by Andrea Kane
She bit her lip in frustration. The evening had lulled her into a false sense of security. Drake had been hospitable … no, downright charming as he had instructed her at the helm. And Alex had been so enthused that she had almost forgotten the sleeping arrangements that awaited her. She had planned to wait until Drake was in bed, slip back into her modestly cut chemise, then climb into the cot. Now that was impossible.
Alex glanced down at her men’s clothes. The breeches were fine for daytime, but far too uncomfortable to sleep in. But, she could remove them and remain in just the shirt, which would easily reach her knees.
Studying the shirt, she shuddered, seeing the black stains acquired during her stint at the helm. The thought of sleeping in a filthy men’s shirt was distinctly unappealing. However, she had no choice.
With a resigned sigh, she listened as Drake prepared for bed. When she was certain he was safely beneath the bedcovers, she would attempt to ready herself for sleep.
Drake couldn’t stop grinning as he watched Alex’s rigid back, every muscle tense with discomfort. He had shocked her; of that much he was certain. But he was not certain why. Surely the sight of a naked man was no novelty to her, unless she was one of those prim types who insisted on making love only in the dark. Somehow he doubted it. She was too outspoken and exuberant to be prudish in bed.
Drake sat down on the bed to remove his boots. It was a good thing he had discouraged Smitty from performing his usual valet duties. Imagine Alexandria’s horror if two men had been present to witness her supposed fall from grace.
Actually Drake had never seen Smitty display such blatant disapproval before. When Drake had suggested that he temporarily relinquish his valet role, Smitty had replied with a curt nod. Drake did not need to ask why he was angry or at whom the anger was directed. In Smitty’s eyes Drake was taking unfair advantage of an innocent young woman from a noble family.
An image of the austere Geoffrey Cassel flashed through Drake’s mind. With a twinge of guilt Drake admitted to himself that Smitty’s opinion had merit. In the earl’s eyes Alexandria would indeed be ruined. In fact, the discovery that his untouched daughter had been forced to share a cabin with Drake would probably cause him to call Drake out.
Drake weighed that possibility as he tugged off his first boot. Obviously the young and impetuous beauty who stood so nervously across the room had not considered that prospect. Actually she had not considered any of the repercussions of her rash act. Was it innocence and naive faith that drove her or willful and self-centered impulsiveness?
Drake frowned, seeing Alexandria wince as his boots hit the floor. Despite his firm resolve, he felt a wave of sympathy for her. No matter how arrogant and hypocritical she might be, she was still very obviously unnerved by the sleeping arrangements. Even with her back to him, Drake could tell, by the way she was looking down at herself, that she was considering her options for the most appropriate nighttime attire. Certainly none of the choices could compare with the sheer silk nightrails she was undoubtedly used to wearing to bed.
Tossing his breeches next to his shirt, Drake put an end to her torment by climbing into his berth.
“You can turn around now, princess. I am respectably covered,” he assured her.
She turned slowly, her chin held high. But Drake could see her lips tremble.
“May I douse the light?” she asked in a small voice. “Or am I to be denied even a shred of privacy?”
The urge to hold her was so strong at that moment that Drake couldn’t speak. He merely nodded, wrestling with the conflicting emotions that plagued him.
“Thank you.” Alex turned down the lamp, plunging the room into utter darkness.
Drake listened to the rustling sounds that told him she was undressing. He visualized her gradually exposed beauty, as each article of clothing was discarded, revealing the naked splendor beneath. His heart quickened; his loins tightened painfully. Desperately he tried to focus on something else, but his brain stubbornly insisted on conjuring up images of Alexandria. Naked. Alone with him in his cabin. At his mercy … in his arms … beneath his body.
He shifted, groaning inwardly. His craving for her was astounding. Having spent his entire adult life being sought after by women, Drake regarded sex as an easily acquired, easily forgotten commodity. It was a sport that was thoroughly enjoyed by his body, rarely involving his mind and never touching his heart, for he knew firsthand how little the act of love actually meant. Once passion was spent, it was gone, as was the bed partner. For that reason Drake kept himself always, always in control.
But suddenly he knew that control was waning, that he would not be able to restrain himself during the months to come.
Drake made a decision. The moment Alexandria was safely tucked beneath the bedcovers, he would go to Smitty’s cabin and bunk with him for the duration of the voyage. For despite his own physical need and the great satisfaction he would derive from their coupling, the last thing Drake wanted was to become involved with Lady Alexandria Cassel. The price was simply too high.
The cabin was silent. Drake could sense Alex’s presence nearby, and he knew instinctively that she was not in bed.
“Princess?”
He heard her jump. “What is it?”
He cleared his throat. “Is there some problem?”
“No … yes …” She paused. “May I use your basin and some water to wash the dirt from my face?”
Drake smiled in the darkness. “Go right ahead. And, princess … if you can find your way around in the dark, help yourself to one of my shirts. They are clean and more than large enough to protect your modesty.”
Again, silence. Then, “Thank you, Captain.”
Her bare feet padded across the room. Drake listened to her opening the heavy chest, taking out one of his shirts, and slipping it on. Splashing sounds told him she was washing, followed by her soft footsteps as she returned to her cot. Then a thud and a cry of pain.
