Caribbean Scot

by Kimberly Killion

  “Mayhap you could find another purpose for it.” Not even trying to feign innocence, Reid waved a third boy into the cabin. The gromet kept his eyes downcast as he set a towel and toiletries atop the bed, then quickly dismissed himself.

  Robbie harrumphed. “If ye want me to bathe, all ye need do is tell me I stink.”

  Duncan twisted at the waist waiting to hear his captain’s response, but Reid wisely held his tongue. Duncan, however, did not. “Take no offense, Miss Mary, but a woman shouldnae be smellin’ as bad as the bilgemates.”

  Robbie gasped as blood filled her cheeks with instantaneous heat. Her hands fisted at her sides, and the sound rumbling in her throat might have been mistaken for a growl.

  The laddies fled, but Reid had the gall to laugh outright.

  “I’ll leave you to your work.” He reached for the lever and started to pull the door closed, but paused. “I suggest you lock the door, least I be tempted to check on your progress prematurely.” He winked and left her in privacy.

  The moment the door clipped shut, Robbie sniffed beneath her arms. The smell wasn’t horrendous, but ’twas not a smell she wanted tainting her new gown. She locked the door, but also propped his desk chair into the crook of the door lever. The devil most likely had a key.

  Content with her privacy, she disrobed, snatched up the toiletries, and stood beside the tub. Steam danced atop the surface like the loch on May Day. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d bathed in anything besides a basin or a cool brook. She’d never needed more.

  As she stepped into the tub and sank into its luxurious depths, she concluded there were vast differences between what she needed and what she desired.

  She needed Eoin, but she desired Reid.

  She rested her head against the rim, but the second her eyes fell shut, Reid was there in her mind’s eye bathing her breasts and stroking her between her thighs.

  Her eyes shot open. Blast him!

  She sat up and scoured every inch of her body with a fury. Did men think they were the only ones with needs? A woman ached for release every bit as much as a man, but if a woman strayed into another man’s bed to scratch her itch, she was labeled a whore. But, oohhh, if a man goes frolicking in and out of multiple women’s bed, he is considered virile. Well, Eoin must be bluidy virile.

  Robbie dipped her soiled hair beneath the water, after which she lathered every lock with suds. Her mental rant seemed to lessen with the overwhelming scent of primrose.

  Standing in the tub, she twisted her hair like a rope, making a conscious effort not to let the droplets trickle to the floor, then she pulled a brush through the tangles until they hung in wet waves down her back. Since the air was warm, she toweled dry without haste and walked out onto the balcony to hang the towel over the rail. Standing in the open stark naked felt wickedly arousing, and as she was feeling slightly rebellious, she dawdled on the balcony, flaunting her nudity, pretending to dance.

  A giggle bubbled out of her throat. She was going mad.

  Moments later, she stood atop the fur rug fighting the laces of the corset over top the sleeveless undershift. The boned stays dug into her hip bones as she attempted to twist the contraption around her abdomen. She bent, shook, and raised her small breasts into the formed cups. Just when she was about to rip the foolish thing off, she looked down to find actual breasts—perfect, round, plump, luscious breasts.

  The sight had her giddy. The corset sculpted her bosom in a way that created a shadowed crease in the middle. Of course, it was an illusion. Nonetheless, she spent long moments admiring herself from various angles before she draped the yellow gown over her head. The material was blessedly cooler than her kirtle, and as she righted the garment, she looked down again to find her breasts brimming out of a swooping neckline far more daring than any fashion she’d ever worn.

  A soft knock rapped against the door. “Robbie?”

  Blast it! She wasn’t ready. She should send him away.

  Nay. She wanted him to see her in the gown. She stuffed her toes into the silk slippers, snatched the bauble off the bed and rushed to the door.

  “If ye need more time, I—”

  She jerked the chair away from the door, unlocked the lever, and ripped the door open wide. “I’m finished.” Panting, she stepped back and awaited his approval. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want to please him.

  The smile he’d worn when she first opened the door fell, as did his eyes. His gaze locked on her breasts and stayed there. She could hardly blame him. They looked spectacular in the corset.

