Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4)

by Jenna Jaxon

  “Just remember those words when I get you alone tonight, Mrs. Captain.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rob had taken the wheel so Ayers could help Chapman set the sails. Georgie stood to his right, watching the coastline as it shrank little by little from view. The sea had decided to aid them today, for the chop was less than usual so the ship glided along the water’s surface without bouncing about. The air, however, was cold and damp, so much so that Rob shivered and longed for his own pea coat, currently in the care of his valet at the castle. At least he could be assured that Georgie was snug and warm.

  The journey to Portpatrick should take them at most five days, less if the winds stayed in their favor. Once married, he might elect to remain in the small village for several days, simply to give Georgie a respite from sea travel. Certainly they could find sights to see and things to do. He glanced at the trim figure standing between him and the rail, her hair gleaming like fire in the sparse sunlight. Oh, yes. He could think of many things for them to do.

  “I’ll take the wheel now, Captain.” Ayers had returned to relieve him. “We’re well under way.”

  “Thank you, Ayers.” Rob turned to go to Georgie, then turned back. “Ayers, who is the young lad you’ve got replacing Barnes? I didn’t catch his name when we came on board.”

  “That’s young Barnes, my lord. Barnes’s eldest grandson. Sent him along yesterday morning since he himself couldn’t join us. Says the lad’s ready to start his official training.”

  Usually a lad going to sea began as a cabin boy, but perhaps Barnes was right. One learned a trade by doing it. “Very well, then. Make certain young Barnes knows what he’s doing before he does it.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Hurrying to Georgie, Rob slowed before he reached her, then stole up behind her and slid his arms around her.

  She must have heard him because she didn’t jump with surprise. Instead she crossed her arms over his and leaned back against him.

  “How are you doing so far, sweetheart?”

  “Not too badly, but then the ship isn’t acting like a bucking horse either.” She clutched his arms tighter around her. “I am rather sorry we had to leave so hastily that I couldn’t bring Clara with me. I hadn’t thought before, but now I don’t know what I will do if I become ill again.”

  “I will take care of you, my love. In sickness and in health, remember?” Kissing the top of her head, he breathed in the slight lavender scent that always clung to her hair. He would look forward to that delight for the rest of his life. He bent slightly so his mouth was directly beside her ear. “Besides, I have a new idea about how to distract you from becoming ill, Mrs. Captain. Can you guess what it is?”

  “Hmmm.” She snuggled her back into his front until he was positive she could feel his shaft bumping into her, even through the heavy pea coat. “I could guess, but I think it would be much more instructive if you showed it to me, Captain.”

  Growling and hoping Ayers didn’t turn and see how quickly they were making for the gangway, Rob grabbed her hand and pulled her along, her laughter floating out over the open sea.

  Once below, he swung her around until her back hit the side of the corridor, and he sunk his mouth onto hers, unable to wait another moment to taste her lips. He slipped between those lips and drank in the deliciously soft feeling of her cheeks and tongue. They needed to continue on to their cabin. It would not do at all for the crew to see them acting so absolutely wanton in broad daylight. With Herculean effort, he pulled away from her and seized her hand. “Hurry, before I explode, sweetheart. You will ruin me if I cannot have you in the next few moments.”

  They ran pell-mell down the corridor, shoving open his cabin door and slamming it shut. Let the men think what they would. All kinds of noises occurred on a ship.

  Rob ripped his jacket open and buttons flew.

  The pea coat had hit the floor with a soft plop, then Georgie’s back was to him. “Buttons please.”

  Restraining himself from ripping the bodice open, he fumbled with the infernal buttons, a mercifully short row of them. He unlaced the stays as well, revealing her chemise and the exquisite slope of her neck. Burying his face in her nape, he kissed and nipped his way down her back, bringing squeals of delight that transformed into guttural moans by the time he’d pushed the garment completely off her shoulders. It slithered to the floor, and she stood naked and beautiful before him. Panting hard, he stopped and drank his fill of the sight of her.

