Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  “But—”

  “Julia, I suggest that we stop talking for a while. There are some conversations that don’t need words.

  Desire washed over her in a powerful wave, and yet she found that she couldn’t stop thinking about his revelations. Memories returned of the completely powerless fears she had endured after realizing that her father was a compulsive gambler who could not stop even to save his own family. How could Sebastian be engaged in a practice that was even more dangerous and fraught with risks? As his mouth tasted the hollow at the base of her neck, Julia sank her fingers into his hair and tried to overcome the swelling sensations at the apex of her thighs.

  “But wait,” she gasped, “first you must promise me that you will stop this madness. Immediately!”

  “You don’t like to be kissed there?” came his husky rejoinder. “Fine; I know a few other places you’ll soon be begging me to touch.” His brown hand cupped her breast, massaging it in a way that made her wetter by the moment. When he bent to touch his tongue to her nipple, Julia pressed her fingers over his parted lips.

  “That’s not what I mean, and I think you know it! It’s the smuggling that must stop. Before I can kiss you again, you must give me your word that it is over.”

  He reared back and stared at her, a beam of golden sunlight illuminating his chiseled features. “My darling, you are out of bounds. The smuggling will not stop, and you most certainly will kiss me again. This is not a situation that you can manage. On the contrary, you may as well relinquish all notions of controlling me, because this afternoon you are in my bed. I am your husband and I intend to make love to you until you beg me never to stop.”

  Never taking his eyes off her, Sebastian stripped off his clothing.

  Julia felt as if she were on a runaway horse. All the old instincts, which had led her to take the reins when no one else seemed capable of doing so, came rushing to the forefront. She was breathing hard with a sort of panicky confusion borne of her inability to do what she had always done: manage the actions of other people.

  “Please,” she choked, “you must listen to me—”

  “Julia, for once in your life, let go. You can trust me.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. She could see it in his face: the challenge to love him even if she couldn’t control the outcome. Another wave of primitive fear swept over her. In the past, she had been let down so many times by loved ones who had asked for her trust—and then betrayed it. Only by finding solutions to their problems could she feel safe herself.

  Yet, it came to her that this was different. She was a woman now, and if she was going to be a true partner in this marriage, she would have to at least try to trust Sebastian. He was asking her to risk all to have the love she’d always yearned for…but could she do it?

  After a moment’s hesitation, Julia inhaled, filling her lungs with air, and reached up for her husband.

  Like a splendid jungle cat, he pulled the sheet out of the way and stretched out over her slim body, his own skin tanned, warm, and hard-muscled in the spill of sunlight. Julia was dazzled by his masculine beauty and power. All her nerves were taut with arousal tinged with trepidation. What did he expect from her? It was both frightening and exhilarating to leap into the unknown with him.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. “So beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hold you like this.”

  So that was why he had turned away from her so many times! He’d been holding his secret and couldn’t let her in. Now, her heart pounded as Sebastian framed her face in his two hands and began to kiss her with deliberate slowness, tasting the inside of her mouth with his deft tongue. Julia wanted to weep. She could feel the flat, taut muscles of his chest against her swelling breasts and, when he moved just so, his engorged manhood nudging the wet, swollen bud of her sex, where every nerve in her body seemed to be concentrated.

  She squirmed, arching her hips nearer until he almost entered her by mistake, but just that quickly, he drew back, laughing softly.

  “Oh no, love. Not yet.”

  Now he was kissing her again, and she felt utterly drugged by passion. His mouth blazed a trail across her cheekbone to her ear, down her neck, and then slowly he circled one breast with tantalizing slowness. When at last his lips fastened on her engorged nipple, Julia gave a little cry of shock. But in the next moment, her hands were at his head, holding him there, praying that he wouldn’t stop.

  His tongue swirled round and round as he suckled until she thought she might die of arousal. Tingling streaks of fire traveled from her breasts to the aching bundle of nerves between her legs. Every bit of her wanted him inside her, releasing her from this torment. Her thighs opened to him, seeking, and her hand moved in search of his impressive erection.

