Bound by Decency (11 page)

She huffed out a breath and glanced down her body at her breasts. The fabric wasn’t as thin as she had initially assumed. Though she could still make out the dusky peaks if she straightened her shoulders as she would in a corset, so long as she slouched a little, she would remain covered.

India
wriggled into the trousers with renewed encouragement. They gaped at her waist, rode low on her hips, and she ordered her mind to ignore the way the loose legs brushed against her calf. She was dressed at last. Free of the limitation of nakedness.

Glancing around Cain’s cabin, she searched for a belt. A strip of leather would serve the trick to keep the trousers from falling off. If she could find one.

Cain returned the instant she touched his footlocker. With a yip, she jumped away as if the metal bands had burned her fingertips. He lifted an eyebrow, glanced between the trunk and her face. His gaze narrowed.

“I-I was looking for a belt.”

One sweep of his eyes took her in from head to toe once more. His gaze intensified, the light in his eyes returning to that dangerous cobalt hue. Where suspicion had briefly registered, a feral glint came to life. The unexpected bright burn unsettled
India
, and as Cain took a step in her direction, she took a reflexive step back.

As if her evasion snapped sense into him, Cain unleashed her from the prison of his gaze. He went to the footlocker, fished inside, and pulled out a short length of rope. “Come here.”

His rough order sent shivers running down her spine. Warding off the sudden chill, she crossed her arms across her breasts. She told herself she moved forward so he could bind her waist, not because she yearned for contact. But when she stood before him and he dropped to his knees, one large hand at her hip, she knew she lied. Sensation after sensation rippled across her skin. The warmth of his palm where he held her steady. The faint scrape of calluses. The brush of his long hair against the exposed sliver of her belly as he reached behind her to thread the rope through the loophole at her back. Dear sweet, merciful, Mary, it took every ounce of will power she could summon to not set her hands upon his shoulders and take the last step needed to bring her body flush with his bare chest.

He gave the cord around her waist a harsh jerk. Pulled from the delirium of his nearness,
India
stumbled. She caught herself on his forearm and flushed beneath Cain’s husky chuckle.

“Easy, little wren.” He patted the knot at her waist and rose to his full, intimidating height. “That should suffice.”

He picked up the blue shirt she had discarded, made quick work of the buttons, and slid his arms inside. Yet he made no attempt to fasten the gaping material. Instead, he turned to her, and in a surprising show of gentlemanly manners, offered his arm. “Shall we, Miss Prescott?”

With the first genuine smile she’d felt in days,
India
slid her hand into the corner of his elbow. He led her to the desk, where he stopped to pick up the steamy mug of tea. “This first.”

She eyed the dark brew. Her voice held an unsettling vibrato as she asked, “What is it?”

“Gingered tea. It will keep your belly in agreement. You didn’t seem to mind it as much, once I had Cleaver add honey.”

Taking it from his hands, she absorbed his reference to his nursing and all the intimacy they shared. Beyond all the wicked pleasure, he had cared for her. Looked after her with so much consideration he’d even sweetened a medicinal tea. What lay between them no words could describe. He was familiar. Strangely comfortable. He knew her better than even Richard would. Richard wouldn’t care to try.

Quiet acceptance settled in to replace her earlier shame. She looked up at Cain’s handsome face, the harsh angles that softened with his faint smile. Her heart tripped.

If only he weren’t a pirate.

As a foreign warmth spread through her veins, she lifted the mug to drink deeply. The brew was harsh, but as she swallowed, the sweetness of honey lingered on her tongue. When she had finished all but the dregs, she set the mug down and turned to him, her gaze full of meaning. “Thank you, Cain.”

A slow dip of his chin accepted her gratitude. He tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow and gave it a soft squeeze. “Let me show you the sea, India Prescott. I’m certain you’ll find her as beautiful as I do.”

Feeling in a surreal way like a debutant about to enter her first ball,
India
took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders. Freedom lurked beyond that closed door. Even if endless leagues of water surrounded her, she’d no longer be confined. And she would finally learn what it was about the majestic lady of the deep that claimed so many men’s hearts. What this great love was that forced her father to use her as a means of furthering his business
,
and in so doing, drive her straight to a pirate’s bed.

351

Bound By Decency

10

I
ndia
entered the main decks, and her feet refused to move. Wide-eyed, she stared in disbelief. She didn’t know what, precisely, she’d expected to witness, but nowhere in all her imaginings, did a sea of half-dressed men occur. She blinked long and slow, certain her mind played tricks. But when she looked again, the same field of bronzed, sweat-dampened skin rose before her eyes.

Wide, narrow, hair-covered, tattooed, fleshy, and muscular torsos bustled about the decks, oblivious to their improper attire. Like Cain, the majority of sailors overlooked a need for shoes. Their bare feet padded across the waxed planks, familiar with askance nails, splintered corners, and piles of unused ropes. Toes gripped lines as they hauled themselves on burly arms up long lengths of rigging, across high bars to untangle bound sails.

Like monkeys
.

The thought made her giggle. The sound eased her discomfort. She found the ability to set one foot in front of the other and move forward at Cain’s subtle nudge.