  A body blush crept up from her hips, spreading through her thicket of red curls, over her stomach, around her breasts—the peaks of her nipples furled into tight points—and finally up her neck to brighten her cheeks.

  Rob fell to his knees, eyes staring at the tiny indentation in her stomach, then straying down to the ruby red jewel in front of him. Sliding his hands up her thighs and around to her bottom, he cupped the firm derriere and inexorably urged her forward until her body met his eager mouth.

  Breathing slowly and deeply, she rested her hands on his head and gently pressed him forward.

  He inhaled the special scent that was her, that was woman, and had to fight bitterly the urge to take her here and now. That would come later; this was now and just for her. So he concentrated on where he touched her, how he would pleasure her. A hesitant kiss on her mons turned into a deep lick that drew a moan from her. He tried that again, opening her legs just enough to allow him further access to all of her most secret parts.

  Her moans had intensified, becoming more guttural, and her legs trembled, as though they could scarcely hold her up.

  With his tongue he searched through her soft flesh for the exactly right spot and pressed, then drew her into his mouth and sucked.

  She flew apart, crying out as her legs jerked beneath her. Fisting her hands in his hair, she anchored herself as he did it again. The tempest struck her more intensely this time for she cried out louder and longer, straining against him until she slumped, and he steadied her.

  Still he needed to hurry if his own body’s needs were to be met. The urgency brought about by her cries had brought him almost past the point of control. “Sweetheart? Are you all right?”

  Slowly she fought for balance, then straightened. “I don’t quite know.” Unsteady, she staggered over to the bed and dropped facedown on the bunk.

  The sight of her uncovered bottom spread across his bed, a waiting invitation if ever he’d seen one, sent a frenzy of lust through Rob. He sprang to his feet, dragged his shirt over his head, and unbuttoned his fall—to hell with the boots—all in the time it took him to reach the bed. Bending over her, he whispered urgently in her ear. “Sweetheart, are you ready for me?” God knew he’d been ready for her for hours.

  A sweet smile spread across her lips. “Oh, yes, Rob. Yes, my love.” To convince him, she opened her legs wider. As if he needed convincing.

  Mindful that he needed to be gentle despite his great need, Rob swept her legs open a little more, positioned himself, and pressed forward in a slow, deep slide that seated him firmly inside her. He held his breath, fought to hold on, willed himself not to spill his seed on the very first thrust.

  “You feel so good, Rob. Ahh, do that again.”

  Her little moan undid him.

  “My pleasure, love.” He pumped hard and fast, letting himself go, pouring his essence into her as their cries echoed in the cabin.

  Panting so hard he could scarcely breathe, Rob slid out and flopped down beside her, boneless and utterly spent. If someone attacked the ship at this moment he’d be of no earthly use to anyone. He’d just have to pray no one attacked.

  Georgie turned over, then curled up beside him, her eyelids heavy. “Rob?”

  “Yes, love?” He pulled a blanket up over them.

  “I agree wholeheartedly with you.”

  “About what, sweetheart?”

  “Your new idea of distracting me from being ill.” She opened one emerald-green eye and smiled. “You are the most wond
erful distraction, my love.” Yawning, she burrowed her head into his shoulder. “Perhaps you can distract me again in a little while, even if I don’t fall ill. It’s probably better that way.”

  * * *

  Grayish light filled the cabin the next morning, waking Rob from an exhausted sleep. Not that he’d have had it any other way. After dinner last night, cooked by Chapman and served by Ayers, he and Georgie had repaired to the bunk, sleep the furthest thing from their minds. At some point they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Georgie slept still, her cheek pillowed on one hand.

  The sweetest sight he’d ever awoken to. Her tousled hair spilled in bright waves over one satiny white shoulder and the mussed sheets, her mouth in a pink bow with her other hand curled beside it. He could watch her sleep for hours, although if he gazed on her much longer he’d wake her instead and see if making love in the morning light proved better or much better than making love in the night.

  As though she’d heard his thoughts, she opened her eyes and stretched, one tender breast peeping out from under the covers, the rosy nipple seeming to beckon his mouth.

