Captive Splendors (24 page)

“You're beautiful tonight. ” His voice was low and his eyes enveloped her in an aura of rekindled desire.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Wren curtsied and played the grand duchess. “Thank you, kind sir. Would you care to kiss my hand?”

Caleb's eyes didn't brighten at her little jest. He was conscious of the long sweep of her neck rising above her nearly bare shoulders and the deep cut of her chemise, which brought into prominence the soft curve of her breasts. Remembering the last time he had kissed her and his dangerous responses, he didn't dare play her little game.

Sensing his reticence, Wren seated herself at the table and began to serve the dinner of chicken and precious potatoes. She proceeded to put on airs like an affected duchess and sought to make him laugh. Her humor rang false in his ears and clashed with his silence. They picked at their food without interest; only the wine was totally consumed.

Wren watched Caleb through lowered lids, feeling his tension. “Caleb,” she began hesitantly, not certain where her words would lead, only knowing they had to be said in order to erase that terrible look of guilt from his eyes. “I want to confess that I don't regret anything that happened between us. Not a single action on your part. Since then, you have been extremely delicate . . .” She paused. “If I didn't know firsthand what a passionate man you are, I could never appreciate your consideration of my fears.” Her voice was softly tender, her eyes pleading with him to understand her. “I feel I know you so much better, and that you understand me and that my feelings are important to you.”

Caleb looked into her eyes, saw the pleading and confusion there, and felt his heart beat rapidly within his chest. She was trying to tell him that she wanted him, desired him, yet she was also trying to conquer the fears that Malcolm had instilled in her. Once again the deep heat of hatred rose inside Caleb, until he knew that if Weatherly were standing there before him, he would cheerfully kill him for what he had done to Wren.

Seeing Caleb's mouth tighten into a thin line and his eyes harden into gleaming chips of jet, Wren immediately regretted having reminded him of Malcolm's cruelty. Jumping to her feet, she rounded the table and placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the knots of tension beneath the muscles in his neck. “Don't, Caleb. What's done is done.”

He gazed into her eyes and saw the same understanding he had once seen in Sirena's eyes, the same concern. She, too, had once said the same words to him. “What's done is done, and where we go from here is what matters.” He had marveled at the Siren's resiliency, and now he was finding it again in Wren.

Still gazing into the amber depths of her eyes, aware of her slim body and the scent she wore, Caleb pulled her wordlessly onto his lap, holding her against him as if she were a small child who had been frightened by a nightmare. Wren lifted her face for his kiss, allowing her lips to part beneath his.

He was aware of the pressure of her thighs and the thinness of her petticoats and the rising urgency of his own desires. The softness of her mouth and the delicate scent of her skin awakened a similar throb in his temples. His arm made a support for her while his free hand pressed her legs against him; he consciously resisted the impulse to touch her neck and the silky swell of her breasts, which were tantalizingly accessible beneath her low-cut chemise.

Their kisses became more passionate, more searching, and Wren responded by parting her lips still further. Tenderly, he advanced his tongue and was immediately regretful when he felt her stiffen and draw back. But suddenly her lips opened to him again and she returned his kiss. While he caressed her offered lips, slowly and lightly, she seized the hand that had been resting on her knees and raised it with a gentle movement until it lay against her breast. Beneath the thin cambric, he could perceive the perfection of her form and the stiffening of the coral tip beneath his palm.

Hardly daring to breathe for fear of frightening her, he allowed his hand to maintain its delicate contact with her breast. His thoughts were becoming unfocused and blurred because of the heady sensation of her lips greedily seeking his and the heat forming between her breast and his hand. Had he understood her action? Had Wren been making a conscious appeal for more intimate caresses, or had the placing of his hand upon her breast been merely a tender reflex?

Wren arched her back, her body extended toward him in an unmistakable offering. She felt his hand tremble where it touched her, and when he drew down the lace of her chemise, she was aware of a sudden burst of heat throbbing through her, igniting her senses to a flame of desire.

