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“I shan’t reveal the intimacies of my relationship with Henry.” His face was so close her lips brushed his when she spoke.
James barked a laugh. “Intimacies.” He kissed her again, deeply. “That man has as much desire to be your lover as he does to tup a wild boar. He looks on you quite as his own granddaughter.”
She couldn’t force him to leave, but she could goad him. “Perhaps. But he’s agreed to help me nonetheless.” She paused. “In every way.”
This time James’s kiss was ruthless. She knew she’d said those words to push him over the edge of control, so he would make love to her and leave her no choice but to give in to what her body desperately wanted. He did not disappoint. He tore away her nightdress, and as his hands took possession of her breasts she imagined how it would be if things were different. She imagined him lifting her gently and carrying her to the bed.
Instead, he pinched her nipples and bit her neck. She swallowed a scream of intense pleasure and fisted her hands in his shirt. Ran her palms down his solid chest, his hard stomach, to the thick bulge at the front of his breeches. Impatiently he worked the placket and freed himself. He was hot—satin and iron in her hands. She stroked his length with both hands and he groaned. She loved the power her touch had over him and she stroked him again and again while he worshiped her breasts, suckled her already-puckered nipples, molded her flesh in his hands.
But then he moved lower, out of her reach, burning his mouth across her belly, pushing her legs apart with his hands.
She balked, but he was having none of it. He dipped his tongue into her navel and drew a hot, moist line with it to the top of her woman’s hair, as though he was going to—
Oh.
She gasped when his tongue found her slit. His hands held her in place, urging her legs apart. Letting her thighs fall open while he tasted her most secret places was an act of submission she almost couldn’t bear—there was nowhere to hide. His tongue feasted on her pleasure spot and found her entrance, thrusting inside. He found another pleasure spot there—one she hadn’t known existed.
Her control fled. She strained her legs wide, submission forgotten, trying to push herself closer to that wicked tongue. Pleasure ripped through her in breathless convulsions. He made an inarticulate sound against her flesh as her body clenched hard, hard, hard in release.
He stood up, and she felt his erection against her.
Already she wanted the rest of him. “I don’t think I can stand,” she whispered.
“I have no intention of letting you try,” he rasped against her ear as he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me, Katherine.”
She did, and cried out into his kiss when he entered her in one thick stroke. He turned with her in his arms and carried her to the bed with their bodies joined, hiking one knee onto the mattress as he laid her down.
His eyes lit with unholy fire. “I don’t want to be outside you even long enough to shed my clothes,” he told her fiercely, already finding a rhythm, thrusting long and deep. She worked the buttons on his shirt, desperate to touch him the way she hadn’t been able to in her coach.
After a moment he cursed. “Damn these breeches,” he growled, and withdrew from her completely to strip them off and yank his shirt over his head. His full erection glistened with her own moisture. In a heartbeat he fell over her and pierced her again, stretching her, filling her, sliding deep.
It wasn’t enough. She returned his kiss madly, running her hands down his back, digging her fingers into his pumping buttocks, tilting and lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. He made an inarticulate sound against her mouth and rolled with her so she straddled him, with her hair spilling over them and his hands grasping her hips as he thrust up, up, up. Restless need coiled inside her, tightening, building. He lifted his head and caught her right nipple with his teeth, sucking hard, and her release exploded violently. Every intimate muscle convulsed around him as he kept thrusting, pushing, until finally she felt him let go, too.
Her body was still shuddering when he rolled them back and lay with his full weight on top of her and his length still buried in her. He pressed hot kisses to her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. She hooked her legs around his as if, somehow, it would pull him closer.
He lifted his head and looked hard into her eyes. “Did you really believe,” he breathed raggedly, “that I would sit idly by and allow you to marry another man?”
Her pulse leaped. With his body buried in hers, all her defenses were down. But something had caught her eye that was impossible to miss: a simple necklace of twine and beads circling his neck.
She ran her finger along the beads. “You still wear it.”
He searched her face, her eyes, and said nothing. Suddenly she wanted to cry. She traced the curve of his lips, and he caught her fingertip in his teeth. “And you have fresh bruises,” she said.
“Your guard dog is nothing if not tenacious. Apparently someone told him that I compromised you.” The corners of his eyes creased, and he arched a brow. “You surprise me, Katherine.”
“Phil waylaid me the moment I returned from the hearing.” And she was going to get an earful about her loose tongue.
“With your hair falling down and your lips red and swollen.”
“I didn’t stand a chance.”
“I would imagine not.” He kissed her again. Deeply. Thoroughly.
