Bound by Decency

by Claire Ashgrove

  Edward patted the pistol strapped across his chest. “Made sure tae let ’im know, I did, what I be thinkin’ of that. But not afore he be squealin’ how Richard be in France.” A slow smile crept across his face, revealing a row of crooked teeth. “Thought ye might be wantin’ tae know that piece o’ news.”

  France. Cain’s pulse bounded. He must know more, but not in front of India. The subject was too sensitive, and he was in no mood for the inevitable argument, should he press for details while she stood at his side. He bent to her ear. “Collect your pet. I need a moment.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m certain you do.”

  To her credit, she walked toward the table they had previously occupied. But the sharp tone of her voice told him she cared as much for his pursuit of this conversation as she did for his pursuit of Richard.

  Cain watched her go. When she stood near his earlier chair, he turned to Edward. Urgency filled his hushed voice. “Did this man say where in France?”

  Edward’s broad grin held the secrets of the deep. “Har, he did! He be sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout makin’ rounds near Bordeaux tae collect ’is pay.” Laughter gripped him hard, shaking the braided ends of his beard. “Guess ye’ll be thar tae collect on ’is behalf, aye?”

  Cain glanced over his shoulder at India, observing the ashen hue to her expression. They’d need to continue this conversation later. Already they’d said too much. With a subtle incline of his head in her direction, Cain suggested, “Tomorrow then?”

  Understanding dimmed Edward’s grin. He stroked his bristly beard, eyes fixed on India. “Aye,” he answered slowly. “T’morrow. The Revenge be off th’ harbor, fifty yards tae th’ south.” He nodded toward Drake. “Triton’s Jewel be pullin’ up starboard when I be rowin’ in.”

  Drake’s expedient flight from the tavern left Cain free to excuse himself and collect India, along with her expensive pet. Seeking to avoid any discourse on the subject of Richard, he ushered her out of Old Bess’s house and hailed a passing wagon.

  When the rickety rig, more appropriate for hauling cargo than persons, pulled to a stop, Cain lifted his eyebrows to India. “Do you object?”

  “Good heavens, no,” she answered with a laugh. “My feet are raw.”

  Cain hefted the lizard inside the wooden bed, then fastened his hands about India’s narrow waist and steadied her as she climbed over the short rail. He passed the dark-skinned driver several coins, unconcerned about the fare. “To the harbor please. As far as you can get.”

  As the wagon lurched forward, Cain’s head spun. Edward, Drake, and now Alex were all at hand. If he employed the three, and could somehow contact Royce, he might just stand a chance at fending off the French.

  351

  Bound By Decency

  26

  Warm wind stirred India’s hair as the one-horse wagon clopped down the cobbled streets. She leaned against Cain’s side, soaking up the heat that radiated from his body and refusing to think about Richard or Cain’s plans for him. She’d tackle that obstacle later. Not tonight, when rum ran in her veins and she felt courageous and free.

  She snuggled into his protective embrace. He was warm, comfortable, and strong, a presence that gave her a peculiar sense of safety. She tipped her chin up, admiring the handsome lines of his profile. Firm jaw, slightly crooked nose, long eyelashes. A smile spread from the inside out. “That Edward fellow was a bit fascinating. I can’t recall ever meeting a man who wore his beard in braids.” Or wore so many pistols, but she decided against mentioning that part, in case it prompted more discussion on Richard. “Do you know him well?”

  Cain’s fingers roamed across her shoulder and down the length of her arm, a casual brush that left her skin tingling, even with the thin coverlet of her shirt. Her sleeve pulled as his hand skated back to her shoulder. “We were boys together in Bristol. Edward Teach.”

  India tucked her head against his chest. His heart thumped steadily beneath her ear. His unique shirt gaped where he hadn’t buttoned it all the way to the neck, and in the moonlight, she glimpsed the smoothness of his bare skin. “Tell me about these odd buttons.”

  “They are more functional. You can wear a shirt partway, cool and protect at the same time.”

