Enchanted by Your Kisses

by Pamela Britton

  She swallowed, opened her mouth, swallowed again and said, "You need me, Nathan. I am the First Lord's daughter. I can help. Or have you forgotten that?"

  He let her go, his arms falling to his sides, his eyes dimming. "Of course I have not forgotten that."

  "Then you should know this, too." She reached out and touched him, not wanting to make him panic but knowing she would have to tell him about his brother sooner or later.

  His silver gaze intensified. "What?"

  She took a deep breath. "The captain of your brother's ship, a Captain Pike, is coming into port for a court-martial. I believe he has men he needs to try, for what I do not know, but if he is coming into port so that this is done as per the Articles of War, then it must be serious indeed."

  He spun away from her.

  Bullocks, she knew that would happen. "Where are you going?" Even though she knew well and good where.

  "I am leaving," he said, clutching the reins, his ring glinting in the sunlight. "There's no time for us to argue."

  Isn't that what she'd just been saying?

  He mounted his horse, looking down at her. "Are you coming?"

  She stiffened, thinking some men were truly idiots at times. "Yes."

  "Then hurry."

  Portsmouth, Britian's only island city, had changed little since her last visit, Ariel noted when they arrived nearly five hours later. The moats and ramparts which encircled the town still gave off a rank odor as they crossed through one of the two gates which gave access to the city. As usual, the Navy's presence was everywhere. A group of mounted, blue-jacketed men passed them by, one of them studying her intently as they turned onto High Street. Ariel sank back farther into her hooded cloak, relief flooding her as she spotted the harbor directly ahead.

  "He could be on one of those ships."

  Ariel started at Nathan's words. Aye, she thought, following his gaze, he could be. There were several three-and two-masted ships moored in the harbor, but of course there would need to be. Not for nothing was she the First Lord's daughter. As such she knew the workings of a court-martial. Between five and thirteen officers had to be present in order for it to conform to naval law. Held for those crimes that required more than thirty lashes, such as desertion, and for those crimes that required the death penalty, such as murder or cowardice, it was usually an unpleasant affair. If Wess Trevain was alive and he'd tried to desert, then he would be court-martialed here.

  If he was alive.

  "We need to find out when the court-marital will be convened," Nathan said in a clipped voice.

  "Let us ask someone."

  Nathan nodded. Ariel slowed her horse. They asked the first person they came across, a small man who had the look of the sea about him with his leathery skin and wiry frame.

  "Court-martial?" the man repeated Nathan's question. "Aye, I heard about it. Convened already, it did. Ships got ta port early, so they did it this morn."

  "No," Ariel gasped, clutching the reins.

  The man glanced at her. Ariel tensed as she waited to be identified as female. But the man must have seen what she wanted him to see, a young lad dressed in a too-large cape.

  "Are the ships still in port?" Nathan asked.

  The man shrugged. "Aye, three of them are."

  Ariel's breath caught.

  "Captains Hillis, Crane and Bantry, but that be all. Pike left port like 'is ballast were afire."

  Ariel could do nothing more than stare, first at the little man, then up at Nathan. His jaw had grown tight, his knuckles as white as her own as he gripped the reins.

  "Thank you, sir," he said tightly.

  The man nodded, then moved on. Nathan still sat atop his horse, looking, yet apparently not seeing anything.

  "He could still be alive," Ariel said, moving her horse alongside his.

  But he wouldn't meet her gaze. "He could be dead, too."

  She shook her head. "No. I do not think so."

  But he didn't look interested in arguing the point. She watched as his hands clenched even tighter, his fingernails digging into his palm.

  "We will find him, Nathan. I promise."

  "How?" he asked, finally meeting her gaze. "Hire a sloop? Chase after him on an ocean that leaves no trail?"

  "That is one possibility."

  "Do not be absurd. We would sooner find a needle in a haystack."

  Something inside her cringed at his raised voice, something that made her feel both hurt and sick at the same time.

  "Nathan," she began again, "we can at least try. I am the First Lord's daughter. Surely there is something I can do."