The pure, womanly curve of her breasts was bared to Caleb's view, and he was astonished by the silky whiteness of her skin, a whiteness all the more alluring in contrast to her throat and arms, which had been tanned by the sun.

His lips grazed her exposed skin tenderly, longingly, and with a sigh of pleasure she stretched herself in his arms, relishing the intimacy between them, aware of his desire for her, responding to him in a succession of undulating tremors which she knew were repeated within him.

For long moments their lips touched, their mouths searched, each straining toward the other as their desires mounted. Delicately, Wren detached herself from his arms and rose from his lap. She led him silently to his bunk, where she lay down and drew him close beside her, nestling her face into the hollow of his neck and tasting the salt tang from the spindrift which had misted over him during his watch at the wheel.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the cabin.

Responsive to her demands, he put his arms around her and sought her mouth. Edging slightly away from him, she tugged at the straps of her chemise until her breasts were completely bare to him. Fearing to surrender to his own wants, he hesitated to understand her action. Thoughts of the violence she had suffered at Malcolm's hands and his own vow of patience muddled his thinking. With a shy yet determined gesture, she lowered his head toward her bosom, offering herself to him, arching her back to bring her body into contact with his mouth.

Usually a demanding, impatient lover, Caleb acted with supreme tenderness, and instead of covering her breast with his mouth, he merely caressed the coral tip with a light flick of his tongue.

Wren issued a cry of surprise and delight, murmuring over and over, “Again, again.”

Her demand freed him, allowing him to express his passion in a multitude of caresses with his lips and tongue, each more varied and intoxicating than the other.

Beneath the pressure of his hips, her legs had unconsciously parted and her petticoats had gradually rucked up, disclosing first a silk-stockinged leg and then a firm-fleshed white thigh. Caleb closed his eyes to blot out the unexpected temptation, telling himself that he had promised patience with her, fearing he would be overcome with passion and force himself upon her. Yet he was aware of the close contact of their bodies, and his imagination was set afire as he pictured the nudity of her thighs and the center of her womanliness which was so near.

Wren jerked her head back, thrilled by the myriad caresses he was bestowing on her, oblivious to the temptation her parted legs offered, innocent of the nearly uncontrollable passions pounding through his veins.

To quell the desire to throw himself between her thighs and ravish her, Caleb slid from the bed and rested against the low side, his mouth teasing Wren's in a variety of warm, voluptuous caresses while his hands never strayed from her breasts. He murmured words of love and stirred her senses with his appreciation of her beauty. Her fingers tore at his fine lawn shirt, her lips seeking the hollow of his throat where she could feel his pulses throb. In a husky, impatient voice, she pleaded with him to remove his shirt. In his haste to obey her, he tore at the lacings, pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it to the other side of the cabin. Wren glided to the edge of the bed, turning toward him, her arms ready to enfold him, her eyes eagerly searching his newly bared midsection.

A wild temptation seized him . . . to outstrip her thoughts, remove what remained of his clothing and bring his urgent desire before her. Although he was increasingly aroused by this imagined gesture, his tender consideration for her sensibilities made him hesitate risking her alienation from him.

Wren allowed him no time for further reflection. She enclosed him in her arms and pressed herself against him, reveling in the sensation of her naked breasts molded to his bared chest. Her need to be close to him bordered upon a hunger, a yearning, an all-consuming desire to make herself a part of him. Her lips traced a pattern of a thousand interlaced designs; her fingers explored the finely honed muscles of his back and made a tentative survey of the hardness of his midsection.

His hands played in her hair, tangling the long sable strands through his fingers, grazing the soft skin of her cheek and stroking her lips as they came into fragile contact with his flesh. He gave himself up completely to her gentle ministrations and allowed himself to be transported beyond the threshold of mere physical satisfaction, finding he was able to contain his desires because of his most tender consideration for her needs and wants. He experienced heights of voluptuousness he had never known existed, and he marveled that he had discovered them at her shyly innocent, tentative touch.

