by Cheryl Holt
What she wouldn’t give to bump into his brothers! She’d love to have the bastards at the point of her sword and begging for mercy. Robert wasn’t the sort to demand vengeance, but she was.
“How long have you traveled with the Captain?” He was probing for details she wasn’t about to share.
“Years.”
“You mentioned that he rescued you, as he did me.”
“Yes, he did,” she answered, supplying nothing further.
She rubbed the bar of soap, working up a lather, and she stroked it across his chest. As it was late at night, it had been many hours since he’d shaved, and whiskers darkened his cheeks, making him appear more dashing and more dangerous than any pirate of her acquaintance.
She never tired of looking at him, and she couldn’t explain why he had such a remarkable effect, but it had burgeoned from the first day the Captain had brought him to the ship. He’d been emaciated, sunburned, bruised from shackles, and covered with welts from numerous whippings. The Captain had instructed her to care for Robert, to feed and mend him, which was a chore she hadn’t minded.
Through all her ministrations, he’d been so courteous and considerate, and she’d been fascinated. She’d never previously encountered such a cultured gentleman. No one remembered who her parents had been or where she came from. In her earliest clear recollection, at about age four, she was on a merchant ship—but with no kin in evidence. She’d grown up with various crews of sailors, in a world of men who were outcasts and adventurers.
Robert’s quiet, respectful habits had called to her feminine side, had her dreaming of better circumstances. She wanted a home of her own, a family, a peaceful existence that didn’t involve pistols or raids.
Reaching down, she took his cock in hand, liking how randy and eager he was. He rippled with bliss and pulled her to him, water sloshing onto the floor. The tub wasn’t big enough for two, but she hadn’t been able to resist getting into it with him.
It was a treat she missed from her bizarre interlude in Arabia, the sultry baths, the wet skin and naked bodies. In carnal matters, she wasn’t a prude and had no ladylike tendencies. She reveled in raucous fornication as well as any man, and she was thrilled with Robert’s participation.
She’d never copulated with a virginal male, so she hadn’t known how refreshing the act could be. He was so hastily titillated, so keen to try her suggestions, and he joined in with a marvelous amount of passion.
She spread her thighs and mounted him, and she rode him hard, swiftly goading him to the edge and pushing him over. He came with great enthusiasm, being much too loud, and she kissed him, swallowing the sound of his joy lest his cry reverberate throughout the house and alert others to what they were doing.
As sanity returned, he mused, “I was such a modest, subdued fellow before I met you.”
She was sprawled across him, her limbs limp from their incessant philandering. “I recognized the beast inside you.”
“How could you have?”
“From how you always watched me.”
“How was that? If memory serves, I was scared to death of you.”
“You shouldn’t have been. I was ready to give you what you wanted.”
“But how did you know what it was, when I didn’t know myself?”
“Your body knew,” was her reply.
She wasn’t about to provide any hints as to how she’d been schooled in decadent conduct. When she’d begun to change from child to woman, the buccaneer upon whose ship she’d been employed had decided she would cause too many problems with his crew. He’d traded her in Cairo for a pile of gold.
The wealthy Sultan who’d purchased her had been kind in his way, gently training her in carnal affairs until she’d become an expert. He’d deemed her a prized possession, but still, she’d been his concubine slave. He’d proudly shared her with special acquaintances, which had been a shock to Captain Westmoreland when he’d been offered a chance to bed her, only to learn that she was an English captive. He’d felt honor-bound to risk his life in rescuing her.
She’d been the jewel in a harem, but Robert would never understand. He was so typically British, and he would view her as having been a whore. She couldn’t bear to dim his affection, so she’d never divulge any pertinent facts of her past.
She couldn’t guess how long they’d stay at Mansfield Abbey. Eventually, the Captain would depart, and she and Robert would have to do as he bid them. They’d probably be ordered back to the ship, or—more likely—Robert would be left behind to manage the property. She might never see him again, so she regarded the interval as a precious idyll, where anything was possible, where anything was allowed.
She stood and climbed out onto the rug, and she grabbed a towel and dried herself as he studied her every move. She hadn’t a clue how to entice through friendship or conversation. She beguiled by using sex. It’s what she’d been taught and who she was. If Robert tired of their physical relationship—as transpired with every man sooner or later—she didn’t know what she’d do. For now, she was pretending that they’d go on forever just as they were.
She helped him out and dried him, too; then she led him to her bed in the adjacent alcove. He lay down and drew her down onto him, and as she stretched out, she noted a scar on his chest. She traced a finger across it, remembering how he’d been slashed by a slaver’s knife, how she’d stitched the injury with needle and thread.
“I hate that they hurt you,” she said.
“I don’t mind,” he maintained. “It makes me look more menacing and less bookish.”
She chuckled. “I’m liking bookish more and more.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
Her anger at his brothers was renewed with stunning force. “How could they throw you overboard?”
Their crime was unforgivable, and she couldn’t quit obsessing over it. He wasn’t irate enough to suit her, so she had to be furious for both of them.
