Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) (29 page)

Her eyes suddenly gleamed. "Is that allowed?"             

"Of course." He pulled her forward and led her to the upper deck.

"Mallory, may I present Captain Norris? Captain, my wife, Lady Mallory."

The captain grinned. "Pleased to meet you, your ladyship. I never thought his lordship would settle down. After meeting you, I can see why he has."

Mallory liked the captain and the easy way he spoke to Michael. "I'm happy to meet you, Captain Norris."

"Mallory, Captain Norris taught me all I know about sailing. He's the only captain the
Nightingal
e has ever had."

"She's my only love, m'lady. I know every bolt on her, and I guard her jealously."

"I'll relieve you for a while," Michael said, taking the wheel.

"She's running smoothly, m'lord. When you're ready to go below, just have MacNab take the helm." He touched the brim of his hat. "Have a pleasant evening, m'lady."

When the captain had gone, Michael pulled Mallory to him and placed her hands on the wheel. "Do you feel what I do when you take her helm?"

"What do you feel?"

"That she's somehow alive. She's like a lady that will respond to my every touch."

She smiled up at him. "I'm sure there were many ladies who would do just that."

He pressed his hands over her, helping her guide the wheel. "I was speaking of the ship."

"I like your family, Michael."

"They like you."

Suddenly he tied the wheel off, and turned her to face him. "Why did you leave me?"

"I . . . had much to think about. I had killed a man. That is a difficult thing to live with."

"I have killed many men." There was regret in his voice.

He outlined her face with his finger. "It was you who nursed me the night I was so ill, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I felt it was."

"Michael, I wanted to give you your freedom, because we married for the wrong reasons. Seeing your parents and Lord Warrick, I know I don't belong with you. I have nothing to give you."

He touched his lips to her forehead. "On the day when you can give me what I want, come to me, and I'll be waiting. Until then, I will be patient."

"I don't understand."

He smiled sadly. "More's the pity."

He turned her back to the wheel, and for over an hour they steered the ship.

Mallory felt as if she were part of the wind, as one with the sea, and her heart was beating wildly because Michael was pressing his body against hers. She remembered their wedding night, when he had made love to her, and she ached for him to take her to his cabin and make love to her again.

She tossed back her head and found him watching her intently.

"Michael, I want to be your wife."

"Why, Mallory?"

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled her tightly against him, deepening the kiss. Suddenly, he released her and called out. "MacNab, you can relieve me now."

When the crewman came on deck, Michael led Mallory to his cabin. It was dark inside as he took her in his arms and pressed a burning kiss on her trembling lips.

Chapter 31

Michael ran a stroking hand down Mallory's hair. "So soft, so alive," he murmured in her ear.

"Michael?"

"Yes, Mallory?"

"You said that you wanted something from me that I have not yet offered. I gave you my body, and then I gave you freedom—what else can you want from me?"

"Don't you know?"

"No. I have thought about it, and I have nothing of value that could possibly interest you."

"Why did you leave me in Caldoia?"

"For many reasons. Because I'd killed a man and didn't want you to know about it. Because . . . because you called out another woman's name when you were ill."

His hand slipped up her arm, and he paused at her soft shoulder. "I did?"

"Yes, you did. I believe that when a man calls out a woman's name in his delirium, he must love her."

He tried to think whose name he could have uttered. "Will you tell me the name?"

"Samantha."

His smile was hidden by the darkness. "And just what did I say about Samantha?"

"I didn't understand it, you weren't lucid. You said something about a Gypsy . . . love and betrayal. I don't remember exactly."

Michael's arm slid around her shoulder, and he brought her against him. "Dare I hope you are jealous?"

She wanted to melt against his warmth and experience again the awakening of passion, but she dared not. "I have no right to be jealous, Michael."

He brought her closer to his bed, the only place in the room that was illuminated by the moon shining through the porthole. "And you want your freedom?"

What she really wanted was to stay in his embrace forever. "I . . . yes, I do."

His lips brushed her neck. "Why?"

"I . . . can't think when you do that."

He gripped her around the waist. "Oh?"

She twisted out of his arms. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He took her hand, kissing each finger. "Doing what, Mallory?"

"Michael, don't torment me. You know I'm not accustomed to—"

He bent down, his lips brushing hers and then settling into a long, drugging kiss. All the while, he was unfastening the back of her gown.

He kissed her throat, her cheek, and nipped her ear while she collapsed weakly against him. "Now do you know what I want from you, Mallory?"

