by Shana Galen
Nick waved her words away with an impatient hand. “I am glad she likes you. How could she not? What with your victory this evening.” He reached out and one finger lightly brushed her cheek. “I had no idea you had such talents.”
“There’s much about me you don’t know.”
“What I would really like to know is what you have underneath that blouse? Anything?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to keep wondering, but then she thought the truth might torture him even more. “Not a thing,” she whispered. “I can feel the material against my breasts, rubbing against my nipples.”
His eyes were dark, and she heard him take a slow breath. She thought he might gather her in his arms then, carry her to his tent. She wanted him to. She wanted him to take her so she did not have to think about what she was doing or with whom. But he did not reach for her, and after a moment’s silence, he said, “Be careful with my daughter, Ashley. She has already lost one mother. If you hurt her, you will be sorry.”
She watched in mute shock as he walked away.
Nick was glad for the distraction of work the next morning. His cock had been hard most of the night after Ashley’s revelation. Even after he’d made use of his own hand, just the thought of her whispered words—I can feel the material against my breasts, rubbing against my nipples—could make him hard again.
But this morning he had a ship to careen, and that would take all of his concentration. Chante would sail her into the high tide, hove her over, and when the tide went out, repairs could begin. He would have no time to fantasize about Ashley. And no time to spend with Rissa. It was good that the two of them had each other, even if the idea of the two of them plotting something together made his blood run cold. They could not find much trouble on the island. Could they?
Leave it to his daughter to bond with the one person on the island just as mischievous as she. It had shocked him to see the two of them together. Rissa had looked thrilled to have a new friend, and Ashley had looked as though she had suffered a knock to the head. Rissa could have that effect on people. She’d lead poor Ashley around like she would a puppy. Ashley looked as though she didn’t quite know what to say or do with the little girl. She had not exaggerated when she said she had no experience with children. Still, it warmed his heart to see her with his daughter. When he’d parted Ashley’s tent and seen the two of them snuggled together, his breath had all but whooshed from his body.
He did not want to dwell on the emotion he’d felt then. He did not have time for such emotions. He had a mission, a man to kill.
But as Nick directed the careening and the subsequent repairs to the Robin Hood’s hull, thoughts of Ashley assailed him. What had possessed her to participate in the men’s spitting contest? He had found it disgusting, and at the same time, he’d been more attracted to her than ever before. She had so much spirit, so much life. Nothing cowed her. She’d need all of that strength and more if she were to survive the rumors and scandal when they returned to England.
After this, Nick had no illusions that he could keep who he was or where they had been a secret. He only hoped he could protect Ashley when the time came. He hoped he survived that long.
TWELVE
“He’s going to leave us, you know,” Rissa said, as she and Ashley sat in the shade and watched the men make the last repairs to the ship, which had been careened in the shallow water near the beach. The ship had seemed so small when she had resided on it, but now as it lay on its side, its great hull rising like a mountain from the flat beach, it seemed enormous. The sand was warm on her bare feet, and the ocean breeze ruffled her hair. The men had worked for two days, and Nick said it would take another day or two for a big enough tide to relaunch the ship and then the vessel had to be loaded and made ready to sail. She had three, four days at most, left with him.
Ashley had taken some of the material in the trunks the men had brought ashore and was remaking a gown so it would fit the child. Nick had brought her one or two gowns, but what the girl really needed was a pair of trousers and a long shirt. That was the sort of garment suited to life on the island, where the girl climbed trees to pluck a brown fruit Ashley did not recognize, fished in the pond, and ran to and fro like an excited puppy.
When the men were not about, Ashley herself tied up her skirts to keep them out of the way, but she was careful not to allow too much of her leg to show. Now Ashley set down her sewing—she had never done so much sewing before setting foot on Nick’s ship—and looked at the girl. “He’s intent upon finding Yussef and ki—punishing him for what he did here.” She was careful not to mention death or killing around the girl. She was afraid the memory of her mother’s death was too fresh.
Rissa sighed, her slight shoulders rising and falling. “I wish he would stay. He promised me he would take me to England.”
Ashley opened her mouth to say and he will, but it was a lie. She could not be certain Nick would ever return, much less carry out his promise. One thing she’d always hated as a child was when adults tried to placate her with simplistic answers to her questions. “I wish he would give up his mission, too, but he’s a man, and men have pride. He feels he has to do this.” Ashley looked back at her sewing. She was actually making some progress. The skirt was looking more and more like loose trousers. Her mother would be so proud—well, proud that Ashley had retained so much of her teaching, not that Ashley was making a little girl trousers.
“The other mothers on the island always said that we were first in Papa’s heart but not in his mind.”
Ashley laughed. “That’s probably a good way to think of it. I have five brothers, and I promise you that men are often very selfish creatures.”
“I don’t want to be left here again,” Rissa said, her tone whiny. Ashley didn’t respond, didn’t want to encourage more whining. But the statement had lit the candle of a thought in her mind. She did not want to be left here either. Perhaps she did not need to stay behind. Perhaps she could find a way to make sure when the ship sailed, she was on it. Once they were away, it would be too late for Nick to take her back.
