The Admiral's Ward

by Dinah McLeod

  She did allow herself a moment to pity the girl she’d been before she’d had the unprecedented fortune to step aboard the Victoria. She’d had her head filled with romances—gallant gentleman and quick-witted women who paled shallowly compared to the real thing. But it was better that she had not known. She would never stop being grateful for James teaching her what love should truly look like.

  As James lifted her nightdress, the cool fabric whispering across her skin, all other thoughts fled. Then his mouth was on her breast, his tongue flicking over her nipple until it hardened into a pebble, which he took in his mouth and suckled until she moaned. She grasped handfuls of the bedsheet as he kissed his way over to the other breast before giving it identical treatment.

  Her sex throbbed hotter and Delia could feel her thighs slick with the wetness of her own juices. But James was far from done, it seemed. His mouth trailed lower, pausing only to kiss and suckle wherever he took a mind to.

  “Please, love,” she whimpered. “Do not torture me so.”

  “Torture?” he queried, his eyes bright with mirth. “Nay, beloved, I simply am a man who believes a job worth doing should be done well.” With that, he spread her thighs with authority that made her tingle down to her toes.

  James slid a finger inside her, testing her wetness, before another joined the first. “This makes me think of our first time.”

  All Delia could do was moan. Her breath was coming faster as he strummed inside her with his long, skilled fingers. It was on the tip of her tongue to beg, once she caught her breath, but before she could he pushed himself up, looming over her once more. There was a single passionate, charged look shared between them before he entered her pussy with a hard thrust.

  She could not help but release the cry that rose to her lips. He felt so wonderful inside her, as always, but this time there was something new. His thrusts were coming quick and hard, right from the onset. She didn’t mind, not at all, but it was a new side to him. An authoritative, possessive way about him that had never entered their lovemaking before.

  Delia threw her head back, hair streaming behind her as she mewled her pleasure. Her fingernails were raking down his back as he pumped inside of her, moving quicker still.

  “Do not ever lie to me again, Delia,” he told her, his stern voice breaking the silence.

  “Never,” she vowed.

  With three more hard, quick thrusts James was throwing his own head back and grunting his satisfaction in a job well done. Delia’s body was already taut and hearing his pleasure was the final push she needed to reach her own. From the moment she began to moan, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her—a deep, passionate kiss that promised many more to come.

  * * *

  It took two days for Delia to reach full recovery. James told her over breaking their fast that it would only be another day before they reached Baasing.

  “We shall marry?” she asked him for what felt like the dozenth time. She liked to hear him say it.

  “We shall,” he promised. “And I have even arranged for us to have a couple of days on land.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Truly?”

  James reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Baasing is a lovely city and I would very much like to show it to you.”

  Delia could hardly believe it. After her bout of bad luck, it looked like she was getting everything she had ever dreamt of. A man who loved her, not for her name or her dowry, but passionately loved her. It hardly seemed possible. And not only that, but she would get to travel the world as she had always longed to do. The awful experience days ago was beginning to fade like a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Eat.”

  He was always encouraging her to eat, and eat more. According to James, she had lost weight and though she did see a thinness to her cheeks, she thought he worried too much. Though she could not deny it pleased her immensely for him to do so. Obediently, she took a bite of croissant and washed it down with milk while he watched.

  “Delia...”

  “Yes?”

  “There is still one thing that has troubled me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  “I still do not understand why that man would have taken you in the first place.”

  She let out a laugh. “Who knows why crazy men do the things they do?”

  James regarded her with serious eyes, and Delia squirmed.

  When she had been locked in that horrible prison she had vowed that if she ever made her way out again she would never lie to him again. She cleared her throat and set down her napkin, thinking of how to begin. “That man learned some things about me. Things he sought to exploit for personal gain.”

  “Such as?”

  “He wanted to return me to my family for a monetary reward.”

  James considered her words, nodding at last. “I did not realize your father was so wealthy.”

  “He is to a man like Barnabee, I suppose.”

  He shook his head. “He was attempting to pile horror atop of horror on you. I am so sorry that you had to suffer through that, sweet poppet. I promise from this moment forward I will protect you with my very life.”

  She should have been warmed by the words, smiled at him lovingly and gone back to eating. She would have done, had he not said horror atop of horror. Which he only said because he thought she had escaped a horrible situation back home. Because she had told him it was so.

  “James... there is something I need to tell you.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Before I do...” She took a deep breath, trying to gather her courage. “I want you to know that I love you, that the way I feel about you... I have always been truthful about that.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  “Please... you must tell me you believe me.”

  His brow furrowed. “Yes, of course. I believe you, Delia.”

  Hearing her given name on his lips gave her the encouragement she needed to go on. “It is, I hope, a small thing. What I mean to say is, I hope...”