It suddenly became clear to her, and with that realization came pain. "You want a son," she whispered.

She couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes.

"I want many sons, Mallory, will you give them to me?"

"That's why you married me so quickly," she said as her mind began to clear. Why hadn't she seen it then, it was there before her eyes. "You didn't marry me to save my reputation, you thought you might die, and you wanted to get me with child."

His voice was deep as he slipped her gown off her shoulders. "Does it matter why I married you? I wanted you then, I want you now."

"I'll give you your son, Michael. I suppose I owe you that much."

His lips brushed the hollow of her shoulder, and he laced his hands through her hair, untangling the curls. "And I, sweet Mallory, what shall I give you?"

"A family," she said as he lifted her into his arms and settled her on his bed. "I want to belong to this family."

He came down beside her, his hand trembling as it slid over her hips, pushing her underclothing aside. "Then come to me." He settled into her softness, and his body shook with emotions he couldn't understand. "Come to me, and I'll fill you with sons, Mallory."

"Michael, I—"

"Shh," he whispered, "don't deny me. "I will have you every night, and when we dock in England, you will be carrying my seed."

He wasn't saying the words she longed to hear, but his hands burned into her flesh, and his mouth was draining her of denial.

With a forward thrust, he robbed Mallory of her reasoning. With his hands, he guided her hips so that she met his sensual movements.

Oh, how she wanted to have his son, to carry within her that part of him that no other woman could give him, a legitimate heir.

"Fiery little redhead," he whispered, "you do take my breath away."

She felt a building pressure and gasped when her body trembled and quaked. Wave after wave of wild sensations exploded within the deepest core of her body, and she clutched at Michael, trying to hold on to him. In her mind, she touched the sky, the stars, the moon, before she settled back into the bed.

He rubbed his mouth against hers. "I chose well for the mother of my sons. You have fire in your blood, Mallory. With you I could spend my life in bed."

Her mind was slowly clearing, and she realized she was just an instrument to him—a receptacle to carry his seed and give him sons.

"There is one more thing I want from you," he said, pulling her head into the light and staring into her softened eyes. "And this one is the most important."

"I can't imagine what that could be, Michael."

"When you know, you will tell me."

He was a mysterious man with great depth, and she doubted she'd ever understand him. Her hand moved over his back, and she felt the scars there. With tears in her eyes, she kissed the scar that ran across his shoulder.

He pulled her to him and stared into shimmering eyes. "Do you weep for me?"

She turned her head away. "I cry for innocence lost, Michael."

"Yours or mine?"

"I wonder if you were ever innocent."

"Perhaps more so than you know. If only we'd met before Egypt, you would know how I've changed."

His hands were again moving across her body, sliding delightfully, arousing, pulling her beneath him. His kisses were drugging, and he knew just what to do to make her want him.

Mallory willingly gave herself to her husband. As long as he needed her, he would keep her with him. She wouldn't allow herself to think past the day she gave him a son and he no longer needed her.

* * *

Kassidy removed her gown and draped it over a chair while her husband reclined on the bed, watching each movement. "Raile, something is wrong with Michael and Mallory. They don't act like two people in love."

He watched her unpin her hair, and a curtain of gold fell to her shoulders. "Not everyone is as fortunate as we are, Kassidy. And don't forget, you didn't love me when we were first married."

She backed up to him so he could unhook her pearl necklace. "It's more than that, Raile. Mallory is so sweet, but she never smiles. And Michael—well, he's not the son I raised. Sometimes, when he thinks no one is watching, I see such ... remorse in his eyes. What could it be?"

Raile dropped her pearls on the bed, and pushed her hair aside, his lips brushing against the nape of her neck. "Must we talk about this now, Kassidy?"

She sat on the bed, her eyes troubled. "Yes. I want to know what happened to my son in Egypt. I don't mean about the beating he took from Sidi. I see cynicism and a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before."

Raile had been dreading this moment, for he had known his wife would begin to question the change that had come over their son. A man could better understand what Michael had been through—war, fighting, killing. Did a man ever forget the faceless, nameless men he'd killed in battle?

He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "Michael has faced death, Kassidy. He's killed men—he'll never be the same. As his mother, you should never ask him about what happened in Egypt. If he wants to tell you, that's another matter, but don't ask him. Our son is strong, Kassidy. Stronger than even I had imagined. He did the impossible and won, but not without it taking something out of him. He will need time to put all this behind him."

