Under the King's Command

by Ingrid Weaver

  She pressed her face to his neck as another surge of tears washed over her. "No, Sam. I'm glad you did."

  "I wasn't being fair. I couldn't possibly understand what you went through."

  "Maybe not, but you were right."

  "I was cruel."

  "I needed it."

  "Kate—"

  "I had to... let go, Sam." Her words mixed with sobs. "I had to let him go."

  He stroked her back, not saying anything more, just holding her while she cried. And she needed to cry. She'd believed she'd sucked up the pain and gotten on with her life, but she hadn't. She'd been fooling herself.

  Everything she'd realized during those desperate moments underwater came back to her. She hadn't had the chance to think it through until now. She should have thought it all through years ago, but she'd been too busy blaming Sam and running away.

  As cruel as his words had been, he was right. A part of her was relieved when she'd lost the baby. Deep in her subconscious she must have known she wasn't ready to have a child. She would have loved her baby, but she was afraid of loving anyone.

  That was the real reason she hadn't contacted Sam. That was why she hadn't let go of her pain. The guilt that had haunted her had been buried too deeply to heal, but now, because of Sam's honesty, it had been exposed and was finally draining away.

  And so she wept for what might have been. She grieved for the tiny life she and Sam had created that magical, star-filled night in the Keys. With each tear she shed, she let go of more guilt and more pain. When the tears ran out, she remained where she was, safe in Sam's embrace as the boat rocked gently in the breaking dawn.

  His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath her ear. His arms were secure around her back. His chin rubbed the top of her head, his early-morning beard stubble catching her hair. He smoothed her hair with his palm, then wiped away the last of her tears.

  Kate turned her head to look out the porthole over the bunk. A new day was about to begin. For the first time in much too long, she felt she could greet it without looking back. She lifted one hand to her throat, rubbing the place where the familiar necklace had been. It hadn't weighed more than an ounce or two. Why, then, did she suddenly feel so much lighter without it?

  "Kate?" Sam's voice reached out to her as warmly as his arms.

  She returned her head to his shoulder. Oh, how she loved this man.

  Yes. She loved him. That's why she had resisted him for so long. That was the final piece of truth she had to face, but it was the easiest part. She was hopelessly in love with Sam Coburn. She probably had been from the moment they'd met. That's why the sex had always been so good. She was letting her body express what her heart and her mind had been too afraid to admit. They weren't just having sex, they were making love.

  She splayed her hand, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing. Even now, with her body bruised and aching from the battle with the storm, she couldn't ignore the tingles that chased over her skin wherever he touched her. The passion that had exploded last night had been inevitable.

  Facing the truth was a good start, but there were still issues she and Sam needed to resolve. They had both made mistakes. They had hurt each other. She wanted another chance to repair their relationship, but would she get one?

  The boat tilted lazily as it rode up the side of a swell. Kate used the motion to slide her leg across Sam's thighs and roll on top of him. She pressed her lips over his heart.

  "Kate?"

  She slid lower, raking her fingernails along his hips, tracing the sharp contours of his bones, following the lean bulge of his muscles. Her lips brushed a ridge of puckered skin beside his navel. It was one of the scars he'd acquired while he'd been gone. He'd healed. Her emotional scars would heal, too. The process was already beginning.

  "Kate, I hope you're awake," Sam said.

  "Mmm?"

  "Because if you're not, I'm not feeling particularly noble."

  "Oh, I'm awake, Sam." She rubbed her cheek along the silky line of hair that arrowed downward from his navel. "And I know exactly what I'm doing."

  "You do, huh?"

  She could hear a smile in his voice, and her lips curved. "Uh-huh. Whatever else we've messed up, we always got this part right."

  He stretched. It was a long, lazy, masculine stretch as he straightened his legs and tensed his muscles. His hips lifted from the mattress, carrying her upward before he exhaled slowly on a gravelly moan. "Yeah. We did always get this part right."

