Bound by Decency

by Claire Ashgrove

  “Cain, please,” she murmured. Turning her face to the side, she bit down on her lower lip and another delightful moan vibrated in her throat.

  He caught her nipple once more. Taking it between his teeth, he nipped as he pushed a finger deep inside her ready flesh. Her hips bucked into him, release instantaneous. With her soft cry, her inner muscles pulsed. He guided her through her climax with gentle thrusts that slowed as her body relaxed. When she fell into the bed, limp and panting, he withdrew his hand and settled his mouth over hers.

  351

  Bound By Decency

  27

  India luxuriated in the weighty feeling of her limbs, the heavy cadence of her heart. As Cain’s tongue tangled with hers, his body blanketed her with warmth. He gathered her tight, pulled her flush with him. Inside she felt liquid and pliant, like molten beeswax waiting to be molded by his expert hands.

  Her boldness tonight had shocked some buried portion of her soul, but it had freed her as well. Completely released from the chains of propriety, she could claim everything she wanted. And she wanted Cain. Every bit of him, the pirate and the gentleman. He united the conflicted parts of her soul. Here she was accepted, the willful nature of her spirit embraced.

  She curled a leg around his waist to prevent him from drawing away. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against her sensitive center and ecstasy crept through her veins again. She rubbed against the hot length of him, provoking his throaty groan. His body arced forward like a whip.

  Yes. She too could control him this way. Reduce him to a simple man, as he had reduced her to simple woman. The discovery sent a thrill surging through her body. Curious how far this new power reigned, she pushed at his shoulders. When he drew away, his brows tight with confusion, she rolled him onto his back. Sitting astride his thighs, she splayed her hands over his abdomen and traced the sharp contours of his muscular frame. The ridges of his abdomen, the tight lines around his ribs, the strong muscles covering his chest—her fingers wandered, greedily devouring every inch she could find.

  She looked up at his face. Long lashes dusted his cheekbones, but beneath them, his gaze was hot and intense. She didn’t need the lamplight to erase the shadows that obscured his eyes. Ice blue, they would hold cobalt flecks, and they would penetrate to her very soul. One corner of his mouth curved with an intimate smile. “What are you up to, little wren?”

  The laughter that clung to his voice set off the imp inside her. She bit her lip and grinned. One lone fingertip trailed down the center of his torso to stop a hairsbreadth away from the swollen tip of his jutting arousal. “May I?”

  Cain closed his eyes and eased his hips closer to her hand. Though he spoke not a sound, the invitation was clear. India closed her fingers around his hard length. She hadn’t expected such heat. Nor such smoothness. Like velvet and silk, all blended together. Fascinated, she rubbed her thumb around the smooth head.

  He exhaled with a hiss. His hands fisted into the quilts.

  Would he come alive in her hands as she had? She didn’t dare ask, for he would expect her to already know. She had yet to confess the confusion in her head, and sheer mortification that she couldn’t remember the pleasure he’d given her kept her silent now. Instead, she pretended to know what she was doing and experimented with a firm squeeze.

  Cain’s body moved beneath her. The undulation of his hips encouraged her to repeat the motion. Only this time, she shifted position, tightening her grip closer to the base of his shaft. As her fingers loosened, he pushed his swollen length through them, and his body shuddered.

  So that was the way of loving a man. Not just the stroke of her hand, but the glide as well. She closed her fingers once more and countered the motion of his retreat. There was a peculiar wickedness that came with watching his flesh move against her palm. Visions of how he would glide in and out of her leapt to life in her mind. Slow. Steady. Push, retreat. Plunge again.

  At the vivid workings of her mind, she felt the dampness spread between her thighs. Her breathing hardened along with his, and the temptation to shift her position so that he could fulfill that erotic fantasy became unbearable. She resisted only because she didn’t know if it would be proper to do so, or if it would seem like an inexperienced maneuver.

