by Jo Goodman
“What do you feel, I wonder?”
The question defeated her. “I don’t know.”
He sighed, easing the grip on her wrists. “That, at least, is honest.”
“Is it enough?”
“It’s enough. For now.” He kissed her cheek lightly, released her, and turned over on his back. “You may carry on.”
Kenna was plainly bewildered. “Carry on?”
“You know, seducing me.”
“Oh.” She was thoughtful. “Mayhap you would instruct me.” She was already turning on her side, fitting the curves of her body to his.
Rhys cleared his throat as Kenna’s knee nudged his groin. “I think instructions would be superfluous.” His wicked grin returned. “Give me your mouth, Kenna.”
“Anything to shut you up.”
“I was thinking the same thi—” He did not finish his thought. Kenna’s mouth covered his own very sweetly.
Rhys could have drowned in that kiss. Kenna’s lips were soft and moist, searching the contours of his mouth for an opening. His abdomen contracted as her palm slid along his ribcage and a husky sigh gave Kenna what she sought. Her tongue slipped in Rhys’s mouth at the same time his hand cupped her breast. She moaned her satisfaction against his lips as she relished the pressure of the rough edge of his tongue. Caught in the erotic spell of his touch, Kenna murmured Rhys’s name when his fingers tugged at the tip of her breast. The nipple swelled, hardened, while Kenna ached for more than the touch of his hands.
As if Rhys sensed her need he pulled back from the kiss. “Tell me what you want, Kenna.”
“You know.” Her slender fingers held the side of his face.
“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “But tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you.”
The words stuck in her throat. It was one thing to admit to herself that she wanted his mouth on her, quite another to say the words aloud. “I don’t think…”
“Tell me.”
“Kiss my breasts…the way you did before. It was…it was like fire.”
“Was it?” he asked, prolonging the moment.
“Yes.”
“Take off your nightgown.”
Kenna sat up on her knees, took the hem of her gown, and raised it over her head. Rhys shrugged out of his robe. Both articles of clothing were carelessly relegated to the floor. Rhys touched Kenna’s shoulders and pulled her down beside him. He placed teasing, biting kisses on her jaw, the pulsing cord of her neck, and across her collarbone. Kenna moved restlessly beneath him, anticipating the moment his mouth would move over her sensitive, aching breasts.
Rhys spiraled kisses on one breast until he heard Kenna’s soft moan of frustration, then his tongue flicked across the tip and she was silenced. The suck of his mouth tugged at Kenna’s nerve endings, showering her body in sensation. One of her hands made a fist in his hair, holding him to her, while the other stroked his shoulder. Rhys took the same care with the other breast while the palms of his hands caressed Kenna’s hips and thighs. As his fingers dipped intimately Kenna’s legs parted. Against her thigh she could feel the hot proof of his arousal and she wondered if she was shameless because she wanted him inside her, filling her, stroking her with pleasure’s steady rhythm.
Rhys’s mouth left her breasts and moved lower. Kenna sucked in her breath as his lips glided across her abdomen. Without ever knowing quite how it happened Kenna felt Rhys move between her thighs and cup her buttocks in his strong hands. A tremor of shock rippled through Kenna as Rhys bent his head and placed his mouth against her. Mortified, she went rigid and tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes.
Rhys felt her tension and he stopped. He lowered her hips and stretched out beside her, keeping one leg between hers and caressing her waist with his fingertips. “Kenna? What is it?”
“Why did you do that?”
Rhys resisted asking what that was. “All of you is beautiful,” he said simply. He lowered his head and kissed her mouth with infinite gentleness. “But until you believe me I will go carefully.” He kissed her again, this time with more pressure and felt her respond to his insistence, Kenna suddenly felt very foolish. She kissed him hard while her palms smoothed the corded muscles of his back. One of her hands slipped between their bodies and sought Rhys’s arousal. Rhys required no further encouragement, whispering her name huskily as he thrust into her.
