Sapphire

by Rosemary Rogers

  Hopping toward him, she grabbed a boot and flung it at him. “I certainly will not get used to the idea!”

  “Ouch!” Blake cried when the heel of the boot struck him in the forehead. “Sapphire, stop it! One of us is going to get hurt.”

  “Oh, one of us is going to get hurt, all right, but I can assure you it won’t be me.” With one hand clutching the sheet to cover her breasts, she grabbed a leather satchel off the floor with the other and attempted to steady herself on her one good foot as she lifted the heavy case over her head.

  “That’s enough!” Blake dove forward, throwing both arms around her waist, knocking her off balance. The satchel flew from her hand and she felt a sting of pain on the bottom of her good foot as she fell backward. She didn’t tumble to the floor because Blake held her securely in both his arms, pulling her against his body.

  “Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

  He held her tighter against his body, effectively pinning her arms to her sides, molding the entire length of his muscular form to hers. In an effort to escape his embrace, Sapphire threw her weight backward and they both lost their balance and fell onto the narrow bunk, Blake on top.

  “Oh!” Sapphire blurted as the sheet slipped and she felt Blake’s unshaven cheek brush against the sensitive skin of her breast. “You’re heavy!” She turned her face away from his.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Blake said, shifting his weight over her, his tone softening as he purposefully lowered his mouth to her breast and she felt the heat of it. “You and I were meant to be together like this, Sapphire. You know it. I know it.”

  His lips…his tongue…his teeth were doing unspeakable things to her…wonderful things that made pinwheels of pleasure radiate through her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes….

  “No,” she whispered, and yet she could feel her blood race as every inch of her body responded to his touch. This was wrong—it had to be wrong. She wanted him in the same way he wanted her, and suddenly she was resolved to it. All that seemed to matter at this moment was his touch and his quiet, husky voice that drew her closer.

  She ran her fingers through his soft, dark hair, which had grown longer since the day she first met him almost two months ago. He pulled the sheet down and she felt the brush of his slightly rough fingertips.

  He kissed his way to the tip of her puckered nipple, kissed the hollow of her throat, the line of her collarbone, continuing on until his mouth met hers. Slowly the warmth of his body and his mouth seeped into her and she kissed him back. As she kissed him, his heat seemed to spread through her limbs, spurring her own inferno, igniting every fiber of her being until she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in gasps.

  Burying his face in her hair strewn across the pillow, she felt him slide his hand over her breasts and down the length of her body, exploring her curves and hollows.

  When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she put up no resistance to his exploration. Blake was right; this was meant to be from the beginning, from the first time they met in her father’s parlor just after she had arrived in London. It didn’t matter that she was now bound for Boston against her will. She didn’t know where these actions would lead her or what sorrow it would bring. All she knew was that she needed this man. She needed to feel his touch, needed him to show her what it meant to be a woman.

  Blake shifted in the narrow bed, sliding off her to lie on his side beside her, keeping her pinned with one leg. Every limb of her body quivered as she felt his mouth on her breast again, his lips and tongue teasing her nipples until her skin felt as if it were on fire. She heard herself utter a muted, strangely incoherent sound.

  “Blake,” she moaned. “Please…I want…” She didn’t know what to say or how to tell him. How could she explain what was happening to her when she didn’t understand it herself? She felt the pressure building inside her like the air of her island home before a hurricane, and without knowing how or why, she was being swept into the storm.

  “Relax,” he whispered. “I know what you want.” He chuckled huskily, moving his hand lower. “But the more time we give it, the better it will be.”

  As he slid his hand over her belly down to her inner thigh, she relaxed into the soft tick, surrendering to her own desires as heat pooled inside her.

  “Uncross your legs,” he whispered.

  Mesmerized by his voice, by his touch, she did as he ordered. “I…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she admitted.

  “Do as I say. Just relax, let yourself feel it.”

  He slid his hand between her thighs and began to stroke the soft flesh, and her body recalled, at once, how good it had felt only a few hours ago.

  “That’s it, that’s right, love,” he breathed, teasing her earlobe with the tip of his tongue, his caresses gentle and unhurried.

  Sapphire turned her head to look away from him, letting herself go, imagining herself floating until he again lifted her higher, moving faster until every muscle in her body tensed and then released. She cried out, threading her fingers through his hair, struggling to catch her breath.

  “What is that?” she panted, arching her back one last time as the sensations washed over her. “I don’t—”

  “You talk too much,” he interrupted, amusement in his voice as he brought his face close to hers.

  Her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes to meet his brown gaze, stormy and unreadable. She wished she knew what he thought of her, beyond his lust.

  “But that’s not it, love. There’s more,” he murmured. “I want you to undress me.”

  She tensed, suddenly afraid of him, of herself. She could feel her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. To let him do this to her was one thing, but to actually participate…“No, I couldn’t.”

  “You could,” he told her, holding her with his eyes, grasping her hand and bringing it under the hem of his shirt. “And you will.”

