A sweet smile curved her lips, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to… He lowered his head and kissed her soft, full lips, heaven against his. She responded boldly, her tongue vying with his and her fingers thrusting into his hair. His hands at her waist, he urged her closer and she complied with a throaty groan that inflamed his lust all the more. Eager to divest him of his surcoat, she pushed it over his shoulders, and the garment dropped to the floor. The minx. Her fingers hurried on to the buttons of his waistcoat, releasing them one by one. So this was the way of it then?
She kissed him with a fervor matching his own, as if only he could satisfy her hunger. And he would. Whenever and wherever she desired. Here and now was more than fine. With a quick tug of the ties, he relieved her of her cape and began work on her stomacher and gown. He lavished nibbles on each new inch of skin he bared, although he hadn’t bared nearly enough as of yet.
His waistcoat gone, she pulled his shirt from his breeches. “Thomas, please.”
Her impatience echoed within him as he tugged away her first petticoat. Dear Lord, why did women wear so many infernal layers? Perhaps he did like her better in her men’s garb.
She yanked at the buttons of his breeches, freeing him from their confines. Her hands wrapped around his shaft and he hissed in a breath. His stomach muscles tightened and pleasure shot through his groin. “Ah God, woman, you will be the end of me.”
To hell with this. He backed her to the settee and laid her down, hiking up her under-petticoats to feel the woman beneath. Long, lean legs quivering at his touch led to sultry heat and wetness that heightened his need to a fevered pitch. Their lips met once more as her hips tilted toward his hand and soft mewls sprang from her throat.
Out of nowhere, Catherine’s eyes rounded and she sat. “Servants,” she gasped, her gaze wildly searching the room.
“There are none here,” he assured her with a laugh. A fine time to bring up witnesses with them both sprawled half naked on the settee.
“Good. Then come here.” She shifted, slipping out from beneath him. Pushing him to his back on the cushioned seat, she positioned herself on top of him, impaling herself on his shaft. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sensations she evoked with the move. He moaned when she repeated the action, lifting herself up and sliding down. Such a beauty. He plucked the pins from her hair, and her tresses spilled around them in a cascade of ebony silk.
His hands roamed over her, but at every angle came against petticoat, stays, or shift. Bloody hell. He pulled her forward in an effort to reach behind her to the strings of her stays.
“Allow me,” she purred, resuming her upright position, her hips moving and her chest thrust out as she plucked the ties free, the sight intoxicating.
Quickly she stripped away the stays and tossed them to the floor, her breasts free beneath her shift. His hands moved of their own accord, to feel the weight of that flesh, the softness and fullness.
Catherine’s hands roamed, too. They slipped beneath his shirt and over his bare chest. Her eyes closed and her breath came out in pants, her hips pumping faster. Tingling pleasure built in his groin, a growing pressure. He grasped her waist and thrust his hips, plunging deeper, determined to take her over the edge. Her lips parted and she cried out his name, among other delectable sounds. Her body clenched around him in a pulsing rhythm, the sensation too much to take. He barely had time to lift her from him prior to expelling his seed.
He lay back again, Catherine tucked into his side, and their eyes met in a look that held more than just passion. Tenderness too. And trust.
The moment was all too short. In a blink, sadness infused her stare.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, feeling her distance herself from him even before she moved.
“Nothing.”
Still, she sat and picked up her stays from the floor.
“Catherine, speak to me.”
Her hands dropping to her lap, she shook her head. “Nothing can come from this… Whatever this is between us.”
“Why not?” He sat beside her and took her hand in his. I have feelings for you. Did he love her, or was it simply affection? Either way, he felt compelled to speak, but no words came. A challenge of swords, a competition amongst brothers, hell, facing pirates… All of those he could handle with ease, yet this, baring one’s soul, rendered him as weak as a babe.
Catherine tugged her hand from his. “I don’t need a man in my life,” she muttered as she donned the borrowed stays, struggling to secure the ties in back.
