The music was loud and jovial, everyone dancing in a heated crush on the main floor of the brothel. The tables had been moved to the sides, alcohol flowing freely from the taps, and it seemed that our marriage was a good enough reason for everyone to participate in sexual activity, couples sneaking away to the rooms every few minutes.
Tristan held me tightly around the waist, spinning me, laughter booming from his mouth. We'd danced every dance, leading the group in celebration of the event. My slip was soaked with sweat and my feet ached beyond all belief, but I was filled with such a swell of happiness that I didn't even care.
“It's hot,” I yelled over the noise.
“Are ye ready to leave, love?” His fingers brushed across my cheek, wiping a stray curl from my skin, and I felt the rush of wanting that had been building all night swell.
Nodding, I swayed against him, moving with the music unconsciously and feeling the rum I’d been drinking a little.
“Let's go home,” he chuckled, eyes flashing with excitement.
“Home? You mean the ship?” I asked, letting him push me through the crowd.
“Aye,” he called as the racket increased. “Where else?”
The air outside was warm and humid, but it felt like a cool breeze as it washed around us, our feet hurrying over the ground like thrilled school children, laughter bouncing between us as we made our way across the beach. The moonlight bathed everything in a soft glow, fires settled in the sand here and there, other crews seated around them, having their own entertainment for the evening.
Scooping me up, he set me in the long boat, hopping in after me and grabbing the oars. “It’s wonderful to be able to use my arm again,” he said, grinning.
“I can imagine.” Everything seemed so peaceful, yet energy charged at the same time. The buzz from the alcohol warmed me considerably and I still felt flushed from all the dancing. As we moved across the water, the air cooled my sweat soaked clothes, instantly causing my flesh to pebble.
“Are ye cold, lass?” Tristan asked, concerned.
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “Just happy I think.”
“Oh really? And why is that?” There was a seductive tone to his question and I blushed again, finding myself wondering what adventures were awaiting me tonight.
“I don’t know,” I chuckled. “Other than the fact that we’re married.”
“Aye, that we are, Mrs. O’Rourke.” The name sent tingles down my spine and I grinned even wider.
When we reached the ship, the crewmembers standing watch threw down the rope ladder and helped me aboard, wishing us congratulations on our new pairing. Tristan didn’t seem to want to tarry, grabbing my hand and tugging me along to the Captain’s Quarters.
“What will ye have to drink?” he inquired, moving to the desk and motioning to a few bottles that had been put out for us.
Exhausted, I flopped down on the bed, giggling a little from happiness before I sat up and stared at him. “You know what I really want?” I asked seriously.
“What?” He beamed at me, his face still flushed from dancing and rowing out to the boat.
“An ice cold root beer and a churro,” I chuckled. “It’s a sweet, non-alcoholic drink and sugary treat.”
“Why those?” Curiosity filled his eyes.
“I don’t know,” I mused. “I’m starving, so that’s probably part of it. But, as soon as I thought of eating, that’s what popped into my mind. I had root beer all the time, but churros were something different that I didn’t get very often.”
“A special treat for a special occasion?” Grinning, he crossed to the door and cracked it open. “Would ye mind bringing us something to eat?” he asked a nearby crewman. “My wife says she’s starving.” He glanced at me as he called me his wife, a softness to his eyes that revealed how truly pleased he was at being able to give me such a title.
“Aye, Captain,” came the reply, a muted humor in the man’s tone. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Closing the door, Tristan leaned against it, folding his arms, positively beaming at me. “Are ye happy, lass?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because now yer stuck with me for the next year,” he answered playfully, standing up and coming to the bed.
“Then I guess I’d better let you sit by me,” I responded in turn, patting the mattress.
Sitting beside me, we were interrupted when the crewman returned with a tray of food from the galley, placing it down on the desk. “Evening, Captain. Mrs. O’Rourke,” he said teasingly, tipping his head toward us before leaving.
“Do you mind?” I asked, rising to see what had been brought.
“Not at all.” He stood as well, unbuttoning his coat and sliding out of it, laying it over the foot of the bed.