  ’Twas a naughty thing to do, but she inhaled, which seemed to make them even fuller.

  “The gown suits you well.” He briefly glimpsed the length of her garment, then returned his sights once again to her breasts. “Verra well.”

  Hot sensations washed through her like a firestorm. The tiny hairs at her nape prickled and her nipples hardened against the stiff material of the corset. If her body reacted to his gaze with such fever, she could only imagine what would happen if he ever touched her. She would likely reach climax within seconds.

  The wicked thought snapped her fragile nerves. She giggled but quickly regained dignity. She fanned her face in an effort to thwart another giggle, but it sprang forth with might. Tears filled her eyes, her palm pressed against her perky new breasts. “Forgive me,” she choked out. “’Tis a horrid thing I do when I’m nervous.”

  “I eat nuts.” His odd statement caught her unguarded.

  “Beg pardon.”

  “When I’m nervous or fretting over a’thing, I eat nuts.” His attention shifted toward a wooden tray she hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Atop it sat a bowl of nuts, a ceramic honey pot, layers of yellow flatbread, and a second bowl filled with a brown substance that looked like mud. The mixture of salt and sweet smells had her mouth watering.

  “Are ye trying to woo me with exotic delicacies, Captain?”

  He winked, then filled his mouth with a handful of nuts saving him from a response.

  Oh, the man was charming. Too charming.

  He set the tray atop the desk where he proceeded to sprinkle nuts atop a round of flatbread. Next came swirls of golden honey. He rolled the flatbread, dipped it into the thick, brown syrup, and then held it beneath her nose.

  The smell was his. The exotic scent she couldn’t name was this sweet, robust, succulent treat.

  “Taste.” He licked his lips and waited for her to oblige him.

  She could have taken it from him, but she didn’t. Mayhap because she felt betrayed by Eoin’s blatant cuckoldry and mayhap, she simply wanted to explore Reid’s seduction. After all, that’s what this was: the garments, the bauble, the bath, the victuals. ’Twas a dangerous game that promised to be pleasurable, though no one was likely to win.

  Robbie opened her mouth and took the bite.

  Her taste buds exploded. Her jaw pinched. “Oh, God!” She chewed. She moaned. It was sweet and salty and sinful.

  “’Tis good, aye.”

  She nodded and swallowed as he re-dipped the roll again. This time she held the side of his wrist as he fed her. She wanted to be the seductress in his little game, but the savory treat proved to be a distraction. He fed her bite after bite until she’d eaten the last delicious morsel. “I’ve never tasted anything quite so divine. What is it?”

  “’Tis called chocolate—the drink of the gods. The Mopán people make it out of the cacao bean.”

  “I daresay they could barter with the beans themselves.”

  “They do. The cacao bean is considered currency between the tribes.” Reid swiped his finger over the corner of her lips and waited for her to open. He played this game verra well, but she could play it better.

  Her pulse flitted in her throat as she held his hand and guided his finger inside her mouth. She stared at him from beneath her pale lashes as she slid her lips over his knuckle and suckled him between her teeth like a tiny cock.

  His eyes blinked to half closed, hi
s lips parted on a groan. The muscles in his hand flexed the same time he snatched his arm back and raked his fingers through his black hair. He scooped up a handful of nuts.

  Oh, she’d ruffled his feathers and felt powerful during the act. If she were bold enough to investigate, she was certain she’d find him hard as stone beneath his tight black breeks. But he needed to go before their game got out of control. “My thanks for the fare and the gown and the slippers. I should—”

  “Did you not like the bauble?” He sounded more hurt than offended.

  Robbie looked at her fist where she still clutched the bracelet. “’Tis exquisite, but far too big. It falls off my hand.” She demonstrated.

  “’Tis not for your wrist.” He retrieved the bauble out of her hand. “’Tis for your ankle.”

  “’Tis an odd place for a trinket.”

  “You’ll find that the Mopán people decorate themselves with jewels in much odder places.” He bent to one knee in front of her which forced her back against the desk. “I found this in Xitali’s tomb and want ye to have it.”