  Pictures of men at various tasks, in particular those who worked the rigging, elaborated on his brief explanation. The way the ropes rubbed at abdomens and scraped shoulders conflicted with the men’s desire to cool their bodies as they worked. For a group of men who cared nothing for propriety, buttons made sense. They made the task of donning or shedding clothes far simpler.

  They also made it easier to touch. She lifted her hand and traced the exposed sliver of bronze.

  Cain stiffened at her light caress.

  “Does that offend you?”

  “No.”

  The hoarse quality of his low whisper was as pleasant as the catch of her hair on his whiskers as he nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head. She almost reached up for him in fierce want to feel his mouth on hers. Only the movement of the driver, reminding her they were not alone amidst the song of insects and birds, stayed her hand. But it didn’t still her completely. Her voice dropped to a whisper. She pushed the fabric of his shirt aside and slipped her fingers inside to splay her palm over the taut muscle of his chest.

  He drew in a sharp breath. His head dipped nearer. The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear. “Not here, India,” he murmured in a strained voice.

  Embolden by the drink, by Drake’s earlier conversation, and the very nearness Cain’s effect had upon her senses, she withdrew to look him in the eyes. “Then where?”

  One large hand reached toward her face, and Cain slowly dragged the back of his knuckles along the length of her jaw. With a slight shake of his head, he murmured, “I don’t know.” He gave her a lingering look, his eyes full of something frighteningly close to regret.

  Regret. The very word chilled her to the bone. He didn’t want this thing between them, would exercise the very dregs of his restraint to stop it from occurring. Somehow, last night, something had changed between them.

  An inner voice of wisdom spoke words beyond her years. If she didn’t right this between them tonight, it would become too late. Any chance she had of finding the elusive heaven Cain offered would slide between her fingers, never to be reclaimed.

  The Kraken rose before India’s eyes. Sails furled, three tall masts touching the stars, she bobbed quietly in the night. Shadowy figures moved about her decks, behind small lighted windows on her hull. A high pitched feminine laugh descended from the rail, and India looked up to see a sailor swing a maid into his arms. She straddled his waist. And to India’s surprise, the unidentifiable seaman sat his lady on the rail and tossed her skirts to her waist.

  India lowered her gaze, feeling a strange mix of excitement and amusement. Tonight she’d witnessed things that would shock her proper acquaintances into their graves. Her gaze slid back to the contoured softness of Cain’s mouth.

  If he would give her opportunity, tonight she would do things that would shock her proper acquaintances into their graves. Her stomach freefell at the thought.

  The driver jerked hard on his reins, and the horse came to a stop. Cain jumped over the wooden sideboard, reached in for the lizard, and then set it on the ground. He held both hands out, inviting India into his arms. She braced her palms on his shoulders. He held her waist, firm and secure. Gently, he eased her to the ground in front of him.

  When she should have let go, she laced her fingers behind his neck and pressed her body close. Her breasts grazed his chest. One knee slipped between his. She added a little weight to the leg and felt him all the way up to her thigh. Against her hip, his shaft stirred.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  “India—”

  Rising to her toes, she took advantage of his parted lips and claimed what she wanted. At first his mouth hardened, refusing to participate. But when she nipped at his lower lip and traced the t
ip of her tongue along the tight seam of his mouth, his fingers bit into her waist. With a groan of resignation, he yielded.

  His kiss was thorough and harsh, full of all the pent up desire that flowed between them both. She met the bold foray of his tongue with equal hunger, craving, needing, everything he had to offer. Dimly, she heard the wagon roll away. Felt the rush of the breeze against her back as Cain worked the tail of her shirt free to slide his hands beneath.

  Rough calluses scraped across her ribs. The pads of his thumbs found the soft underflesh of her breasts. India’s world tilted as the scandalous caress stirred that all too familiar ache deep within her soul.

  But the magic ended as quickly as it had begun. With effort, Cain tore his mouth away. He breathed as if he’d run through high sand dunes. He set his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed out of her embrace. “You don’t know what you want, or what you’re asking,” he scolded before he picked up her iguana, set one hand in the small of her back, and steered her to the ladder.

  “I do,” she blurted out.

  He gave her a nudge, forcing her to grab on to the ladder. She climbed a step up.

  “You have had too much to drink, India.”

