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Ah, it felt good to be clean and shaven, he thought some time later. He fingered the clothes laid out for him, and decided to don the breeches, hoping the cabin boy would bring the promised food soon.

Almost on cue someone knocked on the door and a shy, slight young man bearing a tray walked in, when André bade him enter.

He relished the thick fish chowder and the dark bread provided with it. He hadn’t realized just how famished he was. When he was done, he stretched out on the bunk. He breathed deeply, content that his belly had quit growling. Until now he had been vaguely aware of Stormy’s scent or presence in the cabin. He turned his head and then grabbed the pillow and pressed it to his nose. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he inhaled deeply and imagined her near.

God, he hadn’t realized until now how much he wanted her, not just in a carnal sense, but he wanted to be with her … forever.

The thought of forever jarred him out of his reverie. There would be no forever. If it ever got out that he had held up carriages in the guise of a highwayman, he would be in serious trouble. Although he had never robbed anyone, some passengers would not be all forgiving. At the very least he would spend some time in gaol. No decent woman deserved the stigma of being connected to a former prisoner.

Cursing under his breath, he replaced the pillow under his head and folded his hands behind him. Staring at the ceiling, he began to make plans on how to bring Snowden to justice.

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Disoriented, André awakened some time later to the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. The nap had restored some of his spirit, just as the captain had predicted. Even his ribs seemed better, so maybe Snowden hadn’t succeeded in breaking them after all.

Despite the porthole at the other end of the room, a deep gloom cloaked the cabin. He stifled a yawn, idly contemplating what he would do next, once he got up, when he realized he was not alone in the cabin. He stiffened, his hands curling automatically into fists.

Careful not to call attention to himself, he shifted his bulk, squinting to peer beyond the gloom. Damn, why hadn’t he brought his pistol to the bed before he lay down? He should know better. After all, he had lived life long enough as a hunted man. His breath caught in his throat.

What the devil was Stormy doing in his cabin, naked as the day she was born? He snorted silently, when he remembered that he was the intruder not she.

Now what? He knew he should make some noise, look away, but God, she was exquisite, more so even than the time at his hunting lodge, when she had stood near the fire with nothing more than her shift. He swallowed against the surge of lust that shot through him, felt his staff rise to the occasion, knew he really shouldn’t stare. Bloody hell, he might never get the opportunity again to see her move about so uninhibited, each movement graceful and without guile. So, he simply leaned back against the pillow, and laced his hands behind his head once more.

He hungrily watched her every move, his eyes hot with desire, every fiber of his body alive with need, his manhood bulging against the front of his breeches.

Stormy had woken up some time ago, feeling much restored from her adventure over the past twenty-four hours. She had summoned the cabin boy and he had brought her some chowder and bread. She’d wolfed it down, glad that no one could see her eat that way.

After she stretched, she washed in the water provided in an ewer, and wondered briefly why she had been taken to her parents’ sleeping quarters. She shrugged. It certainly was more comfortable, but her clothes were in the other cabin. Her mind still a bit muddled, she wrapped herself in a large linen cloth and padded across the hall to her room, quite unconcerned that anyone would pass through the passageway, since the living quarters were off limits.

She slipped into her room and locked the door behind her. Humming tunelessly, she dropped the linen so she could rummage better through the small trunk of clothing that had been left behind, because they were the clothes she wore aboard ship, while they traveled. She was just glad she did not have to wear the breeches she had worn throughout her ordeal with Snowden. As she thought of that loathsome man, her mouth tightened with disdain, and she fervently hoped the devil would take that man some day.

A frisson of unease skittered through her of a sudden. She did not believe in ghosts, but thinking of Snowden had made her skittish. Nonsense. The ship was at sea and Captain Smith wouldn’t allow anyone on board. But just to be on the safe side, she twisted around to inspect the cabin. A yip of surprise escaped her and she automatically clutched the slip she had picked out to her chest, when her gaze collided with a pair of intensely inquisitive blue eyes.

