Promise Me Forever

by Kimberly Nee

  Heather cleared her throat, feeling more a mite foolish at her implication. Of course he had a life prior to their meeting. That foolish feeling emerged as crisp irritation. Giving him her back, she sniffed, “I am well aware of the fact that you did not come into being ten minutes before you walked through that door at Madam Allison's."

  "Heather, I left New Jersey fourteen months ago,” he replied slowly, as if carefully considering each word before speaking it, “and have had no contact with my family since leaving. When Adam appeared in London that last week, it was the first time I've spoken to anyone associated with the Kennedy family."

  "You mean to tell me that you ran away from home, then?"

  "In a manner of speaking, I suppose,” Drew sighed, moving over to sink down onto the edge of the bed. He clasped his hands, letting them dangle between his knees as he said, “There was a woman—"

  Heather's ears pricked up at that, her stomach tightening as she whirled around. “You don't have to tell me this."

  "Yes, I do. Now, be quiet and listen. I'll keep it short and sweet. I was to be married, it didn't come to pass, and I left to sort out a few things. I didn't want any of the distractions that come with being surrounded by family. I wanted the time solely to myself, with no interruptions."

  Drew had been betrothed at one point? Heather felt the same pang she felt earlier, when she thought of the beds he'd probably shared. It made her uncomfortable to think he'd been in love with another woman. What if he still carried a flame for her?

  She mentally shook her head. Where had that come from? She blinked the thought away, asking, “Have you such a large family, then, that you needed to run all the way across the ocean?"

  "An older brother and two younger sisters."

  "That must be nice. I've always wanted a sister."

  He grinned then. “Spoken like a woman who was an only child. Trust me, there are times when I wish I were in your shoes. A large family is nice, but it doesn't leave a body much privacy."

  "What happened?"

  "I spent the last year in France, Spain, and England."

  "No.” She shook her head, forcing herself to speak the words clanging about inside it. “What happened with the woman you were going to marry?"

  Drew reached both arms straight up overhead, clasping his left hand about his right wrist and arching his back as he stretched. “Let's simply leave it at not working out, shall we?” He lowered his arms, slapping his palms against his thighs. “Nick should be here soon with breakfast."

  She wanted to ask him again, but the glint in his eye warned her not to press the issue. She wondered if that meant he did still carry a flame for this nameless, faceless woman. She pressed her lips together, giving him a sidelong glance. She didn't know who this woman was, but Heather knew she didn't like her very much.

  With that, there came a sharp rap at the door. “Captain Kennedy?” A deep voice floated through the oak door. “Breakfast, sir."

  "Ah, perfect timing,” Drew said, rising to his feet and crossing over to the door. He pulled it open and smiled down at Nick. “Just put it on the table."

  Nick nodded. “Aye, Captain."

  Heather smiled at the young man hauling the large silver tray. He appeared to be a bit older than Drew, but showed nothing but respect for his captain as he set the tray on the small round dining table.

  "Fetch you anything else, Captain?” he asked.

  "That will do for now, Nick."

  "Aye, then.” Nick turned to Heather, his serious dark eyes warm and friendly. “A good day to you, Miss Heather."

  She was surprised he knew her name, but then remembered Drew's announcement before the crew. By now, everyone must have known who she was. Still, it came as a relief to see one man who didn't look at her with either disdain, or interest.

  "A good day to you,” she replied with a hint of a smile.

  Drew suddenly cleared his throat. “That will be all, Nick."

  Nick looked somewhat embarrassed as he said, “Of course, Captain,” and hurried to the door.

  Heather saw Drew's sudden frown, but couldn't imagine why he would be glowering at Nick. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn she was seeing a hint of jealousy in him. But that couldn't be. Why would Drew be jealous?

  After Nick hurried from the cabin, Drew swung around to face her again. “Shall we?"

  "Please."

  * * * *

  When they'd finished eating, Drew said, “Would you care to see the Atlantic?"

