Cadence (Langston Brothers Series)

by Blue, Melissa Lynne

  Curtis knew he shouldn’t be doing this.

  That it was wrong to take advantage of her distraught state, but she tasted so good and her sweet touch melted the parts of his soul that had hardened over the last few years. Truth be told, he was broken inside and when he was with her he felt more like himself than he had in five years. Five years may well be eternity when a part of your soul is blackened.

  Her motives be damned Cadence warmed him, healed him from the inside out, and while he knew he could never deserve to be with her, he lacked the resolve to pull away and deny himself the supreme solace he found within her. Solace he sensed she also needed and he knew only one way to give it.

  Without further hesitation Curtis slipped a palm around the back of her neck, claiming her lips in a kiss that erased all thoughts but those of their warm bodies pressed intimately in the solitude of her cabin.

  Nine

  Cadence drew a deep, tremulous breath, drawing in Curtis’s unique scent. The thing she both feared and desired was happening and she didn’t want it to stop.

  The touch of his lips staggered her senses, swiftly diminishing the gripping horror of the nightmare until a glow spread through her like warm honey. His kiss was sweet and gentle. It was not demanding or angry and she detected within it the hint of sadness ever present behind his eyes. Every act of kindness or understanding smile he’d bestowed upon her rushed to the forefront of her consciousness, and she touched him tenderly in response. It was incredible to feel his response to her tentative, inexpert caress, feel the muscular expanse of his chest quiver involuntarily as she explored the powerful muscles wrought of long hours of work. She slid her hands lower, to his waist, his thighs, feeling the taut, tensile flesh over every inch of his body.

  She was in love with him.

  The realization descended upon her as devastatingly as his kiss and she parted her lips in welcome.

  Curtis moaned, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and began to move. Deftly his fingers plucked at the buttons of her shirt until it slid from her smooth shoulders. His rough hands slid down her arms as though drinking her in through his fingertips.

  “Do you want to stop?” he rasped, pulling back slightly.

  Stop? She could no more stop this than stop breathing. “No,” she murmured, curling against him. They were sill kneeling and she pressed her lips to his throat, urging him to continue.

  He groaned, running those deliciously rough hands along her naked torso. His hands were huge and seemed to be everywhere at once. Just one of his palms spanned the whole of her waist between her hips and breasts, it was amazing.

  When he pulled off the cap she continued to wear even in bed, Cadence could scarcely breathe at the deep emotion and desire shining in his eyes as he fixed his gaze on her. Curtis ran his fingers through her hair, releasing the curls. He held her completely still, gazing at her in the beam of moonlight shining through her small porthole.

  * * *

  Curtis, too, held his breath. Silken tresses glowed like quicksilver in the moonlight, falling in tangled disarray around her heart shaped face, barely brushing her naked shoulders. Her entire body glowed in a shimmering pool of moonlight. She was… beautiful… ethereal… perfect and it had been so long since he’d felt this… good. He might be angry in the morning, with her and with himself, but at this moment he didn’t care. If this one night was all he would know of her then so be it. No regrets. Committed, he pulled her body to his taut frame, feeling her respond with total abandon. Gently he loosened the wrapped cloth binding her breasts until the full creamy flesh was bare to his gaze. Cadence rewarded him with a gasp of pleasure as his thumb grazed her nipples.

  “Ahhh… Cadence,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her neck and shoulders, then greedily taking her breast into his mouth.

  She gasped, and clutched at his shoulders, her fingers biting into his back. “Oh, Curtis!”

  Spurred on, he moved up and over her, wrapping both arms around her, and lowering her to the mattress beneath him. She fit perfectly against him, her hips nestled with flawless intimacy against his. God, he was ready, desperate to plunge into her. Frenzied need pulsed in his veins, and he knew he’d never needed anyone as he needed her in this moment.

  He settled between her legs and a fleeting glimpse of hesitation flashed across her face in the moonlight. It would have been so easy to ignore it, but… Curtis turned his face away, resting his forehead against her shoulder. Drawing a deep breath he mentally reined himself in. He knew she was innocent. And in spite of his desire to bring this particular fantasy to reality he would have to go slow. He wanted to go slow, for her.

  Shifting slightly he traced the curve of her face with his thumb, looking directly into her eyes that glittered like prisms in the moonlight. Any part of him that hadn’t melted beneath her gaze before did so as the emotion swirling in her eyes washed over him in a humbling caress. The kiss he bestowed upon her lips was barely palpable but in its tenderness contained all, if not more, of the passion he could have portrayed in any other touch.

  Cadence returned the sweet kiss, gazing up at him with the same mixture of fear and excitement he imaged all young women experienced their first time, but… Damn! She gazed up at him with that look again. The look that said, love me and protect me, and you are my hero. Her eyes said, I trust you. He could almost hear it whispered from her lips, I trust you… Damn! Damn! Damn! Hell and damnation. He couldn’t do this to her.

  With the last shred of his self-control he stopped.

