But to keep her here would be the death of him. That he was sure. His cock twitched reminding him so. Revenge and seduction made lousy bedmates. Hell!
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Nine
Elle heard the commands being shouted across the deck and the scurrying of bare feet as the pirates jumped to life, quickly dropping their chores to manning the rigging, turning the direction of the sails that billowed under the sea’s wind thus changing the direction of the ship. She found nothing on the new horizon that she could see to spur such excitement. Frankly, she’d been lost in her own thoughts, trying to organize the visions that plopped into her mind and vanished before she could grasp them. These had images of her past trying to break through the maze in her muddled thoughts and when she thought she had one, the throbbing in her temple made her wince and abandon the pursuit. The ship’s surgeon had told her to relax and her memory would return when her injuries healed, she just had no idea part of those injuries included her mind.
Being outside, facing the sea and inhaling the fresh salt air soothed her and she found herself here probably more than Cavendish wanted. She tried to make herself not a nuisance and out of the reach of the pirates but often caught a glimpse of them eyeing her. He, himself, was often among them, but his gaze was heated, igniting fires in areas he shouldn’t be able to. Her nipples tingled, her nerves twitched, and the core of her was like lava.
At times, the want for him drove her mad.
Last night, as the sun set, he brought her dinner. He set it on the table without a word to her and left the cabin, slamming the door behind him. All his actions pointed to the fact he was furious, as if she’d done something wrong. It infuriated her for she did not mean to end up on this ship. She had no idea it was a pirate ship nor that it was leaving the docks, all she knew was it was an avenue to escape those monsters chasing her and she took it without a second thought. That memory was perfectly clear to her, for those creatures still pursued her whenever she closed her eyes.
The captain never returned last night, or not that she could tell. She ate little, her stomach flipping at the mere idea that she was in his cabin, though from what she gathered, Cavendish was in the only cabin. The rest of the crew shared the rest—not the ideal situation for her at all. A shiver went down her spine with the thought that since she was with him and how the rest were out, the indication was clear. She was the captain’s woman and under his protection. Somehow that meant more than what happened here, between them. Her thoughts mangled with the idea and the confusion that still flooded her mind. Sleep. She needed sleep. So she grabbed the woolen blanket off the cot, wrapped herself in it and curled at the foot of the bed, trying to sleep. But anytime she started to dream, the nightmare of her past sprung ghosts that scared her awake.
Now, as the ship swung on the waves in a new direction, her nerves bolted. Was he attacking another ship she couldn’t yet see? Or was he taking them far away and she’d never be free? Her head hurt from the dilemma, for she could not see a way for her at all here or on land. Her breathing stuttered and her heart pounded hard. So hard that it made breathing almost impossible. What was she to do?
Refocusing on the water to calm her fraying nerves, she didn’t hear him approach and jumped when he spoke.
“I need you to return to the cabin, my dear.”
“You planning another raid?” The words spilled from her mouth fast before she realized it.
He snorted, giving her a lopsided grin. It was a cocky smile that took her breath away. “Perhaps. And if that’s the circumstance, I fear for your safety. You’d be considered a prize, as the case may be.” He shrugged.
Now she was confused. “You fancy me a trophy?”
“You are pretty enough to say yes. And on the seas, in a world of men, a lady of your stature is like Helen of Troy—enough beauty for men to fight for. So I beg for your future and for that of my ship, you retire to my cabin.”
“A cabin you abandon for me?” Why was she testing him? Not even she could figure that out except the fire inside her ignited. She wanted him to kiss her.
“For your safety, again, it is better to be there than anywhere else. My men will leave you be if you are under my care. Without it, you would see the darker side of man, one ruled by carnal pleasures of the type you would not wish for.”
She swallowed. She’d seen the other pirates, some of which were filthy, some had broken teeth, scars and a stench that if it weren’t for the open air, she’d retch. She nodded but wasn’t happy. The stuffiness of the room would drive her mad.
