My Timeswept Heart

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Dane thought the world had ceased revolving when she did no more than stare at him. His heart sat like a stone in his chest, heavy and dead as he brushed a soft

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  kiss to her lips and whispered, "Please, my love, marry me."

  Her throat tightened, hearing the quiver in his voice. The request was filled with a tense desperation, a sud­den fear she never dreamed he'd share with her, with anyone. He was giving her the chance to run.

  "Yeah, pirate, I will," she breathed against his lips, slipping her hand into her skirt pocket and removing the packet. Images suddenly flashed in her head; the figurehead, the perfect-fitting clothes, his teasing, and his touching. Dane absolutely furious with her. Dane unconscious, still as granite. Dane carrying her to his bed. The dolphin, the black wall. I was meant to be here. I love this man too much to believe otherwise. She leaned closer, their breath a warm flutter between them.

  Someone called out his name, and Dane groaned when she denied him the taste of her. I shan't survive much longer, he thought, shifting uncomfortably, Tess's teasing grin doing considerable damage to his barely checked desires. They turned to see Duncan skid to a stop at the end of the pews, Dane's coat slung over his arm. Behind him, sailors bumped and collided when they realized what was about to take place. Quickly the old mariner strode forward, his smile so smug and pleased it would have to be chiseled off, Tess decided, as Dane slipped into the dark green jacket.

  "Are we ready now?" the friar beamed, delighted to perform a ceremony that was not over a mutilated body about to be put in the ground.

  "Aye," she answered eagerly, moving close and dis­creetly slipping the packet of diamonds into Dane's coat pocket.

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  Their eyes never wavered as Dane and Tess spoke vows to love, honor, and cherish. Yet Tess interrupted the ceremony once to have the word obey omitted. The friar looked appalled at the request and even more as­tonished when Dane's shoulders shook with silent laughter as he nodded agreement.

  "He'll bloody well regret that," Ram whispered and received a sharp poke in his sore ribs from Duncan.

  They sealed the marriage with a kiss brimming with silken joy, the observers growing silent with the love they witnessed joined before God. The cheer that fol­lowed shook the wood beams of the old stone church as Tess was torn from Dane's embrace and handed from man to man. Burly arms wrapped around her, nearly crushing delicate ribs as sailors congratulated the captain's bride. Bruised and dizzy, Tess suddenly found herself before Ramsey.

  With a chuckle nothing short of lecherous, the Tri­ton captain swept her into his arms and claimed her mouth. Dane observed the kiss with raised brows; that Ram seemed to be giving his wife a goodly portion of his mastery did not rouse the groom's anger, for Tess was limp as a rag in the man's embrace. Ramsey pulled back, staring at her with a perplexed look on his face.

  "Tess, ah, I-I?"

  "Don't sweat it, O'Keefe," she said, smoothly mov­ing out of his arms. "Your day will come."

  Tess turned to Dane, a mischievous smile floating across her lips as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

  "You delight in teasing the poor sot, don't you?" Dane whispered as they trailed the friar to sign the marriage certificate.

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  "No, but bursting his bubble was a nice start."

  They laughed quietly as the old priest scribbled in a massive book, then turned a slip of the parchment around for their signatures.

  "Your birth date and name," Dane told her.

  "What do I write?" she asked, quill poised. "I mean, I was born—" sne leaned close and lowered her voice to scarcely a whisper—"in 1964."

  Dane held her gaze. "Pen that, Tess. I will have this legal and binding."

  "Our kids will thank you for that," she shot back, and he stared at her for a moment, then grinned hugely and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. Tess did as he asked, then watched as he scrolled his signature, dark and bold, sprinkled sand on the ink, blew, then folded the document and tucked it in his pocket. A little cry escaped her as he bent slightly, slipped his arm beneath her knees, then straightened, holding her high against his chest.

  "Dane?" He strode out of the church to the applause of his crew. "Put me down," she protested softly when he continued out of the yard.

  "I have restrained myself long enough, love." He lengthened his stride.

  She grinned, looping her arms around his neck. "This is that rutting business you mentioned earlier, right?"

  He made a pained sound. "God, aye."

