by Dana James
From chest to thigh she burned. Clothes were no barrier to awareness. Nathan’s powerful body was taut and hard with his need for her. He was both conqueror and supplicant.
Beyond her control, her body arched against his and she gasped. The honey-sweet warmth that had smouldered deep inside her exploded, filling her with a shimmering liquid heat.
His head came down and his mouth took hers, not gentle now but fierce and demanding. His tongue touched, stroked, explored, hot, supple and silky.
His hand spread across the small of her back, moulding her to him. And she trembled, yielding, softening, flowering against him as a slowly swirling vortex of yearning began to build to an urgency.
She whimpered, the wordless sound lost in their hungry mouths and mingled breath. She wanted him as he wanted her. She wanted to belong, to be part of, to be loved by this man. And if tonight was all there was, all there ever would be, then she would take it and be glad.
She felt herself lifted. Then the mattress was under her back, softened by the double thickness of the sleeping-bags.
As she returned kiss for kiss, sure of nothing but her need for him, she felt his hand free her hair where it clung to her hot damp skin, then glide lightly down.
She stopped breathing. But Nathan continued to stroke, his light touch soothing yet irresistible. Her arms crept around his neck, her lips softened and parted beneath his and she slid into a world of sensation so subtle and exquisite that it was almost too much to bear.
She clung to him, vaguely aware of movement and soft rustling. She felt a fleeting distant surprise as the cool night air whispered over her skin. But then he covered her, his naked body burning hot, heavy but not crushing, strong and powerful. And gentle, always gentle.
She sensed him holding back, waiting, but for what she didn’t know. She arched, opened, welcomed. The vortex had tightened into a spiral that was winding tighter and tighter. Her arms tensed around his neck, across his back, as tiny frenzied shudderings shook her.
He held her very close, and with hands and lips calmed and soothed. And suddenly, in the midst of the turmoil, everything steadied and locked into a slow relentless rhythm. Deep and powerful, driving and urgent, the wave lifted her, carried her forward, drew back to gather force, then surged forward again, higher. And again. Then it was different. This time the wave didn’t recede, this time it built, went on building, higher and higher.
Polly cried out, clutching Nathan’s shoulders. He gave a hoarse groan. Then the wave curled, broke, and fell. An endless falling through time and space, and ecstasy so intense that she thought she would die. It ebbed gently like the tide, leaving her stranded, plundered, boneless.
She felt the bed move. Suddenly she was cold and realised distantly that Nathan had gone from her. She tried to protest, to call him back, but the effort was too great and, as something light and warm was laid over her, she drifted into sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
Polly lay quite still, eyes wide open, listening intently. She had grown used to the tiny sounds that were so much a part of Seawitch, just as she had grown used to the boat’s continually changing motion. So what had woken her?
She stretched and winced. Memories overwhelmed her and her whole body flushed and tingled. All of a sudden the cabin seemed stiflingly hot.
She grasped the light covering and was about to throw it off when she realised from the fabric’s texture that her own cotton skirt had been laid over her. Beneath it she was naked.
She felt different, and explored this new pleasure-drugged and peaceful self. Though she was stiff and slightly sore, the tension that had made her talk too much, drop things, and jump at the smallest unexpected noise had completely disappeared. She felt heavy and languid.
She stretched again, arching her body and extending her limbs like a contented cat. She reached out to switch on the bedhead light and realised that the blackness of night had been replaced by grey gloom. How long had she slept?
After she had pulled on her baggy T-shirt, shyness made her step into her skirt before she opened the cabin door. She was thirsty and wanted a drink. But more than that, more than anything else in the world, she wanted to be with Nathan.
Fully expecting to see him either in the saloon, or in the galley, she was surprised to find both empty. She knew he wasn’t in the head, because she had gone in herself to wash her face and hands and rake a comb through her wildly disordered hair.
The girl in the mirror was a total contrast to the haunted image which had stared back at her a few hours earlier. Where that one had been tense and drawn, this one was soft and rosy, warm and sensuous.
