My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  Alarmed for him, Kate watched with bated breath as he finally climbed down.

  “Whatever are you doing, risking your life like that?” she demanded when he reached her. “Cannot your crew see to the rigging?”

  With a wave of his hand, he brushed off her concern. “I like to keep busy. You look pale,” Deverill remarked, scanning her face.

  Remembering her own difficulties, Kate forced a smile. “I will be very glad when we reach land.”

  “Only one more night, although I suspect we may be in for some rough water before then.”

  When he pointed to the gray clouds on the horizon, Kate felt her stomach tighten.

  She forced herself to concentrate on the present moment, asking Deverill about his ships, his life at sea, and the network of commerce his family’s company had built to export and import goods between America and Europe. But all the while she remained on edge.

  Fortunately, that bout of foul weather chiefly bypassed them and the seas grew calmer. Late in the day, however, she could see another storm approaching. The skies grew dark again, while lightning flickered in the distance.

  When a gusting wind spawned swelling waves flecked with whitecaps, her aunt and uncle retired to the comfort of their cabin. Soon the thunderheads grew more ominous and the increasingly choppy motion of the schooner made balance difficult.

  With a strong wind whipping through the rigging, Captain Halsey sent sailors aloft to “reef the main topsail,” Deverill explained. “Likely it is merely a squall, but to be safe, Halsey will trim the sails even farther, leaving only enough to steer the ship.”

  An hour later a pelting rain began. Deverill ordered Kate below and would brook no argument. “It isn’t safe for you here,” he added emphatically.

  She had to agree. Despite clinging to the rail, she was already in danger of losing her footing on the pitching deck. Yet she went reluctantly, not wanting to stay below where she would be trapped if the ship capsized.

  Kate negotiated the hatch and ladder, then staggered and groped her way along the dim companionway. She stopped at the first door to check on her aunt, and discovered that Rachel had been so miserable with nausea, Cornelius had given her a dose of laudanum to make her sleep.

  Kate hated being alone just now, yet there was little room for her there, so she went to her own cabin. After carefully lighting a storm lantern and turning down the flame, she sat huddled on her bunk, striving to tamp down her fears. She was even more worried about Deverill and the crew, exposed as they were to the raw elements above.

  Shortly the storm struck in its full fury. High waves battered the wooden hull of the ship, the thuds accompanied by creaks and groans of the schooner from the buffeting wind. Alarmed, Kate fought to maintain her courage while being bombarded with images from her worst nightmares.

  Just then she heard a faint knock on the door. When it swung open, Deverill stood there wearing an oilskin, his face and hair streaming wet. The relief she felt at knowing he was safe was indescribable.

  “I brought you a cold supper,” he said quickly, crossing the short space to her. “Bread and cheese and meats. We can’t risk a coal fire in the galley stove.”

  “Thank you,” Kate replied, accepting the knapsack from him, even though she had no appetite. “Won’t you stay and take supper with me?”

  “I must get back. The crew is struggling, and Halsey needs all hands on deck managing the sails and bailing water.”

  “Please…take care.”

  Deverill flashed her a grin. “I will. I promised I would escort you to France, and I always honor my promises.”

  Just then the schooner gave another eerie groan. When Kate flinched, he hastened to reassure her. “Those are only normal ship noises in a storm.”

  Kate nodded but shivered. Before she could say another word, Deverill bent down and pressed a light kiss on the top of her head.

  He must have noted her damp hair and cloak, for he stood back and frowned at her. “Change out of those wet clothes at once before you catch a chill,” he directed, then left as quickly as he’d come, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  Kate complied with difficulty, bracing herself against the pitches and yaws of the ship as she shed her cloak and gown and corset and donned a serviceable gown of brown kerseymere, then pulled the pins from her hair and combed the damp, unruly mass with her fingers.