  People stopped and gawked, blinking to be certain this was the same couple that had been screeching at each other moments before.

  "Where are you going? The inn is that way," she said, pointing back over his shoulder.

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  He gave her a wicked smile. "You wish the entire inn to hear your cries of pleasure?" he murmured huskily, watching her skin flush beneath his warm regard. Thank God the house was ready.

  "My, aren't we confident." She nuzzled at his neck. God, he smelled great.

  "I shall try my utmost to please my bride."

  "Give you sixty years to get it right," she challenged.

  "My pleasure, love." He stepped over a low stone wall and paused, his body stirring to her little pecks.

  "Tess?"

  "Hmm?" Her tongue slid around his ear, and she felt

  his soft shudder.

  "Do—ah—do—ah," he swallowed—"do you wish to see where we'll spend our wedding night?"

  "Uh-ah." Her hand wiggled inside his jacket. "Later." He strode up the steps and kicked open the door. "You know, Blackwell, you break far too many doors for a man your age." Her fingers moved into his hair, and she turned his head, her lips molding over his as he carried her across the threshold. He eased her to her feet, letting her slide down the length of him as he reached behind and shut the door. The click of the lock echoed in the silent house. He leaned back.

  "Lights," he managed to say.

  "Don't need Jem."

  Another pained sound as he slipped from her grasp. She giggled when he stumbled in the darkened house, cursing softly, yet remained where she was. The spark of flint caught her eye before the room filled with a warm glow. It was spacious, done in pale gray and deep blue, but she wasn't interested in the decor, her atten­tion immediately focusing on the staircase. She moved

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  toward it and was already on the first steps when he came to her.

  "Hungry?"

  "Yup." She hitched up her skirts in each hand, then grabbed the fabric of his coat, pulling him, the green gown a satin envelope around them.

  "I could seek out a bit of cheese and bread—" She shook her head slowly, backing up the stairs. "Some wine, perhaps?" He advanced.

  "Not food I want."

  He grinned, lopsided and sexy. "What does the lady desire?" His voice was husky, deep, sending a hot thrill over her body.

  "As if you didn't know. I've been trying to get you into bed for a week." They stood on the landing. "Now you have no excuse."

  "I could not in all good conscience destroy your rep­utation."

  "Chivalry is not dead," she murmured, leaning into him and shoving the coat from his shoulders. She opened the door, pulling him inside, assuming this was a bedroom. It was, thank God. She flung the coat aside, then started on his shirt, slipping free the but­tons, working her way down. His hands rested on her waist, tightening the closer she came to his waistband.

  "Tess, ah-Tess?"

  "Yeah?" She yanked the shirt from his breeches, spreading the cloth wide.

  "I believe 'tis the groom's opportunity to initiate—" Her lips found the skin at his throat, teeth nibbling softly, and Dane forced himself to muster his thoughts. Gently he grasped her hands, drawing them down to her sides. Moonlight spilled across the car-

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  peted floor in a sharp slice of silver, the expression on his face making Tess go still.

  "I would savor this night,
my love." Dane cupped her face between callused palms, pressing his mouth to hers. His kiss was unhurried, a tender worship, and Tess's heartbeat slowed, the heat moving gradually over her body like a cloak of warmed honey. His fin­gers slid into her hair, and with a gentle pressure he pulled her flush against him, and she felt the strong steady beat of his heart vibrate through her.

  The snugness of her bodice eased and Tess scarcely noticed as the fabric slipped from her body, her atten­tion centered on the lips tasting her own. She gave her­self over to him, letting him do as he pleased. And he did.

  His mouth moved down the length of her throat as he pushed the heavy skirts down over her hips to pile on the floor. He caressed the skin bared to his touch, leisurely arousing her, warm fingers playing over her taut belly covered in thin green batiste. He knelt, his hands molding the length of her legs before he propped a dainty foot on his thigh and made slow work with the delicious chore of removing her slippers and stockings.

  "Dane," Tess breathed, grasping his shoulder as his lips trailed up the inside of her thigh while he slowly drew the stocking down.

  "Aye, love?" He tossed the garment aside.

  "I don't think I can last much longer."

  He stood slowly, his gaze savoring the sight of her veiled in dark green. "You will, my witch —all night."