  But instead of entering her, he caught her wrist and pinned it to one side as he burned a new trail with his mouth down to her belly. Sensing her renewed panic as she realized what he meant to do, he found her other wrist and held it prisoner as well.

  “You may as well surrender,” he told her. “I mean to have all of you.”

  She began to whimper as he moved lower and blew softly on the soft tangle of reddish curls. And then he used his tongue to find the slick, congested bud. He knew that she longed for him to take it in his mouth and yet feared the precipice, for this time she would drop farther and faster than ever before.

  Julia was writhing beneath him. A sheen of perspiration dampened her breasts. Methodically, his mouth worked its magic, gently sucking, licking, pausing, until at last she arched her back and released a cry that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. Sebastian could feel the contractions as the climax swept over her, and still he suckled, more gently now, until a second wave broke.

  For so long, he had held a part of himself in reserve, even during their moments of intimacy, but now that was past. Julia was tugging at his hair and he went to her, kissing her ardently. Her face was glowing.

  “My beautiful bride.” Sebastian wanted to tell her how deeply he loved her, but even now he couldn’t quite form the words. And weren’t they somehow inadequate? Instead, he murmured tenderly, “My love.”

  Julia wondered if she were hearing things in her state of dazzled fulfillment. Had he really said that he loved her? It was sheer bliss to feel their bodies joined, to wrap her arms around his wide back, to kiss with abandon as they moved together in an eternal rhythm. And then, when he gave one last thrust and she felt the heat of him inside her, it came to her that she had never been happier.

  “Yes,” she whispered, echoing him. “My love.”

  Chapter 26

  Sebastian slowly cut a plum into segments and fed them to Julia. They were sitting together in the narrow bunk, naked and completely comfortable together.

  “Wine?” he offered, extending his cup of burgundy to her.

  “I don’t need wine when you are next to me,” she replied. “Oh, Sebastian, why did it take us so long to abandon ourselves to—passion?” She decided it was safer not to use the word love, just in case.

  He laughed in an ironic way that was familiar to her. “My darling, we both have had our share of reasons to stay at a distance, and I’ll wager that we may find more in the future. As it was, I had to nearly take you by force.”

  “I only let you do that because I trusted you.”

  A few drops of plum juice drizzled from the corner of her mouth and he leaned closer to kiss them away. “I always knew that if you gave your passions free rein, you would be insatiable.” He smiled at her suggestively.

  “Truly? I honestly wouldn’t have imagined it of myself. It’s because of you, I suppose. I find you absolutely…addictive.”

  “Hmm. I like that.” He set down the paring knife and cup of wine, turning his powerful body toward her in one fluid motion. “The feeling is mutual.”

  She boldly ran her hands over him, drinking in the sight of his naked body in the light of day. When she spied a narrow scar perhaps two inches long
, low on his flat belly, she touched it with a fingertip and gave a little gasp of surprise.

  “What is this? Why have I never noticed it?”

  “It is a souvenir of a sword fight during a naval battle.” Sebastian shrugged. “At the time, I nearly died, but now it’s nothing. Perhaps you never noticed it because you hadn’t examined me closely enough…” His voice trailed off wickedly.

  “I am delighted to remedy that oversight,” Julia laughed. Happily, she straddled his lap and moved her hips so that she was in intimate contact with his increasing erection. “I must say, I’m quite shocked at myself. Do I shock you?”

  His laughter was husky with fresh arousal as he watched her brazenly kiss her way down his chest. “Only in the best sense of the word.”

  * * *

  It was still dark when Julia awoke. She reached instinctively for Sebastian, longing to entwine her limbs with his again, but she quickly realized that she was alone in the bunk.

  “I am here,” came his husky voice.

  Julia rose on an elbow and, peering into the shadows, saw him leaning back against the bulkhead as he drew on his boots. He was fully dressed and it came to her that the Peregrine was nearly still.

  “Where are we?”

  “We’re at anchor off the coast of France, near Roscoff.” As he spoke, Sebastian moved to perch on the edge of the bunk. “You are a temptress, you know. If you touch me, I’ll succumb.”

