The Following Sea (The Pirate Wolf series)

by Canham, Marsha

  “I… I forgot to lock it again. I heard voices out in the corridor and went to look.”

  He retreated, taking his knee off the bed. He carefully uncocked the serpentine lock and walked across the cabin to set the gun on his desk again. With rum in hand, he stood at the gallery windows, his back to Eva, not wanting her to see how the gun, the dishevelled blonde hair, the bared thigh and exposed breasts had put him off balance. In an evening of unsettling revelations and pent-up frustrations, he did not need to be distracted by soft female flesh.

  Either that, or he needed it very much.

  He frowned and stared out over the water. The moon was directly overhead, bathing the galleons in an eerie blue-white light that made the yards and rails glow like the bleached bones of skeletons. The moon itself had a hazy ring around it, and he thought there was something he should note about it, but before the message waded through the wine and rum he had consumed, Eva was speaking.

  “Has that dreadful man left the ship?”

  “Yes. For the time being. But he’s planning on coming back.”

  “He is? Why? When?”

  “First light, I imagine. He’ll be demanding we either surrender the ship or he’ll blow us out of the water.”

  “Surrender? But our ship is twice as big as his.”

  “I’ve seen a swarm of bees bring a horse to ground.”

  “The horse didn’t have cannon. And it didn’t have the Pirate Wolf’s son firing those guns.”

  Dante glanced over his shoulder. “Your confidence in my abilities is flattering, but I’ve already lost one ship to my own reckless vanity; I could as easily lose another.”

  Eva pushed herself to the side of the bed and stood, then joined him at the bank of slanted windows. “Is that what is troubling you, Captain? You think because you made one error in judgement, all the rest of your decisions will be wrong as well? Dear Lord, if I thought that way, I would never have risen out of bed after being shot. I would never have left Portsmouth. I would never have sucked rainwater off the sails on the Eliza Jane to stay alive. I would never—“

  Gabriel curled his arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, smothering whatever else she was about to say with his lips. The kiss was a little harder than it needed to be, a little more fierce than intended, but it served its purpose. When he released her, she was breathless, wide-eyed, and speechless.

  “My confidence is not lacking, Evangeline,” he murmured. “But logic is insisting on caution, and logic tells me—from experience—that we are in a pickle barrel at the moment and may require a small miracle to squeeze out of it.”

  Eva swallowed hard, her lips still moist with the taste of him. “Is there nothing we can do?”

  He eased his grip from around her waist and turned to the window again. “They are over there now discussing strategy. Muertraigo wants the ship and he would prefer to take it without having to fire a shot. And now, of course, he also wants you.”

  “But… he thinks I am your wife.”

  “I believe I told you once that wedding bands mean very little out here. Men like Muertraigo tend to take what they want and worry about formalities later… like disposing of unwanted husbands.”

  “I see,” she said softly. “And so I am the source of trouble again.”

  Dante gripped the wine cup tight enough that his knuckles glowed white. After a moment he swore and hurled it across the cabin, smashing it into the wall and splattering the contents across the floor. Eva jumped back, nearly stumbling into the desk.

  “You’ll forgive me if my patience has been stretched a little thin,” he rasped, reining in his frustration with an effort. “Believe me when I say it is not directed at you, rather to the fact I have had to pander all evening to the man who damn near killed my mother and who may damn well send us all to hell in the morning.”

  “It probably did not help matters that I almost shot you,” she ventured.

  “Almost is a very long six letter word. Though I am exceedingly grateful you were able to use it.”

  “I should have locked the door again. I did not intend to fall asleep; I just put my head down for a few moments and the next thing I knew someone was unlacing my clothes and I panicked because I didn’t know it was you. I was waiting, actually, hoping to speak to you about… well… about other things that hardly seem important at the moment.”

  “Things like: do I think Muertraigo is here to search for the Nuestro Santisimo Victorio? Do I think he heard rumors that the wreck has been found?”

  “Something like that,” she agreed miserably. “As I said, hardly important at the moment.”

  “To be honest, I have been wondering about it myself,” he admitted. “I am also wondering how the devil he ended up here, at Espiritu Santu?”

  “Perhaps he was also clever enough to think the hurricane might have blown the ship south, not north?”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed, then frowned. “What would you have done if you had known it was me?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said you panicked because you didn’t know it was me unlacing your clothes. What would you have done if you had known it was me?”

  Eva opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again without making a sound. The way he was looking at her set every nerve ending to tingling and sent ripples of gooseflesh rising along her arms. Try as she might, she could not look away, not even when he moved closer and the tingling spread to places on her body that normally would have shocked her. However, there was nothing normal about being on a pirate ship thousands of miles from home, one that could very well be destroyed come the morning. Nor was there anything normal or even vaguely excusable about standing barefoot before a man and wearing only a flimsy chemise and shift—one which did nothing to conceal her body’s reaction to his closeness. Her nipples had tightened into exquisitely tight little peaks, her belly was trembling so badly the chemise shivered with each shallow breath she took.