  His eyes spoke the promise of torture she'd receive for teasing him these days before he bent her back over

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  his arm, his lips closing over a nipple covered with thin batiste, outlining the taut peak with his tongue until the fabric was damp and clinging. Her lips parted with a sigh of pleasure* her hair grazing the floor, and Dane realized several advantages to marrying a gymnast. Suddenly he slipped his arm behind her knees, lifting her from the floor, and carrying her toward the bed, gently placing her on the fluffy down, Tess rose up on her knees at the edge, brushing back the white netting that draped in a misty web from the canopy, her gaze dancing over his wide tanned chest as he stripped off the shirt. His boots thunked to the floor, and he lifted his gaze, his fingers hovering at the band of his pants. Tess wet her lips, the anticipation of seeing him completely naked making her thighs burn. "Hurry, Blackwell, now," she said, and Dane swallowed thickly as she crossed her arms in front of her and grasped the hem of the chemise, drawing it slowly up over her head. His hungry gaze shot to the scrap of black fabric between her thighs as the chemise fluttered noiselessly to the floor.

  Sweet Christ! Never had he seen anything more erotic than that scanty bit of nothing.

  Tess couldn't help but notice that reaction. "You like, huh?"

  His gaze moved upward from the mere threads caught high on her hips, beyond the tight muscled stomach, over her breasts, firm and round, the nipples taut and damp, peeking through the curtain of silky black tresses, to her oval face. The essence of feminin­ity, he thought, blood rushing to his loins. Sultry, al­luring. His.

  "Aye, very much, love," he finally managed, flip-

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  ping the buttons to his breeches and peeling the snug fabric down.

  "You know, for a man who's complained about re­straints," she said, absorbing the naked sight of him, "which you imposed on yourself, I might add—" Every inch of him was lean and hard, rippling as he kicked the trousers aside—"you certainly take your sweet time."

  Her last words were squeezed off as his arm shot out to bring her hard against him. "You try me, woman," he growled.

  "That's the idea," she replied, resting a hand posses­sively on his hip, his manhood stiff and thick between them. Small palms stroked the ropey muscles of his back, the tightness of his ribs, the subtle curve of his taut buttocks as Dane mashed her to him, her breasts scorching the skin of his chest. His mouth devoured hers, the storm unleashing as he hooked a thumb be­neath the thin strap, yanking the panties down. His wild eagerness caused the delicate silk to rip.

  "So much for savoring the moment," she giggled against his lips, then kissed him ravenously.

  Pure energy, he thought, flinging the remnant aside, the suggestion of being inside her just too much, and he bent a knee to the mattress, tumbling her to her back. His lips, hot and wet, seared over her pale skin, sampling the rosy crest of her breast, then drawing it into the hot suck of his mouth.

  A fire gathered there, spreading rapidly outward to her limbs, and beyond thought, Tess could do no more than moan as he divided his attention between the lush mounds until they were moist and sensitive.

  His hand was equally occupied, sliding down her

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  body to cover the dark juncture between her thighs, and she opened for him. Gently he parted the dewy folds, catching her gaze as he slipped a finger inside, then withdrew slowly. Her lids fluttered, her low purr of delight was ambrosia to him as he teased her, watch­ing her bit* her lip, then release the shiver into the night. He traced an intricate design over her heated flesh, and Tess burned, her pulse racing as he intro­duced another finger, coaxing forth a flood that dampened his hand.

  "Dane, please," she begged, urging him atop her and failing.

  He shook his head slowly, enjoying her wiggling, her pained pleas. "Nay, my heart, I want more of you— much more."

  "Greedy pirate," she gasped, twisting on the sheets as he manipulated her passions to a luxurious frenzy. His movements spoke of a man who knew women, knew where to touch, how to bring the greatest plea­sure. Tess didn't mind, knowing she would forever reap the benefits of his torrid past. Unable to let him have all the fun, Tess grasped a handful of his hair, pulling him to meet her lips while her free hand wedged be­tween them, searching, her small fingers wrapping around his manhood. He growled lowly, hot and solid in her palm, his large body quaking against her as she stroked him. The sensation thrilled her.

