Rain still beat down and she followed the pirate as he walked through the tussocks of wild grass. Finally, he took off his coat and shirt and lay them across a bush.
Sarah was shaking uncontrollably, her arms wrapped tightly around her. It wasn't strictly cold in the sense that it would snow, but cold enough if one was wet and practically naked.
"When it stops raining, they will dry. Keep moving," he told her. "Don't let yourself cool down. I need to go gather some things."
He walked away from her and Sarah paced around, hopping from one foot to the other. She couldn't feel her skin, but it was still painful. Her fingers were numb as she tried to clasp and release them. The rain had abated a little, but the wind was still very strong, gusting at times and rippling across the land. There were no hills around here; the land was just flat and marshy as far as the eye could see.
Were they going to survive this? Their prospects seemed poor. Or were they better off walking inland, trying to find something, someone? But wilderness stretched for miles. It would take days to find another person. And then all those poor men who had drowned. It all seemed so awful. Misery threatened to engulf her, making her want to lay down and just give up.
She didn't know how long he was gone, but he returned dragging pieces of wood and an oar. Dropping his bounty, he crouched down and started tying them together, using long reeds to bind them. He was obviously constructing something.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"We need clumps of grass with the earth. Branches with leaves."
The grass around them was tough as Sarah started pulling it out of the ground. It refused to give way, but she kept going, putting all her strength into fighting the grass. Her numb fingers weren't helping, but she knew they had to do this to survive.
When she'd gathered a few clumps, she saw that he'd constructed a platform, which he angled. He took her clumps of grass and laid them across it.
"More," he said and she walked away to scavenge. Once he had the pieces together, he joined her, breaking branches off bushes and gathering them to place on top of the shelter.
In the end, they had a pitched platform, a wind break more than anything.
Pulling his boots off, he placed them upside down on branches and proceeded to take his breeches off. Despite her extreme chill and numbness, her breath hitched. He was utterly naked in front of her. Every part of his body was on display.
"It seems counterintuitive to strip down, but naked is better than wet," he said.
Stepping over to her, he helped lift the chemise over her shoulders. Sarah was utterly aware of her nakedness, her hands unsure where to rest, if she should protect herself, but in a sense, she didn't want to. This was madness, but it also felt natural in a way—except the chill and wind, and raging storm around them.
"Come," he said, taking her hand. He crouched down by the pitched shelter and rolled underneath. "We must get out of the wind."
Sarah followed his lead, aware that sand and debris stuck to her soaked body as she shifted in next to him. She felt awkward as his arm came around her, drawing her to him. He rolled her across him so her back was to the innermost part of their shelter. Now, she felt prickly warmth as she settled against him. His skin felt glorious to hers, warmth slowly seeping back into her.
There was nothing to do now other than to lie there against him. The wind raged around them, but the shelter kept it from them. A little cocoon of warmth developed between them and Sarah lay with her cheek on his chest, his arms wrapped around her. This all seemed so surreal.
The exhaustion of a night awake and the exertion of near drowning seeped away the last of her strength and her mind refused to focus. All she knew now was the warmth of his body. She could hear his steady breathing, and at that very moment, it was enough. If they died like this, then that was to be.
Anxious dreams claimed her. She was at the bottom of the ocean, the sight of the ship above her, with all the things slowly falling down. She saw men struggling. She was struggling, but the grave held her there, its grip around her feet, and refused to let her go. Light shifted above her as the surface beckoned, but it seemed so very far away.
She woke with a start, feeling the air drain from her lungs. For a moment, she had no idea where she was, and her first thought was wondering if she'd died. But then warmth, the firmness of his body holding her close. His arms were wrapped around her, his thighs pressed to hers. She felt safe and closed her eyes again.
They weren't safe. It was still unlikely they would survive, but she felt safe—just for the moment. There was no immediate threat she had to deal with. The storm still raged and it was growing dark.
His eyes were closed, still slumbering, and she returned her head to its position in the crook of his neck, pressing her lips to the skin along the base. He tasted salty. She hadn't exactly intended the kiss, but she kept her lips to his warm skin, feeling his pulse beat under them.
Her arm, wrapped around his back, felt his firm muscles, his skin warm and smooth. He was utterly naked against her, her breasts pressed to his broad chest. This was… nice, very nice.
But it wasn't enough, she wanted more. The aching part of her wanted more. Shifting her leg, she slid it up his thigh, enveloping him more in her body, bringing that part of him, his member, into contact with her. She felt him stiffen and it sent tendrils of delight spiraling up her body. It wasn't enough, it only stoked the fire, making her want more.
There was a shift. He didn't move, but she felt tension in him. In a way, the softness was gone, and every part of him was firm, including his cock that now nuzzled against her. Looking up, she saw his eyes were open, looking straight into hers, his expression indeterminable.
Leaning up, she slowly kissed him, the heady taste of his mouth washing through her mind. Soft lips were wary, but he wasn't fighting her, instead letting her kiss him, which she did in unhurried abandon. Her whole body pulsed with desire and her lips felt as if they were feeding off his, some mysterious nourishment she needed from him. It hadn't been this encompassing before, the time she had spent with another man. She'd been curious, but she truly needed now. She needed him to touch her, to taste her, to press against her.