  She closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the scent of Sam's skin. She didn't fight the memories that flooded her. There was no longer any need.

  Sam curled forward and caught her under her arms. He pulled her up his body until their faces were level, then pressed his mouth to hers.

  It was a slow kiss, a tender kiss. The passion was there in the tremor of his hands as he held her close, but he was taking his time, as if he, too, wanted to savor. He kissed her thoroughly, using his lips and his tongue and his teeth until she had to pull back simply to take a breath.

  He moved to her ear and leisurely repeated the process, then worked his way downward. He took the time that neither of them had wanted to spare during their frenzied lovemaking the night before.

  They were already naked. There was no need to struggle with the nuisance of clothing. As if of their own accord, their bodies moved together.

  Kate gasped as she felt Sam fill her. It was more than sex. It was life. She hooked her leg over his and clasped his buttocks, no longer wanting to go slow.

  But Sam wouldn't be rushed. He caught her hands and drew them over her head. With their fingers laced against the rail at the head of the bunk, he settled himself more comfortably on top of her.

  "Sam..."

  "We're getting there, Kate." He kissed the side of her neck and rotated his hips. "Trust me, it will be worth the wait."

  Kate shuddered in pleasure as his teeth grazed her earlobe. That was something else she loved about Sam. He never lied.

  Dawn was already breaking when Kate awoke again. She couldn't have been asleep for long—her body still tingled from the attention Sam had lavished on her. She smiled and reached for him, only to grasp an empty blanket.

  She raised herself on her elbow and glanced around the cabin. The clothes she'd worn the night before were gone, as were Sam's. Weak daylight streamed through the open hatch, but the companionway steps were missing.

  Sam was squatting in front of the hole where the steps had been. An open toolbox lay beside him. A pair of gray jogging pants drooped low on his hips, and he wore nothing from the waist up. As she watched, he picked up a screwdriver and leaned forward, his head disappearing into the opening.

  The light from the hatch fell over his shoulders and back, highlighting the shift of muscle and sinew as he moved. Kate swallowed a yawn and decided to indulge herself, propping her head on her hand as she observed the play of light on his body.

  He was like a living sculpture, a study of the perfect male form. She knew now that it was love that made sex with Sam so satisfying, but she readily admitted that his magnificent body sure enhanced the experience. He twisted to reach into the opening under the steps, and the jogging pants he wore inched perilously lower.

  Kate moistened her lips, tempted to give those pants a tug and end the suspense. But before she could throw back the blanket and act on her impulse, she heard a metallic clank. An engine sputtered, made a few halfhearted turns, then subsided to silence.

  Sam muttered an oath and went to work with the screwdriver.

  Kate sighed and rubbed her eyes. Of course. Sam had removed the stairs so he could access the auxiliary engine that was mounted aft of the cabin. Getting it operational would be his priority. He wouldn't have the time to come back to bed.

  It would be so much simpler if he did, though. If only they could stay in bed forever. Then they wouldn't have to think about their mission... or about what would happen when the mission was over.

  They'd on
ly begun to resolve their past. One emotional night together didn't make a present, and neither of them had spoken about the future. Had anything really changed? He still craved freedom and adventure. They still hadn't made any promises. Would loving him make that much difference?

  One step at a time, Kate told herself. She combed her hair with her fingers and rolled from the bunk. She donned an oversize T-shirt she found in the locker that held the spare clothes and went to offer Sam help.

  The gleam in his eyes when he saw her bare legs warmed her better than any clothes would have. "Good morning, Kate," he said, without rising from his crouch over the engine. "How are you feeling?"

  "Fine, thanks."

  His gaze rose from her legs to her breasts. "You're sure?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "About what happened..."

  "Sam, you don't need to apologize. I wanted it as much as you did."

  He lifted his eyebrows. "Kate, I have plenty I'm sorry for, but I wasn't going to apologize about the sex."

  "Oh."

