Sea Mistress

by Candace McCarthy

  “Because . . . because . . .” She inhaled sharply as he released her hand to pull her closer. Her soft curves pressed against his chest. His heartbeat quickened in response. “I don’t know why.”

  “I want to kiss you,” he told her.

  Her eyes grew round. “You’re asking?”

  A flame lit his blue eyes. “And if I was? What would you say?”

  Bess appeared to give the matter some thought. “I’d tell you . . . maybe.” A smile curved her lips. Clearly, she was enjoying herself.

  With a playful growl, Seth lifted her up high.

  “Put me down, Seth!” she cried.

  “I’ll not let you down unless you agree to kiss me. Just one kiss.”

  “Just one?”

  He nodded.

  “All right. One kiss,” she promised, and Seth lowered her back to the ground. Bess pursed her lips in a comical invitation.

  Seth chuckled. “You expect me to kiss that?”

  She scowled. “What’s wrong with the way I kiss?”

  And he realized that she wasn’t being comical—that she really didn’t know how to kiss. Seth was shocked. Had no one ever kissed her before?

  “Relax, Bess,” he said. “And close your eyes. No, don’t pucker. Just relax your lips. Yes, that’s it.”

  Seth gazed down at the lovely woman before him, and heard his heart beat roaring in his ears. Then he bent his head, touching his lips to her mouth, and he tasted the sweetest honey God had ever created.

  Shutting his eyes, he nibbled her lips before he kissed each corner of her mouth. She moaned and pressed against him. He felt a wild thrill when she wrapped her arms about his neck and pushed upward into his kiss.

  “Open your mouth, Bess,” he whispered.

  She obeyed, and he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, dipping ever so slightly, before delving deeper. Her body was hot and soft. He wanted to fondle her everywhere. He moved his hand to her breast, touched her hesitantly at first, and when she didn’t object, cupped her flesh fully, squeezing the mound and rubbing her nipple.

  “Seth!” she gasped. She grabbed his hand as if she might stop him, but instead of stopping him, she held his fingers fast, and then transferred his attention to her other breast.

  “Oh, God, Bess. I want to see you,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I—I’m afraid, but I think—I don’t mind if you see . . .”

  “Is there somewhere else we can go?” he asked. He continued to caress her, watching her face and the passion that transformed her features.

  “No.” Suddenly she pulled away.

  Seth felt his heart plunge in his chest as he anticipated her anger at his forward behavior. And in truth, he didn’t understand his behavior himself. He’d never felt this aroused by a woman. He was enticed to a point that he thought he’d sell his soul to have her.

  “No,” she repeated as if she were talking to herself. “But we can come back later—tonight— after everyone in the house is asleep.”

  Seth narrowed his gaze. Was she actually suggesting a tryst? “You want me to meet you here tonight? After dark?”

  She met his gaze with direct dark eyes. “Yes.” Then, she blushed and averted her glance. “Unless I’m mistaken . . . and you’d rather not?”

  His breath expelled from his lungs with a shudder. “What time?” His voice sounded strangled.

  The tension seemed to leave her. “After midnight? Half past?”

  “All right.” He turned to go back to the manor, until Bess stopped him, her hand on his arm.

  “Seth?”

  He faced her, his brows raised expectantly. He felt a surge of heat. “Don’t look at me that way, Bess, or else I shall have to kiss you again.”

  She appeared pleased. “Will you, Seth? Will you kiss me one more time?”

  Seth groaned and dragged her into his arms for a savage kiss that stole her breath away. When he was done, he saw with satisfaction that she was starry-eyed and pink-lipped.

  That night, as he slipped through the garden maze and on through the dark woods, he worried for Bess’s safety. She most likely won’t be there. So why worry needlessly? Still, he hoped that she would, for the memory of her nearness made his heart hammer in his chest. His loins tightened as he recalled the sweet taste of her mouth.

  The pond rippled with the light cast by the night’s half moon. The air was fresh and fragrant with the scent of grass and wild flowers. A soft warm breeze caressed Seth’s face as he neared the spot where he and Bess had been earlier.

