A Treasure Worth Keeping

by Marie Patrick

  She couldn’t help herself. Being held in his arms was not enough, couldn’t satisfy the growing need that made her feel flush, made her shiver, made her want what she didn’t know. She touched her lips to his while her hands splayed on his firm hard chest. His heart beat a steady cadence beneath her fingertips. He drew in his breath, made a slight noise in the back of his throat, a cross between a moan and a groan as his chest expanded beneath her hands.

  That gentle kiss turned to something more demanding, more passionate, as his mouth took possession of hers and his hands—dear God, they seemed to be everywhere at once—crushing her to him, caressing her back through the material of her gown, stroking her hair, her face, warming her from the inside out.

  He led her away from the door, his mouth locked on hers, tongue caressing hers, hands touching every inch of her. Breath mingled, the sound erotic to her ears. They settled into an overstuffed leather chair near the small stove used to heat the cabin. Caralyn sat on his lap, her legs slung over the arm of the chair, her gown hiked up to expose her stockings to her knees. She could feel the strength of his arousal against her backside even through the layers of clothing and a thrill raced through her.

  Tristan’s lips touched hers, sliding over them, tasting her, sending more heat to flood her veins, as his fingers slid over her collarbone then down to the décolletage of her gown. His fingers made short work of unbuttoning her dress to expose the corset cover beneath. A quick tug on the ribbon and the garment loosened. He lowered the short puffed sleeve of her gown and brushed his lips along her shoulder as his hand slipped beneath her corset and chemise to gently cup her breast. The nipple puckered into a hard nub as he whispered in her ear all the things he wanted to do to her.

  In that instant, Caralyn ceased to think beyond the surge of yearning taking control of her, beyond the pleasurable tightening between her thighs. Heat suffused her. Indeed, fire seemed to blaze in her veins, igniting an inferno she didn’t think she could survive.

  She moved against him and he groaned deep in his throat, his chest rumbling beneath her hand, but then it was her turn to moan as his kisses dropped lower, from her shoulder, to the tops of her breasts exposed by corset and chemise. Supported by his arm behind her, Caralyn’s head tilted back, granting him more access. A small sound escaped her as he complied with her silent wish and the spiraling heat within her grew. Within moments, the clasps at the front of her corset were undone and the chemise pushed aside.

  She had an irrational desire to cover herself and brought her hands up to do so, but Tristan stopped her. “Don’t, Cara mia. Let me look at you.” He sighed as his gaze touched every inch of bare skin glowing in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful.”

  His words alone were enough to convince her, but one look at the expression on his face, at the longing and appreciation in his eyes, made her cast aside all her uncertainty. She wanted this, had wanted this from the moment they met. The hunger for him had only grown stronger the more time they spent with each other. Caralyn caressed his hair and brought his head down to her breast.

  The first touch of his tongue against her already hardened nipple made her gasp, indeed, made her jump as the warmth of his mouth surrounded the straining bud. The heat inside her doubled, the tightening between her thighs growing in unexpected surges.

  Her shoe fell to the floor and her gown rode higher as Tristan slipped his hand beneath the hem and caressed her leg, smoothing along the silky stocking from her ankle to her calf to her knee before finding the sensitive skin of her thigh beneath her drawers. While his mouth and lips continued their leisurely exploration of her breasts and played havoc with her senses, Caralyn felt the ties holding her stocking in place slip free. With an expertise that surprised her, he slid the stocking from her leg and then the warmth of his hand replaced the silk.

  Caralyn gasped as his fingers brushed up against the mass of springy curls between her thighs. No one, except herself, had ever touched her there. Moisture seeped from that secret place, making her slick, making it easy for him to part the swollen flesh and find the key to her release. As his thumb gently caressed her, the tightening pressure built, spiraling out of control. He glided a finger into her moist heat, stroking her sensitive skin as his thumb continued to draw light circles on the hardened nub.