  Outraged, she stopped to throw a glower over her shoulder. “I may have imbibed, but I assure you, I am well aware of my faculties.” To prove her point, she climbed faster, taking the rungs two at a time until she reached the top, where she vaulted over the edge and landed easily on her feet. Hands fisted at her hips, she waited for his arrival.

  The lizard came first, making its appearance over the edge before Cain’s head rose above the rail. He set the cage on the deck, then, as if their argument was as insignificant as a hangnail, he took his time in bringing the rest of himself aboard.

  Slowly, he straightened. His blistering gaze betrayed the anger he kept so carefully disguised. “That was a stunt. One which, had you fallen, could have killed you.”

  India threw her hands into the air. “For the love of Mary, it was no stunt!” As her voice rang out over the hushed murmurs of the water and the rumble of voices beneath the decks, the couple on the rail stilled. She summoned her courage, dismissed her fear of impropriety, and threw caution to the wind. Truth and honesty. Speak plain, Drake had said.

  India took a deep breath and softened her voice. “Nor was my kiss. Or the way I ache for you.”

  The power of her words held a visible effect. In the silver light of the moon, Cain’s eyes flashed with predatory hunger. Slowly, one hand curled into a tight fist and pressed into his thigh. She watched the shallow breath he drew, the way he failed to expel it.

  “Cain,” she whispered, “I’ve watched women make their desires known all night. Witnessed the response of men. I don’t understand why you turn away from me, when I know you feel the same longing.”

  The breath he held broke free with an audible hiss. He closed his eyes, held them shut for a long moment. When he opened them once more, he swept his hand toward the door to his hall and cabin. “Go,” he instructed quietly.

  ****

  Cain followed behind India, feeling much like someone had bound his ankles with iron balls and dropped him over the rails to plummet to the bottom of the sea. He was so keenly aware of her. So close to casting aside all reason and forgetting why it mattered whether she saw Cain or Teddy, or which man she wanted. It had required a sheer act of will to recall their surroundings and not strip her bare where they stood at the base of The Kraken’s ladder.

  Now, he must find a way to explain. A way that did not sound either lecturing or self-pitying. She claimed she knew what she wanted, when in truth, the innocent bird couldn’t possibly have any idea what that encompassed.

  He unlocked the cabin door, pushed it open to let her in, then closed it behind them. She moved toward the windows, and he crossed to his desk to set the iguana down. Stalling to gather the words he required, he took a few moments to free the beastly creature from its confining cage and feed it. When he turned around, prepared to explain the multitude of reasons they could not indulge in desire, words lodged in his throat.

  She stood by the bed, utterly bare, only her long hair cloaking one ivory shoulder and the pert mound of flesh beneath. No trace of embarrassment colored her cheeks. No touch of modesty sent her gaze skittering through the room. She looked him straight in the eye, her shoulders proud and erect, and took a step forward.

  He couldn’t move as she closed the distance between them. Couldn’t look away, though he knew he should. He forced himself to breathe, to push past the pain of collapsed lungs and suck in shallow gulps of air through flared nostrils.

  India stopped, the tips of her toes touching his. She caught his hand, and never taking her eyes off his, lifted his palm to her breast. “Make love to me, Cain. That’s what I want. I know no way to be more plain.”

  His hand moved against his will, shifting to cup her breast more fully. He squeezed the soft flesh, dragged his thumb across a rosy, pebbled nipple. His throat felt like baked sand, his tongue as thick as wool. In the bleary recesses of his mind, logic rose in hoarse protest. “India, I am not Teddy.”

  She took a step closer. Nimble fingers plucked open the buttons on his shirt. “I know who you are.” Leaning in, she pressed a hot kiss to the center of his chest. “Cain, who has killed for his own means. Cain who calls thieves and cutthroats friend. Drake. Royce.” Her mouth worked a path of fire to his shoulder, moist lips touching his flesh as she listed off names. “Jennings. No doubt Nightshade too.” She nipped the side of his throat, then flicked the tip of her tongue out, the warm caress soothing the sting. “And Blackbeard.”

