Cassandra carefully touched her fingers to Penelope’s forehead. Her skin was still hot, but her breathing was calmer. And she was sleeping, which would surely aid her recovery. Locating the bucket Penelope had used that morning, Cassandra glanced into it and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was empty. Perhaps the worst had passed. She could only hope and… She looked around. There wasn’t much she could do right now. Devlin seemed to have things well in hand, so perhaps her best course of action would be to get some sleep as well.
The half hour bell rang, informing her she would soon have to wake again.
With this in mind, she left Devlin and Penelope to their rest and went in search of her own bed. She collapsed on it fully clothed, but rather than finding the sleep she’d expected, her mind was kept busy with thoughts of Devlin.
His goodness went straight to her heart, filling it with warmth and a desperate yearning for all the things she’d denied herself for so long.
She wanted him.
As much as she’d tried to tell herself otherwise, the kiss they’d shared proved it. He’d torn down her every defense and breathed new life into her soul. And it was time – time to consider the future instead of the past, to be the wife Devlin deserved so he could become the husband he wanted to be. It was time to put all her fears behind her and give their marriage a chance.
Inhaling deeply, Cassandra made her decision, and finally slept.
Chapter 12
It was dark when Devlin awoke. He squinted, tried to adjust his eyes. A slim arm was draped across his waist, and he gingerly eased it aside so he could sit. Penelope, bless her heart, still slept as soundly as when she’d first nestled her head against his shoulder. The poor girl had been terribly ill after Cassandra’s departure, casting up her accounts until she collapsed against him, too weak to sit up or even to speak.
He’d briefly considered alerting Cassandra as promised, but then Penelope had drifted off and he’d chosen to wait. Rising, he rearranged the blanket, tucking it more securely around Penelope’s shoulders. His heart thumped hard on account of her suffering, and he leaned forward, driven by instinct, until he brushed his lips across her brow. She was still hot, though perhaps not as much as before. Locating the compress which had most likely slipped from her forehead ages ago, he wet it once more, wrung it, and smoothed it across her skin.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, even though she would not hear him.
After leaving the cabin, he made his way up onto the deck. “What’s the hour?” he asked once he’d located Monty. His friend gripped the wheel, holding it steady while shouting occasional orders to the crew managing the sails.
“It was six at the last bell.” Monty gave Devlin a sidelong look when he swore. “No need to worry about it, aye? We’re still on course, you’re well rested and better prepared to captain this marvelous vessel, and your wife, from what I’ve been hearing, is preparing beef for dinner.”
“Christ almighty.” He felt awful. “I have to go see how she’s doing.” The very idea of her slaving away while he slept made him feel like he’d abandoned his duties. And that was without considering his men. “I’m sorry, Monty. I’ll be back in a bit to take your spot. Lord knows you can probably do with some rest as well.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, now you mention it.” Monty gave him a hard look. “How’s your daughter doing?”
“Better. I think.”
“Glad to hear it. Now go see about your wife.”
Devlin did as he was told and was pleased to discover Cassandra hurrying about the galley, checking the oven and stirring the contents of various pots as if she’d been cooking on a ship her entire life. He approached her quietly, savoring the moment, the fragrant smell of meat roasting combined with various spices, and her – the woman he’d married.
She was the most capable person he’d ever known, managing all these years by herself and even succeeding to help others. While he’d made a convincing argument in order to get her to marry him, he was wise enough to know that she didn’t really need him. But it hadn’t occurred to him until recently how much he wanted her to. Not just physically, but in all aspects of day-to-day life.
With a sigh, he took a few steps closer. “It looks like you’re doing well here.”
She spun toward him, her eyes widening with surprise and then something else. “How’s—”
“She’s sleeping. Peacefully, I might add.” She closed her eyes and blew out a shuddering breath. When she looked at him again, he said, “I believe the worst has passed. Your prayers last night must have worked.”
“My…” She stopped herself and quickly nodded, though not before he noted her frown of confusion.
Odd that.
Dismissing it as inconsequential, Devlin informed her he probably wouldn’t be seeing her again until later. “Monty needs to sleep so I’m hoping to give him a couple of extra hours by giving myself a longer shift.”
“What about food?” She made a sweeping motion with her arms, and his stomach instantly grumbled in response.
“Well, I certainly don’t want to miss the fine meal you’re preparing, so perhaps you can bring a plate up once you’ve checked on Penelope?”
“Of course. I’d be happy to.”
He paused to study her face, or more precisely her features, while doing his best to examine her manner and speech. There was something different about her somehow, something less guarded, more open, not quite so… He wasn’t sure what but he sensed with a fluttering beat of his heart that Cassandra had changed while he’d been asleep. Regrettably, he had no time to determine what, how, or why at that precise moment. Not when they both had jobs to do.
