Moon Dreams (23 page)

He set her down outside a small thatch-roofed hut. The walls
consisted of worn mosquito netting probably scavenged from a ship’s trunk.
Alyson turned questioning eyes to Rory, but he swept aside a corner of the thin
curtain and gestured for her to enter.

Inside, the crew had created a pallet of palmetto leaves and
lavished it with all the linens and pillows in Rory’s threadbare coffers. The
effect had been completed with a swath of white silk apparently hoarded for
some special occasion. Alyson rubbed it between her fingers, enjoying the
sensuous texture of the extravagant bedcover.

The man standing behind her said nothing, apparently waiting
for her to speak. He filled her senses to such a degree that she knew his
closeness, the shape of his body, the placement of his hands, without looking.
She wanted him closer.

Alyson turned and lifted her wounded hand to his shoulder. “You
will show me what to do?”

He lifted her bloodstained palm, and finding the bleeding
already stopped, he kissed it lightly. “We are joined already, lass. You will
know what to do.”

Alyson smiled at the languorous drawl of his words, and she
stepped into his embrace. “What promises did we make with this joining? I heard
no words I understood. How are we bound?”

Rory’s hand roamed up and down her spine. She felt his
hardness pressed against her belly, and she shivered as his words vibrated
through her.

“We are bound only by the promises we give each other. For
myself, I need no other woman as long as I have you. You are more than I ever
dared dream, Alys. What promises would you have me give?”

She studied the tension in the strong lines of Rory’s dark
features, shadowed in this primitive shelter. Her answer came without conscious
thought, pulled from the wind and carried on the moonbeams.

“I would have you love me while you can, just for this
while. Will you love me?”

She could not mistake the tenderness in his gaze as he
lifted both hands to cup her face. His thumbs traced patterns on her skin as he
spoke.

“Aye, lass, I’ll love ye, make no mistake aboot that. ’Tis
the only love I may ever know, but I give it to ye willingly.”

His mouth closed on hers then, and there was no further need
of words. Caught between his possessive hands, his mouth branding her with
wine-flavored flames, and his breath filling her lungs, Alyson could only
surrender. Her fingers curled against his chest, and her lips allowed him
entrance. She was swept along by his need as surely as she had been swept from
her feet earlier.

Rory’s hands slid over her, stroking her throat, sliding
beneath the satin vest, cupping her breasts while his kisses played havoc with her
breathing. Alyson allowed the vest to fall to the ground, then caressed the
hard ridges of his chest, flattening her palms against his smooth skin.

She felt his quick intake of breath and knew satisfaction
that her touch affected him as his did her. She had never known how far kisses
could lead until Rory taught her. Now she wanted to know more.

Rory’s kiss grew more urgent once she discovered the hard
buds of his nipples and played them as he had hers. But when she slid her hands
beneath his shirt to his waist, Rory released her mouth and buried his face
against her hair with a groan.

“Lass, if you do not release me from these damned tight
breeches, I’ll not be of any use to you this night or any other.”

Alyson laughed low in her throat and ran her fingers along
the waist of his pants until she found the buttons. He had unfastened her
enough times that she felt no shame in returning the favor, but she was quite
unprepared for Rory’s reaction to this release.

He yanked his shirt from the loosened band and cast it to
the ground, then caught her clothing in both hands and drew it all over her
head in one forceful stroke. Alyson gasped as the night breeze suddenly had
full access to her flesh, but she had little time to dwell on her nudity. Rory
carried her to the makeshift pallet, gently laying her across the silk, where
he could admire her with his eyes while he finished shedding his breeches. In
the moonlight filtering through the netting, Alyson lost awareness of her own
nakedness in the discovery of his.

Her gaze swept from the V-shaped mat of curls on his broad
chest to the taut flatness at his waist. Fearful of being brazen, she bypassed
the proof of his maleness to follow the muscular lines of his legs. She barely
had time to finish her inspection before he dropped beside her.

