by Deborah Hale
She had thoroughly familiarized herself with his manly parts when suddenly he clamped a hand around each of her wrists. “Enough now, woman. Give over and let me make you mine.”
Those words acted on her emotions like the whisper of his fingertip upon the center of her need. That was what she most wanted—to be his, to belong to him in the only way their circumstances would permit.
His next whisper left her as breathless as his lovemaking. “I have a few sheaths in my possession. But groping about in the dark to find them would be such a wasteful use of our time together. Surely a woman of the world like you must know the proper precautions to keep from breeding.”
What was a sheath? And sort of precautions could he mean?
Thanks to many candid discussions with Margaret, she had far more knowledge of men and intimate relations than most innocent maidens. But never once had those conversations turned to the topic Blade had just mentioned. Margaret had desperately wanted a baby, perhaps hoping it might keep her ambitious, hard-driving husband home more often. The last thing she’d have wanted would be to prevent herself from conceiving.
“Of course I know.”
Genia hated adding another falsehood to those she’d already told Blade. But if he discovered the truth about her virginity at this point, he might suspect she was trying to entrap him into marriage, when nothing could be further from the truth.
“I could tell you all the details.” She strove to sound confident and knowledgeable. “But I would rather not waste time on anything that keeps us from this.”
Hoping to rekindle his interest in continuing their mutual seduction, she pressed her parted lips to his and darted her tongue daringly between them. Her plan worked every bit as well as she’d hoped.
As she drank in Blade’s deep, torrid kiss, she felt his hands upon her breasts, which still tingled from his earlier attentions. After teasing her nipples to hard, thrusting little peaks that begged for one more swipe of his tongue, he moved on to flutter his fingertips over her belly and further down. His lips soon followed the trail his hand had blazed.
Nudging her legs apart, he knelt between them and grazed his cheek over the sensitive flesh of her thighs. The rasp of whisker stubble over her skin sent a scorching jolt of energy sizzling through her. Genia bit her lips together to keep from crying out.
She had no time to recover from it before the slick heat of his tongue sought the sultry core of her womanhood. Lapping over her to the rhythm of the ocean swells against the hull, it unleashed a storm of savage pleasure that quaked through her in wave after wave, drowning her in vast warm sea of delight.
Before she could catch her breath, she was vaguely aware of Blade rising like a powerful crest of surf, hovering over her then diving into her depths. There was a brief sensation of resistance and intolerable pressure followed by a searing pain. Then he was inside her, filling her, joined with her, and the pain did not matter.
His lips sought hers with demanding urgency as if he were drowning and her kisses were the air he needed to survive. She tasted the briny musk of her pleasure upon his tongue and felt the welcome weight of his body upon hers. His hips began a steady rocking motion that soon sped up to match the swift gust of his breath and the headlong gallop of his heartbeat.
The desire she had thought sated only moments before reared again with a hunger that fed off each thrust of his shaft into her. Some mysterious feminine instinct took control of her body, making her tilt her hips and arch herself to receive him.
That same intuition warned her when his release was at hand. All his energy seemed to gather, tense and swell. Then it burst forth in great shuddering heaves that battered down a floodgate within her, releasing a tidal wave of bliss.
Afterward, he cradled her in his arms, murmuring endearments and feathering kisses upon her brow.
Their night together had been everything she’d hoped for and more. She was not surprised that Blade had turned out to be such a skilled, inventive lover, but she had not expected the tenderness he’d shown her. While part of her was relieved that he had not suspected her virginity, another part secretly wished he might have guessed the truth.
Chapter Five
His high sea interlude with Genia had accomplished everything he’d asked of it—though not at all in the way he’d originally planned. Blade reflected on that irony one evening in April as the Hartwell sailed north past the Azores.
The time they’d spent together had made this long voyage pass swiftly—far too swiftly it now seemed to him. It had also given him the opportunity to suspect that he could at last be content to settle down with one woman for the rest of his life. But that woman was not one his family would choose for him. Indeed, she was one of whom they were certain to disapprove most fiercely.
With the end of the voyage in sight at last, the other passengers of the Hartwell were all in fine spirits. Blade tried to pretend likewise. On this fine, balmy evening with the wind not too high, they had gathered on the poop deck to enjoy a bit of music and dancing in the sea air.
Genia’s light step and vivacious manner made her a much sought after dancing partner. Blade wished he dared keep her all to himself—tonight and forever. The thought of her dallying with a succession of other men on the fringes of Society tore at him.
He managed to claim his share of dances with her, during which he treasured each touch of her hand, each sparkling glance, each special smile that was meant for him alone. After one spritely set, she must have sensed he craved a private moment with her, for she pleaded the need to catch her breath and retired to the taffrail with him.
As he stared down at the water swirling in the great ship’s wake, Blade could not contain the feelings brewing inside him a moment longer. “I wish this voyage never had to end! I wish we could sail across the Atlantic and keep going around the world.”
