside her, the feeling almost drove her over the edge. She forced herself to remain still, making it that much more wonderful.
His breathing quickened as well as his strokes, and she knew he was as close as she was. A keening cry erupted from her as yet another wave washed over her, more intense for the fact she wasn’t moving with it.
“Ah, God, Emmaline.” Nicholas jerked frantically and cried out, the sound echoing off the stone walls. He pulled out and his seed squirted against her leg.
For long moments they remained back to front as the sounds of their lovemaking faded. Emmaline didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that each time they’d made love, Nicholas pulled out at the last moment. He didn’t want to get her with child. She understood and even condoned it, but a small part of her mourned it as well. For to be with his child meant she would have a constant link to him. A small part of him he would leave behind when they parted ways.
She began to shiver despite their heated lovemaking.
“Let’s get into the sun.” He began pulling her with him, under the waterfall and into the bright sunshine. But the rays didn’t warm her as he’d probably hoped they would. Her chill went deeper than skin level, all the way to her soul.
They walked out of the water arm in arm. Nicholas flopped down on the rock and sighed. At some point he’d shed his underclothes, and Emmaline had no idea where they got off to.
She lay beside him, facing him. Droplets of water clung to his lashes, small diamonds reflecting the sun. She put her hand on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart. Contentment washed through her, accompanied by the familiar panic of getting too close. But instead of running, as she’d done that morning, she stayed where she was, intent on enjoying this moment and not thinking about the next.
Nicholas turned on his side and touched her cheek, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were serious, making her heart thump loudly.
His chest rose and fell on a deep sigh. Her contentment quickly faded to another sort of panic. Their time together was drawing to a close. The sunlight was waning, and soon they would have to dress and return to the house. Soon Nicholas would have to leave for good.
“I have to tell you something, Emmaline.”
Her mouth dried up. The sun hid behind a cloud, chilling her. She didn’t like the sound of his voice, or his words. All her life she’d trusted her instincts. Instincts that told her to find her father, instincts that told her to follow James Sutherland. Instincts that told her, when she met Nicholas at Dorothy’s ball, she should keep a close eye on him. Now her instincts were screaming that she didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“I know you’ve been searching for a way to discover the shipping route of one of Blackwell’s ships. I have something even better.”
She blinked, her mind too sluggish to handle the conversational switch. “Pardon?”
He looked away, guilt in his eyes, and Emmaline grew even colder.
“I have something better. Something you’ll be interested in.”
She sat up. “What do you mean?” Her voice sounded small, weak. She hated that she felt weak.
He sat up as well, and despite his nakedness, Captain Addison had returned. Damn him. He’d said he wanted today to be about Nicholas and Emmaline, not Captain Addison and Lady Anne, yet here he was, back in his captain persona, leaving her feeling alone and scared and off-balance.
“I have what you’ve been looking for. A way to destroy Blackwell.”
“You said you didn’t want me to destroy Blackwell. Why the change?”
He reached for her hand but she drew away from him, wishing she were fully clothed. Being naked meant she was vulnerable, and while that had been fine behind the waterfall, Nicholas changed the rules of the game, leaving her on guard, the trust she’d given him not minutes ago evaporating.
“Emmaline, please.”
She reached for her shirt and shrugged it on. It was a slight improvement, but she didn’t feel any less vulnerable. And yet, despite his bad timing, she wanted to know. “What information do you have?”
“Before I left London, Kenmar told me of a shipment of gold leaving the colonies for India.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, causing her tender breasts to brush against the fabric. “My contacts told me the same information. When is the ship leaving and from what port?”
He shook his head. “Before I tell you, I must ask you to promise me something.”
Shivers raced up her spine and her instincts screamed a warning. Think, Emmaline. Why is Nicholas willing to give you this information now? If it’s in payment for services rendered … She couldn’t even finish the thought, it was so horrible.
“What sort of promise?”
“I will give you the information, but you have to promise you will …” He paused and her heart nearly stopped. This was it. He was going to ask her to become his mistress, or at the very least ask for one more night together, and God help her, she was considering it. She wanted to be with him again, and yet was terrified at the same time. What they had couldn’t last. Eventually he would leave her. He had to. He needed a woman able to glide through the shark-infested waters of society, not the shark-infested waters of the ocean.
“Promise what?” Her throat was thick, her voice strained.
“You have to promise to give up pirating
after this is over.”
Chapter Nineteen
Emmaline jumped up. “You bastard. You self-serving bilge-sucker. How dare you?” She swept her arm out to the water. “Is that what this was all about? Did you think because you … you … you rutted with me, you could control me?” Inwardly she winced at her choice of words. What they’d done was much more beautiful than rutting, yet she wanted to lash out at him, to hurt him as he’d hurt her. She wanted to hit him and she wanted to cry at the same time.
Nicholas stood, looking wary and angry. “That’s not what this was about, and you know it.”
“You want to go to Kenmar and tell him you neutralized the threat to his beloved investment. That you saved Blackwell.” She sneered as she mentioned her father’s name, hatred boiling in her. “And you used sex to do it.”
Nicholas flinched. “That’s not it at all—”
“Well, you’re wrong. Sex isn’t going to stop me from doing what I need to do.” Her throat closed up, but she swallowed past the lump, refusing to let him see how much he’d devastated her. She’d thought … She’d hoped what happened between them meant as much to him as it did to her. And to think she’d even entertained the thought of becoming his mistress. Mortified, she spun on her heel and searched for her breeches, snagging them off a bush. With angry motions she yanked them on.
“That’s not what I meant.” His voice was tight, controlled. He was angry, but she couldn’t care less. She was beyond angry. She was furious. No one controlled her.
He picked up his breeches and stepped into them.
She located one boot and picked it up, pointing it at Nicholas. “I don’t bargain with the enemy.”
He paused while buttoning his breeches. “So that’s what I am now? The enemy?”
“You’re Kenmar’s lackey and Kenmar wants to stop me.”
He set his jaw and finished fastening his breeches. All the contentment and warmth she felt a minute ago vanished. She was bone-deep weary and white-hot enraged.
The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 21