  Robbie curled her fingers around the desk’s edge when the side of his hand brushed her ankle. The heat that had been stirring low in her belly dropped into her womanhood and turned into a pulsing inferno.

  Their game just upped a notch.

  Blood rushed up her chest, burned her neck, and scalded the backs of her eyeballs. Her muscles seized as naught but silence surrounded them. Then she felt his hand slide up the back of her calf in a caress that weakened her knees.

  Her body hummed. Her eyes closed, waiting for him to continue the upward path. Her nether lips swelled in anticipation as moisture gathered at her core, but then he was gone, and the aching she felt was far worse than the expectancy.

  “I should go.” He pivoted and strode quickly for the door.

  Nay! She wanted him to stay. She needed him to stay and finish their game. She reached out to him, but he’d already slammed the door.

  10

  ~ TEMPTATION ~

  Eight damn days he’d performed his duties with a raging erection. Robbie’s antics had all but sucked, licked, and chewed on Reid’s last nerve, then spit it back out and stomped on it.

  His patience was at its end.

  S’truth. He suspected her seduction was only a guise for her retaliation. She’d used him as a means to strike back at Eoin for going ashore, but Reid wanted her for more than one night. He wanted her for forever; in his bed, in his life, as his wife. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get past the wanting her in his bed.

  Thinking about her full lips sucking his finger led to him thinking about her full lips sucking his cock. And that damn corset! He was thankful she liked the garments, but was certain she’d not taken the corset off. Mayhap she couldn’t. Mayhap she needed assistance.

  He twitched, wiped the sweat from his brow, and readjusted himself inside his breeks. His bollocks were heavy with unspent seed, and his cock jerked every time he thought of the wee temptress and her lips…and her long legs…and her breasts and…

  God’s legions, it was hotter than Satan’s hearth out here.

  The sun beating down on him didn’t help his condition, nor did the damn sandglass that never seemed to run empty. He counted the strokes on the slate as he’d done a dozen times this day, waiting for that last grain of sand to fall. Jean-Pierre would be about to man the helm and relieve Reid of duty soon.

  Then what?

  The provisions they’d bought in Rum Cove were gone. The nuts were gone. The cigars were gone. And the brandy was gone. Which meant Eoin was an unbearable piss-head.

  Had that cross storm not blown them off course, they’d be home by now, and Reid wouldn’t have to look at Eoin’s snarl every second of the day. The man had emerged from the keel two days past and had paced the main deck ever since. His cousin was much more tolerable when he was an invisible drunk.

  At long last, Henrik climbed the main mast and called for the change of guard. Only minutes later, Jean-Pierre appeared out of the afthatch and strolled to the helm.

  “Salut, Capitaine.” Jean-Pierre swiped his pointed beard and offered Reid a congenial grin. “I dare say your cousin is in danger of wearing through the planks.”

  Reid peeled his fingers off the tiller and stepped to the side. “I would give five doubloons for a goblet of drink to get that guzzle-guts off my deck.”

  “Make it seven, and I’ll escort the sot to the keel myself.” Jean-Pierre opened one side of his surcoat and lifted a flat, silver container partway from his pocket. “But I want the flask back.”

  “You’re a good friend, Jean-Pierre.” Reid clapped the Frenchman on the back.

  “Oui, that I am, Capitaine. Now, run along and play. I fear your kitten might need assistance killing the rats. Duncan and Cocijo haven’t been hunting in days.”

  Reid glanced at the open door of his cabin where Robbie worked. “She is making progress.” His statement lacked conviction. S’truth, he didn’t know if she was any closer to creating vital air than she had been a fortnight ago. Colored smoke had rolled out of the cabin three days past which instilled panic in every man aboard, including Reid. “We should consider ourselves fortunate she hasnae blown the ship up.” Reid took his leave, heading toward the companionway.

  “Yet,” Jean-Pierre commented over his shoulder and waved Eoin toward the helm, then gave Duncan instructions to man the tiller.

