Hours to Cherish (16 page)

How many times had he dreamed it? This creature of divinity, enchantress, witch, striding toward him with that walk that was an effortless sail, hips swaying subtly, provocatively, hair floating with her like tendrils of silk.

He reached out for her, crushing her to him, burying his face into her neck, into her hair. It was still damp, its scent was wondrously clean and fresh and ever so slightly perfumed from her shampoo. His hands moved to tangle into its sable length, his fingers reverently caressed it, and he brought the silkiness to rub against his chest.

All around them was the sea, turquoise waters deepening with night to indigo, the rainbow dusk becoming an endless stretch of the darkest teal velvet. The world seemed to be theirs. It was as if they even owned the heavens.

They should go inside, Clay thought vaguely. But he couldn’t bear to break the enchantment of the spell that held them both, and the nearest person was half a mile away. He took her lips again, but his kisses were fevered now. They moved passionately to cover her cheeks, her throat, her shoulders, and then return again to the sweetness of her lips once more. He felt her tremble—he felt his own trembling—and he felt the heat that was rising, igniting, flaring, melding them together in a single torch of desire.

He brought himself down slowly, hands touching and memorizing the nuances of her shape, lips and tongue and teeth following suit, tasting the sweet nectar of her breasts, hips, belly, and thighs. And then when he was down, he drew her to him, demandingly and yet reverently, as though a part of him still believed her a vision, an ethereal spirit who could drift away into the night.

Her discarded robe was their bed. With his wife beside him at long last, Clay released her only long enough to shed his shorts. Then she was in his arms again, his weight beneath hers to shelter her from the hardness of the deck. It was a little like their first time together, Clay noted vaguely. Cat had actually come to him, and then waited, quivering like a bowstring, and then suddenly taken flight, returning his kisses, his touch, with equal fervor, equal passion.

He caught her face between his hands. “Dear God, Cat,” he groaned with husky vehemence, “how I want you. There were times when I lived for this …”

Cat closed her eyes and shuddered, escaping his hold to lean down and kiss the hollow in his shoulders. Her teeth grazed against his flesh and she tasted the salt of the sea. Tears suddenly flooded beneath her lids simply because she felt so good. She hadn’t forgotten the rapture of this pleasure. She had just thought that it could surely never come again. His body beneath hers had the strength of a rock, the vibrancy and vitality of the sun. Every taut inch of him was hard with toned muscles, yet his body pulsed a tantalizing comfort, sheltering her, demanding from her. The crisp curls of hair on his chest teased her breasts mercilessly, the strong columns of his legs twined with hers, provocatively edging along the inside of her upper thighs. His hips, crushed to her, left no delusions to his complete and powerful arousal.

And then he was lifting her, bringing her down again, and she was shuddering in earnest as he possessed her in an explosively driving force that left her feeling as if a ray of the sun had indeed burst within her. She gasped, suddenly still, savoring, absorbing the moment, but his hands were on her hips and he was beginning a slow, rhythmic undulation, guiding her along.

And then the rhythm was out of control, building, flying, soaring. There were moments when Cat caught her husband’s eyes, and the dark density of passion within them spurred her to even greater heights with the pleasure of knowing she returned all that he gave. And yet still, deep within her, there was a core of fear. She had to be insane, because this ecstasy could only bring agony.

Her fear was ignored because she was insane, half mad with the fire that ruled her body, the sweet deepening ache that pitched higher and higher until she felt she would scream.

And then it felt as if they had joined the velvet night, becoming one with the brilliance of the stars that flecked the heavens. Clay arched, cradling her breasts, gripping her hair, splaying his fingers around her hips to pull her ever tighter in a final shattering thrust.

Cat did scream. The sound was his name, a shivering cry of rapture and fulfillment. And then she was falling to his chest, burying her face into his neck, holding him tightly as the wash of sensations became gentle and mellow.

They lay silent for a long while, the only rustle of movement that of Clay’s fingers as they continued to thread with fascination through his wife’s hair. And then, just as Cat was realizing she had been a fool because everything was going to be so much harder now, that there would be new pain to rip apart scars that had never properly healed, Clay spoke, tenderly, whispering softly in her ear.

