Captain's Bride (24 page)

“But . . . but where are you planning to sleep?”

“The same place I’ve been sleeping these past few
weeks. With you.”

“Nicholas, you can’t sleep—”

“Captain,” he corrected.

Glory’s mouth went dry. “You can’t mean to sleep with
me on board the ship. Why the whole crew would know.”

“They already know.” He sat down in a tufted leather
chair and pulled off his boots.

“Nicholas, I can’t believe you mean to humiliate me
this way. It’s only four days to New York. We can be married, and
then—”

“Married!” His brittle laughter rang across the room.
In the glow of the lamplight, she could make out the hard angles
and planes of his face. “What on earth gave you the idea we were
getting married?”

Glory’s hand inched to her throat. It was suddenly
hard to breathe. “When we were shipwrecked . . . when you made love
to me, I thought . . .” She swallowed hard. “I thought . . . you
loved me.”

“Love,” he said with a sneer. “You’re beginning to
sound like Lavinia.”

Glory sank down on the bed. No words would come. She
shook her head slowly, unwilling to accept the hateful words.

“Get undressed,” Nicholas commanded.

“What?”

“I said get out of that dress or I’ll tear it off
you.” Glory licked her lips, her throat so dry she could barely
speak. “I don’t believe you’re doing this.”

“I’ll just bet you don’t. Now do as I told you.”

She only shook her head.

Nicholas stepped out of his breeches, kicked them
aside, then, naked, strode immodestly up in front of her.

“Fine,” he said. “Have it your way.” He grabbed her
arms and roughly jerked them above her head, pushing her back on
the bed at the same time. She tried to cry out, but his lips
silenced her. Using his body, he pressed her into the thick feather
mattress, shoved up her brocade skirts, then the white froth of her
petticoats. Glory struggled against him, a feeble effort at best.
Her mind refused to grasp what he was doing. She loved Nicholas
Black-well. She didn’t want to fight him. He deepened the kiss,
thrusting his tongue between her teeth—and against her will, Glory
felt the stirrings of desire. She moaned and arched against
him.

Nicholas pulled away. “That’s right, pretty little
whore, I’m going to give you just what you want.”

The words stung like a slap, bringing her to her
senses. She tried to get up, but he pressed her back into the
mattress. This time Glory struggled in earnest. This wasn’t the man
she loved. This was a stranger. A madman. She writhed and twisted
beneath him, felt his fingers clutching the band of her lacy cotton
drawers, then heard the fabric rip away, leaving her exposed,
vulnerable. She could feel the cool air against her heated skin and
a tiny sob escaped before Nicholas captured her lips in another
brutal kiss.

His hands moved over her body, along the curve of her
hips, until he reached the pale triangle at the juncture of her
thighs. For a moment he coaxed and teased, heating her blood,
making her ache with wanting; then he slid his fingers inside her.
Glory cringed as he found her wet and eager for his touch.

He laughed softly, the sound almost demonic. “Such a
beautiful traitorous body.”

“Stop it, Nicholas,” she whispered. “Please don’t do
this.” But he only parted her thighs and positioned himself above
her. She could feel his manhood, hot and swollen, and remembered
the pleasure he could give. His lips covered hers, his mouth open
and warm, tasting and savoring, forcing a response. Though her mind
rebelled against his savagery, her body begged for more. His
hardened shaft teased her womanhood, found the entrance, and drove
inside, filling her until she forgot the violence, forgot the
cruelty of his words, and thought only of their passion.

Gripping his wide shoulders, she felt his muscles
bunch beneath her hand while again and again he plunged into her.
With a will of its own, her body arched against him, meeting every
thrust, aching for him to bring release as only Nicholas could. She
felt his muscles tense and her own tensed as well until a thousand
pinpricks of pleasure skimmed across her heated flesh. A few more
violent strokes, and Nicholas followed her to climax.

He rested above her only a moment, then rolled away
and climbed from the bed. Glory swallowed the ache in her throat,
the bitterness, the pain. Though she closed her eyes against her
welling tears, a tiny trail of wetness slipped down her cheek.

“Why, Nicholas?” she whispered.