“What amuses you?”

She shook her head and tried to curb her smile. He’d no doubt find the
association
disagreeable. Avoiding direct eye contact with the men Cain led her past, she followed at his side until they reached the main, and tallest, mast. There, Cain released her elbow to take both her hands in his.

“Tell me, what do you know of ships?”

“That they sail on water.” She let out a light laugh to cloak her lie. Ships she knew. Sailing, she couldn’t stand. At the puzzled draw to Cain’s brows, she elaborated with a half-truth. “My father took me to
France
once. I spent the entire voyage below decks, moaning in my bed.”

“Ah.” He moved to her side and gestured to the rear of the ship where they’d come from. “Let’s start with the basics. That is the stern, or aft.” He pointed in the opposite direction, toward a series of three much smaller sails. “And that is the bow, or forward. The sails you see there belong to the jib. And the jib brings the wind over to the main sail.” He traced the lines as he spoke. “Aiding it to fill when we sail into the wind.”

Stepping to the side, Cain indicated his left. “This is larboard. You’ll remember it by the opening to port.” He pointed to a lowering in the rail where a section of the siding bore a neat square hole. “And that way,” he pointed across his body, “is starboard.”

Her gaze touched the four quadrants of the ship. She suffered a moment of shame for misleading someone who took such care to teach. But she dismissed the wave of guilt with the reminder that Richard’s life depended on her lies and replied, “I can remember that.”

Cain’s grin carried the impishness of a devil. “We’ll keep it simple.” He tucked her hand into his, gave her a gentle tug, and urged her closer to the rail. There he pointed at the three masts, beginning with the one nearest the bow. “Foremast,
main mast
, mizzenmast.” His grin broadened, and he winked. “We’ll skip the sails, I think.”

“Good.” She never had been able to remember every canvas, though she knew a full-rigged ship bore twenty-one. Numbers were far easier for her mind.

“Come, there are two places you must see. Both, I think you’ll like.”

Before she could prepare to move, Cain pulled her off the rail. She stumbled over a round of rope and grabbed onto his elbow to keep from falling. Laughter tumbled free, joining with his rich baritone, as he guided her to her feet and hurried her to a set of narrow stairs built into the bow. One hand at her waist, he ushered her up ahead of him.

India
emerged to find two men bent over the smooth floor planks. Stiff bristled brushes in hand, they scrubbed at the deck. The heavier one looked up with a toothless smile. “Morn’ t’ye, miss.”
His gaze tracked to Cain. “An’
t’ye, Cap’n.”

Cain’s smile didn’t falter as he inclined his head toward the stairs. At the subtle gesture, both men stood and scrambled down.

Drawing
India
near
his side, Cain fitted one hand into the small of her back. Gentle pressure guided her close to the rail. She glanced around, the setting familiar. Only where the rope ladder had hung over the smooth wood the night he’d
captured
her—the very ladder she’d been half-dragged up—nothing marred the mirror finish now.

Her hair didn’t cling to her head in a soppy mess. With the ship in full sail,
India
’s long locks danced on the breeze. And Cain…

She pulled in a deep breath to temper the way her pulse jumped as she studied his profile. No longer the fierce stranger who stirred her fear, he stood at her side, a strange mix of friend, lover, and captor. In the regal angle of his jaw, she identified gentility. In the slight crookedness of his nose, she recognized a scoundrel.

His eyes found hers. Something she couldn’t name passed between them, a subtle acknowledgement of the attraction they shared. In the undercurrent of energy that arced through their locked gaze,
India
’s stomach fluttered. She drew in an unsteady breath. The smile he bore so casually faltered.

He reached between them to cup her cheek. Fractions away from the touch she yearned for, he tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her shoulder and pointed at an object beyond. “Look there.”

His low, husky whisper scraped over her skin. Regretfully, she closed her eyes and steeled herself to the rules she had set. Whatever they’d shared must end, no matter how long she had secretly hoped Teddy would come and she could somehow exchange him for Richard. Moreover, she must remember
that
beneath the kindness Cain showed on occasion, he was the legendary pirate. He was everything she knew to be wrong, not the least of which came with his brazenly stated intentions to kill her intended. Handsome he might be. Masterful lover as well. But beneath all those
bronzed
good looks, he was still a murderer.

She followed the direction of his finger to a dark grey figure bobbing through the water, several feet away. Excitement bubbled, and she clutched the rail with a delighted gasp. “A dolphin!”

Cain chuckled. “No, my sweet.” He dropped his chin to her shoulder. The faintest touch of warm breath caressed the exposed skin at her collar. “A whale.”

The heat of his body flooded her awareness. He stood so close a subtle shift would meld his chest into her back. She closed her eyes, dug her nails into the wood beneath her hands. Ramrod straight, she held on, knowing if she dared to do more than breathe, she’d melt into him all over again.

Cain moved for her. One slight sidestep, and all that glorious warmth enveloped her. His hard chest offered strength her wobbling knees needed. She allowed the arm he slid around her waist to hold up legs that too many weeks of illness weakened. And she leaned back to give her struggling lungs room to expand. With effort she asked, “What is it about the sea, Cain?”