She didn’t need a man in her life, or she didn’t want one? Her late husband had been a fool to leave her and their son. How it must have hurt her when he’d left to sail the seas. Her pain still lingered. Thomas had seen it in her eyes, in her bearing. What would it take to relieve her pain once and for all? Was he ready for such a task? “I’m nothing like your late husband.” Once he committed himself to a woman, he would never leave her to fend for herself.
Her laugh was a choked sound. “Once you have the Ruby Cross, you’ll be sailing again.”
“Not necessarily,” he argued, although he couldn’t imagine a life on land.
In a huff, she swung her arm wide. “For a man of wealth, you don’t even have servants. Why is that?”
Wealth? “Where did you get the idea that I’m a man of wealth?” He’d certainly never thought so.
She emitted another pained laugh. “You have a great deal more than I do. More than most people I know,” she said. “You could afford servants if you wanted them. Why don’t you hire anyone?”
Internally, he grimaced. He grasped her waist and pulled her toward him in order to help her with the damned stays. “Because I’m at sea most of the time.”
“Exactly.” She shifted away from him until their bodies no longer touched.
“Stay still,” he grumbled, jerking the ties tight. “That doesn’t mean I can’t find employment on land, if I so choose.”
She did as he asked, although her diatribe continued. “But that’s who you are…a sailor and an adventurer who needs constant challenge.” Silence reigned heavy for a moment until she expelled a long breath. “I won’t be responsible for keeping you on land. Some day you would resent me for it.”
Some day you would leave me because of it? That was really what she thought. “Then come with me.”
Her stays secure, she turned and her gaze darted to his. “Do you mean it?”
The idea had come upon him without much thought, but… “Yes, of course I do.”
She released a sigh. “Jonas.”
The boy would be no problem. “He’ll join the crew, become a cabin boy, then learn to sail. Who knows? Perhaps eventually, he can work his way up to captain.” The life of a sailor may not be what she’d dreamed of for her son, but it had to be better than going back to St. Giles. What future would the boy have there? “He’ll learn a trade that will serve him well his entire life.” His heart pounded a bit harder as a thought took hold. If they were to travel together, the three of them, he and Catherine would need to marry. Was he prepared to bind his life with hers forever? And what would she say to the idea? “Catherine, if you come with me…well, we would need to…”
“Let’s not talk of it now,” she hurried to say, retrieving her petticoat from the discarded heap of clothes. “I need my son back first and time to think.”
“Of course.” Today wasn’t the time for this conversation, for her or for him. She obviously wasn’t ready to trust him fully and he… He rubbed a hand over his face. While his tenderness for her was true, the thought of marriage put a sheen of sweat upon his brow. Married. To a spitfire of a woman. A stubborn, willful…pirate, who would challenge and question him every day of his life. A small smile broke free. Perhaps married life wouldn’t be so bad after all.
…
Catherine clutched her hands together in her lap as she perched on the settee in Thomas’s parlor and glanced again at his clock. Nearly half past eleven. She made a mov
e to rise, ready to pace the room again, her nerves jumping and twitching, but Thomas laid his hand upon hers, stopping her from flight.
She looked over to where he sat beside her so calm, confident, and sure. Although he still dressed the gentleman, she’d chosen to change into her sailing garb for easier access to her weapons. Somehow she’d hoped dressing as a man would also make her feel more powerful, more in control. It didn’t.
“You’ll have Jonas soon,” he assured her.
If only she had half of his certainty. “It’s almost time. Give me the cross.”
He didn’t stir, although she knew full well he had the antiquity in his pocket, tucked securely in the leather pouch.
“Give it to me,” she repeated. “I need the cross in my hand.”
He shook his head. “I’ll carry it until the exchange.”
“But—”
“Brewer will expect me to have it now that I’m involved. So I’ll be his target if this is a trap, and we run into an ambush.”
“Which would make it safer with me.”
His gaze roamed over her face as if memorizing every detail. “Only until they realized I didn’t have it, then they’d come after you. I’d rather their attention stay on me. Giving you more opportunity to grab Jonas and retreat.”