  “Come for me,” he whispered against her lips. Her eyes opened and her breath came in short gasps of surprise as her body responded to the simple words and exploded.

  Now Caralyn knew why men chased women and women allowed themselves to be caught. This pure rapture, this unbridled passion, this pleasure had no equal.

  Tristan continued to caress her swollen flesh while his lips took possession of hers. He rose from the chair, bringing her with him as if she weighed nothing and maybe she did weigh nothing. She felt light, boneless, a quivering mass of pulsating nerves and flesh, her body ablaze with sensation, her mind unable to hold a coherent thought. He placed her on her feet, which was a mistake. With her knees weak, she wobbled and fell against him, her breasts crushing against his hard chest. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin as the gown and petticoat fell away, leaving an amethyst and white puddle on the floor. She stood in a beam of moonlight in her underclothes, one stocking still covering her leg, unashamed.

  He said nothing but no words were needed. Indeed, she probably wouldn’t have understood or remembered, caught as she was in the spiraling passion his touch evoked. And touch her he did—with his lips, his mouth, his hands. He made removing each piece of clothing a new experience in sensation. His eyes reflected his own need and yet, he remained gentle, patient.

  Thoughts spun in her mind, but not one made sense as she helped him take off his shirt, her fingers clumsy with nervousness. The muscles in his chest and arms rippled with his movements, causing another stir of excitement within her. She couldn’t resist running her hands over his hard muscles. His body stiffened beneath her touch. His wide chest tapered to a lean waist, slim hips, and long legs, and when he bent over to remove his boots, she was treated to the sight of his well-developed backside.

  Anticipation grew as his trousers dropped to the floor and he stood before her, naked, unadorned, fully aroused, and so beautiful. Caralyn drank in the perfection of his body. Her mind memorized every powerful line of him, but her eyes were drawn to the heat of his gaze. In the depths of his sherry-colored eyes, she saw a promise of what was to come as he laid her gently on the bed.

  Caralyn opened her arms and welcomed him. His weight pushed her further into the mattress. The fine hair on his chest pricked her already sensitive nipples and the rush of expectancy coiled like a spring in the very core of her being. Every nerve in her body came alive beneath the onslaught of his touch, every sense heightened. The smell of the sea clung to him and filled her nose. The taste of champagne on his tongue became a heady elixir within her brain. The warmth of his skin beneath her hands, the roughness of his whiskers against her face, the tenderness of his kiss all conspired to make doubts, fears, and obligations disappear.

  The brief stab of pain when he entered her body for the first time startled her and she stiffened beneath him, but only for a moment. He stopped, his breath coming in short gasps, the muscles in his arms bunching from self-control.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered as he planted gentle kisses on her face. Caralyn felt the tension in him, the control he exerted. She trusted him and relaxed her stiffened muscles. Tristan began to move in her slowly, the length and breadth of him filling her until she became lost in the rhythm older than time.

  Poised on the edge of another jarring climax, Caralyn lifted her hips to meet his. She met him stroke for stroke, her hands clutching his backside, pulling him closer as her legs wrapped around his.

  Tristan groaned as the world around her shattered into a million stars. She felt the warmth of his seed fill her, felt her own body throbbing around him, felt the tension in him ease as his mouth claimed hers once more.

  A chill made her sh
iver as his warmth left her and he rose from the bed. She watched him, fascinated by his rippling muscles and tight, round backside as he poured water into the washbasin and grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer beneath it.

  She’d known him to be gentle, to be tender. She’d seen with her own eyes the loving way he treated Jemmy and tonight, he was no different with her. He sat on the side of the bed, the washcloth in his hand. “The first time is always painful and I’m sorry. I should have been gentler, should have taken my time.”

  Caralyn stiffened and heat rose to her face when she realized what he was about to do, but the way he looked at her, the tenderness in his voice put her at ease and she let him bathe away the telltale proof of her virginity from her thighs. He tossed the cloth into the water basin and crawled back into bed.