  "You mean to say we have left land behind completely?"

  "We have. We are now out beyond the Channel and into the open sea.” He took in the thin muslin gown she wore and added, “You might wish to don a wrap, though. The winds blowing in are quite brisk."

  After selecting a light shawl to toss over her shoulders, she slipped her arm through his and they left the cabin to go topside, where the sun bounced brilliantly off the water's surface, making it sparkle like gems. Heather had to shield her eyes from the glare as she caught her first glimpse of the massive Atlantic Ocean.

  It was a bit unsettling, seeing nothing around but mile after mile of water. There were no birds, no land masses, nothing but the foamy whitecaps of cresting waves. She couldn't even see a hint of another ship. It was as if the Aphrodite was the only dry place on Earth and her crew the only people left.

  She turned to Drew, only to find him gazing out over the water with a faraway look in his eyes. The wind ruffled his hair, tumbling a wayward lock over his forehead. He had shed his London attire for a more comfortable one, dressed in black trousers and white cambric shirt, cuffs opened and rolled back to just below his elbows. He'd gone from being the proper gentleman to the dashing sea captain as easily as he'd changed his clothes.

  He stood beside her at the quarterdeck railing, hands braced against the gleaming wood as he studied the water, apparently lost in his thoughts. She wondered if he was thinking about his former fiancée, and wished he'd never mentioned having one. That would explain how he came to be at Delilah's. They'd never discussed what brought him to the brothel that night, aside from Viscount Danbury's tale of the mysterious beauty working there. She couldn't help but think it was to put the woman he'd lost from his mind.

  He came out of his reverie then, smiling down at her. “What are you thinking about, my lady?"

  "It's so beautiful out here.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily. She certainly couldn't tell him what she had really been thinking. He'd made it quite clear he was unwilling to discuss his former fiancée.

  "That it is,” he sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms against the railing, linking his fingers. “There is nothing like being out on the ocean. Nothing compares to it."

  "Are you are planning to return to London, then?"

  His brow furrowed. “I'm sorry?"

  "I heard you tell Jameson that you would be back."

  "Oh, I most likely will be, eventually. But it won't be any time soon.” He smiled down at her. “I think I'll stay in Brunswick for a while. I need to get my family to forgive me for my desertion as it is. Could you imagine if I left six months later? They'd disown me for certain."

  "Your family is close, then?"

  He turned, this time leaning his back against the railing. “I suppose we are. My brother is my best friend and there is nothing I wouldn't do for either of my sisters. Of course, I don't see Kendall all that often. She's the older of the two girls. Married now. Lives with her husband in Connecticut. They have a little girl of their own now. Diana's the youngest and constantly on the lookout for a husband. She puts your debs to shame."

  "Tell me about your brother. You say he is your best friend, yet you rarely ever mention him."

  "Garrett? Garrett is Garrett. He's the oldest, the responsible, serious one—for the most part. He can be a bit more hotheaded than the rest of us, but,” Drew shrugged, “he's also a bit more grounded than I am. I am seen as the black sheep in my family, but they put up with it becau
se I'm so damn lovable."

  She couldn't help but smile. “They have a point."

  "Think so, do you?"

  "At times."

  A devilish glint leaped into his blue eyes as he shifted, moving to stand behind her. He placed his hands on the railing, on either side of her, and leaned close to whisper, “Such as last evening, love?"

  "You are terrible."

  He nuzzled her. “You didn't think so then."

  "I was not in my right mind."

  His laughter was soft in her ear. “Of course you were, my lady. I had no idea so passionate and lusty a lady lay hidden beneath your proper exterior."

  She sighed softly as his hair brushed her cheek. At that moment, she didn't care about this former flame. All that mattered to her was that she was there with him. His arms were around her, and those were his lips moving along her neck. She knew that, when night fell, hers would be the body Drew reached for and pulled close in his sleep. And for now, she was quite content with that.

