But there was no ice here, and she couldn’t help but be thankful for it. This warm water was much better as it allowed lingering. And for someone who’d had precious little time to linger in her life, Grace appreciated the luxury of the moment.
Overhead, the lacy clouds drifted in the sky and it wasn’t long until her thoughts wandered back to Steele. Visions of Steele and her body’s reaction to him continued to unsettle her. She spread her arms wide to propel herself forward but the motion pulled at her sutures. Returning her arms to her side she kicked instead, small thrusts of her knees and ankles that sent water lapping between her legs. Grace gasped at the sinful pleasure and dropped to her feet, where her toes skimmed the sandy bottom.
What was the matter with her? Why was she, after the whole of her life and now when she was due to become a mother, having such thoughts and feelings? Did it make her a harlot? Was it natural to have these kinds of urges? Surely it wasn’t only men who had desires, felt lust? Unsettled by her thoughts, Grace lay back in the water and began to swim.
Her sodden shift and healing wound slowed her movements but didn’t damper her determination. Grace kicked hard, moving steadily through the water. She didn’t go deep, instead choosing to swim lengthwise, always keeping the beach to her side. She swam until her breath labored and her legs felt heavy. Until her thoughts no longer centered on Steele.
She screamed to high heaven when an arm suddenly banded under her breasts and she was hauled up against a hard chest.
“Unless you want the whole crew here in minutes, seeing you almost naked, I suggest you stop screaming,” Steele ordered as he moved them into shallower water.
Grace gulped back her next scream, told her heart it was all right to keep beating.
“What are you doing?”
“You were supposed to cool off, not exert or further injure yourself.”
“You might have thought of that before you scared ten years off me life.”
He turned her in his arms.
There was hardly a breath of space between them. From breasts to hip, Grace felt all hard man.
The sun shone on his hair, drew her attention to the perspiration gleaming on his forehead and cheeks. His lips were pink and full and slightly parted as he breathed. What it would be like to kiss a man with a beard, she wondered? Tingles and achiness returned with the force of a pounding wave.
“Grace.”
The words came at the same time his hand shackled her wrist, which was mere breaths from his face. Lord in Heaven she hadn’t realized she’d moved to touch him. Humiliation threatened to choke her. She yanked her hand, only to find it locked in Steele’s grip.
The possessiveness of such a gesture should have infuriated her. It should have reminded her of all the times Roche had come at her, grabbed her as though she was of no importance, as though she wasn’t a person with her own mind and spirit. It should have reminded her of every other man who thought they could dictate her life—Cromwell, her father, the overseer at the plantation. It should have put some iron in her spine, and she damn well should have demanded he release her this instant.
She should have, but she didn’t. Instead, his touch, firm yet unthreatening, started a fire within her. Below the water she felt a different kind of wetness. Above its glossy surface, water lapped underneath her breasts, gently rocking them in watery hands. A wave came up, licked her nipples.
Looking down she saw what she hadn’t realized at first. Her sodden shift was mostly transparent. Her full breasts were perfectly defined against the thin fabric; her nipples—pink and thrusting—were impossible to miss. Her head jerked up. Steele’s attention was locked onto her chest. Another wave rode crested over her breasts and though she hadn’t thought it possible, her nipples hardened more. Then, immediately afterward a kick of breeze slipped between her and Steele and the warm moistness of it was as though Steele bent and blew his breath over them.
Grace bit her lip as desire almost blinded her, and she nearly moaned aloud. Steele’s rolled from his throat, dark and full of need.
He dropped his hand and they each immediately took a step back. He didn’t raise his gaze until she’d crossed her arms over her breasts. He ran a flustered hand over his face, finally looked her in the eye.
“You should—”
“I should—”
His grin looked as strained as hers felt.
“I’ll go ashore. You stay.” She managed despite the thickness of her tongue.
It wasn’t until she was on the beach and turned to find him still watching that she realized the back of her shift was likely as transparent as the front.
