by Nalini Singh
She was silent, taking that in. Finally she asked, "What do they want?"
"I don't know. They've always got a man on the ships they hire, but every time I've run into one, I've either had to kill him, or he kills himself after reciting the same speech that slave handler started up today. But I can tell you how they're financed."
Ivy beat him to it. "Selling slaves."
"Yes. To the Ivory Market, or the Lusitanian mines in Appalachia."
"Blue." Her forehead dropped to his chest. "That night in London, they came into my room. I thought they were the Horde."
Good Christ. And Eben wouldn't have known that she was gone. The thought of it opened a hollow pit in his chest.
"Duckie said they tricked you," she added.
Damn that boy. "He shouldn't have. It doesn't do me any good for people to know that I was taken in."
She lifted her head. Humor lightened her expression. "It damages your reputation?"
"Yes." Eben didn't mind Ivy knowing the truth. He trusted her. But it still put a dent in his pride. "That reputation keeps my ship safe--but Duckie probably thought you already knew."
"How would I?"
"Because it happened when I was looking for you." When she frowned, he said, "I returned to the Star Rose that morning, and I assumed you ran to another ship. Searching from port to port would have been impossible. But Trahaearn owns those docks, and keeps a record of every ship docking and leaving--and a destination for most. I got that list, and tracked them all down."
Her mouth had fallen open.
"So when I came up on that foundered ship . . . hell, I'd planned to board her anyway. Except it wasn't you in the hold, and I stayed down there for a good bit of time with the others they'd taken from London. Duckie was one of them. Chained up right next to me."
"Truly?" At his nod, she asked, "How did you get out?"
"They'd told Barker not to follow or they'd kill me--but if I don't pay Barker, then he can't pay the Blacksmith. He took the risk of following."
"What'd they do?"
"Try to kill me. When Barker sailed in close, they counted on him slowing down to collect my body. So they took me topside, shot me in the chest, and I went over. I was just at Vesuvius's hull when the shark took my leg."
Her hand flattened over his heart. "My elbow really did save you."
In more ways than one. He'd held on to her small flange in that stinking hold, his only thought of escaping and continuing to search for her. But he hadn't. He'd gone after the slavers instead.
"I caught up with them--and that's when I first heard of the Black Guard. The slave handler on that ship had been one, too."
"Before you killed him?"
"Yes. And stranded most of the crew."
Her gaze was troubled--but not by the fate of the slavers' crew. "Have there been so many taken?"
"Probably more. I only found them because I went looking. Most of them don't come through London--Trahaearn watches his docks too closely, and most of the mercenaries the Black Guard hires are too afraid of him to risk it. So the majority of the people taken have been smuggled out of Wales and Cornwall."
"But Trahaearn's the Duke of Anglesey. He has holdings in Wales. They aren't scared of him there?"
"It's easier to smuggle along the coast than the Thames." But he agreed, "It damages his name that they're doing it under his nose--even if he's in London."
Realization slowly spread across her features. "I see."
He smiled a little. "Do you?"
"Yes. Scaring sailors and tearing ships apart--but above all, keeping the mercenaries too afraid to approach the coast. Whose idea was the kraken?"
"It was mine." He didn't mention that he'd been drunk at the time. Trahaearn had liked the idea well enough.
"And who is paying for it?"
His grin broadened. "The Iron Duke."
"So this is all about you and the Iron Duke destroying the Black Guard?"
"Just taking one source of their money. They'll no doubt find another."
"And then?"
He pictured the people in the hold of that first ship--and all of them that had come after. "Then I'll find them again."
"But with the Horde gone, Britain has a navy again. Why can't they--"
"Because after two hundred years, the navy is nothing but muscle for the Manhattan City merchants." Pirates in fancy uniforms. "And the people being taken are too poor to matter to them--and they've no interest in patrolling this coast."
"So you're going to do their job with a monster."
"Yes." But he needed to tell her, "The crew doesn't know about the kraken, Ivy. Barker does--but the others, they assume we're being paid by Trahaearn to recover his people, and I'm in it for the money. And I can't afford them or anyone else thinking I've gone soft."