  “Then come closer so that I may lure you back into bed,” she replied, laughing softly, and reached up to touch his fresh-shaven jaw.

  “I wish that I could, but the men are waiting. I have business to attend to and you must wait here for me. Here are your clothes—” He brought out the bundle tied neatly with a length of black ribbon. “Colvithick will bring you a hot breakfast.”

  “But, what are you going to do?”

  Sebastian looked away, clearly trying to decide how much to say. “I am weary of keeping secrets from you, but if I tell you the truth, you must promise me that you won’t have a fit of temper or—”

  “I have heard that Roscoff is one of the places where smugglers come to obtain their illicit cargoes. Sebastian, you aren’t here for that, are you?”

  “Have you forgotten the conversation we had yesterday?”

  “Of course not, but I didn’t think that you meant to continue!”

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “I thought you had agreed that it’s unwise for you to try to direct my actions.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’m listening.” His tone had turned cold.

  “Well, I thought that I was agreeing not to try to supervise your life, but that in return you would, I assumed…see the error of your ways and stop on your own.” She paused, realizing how ridiculous her own words were. “Don’t you know that it’s simply mad for this to go on?”

  “You no longer live in the refined world of Bath. It’s time that you come to terms with the fact that smuggling is a way of life in Cornwall, a necessary evil due to tax rates that are so impossibly high your neighbors would starve without free-trading. Not only do I perform a service by paying my crew well and bringing in the goods that villagers need tax-free, I also include a shipment of salt in every cargo and I make a gift of it to the local fishermen.”

  “So you have mentioned. But Sebastian, the Revenue Officers have picked up your scent. I heard Adolphus Lynton and Tristan talking about ‘Captain Rogue’ just yesterday. If you are captured, you could hang—or at the very least, be transported!”

  Slipping his arms into a well-cut coat of tan broadcloth, he shook his head. “I’m not afraid of that fool Lynton. As for Tristan—I can handle him.”

  Feeling vulnerable in her naked state, Julia opened the bundle of clothing and pulled the soft cotton shift over her head.

  The sun was beginning to rise, bathing the cabin in jewel tones. She had to admit to herself that Sebastian had never looked more sinfully handsome and she had never loved him more.

  “Can’t you see, they are hunting you and this entire crew who you claim to be helping! Please, listen to me…”

  He was removing a pistol from his binnacle. “At this moment, I cannot. Keswick is waiting for me. We have an appointment in Roscoff.” Then, his expression softening, Sebastian came to the edge of the bunk. “Julia, I don’t want to argue with you. This is one of the reasons why I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I knew that it would only create more conflict between us.”

  Unable to help herself, she scrambled to her knees and went into his embrace. “It’s just that I worry so.”

  “It would mean a great deal to me if you could trust me enough to save your arguments for another day. Nothing you say will change what I mean to do now.”

  Sighing, she buried her face in his shirtfront. “All right.”

  Sebastian tipped her chin up and gave her a tantalizing grin. “Excellent. Will you give me a smile and a kiss to send me off?”

  Tears misted her eyes as she complied, feeling that her heart might burst with love for him.

  * * *

  “Your agent is waiting for you, my lord,” Keswick prompted as he followed Sebastian along the docks. “We sense that you are distracted. Is her ladyship well?”

  “I’m not going to divulge any juicy tidbits to you, old meddler.” Sebastian strode purposefully in the direction of an inn in the oldest section of Place Lacaze-Duthiers. “Although it wouldn’t surprise me if you had been listening at the keyhole.”

  The manservant-turned-ship’s master flushed. “You insult us, my lord.”

  “Let’s talk about our meeting this morning instead. Do you know for a fact that St. Briac is here?”

  “Eating eggs on the terrace. There is a place for you next to him.”

  “And Raveneau is nearby?”

  “We saw him with our own eyes, my lord. He and his lady have rooms in that very inn.”

  “Excellent. After I speak to St. Briac, I’ll pay Raveneau a short visit.”

