Captured

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Which is why we’ll save the displays for after the feast.” Upright in the saddle again, he said, “Let me take Louis over to the pen.” He patted the stallion’s neck affectionately. “This is Louis. He is named for the French kings. Louis, meet Clare.”

  The horse turned black liquid eyes her way.

  “He’s very handsome,” she said, but it was Louis’s even more handsome rider who had her at sixes and sevens.

  As if sensing her sensual distress, he asked wryly, his eyes as wicked as his smile, “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Just go,” she told him with mock impatience.

  “As you wish, but when I return, plan on me being by your side for the rest of the evening. I’ve had a bellyful of chasing people around today when you were the only one I wanted to catch.”

  “You caught me earlier,” she tossed back; another bold move. The memory of his mouth on her breasts set off its own inner fire.

  “But unfortunately I had to let you go. There will be no such interruptions tonight. The first person to disturb us will get a musket ball right between the eyes.”

  She shook her head with amusement and watched him and Louis gallop away.

  Chapter 8

  C

  lare enjoyed the feast. There was wonderful food, there was dancing rooted in the African tradition, and, true to his word, Dominic never left her side. However, he had to excuse himself from her when it came time for the wedding. Guided by the burning torches set up along the way, everyone filed down to the beach and took seats on the logs while Dominic, Gaspar, and the tall, willowy, brown-skinned Suzette stood in the center of a torch-lit circle outlined by rocks.

  Dominic waited until everyone was settled. When it became silent enough to hear the water meeting the shore, he asked in an affection-laden voice, “Suzette, are you certain you wish to do this? I’ve known Gaspar since we were both boys and I wouldn’t take a king’s ransom to marry him.”

  Everyone laughed.

  In response, she smiled up at the solemn-looking quartermaster decked out in all his finery and placed a tender palm against his dark cheek. “More certain than I’ve ever been about anything.”

  “Then let’s hurry this along before you change your mind.”

  More laughter.

  When it faded, he asked solemnly, “Do you, Suzette, take my brother Gaspar as your one true love in fair winds and storm, in feast and in famine, in poverty and wealth, for the rest of your days?”

  “I do.”

  Dominic asked the same question of Gaspar, and his answer echoed Suzette’s.

  “Then by the power invested in me as your captain, I pronounce you legally wed. May the sun shine on your marriage always.”

  Gaspar took Suzette in his arms, gave her a long kiss, and a rousing cheer went up from the crowd.

  After toasts were given by Marie mates Dominic, Esteban, and the doctor James Early, the cake was eaten, the drumming resumed at a feverish pitch, and the revelers rose to their feet to dance as the true celebration began.

  “Shall we sneak away?” Dominic asked after a while.

  In the torch-lit darkness, Clare gazed up into his powerful face. His proposal flooded her senses with warm excitement. “Your duties are done?”

  “Here, yes.”

  The implication made her tremble with anticipation. “Then I am ready.”

  After offering good-byes and collecting Louis from the makeshift pen, Dominic mounted, then set Clare in the saddle ahead of him. They rode slowly to keep Louis from injuring himself in the moonlit darkness. “Quite the day,” Dominic said softly.

  The sounds of the drumming could still be heard echoing against the night. “I agree.”

  “Didn’t think I’d ever get you alone again.”

  She leaned in against his strong shoulder, content. “I’ve missed you as well.”

  “When we get home, we’ll make up for lost time.”

  And it was another promise she couldn’t wait for him to keep.

  Unsaddling Louis and leaving him in his stall, Dominic draped an arm around Clare’s waist and walked her up to the dark house. The breeze flowing in off the water had lifted the afternoon’s oppressive heat, and replaced it with air that was cool and sweet. Unable to hold off any longer, Dominic stopped and lifted her face to the moonlight and his hungry eyes. Time stood still as he gazed down at her, and at the end of that timeless moment he kissed her gently and then gently again. For the next little while he took tiny sips from her tempting lips, feeding his passion and hers until they both craved more. Their embrace tightened, and the kisses deepened. Finally they parted so they could breathe.

