“How long have you worked with Monsieur Duvall?” Willa turned toward Ariadne after watching the woman’s partner weave his way below.
“Too long, I think.” Ariadne took her shawl from her shoulders and in one easy movement, twisted the wrap around her hair and back around her neck to keep her wind-blown curls out of her face.
“If the two of you are diplomatic emissaries, how does he manage all the travel at sea?” Willa stared after the Frenchman’s retreating figure.
“He disappears into his cabin when we set off at sea and emerges when we arrive in port.” Ariadne turned back toward Willa and touched her face. “The sea air treats you well. It paints your cheeks like English roses after the rain. You deserve better than this.” She stretched an arm toward the surly waves surrounding the ship.
Willa whirled away, facing toward the sea, away from her husband’s former lover. She refused to react to her implied pity of her situation.
Ariadne continued. “There are things you should know about Cullen, things he wouldn’t want you to know.”
Willa was still staring toward the steps to the lower deck when Cullen appeared from below, a superior smirk on his face, and began walking toward them. He must have encountered the hapless Monsieur Duvall.
Willa turned quietly toward Ariadne and gave her an I-know-something-you-don’t smile. “How can you be sure of what he’s already told me? Have you been eavesdropping at our cabin door?”
Ariadne nodded slowly in cold recognition of a superior gambit before clapping and shouting out—“Dr. MacCloud—I’m so glad you decided to join us. Henri is not himself, and we’re bored.” She encircled Willa’s shoulders with a tight embrace as if they’d not just had a brittle stand-off.
He offered an arm to both women and asked, “Would you ladies like to accompany me for some turns about the deck before we join the captain at his table for supper?”
The two firm squeezes he gave Willa’s hand, along with a wink, made her reconsider her urge to stalk away in disgust. At that moment, a large swell lifted the Arethusa, and Ariadne, in an exaggerated reaction, leaned heavily into Cullen. Willa took a deep breath and mentally counted the days to Gibraltar when the she-devil and her partner would leave the ship.
Captain Still’s long dining table gleamed with fine china and crystal. A swinging lantern cast a rippling glow above the dinner party, along with the occasional clatter of the silver, the only sign they were aboard a Royal Navy ship ploughing through rough waters on her way to Gibraltar. All of the ship’s lieutenants were present, in honor no doubt of their passengers.
Cullen wondered whether the captain would have made such an effort if Monsieur Duvall had been the sole guest. Ariadne had spared no embellishment, the jewels at her ears, throat and wrists sparkling in the reflected light like distant stars in a night sky.
He also wondered what vile game she played at with Willa. After warning his wife repeatedly to beware of being alone with the woman, he’d found the two of them together on the upper deck that day. He wanted to trust Willa’s judgment, but he knew she was no match for the wiles of a seasoned, lethal spy like Ariadne.
Ariadne had insisted Willa sit next to her at the captain’s side. Cullen sat next to First Lieutenant Dalton, near the foot of the table. The hapless Duvall sat across the captain’s table and picked listlessly at his fish. His face was a similar hue to that of the white fish.
The officer leaned close to Cullen’s ear. “I say, Mrs. MacCloud looks the very image of her brother, Will, in this light. Don’t you think?”
“Of course, there’d be a family resemblance. They’re twins.” Cullen gripped the bench till his knuckles ached and nearly bit through his tongue in an effort to remain quiet and not slam the man against the nearest bulkhead. The captain’s hastily concocted story to the crew to explain Wills’s departure and the arrival of the newlywed Willa was hardly the most original of ideas, but it would have to do until he no longer had to serve on this godforsaken ship.
The man said nothing in reply, but his crooked smile conveyed all that Cullen feared. The officers’ mess was a hotbed of shipboard gossip, and he and Willa apparently were the current targets. As for the rest of the crew, no matter the gossip, they would not dare speak out against the surgeon, a warrant officer. And, of course, those who had been fond of Wills, like Poppy, probably suspected the truth, but would not publicly betray her out of loyalty.
