Captain's Bride (21 page)

Feeling warm and cared for, nurtured and protected
for the first time in days, Glory didn’t care that she was nude,
didn’t care where she was or how she had gotten there. Nothing
mattered except feeling clean and whole again. Nothing mattered but
being in Nicholas’s arms. A small voice said,
Remember what he’s
done to you
, but try as she might, she could only think of the
way his lips felt, the gentleness of his touch.

Instead, she laced her fingers through the strands of
his curly black hair and arched against him, feeling tingly and hot
all over. His lips moved over her flesh, trailing warm kisses until
he captured the crest of her nipple and circled it gently with his
tongue. Glory moaned and tilted her head back, giving him better
access to the breast he cradled in his hand. His mouth caressed,
tasted, and sucked the
stiff
peak, and Glory’s blood fired
with the delicious sensations.

He kissed her again, this time demandingly, and Glory
responded in kind. When his hands traveled down her body to cup her
buttocks and pull her more firmly against him, she felt his
hardened manhood pressing against her, demanding release from the
confines of his breeches.

His arm slid beneath her knees, and he lifted her
from the water, carrying her to a grassy spot at the edge of the
pool. He left her only long enough to shed his own clothes and
return to her side, easing himself down beside her.

“God, how I’ve wanted you,” he whispered against her
ear, his voice husky.

Though her hands pressed against his chest in feeble
protest, he captured her lips and plunged his tongue into her
mouth. Fiery sensations engulfed her. Glory writhed against him,
forgetting her fears, blotting her doubts, wanting him to touch
her, feeling achy and taut and consumed. Careful to keep his weight
above her, he covered her body with his and parted her thighs with
his knee.

It was all Nicholas could do to go slowly. He wanted
to drive into her, wanted to plunge inside. From the tension in her
body, he knew she wanted it too. Instead he guided himself within
her until he reached the obstacle he only half expected. The proof
of her virginity stirred in him a disturbing jolt of guilt—and an
unwelcome surge of joy.

“Only a moment’s pain, love,” he told her, forcing
his conscience aside. “Then all the pleasure I’ve promised.”

She pulled away a little, afraid for the first time.
“Nicholas?” she whispered hesitantly.

“Trust me,” he told her.

And she did. She wrapped her arms around his neck and
clung to him, seeking his mouth, opening her own to his tongue.
Slipping his hands beneath her hips, he drove himself inside her.
Only the pressure of his lips silenced her cry of pain. A tear
slipped down her cheek to nestle in the tiny hollow at the base of
her throat.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked, holding himself
back until her pain subsided.

“Yes,” she whispered, still a little uncertain.

Cradling her buttocks in his palms, he kissed her
again, his tongue teasing the walls of her mouth; then he began to
move in a slow, rhythmical pattern that made her forget her
discomfort, made her think only of the tall man who held her in his
arms. Responding to the ancient instincts of a man and woman, she
moved against him, met his thrusts again and again until his
muscles bunched with the sheen of their efforts and he called out
her name.

Something powerful and frightening seemed to be
building with his last few powerful strokes, but before she could
discover what it was, Nicholas shuddered fiercely, held himself
above her a moment more, then rolled away, drawing her with him
into the curve of his arm. His eyes remained closed until his
breathing slowed to normal.

Glory stroked the line of his jaw and wondered how
she could possibly want him to kiss her again. She wished she felt
as relaxed as he did. When he touched her breast, she jumped as if
she’d been burned and heard his low soft laughter.

“I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry.” His teasing smile
said he only half meant it. “I’ve wanted you so long I couldn’t
wait.”

“How could anything so wonderful be disappointing?”
she said, denying the tiny voice that reminded her the intimacies
they’d shared belonged in the marriage bed, that women weren’t
supposed to feel the wondrous sensations she’d experienced.
Instead, her glance moved from his gray eyes, now light and
teasing, to the width of his chest, to the flat spot beneath his
navel. Color flooded her cheeks when she noticed his softened
manhood resting in its nest of protective black curls.

She turned her head away, but not before the
forbidden object began to strengthen.

