by Merry Farmer
Without looking, I ordered Milton below deck. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Go.”
He hesitated, the span between two heartbeats seeming to last for years before I heard the clip of his footsteps. Tamara watched him go, balling her fists as she drew away from me. She clung to her anger, nursing it until it was the only thing I saw in her face. When she turned to me with flared nostrils, I half-feared a mutiny.
“What are you doing with a man like him? He has no morals, only blind ambition. Didn’t he try to use you to further that ambition once?”
I didn’t want to admit anything to her. Not the heat and desire he stirred in me, nor our arrangement. But Tamara had been my stalwart ally from the very beginning. In fact, she’d been my first friend when I moved with Papa into Grand-mère’s house. When my accent had been so thick that no one else in the seaside English village had wanted to associate with me.
I owed her the truth. Fighting back a sigh, I confessed, “He challenged me and won. I was trying to get your ship back.”
Tamara bristled. “If you’re saying this is my faul—”
“No.” I raised my hands, palm out to stop that thought before it left her lips. “Of course not. This is my doing. But I’m afraid I do owe him something.”
Crossing her arms, Tamara scoffed. “He thinks we’re lawless pirates. You should prove him right. You owe him nothing, not after his treatment of you last time.”
In the days following our initial departure from the village I had called my home for a decade, Tamara had listened to my every last lament. Mostly, I’d cursed my father, not the man who had come crawling for my hand in order to acquire a ship. Frankly, Milton hadn’t seemed to care about me one way or another. But this time?
What if he wanted the woman, not the ship?
I swallowed against my dry throat. “I must deal with him at least until we make port. And if he can help find Caleb…”
I’d been willing to use his help to save Tamara, and I was willing to use him to save anyone else I could, too. No matter the consequences.
With every breath, Tamara hesitated, her determination wavering. She seemed minutes away from collapsing out of sheer exhaustion. The dark bags under her eyes emphasized every terrible thing she had endured in the past fortnight.
I reached out to squeeze her arm. “Are you certain you’re unharmed? If you need to talk about anything…”
She shook her head and gave me a wan smile. “I’m cold and malnourished, no more.”
Hearing her speak those words, the knot in my chest tugged free at last. It released a swell of tears, emotion choking me. I pulled Tamara into my arms, hugging her fiercely. She clutched me back every bit as vehemently.
“I was so afraid I’d lost you.”
Brokenly, she whispered, “Me, too.”
After a long moment, swaying gently with the swell of the deck at anchor, I pulled back and wiped my eyes. “Rest, please, and eat. I’m certain Grand-mère will be more than happy to fatten you up again.”
Tamara nodded, the ghost of a smirk curling her lips.
I patted at my eyes again. “I have to go. I’ll speak with you tomorrow, as soon as you’re feeling well enough to leave the cabin.”
When I started to walk away, Tamara caught my arm. She squeezed gently, waiting for me to meet her gaze before she released her hold. “Remember, Jeanne. You owe him nothing.”
Chapter 11
Spend Your Treasure, For There’s No Guarantee You’ll Live to Enjoy It
I might not owe Milton, but he had helped us tonight. An unfamiliar town with a British Navy ship of the line docked in the harbor, he could easily have hindered or alerted someone to our presence. If he’d wished, he could have had us all arrested. Instead, he had risked his career and his life to right the wrongs he had made.
So as I stood staring at the door to the cabin I would be forced to share with him tonight given the cramped quarters of the ship, I didn’t feel as though I owed him nothing. At the very least, I owed him a word of thanks. A shiver coursed through me, making my skin more sensitive to the fabrics of the dress I usually hated to wear. Simply because I owed him nothing didn’t mean I couldn’t choose to give him something. Another kiss, a…
I stamped down that thought before it led down a path I didn’t want to consider, lest I give in. Milton was an attractive man, and he made no secret of the fact that he wanted me. I didn’t trust myself to deny him when I wanted something more, too. Feeling stifled, I tore off the scarf holding my curls in place and shook them out. Then I entered the room and shut the door behind me.