  The tip of her tongue appeared in an attempt to moisten her lips and Dante’s eyes were drawn to it like metal shavings to a magnet. She knew she should back away, should attempt to at least discourage his intent as he started to bend his mouth toward hers, but the distinction between what was right and proper, and what was wrong and inappropriate had long since become blurred. She might well be dead on the morrow… or worse, be taken captive by the Spaniard… and she could think of nothing she wanted more at the moment than to feel Gabriel Dante’s strong arms around her, holding her close.

  She tipped her mouth up to meet his and exhaled a breathless little sigh as their lips touched. She felt one of his hands circle her waist as the other rested briefly on the side of her neck before sliding up and pushing his fingers into her hair. Resistance was the farthest thing from her mind as she melted forward into his embrace, her body pressing into his; she was frightened yet exhilarated at the same time as his lips urged hers open in an intimacy as shocking as it was thrilling. The wet silkiness was more intoxicating than any wine or spirit. The gentle probing of his tongue was startling at first, but then she became aware of a heated drumming in her blood, one that compelled her to part her lips even wider and meet each rolling thrust of his tongue with her own.

  The kiss might have lasted seconds, or minutes, for she lost all sense of time and place. Sensations were colliding within her… strange new sensations that made her feel strangely hot and dizzy, cool and purposeful at the same time. When he sought to pull back and end the kiss, she was the one who rose up boldly on tiptoes, sending her arms around his neck to draw him back.

  Gabriel needed no further prompting.

  This time the kiss was deeper and the hand that rested at her waist grew rigid with the force of his growing need. Their mouths came apart, met again, came apart and met, slanting this way and that as she pressed against him, wanting something she could not even put a name to. His lips set a trail of fire from her mouth to her cheek, to the tender curve of her throat and she was not even aware o
f his hands pushing aside the flimsy cloth of her chemise until she felt him cradle and lift her breast to his searching mouth.

  She heard a groan that could not possibly have come from her own throat; it was low and husky and raw with desire. When his mouth covered her nipple, her knees buckled under the intense stabbing pleasure. Her neck arched and her head fell back; her hands clutched his upper arms and she nearly sobbed as he released the one nipple and caught up the other.

  Ribbons of pure pleasure curled downward through her belly and slid between her thighs, further weakening her ability to stand. Somewhere between a gasp and a cry, Dante’s mouth relented, but only long enough for him to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the bed. There, his conscience intruded one last time—while it was still able to do so—and he looked at her with a dark question in his eyes.

  Eva knew what he was asking, what he wanted. The answer was in the heated, sweet center of her body, but it came from her lips on a softly whispered, trembling, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  Gabriel’s hands slid down her body, stripping away the chemise, the sheath. He leaned back briefly to lift his shirt up and over his head, then to rid himself of the hose and trunkhose, then joined her, naked, on the bed. His mouth was hot and greedy, exploring every exposed inch of soft, pale flesh. At times he had her writhing, at others he had her arching up and clawing her fingers into his hair or his shoulders, whimpering with awe and disbelief. She offered herself shamelessly to his hands and lips and eyes, barely flinching when his fingers sank deftly into her heated core and probed the inner mother-of-pearl surfaces, finding them sleek and slippery, making them ache for more.

  He rose above her, his dark hair falling forward to shadow his face. His body was taut and hard as he pressed her deep into the linens. She felt the driving shock of his strength as his flesh slid up and into her, offering no apologies, no chance to catch a breath or brace herself as he pushed past the last barrier and filled her so completely there was no room for any further doubt or hesitation.

  The air was sucked from her lungs on a disbelieving cry. Far from the pillars of hellfire, damnation, and pain she had been forewarned would come on the loss of her virginity, she felt only a solid fullness inside her. And when he moved… dear God even the smallest little sliding thrusts… the pressure turned to pleasure and she nearly lost her senses.

  Her body grew astonishingly hot and acutely sensitive; she was aware of every inch of flesh pressing on flesh. She could feel the soft chafing of his chest hair against her breasts, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he tried to govern himself, and the husky warm gusts of his breath growing as ragged as her own.

  As his thrusts lengthened, little clutches of spasms began to shudder through her body. She could feel herself tightening around him, squeezing around his sliding flesh. She heard him groan and some primitive instinct bade her arch her hips upward, a move that pulled him deeper and won a growled warning whispered brokenly against her ear. It was too late for warnings, however, and she rose time and time again, matching his movements, meeting each thrust, each fully blooded stroke until the waves of streaking heat ran one into the other and finally exploded in a single white-hot flare of ecstasy.

  Dante braced himself on his outstretched arms, watching Eva’s face, hearing her shocked cries, feeling the warm, grasping pulsations of her orgasm grip his flesh and clench around him so tightly that every muscle and sinew in his body ached for release. Finally, when he could hold back no longer, he lost himself completely in her arms, in her body, surrendering himself to the dark, shattering passion.

  The pressure flooded out of him in several throbbing bursts; his spine arched, and his hands slid frantically to her hips to hold her high and tight against him. He shuddered through a last, throaty groan, and as the tension drained out of him, he became extraordinarily aware of every twitch and shiver of sensation, from the satiny texture of her inner thighs to the fluttering in her belly as the tiny aftershocks rippled through their bodies.