  "Like you said, we always did get that part right." He slipped his arm behind her knees and pulled her closer. He pressed his face to her legs.

  Kate put her hands on his shoulders for balance, her knees oddly weak. "How's the engine?"

  He turned his head, nosing the hem of her T-shirt upward. "Still working on it."

  "Do you know where we are?"

  "About twenty miles west of Tamir." He flicked his tongue over the skin at the top of her thigh. "I have to get the engine going to give us some maneuvering power and to charge the batteries so we can use the electronics. Kate, I love the way you taste in the morning."

  "Sam..."

  "I'm hoping that once we have some power, we might get the radio working again."

  "Right. That's a..." She rubbed the ridge of his shoulders with her thumbs. "Good idea."

  "Yeah." He rose to his knees and slid his hands up the backs of her thighs. "We need to contact the fleet."

  "Mmm. See how they weathered the storm."

  "We might need to adjust the search grid if more vessels are out of commission."

  "Mmm."

  He cupped her bottom and squeezed lightly. "I have another idea."

  "What?"

  "We could forget about the engine and just keep drifting."

  "Drifting?"

  "Forget the fleet, forget the mission. They can manage without us."

  She'd already considered the idea and had rejected it. "Sam..."

  "We could go back to bed and let the current carry us for a while. Who would know?" He laid his forehead against her stomach. "We have so much lost time to make up for."

  At this moment, with Sam's arms around her legs and his breath on her skin, there was nothing she wanted more. Oh, yes. To drift where the sea took them. Just her and the man she loved. No obligations, no complications. It was so tempting.

  His fingertips dug into her buttocks. "What would you say, Kate? If I asked you?"

  She put her hands on his head, tunneling her fingers through his sun-streaked hair. She looked at the tensed muscles along his back, the shadowed dip at the base of his spine, and she was so close, so very, very close to giving him the answer they both knew was wrong....

  "Kate?"

  "I'd say nothing, Sam."

  "Nothing?"

  "Because I know you wouldn't ask me."

  "Kate..."

  She tipped his head so she could see his face. "You're a naval officer, Sam. So am I. We wouldn't be able to respect ourselves if we forgot that. As much as I'd like to make love with you for the rest of the day, we have to face reality sometime."

  He looked at her, his golden brown gaze snapping. He surged to his feet and caught her arms. "Damn it, Kate!"

  "I'm not using our duty to avoid what's going on between us this time, Sam. You helped me to see that running away doesn't solve anything."

  "That may be, but life isn't only about duty. We let ourselves make that mistake five years ago. Hell, we both used it for an excuse. When this mission ends..." He paused. He whipped his head toward the open hatch.

  She heard it then. Over the noise of her pulse and the sound of waves lapping against the hull came the distant throb of an engine.

  Sam tightened his grip on her arms for a moment, then released her. He grabbed the sides of the companionway, vaulted over the hole where the steps had been and thudded to the deck.

  Kate braced her hand on the galley counter as she tried to catch her breath. When this mission ends... What had he been about to say? When this mission ends, they would go their separate ways? They would get together sometimes on leave? They would have to talk?

  Her questions would have to wait. She twitched her T-shirt into place to cover her thighs, then followed him above deck.

  The breeze was cool. The storm had signaled a change in the weather. Kate shivered at her first clear sight of their ravaged boat. Only a ragged stump of the wooden mast remained. Tangled rigging littered the deck, and the brass fittings were dulled by a film of dried salt. Her pants and the blouse that Sam had ripped the night before— no, she couldn't think about that now—were spread out among the debris to dry, along with his shirt and jeans. He was standing at the bow, a pair of binoculars lifted to his eyes.

  Kate followed his gaze and saw a boat approaching slowly from the west. It was riding low in the water, wallowing as it struggled with each wave.

  Sam lowered the binoculars and turned to Kate. "It looks like the Penelope."

  She took the binoculars from him and studied the vessel. It was a dark blue fishing boat, the same size and design as the one Petty Officer Thurlow had been using. "You're right. It does look like the Penelope."

