Andrea Kane (20 page)

Drake looked surprised. “I have always protected
La Belle Illusion.”

“I was speaking of your wife, not your ship.”

The slight softening of Drake’s hard features was subtle, but Smitty saw it.

“Yes, Smitty, I will protect Alexandria. It is my duty, after all.”

“Of course, Captain,” was Smitty’s bland reply.

Drake knew his friend was not fooled by the casual mention of Alexandria, but he was not ready to discuss his wife with anyone. Hell, he was having enough trouble dealing with his feelings for her on his own.

Before last night Drake had possessed
some
control. No longer. Instead of extinguishing the blazing fire that burned within him, last night had only served to feed the flames, to make them lick higher and higher, spreading throughout his body and, far worse, igniting something fundamental, yet unwilling, within his soul. An internal voice of self-protection cried out with fear, warning him that he was exposed, vulnerable in a way that he had sworn never to be.

Alex had held back nothing of herself. Despite her fear and inexperience, she had budded and then blossomed like a beautiful flower in his arms, offering him her innocence and her newly awakened passion. And he had hurt her. No matter how many times he told himself that it was inevitable, he still could not forget her sharp, anguished whimpers as her virginal flesh tore with his frantic entry. Long after she had fallen asleep he had stared down into her face, trying to comprehend the intensity of their passion. Her long lashes, lying on her cheeks like golden wisps of sunlight, were moist with tears. He had fought an overwhelming urge to awaken her, to promise her that he would never hurt her again. But he knew damned well that, if he did, he would only end up making love to her again. And he could not give in to that impulse, for her body and his emotions were still too raw and tender for that to occur.

After a few hours of sleep, Drake had reluctantly detached himself from her soft warm body, dressed, and gone on deck. He was still here, and no nearer to understanding his feelings than he had been last night.

He
did
know that, with Alex, once was not enough. Drake had the maddening, drowning fear that he would never have enough.

“Smitty, have you seen Alexandria yet today?” he asked abruptly.

“No, Captain. When I left the berth deck, Lady Alexandria was still abed.”

Drake frowned. “But it is almost noon.”

“You left instructions for her to remain below until we are safely down the Saint Lawrence,” Smitty reminded him.

“Since when has my wife followed any of my instructions?”

Smitty chuckled. “Perhaps now that you are wed she is attempting to turn over a new leaf.”

Drake raised a disbelieving brow. “I don’t think we should hold out too much hope of that.” He was silent for a moment. “Smitty,” he said at last, “perhaps you should go below and assure us both that she is well.”

Smitty studied Drake for a long while, then nodded, choosing not to ask any questions. “Very well, Captain. I will go at once.” He stepped down from the quarterdeck and walked toward the stairs. “Have you any message for her?” he called back over his shoulder.

Drake shook his head. “Just remind her not to make any unexpected appearances topside, since no doubt she is contemplating doing just that.”

This time Drake was wrong.

Alex had awakened several hours earlier, emotionally shaken and physically sore. And she needed time alone to think.

She had known Drake was gone before she even opened her eyes. The realization had left her both relieved and terribly disappointed. She wanted him with her, and yet she was unsure of the status of their relationship.

Once during the night she had drifted awake, acutely aware of Drake’s strong body wrapped around hers. She had pressed closer, content to feel the power and security of his presence, the knowledge of their intimacy, the reality of her love for him. In his sleep Drake had tightened his embrace, and Alex had nestled against his solid strength … where she belonged.

Alex had never made love before, but she knew that what had transpired between them was a rarity. That knowledge filled her with a strange peace. Drake might not love her, but he most definitely wanted her, and that intense desire manifested itself in a passion that had stunned even him. And the way he had made love to her had told her more than he could ever guess. He had tempered his burning urgency with caring words and gentleness. He had wanted—no,
needed
—her pleasure as much as his own. And after their passion was spent, he had held her tenderly, limiting himself to soft kisses and soothing caresses.

Alex had known he wanted her again, and yet he hadn’t taken her. Her intuition had told her that Drake’s self-discipline was based on his concern for her inexperience and her discomfort.