“I told you: I don’t believe they intended to abandon me. They were vicious boys who grew to be vicious men. It was a prank, but the wind was in the sails, and I was quickly swept away.”
“Why travel with them?”
“They claimed that I was too much of a coward to accompany them. I was out to prove them wrong.”
“If I ever run into them, I’ll kill them for you. The Captain will let me; he might even volunteer to assist.”
“Patricia! You can’t go around killing people.”
“Why not?”
“It’s simply not done.”
“It is when someone deserves it as badly as they do.”
“They don’t.”
“They do!” she insisted.
He sighed. “Well, perhaps they could use a bit of punishment, but I can handle it myself. I don’t need you protecting me.”
“That’s what you think.”
“I can fight my own battles.”
“Not very well.”
He couldn’t wield a sword or fire a pistol. She’d once been with him in a tavern when a brawl broke out, and he’d hid under a table until she’d dragged him to safety. In the violent sphere they traversed with the Captain, Robert was like a quaking puppy.
“I detest that you consider me to be so incompetent,” he complained.
“I don’t!”
“It certainly sounds like it.”
“I feel as if I should . . . should . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence without making him seem even less capable.
“Give it a rest, Pat. Please.”
She’d pushed him too far, so she backed off, and she snuggled down, her ear over his heart so she could hear its steady beating. She couldn’t confess how much he meant to her, or how afraid she often was for him. If anything happened to him, she’d just die!
They were quiet, lost in thought, when he murmured, “I’ll show you that I’m worth it.”
“What?” She raised up and frowned.
“If you give me a chance, I’ll pro
ve that I can be the man you need.”
“You already are.”
“No. I’ve seen the men in your world. I’ve eaten with them and drunk with them, wagered with them and voyaged with them. I know what you expect.”
Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? When she found him to be so very fine, why denigrate him?
“You’re more than enough.”
At the remark, he smiled. “You are too good to me.”
“And I plan to be even better.”
He rolled them so that she was on the bottom, so that he was on top, and his gaze was all hot, focused male. She wondered if he had any idea how fierce he appeared, how determined. He’d taken to debauchery like a fish to water, had rapidly learned how to satisfy a woman, and how to get what he wanted, too. He was so sexy, so handsome, and he was all hers. At least for the time being.
She had no illusions about the sort of female who would eventually catch him. When he’d earned his fortune and was prepared to settle down, he’d choose a wife like Miss Mansfield.
Frequently, Pat spied on them, as they conferred about books they’d read or about articles in the London paper that referred to people they both knew. They were so much alike, and Pat yearned to go to the other woman, to shake her and say, Let me be one of you so I can keep him! Let me be you!
She would give anything to stay at Mansfield, to dress and act like a real lady. Once in her life, during her ordeal in Egypt, she’d been beautiful and tempting, and she wanted to be that way again, but she wasn’t sure how to accomplish it.
“What do you suppose the Captain will decide about Mansfield Abbey?” he inquired, daring to broach questions of the future.
“Let’s don’t talk about it.”
“But what if he has you leave and—”
“Hush.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. She was superstitious as any sailor, and she wouldn’t court bad luck by speaking aloud of grim tidings.
She started kissing him, leading him to the physical realm where they thrived, where there were no annoying doubts, shameful histories, or nagging secrets. He joined in, as anxious as she to avoid discussion of untenable subjects.
He took control of the embrace and entered her with a single thrust.
“I adore being inside you.” He flexed with unbridled delight.
“I can tell.”
“I assumed I’d lived before, but I hadn’t. Not till now. Not till you.”
How could she fail to love him? She wanted so much from him, more than he could ever imagine, more than he would ever agree to give.
He pulled out and blazed a trail to her breasts, but he surprised her by continuing on, down her stomach, her abdomen, to her lush center.
He hesitated, curious and eager, but not positive of how to proceed. He knew about this facet of passion—after all, when you served the Captain, you witnessed every salacious behavior—but he hadn’t sought to initiate the naughty deed, and she hadn’t had the courage to ask.
“I want to taste you,” he explained. Politely, he added, “May I?”
“Yes.”
“What should I do?”
“Lick me with your tongue.”
“Where do you like it best?”
“There.”
She spread her nether lips, providing greater access, and she stared at the ceiling, too overwhelmed to peek down. She was suddenly shy when she couldn’t deduce why she would be. She’d spied on him at his bath for weeks, had fornicated with him on dozens of occasions. This was simply the next level in a rising tide of ardor.
“Like this?”
“Yes, exactly like that.”
His tongue flicked at her, and she arched, attempting to throw him off but lure him closer, too.
“Hold still, my little hellcat.”
“I can’t. You drive me wild.”
“I do?” He was so pleased!
“Yes.” She grinned. “I’m insane with desiring you.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” He scowled. “You seem to enjoy this immensely.”
“I can’t deny it.”
“Why didn’t you have me try it sooner?”
