“You thought me very cold.”
Gavin gave her a look of mock offense. “If ye could content yerself to hold yer tongue until I am finished wi’ my confession, I’d be appreciative.”
“Do continue.” She smiled.
“Now, where was I? Aye, I was about to confess that I judged ye unfairly due to the amount of dowry ye wished to take with ye.”
“Those things were my mother’s,” Colette began to protest. It was still a sore subject.
“I ken that now. Forgive me for saying, but ye make a most difficult confessor.”
“Mayhap that is why all priests are male.”
“I suppose, but I admit I am verra glad ye’re not a male priest at this moment. Awkward, ye ken, to try to make confession while holding yer priest in yer arms.”
Colette laughed out loud.
“Now, for my confession. If there will be no other untoward interruptions?” Gavin waited in mock severity.
“I suppose you would like to confess that you have decided I am not quite as pampered or spoiled as you once thought,” suggested Colette.
“Aye, dinna steal my thunder!”
Another brilliant light and clap of thunder ripped through the night, but this time it only made Colette giggle at the timing. “Forgive me. Please do continue with your confession, Sir Knight.”
“Now then, when yer way became difficult and yer ship was seized, I fully expected to take ye back to yer father. When yer maids abandoned ye, I thought our journey had come to an end. Ye’re made of tougher stuff than I thought.”
“I only seek to do my duty to my father,” demurred Colette, but the compliment warmed her soul.
“In truth, I find ye brave, caring, loving, kind, intelligent…” Gavin cleared his throat. “The Laird Mackenzie is the luckiest man alive. I have never envied another man, but I do him. If ye were no’ promised to another man, I would not hesitate to… Och, ’tis enough o’ my confession.”
Tears sprung to her eyes. It was the nicest compliment she had ever received. She knew he was attracted to her, that much was hard to miss, but if what he felt for her was based on her character and not her often-admired beauty, it would be a first. In that regard, it was perhaps the first true compliment she had ever been given.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You are a remarkable man, Sir Gavin.”
Another wave hit hard, and the boat lurched, sending them rising and falling in a manner that made her stomach roll. She clung to Gavin and he held on right back. She held her breath for a moment, wondering if this would be her last, but the boat righted itself.
“Forgive me. I should not intrude upon your person.” She held him closer.
“Ye may intrude upon my person anytime ye wish. Ye must know that.” Gavin’s eyes blazed warm and dark.
She rested her head upon his shoulder. She wanted him, needed him. But she could not have him. With painful self-control, she released her grip on him and forced herself to move at least a few inches away.
Gavin cleared his throat and stood up. “Ye’re right. We must keep our heads. Ye get some rest, m’lady. I can sit in the chair.”
“The chair, it does not seem restful. Besides, I’m not sure how much sleep we will be able to get tonight. Bit of a rocky evening.” She tried to keep her tone light, though she doubted she was fooling anyone.
In truth, she was growing concerned about the increased movement of the ship. It was rocking more harshly from side to side and up and down. The tilting and the sudden lurches were most disconcerting. Had she the option, she would have most definitely gotten off on dry land and not continued bobbing about in such a wild manner.
A sharp rap at the door got their attention. Captain Dupont burst through the door, wearing a coat of oiled canvas, dripping wet from the rain.
“We’ve got ourselves a real storm,” said the good captain, his face grim. “Sorry, but it’s too rough to feed you. I advise you to stay in the cabin. Might get worse.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” asked Gavin, stepping forward as best he could.
“Not much we can do but ride it out. I hope to cross the channel soon, but even when we reach the other side, we are in danger from the rocks, so we need to steer clear.”
Colette’s mind was racing to try to understand. “You mean if we get too close to shore, we could end up crashing on the rocks?”
He gave a sharp nod. “We will stay out where it is deep and hope to avoid the rocks.”
“But if you stay far from the shore, how will you know where to go in this storm? How do you know in what direction to sail?”
The captain said nothing for a moment and rocked with the movement of the ship as the water dripped off of his coat and pooled around his feet. “Well, that’s why, as a God-fearing man, I pray that the Lord will guide us. Wherever we are, we will still be in his hands. It is times like these we must pray all the more.”
“Thank ye, Captain. We shall do so,” said Gavin.
“A word outside, if I may?” the captain asked Gavin in a tone that was not so much a request as a command.
Gavin left the cabin with him, leaving her alone. She stared after them, holding on to the side of the bed to keep from falling as the ship pitched. A pool of liquid fear grew in the pit of her stomach. Whatever the captain wished to talk to Gavin about in private could not be good.
Gavin returned to the cabin, his face grim, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Colette knew—she simply knew.
“Our captain fears we may not survive the storm,” she said.
Gavin met her gaze but said nothing.
Twenty-eight
Gavin held on to the doorway to keep from falling as the ship pitched sharply one way and then another. The captain had indeed given him bad news, which Colette, her eyes wide and vulnerable, had accurately guessed. She was scared. He was scared. He must say something to ease her fear, but what?
