by Judith James
“For heaven’s sake, Gabe,” she scoffed. “I’ve been climbing it all by myself since I was seven years old.”
“I should have known. Your pardon, ma belle.”
They scrambled down to the beach, breathless and laughing like naughty children, and tumbled into the waiting boat. Gabriel wrapped her protectively in his cloak and grinned proudly at the men who’d come to row them back to the ship. “Pierre. Antonio. May I have the honor of presenting my fiancée, and soon to be wife, the very lovely and thoroughly charming, Lady Sarah.”
“Enchantée, mademoiselle, and very welcome you are, too,” Pierre responded with a cheeky grin. “Perhaps now the lad will cease growling and fretting, and leave us all in peace.”
“We have met before,” Antonio said with a warm smile. “It is a very great pleasure to see you again, my lady.”
“And you, too, Tony,” Sarah said, emerging from under Gabriel’s cloak.
“You’ve made our laddie a very happy man, my lady. We’re all most grateful to you for it. And I’m here to tell you that you might have done worse.”
“Indeed, gentlemen, thank you for your stirring endorsements,” Gabriel said dryly, as Sarah settled back against his chest.
It was a night she would always remember. The winds had died down shortly after sunset, and by the time the L’Espérance had anchored, the ocean was as still as glass. The moon was new, barely a sliver, but the sky pulsed with brilliant light as myriad stars flickered and sparked, reflected in the still waters below. The perfume of a late spring night, soft, fresh, and beguiling, was all around her, and as they approached the L’Espérance she could sense the muted bustle and excitement onboard the little ship. The men considered Gabriel one of their own, and they had loved Sarah ever since she’d first sailed with them six years ago. Like many who roamed the sea, they were romantics at heart, and everyone had joined wholeheartedly in the enterprise, eager to see the young couple reunited.
Davey greeted her with a tight hug when she finally clambered up on deck. “Can you forgive me, cousin, for stealing him away?”
“If you bring him back to me safe and sound, Davey,” she said, returning his hug.
“I will, lass. He loves you something fierce, you know.”
“I know, Davey. I love him something fierce, too.”
He regarded her ruefully. He had loved her since the first time he’d seen her, awkward, and gangly and dressed like a boy. He’d been angry, hurt, and lost, grieving his parents and enraged at their meaningless deaths, a stranger in a strange new world. She’d made him laugh, joined him enthusiastically on his adventures, imagined him a great hero, and made him feel welcome when he’d thought himself completely alone. He’d never told her how he felt. He’d been waiting for the right time, and now it would never come.
“I’m happy for you both, cousin. You know how much I care for you. You’ve chosen well, my girl.”
“Thank you, Davey, I know,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, “and I love you, too.”
Gabriel came up behind her, enfolding her in his arms. “Now is your last chance to change your mind, Sarah,” he whispered in her ear.
Looking back at him over her shoulder, she grinned. “Not a chance, Gabriel. You are well and truly caught and I shan’t let you wriggle free.”
“Well, then, children, let’s go to my cabin, shall we?”
Sarah and Gabriel stood openmouthed in amazement. Davey’s cabin had been transformed. The bed had been made with silk coverlets and festooned with rose petals. Flowers were everywhere, in wild profusion, strewn on the floor, spilling from vases, lining the windows, and framing the door. The room was lit with scores of candles, bathing it in a magical glow, and a feast had been set on the table, the proud work of Mr. Aubrey, who was waiting in his cassock to perform the ceremony.
“Oh, Davey, thank you so much,” Sarah said, hugging him with tears in her eyes.
“Think nothing of it, cousin.” He squeezed her tight, then steered her back toward Gabriel.
All the crew that could be spared were there, crowded into the cabin and the doorway and spilling out into the corridor as Gabriel and Sarah stepped forward to take their vows. Taking a little gold band he’d managed to find in Polperro, Gabriel placed it on Sarah’s finger as Mr. Aubrey proudly pronounced them man and wife to the hearty cheers of captain and crew. He kissed her then, passionate and tender, oblivious to the company, the swell of congratulations, or the wild music that swirled around them, until Davey stole her from him, pulling her into a merry swirling dance.
