She wore nothing beneath the gown, allowing the smooth, cool cotton to flow softly over her body as she moved. She’d deliberately chosen to leave the satin ribbon that gathered around the yoke undone, as though she was ready to slip the garment off entirely. Not wearing any under things beneath the shift seemed a shocking indecency, but the pure naughtiness of the act helped to bolster her courage.
Devon had spent most of the afternoon primping and pampering, beginning with a steaming hot bath. Once her hair was squeaky clean, she brushed it until it shined with a rich sable gloss, then let it cascade over her shoulders and down her back. She rubbed lotion over her entire body, then dabbed her wrists and throat with the barest touch of scent.
It was a strange, almost sensual experience to know she was preparing herself for Cole. Touching herself in places he would soon—she hoped—be touching. Memories of the last time they’d made love caused a burning sensation to gather in her belly and spread through her like a slow heat. Knowing what she was going to do, she hadn’t been able to eat a bite of dinner. Her nerves were simply too heightened, her body too restless, to focus on anything as mundane as food.
Once she finished preparing herself, she turned her attention to the room. She lit the lamps and turned them down low, until the burning wicks gave off nothing but a soft golden glow. The bedding was pulled back and rumpled, the pillows tossed about in wanton disarray. She pushed the portholes open and let the ocean breeze slide through the room, filling the cabin with the fresh, salty scent of the sea. Finished, she selected a book from Cole’s desk and seated herself at the table. There was nothing more for her to do but wait.
It was nearly midnight when she heard a soft tap, followed by the sound of the door handle jangling. The door opened and Cole stood there, the light from the passageway framing his rugged form in dark silhouette. Her senses were so finely tuned to his that Devon felt connected in an almost animal sort of way. Cole’s presence changed the very air around her, filling it with currents and strange pulses.
There was a moment of silence between them, then Cole stepped into the room. His gaze moved directly to the chair where she sat. “You’re awake,” he said. He didn’t sound disappointed exactly, simply hesitant, as though unsure of his welcome.
“Yes.” Devon set down the book she’d been holding and rose to her feet. She watched his eyes widen with shock as his gaze traveled slowly over her. She summoned her courage and said, “I was hoping, if you’re not too tired, that we could talk for a few minutes.”
She wasn’t naked, but she was pretty near to it. The pale light of the lamps turned her chemise to nothing but the barest of coverings. A gentle breeze blew into the room, tossing her hair and molding the gossamer fabric to her breasts, thighs, and belly. Desire darkened Cole’s face, golden fire shone from his eyes. Devon watched him, her body reacting instinctively to the naked hunger she read on his face. The swelling heat that had been building within her all afternoon seemed to rise to a crescendo, sending a delicious warmth flooding through her limbs. Her resolve weakening, she considered abandoning her plan and walking straight into his arms right then and there, but stubborn pride made her reject that notion. Not until she’d said what she had to say.
“Cole?” she prompted.
He dragged his gaze away from her body. “Yes?”
“Is that all right?”
“What?”
“If we talk.”
He stared at her blankly for a second, then seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “Fine,” he said curtly. Apparently realizing that he hadn’t moved an inch since she’d stood, he turned and closed the door behind him, taking what seemed to Devon an inordinate amount of time to see that the latch was properly fastened. Finally, when he could delay no longer, he turned back around.
He looked beautiful. Tired, perhaps, but ruggedly handsome. She noted faint shadows beneath his eyes, and the dark stubble on his cheeks told her he hadn’t shaved that morning. But as far as she could tell, those were his only flaws. The sun had turned his skin a glowing bronze and woven thick, brilliant streaks through his golden hair. His long legs were encased in neat black trousers that hugged the powerful muscles of his thighs; his black boots were polished to a high sheen. He wore a white, billowy shirt that was loose at the collar and sleeves, allowing her a glimpse of his broad, deeply tanned chest.
