Bound by Decency

by Claire Ashgrove

  She lifted to an elbow and accepted the mug. Her gaze raked slowly up his thighs, his abdomen, his chest, then locked with his. As a subtle undercurrent of energy passed between them, his body tightened like hewn stone. His arousal became so evident she’d have to be blind to not notice. He should leave. Bed down on the floor of Drake’s cabin. Before he couldn’t.

  If he were the noble Teddy, he would. But Teddy was no more. And frankly, he wanted her too much to care what might happen after he stretched out at her side.

  She broke eye contact to drink, and Cain crawled behind her to slide beneath the quilt. He lay on his back, his arms folded behind his head, his gaze locked on the timbers overhead. But every fiber of his being attuned to India. His nerves rasped with the rustle of the blankets, the shift of the mattress, the sound of the mug coming to rest on the floor. When she presented her back and turned onto her side, the ache to feel the warmth of her warm skin became unbearable. He twisted to draw her hair away from the gentle slope of her neck.

  The overly large collar of his shirt revealed more than bruised, fragile skin. It gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her defined collarbone and the supple curve of her shoulder. He traced the back of his knuckles along the length of her exposed flesh.

  “There are other ways, Cain,” she whispered.

  Her unexpected words stilled his roaming hand. Drawn by the softness he recalled so vividly, he leaned closer to dust a kiss across the back of her neck. “Other ways to what?”

  She shivered, but steadfastly stared at the opposite wall. “Killing Richard isn’t the only answer. He could be brought to trial. Punished so severely he would wish he’d died.”

  The heat in Cain’s veins cooled with one swift clang of his heart. He expelled a harsh breath and flopped onto his back. “And do what, India? Drag him into London so I can hang before he goes to trial?”

  India rolled onto to her back. From the corner of his eye, he caught the way her teeth captured her lower lip as she considered his argument. He used her silence to his advantage, speaking before she could offer sound reason to his objections. “My pardon was denied by four persons. Denied, India. I’m condemned to the sea.”

  “You could seek a second one. Someone would surely sponsor you if they knew the truth.”

  He set his jaw and ground out through clenched teeth, “You miss my point. Richard forced me to return to the life I left. He took everything from me. For that, he will die.”

  At her sigh, he checked his rising temper and softened his voice. “Today I cast aside all chance of a commuted sentence. I raided a sloop, ordered the execution of its crew, and burnt it to cinders. In case you haven’t forgotten, I murdered a man without the slightest bit of remorse. If you think our good King will hand over a pardon, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  351

  Bound By Decency

  19

  The merry noise of celebration drifted through the floorboards to assuage the silence that spanned between India and Cain. She’d heard the unspoken pain behind his vehement convictions. In the time he’d left her to herself, she’d come to see the pieces that joined Teddy into Cain, and Cain into Teddy.

  He’d never truly wanted this life. Although he might have enjoyed it once, when given a taste of an honorable living, he thrived and became the noble sailor Richard built him up to be. She couldn’t fault him for his drive to right the wrong committed unto him. As it was, a secret part of her she’d never admit to, took a fond liking to the idea of watching Richard die. He’d wronged her in so many ways that all the punishments of the law didn’t seem strong enough.

  The difference was, Cain would mete out his punishment, while she still valued basic human life, no matter how despicable the character.

  Except for Slater, who she’d prayed would die.

  How could two such conflicting stances exist at the same time? She would fight with Cain about subjecting Richard to the hands of Royal justice until the sun failed to rise. And yet, she wouldn’t waste a bit of breath to protect the man who’d attacked her tonight.

  Her gaze shifted sideways, away from the rafters, onto the contemplative man who lay at her side. Though she didn’t move her head, she made out his strong jaw, the slightly-crooked outline of his nose that belied a long ago fight. A fist wrapped around her heart so tightly that she winced.