Polly looked up the companionway ladder. Both the hatch and the doors were closed. Yet where else could he be but on deck? Perhaps he’d wanted some fresh air. Even with the hatches open, with no breeze blowing the cabins quickly became humid and the air heavy.
She climbed up the ladder, the rungs cold under her bare feet, pushed open the unbolted doors and stepped out into the cockpit. It was empty.
Her smile faded and a shaft of panic shot through her. Seawitch’s stern swung round, her bow held fast by the anchor chain as a sudden gust of wind caught her. Polly shivered. The weather was changing already. Was that what had woken her?
She grabbed the handhold on the coach roof to steady herself and looked round wildly. Where was he? Then she heard splashing.
Leaning over the side and straining her eyes in the pre-dawn light, she scanned the sea. ‘Nathan?’ she cried, her voice snatched by the rising wind.
‘Be quiet!’ His hissed order came from just beyond the stern. ‘What are you trying to do? Wake the entire island?’
Guilt suffused her. The whole purpose of moving along here was to be as inconspicuous as possible. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered back. Then she caught her breath as he appeared over the transom, his lean, dripping figure a more solid shape in the gloom. Her body relived the wondrous things he had done, and she felt weak inside.
‘What are you doing up here anyway?’ he demanded, leaning over to pick up the towel he had left on the seat. ‘You should be asleep.’
‘I was,’ she said, hugging her arms around her. Was it just the rising wind that was chilling her, making her tremble? ‘But,’ she shrugged shyly, ‘I wondered where you’d gone.’
He had finished rubbing his face and head, and was drying his arms and chest. ‘I needed—’ He broke off and, lowering his arms, fastened the towel around his hips.
It was only then that Polly realised he was naked. She felt her face grow warm, and immediately ridiculed her shyness. Only a short time ago she had been as physically intimate with him as it was possible for a man and woman to be. That magnificent body had become part of hers. He had taken her into another dimension.
It had been too incredible for words to describe. She had been demolished, yet made whole, complete. Yet she sensed that was only a beginning. To really know him would take a lifetime.
But would she have that long? Something wasn’t right. He had distanced himself from her. Why? Fear wound itself like clammy tentacles around her heart and slithered along her veins. Was he regretting what had happened between them?
Seawitch tugged at her line again, pitching on the rising swell. The gust was stronger this time.
‘Go below,’ Nathan ordered. His curt tone made her stomach lurch.
She moistened lips that still felt tender and slightly bruised from his kisses. ‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong.’
‘The weather’s breaking,’ he said impatiently. ‘I thought we’d be OK here until later in the morning, but the wind has shifted.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the weather,’ Polly began.
‘Listen to me,’ he interrupted harshly. ‘If I don’t get Seawitch moved we could well end up as wreckage on those rocks.’ Grasping her shoulders, he moved her aside to open the doors. His hands were cold, his touch impersonal. ‘The weather is now. Everything else must wait. Go and put something warm on.’
‘My clothes are here.’ He gestured towards one corner of the moulded seat. ‘I’ll be down in a moment. Go on.’ He moved her firmly towards the hatchway.
Though she recognised the logic and understood the urgency, her unease blossomed first into anxiety, then dread. Polly turned and went down the ladder.
He was like a stranger. Where was the man she had lain with and loved such a short while ago? He had been so gentle, controlling his own need while he readied her with exquisite subtlety and patience. And she had bloomed and flowered beneath a touch that she sensed deep in her innermost self was not simply skill and experience, but a kind of homage to womanhood. He had recognised and understood the value of the gift she offered, and had taken it with reverence and respect. He had made love to her. But now?
Now he was behaving as though he wished she were somewhere—anywhere—else. There was far more behind this than just a deterioration in the weather. What had she done? What hadn’t she done? Something was dreadfully wrong. Why wouldn’t he tell her?
Re-entering the cabin, she noticed how it smelled of them, of the mingled scents of their bodies, of the soaps they used, and the sweet, musky afterglow of love.
