A Buccaneer at Heart

by Stephanie Laurens

And he was lost.

  He caught her arms and hauled her up before she could think of any next move. He heard a throaty laugh before he captured her lips, her mouth—and devoured and claimed in an effort to corral her every thought.

  The kiss set the final spark to a conflagration they’d both knowingly built, one so tinder-dry—so passion-soaked—it erupted into all-consuming flame.

  Her hands, his, reached, tugged, grabbed, and seized. They broke for a gasp as he hauled her chemise off over her head.

  Then they fell on each other again.

  She refused to let him free of the kiss. He had to sit on the edge of the bed and blindly shed his breeches, small clothes, boots, and stockings. She still had her stockings on, fine woven cotton held up by improbably lacy garters. He rather liked the thought, and they wouldn’t get in their way. But he wanted her hair loose—wanted that burnished glory sliding over his skin.

  She wanted to rush on, but when he refused to budge while tugging at her braids, she made a desperate sound in her throat and helped. Between them, pins rained on the floor, then her braids unraveled—and he had her as he wished.

  Their lips locked, their mouths fused, he crushed her to him, then tipped backward, twisting and tumbling them onto the bed.

  She landed half beneath him, and every last rein snapped.

  He couldn’t control anything—not himself, and certainly not her.

  Not them.

  They came together in a blaze of heat and passion, whipped on by impulses too powerful to resist.

  This interlude was nothing like his customary sophisticated, experienced interactions; this was different.

  It was so much more.

  This was him with no shield, stripped bare by passion as he’d never been before. He could barely find breath in the maelstrom of need.

  In the grip of a hunger like no other.

  For her.

  Aileen could barely cope with the onrush of sensations—with the glorious feeling of his weight upon her, of his hands upon her bare skin. The incredible feel of his skin—rougher than her own, yet stretched tight over hard muscle—pressing her down, of the crisp hair adorning his chest rasping her tightly furled nipples, of the coarse hairs on his thighs and groin abrading her delicate, so sensitive skin.

  Then his lips found her breast. He lipped her nipple, and she thought she’d died.

  Then he suckled, and she bit back a scream.

  A dark sound rewarded her.

  He proceeded to play her body like an instrument. She’d heard of the analogy, but she hadn’t ever imagined any man might manage to so overwhelm her...

  He did. Despite the passion that gripped them both, that whipped them on with a near-violent fury, he fought and seized the time to open her eyes to the manifold pleasures, to open her senses to wonder.

  When with a final, devastating lick he sent her senses soaring and she came apart on a sobbing scream, she saw stars—and felt the elemental implosion of ecstasy for the very first time.

  And at last, he rose over her. With care, with a restraint so fraught it made his muscles quake and quiver, he sheathed himself, inch by inch, in her softness.

  The impact...was so much more intimate than she’d ever dreamed. The sensation of him there, stretching her body, forging in and claiming, eventually filling her to the hilt, was shattering.

  It shattered a dam she’d built inside herself so many years ago she’d forgotten it was there.

  He withdrew a little way, then forged in again, and she arched beneath him.

  And opened her heart to him.

  Gloried and cleaved to him, held him and rode with him as with her open encouragement the last vestige of his restraint fell away.

  Robert was lost—lost on a plane of glory and passion he’d never before breached. She was so much more than any woman he’d had before; she met him, matched him—and challenged him to the end.

  The sheer power of their joining swept him—them—away.

  Driven. Owned. By their passion.

  No—by what powered it, what lay behind it.

  He could not—would not yet presume to—put a name to it, but he sensed it there, within them both, nascent and yet so potent.

  So far beyond desirable that mere mortal minds could not encompass its glory.

  They raced to the end, to the ultimate peak. They reached the pinnacle and soared.

  Into the cataclysm of ecstasy, into the soul-searing brightness of that ineffable, internal sun.

  They clung to each other, minds overwhelmed by the glory, bodies overcome by the scintillating pleasure that stretched for miles and minutes uncounted...

  Eventually, the brightness faded.

  Finally, they spiraled down to the here and now, to the covers of his bed. To the pleasure that spread beneath their skins, the peace that flowed through their veins.

  To the synchronous thudding of their slowing hearts and the warmth of each other’s arms.

  * * *

  Later, when he’d disengaged and lifted from her, and they’d shifted and rearranged themselves beneath the covers of his bed, he lay on his back with her a warm weight against his left side, her head pillowed on his chest, in the hollow below his shoulder.

  He stared up at the canopy. And wondered what came next.

  She didn’t leave him wondering for long. “Incidentally”—her words were muffled, her breath wafting over his chest—“this changes nothing. I’m still coming with you tomorrow morning.”

  His protectiveness stirred. Even in the few days he’d known her, he’d grown accustomed to the instinctive reaction she provoked, but to his surprise, the compelling impulse to keep her locked away in his cabin, safe from all possible danger, was tempered by a recognition, an evolving understanding.

  Of her.

  Of what being with her—of her being his and, possibly, him being hers—actually meant.

  What consolidating that state might, and most likely would, require.

  Trust, obviously. But also accommodation.