  Looking up at him, she drew her finger tentatively over his bare chest. Just one stroke. Then another. Then another, and in a matter of moments, she found herself marveling at the muscular hardness of his male body and the strangeness of it. When she brushed her fingertips over one of his nipples and heard him catch his breath, she smiled to herself, fascinated by the thought that she could arouse him the way he could arouse her.

  Blake lowered her hand to the waistband of his trousers. She drew her hand back as if burned.

  “No need to be shy now,” he whispered. “Surely you’re curious, my virgin jewel.”

  She watched through her lashes as he leaned back, pulled his shirt over his head and then found the button of the only piece of clothing left between them. She gasped as she watched him spring forth from the fabric.

  “Harder for a man than a woman to hide his desires,” he teased as he tossed his clothing to the floor. “Go ahead. Touch me.”

  Biting down on her lower lip, she hesitantly reached down, drew back and then reached again.

  She heard him groan and recalled something Angel had once said about the power a woman held over a man. All at once, she understood.

  “Like this,” he breathed, guiding her hand up and down, his skin amazingly soft. “That’s right,” he whimpered, lifting his mouth to hers. This time his kiss was neither gentle nor unhurried, but almost brutal, and the thought that for this moment she had such control over him made her brave.

  As they kissed, she continued to explore, stroking first the flat muscular hollow of his belly, then his upper thighs, then that place again. So smooth and yet so powerful…warm silk over marble…but larger than she’d imagined…so big…too big to ever…

  “Sapphire,” Blake gasped when she stroked him again. “Easy, love, or we’ll be done before we’ve started.” He covered her hand with his, burying his face in her hair as he slowed her motion. “That’s right,” he whispered. “That’s right.”

  He nudged her onto her back and her hands fell to her sides as he b
egan to kiss her again. When he parted her thighs with his knee, she gave no fight. She wanted to know what this was all about, this act that in the history of the world had toppled kings, set brother against brother and brought about wars.

  Blake grasped her hands and slid them upward until they were over her head, stifling her moans with his mouth as he slowly began to penetrate her.

  At first his movements were slow, gentle, but then he thrust into her and she cried out in pain, her eyes flying open. “Ow!” she cried, snatching her hand from his to slap him on the back. “That hurt. You didn’t say it would hurt,” she accused, panting hard.

  He chuckled, deep in his throat, covering her face with kisses as she tried to turn her face away from him. “It will never hurt again, my love, I swear it. From here on out, it only gets better.”

  He kissed her mouth gently, caressing her breast with his free hand as he began to move inside her, and she began to move with him. After a moment there was no more pain, only an incredible sense of urgency, increasing with every breath she took. As before when he had touched her, the sensations began to build, one on top of the other until they burst inside her, fanning outward in a release of pleasure she had not imagined possible. Blake thrust one last time, his body tensing as he groaned, and she knew he, too, had found release.

  Later, when he had withdrawn from her and she lay in the crook of his arm, weak-limbed and unable to do anything more than try to catch her breath, she realized that she finally understood Angelique. Understood what it meant to be a woman. To be a lover.

  “So sweet,” he whispered, kissing her bare shoulder, his eyes closed. “You see, I told you we would get along well.”

  Without responding, she turned onto her side, pushing her bare bottom against his groin as she pulled the rumpled sheet over them, and then she fell asleep, content, at least for a moment.

  Sapphire woke later to find herself alone in the ship’s cabin. Blake was gone, but on the desk she spotted a small tray with bread, cheese, an apple and a pewter mug. Suddenly starving, she wrapped the sheet around herself and hobbled the three steps to the chair at the desk. Once seated, as she tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into her mouth, she found a note. It was the first time she had ever seen Blake’s handwriting, which was bold, the lines of ink thick and purposeful.

  Nourishment was all it said, but the single word made her smile. Nourishment for what? To recover from their heated lovemaking? To prepare for more?

  Sapphire was shocked that her thoughts could be so sexual. The first time she had ever been with a man and she was already thinking about the next time?

  She sawed off a piece of cheese with the small knife he had left her, and wrapped it in a piece of bread, wondering where these indecent notions had come from. She expected such behavior from Angelique, but never herself. Not before today, at least.

  Perhaps all this pretending was the cause. Play the whore long enough and you become one?

  She almost laughed. What a ridiculous thought. Despite what she had led Charles and the other young men to believe, she had never done anything more than most of the young women her age. In fact, if truth be told, she knew she had done far less than many. She heard the whispers in the women’s salons, heard her beaux talking among themselves when they thought she wasn’t listening. London’s young women were not as innocent as they liked their parents and guardians to believe.

  Sapphire sliced off a bit of apple and pushed it into her mouth as she reached for the mug. The cider was cool and crisp and she gulped it so fast that a trickle ran down her chin.

  The door opened and she spun around, tightening the sheet around her bare breasts, swallowing the last gulp of cider.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” Blake said, ducking through the door.

  She chewed the last of the apple in her mouth, unsure of what to say.

  “I see you found the food. I thought you might be hungry.” He came toward her, a smile playing on his lips. When he stopped in front of her, he reached out and caught the dribble of cider on her chin and drew his finger to his mouth.

  The simple gesture left her insides trembling, and she looked away to cover her discomfort.

