Dawn on a Distant Shore (24 page)

She drew up.
"Passage? But I thought we had passage--" She gestured around herself
feebly.

Robbie coughed into
his hand. "We didna like tae talk o' it before the bairns," he said.
"But Pickering canna take us aa the way hame, lass. The
Isis
will
be waitin' for him in Québec, and he mun sail wi'oot delay for Scotland."

Elizabeth leaned on
the rail. She was thankful for the dark, for she feared she could not keep her
anxiety from her face.

"But they'll be
looking for us in Québec, too."

"I expect that's
true," Hawkeye said. "But there must be seventy or more boats in port
there at this time of year. They won't be too fussy about passengers as long as
the fare's right. Moncrieff has been there a whole day, he'll be sniffing
around already for us."

"Moncrieff
again," said Elizabeth, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
"Is there no getting away from the man?"

Robbie snorted softly.
"He's aye hard tae avoid."

Runs-from-Bears said,
"It looks like he's done you more than one good turn."

"Oh, that he
has." Hawkeye nodded. "And I expect we'll have to put up with a few
more before he sails for home."

"That the Earl of
Carryck's influence reaches so far surprises me," said Elizabeth thoughtfully.

"Ye dinna trust
the man, it's clear."

"I suppose that I
do not," Elizabeth admitted. "But I do not know him as you do, having
spent so much time with him at close quarters." She hesitated.
"You're not reconsidering the earl's proposal?"

Hawkeye grunted.
"Got no interest in anything but getting this family home to Lake in the Clouds
as quick as we can manage."

Elizabeth pushed out a
sigh. "That is good to know," she said. "The next task is to
find Will Spencer and send him back to Amanda straightaway."

There was the sound of
a new step on deck, and Nathaniel appeared from Pickering's quarters. He
crooked a finger in her direction, and then disappeared again.

"Time enough to
worry about this Will Spencer tomorrow," said Hawkeye gruffly.
"You've got a homecoming of your own to celebrate."

Elizabeth was glad of
the dark, for she knew very well that she was flushing, both with anticipation
and embarrassment. "But where will you sleep?"

"The
hammocks," said Robbie.

"Under the
stars." Runs-from-Bears was grinning; she could hear it in his voice.

"But if it
rains--"

Hawkeye pushed her
gently toward Nathaniel. "Then we'll bed down with Pickering and his crew.
Go on now, he's waiting for you."

The first officer's
cabin was all they had, just off the captain's quarters where Curiosity slept with
the children. It smelled of raw sugar and coffee beans, and there was barely
room for them to stand shoulder to shoulder without Nathaniel striking his head
on the hanging lamp. But there was a small porthole left open for the breeze, a
tiny washstand, and a cot. And a door with a lock on it.

Elizabeth turned her
face up to him. He might have taken her expression for displeasure, if it
weren't for the trembling of her hand in his.

"You're as
nervous as a cat, Boots."

"Or a
bride," she said, finally managing a smile, and blushing to the roots of
her hair. It made his heart clench to see it.

"We were apart on
our first wedding anniversary."

"Aye, so we
were," he said gently. "We're together now."

There was a creaking
overhead; the trill of the bosun's whistle, men moving. In the other room Hannah
was talking in her sleep.

"It ain't exactly
Paradise." Nathaniel pulled her down to sit beside him on the cot.
"But it will have to do."

"Oh, it will
do," she said, not quite able to meet his eye. And then, in a rush:
"It has been a very long time, Nathaniel."

"So it has."
He slipped an arm around her shoulders. "You'll have to remind me how to
start."

She laughed then, a
low throaty laugh, the very laugh that he thought of as his alone. Under his
fingers the skin of her neck was cool to the touch, and as soft as he
remembered. He traced the outline of her ear and then her jaw, and then he
lifted her face to his and kissed her. A quiet kiss, a coming home very
different from those first frantic kisses of a few hours ago. She tasted sweet
and tart all at once, and his head filled with the smell of her. But she wasn't
quite with him; he could feel the hum of her thoughts just below the surface,
moving her in a different direction.

In one motion
Nathaniel lifted her and settled her on his lap. The round weight of her, the
touch of her breasts against his chest, was enough to make him forget
everything, but he made an effort: put his forehead against hers so that she
could not look away.

"Are you shy of
the close quarters?"

Elizabeth turned to
study the door as if she could look through wood to where the children slept. Then
she spread her hand out on Nathaniel's cheek. "No," she said. "I
expect we can ... manage quietly. We've been in close quarters before, after
all." He could see her struggling for her composure, and he might have
laughed out loud at the pleasure of seeing her flustered. But there was the
worry line between her brows that he knew well.

"Then tell me
what's on your mind, Boots. What's wrong?"

She narrowed her eyes
at him. "You can't be serious."

Nathaniel kissed her,
a hard stamp of his mouth. "I know you, Elizabeth. I know you as well as I
know anybody pulling breath. There's something else up, and it ain't just
getting out of Canada with our hides intact."

Her fingers began to
pull at the ties on his shirt. Elizabeth wiggled slightly on his lap, her color
rising. "Is it really talking that you want to do right now, Nathaniel
Bonner?" And she tilted her head and kissed him, a soft deep kiss that
made the blood rush in his ears.

What he wanted was to
lay her down on the narrow cot and to cover her, bury himself in her and stay
there forever. Above all of that, what he wanted most in the world was to take
away the worried look in her eyes.

