by Lucy Monroe
She realized that while she had been woolgathering, he had been speaking and she’d missed all of what he had said. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”
His brows drew together in an expression of irritation that she had begun to find quite endearing. “What could be more important than finding the man who tried to harm you?”
Plotting to be with the man whom she feared she was coming to love. Terrified at the very thought, she refused to entertain it. Love weakened women. It made them vulnerable to men who would hurt them and treat them with scorn as her father had done to her mother.
“What is the matter? You’ve gone green around the gills again. Do you need some ginger tea?”
She warmed under Drake’s concern. He was a stubborn man. Perhaps more like her father than she even wanted to know, but he had a tender heart under his unbending pride and honor.
“Nothing. Please repeat what you said.”
“I said that we haven’t had one bloody lead that has gone anywhere. None of the sailors on watch or in quarters saw anything peculiar.”
“I suppose the men in quarters were sleeping rather soundly.” The combination of their daily rum rations and hard labor undoubtedly provided for very sound sleep indeed.
“Yes.” His voice was clipped.
She trailed her hand down his arm. “Don’t be angry. Soon we’ll be in port and the danger will be past.”
“That’s not what my instincts are telling me.”
Wary, she pulled her hand away from him and turned, grasping the rail with both hands. “Do not let your imagination run away with you.”
“My instincts are not fantasy. What’s more, you know something that you aren’t telling me.”
She gripped the rail more tightly, tempted to tell him everything. He would insist on taking over the investigation or helping her at the very least. The prospect of seeing more of him, even at the cost of some of her independence tantalized her. But it would not be fair to Drake. She could not trade upon his chivalrous nature.
Feigning a lightness she did not feel, she pointed to the gull, now a tiny speck in the sky. “It’s amazing to me that although the ocean looks as vast as it ever did, we must be close enough to land for birds to fly above us.”
Strong fingers closed over her hand and pulled so that she found herself against his hard chest. “Tell me.”
His eyes were almost black in their intensity. She blinked, trying to regain her equilibrium.
“You must let me go. Think of my reputation.” He was usually so worried about how things looked.
“I’ll deal with your reputation. Tell me what you know.”
“I don’t know who tried to push me overboard.”
“But you do know something. You must tell me. Once we reach port, the blackguard will get away.”
She didn’t want to talk about her attacker. She wanted to kiss Drake. She wanted to feel the lips set in such a hard line soften and open for her exploring tongue. She tried to blink away her wanton thoughts, but they persisted. Now was not the time. She would not allow Drake to get into any more trouble with Lady Boyle. Spending time in their company had convinced Thea that although Drake seemed to care little for the opinions of outsiders, his family meant a great deal to him.
“Drake?”
“What?”
“Why is it so important for you to reach port in time?”
“I told you.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand. You don’t care what others think and yet you are obsessed with not disappointing your investors.” Wind blew against her, pressing the thin muslin of her gown against her legs. She shivered. “It makes no sense.”
He slid his hand around to her back and began to rub it, warming her. She ached to return the caress and so much more. Yet, she doubted he even realized he was touching her. He looked as if his mind was somewhere far off.
“Some of the investors are my friends.”
“Yes.” There was that and he’d mentioned it before, but his insistence went deeper. “There’s more to it though. Isn’t there?”
Almost reluctantly, he nodded. “Yes.”
“Tell me.” She turned his words back on him.
“It’s my father.”
She felt shocked by his answer. “I don’t understand. Lady Boyle said your father has never recognized you. Are you telling me he has invested in this shipping venture?”
His arms tightened around her. “My aunt is a gossip.”
“Yes, but that is neither here nor there.” She patted his chest to soothe him. “What does your father have to do with this shipping venture?”
“He gave my mother a substantial settlement for me when I reached my majority.”
“But wouldn’t he have to acknowledge you as his son to have done that?”
Drake’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “No. Things can be done in very civilized ways in the ton, without ever acknowledging one’s mistakes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He made it an anonymous gift through a third party. I used it to buy my first ship.”
“Oh.” She was still confused.
“When I had made enough money to repay the entire amount, I did so.”
“That must have made your father angry.” She still didn’t understand what that had to do with the shipping venture.
Drake shrugged. “I have no idea. We have never spoken.”
“You have never even spoken to your father? But, surely you must attend some of the same functions.”
“Yes. We even belong to the same club. My grandfather is also a member.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “I want my father to see my success and regret his refusal to acknowledge my existence.”
She slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed him. She wanted to make the pain in his voice disappear. This was a side of Drake that she had never seen, vulnerability that she could not imagine existing. It frightened her. Knowing his honor and pride hid this need for approval waged war against her already shaky defenses. Each moment spent with him enmeshed her more firmly in feelings she did not want.
“I’ve never spoken to my father either.” She could not believe she’d said the words.
