Bound by Decency (36 page)

India
leaned against the shelves, arms folded across her chest, tears streaming down her face. She turned an accusing glare his way. “You did it didn’t you? Ruined me completely! The kisses, the talk of dreams, making love to me—it was all just another way to manipulate your
pawn.
”

Cain pushed a hand through his hair, pulling off his bandana in the process. That too he tossed on his desk. “No.”

“When I couldn’t aid your plans, you found another use for me.”

“
No,
” he ground out more firmly.

“And now you’ll wash your hands of me. Leave me with my father, so you can return to your hunt for Richard.” She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “It makes sense now, why you refused to listen to my suggestions. You never
wanted
to consider other options. Everything was always about Richard.”

“Bloody Christ,
India
! I don’t give a damn about Richard!” He stalked to her, blinded by the fierce emotion she wrenched from the depths of his soul. Grasping her by both shoulders, he tightened his fingers so hard she would have to be stone to not feel the bite. “Don’t you understand, I love you? So much so I’m walking away from Richard and doing the only decent thing I can?”

His confession stunned her, but even
more so
him. He fell silent, unable to do anything more than stare into her watery blue eyes. Until she accused him of callously using her, he hadn’t fully come to the decision to give up his pursuit of Richard. Now, nothing seemed more important.

“What?” she whispered.

Gradually, he released his fierce grip on her slight shoulders. He swallowed hard. “I love you.” He wanted to say more, knew he ought to, but nothing seemed significant enough.

Her tears fell harder. Her entire body shuddered. He wrapped her in his arms, tucked her head beneath his chin, and held on tight. The constriction in his throat loosened, allowing words to come more freely. “I can’t be responsible for your demise. I won’t be. You are so good, so full of heart. To let you stay would destroy you.” His voice clogged with emotion, and for the first time that he could remember since boyhood, moisture touched his eyes. He sniffed the tears back. “I
must
take you home,
India
. Where you’re safe. Where the world around you can’t destroy everything that makes you special.”

Hesitantly, her arms came about his waist. She huddled into his embrace, her tears dampening his bare shoulder. “Come back with me. We’ll clear your name.”

He turned his face into her hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Oh how he wanted nothing more. The house on the bluffs. Waking at her side each morning. A daughter who looked just like her. His heart seized with the hopelessness of it all. “I would. In a heartbeat I would. But we have no proof, my sweet.”

She held him tightly, her lips moving across his skin. Her whisper warmed his flesh. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t know how.”

Cain wound his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back. Her gaze held his, laden with all the love she so freely gave. He reveled in the warmth that spread through his veins, the knowledge that he alone had somehow become worthy of her heart. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers and murmured against her lips, “Neither do I.”

351

Bound By Decency

35

H
er kiss was as sweet as red wine and every bit as intoxicating. As
India
’s body molded into his, each soft curve an exquisite fit Cain knew he would never again find, his heart tore in half. He threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss to escape the suffocating feeling of utter loss. To replace it with the heaven she alone defined.

Bit by bit, the velvety brush of her tongue eased the hollowness in his gut that
accompanied
the thought of separation. Her tears ceased to flow. Her nails no longer bit into the small of his back. As her hands roamed the length of his spine, and a soft sound of pleasure thrummed in the back of her throat, his blood warmed.

He did the only thing he could that would relieve them both of this nightmare. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed, where he laid her down atop the soft red quilt. Cain stepped back to look at her. He wanted to remember this moment a lifetime. The day he had cast everything aside and embraced what flowed between them. Her hair spilled across the pillows, a halo of raven silk. Her eyes held his unblinking, wide and full of what he could only describe as love. Never before had he witnessed such beauty. Never before had he imagined he might.

She caught his hand, twined her fingers through his. With a gentle tug, she urged him to join her. He dropped a knee to the mattress as she sat up. Delicate fingertips clutched at the hem of his shirt, lifting it off his overwarm skin and over his head. He rolled his shoulders to free them of the garment, and
India
cast it aside. She trailed her nails over his chest, a caress so light goose bumps broke out over his skin. Perhaps they came from the tenderness her touch carried. Perhaps even, they came from the look of wonder that filled her eyes. He didn’t know. The feeling was too incredible for him to care.

“Love me, Cain,” she whispered. “No boundaries. No restraint. Love me, as I love you.”

As if he needed encouragement, she removed her shirt and tossed it too aside. But encouragement was the last thing he required. If anything he needed temperance, for his blood ran so hot it stifled him, and the tightness in his loins warned he was already too close to the edge.