“I didn’t know how to suggest it.”
“Silly girl. When we’re finished, we must have a long chat, so you can inform me of what else you’ve been hiding.”
“Nothing, really. I just . . . just . . .”
“I’m a beginner at this,” he reminded her.
“But hardly a novice.”
“You can’t expect me to figure out everything on my own.”
“You’re doing fairly well without much guidance.”
He raised a brow, licking her again, again. “Should I go faster? Or slower? Which is best?”
“Faster,” she urged. “Definitely faster . . . oh . . . and use your fingers to . . . to . . .”
She was too provoked to enlighten him further, but then, words weren’t necessary. He grasped what was required, sliding in to taunt and tease, and with scarcely any effort, he goaded her into the inferno.
He pinned her down, tormenting her, riding out the storm, and as she reached the peak, as the ecstasy waned, he was nibbling up her torso to kiss her on the mouth.
She could taste herself on his tongue, and she groaned with pleasure, loving the tang and what it indicated about the new stage of their relationship. He settled himself between her legs, his cock gliding in with no assistance, at all, and he gripped her hips and flexed, penetrating to the hilt. With a wrenching moan, he spilled himself, then collapsed atop her. He was laughing, merry, his erection not having diminished in the slightest.
“How do you do that to me?” he asked.
“You’re a man, so you’re easy.”
“You’ve turned me into a sexual addict. I can’t get enough.”
“Good.”
He looked so beautiful, so reliable and steady, and she felt something crack and break deep inside. It was her image of herself, of her link to the Captain and the past. She yearned to be more than what she was, to have Robert treasure more about her than the fact that he could sate his lust between her thighs.
They reveled every night, but during the day they carried on as strangers. She wanted so much more. How could she achieve it?
Don’t ever leave me, she nearly wailed, and she bit down so she wouldn’t blurt out the needy, stupid comment. She couldn’t let him ascertain how smitten she was.
She was saved from further embarrassment by a brisk knock on the door. They both jumped. They’d been so wrapped up in their escapade that they hadn’t noticed anyone approaching.
“Gad!” Robert whispered. “Who could it be?”
“I haven’t a clue,” she responded, though she was quite sure she knew the interloper’s identity. Before she could inquire, the door burst open, and the Captain strolled in.
“There you are,” he said calmly, as though finding them in bed together was an ordinary occurrence. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”
“Oh, my Lord!” Robert breathed.
His phallus withered, and he retreated from her, but he was at a loss as to his next move. Should he leap up and grab for his trousers? Should he conceal himself by keeping himself pressed to her? What was most discreet? The blankets were down around their feet, kicked away in their frantic mating and no help whatsoever.
He was an extremely modest individual, unaccustomed to having others view him in a state of dishabille, so he was mortified.
As for herself, the Captain had seen her naked before, as she’d seen him on many occasions. There were few secrets between them. She shifted Robert off and behind her so that she shielded him as much as she was able.
“Did you need me, Captain?” She was as composed as he. She was totally at his service and always would be. If he commanded her to dress and fight, she’d be ready immediately. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, that depends.” He studied them, absorbing the debauched details. “What have you to say for yourself, Mr.
Smith?”
Robert gulped. “Me? I . . . I . . .”
She was furious. Considering the Captain’s constant philandering, he had no right to strut in and interrupt. Robert was terrified of him, deeming him to be much more vicious than he actually was, and the Captain was amused by making him tremble.
Chin up, she declared, “It was all my doing, Captain. I seduced him.”
“I’m aware of your numerous charms, Pat, so I’m certain you did.”
“He wanted no part of it.”
The Captain guffawed, his randy eyes meandering down her womanly form. “And I’m the King of England.”
“It’s true. I forced him.”
Robert piped up, “She did not, Captain. I was the pursuer, and I take full responsibility.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “He was completely innocent.”
“Pure as the driven snow, I’ll bet,” the Captain chided. “Mr. Smith, we’d better talk.”
“Now?” Robert’s voice squeaked up an octave.
“At the moment, you appear to be busy, so the morning will suffice. I’ll break my fast at six. Join me in the small dining parlor.” As he turned to go, he warned, “Were I you, I wouldn’t be late.”
“No, sir, I won’t be.”
They listened to his fading footsteps, and once it was quiet, Robert shuddered with dread.
“Will he kill me?”
She scoffed. “No. He likes you.”
“He does?”
“Of course. And he and I are friends. He’d never hurt you, because it would hurt me.”
“How can you be so positive?”
“Because I’ve known him a long time. Much longer than you.” The Captain had an odd sense of justice, but he was basically a fair man.
“What will he do, then? Will he have me flogged? Will he lock me in irons?”
“I really can’t say.”
“I couldn’t bear it if he tossed me in the hold with the rats.”
“He won’t. Stop worrying.”
He flopped onto his back, an arm flung over his face, as he contemplated his fate. Ultimately, he peered over at her. “You don’t suppose he’ll demand we wed, do you?”