  “Out with it, love.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “The thing is... I was not exactly... truthful with you.”

  He gave her an encouraging nod.

  “When we met, I mean. I told you... well, I might have said...”

  “You might have said?”

  “That my mother was dead,” she blurted out. “That my father let a stepmother abuse me.”

  His brows arched. “Yes. I do believe that is exactly what you told me. And so?”

  She cringed, knowing that the look in his eyes would change once she told him this part. “It... well... it is not exactly...”

  “True?” he guessed.

  The word was spoken with steel behind his velvet voice and she began to wring her hands. “Yes.”

  “It is not true,” he repeated, each word laced with more disbelief than the one before it.

  “No.” She hung her head in shame, unable to look him in the eye.

  “Which part?”

  “What?”

  “Which part isn’t true, Delia?”

  She let out a cry of distress. She had known this would be difficult, but it felt impossible. Part of her desperately wished she could rewind the clock and take it all back. Be truthful with him from every moment since they were wed.

  “Delia?”

  “Any of it.” The words were a whisper wrenched regretfully from her lips.

  It was several moments before he spoke again. When he did, all the tenderness that had been in his voice had evaporated. “Explain to me what that means, please.” He was brisk, formal.

  “James...”

  “Stick to the facts, madam.”

  She flinched at being once again reduced to madam. “My father wished me to marry,” she said, matter-of-fact and toneless.

  “And so? This man was a horrible man?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing desperately that she could say it was so. But alas, if she was going t
o be truthful she must keep on with it now. She shook her head.

  “Well, what then?”

  “He... he’s... dreadfully old.” She brought her hands to her face, knowing how desperately spoiled she sounded and wishing to hide from his eyes.

  “I see.”

  The words slammed into her like a physical blow. It was clear that he did not.

  “And you wished to escape this unimaginable fate.”

  Though he did not speak cruelly it was clear that he thought her vapid and childish. That was almost as bad, coming from the man she loved. “James, please try to understand, I—”

  “I must return you to your parents at once.”

  She dropped her hands, her mouth falling open as she gaped at him. “What? You cannot!”

  He shook his head at her. “Please do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do. I am captain of this vessel, lest you forgot.”

  “No, of course not, but—”

  “Then we shall do exactly as I instruct. We will have to make a stop by Baasing first, then we will return to Lansing.”

  “But... are we... do you still wish... to be wed?”

  He did not answer, only looked at her so stoically that she needed no other reply.

  “But... you made promises to me!” she burst out, tears rising to her eyes.

  “Aye, of course you would try to hold me to my word when I cannot trust yours.”

  She gasped in surprise. “James... I know I should not... but you must understand, that was before.”

  “I shall have you escorted to your room. You will be cared for, exactly as before. I shall send someone in with your noontime meal.”

  “You... you will not be the one to come?”

  He turned away, but not before she could see that his jaw had hardened. “I am very busy today, I am afraid.”

  Delia could think of a thousand things to say, but looking at his strong, resolute back, she knew none of them would make a difference. Putting her hand to her mouth to muffle her cry, she did not wait for a guard before she rose from the table and fled.

  Chapter Ten

  Three days passed in quick succession. Delia was still recovering, but through continued rest and regular bowls of broth she was soon able to regain her strength and return to eating regular meals. Not that she had much of an appetite. As he had promised, James did not come to see her. He sent others to bring her meals—polite, sometimes even interesting men, but strangers. Some of them seemed to be inclined to stay awhile. Surely, they must have thought she might talk about the experience of being kidnapped by their fellow sailor. But Delia was not interested in making friends. She fell back on her courtly manners until each of them took their leave. There was only one man she wished to speak with.

  Along with her meals she received regular updates of the Victoria’s progress. As he had said, the crew stopped in Baasing long enough to handle their business and turn Barnabee into the authorities. Then they turned right around and the sails were let out once more, pointed toward Lansing.

  Agony such as she had never known before ate at Delia. She had no idea what kind of reception to expect, nor did she truly care. Perhaps her father would accept her back, perhaps she would still be married to the duke. The uncertainty of her future was not what concerned her, only that she would not be spending it with the man she loved.

  The next day when there was a knock on her door she went to it with wooden movements, in no particular hurry for another plate she would merely pick at. When she opened the door, the admiral—her admiral—stood there. It had been days since she had seen him last, and somehow, he seemed to her to have grown even more handsome. To see him standing there, tall and resplendent in his uniform, literally stole her breath.

  “Might I come in?” he queried when she did not speak.

  Delia stood aside, hardly able to believe it as he strode inside.

  “We will arrive in Lansing today. You will require an escort.”

  “You need not concern yourself. I know where the house is well enough.”

  He arched his brow in that familiar gesture that had once been so intimate it made her belly flip to see it. “Though I am certain that is true, how could I be certain you would go home? It is my duty to ensure your safe return.”