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André was harder than granite. The sight of her naked bottom bending and stretching, while offering him a glimpse of delicate dark curls peeping through the gap of her slender thighs had him hot and cold by turns. His hands dug into the feather mattress as he fought for control.

Merde, she was a vision of innocence, a tempting confection that he needed to keep out of his reach.

“How—how did you get into my cabin?” she sputtered, heat creeping up her neck. She slowly rose to her feet, mesmerized by André’s blue gaze, no longer embarrassed by her nudity.

Like a sleepwalker she walked toward him, the slip gripped tightly against her bosom.

“You called me a spoiled child,” she whispered softly. Her mouth parted and she ran her tongue across suddenly dry lips. She hesitated only briefly. She was out of her depth, but that had never stopped her before. She was a woman on a mission. “But I will prove to you how very wrong you are.”

André rose to an elbow, crossing his legs to hide the obvious bulge distending his breeches. He raised a hand in order to ward her off. “Stormy, please, you don’t know what you are saying. I didn’t mean it in that way. Just give me a moment to retrieve my shirt and I’ll get out of your cabin. We’ll discuss this later.”

Anxious to be gone, he swung long legs to the floor, tearing his gaze from her tempting form. Bloody hell, didn’t she have any idea what she was doing to him? Her father would have his balls, if he got a whiff of what was going on here and now.

With a sultry laugh, Stormy rushed him and knocked him back against the mattress with her momentum. She landed on top of him, straddling him, nothing between them but his breeches and her satin slip.

André stared into her turbulent eyes, mesmerized into immobility by the intensity he saw in them. Without giving him time to gather his senses, she leaned forward, her bare breasts brushing his shirtless torso. He groaned as if in pain, but he did not resist, when her lips caressed his in sensuous languor.

How could he? But he had to. He turned his face, so her kisses brushed against his cheek, and he found they proved no less debilitating.

His voice hoarse with passion, he managed to say, “This is sheer madness, Stormy. Let me up, before we both regret it.” His hands reached for her waist to disentangle himself, but as they closed about her velvety flesh, his manhood strained with a life of its own against the front of his breeches. He saw in her eyes that she felt the sensation. With a kitten-like purr, she rubbed her wet heat across the bulge.

Her hands pressed against his shoulders, while her eyes bored into his with hot demand.

“You started this back at your lodge. Nay, you kindled my need for you, when you kidnapped me.” She leaned forward again, resisting his restraining hands. “I’m not a child. And I am not spoiled. I know what I want, and what I want is you. Take me willingly or be saddled with me for life, because if you don’t make love to me I’ll scream.”

His eyes flickered with repressed passion as he tried desperately to defuse the situation.

“Don’t you dare threaten me, Stormy. You don’t know what you are asking. I am not the man for you. It takes just once to get a woman with child. I cannot risk that, because I could be dead in a short time. My account with Snowden is far from settled. When he confessed that he had callously murdered my aunt and our solicitor, he increased the stakes. Without me, he will never be brought to justice.”

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“The more valid my request.” She nipped at the soft flesh near his neck. “I want no other man but you, André,” she whispered. “I knew that the moment you entered our coach. And if our lovemaking produces a child, then I will have something to remember you by.”

“Stormy, you are speaking foolishly. An unmarried woman with child is asking for the contempt of her peers. And a child produced from such a union will fare hardly any better.”

“I noticed that you did not renounce your feelings for me.” She reared back a little to look deeply into his heated gaze. His eyes were so blue they were almost black. “You could marry me. Captain Simon could marry us before we reach Liverpool.”

“That’s nonsense. You deserve better. Besides, your parents would never forgive me for breaking their trust.”

Stormy chuckled. “My parents are long used to my impetuousness. They know if I set my cap for something, I will eventually get it.” She stroked his chest in lazy circles, teasing his hardened male nipples with the tip of her finger, while she rocked against his erection with unabashed desire.