Drake was out of bed in an instant, moving toward the sound of her choked cry.
“Alexandria? What is it?”
“I walked into the cot,” she whimpered.
“Are you badly hurt?”
In truth she was not. It had been a sudden painful blow, yet already the pain was subsiding to a dull throb. But it was more than she could withstand after her emotionally taxing day. Hot tears filled her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. Try though she would, she could not control the sobs that shook her.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I never cry … and it is not that bad a bruise … I just can’t …” She shook her head helplessly, covering her eyes with trembling hands.
There was no forethought. Drake reacted instantly, pulling her into his arms.
“Shhh,” he soothed, pressing her head against his chest. He felt her tears drenching his bare skin, her narrow shoulders shaking. “It’s all right, sweetheart … don’t cry,” he murmured, raising her chin with his forefinger, wishing he could see her face. He stroked his other hand down her back, pressing her closer to him.
They became aware of each other at the same moment. He was totally naked. She was clad only in a thin white shirt. She needed comfort. He needed more.
Drake found Alex’s mouth with his own, tasting the salt of her tears. He gave her no time to think or to pull away, for his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, lifting her slight frame off the floor, forcing her against his unclothed, thoroughly aroused body. Alex whimpered again, this time not in pain but in a combination of fear and awakening desire. Drake’s kiss was shattering, weaving dark magic around her stunned senses, paralyzing her resistance. He took her mouth hungrily again and again, each time deepening the kiss, urging her to open to his initial penetration.
And Alex, who had fought him every moment of the day, surrendered, parting her lips to his insistent command. A jolt of pleasure shot through her at the unfamiliar erotic sensation of his tongue stroking hers. This could not be happening, her dizzied mind protested. She did not even
know this man, and yet here she was in his arms, his mouth intimately invading hers in a way she had never imagined. And she was lost … lost.
She could feel the enormous power of his body, the strong, taut muscles of his upper arms as they flexed beneath her tentative touch. Her hands, trapped between their bodies, grew restless. She eased them free, touched the soft dark hair that covered his chest, then slid up to his broad shoulders. The inky blackness of the room could not conceal his harsh gasp of pleasure, the urgent shudder of his body, the shallowness of his breathing, the wild pounding of his heart against hers. His mouth moved more feverishly on hers, taking, giving, promising more.
Drake’s mind had long since given up its battle to retain control. From the moment he felt Alex’s soft, trembling mouth beneath his, the hot need inside him had erupted, overruling all else. Blood surged through his veins, drummed in his temples, throbbed at his loins. And when he felt her hesitant surrender as she parted her sweet lips to his demanding ones, he went wild, devouring her mouth with endless, drugging kisses of fire.
He tore his mouth from hers, pressing urgent open-mouthed kisses down her neck, her throat. Through the thin barrier of the shirt, he could feel her nipples contract with pleasure, their hardened peaks pressing against his burning skin. She tasted like the sea, wild and exciting, luring him closer, deeper into her spell.
Drake groaned, sliding his hands down to her legs, tugging the shirt up until he could feel her skin beneath his searching fingers. She was silken heaven, warm and shivery beneath his touch. His mouth moved hotly to her ear, nibbling lightly at the soft lobe as his hands slid up to cup her naked buttocks.
“I want you, Alexandria.” His hoarse whisper penetrated her sensual haze. “God, I can’t believe how much I want you.”
Alex froze, the full realization of where this was leading sinking in. He was stark naked, darkness or not, and he wanted to take her to bed. Whatever that entailed exactly, it was something that should transpire exclusively between a husband and wife, and only after they were wed. And here she was behaving like a harlot, totally forgetting everything she had ever been taught to believe in, abandoning herself in the arms of a stranger.
She began to struggle, panic washing away the last filaments of desire.
“No … no, please. I cannot … You must stop!”
Drake paused, still lost to his raging passion, stunned by her rejection. “What is it?” His voice was harsh with unquenched desire.
Alex pressed her hands against the hard wall of his chest, desperately trying to break his iron hold. How could she explain her fear, her inexperience, her inability to discard everything she had ever been taught? He would mock her, call her a hypocrite, a product of the nobility. Well, maybe she was all those things, but she could not do this. She was too afraid.
“Please …” She wished she could see his expression. “I don’t even know you. I’m afraid,” she admitted in a tiny voice.
Drake lowered her to the floor, trying to control his ragged breathing. He was moved yet again by the genuine apprehension he heard in her voice. Yet he could think of no explanation for her sudden rejection. Unless … “Why?” he demanded. “Is it because of who you are … who I am?”
“No … no.” Her voice shook from the intensity of the last moments’ emotions. “I told you I cannot … I’ve never …” She trailed off weakly.
Damn her, why did he believe her? Why, despite his unyielding conviction that all women were treacherous, did his mind refuse to doubt this woman’s sincerity? What was it about her that touched some unknown part of his heart that he had never known existed?
Damn her.
Drake released her so abruptly that she almost fell. Without a word he strode over to the desk, scooped up his clothes, and started dressing.