The only awkwardness was when Davey asked them how he was to register them in his logbook. Gabriel hadn’t given it any thought, hadn’t even thought to discuss it with Sarah. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him, whispering “I’d much rather St. Croix, than Munroe, if you don’t mind too terribly.” He thought about it a moment, and found that he really didn’t mind. He was done with being ashamed of his past. It had made him who he was, and who he was, was the man whom Sarah loved and had chosen to marry. St. Croix was as good a name as any, and he signed it in the register with a flourish.
The next half hour was a mad blend of dancing, feasting, and toasts to the happy couple, until Davey called a halt. “Enough, you scurvy lot. You were invited to the wedding, not the honeymoon! It’s time to take it out on deck and let the happy couple sort things out for themselves.” This announcement was greeted with good-natured jeers and bawdy jests, but in short order the celebrations had moved down to the lower deck, and Gabriel and Sarah finally found themselves alone.
Gabriel moved to bar the door before turning to face her. She sat cross-legged on the bed, in her breeches and his big shirt, a crown of flowers perched slightly askew atop her head. His heart ached at the sight of her. There was nothing more precious to him in all the world. “I would see you in nothing but my shirt, Madame Wife, if you would be so kind.”
She leaned back on her elbows, shimmying her hips, hooking the band of her breeches with her thumbs, and tugging as she slid them to her knees. Sitting up, she peeled them slowly down her calves to her ankles, and then, with a little shake of her leg, she hooked them with her toes and tossed them carelessly to the floor.
He watched her, mesmerized.
“Like so, husband?” she inquired, leaning back on her elbows again, her splendid legs slightly splayed, her look, pure seduction.
“Exactly so, wife,” he managed hoarsely, aching all over at the sight of her, his entire being vibrating with carnal excitement. Her fingers twisted and played with the fringes of his shirt, her shirt, their shirt—raising it slowly up her thighs, revealing wonderful mysteries. His eyes flared, igniting with pleasure, darkening with passion. He stalked her now, his lips thick and burning, wanting her kisses. His fingertips tingled with the urge to touch her. His arms ached to hold her. His woman. His wife.
Stretching her body with a voluptuous feline grace, she flashed him a wicked grin. He pounced on her, growling, trapping her easily beneath him, his muscular arms keeping him from crushing her. Engulfing her, he claimed her lips in a long, searing, kiss. “I love you,” he said into her ear, his voice husky with emotion. “I may yet go mad, for love of you.”
The tenderness in his eyes and voice took her breath away.
“Sarah, I never dreamed … I never dared hope … when I met you, I couldn’t have imagined you’d ever be mine, but I wanted you from that very first day. I was barely surviving. When you came, my life began. I love you with every part of me, my heart and my mind, my body and my soul, and I thank you with all my heart, for giving me your love and giving me a life.”
He reached up to draw the floral crown from her head, watching as her chestnut curls tumbled and cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in a riotous stream, combing his fingers through it and trapping one long tendril to draw to his lips. His fingers found her chin and eased her mouth to his. He breathed into her, drawing his lips over hers, again and again, touching and teasing, implo
ring her to open.
“Oh, Gabe,” she moaned, hot and dizzy from his kisses, “I was so afraid I’d lose you. When you left without saying good-bye … I—”
“I know, mignonne. I’m so sorry.”
“No, don’t be. You’re here now. I only meant … I felt as if I’d lost a part of myself. I felt sick and empty inside. I’m so glad you came back! I can hardly believe you did this for me. You’re the sweetest man alive, Gabriel. I adore you! I will love you until the day I die, and I am so happy and relieved that we’re actually married.”
“It made you feel better, mignonne, yes?” he said with a happy grin. “I thought it would.”
“Oh, yes, my love, much better. Now you’re mine, and I won’t let anything take you away from me.”
