The Man Must Marry

by Janet Chapman

  He captured her hands and lifted them over her head. “I believe you asked me to make love to you. That means I’m the captain on this voyage.”

  The woodstove was producing just enough light for him to see her expression, which went from intense desire to trepidation as she obviously remembered how she’d nearly killed him on their last voyage together.

  He went to work on her buttons, and as each one came undone, more of her beautiful breasts came into view. Sam prayed she didn’t realize the firelight was enough for him finally to see what he’d only been able to feel on the RoseWind.

  Her skin was creamy alabaster and as soft as silk. She was wearing a lace bra that pushed her full breasts together, and as he parted the edges of her blouse, he could see her nipples straining against the lace.

  She stirred restlessly, and Sam leaned down and kissed her, using his free hand to undo the zipper on her pants. He stripped her down to her bra and panties about two seconds before she realized she was completely exposed to him.

  She immediately tried to hide against him.

  “You’re beautiful, Willa,” he murmured against her mouth, and kissed her again. He gently caressed her skin above the lace of her bra, running his thumb across her raised nipple.

  She responded with a sweet, feminine moan and slid one of her legs up his. Sam kissed her chin, her throat, her collarbone, then delved into her cleavage, which turned her moan into a soft shout of approval. He felt her trembling beneath him as he continued on, moving his lips over the lace to her nipple. He suckled her through the material, causing her to arch her back with another encouraging shout.

  He finally released her hands so he could take off her panties and bra. She immediately attacked his shirt, pushing it down over his shoulders, growling in frustration when she couldn’t get it off his arms.

  “Help me, Sam. I want to touch you.”

  He stopped undoing the front clasp on her bra long enough to shed his shirt; by then, she had already moved on to the buckle of his belt. Sam knelt upright, watching her lick her lips as she studied his chest and undid his belt, sliding his pants down to his knees.

  Her gaze dropped, her eyes widened, and the hands that had been reaching for his chest suddenly headed for his erection. Apparently, she had just discovered a major advantage of having light during lovemaking. Sam jerked his groin out of her reach, capturing her hands and raising them back over her head. He used his knees to open her legs to him, then settled between her thighs.

  He smiled, seeing her trepidation return. “A bit disconcerting, is it, to find yourself lying naked under a man you took blatant advantage of a couple of weeks ago?”

  “I—I fished you out of the ocean. Twice,” she said tremulously. “And I always took the night watch so you could get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’m not talking about the sailing, sweetheart.”

  She gasped. “I don’t remember having to tie you up to have my way with you!”

  He chuckled, kissing her raised chin. “No, you just set so many rules that you might as well have.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then her cheek, and finally her mouth when she tried to argue. He gently nibbled her lips awhile, then began kissing his way down her neck toward her breasts.

  She squirmed, pushing her hot, damp, naked sex against his erection as she wrapped her legs around him. Sam immediately slid down her body to avoid the temptation of slipping inside her, holding her hands at her sides so his mouth could continue its downward journey.

  She went perfectly still. “S-Sam?”

  He ignored her, having decided they were playing by his rules tonight, and dipped his tongue into her belly button. She shivered, her fingernails digging into his wrists. He moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips, and was rewarded by her soft, keening whimpers.

  He tucked his hands holding hers under her hips, lifting her into a most intimate kiss. She shuddered violently, her whimpers turning to cries of pleasure. Her legs pushed into his shoulders, every muscle in her body coiling. Sam continued his sweet torture until he felt her quivering on the edge of orgasm, then rose to his knees. He lifted her hips onto his thighs and, placing his thumb where his mouth had just been, slowly entered her—all the time watching her in the dancing firelight.

  He was barely inside her when she started convulsing around him, her hands covering her mouth to stifle her screams. Sam took hold of her wrists and pulled them away, setting them by her head as he braced himself to thrust into her deeply.

  “Let me hear you come, baby,” he growled, retreating slightly, then thrusting again. “Don’t hold anything back.”

