When Hardwick returned, Kyle lashed the thick cord to an iron ring, then secured it around Selena’s waist. “Don’t move so much as a finger!” he ordered as he draped the oilskin over her. “Stay here, where I can find you.”
She nodded, but Kyle was already moving away, bent low against the wind and rain. If she lived through the storm, she would thank him, Selena vowed.
During the next hour, she spied him occasionally as he battled the elements; he seemed to be anywhere he was needed and to be doing the work of three men. From where she sat, she could just make out the helm, and when he was at the wheel, Selena fixed her gaze on him, drawing courage from watching him. It came as a vague surprise to her to realize how much she trusted him to keep the ship safe. She wondered if he was enjoying the battle.
He was not, in fact, for while he might relish a challenge, he took no pleasure in risking the lives of his men. Already he was calling on every ounce of skill he possessed to hold a course in the rough sea, continuously judging the sail needed to keep the Tagus close to the wind. Too little would have her floundering; too much would make her top-heavy and put her in danger of capsizing or shattering a mast.
Then the storm struck in its full fury, and the high waves that were battering the wooden hull threatened to swamp the ship. Having exhausted his limited options, Kyle sent two of his best tars above to reef the main topsail. When that did too little to reduce the risk of capsizing, Kyle himself went up the mainmast, along with Tiny, armed with an ax to cut away the main topmast.
Below, Selena watched the proceedings, her stomach churning, her heart in her throat. Kyle had ordered her forward, out of the way of falling timber or canvas, but she could see the small figures of the men high above her head, illuminated by shards of lightning streaking across the charcoal sky. It seemed that at any moment the wind that shrieked through the rigging would pluck them from their precarious perches, sending them plunging to the deck or into the sea to be swept away by the foaming breakers. Either way would mean death.
When the topmast finally gave way, Kyle was nearly caught in the tangle of ropes as it fell. A cry broke from Selena’s lips as he clutched at a backstay to save himself, but the sound was drowned by the creaking of the mizzen topsail as it was ripped by the wind. The ship lurched oddly, and a spar crashed to the deck, but Selena’s gaze was riveted on Kyle.
When she finally determined that Kyle wasn’t going to fall and tore her gaze away, she saw Hardwick making his way aft to aid the helmsman, who had been directly beneath the falling spar. The first mate had discarded his safety line, and just as he crossed the open forecastle deck, a huge wave broke over the port rail, spewing a foaming cascade of black water down upon the ship. Selena stared with horror as he lost his footing and went down.
As seawater ran off through the scuppers, another flash of lightning showed her that Hardwick hadn’t yet been swept over the side. He was curled against the railing, holding his ribs as if in pain.
It wasn’t a conscious decision that made Selena leave the shelter of the foremast to go to his aid. She only knew that Hardwick was in no condition to save himself, and she at least still wore a rope.
The mountainous wave caught her when she was still two yards from him, propelling her across the pitching deck and knocking the breath from her lungs. Blindly, desperately, she made a frantic lunge at the direction she had last seen Hardwick, and when her fingers closed over wool, she wrapped an arm around him and hung on for dear life.
The rope jerked taut, jarring her whole body, and something hard and blunt rammed into her ribs, making her gasp in pain. But though she was near to choking as another fierce wave washed over her, she never relinquished her hold.
It seemed an eternity before the waves diminished and she heard someone call her name. She was pinned beneath something wooden and heavy, she realized vaguely, coughing up some of the seawater she had swallowed. And it hurt to move.
“Selena! Dear God, Selena!”
She wondered why Kyle was shouting at her. She didn’t know what she had done to make him angry again, but she wanted to tell him she was sorry; there was far too much anger between them. Racked by a spasm of coughing, though, she couldn’t catch her breath to form an apology or even a protest when Hardwick was pried from her death grip.
“Selena, are you hurt? Damn it, look at me!”
She opened her eyes to find Kyle kneeling beside her, his large body shielding her from the worst of the blinding rain, his fingers cupping her face. “Are you in pain?”
