“I apologize. Rum is the local drink.” He laughed. “I can find some wine—”
“No, truly. It tastes…” Her thoughts escaped her and her cheeks burned at the embarrassment of being lost in a sentence. “Exquisite. I’m sure I can adapt.”
The pirate nodded and took another gulp of his drink.
She needed to stop staring at him so she downed another sip and dug her toes into the sand. “I think you have ruined me.”
A chuckle was his answer but after a minute, he softly added, “And how would that be? A kiss does not make you wanton.”
“But doesn’t it, in a manner speaking?” She squirmed a little under his gaze but couldn’t stop the rest of the words from falling out. “A lady, one with an injury, mind you, falls into your hands for protection yet you are hardly the type to do so, being a privateer who jumps into piracy. Meaning your loyalty and honor are questionable, considering the Crown gave you a letter of marque?” She gave him a slanted questioning look. He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. “As I was saying, then you find yourself with a bad ‘charm’ aboard—a burden you stated no pirate would want. But you keep me when I exposed your men who were dishonorable to you. And me, with no memory I can recall correctly, I do not wear pants, walk barefoot, play in the sand with my toes and drink hard liquor.”
“The fact that at this moment you do, does that make you unhappy?”
“No,” she whispered. Her stomach flipped. This man made her crave for more, but what exactly that was, she feared to find out. The pull to him had grown and she hadn’t decided if that was good or bad.
The silence threatened to overwhelm her. He had downed his cup and proceeded to refill it. She gulped the rest of hers and shuddered as the liquor burned a trail down to her stomach.
He raised his eyebrow. “More? I doubt you’ll find that at any etiquette school, guzzling rum.”
Her thoughts circled. Perhaps he was right but… “Yet, until I recall such an upbringing, I will indulge in one more.” Retrieving her filled mug, she paused to look at him. “What of you? Are you not happy? And why would you turn on the English boats when the French are our enemy?”
* * *
Her question he should have expected but he wasn’t ready for it now.
The island sat just off the Mediterranean Sea, near North Africa. Its beauty had always captured his heart, after a grueling drive by his commander years ago when he was an officer in the HMS Navy. It was a time he had little fond memories of and one he abandoned as soon as his commission could be expired. Then, Rachel had changed his life and once more, he thought of this place. Even now, her ghost nudged him gently. He ignored it and refocused.
“I have my reasons.” There, that was a simple enough answer. But the quizzical look on her face indicated otherwise. He couldn’t help but drink in her beauty. Her hair glowed in the sunlight, her skin had a lovely sun-kissed hue from the voyage. Those stunning sapphire blue eyes danced, no doubt heated by the rum. Elle was like the treasure he always wanted but held just out of reach…That thought hit his gut and he wondered what had happened to him, to fall so easily for another when Rachel’s death still needed to be atoned.
Yet, Elle was here and alive, beauty and attraction wrapped tightly in that perfect, petite form. His cock stirred and he shifted, uncomfortable for once with the lost lady who had no memory and had done nothing to lure him into her arms, but that was what he wanted. Mentally, he cussed.
“Mr. Fitzgibbons told me you lost your wife.” She played with her bottom lip. He was furious at his first mate for speaking a word about Rachel and yet had an irresistible urge to kiss that beleaguered lip.
His member throbbed. He downed the rest of the rum in an attempt to drown the desire.
“Yes, I am a widower, thanks to pirates driven by higher stakes.” There, he said it out loud.
Handing her cup to him to refill as he poured another for himself, she asked softly, “What happened, may I ask?”
He took another shot of the liquor, enjoying the spice and the burn. That heat spread throughout his body, unfortunately also accenting his hardened cock further. But he enjoyed the moment of relaxation without a care, when he knew better. Sitting on the beach, in the sunlight, the echo of the waves and seagulls filling the air and her beauty made him complete.
He blinked hard at the thought. There was still the vengeance that needed to be delivered. Staring out to the sea, he allowed the visions of Rachel, the ones he worked furiously to hide, filter back into his head. Her laughter reached out to him from the grave and that mere sound brought him back to the present.
“She was traveling to Rome, to where her parents resided. It was a trip she was familiar with, having made it other times, even during this conflict. The French have retained some of the courtesies of war, allowing passenger and merchant ships to pass unscathed.” He forced his taut muscles to relax as he settled into the sand better. “But the one who lacked such manners flew the black and attacked, taking nothing more than live cargo of Rachel, my wife. Truly, it was odd. The luggage was left alone, the stores on the ship barely touched. All left as is. Except for her. They took her.”
Elle’s mouth dropped open but she remained silent, her attention on him alone.
With a deep breath, he continued. “There was no ransom, no demand for her return, just a jest of a note claiming she was with her rightful mate. Of course, I searched high and low. No word. So I found a ship, and since no one would let me commandeer their vessel for such, what they considered, ‘outlandish ventures’, I bought my own and scurried a crew out of docks. Not the type one would look for, but I didn’t care. I needed to find her.” He choked on the memory of the search, unable to talk. Memories of Rachel flooded his thoughts and the pit in his stomach grew, erasing his erection.