  He stopped and glanced about, disappointed when there was no sign of the young lady. And although he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t come, he was angry, too, for he’d wanted so very much to see her.

  The water beckoned with its pattern of glistening ripples. Hot and aroused just thinking of Bess, Seth removed his shirt, and then lowered his hands to his trousers. He might as well swim and cool off, if nothing else. The last thing he wanted to do right then was go back to his bed and fantasize about Bess Metcalfe.

  The pond was cool and refreshing as he waded in, naked, and dived below the surface of the shimmering water. The water stroked him like a woman’s hands. Like Bess’s hands, he thought.

  He came up for a breath of air, flinging his wet hair back from his face, wiping the droplets of moisture from his eyes. And then he dove down again to swim with vigorous, energy-consuming strokes that would wipe out all thoughts of the flaxen-haired beauty who had fired him into such a state. He swam until his arm and leg muscles cried out with the strain. When Seth finally stopped, he was breathing hard. He waded toward the shore, his wet nude body gleaming in the moonlight, his gaze probing the area where he was sure he’d left his clothes.

  “Are you looking for this?”

  He froze, and then smiled a slow, even smile. “You came. I thought you’d changed your mind.” He was glad he was submerged up to his waist, for seeing Bess Metcalfe had renewed his energy . . . and his desire for her.

  She stood a few feet from the shoreline, his shirt held aloft in her right hand, a fishing pole in the other hand.

  Bess stared at the garment she held, and then met his gaze boldly. “Swimming?” she asked. “Or trying to catch fish?”

  Fishing pole? Did she actually think we were to meet to go fishing? Seth wondered. Then he relaxed as he recalled her kisses, the polite way she’d asked for one last kiss before they’d left the area of the pond. “I think . . . I don’t mind if you see,” she’d said.

  “Shall I come out, or will you join me?” Seth asked, watching her closely. He could see her expression, for she faced the moon, which lit up her lovely features and gave her a radiance that made her appear ethereal.

  “Oh, please come out.” She dropped the fishing pole. “The water looks cold, and I’m sure there is an easier way to catch fish.”

  Seth stiffened. Until he saw her mouth quiver and realized that she knew why they’d come, but was afraid.

  He glided through the water toward the shore, observing her reaction as the depth of the pond lowered and more of him was exposed. Bess’s eyes widened. “Why, you’ve no clothes on at all!”

  He grinned, a flash of white teeth. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

  “But where are your tr—clothes?” she gasped.

  “You’re holding my shirt,” he drawled, his voice vibrating with husky resonance. “My trousers are there on the ground somewhere.”

  His look during the long pause that followed suggested that she had found his pants, too, but had chosen to keep them hidden from him.

  “I’ve done no such thing!” She backed away, her gaze full of panic, as Seth padded toward her, barefoot, and gently tugged the shirt from her shaking hand.

  He allowed the shirt to flutter to the damp ground.

  Bess refused to look anywhere but at his face. Seth caught her chin. “Am I so hideous that you can’t bear to look at me?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, jerking away. “Of course no
t!”

  But still she wouldn’t look down.

  “Bess,” he murmured, coming close to her again. He captured her jaw a second time, lifting it gently to press a light kiss on her pink, trembling mouth. His head lifted, and he opened his eyes to study her flushed face. Her eyes were closed, and her features were relaxed in the pleasurable sensation that lingered from his gentle kiss.

  “Bess,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

  Her eyes flew open to gaze up at him with innocent trust. “We shouldn’t be here.”

  “I know,” he admitted.

  “But I wanted to come anyway.”

  His chest tightened with happiness. “Nothing could have kept me away.”

  “But you’ve no clothes on!” Her voice was breathy, frightened. Still, she stepped back to look at him fully, and Seth’s pulse quickened as he watched her changing expressions. Curiosity. Awe. Desire.

  “Do I frighten you?”

  Bess eyed him frankly now, again with curiosity. “No.” She lifted her hand as if to touch him. Then she gasped and dropped her hand as if horrified at what she’d caught herself doing.

  “Go on,” Seth encouraged, reaching for her hand and raising it to his chest. “Touch me. It’s all right.”

