Bound by Decency (8 page)

That much, Cain could admit was true. In the two years he’d spent as captain of the
merchant
ship,
The Kraken
, he’d had no cause to light the wicks. His former position as a member of
T
he Flying Gang afforded a degree of respect, even amongst the most despicable rogues. When attacking him meant one could guarantee Alex, Royce, Drake, or even Edward would hunt them down and gullet them, his routes had stayed clear.

“Did you get them cleaned?”

On a sigh, Reggie nodded. “The larboard side is clear. I gave the crew today to rest. Tomorrow, all watches report at dawn. We won’t rest until starboard matches.”

“So they’ve ceased their complaints, and I needn’t worry about revolt for another day?”

Though Cain teased, Reggie’s tight scowl returned. “You won’t be havin’ problems with my methods when you go t’fire and your belly rips open.”

“Easy, Reggie.” Cain held up an open palm. “You’re right. Just try to keep things to a dull roar down there. I have enough problems on my hands.”

“How is Miss Prescott? Has she taken a tumble through your sheets yet?” From the opposite corner, Drake’s voice rumbled with amusement.

Cain rolled his eyes. “She is
ill
, Drake.” He pushed away from the table. “And I must get this tea to her before it grows cold.”

Drake sat up. His hawkish features twisted with a smirk. “Noble Teddy, if I should fall ill will you play nursemaid to me as well?”

At the door, Cain swallowed a renegade laugh. He looked over his shoulder to meet Drake’s mocking stare. “If you should fall ill, the only nursing you’ll have is from the sharks.”

He left the pair to their laughter. Though Drake had always tried Cain’s patience, one thing was certain—his presence brought entertainment. Even if in many ways, they were mirror opposites.

As he opened the door to his room, his gaze fell to
India
. One look at the slender leg that folded over the covers twined his stomach into a tight knot. A groan rose to his throat. He squelched it with a hard swallow. Pretending he had not noticed the taunting call of exposed skin, he crossed the room and set the mug upon the floor.

Though it pained him physically to touch her, he carefully disentangled the covers and slid her leg beneath. But the way her calf fit neatly in his palm had him curling his opposite hand into the cotton and sucking in a sharp breath. It would be so easy to…

With a muttered oath, he banished the thought before he could complete it. For good measure, he pulled the thick quilt up to her chin, then seated himself on the mattress’ edge. The idea of touching her further stood his nerves on end. And yet, if he didn’t, she couldn’t drink the tea. All his efforts would become meaningless, and she’d revert to the nauseated state of helplessness he had found her in last night.

Steeling himself against the satiny feel of
India
’s shoulders, Cain gritted his teeth and slipped his arm beneath her. Murmured protests tumbled from her lips as he eased her upright. Her lashes fluttered, but when she tried to lift them fully, she let out a low moan.

“
India
, I’ve brought you tea. Drink a bit.”

Full lips parted. The tip of her tongue flicked out to moisten them, and she consented with a faint nod. As she reclined against his shoulder, her hair brushed against his chin. The faintest scent of flowers clung to the long dark locks, tempting him to tuck his nose closer. He resisted the pull, forced his attention on the task at hand.

She finished off the drink, and Cain gently lowered her into the bed, all too glad to be free of the intolerable closeness. Confounding him further, as he made to leave her side, her fingers caught his.

“Don’t go yet. We still have time together. Please touch me again.”

Her quiet murmur was like a tidal wave on Cain’s control. Though he knew the request to be another product of feverish dreams, those were whore’s words. Not one
lady
he knew would dare to utter such a scandalous phrase, not even in her sleep. A forbidden thrill raced through him.

By the saints, he had no business chasing merchant ships. That would only further her time aboard his ship, and the longer she remained, the more he began to doubt her safety with him. As it was, he was so desperate to sooth the ache in his loins, he gave serious thought to yanking away those covers and taking advantage of her arrack-induced haze.

Instead, he locked the door, turned the lantern down as far as it would go, and sank into the chair behind his desk.