  In that painful twist, she knew the reason for her polarized beliefs. She’d come to care for Cain, far more than any woman who called herself wise would allow. If he killed a nameless, faceless sailor and dumped him overboard, none would be the wiser. No authorities waited to haul him away. No observers could stand before the magistrates and bear damning witness. Cain had defended her from certain rape, if not death, and Slater deserved his end.

  Richard, while quite possibly deserving the same brutal fate for what he’d done to Cain, wasn’t nameless or faceless. His death would forever brand Cain as a heartless killer. The life he wanted to escape, he would never leave. And she’d be damned if she let Cain condemn himself. As long as she remained aboard this ship, or shared his company, she’d do whatever it took to convince Cain into giving up this chase and turning Richard over to the authorities.

  She breathed deeply of Cain’s uniquely masculine scent and opened her senses to him completely. He suffered. He ached. He disguised those vulnerabilities with a façade of strength and power his body could wield but his soul rejected. Would he reject her too, if she made her awareness known? If she sought to tell him that she understood and didn’t look upon him as any less of a man?

  Praying with all her heart he wouldn’t snap his protective shells together like a clam determined to avoid harvest, she broke the thick silence with a whisper. “I wanted Slater to die as well.”

  She heard the catch of Cain’s breath. Felt the stiffening of his body. For several heavy heartbeats, she stared at the ceiling, willing him to hear all the words she couldn’t bring herself to say. Indeed she understood him—a similar conflict warred in her soul as well. Today she’d changed. He had given her the perspective to understand that sometimes a man must die and there was no shame in the killing. A belief twenty years of existence and countless experiences with under-handed business tactics hadn’t led her to.

  The mattress shifted with his weight. She gathered her courage and turned her head, prepared to confront the angry light behind his eyes that had accompanied his heated words.

  Instead, his gaze held hers, soft and expressive. Without a word, he supported himself on one elbow and extended a large palm to cradle the side of her face. His thumb brushed the fine hairs at her temple, caressed her cheek. In one slow sweep, he traced the contour of her mouth.

  India held her breath, afraid if she did so much as exhale, she’d shatter the intimate magic that descended around them. She needed the comfort as much as he did. Needed to know he wouldn’t condemn her for wanting another man to die. For being prepared to carry out the execution if she must.

  As her heart battered into her ribs, Cain lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her long and slow, and India released her pent up fears with a low pleasured murmur. She slipped her arms around his neck. Twined her fingers through his hair. The heat of his body radiated into her, fanned through her veins, and fluttered around in her belly. Restlessness set in like flames on a dry field of flax, and the ache she’d harbored deep within her soul spread to take root in her womb.

  She struggled to control the intense need to bring their bodies closer. But the urge became so fierce and excruciating, she couldn’t stop from shifting position to better accommodate the hungry perusal of his mouth. She inched onto her side.

  Cain broke the kiss, his breath as hard as hers. He said nothing as he trailed the back of his knuckles along the length of her ribs, across the soft flesh of her breast. His eyes watched the path of his hand as he moved along her side and finally came to rest atop her hip. Tingles broke out in the wake of his leisurely caress. Beneath the lightweight linen of her shirt, her nipples pebbled.r />
  When he brought his gaze back to hers, his eyes burned bright. “If you intend to stop this tonight, do so now. I have no desire to think, only to feel.” He leaned in to dust his lips against her neck. Softer, he whispered, “And I wish to feel every bit of you.”

  At his bold declaration, she shivered. Her throat went dry, words became impossible. She’d been his lover. With Richard’s treachery, nothing remained to keep them apart. She wanted this. Wanted him.

  Unable to voice her cravings, she answered the only way she knew how. Turning her head, she sought his mouth and poured her heart into her kiss.

  Cain’s groan rumbled in the back of his throat, vibrated against her lips. His mouth took on more demand, urging her to give over to the wave of dizzying sensation that slammed into her with each velvety stroke of his tongue. His fingers gathered the hem of her shirt and cool air washed over her thighs. He chased away the goose bumps that pimpled her skin with lazy, circular caresses that stoked the growing ache and moisture between her legs. She shifted a leg to temper the unyielding pressure there. But when Cain slipped his hand to her bottom and cupped her buttock in his palm, the sensation tripled.

