by Regan Walker
Then he was back, his heated flesh touching her from lips to legs. She was excited and willing, yet the passion was so new to her. But this was the man she loved, the man she had dreamed of kissing. He kissed her again and moved his body to rest between her thighs. He rubbed his aroused member against her tender flesh, bringing a warm wetness and an urge to be joined with him. It was a consuming thing, so long had she wanted this man.
“Tara, there is no turning back once I make you mine.”
It wasn’t a question, but Tara knew he was waiting for her to object. Did she want him to stop? To turn back the tide of these feelings, this passion rushing at her like a tidal wave, seemed near impossible. She had already given him her heart. It was only the next step to give him her body, to make them one. Shoving aside her concern for what he might feel for her, she said nothing but willingly accepted what she knew he wanted to give.
He kissed her again and slipped his hand from her breast to her hip. The aching wetness lodged in her woman’s center increased as he began to touch the tender place with his fingers while drawing first one breast and then the other into his mouth. Every nerve of Tara’s was alive, aware of his every move. “Oh,” she moaned when she felt herself reaching some new height. It was then he removed his fingers and replaced them with his hardened flesh.
She could feel him enter the tight passage as he spread her thighs to take more, driving through the maidenhead she had long protected for the man she would love.
Tara gasped at the sudden rending and he stilled, breathing heavily in her ear, as he remained suspended on his elbows above her. The pain was small and subsided quickly. Then he began to move, plunging in, and then withdrawing, then plunging still deeper. Tara wrapped herself around him and hung on, still kissing him, as he moved in long strokes. She was overwhelmed with the joining. The two of them were now one.
Their breathing grew labored and heavy as Tara felt another crest building, this time from deep within. Their bodies were slick with sweat from the heat of their loving and the tropical night as she raised her hips to receive him, wanting all he could give. The crest rose and the wave broke, carrying her with it. She heard him groan as he joined her in a final release.
It was more than she’d ever dreamed, this uniting with the man she loved. It was everything.
Nick pulled her close to his body and held her. “At last you are mine,” he whispered.
* * *
Tara woke while it was still night, the lantern casting its frail light about the cabin. She barely noticed the gentle rocking of the ship on the calm sea. His arm was draped across her chest, and his hand loosely cupped her breast. The touch of his fingers against the sensitive skin made Tara’s nipple harden.
In the cold reality of the dark cabin, their passion only a memory, her mind asked, What have I done? She’d given him not only her heart but also her virginity—when she was still unsure of his love. Sharing everything with him only left her more aware how vulnerable she was if her love was not returned.
Tara turned her head on the pillow to look at Nicholas. He was awake and his golden eyes staring at her.
“You love me,” he said, a confidant grin forming on his face, the moonlight revealing his white teeth.
“Yes,” she admitted, turning her face away. She had told him she’d wanted his heart. Did he need to remind her? It made her feel like just another conquest of the handsome English captain.
“Marry me, Tara,” he said, pulling her chin back to face him.
Never thinking to hear those words from him, she sat up, pulling the sheet across her breasts. “Why?”
His warm hand slid to her back.
“Well, for one thing, I’ve taken your maidenhead. You’re quite ruined, at least in my circles. As a gentleman I would expect to marry you, of course.” To Tara his words sounded glib, even if they were true. “And it’s time I marry and raise a family. I’m not a bad catch, you know, even if I am English.”
She sighed. Did men always think so logically, so devoid of emotion? He spoke as if he were arranging a new shipping contract, not gaining a life’s mate, a woman to cherish. She knew it was the way things were done in England, but she was having none of it. Her heart sank. She had truly been a fool to expect more from the brooding captain with the jaded heart. She would be no man’s broodmare, especially not one who lived in London. “That’s not good enough.”
“But you love me. You admitted it.”
“Yes, I love you. And just now I hate that I love you. The question is, Nicholas Powell, do you love me?”
“Well, I…” He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at the bed.
“I thought so.” Rising from the bunk, she turned her back to him and grabbed her clothing from the deck. She could feel his eyes on her naked form. Quickly dressing as best she could, she searched for her shoes.
“Where are you going?” he asked in a gruff voice. “It’s the middle of the night, Tara. Come back to bed.”
He reached for her, but she avoided him. She needed to leave, to be alone with her thoughts. Finding her shoes, she pulled them on and walked toward the door. “I think I’ll return to my own cabin if it’s still there for me. I don’t want Peter or your men to find me in here.”
“They all know,” he said, rising on one elbow. “There are no secrets on a ship, Tara. The watch would have seen me kissing you and then carrying you to my cabin. They wouldn’t need to be told what happened next.”
Tara’s cheeks heated as she remembered just what did happen next. His crew would know, too. They knew their captain well. Some of his men had no doubt watched with interest as he swept her into his arms and carried her below. By now his entire crew would be aware of her fall from grace. They would know their captain had taken the American passenger to his bed. Some probably thought the pirate had already claimed her, so what was one more? She could hear the ribald comments now. But not all would be making such comments. Some would be wondering why. Others, like Jake, would be disappointed, perhaps even angry.