  He’d seen how both worked between Declan and Edwina.

  With Aileen...in order to hold her, as he most definitely intended to do, could he offer any less?

  He knew that for him, the time was not yet right to speak of the future; it was almost certainly not the right time for her, either. He needed to push hard to complete his mission, and she needed to satisfy herself that she’d done all she could to find and rescue her brother.

  They needed to get both missions squared away before they would feel free to focus on their personal lives.

  So discussing the future was for later. But as for tomorrow morning...

  “To remind you”—she smothered a yawn with one hand—“we can’t be sure that if I’m not with you, that the boy from the shore will approach you, even for the princely sum of a crown. Even if he does, he won’t lead you back to wherever the slavers appear—you know that as well as I do. He was too skittish of you, and that didn’t really change.”

  He couldn’t argue; he didn’t try. Even while talking to him, the boy had constantly shot glances at her, and her presence had reassured the lad.

  “On top of that,” she went on, her voice growing heavy with sleep, “should the slavers come to fetch more children, we—all of us involved in this mission of yours, all whom it touches—cannot afford to let the opportunity slip. Not with the prospect of Decker arriving...and you’ll have to explain the significance of that sometime.”

  His lips twisted. He dropped a kiss on her glossy head. “I will. Sometime when we have more time.” And they were both fully awake.

  “Anyway.” She snuggled down, curling against him. “What it boils down to is that we have to make the best possible effort to find the trail to the slavers’ camp and follow it.
And me going with you to the inn tomorrow in case the lad comes to summon us is therefore necessary and desirable.”

  He wasn’t at all sure about desirable, but necessary... “All right.” He had to respect her commitment, that was all there was to it. He hugged her tighter. “I’ll agree to you going with me to the inn on one condition.”

  She shifted her head to squint up at him, suspicion overlaying her features. “What condition?”

  “That from the time your feet leave The Trident’s deck, you remain with me, literally by my side, until we return to the ship.”

  She looked into his eyes, then she smiled and nodded. “Very well.”

  Fleetingly, he tightened his arms about her. “So you promise?”

  Her smile deepened. “Yes, I promise.” She settled her head on his chest again; he only just caught her final murmur, “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be content.”

  The words sank into him, carrying the warmth of the sentiment deep. He felt his lips curve, and he closed his eyes.

  And surrendered to sleep.

  Aileen felt him relax, felt him slide into slumber. She was sleepy, yet her senses still thrummed. Pleasure remained, sunk to a deeper level now.

  Contentment buoyed her.

  She closed her eyes, and a fleeting memory drifted across her mind. Her conviction, when she’d been hooded, gagged, and bound in the slavers’ lair, that whatever happened over the next few hours would fundamentally alter the course of her life.

  She hadn’t been wrong. But she’d got her deepest, dearest wish—the one that had surfaced when she’d been most desperate.

  She’d found her way into Robert Frobisher’s arms, into his bed.

  And as she’d promised whatever deity had granted her the chance, she would hold tight and not let go.

  CHAPTER 14

  They landed in the second cove to the east of the harbor a little after sunrise and walked for an hour before they reached the inn. By that time, the settlement was waking, the usual bustle of a day just commencing spilling into the streets.

  The six of them went into the inn and settled about their previous table.

  Aileen sat beside Robert; while the others pulled up chairs, she glanced his way. “The children did say the slavers have thus far appeared in the afternoon.”

  He nodded, but said nothing further as the innkeeper’s wife hurried to their table.

  The woman bobbed a curtsy to Aileen and was patently pleased to have the men back. She quickly took their orders, then supplied them with a hearty breakfast.

  Benson, Coleman, Fuller, and Harris ate their fill, then took their leave to head into the slum.

  “I’ll leave a message with the innkeeper if we get word that the slavers have come for more children.” Robert considered the four, then said, “If by midnight tonight you’ve seen no action at the lair, gather any gear from the hide, check back here for Miss Hopkins’s bags as well—we’ll leave them with the innkeeper or his wife—and take everything out to The Trident. I would rather you spend the night there—you can return to the settlement tomorrow morning and set up watch again.”

  Benson nodded. “And if you don’t get word about the children?”

  Robert glanced at Aileen. “We’ll go back to The Trident, too.”

  To his relief, she smiled in agreement.

  He dismissed the four men with a nod. On their way out of the door, they passed Dave, coming inside.

  Cap in his hands, Dave saw Robert and Aileen, grinned, and made his way to their table. “There you are, miss! Right glad I am to see you again. No harm taken?”

  Aileen smiled at the driver. “As you can see, I’m perfectly well, thanks to Captain Frobisher and his men.”

  Dave nodded to Robert. “Right, then. Anything I can do fer you today?”

  They had Dave drive them to Mrs. Hoyt’s Boarding House for Genteel Ladies.

  Mrs. Hoyt was sorry to see Aileen go, but was also intrigued. “So you’re heading home, then?”

  Busy folding her nightgown on the bed, Aileen nodded. They’d decided that was the wisest story; it was also true, although they didn’t expect to set sail that day. “As soon as we can.”

