Caution to the Wind (29 page)

His tongue danced with hers, the taste of wine reminding him that she had overindulged. She wouldn’t be the first to drink a little too much and regret her actions in the morning. He would not take advantage of her present condition, but there could be no harm in showing her how to kiss properly, could there?

He cupped her face in his hands, deepening the kiss. She rewarded his efforts by drawing her other hand from behind her and putting it about his neck, pulling him so close he could feel the press of her breasts against his chest even through the thick fabric of his waistcoat.

Her inhibitions, had she ever had any, had been thrown to the wind. He would have smiled if his lips hadn’t been otherwise occupied, for he suspected only her inexperience kept her from ravishing him.

His mouth not leaving hers, Will put his hands behind her back and gently lowered her into his hammock. With one hand next to her ear, his thumb gently stroking her cheek, he kissed her. With his other hand, he fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat, eager to remove at least one layer of clothing separating skin from skin. He pulled back to undo the last stubborn button before tossing it to the floor.

Need shone in Amanda’s shining, half-closed eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing rapid. His body ached to respond, but lingering doubt nagged at his conscience. Letting his hand trace the contours of her hip, he tried to sort duty from desire.

His duty was to protect her, both as a member of his crew and as a woman. If he made love to her, she would be his, inextricably bound to him. She was an innocent, and his sense of honor wouldn’t have it otherwise. But, deep down, in the part of him that thrilled to the hunt, he knew it was more than that. Like the wolf some thought him to be, he would make her his mate. The need to possess her driving him on, he bent to kiss her again.

With one hand, he pulled her shift over her shoulder to give him greater access to her creamy skin. He nibbled at her throat, then nipped with far more care than she had shown to his swollen lower lip. He grinned when she gasped and arched against him.

His other hand settled on her rib cage just below her breast. When she didn’t stiffen in response to the intimate placement, he stroked the full roundness of the underside of her breast with his thumb before moving upward to where her tightened nipple poked against the fabric.

He could make her his wife. Perhaps in time, his attraction to her would mellow into something more manageable. In the meantime, she could live in Baltimore where he could visit her often if he restricted his voyages to this side of the Atlantic.

But would she want to marry him? Her single-minded goal had been to remain on his ship as a member of his crew. What evidence had she ever given that she harbored any feelings for him? The wolf within him may be satisfied with carnal desire, but the man wanted more. If he were to force her to live ashore, she might prefer to do so as a single woman instead of being shackled to an absentee husband who had made her give up the life she loved.

Amanda gave a low throaty laugh and ran a bare foot up the back of his leg. Her shift slid to her knee, exposing a considerable amount of soft, white skin on her thigh.

He needed to lay her options before her. He would be satisfied with her choice, or at least learn to live with it in time. He would do it soon too, but for right now, his body seemed to have a mind of its own.

Fitting her breast into the palm of his hand, he grinned, glad that Amanda couldn’t see his face and ask him what he found so amusing. He did not doubt her breasts would be considered unfashionably small by those with enough vulgarity to comment, but the taut globes fit the rest of her willowy frame to perfection and lacked nothing in their ability to entice him.

He kneaded her breast with his hand, then bent to nip at her, grinning to himself when Amanda gasped and reached up to entwine her fingers in his hair and hold his head to her. Encouraged by her uninhibited response, he took her nipple fully into his mouth, wetting the rough fabric and raking his tongue against her.

Will chuckled. He needed to ask her about “her intentions” before things progressed too far. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Normally, his intentions would be the ones called into question. However, at the moment, he seemed to be the only one with a modicum of restraint. Only inexperience held Amanda back, and she made up for that with eagerness.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Amanda,” he said in a voice muffled by the light kisses he placed around one nipple. He stroked the other one with the pad of his thumb. “Would you like to return to Baltimore?”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he pulled his attention away from her breasts so he could see her expression.

“Baltimore? Do you mean to live?” she asked, her green eyes wide.

What did he see in their cloudy depths? Doubt? Fear? He could have kicked himself for the way he had started the conversation. He should have given the matter his full attention instead of assuming he could possibly think and speak clearly while in the process of making love to her.

“Yes, I could help you get set up in town somewhere.”

“Set up?” Suspicion shone in her narrowed eyes.

“Yes, or at least settled. There’s no need to return to the farm if you prefer not to.”

“But once I am
settled
, what am I to do then?”

He grappled with the question, trying to latch on to the right answer, the one that would keep her in his life.

Independence should be among her options, if that was what she desired. He didn’t want her to feel as though marrying him were the only option available to her. She had enough money to live comfortably, independent of any man.

But did she want to be? Most women yearned for a home and family. The idea of her marrying somebody else made his stomach clench, but this was her choice. She would not be forced into marrying him just because she felt she had no other options.

“Whatever you want to do,” he suggested. “You could be comfortable for the rest of your life.”

She grasped the sleeve of her shift and tugged it back into place. Color rose from her neckline and returned the flush to her cheeks. Her eyes were shining again, and her spine was as stiff as a ship’s spar.

“You would set me up as your mistress?” she asked, her voice strained.

“No!” Will lowered his voice when he realized he had come close to shouting. “I simply meant you’d have enough money of your own. Of course, I could make sure you never wanted for anything.”

This discussion had not gone at all the way he had intended, but then no discussion with Amanda ever did. She could be more unpredictable than any tempest.

She cocked an eyebrow. “You would give me money for the rest of my life, not expecting anything in return?”

“That’s right.” His sense of relief in her understanding mingled with disappointment because it wasn’t the outcome he was looking for. “I will support you for the rest of your life unless you find a husband. In fact, I could even help you find a husband, if that is what you want.”

Like hell he would. He would spend the entire time convincing her to marry him.