  “But I—but a lady-”

  “You’re a beautiful lady, Elisabeth Metcalfe, but you think and you talk too much.” His tone was seductive. “Now touch me, and satisfy that innocent curiosity of yours.”

  She held his gaze, before she gave in to the urge to stroke the hard muscles of his chest. Seth stood, unmoving, as Bess’s soft hands brushed his nipples. But when she touched there a second time, he groaned and closed his eyes, and gripped her waist tightly.

  Bess gasped. “Did I hurt you?”

  “God, no,” he muttered. He inhaled sharply and then opened his eyes. His muscles tightened; his hardened manhood throbbed against her skirts.

  “Then what—” Her question died in her throat when she shifted and felt the proof of his desire. “Oh, dear!”

  Seth laughed shakily. “Oh dear? Is that all you can say?” He paused. “Or do?”

  “I don’t understand.” Bess blinked up at him, clearly confused.

  “Then let me show you,” he said in a soft, husky voice. His blue gaze caressed her face; he drew her nearer by the sheer power of his will. “Earlier, you liked my kisses . . . did you not?”

  Her face heated. “Seth, please! It’s not the thing a man an—”

  He silenced her with his mouth, jolting her with passion. As Seth savored the sweet taste of her lips, Bess whimpered, but leaned into his kiss, as if demanding more than a slight token. She slipped her arms about his waist, dragging him hard against her.

  Seth shuddered with pleasure and deepened the intimacy. He became aggressive, his caresses urgent. Bess’s wild responses fueled a raging fire that seared his loins.

  He cupped her breast through the thin layers of fabric. He worried the nipple until it budded against the cotton cloth, and Bess moaned.

  “I want to see you.” He’d said the words before, but not with such desperation. The desire to see her earlier had been great, but now his whole body screamed for release, crying out with the need to see her, to press against her and learn the taste and texture of every inch of her.

  She pulled back, but not to object or to end their passionate encounter as he’d feared. Bess tried to unfasten the hooks at back of her gown, but her hands were clumsy in her haste. She couldn’t quite reach the first hook.

  Seth caught her arms gently. He captured her hands and awarded her a tender smile, before kissing each of her palms in a feather-light caress that made her sigh with pleasure and shut her eyes.

  “Turn around,” he commanded softly. He studied the row of hooks and eyes and felt a moment’s impatience. He wondered if she wore a corset, and hoped she didn’t, for his patience was barely enough for him to undo her gown. His fingers fumbled over the first hook and then grew steady as he went down her back, releasing each one.

  He held his breath as he parted the edges of the cotton garment, exhaling again with a relieved sigh when he found no corset. He saw the bright white linen of her shift and longed to tear it away, to see beneath the undergarment to the soft, white flesh of his dreams.

  Bess took control of undressing then, removing her gown, until she was clad only in her shift. Her breasts looked full and aroused as they pushed against the smooth fabric. Her waist was tiny, and her hips flared in perfect symmetry of form.

  Seth’s gaze roamed down her length, flaming as he studied her lovely legs . . . the shapely calves and thighs, ankles white and dainty. On her feet, she wore slippers, which she kicked off while he watched. Her bare feet gleamed white with small, pretty toes against the lush green grass.

  “Seth?” Her voice was weak and nervous among the soft sounds of the night . . . the sigh of the breeze in the tall grass, the gentle lap of the water against the shore.

  He looked up from her feet and stared at her, awed by her expression as well as her silken body.

  “Seth, what’s wrong?” She looked as if she was afraid she’d done something terrible.

  “Nothing, my sweet,” he murmured, and then he opened his arms. “Come here.”

  Without hesitation, she flowed into his embrace; and her trust in him heated Seth’s blood, and made his heart sing in silent joy.

  And then he kissed her, and the essence of his world became Bess Metcalfe. The honey taste of her lips . . . her tantalizing fragrance . . . the warmth of her soft womanly curves.

