Blue Velvet (19 page)

He glanced ruefully down at his naked muscular chest with its curly thatch of auburn hair. “I’ll put on a shirt.” He turned away. “But don’t expect anything else from me. Enough is enough!” He was almost to the door leading belowdecks when he abruptly turned around again. “Well, maybe one more thing. You’re going to need a ring for the ceremony. I know Beau never wears one. Do you have one, Kate?”

She shook her head.

He was taking a large ring of Florentine gold
off his right hand. “Use this one.” He tossed it to Beau. “It’s my lucky ring though. I want it back.”

Kate studied the ring. It was obviously very valuable, aside from the fact that it was fashioned of pure gold. The workmanship was exquisite and the design on the surface very unusual. A rose in full bloom pierced by a sword. “Lucky?”

Daniel nodded. “It was given to me by a powerful Sedikhan sheik I did a favor for once. I didn’t know it at the time, but wearing it put me automatically under the sheik’s protection. That particular symbol is recognized throughout Sedikhan.” His lips twisted. “The revolutionaries I told you about stole the ring after they captured me. When they sold it in the bazaar the buyer took it to the sheik and he contacted Donahue. Together they traced it and that led them to me. After six months in the hellish hotbox I was ready to believe the ring wasn’t only lucky but pure magic.”

“I can see how you would,” Kate said. Magic. This marriage could certainly use any magic as
well as luck the ring could bring them. “Thank you for letting us use it, Daniel.”

“My pleasure.” He disappeared down the stairs.

When she looked back on that strange ceremony it was all a jumble of flickering impressions. The movement of the ship beneath her feet, the clear warm sunlight bathing everything in its radiance, the crew in attendance, their faces surprisingly solemn. The thin, graying justice of the peace, Mr. Carruthers, with his sweet smile. Daniel, dressed in his cutoff jeans but with a pristine white shirt buttoned to the throat with endearing circumspection, the exotic gold ring being slipped on her finger. Beau’s voice low and oddly husky as he repeated the prescribed vows, her own voice, faint and far away. It was all vaguely dreamlike until almost the very end when Beau turned to face her.

“I’d like to say something,” he said softly. “You’re probably not aware of it, but it’s become very popular these days for a couple to make their own vows. I think it started back in
the sixties with the flower children.” He smiled gently as he took her hand in his. “I never thought I’d be tempted to follow their example, but here goes.” He paused for a long moment and when the words came, they were distinct and clear with a jewel-like richness.

“There are only a few qualities I’ve ever discovered worth holding onto when I’ve found them in this tired old world of ours. They are honesty, fidelity, and a loving generosity of the spirit. I’ve found all of them in you, Kate.” His clasp tightened and his golden eyes were liquidly brilliant as they held hers. “I promise to give you my own honesty and fidelity in return. I can’t promise to give that same generosity of spirit. That particular quality is so very rare it’s almost priceless and I don’t know if I even possess it. I
will
give you my strength to protect you, any knowledge and experience I’ve acquired through the years, and my friendship.” He drew a deep shaky breath. “They aren’t gifts I give lightly. Will you accept them, Kate?”

“Oh yes.” She was so moved she could hardly get the words past the tightness of her throat. “I
wasn’t expecting this. I don’t know what to say in return.”

“Nothing,” Beau said simply, turning back to Mr. Carruthers. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. Let’s get on with it.”

“There’s only a few more lines,” the justice said gruffly, hurriedly bending his head over the Bible in his hands.

She scarcely heard the final words that completed the ceremony. She felt as if she were wrapped in the golden warmth of the words Beau had spoken. So beautiful. No words ever had such shining beauty and Beau’s gentle kiss at the end of the ritual was also gravely beautiful.

She was vaguely conscious of Beau thanking Mr. Carruthers and an envelope exchanging hands. Then Daniel was inviting them all down to his cabin for a drink before he had the justice taken ashore.

Beau shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us. I need to talk to Kate.” He turned to Kate. “Will you come down to the cabin with me?”

She nodded dreamily, barely conscious of his
hand on her elbow propelling her away from the others and down the stairs. The door of the cabin closed behind them and she turned to face him, her eyes still glowing with that soft misty luminance. “What did you want to speak to me about?”

“What?” he asked bemusedly. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “Do me a favor and don’t look at me like that, okay? I had no intention of doing anything but talking when I brought you down here.”

“And now?” she asked softly, moving a step closer.