  Still shivering in the chill air of the cabin, she settled back in the bunk and wrapped her arms around her knees, striving to maintain a semblance of composure. She had wanted to throw her arms around Deverill and keep him safe and have him keep her safe, but she’d had to let him go while she stayed behind to battle her waking nightmares alone.

  —

  When he returned to her cabin two hours later, Brandon found Kate much as he expected, shivering and wan and utterly unlike her usual vibrant self.

  After stripping off his soggy oilskin and coat and boots, he sat beside her on the bunk, his back against the bulkhead, and gathered her close.

  Weakly, Kate pressed her face into his shoulder, a docile response that had him worried.

  “The worst is over,” he assured her.

  “How…do you know?” she asked in a small, hoarse voice.

  “Years of experience.”

  The ship was steadier now. The howling wind had lessened, as had the lashing torrents from the night skies, although the rain kept up a steady, drumming beat.

  Kate seemed oblivious to the improvement, however. “Please, stay with me. I can’t bear to be alone any longer.”

  The tremor in her voice stabbed at his heart. “I will,” he said gently. Now was not the time for teasing. She was chilled through and through. Indeed, she was shaking.

  Shifting their positions, he stretched out on the narrow bunk, then pulled her close and wrapped himself around her. For a while he held her. Just held her…pressing his body against hers to warm her flesh. Yet he was keenly aware of how powerfully she affected him, how hard and aching his loins were.

  This wasn’t the moment to feel such stark lust, Brandon warned himself. He should merely want to take care of Kate, to comfort her.

  When she stirred against him, he drew back to survey her. Her complexion still looked very pale, but the deep auburn of her hair shone like fire in the glow of the lantern. She was so damned beautiful with the curling tresses spilling around her shoulders.

  She raised her face to his. “Deverill…kiss me…please.”

  Brandon froze. He badly wanted to comply, but he’d vowed he wouldn’t succumb to his intense desire for her. Comfort, he repeated. You are only here to comfort and warm her.

  Kate had other intentions, apparently. “Won’t you even kiss me?”

  One kiss couldn’t hurt, could it?

  Reluctantly he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, warming her cold lips, brushing the pliant surface. Kate responded with a fierceness that took him aback. Her kiss was urgent, almost desperate.

  Breaking off, he rested his forehead against hers. “Sweetheart, we need to stop now or in another moment I won’t let you go.”

  “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to die a virgin.”

  Her leap in logic surprised him. “You aren’t going to die at all.”

  “I might. Fate is so uncertain.”

  Pulling away, Kate stared back at him earnestly, her green eyes haunted. “Please…make love to me. Please.”

  Brandon remained silent, yet he knew she could see the battle waging inside him. Outside the cabin, the rush of wind and rain continued, rolling the schooner like so much flotsam.

  Kate clearly couldn’t conquer her trepidation. “I despise being afraid,” she said, her voice a plea. “Make me forget my fear, Deverill.”

  Something in his chest tightened. “Kate…” he warned, although without as much conviction as he should have. “We should be married before I bed you.”

  “I don’t care. I want you. I need you.”

  He suspected that
offering herself to him—acting before thinking—was her way of taking control of her life, her fear.

  He could certainly understand her need to seize the initiative. He lay there fighting himself, struggling with his conscience, trying to summon his better instincts, just as he had six years ago. That time, he had taken the honorable course and rejected Kate’s virginal advances. And yet, an insistent voice argued, honor wasn’t the issue this time since he planned on wedding her regardless.

  When she raised one arm to encircle his neck and sought to kiss him again, he tried to hold her away but realized he had made a decision. He would stake his claim on her in the most irrevocable way possible, and after becoming her lover, there would be no going back.

  “Easy, love…” he murmured, feeling the hungry press of her lips against his jaw. “We need to go slowly your first time.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Undress, to begin with. We have on too many clothes.”

  Untangling himself, he rose from the bunk and helped her up, then drew back the sheet and blankets that covered the bunk.