  Surprised, he drew back a fraction. But the bold twinkle behind her eyes as she caught his other hand and brought it to her opposite breast as well, kept him trapped in place. An impish grin turned up the corners of her mouth. “Don’t look so surprised. I made the connection only just now.”

  As his heart swelled to painful limits, India landed the final, felling blow. She dusted feather-light kisses against the corner of his mouth, then leaned back to look him in the eyes. Sincerity glowed fierce, her honesty unmistakable. “They are part of you, as you are part of them. I understand more than you think I do. And I want to be one with you. Tonight. In this cabin, where there can be no illusions of finer things.”

  His resolve crumbled into pieces. He could not fight this. He’d go mad if he tried. Perhaps he already was. If so, he no longer cared. He gathered her breasts fully, kneaded his fingers into her warm flesh, and tried to ignore the violent tremble that rolled down his spine. Dipping his head, he indulged in the sweetness of her mouth. The heady flavor that was wholly unique and only described as India.

  Her hands slid between their bodies to finish off the last of his buttons. When his shirt dangled from his shoulders, she arched her back, as hungry for the contact of flesh as he was. He released her to wind his arms around her waist and bring her flush against his body. The meeting of their skin sent a shock of pleasure surging through him. The hollow feeling in his gut grew to painful limits, and his cock swelled so fiercely it became a physical ache.

  Knowing only one way to relieve what troubled them both, he backed her toward the bed. When the backs of her knees pressed against the mattress and she could go no further, Cain hooked her legs over his elbow and laid her on the thick quilts.

  A smile lit her face as she watched him fumble with his belt. His fingers faltered. This was real. No more yearning. No more wishing for other circumstances.

  The belt gave at last, and he shucked his trousers. He set a knee on the bed. Her arms glided around his shoulders as he eased his body onto hers. Like molten wax, she molded against him, her legs twining through his, her fingers tangling in his hair. She drew his head to her breast, and Cain swirled his tongue around one turgid nipple. “There could be consequences,” he murmured.

  “I know.” She lifted her hips into his, the slow undulation mind-boggling. His body moved of its own volition, seeking he
rs, pressing her into the mattress where he could nestle his throbbing erection between the warmth of her thighs.

  He trailed his tongue to her opposite nipple and drew it between his lips. The scent of her arousal blended with the natural perfume of her skin. He breathed deeply, letting the intoxicating fragrance carry him to a place of absolute paradise. He found peace there. The acceptance that this night could not be stolen from him, and the urgency that had consumed him ebbed into languor. He lifted his head, met her gaze with a soft smile. Shifting, he slid to her side, relieving her of some of his weight.

  How he could have ever doubted that she saw him for less than he was, he didn’t know. The truth lay in her eyes, the tender glow that enveloped him like the warm breezes that wafted off the coast.

  “Cain,” she whispered with a press of her hips.

  “Shh, my sweet.” He dipped his head to suckle at her breast. Her entire body lifted off the bed. Cain held her in place by pinning her legs beneath his thigh. If he didn’t slow her down, he would spiral right back to the place of abandon. And tonight, he wanted to make this last. Wanted to draw out every drop of pleasure until they both ran dry. “Shh.” He traced the contours of her body, the dip of her waist, the sloping curve of her hip. When he brushed over the tops of her thighs, her legs parted in invitation.

  His mouth found hers and drew her into a slow, languid kiss. His fingers dipped through soft feminine curls to slide through her damp inner folds. So wet. So hot. Hell’s minions, the woman was nothing less than perfect. And the low moan that slipped from her throat vibrated through him like cannon fire. The sound tore at his control. His body convulsed. He sucked in a ragged breath and prayed for resolve.

  India, however, seemed determined to push him to his limits. She writhed against the stroke of his fingers, little mewls bubbling in the back of her throat. In an attempt to dislodge the weight of his thigh, she freed a leg and flatted the sole of her foot on the bed. Cain lifted onto one arm. It would be so easy to fit himself between her legs. Replace his hand with his swollen shaft and slide deep into her slick sheath. But he reminded himself she was innocent, her body unaccustomed to a man’s. He couldn’t yield to the need that pounded at his senses no matter how she coaxed.