by Kimberly Nee
“But, Gabby—”
“No, Diego. I will not stoop…to his level…” She swallowed hard as William blurred, then cleared, and blurred again. “I will not…”
“I thank you, sister.”
“Do not thank me, William, I did it…not for you…but for me. I will not live with your blood on my hands.”
Diego gently squeezed her uninjured shoulder and took the dagger from her to pass it to James, who turned and sliced through the rope binding Iñigo’s wrists.
“I thank you just the same.” William sank beside her and wrapped her hand in both of his. His palms were soft and damp, and her first reaction was to pull away. But to do so would take far too much effort, and all she wanted to do was fall into Diego’s arms, to rest her head on his chest.
“I’ll be takin’ that,” Jonathan rumbled, and she assumed he relieved William of his pistol.
She put William from her mind as she concentrated on Diego. He and Iñigo discussed something, but she didn’t know what that something was, as they spoke in Spanish. Her eyelids were so heavy she had no choice but to let them close. No sooner had she done just that, when Diego knelt beside her once more.
“Put your arm around me, amor,” he murmured, gathering her in his arms. “You will be on the Galatea by nightfall. I will have Farruco come on board to tend to your wound. Iñigo has already offered him up.”
She nodded and muttered “Thank you.” Her exhaustion was unbelievable and all she wanted was to collapse into him. For the first time in months, the tension seeped from her body as Diego cradled her close against his chest. Everything would be all right now.
Her cabin on board the Galatea hadn’t changed much, despite Carmichael’s foul presence. He’d ruined her favorite smooth linen sheets, as they reeked of cigars and unwashed skin and God only knew what else, and discarded her colorful quilts for a ratty, rough woolen blanket. But it didn’t matter. She was home and in time, it would truly be home again.
Diego gingerly placed her in an arm chair by the large windows at the rear of the cabin, overlooking the stern, and she propped her head in her hand as she watched him strip the filthy bedcovers from the tick and toss them in a pile. “I would never have guessed you even knew how to make a bed,” she said, wincing as a flare of pain shot through her shoulder.
He grinned at her over one shoulder as he snapped out fresh linen sheets. “You would be amazed by the things I know how to do, Gabby. Making the bed is just one of a long list of bed-related talents I possess.”
She managed a tired smile. “Do tell.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her and finished making the bed before crouching before her. With gentle fingertips, he traced along her neck, his forefinger catching the silk cord at the throat of her tunic. A gentle pull, and it slid free to allow the fabric to part. “I’m far better at showing than I am at telling, Gabby.”
Heat stung her entire body as his gaze lowered. A glance down and she shook her head at the display of her breasts’ inner curves. “You are terrible, Diego. Absolutely horrid.”
Not at all abashed, he lifted his gaze to hers and a slow smile played at his lips. “I am but a man, love. I have my weaknesses. Not to mention, you have lovely breasts. Quite possibly the most perfect breasts ever bestowed upon a woman.”
“Diego!”
His laughter was a low, sensuous purr and he lowered his hand to slide both arms about her. “What? I speak only the truth. You may prefer men’s togs, but they cannot hide that you are entirely woman.”
As he spoke, he tightened his arms to draw her out of the chair and up to meet him. Her heart slowed to normal as he tucked her against him, taking care not to jostle her sore shoulder. She eased her arms about his waist, her hands flat against his back, and murmured, “I thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I do believe I owe you an apology, Gabby.”
This was a surprise. Lifting her head to gaze up at him, she asked, “For what?”
“For not asking you to marry me before you left.”
“Diego, you don’t—”
“No,” he cut her off gently as he stepped back from her. “I do.”
“But—”
“No buts, Gabby. I love you. You love me—”
“Diego—”
“Ah-ah—” He cut her off with a kiss, and continued. “You can deny it all you wish, amor, but I know the truth.”
