The Captain's Caress (30 page)

“Bitch!” Gonsalvo yelped, no trace of the lover in him now. “I ought to slap you senseless.”

“Now you show your real feelings.” Summer sneered.

“But I do love you.” Gonsalvo strove to recapture his first enchantment with the most beautiful face he had ever seen, but his words lacked conviction.

“Prove it by letting me go.”

“I can’t do that. I must have you.”

“Not while I have breath in my body.” Summer clenched her teeth and drove her knee into his stomach as hard as she could. “You’re nothing but an overheated child,” she fumed, her voice dripping with scorn, “and I was a fool to believe a single word you said.” She stared at him, eyes flashing.

“By God, you’re a beauty,” Gonsalvo said suddenly, forgetting the pain in his stomach. “Captain Douglas may not want you any longer, but I do.”

“Captain Douglas was hired to carry me back to Scotland, not to be my duenna. I doubt anyone foresaw that defending me against Havana’s marauding caballeros should be part of the agreement.”

“He was a great fool to have let you out of his sight, in Havana or in any other place.” Gonsalvo’s eyes were now glazed with libidinous desire. “Captain Douglas is a very careless guardian.”

“The captain agrees with you, and intends to repair that oversight at once.”

Summer and Gonsalvo froze as an unexpected voice promised destruction and deliverance.

Chapter 26

Brent had plenty of time during the drive from town to decide where to begin his search. He knew Summer was not likely to be in danger as long as she was near the house, but he visualized so many possibilities for Gonsalvo getting her off by herself that he pushed his horses to even greater speed. Soon, however, reason reasserted itself; there were only a few legitimate choices for daylight seduction. Gonsalvo could take Summer for a ride on the river, he could take her to one of the secluded spots for which his plantation was famous, or he could take her to another place altogether. Brent discounted the last possibility because such a move was bound to make Summer suspicious. Of the two remaining choices he was inclined to think that the river was the place to look. Gonsalvo’s love of it and his use of it for romantic rendezvous were well known. Even in daylight, the river was a much better choice than two horses or a carriage that had to hidden from view. Having decided on which course to pursue, Brent was impatient to reach the de Aguilar estate.

An old woman was working a small garden plot along the road at the estate entrance. “Have you seen any carriages pass by here in the last few hours?” Brent called out.

The old crone looked at him suspiciously. “One,” she finally answered without halting her work. “Señor de Aguilar’s carriage, but it was closed.” Brent cursed the Spanish habit of riding in closed carriages even in the hottest weather.

“Which way did it go?” The old woman pointed in the direction from which Brent had just come.

“What’s that way?”

“Old Daquin’s place. He’s a cousin of the señora,” she explained, becoming more talkative as she noticed Brent’s good looks.

“Does the river run near here?” he asked.

She pointed to a rise in the ground yet some distance away. “On the other side of that ridge.”

Brent instinctively knew that Gonsalvo had chosen the river. He whipped up his horses and headed straight for the spot the old woman had indicated.

“You’re never going to be able to drive that through those trees!” she called after him, but he was already out of hearing distance.
“Loco,”
she muttered to herself.

The horses were unused to such terrain, and it took all of Brent’s skill to maneuver the carriage through the tangle of trees and the tropical undergrowth. He was rarely able to get close to the river, but he never let the ribbon of water out of his sight, not even when he had to drive the rebellious team through a marsh or a rush thicket. After half an hour of struggling, the team was exhausted and Brent was wondering if he hadn’t made the wrong decision. Just then a scream broke the silence. It was impossible to identify the source, but Brent had no doubt it was Summer.

Driving his team out of the bog to the more open forest nearer the road, Brent cursed Gonsalvo for being a lecher, Summer for being a trusting fool, the horses for being ironmouthed slugs, and himself for not watching her more closely. Smith had warned him that she’d get into trouble, but he had blithely assumed she would stay quietly in the hotel until he came for her.