André’s heart beat wildly in his chest. God only knew how much he wanted her. The kiss they had shared at the hunting lodge had been etched into the recesses of his brain with intense clarity. He had been so close to losing control. Merde, he could not allow that to happen. He rolled to his side, more intent than before on disengaging himself from this dangerous position, telling himself that despite her contradiction, she was still little more than a child.

Smiling into his eyes, Stormy dipped her hand into the waistband of his breeches and wrapped it around his erection. “You want me as much as I want you. Please, make love to me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t, Stormy. I don’t want to hurt you. This is not the time or the place.”

Interpreting his words of caution to her own benefit, she worked his engorged penis free and wordlessly scooted closer. “I know the first time will hurt. I’ve heard enough whispered confidences. We may never have another opportunity. You said so yourself. Your confrontation with Snowden might well be your death.

“I know I come across like a hoyden, a strumpet, but I know I love you and I don’t ever want another man. Please make love to me.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and her mouth was so close to his that he could not help himself, but to kiss her. She wriggled closer into his embrace, her legs clamped around his trim middle, opening herself to him. Almost desperate, she brought her damp heat against his erection and guided him to the seam of her entrance.

Captivated by her guilelessness, he hesitated. It was all the time Stormy needed to make her move. She pressed against his hard shaft; let him feel the dampness, the slickness of her desire.

Perspiration dotted André’s brow. Heaven help him. He looked down, tried to gain control of his emotions. His gaze was drawn to the glistening flesh peeping at him from between soft, damp curls. All rational thought fled his mind, when the tip of his manhood came in contact with the slick pink flesh. Somehow he managed to shed his breeches.

Her eyes widened with wonder when his velvety skin brushed tentatively against her.

Stormy lifted her hips in invitation. “I want you inside me,” she whispered.

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Closing his eyes in defeat, he flipped her on her back, pushing the tip of his manhood just past her entrance. She was so tight that her damp heat held him imprisoned. Still, he held back and stared into her eyes, hoping that the tightness might scare her into changing her mind.

“Are you sure you want this? I still have time to pull back.” Oh, he prayed she would change her mind. But she met his gaze without flinching, her own filled with love and desire and she shook her head.

“Hold tight then, petite, I will hurt you. It can’t be helped.” He gripped her buttocks and lifted her upward. Taking a deep breath, calling himself a cad and a defiler of women, he pushed deeper. She gasped softly, but her legs continued to hold him in a viselike grip.

Merde, she was slick. But even as that thought crossed his mind, he encountered the barrier of her maidenhead. Bon Dieu, he didn’t want to do this, wanted to spare her, but his heart swelled with triumph and pride, when he thought of that solitary gift she was about to bestow on him. He pulled back a little and then rammed into her hard and fast. The resistance of the thick membrane caused him a moment of acute discomfort, but he gritted his teeth and tore through it.

Tears of surprise flooded her expressive eyes, but just as he breached her maidenhead, he captured her mouth and swallowed her scream. Bloody hell, he didn’t expect her to be this tight.

He had never breached a virgin and he had no idea that it would be painful to him as well.

He held himself above her to let her get used to his size. Raining soft kisses across her face and down her throat, he moved experimentally in and out. He was far from being embedded to the hilt. Doubt rushed through him as he wondered whether she would be able to accommodate him. He hesitated, ready to pull out, if she expressed the slightest discomfort.

Stormy exhaled a soft breath of wonder. She smiled, albeit tremulously. “I feel as if I were one with you.” She countered his moves, gasping when André moved deeper.

His heart hammered against his chest as he tried to hold back. “There is no hurry, ma chère.

Embedded to the hilt, he suddenly felt a slow ripple skitter along the length of his staff.

The undulating motions sheer took his breath away. When she clenched in the first throes of ecstasy, he almost lost control. His threw back his head and grunted with the effort to let her experience all the wonder and delight orgasm could give her.