He settled in, listening to the sound of the ocean that came through the open porthole. The gentle rocking of the boat eased his tired body and battered soul but the scent of the woman next to him invaded, calling forth urges he thought were dead, or at least hidden. It would be another night of fighting to control his desires. He could win, simply by getting out of the bed, but there was this warmth and need to be with her. He often argued with himself that he probably was the only one with the cravings. She had returned his kiss with ardor at that encounter but her memory still remained vacant. And when it came rushing back, did he want to know the woman he sought pleasure with was married to another man? He was many things—a pirate, a thief, a murderer without a doubt, but not an adulterer. His conscious threw the brakes on that.
Elle sighed softly and turned to face him. He held his breath, waiting for her to resume sleep. The moonlight bathed the room in a glow that he could see her clearly. He knew she often collapsed in one of his shirts but tonight, he saw bare neckline and shoulders. Through the sheet, he detected she had nothing on as she molded against him, the apex of her thighs at the bulge in his groin. Instantly, his mouth went dry and he froze. She snuggled against him. The brush against his cock nearly undid him. But she was asleep…wasn’t she?
“It’s about time you got to bed,” she whispered, her voice husky and dark.
“You should be asleep.”
“Yes, that is true, but I was waiting for you.” Gently, she reached over and kissed him on the lips. “You taste like rum.” She giggled.
The sound rippled through him. It was sensual and enticing. As if she was inviting him to make the next step. But what if he was wrong.
“You do not want this,” he replied, hoping he was mistaken.
She looked at him. Her eyes were dark. He was lost.
“Is that truly what you think?” She kissed him again. “We both have played this farce, that this was comfortable, but I know from part of you that it isn’t.”
She was right. “You know as well as I that there is more to this than simple pleasure. What if you’re a virgin? Or married? And I owe to Rachel…”
“This argument won’t work,” she murmured, moving to put her leg on his hip.
“Elle…”
Still near him, she reached down to the tail of his shirt and began to raise it. “While my memory fails to return, I feel fairly certain my virtue is no longer an issue. As to marriage, if I was so, wouldn’t that feeling return? Is he trying to find me but failed? Or he is the man I ran from.” He allowed her to pull the shirt up to his shoulders and he shrugged the garment off. She smiled. And with it gone, she flattened her hand on his chest and slowly traced over his muscles, vaguely aware her hand wandered lower.
“As to Rachel,” she continued. “No disrespect, but the woman is in heaven. Surely she would not want her husband to be alone.”
His heart thudded loudly, his blood racing through his veins. When her fingers began to work the bindings on his trousers, he could barely think. Memories of a wife long lost didn’t pop up, interfering this time. His cock was throbbing, painfully so.
Finally, he muttered, “You would be correct.” Then he hissed as she sank her hand into his pants and wrapped it around his hardened member.
In one swift move, he maneuvered the pants off and threw the sheet into the pile on the floor. He found his answer—she had nothing on. It had been way too long since he’d enjoyed the carnal pleasures of intimacy and he devoured the sight before him. Elle was beautiful. He’d known that from the start. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had glimpses of what appeal her body possessed. But to see it finally unveiled took his breath away. Her skin was ivory with her face, neck, arms, shins and feet sun-kissed. Tentatively, he touched her neckline and let his fingers slowly skim down her, stopping to cup a breast, which fit firmly in his palm. The nipple had pearled and begged him to kiss it. He obliged and scraped it with his teeth. She mewled as her hand slipped to his swollen member and she began to stroke him. Each move made him want to take her immediately, so he removed her hand, allowing him to move freely over her. She started to argue she wanted to continue pleasing him but he hushed her.
“We have all night,” he whispered huskily.
He traced over her flat belly, one that was taut, not like the ladies he had had pleasure to know before Rachel. No doubt some work on the ship, despite his telling her she didn’t have to, aided in this. His fingers feathered over her hip, round and enticing. But as he exploration turned inward, she gave a mini thrust to her hips.
“Ah, so you are eager to ride the waves,” he grinned. “We should stop this…”
She bit her bottom lip, letting it roll out of her teeth. He growled right has his reached for her mound. As he slipped his finger between the folds of her flesh, he found her wet and her lower lips swollen. Another finger slid into her soaking core, the reply was her fingers tightening around the hood to his cock, her thumb stroking over the slit in the head. A pearl drop of his seed answered her.
They were both panting. The temperature in the cabin had turned hotter. One thing was for sure. If she kept stroking his cock, he would explode, drenching them both. The next one nearly hit that point, enough that he pulled his own hand up to grab hers, shoving it and her other one above her head, pinning her to her back on the bed. In one quick move, he was between her thighs and drove his hardened member home, deep inside her. Her moan to him sliding in her slick sheath was the response he wanted.
United, they slowly began to move in the ancient art of love making. It was sensual, taking him to new heights. The pressure inside him built but he held back. She matched his thrust with her own, meeting him as he plunged harder inside her. What surprised him was she watched him, moaning, her facial features contorting as if she was close but not there yet. In that moment, he released her hands, grasped her rounded hips, and flipped them so she was on top of him. She laughed before a groan took over.