Crossing to the desk, I examined the ham and fresh fruit that had been brought us, gasping in surprise. “This isn’t from the galley!” Turning to look at him, I caught sight of his happy smile again.
“Aye, it is. I had the padre prepare it this morning for us to eat tonight. It’s been sitting by the coals all day to keep warm. The fruit came from the island.”
“It smells delicious!” Mouth watering, I sat down in his chair and picked up some fruit, moaning as the taste filled me. “It is divine. Here, come have some.”
Holding out a piece for him, I chewed contentedly, watching as he strode over and ate it from my hand, his lips brushing over my fingers.
“Could you help me?” I asked, suddenly reminded of my hunger for other things. “With my laces, that is. This dress is beautiful, but it’s also a bit heavy.”
“Of course.” He assisted me to my feet, moving me so my back faced him. As he undid the laces, I ate a small piece of ham, sighing as the top layer of my clothing loosened.
Sliding out of the sleeves, I let the gown fall to the floor, staying where I was so he could undo the corset as well. Finally, all was left was the slip and he slid his arms around me, hugging me to him.
“Ye are beautiful, ye know?” he mumbled in my ear, caressing my hips.
Twisting in his embrace, I gazed into his eyes happily. Instead of responding, I took the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and added it to the pile of clothing at our feet. His chest was warm under my touch, his wound now fully closed, though still healing some. The herbs the slaves had given us sped up his recovery time exponentially. It was now a red, puckered line, the stitches still in to help it remain closed. We would remove them in a few days, once we were sure there was no danger of it splitting back open again.
“Will it bother, ye, the scar?” he asked softly, allowing me to trace it with my fingers.
“Why would it bother me?” I asked, surprised. “If anything, it proves how far you’re willing to go for me. Every time I see it, all I can think of is how much you risked. And, if it’s any consolation, I imagine it will probably always look like this, giving you some sort of bragging rights among the men.”
Laughing, he grasped my hand, lifting it from the wound to his lips, kissing it gently. “I suppose it could become quite the interesting subject of talk,” he agreed.
The warmth in my belly was spreading throughout my body, a mixture of desire and rum, and I smiled, guiding his lips to my own, pressing against him gladly. Not needing any more encouragement than that, one arm tightened around my waist, the other brushing across my breast as it moved down my slip.
My hands explored his chest and abdomen as the kiss deepened, our breath catching as we shifted together. He felt so strong and sure, an anchor in a world that felt so riled and strange. His skin was smooth, marred by a scar here and there, but perfect to me. Each mark told the story of who he was, who he had grown into over time. Just thinking of all the things he’d done, for me and others, and what he would most certainly do in the future, made my heart sing his praises.
His touch sent my pulse racing, my skin tingling as he pulled the slip upward, uncover
ing me completely. He backed away then, just enough to study me, a smile on his face. His appraisal didn’t make me feel self-conscious, though. I stood before him, completely comfortable with my appearance, knowing that he wouldn’t ever say a word against me.
“I’ve never seen anyone so perfect,” he stated softly, looking me up and down. “Truly.” Loosening his belt, he let his pants fall and removed the rest of his clothing, allowing me to see him as he was for the first time as well.
There were no words to describe him as I took in the sight, feeling a little in awe of his physique. There were scars I’d never seen before, more stories for him to share at a different time, and the hair on his legs stood out against his skin.
“You are all mine,” I finally said, moving so I could touch him again.
“Aye, that I am. Heart and soul.”
Sweeping me up into his arms, his mouth met mine once more, rough and full of desire as he carried me to the bed, lying me down gently. My fingers tangled in his hair as he held himself over me, his lips trailing over my cheek and down my neck, teeth nipping at my collarbone as they passed by. Everywhere he caressed seemed to explode on impact, my body reacting to him like it never had before. It felt like I would simply fly away on a wind of pleasure and excitement.
All through the night, wave after wave took me, the entire earth disappearing around us. All there was left was him and I, together, learning and loving each other without complaint or distrust. We were one person, bound together for far longer than just a year and a day.
Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One) Page 51