  There remained one question that refused to leave her mind. In one of Richard’s fumbling attempts at coercing her into bed, he mentioned putting himself inside her mouth. At the time, it had quite horrified her. But now, the idea of kissing this intimate part of Cain, this place that offered so much obvious pleasure, didn’t seem so very scandalous or revolting. It seemed, in fact, like the most natural way to show him how he pleased her. How delightful she found his body.

  She bent forward and pressed her lips to the wide smooth head of him.

  Cain’s body reacted so fiercely, she gasped. He bucked forward, almost dislodging her from his legs. One large hand caught the back of her head. Tugged on her hair to drag her up his body and away from his swollen shaft. She ignored the insistent pressure, and put her lips to him again, this time prepared for his response. When he surged forward again, she trailed the tip of her tongue along his length.

  The hold on her head became painful as his body strained beneath hers. “India,” he rasped.

  “Be still,” she whispered.

  “No. You must st—”

  The rest of his protest drowned in a hoarse groan as she mimicked what he had done to her breast and suckled at his swollen tip. His hips gyrated beneath her, and she followed the rise and fall of his body with her hand. He pushed with more insistence. The pull on her hair relaxed. He spread his fingers against her scalp, the weight of his hand comfortable, and yet guiding her all the same. As he lifted into her palm once more, India followed instinct and let him slide into her mouth.

  With a choked oath, Cain grabbed her beneath the arms and hauled her up for a kiss. His mouth crashed into hers as did his body.

  A terrible racket issued from the door. Fierce pounding shook the painting that hung on Cain’s wall. She turned her head, but Cain’s teeth sank into her shoulder, silencing her questions. His body moved of its own accord, as if he could not stop it had he wanted to. He wound one arm around her waist, the other dug into her bottom and ground her hips into his. With a guttural moan, he tensed like stone.

  His shaft pulsed against her belly. Warm liquid trickled across her skin. Ecstasy shot through her as she realized her success, and that Cain’s response came from the same rush of all consuming pleasure that he had brought her to. She rubbed her cheek against his chest. Placed a kiss over his heart.

  Gradually his hold loosened. He sank into the mattress. His fingers threaded through her hair, and he tipped her head to gaze into her eyes.

  Whatever he might have said was lost to the heavy battering on the door. “Cain!” Drake bellowed.

  “For Christ’s sake, leave me be,” Cain groaned in protest.

  To India’s abject horror, the door burst open. She let out a squeak and burrowed into Cain’s opposite side, hiding herself as much as possible from Drake’s interrupting eyes.

  Drake didn’t appear to notice her. He turned a scowl on Cain. “Get up! Get the men up! Alex has been marooned.”

  With the outburst, he vanished. His bellows carried down the corridor, rang through the decks below.

  Cain expelled a harsh breath. He lifted his hands, raked his fingers through his hair, then let his arms collapse against the pillows. For several long moments he did nothing more than stare at the rafters. Then, with another heavy sigh, he gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

  India couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m confused. How did Alex become marooned?” She scrunched her face into a perplexed frown. “And how would Drake know?”

  Twisting to his side, Cain lifted up and pulled the corner of the quilt between them. He wiped the wetness from her belly, then cleaned himself. With a lingering chaste kiss to her forehead, he eased himself upright. “I assume someone told
him. You would know Alex better as Nightshade.”

  As if the thought of leaving the bed plagued him, he leaned over to kiss her softly. But when his lips moved too long against hers, and he drank with greed, he let out a quiet grunt and brought the kiss to a close. “Later,” he murmured against her cheek. “We will finish this later.”

  India lay dumbstruck as he pulled on his trousers and quickly fled the room. Nightshade. A thread of fear pulled through her veins. She’d survived Drake. Played cards with Blackbeard. But she was absolutely certain she didn’t want to meet Nightshade. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not three days hence. For those who looked upon him didn’t live to tell the tale. Ever.

  Nightshade made Cain’s crimes forgivable. Turned his need for vengeance into child’s play.

  She was absolutely certain she couldn’t accept that brand of killer as she’d accepted Cain or Drake. And she was equally convinced Nightshade wouldn’t take exception to his habit of throwing women overboard when he found her aboard Cain’s ship.