Gabby almost groaned at the sensual endearment rolling from his lips. It was his habit to revert to his native tongue in moments of intimacy, and the effect on her was even more powerful now than it was back then. He leaned into her, and her eyes closed as she anticipated his kiss.
But her lips remained untouched as he swept a kiss up over her cheek, toward her ear, and he whispered, “Admit it, Gabriella. Tell me you love me.” As he spoke, the tip of his tongue danced along the sensitive shell of her ear and she shivered, but kept her stoic silence. His low chuckle brought another groan to her lips as he murmured, “Gabby…”
His lips grazed down, and she tilted her head to the side as his kiss pressed warmly along her neck. He kissed and nibbled, his tongue darting out to tease her, to brush over her pulse, and weaken her resolve. Even the pain in her shoulder faded to nothingness.
“Diego…” Oh, lord, did she truly sound so breathless? Her knees threatened to betray her as they went mushy, and she melted into him, fingers tightening, twisting into silk before she lost her grip. He kissed downward, toward the hollow in her throat, and her head fell back as he rained kisses over her upper chest.
“Usted ed tan hermoso.” His breath was hot on her skin, yet she shivered at his husky growl. Her tunic slid easily over her shoulder to pool in the crook of her elbow. He caught it with a forefinger, tugged it from her arm entirely and then did the same with her covered shoulder. The linen caught in the waist of her breeches, but she paid it no mind as he continued his assault on her. A moment later, and it fluttered to the floor behind her.
“Diego…”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze with passion-smoked eyes. “What?”
“Please…”
His smile was utterly seductive, filled with the promise of sensual delights. “Please what, amor?”
She didn’t answer, but leaned into him and when he kissed her lips, she eagerly accepted. Her hands were not still, but gripped him by his shirtfront, her fingers twisting about the laces to yank him to her.
Gone was the delicate, almost hesitant contact as Diego growled deep in the back of his throat and swept her up in his arms. Their mouths searched one another’s with a hunger so fierce it almost frightened her.
She refused to relinquish her hold on him as he pressed her down into the tick, but tugged him flat against her. His hands were hot on her thighs as they skimmed up to catch the falls of her breeches and shoved linen out of his way. She tore her mouth from his to cry out as his hand eased beneath the fabric, between her thighs and he slid a finger inside her.
Her muscles tightened and with them, a hot sting burned along her shoulder. Diego went still, lifting his head at her hiss. “Gabby?”
She pressed her lips tightly together, willing the pain into memory. When it faded to a dull throb, she gritted, “I jostled a bit more than I should have.”
He dipped to kiss her. “Do you wish to stop?”
Even as he made the offer, he did something magical with his finger, and the remnants of pain dissipated. Gabby smiled. “I think, if I’m careful, I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but repeated the teasing strokes. Taking care not to move her injured arm too much, Gabby nonetheless made haste with her good arm to sweep any fabric that came between them.
She ignored the twinges, concentrated on the pleasure, and when heated skin met heated skin, she couldn’t hold back her sigh of appreciation. She found what she sought. She caught his gasp as her fingers found him, and curled tight about him to stroke long an
d slow.
He met her stroke for stroke, sigh for sigh, and just when she thought she’d go up in flames, he pulled away abruptly. His breathing was ragged and raw, as her toes curled as he jerked away to almost rip her breeches from her body.
He came up over her, seized her lips in a furious kiss, and with a long thrust, buried himself deep inside her. Gabby cried out again, her fingers twisting tight in his hair. Their mutual need was too powerful, too demanding, to be satisfied by slow, tender lovemaking. It simply wasn’t possible as Diego lifted her hips and increased his intensity.
She wrapped her legs about his waist, breathless in her need for him and when he arched into her, her voice rose in a husky cry. “Diego!”
He groaned deep in the back of his throat again, and, to her dismay, slowed. “Diego, what the devil-?”
A muscle leaped in his jaw, but he went still against her, and his voice was strangled as he murmured, “Say it, Gabby.”