  Tristan caressed the side of her face, pushing her perspiration damp hair away from her cheek. “It’ll never happen again. I promise.”

  What wouldn’t happen again? Making love? Sharing a passion that seemed all consuming and just so right, she could have cried?

  He kissed her then his lips moving over hers with such sweetness, tears stung her eyes. “Sleep now, my sweet.” He cradled her in his arms. Caralyn let the warmth of his body surround her as she drifted into sleep, her limbs heavy with satisfaction, her heartbeat returning to a much more normal pace. The last thing she heard was his tortured whisper, “Ah, Cara mia, why did I have to find you now?”

  Chapter 16

  Tristan woke to the same sounds as yesterday and the day before. The creaking of the ship as it cut through the ocean waves, the sails snapping in the constant breeze, the muffled voices of the crew on deck. And something new—the light breathing of Caralyn as she slept in his arms.

  His belly tightened in surprise. Never before had he woken with a woman in his bed. Granted, he’d had his fair share of women, but none had ever stayed for more than a few hours, none had been invited to stay. This new experience made him smile. He rather liked waking up with Caralyn. She nestled against him, her back pressed to his stomach. A low growl rumbled from him when she snuggled her backside tighter against the curve of his groin. The innocent-in-sleep move speared the warmth of her body straight through his skin to heat his blood. Indeed, waking with her in his arms gave him a thrill he’d never known. The thought dawned on him he’d never realized how lonely he’d been until she stepped onto his ship and made him an outrageous offer.

  Last night had been a revelation. Making love to her changed him, made clear in his mind exactly what needed to be done. First, find the blasted treasure, then make Caralyn his for eternity. His father and the demand to marry some other woman be damned. The weight on his shoulders to carry on the family name sat like the Adventurer’s anchor, but he would meet his obligations—on his terms . . . and with the woman of his choice.

  The object of his thoughts sighed and snuggled closer against his chest. Tristan inhaled her scent and his muscles tensed as doubt and questions filled his mind. There had been more than one revelation last night. Caralyn had surprised him with her admission she was promised to someone. Why had she not mentioned her betrothal before now? Did she love this man she was to marry? Or was her hand being forced as Tristan’s was? Could she resolve her own commitment? If she were free to be his, would she want him?

  He had too many questions with no answers and yet, his heart swelled with hope, with desire. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. He loved the sound of her laughter, the impish grin she usually wore, and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. He loved her spirit and determination and her kindness. He loved how she’d grown so fond of his son.

  He loved . . .her.

  The realization struck him like lightning, like the green flash he sometimes saw on the horizon when the sun dipped into the ocean. He wanted to laugh with the pure pleasure of the knowledge, not only in his mind, but in his heart.

  Filled with wonder and awe, with unbridled joy and a new resolve, Tristan leaned up on his elbow and watched her sleep. He smoothed her curling tresses away from her features, the glossy strands sleek and soft; the alluring fragrance drifted to his nose and made him smile. She seemed more beautiful now and he couldn’t resist reaching out to caress her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin felt like warm silk. She sighed and her backside pressed more firmly against his manhood. His smile widened.

  He nuzzled the back of her neck, his breath fanning the fine hairs residing there. He watched, fascinated, as goose bumps pebbled her skin.

  The sheet covering them both exposed her tanned shoulder and he traced his fingers along the smooth expanse of skin. He caressed her shoulder, collarbone, and side of her throat. His lips followed the imaginary path as he pressed light kisses on her dewy flesh. Caralyn moaned deep in her throat, her body moving against his, arousing him more than he thought possible. Blood surged through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest and pulsed in his ears so he no longer heard the sounds around him.

  He pushed the sheet further down, grazing her arm with the lightest touch of his fingertips, caressing her ribs and her stomach before cupping her breast. Her nipple sprang to life, puckering beneath the subtle scraping of his thumb.

  Caralyn released a startled gasp and turned her head on the pillow. Her body tensed within his embrace, and her eyes opened wide as a blush colored her face. “Oh, Tristan! What have I done? What have we done?”