"And so that's the reason behind the stories." She studied his face. "Have you gone soft?"
"The crews of the Black Guard's mercenary ships wouldn't think so."
"No, they wouldn't," she said quietly, and he knew she was thinking of the slave handler he'd shot, of the barrage of cannon fire that had destroyed the ship. Looking into his eyes, she lifted her hand to his jaw. His heart sledgehammered against his ribs.
"One denier," she said. "And I'll kiss you."
Anticipation became tearing pain--and anger. He still had to pay?
By God, he wouldn't. He'd take the kiss and every god-damn thing he wanted from her, and she'd beg for more.
He let himself imagine it, only for a second. Then the red haze cleared from his vision and he saw her pale face, her rounded eyes. Fear? Christ, no. But he didn't know what his expression had shown her--and he didn't know what she thought when she looked at him. He only knew he had to put some distance between them.
"Eben," she said.
He tried to shrug her off as he sat up, but she clung to him, her strong fingers clamped over his shoulders. "Move away, Ivy."
"Eben."
His name. For the first time, his name. He stopped, met her searching gaze.
"I don't mean to--" She cut herself off, and started again. "I need a limit. Something tangible. Something that prevents us from taking this beyond a kiss . . . or very far beyond it."
He struggled to take in her meaning. "You want to set terms--and back them up with the denier?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if we make an agreement, you'll honor it. And I can't afford . . . I can't risk more." Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and a wistful note softened her voice. "No matter how tempted I am."
Risk? What did she risk by--
Oh, hell. Eben closed his eyes. God, what a fool he was. Under Horde rule, only one result came from a coupling between a man and a woman, and most didn't remain together afterward. Then the child would be taken and raised in a creche.
But Ivy would have kept her child. And when she'd come to Vesuvius, she'd only had eight deniers . . . all of which he'd taken.
Quietly, he told her, "I wouldn't risk it either, Ivy. A ship is no place to raise a child, and I'm not a man who'd be content visiting the family I've made four or five times a year. When I return to land permanently, maybe then. Not while I'm out to sea."
"Oh." Confusion furrowed her brow. "You never meant to shag me?"
Eben had to laugh. Of course he had. Even now, hearing that word from her lips left him as hard as a cannon.
"I mean to, Ivy. Every night, and twice in the day. And each time, using a lambskin sheath that will catch my seed."
Disbelief widened her eyes. "You have such a thing?"
"Yes."
When she gave a delighted laugh, he determined to buy a crate more the next time Vesuvius put into port.
"And it does not fail?"
He almost lied. Then he admitted, "Yes. But only rarely, Ivy. Very rarely."
Her face fell. She looked away from him, biting her bottom lip.
Her disappointment was simultaneously the most heartening and the most torturous
response he'd ever witnessed. She wanted him--but she wouldn't risk having him.
Unless Eben convinced her it wasn't a risk at all.
Yasmeen had warned him that Ivy wouldn't know what courting was, and he hadn't forgotten that--but he hadn't truly understood it, either. He'd hoped that she would accept him as a partner. But it would probably never occur to her to imagine him--or anyone--in that position, even if she began to care for him.
He touched her chin, made her meet his eyes. "If it failed, I wouldn't leave you alone, Ivy. I'd come with you to shore. I'd see that you and the baby had everything you needed. And I'd stay with you, always."
Surprise, hope, and doubt warred across her features. "Eben, I think . . ." She trailed off, staring at him, as if searching for an answer within. Whatever she found drooped her shoulders and softened her mouth into a sad curve. "I just don't know."
Though he recognized that her response indicated uncertainty rather than rejection, he had to fight the hollow ache in his chest. Determination soon filled it. She'd already come to believe he was man enough not to force her; she would come to believe he was man enough to care for her, too. Until then, he could pleasure them both without risking a child.
"Let me up, Ivy."
She let him go--reluctantly, he was gratified to see. After lighting the gas lamp, Eben retrieved a heavy gold coin.