  The weight of his body sank heavily between her thighs, crowding down over her torso, heated flesh to heated flesh as he covered her completely. Neither one moved or made any sound apart from the softly panted breaths needed to bring their pounding heartbeats under control again.

  ~~

  Eva had no idea how she would look him in the eye again, or what she would say when she did. Her body continued to hum with little shocks and shivers. He remained a full and startling presence within her but it was an exquisitely sensual fullness, one that spread a warm, silky glow of satisfaction and wonderment through her body.

  Dante exhaled a long, warm breath against the side of her neck. His face was buried in her hair and he lingered there a moment longer before lifting his head and looking down at her. His expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking or feeling and while she wanted, desperately, to look away or avoid his gaze, she could not.

  Strands of her hair had become entangled with his and he slid his hand up to gently brush them aside.

  “Your fiancé was a fool,” he said quietly.

  She had no response to that and after another long moment, he planted a firm, hard kiss on her lips then gently extricated himself and rolled beside her. Naked but for the stark white bandaging around his chest, he rose and walked to the sideboard, where he filled two goblets with wine. He drained one and refilled it before returning to the bed.

  Eva had taken the opportunity to sit up and move back against the pillows, and when he saw how she had drawn a blanket up to her chin, he offered up a little sigh along with the goblet of wine. Her cheeks were mottled pink from embarrassment, which only made him feel more like a cad. He knew he should say something to put her at ease, but what could he say? Thank you? Had he been too rough, too desperate to lose himself for those few brief moments when nothing else mattered but finding and giving pleasure? Had he hurt her? He did not have much experience with virgins; most of the women in his life had come to his bed willingly and many had even taught him a thing or two. Island girls were raised to regard sex as a normal body function and most considered virginity to be an impediment to attracting a healthy mate.

  He cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the bed. “That probably shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It’s all right,” she said softly. “I could have said no, or stopped you.”

  Dante glanced, but refrained from commenting on her naiveté. He doubted anything short of a cannonball exploding through the gallery windows could have stopped him.

  Gabriel did not like feeling unsettled and Evangeline Chandler definitely unsettled him. She wasn’t mewling or crying. She wasn’t blaming him or accusing him of taking unfair advantage… which, of course, he had. She was confused, hurt, angry, and incredibly vulnerable and he had just taken crass advantage of all of those things.

  Jonas would doubtless clap him on the back and praise his powers of seduction. His father would roll his eyes. His mother would likely box his ears.

  He finished his wine and stared at the bottom of the goblet. “I hate to leave you like this, but I really should go back up on deck and talk to Stubs.”

  “About tomorrow?”

  “Yes, about tomorrow.”

  “What will you do if they attack?”

  “At the moment I have no bloody idea,” he said honestly, floundering a little more as he looked into the wide green eyes, “but I won’t be surrendering the ship… or anyone on it… that much is a certainty.”

  He stood and dressed quickly in black breeches and a midnight blue doublet. He buckled a leather belt around his waist and stepped into tall black boots. He fetched his own hat from the back of a chair, a much-abused tricorne with a clutch of hawk feathers jutting from the band, and with a rolled chart under his arm, he strode to the door, looking every inch the magnificent pirate of most girl’s fantasies.

  He paused and looked back, uncomfortable with the feeling that there was something more he should say. The usual wit of his tongue had deserted hi
m, so had the casual smile that normally came so easily when leaving a naked woman behind in his bed. But the sight of Eva, so pale and soft and slender, with the blanket still pulled high to her chin, left him wanting only to return to her side and gather her back into his arms.

  “Try to get some sleep,” he mumbled finally. “I will send Eduardo down if there is any change.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dante found Stubs on the quarterdeck leaning on the binnacle, a long-stemmed pipe clamped between his teeth. The three galleons had not changed position, they sat there like big birds of prey watching and waiting.

  The sea was smooth and calm, showing infrequent ripples from a cat's paw breeze as it scuttled across the surface, disturbing threads of mist.

  "Air is gettin’ cooler," Stubs said casually.

  Dante hadn't noticed. His body was still warm from being entwined by soft arms and legs. He took up his spyglass and studied each galleon in turn. At first he saw nothing overt to suggest Muertraigo was making preparations to attack, yet he sensed that was exactly what was happening six hundred yards away. The gallery windows in the stern of the San Mateo were ablaze with lights that fanned out hazily across the water, suggesting the capitan was meeting with his other commanders, sharing information about what he had seen and heard aboard the Endurance.

  "Air is gettin’ cooler," Stubs said again, joining him at the rail.

  "Yes, I can feel the chill in the air, what of it?"

  Stubs sighed extravagantly, for it was not often his captain was distracted or too thick in the head to ignore the obvious. He took the pipe out of his mouth and used the stem to point to three specific things: the tiny tendrils of mist swirling beside the hull, the blurred halos around the deck lamps on the galleons, and lastly, the darkness along the horizon where the coast of Espiritu Santu should have been visible now that the moon was in descent.

  Gabriel cursed. "Fog. The air is cooling and the fog is coming up."