  “Why, Miss Sapphire Fabergine, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless.”

  “I want my clothes back,” she said, reaching for the rest of the apple as she rose from the chair, backing up toward the bunk while trying not to put too much pressure on her injured ankle.

  “Which is why I brought you these.” He held up a bundle of clothing, but it appeared far too compact to be her gown and underclothes.

  She stared at the bundle tied with twine. “I want my own clothes.”

  “Sorry.” He frowned. “I told you they were torn beyond repair. Besides, silk gowns and ruffled petticoats are not terribly practical on the open sea.”

  She studied the bundle of clothing again and realized anything was better than wearing this sheet. Once she was clothed in something, she’d feel less vulnerable. That thought in mind, she put out one hand and sat on the bunk.

  He lifted the bundle by the string and let it dangle from his finger, staring at her, making no attempt to hide his lust. “Then again,” he said, “I must admit I like you this way.”

  She tightened her grip on the sheet around her. “Please?”

  He smirked and tossed the bundle to the bed, turning to the plate on the desk. “For such a slender woman, you certainly eat a lot.” He tore what was left of the bread in half and began to cut off a piece of cheese for himself. “This was supposed to be my breakfast, too.”

  She set the apple on the bed and reached for the clothing. Untying the twine, she found that he had brought her a pair of boy’s canvas breeches and a white cotton shirt. “That’s it?” she asked incredulously. “This is all you could find me?”

  “I’m sorry, we’re now on the open sea. Not many dress shops.”

  “Surely you can’t expect me to wear these. It’s indecent!”

  “Hardly more indecent than what we did here not so long ago.”

  “Oh, you really are a cad.”

  “If I was a cad, I’d keep you in the blanket. But…if you’d rather remain in the natural, I could take these things back—”

  “No.” She shook out the shirt and managed to lower it over her head without dropping the corner of the sheet. “You think you’re so superior,” she snapped from under the shirt. She popped her head through. “Maybe you should have thought of bringing proper attire for me when you kidnapped me!”

  He cut off another piece of cheese. “And maybe you should have thought before you hurled yourself from that coach into the street and ruined your gown. You’re lucky you only twisted your ankle. It’s a wonder you didn’t break a bone or get trampled by my coach’s horses.”

  She scowled at him as she slipped her bare feet into the pant legs and stood on her good foot to draw them over her hips. The soft, worn canvas pants tied at the waist and fit her almost perfectly. She didn’t drop the sheet until she’d laced them.

  He took a step back. “Best-looking cabin boy I’ve ever seen.”

  “You stole these from a cabin boy?” She pulled her hair back over her shoulders.

  “I bought them from Ralphie. You’ll like him.”

  “Probably not,” she said tartly, retrieving her apple and taking a big bite; she had no intention of sharing it with him.

  Blake just stood there eyeing her.

  “What now?” she asked when she could no longer stand the silence or his stare.

  He appeared bemused, which annoyed her further.

  “What now, what?”

  She felt her nostrils flare with resentment. “What am I supposed to do, stuck on this ship with you, against my will?”

  “We could make love again,” he offered with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “I heard no complaints at the time.”

  She was tempted to throw the apple at him, but she was too hungry to give it up.

  The l
ook on her face must have given him a hint of what she wanted to say because he went on.

  “Or,” he said, “we could read. Play cards. I brought a chess set. Do you play chess?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, sitting back on the bunk again, finishing off the apple. “Of course I play chess. My stepfather, Armand, taught me.” She arched her brows. “I’m really quite good.”

  “As am I. At a number of things, which brings us back to how we could occupy our time. We could make love.”

  She glared at him.

  “Suit yourself. Or maybe, if you’re up to it later, I could carry you topside. It’s a beautiful day to be sailing.”

  “A walk, yes, that would be wonderful,” she said quickly, wondering if they were still close enough to shore to be passing other ships. Perhaps she could get someone’s attention on another vessel, maybe even gain the assistance of one of the sailors on the boat.

  “Don’t get your hopes up. No one on board this ship is going to help you escape, row you ashore, or anything as equally dangerous or stupid.” He licked his fingers and reached for the pewter tankard. “I hired this ship to take my goods and me back to Boston. It’s no one’s business if I have an elephant in my cabin, and no one on this ship would dare question it.”

  Finishing the apple, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Surely you must have given some explanation.” She gestured with the apple core. “The captain must have questioned why he thought he was sailing with one passenger this morning and now he has two.”

  Blake finished the last of the cider. “I told him the truth.”

  “That you kidnapped me?”

  “No. That you are my mistress.”

  Sapphire threw the apple core at him and she didn’t miss.

  17

  “Monsieur.”

  Armand heard Tarasai call from behind him, but he did not turn to her.

  “Monsieur, I go to the village only for a short time and you flee the house. You are like a child I cannot leave alone.” She came to his side on the dock and draped a coat over his shoulders, the wind whipping at the tiny plaits of hair that fell around her face. She tucked her hair behind a delicate ear. “Armand, do you listen to me? You should be in bed,” she said softly, and then she kissed him lightly.