Please touch me again.

Where the devil had she learned such? From Richard? Saints blood, he did not care. That she, a proper English lady, understood the pleasures that could be found between man and woman, that she
enjoyed
them even in mere sleep, sent white-hot fire blistering through Cain’s veins. A shudder rolled through him, bringing with it unrelenting longing.

351

Bound By Decency

7

C
ain stood at his desk,
India
’s soiled nightgown in hand. He watched the natural heavy rise and fall of her chest, took in her alluring features. For three weeks, he’d tended to her. Kept her under the heavy influence of arrack and nursed her stomach back to health. When her fever gave way to coughs, he’d thought for certain she’d succumb to the pneumonia that rattled in her lungs. He’d cursed God, the saints, and even the devil for his fate. In a desperate attempt to keep her from death’s clutches, he’d thrown his soul into nursing her. He fed her broth, held her tea, and listened to the addled ramblings of her fevered mind. Surprising even himself, he took to cleaning her hair and braiding the long thick lengths when perspiration glued it to her skin.

He had also endured night after night of unending torture.

He’d washed every tantalizing inch of her body time and again, an act that found him wide awake through the wee hours of night on more than one occasion. Her ongoing dreams gave him glimpses of passion he could not wrap his mind around, they were so out of character for what he understood her to be. The one occasion he had awakened to her calling his given name left him nearly bailing overboard to escape the oppressive confines of his cabin. He had stayed away for two nights, only returning on the tolling of the bells that marked the time she needed what little medication he could offer. Yet drawn to her in ways he couldn’t explain, he returned, subjecting himself to the same agony again and again.

At no time in his life could he recall ever sharing such intimate closeness with a woman, and now, as her fever finally refused to rise again and her coughs were a thing of the past, a strange sense of loss descended upon him. When she woke next, free from the arrack’s grip, she would no longer need his aid.

She wouldn’t thank him for keeping her drunk. He’d be lucky if she didn’t take off his head with her anger. She wouldn’t care he’d done everything he could think of, or that it had required the patience of a saint to refrain from making her fantasies reality. She damn sure wouldn’t tolerate his presence in
his
bed any longer. Which meant until he disposed of her in
Nassau
, he’d bunk on the floor.

He muttered beneath his breath. Probably best. For in truth, he wasn’t certain how many more nights he could spend with her curled against his body, or how many wicked whisperings he heard, before he lost control of his faculties and indulged in the sweet promise of her soft mouth.

Much less all the rest of her softness.

If she’d been aware of herself, no doubt she’d have gloated over the countless hours he spent staring at the beams overhead, his body so tight he could scarce breathe. Laughed at the tented covers each morning that betrayed arousal he’d never imagined possible. The damnable woman was a worse temptation than the Spanish doubloons buried on the coasts. Only the insistent reminder that she was unaware of herself had held his burgeoning desire in check.

At
India
’s light sigh, Cain tensed. Afraid she might sense his presence and trap him with her turquoise stare, he stood motionless as she rolled toward the window and burrowed into his pillow. For several seconds he did nothing more but pull in shallow breaths. Ordered his heart to stop its ridiculous racket.

Grinding his teeth together so tightly his jaw ached, he pulled himself out of momentary stupor.
India
would wake, and she would never desire him. Perhaps once she might have, when he had been the consummate gentleman Teddy and could offer her a decent life. Never as the murderous scoundrel
Cain
.

He stalked out of the room to complete the task that had returned him to her side moments earlier. On the main deck, he shouldered around the crewmen and made for the rail. There, he tossed the ruined gown into the water. Cleaver had even tried to boil it clean, but nothing would save the thin scrap. Old Bess would have to give her another.

More aptly, he’d have to buy her another, along with a full trousseau of new clothes.

Sunset descended on the waters, turning them a rich shade of copper. The warm air pushed his hair into his face. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket, brushed the long strands out of his eyes, and fastened the cloth around his head. Bracing both elbows on the smooth wastecloths, he stared out at the sea.