A moan escaped her lips and she pressed her hips to his. His hand shifted down her backside, cupping her and firmly pressing back. A surge of melted sensation washed through her and her body ached for him. Pressing firmness ignited a level of desire she hadn't known. She was utterly wanton, needing him to be inside her.
Pulling back, she reached down and guided him to where she wanted him, feeling her consciousness waver with pleasure as his cock pressed to her entrance. She wanted to say please, to beg him, but all she could manage was another moan.
His eyes were on her as his cock slid deeper and deeper into her, her breath hitching and her lungs burning. She was too caught in the sensation to breathe, or even care to. It felt so good, as if the heavens were shifting to welcome this new revelation. She belonged to him and everything she was, she offered to him.
Slowly, he pumped into her, waves of sensations washing through her body with each thrust. The pleasure had her captured. He was inside her—small, gentle pumps into her. All she could do was clasp onto his shoulders and face the headiness of the feelings he rendered.
Shifting, he rolled her underneath him, and her other leg was free to wrap around him, cradle him completely as he now thrust into her with strong, firm strokes. Breathy groans escaped him and she could see his eyes glassy with pleasure. His forearms held her to him as he ground into her.
The sensation in her only multiplied, building so strong she didn't know what to do with herself. It bordered on painful, but she couldn't stop, refused to stop. Long strokes of deliciousness made her body tense, her core pulse around him, seeking to keep him when he pulled away from her. But she was rewarded with the firm stroke in, angling her hips to meet him. It felt so wonderful, natural, a balance on the very edge of this heavenly state and something beyond. His deep strok
es inside her drove her on, refused to stay in this wonderful state, pushing her until her body drew together around him inside her and jubilantly exploded. Sharp surges of sheer exquisiteness washed over her relentlessly. Strong pulses rocked her body, making her arch to bring him deeper as if taking him to the deepest part of her.
The sharpness of this culmination sated and she felt him stroking into her more strongly, causing delicious, heavy sensations, his entire body tense with intent need. But as it built, he did the opposite, pulling away from her, pulling out of her. With guttural groans, he shuddered repeatedly.
No, it was wrong. It belonged to her; he belonged to her, but he pulled away when their communion was cresting. It felt devastating, as if he was rejecting her in a very fundamental way.
As she blinked back tears, reason returned and she realized he was preventing himself from spilling his seed in her. He was doing the right thing, even as it felt so very wrong.
Spent, he lay on her, his body heavy, pressing her into the ground. She was certainly not cold now; heat was radiating out of her.
His lips joined hers and they kissed—deep, sated kisses. In a way, she was sorry it was over. It had been so far beyond the time she had experienced with that other man, the Spanish captain. As a lover, he was poor in comparison. It wasn't even on the same scale. This, what she'd just done, bordered on celestial. She hadn't known the joining of a man and woman could be like that, could feel climactic.
Chapter 23
Joshua awoke with a girl lying next to him, her body warm and pressed along his flank. Her hand was gently resting on his stomach. Memories flashed into his mind. He'd been intimate with her. He hadn't intended it, but it had happened, in the darkness and in his exhaustion, it had been too tempting to quell—the need so urgent, he’d been captured and driven by it. Her desire had called to the need in him.
He shouldn't have done it; he should not have touched her, gone anywhere near her, but in the dark, and this wild weather, she'd been absolutely compelling. Doing so had been utterly idiotic. She was the daughter of the vice-admiral—not someone you dallied with.
At least he hadn't spent himself in her, that was a small bit of sanity to avoid a disastrous outcome. What kind of man would he be if he returned her to her family with a child in her belly? He was not worthy of her; he never would be. Dabbling with her had been selfish—extremely so.
Discomfort made him itch to do something useful, as if to make up for this extreme lack of judgment. He shifted away from her. In her sleep, she didn't notice, her arm gently sliding across his stomach and down his side as he shifted away. He felt the loss of warmth immediately, but that was not warmth and comfort he deserved in light of his utter lack of fortitude the previous night.
It was just before dawn and he could see the palest light cresting on the horizon. With a deep sigh, he stood up and surveyed their surroundings. There was nothing in sight other than marshy grasslands, but at least the storm had blown itself out. There was an eerie calmness as the birds and other animals had yet to return, still slumbering in whatever hiding place they had retreated to—just like them.
She would grow cold quickly without him so it was best to wake her. Walking over to the bush where his clothes were, he felt his breeches and noticed they were only damp now. Activity would dispel the dampness quickly enough.
In only her chemise, she wouldn't warm sufficiently, so she would have to wear his coat as they went about sorting themselves. They had much to do. The needed water and food, and they needed to devise a plan for rescue.
Returning to the little shelter after pulling his breeches on, he crouched down beside her and said gently, "Dawn is here and we must rise."
She moaned quietly and shifted, her arms wrapping around her. She was growing colder. "I have your chemise here. You need to put it on."