  Thirteen

  After a week at sea, Heather started to lose her enchantment with the ocean. She spent a great deal of time alone, as Drew's duties took up a chunk of his time. At first, she enjoyed the leisure time. She pored over the two shelves of books above his desk. There were, of course, many ocean-related books, but she was pleasantly surprised to find several works by Homer and Shakespeare. He also owned books written by Washington Irving and James Fennimore Cooper.

  His library was quite eclectic, as she discovered when she pulled down a slim volume of John Keats’ poetry. The thin book puzzled her, for he didn't strike her as the sort to read poetry. Her fingers brushed over the faded red cloth cover and, when she lifted it, a scrap of paper fluttered to the floor.

  She crouched down to pick it up. It was rectangular, a shade smaller than the pages of the book, and yellowed with age. Turning it over, she saw the unmistakable penmanship of a lady:

  My darling Drew,

  Though we are apart, hold this close and imagine I am lying there beside you, in your arms, where I truly belong.

  R.

  The paper was worn and slightly wrinkled, as if it had been thumbed over many times.

  By Drew, perhaps? Her heart pounded against her ribs as she slipped the paper back into the book and returned it to the shelf. She didn't want him to know that she'd found it, as it obviously meant something to him. She turned away from the shelves, having lost all interest in reading. That love letter struck a sour note in her heart, reminding her of the woman for whom he obviously still pined. It left her feeling strangely odd—almost as if she'd been betrayed.

  But that was not possible. Drew had made no promises to her, had avowed no feelings for her. He did not speak of a future together, except to say she would remain his mistress once they reached Brunswick. But, for how long? The question pricked her brain on more than one occasion. She had no way of knowing how long Drew's interest in her would last. What would become of her when it waned?

  Heather plunked down in the desk chair. It wasn't the first time she'd wondered this, but it was the first time she felt a flicker of fear. What would become of her once Drew moved on? She would be alone, in a strange country, with no money and no way to support herself. Unless—

  "No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I will not go back to a madam. Not ever."

  But, would she be able to remain in Brunswick? If she found she liked the town and wanted to stay, would she be able to do so, knowing she would most likely run into him at some point? She tried to imagine it. Tried to imagine bumping into him on a walkway, seeing him with a new love and remembering the nights she'd spent in his arms. It hurt just to think about, never mind actually experiencing it. She squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the unwelcome images.

  The thought plagued her over the next few days. By the end of that first week, she was ready to go out of her mind. She certainly couldn't ask Drew. Besides, she wasn't certain she wanted to hear the truth, or what she thought the truth would be.

  She tried to keep busy, but there was only so much she could do. She spent two days tidying and rearranging the cabin, only to have him ranting and raving when he couldn't find an inventory sheet he needed and she couldn't remember where she'd moved it.

  "I need something to do, Drew,” she complained from the corner across from him, where she was far enough out of reach as he tore through the items on his desk, muttering oaths beneath his breath.

  "If you are so bored, Heather, I'll find something for you to do. But please, I beg you—do not clean for me again! Have we a deal?"

  She fought to keep from cowering beneath his fiery blue-eyed glare. “Yes. We've a deal."

  "Good.” He yanked a sheaf of papers from a pile on the desk, thundering, “Damn it!” as the rest of the stack teetered precariously, then spilled over the desktop and to the floor.

  "Please, do let me help yo—"

  He crouched to swipe them up and try to rearrange them, growling, “Thank you, my lady, but you've helped me quite enough for one day!"

  "I'm sorry,” she whispered, fear washing over her as she pressed herself flush against the wall. For a brief, horrifying moment, she wondered if he might actually strike her. Lord knows he seemed furious enough to do just that. It was the first time she'd felt the sting of his temper. Suddenly, she was terrified of him, remembering how easily he'd thrown Henry across the deck. She would be no match for a man of his size and obvious strength. No match at all.