  They had arrived at the medieval Auberge du Tocquer, its arched entrance of gray granite crowned by a carving of a ship in full sail. Roosters were crowing in the yard to herald the dawn while a boy stood nearby, holding the reins of a magnificent gray stallion.

  “That steed belongs to Gabriel St. Briac,” whispered Keswick. “We saw him ride up earlier. He cuts an impressive figure on horseback.”

  “No doubt,” parried Sebastian. “He can afford to buy the best horseflesh with the enormous profits from people like me.”

  The innkeeper had appeared to greet them, a long white apron stretched taut over his belly. “Bon matin, monsieugneur! I am Tocquer. Welcome to our humble auberge.”

  He led the pair through the dark half-timbered public rooms of the inn and emerged onto a pretty stone terrace. Old-fashioned white roses meandered up the mossy walls, making a picturesque backdrop for one of the most arresting men Sebastian had ever seen.

  “Ah, you must be Captain Trevarre,” the Frenchman said, rising to his full height until they were eye to eye. He stretched out a strong hand. “Gabriel St. Briac, at your service. Please sit down. I know that Tocquer has prepared something special for you.”

  “It is my pleasure to meet you at last.” They shook hands and Sebastian gestured toward St. Briac’s plate. “Please, continue with your breakfast.”

  Oversized pottery cups of café au lait appeared as they both took their seats, and Sebastian tasted his appreciatively. “I must say, there is nothing like French coffee.”

  “Wait until you taste the buckwheat crépes. Madame Tocquer makes a filling with figs and yogurt that is utterly delicious.” Gabriel St. Briac took another bite and lifted both brows expressively. “Ah! Be sure to drizzle a bit of the orange blossom honey on top. That is the magical ingredient.”

  Assessing St. Briac, Sebastian thought that he was an unexpected choice for a smuggling agent, whose task it was to deal with the local merchants and assemble the required cargo. T
he Frenchman had an air of easy, powerful grace, although he appeared to be several years younger than Sebastian. His dark chestnut hair was slightly curly, his blue eyes twinkled with ready wit, and a smile seemed always to hover at the corners of his mouth.

  “I gather that everything is in order?” Sebastian inquired. His own breakfast had arrived and he found suddenly that he was famished, no doubt as a result of the passionate night with Julia.

  “You will find that the cargo is perfect,” St. Briac replied in perfect English. “My brother and I work together to make certain each item is not only present in the correct quantity, but also that it is of the very best quality.”

  “Yes, I have heard excellent reports of the St. Briac brothers. You have acquired a fine reputation for men so young.”

  “Not so young. I am twenty-three, m’sieur, and my brother Justin is twenty-eight.” The Frenchman pushed away his plate and took a leather-bound book from a satchel. Thumbing through it, he came to a page covered with neat script. “Ah yes, here is the list of your merchandise: the finest brandy, Congo tea, lace, and silk. In England, you can easily sell the brandy for five times the price you pay today.” He ran his long finger down the columns and continued, “You will also find specific quantities of other items you requested: salt, cotton stockings, playing cards, and needles. As you may know, our Breton salt marshes are the very best, but due to the war, your English Navy is trying to prevent us from exporting it. We are grateful that other avenues exist to sell our salt.”

  “The fishermen of Cornwall thank you for that salt, which will preserve their fish for the winter ahead.” Sebastian rubbed his jaw, smiling. “I am very impressed with your work, m’sieur. Will I not have the pleasure of meeting your brother? “

  “Sadly, no. Justin is away on a voyage with our own ship, Deux Frères. We have clients who prefer to have their goods delivered rather than risk the crossing themselves, if you take my meaning.” St. Briac winked almost imperceptibly. “I will tell my brother that you are pleased, Captain. We take pride in seeing that every detail is impeccable. Furthermore, we have packed your merchandise so that it is either in crates with secret compartments, or so that it is at least a size that may be efficiently concealed on board your ship.” He paused to return the logbook to his satchel. “Your ship’s master, Keswick, has delivered your payment and he has inspected the cargo, which waits in our family warehouse on the waterfront.”