by Diana Layne
“What?” She averted her gaze, then couldn’t help peeking over her shoulder at his naked and very muscular chest.
“I’m feeling rather hot myself. I think a cool swim in the ocean is definitely in order.” He worked at the ties on his britches. She contemplated watching him shuck his pants, but at the last moment turned away.
“You...um, enjoy your swim.” Disappointed at the turn of events, she headed for her boat, halfway wishing she had the nerve to join him. Knowing that would be a stupid thing.
Why would it be stupid? Because it would be stupid.
She was just settling in for a long argument with herself, knowing she was going to be full of regrets either way, when she was stopped in her tracks by a tug on her shirt.
“You’re sweaty.”
“How rude,” she said through clenched teeth, keeping her back to him, refusing to turn and ogle his naked, tempting body. Even though she had every desire to do so.
“Rude, but true. And you know it.” From behind, he tried to tug her shirt over her head, but she held tight.
“Have it your way.”
She heard the shrug in his voice. Before she could enjoy her hollow triumph, she found herself swung into his arms, and he strolled into the ocean.
“Oh!” She made the mistake of looking at him, and her gaze slipped past his grinning face to his naked chest. Fortunately, she couldn’t see any farther down.
As he continued to walk into the ocean, dread fluttered beneath her ribs. “What are you doing?” The water lapped against her bottom.
“You silly woman. We’re going for a swim.”
“I’m still dressed.” The protest sounded lame.
“I did try to undress you.”
The water was up to his waist, sloshing against her. She felt it soaking through her clothes.
“No. Stop.” Panic beat harder as he was now chest high in the water. She squirmed to get free. “Put me down.”
“All right. If you insist.”
He let her go, and she fell down, down, into the grasping ocean. Water covered her head, and then her bottom hit the sand. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. She was going to drown. A thought cut through her rising hysteria: she could stand. The water was only chest high. Her hands flailed in the water. She couldn’t figure out how to get to her feet.
Then she felt an iron grip on her wrists. The water swooshed away with a sucking sound as she was pulled upward. She lunged at him and grabbed his neck. Water sluiced off her hair into her face. Even as she thought she should punch him, she clung to him instead. She turned her face into his neck, and the water dripped down his back.
She breathed deeply, relieved that air, not water, filled her nose.
“What’s wrong, love? You’re shaking.” He wrapped his arms around her. Her racing heart slowed, her brain function slowly returned. His question registered.
“I. Can’t.” She gasped and shuddered. “Swim.”
Now that her feet were once again on ground and her head above water, chagrin edged out the unreasonable fear. Even the slosh of the waves against her back no longer felt so threatening.
She waited, ready for him to tease her.
But to her surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he held her secure in his arms until at last she drew a deep breath and relaxed.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
His apology startled her into looking at him. She met his gaze, the moon reflected in their dark depths. He really had quite beautiful eyes, cocoa brown, deep, dark, delicious.
Then she realized delicious was likely a word she shouldn’t think while being held in a naked man’s arms.
And standing pressed against him, body to body, with only her sodden clothes as a flimsy barrier between them, she had no doubt he’d removed all his clothes.
Staring into his eyes, she seemed to have lost her voice. He found his words first.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She attempted a laugh, which sounded more like a hoarse cough. “Silly, isn’t it? I sail the seas on a big ship, and I can’t swim.”
“Many sailors can’t swim. I suppose I thought you were so capable you could do anything. I didn’t even think to ask.”
Pride that he thought she could do anything warred with the embarrassment that she could not. For his sake, she suddenly wished she could swim. “I used to watch you swimming,” she confessed.
He laughed. “Spying on a bunch of naked sailors?”
She laughed with him but in truth, her eyes had only been for him. “I closed my eyes while the lot of you were dressing.”
“It’s certain you did.” His tone said he didn’t believe her. “Did no one teach you to swim?”
“My mother swam with me when I was younger. Once she died, I forgot all I learned.”
“And there have been naught but men around you since.”
“Except at the girl’s school. But they all had an aversion to water. Thought it was evil.”
“Ah, yes, polite society, with all their perfumes and powders to cover their stench.”
“They thought I was the odd one,” she admitted. “Growing up on a ship.”
“If they could see you now...”
She smiled at the thought.
“Would you like for me to teach you to swim?”
“I...um...” She didn’t really want to tell him that the one time she’d tried to swim after she was grown she’d nearly drowned, and now she couldn’t stand to have water on her face. She’d prefer for him to think she was strong and just frightened because she hadn’t swum in ages.
“Of course you’d need to take off your sodden clothes,” he said with a wicked grin. “They weigh you down too much.”
“Thank you, but no. I’ll be keeping my sodden clothes on my body.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Excuse me?”
“I bet I can get those clothes off you.”
Her back stiffened. She pictured her knife in her belt. It might be wet, but that wouldn’t stop the blade from being sharp.
“Not unless you want to lose a hand. Or at least a few fingers.”
“Nay, I won’t have to wrestle them off you.”