“Tara—” She left her name on his lips as she slipped through the cabin door. Though she had intended to return to her cabin, somehow it seemed too small to contain all she was feeling. She walked to the companionway and climbed the ladder to the weather deck. Breathing in the cooler air, she passed the watch, who barely acknowledged her, and strolled to the prow. She wanted to get as far away from Nicholas Powell and the eyes of his crew as she could.
She gazed up at the black sky. The stars were still there where she’d left them, only there were more of them now. How could the stars still be set in their places when her world was crumbling? She drew comfort from seeing her favorite constellations. Like returning friends, they were there to remind her she’d survive even this. She would always have the sea, and now that she’d been rescued, she would soon be with her brothers.
She’d known loss before. The death of her mother, Ben and others in the war—and Billy. And she’d known sadness when she had said good-bye to her father and brothers the year before. But this pain was new. It was as if a part of her dreams had died. And she supposed they had. In the week following her arrival in Cabo Rojo, while sitting in Juana’s garden, she had foolishly dreamed of a life with Nicholas Powell, of sailing the seas with him on his ship. But in her dreams he loved her beyond reason. In reality, he would marry her, but only because that is what a gentleman did when he had ruined a virgin. He could not even say the words she’d longed to hear—not even when she’d asked. She would not go to his bed again. She could only hope there would be no child of their passion.
Wrapping her hands around the rail, she heard the sound of something hitting the brightwork. Looking down, she saw his blue stone ring on her left hand. When did he put it there? She tried to pull it off, tempted to throw it into the sea, but it would not budge. What did it matter that he’d given her his ring when what she wanted was his heart? She would not be dragged back to England only to be left at his home to while away t
he hours sipping tea like Aunt Cornelia’s friends. It would be just another prison.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. There would be time enough to cry when she was home.
* * *
Nick lay in his bed with his arms folded under his head staring at the overhead above him. The lantern was sputtering, but the moonlight filtered into his windows, casting a soft light about the cabin. That had not gone as he’d planned. While Tara had slept, he’d put his mother’s ring on her finger—the ring his mother had told him to give the woman he would eventually marry, the ring he never gave Caroline. He'd planned to ask Tara to be his wife when she awakened. He would not have taken her to his bed had that not been his intention. What did the woman expect?
He’d said something wrong, but what? She should have been pleased with his offer of marriage. He owned ships and she loved ships. They could sail together, at least until the children came. That thought made him smile. Tara, big with his child. A son perhaps. Most women he’d taken to his bed wanted nothing more than an invitation to be Mrs. Nicholas Powell. So why had it not been enough?
He cared about her, of course. Nate said it was obvious he loved her. Why else would he risk his ship to rescue her? To offer to provide for her? To want her to be the mother of his sons? Yes, he’d been angry with her, but that was because he’d been afraid he’d lost her. Afraid she really wanted another. Afraid the pirate had touched her. He blamed himself for allowing Cofresí to take his ship and his woman. And she was his woman. He’d claimed her with his body, and he’d put his ring on her finger as a sign to his crew the lady was his.
Women were difficult creatures to understand, Nick mused. He’d never tried. When he’d made love to Caroline, he’d expected to marry her, yet without a second thought, Caroline had cast him aside for another. Tara was perhaps the most difficult of all to understand. Intriguing from the beginning, she was unlike other women in so many ways. Making love to her had been different as well. Never before had he loved a woman while giving her pleasure. Well, not since Caroline, but he wondered whether he had ever really loved the English girl, or had merely been obsessed with her. Until Tara, he had never wanted to stay wrapped in the arms of a woman through the night. Even now, it felt somehow wrong that she was not here beside him.
There was nothing for it; she would have to see reason. He would talk to her.
Chapter 17
Roberto stormed about his home, desperate to know what had happened to Tara. His cariño had disappeared off the streets of Cabo Rojo just before his ship had arrived the evening before. So far, no one had seen her, though he’d sent men out to search the town and the harbor.
Where can she be? If another man touches her—
“Roberto,” said Juana, entering his study, where he stood staring out the window waiting for the return of his messengers, “there is a lad here to see you.”
“Send him away. I’m in no mood to visit with the village boys.”
“I don’t think he is here for a visit, brother. He says he has a message for you about the American girl. He must mean Tara.”
Roberto did not wait for the youth to be shown to him, but strode to the front entrance, where the lad waited, worrying his hat in his hands as he stared down at the tile floor. Roberto recognized the boy as one of the village lads who followed him and his men about, always seeking to do them a favor. “Pablo, what message do you bring?”
“I waited until I knew you would be awake, Capitán,” explained the hesitant lad. “Last night my father told me some men had hired our carriage. Papa asked me to take them to their ship. It was anchored in a cove north of Porto Real. I was waiting with two men when another joined us. He had a girl with him. Since I had seen this one with Juana in the marketplace, I thought you would want to know.”
“What ship was it, Pablo? Did you see the name?” Roberto asked anxiously.
“The Viento del Cuervo. It was still light enough for me to see the name on the hull. And it flew the flag of Spain.”
“When was this, Pablo?”
“Early in the evening, Capitán. I know this because I returned home late and almost missed my dinner.”