He made the mistake of looking into her eyes and found them awash in unshed tears. Her sympathy took his breath away.
With a deep breath, he continued. “It didn’t take long for the news to find me.” He paused, his heart squeezed at the memory. “She was found dead.” His own eyes blurred when Elle’s hand gripped his forearm.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “How awful. Why?”
He looked at her. The connection with her steadied him. With his free hand, he downed the rest of his drink.
“I do not know.” He was still trying to understand what made no sense.
A tear fell down her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
It hit him, hard, in his gut. The pain. The anguish. Rachel. The loss of his love ripped at his gut, wanting to make him yell at the skies and to a God he doubted existed any more.
A cold, sobering cloak fell over him. “So now you know. That is what I’ve set out to find. Not gold, not riches, but the culprit for this crime. And I will make him pay!”
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Fourteen
Elle’s heart bled for him. What he told her was heartbreaking, to the point far beyond what the first mate hinted at. The need to comfort him pushed her forward to feel him, even if it was only her hand on his arm. Under her palm, his arm tensed and shuddered. His anger, frustration and despair reflected in his veiled eyes. But there was something about him, something that drew her closer, something she couldn’t name and avoiding it was impossible.
So she tried the best she could to reach the man inside him, the one that, despite all the “misfortune” a lady brought to a ship and the threats the crew mumbled, protected her and kept her safe. She squeezed his arm, offering her sympathy and support.
He glanced at her.
“Did you bring her to this place?” It was a tentative question, a chance to find a tunnel out of his darkness. A darkness she’d witnessed on the last ship they violently attacked.
He gave her a half smile with a snort, as if grasping at her offer. “No.”
It turned quiet between them, as if they were under the cloud of doom. He’d not make her grieve for a woman she didn’t know. Suddenly, he sat straighter and poured another
round. She couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth of the rum uncurling the tension inside her. Whatever produced it had the effect she’d hoped to get by any means—he chuckled, the dark cloud disappearing as he handed her cup back with a lopsided grin.
“I’d suggest you watch yourself,” he warned. “’tis poison to those unaware.”
“Poison? Rum?”
“Yes ma’am. Wait until morning to see.”
She tilted her head at him. “How long are we here? To what purpose? What lays next?”
He leaned back in the sand, propped on his elbows. “My, are we not full of questions. I’m not sure I feel like discussing them.”
Digging her toes into the sand, she wiggled them. This simple act opened a new sensation to her, the feel of the damp sand combined with the dry coat of the service. It drifted through the digits, gritted but silky. She kicked a small lump up, her lips curved in a halfway smile despite his lower mood.
“So for now, it is just us?” She shot him a sly glance. “You will be a gentleman.”
He gave her a shake of his head but his look was roguish. “I’m a pirate.” He winked. “A gentleman I am not.”The rakish grin caused her to want his kiss. He was way too attractive, every move he made was like a god of the Ancient World, all muscles and fluid motion. Sitting within arm’s reach of her made her nervous and excited. A bolt of energy rushed through her and she jumped upright, taking off in a run to the beach, laughter pouring from her. He made her feel alive and she loved it!
When she reached the water’s edge, her toes dug into the wet sandy ocean bottom, the waves rolling in, the tiny shells and debris in the water abrading her feet and ankles. It was a sensation that invaded her, letting an inner self rejoice at the freedom she felt. The sunlight bathed her face, the sea breeze hugged her, and an inner liberty erupted, laughter announcing its arrival. She knew the pirate captain chased her and the glimpse she caught of him doing so, a smile on his face, made her soul soar.
She loped through the low water, her toes and heels hitting bumps on the sandy floor, small enough she ignored them as she plowed on, giggling. Then she hit a hard object, making her lose her balance but before she fell into the water, his strong, muscular arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her up. When her backside hit his rock hard chest, she gasped, the air escaping her lungs.
“Wait, my lady, let me,” he whispered in her ear. His lips kissed the nape of her neck, just below that ear, sending shivers sparkling down her spine.
She could barely breathe, trembling in his arms. As he traced down her neckline then back up, her toes curled in the sand. Every part of her came alive, her nerves ricocheted down her limbs and reaching out to her nipples, which hardened to pebbles instantly. The linen blouse scratched her delicate hot spots. When he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, scraping it lightly with his teeth, a mewl escaped her lips.
It was like he could read her mind, her body’s call for more was loud to her own ears. He turned her in his arms and locked his lips to hers, coaxing her mouth to part and letting his tongue invade. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and with her pelvis flush against his, the cradle of her groin wrapped around his hardened cock. Her lower lips were swollen and parted, as if knowing this was next. She had no recall of that but her body did, slowly rocking against him.
He moaned in her mouth as his tongue teased hers. She reveled in that when he suddenly pulled away and untucked her shirt, raised it to expose one of her breasts. The breeze of the ocean kissed her skin, making the already sensitive area go one step further and she wanted to scream for more. But she didn’t have to ask before he answered her, taking her swollen nub into his mouth, his teeth grazing against her delicate skin. The feeling of it was a new height of ecstasy for her. She threw her head back and moaned loudly.