*
Caught staring, Steele folded his legs, submerged himself under the water. The reprieve was minimal but at least the sea took some of the fire from his cheeks. If nowhere else.
Fool that he was, he’d watched Grace wade ashore. His mouth had dried degree by degree as the water slowly receded. First it revealed a waist so delicate his hands ached to span it, span it and hold her to him. Then the sea draped slowly lower, leaving behind the succulent curve of her hips. Hips made for a man’s enjoyment. But it was lower still which had mesmerized him, hardened him to a painful throb. He’d been helpless to look away.
When the water had fallen to her thighs, he’d nearly come out of the water after her. Her sodden shift gloved the perfect roundness of her backside, dipped enticingly into the cleft between them. Bloody hell, but he wanted to have that backside in his hands, splayed wide as he moved in and out of her wetness.
He inhaled at the thought and immediately choked on seawater.
Pushing off the sand, he thrust to the surface, gulped air between bouts of coughing. Water sluiced off his face, dripped into his eyes and burned.
“Are you all right?” Grace called from the beach.
He didn’t look at her, couldn’t. He was holding onto his lust by a thin enough rope; he didn’t need further temptation.
“I’m fine.” He rasped between coughs.
Once he hacked out the water he’d inhaled, he dove under again. He’d always loved swimming. To him, it was a different world, one filled with silence and peace. At the moment, he could use all the peace he could find. He stayed under until his lungs demanded air then he kicked hard toward the surface.
He breathed deep, circling his arms and legs as he filled his lungs. He noted the silence and cast a look to the beach. Grace lay on her back, arms and legs spread wide like… He gave his head a hard shake. Like a starfish. A starfish, not a woman begging for a man’s touch.
No noise came from the other side of the island either, leaving Steele to assume his crew had had enough frolicking for the moment and were scattered on the sand napping. He sighed and floated contentedly.
He’d become accustomed to being alone since he’d lost Catherine. At first, it had been misery, not hearing hers or Caden’s voices. Not hearing her breathe as she slept curled into his side. Each beat of silence had been a bleeding reminder of what he’d foolishly taken for granted. But over time, and more once he’d become Steele, he’d learned to accept the silence, the time alone.
Since taking Grace onto the Revenge, privacy had been in limited supply. But now, he thought with a satisfied breath, he had it. No demands. No need to keep his guard up. He allowed himself the luxury of total relaxation and could have wept as he felt each muscle loosen.
Steele closed his eyes, enjoyed the feel of the cooler water beneath him and the heat of the sun on his face and shirt-clad chest. He’d have preferred to go shirtless, but wouldn’t with Grace around. He’d made that mistake once already. Though if his shirt were as transparent as her shift had been, it wouldn’t provide much of a barrier.
Content, Steele drifted on the water. He could stay in this lazy state for hours. Maybe the crew would sleep longer allowing him—
A sharp cannon blast ripped through the silence. Steele jerked and the bottom fell from his stomach. Bloody hell, not now. Yet even as he thought it, he lunged
into action. Before the second blast resounded, he was swimming hard for shore. While the water splashed in his ears, he heard nothing but the echo of cannon fire and what it meant. He swam until the water was too shallow and then slogged his way in. He didn’t have to call for Grace, she was already at the longboat, hastily donning her gown.
“’Twas Aidan’s signal, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t want to alarm her, but she needed to be warned. “Yes.”
She handed him his boots then clasped her hands tightly over her stomach. His fingers turned to ice. What kind of trouble awaited him? His hands wanted to shake but he wouldn’t let them. He would be no good to Grace and her child if he faltered now. But as he yanked on his boots he wondered how he was going to keep her safe. He couldn’t leave her on this beach but if trouble were imminent, depending how far away it was, coming around in a longboat would make them an easy target.
“Steele?”