  Her voice held pure anguish, and for a moment Tristan read her emotions so clearly, he felt them within himself. Passion and desire radiated from the deep blue of her eyes, but remorse and perhaps a little guilt reflected there as well. He understood. He truly did. She was promised to another. Honor dictated she should have gone to her wedding bed pure and untouched, and yet, she’d given herself to him, fully, unconditionally, with an enthusiasm and a passion that equaled his own.

  “You . . . you must go. I . . .” She tried to slip from the bed, but he tightened his arms around her.

  “Let me stay, Cara mia,” he whispered against her temple. “Just let me hold you for a little while longer.” He traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger. “We cannot undo what we have done nor can we deny what is between us. I don’t regret for one moment what we shared, but I’ll go if you want me to.” He kissed her then his lips capturing hers, showing her, telling her he would leave as he promised.

  When Tristan raised his head and gazed into her eyes, he knew she’d made her decision. Right or wrong, she would allow him to stay. She turned toward him, her body pressing against his, her breasts crushing against his chest, the taut nipples burning his skin.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered, her voice shaking, her arms trembling as they wound around his neck, pulling him closer so she could touch her lips to his with a tenderness that tugged at his heart. Elation such as he’d never known thundered through him and he did as she asked.

  Last night, in the glow of moonlight, their lovemaking had been driven by an urgency that could not be denied. Now, in the warmth of the sunlight streaming into the cabin, the urgency was gone, replaced by a desire to touch and be touched, to learn, to feel. Tristan explored her body as if it were new, as if he’d never touched her before.

  He started with her mouth and the softness of her tempting lips. He couldn’t imagine kissing another woman like this, couldn’t imagine anyone else responding to his touch the way she did. Indescribable joy surged through him, making him tingle all the way to his toes. He shifted on the bed, rolling her under him so he could feel the heat of her body beneath his.

  His lips traveled along her throat, planting little kisses along her velvety skin, leaving a trail of moisture in their wake. Her head tilted back, pressing into the pillow, exposing more of herself to him and he complied with her silent demand. Tristan kept up his leisurely discovery, his hands caressing her as his lips and mouth touched her face, her ears, her throat. Her breast swelled within the palm of his hand and he kissed a path to the straining peak, settling his waist be
tween her thighs.

  Though it drove him insane with need, Tristan took his time. He teased her, touched her, drew the rigid peak into his mouth, and swirled his tongue against the hard nub while his fingertips gently caressed her other breast. Her heart pounded beneath his hands. She shivered, her body writhing under his.

  Caralyn’s soft moan filled his ears, spurred him on, encouraged him, and his body hummed with anticipation. How he yearned for her. He kissed his way down her body to the tips of her toes. A giggle escaped her and she jumped when he slid his tongue along the arch of her foot then pulled a toe into his mouth. Her laughter trailed into a moan of pure bliss as his lips and tongue smoothed along her ankles, calves, and knees.

  Her legs opened a little wider but when his lips touched her at the apex of her thighs, she snapped her legs closed.

  Tristan glanced at her face and saw her embarrassment.

  “Don’t hide yourself, Cara. You’re beautiful here, too.” He continued to caress her skin, rubbing his fingers against the curls between her legs. After a moment, she relaxed, granting him access, granting permission for what he wanted, for what he hoped would please her.

  A startled cry escaped her when his tongue caressed the swollen folds of flesh where his fingers had been. Her nails dug into his hair, pulling his head closer as her hips moved against his mouth. He teased her with his lips and tongue, loving the taste of her, loving the way she responded to his touch until her breath came in short gasps and her body tensed. Her thighs tightened against his ears and he couldn’t hear her moans of pleasure, but he knew by the bucking of her hips, the clenching of her muscles, she’d found her bliss.

  But he wasn’t done teasing her, exploring her, finding new ways to make her shudder in exquisite joy.