The Price of Indiscretion

by Cathy Maxwell

  She turned her face toward him, wanting more kisses. “No,” she agreed. “You are my lover.”

  The words felt right. Being in his arms was right.

  A fierce pride shone in Alex’s eyes, a possessiveness that thrilled her to her bones. He swung her up into his arms. She held on tight, not offering any protest as he carried her to the bed.

  He set her on the mattress, leaning so that his face was inches from hers. “Did you know this was going to happen when you came here?”

  Miranda dared not answer.

  “I’d hoped so, too,” he confirmed, and then gave her a long, thorough kiss.

  His tongue touched hers, and Miranda melted. They shouldn’t do this, but they wanted to do it.

  She tugged at his shirt, found the buttons on his breeches, and without fanfare, began unfastening them.

  His fingers were unlacing her dress. He leaned her back, pulling up her skirts with his other hand. Their lips never left each other’s.

  In minutes, they were both gloriously naked, their skin golden in the lantern light.

  Alex broke off the kiss. He brought her down to lie beside him on the bed. Reverently, he ran his hand over her shoulder, following her arm and the curve of her waist.

  Smiling, she reached up and curled his newly shorn hair around her fingers. “Your hair is so thick,” she murmured. “I like the style.”

  “My head feels lighter,” he admitted and then smiled.

  For a long moment, they savored the anticipation, and then Alex leaned over to kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her ear.

  His breath tickled against her skin. Her breasts brushed the hard, muscular plane of his chest. The nipples tightened. He brought his mouth down to kiss them, too.

  Miranda dug her fingers into his hair. The heat of his mouth on this most sensitive spot almost sent her through the cabin’s ceiling.

  He was in no hurry. He kissed and sucked one until it was hard and rosy and then moved to the other. Miranda lost herself in the sensation. Deep muscles tightened. Her legs opened, welcoming him.

  Alex settled himself between them. It felt good to have his weight on her in this manner. But he surprised her by kissing between her breasts, before marking a trail down over the flat of her stomach and lower.

  Miranda couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. She was shocked—and lost in this most wicked pleasure. What Alex was doing couldn’t be right but she didn’t want him to quit. Her heels dug into the mattress; her fingers gathered the quilt over the bed in her hands. She held on, not knowing where this would go but willing to follow.

  When she didn’t think she could take it any longer without exploding with sheer bliss, he came to his knees over her. He was fully aroused and very ready.

  She was ready, too.

  If the crew of the Warrior and the duke and every matchmaking mama in London had run into the cabin at that moment, she could not have stopped herself from reaching for this man. She wanted him, now. She had to have him, driven by a need she’d never known.

  But Alex knew. His gray eyes were alive with pride. “You’re mine,” he said. “We promised to each other years ago, and it is and will be that way.”

  Her answer was to put her arms around his neck, to bring him down on top of her and kiss him fully, even as he thrust himself deep within.

  There was no pain or discomfort this time. Her body stretched to accommodate his and it felt right.

  He began moving. She moved with him. It was their rhythm, one unique to them.

  Alex kissed her hair, her nose, her eyes. She held him as tight as she could. In a rising tide of emotion, he was her source. Nothing in her life could compare to these moments in his arms.

  His thrusts went deeper, his movements more purposeful. Her body was his. She could feel the quickening, the reaching. The heat between them could have set the ship on fire.

  Instead it pushed her up until suddenly she felt as if she were not of flesh and blood but a million fiery sensations, each as bright and shining as a star.

  She cried out his name.

  He raised himself over her. His muscles tightened as he gathered her up in his arms. He was in her so deep that she thought he could touch her soul.

  For a long, blessed moment he held her tight. She wrapped her legs around him, not ever wanting to let him go—

  Abruptly Alex pulled out. He pushed away from her, releasing his breath in a grunt.

  Miranda landed on the bed. He fell beside her. She rolled toward him. She swallowed, needing to catch her breath. “Are you all right?”

  It took a moment before he could speak. “I’m fine.”

  Her body quivered, still glowing with the joy of completion.

  Alex didn’t seem to feel the same way.

  She touched his shoulder. He turned to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. “What happened?” she asked, running her hand along his hip.

  He caught her hand and brought to his lips. “I was protecting you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alex released his breath as if finally in control of himself. “I’m not about to give Colster a bastard. I shall raise my own son, thank you very much.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, crossing to the basin and bucket of water. He poured water and, his back to her, washed himself.

  It was then Miranda understood what he’d meant. The heat of embarrassment threatened to consume her. She’d not thought of anything besides her own desires.

  But Alex had considered it.

  She pulled the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her. Her hair was mess, the pins long gone. She pushed it back over her shoulder. “Perhaps it isn’t important?” she suggested.

  Alex tossed aside the linen towel he’d used and turned to her. His hair was mussed, too. His body was as sculpted as a statue, his muscles long and lean. He appeared at ease, and yet there was tension about him.

  “Only you can answer that, Wiskilo’tha,” he said, using the Shawnee name, he’d once given her.