With a throaty chuckle, Nicholas teased the palm of
her hand with his tongue, brought her fingers to his mouth to lick
and suck each one. Glory felt a jolt of desire that tightened the
muscles in her stomach and set her heart to pounding again. She
rounded her gaze on his face and saw his eyes had darkened, hungry
once more.

“It’s your turn now,” he told her, and before she
could ask what he meant, he had covered her mouth with his and
rolled on top of her, pressing her into the soft grass beneath
them. Feeling his tongue warm and moist against her own, she moaned
and felt the same heat as before, this time even more intense.

He was less gentle, more demanding this time, firing
an ardor she wouldn’t have believed. With every thrust of his
hardness, every powerful impact inside, she slipped a little deeper
into his spell. The thickness of his shaft amazed her, filled her
with blazing heat that set her body on fire. She writhed against
him, meeting each of his thrusts with fierce abandon—until a bubble
of pleasure swelled inside and a thousand tiny pinpricks of light
burst behind her eyes. Crying out his name, she clung to him, and
he followed her to release.

They slept for a while on the soft green grass, she
in awe of what had happened, he in contentment, it seemed. When
they awoke, they made love again; then Nicholas carried her into
the coolness of the pond.

“How do you feel?” he asked as the water trailed
sweetly around her hips. She remembered he’d asked her that
before.

“Like a cat in a window,” she told him truthfully,
with a light smile that denied a tiny thread of guilt. “As if I’d
just lapped up the last of my cream and the sun was beating against
my cushion.”

He laughed good-naturedly and she thought how few
times she’d heard the sound.

“You should do that more often,” she said as they
climbed from the pool.

“Do what?”

“Laugh.” They sat in the sun till the warm air dried
their skin, then pulled on their now clean and dry garments. Now
that the sand had been washed away, Glory reveled in the freedom of
her scant clothing, even if she did feel a bit exposed. Nicholas
wore only his breeches. Glory loved to watch the muscles of his
chest tighten and flex with his movements, loved the rich mahogany
hue of his swarthy complexion. He seemed not the least
uncomfortable in their primitive environment.

When she tried unsuccessfully to untangle her mass of
pale hair with her fingers, Nicholas grabbed her hand and tugged
her toward the beach.

“Come on. There’s something I want to show you.” She
let him pull her along the overgrown path beneath the chatter of
chipmunks and several frolicking squirrels, then stopped in
amazement when she saw the dozens of crates and trunks that rested
at the edge of the sand. At first she laughed delightedly and raced
toward the trunks, throwing open the lids of several to discover
blankets and tools, flour, coffee, and slabs of salt pork. Several
crates held cones of sugar the
Spider
had been transporting
from Barbados.

“There are some oranges in one of the other crates,”
he told her. “Rope, canvas from the sails, maybe even something
that could pass for a comb. There’s just about everything we need,
except of course our clothes.” He actually grinned. “But then, we
needn’t worry much about that from now on.”

Glory felt a rush of color to her cheeks, but with a
glance back at the boxes her features turned serious. “When did you
find all this?”

Nicholas glanced away, suddenly unwilling to meet her
gaze. “This morning,” he said, chiding himself for not being honest
enough to tell her the truth. He just couldn’t bear the thought of
losing her trust after the way she’d given herself to him this
morning.

He wasn’t a good liar, Glory thought. He’d found this
stuff days ago. She felt a surge of temper that reddened her blush
even more and fought the urge to punch him smack in the nose. Then
she thought of the way he’d saved her from the boar, the way he’d
made love to her, and couldn’t bring herself to stay mad at him. If
he could forgive her for getting him stranded on this lonely
stretch of land in the first place, she could surely forgive him
for a few days of ill treatment.

In truth, she admitted, she loved him so much she’d
forgive him almost anything.

She smiled at him, and his dark expression warmed.
“How about handing me an orange,” she said. “I’m starved.” He
peeled one for her. The fruity smell made her mouth water. Their
fingers brushed as he handed it over and a tiny shiver raced up her
spine. She broke the fruit in two and fed half of it to him, the
sweet juices running down her fingers. He licked them clean, his
eyes turning dark.

