by Dani Wade
She left the painting and moved along the wall, counting down the generations to the portrait of Zach’s father at the opposite end. She guessed Zach had yet to be immortalized. Maybe he’d refused to sit still long enough for his image to be painted.
She smiled at the thought.
She’d counted twelve generations between Lyndall and Zach. The paintings on this wall were all men. But she’d noticed the ladies’ portraits were hung on the opposite side of the room.
She walked her way back, studying Lyndall all over again. The main staircase of the grand hall was behind him in the painting, so he’d definitely been the one to build the castle. It was strange to stand on a spot in a room, then see that same place depicted nearly three hundred years earlier. She shivered at the notion of the pirate Lyndall walking this same floor.
“Scary, isn’t it?” came Zach’s voice, his footfalls muted against the carpet.
For some reason, his voice didn’t startle her.
“He looks just like you.” She twisted, squinting from one man to the other.
“Want to see something even stranger?” He cocked his head and moved toward the wall of ladies’ portraits.
Kaitlin followed him across the room.
“Emma Cinder.” He nodded to the painting. “She was Lyndall’s wife.”
The woman sat prim and straight at a scarred wooden table, her long red hair twisted into a crown of braids. She was sewing a sampler, wearing green robes over a thin, champagne-colored, low-cut blouse with a lace fringe that barely covered her nipples. Her red lips were pursed above a delicate chin. Her cheeks were flushed. And her deep green eyes were surrounded by thick, dark lashes.
“Wow,” said Kaitlin. “You don’t think ten-times great-grandma when you see her.”
Zach chuckled. “Look closer.”
Kaitlin squinted. “What am I looking for?”
“The auburn hair, the green eyes, those full, bow-shaped lips, the curve of her chin.”
Kaitlin glanced up at him in confusion.
He smoothed his hand over her damp hair. “She looks a lot like you.”
“She does not.” But Kaitlin’s gaze moved back to the painting, peering closer.
“She sure does.”
“Okay, maybe a little bit,” she admitted. Their eyes were approximately the same shape, and the hair color was the same. But there were probably thousands of women in New York with green eyes and long, auburn hair.
“Maybe a lot,” said Zach.
“Where was she from?” Kaitlin’s curiosity was even stronger now than it had been in the cemetery. What could have brought Emma to Serenity Island with Lyndall?
“She was from London,” said Zach. “A seamstress I was told. The daughter of a tavern owner.”
“And she married a pirate?” Kaitlin had to admit, Lyndall was a pretty good-looking pirate. But still…
“He kidnapped her.”
“No way.”
Zach leaned down to Kaitlin’s ear, lowering his voice to an ominous tone. “Tossed her on board his ship and, I’m assuming, had his way with her all the way across the Atlantic.”
Kaitlin itched to reach up and touch the portrait. “And then they got married?”
“Then they got married.”
“Do you think she was happy here? With him?” For some reason, it was important to Kaitlin to believe Emma had been happy.
“It’s hard to say. I’ve read a few letters that she got from her family back in England. They’re chatty, newsy, but they’re not offering to come rescue her. So I guess she must have been okay.”
“Poor thing,” said Kaitlin.
“He built her a castle. And they had four children. Look here.” Zach gently grasped Kaitlin’s shoulders and turned her to guide her back to the men’s portrait wall.
She liked it that he was touching her. There was something comforting about his broad hands firmly holding her shoulders. He’d kept his arm around her the whole ride back from the cemetery, his body offering what warmth he could in the whipping wind. And that had been comforting, too.
“Their eldest son, Nelson,” said Zach, gesturing to the portrait with one hand, leaving the other gently resting on her shoulder.
“What about the rest of the children?”
“Sadie has their portraits scattered in different rooms. The other two sons died while they were still children, and the daughter went back to a convent in London.”
“I saw the boys’ tombstones,” said Kaitlin. “Harold and William?”
“Good memory.” Zach brushed her damp hair back from her face, and for some reason, she was suddenly reminded of what she was wearing.
She was naked under the white robe, her skin glowing warm, getting warmer by the minute. She realized the lapels had gaped open, and she realized the opening had Zach’s attention.
Their silence charged itself with electricity.
She knew she should pull the robe closed again, but her hands stayed fast by her sides.
Zach made a half turn toward her.
His hand slowly moved from her shoulder to her neck, his fingertips brushing against her sensitive skin.
“Sometimes I think they had it easy.” Zach’s voice was a deep, powerful hum.
“Who?” she managed to breathe. Every fiber of her attention was on the insubstantial brush of his hand.
His other hand came up to close on the lapel of her robe. “The pirates,” he answered. “They ravage first, and ask questions later.”
He tugged on the robe, pulling her to him, and his mouth came down on hers. It was hot, firm, open and determined.
She swayed from the intense sensation, but his arm went around her waist to hold her steady as the kiss went on and on.
He tugged the sash of the robe, releasing the knot, so it fell open. His free hand slipped inside, encircling her waist again, pulling her bare breasts against the texture of his shirt.