Now she sat up in bed, clutching the thin sheet against her. It was time to consider some of the colder realities. She raised her knees and rested her chin on them. She was Drake’s wife now in every way. However, she reminded herself, making love with him was one thing; living with him was something else. He was domineering, didactic, embittered, and angry.

And he did not love her.

Because Alex was proud, that knowledge hurt her. She did not delude herself into thinking that it was her fault; she had seen and talked with Drake enough to know that something, or someone, had formed his opinion of women and relationships long before he met her.

Because she was stubborn, she had every intention of changing that opinion.

This could very well be the biggest challenge of her life. The thought amused her and encouraged her to rise and face the day. She hesitated. Face the day, perhaps, but not Drake. She still felt too close to the emotions of last night. Well, he had ordered her to stay below. For once she would obey him.

She climbed out of bed with a grin on her face. It appeared that her father had been wrong, after all. Within a few short hours she had acquired the ability both to submit
and
to obey. Apparently marriage was reforming her.

The smile left her face abruptly as her gaze fell upon a small stain of blood on the stark white sheets, a vivid symbol of last night’s passion. Alex closed her eyes, feeling a bit ill. She remembered the girls at boarding school whispering about blood being part of the “first time”, but idle gossip and blatant reality were far removed from each other. Alex ached for a woman to talk to, someone who understood.

It seemed that no matter where she was or how far she ran, she was alone.

Hurriedly she washed herself as best she could with water from the pitcher and a soft cloth. What she really wanted was a bath, but she was far too embarrassed to ask for one, especially now. The whole crew would be aware of why she was making that request, and that would mortify her. So she shivered through her cold and thorough dousing, then dressed in one of the simple gowns she had acquired in York. She dragged the soiled sheets from the bed and was frantically searching the room for clean bedding when a knock sounded at the door.

“Who is it?” she called, desperately seeking a hiding place for the soiled sheet.

“It is me, my lady,” Smitty called back.

Without thinking Alex hid the sheet behind her back, clasping it tightly in both hands. “Come in, Smitty.”

He opened the door, his kind face filled with concern for her. “Are you all right, my lady?”

Alex gave him a bright smile. “Just fine, Smitty.”

His curious gaze darted to the stripped berth, then back to Alex. “Captain Barrett asked me to check and see that you are well and comfortable.”

“Oh, yes, very,” she assured him, wondering why she hadn’t had the sense to cram the sheet beneath the bed. Now she was forced to stand like a ninny in order to spare her maidenly sensibilities.

It took Smitty a minute or two to comprehend what was amiss. Then, suddenly, awareness struck him like a great untamed wave.

Carefully schooling his features so as to appear ignorant of Alex’s dire predicament, Smitty continued.

“The captain also asked me to reiterate his desire for you to remain below during this part of our journey.” At her typically rebellious look he added, “It is for your safety, you know.” At her nod he turned back toward the door. “I will see that some food is brought to you at once.”

“No!”

Smitty stopped in his tracks at Alex’s vehement refusal. “My lady?”

Alex moistened her lips. “I mean … no, thank you, Smitty. I will be ready in a short while and will go out and eat with the men.”

“If you are certain … ?”

She nodded emphatically, praying for him to leave. Her arms were aching from their cramped position behind her back. “I am certain.”

“Then I will go topside and allow you your privacy.”

“Smitty?” Despite her discomfort, she had to know of their plight. “Has there been any incident with the Americans?”

Smitty shook his head. “No, my lady. All has been quiet thus far.”

She gave a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Where are we located now?”

“We have traveled much of Lake Ontario. Thanks to the winds, we should be nearing Kingston by morning.” He saw her shift uncomfortably and took pity on her. “I must return to the quarterdeck, my lady. If you will excuse me?”

Alex tried hard not to show her relief. “Oh, of course, Smitty, I understand.”

Smitty laughed all the way up to the main deck.

Nighttime arrived and with it came a startling realization: Alex wanted her husband.