Alex was numb. She wrapped her arms around her shaking body and listened to him thrashing about. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Suddenly it had become important to her to know.
“Drake?” His name fell naturally from her lips. She couldn’t know the impact that single utterance had on his throbbing body, which still clamored for release.
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
Drake slammed into his boots, then stood and crossed the room.
“I’m leaving,” he shot back. “You’ve gotten your wish, princess. The cabin is yours.” He yanked open the door, allowing a weak shaft of light into the room.
To Alex he appeared furious, his jaw clenched, his eyes glittering as they studied her.
“I don’t understand.” She looked to him for clarification of his words. Even carelessly dressed, his black hair mussed, the shadow of a beard on his face, he was the most handsome and compelling man she had ever seen.
Drake took a deep, shuddering breath. In the dim light he could distinguish every one of Alex’s desirable curves beneath his billowy shirt. Her tawny hair was wildly tousled, her lips swollen from his kisses. She was positively bewitching. If he did not leave this minute he would go to her, take her to bed, and love her as she had never been loved before. And damn her protests to hell.
“The cabin is yours. For the duration of the trip I will share Smitty’s cabin.” He paused, wanting her, hating himself for wanting her. “Good night, princess.”
The door slammed and he was gone.
Alex stood where she was, feeling cold and alone. She had gotten her wish and her privacy—everything she had wanted.
She waited for relief to flood her senses, to ease her despair.
It did not surprise her that it was not forthcoming.
Chapter 6
THE SAILS WERE BEING hoisted into a dawning sky as Alex poked her head topside. Clad in clean clothes, her stomach filled with the cook’s delicious breakfast, she was ready to tackle La Belle Illusion.
She watched, fascinated, as one hundred feet above her, two men hoisted the royals. With grace and precision they moved quickly from one line to the next, their muscles bulging from the strain. Minutes later a whoop of success signaled the unfurling of the final sail. Ahead the horizon promised sunshine and smooth seas.
A new day. Filled with new hope.
“Good morning, my lady.” Smitty came over to greet her.
A genuine smile of pleasure lit her face. “And a good morning to you, Smitty.”
“How was your first night aboard La Belle?” he asked without thinking.
A crimson stain spread across Alex’s face as she wondered how much Smitty knew of the previous night’s events. Perhaps her brazen behavior was now common knowledge aboard La Belle Illusion. The thought made her ill.
The moment the words had left his mouth, Smitty wanted to kick himself. Whatever had transpired between his captain and Lady Alexandria was none of his business. But her reaction to his question told him that she thought otherwise. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The motion of the sea is not easy to become accustomed to,” he qualified. “It is for this reason that I asked about your evening.”
Alex instantly relaxed. Whether he knew of her scandalous actions or not, this kindly older man was making it clear that the others were not privy to the details of her sleeping arrangements. “My night was fine, Smitty. And thank you for the clean clothes and the food you left outside my door this morning.”
“You are most welcome,” Smitty chuckled. “But just how did you know that it was I who left those things for you?”
She shrugged. “Who else would see to my comfort?”
The unspoken name lay between them.
“Lady Alexandria,” Smitty ventured, at last, “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but, in time, I think you will find all the crew to be loyal and caring men.” He gave her a meaningful look. “I suggest you give them a chance.”
Alex sighed. “I will certainly try, Smitty.”
He nodded, content with her answer. “You seemed quite taken with La Belle Illusion last night,” he continued, brushing a shock of white hair off of his forehead
. “Your knowledge of sailing is admirable. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them.”
Realizing that he meant to leave her, Alex touched his arm in an unconscious appeal. “There is much that I want to learn, Smitty. Must you go?”
Smitty hesitated, glancing down at the small hand on his sleeve.
“Yes, my lady, he must.” Drake’s commanding voice pierced the silence. As his handsome, powerful figure strode toward them, Alex searched the brilliant green eyes for a hint of his mood. Would he be angry and manifest that anger in his treatment of her? She’d heard terrifying stories about the brutality of sea captains. And Drake certainly looked the part—so hard and formidable. Unconsciously Alex’s eyes strayed to his full, sensual mouth. Memories of that mouth on hers swept, unbidden, through her mind and body. Her heartbeat accelerated, her palms grew damp.
Drake watched her reaction, the bright color that stained her cheeks, her reluctant concentration on his mouth. He swallowed, deeply.
“Much as I would like to oblige you, I am afraid it is impossible right now, my lady.”
Her startled gaze met his. “Pardon me?” She was mortified that he could read her thoughts.
Drake treated her to a slow, devastating smile. “I would like to oblige you by providing Smitty as your guide, but I do require his skill at the helm.”
“Oh, of course … I understand.” Relief, overwhelming though it was, was short-lived, as Alex saw the triumphant gleam in Drake’s eye. She held her breath, expecting more taunting, but when he spoke again, his tone was aloof, businesslike. “Make yourself at home, princess. If you require something of importance, we will be at the helm.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to Smitty. “Is there anything I need to know?” At Smitty’s negative shake of the head Drake looked upward, his sharp gaze taking in every detail of the ship’s rigging and the clear skies around her. “Fine. I’m going to relieve Thomas.”