  “Curtis,” she breathed against his lips, “what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he murmured. God, but he should pull away. He brushed her lips again. “Cadence, I—” This time she kissed him. “We should—” She tilted her hips, parting her legs slightly. “Oh, God,” he moaned.

  “We should what, Curtis?”

  Her fingers twined through his hair pulling him down for yet another kiss. It was hot, and wet, and her mouth was so… soft…

  Did she have any idea what she did to him? Probably not. She couldn’t. But her sweet little kisses and shy caresses were driving him crazy. Even as his mind whispered reason, don’t do this, Curtis, you know better, it’s straight to hell if you take her. His body screamed for her, his soul screamed for her, and he had new understanding of the cliché, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

  “Is, is this what you want?” he stilled a hand on her thigh, wanting nothing more than to trace it up her side until it hovered just beneath her breast. “Are you certain you’re ready for this?”

  “Yes,” she firmly. “The way I feel when I’m with you… I don’t want it to stop.” Her arms wound around his back and shoulders as she wriggled further beneath him. “Touch me, Curtis.” She breezed her mouth against his lips. “I’m yours.”

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. Forgive me. How could he deny a request like that? She was practically begging for him to take her. And oh how he wanted her. He wanted to hold her and kiss her. This went far beyond raw animal passion. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to make this special for her. Slowly he stripped away what remained of their clothes and looked into her eyes. This was it.

  He trembled.

  “You’re shaking,” Cadence breathed, stilling warm fingers upon his arms.

  “So are you.” Gently he pushed an errant golden strand from her beautiful face. “This is it, love.” As the words escaped his lips he swiftly invaded the womanly softness beckoning him. With a sharp intake of breath Cadence jerked upright, her body tense beneath him.

  “Are you alright?” Curtis questioned huskily, unable to resist the urge to move.

  * * *

  Slowly the intense shock of his intrusion ebbed and in its place came a pleasure unlike anything she’d known before. This was what she’d been ready for. This is what her body had screamed for, and it was only getting better! With every movement, every touch, every stroke her body tightened until she was a coil ready to snap. It didn’t take long for her t
o match his rhythm or learn how to move to make him moan. She liked to hear him moan. She wanted to scream, cry out from pure pleasure and she must have because he said, “Cadence, try to be quiet or you’ll wake the entire ship.”

  “I’ll try to stay quiet if you promise not to mention other people while we’re in bed.”

  “Aren’t you a little hell cat.”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

  “I do.”

  She should have felt brazen. Embarrassed even, but for some reason she didn’t. For whatever reason moving with him, touching him, talking with him while making love all seemed so perfectly natural. She savored every caress, every kiss, every moan or whisper that crossed his lips. Together their senses swirled in the thrill and ecstasy of a lover’s embrace. The gentle sway of the ship, the creaking timbers, and the limpid swish of the sea combined to embed the moment forever in their senses as they lay entwined upon the bed.

  Raised on an elbow Cadence turned to Curtis with a small smile. A wave of inexplicable shyness swept over her and she let her hair spill across her face as a mask. “I didn’t know it would be like that,” she said, not meeting his gaze, but concentrating on tracing the sculpted ridges of his sun bronzed chest.

  Twisting a curl about his finger he tilted her chin up and flashed an irresistible, incredibly boyish grin. Her heart flopped. I haven’t seen him look like that in years.

  “Neither did I,” he said, rolling her on top of him. He locked her swollen lips in another passionate kiss. Lifting his head, he winked playfully. “I’ve been fantasizing about holding you this way since we met on the docks in Charleston, but I must admit, my fantasies could hardly do you justice.” At his words, she colored to the tips of her ears. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth she nibbled nervously.

  She loved him. But never had she imaged that being in love would feel like this. Brushing a blond lock from his forehead she pressed a hand to his cheek, letting her gaze linger on his wide kissable mouth. She longed to kiss him again, but at that moment he was smiling. The smile melted layers away from his face allowing her a glimpse of the devil-may-care boy she’d known so long ago. Curtis emanated experience well beyond his four and twenty years. How had one so young developed such a hard, cynical shell? And why?

  Most viewed him a successful shipping merchant, and celebrated him as a hero throughout the former confederacy. But the scars marring his chest were a strong testament to the trials he’d suffered at the age of eighteen. She sensed that his scars ran deeper than those visible to the naked eye. She sensed, too, that he still fought those battles. Old Jack knew of his nightmares. What visions or enemies continued to haunt him?

  Running her hand over his chest Cadence slowly traced the long silver scar stretching from the top of his right shoulder to the left lower portion of his ribs. Her eyes drifted lower and fell to two round scars marring the flesh below his navel. Still more, smaller scars peppered his torso, trailing across both shoulders and down his arms—perhaps from shrapnel? His physique was otherwise flawless, but evidence of the wounds gave him a rugged, dangerous appeal. She dared to ask softly, “Curtis, what happened?”