She had spent most of her daylight hours in thoughtful solitude, alone in her cabin. When she became restless, she passed the time talking with the men and cleverly beating them at whist. But in the back of her mind she kept wondering where Drake was and whether it was merely a coincidence that they hadn’t seen each other all day.

Darkness had been a welcome reprieve. Never before in her life had Alex so eagerly readied herself for bed. And fatigue had nothing to do with it.

She giggled as she donned one of Drake’s shirts. So much for her exotic night rail. Drake had destroyed it last night. Giddy with anticipation, she slid into bed. And waited.

Drake paused outside the cabin door. He had successfully avoided her all day. But after a full day at the helm, he needed his rest. He needed his bed.

He needed his wife.

The room was dark and quiet, with no movement from the bed. Drake’s heart pounded as he undressed, his anticipation growing with each passing moment. Naked, he paused beside the berth. Her back was to him, and she appeared to be asleep. Slowly he slid in beside her, until he could feel the warmth of her body against his.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Princess?” he murmured, nuzzling her hair.

She gave a soft sigh.

He grinned, recognizing the familiar texture of her night-wear. “My shirt, I presume?” he teased in a husky voice.

She smiled. “After you destroyed my night rail I had no other choice.”

“Oh, I can think of a much more suitable alternative,” he assured her, nibbling lightly on her ear, then outlining the sensitive lobe with his tongue.

She heard herself moan, whisper his name.

He rolled her onto her back, pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve thought of nothing but this all day,” he growled, his mouth coming down on hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in his kiss. “I missed you, too,” she breathed against his lips.

Drake lifted his head and looked down into her wide gray eyes. “Did you?” he asked, rubbing her lower lip with his thumb.

Alex nodded, barely able to breathe. “Yes.”

A slow smile spread across his handsome face, along with an expression that was a mixture of tenderness and relief. “Next time I won’t stay away so long,” he promised, lowering his head again. He stroked her lips softly with his—once, twice. She sighed with pleasure, opening her mouth to his tender exploration.

He accepted her unspoken invitation, deepening the kiss instantly, tightening his arms around her. She leaned back in his embrace, dizzy from the sensations of his plundering tongue. Slowly she touched her tongue to his, feeling the hard shudder that racked his body at the contact.

“God, how can it be like this?” he gasped. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. He cupped her face in his shaking hands, stroking his thumbs over her cheekbones, staring into her flushed face. They had barely begun, and already he was out of control. He shook his head in wonder. “What is it that you do to me?” He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by feelings he had tried to master, but could not.

“Drake?”

At her tentative whisper he opened his eyes.

“I want you, Alex,” he told her in a choked voice. “More than you can know, more than I can bear.” He swallowed deeply, then shook his head in denial. “But I don’t want it to be like last night. I want to take my time, to love you the way you were meant to be loved … slowly, lingeringly. I want to savor every moment, every inch of your body.” He watched Alex’s flush deepen at his words. Slowly he rolled over until she lay on her back. He raised himself up on his hands, his burning look raking her slender body, still concealed by the shirt.

“At the same time I want to take you now … this minute. I want to lift that damned shirt and drive myself into you until neither of us can breathe or think or move.”

In a slow, exaggerated gesture that contradicted the savagery of his words, Drake lifted his hand to the top button of Alex’s shirt. “But I’m not going to lose control—not this time.”

Drake held her gaze as, one by one, the buttons came undone until the shirt was entirely unbuttoned and slightly open, revealing a tantalizing amount of Alex’s soft, full breasts, rising and falling with each shallow breath she took. His own breathing harsh, Drake dropped his eyes, simultaneously tugging the shirt open, exposing Alex’s naked beauty to his hot gaze.

For a long moment there was silence as Drake stared, mesmerized by her beauty. Then he tugged the shirt off one arm, then the other, finally dropping the garment to the floor. Alex lay, quiescent, her arms at her sides, staring up at him. The predatory look on his face made her heart pound, made liquid heat gather in her body and pool between her thighs. She trembled, waiting.