Swallowing her fear, Polly wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand, then quickly pulled on jeans, a shirt, and her thick Aran cardigan. No longer warm and relaxed, she felt tense and cold.
‘How much longer are you going to be?’ Nathan yelled down the passage.
‘I’m coming right now,’ she shouted back, pushing her blue-socked feet into her trainers.
Nathan was hauling the oilskins out of the locker as she turned the corner.
‘OK, I’m ready.’ Her brisk normality took every ounce of will-power she had. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Slamming the locker door shut, he started towards the saloon. Polly followed, devouring the tall, broad-shouldered figure with her eyes.
‘I think,’ he half turned his head to speak over his shoulder, his voice a rasp, devoid of expression, ‘I think it would be better if I put you ashore.’ He didn’t meet her eyes.
Polly’s blood turned to ice. Just a few hours ago this had been exactly what she wanted. But everything had changed since then.
Her lower lip stung and burned where her teeth pierced it. She shook her head quickly. ‘You can’t mean it. We’re a team, you said so yourself. With the weather changing—we’ve got to move Seawitch—you need me to—And what about food? Neither of us has eaten since last night.’ Realising she was babbling, she started towards the galley. ‘I’ll go and—’
‘You’ll stop arguing and do as you’re damned well told!’ he roared, his face bleak, his eyes as hard and cold as granite.
‘Nathan, don’t—’
Her whole body seemed to be shrinking into itself, trying to escape the pain that threatened to engulf it. ‘I c—can’t leave—’ You. The word trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she choked it back just in time. ‘I can’t leave Seawitch. You said so. The conditions of bail—’
‘Forget the bloody bail,’ he rasped, white-lipped. ‘You don’t owe me a penny. Clive Kemp confessed. He confirmed that you knew nothing about any of it. The charges against you have been dropped. You don’t have to go back to Gibraltar. You don’t have to stay with me. You’re free.’
A loud buzzing filled Polly’s head and everything around her started to recede. She clutched at the companionway ladder, fighting nausea as she clung desperately to consciousness. ‘When—? How long have you—?’
‘Does it matter?’ He looked away, his jaw clenched.
Perspiration dewed her face. Her clothes stuck clammily to her shivering body. She raised her head. ‘You bastard,’ she whispered. Nathan flinched. ‘You said—you made me believe—It was all a lie, wasn’t it? Everything. Last night . . .’ Her voice cracked.
Nathan was visibly shaken. ‘Polly, listen, about last night—’
She shrank away from him, one hand pressed to her chest. The pain was crucifying. She was breaking apart inside. ‘It didn’t mean anything, did it? Just a little bit of light relief to liven up a dull voyage.’
‘No,’ he thundered, growing pale. ‘You can’t believe that.’
‘Why not?’ She threw the words at him, then sucked in a shuddering breath, dashing a hand across her wet cheeks. ‘I thought you were interested in me as a person, interested in what I felt and believed. You certainly asked enough questions. You said I was intelligent and beautiful, and I actually started to believe you. See what a fool I am? But as I’ve never played this game before I didn’t know the rules.’
‘What rules? What are you talking about?’ he demanded.
‘That I wasn’t supposed to take it seriously. That the compliments were just part of the softening-up process.’ Scalding tears poured down her face. ‘God knows I should have had more sense. Your work is the centre of your life.’ She hurled the words at him, her body taut with anguish. ‘No matter how hard I tried I could never reach your standards. And you made it perfectly clear that nothing less would do. So I was just a bit of sport. Something to pass the time and ease the boredom. All you wanted was the thrill of the chase.’ The enormity of his betrayal wrenched a choking sob from her. ‘Did I give you a good run for your money? Did I?’
His eyes glittered like splinters of steel. ‘Stop that,’ he hissed. ‘Stop it at once.’
Overwhelmed by her pain, Polly barely heard him. ‘But once caught, the prey’s of no further interest.’
Nathan’s face was ashen. ‘That’s not true.’
‘No, of course it isn’t,’ she mocked him bitterly. ‘That’s why you want to get rid of me.’
