Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  Out of nowhere, a gasping sob escaped her. Hot tears flooded her eyes and she pressed her lips together to contain the deluge of emotions. She heard the two men murmur between themselves and out of the corner of her eye, saw Pallet leave, closing the door softly behind him.

  She clutched the heavy leather bag to her breast, digging her nails into it as if such an action could prevent her from splintering apart with loneliness. Was she going mad that she could laugh hysterically one moment and barely contain tears the next?

  She felt Ford’s large, warm hand on her back. She drew in a deep breath and tried to calm her roiling emotions.

  “Well, I daresay I’ve never had the ability to travel anywhere I wished. I find I am quite undecided as to where to go first.” She heard the brittle clip of her voice, but was unable to soften it and decided it was better than sobbing.

  “Jo—I’ll not—you are not alone. I shall keep you safe.”

  “Good heavens, you’ve certainly gone above and beyond a good Samaritan’s duty. I shouldn’t expect you to put your business and life on hold any longer. In fact,” she said, fumbling with the strings of her bag. “I should like to recompense you—”

  He placed his hands on hers, stilling their frenetic movements. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained.

  “I did not take you aboard my ship out of a sense of Christian duty or for money.”

  Jo frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

  He raised his right hand and cupped her cheek. His thumb smoothed away a tear and he gazed intently into her eyes.

  “I did it because I love you, Jo. I love you and I would do anything to keep you safe, to see you happy. Have you not suspected?” he asked, one corner of his mouth curling up.

  “I—” Her throat was tight and clogged with tears. She cleared it and said, “I had…hoped. But I have very little experience with romantic love. None, really. I didn’t know, that is, I wasn’t sure if I was simply seeing what I hoped to see. Seeing what I felt.”

  The other side of Ford’s mouth turned up until he was smiling fully. “Does that mean that you love me too?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide as she stared at his handsome face. She placed her hand over hers, pressing it more tightly to her cheek. Her head was swimming dizzily at this rapid turn of events.

  “Won’t you say it then?” he asked.

  She licked her lips. “I love you, Hungerford Spooner.”

  She saw the heat of emotion flare in his eyes, just before he bent his head and kissed her.

  It had not been a week since last he’d kissed her, but Josephine responded ravenously, as if they’d not touched in months. The sack of coins fell to the floor with a heavy thud and Jo giggled against Ford’s lips.

  “What’s funny?” he murmured, not drawing away so that she felt the question as much as heard it.

  She opened her eyes and found she could not focus on his features at such a close distance so she closed them and smiled. “I was thinking what a damper it would have put on this encounter if that bag had landed on one of our feet.”

  He chuckled, kissed the corner of her mouth, then the other. “I assure you, I would not have felt it, so long as you were kissing me.”

  She sighed happily into his mouth, moving her hands up to interlace them behind his head. His own hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he plundered her mouth with another deep kiss.

  Jo could have stayed there forever, locked in his embrace, communing through lips and tongue and breath. Eventually, however, they drew back enough to look at each other.

  “Where would you like to go from here? My ship is at your command.”

  Jo smiled in wonder as she thought. “I’ve never had such an opportunity before. I’m not sure how to even choose. Mr. Kent decided when we would live in London, then I ended up in St. Kitts only because my brother was there and I had nowhere else to go.”

  Ford shrugged. “That is the past. Your future stretches before you.”

  She pressed a kiss to his lips. “It may sound silly, but as long as I am with you, I will be happy. Although,” she began, and then paused. She suddenly realized that she wanted to be with him and visit the places she’d only dreamt about. “I should like to see Argentina, or perhaps Brazil. And, if it is not too far, I should very much like to see Paris.”

  Ford laughed, the low rumble like a feather along her spine, evoking the most delicious ripples.

  “Paris is not too far.”

  “Have you been there?”

  He shook his head. “I docked at Le Havre for several days once, but that is the extent of my French experience.”

  “So it will be a first time for both of us.”

  “Yes,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m glad.” She didn’t know why it was so important to her, but since she’d been married and he’d travelled so extensively, it seemed good that they have some first time experiences together.

  “I’ve never been in love before either,” he added, as if reading her mind.

  “Oh!” It was ridiculous that such a declaration should delight her, but it did. “I—I haven’t either.”

  A stray shaft of light from the setting sun found its way through the open window and fell upon his face. His hazel eyes glowed like topaz or perhaps amber; she was mesmerized as she tried to decide. They drew closer as he lowered his head for a kiss. A knock pounded on the door just before their lips touched.

  “Cap’n the innkeeper wants to bring dinner in!”

  “Damn,” Ford said, but when he chuckled she realized it had been her expletive. Besides craving another kiss, there was so much more she wanted to discuss with him regarding their future.

  Her stomach rumbled loudly.

  “Perhaps it is just as well dinner has arrived,” he said.

  She could not contain her grin; everything just seemed too perfect right now. “Perhaps,” she allowed.

  Plate after plate of food was followed by Odysseus, Monsieur Pallet, and the other crew members. Wine flowed freely as they celebrated Josephine’s escape from persecution with bowls of shrimp-flavored rice, black beans, shredded meat, and small oblong packets wrapped in what appeared to be a leaf of some kind.