Once again Thomas was protecting her, but this time she would hold her tongue. Although she’d found it difficult at first, their partnership had become a blessed thing. What a relief to have Thomas to rely on rather than facing Brewer alone.
Facing Brewer. Her breath caught in her throat. What were the odds that Brewer was setting a trap or an ambush as Thomas feared? If that was Brewer’s intent, there would be no trade. Was Jonas still alive and well? After all, why had Brewer’s men attacked instead of waiting for the Ruby Cross to be handed over just hours later? Her heart clenched. She might never see her son again.
Thomas’s hold strengthened, as if he could sense her growing unease. “Tell me about your son.”
The image of her little boy flashed inside her head. His light blue eyes always sparkling with mischief, his full cheeks and ready smile. “He’s… He’s seven years old.” Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away, her lips curving as she remembered. “Always covered in dirt, always running off.” Fondness and pain rode her next breath. “Jonas never stands still, and every time I see him, he has a new hole in his clothes.” A typical boy perhaps, and yet every day he amazed her. “No matter if he goes hungry for days or has to help me with the work, he’s always been full of cheer. Somehow he manages to be happy under all circumstances, and he has a knack for making all around him happy as well.”
The knot in her stomach twisted ever tighter, but she refused to cry. She would be strong, for Jonas. And to do that, she needed to turn her mind to something else. She looked around the room. “Your home is quite different than your brother Stephen’s.”
Thomas scanned the room himself. “Smaller,” he admitted. “Maybe someday…”
“Not only the size. You haven’t the clutter of paintings and vases and sculpture.” Simply the essentials, nothing more. “Do your brothers never come here?” she guessed.
His lips widened in a sheepish grin. “No, they don’t, but I prefer to believe I’m just more practical than they are. I’ve been saving my money for bigger and better things.”
Like a ship. What would it be like sailing with Thomas? Her heart warmed at the thought. Peter had never offered to take her and their son with him. Not that they could have. Jonas didn’t belong on a pirate ship. Still, her late husband had never even considered the idea of taking them all away from the daily suffering.
Someone knocked on the front door, and she jumped from her seat. At Thomas’s questioning look, she flushed. Apparently, she was a bit on edge.
Thomas stood and crossed to the door. “I’ve asked my brothers to join us.”
Had she heard him correctly? He couldn’t have just said… Unbelievable. When Thomas opened the door, both Charles and Stephen stood on the step.
“Thank you for coming,” Thomas told them. They nodded in response. Spying her in her men’s garments, Charles burst out laughing. Stephen maintained a stoic mien, with the exception of one raised eyebrow.
Thomas had asked them to stand as witnesses? He’d been against the idea when she’d suggested it before. What had changed his mind? It must have been quite a blow to his pride. Although she couldn’t tell by looking at him.
He checked the weapons in his belt, concealed by his surcoat, then glanced at the clock. “We’d best be off. My men will meet us at the park.” He gestured for his brothers to proceed. They turned about, heading for the carriage that would take them to Hyde Park.
Thomas ushered her out the door and locked up behind them.
“I’m shocked,” she couldn’t help saying. “You asked your brothers to join us?”
He shrugged and led her toward the carriage. “What choice did I have? Without respectable witnesses to help prosecute Brewer, who’s to stop him from taking your son a second time and forcing you to do whatever he wishes? I’m going to try to get him to confess to more than just the kidnapping.”
Was that really Thomas’s reasoning? Had he requested their presence for her? Proving Brewer’s crimes would also ensure the man couldn’t go after the cross again or scare off any more potential buyers. Thomas would have no further worries there. No matter his ultimate goal, gratitude welled. They could both benefit from his brothers’ help.
He extended his hand to help her into the carriage. “Let’s go get your son.”
She grabbed hold and climbed inside, praying with all her might that Jonas would be in Hyde Park when they got there.