  He’d always been a visual man, and watching Willa explode with pleasure—her skin covered with dew, her eyes locked on his as she shouted his name and screamed—sent him plummeting out of control. His own release came with the suddenness of lightning, shooting through him in bolts of searing white heat. He stilled deep inside her, letting her lingering spasms finish the job.

  Their gazes met and held for several heartbeats before she looked away, and Sam saw her eyes fill with emotion so raw it appeared painful.

  He sighed, lying down on the floor beside her. She immediately turned to him, burying her face in his chest. He kissed her hair. “There. That’s out of the way.” He smiled when she stiffened.

  “Excuse me?”

  He scooped her up in his arms, stood, and headed for the bedroom. “Now that we’ve taken the edge off, we can really get down to business.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Willa lay in bed with her eyes closed, moving only the muscles needed to smile. Who knew there was a captain lurking inside Sam Sinclair’s beautiful, sexy, inexhaustible body? By the third time he’d made love to her, she’d been ready to promote him to admiral. And by the fifth? Astronaut material.

  His ego was probably so puffed up now, it was a wonder he had fit through the door when he’d snuck off in the wee hours of the morning.

  Willa listened to the wind howling outside, heralding the arrival of a Canadian cold front. She bet if she opened her eyes, she’d see her breath, the cottage felt so cold.

  It also felt so empty she wanted to weep.

  Did she have the brains of a lobster or what? No, even lobsters had an innate sense of survival. She, on the other hand, had crawled into bed with Sam almost three weeks ago, blithely risking her heart just to shut up her hormones. And last night, right there on the floor in front of the fire, she’d felt her safe little world explode into pieces as fate finally caught up with her.

  She loved Sam.

  She didn’t want to, but there it was, in all its stark, frightening truth. What had Sam been trying to tell her last night? That life happens whether we want it to or not and that sometimes fate is simply beyond our control?

  She had been controlling this particular aspect of it for years, so what in hell had gone wrong? She knew she couldn’t really blame her hormones; the poor things had just been doing their job.

  Abram, then. This was all his fault. That stupid, insane, outrageous bequest had started her dreaming of no longer coming home to an empty house and of someday even waking up to the patter of tiny feet.

  Boy, oh, boy, had she taken the bait.

  Willa pulled the pillow from under her head and pressed it over her face. It was pitiful to realize she wasn’t even as smart as a lobster. Lobsters were love-them-and-leave-them creatures. They never had to sit home and worry that something might happen to a loved one or fret over someone else’s happiness.

  Willa dropped the pillow to her belly with a heavy sigh and blinked up at the ceiling. “What am I supposed to do now?” she asked the universe. “Marry Sam and let everyone win?” She snorted. “Except I’m not going to fulfill the baby part of Abram’s bequest, which means Warren Cobb will still get Tidewater, and Sam will be stuck with a wife who was shoved down his throat.”

  Did she believe he loved her?

  “I think he wants to love me. And he might even believe he d
oes. Who knows how the man’s mind works?”

  “Who are you talking to?” Jennifer asked, walking into the bedroom.

  Willa yelped and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Ohmygod, Jen, you startled me!”

  “Sorry, Auntie,” she said, her smile contradicting her apology. Her eyes widened. “Are you naked again? Cool. I think I’ll start doing that. I bet it feels wonderful, not getting all twisted up in a nightgown ten times a night.”

  “What are you doing down here so early?”

  “I’ve come to drive you to Emmett’s. He said you planned to work with him on the RoseWind today. But we have to stop at the store on the way, so I can pick up a few things.”

  “Have your mom take you. I don’t know how long I’m staying at Emmett’s, and you have to get ready for the dance. Besides, I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”

  “I wasn’t, until I saw Sam’s new truck parked beside yours most of the night.” She dropped the clothes she was holding onto the bed with a smirk. “Here. I found these scattered on the floor in front of the woodstove.”

  “Brat,” Willa muttered when the girl turned and sauntered into the kitchen. “Did Peg send down any food with you?” she asked, sprinting to the closet to find some grubby work clothes to wear.

