Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  Before she could voice her fear, he stood, lurching to the side, and circled her body with his arms. “Hold on tight, your Ladyship,” he yelled as he gave the rope a yank.

  Merideth wrapped her arms around his neck as they were lifted, swaying with the yaw of the ship and the fickle wind. She tried to strengthen her grip, linking her legs with his, and her wet skirts tangled with his feet. They were suspended in air, surrounded by water. It poured from the heavens and surged beneath them, ready to swallow them up.

  Her sob was born of fear and involuntary... a mere extension of her rasping breath.

  “Hang on, Merry—” His last word was punctuated by a grunt of pain as they banged into the side of the ship.

  The impact jarred her arms loose from their grip around Jared’s neck. If not for his bruising hold on her waist, she might have fallen. But she didn’t, and within moments she felt herself being lifted. Members of the crew had hauled them close enough to grab them.

  It didn’t matter that strong hands were pulling her over the rail to the safety of the deck; Merideth found it difficult to give up her regained hold on the captain. When they were both standing on the wave-swept deck and being bundled in blankets, she wanted to sink into his arms.

  But there was much to do. Merideth was hustled below deck by Tim, who took her straight to the captain’s cabin. Where Jared Blackstone went, she didn’t know. The storm raged the rest of the night, finally blowing itself out as the first tinges of pewter softened the line between sea and sky.

  She’d spent a fitful night, tossing and turning near as much as the ship. But with the onset of calm, Merideth fell into a deep sleep. Something, a sound or presence, awoke her and she blinked open her eyes to see the captain silhouetted in the open doorway. The light from the passageway outlined his body as surely as the wet clothes he still wore.

  He looked tired and bedraggled, a soldier who’d fought the storm and won. But a victor not without wounds. He stepped into the cabin, his feet bare on the wooden deck, his broad shoulders slumped. And Merideth pushed to sitting. She held the blanket to her chin with one hand as she propped herself up with the other.

  “Do you mind if I shut the door?” he asked, his voice low and scratchy.

  Merideth shook her head. Strands of golden curls, tangled from drying without benefit of brushing, fell across her cheek. She’d kept the door open last night, for she couldn’t stand the thought of being closed in with the tempest raging. But now, with the captain in the room with her, the fear was as fleeting as a wisp of smoke fading in the breeze.

  His eyelids drooped, the thick tangle of lashes forming a crescent that partially hid the dark shadows of fatigue staining the skin beneath his eyes. “Do you mind if I...?” His words trailed off, but it was obvious by the tilt of his head that the bed was what he desired. His hair was loose from its ribbon, still damp, and dark and sleek as a raven’s wing in the sun.

  “Oh, of course.” Merideth scooted to the bottom of the bunk, pulling the wool blanket with her. She planned to slide off the end, but he sat down on the bed, catching the blanket beneath his body.

  “You needn’t leave There’s room for us both.”

  Perhaps so, for the bunk was large, obviously made to suit his size, but...

  “If it’s your virtue you fear for, you needn’t. I’m too tired to take advantage of even you.”

  Not sure if she’d heard a tinge of sarcasm in his words or not, Merideth sat still a moment longer. After all, her “virtue,” what there’d been of it, had been welted a deathblow against the wall in her bedroom.

  But she still had her pride.

  He may have demonstrated more than once that he could make her forget all else with just the touch of his lips, the subtle caress of his fingertips. A small voice inside her warned that sharing a bed with him voluntarily was something else again.

  Yet she couldn’t make herself rise. He pulled the damp cotton shirt over his head and she just sat and stared at the strong muscles crossing his back. He shifted, slipping the breeches over his narrow hips, and her mouth went dry. When he lifted his hand to reach for her, Merideth lay down beside him, cuddling close beneath the blanket and closing her eyes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The uncomfortable sensation of something tightening around her neck woke Merideth. She swallowed and her eyes flew open.