“What are you doing?” …No. No. She was so close… He was not going to do this to her. Not now. Bloody hell…
“Say it, Gabriella,” he groaned, sounding almost as if in pain, “or this ends here.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He moved only a fraction of an inch, but they groaned in unison and he nodded. “I will.”
“Diego.”
Another slight movement. Another groan. Her toes curled and desire gnawed at her insides. If he didn’t start moving, didn’t go with her to that wonderful peak, she would throttle him.
“Say it.”
Another partial thrust, and she couldn’t control the silly smile tugging at her lips. “I love you, Die—oh!” Her words ended in a sharp cry of delight as he thrust long and hard, and didn’t stop. Harder and faster, he arched into her, as if to make up for those long seconds of immobility, and when they peaked together, he crushed her against him for one last, amazing thrust.
He sank into her, his breath hot, hard puffs against her neck. She tightened her arms about him to hold him close. Her fingers moved lightly over his silky hair, brushing it away from his ear as she whispered, “I’ve always loved you, Diego. Always. I never stopped loving you.”
He groaned into the curve of her neck, and murmured, “Will you stop torturing me and marry me, then?”
“Torture you? I’ve done nothing of the sort.”
He let out a rueful laugh as he lifted his head. “Is that so? You’ve haunted me for these last five years, Gabriella. You’ve ruined all other women for me—”
“Even Adeline?” She held his gaze.
“Even Adeline.” Diego’s eyes softened and he smiled as he bent down to brush a kiss over the tip of her nose. “All of them. Every last damn one.”
“You sound angry about that.”
“I’m angry we wasted five years.” He pulled away to flop onto his back beside her. “Angry at how my foolish pride came between us and your stubborn streak made matters worse. If you hadn’t run on—”
“I know.” She rolled onto her side, taking care not to bump her shoulder as the stinging in a hot, powerful wave returned. “And I will always regret my idiocy in not trusting you enough to tell you.”
“If you wish to keep sailing,” he turned toward her, “I will not stop you.”
She reached out a finger to sweep lightly over the narrow trail of dark hair that led from his navel to his chest. “And if you wish to put down roots, I will not argue. It would be pointless, as it won’t be long before I won’t be able to sail anyhow. Tell me, is there a midwife on St. Phillippe?”
It was difficult to hold back her smile at Diego’s dumbfounded stare. His eyes were almost perfectly round, and his jaw was slack. Then, her words must have penetrated his skull, for a slow smile spread over his face. “Gabby, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I am.”
His gaze raked over her, halting at her belly, and his hand curved about the lower portion. “A child, Gabby?”
“Your child, Diego.”
“My child,” he murmured as he pressed his fingertips firmer against her. “How long have you known?”
“Only a few weeks. I haven’t told anyone, and I was planning to return to St. Phillippe when I finished what I needed to do here.” She covered his hand with hers.
He stared at her, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn’t explain. Then, he leaned in, and caught her lips in a gentle kiss. When he pulled back, she murmured, “You are happy?”
“I am.”
“Good. I’d hoped you would be.”
“And you, Gabby. Are you happy? This is something we’ve neither discussed nor planned.”
She nodded, curving even tighter against him. “I will admit, I was surprised at first. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been, but I was. Nevertheless, once I was over that surprise, happiness was on its heels.” She smiled up at him. “And I hope this child has your tiger eyes.”
He kissed her softly, then murmured, “Tiger eyes? How do you know what a tiger’s eyes look like?”
“When I was a girl, my father took me to Persia. He knew the most fascinating people, and one of his friends was a vizier who collected exotic animals. He’d received two tiger cubs as a gift and tamed them.” She smiled at his look of amazement. “You and Iñigo have nothing on the adventures my father had.”
“Perhaps not, but if you wish to go to Persia and play with tigers, we will set a course for Persia after our wedding. When we arrive, I will befriend the most powerful vizier in the land, after ascertaining as to whether or not he owns a tiger or two.”
