Sea Mistress

by Candace McCarthy

  “Hungry?” he asked, his attention on the buttons of his shirt.

  She was sorry to see him covered again. “Starved.”

  “Good,” he said, fixing her with his gaze. “Cook has prepared something special.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she murmured, swallowing against a dry mouth and throat. Her gaze followed the trail of buttons as he bent his head again and continued fastening each one.

  He looks good, she thought. Too good. His dark hair recently stirred by the wind was like tousled black strands of silk. Bess wanted to run her fingers through his midnight hair, the way she had done long ago, to draw his head down to her breasts . . .

  He glanced up, catching her unaware. Seth’s blue eyes gleamed with a strange light. His sensual mouth beckoned for her to kiss him, its hint of smile making her feel weak at the knees. Desire welled in her abdomen as she recalled what it had been like to kiss those masculine lips . . . the spark of fire that had flamed within her each time they’d made contact however lightly.

  “If you keep looking at me that way, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” His low, seductive pitch warmed her from head to toe.

  She blushed and averted her glance.

  “Bess.” He came to her and touched her shoulder. She gazed up at him with luminous ebony eyes, and his breath caught.

  A knock on the hatch heralded the arrival of the expected steward. Grateful, Bess stared as Seth opened the door, and Mark entered bearing a tray of food. Mark flashed her a smile as he set the tray down in the center of their dining table.

  The scents wafting from the dishes on the serving tray were appetizing, tantalizing. Bess sniffed the air and murmured her appreciation. Mark arranged the food on the captain’s table and then after a smile in both Seth’s and Bess’s directions, he left the cabin to join the crew.

  An air of intimacy settled in about them when the hatch closed, leaving Bess and Seth inside, alone. To Bess’s discomfort, Seth stared at her, and she shifted uneasily under his regard.

  “Shall we?” he asked softly.

  Bess inclined her head, feeling the tiny bumps that rose on her flesh. A thrill coursed through her blood like wild fire, making all parts of her tingle. She moved cautiously to the nearest chair, not sure of his intentions.

  Seth came around to her side of the table, gallantly pulling out her chair for her.

  “Thank you.” Her words were whispered. Every nerve ending hummed to life at his nearness, and her head was buzzing as if she was drunk from sipping wine. She wanted nothing more than to turn, place her arms about his neck . . . touch her lips to his mouth . . .

  Once she was seated, Seth took his place at the opposite side of the table. She saw him watching her with an intensity that caused shivers of delight to run down her neck and back. His look turned knowing, and she flushed, wondering how much of her expression he had accurately read.

  “Mr. Cookson has been working all day to prepare this,” he said.

  “It looks wonderful.” And it did, she thought. The meat, which she guessed was lamb, had been roasted to perfection in the galley’s oven. In a small bowl, there was cooked corn in some kind of sauce. Small potatoes, browned and seasoned, had been artfully arranged on a separate plate, and the accompanying biscuits appeared light and airy, not at all like the usual hard tack fare she’d become so accustomed to eating during the sea voyage. Bess couldn’t wait to taste the meal.

  “So do you,” he said. “Look wonderful . . .”

  Bess blinked as she realized that Seth had spoken and paid her a compliment. Embarrassed by the attention, she reached out and drew a biscuit from the plate. Hastily, she took a bite. As expected, the bun was soft and warm, and tasted delicious.

  Seth smiled at her satisfied expression. Where only moments before Bess had looked uncomfortable, now she was lost in her enjoyment of the food. And he himself enjoyed watching her. “Mr. Cookson wanted to impress you.”

  “Mr. Cookson was successful.” She grinned. “I’m impressed. This biscuit is wonderful.”

  He experienced a surge of heat at the radiance of her smile. He had forgotten how intoxicating it could be just being in Bess’s presence. And when she was happy and enjoying herself, her warmth and good humor affected him like a potent drug that dulled his brain but aroused his physical senses. At other times, she had the opposite effect on him, sharpening his wits when they sparred verbally. Either way, being with her was exciting.