  Kate had started to remove her gown, but when he made to assist her, she allowed him to undress her, remaining mute during his ministrations. He could have hurried, but instead Brandon drew out the moment, trailing light kisses over all the alluring places he uncovered…the column of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, her upper arm.

  Her corset came next, so that she was left standing in her chemise. Holding her gaze, Brandon reached up to cup her breasts, feeling their fullness beneath the cambric. When he stroked his thumbs gently over her pebbled nipples, Kate inhaled a shallow breath and shut her eyes briefly in surrender.

  He knelt at her feet then, to remove her slippers and stockings, and finally rose to pull her chemise over her head.

  Kate remained totally still as he took her in. The sight of her nude body, so pale and beautiful, brought all his vivid dreams to life, yet Brandon determinedly banished them from his mind. This time was about Kate. Her awakening. Her pleasure. Her desire.

  Stepping closer, he bent his head to taste her lips and lingered there to savor her before teasing a delicate path across her cheek and lower, beneath her ear. When he pressed his lips into the soft skin, she gave a sigh but shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he murmured.

  “No…you make me hot….”

  Just that simple admission set his blood on fire.

  Brandon drew back to study her. “Are you still certain?”

  “Yes. I have never been more certain of anything.” Her voice was firmer, her gaze entirely steady. “I want you, Deverill….Please.”

  In response, he led her to the bunk and pressed her down. Reclining there on the mattress, she watched wide-eyed as he hastily shed his own garments.

  In short order he stood before her, his aching member pulsing and erect. Barely holding his savage need in check, Brandon stared down at her nude form, taking in her ripe breasts, slender waist, gently flaring hips, and long, shapely legs. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe her. The potent sensuality of her body called to everything male in him.

  He had left her medallion around her throat, and the delicate gold disk reminded him of his task. The time had come for him to claim her. More crucially, he would make her forget her nightmares and replace the dark images with pure pleasure. Despite her professed certainty, she seemed especially vulnerable just now, even beyond her instinctive reaction to the storm. Brandon sat beside her on the bunk, determined to reassure her.

  “I have pictured this. You wearing nothing, your glorious hair down, spilling around your incredibly lovely body.”

  As he spoke, his fingers began making a slow, circular motion around the tip of her breast. The mere contact made Kate shiver, yet this time he knew it was from heat, not cold.

  Leaving her breast, he slowly swept his hand down her length, drifting over her silken skin to her flat belly, pausing at the juncture of her thighs. When she stiffened instinctively, he returned a soothing murmur.

  “Let me touch you, sweetheart. I need to make your body ready to receive me. Arousal will make it easier for you to take me inside you.”

  She bit her lower lip but nodded trustingly.

  Probing, Brandon found the small kernel of her sex already slick with moisture. The discovery sent a surge of fire rocketing through him.

  Heaven help him, he wanted her. Her body made him burn from the inside out. But he forced himself to remain tender as he stroked and caressed her.

  Eventually her eyes grew hazed. Bending, he covered her lush mouth with his own. As her tongue met his, he felt an emotion akin to triumph. It was beguiling, the ardor in her kiss, the excitement, the tender searching.

  He tangled his fingers in the rich fullness of her hair and drank of her sweetness, showing her how to respond, to give, to take. She was making small sounds of pleasure by the time he moved between her thighs.

  When she tensed automatically, he spoke softly. “Try to relax, love.”

  She nodded, gazing up at him, still trusting.

  Bracing his weight on his arms, he slowly, slowly entered her. He felt her wince when her fragile barrier rent, but Kate made no sound beyond a faint gasp. Brandon held himself still, letting her grow accustomed to his penetration while feeling the gentle kisses he was pressing over her face.

  Finally, he paused to brush back a tendril of hair from her cheek. “Better now?”

  “Yes.” She looked more at ease, as if her discomfort was fading. After another long moment, she even stirred her hips tentatively, testing.