He chuckled against her nipple, the response sent a rippling sensation against her. He would undo her here, in the ocean front, at an island full of sailors. It was that notion that brought her back to her senses, and she struggled to find a way to stop him, a success done only after curbing her appetite, something she wasn’t sure she had the strength to do.
“Stop! Please,” she moaned. Or was it a groan? She didn’t want him to stop but propriety told her this wanton behavior was not acceptable in public places—not that she thought this was inhabited or that the crew was close. It wasn’t right. A small voice deep inside her screamed for her to stop, the sound drowned by the pounding of her heart.
Slowly, he gently pulled back, his breathing harsh and heavy. He looked into her eyes and she saw the darkness of hunger there, a type she bet matched her own.
“Apologies.” His voice was rough. He tried to fix her shirt but his fingers fumbled with the material.
Still heated from inside, blood raced through her veins, she gave him a half smile and put her hands over his.
“Apologies are not needed. I am as guilty as you, throwing our selves over to passion.” She cupped his face in her hands. The stubble of a distant shave scraped her palms. “You have yet to mourn properly. And me…” What of her? She searched again for a spark, a hint of her life prior to now but, again, her mind had a wall she couldn’t climb. “I doubt I’m a soiled dove, given to desires. It’s simply not done, not in the ton, nor here, the public display of intimate touch. Please forgive my wanton behavior.”
He took her hands, gloved them with his own. “All is as it should be. You are a beautiful woman, Elle, the type that will turn a man’s head, desires not long behind. Do not blame yourself. We shall continue, as if this never happened.” He kissed the knuckles of one of her hands as he peeled it off his jawline.
She wasn’t sure how happy she was with that statement yet when she gave him another glance, she was greeted with a warm smile and a twinkle in his eye. Oh, Cavendish was the type of man all women wanted but to give into him brought trouble indeed. Yet, the smile calmed her nerves and she returned it.
“Rum will take of the best of many a man,” he continued, taking her by surprise and scooping her up in his arms as he walked back to the beach.
She didn’t say a word but allowed herself the luxury of being in his arms, knowing that was as far as she could allow him to go. Deep down, a battle raged. She wanted him, her desires remained warm to her but that inner tongue struggled to be heard that she had no rights to this. If only she could figure out why…
* * *
James stood, his feet slightly spread to keep him steady as the ship rode on the currents of the sea heading west, having left London five days ago. He was on the upper deck, not far from the captain of this ship called the Odyssey, planted himself at a table, securing the maps with weights to prevent the wind whisking them away The captain plotted on the paper and yelled orders to his crew. James tuned the man out, no longer hearing his broken tongue as if the captain was going through puberty. Perhaps he was, James considered. When he hired this boy to captain this ship he’d ‘borrowed’ from Lydia for a trip, he didn’t ask for age, but for experience. Whatever in blazes was his name? It’d come later, he mused. There was only one goal to be met and James would push them until they reached it—find Eleanor and find her fast. His hands fisted at his side, his gaze rarely leaving the skyline before them.
“I take it you think you can magically produce the West Indies on the horizon by staring hard enough at it, huh?”
James inhaled deeply, forcing his jaw to untighten. “No, just the waiting is slowly eating at me.” He turned.
Clearwater had joined him for this journey, claiming he wanted to be there first hand when they seized the scoundrel who stole the lovely Eleanor. James appreciated his friend’s companionship though he didn’t understand why the man came. He needed to find a wife of his own and the Season was in full swing. Clearwater laughed it off, claiming he had a lady in mind, one he was sure would take his offer into full acceptance upon hearing of his heroic aid to the dashing Earl of Windhaven. James scowled at him using his urgency as a jest to height
en his friend but he’d deal with that later, after he found his wife.
“I’m sure Lady Lydia would be more than happy to distract you, if you feel too overwhelmed.” Clearwater couldn’t help but chuckle.
James tightened. “No.”
He had dragged Lydia with him to find Eleanor. After that night at her townhouse in London, he knew she was involved somehow. While she didn’t have the power, money, or connections to actually plan this abduction, she had other methods. The fact that during their overly heated debate, she tried to seduce him to throw him off the mark only infuriated him more. And when she was rejected, she sputtered, “He said he wouldn’t harm her!”
It took James a minute or two for that information to seep into his troubled mind. The master behind this elaborate abduction required information in exchange for promises. While he didn’t know what Lydia’s portion was to be, she was implicated enough to be here, with him, and sailing West.
Clearwater wiped his forehead with his cuff, dampening the already stained ruffled material, the lace edge the darkest area of all.
“Hotter than hell,” he muttered. “Wish for us to make it to the islands Godspeed, too.”
James stifled a chuckle. It would do no good to tease the man since he still dressed as if in London and not the seas heading southwest. He, on the other hand, had adapted to the change in dress, wearing nothing more than his linen shirt loosely tucked into trousers, minus the waistcoat, and left his linen jacket in his cabin. It was warm but the ocean breeze drifted through his shirt and cooled him. The fact that it was a simple shirt, not the fancy ruffled lace cuff concoction Clearwater adorned, helped as well. He rolled his sleeves to get down to business of the ship’s route and all signs he hoped he could find of Eleanor.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 12