  “I wish I was a bird,” she answered. “And then I’d fly with you. I’d not think of anyone but myself, and we’d both be free with only the wind to guide us.” She held out her hand. “You think I will go with the duke.”

  “I believe you must.”

  She dropped her hand to the mattress. “That’s not the answer I want.”

  “What do you want?” he asked quietly.

  “I want you to come here and hold me,” she said. “I want to lie in your arms as your wife and not have to think of anyone but you.”

  Alex walked over to her. She rose, letting the quilt go and standing on the mattress. His arms came around her, his lips beside her navel. She leaned over him, marveling at the warmth and texture of his skin.

  “I can’t let you go,” she whispered. “I want all of it, Alex. I want to be with you, to sleep by your side every night and have your children grow in me.”

  His hold tightened.

  “I want to sail on this ship with you,” she went on, her voice a whisper. “I don’t want to be a duchess. I’ve only wanted one thing in my life, and that is you.”

  He pressed a kiss on the tender skin of her belly and looked up. She laid her hand on his jaw.

  Searching her eyes, he said, “Do you know what you are asking?”

  “I believe I do.” She so wanted to believe everything could work out right.

  “Yes, but do you have the courage to make this decision? It’s easy for me, Miranda. I have no one…but what you do will impact people you love.”

  “If they love me, they will understand.”

  Alex shook his head. “Isabel was right. What we do will affect them. And there could be severe repercussions.”

  A coldness settled in Miranda at his words. But he had to be wrong. “I’ll speak to the duke. He’ll understand. He’s been in love.”

  “It has been years since her death,” Alex answered. “The time has come for him to love again
.”

  She waved the objection away. “But I already told you, if I didn’t resemble his wife, he wouldn’t have given me a second look.”

  “He’s not a fool. Nor, with his title and his money, is he accustomed to anyone turning him down.” Alex placed his hand on her shoulder. “My love, I will take you anywhere you wish, but first you must face the devils in this situation.”

  There was something he wasn’t saying. She sensed it. “You don’t trust me.”

  He sat back. “Your ties to your family are strong. Charlotte will fight us. This was her dream, wasn’t it?”

  “I will make her understand how much you mean to me, Alex,” she vowed. “And you’re wrong about His Grace. I truly had no appeal for him other than I do resemble his wife. Actually, I’m freeing him,” she said, struck by a new argument. “He should have someone who can be a complete wife to him. Someone who can return his affection without reservations.”

  “If he can swallow his pride, something few men can do, Miranda.”

  She gripped his arm with both hands. “Stop this. Stop talking as if we can’t be together. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “Yes, but do you have the courage it will take to choose me?” he asked quietly.

  At that moment, someone knocked on the door. They both turned at once, Alex placing a protective arm around her.

  “Who is it?” he demanded.

  “It’s Michael, Alex. Let me in,” came the answer.

  Seventeen

  Alex could have gladly wished his friend to hell for the intrusion.

  Here was the first test of their love…and sadly, he realized, his little bird was not going to pass.

  “He mustn’t see me here,” Miranda whispered frantically and started to get up from the bed, taking the quilt with her, but she couldn’t go far and protect her modesty because Alex still sat on it and wasn’t about to move.

  “Why?” he demanded. “What difference does it make when he knows about us?”

  She caught the challenge in his voice. “This looks bad.”

  “It is bad,” he corrected, refusing to let her evade the truth. “You’ve promised yourself to another, but this is what we say we want.”

  Michael knocked on the door again. “Alex, Miranda’s sisters have arrived from Portsmouth. I must see her.”

  With a soft cry of alarm, Miranda let go of the quilt. She swept her dress up off the floor and started dressing, her shaking fingers making her movements difficult.

  Alex watched her a moment without pity. She’d almost gotten him to believe she meant those words of love she’d spoken.

  Now he knew she could leave…and he had to accept it.

  He stood. “Here, let me.” Before she could protest, he turned her around and efficiently laced up the back of her dress.

  “Do you think Charlotte and Constance know where I am?” she asked.

  “We’ll find out,” he answered grimly. He picked up his own breeches and pulled them on, buttoning them as walked to the door. He opened it.

  Michael stood there, one hand braced against the frame, his impatience clear.

  “Your timing is terrible,” Alex told him.

  His friend looked past his shoulder to where Miranda was gathering her scattered articles of clothing. “It’s a pity I didn’t arrive an hour earlier.”

  Alex didn’t like his tone. “You wouldn’t have been welcome,” he answered.

  Michael met his gaze with a hard one of his own. “I imagine not.”

  Miranda came up behind Alex. She had her shawl around her shoulders, her hair was still tangled, and her lips were swollen from Alex’s kisses. She carried her stockings and petticoat balled up in her arms. “Michael, please don’t be angry at him. It’s my fault.”

  But Michael wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. “Do you know what you’ve done? What will come of this night?”

  Alex put his arm around her. “We love each other, Michael. We always have. Besides, what’s done is done.”

  “Damn you, Alex, it hasn’t even started to be done.” He glanced behind him into the dark as if fearing someone could overhear them. All was quiet. The only light was the thin lantern light by the gangway and the bow of the ship. He lowered his voice. “Colster will wring us dry. He’ll ruin us.”