  “He says you’ve hardly been eating lately.” He paused to eye her with concern. “Haven’t you?”

  Her mind still fuzzy with the lingering pleasure of his compliment, Bess frowned in puzzlement. “Haven’t I what?”

  Amusement lurked in the gleam of Seth’s blue eyes. “Been eating lately. You don’t look as if you’ve lost weight.”

  “I’ve been eating plenty,” she assured him, discomfited by the notion that he’d studied her form enough to make such a decision. “It’s just that one can digest only so much fish, hard tack, rice, and beans.”

  He laughed, and her lips curved in an answering smile. “I understand. I’m afraid I’m so used to eating that way that I never gave it much thought.”

  He served her, placing a healthy helping of meat, corn, and potatoes on her plate. Her eyes widened at the amount of food, but she didn’t object, for she didn’t know when she’d get to enjoy a good meal again.

  The food was delicious. The company, Bess thought, charming. Pleased by Seth’s good humor, she offered up silent thanks for this pleasant change in what could be at times a monotonous life on board the ship. Tomorrow, the captain would probably return to his usual, irascible self. She would savor these moments and be grateful that given their past relationship they could find something good to share, even if it was only a meal.

  They ate in peace, not saying much for a while, so great was their enjoyment. Then, over a bite of juicy lamb, Bess recalled Seth’s talk with the Dunnons.

  “How was your conversation with the minister and his wife?” she asked after delicately swallowing the piece of lamb.

  Seth’s brow darkened briefly. “It went as well as can be expected, considering,” he told her. “I simply reminded Mr. and Mrs. Dunnon that I am the commander of the Sea Mistress, not Mrs. Dunnon. And that although I had made an agreement to take them to California, the agreement could be changed.”

  Bess couldn’t control a smile of amusement. “How did she take it?”

  His lips twitched slightly, before his expression grew serious again. “Actually, she took it quite well. They both did.”

  “That’s good,” Bess said, staring at his mouth.

  There was also a dish of pudding on the table before them, and Seth had helped himself to some. He raised a spoonful to his lips. Bess watched, fascinated, the way his lips moved as he ate the pudding . . . the way his pink tongue caressed the utensil, licking the spoon clean, before darting back into his mouth. Did he know that his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed?

  Startled by a shaft of physical desire, Bess averted her gaze. Did Seth notice her preoccupation with his mouth?

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No—not at all.” And then she flushed and looked away, grasping blindly for the topic of conversation. “Only time will tell how much good it did for you to speak with the woman.”

  “Aye.” The blue of his eyes darkened to almost black.

  He knows, she thought, horrified. He knows I want him.

  “Eat your supper, Bess,” Seth said quietly.

  She shot him a surprised glance, but his attention was on cutting his meat. She relaxed and continued to eat.

  They ate slowly in companionable silence. Bess was still mildly uncomfortable at first, for she was conscious of Seth’s good looks and the way her body responded to him. Then, Seth began to talk about California, telling her about San Francisco and the way it had practically grown overnight. Bess, caught up in the conversation asked him questions about th
e people who lived there and about whether or not he thought a mercantile would profit there. She had heard many stories, but she wasn’t sure how many of them were true.

  “Is it true that the people there pay ridiculous prices for items like fresh eggs and a pack of cards?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Seth said. “With the influx of those seeking gold, there is a need for goods. Items like eggs and sugar and coffee should sell well there.”

  She smiled. Reeves had purchased a supply of sugar and coffee from Brazil.

  Soon, their dinner plates were empty, and they leaned back in their chairs, replete.

  Seth’s chest strained the fabric of his white shirt. Bess stared at it until, suddenly, he shifted his chair back and then stood. She glanced up, saw the look in his eyes, and felt liquid heat rush through her veins like hot lava. She longed to kiss him, had been wanting to for so long.

  “Lisabeth,” he said. “Come here.” But he came to her instead, extending his hand.

  Without breaking eye contact, Bess placed her fingers within his firm grasp.

  “Have I told you how lovely you look?” He pulled her up from her chair until they were standing only inches apart.