  “I want you, petite.”

  And she wanted him. Clare felt her body opening and calling. His kisses set her on fire. The lips now traveling over her jaw and throat made her lean back so she could offer him more. When he centered his mouth on the hollow of her throat and flicked his tongue against the soft skin, she moaned, then moaned again in response to the knowing hand moving over her breasts in a lazy erotic rhythm. Off in the distance laughter and drums could be heard, but Clare was more aware of the drum beating sensually between her thighs.

  “If we stay here one more moment I’m going to take you right here on the grass,” he confessed in a husky voice, “so let’s go inside.”

  He picked her up and carried her into the dark house and up the staircase to his suite of rooms. Inside he walked through the darkness and the netting that was fluttering in the breeze flowing in through the open windows, and set her down in the center of the enormous bed.

  He left her there for a moment to light a small oil lamp on the far side of the room, and Clare realized she was more nervous than she’d ever been before in life. Her past experiences with coitus had not been pleasant. In fact, if left up to her she’d never be a participant again, but Dominic had earned her trust; if he promised being with him would be different, she was ready and willing to be shown.

  Framed by the low glow of the lamp he returned and joined her on the bed.

  “Nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  He placed a reverent kiss on her brow. “Don’t be. Your pleasure is all that will matter.”

  Kissing her until she was supine, he continued to slowly learn her body with his hands; cupping curves, sliding his palms over planes, tracing the lines of her neck with trailing fingers. Clare already knew that being with him was wonderful but this unhurried, uninterrupted exploration was beyond words.

  He sat up and gently undid the drawstring at the neck of her blouse and drew it out until the loosened fabric exposed her collarbone and the caps of her shoulders. He welcomed the satin skin with kisses and caressing hands. “Let’s take this off…” he whispered.

  Seconds later the borrowed blouse she’d been given by Anna was removed, revealing the thin white shift she wore beneath the tightly bound stays. The sleeveless shift gave him his first look at her bare arms, and he gifted each inner elbow with a tender kiss. His mouth roamed, and she wondered if there were any parts of her body he could not set aflame.

  Moving up, he brushed his lips over the soft tops of her breasts covered by the shift and mounded above her stays, then began unlacing her with a deliberate, kiss-punctuated slowness that made her moans rise against the silence. The soft rhythm was between her legs again, a prelude to a new sensual dance.

  The stays vanished and she was left wearing the shift that bore the wrinkles and creases of being bound up. For Dominic it was quite an erotic sight. She was lying beneath him like a painting. The taut nipples straining against the wrinkled garment made his desire swell, so he played with them for a moment until she groaned and her hips rose. Holding the bud between his fingers he ran his free hand over the dark skirt to caress her legs and thighs. She was slowly twisting now, her body arching, her lips parted as he continued to tantalize her with his touch. Brushing the halves of the shift aside he filled his hand with her breast and then brought the tight tip to his mouth
.

  Release crackled over Clare like lightning on the ocean and she crooned and cried and felt herself shattering into a hundred pieces. Above her, Dominic smiled malely. His manhood was hard as a ship’s mast, and Poseidon knew he wanted to raise her skirts and push his way into paradise but he forced himself to hold off. It wasn’t time yet. He’d spent days waiting to see her just this way and he had all night.

  “Are orgasms always so powerful?” she asked finally, her voice hushed. Every part of her being felt full and hot.

  He kissed her gently, “Yes, which is why the French call it le petit morte.”

  “The little death?”

  He nodded.

  “Dying can’t be that spectacular, can it?” In retrospect, all the orgasms he’d brought her to previously had been magnificent enough to break the bonds of heaven. “My lord.” She hadn’t experienced any of this when her children were conceived.