“Now I want to throw you on the bunk and have my wicked way with you.”

“I didn’t find your way at all wicked before,” she said, a little smile tugging at her lips. “I found it very enjoyable. Are you planning on doing it differently this time?”

“Certainly.” Beau’s eyes were twinkling. “Variety is definitely the spice of life, particularly when it pertains to doing ‘it.’ ” The humor faded from his face. “Listen to me, I’ll have you with your clothes off and lying in that bed in a couple of minutes and that’s not why we’re here. I have
to tell you why we went through that ceremony up on deck just now.”

“You’ve already told me,” she said, smiling lovingly at him. Her hands began to unbutton her white cotton shirt. “I understand perfectly. You want to go home. I’ve never really had a home, but I understand the pull is very strong. If that’s where you want me, then that’s where I’ll go.” She’d go to the penal colony on Devil’s Island if he’d only look at her again as he had on deck while he’d said those beautiful vows. “And you needn’t worry that I’ll take advantage of you. Whenever you want it dissolved all you have to do is tell me and I’ll go away.” The words were very hard to get out but they must be said. “And while we’re together I’ll try not to forget the marriage doesn’t really exist. I promise I won’t be a Xanthippe.”

His eyes were fixed on the lush cleavage revealed by her bra as she shrugged out of her shirt. “Dissolved? What do you mean dis—” He broke off. “Who the hell is Xanthippe?”

“She was Socrates’s wife.” She was struggling with the back fastener of her bra. “She was very bad-tempered. Socrates said that by living with
her he learned to get along with the rest of the world.”

“No wonder he was so willing to drink that cup of hemlock,” he said absently. He inhaled sharply as the fastener was at last released and she slipped the straps down over her arms and tossed the bra aside. “Why do I get the impression that you’re trying to seduce me?”

She stepped still another step closer and began to unbutton his brown shirt. “Perhaps because I am,” she said serenely, her naked breasts swaying and heavy against him. The sensitive tips brushing against the cool smoothness of his shirt were already burning and peaking with the readiness that was surging through her entire body. “I’ve read a few books on the subject. Aggressiveness on the part of the female at times is a very welcome variation.” She grinned up at him mischievously. “And you just told me that variety is the spice of life.” She pushed the fabric of his shirt apart and rubbed her breasts against him. “You’ve been the aggressor every time so far. I want my turn.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” he growled, a dark flush mounting to his cheeks as he instinctively leaned
forward to meet the thrust of those tantalizing nipples. “You may not be familiar with women’s lib as yet, but heaven help us poor males when you are, Xanthippe.”

She slipped the shirt from his shoulders and drew it with painstaking slowness down his arms, brushing against him with every breath and every movement. She could hear his breathing begin to grow labored and the pulse in the hollow of his throat was leaping crazily. How wonderful to know she could have that effect on him. But she wanted to do more, she wanted to give him so much pleasure that he’d be dizzy with it. She loved him so very much. How had it grown so quickly to fill her entire life? Perhaps if she could bring him enough pleasure he would love her, too, if only during the moments of passion. “Have your wicked way with me, Beau. Please.”

He shuddered but not with cold. His flesh against her own was burning hot. “Perhaps we could talk later,” he said, his palm splaying over her jean-clad bottom. “I think I’ve lost my train of thought anyway. I think it was going to begin with something about how I realize that you
don’t know me all that well and how unfair it was of me …” He drew a deep breath as he jerked her hips forward so that his iron-hard arousal was pressed boldly against her. “Oh hell, you
do
know me, at least in the Biblical sense. What’s one more time?”

One more time. The phrasing made her vaguely uneasy but only for a moment. She was having trouble thinking at all through the haze of heat that was beginning to surround her. Beau’s hands were working swiftly at the fastener of her jeans and she was suddenly confused about who was seducing whom. “What about my turn?”

“Sometime when I haven’t been without you for a century or so,” he said thickly. “But I’ll be magnanimous and let you help.” He pushed her away. “It will be quicker if we both take off our own clothes anyway.” He patted her bottom briskly. “Hurry.”

She tried, as much as fumbling fingers and curious eyes could hurry. She wanted to watch him as he undressed with that swift athletic economy of movement. She hadn’t gotten a chance to look her fill that morning at the pool. He was all
power and lithe supple muscle, his buttocks hard and tight, the line of his thighs and calves developed to whipcord toughness. She slipped her tennis shoes off and left them with the rest of her clothes as she stood and gazed at him admiringly.