His eyes met her worried ones. “It’ll be all right, Grace. But we need to get back to the ship.” Aidan was keeping watch. If he saw an incoming ship he’d have signaled in time to get his captain back.
Yet as he helped Grace into the longboat and pushed it out, he could only pray he was right.
Chapter Nine
Steele braced for the worst. With each slice of the oars, his mind filled with horrific images; his crew decimated because its captain had abandoned them, no matter his reasons. Grace bleeding or being taken by the other ship while he was helpless, yet again, to save a woman from harm. Each time a vision clouded his mind, squeezed his heart, he shoved it aside. He couldn’t afford the distraction. Though it didn’t stop the fear from wrapping around his throat.
With each surge of his arms and legs, which drove the boat closer to the crook in the island where he’d make his turn for the Revenge and its crew, fresh horrors streamed into his mind and iced his blood. Hell, this wasn’t his first battle; why was he panicking now?
The answer sat still and pale in the bow of the longboat.
She looked especially innocent sitting there, hair sodden and tangled from her swim, his shirt once again hanging over her dress. She had no business being here. And he’d been a fool to dally today. Let them swim, he thought, clamping his jaw as he worked the oars. What would his foolishness cost him this time?
His breath lodged in his throat when he made the curve. It flowed out like a burst dam when he took in the scene. There wasn’t an immediate threat. Yes, he saw the dark spot on the horizon, knew what it was headed their way, but there was time. Aidan had done his duty and warned his captain early.
No, he’d done more than that, Steele realized. Nobody lingered on the beach. Supplies lay scattered and forgotten and a steady stream of drenched sailors climbed the ladder of the ship. His little sloop had gotten them out of many dire situations and he blessed it again now as he cut a direct path for his ship. Because he could anchor in shallower waters than the bigger galleons or frigates, his men hadn’t had a far swim to get back on board since Steele had possession of the longboat.
It meant they’d be ready when the time came and not caught unaware and unprepared. It meant, he thought casting a glance at a stony Grace, he stood a damn site better chance of protecting her and her child.
When the longboat tapped the Revenge, Aidan was leaning over the gunwale, black bandana tied around his head, ready to help Grace aboard. There were no salacious thoughts in Steele’s head when he took her hand and guided her to the ladder or any as he followed behind. His attention was only for what lay ahead.
Aidan began talking the moment Steele’s feet landed on deck. Despite the flurry of men racing about seeing to their tasks and calling out warnings as the mainsail was untied and raised, Steele gave his first mate his undivided attention.
“Guns are ready, as are extra rounds. Every musket, pistol, and blunderbuss has been gathered. I was waiting for you before going below to get my quiver.” He handed Steele the looking glass.
“Wait.” Steele grabbed his arm. “We’ve a minute and I need to talk to Grace.”
Surprisingly she didn’t protest. Lifting her skirts, she snaked her way through his harried crew and made her way to the hatch. He beat her there, grabbed the handle before she could and followed her into his cabin. The sounds from above dimmed, but the fast pace of the steps thumping overhead reminded him this wasn’t a leisurely talk and he had to hurry.
“No matter what happens you must—”
“I’ve need of a weapon.”
Steele’s words shriveled on his tongue. “You what?”
“I want a weapon. A musket or a pistol, an axe, I don’t care, but if there’s to be a battle, the knife you gave me won’t be enough.”
He shook his head. “Grace, if you stay below you’ll be fine. I’ve a crew to fight and you need to take care of your child.”
Her eyes shot daggers. “Roche had himself a crew as well and look what happened, I ended up here.”
It was as though she’d slapped him. He took a step back. “You would have preferred I left you there?”
“Of course not. ’Twas a miracle you coming along when you did and I’m thankful for it. Me point is, this time I want to be master of me own fate. What if something happens to your crew? Or to you? What do you think would happen to me if another pirate found me?”
Nothing he wanted to consider.
