Captive Innocence (9 page)

Suddenly, his lips came down hard on hers, straining, loving, wanting her more than he'd ever wanted a woman. And she was responding to him as urgently as he hoped she would. In their ardent embrace, he caressed her full breasts through the soft silk, feeling their rosy crests grow taut with desire, feeling her body meet his with unrestrained passion. He kissed her hair, her neck, her eyes, as she clung to him, her heart pounding, throwing caution to the winds, wishing it would never end. He wanted to take her right there on the deck, but knew he wouldn't. With an inward groan, he let his passion subside and held her gently to him as her breathing relaxed and she leaned against him quietly, wanting more than his passionate kisses—wanting his love.

A lifetime passed, and she gave an involuntary shiver.

“You're becoming chilled. It's late. Come, I'll see you to your cabin.”

Silently, she acquiesced and allowed him to lead her down the ramp to her stateroom door.

The door was hardly shut behind him when he took her in his arms again. “So, my little lioness, the hunter has you in his arms at last.”

She thrilled to his words, trembled to the low, husky sound of his voice. He had dropped the cool, courteous tone of the casual acquaintance, and he was once again that stranger, the wild, hot-blooded buccaneer she had known in Rio de Janeiro.

He wanted her naked, wanted to feel her skin warm against his hands. Quickly, he undid the buttons on the back of her gown, helping her to remove it. His hands touched newly exposed flesh, always leaving it warm with the heat from his lips. He placed her hands on his belt, invoking her silently to return the favor. Their garments fell away like dry leaves from a tree, until they were both naked and wild as a winter storm in their hunger.

They tore at each other, each seeking that which the other could give. There on the silken coverlet, they devoured each other with fevered lips and grasping fingers.

When their passion was abated, they touched mouths with lips swollen with passion and tasting of the salt of blood and tears. They lay together feeling the warmth where their bodies touched, and when they sought each other again, it was with tenderness. Gentle mouths, delicate fingers, exploring, caressing. Passion quickened within her, and Sebastian calmed her with his touch and soothed her with words known only to lovers.

He was gentle with her, so gentle, evoking in her a golden warmth that spread through her loins and tingled her toes. His movements were familiar, reassuring; his touch on her naked breasts, light and lingering.

He gentled her passions the way he would gentle a wild cat, with a sure touch and a soft voice. He tamed her wildness, yet loved her wild; he quieted her cries with his mouth, and yet evoked moans of passion with his caress. When passion flamed again, it burned pure.

Sebastian cradled Royall in his arms, a strange expression in his ebony eyes. Only with this woman could he experience such fulfillment, such deep contentment. This girl, no, this woman, with the strange name could match his ardor and without reservation would give herself totally to him. He felt an insane desire to leap from the narrow bunk and shout to all the passengers that he had found a part of life that was missing. How beautiful she was. How gentle she could be, and then she would become a raging riptide, swirling and crushing his volcanic outpourings until the molten lava and thundering waters were a marriage of one. This was a woman. His woman.

Imperceptibly, his embrace tightened. Royall smiled into dark eyes that mirrored her soul. Sebastian's thumb traced the delicate skin over her sooty lashes. She was a sleepy angel. His angel. He would never let her go. Never. She belonged to him, always had, ever since that night in Rio. Now, he must make her his forever.

His tone, when he spoke, was a husky caress. “You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Lovemaking gives you the aura of an angel and the soul of a lioness.”

“Mrs. Quince would probably call me a wanton.”

Sebastian threw back his head and laughed, a deep, boisterous sound that was music to Royall's ears. His smile was almost boyish. “Our lovemaking was just that. Making love. Just as it should be. No restrictions, no reserves. A meeting of a man and a woman who need to become one.”

Royall sighed deeply. She never wanted to leave this bed, leave Sebastian's embrace. His hard, manly body that molded itself to hers was so comforting, so right. How wonderful that she hadn't felt compelled to make any apologies, any explanations for her behavior in Rio at the Mardi Gras. Sebastian seemed to instinctively know that her marriage had been stultifying, smothering her in supposed respectability. To say that she was a widow was enough for him. To know that she had experienced her first fulfillment as a woman with him, ended all questions.

