The Pirate and the Puritan (12 page)

Solomon nodded curtly toward the
table. “The captain will be joining you for a late dinner, but he asked that a
light meal be prepared to satisfy you until then. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll
bring the water for your bath.”

At Solomon’s mention of it,
Felicity noticed the bronze tub set in another corner of the cabin. Clawed feet
supported a large oval bath more inviting than any apple. All the temptations a
devil could muster beckoned her primal desires.

The lavish bath, as did the rest
of Drew’s quarters, reeked of ill-gotten gains. Such luxury could have tempted
a saint. And experience had taught Felicity she was no saint. Turning away from
the decadence required all the rigidity she had perfected in the last ten years
of her life.

“Tell your master I can’t accept
his offerings, nor do I wish to share a meal with him. My only desire is to be
taken to Barbados as quickly as possible.” She wrapped her arms around her
abdomen to keep her stomach from grumbling in protest of her decision.

Solomon’s shoulders squared. The
smooth molasses in his voice froze hard and brittle. “I call no man my master.”

“I’m sorry.” She stumbled over
the apology. Part of her reason for denying the ill-gotten luxury was her fear
that it came from the sweat and tears of men like him. “I wouldn’t have assumed
by your manner you were anything, but a free and educated man. I saw documents
with your name on them and—”

The tight lines around his mouth
warned her she’d just insulted him further. “I heard of your trespassing.
Instead of receiving the punishment you deserve, the captain offered you his
hospitality. You have the arrogance to refuse it?”

“I don’t deserve to be punished.
I haven’t committed any crime.” She straightened and almost equaled Solomon’s
height, but his bulk proved she was no match to him physically.

“Your presence is a crime. Women
are not allowed on this ship. As quartermaster, it is my job to see the rules
are adhered to. The generosity of the captain is the only thing keeping me from
carrying out my duty.”

“You’re the one who brought me on
board. But if it soothes your conscience, punish me. I didn’t ask to be treated
like a royal guest.”

Confinement to a small, spare
hold was more than likely the punishment Solomon had in mind, and it would
solve two problems. He’d be satisfied, and she’d be protected from her own dark
desires.

“Death is the punishment for
anyone who breaks the rules of this ship, Miss Kendall. The captain’s
hospitality is the only thing keeping you from that fate. Do you still wish to
refuse it?”

She shook her head, for once
having the sense to keep her mouth shut. Death? He couldn’t be serious. But his
stern expression gave no indication that he’d ever jested in his life.

He turned to leave the room, but
she called to him before he disappeared through the portal. “Does Drew—I mean,
the captain—is he’s allowed to disregard your...rules?”

“Apparently. Though he would be
better served to follow them like every other man on this ship. My friendship
for Drew makes me respect his feelings where you’re concerned, not because he’s
the captain. Don’t make either of us regret our decision, Miss Kendall.”

She hardly noticed Solomon’s
departure or the click of the lock that pronounced her a prisoner. Apparently
she owed Drew more than she’d first imagined. Gratitude and lust mingled in a
dangerous combination. Also, apparently, Drew had feelings for her as
well—feelings that had prompted him to go against the rules of his own ship and
the approval of his friend. Yet what those feeling were, she dared not imagine.

A spiced halo lured Felicity
deeper into its fragrant arms. She’d only used a few drops of the amber oil
that sat among the array of glass bottles Solomon placed beside the tub, but
the aromatic mixture of roses and sweet wood wafted from the bath like a thick,
drugging smoke. She slid down the brass side until the warm water licked the
tops of her breasts. With her eyes closed, she leaned her head on the tub’s rim
and surrendered to lush sensation. Even Drew’s selection of soap was decadent.

Her mind drifted hazily between
images of Drew as Lord Christian. Drew as her enemy. Drew as her savior. All
clouded together, merging into one clear picture of Drew the man. She grew
light-headed, blaming it on the wine she didn’t have the courage to refuse.
Visions of Drew’s warm gaze touched her physically, like a finger drawn up her
spine. The bathwater became a living thing, kissing her in places she’d never
before considered. Her stiff knees relaxed and fell to the sides of the tub.
Her entire body grew limp and pliant.