Milton stood by the bed, loosening the laces at his throat. In his shirtsleeves, the contours of his chest were all the more apparent. A chest I’d seen bare. The scarf fluttered to the floor as my fingers went slack. I licked my lips. He turned, the dark curls at his temple still wet from the water he must have splashed on his face in the interim. The smile he offered me was tight.
“Do I have to fear for my tender parts?”
My gaze drifted down before I wrenched it back to his.
I cleared my throat. “Not from Tamara. Perhaps from Papillon.” I tried to match his smile, but it faded quickly.
Milton winked. “He’s wild for me.”
The cat wasn’t the only one. The air in the room seemed unusually thick and cloying. I could reach out and touch Milton, the room was so small, but I pressed myself back against the door instead. My heart pounded in the base of my throat as I tried to muster up shards of any common sense. If I offered him something more, he would continue to take, continue to conquer. That was the kind of man who achieved the rank of captain so young.
His smile fading, Milton cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about the situation. I can give you the rough coordinates where I took possession of the Fortune. From there, it shouldn’t be hard to extrapolate…”
All business. Once again, he was helping without asking for anything in return. I didn’t want to hear any of this, not now. It only softened him from the villain I preferred to paint him.
When I took a step away from the wall, I nearly tripped over my damnable skirts. As I wrestled the hem away from my feet, I met his gaze. His lips parted, he stared at me so intently I wasn’t certain he knew he’d stopped talking.
“You helped us recover Tamara.”
He shrugged, his demeanor gruff. “I said I would. I don’t expect her to thank me…”
“Why?” I searched his face, hoping his expression would betray the answer his words did not. “You said yourself it put your career in jeopardy.” Something he had said he would never do, but his actions belied his words.
His gaze dropped to my mouth where he continued to stare as the silence enveloped us. Tingles swept over my lower lip, and I chased them with my tongue.
His voice cracking, Milton confessed, “I did it for you, Jeanne. I did it for you.”
His words raised tingles through me like a phantom touch. Without thinking, I stood on tiptoe to capture his mouth.
The touch of his lips to mine ignited me. Fire roared through my veins. His hands wrapped around me, splaying across my back and tugging me close as he dropped down to sit on the bed. Cursing my skirts, I pulled them higher and straddled him. The fabric bunched between us, but I didn’t care because it put me at the perfect level to be devoured by his mouth. I cupped his cheeks, feeling the stubble against my palms as I swept my tongue into his mouth. His hands moved urgently, up my spine, over my shoulders, and down over the dip of my waist to my hips, pulling me roughly against the bulge in his breeches. Drawing back, I gasped for breath. His eyes were heavy, half lidded as he studied my face.
I dropped my hands to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric there. “Take off your shirt.”
In one motion, he ripped the garment over his head and tossed it in the corner. I pushed at the warm skin on his shoulders, urging him onto his back. Following, I melded my mouth to his. With his bare chest so close, I let my hands travel unabash
edly. Crisp hair met my palms, followed by velvet skin and defined muscle. I crushed my mouth to his, unable to get enough. His erection pressed against the crux of my thighs. An ache built there, insistent. I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.
Without breaking the kiss, he raised his fingers to the back of my dress and traced the buttons, one by one. The touch sent flames up and down my spine. I arched against him, rubbing myself unrepentantly. Slowly, he worked the first button free. When I didn’t protest, the others came undone in a flurry.
His questing fingers found laces beneath. Consumed in a fever, I rocked against him with abandon as he undid the laces. When I broke the kiss to gulp for air, his mouth sought out my neck. His tongue traced a sensitive spot behind my ear, and I gasped. I held tight to the first thing to meet my fingers, his broad, muscular shoulder and his short hair. Urgently, he thrust my dress and stays away, freeing my breasts beneath the thin chemise I now cursed. With one last nip to my neck, he tightened his hold around my waist and flipped me.