Their love dance picked up momentum. They played the game well and their thrusts multiplied, her sheath tightening every time he entered, coaxing him to release. Suddenly, she shattered, her body pulling him in deep and in seconds, his seed exploded into her as her core tightened hard around him.
Time suspended, both panting, both with an intent gaze on the other. Finally, she collapsed on top of him and he rolled to lay her next to him and he threw the sheet over them.
“Better?” He murmured into her ear.
He could see her grin as she settled back into his arms. “Of course.”
“Well, you were right. You were not a virgin.”
She turned toward him, puzzled. “And that annoyed you?”
“On the contrary, no.” He kissed her lightly. “Makes me hungry for you more.”
Frankly, he was surprised that he felt this good and not as if he betrayed Rachel. He paused, wondering. Was he over mourning her? He didn’t think so but with Elle here, perhaps he had.
* * *
Elle basked in the afterwards of making love to Trent. It was truly beautiful, breathtaking, even. He carried himself in a way that made her wonder if he truly wasn’t a lord in disguise. That made her giggle but she held it in, because that thought brought forth a myriad of images she couldn’t see clearly. One image was of a couple, her perhaps as one of them? The couple were wrapped in each other’s arms and appeared in love. The thought made her heart skip a beat, but her head? Despite her strongest effort to decipher the image, the door to her past remained closed.
She shut her eyes and tried to block the wave of emotions that washed over her. It didn’t make any sense. Love, honor, betrayal, freedom... While making love with him was everything she hoped for, there was an urgent sense of it being wrong. Good and bad all wrapped up in one. Her temple began to throb, like it used to. She hadn’t really noticed it had stopped plaguing her until now when it returned with a vengeful force. Confused, she gritted her teeth and made herself think of now and how the pirates on this ship w
ere uncomfortable without action, without a prize, and how they blamed her for that. To them, she cast a spell on their captain. The idea of burning at the stake as a witch—or being thrown overboard, drove her past the pain. Concentrating hard, she forced herself to return to what she needed to do to survive, and burying the thought that seduction to get him to move forward could be seen as magic. She swallowed.
He kissed her neck, goosebumps raced down her arms. How could she want him but not want him?
“Captain…”
“Perhaps you should call me Trent,” he nuzzle into her neck. “It seems appropriate, after all.”
“Of course. Trent.” She shivered as he returned to kissing her. Warmth built again inside her and she needed to stop it. She fidgeted in his arms, hoping to get his attention off her. “Please. There is something we need to discuss.”
He glanced up from laving kisses in the valley between her breasts. “My, that sounds severe, my dear.”
“It is.”
With a bit of a frown for having his meal interrupted, he pulled himself up beside her. “Continue.”
She swallowed. “I’ve been on this ship for several weeks.” At his nod, she went on. “The authorities would now register this boat as a pirate ship, would you not agree?” She didn’t pause long. “As so, that would make all aboard a pirate, including me.”
He frowned. “I don’t believe so.”
“Have I not been here during that raid? Did I not keep your goods from being re-stolen by those two vermin?” She watched the flicker in his eyes as he listened in silence. “And if this ship was caught by the Royal Navy, would I not also be prosecuted as a pirate?”
His furrowed brows tightened further. “I don’t necessarily agree that you are on the account. You’ve not signed on to the ship though, if the crew despised you and they wanted to truly rid themselves of you, they could implicate that you were part of them, yet they hold no animosity toward you. Though I can see where your views could be taken. What would you like done to correct this? I tried to return you to London, but if you recall, you adamantly convinced me not to.”
She gripped her hands, rustling her fingers and palms, searching for the words. “Then teach me to use a sword.”
“A sword?”
Finally, she gave him a genuine smile. The discussion was heading the way she wanted. “Well, I need to learn to defend myself...” she paused. “When the men make me take a step off the railing to the depths below.”
“What?”
“They blame me for you not looking for a prize. In fact, some believe I’ve cast a spell on you.” The thought still made ice freeze down her back.
He reached up and kissed her bare shoulder. “Never. They’d have to get through me.”
That made her feel better but, she needed him to go further. “That sounds wonderful,” she sighed. “But as a captain, you can’t be my personal guard.” She leaned back into him. “I still want to learn how to defend myself, especially when you find your next raid, which, I’m sure, will be very soon.” She turned and kissed his lips lightly.
“Teaching you to use a sword—”
“Is a necessity,” she completed. “Because I’ve heard grumblings below, of restlessness.” She stopped, hoping he’d read the need for another capture without actually saying it.
Trent sat upright and glanced out the portal. “Yes, I know the men are hungry. The passage is too dull for them.” He gave a slight smile. “And I admit, too much for me, as well.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn!”
“Is there nothing to amuse them?” Not that she thought attacking an innocent ship and its crew as an entertaining event but her own fear began to invade the edges of her thoughts. Vague images of the men who haunted her dreams, of the race to escape them, began to cloud her thoughts. Her heart took to beating faster. The notion to run wanted to take control but on a ship out in the middle of the ocean, where was she to run? She clenched her hands into the bed sheets.