  “Oh,” she breathed, his touch too much and yet somehow nowhere near enough. Not knowing what to do to find relief, India clung tighter to his neck and sought the fantasies she’d had of this moment.

  Again Cain withdrew from the kiss. He brushed his lips against hers, whispering, “Relax, little wren, and I’ll give you what you crave.”

  Relax. As if that were possible. She was so starved for him it took all her willpower to sit still.

  Yet before she could offer protest, Cain captured her in a hard kiss. At the same time, the fingers that gently kneaded her bottom slipped between her legs. He eased one finger between her damp folds and pressed it to her opening.

  India’s body surged toward his. He wound his arm around her tight, brought her fully against him, and repeated the shockingly intimate caress. She pressed into his palm. His fingertips slid through her heated flesh to rub against her sensitive nub. A gasp tore from her throat, and she turned her head, desperate for air.

  Sensations unlike any she had ever experienced, even in her memories of all the times they’d lain as lovers, swamped her. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop trembling. Her body throbbed for something she was unable to name. “Cain,” she breathed.

  “Aye, my sweet,” he whispered at the base of her throat. Teeth nipped at her skin, and with gentle pressure, he urged her onto her back. His body weighed her down, his bare flesh warm.

  India wrapped her arms around his waist and arched into his embrace. His mouth worked a trail of fire across the skin her loose collar exposed, and one hand slipped between them to massage her breast. The other skimmed, across her abdomen and delved lower to cup the mound beneath. The tip of his middle finger probed her ready flesh.

  She moved against the slow, deliberate way he slipped in and out of her, arching her hips off the mattress and pressing her breast deeper into his palm. She clung to him like a life raft, each separation of their bodies an intolerable distance. Each fleeting touch, each scrape of her nipples against his hard chest, unbearably close.

  Soft laughter tickled against her cheek. “Christ, India, you would tempt the very saints. You are so warm and perfect.”

  The heel of his palm pressed against her sensitive center. On a moan, she curled her nails into his shoulders. Lost to the waves of ecstasy that flowed in her veins, she went absolutely still and let the stormy tide carry her away. Pleasure of infinite proportions consumed her. Feelings she didn’t know existed robbed her of thought.

  As Cain rolled his thumb over her nipple and pushed in deep once more, her body convulsed. She clamped her knees together, let out a ragged gasp. Release poured through her. Trapped in that blissful place she’d remembered only in dreams, and yet couldn’t recall at all, she whispered the name she’d called a dozen times or more.

  ****

  “Teddy.”

  Through the thick veil of all-consuming release, Cain distantly heard India’s call. The name registered, entirely displaced and wholly distasteful. As the last of her orgasm pulsed around his finger, he slowly withdrew and lifted his head.

  Every ember of desire snuffed out like an unshielded candle put to a strong gale.

  He pulled away from her and sat by her feet. Knees bent, he set his elbows on them and hung his head. “India, I’m not Teddy. I won’t ever be Teddy again.”

  Though he was hard for her, and the ache in his body intolerable, he removed himself from the bed. He’d thought she understood. That tonight had finally opened her eyes to the truth of his circumstance. Instead, she harbored some unrealistic hope of restoring the respectable life he’d left behind.

  What he had just done to her should have made it plainly obvious he was no gentleman.

  “What?” She sat up, her hair a wild mess and her expression crinkled with confusion. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” He crossed to his trousers and yanked them on. If he was going to make love to India, it would be when she accepted the reality of circumstance and saw him for what he was. When she was ready to give herself to Cain, the pirate. The man who didn’t give a damn about propriety.

  “But—”

  His back to her, he held up a hand. “No buts. I’m leaving. As you said only yesterday, this is wrong.”