She rose to her knees, her mouth coaxing as her hands relieved him of his clothing
. W
hen she pressed her heated body to his equally hot skin, he discovered her clothes had miraculously disappeared as well. His swollen cock nestled into the soft
ness
at the juncture of her thighs, cradling him against the damp folds of her most intimate flesh. His entire body trembled.

He guided his hands around her narrow waist and cupped her bottom in his palms. Holding her against him, he laid her back into the pillows. He kissed her rosy lips, her thick eyelashes, the delicate line of her jaw. Beneath his hands, her skin was like silk, and he traced every curve, every swell, etching them into his memory with a blind man’s touch. His mouth followed the path of his
fingers
. Licking, nipping, he wended his way down her body. She squirmed beneath him, her fingers clutched at his shoulders, his arms, his hair.

Nails scraped against his scalp as he dusted kisses over the tops of her thighs. When he ran his hands along the inside of her knees, to the tender flesh above, she opened for him. One hand resting on her belly, he brought the other between her legs, and lifted his gaze to her face. Her expression softened with rapture as he eased a finger into her slick sheath. Her hips lifted into his hand. Her low moan shocked through him as if he’d been touched by lightning. His cock bobbed against his abdomen, painfully ready.

He closed his eyes and choked back his own need. His pleasure was not his pursuit. Not when he had done so many things to hurt her. Last night he’d made love to her, but there were so many undiscovered pleasures they had yet to share. So many he wanted to give her.

With a ragged inhale, he groped for his control and dipped his tongue between her moist folds. One slow, lazy caress, and
India
writhed beneath him. He lapped at her sensitive nub, grazed it with his teeth, then soothed the bite with a languorous swirl of his tongue. Her hips lifted off the bed. Her hands twisted in his hair. Around his finger, her flesh pulsed. His cock answered, and a straying drop of moisture cooled the tip of his straining shaft.

This was unwise. He’d sought to draw their joining out. To expose her to another deeper level of intimacy between man and woman, but if he continued, her release would spur his own. He’d spend himself against her knees, and when that moment of utter completion came, he wanted to be deep within her, enveloped by her warm flesh.

He obliged the fierce tug on his hair that urged his mouth back to hers. Settling his weight into her body, he kissed her in a slow, unhurried fashion, that did nothing to reveal the urgency
flowing
in his veins.
India
wound her legs around his waist, lifted so she aligned her body with his erection. Cain pulled in a deep breath and pushed, sliding into her waiting warmth.

Bliss pounded at him, yet he lay still, spellbound by the way
she
gloved him. This was heaven. A place she alone could take him to. Pleasure coursed through his veins in waves. Sensation that demanded he move. He braced his hands on the mattress, eased his upper body away from hers, and withdrew. Her hips followed his, guiding him back home, urging him into slow rhythmic thrusts.

Ecstasy stole over him. It built like drops in a bucket, filling him up until he could hold no more. Each clench of her womb sucked him deeper. Each time he slowly retreated, agony threatened. He wanted to stay inside her forever. Needed the feel of her hot flesh as much as he needed air.

His body tensed with the effort of holding back, his lungs constricted until he couldn’t breathe. On a hoarse groan, he plunged hard within her, and release broke free. Tiny particles of light burst behind his eyes. A strange, wholly satisfying hum filled his ears. Dimly, he heard
India
call out his name, felt the strong grip of her slick inner muscles. The squeeze milked another rush of pleasure, and his seed spilled again.

Gradually, his lungs expanded. He lowered himself into her body, blanketing her with his weight. The dizziness left his head, and he opened his eyes to gaze into hers. Smiling, he brushed a thumb over her swollen lips. “Aye,” he whispered roughly. “I’ll love you.” Replacing his thumb with his mouth, he kissed her soundly. “I’ll love you until we are both too exhausted to move.”

****

I
n the orange glow of sunset,
India
listened to the sound of Cain’s breathing. One leg entangled with his, she lay on her back, awakened from slumber by the sound of singing men. Low and rhythmic, the brine-roughened voices resonated through the walls. A sound that added to the contented heaviness in her limbs.

She rolled to her side to admire the man who lay next to her. In full glory, he rested on his back, as naked as the day he’d been born. She trailed a fingertip down the center of his broad chest to the pale skin at his hipbones which his trousers hid from the sun. He skin was warm, and she flattened her palm against his abdomen to soak up that comforting heat.

He loved her. Enough to turn his back on his quest for vengeance. Enough to take her to
England
, even if he despised the thought. Selflessly.

His hand moved over hers. Eyes closed, voice thick with sleep, he asked, “What are you doing, little wren?”

“Thinking,” she murmured as she laid her head atop his chest to hear the steady beat of his heart.