He offered her his arm. It was a gentlemanly gesture, one that seemed out of place on a pirate ship. But manners she’d been trained dictated her place her hand on it. The whole notion sent a thrill through her, not only of his offering but also the electricity that shot through her as she touched him.
He took her to the cabin. Neither of them said a word. Her gaze was fixed on his. Those gorgeous brown eyes of his, the color of chocolate, seemed heated. She’d give anything to know if he, too, felt the tingle that raced through her.
Once inside, he closed the door with a kick and spun her into his embrace. With a boldness that shocked her, he wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her tight against him. Her breasts smashed against him, his muscled thighs against hers. She couldn’t breathe, but this time, her racing heart wasn’t frantic with fear but with desire.
Still speechless, he bent and his lips claimed hers. His kiss was tame until his tongue darted out, licking against her mouth, begging for entrance. She lost her fear and parted her lips. He growled as his tongue invaded her. It was a kiss that was deep, inviting, dangerously hot and needy. It matched her own and she relished in it.
And as suddenly as he started it, he broke off, setting her back a step. His gaze burned and his chest heaved. Still silent, he turned on his heel and virtually fled from the room.
She gulped for air. Emotions mixed deep inside her. He shouldn’t have kissed her. She wanted him to but didn’t. And from appearances, it seemed that this strong pirate captain must have had thoughts equal to hers, with how quickly he hastened his departure.
What was she going to do? Why did she feel like she just sinned? And why did she want more?
* * *
“Lydia, this is an unexpected surprise.” A very unwanted surprise. James shouldn’t have been that unaware. The woman wasn’t pleased to have their relationship ended but when he married Eleanor, all dalliances came to a halt. The last time he saw Lydia, she had stormed out, furious at him.
“She’ll never love you like I do, James Haddington. Never!”
The words echoed down the hallway as her heels clipped on the wood floors. All his servants disappeared as they moved out of her path.
Now that Eleanor was gone, Lydia returned. He shook his head.
She smiled at him in a coquette’s way. “I came to give comfort and ease your pain at your loss.”
“I haven’t lost anything, Lydia.”
Her smile broadened and she shifted, her shoulders straightened, as if she was the queen. “Viscount of Clearwater states otherwise. And I know you, hiding your pain. I just wanted to make you smile.”
Lydia St. Martin, the third daughter of the aging Viscount Attlewood, simply was a girl easily left by her family with too much freedom. Being the middle daughter, her ability to blend in left her too much liberties to mischief. He’d met her at a soiree two years ago, one that had quickly dissolved into a party of too much liquor and closed doors. The type very few available ladies had attended and most of them were absent when the bubbly increased and the clothes decreased. She stood to the side, as if a statue, watching. And he, himself, too many drinks to be held accountable, struck up conversation with her.
The rest, he cared to forget. She was pretty, her long dark hair soft, her dark eyes inviting, and her body way too available for him to ignore. They were lovers, one he hadn’t regretted at the time. After all, she wasn’t a virgin and promised to a shipping
heir of the gentry elite, an overweight vermin by all accounts. So when he informed her their relationship was over, James was greeted with an onslaught of emotions from her— disbelief, tears, and finally anger. How could he think to end it with her? They’d both be able to continue, despite their marital status. And how could he throw her love away?
“Just how did you gain entrance?” He inched his eyebrows up, indicating he meant entrance to more than just the house.
She smiled and slid from the bed. Thankfully, her dressing gown covered her well, though it didn’t hide how her nipples had hardened. He gritted his teeth, his shoulders locked and he fisted his hands. Lydia was way too seductive and she knew it. She took a step closer to him. He refused to move when her right hand raised to his face, her fingers smoothing his forehead.
“Worry lines do not become you.” The softly spoken remark tried to touch a sympathy cord to him, and failed.
He spun and stepped toward the sideboard, pouring himself a brandy. “Where is your husband, my dear? Mr. Wattsmore too detained to notice your absence?”