  "Yea, just as you've done already."

  His words stabbed at her with hurt. She watched as he clucked his horse forward, stopping in front of an inn a few muddy blocks later. Ariel followed, feeling helpless and hurt and so sorry for him she could barely think.

  "What are we doing?"

  "Securing rooms for the night."

  "Should we not ride back to London?"

  "No. My best chance of finding Wess starts here."

  His best chance. So he didn't want her help anymore.

  "Nathan, please—"

  He refused to look at her, just entered the building. Not even as he talked to the innkeeper did he pay her heed. Not even as they climbed the stairs. Instead he gave her a key, turned and entered his own room, slamming the door behind him.

  Ariel stared at the scarred oak door, wondering what to do.

  Leave him be, Ariel. He needs time.

  But she didn't want to leave him alone, she wanted. . .

  What?

  To comfort him. She wanted to comfort him.

  She went to his door, stared at it, knowing what she did might change her life forever. She lifted her hand, only to drop it back to her side again. Fiddlesticks. He would not welcome her attention. She knew this, yet she lifted her hand again, only this time she knocked.

  No answer.

  Almost she gave up. Almost. But that same perverse desire that made her want to comfort him, that same emotion that made her care when she knew she shouldn't made her lift her hand again, and when he didn't answer a second time, to try the handle.

  The door opened.

  "What are you doing?" he snapped, turning to face her.

  He stood by the window on the opposite side of the room, a fireplace to her left, the bed opposite. Nathan stared at her, his face as rigid as the hardwood floor.

  "We should talk."

  "There is nothing to say."

  "I want to help."

  "Help? Haven't you helped me enough?"

  He said it as if his brother's disappearance was all her fault. She swallowed back a pinch of hurt. He felt wounded. Aching over the loss of his brother. She knew this. If only she could convince him of the fact that Wess Trevain was not dead, not yet.

  "Nathan, please. Try and believe me when I say—"

  "No, Ariel. I will not listen. Leave." He swung away from her, his queue swishing angrily, his scar more pronounced as he turned toward the window.

  She followed him, knowing it was tantamount to cornering a wolf in his den, but determined to do so anyway. "Nathan, please," she tried again, stepping around in front of him, her words dying in her throat.

  He cried.

  No. Not cried. A single tear made its way down his cheek, but for a man like Nathan Trevain, it was as good as a bucketful of sobs.

  Men like Nathan Trevain did not cry. They blustered. They yelled. They did not cry.

  "Oh, Nathan," she soothed, placing her hand against his jaw, just like he always did to her when she was upset. Something inside her shifted as she stared up at him, something that made her feel breathless and frightened. She looked into his silver eyes, eyes that had stared at her with so many emotions in the past. Loathing. Anger. Gratitude. Now they simply looked down at her with sadness and resignation.

  "Leave, Ariel."

  She shook her head. "You need me."

  "I need no one."


  "Shh," she soothed, touching his lips with her hands. "Just shh." She slipped into his arms, expecting him to thrust her away.

  I love you, she thought. I love you Nathan Trevain. Don't push me away.

  She pulled back before he could, stunned. Her eyes searched his intently.

  And she knew.

  She knew with an absolute certainty that the words were true.

  Somehow, amazingly, she'd fallen in love with the man. It didn't matter that he'd kidnapped her. It didn't matter that he'd tried to use her. He was as different from Archie as sun was from rain, his motivation for doing as he did one Ariel wholly understood.

  "Nathan," she hoarsely, a throat full of tears suddenly choking her. She reached up again, stroked his cheek.

  He didn't move, his silver eyes staring into hers.

  "Kiss me."

  "No."

  "Yes," she contradicted him. "Let me help you forget." She lifted herself up on tiptoe, drawing his head down, forcing him to do as she asked. He didn't move at first. She nibbled at his lip, sucking on it.

  "Demme," he moaned, trying to push her away. But she wouldn't let him. Instead she held him tighter, her lips working his own more fervently. She thought he might turn away from her then, thought he might pull back. Instead he suddenly jerked her to him. Ariel gasped at the suddenness of it. His tongue plunged into her mouth.

