Moonlight Lover (26 page)

Though she had never loved a man before, Rachel knew what she felt for Sin-Jin. And where it might lead.

To a path she was afraid of taking. A path where she might lose herself, one from which she could never return.

Sin-Jin saw the bright shine of tears in her eyes and sought to redirect her thoughts from the scene on the shore. He purposely turned from the railing, leaning his elbows on it as he kept his back to the shore. "We haven't discussed accommodations."

At the very mention of accommodations, of beds, she felt warmth radiate over her cheeks. She raised her chin, the prim and proper Miss O'Roarke, a role she would have laughed at. Until Sin-Jin.

"There is nothing to discuss."

All around them, a crew of weather-roughened sailors were going about the task of putting out to the open sea. Twenty-five sailors, two male passengers and Rachel. Sin-Jin really didn't care for the odds. "You're a lone woman aboard a ship full of men."

She tried not to think of the implications. Just being near him was making her uneasy enough. "And you propose to guard my virtue?"

He smiled. "Exactly."

Why didn't she believe him? Perhaps the way he looked at her, as if she were a piece of shortcake and he with a sweet tooth, had something to do with it. "How?"

"Well, for one thing"—he drew a little closer to her as a sailor hurried by with several coils of rope, very nearly knocking her down—"by never letting you out of my sight."

And she would just bet the next year's profits at the Gazette that he would love doing that. All the time. "That would be awkward."

He grinned, able to read her thoughts on her face.

"Only if you peek."

He was worse than a scoundrel. How could he even suggest such a thing? Her anger was fueled by the fact that she had thought of such a thing.

"I have no intentions of ‘peeking.'" She gave him the blackest look she could muster, wishing that Franklin was by her side instead of conversing with the captain. "You, however, don't strike me as being as honorable."

Sin-Jin placed his hand over his heart, wounded. "Honor is something I cherish."

"And if I believe that, it's a piece of the London Bridge that you'd be wanting to sell me next," she said sweetly as she swept majestically past him.

She made an annoyed sound when she heard him walking behind her. She might have known that he'd follow her below deck. With a huff, she entered her cabin. And even there he crowded in behind her.

The angry sound Rachel made was followed by an oath when she bumped her shin against a chest she didn't recognize.

Hopping on one foot, she steadied herself against the far wall rather than take the hand he offered. Her back against the corner, she pointed accusingly at the offensive piece of luggage. "And just what is this, I'd like to know?"

He slid the chest beneath the porthole, out of her path. “It’s mine.”

Of course it was his. Everything that caused her grief and pain somehow belonged to him. Rubbing her shin, she straightened up. "What is it doing here? Why isn't it in your cabin?"

He sat down on the trunk for a moment, watching her. He crossed one leg carelessly over the other and folded his hands on top. "It is in my cabin," he said guilelessly.

What sort of chicanery was this? "But this is my cabin," she pointed out adamantly.

"Yes." The agreement came too readily for her liking. The man was up to something.

She'd had enough. Rachel's eyes narrowed. "We've scarcely left port and already it's advantage of me you'd be trying to take? Saints be praised man, but you've got gall!"

Sin-Jin held his hands up in innocence. "I haven't touched you."

"And you won't, not unless you'll be wanting to lose a hand and the arm attached to it. Now get your chest and yourself out of here." She pointed toward the door and waited.

Sin-Jin made no move to rise. "No."

Her mouth almost dropped open in surprise at the direct defiance. She hadn't really expected that. "No?"

He shook his head, not budging an inch. "No."

Rachel let out an angry hiss. If he wanted to be stubborn, so be it. She could be just as stubborn as he. "Fine. Then I'll be the one leaving." But as she turned, Sin-Jin leaped up to grab her wrist.

It was all that was needed to ignite the fire in her eyes. She yanked her arm, but it did no good. Panic began to splay long, slender fingers through her. What if she had misunderstood the way of this man's character? What if all that had gone before was just ruse and now his true colors were evident, the same true colors that had waved so violently in Lancaster?

She took care to keep the quaver from her voice. "Unhand me, you wretched beast, or I'll be having the captain put you in irons for this."