He sighed. “It's settled. We’ll reach our destination within the next fortnight, if I’ve figured the time right. I know the shipping lanes. There will be treasures to pursue.”
Decision made, he leapt out of bed and with a determined force, to redress. She laid there, watching him. The man was sculpted like the statues of old, the ones of nude males she’d seen with muscles well-defined, moving fluidly. She couldn’t help but enjoy, her lips curling, ignoring the burning question in the back of her head as to where she’d seen such statues, for fear the answer might ruin her the pleasure she just enjoyed.
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Seventeen
Clash! The wood smashed flat.
“Again!”
Trent heard the pirate’s order and grinned as the wooden sticks slashed again. She wanted to learn. He tried really hard not to watch her, but that was impossible. Tory, the radical Frenchman they picked up in Brussels, the one who ignored his countrymen in the current battles for a sail to fortune, was a master swordsman and trained the men when times allowed, like long boating trips. For this, he was easy to convince to train her, but considering Trent knew Tory was an aggressive fighter, he demanded lessons start with wooden slats. Steel only to be used once she was ready. Well, once Trent believed she was steady enough, which might never happen…
“Ya teachin’ the girl how ta be a pirate?”
Trent snorted. Fitzgibbons was a nosey first mate. And his closest friend, as close as any pirate could be. The world of pirates did not equate to that of proper society, but then, when had he ever fit in to either? Even his short time in the navy questioned his tolerance of obeying rules… He focused on the maps below him, pulling his scope closer to scan to horizon.
“She wanted to learn and it was a wise suggestion. You know how raids can get out of hand.” He paused. “I would not let her be used as a tool against us nor injured in an attack.”
“O’ course.”
He glared at the man. “Do not push me.”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n.” Fitzgibbons stood quiet for a moment before he added, “But you thought her good enough to let her aboard that prize, true sword in hands?”
Trent gritted his jaw. In an attempt to settle the growing unrest, he found a clipper flying Spanish colors on the horizon. It had been a diplomat’s ship, the type that was an easy haul and usually had either the dignitary’s wife or mistress aboard, meaning jewels and other riches. Enough to appease the men for a bit. The ship was off a way and while he’d said nothing to the crew, many of them had seen the ship. The mood was already lightening around the deck as they quickly did their chores to be able to clean their weapons for a raid. Elle, of course, was thrilled and brandished her sword as if to be part of the raid, having trained daily for the last few weeks, but despite her growing skill, he still feared her safety during a raid, though she was right. The emotions here among the men had been building against her and him for ‘being under her spell.’ Pirates, he grumbled.
“That ship held no harm. That captain was a weasel, easy to control, and his men stood down.”
“But allowin’ her that chance ta stand wit us condemns her ta the account,” Fitzgibbons argued.
Damn, of course he knew the man was right! He cussed inwardly. He tried every way he could to convince her to stay inside the cabin, not be seen but this lady had a mind of her own. He doubted if even he’d tied her down, she would’ve been safe. Yet, there was another monster here, than just her inability to follow orders for safety sake. It was him. He held pride in what she’d accomplished and her forward, break the rules way. Of course, it damned him and put her in death’s doorway along with the rest of them. It was a fear and admiration he could not control yet.
“Despite her lookin’ mighty fine wit a sword in her fist. May even git use ta her hair bein’ all short.” The Irishman shrugged.
Trent himself couldn’t help but laugh. She jumped off the plank that connected the two ships. The defeated vessel’s captain was held in chains, his crew k
neeling in the hold, awaiting for Trent’s pirates to take everything and either kill them or leave them. It wasn’t his policy to destroy the conquered ship nor shore their crew like some pirates did, but he also didn’t like pursuit by a captain who discovered his balls after they left. Therefore he often disabled the ship in a manner they could fix, giving time and him the escape.
But Elle wanted a taste of the victory. He didn’t want her over but he couldn’t deny her either, especially when she found the guts to make the cross-over without his approval. She jumped off, the heel of her large boots making noise when she hit the deck. Wearing brown pants that were too big, an oversized shirt with a jacket also too large, her sex wasn’t easy to detect, more so with the large brimmed hat she jammed on her head that clouded her stunning sapphire eyes. Trent, though, did catch something amiss—there were no hints of the long honey brown hair she’d had that even peeked under a hat when she piled it on top of her head. Throughout her time on the Spanish ship, she remained quiet for the most part and left the hat on. But upon return, he scooped her up into his arms, thrilled that the campaign on this ship brought ample rewards of wealth and release for his men.
Her hat fell to the floor. Immediately, he raised her to meet their lips, his right hand moving up her back to the nap of her neck to get to her mane when it hit him how the golden brown hair that had poured out, released from the hat, did not fall down her back. He stopped and looked at her with a frown.
What he found was her hair shorn off at about the mid-neckline. Puzzled, he gave her a questioning look. She laughed.
“It was too long to keep hidden under a hat. Shorter is easier and maybe makes me look less of a threat of being a woman.”
“Ahem,” Fitzgibbons snorted, instantly dissolving Trent’s memory of last evening. He shot Trent a scowl.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 14