  He glanced away, a muscle flexing testily in his lean jaw. “You know as well as anyone that I was shot during the war.” He rolled abruptly, sliding her beneath him, and smiled, though the gesture was obviously forced. Brushing a curl from her forehead he nuzzled her neck and said, “Let’s not talk about the war. I can think of far better things to do than compare scars.”

  “I don’t know,” she giggled. “I’ve got a pretty good one on my knee.”

  “Really and how did you come by that?”

  “I fell off my pony when I was seven. Dr. Byers put eight stitches in it.” She feathered his hair with her fingers, but was not ready to let the subject of his injuries drop. “Your turn, Curtis.” Her curiosity was piqued as she traced the long scar again. “Where did this come from? It is definitely not from a gunshot wound.”

  He stiffened in her arms, shuddering as though confronted by a vile sight.

  * * *

  Why had she had to ask?

  Now Curtis could almost hear the screams, the cannon, the heat… Worse, he could see Allan West’s green eyes on that fateful day when he’d not just lost the last shred of his innocence, but his very soul… It was all a jumbled mess in his brain.

  What was he doing here, with this innocent girl who should never have to try to understand?

  Rolling away from her, Curtis sat abruptly and grabbed his trousers from the floor. Hauling them on, he stood with his back to her. “Do not ask me about my past,” he growled. “Not ever. It’s done. Gone. Finished.”

  Curtis moved swiftly to the door and turned. Cadence sat on the bed, curls tumbling wildly about her head, Compassion lining her lovely visage. Compassion? Not hardly. She could never fathom what he’d seen and done. “I don’t think about it.” His tone was flat. “I don’t speak of it and I am certainly not going to tell you about it.” There was a cruel edge to his statement as he clasped a hand over his scarred chest. She started at the force of his words, and tears filled her eyes.

  Oh God, Curtis thought stepping into the companionway, I am some kind of bastard, and now she’s crying. Crying because of what I did to her.

  Knowing any attempt at sleep was futile he ventured up on deck, where the chill air did much to ease the miserable visions haunting him. Leaning against the heavy timbers he watched as the fingers of early morning light slowly peeked over the horizon, soothed by the gentle breeze puffing past the sails, and the creak of the ship. He closed his eyes.

  Cadence…even the ship’s soothing sounds seemed to whisper her name.

  Thoughts of his night with her weaved through his mind as visions of her sleek body danced before his eyes. Curtis had long ago refused to be totally destroyed by bitterness, but he was fully aware of his sins, grievous sins. When he was with Cadence, her purity and trusting innocence, reminded him that the same qualities had once been his. With her, he dared to hope. When he looked into her eyes he could almost forget...

  Sighing, he turned away from the horizon and leaned his back against the rail. Who was he kidding? He could never forget. He could never be forgiven. Moreover it wasn’t her fault the nightmarish visions had returned and he should not have been so cruel about her questions. She wasn’t the first to ask about his scars.

  Guilt filled him—guilt for the way he had spoken to her, and even deeper guilt for taking advantage of her. She’d trusted him. Believed he would take care of her. She was still innocent enough to expect he would do the good and honorable thing by her, but how could he? He had no such intention. He could almost hear the chastising words of his father, berating him for his irresponsibility.

  I raised you to be a gentleman, his father would say.

  To which Curtis would reply, Well, Pop, it would seem you failed rather miserably in that regard. It would be yet another argument in a never ending list of downfalls. His downfalls.

  Damn, he thought for the umpteenth time that night, he probably should do the honorable thing by Cadence, the gentlemanly thing. Southern men were famed for impeccably genteel mannerisms, and he’d been raised to be nothing less. But… but…

  Damn it all to hell, he’d broken that one unbendable law of the uncommitted man—no virgins. Was that really so hard to abide by? No virgins? In truth he was not immune to the ways of the southern gentleman, chivalry and all that. Deep down he knew he should do the honorable thing by her, he even wanted to, he just… couldn’t.

  For all his accusations of her devious plan to trap him into marriage, there was absolutely no evidence to support such a theory. After all he had been the one bursting through her door in the middle of the night, falling uninvited into her bed. She wasn’t there to ensnare him. She was running. Why?

  Or rather from what?

  The man in black?

  Of two things he was absolutely certain, one, he’d successfully hanged himsel
f, and two, he seemed to be doing a fine job of digging himself a neat three by six-foot hole. Perhaps Cadence would be so kind as to throw in the first lump of sod.

  Ten

  For the better part of three days Cadence and Curtis made avoiding one another an art form. It was late afternoon on the third day when Curtis spied her scrubbing an aft portion of the deck. He’d been telling himself he needed time to think, but for all his thinking he’d reached no conclusions and had little more to show for the effort than a miserable headache. Much as he wanted to avoid the confrontation and pretend nothing had ever happened, he’d never once taken the coward’s route and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. He decided to have it out with her sooner as opposed to later.

  He took a healthy gulp of sea air and strode across the deck.