  “That is a tamal,” Odysseus explained, seeing Josephine’s confusion. He peeled the wrapping back to reveal a pale golden crust inside. “This is cornmeal. Inside is pork. This,” he said, indicating the wrapper. “Is the husk of the corn. Sometimes plantain leaves are used. The steam the tamal until the raw cornmeal is cooked.”

  Josephine unwrapped her own tamal and took a bite. “Mmm,” she mumbled, her eyes widening. In St. Kitts, Theo, as most English did, ate a menu that was as close to traditional English fare as possible. It was only when Josephine had started accompanying Molly to the market that she learned that there was so much more to food than what she’d experienced as an Englishwoman.

  When she could not eat another bite nor drink another cup of wine, she sat back in her chair, content to let the men’s conversation swirl around her as they discussed the sugar market and argued about Spain’s governance of Cuba.

  As bottle after bottle of liquor emptied, the conversation quickly devolved into comparisons of close calls and near-death experiences on the high seas.

  Josephine’s head jerked as she came awake with a start. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but it seemed the men scarcely paid heed to each other as they talked over one another with the expansive dialogue of the very tipsy. Only Ford was looking at her, a smile on his face as he took her hand and stood. The inebriated sailors toasted her one last time and, caught up in their drunken cheers and genuine happiness on her behalf, she blew them all kisses, earning her roars of approval.

  Ford guided her to a room on the third floor. He took a key from his pocket to unlock the door and once she was inside, he handed it to her.

  “You’d best lock it behind me. We’re not the only guests in the inn.”


  Jo peeked out the doorway, looking up and down the empty hall.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice low and husky as he dropped a kiss on her brow.

  “Wait! Why aren’t—whaa—” Jo wanted to growl her frustration.

  Ford arched one brow and regarded her as if she’d suddenly sprouted wings or horns.

  “Will you not stay with me?” she asked, forcing her voice to a calm, melodious note.

  He chewed on his lower lip and scrubbed a hand over the short crop of his hair.

  “You said you didn’t want me to feel obligated to you. You said I was not in a position to make such important decisions. Well, I am certainly in a position now to make my own decisions and I feel only a sense of...of desire.” His gaze shot to hers at that declaration but she kept arguing.

  “My name is clear and I have enough money to go where I wish. As for obligation, well, I do feel obligated to you. You risked everything to help me flee St. Kitts. You fed me, bought me clothes,” she fingered the cherry-red fabric she had changed into before dinner. “And gave up your cabin for my comfort.”

  “I would give my life to keep you safe,” he said intently.

  She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand. “I know you would. As I would do for you. That is the obligation of loving someone. Now I pray you, oblige me by coming in.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted up, exposing a small dimple that only appeared when he was genuinely happy. She liked that she knew such a thing like that.

  “I see what you did there,” he said as he allowed her to pull him into the small chamber.

  “What’s that?” she asked innocently as she shut the door and turned the lock.

  “Obligated…obliged.” He lit a candle and she smiled up at him in its warm light. “You’re very wise, Miss Barclay.”

  “In all honesty, I am not. I don’t know the first thing about love,” she said earnestly. “I told you I’ve never experienced it before, never even read novels or poems about it. Mr. Kent forbade—”

  He stopped her rush of words with a soft kiss. When she would have deepened it, he drew back. “I’ve a confession to make. I don’t know the first thing about being in love either. I only know what I feel or you. And if it’s not love, then it is something much bigger.”

  She nodded. “That’s how I feel, too,” she whispered as she began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Jo, wait—” he said, grabbing her hands. “I won’t—I don’t want to put you in a bad spot.”

  Frustrated, Josephine grabbed the open collar of his shirt. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I won’t risk you becoming pregnant and unmarried.”

  A cold knot formed in her stomach. “Unmarried? You don’t wish to—that is—” she clenched her teeth and then forced herself to speak. “Do you mean to say that you love me but you don’t wish to marry me?”

  “What? Of course that’s not what I mean! But you’ll wish to be married with friends and family about, and if it we are to sea for a few months, it will be a while until—”

  “My brother kindly asked me to stay away from St. Kitts so as not to ruin his business. He’s the only family I have.” She felt tears slide down her cheeks and her nose clogged up with them but she did not stop. “As for friends, I shall miss Chester and Molly, of course, but Mr. Odysseus and Jorge and all the rest are my friends now.”

  Ford pulled her flush against his body. “You have terrible taste in friends.”

  She laughed and snuffled before leaning back in his embrace to look him in the eye. “So you’ll marry me? Before we leave Havana?”

  He traced a finger along the curve of her cheek and beneath her chin to tilt her head up. “I’ll marry you. Tomorrow or the next day at the latest.”

  She bit her lower lip to keep her grin from splitting her face wide open. She’d never felt so happy before. Never wanted to share everything with another person like she did with Ford.

  She turned her attention back to the buttons of his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as she pulled the tails of his shirt from his waistband.