His free hand lifted to the crown of her head. Fingertips played in her hair. “Of?”

“You. Me. What’s to become of us.”

“Don’t.”

She shook her head, brushing her cheek against his chest. “No, I don’t mean it the way you think. I am happy now, Cain. Happier than I can ever remember being. But I would ask a promise from you, if you are intent on parting.”

Ever so slightly, the weight on her head increased. “What do you wish?”

She lifted up to look at him more fully. Her hair fell around them, cloaking them both in shadows. She wasn’t so foolish to believe he would never take another lover. His appetite was healthy. Perhaps for a
while
their love would comfort him, but in time, he would take another. “Never another woman here. This is my bed now.”

He opened his eyes and rolled them. But his chuckle relieved her mind of worry. “Don’t be absurd. You’ve spoiled me to all others. When I meet Davy Jones at the bottom of the sea, I’ll still be yours.”

A shameful shiver of delight rippled through her veins. “Cain?”

“Aye?”

“If there comes a time when the Navy doesn’t—”

He crushed her into a hug. “Shh. Enough of this.” Just as abruptly, he pushed her off his body and slid from the bed. He walked to the shelf and picked up the jeweled box. For long moments, he turned it over in his hands. The light glinted off the gold, casting it an even richer hue. His fingers tightened around the trinket, and then he brought it to the edge of the bed, where he knelt on the floor. Placing the box into her hands, he covered her fingers with his. “This is the most valuable thing left to me. I cannot give you rings. I cannot give you my name. But I can give you this.”

The idea came upon her like a clap of thunder. She dropped the box in her lap and clutched at his hands. “You can! You
can
give me your name. Marry me, Cain.”

He drew back as if she had suddenly grown gills. “
India
, have you lost all your sense? I would not doom you with my name. It defeats the very purpose of returning you to
England
.”

Adamant, she shook her head. “No. No one but you, me, perhaps Drake, would know. But
I
would. If a child comes of this, he would have a name. Your name is better than none at all.” A smile broke free. “I would be
proud
to bear it.”

Sinking to his heels, he frowned as if he seriously gave the matter thought. On a deep breath, his hands tightened against hers. “On one condition.”

“Yes?” she asked eagerly.

“The only time you would ever speak of it is
if
a child comes from this. Otherwise, you tell no one. Not your father. Not your maid. Not your friends.”

“Oh, Cain!” Overjoyed, she threw her arms around his neck and clung tight.

His shoulders rocked with laughter. Gently, he pried her arms free. “You are an imp,
India
. Logical to a fault. And you convince me into the damnedest things. But I adore you.” Pulling her to her feet, he dragged her back into the bed. “We’ll find a man of the cloth at the first port we come to.” As he pulled her across his body and guided her thighs around his, he murmured, “Though I cannot, for the life of me, see the purpose in this. Other than it is the decent thing to do.”

“It is decent, yes,” she admitted with a sultry grind of her hips. “But
more so
, I will always have a part of you.”

“Aye, but for now, I have other things to give.” Cain’s shaft thickened beneath her. Lifting her hips away from his, he shifted, then eased
her
down onto his swollen length.

****

W
hen darkness settled over the cabin and Cain slept soundly,
India
crawled from the bed, exhausted and fulfilled in ways she hadn’t imagined were possible. Quietly, she slipped into her clothes. Light steps took her out of the cabin, down the hall, and to the main deck where she approached the young man who Cain had aided with the rigging the week previous.

“You are Tom, are you not?” she asked, careful to keep her voice low enough no one else could hear.

“Aye, Miss Prescott, Thomas Bennett, from
London
.” He dropped the length of rigging in his hands, clasped her fingers, and bent over them.

Good manners, as she’d suspected when he’d addressed Cain as
sir.
And he’d taken the time to learn her proper name. Still, she frowned at the back of his head, uncertain she’d made the correct choice. His face held so much boyhood it could easily disrupt her plan. “How old are you, Tom?”

“Nineteen, miss.”

Serviceable. Twenty would have made her more confident, but nineteen was satisfactory. She pulled her hand free and gave him a warm smile. “How long have you been at sea?”

“Seven years,
Miss.
Volunteered with the Navy when I was twelve. At sixteen they set me to the rigging. Why do you ask?”

The Navy—no wonder his manners were refined, and for such a young age he knew so much. She took his elbow and guided him to a secluded corner behind a stack of tall crates. “How do you feel about becoming a captain?”

Tom stiffened, his back straight as a board, his jaw hard. “Cain’s been good to me, Miss Prescott. I won’t entertain a mutiny. If that’s what you
intend
, you best leave now.”