Was it possible that she could love him, love Sebastian Rivera, the man? Even as she thought it, she knew it was true. She loved him fiercely, with every fiber of her being. Now, for the first time in her life, she knew what it was to be loved by a man. She savored the feeling, almost tasting it. She never wanted to feel differently. And pray God he felt the same way.

Again, Sebastian's hand traced the delicate lines of her face. “Sleep,
mi amor,”
he whispered huskily. “We'll awaken in each other's arms.”

Royall snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm, her cheek against his chest. Her thick lashes fluttered and then were still. A smile tugged at the corners of Sebastian's mouth. Dark eyes closed in dreamless sleep.

It was Royall who stirred first. She woke, completely alert. She wanted to stretch her long, slim body but negated the idea. For now she would content herself with savoring the nearness of the man laying beside her. How handsome he was, how virile. How tender and yet savage. What did it matter if she had wanton desires or if he had dubious parentage? Nothing mattered save the two of them. She stirred slightly, affording herself a better look at his face. He appeared relaxed, contented in sleep and yet vulnerable. A sudden surge of desire and longing stirred within her. She wanted him, needed him again, again. She shifted her position slightly and leaned toward him. Strong arms pulled her lithe body on top of his. Hungry mouths searched, found and conquered in the dimness of the cabin.

Spent, Sebastian and Royall fell back against the bedding, their bodies glistening with perspiration. It wasn't possible that perfection could be equalled and surpassed, but it had been. Sebastian let his mind soar to dizzying heights as he ran his hands through his unruly hair. There were no words. He gathered her close, devouring her with his glistening body. He would never let her go, he thought savagely. He would fight to the death anyone who tried to take her from him. She belonged to him; he decreed it. “I must leave you now; it will be dawn soon. Rosalie is an early riser and would question my exit from this cabin at this particular hour.”

“I wish you didn't have to leave, but I understand,” Royall said softly, already mourning his departure.

“I will always be near you,
mi amora.
Senora Quince's plantation is very near to mine.” Gently, he nuzzled her neck, all the while twining his sun-darkened hand through her hair.

“Sebastian, I won't be staying with Mrs. Quince. She's been my traveling companion and only that. I can see how my friendship with her has misled you. Actually, my destination is the Reino Brazilia. It's been in my family for years, and I've inherited half of it from my father. Baron Newsome invited me and is awaiting my arrival.”

Royall could feel Sebastian's arms stiffen. Something was wrong; she could sense it. He was holding her as though she were a dead, lifeless thing. Gone was the warm, open closeness, and in its place was an icy stare. Sebastian's firm, square jaw was set as though cast from bronze, and his eyes had narrowed to slits. The hostility emanating from him frightened her.

His thoughts wheeled and skidded; his emotions rocketing with them. It couldn't be! Reino Brazilia! Why was this the first time he had heard of it? Why hadn't Rosalie Quince told him, knowing him as she did and how he felt? Carlyle Newsome, calling himself the Baron, waiting for Royall. Royall owning half of Reino Brazilia. Owning it. Living from it. Letting it feed her, clothe her, educate her!

Royall wanted to say something, to question him, demand an explanation for the reason she saw hatred in his eyes. But his face forbade it; his actions prohibited her from uttering a word.

Silently he rose from the bed, extricating himself from her embrace with harsh, quick motions. She watched as he dressed, hoping to hear him offer an explanation, hoping he would allow her to ask him what she had said, what she had done.

He said nothing, dressing with as little wasted motion as possible. He flung his jacket over his shoulder, leaving his tie loose, his shoes unlaced. His words were clipped and bitter, offered as he opened the door and closed it behind him. “I plan to erase you from my mind. You would be wise to do the same.”

Bewildered and humiliated, Royall watched him leave, heard the sound of the door closing, and felt as though it were the lid on her coffin. Without Sebastian there was no life, no air, no anything.

Royall tossed and turned, tormenting herself with questions as to what she had done, said, to make Sebastian turn from her as he had. It was when she told him she was half owner in Reino Brazilia that he had changed. An overwhelming loss shrouded her, seeming to steal all the light from the world. An inner spark of self-preservation ignited. “Damn you, Sebastian Rivera. I did nothing to warrant this misery. I want an explanation and I want it now!”