  She shook her head.

  “Well, you do,” he said softly. “So very lovely that you take my breath away.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. He then caressed the spot that still tingled from his lips. “I’ve been neglecting you, Lisabeth. I’m sorry.”

  Surprised by his words, Bess was quick to defend him. “You were busy.” Her lips formed a half smile. “As you’ve told me so often, you’re the captain of this ship and thus have responsibilities.”

  His eyelashes flickered against his cheeks. “Woman, you are the most contradictory female I’ve ever met.”

  She was hurt. “Why?”

  He caressed her cheek, his features displaying tenderness. “I mean no insult, sweet. I’m merely expressing astonishment that you could defend me so.”

  She thought about this and was astonished herself. This was the man who had hurt her. Why did she have so much trouble remembering that?

  “Oh, Elisabeth. . ..” he whispered with an ache in his voice. He leaned closer. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  Barely two inches separated their mouths, and Bess struggled not to move, not to give into the attraction. She nodded. “If it’s anything like what you do to me.”

  He groaned and then kissed her lips. The kiss wasn’t the light peck that ended the wedding ceremony, but a meshing of mouths, hot and wild. Bess clutched Seth’s shirt front, moaning when Seth left her mouth to worship her neck, his lips moist and caressing against her throat.

  “Oh, Lisabeth,” he gasped. “It’s been so long.”

  She sighed with pleasure. “I know,” she whispered. She inhaled sharply as he nuzzled her ear. The tiny hairs at her nape rose as tremors of sensation tickled her neck, and her breasts swelled, aching inside her gown.

  His fingers fumbled with the front buttons of her blue bodice. Bess felt his breath against the bare skin above the neckline of her chemise, and she grabbed his hands. “We shouldn’t,” she said hoarsely.

  “It’s all right,” he assured her.

  No, it’s not all right, she thought. But then Seth kissed the upper swell of her left breast, and she forgot all about the rights and wrongs of making love with Seth Garret. Desire flooded her, making her lose track of all but Seth’s touch . . . the hot marauding journey of his mouth.

  He parted the front of her bodice, carefully sliding it away, kissing each revealed shoulder in turn. Then, he knelt before her, clutching her about the waist, burying his face against her chemise-clad breasts.

  Tears tightened Bess’s throat as she held him close, stroked his hair. There was no questioning the depth of Seth’s passion, but this simple action on his part hinted at emotion. She experienced an overflowing wash of tenderness toward him, even while desire pulsated deep within her, heating her blood and moistening her most intimate core.

  His hold on her eased, and when he looked up, his eyes flamed a brilliant blue like that of the hottest part of a flame. While watching her expression, he leaned close and kissed one aching mound, and she closed her eyes as the contact brought a severe jolt of feeling.

  “Seth . . .”

  “Aye, Lisabeth, what is it?” he whispered. “What do you want?”

  She didn’t speak, couldn’t, because she was afraid to. Had it always been like this? And if so, how could she have forgotten?

  “Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice husky. “To kiss your breasts?” He rose and undid the ribbons of her chemise, parting the collar until her breasts fell free for his hungry gaze. “Lisabeth?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I want you to touch me, kiss me.”

  He bent and took her nipple, laving the tiny hard bud with his tongue. “How’s that, Lisabeth? Do you remember how it was? Do you remember how I loved you with my body, touched every lovely inch of with my fingers and lips?”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, recalling now with startling intensity. He lowered his head to continue his homage of her breasts, and she closed her eyes, recalling the magic of a certain warm night when the moon had caressed their naked bodies. And Seth had worshiped her so thoroughly. She could remember how it had felt at that final moment when the stars had shattered across the heavens and their bodies had cleaved together in earthshaking ecstasy.

  “That’s it, Lisabeth,” he murmured. “See how you blossom so prettily for me.” She looked down as he traced her wet nipple. The sight of his fingertips on her bare breast, his touch, heightened her desire, intensified her need to have him deep inside her again.

  “Seth,” she began.