  He feathered another kiss at the corner of her mouth as he fought the urge to drive himself into her more deeply. He heard her sigh as her eyes fluttered closed.

  Brandon tightened his embrace and intensified their kiss, claiming and wooing. All he could think about was burying himself inside her wet, tight heat, yet he commanded himself to go slowly, sinking farther with great care, until he was fully embedded inside her.

  He remained that way for a score of heartbeats. Then wanting her to respond with passion, he began to move, deliberately advancing the pace, coaxing her with his body and mouth and hands as well.

  She seemed to accept his increasing urgency, welcoming him. Moments later, Kate whimpered feverishly, her nails digging into his shoulders as she instinctively matched his rhythm, a sign of the hot longing he knew was clamoring inside her.

  When soon she bucked and writhed against him, Brandon clenched his teeth, striving for control, trying desperately to keep his savage need in check.

  When her release came suddenly, however, it was too much for him to fight. A great shudder moved through his frame as at last he let himself fill her with the hot desire that he’d felt for Kate since his very first moment of meeting her.

  It was quite some time before Brandon regained his senses. Breathing heavily, he tried to ease his weight off her, but Kate tightened her arms about his neck, as if never wanting to release him.

  He peered down at her, wondering what to expect. She was gazing back at him steadily.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice husky with passion.

  “Yes. That was…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “Magical.”

  “It was indeed.”

  The shy smile she gave him touched him even more than her praise of his lovemaking.

  Yes indeed, Brandon repeated to himself, shifting to one side and gathering her against him. When he pulled the covers up over them both, Kate gave a contented sigh and nuzzled her cheek in the curve of his shoulder and neck. They lay twined together, listening to the ebbing storm, their arms and legs braided.

  “Thank you,” she finally murmured.

  “For what?”

  “For making me forget my fear of sinking in the ship. I am not afraid anymore.”

  Brandon pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I should be shot for taking advantage of your panic.”

  “If I recall, I gave you little
choice.”

  “That is hardly an excuse for claiming your innocence.”

  Pulling away, she pushed herself up on one elbow. “You are not to blame. You said you would wait to make love until I invited you. Well, I invited you. And I don’t regret it for one moment.”

  Her eyes were bright, raw with feeling.

  A man could drown in the light in her eyes.

  Brandon raised his hands to cup her face, drinking in her beauty. Her hair was rich and unruly, her skin like gleaming ivory, her lips damp and passion-bruised.

  Pushing his hand gently through the fiery cloud of her hair, he brushed some errant curls back from her face with his thumbs and drew her down to him. His lips found hers tenderly before he settled her beside him once more.

  As Kate lay curled against him, he let himself relax into her warmth. The urgency in his body, the hard ache in his loins, had subsided, yet he didn’t want to let her go. On the contrary, he wanted to remain just like this for hours, nestled with her, luxuriating in her warmth, her scent, her special glow.

  Absently he stroked her bare arm beneath the covers, his thoughts drifting. He had taken Kate as if he had the right. And as far as he was concerned, he did have the right. She was his wife-to-be.

  His wife. The title gave him an extraordinary feeling of satisfaction. He’d had other lovers, but this time was somehow different. And more dangerous. The rigid control he’d kept over his emotions had fallen away.

  A remarkable change in so short a span—although perhaps it was not so short after all. This moment had been seven years coming, since his first glimpse of her.

  In truth, he was more shaken than he cared to admit. Their lovemaking had been unique in his experience. He’d felt joined to Kate, as if she were a part of him. Complete.

  Again that particular word came to mind, along with “possessiveness.” And his powerful feeling of possessiveness had been accentuated by a burgeoning well of tenderness, a sweet ache coming from deep inside him.

  More profoundly, he had the sense that everything had changed. There was no longer any question in his mind. Kate would wed him now, regardless of her fanciful notions about love, Brandon vowed. He would make certain of it.