Her secret had been locked inside for so long that she never even spoke of her father or brother to the Merewethers. The only person who mentioned them was Lady Upworth in her letters. Even now, she wasn’t prepared to tell everything, but an urge so deep she couldn’t deny it prompted her to tell Drake about her father.
He pulled back until their eyes met. “I thought your parents were dead.”
“My mother died when I was thirteen. I’ve never met my father.”
Drake stared at her. “You’re a natural child as well?”
She shook her head. “My parents were married, but my father behaved so despicably toward my mother that she ran away with me when I was a baby.”
“He never found her?”
“He never looked.”
“How can you know?”
“A mutual friend wrote often.”
Drake felt as if he had taken a blow from Gentleman Jackson himself. Thea’s admission staggered him. He wanted to hear more and he wanted to be alone to do it. He pulled away, taking her hand in his and led her toward his cabin.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace we can talk without the fear of interruption.”
He scanned the deck when they reached his cabin and he was relieved to see that it was empty. Taking an unattached female into his room would not go over well with his aunt, or any of the other dowagers on board.
He unlocked his door and pulled Thea inside. Once he had shut the door, he motioned for her to take a seat. She didn’t have many options. His cabin was sparse compared to hers. There was one small bunk, a chair and a very small table bolted to the floor. She chose to sit on the edge of the bunk. Light filtered in through the portal and played across the too serious features of her beautiful face, highlig
hting the chestnut silkiness of her hair.
Her bright skirts pooled around her feet and she gripped the mattress with both hands. She bent her head as if she found something on the floor of particular interest. “I suppose you want the full story.”
Hell yes. He lifted her chin with his hand and met her eyes. “Only if you want to tell it.”
She sucked in a breath and then softly let it out. “When my mother was in her fourth month of pregnancy, my father insisted she accompany him to a ball. She wanted to go into confinement in the country, but appearances were important to him and some very influential members of the ton were throwing the ball. Mama loved him, so she went. She became overheated after dancing a Scottish Reel and she went out into the gardens. A man who had courted her along with my father followed her out of the ballroom.”
When Thea stopped talking, Drake sat down next to her and pulled her hand into his. Her fingers were like ice. “You don’t have to tell me any more.”
“No. I want to tell you.” She looked up at him and her eyes had the depth of the sea they sailed upon.
“The man who followed Mama was a rake. He forced his attentions on her, holding her against her will and kissing her. My father came upon them. He was furious. He reviled my mother and challenged the rake to a duel.” She tightened her fingers in his. “They never fought the duel. The other man came to my father and promised on his word as a gentleman that my mother had approached him. He apologized to my father and the matter was settled.”
She sighed. “At least between the two men. My father never forgave my mother and refused to believe her version of the events. He is a very hard, unbending man.”
Drake thought his father and hers had something in common.
“He sent my mother to live in the country until she gave birth. He stormed into the room and tore her baby from her arms and left, promising she would never see her child again.”
“So she kidnapped you and ran away.”
A strange expression entered her eyes at his statement, but she didn’t deny it. Perhaps she did not like to think of what her mother had done as kidnapping.
“Is that why you have never been to England?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to see your father?”
“No. I never want to see my father or have anything to do with him. He destroyed our family with his mistrust and harshness. He has no place in my heart.”
Drake pulled Thea’s face around to face him and lowered his mouth until it was almost touching hers. “What about me? Do I have a place in your heart?”
He didn’t understand the look of fear that came into her eyes. “Please, let us talk no more of this.”
He wanted her to admit that she was coming to care for him, but the desperation in her voice swayed him. “Very well, there are more interesting things to do with our lips than to talk.”
The kiss consumed them both. One moment they were sitting side by side on the edge of his narrow bed and the next he had her beneath him, his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned.
He dug his hands into her hair, and kissed her with all the uncontrollable desire that overtook him every time they touched.
She locked her arms around his back pulling him closer until he wondered how she could breathe with his weight covering the length of her.
She tasted sweet. Like the candy his grandfather’s cook used to make at Christmastime. He begged the cook for more and she always warned him he’d get sick of it, but he never did. Thea was the same. He wanted her constantly and the few stolen moments when he could actually touch and taste her only whetted his appetite for more.
The bells rang for the second watch.
He groaned and pulled his lips from hers. “Thea, we must stop. My aunt is expecting you for tea.”
“I sent Melly to your aunt with my apologies. I told her I needed to prepare for arrival in port.”
Since she had taken less than two hours to prepare for the entire journey, he knew her excuse was a ruse.
She smiled up at him, her eyes full of feminine mystery. “Melly is spending the next few hours with friends she has made aboard ship. Please, Drake, make love to me.”