Her eyes widened when he placed the coin in her palm. "A sous?"
"I'll only kiss you," he promised, then guided her hand to the juncture of her thighs. With his fingers over hers, he tucked their hands between her legs. He watched her lips part, heard her soft gasp. "But only if I kiss you here."
EIGHT
Oh, blue heavens. As Ivy stared up at him, the pressure of his palm increased until her hand firmly cupped her most sensitive flesh. Wetness seeped through the thin cotton of her nightgown onto her fingers.
Need roughened Eben's voice. "This can be my mouth, Ivy."
And she wanted that kiss beyond measure. Heat unfurled through her belly. She dropped the sous to the mattress, reaching for him. He caught her wrist and tugged her toward the side of the bed.
"Come to the window."
Her choppy breaths, the clank of his foot, and the creak of the ship were the only sounds in the cabin as he led her to the leather armchair. So many times, he'd come in to find her watching the stars. Had he imagined doing this?
At his urging, she sat, perching at the edge of the seat. Eben loomed over her, his back to the window. The glow from the lamp cast soft gold over the right side of his face, leaving the other half shadowed. Just to look at him was a pleasure--but her hands would have known him, even in the dark. They'd memorized his lean features, the breadth of his shoulders, every line and hollow of his chest and stomach, packed with muscle.
His gaze burned with intensity. "Lean back, Ivy."
Slowly, she sank deeper into the chair. Her hands slid along the tops of her thighs, a whisper of metal over cotton. When her shoulders rested against the leather back, Eben knelt before her. His fingers caught the hem of her nightgown and began to draw it up to her knees. Ivy shivered.
"Cold?"
A breathless laugh escaped her. Hardly. She was burning up from the inside. Cheeks flushed, she felt faint perspiration across her brow, but it didn't soothe the heat building beneath her skin.
She caught the hint of his smile before he bent his head. Her toes curled against the deck. She trembled again when his lips brushed her right knee.
"I need to spread you open for my mouth. But I won't force you."
Oh. Beneath her hands, her thighs were clenched together, as if she was uncertain. She wasn't--and Ivy wanted to be bold. She wanted Eben to know she didn't fear him. Gathering her courage, she let her legs fall apart and opened for him until her knees hooked over the arms of the chair. She hiked her nightgown hem to her waist.
Eben froze, his dark stare fixed on her exposed flesh. Her name came out strangled. "Ivy."
Her courage almost failed. "This isn't what you meant?"
"It is. More than I . . . God. You're already wet for me." He suddenly palmed the underside of her thighs as if to hold her open to his hungry gaze. His thumbs stroked the sensitive tendons of her inner thighs. "Do you know what I plan to do now, Ivy?"
He would put his mouth on her. She couldn't imagine any further, but the very thought set her body quivering in anticipation. Her fingers bunched in her nightgown.
"You'll kiss me."
"Yes." His right fingers smoothed into the crease of her thigh and followed it up to her hip. Gasping, Ivy rocked toward him. His hand flattened over her lower belly, holding her in place as his thumb slid through red curls. Gently, he began to circle the slick bud at the apex of her sex. "I'll kiss these pretty pink lips, Ivy. And I'll spread them with my tongue and lick inside you, tasting you all over."
Ivy couldn't form a coherent reply. Only panting breaths as his thumb stroked harder, the tip wet now, slippery over her flesh. The maddening circles were both bliss and torment, wringing a moan from deep in her throat.
"Then I'll suck on your clit until you come for me." His voice roughened in response to another tortured moan. "But I'll tell you what I won't do--look at me, Ivy."
Her fingers clenching on the arms of the chair, her thighs trembling, she lifted her gaze. Need had hardened his face, his eyelids heavy as he watched her. His left hand rose, tugging down the neckline of her gown, baring her right breast and tightly budded nipple. Yearning for his touch, she arched into his palm.