Kenna gasped at the force of his entry and quieted as Rhys stilled, letting her feel the fullness of him inside her. He whispered half-formed words against her skin that made her feel peculiarly alive and desirable. In turn she gave sound to the thoughts that trembled on her lips. When he began to move she moved with him, letting her hands glide over his back until she clutched at his shoulders when a torrent of sensation washed over her. Rhys’s thrusts quickened as Kenna lost herself in the purity of pleasure. He tensed above her, gritting her name as he found release.
Kenna touched her mouth to the sheen of perspiration glistening on Rhys’s shoulder. Their breathing grew quiet together as Kenna was drawn close to the contours of his body. They fell asleep, neither missing the pillow that had slid to the floor beside their clothes.
Chapter 7
When Kenna woke it was midmorning. Rhys was no longer beside her and she rose from the bed somewhat self-consciously, bemused that she could have slept so soundly while he prepared to leave the cabin. Memories of being loved by Rhys folded in upon her. Kenna picked up the pillow and hugged it to her breast, burying her smile in its softness. Everything was going to be all right between them. She would not make him regret his decision to marry her.
Kenna washed and dressed hurriedly, anxious to go on deck and see Rhys. Her hair was still damp at her nape and temples when she stepped topside and the cool ocean breeze ruffled it dry. Rhys was standing at the wheel with Captain Johnson. They were watching the man at the helm of the Carasea. She suddenly felt shy as Rhys turned when Johnson greeted her, but the welcoming smile that touched his eyes propelled her forward. She took his outstretched hand and allowed herself to be drawn close beside him. One of his arms fell protectively across her shoulders.
“Good morning, sprite,” Rhys said softly.
Kenna stiffened a little at the use of her nickname. It was rather deflating that after last night he could call her by a name that was more suited to a child. She was not so certain of herself that his address did not sting her pride. “Good morning.”
Rhys frowned slightly, observing her. “Have you had breakfast?”
She shook her head and smiled warmly at the captain. “I trust you are feeling well this morning.”
“The day just got a touch brighter, Mrs. Canning. I’d be honored if you’d let me escort you around the ship, then perhaps breakfast with me in my cabin. I’ve not yet taken my morning meal.”
Kenna looked at Rhys, hoping he would tell the captain that he wanted to be with his wife. When he said nothing and merely dropped his arm from around her shoulder Kenna wanted to clench her jaw in frustration. Instead she gave him a coolly polite smile and took Johnson’s arm. “I’d be delighted, Captain.” She glanced over her shoulder as the captain led her away, but Rhys had already turned his back on them and was discussing something with the sailor who held the ship’s wheel.
By afternoon Kenna’s mood was as gray as the skies. Rhys was busy in the ship’s hold when Johnson and she finished their meal and she realized there was no reason for her to stay on deck. She returned to her cabin and read for a while. When that could not hold her interest she began working on her dress. Rain lashed a steady staccato beat against the windowpanes as Kenna sewed. She told herself that she did not expect Rhys to entertain her, but neither did she think he would be so eager to ignore her, passing her off to the captain and finding more work to do simply to avoid her. He did not join her for lunch and when dinner arrived she had given up hope of seeing him. When he came through the door, shivering like a wet pup, Kenna nearly tipped back her chair in surprise.
She stood up quickl
y. All the sharp, self-pitying thoughts she had been thinking vanished in the face of her concern. “Rhys? Are you all right?”
Rhys nodded jerkily, stripping off his soaked shirt. “Just wet and cold.” He rifled the wardrobe for something to put on while Kenna picked up the wet shirt and wrung it out over the empty copper tub. He sat on one of the chairs and started to take off his boots. His fingers were so stiff with cold that after a few false starts he gave up and sagged against the back of the chair, clearly exhausted.
Kenna draped the shirt over the edge of the tub and smiled at Rhys’s abandoned efforts. Shaking her head gently from side to side she knelt in front of him and lifted one of his feet onto her lap.
“Kenna! You don’t have to do that. I’ll get them off in a few minutes.”