  “I know, I know.” He recaptured her nipple in his mouth, suckling her, making her cry out and hold him to her. His eyes were glowing as he raised his head. “Let me love you again, Bess.”

  Her head swimming, she nodded. “Yes.”

  His features were taut with desire as he removed her gown, bending to help her step from its skirts. She stood before him in her chemise and petticoats, the chemise open and revealing love-swollen pink nipples.

  “Do you want to touch me?” he said hoarsely. “Go on. I’ll let you. Remember how I feel?” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his shirt. “Unbutton my shirt, Lisabeth.”

  She did so with trembling fingers.

  “There,” he said with husky satisfaction. “Now touch me.”

  Bess hesitated before placing her hands on his chest. The hair there was soft and curly just as she’d remembered it. In fact, there were many intimate things about them that she was recalling in great detail now. Things that she’d forgotten about . . . like the way his stomach muscles contracted when touched, the way his breath changed when she played with his nipples.

  Her glance sought his trousers where his manhood rose hard against the cloth, stretching taut the fabric. His eyelashes were lowered in passion when her gaze sought his face. He was watching her expectantly, hopefully. With a boldness she hadn’t exhibited in years, she cupped the cloth-covered mound. His gasp of pleasure encouraged her, and she continued stroking him through the fine cloth.

  “Touch me, Lisabeth,” he pleaded.

  “I am t—”

  “No, inside.”

  She swallowed. A feeling of anticipation heightened her desire as she unfastened his trousers. He gave an incoherent cry as his engorged shaft burst free of cloth. Concerned, Bess felt her heart pound hard, until she saw by his expression that the sound had been one of passion-induced pleasure.

  She took hold of his penis and slid her fingers along its length, stopping to rub its velvety tip before moving down to the curling nest of hair at its base. Seth groaned, and Bess watched his expression as she continued to stroke him, to give him pleasure. He began to caress her as she touched him, cupping her breasts, worrying her nipples. And as he fondled and worshipped her with his hands, he studied her thro
ugh heavy-lidded eyes, his face taut, his gaze glistening.

  The feel of him within her hands, the warmth of his hard, masculine body, added to her own excitement. Seth’s fingers and hands were doing wonderful things to her, and when he eased her toward the bunk, she went willingly, for she wanted the pleasure to continue. She wanted to kiss him and fondle him until he cried out her name.

  She felt her first flicker of alarm as he laid her down and settled himself above her, his weight pinning her to the soft mattress on the bunk. But then Seth began to suckle her breast, drawing her nipple into his mouth, his tongue tenderly playing with the rosy nub. And she promptly forgot her misgivings as she gloried in his touch.

  He raised his head, his eyes glowing hotly with his desire for her, his hands continuing to fondle her breasts, and, as he slipped to her side, her cotton-covered belly.

  “You’re magnificent, love,” he said with reverence. “You’ve grown even more beautiful since I made love to you last. Your breasts are fuller . . . your skin is so soft . . .”

  Her eyes bright with passion, she caressed his cheek. “And you’ve become more handsome . . .”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  Seth, who had been observing the shape and color of her lips, watched her lips move, and moaned with the longing to kiss her. He bent his head and took her mouth, leaning into her with the force of his passion. Bess didn’t struggle, but whimpered beneath his lips and kissed him back.

  Their mouths broke apart, and they began to caress each other feverishly, their need driving them hard. Frustrated with her chemise, Seth pushed up the hem, baring her to his gaze and his kisses. He repositioned himself nearer to her, and Bess clutched at his head, his back, with one hand, while her other hand grasped and loved his throbbing manhood.

  They continued to touch each other, until, frustrated with the remaining layers of clothing, they stopped and helped each other undress. Seth helped Bess first, assisting her to sit and tugging the chemise gently over her head. He set her back against the bunk then and pulled her petticoats down, running his palms over her legs as he did so, making her gasp, especially when he paused and his hands lingered caressingly near the apex of her thighs. He went back to run his fingers over her hips before he returned to the task of discarding her petticoats.