“Why not? It’s what we both wanted.” Pulling on his
breeches, he buttoned them up the front, dressing casually, as if
she weren’t even in the room. Then he left without a word.

Glory hugged her knees to her chest and wrapped her
arms protectively around them. She fought the aching sadness that
seeped through her very bones, until she heard his footsteps recede
down the hall. Then nothing could stop the terrible racking sobs
that shook her slender body.

Nicholas watched the ocean slip beneath the ship in
a surge of frothy foam. He stood at the rail in darkness; only a
sliver of moon between the clouds glistened on the passing
waves.

“So this is where ye be.” Mac MacDougal stepped
quietly up beside him at the rail.

“I don’t feel much like talking, Mac,” Nicholas said,
staring straight ahead, his hands braced on the solid wood as if it
were all that kept him from hurling himself into the sea.

“I havna often meddled in yer affairs, lad. But I kin
see by yer face somethin’ isna as it should be. The lass is a good
girl, Nicky. You’re bound to do right by her.”

“Stay out of this, Mac, I’m warning you.” He turned a
hard look on his friend. “This is none of your business.”

“Ye’ve been like a son to me, lad. I’ve always been
proud o’ ye. Don’t make me ashamed o’ ye now.” A flash of moonlight
lit the Scotsman’s ruddy face.

Nicholas didn’t miss the tight lines of disapproval
he’d seen only a few times before. Glancing away, he stared back
out to sea. He heard Mac’s deep sigh and felt his friend’s
weathered hand as it rested on his shoulder. Mac said nothing more,
just turned and walked back toward his cabin. His heavy footfalls
thudded against the deck, adding their burden to Nicholas’s already
heavy heart.

Glory didn’t leave the cabin all the next day.

Josh came by with a tray of food at noon and then
again at supper. Glory smiled and thanked him, but told him she
needed to rest from her ordeal on the strand. Josh’s worried
expression said he didn’t believe her, but he made no further
attempt to draw her out.

As the hour grew late, Glory began to worry. Would
Nicholas come to her again tonight? She had no way of knowing.
Whatever closeness they’d once had no longer existed. The man who
had come to her room last night had been a stranger, as foreign to
her as the land to which she traveled.

Unable to read his thoughts and afraid of what he
might do next, Glory watched the door to the passageway with
growing alarm. She tried to stitch up another of the remaining
gowns, but her hands shook so badly that she had to put her needle
away.

A flash of foreboding made her shove the heavy bureau
in front of the door, just in case. It took all her strength to
move the massive piece, but once the task was complete she felt a
little better.

Though she would have preferred something more
modest, she found a sheer silk nightdress in the wardrobe and
pulled it over her head. Again she wondered whose it was.

Had Nicholas seduced the woman in this very bed? Had
he spoken the same words of passion he’d said to her?

She climbed onto the wide berth, but sleep seemed
elusive. Every time she closed her eyes and began to drift off, she
saw Nicholas as he had looked on the strand, tall and handsome,
laughing and smiling, his gray eyes alight with what she’d been
sure was love. The memory swelled a hard lump in her throat and
kept her tossing and turning on the lonely bed.

“You’re beginning to sound like Lavinia . . . like
Lavinia . . . like Lavinia.” The words echoed like a litany. She
closed her eyes and tried to blot out the bitter sound of his
voice. Every noise in the passageway set her already taut nerves
even more on edge, until the grating of a key in the lock made her
sit bolt-upright.

The latch lifted and the door banged loudly against
the bureau. Nicholas’s low sardonic laughter seeped through the
narrow crack in the door. For a moment Glory couldn’t discern the
soft thudding she heard next, but when the bureau shuddered and
began to move, she recognized the sound as Nicholas slammed his
muscular shoulder time after time against the wooden door.

Glory raced from the bed and threw her weight against
the bureau. “Go away, Nicholas. Leave me alone.”

“Get away from the door, Glory,” he warned. “I’m
coming in one way or another. If I have to, I’ll bring the whole
crew down here to help me break in.”