  "Yeah. Things just keep getting better. We've got no radio, we're dead in the water and Chambers is heading straight for us."

  Chapter 14

  "Oh, for pity's sake." Ursula propped her hands on her hips and scowled. "How can you have anything left to throw up?"

  Edwardo Scarpa wiped his mouth on his sleeve and lifted his head from the railing. Beneath his beard, his face was the color of a blanched olive. "We should have gone back to port when I told you. The storm—"

  "You should have told me you got seasick."

  He glared. "Would that have made any difference?"

  Of course not, Ursula thought. She wrinkled her nose at his futile attempts to clean himself up. Once she got home, she'd have to remind herself never to date a man with a beard. "We couldn't go back to the place where we took your cousin's boat," she said. "That would have been stupid."

  "You didn't have to hit that sailor. We could have waited for him to leave."

  The argument was getting stale. He'd been complaining about her actions ever since they left Montebello. But they'd gotten the boat, hadn't they? If she'd left things up to him, she'd still be stuck in that hillside hovel.

  How much more of this whining would she be able to take? She'd put up with Scarpa until now because he'd been useful to her. Despite his disgusting seasickness, he knew how to handle his cousin's boat. He'd done a pretty good job steering it through the storm, even though it had been a rough ride. But she'd been watching how he worked the wheel and those levers that controlled the engine. She was certain she'd be able to get the rest of the way to Tamir on her own.

  Ursula climbed down the stairs from the flying bridge and went across the deck to where Scarpa sagged against the railing. "How far are we from Tamir?" she asked.

  "I'm not sure."

  She breathed slowly through her nose to hold on to her patience. "Take a guess."

  "The storm knocked us off course. I had to head into the wind."

  "But to get to Tamir all we have to do is head east, right?"

  "As long as we don't run out of fuel."

  That was yet another old argument. He'd wanted to delay their departure from Montebello in order to take on more fuel, but she'd insisted on getting away immediately. "Well, are we pointed in the right directi
on now?"

  "I have to check our heading."

  "Why don't you show me how to do that, Edwardo?" she said, forcing a smile. If she knew where to point the boat, she was sure she wouldn't need him anymore. "That way you could go and rest for a while."

  A wave slapped into the side, sending the boat into another pitching roll. Scarpa shuddered, his cheeks puffing with his effort to hold back his nausea. When the wave passed, he stumbled toward the bridge. "Rest would be good," he muttered. "All you need to remember with the compass is to..." He grabbed the edge of the cabin doorway, his words trailing off.

  Ursula wanted to scream with impatience. "Remember to do what, Edwardo?"

  "Someone's out there."

  "What?"

  He pointed into the rising sun. "There's a boat."

  She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and looked for herself. It took her a moment to pick out the white hull amid the rolling swells. "It's only some old sailboat. It's nothing to worry about. Police don't go around in sailboats."

  "There might have been a bulletin. They might report us. You have to get out of sight."

  "I'm not going in the cabin. Thanks to you that place reeks."

  "Then go on the flying bridge and stay low so that they can't see you."

  "All right, all right. Quit worrying." She squinted, trying to get a better look at the boat. It was missing its mast. "I don't see anyone. Maybe they got washed overboard."

  Scarpa paused. "It does look as if they were hit pretty hard by the storm."

  Ursula was struck by a sudden idea. "Sailboats sometimes have engines, right?"

  "One that size would."

  "Then that means they'd have fuel, right?" He turned to face her. "What are you thinking?" "We need fuel. They have fuel. It's obvious, isn't it?"

  "Even if they had diesel instead of gasoline, we can't take it. That would be piracy." Ursula laughed. "Edwardo, you're already an accessory to murder. It's a little late to get squeamish on me now."

  "But—"

  "Just get us close to that boat and leave the thinking to me."

  He returned his gaze to the sailboat that bobbed on the waves, then groaned and doubled over.