When Cullen tried to steal a furtive look at his wife, she startled him with a direct stare that bored like a hot spike through his throat. He could neither speak nor breathe for a few of the longest seconds of his life.
Fortunately, the she-devil Ariadne leaned away from Willa, displaying her ample bosom to the unwary captain. She was intent on bigger fish for the moment, leaving his wife alone. The brief smile Willa flashed his way was full of unspoken meaning, as in “we know something the rest of the world does not.” It was as if they shared a secret jest. Maybe he hadn’t given her enough credit. She knew exactly the game his former lover played.
When Lieutenant Dalton jabbed at his side with an elbow, Cullen whirled in annoyance.
“What do you think? Is she or isn’t she?”
“Is she what?” Cullen’s voice came out sharper than he intended.
“You know, a spy. Is she a spy?”
“Christ-how would I know?” Cullen was on the verge of dragging the idiot outside and thrashing him.
“Weren’t you two, you know?”
“No, I don’t know, and neither do you.” Cullen forced himself to calm his breathing. “My advice is if you don’t ‘know’ something, you should cease discussion. And as this ship’s surgeon, I can assure you this particular discussion could be dangerous to your health.” The officer’s face blanched, and he turned abruptly away.
When the cook’s mate finally delivered the pudding and a tray of fruit, Cullen was so relieved, his shoulders sagged. When he hazarded a glance toward where his wife had sat, she was gone. His heart went from double-time beats of terror back to a steady calm in the long moments it took to realize Ariadne still plied the captain with her wiles. He filled his dessert plate with a slice of apricot torte and a wedge of Stilton cheese and wondered what the hell Willa was up to now.
Willa carefully lit the candle in the lantern outside their cabin door before slipping inside. She had work to do before Cullen returned. She pulled the blanket from the taut rope that had divided their cabin for weeks, folded it, and stowed it inside her sea chest, along with the rope.
And then she sat on Cullen’s bunk to wait. She waited for her husband to help her out of her one good gown, her wedding dress in fact, she’d worn to the captain’s dinner. The underpinnings necessary for the gown to fit correctly were beyond her ability to get in and out of on her own.
On the one hand, the indignities she had to endure in her current incarnation as a woman threatened to overwhelm her at times. On the other, however, her fickle body hummed in anticipation of finally becoming Cullen’s wife in truth. Most of all, she yearned to spend an entire night encircled in his arms.
Cullen forced himself to take measured steps across the middle deck on his way back to their shared cabin. He had no idea why his wife had slipped away early from the captain’s festive dinner. If Ariadne had said something to upset Willa…he didn’t know what he’d do if the French bitch had dared to hurt or upset her.
He walked past hammocks hanging full of crew not presently on duty and tried to ignore the murmurs coming from several with double occupants. When he rounded a corner in the small passageway, he saw the lantern glowing outside their cabin. He let go of the breath he’d been holding. She was safe inside.
For some reason, instead of barging inside, he gave a slight tap on the door until he heard her voice inside. “Come,” she said. As soon as he opened the door, he noticed something was missing.
“You took down the wall,” he said, his voice inflecting more of a question than a statement. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Unless you’re going to give me some reason to doubt you, come help me out of this dress.”
“You’re not worried about the time of the month? If you tell me you’re ready to ‘get it over with,’ I’m going back to the top deck to walk until you fall asleep.”
“No, you stubborn man. It’s time we were married in truth. And, besides, you said you knew how to prevent conception.” She moved close to him and pulled down his head for a kiss. He deepened the kiss and moved his hands down the back of her gown, his fingers feeling numb, as if they weren’t attached to his hands, while he fumbled with the tiny loops and silk-corded buttons.
Once the dress fell in folds to the floor, he tackled the contraption women shackled themselves into in order to create the figure they presented to the outside world. Personally, he preferred the warm woman flesh inside. And he selfishly hoped whenever they left the service, he would still be the one to help Willa out of her clothes.