‘Will you listen to me? You’ve got it wrong.’ He started towards her.
Grasping the ladder, she looked over her shoulder at him, naked grief stark on her face. ‘No, I haven’t. Come on, why waste time? Let’s get Seawitch moving.’
‘Polly, wait. Come back!’ Raw urgency sharpened Nathan’s voice.
Ignoring him, Polly scrambled up the ladder and out into driving rain. As she wrestled with the winches, hauling in the anchor and unfurling the headsail, her upper arms were seized in a vice-like grip.
Nathan spun her round. ‘What in the name of God do you think you’re doing?’ His eyes blazed as anger chiselled his features into an unrecognisable mask. The rain plastered his thick hair to his magnificent head and streamed down his face, which looked ashen in the grey light.
Teeth chattering, her whole body trembling uncontrollably, Polly tried to wrench free. ‘If we don’t move Seawitch she could end up as wreckage on the rocks—that’s what you said. Besides, you want to put me ashore, so unless you expect me to swim—’ She broke off, gasping as the boat, no longer held fast by its anchor, swung wildly. She was pulled from Nathan’s grasp and staggered backwards. She saw his expression change, the fury replaced by fear.
‘Sweetheart, look out!’ He lunged forward and caught her shoulder. As Seawitch rolled heavily Polly’s foot slipped on the wet deck and she stumbled backwards, pulling Nathan with her. The heavy boom swung across, catching him high on the left side of his forehead. He gave a sharp cry. His knees buckled and he slumped unconscious to the floor of the cockpit, his head lolling against the moulded seat.
‘Nathan!’ Polly cried, grabbing the wheel as Seawitch bucked and heaved beneath them. Sweetheart. He had called her sweetheart. And in saving her he had been hurt.
His eyes were closed and pallor gave his weathered tan a peculiar blotchy look. A thin trickle of blood from the rapidly swelling bruise blurred to pale pink, diluted by the pounding rain.
Ice-cold, shocked, her stomach a tight knot of abject terror, Polly gazed wildly around her. Her mouth opened to scream for help, but the sound emerged as a strangled groan as she realised the mind-numbing truth.
There was no help. With Nathan unconscious, the responsibility was hers. If she lost control of the boat the
y would both be drowned. She had to get them away from the rocks that edged the shore like jagged teeth.
She couldn’t do it. She didn’t know enough. Yes, she did. Hadn’t Nathan trusted her to take her turn at the helm while he slept? Both their lives were in her hands. Which was greater? Her fear? Or her love for him?
Adrenalin surged through her veins, clearing her mind and filling her with determination. They had to survive. She had to know the truth. What had he been trying to tell her? If he had simply been using her why, in that split-second of warning, had he called her sweetheart?
Discovering strength and skills she hadn’t known she possessed, Polly sailed Seawitch away from the wave-lashed rocky coast and out into the safety of deeper water.
A sudden drop in the wind told her the worst was over. The rain stopped like a tap being turned off. Then the heavy cloud began to break up and the pearly rays of the morning sun beamed down on a spume-streaked sea that glistened in shades of emerald and jade.
Polly lifted her cold wet face to the welcome warmth, weak with relief and gratitude. Gathering her remaining strength, she engaged the auto-helm and, dragging the first-aid kit out of the locker under the seat, knelt beside Nathan.
As she gently pushed his dripping hair back, her fingers lingered on his broad forehead. Beneath the wetness of the rain his skin was warm. He stirred, groaning softly. She felt her heart swell, so full of love for him that it ached, and, blinking back the tears that blurred and fragmented his image, she drew in a deep, steadying breath and examined the wound.
It had stopped bleeding and the rain had washed it clean. Already bruising had coloured the egg-sized lump red and purple. Tearing some cotton wool off a roll, Polly carefully wiped the area dry. Nathan’s face tightened in a wince and he muttered something unintelligible as she smoothed on some antiseptic cream. Quickly wiping her fingers on the cotton wool, she tore a large plaster from its paper envelope and pressed the dressing into place over the lacerated bump.