“And catch your death in the meantime,” she said briskly. She managed the first boot well enough but pulling on the second one sent her to the floor on her backside. “Ooof!” She rubbed her bruised posterior and gave Rhys a quelling look when a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Not a word, do you hear? Not a word. Now, get out of those wet trousers while I pour a warm drink for you and serve up a plate of stew.”
Rhys wisely tamped down the urge to salute and dutifully followed Kenna’s instructions. He put on a pair of warm trousers and a heavy pair of socks and sat back down at the table. Kenna placed a warm mug of tea in his hands and pushed a plate of steaming stew in front of him.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked as she seated herself across from him.
Rhys sipped his drink, feigning ignorance. “Was I?”
“You know you were. Am I so amusing?”
“Amusing?” His dark eyebrows lifted. “Mayhap I do find your efforts to mother me a trifle amusing.”
“Mother you? Is that what you thought I was doing?”
“Wasn’t it?” He put down his cup and began tucking into the stew. “Now don’t get your hackles up. It was not so long ago that you would have thrown water over me, pushed me out in the cold, and hoped I froze to death. I can tell you, I infinitely prefer this treatment.”
A ghost of a smile touched Kenna’s dark eyes. “It is not too late to throw you out,” she reminded him. “Keep smiling and I could be tempted.”
Rhys managed a remarkably grave face which brought a bubble of laughter to Kenna’s lips. “Am I so amusing?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, you are.”
“Well, that’s all right then.”
Of a sudden Kenna felt very good. “Yes,” she said, looking straight into his soft pewter eyes. “It is.”
Rhys doubted he would ever completely understand her moods. She confounded him by seeming to be very pleased with herself. He shrugged philosophically and continued eating.
“You were busy today,” she said. She spread some preserves on a slice of bread and handed it to him.
Rhys took it, thanking her. “You cannot believe how much there is to learn, sprite. I’ve asked Captain Johnson to teach me everything about ship maintenance, building, and sailing. I confess I find it all more fascinating than I thought possible.”
“But surely you do not expect to sail yourself.”
“No. That will remain in the capable hands of men like Johnson, but I think it’s important that I know how every facet of how the business operates. There will be much more to learn once we are in Boston. So many people are depending on Canning Shipping. I don’t want to let them down, Kenna. I am going to make this work.”
Kenna believed him. When Rhys spoke with such conviction she could do no less. “Let me help you, Rhys. I want to. Please.”
“Help me? How?” He realized how that sounded and apologized immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She waved away his concern. “You have every right to be skeptical. I’m not certain that I even know what I mean, but I want to learn with you, Rhys. I don’t want to be left behind while you study all manner of wonderful things.”
“Wouldn’t it bore you?”
“That remark was condescending and not worthy of you. If you find this business fascinating, who is to say I won’t? Let me at least have the opportunity to discover it for myself.”
It has been years since Rhys had seen so much fire in Kenna’s eyes. As much as he enjoyed it he still felt compelled to warn her. “I can’t let you disrupt things by getting up to mischief. This isn’t some lark, sprite.”
There it was again, that odious nickname. He was bent on remembering her as a rattle-brained child. “I know that. I have every intention of applying myself to the best of my abilities. Please, Rhys. Let me learn. I’m starving for it.” Only now did she realize how much she missed challenging her mind.
“This isn’t the schoolroom,” Rhys said gently.
“But it is,” she insisted. “In a way it still is. I cannot be a conventional wife, Rhys. It would bore me beyond all reason. Why as quick as that”—she snapped her fingers—“you would find cause to send me to an asylum!”
Rhys grinned at this dramatic announcement. “No doubt I should send myself to one of those places,” he muttered under his breath. He glanced at the scraps of fabric that littered the window seat. The haphazard pile of material bore mute testimony to the fact that while Kenna was a capable seamstress, she disliked the activity. “I think I have always known that you would not suit convention, though these last few years gave me pause. You were fairly drowning in the miserable stuff by the time I returned from the Peninsula.”