“I’ll tell you. They’d rape me, maybe one, maybe more. And do you think they’ll show me mercy? Even if I tell them about the babe?”
No, no they would not.
Though pride stiffened her spine, her eyes filled with fear. “I’ve been raped. It’s not an experience I’m after repeating. If they come at me, I want a choice. Them or me, I don’t care. But I’ll have a choice in the matter.”
Her words struck him hard, left him feeling queasy. He grabbed the back of a chair. “You’d take your life, and that of your child?”
“Not without any other hope.” She splayed her hands over her flat belly. “If I were to live through their abuse, do you think they’d be merciful to my child? Even if they allowed it to be born, do you think they’d treat it the way a child is meant to be treated?
“I’m not asking to be part of the battle. I’ll remain in your cabin. I give you me word. I only ask to able to protect meself.”
He’d die before he’d let anything happen to her, but she was right. He didn’t consider himself a saint, but he knew for certainty if any other pirate—and most privateers—found her unprotected, they wouldn’t hesitate to claim her. The image propelled him.
He dug through his chest and pulled out a blunderbuss. Confirming it was loaded it he crossed back to Grace.
“Have you ever shot a weapon?”
“Me da taught me to use a rifle.” And she remembered she hadn’t liked holding the weapon, nor the idea of killing.
“This isn’t so very different.” He put the gun in her hand, stood behind her and helped her aim. It was a testament to the dire circumstances that his mind didn’t linger over the fact it was the second time today she’d been pressed up against him. “You’ve only one shot and I don’t have time to teach you to reload, so fire carefully.” He came around. “Where’s the knife?”
“Under the pillow.”
“Keep it at hand.” Then, knowing he couldn’t spare more time, he headed for the ladder.
“Steele?”
He turned, faced her. And was completely disarmed. His shirt fell off her right shoulder, making her look small and vulnerable. The blunderbuss not only looked big and heavy in her delicate hand, it looked wrong. She was going to be a mother, for the love of God. She shouldn’t be wielding a weapon.
“I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe.” He vowed.
“Don’t forget to take care of yourself as well in the process.”
She couldn’t have known the last woman who’d told him to be careful was Catherine. Neither could she have known the effects of those words. They hit him like a cannonball,
cracked the wall he’d built around his heart.
Reeling from the impact, he scrambled to rebuild the barrier. If she knew him, really knew him, and what he’d done, she wouldn’t care what happened to him. It was simply a matter of him being the lesser of two evils. Hadn’t she already said the likelihood of another pirate being merciful toward her was nonexistent? She only wanted him safe because his safety ensured hers.
It was a perfectly good rationalization and it made perfect sense.
It made him want to hit something.
*
“She’s three-masted but too far out to see what colors she’s flying.”
Steele didn’t care what colors the other ship was sailing under. It had yet to change heading and continued its direct path for the Revenge.
Three masts, a minimum of twenty-four guns, with as many as forty, ranging in size from twelve to twenty-four pounds. Either way, it more than doubled what his sloop had. But he’d come away victorious from numerous battles with larger ships. Outgunned didn’t always mean outmaneuvered. He’d learned over the years to use the Revenge’s strengths to his advantage. She was small, but she was fast.
He simply had to forget Grace was on board and concentrate on what needed to be done. The problem lay in the fact that every time he believed he had, she slipped back into his thoughts. She had to be scared. He hated to leave her alone but he couldn’t spare a man to stay with her. Aidan had brought her Carracks, but the bloody bird wouldn’t be much in the way of protection.
He’d made her a promise though, and by God he intended to keep it. He held out his hand and Aidan placed the looking glass into it. Through the tube he saw the boy was right. Three masts. He peered closer. He’d bet what was in his hold it was a frigate. They were definitely outgunned.
A scattering of clouds plodded through the sky. The breeze had kicked up, not significantly and surely not enough to account for the chill creeping up his spine. Snapping the glass closed, he tucked it into its perch.
Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance Page 11