“Won’t you sit down?” she said, gesturing to a chair. Her tone was perhaps a bit formal considering their circumstances, but Cole didn’t seem to notice. He slipped into the chair, his focus remaining entirely on her. Devon felt a flutter of nervousness, as though she were a new hostess entertaining guests for the first time. She lifted a bottle of whiskey she’d found while unpacking. “Would you like a drink?” she offered politely.
Cole shrugged, a movement she chose to interpret as assent. She uncorked the bottle, then realized she had no glass. Cole tilted his head toward his desk. “Bottom drawer on the left.”
Devon crossed the room to his desk, feeling his eyes on her as she moved. She bent and rummaged through the drawer, shuffling aside papers and bills of lading. Well aware of the view she presented, she tried desperately not to be embarrassed. It belatedly crossed her mind that it might have been smarter to leave her dressing robe on until they’d finished talking, but it was too late for that now. She found the glass, straightened, and turned around. Cole’s eyes lingered exactly where she’d thought they’d be, then moved slowly up her body. “That’s quite a gown,” he said.
Devon nodded and brushed her hands lightly over the fabric. “Yes, well, since you didn’t get any sleep last night, I assumed you’d be rather tired. I thought this might help to wake you up.”
“That gown would wake me up if I’d been dead for three years.”
A fleeting smile crossed her face. She assumed that was a compliment, but judging from Cole’s grim tone as he said it, she couldn’t be certain.
She poured his drink, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight trembling of her hand. But that was exactly where his eyes were now focused: on her hand.
“You’re not wearing your ring,” he said, ignoring the glass she set before him.
Devon sat down and folded her hands primly in her lap. On the table sat both her wedding ring and the stickpin she’d given him. “No, I’m not. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She saw his expression harden as his lips formed a thin, somber line. “I see.”
Devon took a deep breath, praying that Uncle Monty had been right, that there still was some tiny spark that existed between them. “Cole,” she began, “neither of us wanted this marriage. It was merely the result of unfortunate circumstances. Uncle Monty blackmailed you into taking me as a wife, even if it’s only for a little while—”
“Devon, I—”
“No, please, let me finish. This isn’t easy for me to say.” She took a deep breath and forged on. “Despite all of that, it seemed for a little while yesterday that our marriage might not be so bad after all. That perhaps we could be happy together, even if it was for just a short time.”
“Until I acted like an ass and accused you of stealing that pin.”
“You weren’t an ass. You were just being… logical.”
Cole grimaced. “An ass.”
“You couldn’t possibly feel any worse about that than I do for turning you away when you came to talk to me today,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, Cole.”
He looked stunned by her apology. “Devon, you don’t—”
“Yes, I do. I owe you at least that much.” She clenched her hands in her lap as a silence fell between them. “Hardly a stellar beginning to our marriage, is it? All of these apologies and regrets.”
Cole clenched his hand around his glass as a muscle leaped furiously in his jaw. “What are you trying to say, Devon?”
“Well…” She hesitated, gathering the last of her courage. “I was thinking about what you said this afternoon, about wanting to go back and do
everything over… I want to go back, too, Cole. Just twenty-four hours. One day. One more chance to do it right, at least for a little while.” She stood and lifted the stickpin she’d given him last night. “I thought, if it’s all right with you, that we could begin again from this point.”
He stared at her in silence, stunned disbelief etched on his rugged features. Deciding to take that for encouragement, Devon pushed forward.
“I’d like for you to have this, Cole. I wanted it for you because the stone reminded me of your eyes. It’s a wedding gift, with no strings attached. I don’t expect anything in return.” She gave him a knowing look and arched a dark brow. “And you needn’t worry—I didn’t steal it.”
His expression carefully blank, he accepted the pin. “It’s a lovely gift, Devon. Thank you.” He took her hands in his and pulled her forward, brushing his lips lightly over hers. The kiss was altogether too brief. Before she knew it, he released her.