As his lumbering team burst through a small thicket of ferns, Brent caught sight of a boat on the river. It was easy to see that Summer and Gonsalvo were locked in a bitter struggle. Brent cracked the whip above the horses’s heads. The thick layer of leaves on the forest floor deadened the sound of the carriage, and his approach went unnoticed.

The river had eroded the bank under one of the large water oaks that grew along its edge, and the boat was floating toward the toppled tree that lay over the river, its trunk barely six feet above the shimmering surface. Brent jumped from the chaise and ran along the trunk with catlike agility until he was over the path of the approaching boat. But the currents swirling around the submerged limbs caused the boat to change course and Brent was forced to drop into the water. The river barely reached his chest, and he was able to wade out from among the branches just as the boat brushed past their still-green foliage. The shock to Summer and Gonsalvo couldn’t have been greater if they had suddenly come face to face with a sea monster.

“Sangre de Dios!”
cried Gonsalvo, unable to believe his own eyes. “Where did you come from?”

“That’s not much of a greeting for an
old
friend.” Brent grasped the boat and whipped it around until Summer was next to him. “Or maybe you wanted the countess all to yourself?”

Summer was so stunned she hadn’t even taken advantage of Gonsalvo’s slackened grip to wiggle free.

“Everyone knows she’s your mistress, so you can stop with the countess bit.” Gonsalvo fought to keep his balance in the spinning boat. “It’s a little selfish of you to try to keep every beautiful woman in Havana for yourself. Not even you can satisfy that many.”

Brent jerked the boat around so sharply that Gonsalvo, caught in the act of rising, tumbled into the river. Brent dragged him to his feet. “If you weren’t such a putrid little piece of Spanish droppings I would beat you into the oblivion you deserve.”

Gonsalvo didn’t have Brent’s strength or his height, but he slapped him across the face. “Do you English always fight with words?” he jeered. Brent raised Gonsalvo half out of the water with one hand.

“I’m from Scotland and we use our fists!” he roared. Then he dealt Gonsalvo a bone-cracking blow that lifted him completely out of the water and sent him flying through the air.

“Don’t! You’ll kill him!” Summer cried, finally finding her voice.

“Killing would be too good for this contemptible miscreant,” Brent snarled. “His kind prey on innocent women and then cast them aside when they’ve ruined them. Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She clasped her torn bodice in one hand.

“If he dared to lay one hand on you …” Brent grabbed the boat so it wouldn’t slip away on the current.

Summer was careful to keep her hand on her bosom. “He just tried to kiss me,” she said.

Brent was so relieved his released tension found expression in harsh words. “How could you have been so stupid as to go anywhere with that lecher? Even a fool like Chichi would have had more sense.”

“I could have been carried off by green dragons and you wouldn’t have noticed,” Summer fired back. She then struggled to get to her feet in the unsteady boat. “I don’t need you and I don’t want you.” Losing her balance, she grabbed at the parasol pole to keep from falling. When she did so, she lost her grip on her dress and exposed the rent in her bodice.

“That rotter! I’ll have his blood for this!” Brent shouted. Gonsalvo barely had time to see Brent bearing down on him before he felt a pair of iron hands clamp around his throat. Brent lifted him from the water and whipped him about until Summer feared he would break Gonsalvo’s neck.

“Stop, you’re choking him!” she cried as Gonsalvo’s face turned blue. But Brent was too angry to release his prey even though the man’s eyes threatened to pop from his head.

“Let him go!” Summer shrieked. She stood up in the bobbing boat. “You’ll kill him.” In her excitement, she lost her balance and fell headlong into the water with a loud splash; that small mishap saved Gonsalvo’s life. Brent immediately dropped him and dove after Summer.

“You would have drowned,” he said as he scooped her up in his arms and held her close. The warmth in his voice nearly brought tears of joy to Summer’s eyes.