He slid a leg over hers, and then she was under him, her hair spilling across the pillow, shimmering in the candlelight. She nuzzled him through his open shirt, her hands sliding sensuously up and down his arms as she kissed his powerful chest, his throat, and then his wicked luscious lips. Lying there wrapped in his strength, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations as his lips brushed her hair, her cheeks, her ear, and he placed feathery kisses against her upturned nose and jaw. The soft linen of his shirt was warm from his flesh, soft against her cheek, and she gave a soft cry of protest when he withdrew to pull it off, subsiding when he returned, hot and silky smooth, to her arms. She’d always loved touching him, and now she indulged herself, letting her hands roam his sleek, sculpted form, feeling the taut muscle of it, the strength. She caressed the warm skin of his back, feeling the faint ridges of scar tissue, feeling his muscles flex under her touch. She pulled him closer, so her aching breasts pressed tight against his solid chest, and his hard-muscled thigh lay firm and heavy between the heated juncture of hers.
His generous hands explored her slender rib cage and the swell of her breasts, caressing her through the fabric of her shirt, sending frissons of delight wherever they alighted, rubbing and stroking, sliding and petting. He thrust against her, growling deep in his throat, and she moaned and arched her back, shifting her hips and digging her heels into the mattress, grinding against him as she tried to relieve the aching longing between her legs.
He slid his hand under her shirt, grazing her naked skin with his fingertips, teasing her nipples with clever fingers as he continued his fevered kisses, stifling her moans of pleasure with his mouth as she squirmed and strained against him. Lowering his head, he rasped her peak with his wet, sinuous tongue, making her cry out with pleasure. Cupping her breasts with both hands, he moved from one to the other, suckling their ridged tips through the wet material as she groaned in bliss, her hungry cries of passion muted by the distant sounds of music and laughter from the deck below.
“More, please … Gabe, more … harder.” She pushed against him, wanting more, and he obliged her. Pushing aside her shirt, he tugged at her with his teeth, sucking and stroking with lips and tongue as he moved his hand to play gently with her soft curls, separating her nether lips with his fingers, stroking back and forth in a teasing motion, as pleasure and delight coiled and spread within her. Rocking and moaning with need, she pushed against his hand, reaching for his hips, desperate for release.
“Soon, mignonne,” he promised huskily, running his hand up and down her legs. He nudged them gently apart, kissing the inside of her thighs, then bent his head to tickle her silky heat with his tongue.
“Gabriel, please, love … you’re killing me,” she moaned, clutching at his shoulders.
“But it’s such a sweet way to die, my love,” he murmured, looking up at her, his eyes smoky with passion and desire. He parted her with his tongue and began hungrily kissing her core. Frantic, aching, raging with desire, she tugged and pulled against his head, making primitive sounds of surrender, urging him on until she was drowning in hot, rolling waves of ecstasy, drowning in love, crying out his name.
Drawing himself up her length, he captured her lips with his own. “Je t’aime, mignonne. Je t’adore. I love you so much, Sarah.”
“Oh, God! I love you, too, Gabe.” She wrapped her arms around him, shifting her weight, spreading her legs to accommodate him. “Come, love. Come to me.”
Feeling near to bursting, raw with wanting, he gritted his teeth, telling himself to be gentle with her. As he slowly eased into her, she clamped her legs around his hips and pulled him deeper, closing around him, encompassing him as their bodies joined, on fire for each other. Lifting her, he claimed her as his own, his love, his life, his wife, thrusting deep within her as she raked her nails across his back.
Their groans and cries echoed wildly about the cabin as they consumed one another, ecstatic, eager, and unrestrained. It was rapture when her tight hot muscles began to contract around him, tightening and clenching, spurring him to his own blissful release. His head snapped back and a deep growl tore from his throat as his hot seed spilled into her body. Breathless, unable to speak, their bodies slick with sweat, they lay tangled together amongst the disordered bedclothes. They had so little time, neither of them wanted to waste it, but nature demanded her due, and exhausted, cuddled together, they drifted helplessly to sleep.
Sarah woke halfway through the night. The ship had quieted and Gabriel’s warm body was wrapped around her, holding her at waist and thigh, his chest moving rhythmically at her back. She turned on her side to look at him, resting her head on the inside of her arm. He was a magnificent lover, this husband of hers. He looked so boyish and vulnerable that her heart squeezed with pain. He moaned, anxious in his sleep, muttering under his breath; another dream, and she did what she’d done so many times before. She cradled him in her arms and drew him down to rest, one last time, before he left. She didn’t know why she was crying, or why such joy should bring such pain.
