by Mary Wine
"In fact, I find myself thinking you might adapt to my country as well as you've adapted to everything else, Lorena."
"You cannot keep me, sir."
He raised that eyebrow once more. His lips curved in a sensuous grin which sent her heart
beating faster. His gaze lowered to her mouth, lingering there for long moments.
"I told you, Lorena, the choice will be yours." He stepped close and stroked one side of her face.
"But that doesn't mean I won't try to persuade you to my way of thinking."
That hand slid into her hair to capture the base of her neck. His grip tightened, holding her in place for another kiss. This one was hard and full of intention. His lips demanded, pressing hers apart until his tongue was able to thrust deep into her mouth. The hand on her nape held her securely in place for his mouth to ravish.
She kissed him back.
There was no stopping herself. She followed his lead, tasting his mouth. Sweet delight filled her, intoxicating her. Her hands reached for him, stroking over his shoulders.
The ship rolled again, hard enough to make the open windows rattle. Warren lifted his mouth from hers, frowning darkly.
"Later." He crossed the cabin before she drew enough breath to speak. He paused in the doorway, sweeping the cabin with a look of experience.
"Secure everything. We're about to see how well you adapt to rough seas." His eyes returned to hers, holding her gaze. "Lorena."
The Huntress pitched violently. She rolled and dipped all the while her crew manned her. Lorena could hear the shouts of the officers. Warren's voice boomed over the howling wind and she
recognized it even with the door closed. The scuff of boots vibrated through the ceiling of her cabin, telling her just how much effort it took for the men to remain on their feet. Rain pelted the glass windows, sounding more like gravel than water. As the ship pitched and heaved, white caps of waves were visible. Lorena checked the locks on each window several times before wedging herself in the corner of the bunk to keep herself from harm.
Lady Holly did not care for the rough weather. The parrot's cage was secured at the top and bottom but when the Huntress pitched so did the cage. The parrot finally gave up squawking
about it and settled for glaring at Lorena.
There was a wild excitement in the motion, a pinching feeling in the pit of her belly when the bow dipped downed. It reminded her of long-past days when her father had tossed her into the air while her mother warned him she would vomit all over him. She never had, not even when
her father swung her around and around while holding on to her wrists. He'd let her go and she'd tumbled head over heels in a heap of laughter and tossed skirts.
She was not afraid of the weather. She was more concerned with being hit by one of the chairs.
They had begun slipping and sliding
across the smooth floor almost the moment Warren left. There was nothing to tie them down
with, so she'd pushed them onto their sides and wedged them between the wall and table. Now the whole mass moved only when the Huntress rolled to an extreme angle.
But those instances grew less and less until they stopped. The rain wasn't pelting the windows any longer either. Lorena moved from her corner of the bunk toward the windows. It was
impossible to see anything, no moonlight in sight. Only a gray shimmer that allowed her to
barely make out the furniture in the cabin. She didn't dare light a lantern. The ship was still creaking as it bobbed on the rough seas. But the air smelled fresher. She drew in a deep breath, took a chance and opened one of the rear windows just long enough to allow the smell of rain inside.
"You do love the elements."
She dropped the window, the glass rattling dangerously. In the dark, Warren looked like a
spectre. Huge and imposing, but she could actually smell the water on him. It was a relief after the hot weather had seemed to dry out every plank of wood making up the ship.
"Not that I can blame you, considering the hot spell we just suffered through."
"It's over now?" Hope edged her words. "The water barrels full again on both ships?" And on him. She was jealous, her skin suddenly feeling even more grimy.
"Overfull. I came down to see if you want to come up for a shower."
"A what?"
He moved closer, the shadowy form shifting in the dark room. "You have adapted far better than I ever thought a woman might thus far. Now that the storm has lost its bite you can stand under the back sails and let the water pour down over you. It's a sailor's way of washing away the sweat and salt."
"Oh..." She clamped her lips shut against the impulse to say yes. It tempted her. Actually taunting her with just how good water would feel against her dry skin.
"I've sent my men to their hammocks and the ones on watch I placed on the bow. They'll mind where their attention goes or answer to me."
"I really couldn't." She hated civilized behavior. She wanted that shower. A fine tremor shook her because she longed for it so badly.
"Could be three weeks before we make port." His voice took on a velvet smooth edge.
"That's unfair. You're toying with me now. It's really quite unkind."
He reached out and captured her hand. His skin was warm and wet. "Only because I know what it's like to sail out and away from all the rules."
She gasped, too tempted not to stand. "I never thought about it like that."
He pulled her closer to the door. "You never envisioned me in top hat and tails, every inch the proper gentlemen?"
She laughed, unable to resist. The darkness was magical in a way. It was a veil that concealed their actions.
"Now who is teasing whom?" The cabin door opened and he pulled her through it. The sound of the storm was louder here. The crisp rhythm of rain drops striking the deck like music.
"I might have met you at a social gathering in Northfleet and you would have allowed me to sign your dance card gladly."
"Oh no. My stepfather forbade dancing or attending any gathering which allowed such."