He drew his hand away, pinning her right knee against the chair arm. "I won't suckle your sweet tits." His thumb circled faster. "I won't lick every inch of your skin. I won't push your thighs together and guide my cock through your wet slit, pumping my shaft across your clit, making you scream for me to come inside you. I won't fuck you with my fingers and my tongue until you're riding my hand and my mouth. And you won't be touching me, either."
"Eben, please." She didn't know what she wanted. Only that she wanted all of that, and that the tension winding tighter and tighter inside her needed to break. Helplessly, she rolled her hips against his hand. "Please. Please."
"Not until you return to Vesuvius."
His words barely penetrated the fever clouding her mind. Until she returned . . . ?
The shadows on his face deepened. "I won't be with you as you begin building the kraken, Ivy. So I want you to wait for me. Just three weeks. Then I'll join you at Trahaearn's estate--and I'll give you everything you want while you finish your work there, and again on your way back home."
Back home. And before that, almost a month without him. A sharp pain speared through her chest, stealing her breath.
When she didn't reply, his expression darkened. "You'll wait for me." Not a request now, but a harsh command. His thumb stroked harder. Long fingers pushed between her slick folds to press against her opening. Ivy turned her face into her shoulder, gasping. "You'll wait."
"Damn you, Mad Machen. Yes!" she burst out. "Now kiss me like you promis--"
He swooped down. Ivy's demand melted into a moan as his hot mouth covered her, tongue sliding over swollen flesh. She cried out, her back arching, her shoulders jammed against the seat back.
"You taste . . . so good." His voice was a growl between licks that ravaged her senses. His fingers tightened on her thighs. "Won't . . . let you go."
Ivy didn't want him to. She reached for him, burying her fingers in his thick hair. His stiffened tongue delved through her folds. His big hands wedged beneath her bottom, lifting her for a deeper kiss.
Blue, blue, blue. Almost sobbing with pleasure, Ivy heard his answering groan. Her hips swiveled of their own accord, and his mouth moved with her, lapping at her clitoris before suckling the tender bud between his lips. His tongue flicked as he drew on her, and Ivy's muscles suddenly locked as she strained toward that shattering precipice. Eben didn't stop, each lick painful now, too much, too intense. Then he suckled again and she broke, cryi
ng out as she bucked against his mouth.
His tongue softened. He gently licked her as she came down, then pressed a kiss to her quivering belly. He lifted his head and his gaze ran over her, from her flushed sex to her perspiring face.
"My God, Ivy. You're beautiful."
Did he truly think so? He looked at her as if he did--he was the only person who'd ever looked at her like that. She blinked away the stinging in her eyes. "You're suffering from a loss of blood to your brain, Eben."
"So I am." He laughed and dropped another kiss to the inside of her knee. Lifting her still-shaking legs from the arms of the chair, he helped Ivy to her feet. She swayed against him, her belly bumping into his engorged shaft. Eben groaned, closing his eyes. "I'm a fool for saying that you can't touch me until I return. Will you ease me then?"
She wanted to now. "Yes."
"Sweet Ivy." His big hands cupped her jaw, thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones. "I also said I'd only kiss you one time in return for the sous. But if I break my promise and kiss your lips before we sleep, will you forgive me?"
"I won't forgive you if you don't kiss me."
Eben grinned as he lowered his head, and she was breathless by the time he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
When the eighth bell of first watch rang, Ivy opened her eyes. Eben lay quiet beside her, his erection against her hip. Before he could speak, she covered his mouth with a kiss--then took him in hand and stroked until he came, awakening all of Vesuvius by shouting her name.
NINE
Six Weeks Later . . .
Autumn had already come to Anglesey; yellow and orange warmed the low, rolling hills in the distance. Eben had thought that the sight of the island's shores would lessen the frustration and dread that had built with every passing day, but when Anglesey appeared on the northern horizon, he was struck by the devastating certainty that Ivy had already gone.
Between weather and repairs that had forced him into dry dock, he'd been delayed too damn long.
Ivy might have worked on the kraken for three weeks, as she'd promised. But he'd forced that promise from her, just as he'd forced her to fix the machine--and why would she have remained in Anglesey for God knew how many months to repair a monster?
