But the idea had always been to eventually return home. He had, after all, intended to marry someday, pursue a more settled life, perhaps as part of the admiralty. But he'd never gotten to the point where he'd seriously considered it—before it had been too late and that fate had been barred from him.
"Cornwall is lovely," a Mrs. Tieges said, a widow traveling home after visiting a married daughter. "My husband and I toured there once."
"That it is," the captain said, pride shining out of his eyes. "Nothing beats the sights of home, does it?"
Joshua sought out Sarah's eyes. He knew she was a little more reticent to embrace the comforts of home compared to the others sitting around the table, concerned about her fit back into her old life, into her old duties. Her marriage wouldn’t be far in coming once she was back with her family. Her capture would always be a potential blight on her character. Continued display of good character and good judgment would soon lay such fears to rest, but he wasn't sure the stain would ever truly be forgotten. He hoped so, for her sake. Then again, once settled with husband and children, such things might just fade away in importance.
Chapter 26
Sarah couldn't help her eyes settling on Joshua, taking in his strong jaw, the curl of hair that brushed against his neck. Her eyes simply seemed to naturally draw there and settle on his countenance, especially when speaking to the captain. Every once in a while, he would catch her. In a sense, she didn't want to look away, wanted to linger in that moment when their eyes met, but she couldn't entirely bring herself to do that.
Energy was building in her body, making her skin itch underneath the gown she now wore. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt overheated. "I might take a quick stroll on deck," she said as the supper wound down. She needed to release this warmth in her body and the compressed energy she felt from sitting all evening.
"I will accompany you," Joshua said, rising as she did. Duty made him see to her, and she wasn't sorry, instead happy to spend some time with just him. He left her by herself most of the time now. She hardly got to speak to him.
They said their goodbyes to the gathered company and walked out on deck. The air was brisk, playing with Sarah's skirt. For now, she felt free from the staid etiquette required from her during the supper, and he was with her. No one could see them in the darkness of the deck. There was a lantern swinging off a hook on one of the masts, but its light didn't carry far.
Fresh air stole into her lungs and she breathed deeply, feeling her tension lift away. Her cabin, although lovely, had a slightly musty smell as if the mattress needed changing.
"It was a lovely supper," she said. "The captain likes to take care of his passengers."
"Yes," he agreed. "He is an agreeable man."
"Perhaps you need to study and emulate him."
"How so?" he said, stopping to turn to her.
"You are many things, but I would hardly say agreeable." She had said it in jest, but there was more than a grain of truth to the statement. He took the statement more seriously than she expected.
"I have perhaps lost some of the social niceties."
"Did you ever have them?" she said.
"You are teasing me?" he said as if realizing. Sometimes he took things much too seriously. Sarah understood he was concerned about fitting into English society again.
"Your behavior will be less judged than mine," she finally said. "They will be forgiving. Well, then again, perhaps not."
"How so?"
"There are obviously some areas where your manner is a bit gruff. Also areas where the ladies would be downright scandalized. I can well imagine the fine ladies of English society quivering at the sight of the notorious pirate Joshua Havencourt entering a drawing room. Although I supposed some of them will be reduced to fits of giggles," she said disapprovingly, knowing there was a part of her that sought to react exactly that way. “Gentlemen will hide their women away, fearing you will steal them away. You do, after all, have some experience with that. So yes, for example, you may not hoist young girls over your shoulder and carry them off with you. Strictly frowned upon."
He gave her a look to say he was less than impressed with the supposition.
"You may not chase them around rooms as they are trying to escape you."
"Really? Even if it's for their own good?"
"You don't necessarily know what's best in every situation," she challenged.
"In some situations, when a young, wide-eyed girl—"
"Wide-eyed?" Sarah said, offended.
"Is inviting dangers she obviously doesn't see coming."
"Or perhaps someone sees danger around every corner. No, I change my mind. You would make an excellent nursemaid. I can imagine you chiding children for climbing trees and swimming in ponds."
"You will not trust me with the women, but you would trust me with children. I wonder what opinion you have of me, Miss Lancaster."
Turning to him, she saw a note of seriousness in his eyes. He was concerned about fitting in when he returned. Now she felt bad. She had only wanted to tease him, but this banter was hitting a little close to home for him. "No, you will be fine. While perhaps brusque, you are certainly staid enough in your opinions. I can see why piracy did not suit you."
"I made an excellent pirate, I'll have you know. I won't have you challenging my pirating skills." It was his turn to tease now.
"Well, you certainly defeated me. Then again, as you pointed out, I am hardly stiff competition."
"Yes, it was like stealing candy from a babe."
"Oh really?" She wasn't entirely sure how to take that. He was basically insulting her ability to evade him. Granted, he had caught and subdued her with ridiculous ease. It was hard to argue that. "Except you could never bring yourself to steal candy from a babe."
"No, that would be reprehensible, except if that candy were up a tree, where I would be forced to step in due to my clear nursemaiding tendencies."