Slowly her eyes opened and she looked around as if she wasn't sure where she was. Perhaps she would be more content in her dreams than in their current reality, but they couldn't sleep anymore.
Saying something unintelligible, she stroked her hand along her face, trying to gather her wits and dispel sleep.
He held the chemise to her. It was almost dry, and would dry soon enough as she wore it. "Take my coat. It will keep you warm."
Her eyes considered him for a moment, perhaps unaware of her nakedness. A wave of guilt washed through him at the things he'd done. He should never have touched her; it wasn't his right. The images of the coupling returned to his mind and he inhaled with the shock of disappointment in himself, sending a queasy wave of guilt through his body.
Shifting out of the shelter, she sat up and took the chemise, pulling it over her head. Her lovely breasts bounced delightfully as she moved and Joshua felt another dark wave of guilt.
As she rose, he handed her his coat. It looked large on her, the sleeves had to be folded back to clear her hands. She smiled at him—a perfect smile he would probably remember for a long time. A lover's smile, sharing secret knowledge.
"The sky's clear," she said. "We might have a sunny day after the madness of yesterday." Yes, madness was a good term for it. Could he dismiss the whole thing as a response to madness? Her face grew more serious. "No one else survived?”
"I haven't seen anyone else, but we will go down to the shore and search."
"What are we going to do?" she asked. Turning around, he searched the horizon, trying to see something he'd missed, but there was nothing but wilderness.
Joshua had a rough idea where they were, and there was nothing around for miles on end. "I think we must return to the beach. Our best chance is one of the ships that pass outside here. They sail close enough that they should see a fire." He had to gather enough material to light. Smoke would rise high into the sky and any nearby ship would see it. Hopefully, someone would be curious and look out for them. If they came across any of the debris from the ship, they would definitely understand what a rising fire meant.
He started walking back to the beach, turning to see that she was following him. She walked, her arms in his oversized coat wrapped around her as she stepped through the grass and along the uneven earth. She looked wild and beautiful, her hair a wild mess, her cheeks rosy with health and warmth. For a moment, he lost track of what he was doing before darkly turning his gaze back in front of him. He needed to quell that reaction—it would never lead anywhere.
Debris was littered across the dark gray pebble beach—broken pieces of wood, a whole barrel and other things he couldn't readily identify. He saw no bodies, nor any survivors. It wasn't unusual; shipwrecks were devastating, and they had been lucky to survive.
"I wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for you," she said, her eyes surveying the scene, working themselves toward him.
He didn't know what to say, so he ignored the statement and right now he did not want to drown in her eyes, receive her gratitude. He held too much guilt for the things they’d done in the darkness last night. "I must search for survivors," he said brusquely, stepping away from her. "Stay here," he ordered.
He could never let that happen again. If he could not keep her safe, at least from himself, he didn't deserve this redemption. What kind of man would risk a girl's prospects and future with such selfish desires? She deserved much better than that—and she deserved much better than him. There was no use even considering thoughts in that direction as her father would never see him as a suitable suitor for her—even if he managed to garner the girl's affection. She was meant for greater things than him.
The vegetation around was still too wet to burn, but the breeze would soon dry the most exposed areas. Until then, they had to wait while the wind did its job to dry the land after its soaking.
He searched the beach up and down from where the ship had sunk, but found no one. Currents could carry bodies and survivors far, but he couldn't leave Sarah too far behind to search. What he could do was find some water to drink while returning to her. There were several pools from the rains and he fashioned a m
ake-do cup out of sticks and leaves, carrying it back to her.
*
It took a few hours for the vegetation to dry enough to light. Luckily, he had his knife and used it to create sparks off of a rock, enough to light some kindling. The moisture made seagrass smoky and that helped them, sending a column of smoke high up in the air. If any ships were nearby, they would see it. Every seafarer dreaded coming across a shipwreck as all could so easily meet the same fate, and would do their best to ascertain if there were survivors. Joshua was depending on this, seeing it as their only means of survival.
Searching the horizon, he eventually saw the dark shape of a ship, rekindling the fire to draw their attention. It would take time for them to come near enough and all they could do was wait.
They'd had nothing to eat all day and his stomach was rumbling. There was nothing for it now. If this ship passed without noticing, he would have to try to address it, wade into the water and find something along the bottom, whether sea creatures or some spilled cargo from the ship's galley.
*
As the ship drew nearer, he scrambled up on the tallest rocks and waved a piece of material he'd found along the beach as high as he could, ignoring the tiredness growing in his arms. They had to get the attention of the ship as another night would be hard on them. But his luck held and the ship seemed to be drifting closer to shore, seeking to investigate. They were rescued. He'd never doubted they would be, eventually, but he hadn't known how long it would take.
"They're coming," she yelled excitedly, standing on the beach and waving. "They’re coming to save us."
He returned to the beach to where she was and waited for the dinghy to draw closer. From what he could see, there were four men in the small boat. They feared risking the ship, so it would take them a while to row ashore.
Pirate's Redemption Page 13