  “He doesn’t own us,” Alex returned. “We are free men.”

  “Do my sisters know where I am?” Miranda interjected, sidling a step away from Alex.

  He let his arm drop.

  “No,” Michael said. “Alice confessed that you’d left the house and where you were going right away, but I told your sisters that you were deep asleep. I suggested that since they’d had a long trip, a good night’s rest would be the best for them as well. They were disappointed, but they did as I suggested. They truly wanted to see you.”

  Those were the right words to stoke Miranda’s guilt. Alex spoke in her defense. “She had no way of knowing they would come tonight.”

  “She shouldn’t have been sneaking around,” Michael returned.

  Alex lost his hold on his temper. “When did you turn so civilized, Michael? So English?”

  “Since the day I had a wife and child to worry about,” he snapped back and then shook his head. “I’m not the one who set the rules, Alex. I didn’t ask you to bring her to us, nor did I have anything to do with her taking up with Colster. But I don’t want me and mine to be the ones to pay for her indiscretions.”

  If Alex had had a knife in his hand, he would have used it on his friend. He took a step toward Michael, willing to throw him over the side of the ship—but Miranda put herself between the two of them. “Stop, please. It’s my fault. All of it.” The three of them stood in the rectangle of light coming from his cabin. She faced Alex. “He’s only speaking the truth. I shouldn’t have come here tonight, and yet I’m not sorry.”

  She turned to Michael. “I’ll make everything right. I promise I will. You and Isabel will not suffer because of your many kindnesses to me.”

  “And how will you do that?” Alex demanded.

  “I’ll talk to Colster,” she said. “I’ll stop it now. People will understand.”

  “No, Miranda,” Alex answered almost ruthlessly, “people will think the worst. You’ve been through this once. You know what will happen.”

  Her large eyes met his. In their depths, he could see her fears, and his anger left. He placed his hands on her arms. “My poor Wiskilo’tha,” he said softly, “loving me has never been easy.”

  She threw her arms around his waist, her head against his chest. “Don’t say that. And please don’t think my love is not strong enough. This time, I shall see it through.”

  He wanted to believe that. But the promises they’d made in the confines of his cabin now appeared naïve when spoken on the other side of the door.

  “Oui-shi-cat-to-oui.” Those words from his Shawnee grandfather had sustained him during the difficult years after his father had abandoned him.

  “Be strong,” Michael interpreted. Alex had offered those words to him more than once while they’d struggled out in the wilds of uncharted territory building their business. He looked at Alex. “This is a more dangerous situation than anything we met in the wilderness. Colster is ruthless.”

  “Not that I know,” Miranda answered, defending him. “He’s been exceedingly reasonable.”

  Michael shook his head with pity. “These are the dealings of men. He would not show this side to a woman he wanted to impress.” He finished with an impatient sound as if realizing she would never understand. “Come.” He took her arm and started toward the gangway.

  Alex wanted to reach to stop her. He wanted to catch her arm and pull her back into his cabin.

  He didn’t. He would give her the time she needed to talk to her sisters and Colster.

  Leaning against the door, he watched her disappear down the gangway with Michael. She was a part of him, a piece of his very being.

  Oliver came up by his side.
“Follow them,” Alex ordered quietly. “Let me know everyone who comes to his house today.”

  His mate nodded, and motioning to Vijay and Jon in the darkness, started toward the gangway.

  No matter what obstacles were put in his way, she was his.

  This time he wouldn’t let her go.

  Michael’s coach, its lanterns the only light, waited on the dock. A group of sailors walking unsteadily from a night’s drinking made their way around and then stopped as they caught sight of her.

  “Now there’s a pretty,” one of them slurred. “Her hair is like a lucky gold coin.” His words reminded Miranda her head was uncovered.

  “Sod off,” Michael answered.

  The largest of their group drew him up. “Ye’ll not be talkin’ to my friend that way.”

  “And you will have a hole in your head if you don’t leave my master alone,” the coachman said, a heavy blunderbuss in his hands.

  “There’s more us than you, mate,” the sailor answered.

  “No, he has friends,” came Oliver’s voice. Alex’s first mate stepped out of the darkness, with three other men at their back.

  Michael faced the sailors. “I suppose that settles it then. Good evening, gentlemen.” As they moved out of the way, he turned to Oliver. “You, too. We don’t need you following.”

  Oliver’s face hardened in the thin lantern light. If it came down to a fight, there was no doubt which one of the two partners he owed his allegiance to…and then he drifted back into the darkness. His men left with him.

  Michael opened the coach door for Miranda, glancing over his shoulder. “He’s watching. You know how Alex is. You won’t know he is there if he doesn’t want you to.”

  She did. He could be little more than a shadow if he desired. There had been a time when he’d trailed her every move.

  Miranda climbed into the coach. Michael followed, shutting the door behind them. The shades were drawn in the coach, and there was no light.

  “Do you realize what you’ve done?” Michael said. Apparently not expecting an answer, he rapped on the roof, a signal to the driver they were ready to go.