“No I wouldn’t,” she said, unable to understand why she was suddenly laughing. “I’m an excellent swimmer, but you’d better get him out of the river.”

“Let the fish have him.” Brent was still holding her close.

“That won’t do,” Summer persisted, even though she wanted to forget Gonsalvo and stay right where she was. “It would cause a great deal of trouble if anything happened to him.”

“I’ll put him in the boat, but I’m going to leave him there, even if he floats out to sea.”

“Just find him before it’s too late,” Summer urged, and Brent reluctantly deposited her in the boat, then hauled up the barely conscious Gonsalvo.

“Get him in the boat,” Summer cried in alarm when she saw Gonsalvo’s purple face. Brent draped his limp form over the cushioned seat. Gonsalvo’s breathing was weak and unsteady, but he was alive.

“He’ll be all right now,” Brent said. “I’ll leave him for his servants to find. If we’re lucky a jaguar will get him first.”

“Are you sure he’s all right?” Summer questioned. “He looks awful to me.”

“I’ve seen a lot of half-drowned men in my time. It was a pretty close call, but he’ll make it.”

Brent picked Summer up and headed toward the shore. Even dripping wet, the feel of her body ignited the flame that always flared in him and his pulse quickened. He looked at her face, nestled against his shoulder, and thought of the empty nights he’d passed in Havana, the painful evenings when he closed his eyes and imagined the smell of her perfume, the feel of her skin, the warmth of her breath. He relived the agony it had been to keep away from her, to pretend indifference, to hide his aching need from prying eyes.

Now, alone with her under the cathedral-like canopy of the forest, restraint fell from him. He was obsessed by her nearness, blinded by her beauty, oblivious to everything except his need of her. He rose from the white, churning water, an all-powerful Neptune, and set her on the moss-covered forest floor as carefully as if she were a delicate, priceless work of art. Then he knelt beside her, shivering from the intensity of his need.

The water molded Brent’s clothing to his powerful form, so Summer was acutely aware of his growing desire. From deep inside her came an answering surge that swept her into the same storm of emotion that battered him so fiercely. She looked into his eyes, unquenchable hunger in hers. At this moment it didn’t matter that he had deserted her for days or had spent his nights with other women. They were together, alone, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She opened her arms in a welcoming embrace and he fell into them with an anguished groan.

His lips met hers in a crushing, greedy kiss that seared her senses, as he surrendered to the desire that swept over him in pulsating waves. Her soggy clothes were stripped from her in quick, rough movements; he shed his own with equal haste. And the sight of her unclothed body lying at his feet, perfect, tempting, welcoming provoked in him a craving that made his muscles ache. He threw himself upon her, entering roughly, thinking only of his need.

Summer joyously met Brent’s ardor, but she was unwilling to be the mere object of his release. She encircled his body with hers and forced him to slow the headlong rush of his longing. Pulling his face down to hers, she kissed him so intimately that she drew from him a response never before plumbed. It grew in intensity until it consumed them both. Gradually Brent was drawn into the rhythm of Summer’s body. They began to move in concert, each striving to meet the other’s expectations. And as the tempo of their lovemaking increased, they were engulfed by the magnitude of their desire, overwhelmed by the force of their suppressed longing for each other. They were unable to think of themselves as existing outside those moments as their ecstasy grew and at last they achieved a union more perfect than any they’d enjoyed on the ship. They now knew that they belonged together, that their fusion went beyond the physical to the spiritual, to where creation ended and eternity began.

Chapter 27

“I don’t know how I can face his sister after what happened today.” Summer groaned as she snuggled down under the robe in the carriage.

“You won’t have to face any of his family,” Brent replied absently, carefully guiding his weary team through the last of the forest.

“But you know I’ll see them,” Summer insisted. “They go everywhere.”

“You won’t be here. We’re leaving Havana tomorrow.”

“Where are you taking me?” She sat up quickly. “You promised you wouldn’t hand me over to the earl.”