Warren climbed the steep stairs to the command deck. A hatch was closed over the top of it and he pushed it up. Rain fell down and hit her face. Refreshing little drops that drew another happy laugh from her. The dry days had parched her skin. He reached back for her, his open palm an invitation she couldn't seem to resist. He held her securely while she climbed up to the deck. The air was cooler, deliciously so. It was dark still, no lantern flickering. A faint glow radiated from the other side of the deck. A set of windows marked where another set of stairs led down into the bow of the ship. The crew was there, making themselves comfortable after pitting their strength against the weather.
The rain peppered her with cool drops that soaked into her dress. Tipping her head back, she smiled when it splattered all over her face. It was cool and fresh, the smell clean.
"Dance with me, Lorena."
Slightly embarrassed to be caught so absorbed in the rain, she turned to look at Warren. Here there was more light and he was cast in different shades of gray and black. A huge form in the night, but she was not afraid of him. It was the truth that she had never been.
"I wouldn't know how."
He extended his hand, offering her his palm. She was responding before her thoughts caught up with her actions. His skin was warm, and his fingers closed around hers in a firm grip.
"I think you will surprise yourself as you do others around you with how much you manage to do simply by adapting."
He pulled her toward him and on past his position while his other hand cupped the curve of her hip to turn her. The scent of his skin joined the rain to fill her senses. He turned her in a full circle, each step very slow until she gained confidence in the motion. The storm howled around them but she found it as pleasing as any quartet.
"That's the way, follow your instincts."
He raised his hand high and turned her right under his arm. Her skirts tried to swing out but
they were heavy with water now. Warren came up behind her, his body large and solid. He laid a
hand on her hip and kept her turning in small circles. She got caught between the contrast of the rain and his warmth. The fury of the storm mixed with the strength of the man holding her. It suddenly didn't matter if her dress was soaked or her hair pulling against her hairpins because of the water weighing it down.
"Every girl should have the chance to dance."
He turned her once more and released her. His hands appeared on either side of her face, gently cupping her head. "And every dance should end with a kiss."
Oh yes...
He leaned down and she stretched up on her toes to meet him. His lips were warm and
intoxicating. His shirt was soaked and allowed her fingers to stroke over the hard ridges of his chest. But it wasn't enough, not anymore. She wanted to feel his skin. Running her hands along the front, she discovered one button. Her wet fingers pushed it through the hole to separate the front of the garment.
His kiss changed. His lips becoming demanding. His hands slid down her body, pressing her
toward his. Hunger licked its way along her skin, twice as hot as before. His tongue swept over her lower lip before thrusting deep into her mouth. Between her thighs, her passage yearned to be filled. She'd never noticed how empty she was. The shirt separated, allowing her fingers to make contact with his skin.
"I shouldn't have started this." Warren's voice was raw, his breathing harsh. He gripped the back of her head and studied her in the dark. "I didn't intend to kiss you when I brought you up here."
"I believe you." She did too. There was something drawing them together, some force that neither could resist.
He shook his head. "Sweet Lorena. You are too trusting for your own good."
He released her but captured one hand and led her back to the hatch. Below deck she had trouble seeing but he didn't. Warren led her through the hallway and into his cabin without a single misstep.
The cabin door closed with a soft click. For one moment she shivered, not knowing if he was in the cabin or not. Her skin was still sensitive, begging for his hands to stroke it.
"Tell me to go." His voice was edged in hunger that made her belly tighten. "Tell me to leave you alone."
Her body begged her not to. Her logic tried to rise above the swirling sensations clouding her mind, but failed. His hands reached for her, stroking along the column of her neck. A soft moan left her lips because she just couldn't hold it inside. But he stopped when he encountered the row of stitches in her neck. His fingers froze there.
"I can't take any more from you."
The cabin door clicked softly behind him and she cried out in anguish. Her body needed so much it hurt. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking any comfort there might be. It was pitiful little. Sobs raked her body, shaking her as the need and passion rose even higher. It burned painfully deep inside her passage, dropping her to her knees among her wet skirts and petticoat.
There was nothing to do but ride out the waves. Nothing to do but lament.
Nothing.
He was a bastard.
Warren pounded the railing with a fist. Pain snaked up his hand and into his arm but it wasn't enough to take his mind off what he wanted. So sweet, too sweet for him. Never had he laid eyes on a woman who enjoyed the same things he did. Watching her face brighten drew him to her. It was that same sweetness that drove him away tonight.
Lorena deserved better than stepping back onto land without her virtue. Women valued their
purity. Hell, plenty of men demanded it in return for wedding vows. His mistresses had been few, but each one had come to his bed knowing that pleasure was the only thing he offered them.
Lorena did not know that.
Warren hit the rail again, trying to drive that single thought deep into the center of roaring need assaulting him. His cock didn't care. It was swollen and hard, demanding he return to his cabin.
He could marry her.