Glory’s shoulders slumped. As she backed away from
the bureau, Nicholas made a last heave, opening the door enough to
allow him entrance. When he stepped inside, she faced him squarely,
fighting back tears, her chin lifted in defiance.

“I can’t stop you, Captain. I am only a woman. If you
intend to force yourself on me against my will, do what you
must.”

Nicholas regarded her closely. “Against your will, my
sweet? I hardly think so.”

Glory didn’t move. Nicholas stepped closer, his
stormy eyes devouring the curves of her breasts through the sheer
silk garment, the crests of her nipples two dark circles beneath
the cloth. Another step and he settled the palms of his hands on
either side of her face. Ever so slowly he lowered his mouth to
hers, and the heat of his lips scorched her soul. She steeled
herself against the familiar yearnings and willed herself not to
respond.

Nicholas used the side of his thumb to open her
mouth, then forced his tongue inside, employing it with practiced
skill. He teased her lips, then gently licked the comers. Glory
closed her eyes. She was back on the strand; the man she kissed was
Nicholas. Her Nicholas. The man she loved. The hands that cupped
her face were the gentle hands she knew so well, hands that knew
every part of her body. Hands that had cared for her, protected
her, saved her very life.

When he moved his lips to the place beside her ear,
it was all she could do to stifle her moan. He trailed warm kisses
along her neck while slipping the gown off her shoulders. When he
moved his head to capture the hard bud of her nipple, Glory swayed
against him. Her fingers slipped through the black hair curling at
the nape of his neck. She didn’t know she was crying until Nicholas
lifted his head to look at her.

For a moment she hardly recognized him, his
expression seemed so hard. Then, with a trembling hand, he brushed
away her tears and swept her into his arms. Her blond hair trailed
over his shoulder as his long strides carried them to the bed. He
left her only long enough to shed his clothes, then returned to the
place beside her.

“So lovely,” he said. “Will I ever be able to forget
you?”

The words mirrored thoughts of her own, and she
whispered his name. I love you so much, she thought. In her mind
she couldn’t stop saying it, but her lips would not move.

Though they made love passionately, as though for the
very last time, he was gentle with her, just as he had been on the
strand. She felt his tenderness in the touch of his lips, felt his
caring, felt his need. It didn’t matter what happened on the
morrow; tonight she had her Nicholas back, if only for these few
precious hours. If only for tonight, her love was there beside her,
showing her his feelings, giving of himself. His hands moved over
her body, touching her, caressing her, urging her body to passion
while her heart sighed with grief. How would she ever live without
him? She didn’t even want to try.

She wondered at his thoughts, wondered if he would
miss her as she missed him, wondered why he was destroying her so
completely. This time when they finished, he pulled her into the
crook of his arm as he’d done so many times before. He didn’t leave
her, even when she feigned sleep, just kissed the pale strands of
her hair and softly stroked her cheek. Exhausted, she stubbornly
refused to fall asleep, though in his arms she could have. She
didn’t want to waste these few priceless hours, which might never
come again.

Once during the long night when she was sure he’d
drifted off, she opened her eyes and found his were open, too,
gazing at her with a look Glory could only believe was regret. She
wished he would make love to her one last time.

As if reading her thoughts his lips touched her cheek
and Glory turned toward him. She touched his cheek and whispered
his name. He kissed her then, with all the feelings she had ever
believed he’d felt, and Glory thought her heart would break. She
kissed him back and clutched his neck and wished the sun would
never rise to tear them apart again. She prayed a huge wave would
swamp the ship and end her misery.

They made love once more and this time, afterward,
they both slept. When Glory woke up, Nicholas was gone.

He didn’t return to her cabin that night or the
next. Glory didn’t see him again until the ship sailed into New
York Harbor. Standing on deck beneath a gray sky, she clutched the
light pelisse she wore over her borrowed rose silk dress to keep
the wind from whipping it away. The stiff skirts swirled around her
legs as she stood near the wheel making a sad farewell to her
friends.

“Good-bye, Jago.”

“You’re a fine woman, Miss Glory. I’ve been proud to
know you.”

“Thank you, Jago, for all you’ve done.”

“If there’s anything you ever need,” Josh Pintassle
told her, “just let me know.”