She hid her disappointment with a jaunty smile. “Now it’s your turn,” she informed him, glancing pointedly at the ring that sat on the table.
“So it is.” He lifted the ring, studying it as though it were the first time he’d seen it. “I’d like to tell you that this reminds me of your eyes,” he said, echoing her sentiment, “but unfortunately, I can’t. The emeralds don’t compare. They’re nothing but lifeless stones next to the fire and beauty dancing in your eyes.”
Devon took a deep, shaky breath. “The ring is lovely, Cole.”
“Will you wear it?”
“Yes, I’ll wear your ring.” The words seemed to stretch between them, as though she’d just promised so much more than that.
Cole must have felt it as well. She studied his eyes as he slipped his ring back onto her finger, seeing triumph in his tawny gaze, as well as what looked to be profound relief. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s just one other thing you should know about that ring.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
He gave her a slow, teasing grin. “I didn’t steal it.”
Her heart melted. “It’s reassuring to know that I haven’t corrupted you with my wicked ways.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then slowly reached out and brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Ah, but you have. You’ve corrupted me completely.”
His deep voice was low and husky; his words drifted over her skin like a velvety caress. Devon swallowed hard and said, “I believe we still have one more debt to settle.”
“What would that be?”
She stepped away from him and moved toward the bed. Moonlight streamed through her gossamer shift as she softly said, “You owe me a wedding night, Mr. McRae.”
Cole didn’t move. He stared at her intently, as though committing every detail and line of her body to memory. Under his intense gaze, her courage fled. Devon spun about, staring blindly out the porthole at the midnight sea. She brushed her hands nervously over her gown, which suddenly seemed a huge gaffe. Doubtless she looked too needy to him, too eager. “Of course,” she managed in a small voice, “if you’re tired, we can wait for another night.”
Cole was suddenly behind her. “Devon,” he said. She started to turn around, but he caught her shoulders and held her still. He slid his hands down her arms in a light caress, then started back up again. She leaned back against his chest, surrendering completely. His voice husky, soft, just a gentle murmur in her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you? No idea how much I want you.”
His words shot tremors down her spine. He brought his hands up beneath her gown, pressing her against him as his fingers brushed over her body in playful, loving strokes. Devon was lost in the feel of his touch, helpless, aching for more. A gentle breeze blew in through the porthole and rippled the fabric of her gown, caressing her skin as Cole’s words caressed her soul. “You’re so beautiful, Devon, so damned beautiful…” Meaningless, meandering thoughts and jumbled words, revealing that he was perhaps as lost as she was.
He nibbled her ear, then brushed hot, lingering kisses along her neck and collarbone. A curious, pulsing sensation centered at the junction of her thighs as his hands skimmed over her hips and belly. She caught her breath as he moved lower, winding his fingers through her tight tangle of curls, cupping the warm center between her legs, leaving her hot and moist and aching for more. “Do you like that, Devon? Do you like the way I touch you?”
A soft moan escaped her lips. It was all she could manage in response. She felt drunk, light-headed, and yet acutely aware. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. His strong arms wrapped around the front of her as he captured her breasts in his hands. Her nipples were tight and hard, straining against the rough calluses on his palms as he gently caressed her.
Cole was losing control. She could feel his arousal against her back, sharp and jutting, straining against the trousers he wore. That excited her even more. Primitive longings stirred deep within her and a slow heat pounded through her veins. His voice became hoarse, his breath heavier, hot against her ear. There were no more words. Just her name, over and over.
With a low groan, he dropped his hands from her breasts and locked them about her waist, holding her steady. Then with one swift motion, he lifted her into his arms. It took only two strides to reach his bed. Cole sat and laid her down beside him. Devon reached for her gown, which was rumpled and pooled about her hips, but Cole was there first. He gathered it in his hands, eased her arms free, then slipped it gently over her head. His gaze, burning with naked hunger roved over her body.