Davey came for them well before dawn. “It’s time, children. Two of the lads will row you to the beach, and there you must say your good-byes.”
“Thank you, Davey, for everything. You will take care of him? You’ll bring him back to me?”
“Aye, cousin, I’ll do my best. Make haste now, Gabriel. We sail with the tide.”
The wind had risen, and the boat rose and fell on the waves as he cradled her in his lap, holding her close against the chill that permeated the air and both their hearts. They had nothing they wished to say in front of others, and they made the trip to the beach in silence, hands clasped tightly together. He insisted on accompanying her up the path to the foot of the great old tree, not knowing how to say good-bye. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his mouth, his breath warming her fingers as he kissed each one in turn. His eyes held hers, bright with love and tenderness. “Please don’t cry, mignonne,” he murmured, drawing her close. “I can’t bear it when you do.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, putting her hands around his waist and pressing her cheek into his shoulder. “It’s not like me at all.”
“Indeed, it’s not,” he said, laughter rumbling in his chest. Burrowing his head against her neck, he took in her scent, and kissed away her tears. “I will always love you, Sarah. I’ll write you every day, and I will come back to you as soon as I’m able. I’m your husband now, and you’re my wife, and no one can keep us apart. You believe me, do you not?”
“Yes, my love. I believe you.” She threw her arms around his neck and plundered his mouth in a hungry, soul-searing kiss. “You will miss me terribly.”
“Yes, mignonne, I will. I’m not sure how I’ll survive without you.”
“My thoughts will be with you all the time, Gabriel. I’ll think of you every night. Pick a star and show it to me, and when you look at it, you’ll know I’m looking at it, too.”
Delighted with the idea, he lifted her off the ground and twirled her around. Setting her down, he pointed to a lambent glow flickering low on the horizon. “That one, Sarah.”
“That is Venus.”
“The planet of love, yes. She will help us spend some time together, chère. Watch h
er when she’s risen in the sky, and know that I’m watching her, too, thinking of you, loving you, and trying to get home to you.”
She smiled. “And what if the sky is clouded over?”
“Then I’ll come to you in your dreams.” Pulling her close, he enfolded her in his arms, hugging her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “I have to go now, wife. Know that I love you and I live to be back in your arms, and when I return we shall marry in front your family and the whole damned world, and nothing will ever part us again.” Helping her up into the branches of the oak, he waited until she was safe on the balcony before waving good-bye. He was gone an instant later, knowing the men would be anxious, and Davey, fretting to leave.
Sarah watched his tall form as he loped down the path. She’d lain down to sleep, drowning in sorrow, and he had come in wonderful surprise, with his sweet smile and generous heart, taking away her pain, warming her in his arms, and making her his wife. He loved her, and she was certain now that he intended to return. It was enough. It would have to be.
CHAPTER
22
Two years earlier, Napoleon Bonaparte had amassed a huge force in the Mediterranean port of Toulon, sending shivers throughout Europe and the Ottoman Empire. England, Spain, Sicily, and Portugal, all potential targets, had breathed a sigh of relief when he had turned his attention to the east, setting the French flag over the pyramids of Egypt. Days later, the battleships that accompanied his transport fleet were caught at anchor by the British at Aboukir Bay, and all but two of them were lost in the Battle of the Nile. The Egyptian debacle had given the British strategic control of the Mediterranean, and handed Napoleon his first defeat, leaving his troops stranded, cut off by sea from rescue or reinforcement.
French merchant ships still darted in and out, eager to reap profits, their country greedy for plunder and wonders from the Orient and the Middle East, but they were no longer well protected. It was a circumstance that presented interesting opportunities for men of skill and daring. With the right ship and crew, there was a fortune to be made. Davey was of indifferent, somewhat opportunistic, nationality, and he’d held letters of marquee at different times, from various nations. His family had been harassed and evicted from France in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries on religious grounds; and he gave a nominal nod to Protestant England, which had been one of the first nations to shelter his Huguenot forbears. For that reason, out of deference to Ross’s sensibilities, and in the interest of having a safe port of call, he’d always avoided preying on British ships. It was his intention now to prey on French and Spanish ones, reaping the harvest sown by failed ambition and rampant greed.