  “It’s pretty.” Jared brushed the pad of his thumb across the intricate design etched onto the locket. Sunlight slanted through the transom window, reflecting off the gold nestled in his hand. “You wear it all the time?”

  “Yes.” Merideth tried to ignore the effect of his warm fingers against the sensitive skin of her chest. “It was my mother’s.” All she had left of her mother.

  He leaned further over her, supported on one elbow, and the ribbon that held the locket tightened at the back of her neck. “Pretty,” he said again, but this time she didn’t think he referred to the necklace. He turned his hand and spread his fingers, then slowly lowered his hand from under the locket. The oval slid onto her skin, the gold hot from his touch, and Merideth let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

  His hand drifted lower, beneath the blanket, the middle finger following the valley between her breasts. His thumb and little finger rode the crests till they spanned her pouting tip to pouting tip.

  Merideth’s breathing deepened, and she wet her suddenly dry lips. His gaze was on her, holding her in its sea-green depths.

  “You, Lady Merideth, are trembling. And naked.”

  “My... my clothes were wet.”

  “Mmmm.” He nuzzled the blanket away with his chin, and Merideth’s eyes drifted shut. His whiskers, shadowy dark, abraded sensually. “I’m glad,” Jared informed her as his hand trailed lower, taking the blanket with it. “I’ve never really seen you... Not in the daylight.”

  Merideth’s eyes popped open and she reached down to cover herself—he’d managed to expose her to just past her navel—but he was quicker. Clasping her hands in one of his, he transferred them high above her head. “I haven’t had a good... look yet.” He inched the blanket lower. Cool air licked at her body, but the intense heat of his eyes kept her from feeling the chill.

  His head lowered, the untamed hair feathering over her breasts, and he kissed the soft skin of her stomach. Merideth sucked in her breath, and her head lolled to the side. That’s when she noticed his maneuverings had left him as exposed as she.

  He must have realized it too, for when he raised his head, a devilish grin creased the dimple in his cheek. “It would appear we can both see what we’re about this time.”

  She wanted to push him away, to tell him she had no intention of lying here with him, of seeing anything. But the truth was, she couldn’t. He was beautiful to her, all dark hair and steely muscles. Strong and powerful. As much as she wished it weren’t so, she was addicted to him, to his touch.

  He slid down her body, pausing briefly to whisper his lips along the curve of her hips. Merideth could barely breathe in anticipation of what was to come. Her stomach grew taut. He slid his hands beneath her bottom, which raised up to meet him. Closer, ever closer. His breath fanned the tight, golden curls. And when he touched her, when his open mouth touched her heated flesh, Merideth thought she would die from the exquisite pleasure.

  His tongue danced over her, slowly, sensually, and then, as she began to writhe, more aggressively. She quivered, her body tight, her skin flushed. Then over the edge she fell. As the storm caught her, shattering all but a modicum of reality, Merideth called out his name. Over and over again.

  He bent over her, his eyes glaring a path down her body. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low and husky. And Merideth felt beautiful, and more exposed than ever in her life.

  She touched him then, her fingers curling in the hair covering his chest, inching ever lower. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he squeezed his eyes shut when her hand wrapped around his thick staff. She stroked. She caressed. And all
the while he swelled, pulsating with need and desire.

  “Merry.” The word gritted between clenched teeth. His hand covered hers, held for a moment, tightening her grip. Then he pulled them both away.

  He poised above her, the only contact that of their locked gazes. Then he plunged, deep and strong. Merideth cried out and wrapped her legs around his body, holding him closer. He filled her completely, then withdrew slowly. Again and again.

  Merideth arched to meet him and his pace quickened. Powerful thrusts that stroked and sent her spiraling toward the heavens. His mouth found hers, hot and open, and he clung to her as his climax swept him away.

  Then he could do naught but collapse on her, his face nestled in her hair, his mind registering only the sweet scent of her surrender.

  He’d tried to bring her to a fever pitch, to make her want him more than reason itself, and he had. He had back at Land’s End. And he had again this morning. But there was a price to pay for such total and consuming passion.