  She saw no point to arguing, so merely nodded.

  “I had thought to go with you.”

  Her heart leapt at the surprising offer. What did it mean? Could it be that despite everything he missed her? “You?” Was the only thing she managed to say.

  “Yes. As the captain, I should be the one to return you home, to speak with your father.”

  As quickly as her hopes had risen, they were dashed once more. Her heart dropped so quickly she thought she might see it if she looked at the floor.

  James left without another word. She had not thought it possible to feel even more despondent, more alone. But she had been wrong.

  * * *

  “My lady?”

  Once, those words had stirred wonderful things inside her, but it was now with a feeling of dread that she allowed James to usher her off the ship.

  “Be careful. It can be a bit—”

  But his warning came too late and she stumbled the moment she set foot off the ship.

  His hand shot out to catch her. As soon as she had righted herself, he released her. It had been his duty to help her, nothing more, and the place where his hand had held her moments ago, just above the elbow, throbbed painfully as a reminder of that.

  “It is often a bit jarring, the first time you step back onto dry land,” he finished.

  “Oh?” She turned to him with a raised brow, his signature move. “I had not noticed.” She held her breath, waiting for him to reproach her over her snide tone, to do something, anything, but he merely gestured for her to lead the way. With a heavy heart that seemed to weigh down her chest with each step that she took, Delia did as he bid.

  She wanted to feel anger that he was putting her through this, but she knew that would not be fair. After all, she had deceived him, she had continued to lie the entire time she knew him. Even after they had fallen in love. Though it was hard to remember as he walked next to her in stoic silence that he had once loved her. It seemed like a far-off dream... but she had not imagined it, surely?

  Delia cast a sidelong look at him and sighed.

  “Everything alright, my lady?”

  Oh, how she longed to hear him say her name again! How could she begin to explain all that she felt? The fear of never feeling again the way that he had made her feel, the anxiety of returning home to see him walk out of her life forever? The regret? Perhaps if she told him...

  But no. It took only one look at his impassive expression to know nothing she would say now would make any difference. They walked in silence, Delia lost in her thoughts. Under different circumstances, she would have worried about what awaited her at home, what her future would look like now. But all she could think about was the man beside her, and the fact that although only a small space separated them, it felt like oceans were between them.

  Which, she thought sadly, would soon be the case.

  All too soon, she saw the familiar peaks of the mansion that was her family home. She looked at James out of the corner of her eye and saw a flicker of surprise register on his face. Then he closed it down, just like he had his feelings for her, apparently.

  Resigned, she began moving faster toward the wrought-iron gates. Might as well get this over with.

  The guard that was posted saw her coming and opened the gates, crying, “My lady! My lady, where—”

  But she paid him no heed as she kept her gaze straight ahead, now walking toward the pristine white door.

  The guards’ shouts had been overheard, for the door opened before she could knock. It was not a servant who stood there, but her father. His face flickered with warring emotions. At last, he seemed to settle on one. Much to her surprise, it was one of profound relief. “Delia!” He surprised her
further by grabbing her and pulling her tightly to him.

  At the mention of her name, there was a flurry of footsteps. When her father let her up for air she saw her mother standing just behind them. She was twisting her hands with tears in her eyes. As soon as she was able, she joined the throng and they were all embracing and crying.

  Delia had not realized how much she missed them—yes, even her stubborn father—until this moment.

  It was her father who broke their embrace, eyes staring beyond. “Did you bring a gentleman home?”

  Her eyes shot to James and she smiled sadly. How she wished she could say it was so. “Actually—”

  “It was I who brought her home,” he interjected.

  The earl smiled, moving toward the admiral and offering his hand. “Then her mother and I are forever in your debt. Do you have time to come in and take a cup of tea with us?”

  Delia expected him to say no, to explain that he had to get back to the Victoria. But he quickly accepted.

  Her father had a wonderful tea laid, with every type of treat one could hope for. Delia quickly discovered that as delicious as it all looked after the common fare she had eaten aboard the Victoria that she hadn’t much of an appetite. It was more difficult than she could have imagined to sit across from the man she had hoped to marry at her father’s table and pretend there was nothing between them.

  It grew harder as they began to talk.

  “Tell me about how you happened across my daughter,” the earl said after second cups of tea had been poured.

  James did not even look at her as he began to detail everything that had transpired. He left nothing out. By the end of his tale, her father’s mouth had dropped open, her mother had paled, and Delia’s own eyes had filled with ashamed tears. Each teacup sat on the table, untouched and growing cold.

  “So you see, I felt it my duty to bring her home.”

  “I... I thank you, sir. Yes. Of course. Her mother and I...” Her father trailed off, clearly at a loss given all the information he had heard.