The boat rolled awkwardly to one side and he gritted his teeth, wondering if it would go over entirely, but it righted itself only to roll onto the other side. The truth was, no matter how scared Colette looked, he was more so. He tried to put a grin on his face, pretending that this was utterly normal and that storms did not bother him in the least. It could not have been further from the truth. He was a man who belonged on the land, a farmer at heart, not a sailor.
“The captain needs to lighten the ship,” said Gavin, entering the cabin and closing the door behind him. “He asked if he could throw over some o’ yer heavier items.” It was her dowry—or what was left of it.
“Yes, tell the captain he must do what he thinks best.” Colette sighed.
“I already have.” Her dowry meant nothing if it took them to the bottom of the ocean.
Suddenly, a white flash blinded them, followed by a booming roar of thunder, causing Colette to shriek in fright. He flew to her and pulled her into his arms, though whether to comfort her or himself, he did not wish to know.
They fell back, sitting on the pallet as the ship tipped up once more. “We should pray, as the good captain suggested,” said Gavin.
“Yes, let us do so.” She reached into the pocket of her kirtle and pulled out her Book of Hours, flipping through the pages. “Oh, but I cannot find a prayer to calm high seas.”
“Are the only prayers ye’ve ever said the ones ye read in yer prayer book?”
“But of course. Is there any other way?”
Gavin reached out and held her as the ship pitched. “Ye can pray to the Lord wi’ yer own words. Ye dinna need to memorize a prayer in order to speak to God.”
Colette looked at him in wonderment. “Will you show me?”
“Dear Lord,” prayed Gavin, “please put yer hand o’ protection upon us, rebuke the wind and waves, and let us travel in safety. Amen.”
Colette lifted her head and
met his eyes with her large green ones. Even frightened, she was beautiful. “That is how you pray?”
“Aye.”
“And the Good Lord, He hears such a prayer?”
“I hope so most fervently.”
Colette’s trembling lips curved into a small smile. “Do you think we shall reach the shores of your homeland?”
Gavin did not know. The captain had not given him much hope. “’Tis late. Why dinna ye get some sleep? I’m sure the storm will be gone by morn.” It was the biggest bluff he had ever told.
Colette raised her eyebrows. “How could you think of sleep at a time like this?”
“There is naught we can do. What will be will be. ’Tis in the Lord’s hands.”
“But if these are to be our last hours”—she paused as the ship lurched to one side and then violently to the other—“should we not choose carefully our last moments?”
Gavin stared at her, unsure if his heart was pounding from the peril they were in or the desire that could not be restrained for this woman. He knew exactly what he would do if he had only a few hours left to live. And all of it would be with Colette. Despite the prospect that they could be sent to a watery grave at any moment—or perhaps because of it—Gavin responded to Colette in an elemental manner. All the plans and obligations they had for the future washed away in the high waves.
“Forgive me for the remembrance if it is unwanted,” whispered Gavin, “but we are legally wed. As husband and wife, we could give ourselves some allowance to comfort each other through the storm.”
“You are right.” The light returned to her eyes, giving her face an expression somewhere between desire and fear. “I am obligated to marry the Baron of Kintail.” She took a deep breath and her voice dropped lower. “But if we never reach the Scottish shore…”
“If we never arrive to the land o’ Kintail, we are free to consummate this marriage and enter heaven as man and wife.” Gavin’s voice shook. He was facing a watery grave, yet his impending death gave him the right to call this woman his wife. The ship rocked violently and the timbers groaned in protest. Gavin did not know how much longer they had before the entire thing broke apart.
“I fear our forever may not be very long,” whispered Colette, her eyes wide with fear.
Gavin reached out and held her tight. The ship lurched again, and he knew they were not likely to live through the night. The awareness heightened his senses and made every word, every action important. He would not waste what little time he had left by pretending. “Even if it is just for tonight,” he whispered into her ear, “I am honored to be yer husband.”
“And I your wife.” She tilted her head up and their lips met. The waves rocked them closer together and he deepened the kiss. He did not want to think about the ship breaking apart or how the end would come. No, he would drown himself in her and think only of Marie Colette, his wife for the night.
His wife for the rest of his life.
“Hold me,” breathed Colette, an unnecessary request since he was already embracing her as tight as he could. “Make me forget.”
He kissed away her words. He did not want to think either. He wished only to hold her close and be lost in her arms, not lost at sea. His life may soon come to an end, yet he had never felt more alive. The exhilarating thrill of the power of the wind and waves coursed through him, piquing his already inflamed desire. He had been given this most holy gift, and it was only because he was moments from death. His fingers fumbled at the ties of her gown in the back. He needed to feel her, to be as close as husband and wife could be.
“Hurry.” She pressed herself closer to him, almost squeezing the breath from his lungs, though he hardly had a mind to complain. They must make every moment count. He managed to untie the strings and remove the embroidered silk gown. He tossed it aside and soaked in the beauty of Colette in her white chemise. Her hair was next. He pulled off the gauzy veil and loosed her braided hair, running his fingers through her silky locks. He gloried in burying his hands into her thick, dark auburn hair, a forbidden pleasure that had taunted him in his dreams.