I’d never seen so primal a man as he crouched over me, the bulge between his legs drawing the eye and begging for release into the open air. I reached for it, but when he lowered his head, all thought fled. He enveloped my nipple through my chemise. At the wet suction, I gave a strangled cry. His growl of satisfaction resonated through me. Panting, he raised his head, his eyes dark.
“Lawks, Jeanne. You’re so beautiful.”
“Milton.” I scarcely had the breath to speak.
As if his name summoned him, he found my mouth, kissing me ferociously as he fondled my breast with one hand. He rocked against my core, his thrusts growing more and more urgent until my legs wrapped tight around his hips. Only the fabric of his fall remained between us.
With a groan, he tore his mouth away and kissed a line from my mouth to my ear. His breath against the sensitive curve made me arch against him, begging for his touch.
“Is this the part when you tell me all women are beautiful?” Milton sounded equal parts chiding and teasing, as if sensing I wouldn’t take a compliment from him. This one was at least more appealing than him trying to set me on a pedestal apart from all other women.
Growling, I curled my fingernails into his shoulders. “This is the part when I tell you to stop talking and put that mouth to better use.”
My words ignited a fire in his eyes. Rough, he leaned back only far enough to strip off my clothes. I helped him until I was completely bare. He didn’t pause a moment to savor but shouldered his way between my legs again. His mouth found my breast, and he ran his tongue around the areola as I arched. My nipples tightened into hard, aching points. He teased them with the graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing lave of his tongue. All the while, his hands feathered up and down my sides. I splayed mine over his muscular shoulders and back, reaching as much of him as I possibly could. But swiftly, all too swiftly, he moved out of my range.
With hot, quick kisses he descended down over my belly until he kissed a line low on my abdomen. I squirmed, panting as I fisted my hands in the coverlet beneath me. He rose onto his knees and pulled my leg over his shoulder, spreading me wide in front of him. If he thought I would blush and tell him to stop, he was damned wrong. His eyes as hot as I felt, he caught my gaze as he turned his face to nip the tender skin behind my knee. I gasped at the sensation, squirming to try to get closer to him. He flicked out his tongue.
“Milton.” This time his name was a command.
Achingly slow, he kissed his way up my leg toward the crux of my thighs. The rasp of his beard and the brush of his strong hands grazing up my thighs and hips and back down again had me trembling.
When he finally found my core, stars burst behind my closed eyes. He devoured me like he was starving for me. His tongue thrust between my folds and along my nub, long sweeping strokes followed by deep sucks. I needed more, so much more. Reaching up, I circled my nipples with my thumbs and pinched them between my forefingers. The counterpoints of pleasure catapulted me toward release. Higher, higher. The frantic thrusts of my hips must have given me away. His hands tightened around my hips and he moaned against my center. With the vibration, I shattered. I convulsed against the relentless sweeps of his tongue.
Unabashed, he moaned again. “So sweet.”
He tasted me again, the sweep of his tongue lighter. “So hot.”
My thighs clenched at the rumble in his voice. As he slipped a finger inside me, I gasped and lifted myself to his touch. He had me climbing all over again toward that elusive pinnacle.
“So tight.”
Lazily, he thrust his fingers in and out of my channel as he kissed his way up my belly and my breasts, pausing to pay lavish attention to each. As he raised himself higher, the thrust of his fingers quickening, the wiry hair on his chest rubbed against the sensitive peaks of my nipples. He kissed me and I tasted myself on his tongue. Mon dieu, I needed more.
Feverish, I pulled at the buttons of his fall, ready to weep as I finally freed them. As the material gaped, I scraped my fingers through the hair leading down from his navel. He shuddered, his eyes falling shut as he braced himself on hands and knees above me. I needed more. I needed him.
Now.
Tightening my legs around his hips, I used my position to flip him onto his back. His fingers slipped free of my channel, but I didn’t care. I was aiming for much more tantalizing ground. As I straddled him, I ran my hands over his chest and abdomen, shimmying down and rubbing myself shamelessly over the evidence of his arousal. He reached up, trying to catch me under the arms and pull me closer, but I deftly moved out of range. Determined, I stripped off his boots and breeches, tossing them on the floor next to my discarded clothing. His erection, proud and thick, jutted up from its nest of curls and bobbed in front of my face. I licked my lips as I leaned closer and blew on the crown.