Rory’s muscled weight smashed the fragile pallet. One
hair-roughened leg slid over hers, pinning her against the silk. His maleness
rubbed her hip as he leaned over her, and she knew her vision hadn’t lied. That
was Alyson’s last conscious thought as Rory’s tongue tasted her lips, and he
teased her breasts into wanton points.

It was as if his body was the bow and hers was the string.
He played her sweetly first, testing the notes, refining the tension until she
quivered beneath his touch. When he suckled at her breast, Alyson moaned and
rose against him, and the music grew more frantic.

The pull of Rory’s mouth heightened all her senses, or what
was left of them, as the heavy wine seeped through her and made her reckless.
His fingers played across her skin, stroking, caressing, finding those places
that made her shiver and moan and brought her closer to the crescendo he
sought.

When his hand slid between her thighs, Alyson tried to
protest, but Rory chased away her words with his kiss. The twin invasions of
tongue and fingers warned of what came next, and the fear from her vision made
her whimper in fear of the pain to come. Still, her hands wound around his
shoulders to welcome him.

Rory raised over her to lie between her legs. He continued
making love to her lips, throat, and breasts, worshiping at the altar of her
beauty, giving her no opportunity to shy from his advances. Not until Alyson
was crying his name and covering his chest and shoulders with her kisses did he
dare take the sacrifice she offered.

Alyson’s wild cry as Rory entered her rang through the
jungle, at one with the call of the other creatures around them. He thrust
carefully, stretching her tightness to accept him, carried by the passion that
had long burned behind the closed walls of his heart.

Once he had breached her fear, she surrendered to all his
demands, and he was swept along on the tide of his needs.

The moment came too soon, exploding in a bright heat that
caused Rory to groan and gather her closer while his body shook and trembled with
hers. Her cry of surprise and delight was reward enough for the effort he’d
made to give her pleasure.

Alyson stroked his hair while he tried to gather he energy
to remove his weight from pressing her into the ground. Nothing could distract
him from the place where they lay joined together.

“You cannot daydream me away now,” he whispered in her ear,
“nor deny that you are mine.”

He rolled to his side and carried her with him. He pulled
the silk into a cocoon around them and found a pillow for her head to make her
comfortable within the circle of his arms.

He rained kisses against her nose and brow, and caressed her
cheek, pushing away damp curls. Her lips parted in a soft sigh, and he captured
it with his kiss. “I did not wish to hurt you, lass,” he murmured.

“I don’t remember the pain, only the pleasure. Will it
always be so?”

Lying on his side, Rory relaxed. “No, lass, it will get
better. Let me show you.”

Alyson responded readily to his renewed caresses. He moved
more slowly this time, giving her time to adjust until her hips rocked in a
rhythm with his, then demanded more. Catching the measure of her need, he thrust
faster, harder.

Responding to his thrusts, Alyson no longer knew where he
began or she ended. She only knew Rory had pulled her strings taut as he drew
himself back and forth, and the music reached its height.

A crescendo built so that she could no longer control her
own movements. The pulsing beat carried her away, rolling over her in wave
after wave of pleasure. Rory murmured reassuring words in her ear. She clung to
him, and her hips rose and fell again with his swift thrusts. Alyson cried out
in delight as they came together, and Rory’s shudders matched hers, bringing
them so close that she knew his mind and body as well as her own.

She fell asleep, physically and emotionally exhausted,
before Rory could leave her. He held her close as her breathing evened, but he
did not find sleep so easily. Guilt weighed upon his mind, guilt worsened by
the knowledge that he had not only taken her innocence but also broken his
promise to her in so doing.

In the pleasure and excitement of teaching Alyson passion
and claiming her for his own, he had failed to protect her from the results of
this act of love. Even now, his bastard could be forming in her.

Eyes closed, Alyson stretched luxuriously against the
slippery sheets until her toes brushed a hair-roughened and distinctly
masculine leg. Her lids shot open just as Rory leaned over her. Placing an arm
on either side of her head, he grinned down into her sleep-tousled face.

“Good morning to ye, lass. How are you feeling?”