Not much, she thought, taking stock, except for the ache in her lungs from inhaling so much water and a dull throbbing in her ribs. She had lost her sodden bonnet, too. Selena shook her head, and the next instant she found herself in Kyle’s arms, crushed against his chest. She couldn’t breathe with her face pressed against his woolen coat, but absurdly, she didn’t mind being smothered. It was far nicer than drowning.
“God, you gave me a fright,” he croaked when he finally loosened his hold, a ragged note of relief in his voice.
“Hardwick?” Selena managed to ask.
Kyle glanced beside him, where Tiny was bent over the unconscious first mate. Hardwick’s chest was dark with blood.
“He’s alive, at least,” Kyle shouted in her ear. “We’ll take him below, but he’ll have to wait till I can see to him. The worst is over, but I’m needed here, and I can’t spare any of my crew.”
Selena hesitated, turning to look at Hardwick. Even if the storm was abating, it would be some time before anyone was able to doctor the injured man. And she had tended enough wounds—from machete slashes to coral reef abrasions—to have a basic grounding in medical skills.
“I’ll go with him,” Selena said, although she knew that with the onset of nightfall the cabins would be pitch-black.
The smile Kyle bent on her was one of gratitude and approval, and it warmed her to her very soul. She would have braved the sea itself, she thought, if she could have been the recipient of another smile like that.
She caught her breath as Kyle helped her rise, wincing at the pain in her bruised ribs, but shook her head when he asked sharply if she needed medical attention herself. She was glad for his support, however, when she had to negotiate the wildly rolling deck again.
Taking care of Hardwick wasn’t as bad as she feared, however. When Tiny had carried the unconscious man to Selena’s cabin, he risked lighting a lantern, securing it to keep it from falling and setting the ship on fire. In the glowing light, she could see at once that Hardwick’s wound wasn’t fatal. Unlike hers, his ribs were probably broken, but the blood was only caused by superficial lacerations from slivers of wood.
She had Tiny strip off the wounded man’s wet clothes and tuck him beneath a warm blanket, and when she was alone with her patient, she braced herself against the violent rolling motion of the ship and went to work removing the splinters and binding his chest with clean strips of cloth. She was glad to be occupied, for it prevented her from dwelling on the fate of the schooner.
Hardwick woke shortly afterward, not remembering what had happened after the first wave had hit him, and anxious, despite his pain, to return to his duties on deck. Selena alternately soothed and threatened, until she finally convinced Hardwick that he was in no condition to do battle and wouldn’t be until his ribs healed. Then she managed to find him a bottle of rum when he asked for it, hoping it would ease the worst of his pain. He was pleasantly happy by the time Tiny came to check on him and was sleeping peacefully when Kyle entered the cabin an hour later.
Kyle listened a moment to his mate’s quiet breathing, then glanced down at Selena. She was sitting on the floor beside the bunk, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around herself.
“You saved his life,” Kyle said quietly. His tone held an odd note—of gratitude and pride and perhaps awe—that made Selena lift her face to him. Kyle drew in a breath. With her hair half escaping from its pins, she looked pale and bedraggled, even pitiful, as she huddled
there, shivering. Something in his chest tightened.
“Selena,” he murmured, sinking down before her, “are you all right?” Placing a gentle finger under her chin, he compelled her to meet his gaze. “What is it?”
“Would you…” Selena whispered, her teeth chattering, “do you suppose… you could hold me?”
She was still clothed in the wet pelisse and gown, he noted, and was chilled to the bone. But it was more than the cold that was causing her body to shake so. She was only now realizing, he guessed, how close she had come to death.
Wordlessly he opened his arms, and when she came into them, he could feel her body trembling. “There’s nothing to fear now,” he said gently, stroking her damp hair. “The storm is over.”
“It wasn’t the storm. I thought…you would fall. I was afraid you would be killed.”
Kyle pressed his cheek against her hair. He had been afraid, too. Afraid that he had lost her to the sea. “Don’t ever,” he breathed, remembering that devastating moment when he had looked down to see that mountainous wave sweep over her, remembering the helplessness he had felt, “disobey me again.”