"You're impossible," she said, leaning over the railing at the side of the ship. The moon sat in the distance, a perfectly round orb hanging in the sky. The water glittered around it as if the gentle waves were worshiping it. She liked bantering with him, liked teasing him and he gave as good as he got. But yes, he had some rough edges, but they would only serve the mystery he would present back in England. The girls would be beside themselves with this man coming into their midst. He had the perfect veneer of savagery while still being a perfect gentleman underneath. No, he would do well. Would likely find a bride who utterly adored him.
A flare of jealousy boiled up in her stomach, because she knew things would not be the same for her. But she cared enough about him to be glad that she could enable him this bright future, filled with the life he ached for. The fact that it came with a cost for herself she didn't really want to face, because had this sojourn ever really been realistic? No, it hadn't. She was returning to the life she was meant for; she was just happy returning to it let him achieve his dreams.
"It's a beautiful night," she said. "A night of mysteries and veils."
"Fanciful notions," he snorted, making her smile.
"You don't need to watch me every moment. There is nowhere for me to go. I am hardly going to jump ship."
"What if a mysterious swell comes and knocks you over the side. It can happen."
"Now who is being fanciful? The water is gentle this evening. Only an act of God would bring such a swell tonight. And in that case, who can argue with God?"
"Still, act of God or not, or Calypso, I wouldn't feel right unless I know you are safe, even if on the surface, it appears that I am indeed the most significant danger facing you—with the constant chasing and hoisting." He was returning them to the lighter banter of before, but it didn't entirely take, because there were currents too strong for light banter—an attraction they'd both had succumbed to, and that was true danger if she ever knew it. Still, she didn't regret it for a moment.
Heated imaginings returned to her mind, of them lying nak
ed in her cabin, urgently entwined in each other's bodies, him buried deep inside her, with long, languid kisses. The butterflies flared so savagely in her stomach, she almost lost her balance. Again, a sharp spear of jealousy shot through her. That was how a marriage could be and she would never have that. Heavy grief followed, for the loss of such a precious dream.
"Are you ready to return?" he asked.
She wanted to cry; her emotions were running away with her. "Yes," she said breathily and then filled her lungs to calm herself.
His hand at the small of her back intended to lead her, but the touch felt like something much more profound. The warmth of his palm seeped through the silk of her gown. If it was imaginary or real, she didn't know. All she knew was that she wanted him—profoundly. She couldn't make herself move.
"Don't look at me like that," he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
"Like what?"
"Like you shouldn't."
Things had shifted. Her mind felt as if it was submerged in heavy molasses. The images in her mind refused to shake and the touch of his hand at her back radiated through her body. Not entirely consciously, she stepped toward him, the tip of her breast coming in contact with his chest.
He wasn't looking at her, his eyes off in the distance while his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "It isn't right."
At that point, she didn't give two hoots what was right. All she knew was the heavy desire that weighed her down, rooted her to the deck beneath her. Her hand reached out for his waist, aching to touch, to feel his solidness under her fingers. She needed a kiss and stretched herself up to his lips. They were uncompromising as if he'd turned to stone. She didn't care; she needed to kiss.
With the wince of a cornered animal, he turned his head away from her, but he didn't move away. Her lips stroked down the column of his strong neck, the scent of him intoxicating every part of her mind. Heat burned so fiercely in her she thought it would consume her.
And then he relented, his lips seeking hers in a bruising kiss, his arms squeezing her to him. Her breasts pressed to him and she felt her heart pound inside her chest. His tongue stroked against hers and she never wanted these kisses to end.
As he shifted her, she felt a mast against her back. Fierce kisses still claimed her mouth. No, there was nothing halfhearted about him when he took. His hands were on her hips, pressing her to him, but then he wrenched himself from her, kisses trailing down her décolletage.
There wasn't enough air in the world—breath rushed in and out of her lungs. Pulling the neckline of the gown down, a pert nipple presented itself to him and with a heated mouth, he claimed it. Her knees were about to give way as the delicious sensations of his tongue teased her nipple, radiating through her body. His hand had bundled her dress up and was running up her thigh, fingers meeting the moist heat welcoming him.
He pressed on the little pearl at her entrance and her senses swam around her. She couldn't breathe at all. Waves of melted pleasure surged through her. His mouth left a wet nipple now caressed by the cold wind and he crouched down, replacing the glorious fingers with his tongue. Her thigh now over his shoulder, he teased her until her knees gave. Loud moans escaped her and she tried to muffle them, but the pleasure he was wreaking in her stole her very consciousness.
Relentless licks and tugs had her core clenching and when his fingers pressed inside her, a riot of sensation unleashed in her body. Clever fingers pulsed in and out of her as his tongue continued its assault. Her body drew together, the tension soaring so high she thought she would perish. On bated breath, exquisiteness surged through her, waves of pure pleasure relentlessly washing over her.
A semblance of order returned, but she still wasn't sure her knees would take her weight. Her body felt heavy and languid, the tension exorcised from her, but as wonderful as he had made her feel, there was still a sense of satisfaction missing. It hadn't been there in entirety the first time they'd been intimate either. The fact that he held himself back from her felt as if something was missing. He'd held back even more this time, but she understood his caution. They weren't, after all, supposed to be doing this. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. They would be secret memories she would keep in her heart for the rest of her life.