Roberto thanked the boy and handed him a coin. He would make a fine and loyal spy one day.
When the boy had gone, Roberto turned to his sister, who had heard the conversation. “It seems Captain Powell did not take my advice to stay out of our waters. And now he has taken from me the woman I want. For that he will pay.”
“Be careful, Roberto.” She placed her hand on his arm. “I do not have a good feeling about this. If the English captain would take her from you, he will fight to keep her.”
“I would expect no less from the English captain,” said Roberto, his mind already planning how he would capture the English ship. He couldn’t sink her outright because Tara might be harmed. But there were other ways he could cripple the Raven’s ship.
Juana again urged caution. “It may be that Tara wanted to go with them, Roberto. I could tell she was sad that she was not going home to her family. Perhaps you should let her go.”
“No, Juana. This is the woman I want. And what I want, I take, verdad?”
* * *
Nick never got the chance to talk to Tara, though he tried. When faced with him directly, she was polite but distant. She took her breakfast in the galley with McGinnes and a few of the crew, who now embraced her as one of their own. Then later on deck, surrounded by his men, it was easy for her to avoid him. When word spread that he had taken her to his cabin, the crew became protective of Tara. Nate just shook his head each time he looked Nick’s way, like a schoolmaster dismayed at his pupil’s poor progress. Nick was feeling a bit guilty himself. He had taken her maidenhead and she had rejected his proposal. But she still wore his ring and that encouraged him. If his men thought he intended to treat Tara as one of his other women, they would be wrong.
It was early morning when the wind rose and Nick gave the order to set a course west from where they were anchored toward Mona Island, and then north, northwest around Porto Rico. They had reached open sea and he was just about to give the order to set a course east toward St. Thomas, where he intended to stop for supplies and cargo for their trip north, when he heard the lookout’s cry. “Sail ho!”
“Where away?” his first mate, standing amidships, shouted back.
“Dead astern!” came the reply on the wind.
“Mr. Greene!” Nick yelled, his eyes searching for his cabin boy. Peter came running with Joshua behind him.
“Yes, Cap’n?”
“Fetch my spyglass from my cabin and be quick about it!”
Peter flew down the hatch and, a moment later, returned, handing him the brass cylinder. Climbing a short way into the rigging, Nick extended the spyglass to its full length and held it to his eye, focusing on the horizon. The small patch of white in the clear blue sky grew larger until it became the sails of a small schooner. Cofresí.
“Make all sail!” he shouted as he jumped to the deck and cast Nate a look that told the old salt what to expect. Nick handed the glass back to Peter and ordered, “All hands on deck!” His crew clambered up the rigging to set the additional sail that would allow them maximum speed.
“You think it’s Cofresí?” asked Russ.
“Almost certain. I’m going to try and outrun him, but I don’t expect we’ll be successful. The Retribución is much lighter and faster.”
“But they have fewer guns and, unless they’ve replaced the ones we spiked, they have none at the moment,” said Russ, obviously attempting to be encouraging.
“He would not be pursuing us if he did not have guns, you can be sure of that.”
Calling the gunner and bos’n to him, Nick told them of his suspicions. “It’s the Retribución and we’re going to try and outrun her, though I believe we’ll soon have a fight on our hands. Should that become clear, we must try and stay upwind of her and heave to for the fight. Best to assemble a crew, Mr.
Wilson, and see the guns are run out.” Then looking at the eager faces of his cabin boy and Peter’s companion Joshua, Nick said, “Peter, you set up a powder train to carry shot and powder from the hold for Mr. Wilson.”
With a “yes, sir!” Peter returned Nick his spyglass and disappeared down the center hatch.
Choruses of “aye, aye, Cap’n” filled the air as his crew hurried to comply with the other orders he’d given.
Russ turned to Joshua. The boy had not moved as the orders were issued to the others, and now he looked to the man he would serve as cabin boy. “Lad, you’d best relieve the lookout and stay aloft.”
The dark-skinned boy from Bermuda grinned. “Yessir, Mr. Ainsworth!”
Nick shared a smile with his first mate at the boy’s delight at being sent aloft. The lad had come far in his training in the short time he’d been with them.
Nick left Russ and headed toward the helm, where Nate was already sending them into the wind. He came to a sudden halt when he saw Tara standing on the quarterdeck.
Striding to her side, he said, “It’s the pirate, Tara. I want you below.”
He was unsurprised when she objected. He’d expected as much. “But I may be able to help, and you know Cofresí won’t allow his men to harm me.” It took all of Nick’s self-control not to carry her to his cabin and lock her in, but he had no time for that now.
“His guns won’t know it’s you, Tara. No, I want you below decks.”
She looked at him searchingly, as if seeking another line of persuasion, but his stern countenance allowed none. Letting out a quick breath, she said, “All right,” and turned toward the hatch. Nick breathed a sigh of relief. Her obedience might be grudging, but at least he had it. It was best. He wanted her far from the fighting, where she could be hit with some object hurling across the deck. He had to keep her out of the fray—even if he lost to the pirate and Cofresí took her from him, at least she would be alive.