“I love you, Cat,” he murmured. “I really can’t tell you how much. There were times, so many times, when just the dream of you kept me going.”

Cat froze in his arms, terrified to believe his words. Could he mean it? Oh, God, it had been so long. Had he really loved her all those years? Could he really love her now? It was possible. She knew it was possible even if she was afraid to believe, because she knew now that she loved him, had never stopped loving him no matter how she thought she had purged his memory from her life

“Oh, Clay …” she murmured, holding her face tightly against his chest so that she didn’t have to face his eyes.

“Do you think you could love me again, Cat?” he demanded softly.

“I’m afraid, Clay,” Cat admitted, fingers tense against his flesh. “There’s so much I don’t know, so much I don’t understand. …”

“I’m going to talk to you,” he promised. “I’m going to try to explain everything. First thing in the morning.”

“Why in the morning?” Cat asked, finally pulling her face from him to frown as she studied his.

Clay smiled and shifted, adjusting himself to rise with a swift movement with her still clutched in his arms.

“Because tonight is mine,” he told her, brows arching with a devilish twitch. “Because I’ve dreamed of you until I’ve almost lost my sanity. Because we’re going to drink wine and munch cheese in bed and make love until dawn. Because this is my fantasy, and my fantasy is real, and nothing, nothing is going to intrude upon my dreams tonight. Not even you, sea witch. Tonight you are the fantasy, and you’re mine.”

As he carried her through the cabin doors, Cat simply had no desire to protest.

S
HE WAS SLEEPING SO
soundly, so comfortably, so very deeply. The blazing light that suddenly caused an instinctive tightening of her eyelids was at first nothing more than an annoyance. Then a sharp tap on her posterior startled her from that hazy cocoon of sleep and her eyes flew wide open.

The light, of course, was the sun, streaming through the now open porthole drape. Cat smiled ever so slightly. Had the sun ever streamed across the sky with such magnificence? Tossing her head and hiding her smile, Cat turned reproachful eyes to Clay, the deliverer of the awakening pat to her anatomy.

He sat beside her on the bed, a grin stretched softly in the firm yet sensuous line of his lips. “It’s morning,” he told her, shrugging innocence in reply to her reproach. He sobered suddenly, reaching for her hand. “And I want to talk to you. I was thinking—well, actually I was thinking that neither of us had been thinking last night. And I don’t think this is the time to add complications.”

“What are you talking about?” Cat murmured.

“The facts of life.” Clay grimaced.

“Oh.” Cat felt herself pinken slightly. “You needn’t worry about complications.”

“Oh?” She heard the growl in his voice and desperately wanted to avoid an argument in her drowsy state. She knew exactly what he was getting at, and she really wasn’t ready to admit the entire truth about her relationship—or lack of one—with Jules. But she didn’t want to fight, not after last night.

“I’ve taken pills since our marriage simply because I discovered they did a marvelous job of regulating my system,” she told him a bit huskily.

He didn’t reply, but his eyes told her the subject would be discussed again. Apparently he wasn’t ready to argue either. He watched her contemplatively for a moment, then smiled and issued a command. “Up!”

Cat groaned and attempted to burrow her face back into her pillow. With the threat of an explosion gone, she had begun to revel again in her feeling of drowsy contentment. “Clay …” she murmured, her indignant voice muffled by the pillow, “it was a late night. …”

“Noooo, no, my love!” Clay laughed, catching her shoulders and pulling her back forward. “This is a workday, kitten. And you’re on breakfast detail because I need to check and oil equipment.”

Cat allowed her heavy lids to close again. “Why don’t you just throw on a pot of coffee. …”

Clay laughed. “Because I’m starving. I had this terribly active night, you see, and the temporary appeasement of one appetite had a tremendous effect upon creating another.”

Cat opened her eyes once more to see a mischievous twinkle glimmering deep within her husband’s eyes. She flushed slightly and lowered her lashes until her eyes were narrowed slits of emerald, then stretched, pausing with caught breath as Clay leaned over to brush her lips with a gentle kiss. He moved back with a new, strange light in his eyes. Hands reaching tenderly for the luxurious masses of her tangled hair, he began to spread the tendrils in a sunburst fan over the pillow and bedding. He leaned to kiss her again, but this time the gentle movement of his lips turned to a demand, his fingers moved to cup her face, brushed her throat, and clutched her bare shoulders. A soft groan escaped him as he pulled back. “Come on, witch,” he commanded huskily, “Get up and get decent, before you destroy all my hard-won resolves for the day!” He stood, smiling as he stared down at her. “And get breakfast going! As a good little wife, you can ease at least one of these aches chewing on my insides.”