  ****

  Cain cursed Drake with every vile oath he could invent as he stalked down the narrow corridor and onto the deck. He could understand the concern for Alex. But for Christ’s sake, Drake didn’t need his permission to pull The Kraken’s anchors and set to sea. For that matter, as thoroughly consumed by India as he had been, Cain doubted he would have even noticed had his ship pulled out of harbor.

  Her fragrance enveloped him now. Lingered against his skin as the midnight breeze ruffled the sails. His gut wound into a fierce knot, the pain of something larger, something still unfulfilled, a gnawing ache.

  Where had the temptress come from? The vixen who occupied his bed satisfied him yes, but more so, left him baffled. He had known she would be sweet, but he had never expected her curiosity would bring him to his knees. And though he had been flat on his back, the effect was all the same. He’d lost himself. Lost his very control. Like a slave to her bidding, he crumpled at her feet and yielded to her desires.

  Moreover, he could not begin to explain how she could unite his two opposing spirits and make him feel…worthy. How she could make him believe, when he was lost to the powerful effect she had on him, that he could somehow be decent.

  Frightening. No, terrifying. And if he thought about it too long, that fear would have him questioning everything he understood.

  He pushed his confusion aside and stomped up the steps to the quarterdeck where Drake barked orders to a sluggish crew. Leaning on the rail, Cain folded his arms across his chest and stared at his quartermaster.

  Worry didn’t drive Drake, as Cain had initially assumed. The deep creases on his forehead came from fury. Anger Cain might also share had he not been pulled from the arms of bliss. “How did you learn of this?”

  Drake spun toward the helmsman’s mate. “Hard to larboard. Now, you lazy cur. Larboard!” He pulled in a deep breath and stared out at the sea. “Edward caught me outside Old Bess’s and I returned with him to Revenge. When we arrived, his crew was in a ruckus. Triton’s Jewel, it seems, moored beside them and mistook them for an elementary lot. They boarded, much to their folly.”

  Cain arched an eyebrow. Alex well knew Revenge, even if her colors did not fly. And while Alex never hesitated at a bit of sporting fun, Edward’s ship would be a folly. One Alex wouldn’t risk. “So Edward put them out to sea?”

  “No.” Drake waved his hand in exasperation. “The crew revolted on Alex. Edward’s men were abuzz with the news.”

  Shock punched Cain in the gut. He blinked, unable to find an appropriate response. Alex’s crew engaged in mutiny? What in the name of the devil had happened? They were a steady lot. Loyal as a rule. Had Alex somehow angered them? Surely that couldn’t be possible.

  Cain frowned. Something had happened. But if Edward’s men finished off the mutineers, why was Drake at The Kraken’s helm, as opposed to commandeering Alex’s ship? “So where is Triton’s Jewel now?”

  Drake shook his head, pushed his hands through his hair, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. When they realized who they boarded, those still on the decks set sail for the north.”

  “And where are we sailing to?”

  Drake pointed to a distant lump on the horizon. “There. Four days ago they left Alex on the beach.”

  Cain rubbed at his temples trying to make sense of the confounding tale. Alex marooned. He couldn’t get over it. The mutineers must know they only secured a warrant for their death. A heavy sigh tumbled free. “What do you want me to do?”

  For the first time since Cain had set foot on the small deck, Drake turned to look at him. Quite desperation glowed in his steely stare. “Study the maps. See if you can decipher where Triton’s Jewel sails. We’ll go after her if Alex is unharmed.”

  Cain took a deep breath. Held it. When his lungs protested, he let it out slowly and pinned Drake in place with a harsh glare. “And of India? You know how Alex is.”

  Turning back to the sea, Drake’s curled his hands around the rail. His knuckles gleamed white in the light of the moon. “India is harmless. You needn’t concern yourself with her safety.”

  “And if you’re wrong? If Alex decides India is a threat?”