“I fear it would spark mutiny among our fellow passengers.” Genia glanced back at them with a rueful chuckle. “Like it or not, all good things must come to an end at last—voyages…friendships…lives.”
Something about the wistful way her voice lingered upon those last two words reminded Blade of several conversations they’d shared during the past few weeks. “Is that why you don’t want a husband and children—because you’re afraid of losing them, the way you lost your friend Margaret?”
Genia winced. “I saw what it did to Margaret’s poor husband, losing her and the baby. I know what it did to me. I was so desperate for any diversion to lighten my spirits, even for a few hours. Only on this voyage, with so much time to think and a sympathetic ear to confide in have I made peace with my grief. I’m not certain I could bear to go through that again.”
Perhaps uncomfortable with how much she had confessed, she tossed her head and shot him a teasing grin. “Besides, what sort of marriage could I make with my reputation in tatters?”
Did he detect a note of challenge in her tone? Blade wondered as he and Genia were summoned back to join in the dancing once more. If so, was he man enough to accept such a challenge, knowing what it might cost him?
What did her reasons for not wanting a husband matter to Blade? That question plagued Genia as she continued to dance, making her preoccupied and clumsy. He’d gotten what he wanted from their liaison and so had she. This voyage had been like a pleasant dream for them both, but soon it would be time to wake up and face the reality of their lives. She’d spent far too long trying to run away from hers. Now the time had come to pay the piper. The memory of these golden weeks with Blade would make it bearable.
When the dancing had finished and the other passengers headed back to the roundhouse for a late supper, Blade drew close enough to Genia to whisper, “Stay behind a moment. There is something I want to ask you.”
“Please,” she begged him as they hung back, “No more sighs and regrets. I don’t want to spoil our final days together by fretting they will soon come to an end.”
“A sensible sentiment.” He sounded chastened, but his
next words came out in a firmer tone—the way he’d sounded on the day of the storm. “Would it not be wise to take that same view of life…and love, in general?”
“I beg your pardon?”
His countenance, usually so carefree, settled into a look of pensive solemnity that made him look older…and even more attractive. “I reckon life is like a voyage. One we may not properly appreciate because we fret too much about it ending, either for ourselves or others.”
As his words sank in, Genia realized she had been working toward that same conclusion for some time. What did it matter, though? There was only one man on whom she would be willing to risk her recently healed heart, and she had placed herself beyond the pale where he was concerned.
“What I am trying to say,” Blade went on, “is that I would like our relationship to continue, if you would be willing.”
“You want me to become…to remain your mistress?” Sorely as the prospect tempted her, Genia knew it was impossible. “But you are too honorable to betray the woman you will marry. And I could never stoop to steal the affections of another woman’s husband.”
Fearing Blade might charm her into an arrangement she knew better than to accept, Genia turned to go.
“You are right.” He caught her hand, the way she had caught his on that glorious night they’d shared. “I could not betray the woman to whom I’ve committed myself by bedding another. Which means I must wed the one who has claimed my devotion or remain celibate the rest of my life.”
He broke into a roguish grin. “I need hardly tell you, I don’t fancy that at all.”
As Genia struggled to quell the foolish, impossible hope that bubbled up inside her, Blade sank to his knees on the deck. “Will you do me the honor of accepting my offer of marriage? I cannot promise I will live forever, but I will take the best care of my health and make every effort to avoid danger. I want our life’s voyage together to be a long and happy one.”
If only it could be as easy as Blade made it sound. “What about your family? They would never approve of me, and I cannot blame them.”
“More fools they!” Surging up from his knees, he clasped both her hands tightly in his. “If that is your only objection to marrying me, think no more of it. You made me realize I have wasted too much of my life minding my family’s approval. As a child, I tried so hard to win it, without success. Later, I became the black sheep of the family, trying to pretend I didn’t care. It is time to choose my own path for my own reasons.”
It touched her to think she had done that for him. But she could not bear to ruin Blade’s future as she had ruined her own. “That is all very well, but how will you live if they cast you out without a penny?”
Blade flinched. “I would not place a burden on your resources, if that is what you fear. You have made me believe I can succeed at something if I care enough to try. I care enough about you to try as hard and as long as I must to do you proud.”
His mention of her resources filled Genia with shame. The lies she had told, thinking they would never matter, suddenly loomed up like great rocks out of the fog to wreck her chance of happiness.
After all Blade had been willing to risk for her sake, she could not offer him anything less than the truth. Surely that would convince him not to throw his future away on someone like her. “If I had any fortune, or even the expectation of one, I would not begrudge you a penny. Though I am certain you are more than capable of earning a good living.”
In a halting voice, Genia confessed the truth of her situation and her petty motives for deceiving him.
“Is that the worst you have to tell me?” asked Blade when she had finished. He did not sound angry or disappointed or any other way she’d expected.
She shook her head guiltily then glanced around to make certain there was no one within earshot. “There is more. I deceived you again when I led you to believe I had prior experience with a man. I knew you would never think of bedding me if you knew I was…a…virgin.”