“No.”
Kyle repressed a smile, suspecting her docility was a measure of her fatigue.
“Come now,” he urged, “we’ve got to get you out of those wet clothes.”
He scooped her up and rose with her in his arms. Catching up the lantern, he carried her to his own cabin, where he settled her in a chair. When he had hung the lantern on a peg, he knelt before her. As he began chafing her cold hands, he saw she was watching him quietly with wide, expressive eyes that looked trusting and vulnerable.
He hesitantly raised her skirts to pull off her shoes and stockings and found she wasn’t wearing slippers. Realizing that she had lost them in her heroic rescue attempt, he felt his heart flood with tenderness. Untying her garters quickly, he stripped off Selena’s stockings and rubbed her shapely calves to bring the blood back. Then he unfastened the buttons of her pelisse, pushing it off her shoulders, and stood up, bringing Selena with him.
His gaze was drawn to her face, to her cold, trembling lips. Slowly, he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, warming her. He heard her sigh, and when he felt her arms tentatively reach up to rest on his shoulders, he deepened his kiss, thrusting gently into her mouth, warming her tongue with his.
When she shivered, he didn’t think it was from the cold, but he left off kissing her to peel the wet, icy garments from her body. The chemise was last, and when he drew it over her head and she stood before him, pale and naked, he could see that gooseflesh covered every inch of her skin and that the nipples of her high, firm breasts were chilled and rigid.
His gold-green eyes darkened at the sight. Selena tried to cover her breasts with her arms, but Kyle caught her hands and pulled them away, scrutinizing her carefully for injury. In the lantern light he could see the bruises that shadowed the right side of her rib cage, and his mouth hardened. Gently, he reached out to touch the faint discoloration. Then, without conscious intention, his hand moved up to the curving swell of her breast, to brush a puckered nipple with one finger.
Her reaction was immediate; she gasped softly. Kyle heard her faint inhalation with satisfaction. Purposefully, he splayed his fingers, covering her ripe flesh and molding it against his palm.
Selena closed her eyes and shuddered, and Kyle realized with a surge of desire that her demureness and reserve hid a woman of passion, of courage. He wanted her. Wanted to fill his mouth with the taste of her breasts, to span that impossibly narrow waist with his hands and draw those inviting hips beneath him, to have those long, lithe legs wrapped around him.
The fierceness of his wanting startled him.
“You’d better get into bed,” he forced himself to say in a voice suddenly grown deep and husky. Alone, now, please, he pleaded silently.
“Please,” Selena breathed. She moved closer, seeking the haven of his arms and solace from the turmoil of her emotions. Kyle represented safety, warmth, security. His ruggedness made her feel so feminine, his concern so cherished and protected.
“Selena—” the word was a rasp “—I can’t take much more of this. Any minute now I’m likely to forget I shouldn’t be here, alone with you… like this.”
“Please… don’t go.”
His arms went around her then, his hands tracing her curves without volition. “You should get some sleep.” The words were jerky, gritted out between his teeth as he felt her flesh warming beneath his callused palms.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Where will you sleep?”
With you, his body responded. He tried to remind himself of his son, of how much depended on the successful annulment of this marriage, but her sensuous lower lip beckoned for his kiss, and he knew he was losing the battle.
He threw back his head in anguish, shutting his eyes tightly, but all he could think about was burying himself again in her silky sweetness. All he could see was the quiver of her tantalizing mouth urging him to kiss her into dazed insensibility.
Slowly, Kyle opened his eyes again, aware that the days of being around her, of wanting her, of self-denial and frustration had finally driven him beyond restraint.
“I know perfectly well,” he said hoarsely, with his last vestiges of reason, “that this is insane.” But his words were a mere whisper and were lost as he lowered his mouth.