"Now I truly am wide-eyed," she said, amazed at the pleasure he had rendered in her. She’d been putty in his hand and had been richly rewarded for it. "I wasn't aware such pleasures could be had." How gifted he was, she wondered, but then considering his close friendship with Madame Guerier, with her undeniable sensuality, it was perhaps not surprising he was uniquely skilled in bringing pleasure to women. A new sense of jealously tried to assault her at the fortune his bride would be gifted with, but both her body and mind felt too languid to let the jealousy thoroughly establish itself.
"We must get you back to your cabin to rest now," he said, a shaky quality to his voice. She could only really nod, sorry that they wouldn't spend any more time together that night, but then again, she felt too spent to really realize any of these emotions just at the moment.
Chapter 27
It was early in the morning as they sailed quietly toward the Southampton port. The waters got busier as they sailed closer, ships constantly on the horizon. They sailed past the unmistakable white cliffs that had always signified a homecoming. In the distance, the port looked hazy, the sea gray and cold. Icy winds prickled Joshua’s cheeks, but he couldn't be happier. For a long time, he wasn't sure he'd ever see this sight in front of him. The English coastline had been beautiful from the moment dawn had crested and he'd eagerly awaited it.
Excitement buzzed deep inside him. He was home and today he would return the troublesome and utterly delectable Miss Lancaster to her father. A deep flare of injustice made his calm waiver, but he knew it was his irrational mind making itself heard. She did not belong to him and never would. But there was an aberrant part of him that couldn't be convinced.
This journey had been hell on him. He'd been tugging himself what felt like every spare moment, trying to relieve the burning desire in his body, the heat she generated in him. He'd also been trying to put distance between them after he'd succumbed to pleasuring her on the deck. It had been a significant risk, one that couldn't be repeated. While they had been hidden in the dark, it had only been luck that had kept them from being stumbled across by another passenger or one of the crew. Her reputation would be in tatters if they had been observed by anyone. As much as he ached to give her the pleasure she so eagerly welcomed, the risk was too high.
Closing his eyes, he let the ghost of her linger in his mind. She was such a creature of passion. Her blood ran warm and she gave without caution. Her fondness for him was not in doubt; he felt her regard and her generosity toward him. It, at times, made his heart ache.
But now it was time to lay this to the side. Business had to be done. She had to be returned to safety—and she wasn't really all that safe in his hands. And he would receive his pardon and would be free to make his way north, for a much-belated homecoming.
It was time to put sentimentality aside and see to what had to be done. Handing over Miss Lancaster had to be done.
*
A number of coaches and carriages waited for passengers and it didn't take long to find one that would take them all the way to Portsmouth. By early evening, they would be there.
Sarah was solemn as they set out, driving past the ancient walls of the town. The rhythm of the team of horses was interrupted by the chaos of the town. People milled everywhere and it was slow going getting to the road east. Southampton was one of the liveliest towns he knew, along with Liverpool, but it had a certain madness you had to crave to truly appreciate. Portsmouth was a little more ordered, more controlled. The navy would not allow the chaos that ruled Southampton.
"Are you hungry?" he asked Sarah, who was sitting next to him.
"Not yet," she said, her gaze not turning to him. What was going through her mind, he wanted to know. He had no right to ask for her
private confidences, but he wanted to know what she was thinking. Had she grown to despise him for the things he'd done? She would probably grow to. She might even grow to view him as taking advantage of her young, innocent curiosity. Feeling uncomfortable, he winced; he didn't want her to view him that way.
Once they finally left the chaos of Southampton behind, the day had brightened and they emerged into lovely scenes of the countryside. This area of England had a different scent from home. The sea air lent a freshness over the gentle hills of deep green. They passed over languid rivers and acres with grazing sheep.
Before long, he would likely have his own farm, he considered. A twinge of worry twisted his heart. What if he couldn't tolerate the slow life of the country? He had, after all, only been too keen to leave it behind as a youth, when he'd headed out to a life at sea without ever looking back. No, he decided, a slow life was just what he wanted. He would grow used to the pace.
Sarah had fallen asleep next to him, her head gently resting on his shoulder. Even asleep, she looked tired and a little drawn. Perhaps she had not slept well. There was a good chance she was still worried about her reception. He was less so. If she wasn't received, he would simply take her with him, and as a prospect, it didn't worry him one bit.
Someday, he would be sitting like this with his wife. The problem was, it was Sarah he saw in his mind's eye. For all her innocent enthusiasm, which had a tendency to lead her into trouble she didn't foresee, she was a sweet girl, and passionate enough to make his very soul quiver. No, he wouldn't mind at all.
With everything in him, he stopped himself from turning and kissing the top of her head. It was an instinct he shouldn't have, an instinct that would be mute in a matter of hours. Come nighttime, he would be alone.
*
Portsmouth was a wealthy town. The facades of the buildings also showed the influences of the places this port connected to; he saw the influence of the Dutch and the Danish, even the brighter colors of warmer climes. The navy had built extensively since he'd been gone. New docks had been built and the town's fortifications expanded.
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