He pulled back a little, away from her kisses, and in her hunger for him she drew him close again, making room beside her on the bed and fitting the curves of her body tightly against the long, lean length of him. Petticoats already rucked up above her knees, her motions pushed them still higher, displaying the harmonious roundness of her hips and the elegant stretch of her thighs, revealed in the dim lantern light.

Caleb was astonished to find his hand covering a portion of her bare thigh. His passion flared and his mouth sought hers with a deeper yearning, the sharp intake of his breath and the low sound of a moan coming from deep within his chest exciting her own heightened sensations, and she found herself exalting in his desire for her.

Prudently, he advanced his hand, wishing to prolong this unexpected contact without causing her to associate his intentions with the violence and degradation she had experienced at those other men's hands. He knew in his heart and without a doubt that what was most important to him was not the conquest of her flesh but the conquest of her heart. He loved her without reservation, and the thought of doing anything which would destroy her trust in him was more devastating than an arrow shooting through his chest.

She was pleased by the touch of his hand on her thigh, and she too, sought to prolong that contact. Yet when her petticoats uncovered the whole length of her as far as the delicate line between leg and hip, she made an instinctive movement to drape herself beneath the lace skirts. But she didn't complete the gesture, and as though wanting to lose herself and erase her inhibitions in the rapture of his kiss, she moved her legs toward him.

Still Caleb hesitated, not wishing to alarm her, yet hungering for her, unable to draw her close enough, know her well enough.

His touch was light as he caressed her gently, stroking the inside of her thigh with a movement so soft, so gentle, that she relinquished herself to the delight she was experiencing.

Her acceptance of his caress provoked him toward further raptures. Their lips met, their tongues touched, her body molded itself against his, but when his fingers grazed the warm secret of her femininity, she instinctively closed her thighs, refusing him additional intimacy. Then, feeling him about to draw away, she seized his hand and stayed it in the place where her thighs met. He could feel the tension ripple through her body, the involuntary rigidness in her arms and neck, the sudden tightening of her mouth as it rested against his. Immediately regretful that he had initiated this resistance in her, he attempted to remove his hand, seeking to reassure her that he had no intention of submitting her to ravagement.

She demonstrated her reluctance to end this embrace by holding firm to his hand until her thighs relaxed their grip. With a deep, sensuous kiss, she offered him a victory over her constraints. A succession of tremors, long and passionate, coursed through her body beneath the warm contact of his hand, culminating in the blending of their lips as one.

The quiet night was broken only by the creaking of the ship and the low sound of his voice as he whispered lovers' words, telling her of her beauty, of the need he had for her, of his love. He spoke and she believed. His love was evident in the tenderness of his touch, in the adoration of his lips and in the emotion in his eyes when he looked into hers. She knew he would always keep her trust, knew the price his consideration of her was extracting. He worshipped her with his hands, protected her with his arms and loved her with his heart.

And, in return, Wren responded with her heart and soul. Loving him, being loved by him, knowing he understood her, appreciated her and intuitively perceived the woman behind the flesh, the soul beneath the intellect. The loving and the giving were enhanced by their mutual joy; their passions flamed by tender devotion, the treasure of their love cherished more fervently than a kingly prize. Wren had found Caleb and Caleb had found Wren; prophetically, each had found his destiny.

They were still; no words needed to be spoken; no kiss could demonstrate the emotions within them. Her voice was whisper-light, threaded with happiness; her words posed a question which was already answered in her heart. “Why did you stop, Caleb?”

He held her in his arms, his mouth pressed lightly against her brow. “Because, sweetheart, I will take you only when you ask me to.”

“I couldn't have stopped you, and I would even have forgiven you. But I love you so much more, so much more completely, because you didn't insist . . .”