  And the price had been him.

  His desire. His need for her was as overwhelming as hers for him.

  Jared lay in the cradle of her body while threads of reality filtered into his brain. To seduce her, to make her so susceptible to him that she’d tell him all she knew, required some finesse on his part. Finesse that eluded him whenever he was around her.

  Pushing to his elbows, Jared pulled away. He was still firm, with very little effort could make love to her again. But that would be for him. Not for any other reason. She appeared fully debauched and satiated.

  She didn’t speak as he yanked the blanket over her and turned to wash himself with the bucket of seawater near the door. He wondered if she watched him, but hadn’t the nerve to turn and see for himself. Instead he rubbed his skin dry with a piece of linen and dressed quickly in clean breeches and shirt.

  It wasn’t until he reached for the latch that she spoke. And then her voice was so soft he barely heard her. “What’s to become of me?” she asked, and Jared swallowed before turning to face her.

  “When you’ve dressed you can come on deck. Unless I say otherwise, you’ve the run of the ship.”

  Merideth held his stare, never flinching till he turned and left the cabin. Then very slowly she turned her head toward the bulwark and let the tears flow.

  Jared sat at the rough-hewn table of the wardroom, elbows bracketing a pewter trencher of salt fish and sea biscuits. He leaned forward, his head held in his hands, but it wasn’t the platter he saw. It was Merideth Banistar’s pale face. The way she’d looked at him when he’d left his cabin.

  With a muffled curse he dug his fingers through his unbound hair and slanted back in his chair, his long legs crossed beneath the table. He’d forgotten to tie back his hair, but then maybe it had been a conscious omission. He preferred it loose, with the sea breeze blowing through it. It made him feel wild and invincible.

  Perhaps it was the pirate blood that flowed through his veins, he thought with a grimace. He blamed too much on the blood of an ancestor. Jack Blackstone had been a pirate true, but one who had given up the rogue life to become a respected planter.

  Still, if he was going to act the pirate, he might as well look the part. And he most certainly was acting the pirate.

  Kidnapping.

  Ravishing a woman.

  Shaking his head, Jared conceded that he hadn’t forced Merideth to make love to him. But what he’d done was almost as bad. He knew the effect he had on her—the same she had on him. And he’d used that knowledge.

  Jared sucked in air and shut his eyes. Could she be the woman who had betrayed his brother? The “angel” of a woman?

  “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  Planting his chair on all four legs, Jared stared across the table at his cousin. His jaw tightened. “Aye. Here I am.”

  “I was just on deck.” Daniel paused to pour himself a mug of grog. “It appears we weathered the storm all right.”

  “Aye, we did.”

  Daniel hesitated momentarily while sliding onto the bench facing the table. A single candle shone through the glass panels of the lantern gently swinging overhead. “Do I detect a note of disapproval in your tone, dear cousin?”

  “I don’t recall seeing you after we came aboard the Carolina last night. We could have used every man during the squall.”

  “I was below... trying to stay dry. I’m not much of a sailor, I’m afraid.”

  “Not much of a gentleman either.” Jared leaned back in his chair, never taking his attention from the man across the table. Daniel drew himself up, obviously taking exception to Jared’s assessment.

  “Pray tell on what you base that judgment.” Daniel lifted the mug and sipped at the brew. When he finished he dabbed at his lip with the corner of a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

  “That first rope sent over the side last night was meant for Merideth. You took it without a second thought.”

  A smile spread across Daniel’s face. “Is that all? You think I didn’t treat your paramour with enough respect?”

  Jared was out of the chair so quickly it flipped back, crashing onto the wooden deck. Palms flattened on the table, he leaned toward his cousin. He spoke each word calmly, in sharp contrast to the agitated rise and fall of his powerful chest. “What she may or not be to me is not the question here. Merideth Banistar is a lady and thus deserves our respect and protection. A Blackstone never—”

  “Ah, but there’s the rub, dear cousin. We both know I’m not a true Blackstone. You pointed out as much yesterday, did you not?”