Her kiss was tentative at first, as if she’d had time to reconsider what she was doing, but as his heat flowed into her, she seemed to relax a little. His tongue plunged into her mouth, seeking hers in a series of darting forays. He was determined to make her respond more fervently, to turn her shivers into shudders of pleasure. When finally her arms came up to encircle his neck, he urged her backward toward the large bunk.
He lowered her to the edge of the mattress, but instead of joining her, he knelt before her, placing his hands on either side of her waist. Selena tensed, watching him. She drew a quick breath as his hands slid upward to cup her breasts.
Kyle heard the soft sound and his eyes flared with golden flames. Slowly, he leaned forward to press his lips against her rib cage, his arousing fingers caressing her nipples. If he could manage it, he promised silently, she would experience the full depth of pleasure between a man and a woman before the night was over.
With exquisite tenderness, he kissed her bruises, letting his tongue flick out to touch her soft skin. She tasted faintly of brine and her own sweet perfume, and he was suddenly hungry for an even more intimate taste of her. With a fierce effort at control, he drew away.
“Let me shed my clothes,” he said hoarsely.
Pressing her back to lie full length on the mattress, he retreated a step to strip off his garments. Selena shivered as the delightful sensations were suddenly cut off. Feeling bereft, she turned her head on the pillow, watching shyly as Kyle undressed. When he was naked, she caught her breath at the marvelous perfection of the powerful length displayed before her eyes.
He was so different from her—earthy and vital and strong, all rippling sinews and bronzed skin…except where his breeches had covered his lean hips and muscular thighs. There he was pale and dark and… splendidly virile.
Kyle saw where Selena’s mesmerized gaze had settled, and the touch of it sent raw need quaking through his body. Locking his gaze to hers, he felt himself tremble in anticipation. He was like a callow youth with his first woman, Kyle thought, watching her. His aching arousal was pulsing and erect, his control tenuous and uncertain. He came to her then, wondering as he stretched out beside her if he would have the patience to let her reach fulfillment before him. She was so very beautiful, her skin like gleaming ivory....
Gently his lips touched Selena’s hair, while his fingers found the pins in her tresses and let them fall to the floor. He brushed back the damp tangled curtain from her face as his lips moved to her throat. Then slowly he drew her against his taut, tightly muscled length.
The size and heat of him st
ill had the power to shock her, yet she pressed closer, warming her shivering body against the satin of his bare skin. His touch was incredibly sensual, and as he filled his hands with her breasts, a quiver built deep in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back.
“Kyle, please…” she said breathlessly as he continued to stroke her.
“What is it, Moonwitch? What do you want?”
Selena shook her head in frustration. She didn’t know what she wanted, only that she was aching with unfilled need.
Kyle knew the answer very well. The quick rise and fall of her breasts, her shallow breathing, the fast beating of her heart all told him. He bent his head.
“Open your mouth to me, love,” he whispered, and when she obeyed, he filled her mouth with his caressing tongue.
Selena sighed, her trembling hands reaching up to hold him. Under her clutching fingertips, the muscles of his bare shoulders coiled and quivered reflexively. The feel of his satiny skin, the masculine sea-fresh scent of him was intoxicating. It filled her with a heated glory of wanting, with desire.
Finally, however, Kyle broke off the kiss, letting his lips course over her face, around her ear, into the softness of her throat beneath the sensitive curve of her jaw.
Selena stirred restlessly beneath his tender assault. The heat radiating from his body was drugging her senses. The way his hands molded to the roundness of her breasts was making her feverish. And then his lips joined his hands, capturing the aroused peaks. Over and over his tongue flicked and circled the aching flesh. His devouring mouth dragged across her breasts, pulling at her, nipping softly, tasting her.
Selena moaned and strained toward his touch. Her response aroused Kyle even further, and he fought for control, his corded muscles contracting into hard knots. He was determined to make this good for her, not to satisfy himself until he knew she was satisfied, as well.
He moved his hand slowly up her shivering inner thigh and softly slipped in between. His slow stroking made her gasp. He pressed against the moist cleft, withdrew slightly and pressed again. To his delight and amazement, Selena’s hips slowly began to writhe.
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