He boldly stood at the edge of
the tub, every inch of his body bare. With sun-bronzed arms, he scooped her out
of the water and molded her against him. Her nipples strained against the hard
muscles of his chest. Sensation too intoxicating to resist weakened her limbs,
and all she could do was let her head fall back as he lavished kisses on her
neck. He gripped her bottom with rough palms, lifting her to her toes. She
thought she would surely burst into flames for wanting him so desperately.
Finally, he rubbed the potent evidence of his desire between her slick and
swollen passage. He groaned his approval.

“Wrap your luscious leg around my
hip and hold on. I’m going to take you now.” He grabbed her thigh before
Felicity could think of a response, positioning her for his invasion. At the
same time, he tangled his fist in her hair and pulled her back so he could
ravage her breast. Felicity cried out in a voice she didn’t recognize. He
hungrily sucked her nipple to almost the point of pain, but not quite. Felicity
tightened her leg around his hip and dug her fingers into his shoulder for
support. The head of his erection probed her swollen flesh causing her to
shiver with pleasure.

“Touch me. Show me what you
want,” he said in a husky voice that burned against her wet, straining nipples.

The ache inside her took control.
She gripped his hot girth and brought him to her opening. The moment he worked
his flared head securely into her tight sex, he brought her down hard. She
burst around him in a shower of pulsing ecstasy.

Felicity sat up abruptly,
sloshing water over the sides of the tub. Her body trembled with the aftermath
of her release. She had one hand on her breast, the other between her legs.
Lord help her, but she had not given into that evil since her carnal desires
had led her to trust the wrong man, ruining her forever. Those thoughts were
not her own, she was sure of it. Some demon must be whispering in her ear about
wickedness she could never imagine on her own, setting her body and senses
aflame with forbidden desire.

To assure her guilty conscience
that she had not been caught in such a sinful act, she swept the room with her
gaze. She stood and reached for the thick towel resting by the oils and soaps.
With the key to the cabin wrapped in her palm before Solomon had exited the
room, she assumed it would be safe to indulge in the steaming bath. When she
had stripped off Drew’s coat and her foul-smelling chemise, she’d had no idea
the danger to her tarnished virtue stepped into the bath with her.

She rubbed her skin with the
rough cloth until it hurt, hoping the sting would obliterate the ache coiled
between her legs. Over the years, she’d managed to curb her carnal cravings.
And when they did seize her in the dark of night, urging her to do things she
couldn’t even admit to herself the next morning, she would force herself to
recall Sally Bishop.

The poor girl had been caught in
an intimate embrace with a young British soldier in the alley beside her
parents’ house. Being the minister’s daughter, her parents had been especially
harsh, taking it upon themselves to punish her—as an example to other young
girls who might be tempted by Boston’s ever-increasing secular population.
Sally had been locked in the stockade for a full twenty-four hours. Every time
Felicity passed that stockade on her way to church, she counted herself lucky.
Her indiscretion would have rewarded her with a visit to the whipping post
instead. But there was neither whipping post nor stockade to be found in Drew’s
lush den.

After securing the oversized
towel around her chest, Felicity retrieved her discarded chemise. If only her
encounter with temptation had been unpleasant, she wouldn’t need such extreme
reminders to keep her from sin. Even a flash of Erik’s hand clutched in her
hair and his hot breath on her neck as he slid between her thighs touched her
in places that ached at the mere memory. She’d come to the conclusion years ago
that the devil had a firm hold on her in the guise of her womanhood.

Unable to talk herself into
dragging the stained garment over her head, she dropped the chemise and turned
to the large trunk Solomon had left in the middle of the cabin. He’d informed
her that the trunk contained women’s clothing for her use. At the time, she’d
found the idea reprehensible and insulting. She would rather wear a sailor’s
uniform than the clothes of one of Drew’s mistresses. Of course, she’d not mentioned
a word of her rejection to Solomon. He’d made his position clear.