So he merely nodded and walked away, allowing his feet to carry him to his post even though his heart would so much rather have remained in the galley. But since he’d slept the entire day, there was so much for Devlin to check on, so many updates for him to listen to while maintaining their course, he scarcely noticed the passing of time until Cassandra arrived.
Dismissing the sailor with whom he’d been speaking, Devlin gave her his full attention, although to be fair, his hunger for food caused his gaze to go straight to the plate she carried. She grinned. “You look like a starved man.” And without further comment, she stabbed a diced piece of meat and held it up to his mouth.
He ate it, almost sighing in response to the savory flavor. She offered him another bite, followed by a spoonful of peas, then some potato and yet more meat.
“It occurred to me,” she said while he chewed, her voice a little unsure, “that you wouldn’t be able to use your hands to eat while steering the ship, so I cut everything into bite-sized portions.”
“I’m glad.” He couldn’t care less as long as his stomach stopped burning. “How’s Penny?”
“Much better.” She gave him another spoonful of peas. “Thank you.”
“It’s not my doing.”
“Hmm.” She said nothing more. She just kept feeding him until the plate was empty. “Do you know where we are?”
“Of course.” It might be dark, but that didn’t mean he did not know their position with perfect accuracy. “We’re passing Mauritania.”
“Oh.”
He grinned. “You’ve never heard of it have you?”
“I must confess my African geography isn’t quite up to par.”
“Can’t really blame you,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not exactly the sort of thing you’ve needed to know. But perhaps you have a sense of where the Sahara is?”
“Yes it’s…” She scrunched her nose as if unsure of how to describe its location. Her hand made a swirling motion next to her head. “I can find it on a globe.”
“Right.” Devlin hid his amusement by glancing off to the side. “Well, most of Mauritania’s land is within the desert, so the population is largely concentrated near the coast. In a week, maybe less, we should reach the Gulf of Guinea.”
“Where the continent curve
s to one side?”
“Precisely.” They could manage a few delays here and there if necessary. Devlin always made sure adverse weather conditions and minor mishaps were accounted for. But it was still vital they stuck as close to their schedule as possible since he’d no desire to sail through another Harmattan.
“Devlin?” Cassandra’s hand was on his arm. “Is everything all right?”
“Quite.” No need to worry her with the prospect of nosebleeds, cracked skin, and burning eyes, which was what he and his crew had suffered during their last encounter with the wind blowing down from the desert. “Thank you for dinner and for handling all the other meals these last two days. I’ve been told Mr. Talbot is expected back in the galley tomorrow.”
Cassandra cleared her throat. “Perhaps I could help him from time to time.”
Surprised, Devlin caught her gaze and held it. “You want to keep working?”
She shrugged. “It gives me something to do and… Well, if life at Clearview has taught me anything, it’s the joy of accomplishment and sense of purpose one can find by getting things done yourself. As opposed to relying on servants.”
He’d always admired and respected her so much he wouldn’t have thought his opinion of her could improve. Yet it did. Every day, it seemed. His heart swelled dangerously with an emotion he’d rather not dwell on.
Attempting to hide his response, he gave a stiff nod. “I’m sure Mr. Talbot would be grateful.”
Cassandra beamed. “Excellent. I mean, thank you. I…” She looked strangely out of sorts. “I should probably see how Penelope’s doing and keep her company for a bit. When I left her, she was reading.”
He merely nodded, but his eyes never left her as she climbed down onto the main deck and made her way below. That feeling from earlier, that something had changed, remained, keeping him company and filling his mind with endless questions until he returned to his cabin four hours later.
Given the time, he’d expected Cassandra to be fast asleep. But she wasn’t. And the moment his searching gaze found her sitting in bed and reading a book, wearing only her nightgown, the same desire he always felt when he saw her thus struck him like a blow. Clenching his jaw in the hope of stemming his arousal, he shut the door and averted his eyes. Because if he kept looking at her…
The kiss they’d share had been splendid, but something – he knew not what – had wrecked it, tarnished it somehow. And rather than moving forward with her, he’d felt himself sliding back. It wasn’t exactly anything she’d said. It had been her manner and tone when he’d woken her and thought to help her dress. Her sharp refusal had informed him that she wasn’t ready to be intimate with him, no matter how heated their kiss might have been. And something about that had twisted his heart, because it had made him feel rejected in a way he knew he ought to expect, but had started to hope he wouldn’t be.
Until this evening, when she’d seemed closer somehow. It was the oddest thing, considering they’d barely touched or talked throughout the day. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking on his part or maybe she was just grateful to him for helping care for Penelope.
Either way, he dared not let himself over analyze the situation and resolved to let things unfold in due time. So he took off his tricorn and set it aside, then fluffed his hair with his fingers. “I trust Penny is sleeping?”
“She fell asleep just ten minutes ago. Having slept most of the day, she wasn’t especially tired, but reading to her eventually helped.”