  She lifted her brows. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “We’re not married.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. One would think she was the worldly sea captain and he the maid. Except she was no maid and neither was she any longer the type of woman who put her own desires aside for rules or convention. “Then we’ll have to do this again when we are. To consummate the union, you know,” she teased as she slid her hands inside his open shirt and slid it off his shoulders.

  “I want to do right by you,” he rasped and when she glanced at him, she saw his eyes were shut tight.

  She smiled. “Then take off your damn boots,” she ordered.

  His eyes flew open and he stared at the mischievous grin on her lips. She thought he was going to refuse again and was prepared to pounce on him when he finally returned her smile. “As my lady wishes,” he said.

  Josephine nibbled her lower lip as she watched him sit on the edge of the low bed and yank and pull until his boots landed on the floor with a thud. “And now?” he asked, his hands resting on his knees.

  “Stand up. Please,” she whispered.

  He did as she asked and came to stand just inches from her. She traced her fingers over the muscles of his chest and the taut plane of his belly before glancing up at him.

  “What do I do?” she asked.

  He grinned and his eyebrows did a little lift that seemed rather devious. “Well for one, you are wearing entirely too many clothes. Shall I assist you?”

  She nodded, trying to maintain their playful banter, but her heart was beating too quickly and there was a thrum running through her entire body that made it difficult to focus on teasing words. She lifted her arms as he untied the sash of her skirts, allowing them to fall to the floor in a bright heap, like a huge overblown rose. He eased the loose blouse over her head, the back of his hands brushing lightly against the sides of her breasts and Josephine felt her nipples tighten from the contact. She now stood before him in her short chemise and drawers. Though she’d willingly forgone the corset and confining English gown, it had felt too decadent to leave off her underclothes.

  Ford was staring intently at her and though they’d been fully unclothed before, tonight it felt so much more…intimate.

  “What is it?” she asked quietly.

  He swallowed visibly. “You’re standing in front of the candle and I can see the outline of your body through the fabric,” he explained, indicating her smallclothes. “It—it’s more erotic than if you were fully naked.”

  A flush of heat flooded Josephine’s most private parts and her earlier playfulness returned. “Are you saying you might enjoy it, then, if I perhaps turned this way?” she said as she turned to the side, drawing her arms back so that he could clearly see the silhouette of her breasts. She heard the quick catch of his breath and it emboldened her to pull her shoulders back still further, thrusting her breasts out.

  “Shall I leave my chemise on then? If you prefer it, I mean,” she asked with what she hoped was a sensuous pout.

  Ford shook his head slowly from side to side. Josephine swallowed her nerves and slowly drew her chemise over her head. She then pulled on the tapes of her drawers and allowed them to slide down her hips. She kicked them delicately off, heedless of where they landed as her gaze was locked on Ford’s face.

  “God, Josephine, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he closed the distance between them and drew her against the warm skin of his naked chest. She delighted in the sensation of being skin-to-skin and pressed herself more closely to him, realizing as she felt the rough cloth of his trousers against her intimate curls that he still had some disrobing to do.

  “You need to catch up,” she whispered against his lips, tugging at the waistband of his trousers.

  In a flash, he unbuttoned the fall and shoved the offending garment to the floor before scooping her up in his
arms and crossing the two steps to the bed. He laid her gently on the linens, drawing his hand reverently over her body as he stretched out next to her.

  She tilted her head to meet his lips and their kiss was a slow burn that sparked with lips and tongues. Her hands roamed over his back, swooping down to clench his muscular buttocks with a daring she didn’t know she possessed. His hand, meanwhile, moved from the outline of her ribcage to cup one of her breasts, lifting it gently, flicking the sensitive nipple with his thumb.

  The slow burn quickly erupted into an inferno. Jo had travelled with Theo once to view a sugar cane field shortly after she’d arrived from England. They found themselves caught in a thunderstorm and as they were racing back to town, a lightning bolt had struck just off the road. The resulting blaze had been a furious explosion of cane leaves and grass. That strange image flashed through Josephine’s mind now for her skin beneath Ford’s touch felt like the intense heat that had blasted from the burning field. Then, as now, her heart had beat furiously. The difference now, of course, was that excitement rather than fear fueled the pounding of her heart and she felt herself racing toward the blaze rather than away from it.

  Ford’s lips trailed more sparks down her neck, chest, and stomach before he lit yet another fire between her legs with flicks of his tongue and tugs of his lips. When he finally raised up over her, she widened her hips to welcome him, tugged him down atop her and wrapped her legs around his waist with a deep, contented sigh as she felt him enter her.

  “God, it feels like I’m home,” he rasped and she smiled.

  “You are,” she whispered, before claiming his mouth with a kiss.

  She finally tore her lips from his as she fought to draw air into her straining lungs. Each thrust caused the tension that had filled her muscles to tighten deliciously. From their previous encounter on board The Nightingale, she knew the destination Ford was guiding her toward and she followed his lead willingly, seeking to give him as much pleasure as he was wringing from her body. She kissed his neck, suckled his earlobe, nibbled at his strong jaw. She caressed every inch of skin she could reach and whispered her words of love in his ear.