She grabbed his feather pillow. “You stupid, stupid man!” Amanda shouted.

“What are you...?” He stood up, hands raised to fend off the attack.

Feathery blows rained down upon his head from the only weapon she could find. Luckily, she hadn’t notice the poker standing next to the small warming stove, or he would be in real trouble.

He tried to regain control of the situation and grabbed for the pillow when it came at him again. He held it tightly in one fist, but Amanda refused to relinquish the other end. She glared at him, but tears glistened in her eyes and her lower lip trembled.

Dammit, he hadn’t meant to make her cry. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Perhaps he didn’t understand women as much as he thought, but then, he had never met a woman like her. He had better remove himself before he made more of a mess out of it than he already had.

He dropped his end of the pillow and strode toward the door.

Will considered locking the door behind him, but it would be pointless. There would be no stopping her if she managed to locate a more damaging weapon and decided to come after him with it. Perhaps he would ask Buck to stand guard tonight—over him!

****

Amanda threw herself into the hammock and sobbed until the pillow turned into a sodden, lumpy mass with feathers squeezing out through the rents in the seams. She tossed it across the room, where it hit the wall with a dull thud and fell to the floor like an old, dead goose. Amanda choked, the sound half laugh and half sob. His pillow looked as pathetic as she felt.

She flopped on her back, letting one arm hang over the side of the hammock, her hand dangling limply from her wrist. Her sniffles subsiding, she stared at the rafters.

The wine had cleared from her head, and her skull felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. To make matters worse, she had never been so humiliated in her life, and her shame heated her skin until she felt like she was on fire.

She hadn’t meant to seduce the captain, but somehow she had found herself in his quarters...in her shift...his hand on her breast. Did he think she had arranged it all? He probably thought she had meant to seduce him as a way to get him to consent to her remaining aboard the
Amanda
. Instead he had offered to make her his…his…
mistress
was the kindest word she could come up with.

Or maybe she had read too much into his offer. He had, after all, offered to find her a husband! As though she couldn’t find one on her own!

Mistress or hopelessly pathetic—she couldn’t decide which idea she found more insulting. She drew in her limbs and curled into a ball on her side, cradling the pain that settled in the pit of her stomach.

As a girl, Amanda had imagined marrying eventually. While she knew not everyone had the opportunity to marry for love, she had been determined to marry an honorable man. One she could respect, and one who would respect her in return. She had always imagined that love, of a sort, would follow.

Now that she had found an honorable man, one she truly loved, she had nurtured a girlish hope that he might eventually love her in return. He hadn’t said so in so many words, but he had called her “my love” at supper when he whispered in her ear. She remembered the way the small endearment had warmed her to her toes, a warmth more delicious that Buck’s best rum.

“But that was all it was. Just an endearment thrown about lightly, nothing more,” she told the pillow lying on the other side of the room.

Perhaps his physical need for her did not match her own either. She knew his attraction to her was real, simmering beneath his controlled facade. She wasn’t so naïve that she did not notice the hard length of him pressed against her belly. She had seen the heat in his eyes and felt it radiate from him. Her traitorous breasts still tingled with the memory of his kisses, and her humiliation deepened.

Despite his arousal, if he felt a fraction of what she did, he would never have stopped, certainly not to ask her if she wanted his help in finding a husband.

“Aaaargh!” She flopped to her other side, wishing she hadn’t wrecked his pillow. It would have helped her sleep.

She had drunk far too much wine, and the aftereffects were reminding her of why she had sworn off rum. Every inch of her head ached, even her teeth and her eyebrows. The wine and the passions it fueled had muddied her thinking, and she knew nothing would be resolved until the clearer light of morning shone through the windows.

She tossed and turned through the night, tormented by the replay of the evening’s events. Unbidden, every word, every action paraded through her memory. In the end, she fell into a fitful sleep. Her one solace was that she lay in comfort on the softest mattress on the ship, while somewhere in the dark roamed a grumpy and probably very tired man, looking for a place to sleep now that she had ousted him from his own quarters. She smiled through her tears when she imagined him trying to squeeze his large frame into her narrow hammock in the doctor’s quarters. It would not be an easy night for him either!

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Good morning, sailor!” Will said, in a voice even louder than usual.

Amanda groaned and rolled over in the hammock, pulling a quilt over her head.

Will nudged her hip with his foot. “I’d cut you down, but that’s my bed you’re in, so I have as much to lose as you do.”

She rolled onto her back and opened one eye little more than a slit. Her face had a decidedly green cast to it.

“I’m guessing wine doesn’t agree with you any more than rum.”

“What is that awful smell?” she groaned, ignoring his jibe.

“That,” he said, drawing back the cloth cover from the tray he carried in a dramatic sweep, “is your breakfast, my dear.”

“Breakfast?” she asked, her voice raspy.

“I had Cookie make it for you since you were unable to prepare mine this morning. Your just rewards, if I do say so myself.”

If anything, Amanda looked greener than she had a moment ago. He let her suffer for just a moment more before taking pity on her. “Of course he didn’t make it. I did.”

“You made it?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Yes.”

He felt rather proud of himself too. The eggs looked passable, the toast a light caramel color, and there were no grounds floating on the surface of the coffee. For a man who hadn’t cooked his own meals in years, he had done quite well.

Amanda flopped onto her back and laid a limp hand over her eyes, blocking out the morning light that streamed through the high, curtainless windows. She swallowed, then said in a thick voice. “Well, whoever made it, I’m not eating.”

“Yes, you are.” Will set the tray down on his desk. “And after you have eaten, we are going into town.”

Like a corpse reanimated, she sat up. “For what?”

“You need a new dress.”

It wasn’t exactly an order, but he hoped she would take it as such. She needed to eat, not talk.