By now, they ought to have encountered at least one merchant ship. Instead, empty waters stretched as far as he could see. Tension crackled through the ranks. Resentment lingered in the stares that followed him through the decks. The men wanted action. One good skirmish, even if the spoils were pitiful, would curb their restlessness. Yet though they’d searched, their prey refused to show.

A shadow at his side brought Cain’s gaze to Drake. Mirroring Cain’s posture, Drake leaned on the rail. He propped a bare foot on a round of coiled rope. “How are the fish? Or do you look for mermaids?”

Cain chuckled. “It seems we’d be more apt to find mermaids than a merchant ship.”

“Aye.” Drake grinned broadly. “You stink at finding plunder.”

“I suppose you could do better? Where would you have me go, voice of wisdom?”

Drake’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Some would say the woman’s to be blamed.”

“Horse shit, and well you know it.”

“Aye, I found my greatest riches with a woman on the decks.”

Pushing off the rail, Cain surveyed the lazy crewmen. Some lounged in corners of shade. Other played at dice behind the cover of heavy leaguers. A few found it prudent to attend to the routine of scrubbing decks and mending lines, but even they worked at a
lackadaisical
pace. The tolling of bells announced the approach of second dogwatch, and Cain watched as the men failed to pick up the pace. Not even the promise of a respite from duty sparked their motivation.

He glanced at Drake. “What say you to a bit of sport?”

“Sport? What do you have in mind?”

Beckoning Drake to follow, Cain made for the main hatch. “Come. I know where there are four puncheons of Hangman’s Blood. I say we break them open. We’ll lug them to the mess and fill the tankards to overflowing. Give the men something else to think about.”

As understanding dawned behind Drake’s dark eyes, his smirk broadened into a devilish smile. “Now that, I could put me back into.”

****

I
ndia
woke to the warm glow of a low-burning lamp. The yellow light blended with the silver rays of moonlight that shone through the window and spilled upon the bed. She peered into the shadows, searching for Cain.

When she found herself alone, she collapsed against the pillows, grateful. But at the slide of cotton against her bare skin, her momentary relief vanished with a gasp. She glanced down, afraid to look, already knowing what she’d find.

Horrified, she shrank into the bed. She hadn’t taken off her gown. Surely, Cain hadn’t…

She closed her eyes as a vague memory of sitting in this very bed, naked as a babe while she carried on a conversation with the rogue, flickered at the fringes of her mind. Had the incident happened? Or had it been another figment of her imagination, along with all the wicked dreams she’d had of Teddy?

She pressed her fingers to her temples and squeezed in a desperate attempt to sift reality from fiction. So many things merged together, none linked by any form of sense. Memories of Teddy—or was it Cain?—making her laugh with his stories of escapades upon the sea blended with the feel of strong arms supporting her as she attended to her personal business. Gentle fingers had washed her hair. A gentleman through and through, those had to be Teddy. But the vivid images of shameful things she’d allowed Teddy to do to her body…No, that was all Cain. Heavens, her skin still tingled at the mere thought.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight to block the rush of sensation. Impossible. She would know if she’d behaved like a wanton. Even if Cain spoke the truth, and he was Theodore Cathain, she was promised to be married. She’d never let Cain kiss her, much less trail those lips across her flesh. She gnawed on her lower lip. Would she?

Somehow she’d shed her gown. Perhaps her nakedness had nothing to do with vomiting and everything to do with wickedness. At present, her stomach lay quiet. If she’d been ill, she’d still
be
ill. The only thing that ceased the rolling of her belly came with the sturdiness of land. Not to mention, her last bout of seasickness hadn’t left a gaping chasm in her mind.

Rich masculine laughter echoed beyond the door. Something heavy thumped against the wall beyond, followed by a muffled oath.
India
slunk down deeper into the bed and clutched the covers to her chin. As the door creaked open, she closed her eyes. If she pretended to sleep, perhaps he wouldn’t humiliate her further by acknowledging her presence.