Ashley raised her gaze to the ship again and found Mr. Chante standing beside Nick. The quartermaster was keeping a close watch on everything and everyone. He would be the one she would have to worry about.
But she had time to plan, time to think. And thinking of a way to stowaway was better than thinking about the feel of Nick’s lips on her mouth, his hands on her body. After they’d parted the night before, she’d lain awake and could not help but hear the grunts and moans of the men and women coupling in nearby tents. Why did the man have to wake her? She hadn’t even been aware of it before, and now she could not fall asleep for listening, imagining it was her and Nick.
Even hours later, in full daylight, she still found her body tingling and her gaze drawn to him. He stood on the beach, legs apart as though he was on the deck of his vessel. His hands were planted on his slim hips, cased in tight buckskin that showed his muscled thighs to advantage. He wore no coat, and she would have thought his shoulders might look smaller in the white linen, but they were broad and straight as ever. His dark hair looked almost black in the sheen of the sunlight, and his skin had turned an even richer bronze in just the little time they’d been on shore.
She herself had been careful to stay in the shade or wear the hat she’d borrowed from Nick. Even so, the tip of her nose was pink and she had a sprinkling of freckles on what had once been perfect alabaster skin. While the sun only enhanced Nick’s beauty, it would turn her red and cause her to peel. Life was certainly unfair.
By dinner, Ashley had finished the modifications for Rissa’s clothing, and the girl wore her new trousers with pride. Nick had complimented the girl on her clothing and nodded his thanks to Ashley, but he had made no move to join her for dinner. Instead, he’d chosen another fire at which to eat, and Rissa had sat with him. Ashley sat with several of the village women and a group of sailors from the Robin Hood, but she’d kept an
eye on Rissa, worried the girl would move too close to the fire again. When Chante came around with the rum, pouring each man his allotment, Ashley almost refused. And then she decided, why not? She had not repaired the ship, but over the past few days, she’d helped make dinner, sewn not only Rissa’s clothing but mended some of the sailor’s clothing as well, and she’d fished with the other women in an effort to catch dinner. She hadn’t caught anything, but she had made an effort.
And so she held out her cup for rum and ignored Chante’s raised brows as he filled it. She ignored them again, when she asked for an additional portion. After the first cup, she felt warm and confident. She hadn’t drunk her portion on other nights. What was the harm in drinking it now?
She hadn’t been listening to the sailor’s discussion, but the word bank caught her attention. She blinked and focused on Shanks, who shook his head. “You ask me, yer blunt is safer in a bank. I got me a pretty penny over on Threadneedle Street. When we get back, I’ll take it out and buy me the finest suit you ever did see. I’ll look as fine as the captain, I will.”
Ashley couldn’t stop herself from interrupting. “And does the captain keep his blunt in a bank as well?” The thought of the money Nick made from piracy sitting in the Bank of England made her smile.
But Shanks shook his head. “The captain don’t keep his share of the booty. He gives it away. That’s why we call him Captain Robin Hood.”
Ashley frowned. “I thought it was because the ship was named the Robin Hood.”
Shanks shrugged. “Ship were named after the captain, lass.”
One of the men began to discuss the merits of gems versus coin, but Ashley heard nothing but the waves crashing on the shore. When Nick had told her he sold the items he stole from other ships and gave the profits to the poor and needy, she had thought he was making a poor attempt at sarcasm. But he’d spoken the truth.
She glanced at him, his face burnished by the firelight. For so long she had been angry at him, had convinced herself he was cold and heartless. But she could not lie to herself any longer, not when he sat with is daughter on his knee. Not when his men told her he kept nothing of his share of the profits from his piracy. Who was this man?
And if he was so tender, so compassionate, why had he treated her so poorly?
She was more than happy to snuggle with Rissa in the tent until the girl fell asleep, but instead of nodding off along with the child, Ashley remained awake. Her thoughts returned to that night so long ago at Lord Rundale’s ball. The night Nick had scorned her. Why treat her so, if he was a good man at his core? She deserved some sort of explanation, didn’t she? Perhaps it was time she demanded it. Perhaps she finally had the courage to confront him about it.
She rose, swaying slightly on her feet, and marched back to the fires on the beach. Nick was reclining on one elbow and did not see her coming until Chante poked him and nodded to her. Nick rose to his feet and gave her a wary look. “You look as though you should be in bed,” he said. Ashley half expected rude comments from the men sitting about the fire, but of course, this was their captain. They would make them later, out of his hearing.
“I have something I wish to discuss with you.” She glanced at the men. “In private.”
“We can discuss it tomorrow, when your head is clear.”
“My head is clear enough now. Walk with me, if you please, my lord.” She thought she heard him sigh, but after a moment’s hesitation, he excused himself from the men and followed her along the beach. She knew where she was going. There was a secluded spot not far from where the men camped. The island curved, and the trees jutted out so the beach there was hidden. A small brook ran nearby, and she and the women had followed it to a larger pond where they fished. Now she led him back, turning to speak to him when the trees finally obscured them.