  “Yup. Bacon and eggs and homemade toast,” Jen called back, her words a bit muffled. “Because, lucky for you, she also saw Sam’s truck in your driveway last night.”

  “Are you eating my breakfast again?”

  “Just a few bites. The homecoming dance is open to adults. Why don’t you and Sam come tonight, too? Mom’s going with Dad.”

  Willa rushed to the bedroom door, pulling a paint-stained sweatshirt over her head. “Shel’s going with Richard?”

  Jen nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Cody thinks it’s beyond weird, but I think coming home to an empty house really scared Dad. And I think Mom only agreed to go to the dance with him for Cody’s and my sake. You know, so their divorce can be amicable, so we won’t feel torn in our loyalties? Dad’s ashamed of what happened in New York, and he told Mom he was sorry and that he intends to apologize to you the first chance he gets.”

  “You know about that?” Willa squeaked.

  Jen looked up, her fork halfway to her mouth, and rolled her eyes. “It’s a teenager’s job to eavesdrop, Auntie. How else are we going to find out what’s going on? So, will you and Sam come to the dance? I can’t wait for you to see my new dress. Ben came shopping with us and helped Mom and me pick it out.” She canted her head at Willa. “I’m glad Sam’s the grandson who fell in love with you. Ben and Jesse are really nice, but Sam fits you better.”

  Willa stood in the doorway, gaping at her niece.

  Jen set down her fork and folded her hands on her lap, her expression suddenly serious. “Will you please give Sam a chance, Aunt Willa?” she pleaded. “If not for yourself, then for me?”

  “What has my marrying Sam got to do with you?”

  Jennifer looked down at the plate in front of her. “It’s really important to me that you stop blaming yourself for the accident,” she said, so softly that Willa had to strain to hear her. Jen looked up, her eyes welling with moisture, her little chin raised defensively. “I feel guilty for wanting to get on with my life when you can’t seem to get on with yours. I want to solo-sail a Sengatti around the world when I graduate, but I can’t even dream about doing it, knowing you’d be back here being miserable.”

  “Oh, Jennifer,” Willa cried, rushing to the table. She got down on her knees and hugged her. “I’m not miserable. And that’s not fair, Jen. You can’t use me as an excuse not to go after your dreams.”

  “But I remember what you were like before the accident,” the girl said into her shoulder with a sniffle. She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “It’s like you became an entirely different person. You divorced David, which was a good thing, but then you suddenly stopped living. And you started hiding behind your old people. They take advantage of your soft heart, and you just let them. And you build caskets! I mean, jeesh, Auntie, could anything be more morbid?”

  She clutched Willa’s shoulders. “I’m sorry for blasting you like this, but Sam said it wasn’t fair of me to resent you without your even knowing.”

  “Y-you resent me?”

  “Because you make me feel guilty! Oh, this is coming out all wrong!” she cried, standing up and looking down at Willa, who couldn’t seem to move. “You didn’t ruin my life!” the girl snapped. “And I’m not a cripple. For God’s sake, my foot got mangled because you saved me from burning alive! Would you please tell me why you think that’s such a god-awful sin?”

  “Because I caused the accident, Jen,” Willa whispered, so overwhelmed that she couldn’t stand. “I was upset from walking in on David and that woman, and I wasn’t paying attention to my driving. I never saw that car.”

  Jen balled her hands into fists. “Accidents happen, Aunt Willa—every day, all over the world. And sometimes bad things happen to good people for no reason. But that doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life safely moored in the harbor. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean we have to stay there with you!”

  “Oh, my God, Jen, you’re killing me,” Willa cried, clutching her belly.

  “There’s no need for me to do that.” Jennifer’s voice was devoid of emotion. “You’re halfway there already.”

  Stark silence descended over the cottage but for the sound of Jen’s footsteps. The door opened, then softly closed, and Willa heard her niece limping across the porch and down the steps.

  She sat on the floor, her face on her knees, and violently sobbed. All this time since the accident, what had she been doing to Jennifer?