He didn't know about the captain, but Sin-Jin could tell by the way he looked at her that the first mate was the kind of man who wouldn't mind keeping her in irons for his sole amusement.

"I'm doing this for your own good."

Her own good. He meant to have her squirming beneath him, taking his pleasure with her. "First time I ever heard it called that. You mean for your own good, not mine, don't you?" Her eyes blazed as she attempted to pull herself free and escape to Franklin's protection. "You're a fat-headed oaf, you are."

He wanted to shake her, but for now he only kept her wrist in his hand. "I intend to protect you from the others if you like it or not. I can't do it if I'm sleeping in another cabin."

Oh, he was a smooth one, he was. "You can't do it sleeping in mine, either."

He pulled her closer to him, knowing that would infuriate her. As well as excite them both. "What's the matter?" His breath glided along her face, sending shivers through her soul, even though she damned his. And her own. But she remained steadfast. "Don't you trust yourself alone with me?"

"I am not the problem," she declared.

She doubled her other fist and almost succeeded in delivering a good blow. But Sin-Jin caught her right cross before Rachel had a chance to make solid contact with his chin.

Now he held onto both hands. "Fine. Then, since neither am I, it's settled."

She longed to hit him, scratch him, do something to vent this feeling of frustration diving through her like a fish playing in the sea.

But she couldn't since he was firmly holding onto both her hands. "Nothing is settled," she said haughtily. "You can't stay here."

Sin-Jin became serious. She had to be made to understand. Cautiously, he let go of her hands. She looked at him in surprise at her sudden freedom.

"Rachel, I won't say that you haven't been on my mind since the first time I saw you." His voice lowered. She had to believe him about this. "But I'm not the kind of man to force myself on a woman."

She rubbed her wrist. "And what is it that you call what you were doing just now?"

Maybe he would shake her. "Rachel, be sensible for once in your life. With your mouth shut you are a very attractive woman."

If it wasn't enough to manhandle her, now the man was heaping insults on her as well. "What do you mean, with my mouth shut—?"

"That's what I said," Sin-Jin continued sternly, leaving no room for an argument. "We're going to be at sea for a long time. Tempted sailors aren't always inclined to be gentlemen."

"He's right, you know," Franklin agreed as he pushed the door open. He'd heard them arguing in the hall. "I've been looking for the two of you," he added mildly. "To see if you've settled in yet."

Rachel had cleaved to Franklin's side as soon as he entered. Relief mingled with disbelief as she stared at him.

"You agree with him?" She felt as if she had just been betrayed. How could Franklin agree with what Sin-Jin obviously had in mind?

Franklin nodded. Sin-Jin had confided his idea to him first, to see if it met with the older man's approval. The pain in Franklin's foot had eased considerably, but he still kept his walking stick with him and now placed both hands on it as he leaned toward Rachel.

"Drastic times require drastic measures, my dear. I'm afraid that when I extended my invitation to you, I hadn't thought it out completely. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

It made sense, she supposed. She wasn't a fool entirely. Perhaps she did need a bit more protection than she would have willingly admitted to. "Then you stay in my cabin."

Franklin chuckled fondly. "Ah, how many times in my youth have I heard that before?" He sighed, then became serious. Rachel was very dear to him. "No, if anyone can protect you, it will be Sin-Jin. I find him to be an honorable man."

Rachel crossed her arms before her, as if that would afford her a little comfort. "That's because he hasn't kissed you," she muttered.

Overhearing, Franklin laughed. "A pleasure, I am sure, I can only imagine." He patted Sin-Jin on the shoulder. "Take care of her boy." His sharp eyes narrowed as he used the tip of his cane for emphasis. "And mind the bundling board stays between. She's like a daughter to me and I'm not above a little fatherly vengeance if temptation proves to be too much for you."

Rachel felt only marginally better about Franklin's declaration. She looked at the older man quizzically. "Bundling board?"

Franklin pointed to the other corner of the cabin. It was only then she saw the long narrow board leaning against the wall. "Of the thickest kind. I had Riley make one and deliver it to the ship before we set sail."