“What? You think you’ll just ask, and I’ll take them off?”
His eyes simmered a challenge. “Something like that, aye.”
“I think you had too much wine at supper.”
“Aye, perhaps I did. I’m feeling a bit reckless.”
“So how do you—” She stopped her question. The answer was obvious as he took her face between his palms and lowered his head for a kiss.
His lips touched hers, and she shivered in fear again. A different fear, not one of dying. But one of losing control. Never the kind of situation a pirate captain wanted. But she seemed helpless to stop herself. Or him.
His assault was gentle, and at first his lips were light on hers. She felt herself relaxing, being sucked in, and as she became more pliant in his arms, he became bolder with his kiss.
Somehow, her mouth was open, allowing him to plunder its warm depths, over and over, until he teased her tongue into his mouth to explore him, as well.
Desire blossomed in her belly, heated her body in spite of the cool water lapping at her clothes. Her fingers wrapped in his long hair, the tips wet with the waves. She urged him on, while her mind screamed a warning. It’s a trap, it’s a trap.
Who cares, her body answered.
With a last, dizzying, warning thought that this might be a mistake, she broke away.
He took advantage of the space between them to tug her shirt up and over her head. Vaguely she registered that he dropped it in the water and it was floating toward the shore. She couldn’t form a protest, not even when he put a hand on her breast and pulled her even closer with his other arm before kissing her again.
Body to body, she couldn’t miss the evidence of his desire wedged firmly against her lower belly, the tip of his erection burning against the s
kin recently bared.
Moments later, he freed her lips again and she sucked in much-needed air. But his lips moving lower down her neck, and lower, kept her dizzy. He pulled a moan from her when his mouth latched onto her breast.
And when his hand moved to work the tie on her britches, she realized he most certainly would unclothe her without losing his hand or a single finger. He pushed her britches down over her hips and his fingers probed the tender folds burning with need.
“Not fair,” she gasped, pushing against his hand, loving the sensation of his delving fingers.
“I never play fair.” His fingers slid inside.
She arched against him.
“Not when it’s something I want,” he added.
“And you want me?” She felt a thrill of power. Years overdue but triumph. At last.
“Aye.” He lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the shore. “I do.”
Chapter 4
Water lapped at Gina’s toes, pulling her reluctantly from a dreamless sleep. Sand scratched her back. Sand?
Her eyes snapped open, and she was greeted by darkness. Awareness flooded back. She jerked her head to the left and there was Charles. Sleeping. Naked.
She glanced down. She was naked too, lying in the sand, exposed to anyone who might come to the beach. She gave a cautious look around. The area seemed deserted, thank goodness. And thank goodness the night was still dark, with naught but a dim glow from the new moon and a few twinkling stars.
He’d gotten her clothes off, and she hadn’t protested, not once. Si, he was a slick one, truly. Memories rushed back. His kisses, his body on hers. His lovemaking had been so much more than she’d imagined. She could never have believed such a fire as he lit in her body. Peace and contentment warmed her. She sighed, stretched, and smiled.
The water now lapped at her ankles. The tide was coming in, and they would soon be very wet. They’d only made it just to the water’s edge before falling to the beach, consumed with each other.
She touched his shoulder. “Wake up.”
He came awake, and leaned to kiss her.
She held him off. “Stop that. We need to move, or we’ll be floating in the ocean. You know I won’t like that.”
With a smile, he pushed up to his elbows and stared at the advancing tide.
She looked around, saw her knife hilt sticking up from where he’d pulled it from her belt and launched it into the sand. “Where are my clothes?” One boot there. Another. A clump of something beyond that could be her britches. Oh, but her shirt. He’d tossed it off in the waves. Hopefully it had washed to shore, farther down the beach.
“We still have time,” he said and kissed her again.
She twisted away. “We’re lying naked where anyone can see us, you know.” How could she have lost her head so easily? A blush heated her. “Go find my clothes,” she growled, darting another furtive glance around her to make sure they were still alone.
“Never fear, m’lady,” he said gallantly, perhaps understanding embarrassment made her sound like a fishwife. “I will recover your garments.”
With a quick kiss to her cheek, he pushed to his feet and walked off, not appearing the least bit concerned he was naked. Of course, men did tend to shuck their clothes to go swimming without a second’s thought.
“Here you go, you can wear this.” He returned almost immediately with his dry shirt he’d left on the rocks.
He helped her to her feet, and she slipped on the shirt, aware of his gaze on her. Who knew a man watching her dress would renew her desire?
“Thank you.” At least the shirt covered important parts, even though her bare legs showed.
“You’re welcome, love.” He took her hands and pulled her close. “What is that smile on your face?”
She pinched her lips together, unaware she’d been smiling.
He didn’t seem to need an answer. “Bet you won’t forget me this time.”
She gasped and smacked his shoulder. “Conceited oaf!”
He smiled, then kissed her. She felt him grow hard, and made herself break away. “Wait. You’re supposed to find my clothes, remember?”