"And we'll give him that time, Raile. But one thing that worries me is that I don't know why he married Mallory. Poor child, we know she hasn't been cherished by her mother and father, and I'm not sure that Michael loves her. I am growing fonder of her every day. She seems so alone at times. I want to assure her that we want her in our family. But it's Michael's love that she really needs."

"She's stronger than you think, Kassidy. And why wouldn't Michael love her? She's sweet, lovely. She has all the qualities a man would look for in a wife."

Kassidy smiled and slid her arms around his neck. "And just what did you look for when you took me to wife?"

He smiled against her hair. "Lovely, for certain—sweet, I don't think so, my hot-tempered little hellion."

"Raile!"

"What other woman do you know who would sail to Egypt, trek across the desert, and prepare to take on any enemy?"

"Mallory, for one. Only she went farther than I—she actually rescued you and Michael." Kassidy rested her face against his chest, comforted by the beating of his heart. "On, Raile, what would I have done if anything had happened to you?"

He clasped her to him, and neither spoke—there was no need for words between them. Their lives were so tightly interwoven that one could scarcely breathe without the other taking a breath.

Raile touched his lips to hers and pulled her against his body. Kassidy would never know the weakness he'd experienced in that prison. He would have lost his mind if he hadn't known that he'd hold her in his arms again.

* * *

There was a full moon, and Mallory lay on the soft bed, watching reflecting patterns of the ocean sparkle on the ceiling like breaking waves. How glorious it was to bask in the luxury of her surroundings.

Since the night Michael had taken her to his room, she had remained there. The next day, the
Nightingale
would sail up the Thames to London, and the voyage would be over.

The cabin door opened and Michael entered. He was silent as he moved to the porthole and then back to the door. Restlessly, he paced back and forth.

"Michael, is something wrong?" she asked, sitting up and pulling on her robe.

"No," he said, pausing near the door. "Go back to sleep. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

She belted her robe and moved to stand beside him. "I wasn't asleep." She reached her hand out to him, placing it on his shoulder. "Can I help?"

He shrugged her hand off and moved back to the porthole, staring into the night. "I'm not fit company, Mallory. Perhaps you might want to consider sleeping in Arrian's cabin tonight."

"If that's what you want." She moved to the door, but he grabbed her hand and kept her from leaving.

"I don't know what I want, Mallory. I suppose I've been away from civilization so long, and tomorrow it's going to come crashing in on me."

"I don't understand, Michael."

"I'm not sure I do either. I knew who I was when I went away, and now I realize I can't go back to the life I had before I went to Egypt."

"I'm sorry, Michael."

He tugged at an errant red curl. "That's not true of you, is it, Mallory? You know who you are, don't you?"

"No, Michael, not anymore."

"You're my wife."

"I'm not sure of that."

"Are you still fretting because you didn't understand the marriage vows?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

He cradled her in the crook of his arm and rested his chin on the top of her head. "It's a husband's place to make his wife happy, and your doubts I can do something about, Mallory."

"But, I don't see—"

"Go to your cabin and wait. I'll come for you shortly."

"But—"

He led her across the hallway and opened the door for her. "Smile, nothing is ever as bad as it appears."

She watched him disappear with a frown on her face. What was he talking about?

It was dark inside the cabin, but she didn't bother to light a lantern. She sat down on the couch and waited for Michael to return.

* * *

Michael was banging on the cabin door. "Mother, Father, wake up. I need to talk to you."

Raile lit a lantern, while Kassidy pulled on her robe. "What time is it?" Kassidy asked in alarm.

"I don't know. After midnight." Raile opened the door and found his son smiling. "Michael, do you know what time it is?"

"I don't care, we're going to have a wedding."

"What?" Kassidy said. "A wedding? Michael, what are you talking about?"

"Father, I've already asked Captain Norris to perform the ceremony. He's authorized, since he's a captain and we're at sea. Mother, will you help Mallory dress? I don't know what you have to make her look like a bride, but knowing you, anything's possible."

"Michael, what is this about?" his father demanded. "Weren't you and Mallory already married?"

"When Mallory and I were married in Kamar Ginena, the man who performed the ceremony spoke no English. You know how women are. Mallory doesn't feel married."

Kassidy smiled and clasped her hands. "Oh, Michael, what a romantic thing to do. I did so regret that I didn't get to see either you or Arrian married. Imagine, a wedding at sea!"