“You have very nice legs,” she said dreamily. “Is that from skating?”

He glanced up from slipping his own shoes off, his lips twitching. “Thank you. I suppose that exercise had something to do with my marvelous physique. You, on the other hand, have utterly fantastic breasts and I’m quite sure you did nothing at all to deserve that boon.” He shook his head with mock mournfulness. “Most unfair.” He took her hand and led her to the bunk. “However, I’m sure that a little well-directed calisthenics can only improve them. Let’s see, shall we?”

“Whatever you like,” she said, her lashes demurely veiling the mischief in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of being uncooperative. You’ve already convinced me I’m a nag.”

“Whatever I like,” he repeated softly. “It will be what you like too, Kate. I promise.” As she
would have sunk down upon the bed he stopped her with his hand on her arm. “No, not that way. Something different, remember?” He sat down on the edge of the bed and drew her down on his lap. “Something beautifully, excitingly different.”

It was already different. The hardness of muscle and bone against her cushioned softness, the flickering heat in Beau’s golden eyes, the urgent arousal pressing against her thigh. Different.

“It’s always been beautifully exciting, Beau,” she said laying her head confidingly on his chest. His heart was pounding erratically against her ear, but his hand was infinitely gentle as it stroked her curls. “It’s as if you’re giving me wonderfully precious gifts every time.”

His laugh was a husky chuckle beneath her ear. “You’ve certainly got an original way of expressing yourself.” He ruffled her hair. “It’s definitely mutual, little Sheba. It would be highway robbery to charge you one hundred twenty talents for this.” He was swinging her around to face him, positioning her legs on either side of his hips on the bed. “Though I’ll industriously endeavor to prove I’m worth every single
talent.” He drew her close, his hands rubbing up and down on her back in lazy circles. “Isn’t this nice?” he whispered in her ear. “I can touch almost every part of you.” He made a minute adjustment and he was suddenly pressing against the center of her womanhood. “And you can touch me.”

Her hands clutched spasmodically at his shoulders. “Yes, very nice,” she said faintly. Nice wasn’t the word for it. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life and there was a liquid burning that was becoming a throbbing ache deep within her. “Do you suppose we could get on with more in-depth touching?”

“When this is so sweet?” His drawl was boyishly playful. “And we haven’t even started your exercise regimen yet.” One hand cupped her bottom, retaining the contact while the other hand moved to her shoulder and pushed her body backward so that her spine was arched and her full ripe breasts were offered temptingly. “That’s better,” he said. “Now just keep that position, sugar. Do you feel the tension? Maintaining the tension is very important in any exercise curriculum, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” she said faintly. “And yes, I do feel the tension.” The position was almost unbearably erotic. The slight strain of the muscles in the small of the back and hips, the vulnerability of her open thighs and Beau’s almost blinding sensual gaze on her breasts. “Beau?”

“You want more?” His bronze head was bending with maddening slowness until his lips were only a breath away from the pink crest of her breast. “So do I.” His lips enveloped her nipple with teasing delicacy while his hand dropped from her shoulder to her other breast and began a rhythmic massage that caused a shudder to ripple through her. “Keep the tension, love,” he muttered, his tongue licking the pink aureole teasingly. “It will make it better for you. I want it to be so good for you, Kate.”

She was trying but it was becoming increasingly difficult when each muscle and bone in her body felt as if it were melting away like molten lava. Her breath was coming in little gasps and she instinctively tried to clench, hold, but there was nothing.

“Not yet.” Then as her back arched in the
tension he was demanding, his lips and hands accelerated their rhythmic pressure. “That’s the way.” His voice was a low velvet croon. “Sweet, soft Kate.” His hands dropped away from her breasts to slide around her, one cupping her buttocks, the other at the small of her back, arching her even more. “Now, we’ll do a little of that in-depth touching you were talking about. But slowly, very slowly.” His lips enveloped her breast with strong suction while his hand on her bottom began to push her slowly forward. His hand arching her back prevented her from thrusting forward and wresting control from him. A little, then a little more, hotness, fullness, but never enough. Her breasts were heavy and swollen, his tongue and teeth an aching torment. He was moving so damn slowly! She felt herself clench around him trying to hold him, invite him, entice him. She heard him gasp and give a low shaky laugh. “Oh, that was sweet. But don’t do it again, love. I don’t think I could take it.”