The thought was mesmerizing. In fact, it would be the most honorable solution. But he'd
promised her choice. Overwhelming her tonight wasn't keeping his word. The need to return to his cabin began to recede as he considered the idea of keeping Lorena. Aye, it was a fine idea but there was a part of him that wanted her to choose him.
Not as the best way to cover up being abducted but because she wanted him.
He wanted her to marry him because she enjoyed the way he lived his life. Marry him for
affection and the joy they found in each other's company.
That was an insane idea according to most of the world but his parents loved one another. The idea of having Lorena choose him was stronger than the lust stiffening his cock. It kept him at the rail, instead of following his lust back into the cabin. The soft cry she'd let out still echoed in his ears. It would be simple to seduce her. He knew all the right places to stroke. But he craved more.
Chapter Nine
Morning was cruel. However, it did offer her an excuse to leave the bunk. The cursed thing had been nothing but a place of torment for every hour she lay on it. Her mind had been full of Warren. Even in slumber her brain thought about him, about the way his hands felt on her skin.
With a groan, she tugged on a hank of her hair. Enough already. Looking around the cabin, she established that she was very much alone. A fact she owed Warren's honor a debt for. Her own self-discipline had been nowhere in sight last night. The man could have taken every inch of her and she would have met him in the middle of the bed.
So coarse, yet completely true.
But was it wrong? The question refused to be banished because of some lecture she'd been given.
Warren was correct about the ocean being a different world. Everything she thought she knew was being worn away. All the layers of carefully practiced manners and rules simply did not seem to fit here.
Sunlight sparkled on the windows this morning. Her dress was almost dry thanks to the wind
blowing into the cabin. She'd spread her wet clothing out on top of the chairs and worn one of Warren's shirts to sleep in. Her sisters might gasp in shock but she was not in a position to be so prudish. The rain had rinsed out her clothing and that was a welcome thing. So what if she had slept in a man's shirt. The garment was twice the size of her chemise and transformed her into a lump without curves. That should serve modesty well enough. Holly was the only creature
viewing her in it anyhow. Her dress was slightly damp but she struggled into it and opened the back windows to increase the air circulation.
The bundle of muslin came to mind. It was more than just fabric, it was something to do. She'd read every book in the cabin, including the charts, which made the fabric very tempting.
Too tempting.
With a final touch on her hair, she went searching for the fabric. It had been stored securely in a cabinet with a sturdy latch. She paused when she opened the door. Another bolt of blue linen was stacked with it. Lorena ran a finger over it, smiling at the soft texture. But what truly snared her interest was how lightweight the fabric would be compared to her wool dress. Much more suited to the tropical climate.
Of course Warren knew that.
She chewed on her lip for a moment but deserted her indecision quickly. The captain was correct.
Out on the ocean, there was a different set of rules. She needed clothing and he was the only one who might provide her the fabrics. She lifted the bolts and placed them on the table.
She carefully unwrapped the fabric. It smelled new and fresh. It was high quality and would feel divine against her skin.
The second item Warren had brought was a solid wood box. Lifting the lid revealed sewing tools.
Several spools of thread, two-dozen straight pins and a large pair of shears. The blades were polished and gleaming with just a hint of oil to keep them from rusting in the sea air. The pins were neatly stuck through a piece of wool to protect them as well. Another scrap of w
ool held an assortment of needles which intrigued her. There were smaller ones that she recognized. But there were also large ones, over four inches long with very large eyes. Two needles were actually curved into half circles.
A ship's mending kit. The necessity of such a kit aboard ship was obvious. Sails ripped in storms like the one they had just weathered. Without sails, a ship floundered.
As the Golden Dawn was doing. Garrick's ship was making the most of the sails she'd been given, but their pace was slow. The Huntress cut her own speed to keep in sight of the other ship. Any ship chasing them would find it easy to do so now that they were not sailing as fast as the wind.
Two pieces of chalk lay in the box as well. Picking one up, she eyed the fabric. With the aid of a small folding ruler, she began to draw out the pieces of a chemise. She measured the one lying over the chair to check her measurements and carefully choose where to mark the fabric to
minimize waste.
Another skill she might thank Godford for. Somehow, her stepfather was becoming a likeable
fellow to her way of thinking. She hated to consider how miserable her fate might be if she had no resolve to overcome the obstacles in her path.
She might have actually done what Mordaunt demanded of her.
A shiver raced down her back. She'd be the man's wife now, wedded and bedded. Nothing but a life of servitude to the master in front of her. It was a dreary idea to say the least.
She might never have known Warren.
Her hands froze. That thought sent two tears to the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away with a scoff at such foolishness, but the melancholy remained. He was a fine man. One who
clung to his principles. She had tasted weakness last night. A weakness so overwhelming, she'd been ready to surrender to it. A month ago, she would have laughed at anyone telling her she might be reduced to such a state.
Perhaps reduced was the wrong word. In a way, she'd risen to it. Stood up and refused to look at the carefully crafted world she was expected to live in. It was like looking over the edge of a wall and realizing she had been kept in a cage her entire life. The world was more vast and diverse than any one nation.