  Tempted by the softness of her skin, he trailed a finger over the edges of her exposed breast and circled the tight brown tip. “I told you it would be different. Are you ready for more?”

  “Oh yes.”

  So he gave her more; more kisses, more tugs on her pleading nipples with his warm lips, followed by more wandering hands above and underneath her skirt and petticoat as he removed them both. Wearing only her opened shift, stockings, and drawers, she was a heady sight for his adoring eyes. Her stocking-covered legs were soft yet firm from working, serving, and walking two dozen miles each Sunday to see her children, and Dominic ran his hands over them as if they were pirate gold. He untied the ribbons holding up the stockings, rid her legs of them, then kissed his way up the trembling inner planes. When his hand began gliding over her loose-fitting drawers, her breath caught in her throat. He touched her in the damp shadowy place that had never been pleasured before, and all she could do was groan with delight and part her legs so he could play. He leaned up to recapture her lips but his fingers continued to dally and pluck until she breathed hoarsely, “Dominic…”

  “Yes, ma chère?”

  “I think I’m about to die again.”

  “Then let’s make it memorable….” To that end, he gently eased two long-boned fingers into the dewy swollen channel, and she screamed even before he cleared the gate.

  Watching her ride out her passion almost forced Dominic into a little death of his own, so to keep himself in one piece he dropped his head to gently bite her breasts and give her more pleasure.

  He withdrew from her, and while she lay there pulsing and panting and undulating seductively, he reached into the drawer of the nightstand. He found what he was after and closed the drawer. Standing now, he undressed as his eyes burned over her.

  Clare finally regained the ability to open her eyes. Seeing him naked widened them. He was so glorious he brought to mind the Michelangelo statue of David she’d seen in Italy on Violet’s Grand Tour. Violet had been so overcome by the height, breadth, and beauty of the male form, she’d fainted away. Dominic was so magnificently made that Clare could have easily fainted as well, but then she’d miss the erotic finale he’d promised. It occurred to her that she was staring, so she dropped her eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen.

  Dominic had. “It’s all right for you to look, petite. This is my tribute of my desire. Impossible for a man to hide.”

  He moved back onto the bed. Kissing her on the curve of her shoulder, he confessed with soft humor, “If we don’t consummate this soon, I’m going to be crippled or dead or both come sunrise.”

  She ran her hand down his strong dark chest. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

  The humid kisses began again, followed by roaming hands and whispered words. Dominic was near bursting. He’d held himself in check for days now, and in a few more moments he was going to explode. “Open your legs for me, petite, so that I may put in the sponge.”

  She was so hazy with desire she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. Glancing down, she saw the small object he was holding out for her to see.

  There were two thin ribbons trailing from it. “What is it?”

  “A sea sponge.”

  She looked so surprised yet confused, he chuckled softly. “It catches a man’s seed. No responsible lover should be without one. Now open your legs, bien-aimée.”

  She complied and purred as he pushed the object over the swollen lush flesh and gently inside. She offered such a sumptuous view he leaned down and flicked his tongue over the small jewel and she crooned to that and the finger he trailed over it. Clare never imagined a man would love her there, but Dominic seemed to specialize in the unimaginable, and she fought hard not to let the little death shatter her again.

  When he entered her, her body stretched to accommodate him. He was big and the power of him filled her until her breath caught. Only then did he begin his rhythm. The strokes were subdued at first; coaxing, inviting, and beckoning, enticing her to rise and fall. When they began to move in tandem, the pace increased, his strokes lengthened, becoming firmer and more urgent. Soon all caution was thrown to the wind, and they rose and fell together in a hot, tempestuous duet old as man.

  Teetering on the precipice of orgasm, Dominic pulled her flush against him and rode her like a ship in a storm. Tossing his head back and gritting his teeth, he filled his hands with her hips and began to pump like a man gone mad. Beneath him she screamed her release, her body arching, the channel sheathing him pulsing and throbbing and clutching him even tighter. Then he exploded, growling, pumping, and calling her name as the little death finally swept him away.