“I think we’d better set up camp,” he said. “Before
we get
sidetracked
again.” The way he said the word made
clear what he was thinking.

She lowered her lashes and nodded her agreement.
“Could I have another orange first?”

As he fetched her another of the delicious fruits, he
seemed a little guilty. “Tonight,” he said, “I’m going to cook you
the best meal you’ve ever eaten.”

Glory silently prayed it wouldn’t be a new version of
sea gull.

After setting up a comfortable campsite near one of
the pools, Nicholas went back to the island and dressed out the
boar. On the strand he dug a pit, lined it with rocks and burning
wood that soon turned to coals, wrapped the pork in leaves, and
buried it beneath another layer of coals. Finding several pots and
a tin mug among some of the tools, he cleaned them with sand and
headed toward the beach, returning later with the potful of clams.
A salad of tender watercress from one of the ponds completed the
meal.

It all tasted delicious to Glory, who ate until she
couldn’t possibly stuff in another bite.

“You’ll get fat if you keep eating like that,”
Nicholas teased. “But then there’d just be more of you to
love.”

Glory straightened. She prayed he did love her, if
only just a little. She wondered if he intended marriage. Surely he
wouldn’t have taken her as he had if his intentions were less than
honorable. After all, she’d been vulnerable and he knew it.
Besides, he was her father’s friend. She wished she could be
certain, but Nicholas Blackwell was not a man to be hurried. He
would let her know in his own good time. Meanwhile what was done
was done. Glory planned to enjoy every minute they had
together.

“Tomorrow,” he was saying, “I’ll build that shelter
you’ve been wanting.”

“Why the change of heart?” she couldn’t resist
asking.

Again the glance away. “I just decided you were
right, that’s all.”

She didn’t press him further. That night they made
love beneath the stars, and Glory felt such a rush of happiness she
thought she might burst. Nicholas seemed to feel it, too. He held
her all night, one arm protectively around her as if he didn’t want
her to get too far away.

Game was plentiful on the strand, and wild onions,
watercress, and other wild vegetables abounded. The shelter
Nicholas built turned out to be a small one-room lean-to. It took
him two days to complete, but finished, it provided a cozy retreat
from sun, wind, and sand. They still cooked out-of-doors, but
inside the shelter, pine needles covered a sandy floor and,
shielded with a layer of blankets, afforded a wide, comfortable
bed.
One
bed, Glory noticed with a rush of embarrassment. It
was obvious Nicholas intended not the vaguest semblance of
propriety, and the thought confirmed her conviction that he meant
to propose marriage. Except for her worry about Nathan, Glory was
coming to think of the strand as the next best thing to
paradise.

They were seated beside the breakfast fire sipping
coffee from their single tin mug when Nicholas offered to teach
Glory to swim.

“What do you say?” he prodded. “I’ll be there right
beside you every step of the way.”

“I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow.” She glanced away.
“Why not now?”

“I . . . I’ve always been a little afraid of the
water.” She twisted the now ragged folds of her gray-white
petticoat. “I guess I’m not much of a tomboy. When I was a little
girl, I preferred playing with dolls or embroidering to being
out-of-doors—except for riding, of course. Papa persuaded me to try
riding, and I loved it right away. But that was different, or at
least it seemed so to me.”

“And what of billiards?” he teased. “Hardly a
feminine pastime.”

“Playing billiards was Father’s idea, too. I’d never
have dreamed of doing anything so unladylike.” She turned to face
him more squarely. “What about you?” she asked, hoping to keep the
subject directed away from the matter of swimming. “What did you
like to do as a boy?”

One comer of his mouth lifted in an indulgent smile,
and she knew she hadn’t fooled him a bit. “I was too busy looking
after my father to have much of a childhood.” He poked the dying
fire, sending a shower of sparks into the warm morning air. “He
drank to forget my mother’s unfaithfulness. Then he drank to hide
from my stepmother’s nagging and because he felt guilty for
allowing her to treat me so badly. She used to invent things to
punish me for. Once she told Father I purposely trod on her
daffodils when she knew I’d only been playing on the porch and lost
my balance. She locked me in my room for two days with no food and
just the smallest amount of water.