  “What?” The airy disbelief in her voice faded, and in a stronger tone she said, “Wait. What happened? I made the decision to give myself to you. And now you’re changing your mind?”

  At the door, he answered with a sad shake of his head. “No, you made the decision to give yourself to Teddy. When it’s me you want…” He trailed off as he opened the door.

  Words were useless, as was his fleeting hope. She wouldn’t ever want him. She’d want proper, refined, dignified. Nothing less than her station demanded. Whatever drew her to Teddy, she’d hold onto and throw herself into the act of reforming him. A game he couldn’t bear to play. More reason to be grateful that tomorrow he would bid her farewell and turn her over to Old Bess.

  He closed the door on fruitless possibility, as he closed the door to his cabin. Annoyed beyond all measure, he strode to the mess for several rounds of whatever cask the men had opened. A good drink would serve him well. Two or three might even erase this disastrous night from his memory. At the very least, indulgence would make Drake’s hard cabin floor tolerable.

  ****

  India stared at the door, stunned. What in the name of all of the saints had gone wrong? She’d said his name. What matter did it make if it was his given name, not the nickname of pirates? He was the same man, whether he answered to Teddy, Cain, Captain, or even churlish lout.

  For God’s sake, she’d been on a star so high she didn’t know what she was doing, let alone what sounds issued from her mouth. And he, along with his insecurity, robbed her of the warm glow that spread through her limbs as she reveled in bliss.

  She resisted the urge to throw something against the door and flopped back into the bed, cold and bereft. To think, a man could be more insecure than a woman. Especially one as mighty as Cain.

  Exhaustion mingled with the dregs of satisfaction, and she tossed an arm over her eyes to block the light of the moon. In so many ways the day grew worse each minute that she spent in it. Her head hurt, her body throbbed. She could suffer no more of this.

  Tomorrow she’d explain. As embarrassing as it might be, she’d confess her fantasies about Teddy and her faulty memory of the times they had already lain together.

  Or perhaps, come morning, he’d forget her insolent tongue. At the very least forgive.

  Either way, she tired of the chore of thinking and refused to spend another moment in her head. She’d sleep for now. Solve the problem in the morning. If Cain refused to accept the truth, then when they docked at Nassau she’d hire someone to take her back to England.

  20

 
“So the maid is still intact, I see.”

  The goading humor in Drake’s observation snapped Cain from slumber like someone had stuffed a hot poker in his side. He yanked his head up from the tabletop, bolted upright in his chair, and blinked the sands from his eyes. When his bleary vision cleared enough that he could make out the amused twist of Drake’s mouth and his laughing eyes, Cain scowled.

  “Leave off!” He winced as his bark set off drums inside his head. On a miserable groan, he buried his face in his hands and pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids to stop the racket behind his skull.

  With his usual penchant for making Cain’s life miserable, Drake laughed. “Leave off? Now what way is that to greet the man who’s about to save your sorry arse from humiliation?”

  Save him? Cain dragged his hands down his face and arched an eyebrow in reproach. “It’s you who will need the saving if you don’t close your trap and leave me be.”

  Drake reached across the edge of the table, picked up Cain’s tankard, and turned it upside down. One fat drop of liquid clung to the lip, which Drake caught with his index finger and set upon his tongue. “Brandy? When I retired last night, you were three mugs into the rum.”

  Vaguely Cain recalled breaking open the bumpkin with Cleaver after the mess cleared. But how many mugs he’d enjoyed, or what had become of the small cask, he couldn’t say. He glanced around in search of the container but found only empty tables and a handful of abandoned tankards. He assumed the cook had restored his private supply within the kitchens.

  “Cleaver told me I might find you here. Woke me up to advise I should haul you out of the mess before the bells toll and the crew catches sight of your miserable state.” Drake set Cain’s mug back on the table. “I weren’t too keen on the interruption.”

  He leaned a hip against the edge of the table and folded his arms across his chest. “Though he’s right. It wouldn’t be wise to have the men knowin’ a woman’s got the better of you.”