Time After Time (219 page)

“Yes.” One simple word was all he could utter.

“Mac, would you ask the ladies to join us?”

The Scotsman nodded, his kilt swishing around his legs as he rushed to follow orders.

A few moments later, a collective sigh went up from the assembled crew as Temperance joined Brady and slipped her hand in his. Tristan shared their awe. She’d never looked more beautiful and it wasn’t the gown or her hair. It was the expression of love and happiness on her face. Caralyn motioned to Jemmy and they both stood a few steps behind the bride. Tears shimmered in Caralyn’s eyes, making them a more crystalline blue. She smiled at him and his heart grew heavier than it had before.

Tristan dragged his gaze away from Caralyn then cleared his throat and opened the Bible. As he read one of his favorite passages, he glanced at Temperance then at Stitch. He’d never seen a couple more in love than these two, and though he’d never presided over a wedding before, his words rang out with confidence. “If you’ll both place your hands on the Bible.” When they did so, Tristan spoke again. “Do you, Temperance Beasley, take this man as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do you part?”

“I do.” Her voice, quiet but strong, conveyed her conviction.

He repeated the same question to Stitch and received the same answer, also spoken with conviction and a great deal of love.

“If there is any among you who believe Brady and Temperance should not be joined in marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The crew remained silent, as not one objected to the union, and as the sun disappeared into the horizon with a last flash of brilliant color, Tristan pronounced Stitch and Temperance man and wife. “You may kiss the bride.”

A cheer rose from the crew as Brady Trevelyan leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on his wife’s lips.

Champagne flowed, the hastily prepared feast enjoyed and exclaimed over, and music filled the silence of the night.

The sound of feet stomping on the deck as the men danced to the music drowned out the beat of Tristan’s heart. He watched Caralyn as she dipped and swayed, her skirt lifted to reveal lacy petticoats as she danced with one man after another. Patient, though he wanted nothing more than to steal her away and into his own arms, he waited until it was his turn.

Laughter bubbled from Caralyn’s throat as she landed in his embrace, the buttons of her dress, the ones in his mind since he first saw them, pressed against his chest.

• • •

Caralyn didn’t know how it happened. Or when it happened. One moment, they were dancing on the deck, swaying to the music, the next they were in the captain’s cabin. Tristan’s hands molded her body to his, his lips on hers as they leaned against the door, his knee pressed between her thighs.

Perhaps it was the champagne that had flowed so freely, though she’d only had one glass, or the romance of a sunset wedding. Perhaps it was
him
, and the heady mix of emotions surging through her, the intoxicating touch of his mouth to hers, the taste of him, the feel of his powerful body so close, the smell of spindrift surrounding her. All she knew was that kissing him, holding him, had become more important than breathing.

I shouldn’t be doing this
. The thought rambled through her head, and yet she didn’t want to stop the amazing sensations racing through her, didn’t want to end this perfect moment. He pulled the pins from her hair and the heavy weight fell to tickle her shoulders as his fingers threaded through her curls.

I should tell him.

“I’m promised to another,” she blurted as her lips met his, the first time she admitted the secret she’d been hiding. She felt him stiffen and pull away slightly, but only for a moment before he gathered her closer.

“As am I,” he whispered against her cheek.

Shock whispered through her, but she chose to ignore it. There would be time enough later to agonize over his admission and her own. For right now, she didn’t want to think at all.

“But we’re alone now in the middle of the ocean. We can pretend the world and our obligations beyond this do not exist.” The tone of his voice sounded almost tortured to her ears as his arms tightened around her. “Just let me hold you, Cara mia. That’s all I ask.”

Darkness engulfed the cabin, except for the beams of moonlight that caressed them. Caralyn settled into his arms and reveled in the warmth he exuded, the gentle strength of his embrace. His breath fanned her neck, just below her ear, as he placed tender kisses along her throat and jaw line. Goose bumps pebbled her skin and a strange though pleasant tightening stirred between her legs.