She crossed to the board and ran her hand over it dubiously. She knew the two men had a point. Still, it wouldn't do to admit it aloud.

"All right, if you," she looked at Franklin, "think it's best. As for you, you'll stay on your own side or pay the consequences."

Sin-Jin set up the board in the middle of the bunk. It would be hard, sleeping so close to her, not having her. But he had given his word and meant to stay by it, no matter how difficult it would be for him. And it would be difficult.

"I think I already am, Rachel. I think I already am."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

There were times, Sin-Jin found, when the virtue of chastity felt like a scratchy collar that had been fashioned to fit the neck of a man much smaller than he.

He had never been one to be led around by uncontrolled appetites the way some others he knew were. To be sure, having a woman was a pleasurable experience, one to be savored and enjoyed slowly, like sipping fine, aged wine. But it was not something to be pursued to the exclusion of all else. And especially not when there existed the very real possibility of being totally and summarily rejected for reasons of virtue or perhaps just sheer obstinacy.

Yet he yearned for her.

With each passing day, desire progressively encroached until it filled him, body and soul, like the depth and breadth of an oak tree, suddenly, magically evolving from the husk of an acorn. Each moment he spent in her company, the yearning grew, claiming bits and pieces of him as tribute. Wanting her was becoming just a little short of an obsession for Sin-Jin, yet as a gentleman, there was nothing he could do.

And so it became increasingly more difficult for Sin-Jin to watch Rachel as she walked about the deck with Franklin. To talk to her and see the way her eyes, like as not, flashed in response. To stand on the deck and have the heartless sea breeze waft her fresh scent to him. To endure it all and not to have her.

But the nights, the nights were always the hardest of all. Stoically, Sin-Jin would lie there in that small bunk with the long board between them, knowing that she was only a matter of inches away. Knowing that he had but to reach out his hand to touch her soft, silken skin. It nearly drove him to distraction.

Sin-Jin couldn't sleep. He began to sincerely doubt that he ever would again. He wanted her. Sweet Jesus in heaven, but he wanted her. Lying here like this, aching, was penance for all the sins he had committed and would ever commit.

His long, elegant fingers were laced together beneath his head, pressing into the shapeless pillow filled with duck feathers that had long since been permanently flattened by sweat and weather. The point of a feather was jabbing against his wrist, scratching it. He didn't bother to reposition the pillow or to pluck the offending feather out. It was a minor irritation compared to what he was enduring.

Voluntarily enduring, he reminded himself. He must have been daft to agree to this situation. But now he was bound by his honor and there was hell to pay.

The single lantern Rachel had demanded remain lit swayed on its perch, drunkeniy marking the rhythm of the ocean. They'd only been at sea for seven days. It felt like an eternity. Sin-Jin couldn't wait for the journey to be over.

Rachel moaned, a low, guttural sound, then whimpered, making small, animal noises like a child who was suddenly frightened. Sin-Jin bolted upright in the bunk to look at her. She was asleep. The amber light from the lantern bathed her in hues of gold, stirring his blood to almost unbearable heights.

He reached out, his hands hovering over her. He wanted to touch her, to slide his fingers along her cheek. He didn't. To touch now would be to take. He knew that. He had never forced himself on a woman. He wasn't about to change that now, even though his blood roared in his veins like the howl of the wind as it lashed angrily at the sea during a typhoon.

She moaned again. This time it was louder, more panicky. Sin-Jin debated waking her. No doubt if he did, she would have no recollection of her nightmare and accuse him of making up an excuse so that he could have his way with her. There was no winning with this woman.

Her scream had the balance of the argument shifting completely to one side. He had to wake her.

This wasn't merely a nightmare. She was remembering something, he thought. Something horrible. She began to sob wretchedly, like a child who had lost all reason, all ability to hope.

"No, oh please no. No!" She shuddered and thrashed about, her fingers clawing at the air like someone who was trying to pull something away.

The hell with niceties. Sin-Jin threw the board aside and grabbed hold of Rachel's grasping hands in one of his. Holding them securely, Sin-Jin pulled her into his arms, then rocked slowly, the way one did with a frightened babe. He kissed the top of her head softly. It was damp with the sweat of fear.