  The kiss quickly escalated into a deep mating of mouths. Bess seemed as anxious to touch as he was to fondle. She moaned and responded as he sought to pleasure her. Her enjoyment of his touch heightened his desire, and his own pleasure was intense.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “Please what?” he asked, pulling back to study her passion-drugged face. “Touch you? Kiss your bare breasts?”

  She inhaled sharply at the mention of her breasts.

  “Is that what you want, Lisabeth? For me to kiss you?” He touched the area where her left nipple formed a little peak of the soft cotton. “Here?” He saw her swallow as she nodded.

  They reached for the hem of her shift simultaneously. Seth felt the heated brush of her hands as he helped her remove her only remaining garment. Then she was standing before him, naked, her smooth white body gleaming in the soft, incandescent light of the moon. And Seth gathered her against him before he lowered her to the ground.

  “My God, you’re so lovely,” he whispered with reverence.

  She lay against the soft cushion of sweet-scented grass, her flaxen hair a contrast against the dark green.

  Seth kissed her breast, her belly, and the curve of her hip and thigh. His original intention to go slowly vanished when Bess stroked him wherever she could reach. Their caresses became wilder, desperately seeking. Their mouths sought contact and then mated.

  “Seth!” she cried.

  He groaned when she opened her legs in invitation. He touched his fingers to her secret nub of desire and watched her shock. “It’s all right,” he told her. “I won’t hurt you.”

  She bucked off the ground, thrusting against his hand as he played her, readying her for his entry. “Seth?” She was breathing hard. “Please . . .” she whispered. But he could tell she wasn’t sure what she’d asked for.

  He held himself rigid while he settled between her thighs. He wanted it to be good for her, and he had heard that virgins experienced pain.

  She gasped when he probed her hidden temple of liquid warmth. “I’m sorry, Lisabeth,” he managed to grate out between teeth clenched with the need for control. “I promised not to hurt you, but I’m afraid—”

  To his surprise, she pulled him closer, arching her abdomen up and taking him in completely. She froze for a second as he surged against her, and then she relaxed, and held him tight. “Yes,” she encouraged him. “Ye
s . . .”

  With a cry of joy Seth thrust against her and set a rhythm that drew them up and up toward the peak of ecstasy’s sweet desire. Bess arched against him, whimpering with pleasure.

  Seth felt her climb the precipice and topple over with desire, and he allowed himself to let go . . to soar skyward and then take the plunge that would slowly, bring him and the woman beneath him back to earth.

  Bess lay quiet after he’d spent himself. Had he been wrong and mistaken pleasure for pain? Or did she truly enjoy their sweet joining? He rose up on his elbows and eased himself to one side. He was unable to keep from fondling her as she lay there, her eyes closed, her bare breasts rising and falling as she breathed.

  “Bess, I’m sorry—”

  She opened her eyes and caressed his cheek. “Don’t be,” she said. “I’m not.”

  Don’t be . . . I’m not. Those two astonishing words jerked Seth from the memory of the first time they had made love. His lips twisted as he lay on his bunk. Love? She had professed love for him only moments after they’d made love. And the week and a half of passionate encounters and stolen kisses that followed that night had made him believe her. She loved him . . . or so she said.

  He scowled at the ceiling. She’d known he had to return to his ship. He had made a commitment; he had to go. But he’d promised to come back to her. Why the hell did she agree to wait if she had no intention of doing so?

  Seth recalled the months on board ship. The knowledge of their love had kept him going, when he was drenched from the rain and beaten by the winds and tossed about like a lifeless doll as the vessel encountered stormed-brewed angry seas. Her love for him had made him smile when he’d been shivering from the cold, when the heat of the southern tropics had burned his skin a fiery painful red that had sent him to his bunk with fever.

  And then had come her letter. She’d promised to write him, and he’d been overjoyed when after months of waiting, of sailing from one port to another, he’d received a missive from her.

  He’d read her letter, expecting to be embraced by her loving phrases, but instead his world had been dashed by her cruel betrayal. Bess Metcalfe had changed her fickle mind, and fancied to find a man with wealth. Her avowal of love had been nothing more than words said in the heat of a passionate moment—the lying words of a woman who’d found physical pleasure in a lowly sailor’s kisses and touch.