“Breakfast!” Cat laughed. “You want breakfast! I’m not even sure I can move this morning!” She wasn’t lying. She felt deliciously content and satiated, but incredibly tired and drained.

Clay chuckled in return. “Glad to hear I finally learned a way to keep you down. Except that I want you up, acting like a charming little wife, and cooking—”

“Acting like a wife and cooking!” Cat flared, suddenly awake as her eyes narrowed upon him. “After a comment like that—”

“Make it pancakes, will you,” Clay interrupted. “I really do feel as if I could consume half the boat.” Suddenly he reached down and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “Oh, Cat! I do love to tease you! It’s so easy to stir that wild temper of yours.” He laughed again at the outrage and indignity in her eyes, pulling her body close to his, drawing soft patterns over the small of her back. “Let’s start this off right—I think you’re marvelously talented—far more than a cook and housekeeper … and a deliciously erotic lover! But at the moment, would you mind being the cook? We do have a lot to get to before the
Sea Enchantress
pulls up to return Sam and we go to work for the day. I did promise to talk to you, and I thought a nice rational way to talk would be over a cozy and delicious breakfast with a large pot of steaming coffee.”

“Pancakes, did you say?” Cat inquired sweetly.

“Ummmm. Lots of them.”

“Lots and lots,” Cat promised.

Clay kissed her and released her. “That bit about cats and curiosity is certainly true,” he teased as he ducked out of the cabin.

“Don’t worry about it!” Cat called after him. “Cats also have nine lives, so I suppose I can afford to lose a few over curiosity!”

Twenty minutes later she had the salon table set and a mile-high pile of pancakes positioned beside a pound of crisply fried bacon. Cat had realized while cooking that her appetite was as voracious as Clay’s. But when they actually sat down to eat, she found herself picking at her food. This was, she thought pensively, the first meal she had ever prepared for just the two of them. During the first few months of their marriage, their meals had always come from the dining room, just as their suite in the lodge had always been cleaned by the lodge staff. She really hadn’t been much of a wife. …

“Not bad,” Clay commented, helping himself to another piece of bacon and taking a crunching bite. Cat looked into his eyes. There was a teasing glimmer to them, but also a gentle warmth. We’ve been thinking the same thing, she thought. Clay very particularly wanted this meal this way, not to force me into a role, but just to let me know that it can be enjoyable to be a wife, to do the little things one does for a mate.

Cat smiled and sipped her coffee. “Glad you approve. Am I as good a cook as Sam?”

“Your bacon is far superior,” Clay replied gallantly, “but don’t ever tell him that I said so. We need his goodwill at the moment. Neither one of us can spend too much time playing cook and bottle washer until we complete this trip.”

Cat smiled, lowering her eyes as she sipped her coffee. She wished fervently that he would hurry up and finish eating and start talking. But as if unable to resist a little torture, he did a fair job of consuming most of the food on the table, savoring each bite. How the hell could he eat so much and stay as smoothly taut as a drum? Cat wondered. Easy, he was always moving, always utilizing his body; spending half his life in the sea.

“Clay …” Cat finally begged with exasperation.

He chuckled softly, then pushed his plate aside and poured himself more coffee. “Okay,” he murmured. He stared at his cup, running his forefinger idly around the rim. “I wasn’t stalling you just for fun,” he said quietly. “I really don’t know where to begin.” He sighed, took a sip of coffee, then set his cup back down. “Like I told you,” he began, “I lost the
Sea Witch
. I think I must have floated two days on a four-foot-square section of planking before Luke and his crew picked me up. I think I was half dead at that time. I spent another day delirious with fever and dehydration. Luke was the first person I saw and when I saw him, I had nothing for a mind except a sieve. I couldn’t remember anything, Cat. Nothing. Nothing about myself, not even what I looked like. And I was sick as hell. Luke took care of me as tenderly as he might a baby.”