Chapter Twelve
The carriage came to a stop a fair distance from the park. Thomas was the first to alight, eager to get this matter done. Usually he thrived on a test of skill and wits, but this time all of his calm confidence had fled. He helped Catherine descend from the carriage, wishing he could tell her to go back inside where she would be safe. Alas, not only would she deny his request, but Brewer might not make the trade without her presence. He was the interloper here, not her. Even after her booted feet touched the ground, he kept hold of her hand.
She looked up at him, her tricorn tilting back, and he spied trepidation in her eyes. He could sympathize. The same emotion had set his nerves to twitching. “As soon as you have Jonas, get him and yourself out of here,” he ordered, handing her the keys to his house. The fight for the Ruby Cross would likely be a bloody one. “Wait for me there. If all goes well, I’ll return shortly.”
“I will,” she replied.
Good. He had no doubt she would be true to her word. If not for herself, then for her son.
“And you be careful.” She squeezed his hand as if willing him to listen. “The cross isn’t worth your life.”
“Out of the way now,” Charles demanded, stepping to the ground beside them. He snapped his watch shut and tucked it back into his pocket. “We’ve no time to dally.”
Indeed. A half dozen of his men waited not far off, those willing to put their lives at risk for a chance at riches. Time to join them. Releasing Catherine’s hand, he walked toward his first mate Hugh.
“I’ll need the two of you to stay out of sight,” Thomas said to his brothers as they all tread forward. “If Brewer sees you, he’s likely to grow suspicious and run. Once Catherine has her boy, make sure they get to the carriage and return to my house.”
His brothers both nodded, but cast each other looks.
“You will do as I say?” he asked, just to be sure.
“As long as everything goes to plan,” Charles agreed.
Fair enough. They reached Hugh, and Thomas gave him a nod. “Once the boy is out of danger, we get the cross.” Thomas met the eyes of each man who’d volunteered. “Are you ready?”
A quiet round of Ayes surrounded him. “Then let’s proceed.”
Stephen and Charles separated from the
others in order to approach Brewer’s men more stealthily, while he and Catherine led his crew directly toward Hyde Park.
They skirted around the open galleries surrounding the Tyburn Triple Tree—sadly, the spectacle of a hanging always drew a crowd. He glanced at Catherine walking at his side. Pirates were hung at Execution Dock rather than here. Catherine had risked that fate in her quest for the Ruby Cross, for the love of her son. To love that deeply and to be so selfless… He had to admire her for all she’d gone through.
Once past the site of so many deaths, they headed for a nearby thicket of elm trees, where Brewer had said he’d await them. If Brewer were smart, he’d let his men handle this exchange. But any man who would kidnap a child to force a mother to steal knew nothing but selfishness and greed. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with the Ruby Cross. He’d want it placed in his own hands.
They stepped beyond the first few trees, the moon casting the barest light into the shadows. Soon figures moved. Brewer’s men. By the looks of things, Brewer’s numbers were evenly matched with his. Not that it would matter. He had every confidence the skill of Brewer’s men would pale in comparison to theirs.
Brewer stepped out from behind a tree, dragging Jonas with him and forcing the boy to stand at his side.
Beside Thomas, Catherine tensed and her footsteps faltered. Thomas would give anything to reach out and soothe her right now. Or better yet, reunite her with her son. Soon, Catherine. Soon.
In the dim light, Jonas appeared uninjured, but frightened.
“Mama.” The boy lunged forward. Brewer stopped him with a hand clamped onto Jonas’s shoulder.
“Jonas.” Catherine’s voice was a broken rasp so filled with fear his own chest ached.
“Where is the Ruby Cross?” Brewer called out.
“I have it.” Thomas withdrew the pouch from his pocket, its weight heavy in his hand.
Brewer watched him closely. “Show it to me.”
He opened the drawstring and slid the cross free. Even in the darkness, the jewels in the gold glittered. Beautiful. Enchanting. Thomas’s grip tightened, the desire to keep the valuable piece for himself strong.
His Pirate Seductress (Love on the High Seas Book 3) Page 13