Her tongue trembled with things she wanted to tell him—things she didn’t know how to put words to. Even if she could find the words, she wasn’t sure she would speak them.
You fill me. Not just physically. He filled her heart. Her breath.
“William should not have hit you,” she said between kisses.
“I deserved it. I should never have let you out of my sight.” With his elbows braced on either side of her, he framed her face in his strong hands. “Understand me well—I do not intend to do so again. God, Katherine—” He breathed the words against her mouth, and she looked into his eyes. They were so beautiful, so green, and filled with the fierce possession of a man who had what he wanted.
What if...
She gripped his solid buttocks and urged him closer, as though it was possible for him to be even deeper inside her than he already was. As though she could have more of him. He groaned and held her even more tightly.
“James,” she whispered, wanting to hear his name on her lips. Her own name echoed back on his breath.
What if...
She threaded her legs through his and pressed her mouth to the cords of his neck while he held her as though she were the only woman in the world.
He’d made it clear he wanted her for himself, and now she felt herself falling, tumbling out of control.
What if she let herself surrender?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR (#ulink_180a6fd3-c6e2-5659-b615-16592797bc1b)
THEY SPENT THE night making love. Even after James fell asleep pressed against her back with his hand on her breast, Katherine lay awake with her body rippling and pulsing with sensation. The musky blend of James’s spice and the heady scent of their lovemaking filled every breath. His breathing came deep and even in the darkness, while invisible stones of truth piled up and crushed the air from her lungs.
In the early morning half light she slipped out of bed, found her discarded nightdress and went to the window. Offshore, two ships slowly rocked with the waves, anchored in the bluish-gray mist.
There were places in her heart that had surrendered without awaiting the command.
She closed her eyes and saw his face, drunk with desire and emotion as he sank himself into her. The memory of it shuddered through her. Only half of their lovemaking had been a quest for sexual pleasure; the other half had been a desperate attempt to crawl inside each other’s skin, as though—as though this fierce yearning inside her chest couldn’t be satisfied by something as simple as the stroke of his body.
She was falling in love.
The thought made her shiver. It couldn’t be love. Love would be too...binding. It would make her too vulnerable.
The solid bed didn’t creak, so she didn’t realize James had gotten up until his voice sounded behind her. “Dreaming of better days?” he asked softly, putting his hands on her shoulders.
She trembled beneath his touch. Had he always been capable of such gentleness? Of course he had. It had been evident enough in his relationship with Anne. “They’ll be weighing anchor soon,” she said of the ships.
Surrender...
“Yes.” His hands were a whisper on her skin, brushing her hair aside. “Out with the tide.” He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck and shoulder, soft and sweet.
“Headed for the West Indies, perhaps. Or the Levant.”
“Or Sunderland.” He laughed quietly, running his hands down her arms. He stood naked behind her, solid and strong. If she were a different kind of woman, it would be so easy to lean on him. To let him take care of her.
“How do you suppose Millie and India are faring?” she asked.
“That depends on the crew they’ve hired. But they’ll be no match for William.”
“No.” She watched the ships offshore and imagined the Possession there, empty and waiting.
He pressed more lazy kisses to her skin. Found a sensitive spot behind her ear.
“Dunscore is magnificent, Katherine,” he whispered. “Frozen in time. Every time I enter the main hall, I expect to see a group of knights strategizing for battle. It would make an excellent fortress.” Low and teasing against her ear, he added, “Or pirate’s lair.”
“Hush,” she scolded, smiling a little. “It would make a terrible pirate’s lair. The coastline is flat for miles. Nowhere to hide the ship.”
“Ah, well. A retired pirate’s lair, then.”
A retired pirate and a retired naval captain. She craved his presence the way some men craved strong drink. She wanted to see him laugh, hear him talk, watch him lift Anne into the air. “I’m not a pirate,” she reminded him.
Another kiss burned her neck, and another. “Please—allow me my fantasies at least occasionally,” he said against her skin.
She had her own fantasies. She imagined standing at the potting bench with James, showing Anne how to poke her fingers into tiny pots of soil and plant seeds. Walking the beach with Anne between them, stopping to pick up stones and shells and little crabs that would pinch Anne’s fingers and make her squeal.
“Is Croston anything like Dunscore?” she asked.
“Nothing. Croston is a modern monstrosity, a mere hundred and fifty years old, give or take a decade or two. Built by my great-great-great—” he paused “—great-grandfather.”
“But certainly you love it.”
“I suppose I do. Haven’t spent any time there since I took the title, though. Been at sea the entire time.”