  Standing before a barrel of water they’d collected from the storm, Reid scooped up a chunk of lye, stripped out of his shirt, and washed from nose to navel. With a tuned ear, he listened to Jean-Pierre work his magic, then the blessed sound of the afthatch squeaked open. Reid glanced over his shoulder to find them both gone.

  There was a god.

  Reid climbed the steps to the captain’s deck and hung his shirt over the rail. ’Twould be dry in a matter of minutes, but he was too close to Robbie and her lips and her legs and her breasts to wait for the sun to bake his garment.

  He inhaled what he hoped was a breath of fortitude, then stepped into the open doorway.

  His eyes nigh popped from his skull. What the devil was she doing?

  Garbed only in her undershift and corset, Robbie was bent over the rim face down in the tub of water. She shifted on her knees and wiggled her sweetly rounded arse, which was the sign his heart needed to resume beating.

  Enraged that she would attempt such an experiment alone, Reid crossed the cabin in two strides and wrenched her out of the water. “Are you trying to kill yourself, you foolish woman?”

  Startled, she pulled a leather mask from her nose that was connected to a leather tube to one of her contraptions on the floor. She pushed wet ropes of dark auburn hair from her face and stared at him with innocent emerald eyes. “I am testing. The rats survived this past experiment.”

  “So you thought to try it out on yourself? Are ye adder-bitten? Have the vapors turned your brains to pig dung?” Aghast, Reid wanted to shake her. What if she had drown? The thought made him shiver.

  His scolding sent her into a pout. Her lashes and her chin fell in unison. She picked up the sandglass beside the tub and rotated it side to side. “How long has this been empty?”

  “God’s legions, woman! Think ye I paid any heed to the damn sandglass?” Pout or no, he was not yet finished ranting.

  She stared at him, her eyes unfocused, her mind elsewhere. “It worked.” She stood and checked the pulse in her neck. “I feel right. I dinnae swoon. It bluidy worked!”

  “Are you saying you’ve been under water for more than a half hour?”

  Robbie’s lips split into a toothy smile. “I did it. I created air.”

  Her words finally registered in Reid’s head. He looked at the contraption, the water, the sandglass, then her. “You did it. By God! You really did it.” Stunned by her success, Reid wrapped his hands around her skull and kissed her.

  ’Twas by no means fevered or passionate, but the second he pulled back, he realized his error. While
he searched for words to right his wrong, she tangled her fingers into the hair at his nape and pulled him back to her mouth. She kissed him hard, like she’d been starving for it for years. Jaw spread wide, her tongue ravished his mouth, twirling, licking, thrusting. Their teeth ground together as she flattened her palm on his chest and pushed him against the wall.

  He stood there like an ignorant ape, eyes open, arms hanging at his sides, dumbfounded by her fierceness. His lack of participation didn’t go unnoticed.

  The fingernails piercing his chest retracted. Her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breaths. And when she raised her pale lashes to him, the rejection in her pained eyes tore a hole in his heart. “Was I wrong to think ye wanted me?”

  Kiss her back, ye fool! The man who’d waited far too long for her kiss awoke with a vengeance. “Nay. I have wanted ye for forever.” He wove his fingers through her wet hair, tilted her head, and dove back into her mouth with a furor.

  This was the kiss he’d waited for. The kiss he’d dreamed about for eleven years. The kiss that filled the place in his heart he’d saved for her.

  She was fire and ice, honey and salt. An aphrodisiac that heightened his senses, hardened his muscles, and sent his blood racing through his veins and straight to his cock.

  The man who typically sorted through his morals was lost to a desire that numbed his toes. Reid wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and pushed her against the opposite wall without breaking the seal between their lips. When he drove his knee between her thighs, she gasped and threw her head back, slamming it against the wall with a thud.

  “Och, love. Are—”

  She sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, silencing him. Her hands were everywhere; caressing his bare skin, squeezing the hardened muscles of his shoulders, his chest, his arse. Her touch thrilled him, empowered him.

  She hooked her fingers over his breeks at his hip and pulled. “Dinnae stop.”

  Stop? Not even the threat of a pistol pressed to his skull would prevent him from claiming her.