She couldn’t help herself. Being held in his arms was not enough, couldn’t satisfy the growing need that made her feel flush, made her shiver, made her want what she didn’t know. She touched her lips to his while her hands splayed on his firm hard chest. His heart beat a steady cadence beneath her fingertips. He drew in his breath, made a slight noise in the back of his throat, a cross between a moan and a groan as his chest expanded beneath her hands.

That gentle kiss turned to something more demanding, more passionate, as his mouth took possession of hers and his hands—dear God, they seemed to be everywhere at once—crushing her to him, caressing her back through the material of her gown, stroking her hair, her face, warming her from the inside out.

He led her away from the door, his mouth locked on hers, tongue caressing hers, hands touching every inch of her. Breath mingled, the sound erotic to her ears. They settled into an overstuffed leather chair near the small stove used to heat the cabin. Caralyn sat on his lap, her legs slung over the arm of the chair, her gown hiked up to expose her stockings to her knees. She could feel the strength of his arousal against her backside even through the layers of clothing and a thrill raced through her.

Tristan’s lips touched hers, sliding over them, tasting her, sending more heat to flood her veins, as his fingers slid over her collarbone then down to the décolletage of her gown. His fingers made short work of unbuttoning her dress to expose the corset cover beneath. A quick tug on the ribbon and the garment loosened. He lowered the short puffed sleeve of her gown and brushed his lips along her shoulder as his hand slipped beneath her corset and chemise to gently cup her breast. The nipple puckered into a hard nub as he whispered in her ear all the things he wanted to do to her.

In that instant, Caralyn ceased to think beyond the surge of yearning taking control of her, beyond the pleasurable tightening between her thighs. Heat suffused her. Indeed, fire seemed to blaze in her veins, igniting an inferno she didn’t think she could survive.

She moved against him and he groaned deep in his throat, his chest rumbling beneath her hand, but then it was her turn to moan as his kisses dropped lower, from her shoulder, to the tops of her breasts exposed by corset and chemise. Supported by his arm behind her, Caralyn’s head tilted back, granting him more access. A small sound escaped her as he complied with her silent wish and the spiraling heat within her grew. Within moments, the clasps at the front of her corset were undone and the chemise pushed aside.

She had an irrational desire to cover herself and brought her hands up to do so, but Tristan stopped her. “Don’t, Cara mia. Let me look at you.” He sighed as his gaze touched every inch of bare skin glowing in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful.”

His words alone were enough to convince her, but one look at the expression on his face, at the longing and appreciation in his eyes, made her cast aside all her uncertainty. She wanted this, had wanted this from the moment they met. The hunger for him had only grown stronger the more time they spent with each other. Caralyn caressed his hair and brought his head down to her breast.

The first touch of his tongue against her already hardened nipple made her gasp, indeed, made her jump as the warmth of his mouth surrounded the straining bud. The heat inside her doubled, the tightening between her thighs growing in unexpected surges.

Her shoe fell to the floor and her gown rode higher as Tristan slipped his hand beneath the hem and caressed her leg, smoothing along the silky stocking from her ankle to her calf to her knee before finding the sensitive skin of her thigh beneath her drawers. While his mouth and lips continued their leisurely exploration of her breasts and played havoc with her senses, Caralyn felt the ties holding her stocking in place slip free. With an expertise that surprised her, he slid the stocking from her leg and then the warmth of his hand replaced the silk.

Caralyn gasped as his fingers brushed up against the mass of springy curls between her thighs. No one, except herself, had ever touched her there. Moisture seeped from that secret place, making her slick, making it easy for him to part the swollen flesh and find the key to her release. As his thumb gently caressed her, the tightening pressure built, spiraling out of control. He glided a finger into her moist heat, stroking her sensitive skin as his thumb continued to draw light circles on the hardened nub.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her lips. Her eyes opened and her breath came in short gasps of surprise as her body responded to the simple words and exploded.

Now Caralyn knew why men chased women and women allowed themselves to be caught. This pure rapture, this unbridled passion, this pleasure had no equal.