He must have looked magnificent standing on the deck of a gigantic frigate with his uniform gleaming in the sunshine. She didn’t know that man at all, but she knew another—a swarthy, square-jawed sailor holding his face to the sun while the sea breeze played idly with his hair. “Do you miss it at all?” she asked. “The sea?”
“No.” His hands caressed delicious circles on her shoulders and arms, and she felt him press his face into her hair. “Maybe a little,” he amended. “The sea air doesn’t smell the same from shore.”
“No, it doesn’t.” All she had to do was lean back and close her eyes and ask the question that burned inside her. Is your offer of marriage still open?
“But it would take a press gang of a hundred men to force me back into service.” His voice took on a bitter edge. “Thank God there are a dozen young officers lined up behind me, eager to take their turn at making a name for themselves. The admirals will soon turn their attention to someone more promising.”
“I doubt any will earn your reputation.”
“They will if they’re ruthless enough.”
He didn’t have to say more. She could read his thoughts in the tone of his voice. He was remembering a career defined by horror. One violent incident after the next—often instigated by his own command—culminating in the wreck of the Henry’s Cross. He’d never admitted it aloud, but she knew he counted that among his personal failings. “What kinds of decisions do you suppose a captain bound for Sunderland has to make?” she mused.
“At which tavern he’ll take his grog, for one,” James answered with a nip on her shoulder. Humor returned to his voice. “And with which whore he’ll pass the night.”
A wicked shiver passed across her skin. “Weighty decisions indeed.”
“You never answered my question. What do you see when you look at those ships? Do you think of returning to the Med? Dream of the West Indies?”
The dark shapes on the water grew more distinct with every passing moment. Even from this distance she could see the sails going up. “I’ve always dreamed of them.”
“And yet you never went.”
“There was fortune aplenty to be made on the Mediterranean. I had no reason to cross the Atlantic and face the unknown. Especially not with Anne.” She watched another white sail billow to life, and another. “I see a thousand ways for Anne to be injured,” she said. “That’s what I see when I look at those ships.”
His arms came around her and he held her tight. Her throat closed over at the terrifying safety of his embrace. After a moment, she let herself lean back. He was solid, immovable.
Marry me, Katherine. If he said the words again, would she accept? She imagined his ring sitting with heavy finality on her finger, and she tasted fear.
“As long as I draw breath,” he whispered, “I shall do anything in my power to keep her safe. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, one word and I’ll come for her. You have my promise.”
Disappointment stole her breath. Those were not the words of a man with a proposal on the tip of his tongue. “Anne is my responsibility,” she said quietly. “Not yours.”
He was quiet for a moment. “My promise stands, regardless.”
Marry me, Katherine.
He wasn’t going to repeat those words now. Instead, he drew up the hem of her nightgown and caressed her thighs. Desire flamed across her skin, mocking the turmoil in her heart. “You should return to your room before the household awakes,” she said.
“Agreed. And I will.” His fingers began an intimate exploration. One finger slid home, then two. “Soon.”
* * *
THEY MADE LOVE once more in the predawn. It was five o’clock when James returned to his room. Moments after he left, Katherine silently let herself into the hallway and crept up a back staircase and down an upper corridor, up more stairs and out onto the ramparts. A brisk, humid wind caught her in the face and snuck its fingers down her shawl and nightgown to nip places still warm from James’s touch.
She needed to find some sense. Some sanity.
Love was hurling its cannonballs at her, destroying her resistance. And just like a cannonfire attack, one didn’t need prior experience to tell when it was happening—or how destructive it could be. The rubble shifted and settled in fits and starts every time James defied her expectations.
She hadn’t gone five paces when a body stepped around the corner ahead of her. “William!” Her heart leaped, then settled. “If you’d startled me this way aboard the Possession, I would have had you flogged,” she snapped.
He flashed that white-toothed grin of his that had no business appearing in the predawn hours. “Makes me miss the sea something fierce when you talk that way.”
“Well, you’ll be going back to it soon enough,” she said irritably. “Maybe you ought to start today. Now, in fact.”
“A few extra days’ delay in securing a ship and provisions isn’t going to make a difference. I’m not leaving here until I see you wed to James.”
“William!”
“I would say wedded and bedded, but I can see the second part’s been taken care of already.”
“You see nothing,” she scoffed.
He laughed, leaving her wondering what had given her away, and whether anyone else would notice it. Beyond him, the surf crashed against the rocky beach and the two ships she’d seen from the window were tiny white dots in the distance. “If it’s a wedding you came to see, you’ll have to satisfy yourself with seeing me wed to Lord Deal.”
“The hell I will.”
“We’ve already made arrangements.”