  And Cody? And Shelby? And herself?

  She’d been protecting herself, hiding deep in the cracks and crevices of life in order to survive. But not only had she gone totally overboard trying to protect herself, but she had been dragging everyone she loved overboard with her.

  Willa finally blew her nose and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Okay, enough. It’s time you started living up to your name again, Willy Wild Child.”

  Emmett had called her that since she was a kid, but he’d rarely done so these last few years. Except…he’d started again after Abram had arrived, almost as if he was trying to remind her who she was.

  “Subtle, Emmett,” she said with a snort. “You should have just dropped a mast on my head.” She sighed. “How in hell am I going to fix this?”

  Sam! He could help her figure out what to do about Jen. He’d bullied his way into her life; he could damn well be available when she needed him.

  “All you got to do is get her pregnant.”

  Sam spit his coffee back in his cup, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he looked around to see how many of the diner patrons had heard Phil Grindle’s loud suggestion.

  “Excuse me?” Sam whispered, leaning forward on the table. “You mind telling me how that would help anything?”

  “Phil’s right,” Sean Graves interjected, also leaning on the table. He, at least, had the good sense to keep his voice low. “It’s a known fact that pregnancy turns even the hardest-headed woman into a lamb.”

  “Yeah,” Phil said, scowling at Sean for elaborating on his idea. “It’s got something to do with all them hormones women got racing around their bodies,” he told Sam. “If you put a bun in their oven, they settle right down.”

  “That’s because they gotta stop worrying about everything else and start nesting,” Avery Ingall added.

  “You get Willamina pregnant,” Phil said, “and you’ll see her change almost overnight.” He puffed out his sunken chest. “I got my Lizzy pregnant on our honeymoon, and she stopped all her talk about working at the cannery to earn her own money. She settled right down to keeping house and raising babies, and she only spent what money I gave her.”

  Sam hung on to his patience, remembering that these men were two generations older than he was. “It’s not that e
asy to get a woman pregnant today, since they invented contraceptives.”

  Sean snorted. “That’s when the world went to hell in a handbasket, all right.”

  “And even if I did manage to do as you suggest,” Sam continued, “having a baby no longer means a wedding automatically follows. The rules have changed since any of you got married.”

  “I still say if you want to get her to the altar, just get her pregnant,” Phil asserted loudly. “It’s the best thing that could happen to that girl, anyway. It’s unnatural to be nearly thirty and still running around loose.”

  These guys talked as if it was the nineteenth century!

  Paul Dubay pointed a gnarled finger at Sam. “Your grandfather knew what he was about, by God. You just gotta hold Willamina to that bequest. If’n she’s your wife, she’ll have to support your business, because it’s the law. Wives can’t publicly contradict their husbands.” Paul shrugged one bony shoulder. “They might even let her start coming to the town meetings again.”

  “You’re getting your laws mixed up, Paul.” Avery chuckled. “Wives can’t testify against their husbands. Ain’t no law about them contradicting us in public or private.”

  “It don’t matter,” Sean said to Avery. “Paul’s still right about Abram’s will. Sam just has to hold Willamina to it.”

  Sam sat back in his chair. How in hell had his grandfather fallen in with these throwbacks? Grammy Rose had had more power than Bram at home, and she damn well hadn’t been shy about using it.

  “I still say getting her pregnant would kill two birds with one stone,” Phil said. “Not only will she feel obliged to marry you, but a baby will take some of that fight out of her.”

  “I sort of like that fight,” Sam said, leaning his chair on its back two legs. “It keeps things interesting.”

  “Uh-oh,” Sean Graves said, picking up his coffee mug. “Here comes Doris. If she hears us talking about this stuff, we’ll get an earful, all right.”

  Sam set his chair back on its legs, and the four men suddenly got busy drinking their coffee.

  “Morn’n, Doris,” Sam said, standing up and pulling over a chair from a nearby table for her. “Where’s Mimi this morning? She’s not ill, is she?”