  Robert was standing by the window, pretending to look out. Mrs. Hoyt cast her bright gaze over him, from the top of his head to his heels, then she leaned across the bed and patted Aileen’s arm. “Good catch, dear.”

  With a nod and a wink, Mrs. Hoyt departed, leaving Aileen smiling as she packed the last of her belongings into her second bag.

  When the door closed, Robert turned from the window. She glanced up, and he caught her eye. “She made me sound like a marlin.”

  Aileen laughed. She closed the bag and did up the strap. “There. Done.”

  “Good.” He picked up that bag and the larger one waiting at the foot of the bed. “I have to commend you on managing to travel without a bandbox. Let’s get going.”

  Still smiling, she opened the door, then together they walked to the stairs.

  Dave drove them back to the inn. Aileen insisted on paying him; Robert insisted on adding a sizeable tip. They parted from the old cockney with sincere wishes for his continuing health—and he rather pointedly returned the sentiment.

  After Dave and his horse had rattled away, Robert carried Aileen’s bags into the inn and left them in the care of the innkeeper’s wife, explaining that someone, most likely his men, would fetch them later.

  Aileen was standing by the inn’s main window, looking out into the dusty street. He walked through the taproom to join her.

  As he drew near, she stiffened, then she whirled. She saw him and grabbed his arm. “The boy’s here. He’s come!”

  She hurried toward the door; Robert followed at her heels. As they neared the open doorway, the boy warily peeked in. He saw them and jerked back.

  Aileen beamed at the boy as she stepped through the doorway onto the narrow strip of paving stones before the inn’s door. “Do you have news?”

  The boy ducked his head. “Aye. They’ve come.” From the way he darted glances all around, he expected to be upbraided and chased off at any second.

  “I thought the slavers usually came in the afternoon.” Robert’s tone held a soupçon of suspicion.

  Instead of taking offence, the boy merely nodded. “Aye. They’ve come early. Earlier than they usually do.” Concern showed in his face. He looked at Aileen, then shot a glance at Robert. “Me crown?”

  Robert closed his hand about Aileen’s elbow. “When you show us—there’s no other way for us to know if you’re telling the truth.”

  Aileen shot a chiding look his way.

  But although the boy frowned, he tipped his head toward the shore. “Best hurry, then. They usually take half an hour or so, talking the silly beggars into it and then selecting the ones they want, but given they’ve come early, who knows how long they’ll stay?”

  Robert nodded. “Lead on. We’ll follow. Stop when you have them in sight.”

  “Wait!’ Aileen looked at Robert. “You have to leave a message, remember?”

  Robert softly swore. He looked at the boy. “A moment.” He ducked into the inn. It took him a bare minute to scribble a note and leave it with the innkeeper’s wife, along with a good-sized tip.

  He returned to the door and stepped outside. Instinctively, his hand brushed the hilt of his sword, belted at his hip, as he took Aileen’s elbow—whether to steady her over the rutted streets or make sure she didn’t outpace him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He nodded to the boy. “Let’s go.”

  The boy ducked his head. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked rapidly down the street. A little way along, he slipped into an alley that led into the slum.

  Robert and Aileen strode after him, keeping several paces behind. As they cros
sed an intersection, Aileen twisted her elbow from Robert’s grip, but immediately reached for his hand.

  Appeased—pleased—Robert closed his hand around her fingers, and together they hurried on.

  The lad led them deep into the slum, eventually halting in the mouth of an alley that opened onto the sand a hundred yards farther to the east of the rocky outcrop.

  The boy looked out, then drew back into the deeper shadows. He pointed out and to the right. “They’re still there.”

  Keeping to the shadows, Robert edged to the alley mouth; her hand still in his, Aileen followed at his shoulder.

  Out on the sand just above the line of the waves, three men—all armed, but not as heavily as those they’d previously seen—were talking to a gaggle of children. Robert scanned the men’s faces. He didn’t recognize any of the three.

  He dipped his head and murmured to Aileen, “Have you seen any of those men before?”

  She shook her head. Then she frowned. “Can we get closer? Close enough to hear what they’re saying?”

  Robert looked at the boy.

  The lad stared back. “Me crown?”

  Without another word, Robert handed the coin over. “Can we get closer?”

  “Aye.” The boy tipped his head back up the alley. “I’ll show you.”

  He led them through a series of ever-narrowing lanes to the mouth of a runnel that gave access to the shore. Robert glanced down it; the group of men and children lay directly beyond the runnel’s other end.

  The lad stepped back. “I done all I can.” He met Aileen’s eyes. “I’m off.”

  She smiled at the boy. “Thank you. You did the right thing. We’ll do our best to stop this and bring the others back.”

  The boy studied her for several seconds as if trying to gauge her sincerity, then he bobbed his head, shot a wary look at Robert, and slipped away.

  Robert turned back to the scene on the shore.

  Aileen walked quickly to the runnel’s end; using his hold on her hand, he stopped her before she stepped out of the shadows. Her head tipping, she frowned in concentration.

  Robert tuned his own ears to the men’s deeper voices.