  Yes, she thought. Yes. This was it. This was what she sought. The way he angled his mouth just perfectly. The way he smelled. Why hadn't she realized it before? She wanted to taste him. Wanted to feel his tongue inside her mouth. Wanted to suck in the essence of him as he did her.

  "Ariel," he said, cupping the back of her head, his hands warm against her scalp. She tilted her head into those hands, the gold from his ring cold against her cheek. She let him kiss her deeper and then deeper still. Blood rushed to places that suddenly warmed, then began to burn. She knew the feeling, had been kissed enough times to know that the feeling promised something else, something wonderful, and that she wanted.

  And then he pulled back, both of them gasping for breath in the wake of their passion.

  "Ariel," he moaned again, staring down at her a second before kissing her again, but not on the lips. On the cheek, then on the forehead. She sighed in relief, having thought he might stop, but he didn't stop. Oh, no. He began to kiss her in a whole new way, biting, teasing kisses. On the temple. The line of her jaw. In places she'd never been kissed before.

  "Oh, Nathan," she answered back.

  His hands moved away from the back of her head to her cloak, parting it, his fingers slipping beneath it to flick it off her shoulders as he continued to kiss her, only now he kissed her neck. Oh, gracious heavens. Her neck. Her vision blurred, the world slipping away at the dizzying feel of his lips sucking at her flesh. Heavens, she didn't want it to stop. Didn't want the feelings that began to build inside her to end. She wanted. . .she wanted. . .

  What?

  Gracious, she didn't know, only knew she didn't want to stop being enchanted by his kisses. Ever. And then he shifted, air cooling the wetness where his lips had just been. She felt reality begin to return, only to fall away again as his mouth found her ear. She closed her eyes, groaning at the feel of his tongue.

  "Ariel," he breathed, pulling back. "I want you. And if you do not leave, I will have you."

  "Then have me."

  "No. Not tonight."

  "Yes, tonight," she answered, boldly touching his white shirt. She felt him tense beneath her hands. "I want this, Nathan. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

  I love you, she silently added, more certain of it now than ever. She loved him, there was simply no use denying the way he made her feel. She loved him more than she'd ever thought it possible to love a man who had treated her thus. She'd loved him for asking for her help. She loved him for trusting her right back. But most of all, she loved him because he stood here kissing her, loving her, even though she must seem more an enemy tonight then ever before.

  "Why are you crying?"

  Was she? She hadn't even realized. "I'm crying for you, Nathan," she said softly, touching his cheek again. "I'm crying because I know you must think your brother lost. But he isn't. I promise you this. We will find him. You need only believe."

  He stared down at her, his silver eyes so beautiful. "Show me how to believe, Ariel. Show me."

  She knew what he meant, though she didn't know how to do as he asked. "Kiss me, Nathan."

  He didn't immediately. Ariel never looked away as he weighed his decision in his mind, and she could tell that he weighed one.

  "We shall both regret this."

  "No," she answered. "Never."

  And then he did kiss her, only this time there was a frantic edge to his touch. His hands fumbled at her shirt. Ariel did the same to his shirt. She pulled on the fabric, Nathan doing the same. He undressed her. Ariel knew they were approaching the point of no return yet wanted what lay beyond that point with a desire such as she'd never craved. He ducked down, letting her tug off his shirt. She held still as he pulled her own shirt loose. They both paused at the binding that covered her breasts, and then a new rhythm began. A slow one. His hands lifted bit by bit, his gaze never leaving her own, as he gently, seductively began to unwind the fabric.

  "Lift your arms."

  Ariel did, she closed her eyes. She felt each brush of his fingers, each tug on the fabric, until at last she knew only one layer remained.

  "Do you want me to stop?"

  It was the last time he would ask her that question. She knew this. Now or never.

  "Don't stop," she breathed.

  He tugged on the fabric. Her breasts sprang free. She heard him gasp, though she might have been imagining it, but then he said, "God, but you're beautiful."