“And her fever?”
“It’s almost gone.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair before going to work on his cravat.
“I can help you with that,” Cassandra said. “If you like.”
Devlin froze. His fingers clutched the cloth wound around his neck. He hadn’t heard her get out of bed, and he certainly hadn’t heard her creep up behind him. He turned. Slowly. And sucked in a lungful of air. Because she was looking up at him as if…as if… Good God, he dared not hope that he might know her reason for offering to tend to him thus.
Heart pounding, he dropped his hands. “By all means.” His voice was gruff, like gravel beneath a booted foot.
When she reached toward him, he noted the tremble in her fingers. It was slight, but it was there. She was nervous. For whatever reason, she was stepping away from what she found comfortable in order to help him undress.
Words.
He searched for them – some means by which to fill the silence and put her at ease. “What were you reading?” She’d stepped closer, most likely to more easily reach him. But her proximity brought an intoxicating fragrance with it – not her usual scent of roses but something more unique, more elusive, more...
“To Penelope or to myself?”
He caught the note of amusement in her voice and felt some of the tension subside. “Both, I suppose.”
“Well, Penelope has always loved adventure stories, so I read a few chapters of Waverley for her.”
“Excellent choice,” he murmured, acutely aware of Cassandra’s fingertips grazing his skin. It was either stand as still as a statue or give in to carnal instinct and pounce on her like an animal. “And for yourself?”
Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “Well, I must confess I’ve brought all of Miss Austen’s novels with me.” Having finished untying his cravat, she slid the length of fabric away from his neck while biting her lip. “Her writing is quite good, you know. Humorous too.”
“I’m sure it is, although I never would have thought it might appeal to you.”
That seemed to get her attention. “Why on earth not?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because I always imagined the women who read such books to be of the day-dreaming variety.”
She put both hands on her hips and allowed his cravat to dangle all the way to the floor. “I’m not sure what frustrates me more about that opinion: your willingness to judge a person based on what they choose to read or your inability to imagine I might indulge in a bit of escapism too from time to time.”
“I meant no offense,” he grumbled. “I just…” He blew out a breath, aware he should probably shut up now before making things worse. “I suppose I always imagined you’d rather read something along the lines of Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography or an account of Captain Cook’s travels – something more educational, I suppose. Like that autobiography you recently finished.”
“Well…” She smiled, much to his relief. “I must confess to having read both of those books.” Her palm settled against his chest and when she spoke again, it was with a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t sometimes enjoy a bit of romance.”
Her eyes were fixed on his and although the room was dimly lit by a singular oil lamp, they’d never looked brighter. Or, he decided, with a flood of desperation, more inviting. “Cass.” Her name crossed his lips both as a plea and as a question.
Without speaking, she untied the fastenings at the front of his shirt, so slowly he feared he might soon explode from anticipation. What she was doing…
Did it mean she was ready to let him claim her? Or was she merely performing what she believed to be her wifely duties, without really performing them? The questions were impossible for him to answer. Mostly because he knew what he wanted them to be and feared he might have it wrong.
But then she tugged his shirt free from his breeches and reached underneath to touch his bare skin. Her palm was warm as it slid up over his back, her fingertips gently pressing against his flesh. An unbidden groan escaped him. It couldn’t be helped. What she was doing felt so damn good, and by God, he wanted more. He didn’t want her to stop. He just…
Whispered her name. “Cass?” Because he had to know – had to understand what was going on between them before she drove him insane.
Except she didn’t answer, perhaps because she hadn’t heard the question in his voice or understood what it was he was asking. Whatever the cas
e, it hardly mattered when in the next instant she moved her hands to his sides, running them upward, the motion making him lift his arms until his shirt was suddenly gone and she was leaning in, her lips scorching his skin as she kissed him right over his heart.
A shudder raked his spine and his hand instinctively rose to hold her head to him. “Cass?” he asked again, his voice hoarse and his body unbearably strained.
“Hmmm?” She tipped back her chin and met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with something he’d never seen there before.
Raggedly, he forced himself to ask, “What are you doing?” Because he had to be sure, needed for it to be perfectly clear so he’d know precisely how he should act and what to expect.
An uncharacteristically shy smile touched her lips, but she didn’t look away. Instead she slid her hand up over his shoulder, along the side of his neck until she caressed his cheek.
And then she said, “I’m inviting you to make love to me, Dev.”
He almost tripped over his own bloody feet in his haste to grab her and kiss her and dear God! He’d dreamed of this moment for so damn long, and now it was here and he hardly knew where to start because he wanted to do everything all at once.
With a deep breath, he forced himself to reign in his fervor. This was to be their first time together, and he doubted she’d appreciate it being over in under ten seconds. And also, he realized, he needed some answers – some sort of confirmation that she wasn’t acting irrationally or on a whim.
Her Seafaring Scoundrel Page 15