The look of shock on his face pierced her conscience to its core. “I am so sorry, believe me! But I knew it might be my only chance to know that kind of pleasure and—”
Blades raised a hand to bid her be silent. “Then it wasn’t true, about your reputation being ruined?”
“That part was true, I’m afraid. I was caught kissing a young officer in the garden one evening. He offered to marry me but I refused. I was afraid I might come to love him only to have him sent to war. Father was furious. He said I’d disgraced him with my impropriety and I must go to live with Aunt Millicent in England. The truth is I never did more than kiss a man before I took up with you.”
Blade’s dumbfounded stare had gradually changed to a befuddled grin. Now he found his voice again. “My dear Genia, you talk as if this will alter the way I feel about you or my resolve to marry you. I assure you it does not, except for the better. Now I can wed you without feeling like a fortune hunter.”
As she struggled to believe what she’d just heard, he gathered her into his arms, as if to demonstrate he no longer cared who saw them together in such a compromising position.
He did exercise enough discretion to whisper his next words in her ear, rather than cry them at the top of his lungs. “Few things could please me more than knowing I have been your first and only lover. But there is one. Please, my darling, say you’ll marry me. We may be two black sheep, cut off from our families, but I reckon we can make our way in the world together. Indeed, I look forward to the challenge and the opportunity to prove myself.”
After everything she had told him, in spite of all it would cost him, Blade still wanted her? More than ever Genia felt unworthy of him, in a way that had nothing to do with rank or fortune. She leaned into his embrace, elated yet frightened at the same time. There were other ways to lose a loved one, she realized—ways that could hurt even more than bereavement.
What if Blade did not succeed in spite of his newfound confidence and her belief in him? What if he came to regret the breech with his family of which she was the cause? What if he came to blame and resent her—being parted by death would be a mercy compared to that.
Then a bright flicker of the evening star on the horizon caught her attention. It reminded her of the mischievous twinkle she had often seen in Margaret’s eye. She fancied the ocean breeze carried an echo of her friend’s sweet laughter.
“Buck up, Genia!” they seemed to say. “This sounds like an adventure. And every adventure has its risks. Dare to be in love and happy. You know it is what I always wanted for you”
As she drew back to give Blade her answer, the thought of her dear friend and her own deep joy brought tears to her eyes.
Perhaps thinking they signaled her refusal, Blade looked utterly bereft.
Genia pushed past the lump in her throat. “If you want me, I am yours! I know you have it in you to make a great success of anything you undertake. That includes marriage.”
As they sealed their betrothal with a deep, ardent, tender kiss, the evening star seemed to sparkle brighter than ever.
“Let us go announce our engagement to our fellow passengers,” said Blade at last, “and see if there is enough wine left in the Hartwell’s stores to drink a toast!”
Epilogue
Two years later
As he stood beside his darling wife at the baptismal font of his family’s private chapel, Blade thought back upon his voyage from the Indies as the great turning point in his life. After Genia’s first introduction to his parents, he’d doubted they would ever darken the door of Penkensey Manor again in his father’s lifetime. Yet there was the Earl, beaming with pride at his first grandchild and the son he’d come to respect at last.
“Name this child,” the vicar addressed the godparents—the Earl and Countess of Launceton, Genia’s Aunt Millicent and Blade’s publisher.
“Theodore Vernon Maxwell,” they replied in chorus.
Blade recalled his shock and grief upon being informed his brother Theo had been ki
lled in a riding accident, leaving him heir to the peerage. His parents had insisted that made it more vital than ever for him to wed the right sort of wife. They’d made it abundantly clear that a colonial girl of no rank or fortune did not qualify. When Blade had refused to give Genia up, they had carried out their threat to disown him. They could not prevent him from inheriting the title and estates, but while his father lived, he would be cut off without a penny.
The vicar dipped little Theo in the baptismal water, making the wee rascal squall at the top of his sturdy young lungs.
Blade gave Genia’s hand a reassuring squeeze. After that confrontation with his parents, she had insisted she would release him from any obligation to her. But he’d resisted her pleas as resolutely as their threats. It had been a struggle at first to make ends meet, but he had persevered until he found a good position with a shipping firm.
In his spare time, with Genia’s encouragement and help, he’d written an account of his travels in the Indies as well as advice for anyone going to the Orient. On the day the book was released Genia had confided the happy news that they were going to have a baby. Blade had taken it as an omen of good fortune and he’d been right.
The book had proven almost as great a success as his marriage, hailed for its uncommon blend of lively style and useful information. Not long after it came out, his parents had made an unexpected overture of reconciliation. Blade sometimes wondered whether his success had finally won his father’s approval, or whether his mother had gotten wind of their impending parenthood and refused to be estranged from her grandchild. He’d left the matter entirely up to Genia’s discretion. With the same openhearted generosity she’d once shown him, she had agreed to forgive his parents. Since then, they’d grown almost as devoted to her as he was.