“Well, as exciting as it was when I was a child, it seems a bit dangerous now.” She sighed softly. “I’m afraid I’m no longer quite the adventurous little girl I was.”
“And for that I’m quite thankful.” He eased her onto her back and covered her. Her hands came to rest flat against the smooth, hot skin of his back. “Does this mean you will marry me?”
His lips brushed hers again. And again. His kisses were light and teasing, and a brilliant happiness poured into her as she tightened her arms about his neck and tugged him down to murmur, “Yes,” with her lips pressed against his ear.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rain fell softly, more of a mist, really. It shifted this way and that, swirled wildly to settle in her hair, where it wrought havoc on her curls and made them more unmanageable than usual. Still, Gabby paid very little heed to it as she watched the men throw off the Galatea’s lines and they moved from their berth. Relief swept through her. It was over. Finally. A bit of misty rain was nothing after all that had happened.
The weight lifted from her and she smiled. Her entire body ached, but her joy made those aches bearable. She’d visited Iñigo’s ship’s surgeon, Farruco, before they departed, and he assured her that her injury was hardly life threatening. A nuisance more than anything else, as the lead ball that nicked her took out a sizable chunk of flesh. He’d dressed and bandaged the wound as best he could, which actually hurt worse than the bullet had, and sent her on her way back to the Galatea.
She didn’t start as Diego stepped up beside her, but turned her smile up at him. “The tides favor us, fortunately.”
He shifted to stand behind her, a hand on either side of her, resting on the railing. “It is about time something goes completely our way, don’t you think?”
A nod and she turned her gaze back to London. “I think. I want only to put as much distance between William and myself as possible.”
He tightened his arms about her. “You’ve nothing to fear, Gabby. If that bastard is foolish enough to so much as poke his nose into St. Phillippe, I will rip him into pieces. If he is smart, he’ll be thanking God your uncle opted not to blast him into hell alongside Carmichael, and he will keep the ocean between us.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Now, perhaps, we should get you back below. You’re looking a bit paler and Farruco did say you were to rest.”
She waved away his concern. “Pish. I am fine. Farr
uco also assured you that my arm is not about to fall off. Besides, what I want is to stay right here, and watch England fade into memory. I don’t ever want to see it again.”
He said nothing, but tucked her closer still. As he stood there beside her, she was suddenly, very much aware of just how large he was, and not just in his size. His very presence was very nearly overwhelming, and for the first time, she wondered how it was a man such as William could face him and not want to wet his pants?
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” She smiled up at him, imagining the smug smile he’d offer up, should she tell him what she’d been thinking. Best to remain at least a little mysterious.
As they stood there, the rain ceased and dusk set upon them. The skies cleared, going from gray to pale blue, gold and coral, before finally stretching deep blue in the distance. A smattering of stars sprinkled overhead, and the English Channel was calm. There were other ships in the distance, but Iñigo’s ship, the Serena had left several hours ahead of them.
It felt so wonderful to be back on the Galatea, to know her ship was back under her command. Of course, this crew was unfamiliar to her, as her men were most likely scattered all throughout Jamaica, if not the entire West Indies. For all she knew, she would never see any of them again.
She leaned up against the railing, frowning at the scratches and nicks in the oak. Carmichael hadn’t been as careful with her ship as he probably was with his own, and the neglect showed. One more reason she wouldn’t mourn his passing. Fortunately, the damage was mostly cosmetic. Once in the hands of a skilled carpenter, the Galatea would be removed of all traces of carelessness.
Diego shifted to lean against the rail beside her. She glanced up at him, tall and handsome in buff breeches and a midnight blue silk shirt that fluttered in the breeze. The wind lifted his longish dark hair from his shoulders and ruffled it over his forehead. It had been days since he’d last seen a razor, and the dark shadow of whiskers on his jaw only added to his sensual, animal allure. He almost oozed sin, and any woman within a five mile radius would sense him.