The ship lurched again, and they both slid until they were lying down on the bed, him above her. At least for once the ship had helped him. He paused for a moment, but she did not hesitate.
She pulled at his plaid and he unpinned it. She unwrapped it with swift hands and he pulled it over them, using it now as a blanket. She began to pull up his shirt, but he held her hands in his.
“This is all I wear.”
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “I know.” She pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing to her the full extent of his body. Somehow, facing death had only heightened his response. He could not remember when he had been more fully aroused.
Her eyes widened. “I think when Marie Claude told me all she thought I should know about the marriage bed, she left out a few things.”
“I dinna wish to rush ye into anything.”
“But of course we must rush. How many more moments do we have? I never expected the chance to give myself fully to the man I chose and not the one chosen for me. We are married, at least for a few minutes more. And with those minutes, I choose you.”
“Colette.” He breathed her name like a prayer and kissed her thoroughly with all the life left within him.
The ship fell again from what felt like a huge height, only to bob back up again, breaking their kiss. His stomach rolled like the high seas. He needed to focus on something else. He needed to focus on Colette. When he looked into her eyes, everything else drifted away.
He kissed her until he forgot anything other than her long fingers trailing up and down his back. He found the edge of her chemise and slowly worked it up, his hand skimming over her thigh, hip, belly, and coming to rest on her ample breast. It was glorious. She inhaled sharply and he bent down to kiss her into full attention, being rewarded with another sharp inhalation.
He paused, hesitant to pluck such forbidden fruit. As if sensing his uncertainty, she reached down and grabbed his backside, banishing all thoughts entirely from his brain. He slid the chemise up higher, and she helped him pull it over her head and toss it aside. He wanted to get a good look at her, but in his current position, he would have to content himself with touch. He was more than pleased. Her skin, soft and inviting, seemed to melt into his.
This was what he had wanted since he’d met her, and yet it was so much more than physical. She was his wife—not just for the night but forever. This was right. She was his and he was hers, in a union that went beyond written contract. They were designed for each other. It was a power he could not fight and he submitted willingly to its demands.
* * *
Colette was alive and free. Despite the terrifying rocking of the ship and the fear of capsizing at any moment, she had never felt more filled with the power of life. Her skin tingled with energy as she pressed herself against Gavin’s perfect form.
She had not known exactly what to expect, but his chiseled features, each muscle rippling with prominence, had been her utter undoing. She wanted him with a burning desire she could not describe. She was swept up in its power, knowing she could not stop now.
Far from being helpless, she had never felt more in control. Her body was hers. For the first time in her life, she was truly in command of her own person, not flaunted before courtiers or given in marriage to a man her father chose.
Marriage. With a signature on parchment, her father controlled who would have unmitigated rights to her body. She’d ventured on this ill-fated journey knowing that at the end of it, she would be compelled to give herself to a man she had never met. But no more. She was claiming her body as her own, to be given to the one whom she desired.
He pressed closer, his naked body covering hers, and she felt whole, complete, and fully alive. How long had she hidden her feelings and emotions behind a facade of detachment? She
had never truly lived. Now her flesh was alive and fully engulfed in the flesh of another—her husband. It was only right to consummate the vows they had spoken.
She wrapped her arms around him, demanding he bring himself closer to her, though not exactly sure what it all meant. Her nursemaid had told her some of what happened between a man and woman, but most of the talk was about flowers and pollinating bees and strange unknown objects, such as inflamed members and private caves. It had all sounded entirely baffling, but now she was most willing to learn.
Gavin kissed an ear, trailing down her neck to her left breast while caressing the other with his hand. Something was coiling within her, growing tighter and tighter, demanding release, though she had no idea how to accomplish this end. His hand traveled lower until he was touching her in a place that made her gasp in pleasure. She was lost in this strange new experience but trusted Gavin implicitly.
“Gavin,” she gasped.
“My heart, my wife,” he murmured in her ear. “Ye are my bride, now and forever.”
The tension he was building inside her was beyond anything she had experienced, and she pressed herself forward, wanting more. Even the rolling of the waves and the shifting of the bed seemed to move in concert with the rhythm building within her. Her heart pounded within her chest and her breath came in short, fast pants. Most confusing, her body moved beneath him of its own accord. She wanted, needed more.
“I want—” She did not know how to finish the sentence. She did not know what she wanted, but she knew she needed it from him and she needed it now, before the ship broke apart or she herself splintered into shards of pleasure.
“I need you.” It was all she needed to say. He whispered something in his native tongue and moved even closer. The ship rolled again, pitching sharply to one side. She cried out in fear and pain until the ship righted itself again, and she realized they were joined together. Husband and wife. Now and forever—or for as many minutes as forever was for them.
Gavin began to move in rhythm with the waves as the ship rolled. He rocked, and she moved in concert with the primitive dance. As they moved together, rolling with the ship, something once again began to coil within her, tightening and tightening, narrowing her awareness to him and him only.
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