  She stared up at him, for the first time seeing herself with his eyes. "I feel beautiful," she answered.

  And she was, Nathan realized. More beautiful than he'd ever thought it possible for a woman to be. Her skin was as white as sunlight on pure silk, her shape as perfect as God ever intended it to be, and he wanted. . .how he wanted. . .Thoughts of his brother faded. He allowed himself to get swept up in the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her, the enchantment of her.

  He reached out a hand, touching the top of her breasts, then dipped lower, finding her nipple.

  "Nathan," he heard her moan.

  He rubbed it, making it hard, as hard as he was for her. He could feel himself straining against his breeches, felt his own answering moisture for her, and he knew that if he didn't take her soon, he would lose himself.

  Still, some perverse desire made him continue to stroke her, watching as she tilted her head back, her dark curls falling almost to her waist. He didn't seem to be able to stop touching her, his craving for her such that he wanted to hear her moan again. He closed the distance between them, leaned down and kissed her. She opened immediately, moaning, just as he'd wanted. He sucked her, rubbing his thumb around her nipple in time with his tongue.

  "Touch me, Ariel," he ordered.

  And she did. She touched his chest tentatively at first, and then with a growing desperation that made his desire erupt in a way that made him almost lose control. God, she knew how to touch him. Almost as if she'd been doing it all her life. He lapped the taste of her with his tongue, using his other hand to tug the fabric of her breeches. They were so big on her they fell the moment he released the rope holding them around her waist.

  He pulled back and looked.

  Perfection. He needed no lust to heighten his appreciation of her. She was everything he'd fantasized she would be. He reached out a hand, touching her shoulder, moving his hand lower toward the top of her breast. He skated around one round globe toward her side, feeling the bumps of her rib cage, then the smooth feel of her abdomen. Her muscles contracted beneath his touch, her flesh dotted with goose pimples. The fine, fine hairs that covered her skin felt soft to his touch.

 
"Nathan," she whispered as his hand moved lower, her head tilting back.

  He stared at her, marveled at her, even as his hand moved lower, until at last he touched the softness above her thighs.

  "Oh, Nathan," she sighed, her head moving from side to side, long hair sweeping almost to her waist.

  He stepped closer, making sure to keep his body out of contact with her, even as he fought a longing to pull her toward him. His body was so hard for her, his erection throbbing in anticipation of being inside her. He ran his hand through her soft curls, using his index finger to skate the folds of her womanhood.

  It was then that she moved closer, pushing into his hand, forcing him to cup her slick wetness. His eyes drank in the sight of her. Her nipples tiny little buds, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She kept pushing into him, moving her body in a way that spoke of a freedom Nathan had never seen before. He felt her moist valley, let her seek the climax her body craved. She moaned again, then again, seeming to be lost in a world all her own.

  "Nathan," she said, clutching at his forearms, her eyes opening. They were foggy, unfocused. Confused. "Oh, Nathan."

  "Let it come, Ariel."

  She shook her head, continuing to move against him. He bent, captured her lips with his own, dipping his tongue into her mouth with the same rhythm he used below. His hands shook as he touched her, showing her how to touch him likewise. And she did, Nathan groaning as she stroked the length of him.

  So lost were they that he didn't even realize he'd somehow moved them to the bed. Not until he began to gently lay her down did he realize what he'd done. There was only one thought. Make love to her. It was a need that rose within him with such a fierce longing he could barely contain the shaking of his limbs as he settled her back. Firelight cast its flickering spells across her body. A shadow here, the glow of flesh there. But always, always there were her eyes. So intense the look in them. So filled with a need that matched his own. There was no hesitancy. No shy innocence. There was only want, want and something else, a something that filled him with hunger and had him capturing her lips with his own. Then her tongue, their dueling fueling a fire of its own. Somehow he was lowering his breeches. Somehow, without knowing quite how he'd gotten there, they ended up naked in each other's arms, Nathan alongside of her, Ariel half beneath him, one leg drawn up, knee bent.