  Drake’s back stiffened like someone pressed a hot brand into his side. In a nearly inaudible voice he replied, “I’ll handle it myself.”

  Good then. Cain had already killed one man to protect India. He had no desire to make the practice habit. If Drake were willing to punish Alex should the need arise, then Cain needn’t worry about shredding friendships by flaying open a throat.

  “The maps, Cain,” Drake urged.

  Aye the maps. Tucked away inside his cabin with India—the last place he wanted to go when he wouldn’t be allowed to finish what they had begun. He steeled himself with the setting of his jaw and descended the stairs.

  351

  Bound By Decency

  28

  She would not be afraid.

  As India lay in bed looking out the wide window at the lapping dark waters, she vowed again she wouldn’t fear Nightshade, even if he did run with the devil himself. She hadn’t been afraid of Cain. Though in truth, had she known who her captor was on that rainy night, she might have been. However, she was too angry with his lackeys for fear to register once she stood aboard The Kraken.

  She hadn’t feared Drake. She hadn’t feared a single seaman, with the exception of Slater. She refused to become a coward now.

  Cain would keep her safe, as he had since they had met. She burrowed deeper into the quilts and smiled to herself. As he had tonight while they walked amongst the brigands who lined the docks.

  The only thing she needed to concern herself with was how to stop Cain from sailing for France. She supposed she could slow him down with little trouble. A trip up the rigging to cut holes in a few sails would delay his arrival. Although the canvas could be mended, he would grow tired of the chore. She could toss a portion of their rations overboard. That would force him to resupply, which could easily require a week, depending on what she offloaded.

  Indeed, she could find many ways to delay Cain’s arrival. But delay only put off the inevitable, and it was the inevitable she must change.

  The door opened, diverting her from her thoughts. She rolled over as Cain entered and turned up the light. “That didn’t take long.” Scooting her body toward the window, she patted the space on the bed she’d occupied. “I kept it warm.”

  His gaze canvassed her from neck to toe, then lifted to linger on her breasts. The light in his eyes burned bright with appreciation. “I assure you, I’d like nothing more.”

  “But?”

  Grimacing, he gestured at his desk. “I have maps to study.”

  India rolled to her belly and propped herself up on both elbows. “Must you find Nightshade as well as rescue him?”

  “No, I’m tasked with finding Triton’s Jewel.” The chair scraped heavily against the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. “She was stolen. They sailed h
er north, away from Nassau, presumably to regroup and outfit her to their preferences. Which requires a suitable hiding place.”

  A lock of hair tumbled over her shoulder. She twined it around her finger and examined the ends. Beneath the quilt, she crossed her ankles. “Is there a likely place she’d head?”

  “Aye, South Bimini, where casks can be filled in freshwater pools.” He tapped the map, as if coming to the discovery himself. “Right in the path of the Spanish as well, once they are restocked.”

  “What will you do when you find her?”

  “Attack her of course,” Cain answered with a touch of impatience. “Recapture her.”

  Cocking her head, India studied the shadows that fell across his face as he bent back over the map and picked up his quill. “Yes, Cain, but what will you do?”

  Confusion creased his brow. Slowly, he returned the long plumed quill to its well of onyx ink. “What is your meaning?”

  India swept the covers aside and slung her legs over the mattress’s edge. She bent over, picked up his large shirt, and pulled it on. Fastening only the last several buttons, she crossed to his side. “Where is Bimini?”

  Cain tapped a large land mass due west of the nautical star that marked Nassau. “This is where Alex is, near Morgan’s cave. We’ll arrive shortly after dawn.” He moved his finger northwest to a small black dot close to the Florida point. “This is South Bimini. It will take us around eleven hours to sail there. I cannot imagine they’d take Triton’s Jewel on to Florida, as she is well recognized by the Spanish.” His finger shifted to a larger island directly east of Florida. “Bermuda is filled with the Navy. They will not take her there.” With a decisive tap of his finger on South Bimini, he cemented his plan. “We’ll sail around the Biminis until we find her.”