  “Georgie?”

  “Mmmm?” She snuggled closer to him, sliding her hand across his abdomen, making the skin there jump of its own accord.

  Any restraint he might have had flew out the porthole. He slid down in the bed, pulling her toward him.

  “Is it morning?” Her eyes remained closed, and he gently kissed the lids.

  “Yes, barely, I think.” Continuing his journey, he kissed her cheek, her nose, her chin, then back up to her rosebud mouth.

  “Mmmm. What a wonderful way to begin breakfast.” She opened her mouth to him, inviting him in.

  He needed nothing more and thrust his tongue into her.

  “Captain! Captain!”

  Ayers’s frightened voice cut through the fog of lust in Rob’s brain. He sat up in bed, shaking away the call of his body. “What’s the matter?”

  “A ship, Captain. A huge four-master pulling alongside us. They’re hailing us.”

  “What in the—” Rob tore out of the bed, pulling on his shirt and breeches without thinking, struggling to thrust his feet into the tight Hessians.

  “What’s going on?” The sleepy calm had fled Georgie’s face. She sat in the middle of the bed, her eyes two points of green in a sea of white.

  “I’ve no idea. Stay in the cabin. Lock the door when I leave, and—” He ripped open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a pair of pistols. Checking to make sure they were loaded, he tucked one in his breeches and held the other out to her. “You ever fire a pistol before?”

  She nodded, her gaze firmly fixed on the gun in his hand.

  “Good.” He thrust the loaded piece at her, grateful when she took it without protest. “I hope this is nothing, but I wouldn’t wager a hot ha’penny on it.” He grasped her to him, kissing her quick and hard, then ran out the cabin without a backward look. Had Travers staged a rescue attempt? How would the earl even have found out their plans? He’d not been seen since Rob and Jemmy had thrown him into the stable and bid the groom get him to his lodgings, wherever that was.

  Running onto the deck, Rob immediately discovered they had turned into the wind. Searching the horizon for the enemy ship, Rob glanced to port and gasped. A fully rigged, four-masted barque had pulled within a dozen yards or so of them. At double her size, the enemy ship easily dwarfed the Justine and, with a long row of cannon pointed squarely at them, out-gunned them as well.

  “Ahoy, Justine.” A crew member, likely the first officer, hailed them from the bow of the ship.

  “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Rob turned to Ayers, who stood beside him, ashen.

  “They came up on us so fast, Captain, I scarcely had time to realize they wanted to detain us. They were well astern of us and just like that”—the sailor snapped his fingers—“they were pulling alongside and hailing us, guns drawn.” Ayers pointed to the line of sailors on the other ship, muskets trained on them.

  “Christ.”

  “Is it pirates?” Out of nowhere, Georgie appeared at Rob’s elbow.

  “I don’t know.” He frowned. “I told you to stay below.”

  “With a ship that large, I doubt my staying in the cabin would matter much.” She pulled the pistol out of a pocket of the pea coat. “Besides, if I’m going to die, I’d rather do it by your side.”

  “No one is going to die.” God he hoped he spoke the truth.

  “They’re sending a boat over, Captain.” Chapman ran up, fear in his eyes.

  “Steady, lad. We’ll see what they want.” Of course he knew quite well what or rather who they wanted. The question was who were “they”?

  Silently, Rob, Georgie and the crew waited until the officer stood before them, the one who’d hailed them earlier.

  “My lord, my lady.” The man bowed. “I am Mr. Worthington, first officer on board the Black Hart. With the captain’s compliments, my lord.” He handed Rob a sheet of paper, folded and sealed in black wax.

  Georgie grabbed Rob’s arm and whispered, “That’s my father’s seal.”

  “And now we know for certain who it is that wants you back.” Rob ripped the letter open and, holding it so Georgie could see it as well, read the spidery handwriting with growing anger.

  Lord St. Just,

  Captain McMorris on board my vessel the Black Hart has orders to fire upon your ship if you do not immediately relinquish Lady Georgina to him. She will be married to Lord Travers and no one else. Ignore me at your peril.