  Jared hesitated only a second before pushing away from the table. “It was a mere slip of the tongue. I was angry at the time.”

  “Of course, your temper. Something we’ve all learned to tread softly around. But I think yesterday was more a matter of declaring a spade a spade. A bastard is not something you call someone who lays valid claim to the title... unless reminding him of the fact is your goal.”

  “Damn you, ‘tis not true and you know it.” Jared’s fist came down on the tabletop. “We all decided—John, you, and me—that your parentage was better left a secret.”

  “Yes.” Daniel played with the lace on his sleeve. “We can’t have anything mar the good Blackstone name.”

  “That wasn’t the reason.”

  “Don’t try to tell me it was to spare me the humiliation.” Daniel’s face grew crimson with rage. “I know better.”

  “You and Aunt Rose. Aye, ‘tis true.”

  “Ah, dear mother and her deathbed confession. She could no longer live with the horrid secret of my conception. Of course, she no longer had to live period. She could just tell her dirty little story and die.” Daniel stopped fiddling with the ruffle and looked up at Jared. “While I... I had to live with the knowledge that I was a bastard. And I couldn’t even conceal this bit of bad business and keep it to myself. She chose to bear her guilty soul in front of the two people I most wished didn’t know.”

  “We never threw our knowledge up to you.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Perhaps not. But I knew what you thought of me.”

  Turning away, Jared paced the small room. “You’re `wrong about several things.” But right about a few too, Jared thought, though he wouldn’t admit it. “First of all, Aunt Rose did not have a guilty soul... a tormented one, perhaps. And John and I never held what she told us against you.”

  They’d all three been thirteen when Aunt Rose died. Jared and John’s parents were in Charles Town. Aunt Rose never went to town. She claimed not to like the people. And she was still in mourning. She’d been in mourning for near fourteen years, ever since her husband had died.

  She must have loved him very much. Jared remembered once hearing his mother and father talk about it. They didn’t know he was in the library as they stood beneath the open window. The story was bittersweet. Rose had gone to Newport for the summer season, as was the custom among wealthy Carolina planters. While there she met Alexander Wall
is. Met and married him before the family knew a thing about it. She was afraid they wouldn’t approve, Rose said when she returned to Royal Oak, pregnant, her husband dead. Alexander was only a tradesman. But she had loved him and she mourned. His mother had shaken her head sadly. “ ‘Tis such a shame that it affected her mind so.”

  They all grew up—John, Jared, and her son, Daniel—knowing Rose wasn’t quite right. But no one ever doubted the truth of Rose’s story until the day she didn’t come back from her ride across the lowlands. Riding was the one thing Rose enjoyed, so there was never a thought of confining her. But John especially was concerned when twilight darkened the sky and she wasn’t safely ensconced in her room.

  The cousins saddled horses and went to look, following her path through the frost-covered grass. They found her horse first, calmly munching grass. Then they saw Rose, looking like a spilled ink blotch on the ground. Her black veil fluttered as they bent to lift her up.

  “He’s after me. He came back to get me.” A crimson stream trailed from the side of her mouth.

  The boys tried to tell her she was safe. There was no one else about, but she wouldn’t believe them. In agitation she clutched her son’s hand. And that’s when she bared her soul. When she told of the rape those many years ago and the lie she’d lived since. The rape that had been Daniel’s conception.

  “Be that as it may...” Daniel’s words brought Jared back to the present. “I realized yesterday when you called me a bastard that you—”

  “I called you a bastard as I would call anyone who’d lied to me as you did.”

  “I explained my reasons.”

  “Dammit, John was my brother. I had a right to know what happened to him, and why.”

  “And by whom.”

  Jared dragged his fingers back through his hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come now, Jared. We’re both thinking the same thing. A woman who looks like an angel. Who else could the mysterious Lady Sinclair be but Merideth Banistar?”