  "Tess, love, cease, I will be of no use," he murmured, drawing her hand away.

  "Wanna bet?" she panted, a supple limb gliding over his haunches, her hand caressing his stomach and chest as he shifted. Dane nibbled a blistering path over her flat belly, the gentle curve of her hip, drowning in

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  the scent, the taste of her. She shuddered, the fragile whisper sounding loud in the room as his wide shoul­ders nudged her legs further apart. His warm breath fanned the dampened mound between her thighs.

  She reached. "Dane! No! I-I never—!" His lips brushed the ebony curls and Tess fell back with a de­feated sigh, the fire surging with amazing accuracy. His hands on her inner thighs, Dane spread her, leav­ing her bare and glistening to his bold attentions, and Tess dug her head into the pillows, pliant and weak be­neath his mouth and tongue. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants. She trembled violently, her world pitching crazily at the unfamiliar caress as his tongue slickly circled the core of her desire. She was nearly in tears when he rose up, bracing his hands at her sides, hovering above her.

  His smile was wicked as she clawed at his shoulders, pulling, moaning deeply when his weight settled in the cradle of her thighs. His manhood pressed against her opening as he laced his fingers with hers, holding her gaze. Dane pushed, filling her softness, and her feline murmur of satisfaction was enough to destroy his slim thread of control. Her skin closed immediately around him, sucking him farther inside, and Dane knew noth­ing could be more glorious than Tess. She was beauti­ful, an enchanting temptress, weaving an exotic spell around him. My witch, he thought, my spirited Sea Witch.

  Dane moved. The breath quivered on her lips, tum­bling into his mouth as he pumped a slow, gentle ca­dence. Tess's tongue licked at his lips, outlining the chiseled curve, tasting herself there, yet her gaze never wavered. His eyes fairly glowed green fire with his

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  need, his features sharp and taut. His bound hair slid over his shoulder, black ribbons grazing her cheek. She felt the blood pulsing through his arousal and into her, He was rock hard and throbbing, and every cell of her body tingled with excitement as he loved her.

  Her smooth pale skin contrasted sharply against his
own, a new* pearl against rich polished oak. The breeze, steaming and salty, fingered the sheer netting that shrouded the lovers. Time ceased to mean any­thing. They were mates of one world. Theirs.

  Her nerves sizzled, muscled legs wrapping deli-ciously around his waist, holding him snugly within her moist depths. Dane thought he'd pass out from the exquisite torture of being inside her. It would never be enough. He wanted more. And strove to forge them together, clutching her tightly and driving into her, whispering her name, his strong body quaking with the coming explosion. She clung to him, greeting his savage thrusts, thirstily taking his mouth. Skin rubbed skin. Slick and hot and greedy. Her nails dug into his back. Muscles bunched. Breaths mingled. Her body clenched and pulsated around him. Then she arched, crying out as the inferno ruptured inside her, bursting in rolling swells of incredible ecstasy. Dane plunged wildly, a low guttural groan ruffling her hair as he spilled himself deep inside her. And she took it all: his seed, his heart, his love.

  More than raw passion held them on the pulsing crest for the briefest moment, shivering with the power of their release. Dane kissed his wife, the touch rever­ent as they floated to earth on gentle waves, the rip­pling currents ebbing to a quiet, contented bliss that softly buffeted the lovers with tender hope.

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  chapter twenty-six

  "That was fun. Let's do it again."

  Dane chuckled tiredly. "The woman is trying to send me to an early grave," he murmured into the crook of her neck.

  Her foot slid luxuriously down the length of his leg. "What better way to go?" She was slack be­neath him and loving it.

  He lifted his head, brushing a damp lock from her cheek, his gaze following his fingertips. "You're an incredible woman, Tess," he whispered.

  After that, he was calling her incredible? Her hands gently rubbed his slick back. "Magnificent in bed as he is on the floor. Gee. What another plus."

  His grin bore a touch of masculine arrogance. "That you've naught to compare with is certainly to my advantage."

  She nipped playfully at his chest. "Now don't go getting a swelled head, Blackwell," she murmured dryly. Her hands moved lower, fondling his tight buttocks.