Devon reached out and touched his chest, her fingers moving clumsily over the buttons. Cole tore off his shirt and sent it sailing across the cabin. His pants and boots quickly followed. His desire was evident, rising proudly erect and just as strong and large as she’d felt it. She ran her hands over his body, familiarizing herself once again with the feel of him: the power of his muscles, the texture of his skin. So hot and smooth and rough, so purely male.
Cole drew her to him, wrapping her in a fierce embrace. His lips slanted over hers in a kiss of savage, aching need. Their tongues met and their bodies molded together, moving as one. He pulled slightly away, his lips tickling the sensitive skin below her ear and trailing hot kisses down her throat. He moved lower and drew her nipple into his mouth, gently sucking and teasing.
Devon arched toward him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. When he pulled back, she nuzzled his neck, licking the hot, salty sweat from his skin. Their lips met again, then Cole eased her back, trailing kisses along her ribs, across her belly, and over the tops of her thighs. She felt him touch his lips to her innermost part and went stiff as alarm shot through her. “Cole! No…”
He lifted his head and brushed his hands soothingly over her thighs. “Just one kiss, Devon. Please. Let me taste you…” The rough stubble of his cheek rubbed against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, sending hot jolts of desire surging through her body. He pressed his lips against her again, parting the crimson petals of her sex with his tongue, nibbling and teasing until all thoughts of restraint were driven from her mind. She bunched the linen sheets tightly in her fists as she strained toward him, driven by reckless abandon. The burning heat that had been building within her suddenly turned to aching, throbbing emptiness. “Cole, please… I need you. I need you.” She didn’t know where the words came from, but he seemed to understand. Cole stopped and rose above her. He captured her mouth in a long, deep kiss, then pulled back and drove into her. Not slowly and gently, but fast and hard, which was exactly what she needed, what she had to have. Fast and hard, pounding into her. Devon drove her nails into his shoulders, clutching herself against him, her fingers slipping over his slick, hot skin. Her release came like an explosion. Every nerve in her body burst open, splintering into fragments of shattering joy.
From somewhere deep within her, she felt Cole freeze, then thrust one final time before he poured himself into her, his body jerking in release. He sagged onto his side, pull
ing her tightly against him. They lay gasping for breath, exhausted, tangled in their embrace. In some dim comer of her mind, Devon noted that she didn’t feel like crying this time. Instead she felt absolutely complete and totally whole.
She listened to the furious pounding of Cole’s heart, felt his chest move as he struggled to gather his breath. After a few minutes, she heard his deep sigh. “Devon?”
She tilted her head back and looked into this eyes. “What?”
“I hope you know how to run a ship.”
“Why?”
“Because I doubt I’ll ever be able to move again.”
Two nights later, Devon paced the deck, her thoughts jumping erratically. She and Cole had finally come together, and in more than just a physical sense. Ever since their wedding night, things had changed between them.
Before, her feelings toward Cole had been elusive bits of hope and fear, torn apart by the slightest ill wind. But the past two days had changed all that. Her emotions were now solid, grounded, and not easily chased away. As Uncle Monty would have said, they’d grown roots.
They spent hours in Cole’s bed talking of important issues, holding fiery debates, and telling bawdy jokes. Devon didn’t know where the talking ended and the lovemaking began; there was so much they wanted to do of both. She’d discovered that Cole was adventurous and curious, and he whetted the same appetites within her. Their unions were a blend of fiery passion and playful teasing, ludicrous positions that had them both tumbling out of bed laughing until they cried. They made love on the floor, across Cole’s desk (not very comfortable), tried it while sitting in a stiff-backed wooden chair (better, because she was astride his lap), and standing up against the-wall… What little sleep they’d had was enjoyed curled up in each other’s arms.
There’d been not only physical discoveries, but emotional ones as well. Devon had gone looking for Cole yesterday and found him sitting near the starboard rail.
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