Her arms were lost in the big sleeves, too tangled to be of any use. But she breathed his name, parted her lips, welcomed his tongue into the depths of her mouth.
His wide hand braced her rib cage, thumb brushing the tender skin beneath her breast. Her nipples peaked, a tingle rushing to their delicate skin. Her thighs relaxed, reflexively easing apart, and he moved between them, the denim of his pants sending shock waves through her body.
He deftly avoided the portrait as he pressed her against the smooth stone of the wall. His hand cupped her breast. His lips found her ear, her neck, the tip of her shoulder, as he pushed the robe off. It pooled at her feet, and she was completely naked.
He drew back for a split second, gazing down, drinking in the picture of her body.
“Gorgeous,” he breathed, lips back to hers, hands stroking her spine, down over her buttocks, to the back of her thighs. Then up over her hips, her belly, her breasts. She gasped as he stroked his fingertips across her nipples, the sensation near painful, yet exquisite.
His hands traced her arms, twining his fingers with hers, then holding them up, braced against the wall while his mouth made its moves on her body. He pressed hot, openmouthed kisses from her lips to her neck, found her breasts, drawing each nipple into the heat, suckling until she thought her legs would give way beneath her.
She groaned his name in a plea.
He was back to her mouth, his hands moving down, covering her breasts, taking over from his lips, thumbs stroking across her wet nipples.
She tangled her hands in his hair, pushing his mouth harder against hers, kissing deeper, mind blank to everything but his taste and touch. One of his hands moved lower, stroking over her belly, toying with her silky hair, sliding forward.
She wrapped her arms around him, anchoring her body more tightly against him, saving her failing legs, burying her face in the crook of his neck and tonguing the salt taste from his skin.
His fingers slipped inside her, and a lightning bolt electrified her brain. She cried out his name, an urgency blinding her. She fumbled with the
button on his jeans, dragging down the zipper.
He cupped her bottom, lifting her, spreading her legs, bracing her against the cool wall.
A small semblance of sanity remained.
“Protection?” she gasped.
“Got it.”
One arm braced her bottom, while his hand cupped her chin. He kissed her deeply, their bodies pressed together, her nerves screaming almost unbearably for completion.
“Now,” she moaned. “Please, now.”
It took him a second, and then he was inside her, his heat sliding home in a satisfying rush that made her bones turn to liquid and the air whoosh out of her lungs.
Her hands fisted and her toes curled as she surrendered herself to the rhythm of his urgent lovemaking. Her head tipped back, the high ceiling spinning above her. Lightning lit up the high windows, while thunder vibrated the stone walls of the castle.
She arched against him, struggling to get closer. Her breaths came in gasps, while the pulsating buzz that started at her center radiated out to overwhelm her entire body.
She cried his name again, and he answered with a guttural groan. Then the storm, the castle and their bodies throbbed together as one.
When the universe righted itself, Kaitlin slowly realized what they’d just done.
Bad enough that they’d made love with each other. But they weren’t locked up in some safe, private bedroom. She was naked, in an open room of the castle, where five other people worked and lived. Any one of them could have walked up the staircase at any moment.
She let out a pained groan.
“You okay?” Zach gasped, glancing between them and around them.
“Somebody could have seen us,” she whispered.
He tightened his hold on her. “Nobody would do that.”
“Not on purpose.”
“The staff are very discreet.”
“Well, apparently we’re not.”
“God, you feel good.”
She couldn’t help stealing another glance toward the staircase. “I’m completely naked.”
He chuckled low. “We just gave in, broke all our promises, consummated our marriage, and you’re worried because somebody might have seen us?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a small voice. She hadn’t really had time to think about the consummation angle. More that they had, foolishly, given in to their physical attraction.
“You’re delightful,” he told her.
“That sounded patronizing.”
“Did it?” His voice dropped to a sensual hush, and his mouth moved in on hers. “Because patronizing is the last thing I’m feeling right now.”
His kiss was long and deep and thorough. And by the time he drew back, the pulse of arousal was starting all over in her body. She wanted him. Still.
“Again?” he asked, nibbling at her ear, his palm sliding up her rib cage toward her breast.
“Not here.” She didn’t want to risk it again.
“Okay by me.” He gently eased himself from her body, flicked the button to close his pants, then lifted her solidly into the cradle of his arms and headed for the staircase to his bedroom.
“My robe,” she protested.
“You won’t need it.”
Zach held Kaitlin naked in his arms, inhaling the coconut scent of her hair, reveling in the silk of her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. A sheet half covered them, but his quilts had long since been shoved off the king-size bed.
“This is gorgeous,” she breathed, one hand wrapped around the ornately carved bedpost, as she gazed up at the scrollwork on his high ceiling.
“This is gorgeous,” he corrected, stroking his way across her smooth belly to the curve of her hip bone.
She looked great in his bed, her shimmering, auburn hair splayed across his pillowcase, her ivory skin glowing against his gold silk sheets.