Without another thought she leaped from the bed and riffled through her clothing. Quickly, she bathed her eyes and face in the cool water from the ewer. She cared nothing for how she looked. What she wanted was answers. All that was important was to find Sebastian and set him straight about a few things. Things like how she loved him. All womanly instinct told her that this wasn't the time for pride. She knew she loved the tall, dark-haired man, and she would give everything she owned to prove to him that he felt the same way. Hadn't she heard his whispered love words? Didn't she know the hurt that lay in his heart concerning his birthright?

Less than half an hour later, Royall was dressed in a light green, striped dimity dress, and her hair was brushed simply back from her face into a casual knot. Forgetting her hat and ignoring her gloves, she stormed her way down the companionway to Sebastian's stateroom. She raised one daintily shod foot and kicked at the door while she banged on the upper half with her fists. “Open this door, Sebastian. I have to talk to you! Do you hear me? Damn you, Sebastian, stop making a fool of me and open this door. I want to show you your little lioness has claws.”

Silence. Total and complete. Royall pushed the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. Empty! No sign of Sebastian anywhere. No boots near the door; no waistcoat hanging on the hooks; no traveling bag; no razor. The soft face cloth and toweling were folded neatly. The coverlet on the bed was free of wrinkles. Where could he be? One of the ship's valets was coming down the companionway carrying a gentleman's suit. He seemed startled to find her standing in Senor Rivera's empty room.

Quietly, Royall asked him if he had seen Senor Rivera.

“Yes, Senora, Senor Rivera left the ship with the mail boat. There is a small town not far from here. No doubt he will join the next riverboat that comes up the river in a few days.”

Back in her own stateroom, Royall sat for a long time, remembering, wishing the tears would come to cleanse her, make her feel better, but they wouldn't. A sharp rap sounded on her door and for an instant her hopes lifted. Sebastian! He hadn't left after all!

Rushing to the door, she flung it open, expecting Sebastian to take her in his strong embrace and tell her he was a fool. The steward who stood outside her door had a strange expression on his face when he saw her features fall and the misery creep into her eyes.

“Senora Quince has sent me to tell you she is on deck for breakfast and wishes you to join her.”

Royall nodded, incapable of speech, knowing that she wanted to see Mrs. Quince and ask her why Sebastian should behave the way he had.

Royall threaded her way through the tables and sat down across from her traveling companion, who was liberally spreading jam on a breakfast roll.

“Mrs. Quince, something terrible has happened.” Quickly, she told how Sebastian had left her so abruptly after she told him she was going on to Reino Brazilia. Protecting her privacy, she deliberately omitted how intimate she and Sebastian had become.

The older woman placed her breakfast bun on her plate and raised her eyes to meet Royall's tormented gaze. She laid a comforting hand on Royall's slender fingers, ceasing their agitated fumbling. “I'm afraid this is all my fault. I wanted the two of you to enjoy one another's company and become friends. I purposely misled Sebastian, never telling him you own part of Reino Brazilia, and now you must suffer the brunt of my deception. I'm so sorry, child. Forgive a meddlesome old woman who doesn't know her place. Sebastian is the one person in the world I should never have ... Well, it's over and done with now. I meant no harm, Royall, believe me, I didn't. I was so certain things would work out.”

“Mrs. Quince. Please, just tell me what did you do? I don't understand. I forgive you; just tell me so I can right the wrong that's been donel” Royall cried wretchedly.

Royall watched the older woman gather her thoughts together and waited expectantly for the woman's next words. If Mrs. Quince could explain why Sebastian had left her as he had, perhaps it was something which could be amended.

“Royall,” Mrs. Quince began hesitantly, “there is tremendous animosity between Sebastian and Carlyle Newsome. They greatly differ in their beliefs of how the workers should be treated. I know it seems a feeble reason, but there's something else. Something I can't explain.” Mrs. Quince lowered her eyes and seemed to measure her next statement. She lifted her head slowly and watched for Royall's reaction. “I might also tell you, for you will only see it for yourself, there is a
very strong resemblance
between Sebastian and the Baron. Some even whisper that Sebastian is Carlyle Newsome's son.”