Her lips curled in disdain. “No, actually he’s aboard his ship, matters of importance, or so he uttered, in the colonies. He sailed for the West Indies last week.”
He could hear the fabric of her gown, a gossamer piece, filmy and voluminous, rustle behind him.
“He is practicing to be a woeful husband. I need a man to fill his lack of priority,” she whispered, a mew at the end.
He downed the liquor in one swallow, battling memories of her body that her close stance, almost pressing against him, came crashing in. She was a delectable woman, but despite the base desires he had held for her once, Lydia was not Eleanor and could never reach the love he held for his wife—a grip so strong it was like a buoy during a violent sea tempest.
“My dear, what you need is to remember your marriage vows and how you swore you’d love, honor and obey your husband—”
“Him? Eugene is not a member of the ton, nor will he ever gain that position.” She huffed in disgust and paced the floor. James silently prayed thanks for the separation. “Besides,” she continued. “How can it be dishonor when he is not of our class? It most definitely allows me—”
“Lydia, it is beneath you, you as a lady, to be here.” He eyed her carefully. The lover he had known had turned bitter in her marriage. That could be dangerous.
She stopped and looked at him. “It is considered virtually a given for noblemen to have their courtesans or mistresses, to frequent the whoring houses. In fact, sympathy reigns high if his is a forced marriage or one so poorly mated. But for me? I’m simply to stay at the house and be solitary?”
It was true. For ladies, there was no recourse to take against a husband’s infidelity. A loveless marriage marred many households. “Unfortunately, yes. You are meant to enhance your husband’s position and maintain the look of a proper lady. Crawling into another man’s bed? No.”
Lydia stood quietly. The flowing dressing gown would give her the angelic appearance she longed for but the quiver in her lip drew the adoration away. If she turned to tears, he’d be doomed because he couldn’t kick her out in that state. Biting back his frustration, he went to her, gripping her upper arms, wondering if he should shake understanding into her head. Probably doubtful, so he simply held her steady as her eyes watered.
But before a single tear spilled, she swallowed hard and the smile returned. It was a grin that did not reach her eyes. Squaring her shoulders, she shook his hands away.
“You should not be angry with me. Albert only told me you were getting frantic, irritable and irrational. He muttered a distraction might take the worry off your shoulders, so you could think more clearly.” She shrugged, but the smile remained.
Of course, she figured a quick twirl in the sheets would distract him. With her? The distraction would not turn out like she wanted. If nothing else, if she’d climbed into his bed without his knowledge, the results would be devastating.
“Go home, Lydia. Have a child or three. Let that be your distraction and a way to prevent your appearance in this room again.”
Her grin turned lopsided as she reached for her clothes off the side chair. “I won’t plead for you to reconsider nor to leave this room so I can change. But I will tell you this, if your wife perishes during this separation, the vultures will not bat an eye at my presence and you may need it to help you recover from your loss. And then, you’ll regret admonishing me so easily.”
Within two steps, she was before him. She stood on her toes and gave him peck on his lips before she grabbed her clothes and shoes and left.
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Ten
Sitting on the bannister, her back to the railing, she let her feet dangle. It was strange to feel the planking under her soles. In the early morning, the warming boards were soothing, but by late afternoon, the surface burned. The pain probably was more keenly felt by her than the others as they had callused feet. But her heels, toes, and soles were soft to the touch, nary a callus in sight. Apparently “ladies” always wore slippers and if they were anything like the pair she had, well, no physical labor would ever get done. Why would a lady do so if it meant destroying her shoes?
She also had to get comfortable in trousers—something she had never worn, that she was sure of. But the twill was course and rubbed on her inner thighs, causing a rash. And her blouse, or shirt, was cotton, not the soft material like her tattered gown. The fabric didn’t touch her skin as much as she still wore her corset. To go without, that was downright uncomfortable and allowed that fabric to scrape against her smooth, soft body. She sighed. She’d adjust because she had no choice.