The night was clear and the moon gave enough light for her to ascertain that they were alone. “I have something to ask you. I know the answer, but I want to hear it from your lips, just the same.”
Nick’s look was unreadable, but he did not wait for her question, before speaking. “Ashley, you are…if not foxed, close to it. We should have this talk tomorrow.”
“I want to have it tonight.” She folded her arms across her chest and noted how his eyes dipped to follow the movement. The night was warm, but the breeze from the water was refreshing. It chilled her slightly, making her nipples harden. It was too dark for him to see the hard points, of that she was certain, but she became more aware of them when his eyes lowered. Being this near to him made her more aware of everything—the sounds of insects nearby, the whisper of the breeze in the trees, the scent of the island flowers, and the warmth of his body. She remembered the way her body felt when he touched it, and she took a shaky breath before speaking again. “Tomorrow I might lack the courage.”
“If rum is required to give you courage, perhaps it is not a conversation we should undertake at all.” He reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. She hoped she did not look as disheveled as she felt. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d brushed her hair. “I can think of better ways to spend a night like this.” He glanced up at the sky, and she knew what he saw—millions and millions of stars. She’d lived in foggy, dirty London most of her life, and the sight of so many stars, seemingly so close she could reach out and touch them, was still a wonder to her.
“That’s what I want to discuss with you,” she said, keeping her gaze on him. “That night at the Rundale’s ball.”
He sighed. “Ashley, that is behind us now. You are my wife. Let’s forget the past.”
She swallowed. She wanted to forget the past. She was desperate to forget it, but she could not. She could not go forward without knowing if her supposition was true. “That night, when I found you in the library, you wanted me to find you, didn’t you?”
He raked a hand through his hair, so a lock fell over his forehead and shadowed his eyes. “Yes. I wanted you to find me. I wanted you to hate me.”
“Because you were too much of a coward to tell me the truth.”
“I couldn’t tell you. I could not risk telling anyone.”
Her mind swam, but even in her rum-induced state, she knew what he said did not make sense. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t want me, you could have just been honest with me.”
“That’s where you are wrong. I did want you.” He stepped closer and his warm hands settled on her shoulders. “I wanted you desperately, and perhaps that was my weakness.”
She swayed slightly, feeling as though her entire world was swimming. Nick had wanted her? Desperately? Then why had he spurned her? Was it possible her disfigurement hadn’t disgusted him? That he walked away from her for another reason altogether?
“I knew I would never have the strength to resist taking you in my arms again.” His fingers flexed on her bare skin, where the material of the blouse had been pushed to the edge of her shoulder. “If you walked away, if you hated me, that would end our relationship.”
“But why end it?” She knew the answer before he even spoke. “Because of the Robin Hood. Because of Yussef and the island. You did not want to involve me in your secret life.” Da—drat it! Would she never prove he was the scoundrel she’d thought him to be?
“I should never have become involved with you. I knew you were more than a dalliance, and I couldn’t afford more. But I couldn’t resist you.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips where his hand had been. Ashley clenched her jaw and willed herself not to give in to the pleasure of his lips on her skin. He seemed to speak the truth, but she had to know if that was all of it. She closed her eyes and forced herself to speak.
“Then it wasn’t my leg? It didn’t disgust you?”
His head jerked up, and when she opened her eyes, his gaze met hers. At least she thought it did. It was too dark for her to see his face clearly. “You? Disgust me? Never.”
She shook her head, backing away from him. He hadn’t seen her leg that n
ight they’d made love so long ago. She had thought she’d been careful not to allow him to see, but then when he’d rejected her it was the only excuse she could think of. She hadn’t known he was a pirate, and she had assumed the reason he’d not wanted her had to do with her. “I have to go,” she whispered, turning to walk back. “I have to think.”
With three strides, he caught her arm. “Don’t walk away from me. You brought me here. Why did you think I ended our relationship? What about your leg?”
So he’d heard that. Damn! Rather, drat! “Nothing.”
She tugged, but he didn’t release her. “Why would I find your leg disgusting?” His free hand traveled up and down her arm. “There’s nothing about you disgusting. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“No, I’m not.” She shook her head and tried again to escape him. Tears burned her eyes, and she wanted to escape before they fell and she embarrassed herself by weeping in his presence. “I’m not.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly swiped it away.
He said nothing for a long moment, obviously surprised at her tears. “Tell me,” he said.
“I can’t.” She shook her head, allowing her hair to fall forward in a sheet, obscuring her face.
“Then show me.”
“No!”
When he reached for her skirts, she frantically pushed them back down. They struggled for a moment, and then he grasped her hands. “Let’s not fight.” He sank down to his knees, taking her with him. “I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I can only say that to me, you are perfect.”
Her head shot up, and she stared at him. “Liar.”
He chuckled. “Very well. As close to perfect as any woman could be. It was dark that first night. I saw far too little of your body.” He pushed her hair back from her face again, his hand lingering on her cheek. “That was my only regret. That I never caught a glimpse of you gloriously naked.”