Milton pushed himself onto his elbows and groaned. “Jeanne, I won’t last. I… You…”
“Have you run out of words at last?”
He opened his mouth, but whatever he intended to say, he swallowed it as I gave his erection one long, rewarding lick. He made a choked, strangled sound. Rolling onto his side, he patted the bed next to him, inviting me closer.
Closer I would get, but not like that. I planted my palm on his shoulder and pushed him onto his back. The moment he was at my mercy, I straddled him. My channel throbbed with need. At the kiss of my slick folds, his member twitched in agreement. Unable to help myself, I rubbed myself over his long, thick length, leaving it slick with my arousal. Mon dieu, did I ever need him. His hands roamed over my body, paying attention to the curve of my back, my waist, my breasts. In a fever, I reached down and stroked his length, reveling in the way his muscles stiffened beneath me. When I positioned him at my entrance, every muscle in his body was rigid. I worked his head between my folds, lightly rolling my hips and teasing us both. In and out, in and out.
Milton reversed our positions in one smooth move and seated himself fully inside me. At the invasion, we moaned in unison. He worked himself in and out in long, slow strokes. It wasn’t enough. Gripping his shoulders and locking my heels behind his back, I lifted myself, taking control and sliding myself along his shaft. I thrust hard, reveling in the friction we both needed.
His hand slipped around the small of my back as he pressed me closer. Gasping, he whispered, “Jeanne, you don’t always have to be in control. I’ll take care of you.”
I opened my eyes. “Maybe I’ll take care of you.”
In a feat of strength and agility, I flipped him over again. Now I was on top, and he had no breath left to talk as I set the frantic pace that matched the beat of my heart. His fingers curled into my hips. His throat worked as he moaned, head back and eyes closed. He was so damned sexy. I reached behind to fondle his taut bollocks as I rode him closer and closer to my pinnacle.
“Jeanne.” He whispered by name, a hoarse plea.
I swiveled my hips as I moved, leaning over again to balance my weight on his s
houlders. As my breasts bounced in front of him, he leaned up and sucked my nipple into his mouth. Tighter. Every muscle in my body tightened around him, but I didn’t slow my pace. He licked and sucked. When he bit down on that sensitive peak, I cried out and convulsed around him.
But I didn’t stop. Our pants mingled in the air along with the slap of skin against skin. He was close. I could feel it.
“Jeanne, I’m almost—”
Unable to help myself, I quickened my pace again. A wicked part of me wanted him to spill his seed inside me, to feel that pulse. The forbidden image threatened to tug me toward the peak of another orgasm. Wild, I worked his shaft between my thighs.
“Jeanne…”
Common sense returned and I pulled off, shimmying down his legs. I licked his length, tasting my arousal as I took him into my mouth. My sore nipples ached. I slipped my hand between my legs and rubbed my clit as I found one last orgasm. With a shout, he came into my mouth. His toes curled on either side of my hips. I swallowed his seed, continuing to lick and suck until his moans turned into wordless protests. Only then did I sit up and lick my lips.
He stared at me as if he saw me for the first time. Lips parted, sweat gathered at his temples and over his chest, no man had ever looked so sinful. His throat worked as he whispered my name again.
I crawled next to him and collapsed, my muscles protesting the movement. “Don’t talk.”
If he started talking, I would have to face reality. I didn’t know what we had between us. I didn’t want to think about the future. I just wanted to revel in his body next to mine and the sleepy satisfaction that lured me closer to dreams.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he cupped my face and kissed me, soft and reverent. A painfully sweet counterpoint to the conflagration we’d made with our bodies. But he didn’t press me for more. Before long, I surrendered to the exhaustion of the day and curled into the circle of his arms.
Chapter 12