“Hm?” he murmured absently.

“The sea. What calls to the hearts of men?”

“Freedom.” He tightened his hold around her waist, drawing her flush against his body. His fingers splayed across her belly. His thighs trapped her in place. The press of his hardened male flesh against her the small of her back shocked her, but it also sent a thrill coursing down her spine. She reveled in the evidence of his desire, let the curious sensations root in deep and swell her heart. Cain or Teddy…The lines blurred.

Dropping her head onto his shoulder, she turned her face to his. “Freedom?” How well she could relate to that desire.

“Aye. A sailor chooses who he will answer to. A captain follows no one’s demands but his own. Out here, a man creates his own destiny.”

The complete and utter control of one’s destiny—no wonder men gave their lives unto the sea. On land, propriety dictated behavior, governed actions that nature contradicted. In business, even owners must abide by rules if they cared to succeed. But here, beneath the blue sky, adrift on the even bluer water, no man served a master.

“Where are we?” she asked in a low whisper.

“In the
Bahamas
.
Nassau
is a day or two away. We sail faster with our hold virtually empty. You can see the shore if you look hard enough.” His lips moved through her hair, stirring goose bumps down her arms. Despite the warm breeze,
India
shivered.

“When I hold you close like this in sleep,” he murmured against the side of her neck. “I know no greater paradise.”

His kiss branded her throat. His words scored into her soul.
India
let out a soft moan and closed her eyes to the ache that stirred low in her womb. “Cain,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

As his mouth trailed a path of fire closer to hers, he argued
,
“There
is
no one to stop us.”

Another moan vibrated in her throat. No greater truth had ever been spoken. On this ship, no one would care whether they indulged in carnal pleasure, or whether she must give herself to Richard. She’d already allowed Cain freedom to her body. Denying him now felt useless. Bordered on hypocritical.

But in the weeks previous, she’d been ill. Incapable of coherent argument. To embrace the broken oath and yield to what she most wanted worsened the already committed wrong.

At the soft touch of his lips against the corner of her mouth, she grabbed at resolve and turned her head. “There is loyalty and honor left.” She swallowed hard. “Even in you. I am promised to Richard.”

Cain let her go and stepped away. Ice invaded the space where he stood. Bereft and confused,
India
reached for his hand.

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Enjoy the whales, Miss Prescott. I have
other
matters to attend to. I will collect you shortly.”

Before she could protest, he bounded down the stairs.

She leaned on the rail and let the waves of regret ebb through her. What she would give to change her circumstance, or to be able to find the callous disrespect for life to pray Cain would succeed in killing Richard. But she couldn’t. Richard might be cold and motivated by money, yet he didn’t deserve to die for turning in a
pirate
. He didn’t deserve to die under any circumstance.

There is no one to stop us.

Cain’s words taunted. Her father would never know if she deliberately betrayed him. Richard didn’t make her tremble with a solitary look. Could harm come from enjoying a few days of selfish pleasure before she committed herself to the trapping confinement of marriage?

No, she argued with a fierce shake of her head. She possessed too much loyalty. Besides, the risks were too great. If this continued, she chanced the very real possibility of bearing Cain’s bastard. Better this ended now, before evidence of her unfaithful heart took root. If it hadn’t already.

Lifting her face to the breeze, she squinted at the lumpy horizon. There remained one thing she could embrace. However long Cain kept her aboard his ship, she controlled her fate. While she didn’t dare chance the yearnings of her body, she could let her heart run free. Wear the clothes of a man and pretend she’d left the
India
she knew somewhere back in
England
.

She didn’t have to entertain for tea. Didn’t have to serve her father’s many business guests. Didn’t have to wake at dawn to present herself for breakfast. And if she wanted to wear her hair in its current state of unrestraint, no one would scold.

A wry smirk danced on her mouth. She’d been naked for three weeks and no one had uttered a single protest so far.

Chuckling, she looked out over the motley crew of men. Each man carried out a different duty, and though mirror opposites stood on each side of the expansive deck, not a one of them executed the same chore. Some laughed. Some sang. Some kept to themselves while others worked in small groups.

Some watched her in a way that made her entirely uncomfortable. As if they could see through her immodest attire to what lay beneath. But though their eyes weighed heavily, not a one broke rank and file to disturb her solitude.

And not a one looked as if he despised his chosen line of work.

Freedom.

Her gaze found Cain through the sea of bodies. Standing near a stack of unopened crates, he spoke to a sailor. His hands animated his conversation, pointing to ropes, indicating the long wooden crossbar that secured the sail. He’d tamed his dark hair beneath a red bandana, but the raven lengths dusted between his shoulder blades. The blue shirt he’d donned before they left the cabin dangled uselessly from his waist, and in the bright sunlight, his tanned skin shone with perspiration.

India
’s heart fluttered. The man was nothing short of breathtaking. Like a hand-carved statue, all the angles, rough edges, and harsh lines transformed into beauty. Only Cain was no cold statue made of stone. He lived and breathed. Every solid inch of him teemed with life.