Sighing, he said, “Bossy wench.”
As he left, she added, “And get your britches on, sailor.”
He turned around, and walking backward, saluted her. “Aye, Captain.”
Her gaze dropped and she saw he was also saluting her elsewhere. She spun away in a sudden attack of modesty and heard his laughter.
Awkwardness held her rooted to the spot until she realized she couldn’t stay here like a useless piece of driftwood. Since she was halfway covered, she might as well retrieve her things close at hand.
She grabbed the boot closest to her, as well as her knife. Her other boot lay a few feet beyond.
She had made it to the rocks when he appeared. “Here’s your britches.” He handed her the wet, dripping garment, caked with sand.
“Awful,” she groaned. “I’ll need to rinse them.” Even then, they would be stiff with saltwater.
He dug in his pocket. “Here’s my flint box. You can start a fire to help dry them.”
“Thank you,” she said, catching the small metal box he tossed to her.
“Your shirt probably washed up farther ashore. I’ll go look.”
“If you don’t find it, I’m keeping yours.” She smiled and laid her items on the rock in front of a small cave.
She took her britches back into the ocean to rinse them. They were heavy and hard to wring out, and the water dripping from them splashed onto her legs as she walked back to the cave.
In the little rocky cove in front of the cave, she gathered driftwood and got the fire going just as Charles came back triumphant with her shirt as his prize catch.
Having already washed the sand out, he spread the shirt on the rocks by her pants, then turned to her. “Now, where were we?”
He pulled her into his arms. Her heart fluttered. Alarmed at how quickly she’d fallen under his spell—no matter her long-ago infatuation with him—she spun away.
“You should know,” she said to his questioning look, standing at a distance where she could think and not be distracted by his touches, “You’ve wasted your effort. I was already going to agree to your proposal.”
He raised his eyebrows, then said, “Egads! I’ve wasted my effort? No need to waste more time, then.” He turned to walk away.
“What?” His action startled a gasp from her. He’d actually used physical intimacies to bribe her? Mortification burned through her. She ran after him and launched herself at his back.
He easily sidestepped her attack with some sort of sixth sense. Twisting away, he caught her in his arms. “Violent wench, aren’t you?” He twirled her in a circle, and she realized he was laughing.
“Stop, you oaf!” She pounded at his back.
He obeyed and her head spun crazily.
He waited until she could focus on him before he said, “I assure you, love, my effort was not wasted.”
****
In the small cave, Gina lay curled up against him, her body warm, if albeit slightly scratchy from the sand. He held her in his arms in the early light before sunrise, content to simply watch her breathe.
She thought he’d seduced her to persuade her to agree to his proposal. Nay, he’d been dreaming of this for years. Fantasies spurred by memories of their kiss had buoyed him through his years of imprisonment. After finding her in his bed that night and succumbing to that impulsive kiss, sending her away had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He always knew he’d look for her one day, and then fate handed him the perfect opportunity.
The rhythm of her breathing changed. She was awake. Her eyes slowly opened, and then she moved so her gaze could meet his. She blinked, gasped.
“Good morning, love,” he said in a soothing tone.
“It’s almost sunrise,” she said with amazement filling her face. “We slept all night?”
“One of u
s did.”
She pushed up on her elbow and stared at him. “You didn’t sleep?”
“I slept.” She pierced him with a knowing look, nothing slow about her. “Just not all night.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“I was staring at you.”
If she’d dropped her gaze, he’d have been disappointed. She didn’t disappoint.
“If you’re thinking about running again, I’ll chase you this time and run you through.”
Her boldness startled a laugh out of him. “I don’t recall that I ran.”
“You ran as fast as you could push me out of your bunk.”
“You know I had to.” He smoothed a stray strand of dark hair from her face. “I almost didn’t. That kiss nearly made me lose my mind.”
“What good did it do? My going off to school,” she clarified.
“You learned to pour tea?”
“How much tea do you drink?”
“I am English. I enjoy a nice cup of tea now and then. Laced with a little bourbon never hurts.” He hoped his smile helped ease the regrets.
“Too bad I’ve forgotten how to pour tea, and school didn’t teach me a single useful thing about captaining a ship. I should have stayed with you.”
“What if you’d stayed? And we were together when I was shanghaied? What if you’d been pregnant?”
Her face reddened but she didn’t drop her gaze. “I would have still sailed, as I am now. I was raised on a ship. Besides, if you’d been with me, you wouldn’t have been at that tavern where you got hauled off.”
“Of that I’m sure. I would have been with you. But I thought I was doing best, and it was what your father wanted.”
“No one makes decisions for me now.”
“You are correct, they do not. You have a very level head on your shoulders.” He touched her shoulders, trailed his finger down her arms. “And lovely arms attached to the shoulders.” Then his hand trickled to her breast, and he felt her shudder. “And these beauties are attached below—”
She snatched his wrist, her grip firm and sure. “Hold there, Captain, don’t change the subject.”
He raised his gaze to hers. “What?”
“What happened?”