  Blackham

  Rob crushed the paper in a fist that shook. What kind of father would threaten his daughter’s very life in order to get his own way?

  “Do not comply with this demand, Rob.” An insistent hand on his arm brought his focus back to Georgie’s determined face. “If he wants me brought back alive, he will not act on this order whatever we do.”

  “I cannot take that chance, love, for your safety and that of my crew.” Covering her hand with his, he squeezed it, then let go. As long as Georgie was safe, there was hope they could find a way to make this right. “Mr. Worthington—”

  “Mr. Worthington, these terms are unacceptable.” Georgie broke in, sending a glare of caution at Rob. “If my father wishes for my return, then I will return, but on this ship, not the Black Hart.”

  Flustered, Mr. Worthington looked from Georgie to Rob, then back at her, apparently at a loss about whom to address. “But Lord St. Just—”

  “You will address me, if you please, Mr. Worthington.” The green eyes flashed fire, and the first officer flinched.

  “My lady, you cannot believe—”

  “What I believe, sir, is that my father wishes my return, but will have no compunction, once I am on his ship, about opening fire on the Justine.” Georgie’s nose flared, and she clenched her fists. “Therefore, I will remain on this ship until we reach port. Tell Captain McMorris he can meet my terms or open fire. The choice is his.” With a dismissive nod of her head, Georgie strode away from the awestruck officer toward the bow.

  Rob was more than a little awestruck himself. She’d been calling him pirate all along, and yet Lady Georgina had just issued an ultimatum, without blinking, that would have done Blackbeard proud. She should be addressed not as Mrs. Captain but rather as Lady Pirate. “You heard the lady,” he snapped at the dumbfounded Mr. Worthington. “Get back to your ship, and we’ll bring the Justine about and head for home.”

  “Very good, my lord.” A short bow, and Worthington turned and all but ran for the side of the ship.

  Chuckling, Rob headed for the bow to compliment his lady pirate. She stood staring ahead at the open water, tears trickling down her cheeks. “My love, what’s the matter? You were magnificent!” He caught her around the waist, lifted her, and spun her around.

  “Oh, Rob, stop. Stop unless you wish me to cast up my accounts all over you.”

  Laughing, he slowed his mad twirling, setting her down gently. “You are a
worthy opponent, my lady pirate. I would not wish to tangle with you on the high seas.” He kissed her, letting his lips linger until hers stopped trembling. “In the bedroom, however, is another story.”

  “But we will never get that chance again, Rob.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “My father will force me to marry Travers or resign me to the lunatics at Bedlam. He will never let us marry.”

  “My love, I will promise you this.” Rob put his arms around her and drew her close to his chest. “I will move heaven and earth to have you as my wife. I will enlist the aid of every friend, relative, and acquaintance we have to prevent either of those things from happening.” Leaning back, he stared straight into her glistening eyes. “Trust me, love.”

  She nodded and relaxed in his arms.

  As Rob stared out over her head at the brightening day, his one solace was the knowledge that whatever power Lord Blackham wielded, there was one thing even he could not accomplish. He could not marry his daughter to a dead man. They should arrive back at St. Just at first light tomorrow. So there remained perhaps a day for Rob to come up with a plan to turn Blackham’s black heart to their favor before Rob would have to go about the business of killing Lord Travers and consigning the blackguard to be company for Gentleman John.

  After all these years, John deserved better.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As the cold dawn broke next morning, Rob and Georgie stood arm in arm on the bow of the Justine as it sailed into the cove. They had slept little, but had made love only once with a desperation that broke Georgie’s heart. Perhaps their last moments of intimacy ever, and she’d not been able to savor them as she should for thinking that they were indeed the last. Instead, the rest of the time she’d lain in Rob’s arms, breathing in the clean scent of him, mixed with the musky hints of their joining. Relishing the stroke of his fingers along her naked back, trying frantically to imprint the sensation into her memory, so she could call it to mind during the long, horrible years ahead without him.