  Later, the night breeze teased the netting, and made the flame of the lone lamp flicker and dance in the shadowy room. On the bed, the two lovers lay still entwined, their breathing just beginning to calm. Afraid he was crushing her, Dominic withdrew from the shelter of her body and fell over on his back. Who knew she would be so uninhibited? Even sated and exhausted he wanted her again. He rolled his head so he could see her, and her eyes were waiting. Reaching out, he trailed a finger down her satiny cheek. There were no words to describe how he felt at the prospect of never seeing her again once she returned to Savannah.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

  “How much I want you again.”

  A smile came over her face. “I want you again, as well. Although a proper woman should probably never admit to something so scandalous.”

  He reached out and slid her closer so that her back was against his chest. He then wrapped her in his arms. He placed a soft kiss against the curve of her neck. “Scandalous Clare Sullivan.”

  “Only because of you, my randy pirate captain.”

  “Am I yours?”

  She turned to see his face. “For now.” They both knew what she’d left unsaid. Clare didn’t want to face or talk about leaving, at least not then. At the moment all she wanted to do was to be held by him and pretend there would be no end. Turning back so she could mask whatever he might see in her eyes, she made herself comfortable again and enjoyed the feel of his strong arms enfolding her.

  They lay there in the silence for a long time, each mining his or her own thoughts while the breeze and silence flowed around them. “Should I remove this sponge?” she asked.

  “Yes. I’ve plenty.”

  She looked up into his face. “Plenty?”

  He shrugged, then grinned. “I won’t lie. I enjoy women, and they enjoy me, so I try and be as protective as I can. They seem to appreciate it.”

  “The insertion’s not a bad thing, either.”

  “You enjoyed it?”

  “I did.”

  “Would you like a fresh one, m’lady?”

  She felt him rise to the occasion against her hips. “You seem to have answered for me.”

  He looked amused and impressed. “You truly are scandalous, Clare Sullivan.”

  Reaching up, she laid a palm against his strong bearded cheek. “Only for you.”

  The sun arrived at dawn, coloring the fading night with str
ipes of purples and pinks. Down on the beach the drums were finally silent. In the governor’s mansion, Dominic removed the fourth and final sponge from between her pulsing thighs and fit himself against her back. And just as he’d hoped earlier in the day, he fell asleep with a sexually exhausted and nude Clare Sullivan in his arms.

  They slept well into midday. No one bothered them; his people knew better. They also knew that having just returned from a long voyage, he needed to sleep.

  The heat of the day was just rising in the room when Dominic awakened. The first thing he saw was Clare, nude as an African sea nymph and sleeping soundly. He smiled. What a night they’d had. He’d expected her to be more reserved but instead she’d been an eager, tempting treat and he couldn’t wait to have her again. She was probably sore, though, and only a brute would disregard his lover’s wellbeing, so he’d give her a day or so before inviting her to take another amorous journey. That didn’t mean he planned to be a eunuch with her; there were many ways to bring on la petite mort, and having spent his fair share of nights in some of the best brothels in the world, he knew more than he’d ever need. But just the thought of gifting her with all that made his manhood throb to life. Deciding he needed to leave the bed before he forgot his vow to let her rest, he did so with as much stealth as he could muster, then grabbed a robe to cover his nakedness and quietly exited the room. He hoped Anna had prepared something to eat because he was as ravenously hungry as a fully grown tiger shark.

  When he returned bearing a tray with an assortment of dishes for them to eat, Clare was stirring awake. Seeing him, she smiled sleepily and dragged the sheet up to cover herself.

  “Good morning,” he said to her.

  She could see that he’d bathed. He was dressed in yet another white shirt and trim dark breeches. “And to you as well.” With his hair tied back and his pirate-dangerous face, she found him terribly dashing.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, observing her easily.