Tristan continued to caress her swollen flesh while his lips took possession of hers. He rose from the chair, bringing her with him as if she weighed nothing and maybe she did weigh nothing. She felt light, boneless, a quivering mass of pulsating nerves and flesh, her body ablaze with sensation, her mind unable to hold a coherent thought. He placed her on her feet, which was a mistake. With her knees weak, she wobbled and fell against him, her breasts crushing against his hard chest. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin as the gown and petticoat fell away, leaving an amethyst and white puddle on the floor. She stood in a beam of moonlight in her underclothes, one stocking still covering her leg, unashamed.

He said nothing but no words were needed. Indeed, she probably wouldn’t have understood or remembered, caught as she was in the spiraling passion his touch evoked. And touch her he did—with his lips, his mouth, his hands. He made removing each piece of clothing a new experience in sensation. His eyes reflected his own need and yet, he remained gentle, patient.

Thoughts spun in her mind, but not one made sense as she helped him take off his shirt, her fingers clumsy with nervousness. The muscles in his chest and arms rippled with his movements, causing another stir of excitement within her. She couldn’t resist running her hands over his hard muscles. His body stiffened beneath her touch. His wide chest tapered to a lean waist, slim hips, and long legs, and when he bent over to remove his boots, she was treated to the sight of his well-developed backside.

Anticipation grew as his trousers dropped to the floor and he stood before her, naked, unadorned, fully aroused, and so beautiful. Caralyn drank in the perfection of his body. Her mind memorized every powerful line of him, but her eyes were drawn to the heat of his gaze. In the depths of his sherry-colored eyes, she saw a promise of what was to come as he laid her gently on the bed.

Caralyn opened her arms and welcomed him. His weight pushed her further into the mattress. The fine hair on his chest pricked her already sensitive nipples and the rush of expectancy coiled like a spring in the very core of her being. Every nerve in her body came alive beneath the onslaught of his touch, every sense heightened. The smell of the sea clung to him and filled her nose. The taste of champagne on his tongue became a heady elixir within her brain. The warmth of his skin beneath her hands, the roughness of his whiskers against her face, the tenderness of his kiss all conspired to make doubts, fears, and obligations disappear.

The brief stab of pain when he entered her body for the first time startled her and she stiffened beneath him, but only for a moment. He stopped, his breath coming in short gasps, the muscles in his arms bunching from self-control.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered as he planted gentle kisses on her face. Caralyn felt the tension in him, the control he exerted. She trusted him and relaxed her stiffened muscles. Tristan began to move in her slowly, the length and breadth of him filling her until she became lost in the rhythm older than time.

Poised on the edge of another jarring climax, Caralyn lifted her hips to meet his. She met him stroke for stroke, her hands clutching his backside, pulling him closer as her legs wrapped around his.

Tristan groaned as the world around her shattered into a million stars. She felt the warmth of his seed fill her, felt her own body throbbing around him, felt the tension in him ease as his mouth claimed hers once more.

A chill made her shiver as his warmth left her and he rose from the bed. She watched him, fascinated by his rippling muscles and tight, round backside as he poured water into the washbasin and grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer beneath it.

She’d known him to be gentle, to be tender. She’d seen with her own eyes the loving way he treated Jemmy and tonight, he was no different with her. He sat on the side of the bed, the washcloth in his hand. “The first time is always painful and I’m sorry. I should have been gentler, should have taken my time.”

Caralyn stiffened and heat rose to her face when she realized what he was about to do, but the way he looked at her, the tenderness in his voice put her at ease and she let him bathe away the telltale proof of her virginity from her thighs. He tossed the cloth into the water basin and crawled back into bed.

Tristan caressed the side of her face, pushing her perspiration damp hair away from her cheek. “It’ll never happen again. I promise.”

What wouldn’t happen again? Making love? Sharing a passion that seemed all consuming and just so right, she could have cried?

He kissed her then his lips moving over hers with such sweetness, tears stung her eyes. “Sleep now, my sweet.” He cradled her in his arms. Caralyn let the warmth of his body surround her as she drifted into sleep, her limbs heavy with satisfaction, her heartbeat returning to a much more normal pace. The last thing she heard was his tortured whisper, “Ah, Cara mia, why did I have to find you now?”