When he turned her in his arms to unwrap the stays and cloth binding her breasts, he stopped short as if stung by a wasp. The expression on Willa’s face captured in the small mirror he’d attached on the bulkhead above their wash basin revealed the truth. She didn’t realize he could see what was there-not quite pain, not quite resignation.
Cullen squeezed her shoulders. “You miss the freedom of passing for a man, don’t you, my love?”
She turned without a word and buried her face onto his shoulder.
“Shush.” His stubborn wife refused to cry, choosing simply to hide her feelings from him. After peeling off her thin shift and cotton stockings, he gathered her into his arms and laid her carefully on his bunk. He pulled off his boots and shed his own clothes in a clumsy rush before joining her and curving his body behind hers beneath the blanket. Cullen stared into the darkness for long minutes, afraid to move and shatter the fragile bond beginning to form between them. The feel of her skin against his was like silk against leather, the delicate weight of her bones like the coiled strength of a Highland fox.
Willa squirmed carefully, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the narrow bunk without unduly arousing the dangerous, excitable fellow her husband’s cock seemed to be. She’d at first been fascinated at how the mere sight of her naked body would send the ruddy-headed creature into spasms of bobbing. She wondered if their elaborate dance of trying to avoid conception was painful to Cullen. Then she chastised herself for such stupid thoughts.
Of course, this had to be difficult for him. He probably wished he could seek the bed of Madame de Santis. She would be more worldly, more knowledgeable, more able to give him pleasure without the wariness of an ignorant virgin.
When Cullen’s strong arms turned her to face him, his easy smile gave her peace. She would come to no harm in the safety of his embrace. He’d been endlessly patient when he could have forced her as many men did with their wives.
He claimed her lips in a long, lingering kiss before feathering soft laps of his tongue at the tender lobes of her ears, down her neck and onto her throat. He finally paused at the expectant bud of her nipple, and for an excruciating moment she feared he’d stop. When she whimpered and pulled him closer, she could feel the rumble of a chuckle down low in his chest.
“Not so long ago, you wished me to the devil. Now you seem to be greedy for my touch.” He shook his head before closing his lips over her tight nipple and suckling hard. She gasped and stiffened, causing him to stop and look up into her eyes. “Have I found something ye like, lass?”
“Please, don’t stop.”
He obeyed, alternating his attention between her two perfectly formed breasts. How had he ever fallen for her pretense to manhood? He dropped one of his hands to the hot wetness at the apex of her thighs and began exploring her depths, first with one finger and then two.
Willa sagged at the realization her own body had betrayed her. She could not deny the mad fever to have Cullen part of her, inside her.
The small corner of Cullen’s brain still working warned him broaching virgin walls while avoiding conception in the narrow bunk would be tricky if not impossible, but the part of his anatomy now commanding the field insisted otherwise.
Not a problem, his cock said. Trust me.
Cullen ignored his baser self and decided the safest course would be to pleasure Willa so thoroughly, she might overlook the pain and not notice his hasty withdrawal later.
He levered himself onto his hands to either side of Willa and nudged her thighs apart with his knee. Beneath him, her dark eyes widened and she stiffened in the dim glow from the candle stub on her sea chest. He shook his head and put a finger to her lips before lifting the backs of her knees and pulling her closer. Her creamy skin formed goosebumps when he tightened his grip and slid her soft bottom onto his thighs.
“Don’t, please,” she muttered, and tried to twist out of his grasp.
“I only want to pleasure you, Willa. Please believe me when I say I will never hurt you.”
When he bent over and gently laved at her sex with his tongue, the heat of a flush spread from her cheeks to her breasts. At first tense and mortified, she eased gradually and slumped back onto the bunk, her hands above her head.
When he pulled her knees up over his shoulders and probed inside her with his tongue, she fell apart, her sex throbbing in time with his thrusts. She breathed in the peculiar scent of their mingled body fluids heated by their closeness, their bones rocking together in the tight space.