He had meant to wait until after they were wed to teach her more of passion, but all of his good intentions went up in the bonfire he saw in Thea’s eyes. She was as unpredictable as the wind and he found the desire to sail her course irresistible.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Merewethers are the kindest people. They insist that Thea and I make our home with them. Ruth adores children and has always been disappointed that she never conceived. Ashby has asked me to stay as a favor to his wife, both because Thea brings her so much joy and because he feels badly that Ruth has left all of her English friends behind to travel to this tiny island with him.
September 7, 1799 Journal of Anna Selwyn, Countess of Langley
Drake stood up and Thea’s heart cracked with desolation. He was going to say no. She fought to hide the feelings of mortification at his rejection from him, averting her gaze.
The sound of fabric sliding against fabric drew her attention. He was in the act of removing his cravat. He had begun unbuttoning his waistcoat before she accepted the significance of his actions.
He was going to make love to her.
She wanted to say something, anything to break the expectant silence now filling the room. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. Her throat felt locked in rigidity as she watched the two sections of his waistcoat separate to reveal the fine lawn of his shirt.
She should be doing something. Not just sitting there like a child watching a puppet show. She pushed herself off the bed and started to undo the tapes of her gown.
“Don’t.”
She stopped moving at the harsh sound of his voice. She stared at him. Had she misunderstood?
He pulled her to him, an undecipherable message in his eyes. “I want to undress you.”
“All right.” She was trembling so much, she doubted she could finish the task herself anyway.
She waited while he removed everything but his smalls. They tented away from his body where he bulged in arousal and she felt her first tremor of trepidation. Perhaps the snug fabric over-accentuated his endowment.
He brushed her cheek. She shifted her gaze to his face. The corner of his mouth tipped slightly and she blushed as she realized that he had noticed her preoccupation with him.
“We are different, but you have nothing to fear.”
She expelled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yes.” Very different. Thinking of their previous encounter, she said, “This difference intrigues me.”
His expression blossomed into a full-blown smile. “It intrigues me as well.”
The smile faded from his face and his eyes took on an intensity that sent her pulse jumping. He stepped forward and slowly, oh so slowly, removed the pins from her hair. She felt the weight of it as the heavy mass fell around her shoulders and settled against her back.
He touched it, his expression reverent. “Your hair is so beautiful. I have dreamed of seeing you with it hanging loose about your tempting, naked body.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “You dreamed about me?”
“A great deal.”
“Oh.” Fascinating. “What else have you dreamed?”
He smiled. “I’ll show you.”
She shivered, but not from cold. She wanted him to show her. She also wanted to touch him. She extended her hand and trailed her fingers down his chest.
He caught her hand.
“I want you. I need to touch you.”
“Not yet.” He pulled her toward him until their bodies were pressed together.
She slid her hands around to caress the muscled planes of his back. The feel of his naked skin, warm under her touch, sent a tremor through her. This ability to touch and be touched amazed her.
He leaned down and nuzzled her neck through her hair. “You smell so go
od, Thea. It’s as if you carry your island fragrance with you.” She felt his hands at work on the tapes of her gown. They came loose and his fingers slipped inside to caress her through the soft material of her shift. “You are my very own tropical temptation.”
She laughed at the notion that a twenty-three year old spinster could be something so exotic to a man like Drake.
He pulled back slightly to meet her gaze. “It’s true. You’ve mesmerized me with your mystery since the moment we met.”
“I am quite ordinary.” Unlike him. “There is nothing mysterious about me.”
He shook his head and his smile beguiled her. “On the contrary. Nothing about you is ordinary. You dress like a proper English lady, but leave off your stockings and corsets.”
“It’s too hot in the islands to wear stockings and corsets are bad for a woman’s respiration.”
He stepped back and pulled her gown down with the sleeves until she stood in her shift before him. His already lambent gaze turned hot as the steam escaping through the fissures of a volcano.
“You speak with diction and vocabulary of a lady, yet the things that come out of your mouth are far from the typical drivel that passes for a lady’s conversation.”
“I merely say what is in my mind.”
“Precisely.” His smile warmed her to her toes. “Since you have not yet been to England, you cannot know how different that is from the typical lady of the ton.”
All the while they spoke, his hot gaze devoured her and she began to shake in reaction. His hand gently cupped her breast and it felt as if an effervescent spring came to life in her most feminine place. Her thighs pressed together of their own volition and her nipples stung as they hardened against the thin fabric of her shift.
He tugged it down and she felt her skin heating all over where his gaze touched it. She should be embarrassed to have him see her like this, but she wasn’t. The soft lawn fell in a pool at her feet and she could not move.
His gaze pinned her in place. “You are beautiful.”
She wanted to tell him that she found his taut hardness beautiful as well, but could not make the words come out as once again her throat refused to work. Everywhere his eyes touched, she felt as if his fingers followed and yet he had moved to stand a little distance away from her.