Heavy footsteps moved across the floor. Still a good distance away, Cain’s heavy sigh lifted the fine hairs along her arms.

“It will do no good,
India
. When you sleep you have no such modesty.” His deep baritone held the slur of too much drink.

Her eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a gasp. Afraid to investigate the rustle in the shadows near his desk, she stared at the overhead beams. She swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. But her gaze moved against her will and slid sideways to settle on broad, sun-bronzed shoulders.

Heat flooded into her cheeks. She ordered herself to look away. Knew she shouldn’t stare. But heaven’s mercy, she’d never seen so much bare skin at once. Muscles rippled as he leaned over his desk and pulled the stopper from a crystal decanter. His biceps bunched and pulled as he brought a small glass to his lips to toss the liquid back. When he twisted to cast his shirt aside, the planes of strength along his tapered back flexed.

In the very recesses of her soul, familiar pleasure sparked. The sensation reminded her all too fully of the countless dreams she’d had about Teddy. Shame rose to heat her cheeks again. In a vain attempt to escape the discomfiting feeling, she shifted a leg. Yet the scrape of cotton against her thighs further stoked the agitation of her skin. Longing stirred in the pit of her womb. Sweet Mary, she rued the day Margaret, the serving girl she had grown up with, confided the pleasures of the flesh. If she hadn’t,
India
’s imagination wouldn’t have left her in such an embarrassing state of mixed-up sensation.

Cain turned around, shocking
India
further with a breathtaking view of his chiseled chest. His fingers worked at the laces to his trousers as he absently approached the bed.

“Wh-what are you doing?”
India
squeaked through her constricting throat.

He halted mid-stride, his expression as puzzled as if she’d asked how many fingers a man possessed. His gaze canvassed her in one slow intense sweep. One corner of his mouth curved. “You are in my bed. Lest you intend to leave it, I intend to join you.”

Before she could fully comprehend his meaning, he dropped his trousers. A squeak tumbled off her lips, and she clamped her eyelids shut.

The mattress gave with his weight. Cool air touched her backside as he lifted the covers and slid beneath. He tucked a heavy arm around her waist, and the comforting scent of sage wafted to her nose.

In that instant,
India
knew they’d slept this way before. Beyond the obvious closeness they shared physically, not once in all her imaginings of Teddy had her mind conjured sage. For the scent to be familiar, let alone comfortable, she hadn’t been in this bed alone, and the pleasure she recalled as Teddy’s could have only come from Cain.

God in heaven, what had she allowed to happen?

The unmistakable press of Cain’s arousal against her bottom hinted at truths she didn’t want to acknowledge. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

“Have we…” She paused at the waiver in her voice. Summoning her courage, she pulled in a deep breath to try again. This was no time to hide behind the rules of propriety. “Have we been intimate?”

“You mean have I felt your soft skin beneath my palm?” Cain’s breath whispered against her exposed shoulder.
His hand glided over the covers, along her ribs, and cupped her breast. The soft squeeze of his fingers shocked her to the core. Worse, it made the heavy press of quilts against her body unbearable. An ache she had become too familiar with ignited in the core of her being. She squirmed in an attempt to dislodge his hand, but the twist of her shoulders gave him advantage. He urged her onto her back.

Light stubble scraped pleasantly as he grazed her shoulder with his chin. The hand at her breast dipped beneath the quilt to roam down the length of her abdomen and rest at her navel. “Have I seen what only a husband is allowed?” He dipped his head and skimmed his lips along her neck. “Aye,” he murmured, a breath before his teeth nipped the side of her throat.

Subjected to Cain’s bold foray, tingles spread through
India
’s body, all the way down to her toes. She closed her eyes and a low moan slipped off her parted lips. Breathing became a chore more difficult than lifting boulders with her teeth as she fought the instinctual urge to
raise
her hips and guide his palm lower.