Loving Sarah (9 page)

If the man meant to continue his tirade in the privacy of her room, she would have to make it clear to him that she would take no more.

Throwing back the bolt, she yanked open the door, prepared to vent her anger at him when he pushed past her. The sound of the latch sliding home and the strange emotion in his gold-flecked hazel eyes were more titillating than fear-inducing.

“If you’ve come to continue lecturing me, you can save your breath because I will not hear it.” She turned her back to him and continued combing her hair, trying to ignore his proximity in the confines of the small room.

“I thought to apologize. But….”

“Apology accepted. Now, please…,” her voice cracked. “Please go.” She didn’t look at him.

His voice carried growing frustration as he spoke, his tone becoming more aggressive. “This is
my
ship, and I’ll leave when
I
damn well choose.”

Startled, she met his steely gaze in the mirror. Her parched throat closed, and she stood frozen in place, trembling now that she’d forced him to anger.

“I didn’t have to let you stay in here,” he stated. “I could have had you locked in the lazarette below as a common prisoner.”

She held his direct, scathing stare in the mirror and refused to cower.

“With no light and only a blanket and one meal a day. Remember,
you
stole aboard
my
vessel of your own volition and that makes you no better than a common criminal. Because of who you are, I felt it my responsibility to care for your well-being. But your attitude at my hospitality could use some adjustment.”

He came to stand directly behind her, so close she felt the warmth radiating off his body, felt his breath in her tangled curls. She saw in the mirror that his gaze caressed her tumbledown mess of hair. Even in her fear, she wanted to feel his touch. She knew that if he touched her, she would melt before him.

“So let me clarify something to you,
my lady
. You are under
my
protection, and as a friend to Lucky, you will hear what I have to say regarding your imprudent actions, especially as they will likely affect me in some way. His Grace will surely question me thoroughly.”

She felt the heat of his hands a fraction of an inch away from her body as though he wanted to touch her, to feel her, but would not. Without making contact, they roved over her form, causing her skin beneath her linen shirt and trousers to flame as though he stroked her naked body. Now she knew. He felt it, too. The attraction she felt for him
was
returned; it wasn’t her imagination.

“You never should have come here,” his husky voice whispered.

If she moved at all, even to take a deep breath, his palms would be on her, and if that happened, she didn’t know where they’d go from there.

The drawings in that book came to mind, and she groaned silently.

“I am not your brother that you can behave with that haughty demeanor of yours and get away with it. And you can give me your excuses and expect all to be well. I am not easily pacified.”

His hands fell to his side, and he stepped away, leaving Sarah wondering what might have happened if she had taken a step back into his arms.

“Consider yourself warned, my lady.” He turned and left the room.

The comb fell to the floor, and she sat on the bench staring at the door, shaken with the knowledge that if he’d simply touched her, she would have melted into him. Would have given him anything he’d wanted because, God help her, it was what she wanted as well. She wasn’t sure why, but something inside her wanted a relationship with this man, telling her that no other man would do. It wasn’t just because of that titillating little book either. Her body had been attracted to Mr. Ross-Mackeever from the moment he walked into the drawing room at the rented house in Liverpool the night before the race. Of course, she didn’t know what this feeling was then. But now, with the help of that erotic book, she concluded this feeling was what the author described as
chemistry
.

W
hen the bell signaling the noon meal rang, Sarah quickly donned her hat and coat again and went to the galley. Thankfully, Ian was nowhere in sight. After greeting a few of her new friends, she returned to her room alone and ate the bland but filling fare with gusto.

Ian didn’t come to the cabin that evening or the next morning or the morning after that, which gave her plenty of time to read and re-read
The Modern Gentleman’s Guide to Seduction and the Act of Love
. She read late into the night, finding the text, along with the graphic plates and drawings, most informative and inspiring. The whole book was enlightening, especially to a curious young woman with no prior knowledge of the physical act as it pertained to humans. Though according to this book, it wasn’t so much an act as it was an art.

She’d heard whispers of a woman’s wifely duty, but never details. It was never openly discussed among her friends, even the married ones. But according to this very enlightening book, presumably an instructional text, this
duty
was really no duty at all, but entirely pleasurable for both parties if done correctly. Sarah gathered from what she’d been reading that the gratification derived came from the mechanics of the act itself and the sensations would be heightened if there was a certain chemistry between the parties involved. Most especially from the man’s perspective, which, once she thought about it, made complete sense. After all, the book was written by men for men. There had been an entire chapter on what they called foreplay, instructing the male in the use of flowery phrases and words of love, and the timing of using such expressions for maximum effect.

Parts of the text angered her because the authors depicted all women as easily swayed and impressed with a man’s knowledge of poetry and skill at music and art—not things she necessarily sought in a man—which was probably why she was so attracted to her captain. Somehow she didn’t see Ian as the type to woo with sweet words, romantic poetry, or music. He was too direct and honest. And as she’d listened to his calls to his crew the past few days, she could say with certainty that her captain was entirely too gruff.

Scandalous though it was, she had to admit the book was arousing, causing her to squirm in her seat as she read the descriptions of acts and the benefits to performing them in that particular manner. After falling asleep that first night and each night afterward, her dreams had been of herself and Ian. Perhaps inspired by his last visit to her room when he’d nearly touched her. Sarah would have done nothing to stop him. In fact, she’d desired his touch that day. And she wanted it even more now. Because now she understood the emotion she felt.

Lust.

She wanted him in all of the intimate, physical ways depicted in this book. Just thinking about it made her wet between her legs—and intensified a needy, hollow feeling low in her belly.