With her skin saturated with
scent so decadent she couldn’t even name it, and flushed from wine, heat and
her own wicked actions, she had no choice but to make use of the clothing in
the trunk. Remaining nude and tingling was out of the question, even if Drew’s
arrival wasn’t soon expected. An immediate need to be dressed in several layers
of thick, rough cloth pushed aside all objections to pillaging the trunk. She
lifted the lid while clutching the towel tightly over her full breasts. The
clothes probably wouldn’t fit. A man like Drew would have a petite mistress.

A tangle of richly colored
garments, none of them black, filled the trunk. She dug past the first layer of
lace-trimmed undergarments, looking for something more suitable. When her hand
brushed raw silk, her fingers closed around the cool cloth of their own
volition.

A blood red robe absorbed the
soft light from the candles. A breathless sound of wonder escaped her parted
lips. In the cabin’s shadows, the fabric’s deep color danced between black and
red. She dropped the towel and slipped into the robe before her nagging
conscience intervened. Wearing silk had been grounds for arrest in her mother’s
day and still garnered condemnation in her own circle. The cabin’s seclusion
and the separation of an ocean ensured her safety against prying eyes and
wagging tongues. She caressed the lustrous fabric covering her arms as she
glided over to a large gold-framed mirror mounted across from the oak bed. The
prospect of seeing herself in something other than black enthralled her.

A stranger approached the looking
glass, giving her the brief sensation that someone else had entered the room.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the dark-eyed temptress staring back at her.
She tugged at her tightly knotted bun, letting her hair escape down her back.
Willful, golden-streaked curls softened the pale face she’d always considered
too long and angular. The robe’s color complimented the mouth she’d thought too
wide. A woman she’d never seen before effortlessly grinned back at her from the
mirror.

A hesitant knock at the door
distracted her temporarily but could not tear her away from the discovery that
something lush and untamed still thrived behind the tangle of thorns she’d
grown to protect herself. The sound of a key in the lock before the door was
thrust open did.

Drew stood in the open portal,
unguarded surprise dropping his jaw. He devoured her with a gaze that swept the
length of her body. Hunger mingling with shock sparkled in the stormy
blue-green of his eyes. His blatant awareness of her as a woman bore no
resemblance to his calculating flirtations of the past. Perhaps Drew also
witnessed what Felicity had in the mirror’s reflection.

“Did you get all dressed up for
me, Drew?” Felicity asked. “I believe you have me at a disadvantage.” She
softened her voice seductively on instinct alone. She glanced at herself in the
mirror once more, and some forgotten place in her broke loose, surging with
freedom. She sauntered toward Drew, feeling the ruby silk cling to her thighs.

He followed her every movement
with a transfixed stare. For the first time in their acquaintance, he seemed
unaware of his powerful presence and staggered by hers. In this particular match,
the odds appeared to be in her favor.

He closed the door behind him. “I
thought you’d have finished your bath. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“How considerate.” She hooded her
gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. What had gotten into her? The silk robe
must have cast some sort of wicked spell. Her only consolation was that Drew
seemed more disconcerted by the turn of events than she.

Under the shelter of her lowered
lashes, she examined him. He wore fawn-colored breeches that were clean and
freshly pressed. An exotic embroidered vest in hues of cinnamon and jade
covered a white shirt left open from the throat to the top of his tanned chest.
Even his boots appeared recently polished.

His clean-shaven face and neatly
tied-back hair confirmed he had indeed taken care with his appearance. She
realized the effort had been for her approval. Before she’d donned the robe,
she never would have guessed his vanity had anything to do with her. The
realization multiplied the effect his good looks had on her weakened defenses.
The robe’s magic wrapped itself more tightly around her.

As her senses reeled, he appeared
to compose himself.

“I assume my appearance meets
your standards. I didn’t want you to think you’d left civilization behind.”
Despite his casual explanation, his bright stare burned a hole through her silk
robe.