But she would have her
way; she hushed him, twisting out of her clothing piece by piece until she stood
before him in her shift and stockings. Her hair had come undone, a tangle of
curls around her face. He took the hem of her shift to lift it over her head,
untied one garter and then the other to drag the stockings down over the white skin
of her calves. She lifted her feet for him in turn and then stood in the vee of
his legs covered in nothing but gooseflesh. Childbearing had changed her shape,
marked her for a mother; her hands fluttered up as if to hide the tracings on
her belly and he caught them, held them away.

"You know me
better," he murmured.

Her breasts were
heavier now, her nipples darker, berries not quite ripe. She put her face in
his hair, her breath harsh at his ear as he leaned forward. The touch of his
tongue drew a single drop of milk and a sigh. He might have pulled away but her
hand guided him back, offering freely what he hesitated to take. Nathaniel
cupped her hips, pressed his fingers into rounded flesh while he suckled, wide
mouthed, both of them convulsing with the sweetness of it. She trembled so that
he thought she might fall, her knees buckling until she was on his lap again.

"There is a grave
inequity here," she muttered, plucking at his shirt. "Will you not undress?"

"There's no
hurry." Nathaniel laughed against her mouth, because it was a lie; he had
never been in such a hurry in his life, but still he would not be rushed.

"It is very
strange to see you in breeches." Cool fingers at his crotch, tracing him. "Leggings
and a breechclout suit you better."

He drew in a sharp
breath and caught her hand up to bite her palm. Then he stood to pull his shirt
over his head and stripped down.

There was too little
room on the cot: they were all elbows and knees, awkward until he found her mouth
again and they lay for a long time on their sides, kissing; the kind of kiss
that had no end and doubled back on itself. Struggling to slow the rush of his blood,
covered with sweat and the sweet stickiness of her milk, Nathaniel stroked her
thighs, felt her quiver and quicken, sought out softly swollen flesh slippery
to the touch.

"Are you still
tender?" He touched her and she shivered.

"Yes. No. I am
healed, but--"

"Do you want me
to stop?"

"No!" She
caught his hand, pressed it hard. "Don't stop." This against his
neck, hardly more than a whisper. "Nathaniel?"

His fingers busier
now, coaxing from her those words she found so hard to give. "What?"

She grabbed his face,
dragged it to her own. Gentle suckling and then harder, showing him what she wanted,
thrusting her tongue against his. He cupped the saddle of warm flesh between
her legs. His own flesh leaped in response, barely under his control.

"I missed
you." She whispered against his mouth, harsh and gentle all at once. She
was crying, dripping milk and tears and salty moisture over him, drawing him in
like the sea. "I missed you."

"God knows I
missed you too, Boots. The thought of you like this kept me sane all those weeks."

She wound her fingers
in his hair, tugged hard. "Come to me now. Come to me. I want you, I want
this." Her legs sliding up and around him, living ropes: another kind of
bondage, and one that he came to gladly.

Elizabeth drifted up
out of a deep sleep, aware first of the weight of Nathaniel's leg over her own,
and the cool breeze from the porthole on damp flesh. Up on deck the watch was
changing, but it was Curiosity's voice that woke her. She was crooning to the
twins. Elizabeth's own body told her that they would soon need more than soft words.

She turned her head,
hungry still for the sight of Nathaniel. In the vague light from the porthole
she watched him sleep, resisting the strong urge to put her hands on him and
convince herself that he was alive and well, that the tingling of her flesh was
more than just a dream.

He cracked an eye at
her. "I can hear you thinking, Boots."

Caught out again. She
felt herself blushing. "So you always claim." And struck his roving
hand away, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders.

Nathaniel came up on
one arm to catch her wrist: his strong hands, broad and hard and warm and capable
of the softest touch, enough to set her blood humming again. His eyes burning
gold in the faint moonlight, the power of his wanting enough to turn her purpose
and make her forget everything but the heat in her bones.

"Had enough of me
already?"

From the other room, a
hungry wail. "Never," she said, her voice wavering. "But I'm
afraid you'll have to wait your turn. That is your son calling ... and your
younger daughter, too."

He let her go to reach
for his breeches, grinning at her over his shoulder as he pulled them on, her wolfish
husband, teeth flashing white. "Wait here."

"Curiosity will
bring them," Elizabeth protested, but he was already halfway out the door.

Alone for a moment,
she tried to set the cot to rights, smoothing the rumpled covers and damp sheets.
There was no telling what trouble this day might bring; she was tired and more
than a little sore from the intensity of Nathaniel's attentions; she could not
remember being happier. Aunt Merriweather would not approve or even understand,
but it was simple enough: she was in love with her husband, and she had him
back again.

Nathaniel appeared at
the door with two squirming babies firmly in arm. Elizabeth accepted them,
murmuring calm words. She leaned back against the paneled wall and let the
children settle down to nursing while Nathaniel busied himself lighting the
lamp. Then he came to kneel next to the cot and watch, his chin on his hands
and his face in shadow.

"You don't get
much sleep, I guess."

Elizabeth looked up in
surprise. "They have quieted a great deal this sennight past. Lily often
sleeps through the night, now. Or at least until the dawn."

Nathaniel touched one
curly head and then the other. "I wondered if I'd ever see them
again."

"You're not sorry
I brought them so far?"

"No," he
said, moving in closer to study Daniel's hand, kneading the white skin of her breast.
"I ain't in the least sorry."

"Nathaniel,"
Elizabeth began slowly. "There is something I need to talk to you
about."

He sent her a sliding
glance. "I thought so. Well, come on out with it, Boots."

Elizabeth pulled the
blanket up tighter around the twins, cleared her throat, and then met his eye.

"Before I knew
that you were on board the
Nancy
, I made arrangements to have another boat
meet us this evening, just north of Montréal. I thought we should have to have
some means of getting away, and I feared that Captain Pickering could not be
trusted with the whole truth."