The sun poured down from the heavens, glistening off the ocean around them. She shoved the battered hat further down her head to give her shade plus it held the bulk of her hair, all wound up loosely, off her neck. She bit back a groan. What she wouldn’t give for a fan.
“You be bakin’ out here, missy.”
She glanced up with a grin spreading across her face. Fitzgibbons. The Irishman met her with a cherubic smile of his own. He had been the only one truly kind to her. Standing a good head taller than her, even a touch taller than the captain, his rusty hair was sprinkled in grey, his face and hands were leathery from the sun exposure. Dark brown eyes held amusement even now as he glanced down at her.
“I’ll be fine.” She scooted for him to sit next to her but he didn’t. “I must again thank you for the hat. It’s done wonders.”
He chuckled. “Just an old thing rummaging around. Plus it helps block the sun from your pretty face. Though, I suspect you’re feelin’ a touch heated.”
She laughed. “I do believe you’re correct.” With a quick glance at hands and feet, she peered up at him. “And I think I’m a bit pinked from the sun.”
“Aye, lassie, that you are.” He reached into the bag he had and pulled a jar from it. “An ointment, secured from Doc, tha’ make the burn ease.”
She took the jar and pulled the large round cork top out. The substance was yellowish and creamy, like a pudding. Puzzled, she took a sniff and a fragrant aroma filled her nostrils. “Honey?”
“Aye, a wee ole concoction, from one of the isles.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “It also helps wee parched lips as well.” He winked.
“Sir, I do believe you be flattering me.”
He shot her a look of surprise but she knew he wasn’t.
“Oh, really? Is tha’ such a bad thing?”
She reached out and touched his hand. “No, it isn’t. I thank you. Your presence makes me feel a little safer.”
“Och, what hav’ ye to fear here?”
She swallowed. “The captain for one. He makes it plainly clear I am nothing more than a trifle, an inconvenience that he’d just assume rid himself of.”
“Oh, lass, don’t worry about the boy, uh, the captain, so badly. He’s faced hard times, with his woman taken against her will and nothin’ could be done.” He shrugged, his gaze fu
ll of sympathy.
“She was taken? Is she still missing?” That’d explain the man’s anger toward her. She had escaped her situation, which the vague hints in her mind told her wasn’t necessarily good. But the captain had a wife? And someone took her?
Fitzgibbons shifted, his head tilted toward the upper deck. “Ach, he found the lass. Dead by the hands of man too crafty ta be caught.”
Elle bit her bottom lip, her brow creased as she thought about this. “What a sad story. Is that what drove him to piracy? Or was he already pirate? If so, is that what brought this? Revenge for a raid? And if that is the case, what did she think of his life as a thief?”
The Irishman chuckled, his bronzed cheeks turning ruddy red. “Capt’n is right. You do ask many a question.”
She said nothing, only shot him a questioning gaze. Again, he looked at the upper deck, where she saw the captain. Made her wonder if the man was sent to check about her, or more likely, see if she’d regained her memory. She doubted it was truly to share secrets about the handsome rogue who ruled the ship. If nothing else, she couldn’t help be become more intrigued by him. She smiled at the first mate.
* * *
Sending Fitzgibbons to talk to her was a mistake.
Trent’s jaw tightened. He stood on the upper deck, ostensibly, to check the maps and plot the ship’s course. Instead, he found his attention drifted to the lower deck and the girl who had no memory. The one who took over his cabin. The one who stole into his thoughts—and worse. He sighed and redirected his gaze on the ocean before his ship. He should take her back to London, drop her at the docks, or perhaps at Madame’s house. He instantly scratched that thought. A whorehouse for a lady of her beauty would be bad, especially with no memory, for Madame Beauvoir was always on the lookout for new girls. Anyone else, he could not consider as his reputation had sullied since he last donned the clothes of a gentleman.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 8