  Drew looked up from the sheaf of papers and though thunderclouds still darkened his eyes, his scowl melted. His sigh was heavy, as if pulling the last of his temper from his body, and his shoulders relaxed as he set the stack right again. “I'm sorry, Heather,” he said, turning to face her. “I know you were only trying to help me out and I do appreciate it. It's simply that I have a method to my madness and now my madness is all jumbled up."

  She forced her tongue down from the roof of her mouth, murmuring, “I should never have touched any of those papers. I thought I was doing you a favor."

  "I know. I apologize for being such an ogre.” He dropped into his desk chair, leaning his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Come here."

  Heather hesitated, not at all certain she should get anywhere within arm's reach of him as his eyes still glinted with danger. Then she figured it was probably best not to set him into a fury again.

  She tentatively moved over to stand before him. He reached for her hand, drawing her down onto his lap. “I'm sorry, love.” he spoke softly, his fingers stroking over the plait hanging halfway down her back. “I need to work on reeling in my temper, I'm afraid. It's been a busy week and my nerves are stretched rather thin."

  She sat stiffly, wanting to coil her arms about his neck, but didn't think it would be proper. He solved her dilemma by taking her wrists and pulling her arms to drape over his shoulders.

  "You do not ever have to be afraid of me, love. I would never raise a hand to you in anger.” He continued to speak softly, pressing his fingertips into her back in small circles. “Not ever."

  She could see the sincerity in his eyes and knew he was telling the truth. “I won't help you again, Drew. You have my word."

  He cupped her chin in one hand. “I can't promise I won't yell again,” he replied with a devilish grin. “But, I can promise you will like my apologies."

  She didn't resist as he drew her in for a soft kiss. A ripple of heat coursed through her as his lips parted and his tongue delved down capture hers. They hadn't made love since that first night—she was fast asleep by the time Drew returned to the cabin most nights and he was gone before she awoke. Perhaps that was about to change?

  He slid his arms about her waist, shifting her so she now sat facing him, astride him with her legs dangling over either side of his thighs. He tugged her closer, groaning softly as her breasts pressed into his chest. Leaning close, he trailed his lips down the side of her neck and into her décolletage, while his fingers went to work on the back o
f her gown, parting it swiftly and drawing it down over her shoulders. Using his teeth, he tugged at the ribbon on her chemise, nudging the linen aside with one hand to bare her left breast.

  The cool ocean breeze danced across her skin and her eyes were so heavy-lidded that she let them droop as his tongue swirled about her nipple. It felt so heavenly that she forgot where she was, forgot about the completely unladylike position she was in. The slight flicker of embarrassment she originally felt when he parted her chemise was gone, swallowed up by the flames of desire he stoked deep within her.

  His hands dropped to her calves, his palms skimming up over the smooth curve of her legs and shoving her skirts up to her hips. The shiver she felt had nothing to do with the air wafting into the cabin, and everything to do with those rough, skilled hands stroking her flesh. Her belly tightened, the knot dropping lower as he caressed with greater urgency.

  He rose up against her and her eyes snapped open. She pulled away slightly. “Here?"

  His eyes were smoked sapphires as he gave her a seductive grin. “Why not?"

  "You must be joking."

  "I am not joking, love.” He brought both hands up to cup her breasts, giving a gentle squeeze and circling her nipples with his thumbs. “Ah, so proper, my lady. There is no need to always be so proper. Making love should be enjoyable, with all proprieties left at the door."

  "But here? In a chair?” It was so difficult, forcing the blasted words to pass her lips. She didn't want to think, but only wished to concentrate on the delicious heat rising within her, brought about by those fingers on her breasts. Still, it didn't seem right, that she should be enjoying herself, that she should even consider remaining in a chair.

  "Why not?” he repeated, lowering one hand to settle beneath her skirts, between her thighs, where he parted her curls and began teasing her with one gentle finger.

  Good heavens, this man had no shame! Heather sharply sucked in her breath as an arrow of pleasure shot through her. His smile became sexier as he whispered, “Tell me you want me, love..."