“Do you still trust me?” Cullen had paused to rearrange their bodies on the bunk. He’d placed a pillow beneath her back and leaned forward, nudging at her entrance with his cock. He held his weight up over her, and his eyes darkened.
“Yes,” Willa insisted, impatience in her voice, and scooted closer as if to hurry him. He leaned back on his heels, holding up a hand to stop her. “Dinna rush this, because I’m doing my best not to hurt you.”
She stilled at his words, her long, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her mouth open slightly in surprise. She loved the way her husband’s voice lapsed back into the lilt of the Highlands when he was intent, or overcome with emotion. That he should feel that way in the midst of pleasuring her flooded Willa with intense need.
After another tentative probe with a finger into her wetness, he leaned closer and slid his cock into her tight sheath. She winced a bit when he pushed against her barrier, but then he claimed her mouth in a deep kiss while the pain passed.
“No. Don’t stop.” She nudged up against him, seeking to reclaim the familiar stabs of pleasure he’d brought her to the night before. He let out a groan and moved with her in long strokes until she shook with release. His sudden, inelegant clamber off her body made her forget the danger, made her reach for him to come back in spite of her doubts and fears.
When he rejoined her a few minutes later, he curled behind her on the small bunk and pulled the blanket over them.
“I’m sorry you had to leave…that way.” She stuttered a bit in unaccustomed embarrassment. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me to stay.”
When she made as if to return to her own bunk, he tightened his grip. “You’re my wife, Willa. You belong here, with me.”
“I don’t want to be a temptation. I should…” At that, her attempted apology was interrupted by the soft, whuffing snores she’d come to know well through many nights on the other side of their blanketed “wall.” Her husband had once again fallen into deep slumber mid-argument. Only tonight, he was next to her, blowing little puffs of air behind her ear. Willa clenched her fists in frustration. How could she ever win an argument with an intractable Scot who fell asleep in the middle of her logical explanations? She finally nodded off, clutching one of his hands between her breasts.
Chapter Fourteen
Later, when Cullen had finished work on the surgeon’s log and headed to the upper deck for a late evening walk, Willa pulled her worn, leather-covered journal from her sea chest and sharpened her pencil with a small kni
fe. She’d just curled up on their bunk and had begun an entry when there was a soft tap at the cabin door.
She considered ignoring the late-night visitor, but feared one of the Arethusa’s sailors might be ill. When she opened the door, there stood Ariadne, her loose, unbound hair a soft caramel in the lantern light. The last thing Willa wanted was to invite the woman into her only haven on the ship. Instead, she motioned her in and shut the door behind her.
“If you require Dr. MacCloud’s assistance, I’m afraid he’s still up on the deck, Madame de Santis.”
“No. I’m frightfully healthy. Never seem to get sick. My traveling companion suffers from the mal de mer enough for both of us.”
“Then how may I help?”
Ariadne advanced further into the cabin and looked around, her brows rising like wings. “Is this your quarters alone?”
“No. The ship’s surgeon and I share this space. It’s our home on the Arethusa.”
“But you must have somewhere else to store your gowns.” She continued to swivel her head around, seeking out the shadowed corners of the small space.
“No. Everything I own is in there.” Willa pointed toward her sea chest.
The other woman’s eyes widened. “How long will you live like this?”
“As long as my husband is a Royal Navy surgeon.”
The ship gave a sudden pitch and roll, and Ariadne staggered a bit, grabbing onto the side of the bunk. “Surely the two of you don’t sleep in this narrow bunk.”
Willa’s patience turned brittle. “Please state your intention in seeking our cabin at this late hour. If you have no need of medical advice, I would advise you find your own quarters before the rolling of the ship becomes any more violent.”
“More violent?”
“Yes, we’re in the strait leading to Gibraltar. The chop will get worse before we finally make our turn into the harbor.”
Pride of Duty (Men of the Squadron Book 2) Page 11