“I never knew people lived like this.” She captured his hand that had wandered to her thigh, giving his palm a lingering kiss.
“It took me a while to figure out some people didn’t,” he admitted.
She released his hand and came up on one elbow. “Were you by any chance a spoiled child?”
“I wouldn’t call it spoiled.” He couldn’t stop touching her, so he ran his palm over the curve of her hip, tracing down her shapely thigh to the tender skin behind her knee. “But I was about five before I realized everybody didn’t have their own castle.”
Kaitlin’s eyes clouded, and she went silent.
He wanted to prompt her, but he forced himself to stay silent.
She finally spoke in a small voice. “I was about five when I realized most people had parents.”
Her words shocked him to the core, and his hand stilled in its exploration. “You grew up without parents?”
She nodded, rolling to her back, a slow blink camouflaging the emotion in her eyes.
“What happened?” he asked, watching her closely.
“My mom died when I was born. She had no relatives that I ever found.”
“Katie,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say, his heart instantly going out to her.
She’d never mentioned her family. So he’d assumed they weren’t close. He thought maybe they lived in another part of the country, Chicago perhaps, or maybe California.
“She either didn’t know, or didn’t say who my father was.” Kaitlin made a square shape in the air with both hands. “Unknown. That’s what it says on my birth certificate. Father—unknown.”
Zach’s hand clenched convulsively where it rested on her hip.
“I never knew,” he said. Though he realized the statement was meaningless. Of course he never knew. Then again, he’d never asked. Because he hadn’t wanted to know anything about her personal life. He simply wanted to finish off their business and have her gone.
Now, he felt like a heel.
“I used to wonder who she was,” Kaitlin mused softly, half to herself. “A runaway princess. An orphan. Maybe a prostitute.” Then her voice grew stronger, a trace of wry humor in its depths. “Perhaps I’m descended from a hooker and her customer. What do you suppose that means?”
Zach brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead. “I think it means you have a vivid imagination.”
“It could be true,” Kaitlin insisted.
“I suppose.” Since the idea didn’t seem to upset her, his fingertips went back to tracing a pattern on her stomach. “I guess I’m the rouge pirate, and you’re the soiled dove.” He brushed his knuckles against the skin beneath her bare breast. “Just so you know. That’s working for me.”
She lifted a pillow and halfheartedly thwacked him in the side of the head. “Everything seems to work for you.”
“Only when it comes to you.” He tossed the pillow out of the way, acknowledging the words were completely true. He leaned up and gently stroked her face. “Were you adopted?”
She was silent for a long moment, while her clouded jade eyes put a hundred lonely images into his brain. He regretted the question, but he couldn’t call it back.
“Foster homes,” she finally told him.
The simple words made his chest thump with regret. He thought back to all the heirlooms he’d shown her. The family history. The portraits, the cemetery.
“I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I can’t believe I threw my castle up in your face.”
“You didn’t know,” she repeated.
“I wish I had.”
“Well, I wish I’d grown up in a castle.” Her spunk was back, and the strength of character surprised and impressed him. “But that’s the way it goes,” she concluded.
“We had extra rooms and everything,” he teased in an attempt to keep things light.
“Could you not have come and found me sooner?”
He sobered, completely serious. “I wish I had.”
Her grin slowly faded, but not to sadness.
His own want growing, he shifted forward and kissed her lips, drawing her tenderly but fully into h
is arms again, feeling aroused and protective all at the same time. “Was it awful?” he had to risk asking.
“It was lonely,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. Then she coughed out a laugh and arched away. “I can’t believe I’m telling this to you…you of all people.”
“What about me?” He couldn’t help feeling vaguely hurt.
“You’re the guy who’s ruining my life.”
“Huh?”
She glanced around his room and spread her arms wide. “What the hell have we done?”
“We’re married,” he responded.
“By Elvis.” She suddenly clambered out of bed.
He didn’t want her to go, couldn’t let her go.
“My robe?” she asked.
“Downstairs.”
She swore.
“You don’t have to leave,” he pointed out. She could stay here, sleep here, lay here in his arms all night long.
She turned to face him, still naked, still glorious, still the most amazing person he’d ever met.
“This was a mistake,” she told him in no uncertain terms.
He climbed out the opposite side of the bed to face her. “It may have made things a little more complicated,” he conceded.
“A little more complicated?”
“Nothing needs to change.”
“Everything just changed.” She spotted his shirt, discarded on the floor, and scooped it up. “We never should have given into chemistry, Zach. Just so you know, this doesn’t mean you have an advantage over me.”
“What?” He wasn’t following her logic.
“I have to call Lindsay.” She glanced around the room. “She’s probably downstairs. She’s probably wondering where the heck I’ve gone.”
“Lindsay’s not downstairs,” Zach announced with certainty.
Kaitlin pulled his big shirt over her head. “How would you know that?”
Zach made his way around the foot of the bed. “Lindsay’s not coming back here tonight.”
“But—” Kaitlin stilled. After a second, she seemed to correctly interpret the meaningful look in his eyes. “Really?”