But how did a single, young woman like herself, especially one from her station, go about embarking on a liaison without giving up any and all hope for a suitable marriage? Because once given away, her lack of virtue would be noticed by a future husband. And that would not make for a good start to a marriage. Not that anyone had singled her out as yet. Quite the contrary, it seemed no one was interested in marrying her.

Thus after three seasons out without once falling in love, or even meeting anyone with whom she cared to share her life, she was just about to concede the fact that there might be something wrong with her and that she might be doomed to a life on the shelf. It almost made her feel as though she were a failure in her family, with both her sister and brother making very successful love matches.

So she made her decision right then and there.

If spinsterhood was to be her lot in life, she was going to taste the pleasures of the flesh before going on reserve. The ever-curious adventurer in her wanted to know what she would be missing by not marrying.

And who better than to taste those sinful delights with than her captain? Surely he could be persuaded to accommodate her in her quest for knowledge and experience. But he couldn’t know she planned to use him to satisfy her curiosity. She sensed if he knew this he would never agree to satisfy her simply because of
who
she was.

So she had to come up with a plan of sorts. A plan for seducing her captain.

A
nother two full days passed without her crossing his path. It seemed they both made an effort to avoid each other. Of course, Sarah went only to the galley and back, and as a result, the cabin felt smaller with each hour that passed. Ian, for his part avoided her by taking the wheel of the ship at night, while she slept.

The thirty crewmen on the boat had become accustomed to her presence as they followed the cook’s lead and greeted her when she entered the galley at mealtimes. Even though she knew most by name now, she never ate among the men because she feared raising her captain’s ire. Too she noticed that when she was in the presence of Ian’s crewmen, they seemed somewhat restrained. Oh, they were pleasant enough to her, but the animated dialogue she heard every day from above deck through the open porthole or echoing through the companionway always ceased when she stepped through her door.

She supposed their captain had warned them about their behavior in her presence, and she was both thankful he’d done so as he was looking out for her sensibilities, yet sorry that the men were having to repress their natural tendencies toward informal conversation with each other. The last thing she’d considered when she started out on her adventure was to inconvenience the crew, thus provoking any resentment.

That was one of the reasons she’d chosen to hermit in the cabin, another was her desire to study that fascinating book.

But there was one even more important than angering the captain and studying the book.

She had to control the erotic visions she’d been having lately. Visions of her and Ian in the varying positions portrayed in the plates and drawings. Until she could do so, she would never be able to look him in the eyes and would continue to feel this quivering embarrassment in his presence.

After a few days below deck, the walls were closing in on her and she needed to breathe, so she headed topside. She bundled up against the North Atlantic winds and donned her hat and coat. The thought of going above without his escort had become less and less frightening. She didn’t worry about getting attacked now that she’d met almost all of the crew. Yes, she might incur Mr. Ross-Mackeever’s wrath, but decided that any anger from her captain was worth the few moments in the sun and brisk air.

Grasping the handrails, she climbed the steep stairs to the main deck where she paused at the top, relishing the warmth of sunlight on her face. In contrast, the crisp and cool wind whipped some stray tendrils that refused to remain under the hat onto her face. She inhaled the scent of the ocean—a salty-tangy combination that was strangely comforting and oddly arousing. Moving to the rail, she leaned against it as she scanned the horizon to the lee-side. She saw nothing but water and one ship far off into the distance ahead of them. Spray washed up and wet her face as the hull sliced through a wave. Thankfully, she’d buttoned up her oil-cloth slicker, or she’d be soaked.

Suddenly, she felt the fine hairs along the back of her neck rise to attention and she knew without looking that her captain stood behind her.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stay below any longer,” she said without turning. “I needed fresh air, sunshine, and a change of scenery.”

His arms came around her and held the rail on each side of her, imprisoning her. “Then you should have sent word, and I would have brought you out before this. As I am now back to my normal hours, I can bring you above again.” His breath stirred the wisps of hair near her ear. His voice was rough, as though he held his displeasure in check. “But right now is not a good time for you to be up here.”

“Why?” With the rise of the bow, she fell back into his chest. He absorbed the shock and just as quickly as she’d fallen, she righted herself, grabbing onto the polished brass rail of the upper deck again.

“Because we’re moving into rough weather ahead. Can’t you tell?”

“Of course. The waves are growing larger, and the boat in front of us has disappeared into a curtain of rain, even though the sun is shining on us. Our wind is coming from the northeast, and that system seems to be moving toward us from the southwest. It doesn’t bode well, does it? Perhaps we should take a northerly tack and skirt around the storm.”

“Very good, my lady. Well done. That’s Lucky in front of us. He overtook us two days ago. I’m trusting his sense in this. If I’m not mistaken, he believes skirting to the north would diminish any lead we may have. He also doesn’t believe this storm to be of any significance. I concur with that assessment, but only because of the disorganized formation of the clouds. So it appears to me to be merely a storm front and nothing worse.”

“Fine, so it may rain and the seas might get a little rough. Why must I go below again?” She turned in his arms and faced him. He was unshaven, with several days’ growth of a dark-blond beard on his handsome face.

Having never seen a man with a beard up close, she acted on impulse and reached up to touch his jaw, laying her hand flat against the stubble. The dark blond hair was coarse and somewhat prickly, giving his face a roughened appearance, but in no way did it mar his rugged good looks. Quite the contrary, she found it appealing. As she stared at his firm, wide lips, she dropped her hand away, her palm scorched from the heat between them.