She closed her eyes again as she captured the sensation of
his long, hard body leaning over hers. She felt a familiar stirring and
murmured “moon dreams,” then purred contentedly.

Rory pressed a kiss to her brow and inquired, “Moon dreams?
Are they better than daydreams?”

Alyson smiled lazily as his body came close enough for her
to arch against him. She now knew the meaning of that jutting shaft. It had not
all been a moon dream, then.

“Much better.” She loved the way his brandy eyes gleamed as
he looked down on her, and she felt the need for him grow again. “Much more
dangerous. They’re impossible dreams, you see. Wild dreams. My grandmother told
me to beware of moon dreams because I would never be happy with what I could
not have.”

A shadow crossed Rory’s face, but he spoke lightly. “It’s
daylight now, lass. No moon dreams, just me. Will you still have me?”

His voice rumbled low and caressing as Rory nibbled at her
earlobe, and Alyson shivered in delight. She slid her hand along the muscled
ridges of his ribs down to his hips, pressing him closer. She was aware of the
aching soreness between her thighs, but she made no effort to push him away.

Rory rolled over and stood up, holding out his hand to help her
rise from the rumpled bed.

She opened one eye and squinted at him warily. Just the
sight of him standing there naked was enough to give her palpitations. What did
he mean to do to her now?

“Come on, lay-abed. We have only this morning and then we
must be off. Let me teach you to swim.”

Judging from what she could see, he did not precisely have
swimming in mind, but a bath would be nice. Remembering the lagoon, Alyson looked
for her shirt.

Rory grabbed her shirt and his, along with his breeches. He
unwrapped her from the silk, leaving her unprotected from his gaze.

At sight of the telltale stain against the white, he grinned
and spread the silk wide between his hands, displaying the sign of virginity. “I
should have a flag made of this. Then I will always have something to remember
you by.”

Alyson scrambled up to take it away from him. “I have heard
that buccaneers prefer flags of gory skulls, but this is carrying things too
far. You are an embarrassment, Rory Douglas.”

Instead of relinquishing his banner, Rory cheerfully wrapped
her in it, then lifted her into his arms. “I know that, lass, but you’ll have
to bear my poor humor for the nonce. The prisoners of buccaneers have no other
choice.”

Then, wearing nothing but his birthday clothes, he carried
her into the sultry warmth of the day. Arms wrapped in the silk, Alyson could
do no more than squirm in protest. She only fought in earnest when Rory strode
straight out into the water without letting her down.

“Rory, don’t! Take me back. It’s too deep out here!”

He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Is it so, now? Am I drowning?
What will you forfeit if I take you back?”

“Just take me back, Rory, please. I will learn to swim
another day.”

“If you’re to be jumping off ships and tangling with
pirates, you’ll have to learn how. Hold your breath, dear heart.”

He had more compunction than to drop her in, but Alyson’s stormy
look caused him to chuckle. He dropped her legs, letting them dangle in the
water while he held the rest of her against him and gave her a watery kiss.

The silk floated free. With the water lapping around her and
Rory’s body pressed to hers, Alyson could only concentrate on one thing at a
time. Her body responded joyously to his, and the swimming lesson was as quickly
forgotten as the silk.

They didn’t quite make it back to the beach. Half in and
half out of the water, they made love in the sand with the water idly licking
at their legs and toes. The pure pleasure of Rory’s possession drove out any
discomfort. Alyson knew only the heat of the sun and the liquid warmth of the
water and the ecstasy that rose inside her with his every thrust. Last night
could not have been a moon dream, for not only was it possible to achieve last
night’s pleasure, this exceeded it. Alyson cried out her joy as her body quaked
in rhythm with Rory’s.

“Couldn’t we stay here forever?” she murmured as Rory rolled
over and carried her with him. Alyson sifted a handful of sand across his
sun-browned chest once she rested atop him.

Rory lay back against the hot sand and entwined her long
hair in his fingers. “Moon dreaming again, my love? We should perish of thirst
as soon as the water barrels emptied. Or we would drown in the first storm to
come along. Whichever came first. There would not be time to worry about
starving, come winter.”