“It is cruel of you to remind me what a prig I was.”
“I doubt I would have phrased it just so.”
“Well, it matters not, for it is all behind me now.” She leaned forward in her chair. “You must feel it, Rhys. The excitement of a new beginning in America. For me it is like being reborn. Don’t raise your eyebrows! I am not overstating what I feel.” she said. “I have left everything behind in England, left everyone but you. You forced this new life upon me, but please have the kindness to permit me to live it as I wish. I cannot fill my hours with good works as Yvonne does or wait on you as Victorine would want me to do. I—”
Rhys held up his hands, cutting her off. “A moment, if you please. I am not married to Yvonne or Victorine. I have no desire for you to emulate either of those lovely women if it goes against your grain. I want you to be happy.”
Kenna realized it was rather small of her, but she would have been happier if he had left out the word lovely. “Then you’ll let me learn with you?”
“As long as you wish,” he said easily as if he had never considered otherwise.
Kenna stood and skirted the edge of the table. Her arms came around Rhys from behind, hugging his neck and shoulders. She dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. You won’t regret this. I promise I won’t interfere with your work. Oh, thank you!” She would have pulled away then but Rhys had taken hold of her slender wrists and was drawing her around the chair. “What are—”
“Come here.” He slid back his chair and in the same motion pulled Kenna onto his lap. “If you are of a mind to thank me, do it properly.”
Kenna pressed her forehead to his and said softly, “I haven’t the vaguest notion what you mean.”
“You are the most lamentable liar. Kiss me.”
Kenna kissed the tip of his nose.
“On the mouth.”
She obliged enthusiastically. When she thought she had responded properly, Kenna drew back and laid her head against the curve of Rhys’s shoulder. She felt a rumble of laughter stirring in his chest and she had to smile herself.
“You are rather more obedient than I would have thought possible,” he said.
“When it suits me.”
“Just as I thought. I wish you had been so affectionate when you came on deck this morning. It seemed you couldn’t wait to be gone from my presence.”
“You have interpreted the situation badly. It was you who wanted me gone.”
Rhys shook his head. “I didn’t want you to go, but neithe
r could I offer you an escort around the deck or companionship at breakfast. I may be the head of Canning Shipping when I am in Boston but I made it quite clear to Johnson that while I am on board I work for him. I had not expected him to take such delight in stealing you away.” Rhys bent his head and touched her forehead with his lips. “In truth, I did not expect you to find my company worth seeking.”
Kenna could not blame him for that and she told him so. “I have not always been kind to you, but you have invariably been tolerant of me. Why?”
Rhys knew himself to be a coward then. He could not bring himself to lay bare the entire truth. “Do you remember when we first met, sprite? You were a guileless four-year-old and I was a very solemn eleven. As I recall you climbed onto my lap much as you have now and proceeded to greet me with a very wet, affectionate kiss.”
His voice was soft with the memory. “That innocent overture was the first time in my life anyone had touched me with feeling. I suppose that’s why I’ve never forgotten it. You changed me that day, Kenna. You gave me reason to hope that I could be loved. How could I banish you from my pockets after that, or not take part in your every scrape, or refuse to help even when you wanted none of me? You make me feel alive. That is far more than I have ever done for you.”
Kenna’s hands slid around him, hugging Rhys to her. “You’re wrong, you know. You saved my life.”
“Pure selfishness on my part. I only had to ask myself how things would be different without you.”
“Then I thank you for being so selfish.” Kenna brought her head up and searched Rhys’s face. “I’m going to be a very good wife to you, Rhys. I know why you married me and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret it.”
Rhys’s brows drew together. She knew why he married her? She knew he loved her? He hesitated a moment, hoping she would say she loved him. When she said nothing else he realized his expectations were too great. He was already regretting that she knew how he felt. Nothing would be served if she made promises because she was grateful to him. He wanted more than that from her. He said the only thing he could. “Just be you, sprite, and I doubt I shall regret anything.”