Desire In His Eyes (5 page)

When Juliette came within arm’s length of him, he grabbed her around the waist. She flung her arms about his shoulders and he held her tightly. He could feel her heart racing. She let out a delighted squeal.

“That was the most thrilling, most exhilarating thing I have ever done in my entire life!” she cried with such joy that Harrison couldn’t help but smile at her. “The view is incredible from up there. I felt like I was flying, with the wind and sky above me and the sea all around! Just endless blue everywhere. No wonder you love sailing so much! It was heavenly! I could have stayed up there all afternoon.” She gave a little laugh. “But my arms got too tired.”

The smile gone from his face, Harrison looked her directly in the eyes. “If you ever do anything so reckless again while on my ship, I will beat you within an inch of your life. Do you know how easily you could have been killed?”

He still held her in his arms; her feet did not touch the ground. She felt as light as a feather.

Juliette laughed, her beautiful face alight with happiness. “But I wasn’t killed or hurt, was I, Captain Fleming?”

“But you could have been,” he muttered angrily.

“But I wasn’t,” she persisted with a smile. “Now put me down.”

“No.” He didn’t trust her.

“No?” she echoed in disbelief, her expression turning to one of suspicion.

“No.” With that he continued to hold her tightly as he made his way back to his cabin. Aware that his crew was watching, he determinedly ignored them.

“Put me down this instant!” Juliette ordered, outraged at his treatment of her. She struggled in his arms, but she was no match for his size and strength.

He held tight and did not let go of her until they reached his private quarters. He marched through his outer office directly into his bedchamber, where he proceeded to dump her unceremoniously on his bed.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” she sputtered angrily, scrambling to sit up. Kneeling on the edge of the bed she placed her hands on her hips, her appearance beautifully irate. She looked for all the world like an angry angel, if such a thing were possible.

He took her face in his hands, determined to get his point across. Juliette immediately put her hands on top of his in a defiant effort to break free from him. Unable to remove his secure hold on her, she glared angrily at him. If he were not so angry himself, he might have admired her courage.

Leaning in close, so she would not miss a single word, he uttered in a low, steady voice, “Listen to me very carefully, Juliette Hamilton, because this is the last time I am going to explain it to you. I am the captain of this ship and what I say goes. Everyone on board my ship abides by my orders, because this is
my
ship. Their safety is in my hands and so they obey me. You could have been killed up there today and I will not have you taking chances like that on my watch again. Be as reckless as you like when you get to New York and you are no longer my responsibility. But like it or not, my pretty miss, when you stowed away on the
Sea Minx
you made yourself part of my crew, which means you have to obey me too. And when I tell you to do something, you will do it or you will not like the consequences. Do you understand me?”

She stared up at him, her eyes the color of the sky fringed by thick, black lashes. God, but she was beautiful. Her delicate bone structure, her fair skin, the adorable tip of her nose, the fullness of her lips could cause any man to lose his head. She possessed the face of an angel, but not the personality to match. That was the most deceptive part about Juliette Hamilton. She looked like an angel but she certainly was not angelic.

Harrison was so captivated by her sweet face that he didn’t see the blow coming. In one swift movement, Juliette slapped him across the cheek with a stinging crack.

Juliette stared angrily at Harrison, her handprint clearly visible on his face. His stormy eyes narrowed and she swallowed. Resisting the temptation to wring her hands, she kept her arms at her sides. The slap probably hurt her more than it hurt him, but she’d never let him know that.

For a split second she feared he was going to hit her back.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Yet he still held her face in his hands.

Neither of them moved.

They stared at each other for an endless moment. Something tangible crackled in the air between them, and Juliette could barely breathe.

Suddenly one hand grabbed the back of her head, roughly pulling her toward him. Harrison’s mouth came down on hers and he kissed her. Again. But oh, this was not at all like the way he kissed her earlier…This was a hard kiss. A demanding kiss. A kiss full of frustration, passion, and even anger. She locked her arms around his neck and gave in to his assaulting kiss, matching his fervor with her own.

They kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

It was as if someone had ignited an incredible flame between them. Their fiery encounter earlier that afternoon seemed mild compared with the intensity of this one. They did not speak. Harrison did not utter a word. He just continued to kiss her until she thought she would faint from the pleasure of it, the sheer sensation of it.

Their breaths came in short gasps and she clung to him for support. She was dizzy and weak with feelings and desires she had never experienced.

His tongue possessed her mouth and intertwined with her own in a kiss so intimate, surely it had to be wrong. Sinful even. If it was, she didn’t care. She didn’t want to know if it was wrong or even entertain the mere possibility of it being wrong. She only wanted more of him. More of this man she barely knew.

And yet here she was, on his ship, in his bed, on her knees, kissing him. The utter excitement of the situation overwhelmed her being.

His hand move down her back, pressing her closer to him, and sending delightful shivers through her body. That same hand, firm and sure, then slid up the length of her, outlining the flare of her hip, along the curve of her waist until he cupped her breast. She gasped into his mouth and he kissed her harder, if such a thing were even possible.

Suddenly he used both hands to pull on the front of her men’s shirt, ripping the buttons loose, sending them flying across the room, and tearing the remaining fabric in half. He pulled the shirt from her arms, leaving her only in her thin chemise. Juliette did not protest. She could not. Not when she wanted him. Not when she wanted to tear the clothes from her own body herself. Not when she wanted to tear his clothes off as well.

Reaching out, she tugged on his shirt front, mimicking the motion he had made, but her hands trembled so much her fingers could do nothing more than cling to the fabric.

Finally, Harrison tore his mouth from hers. Again they stared at each other, their eyes locked in a magnetic gaze, unable to break free. His stormy gray eyes mesmerized her. The handsome planes of his face. The bronzed tone of his skin. The golden streaks in his hair. The windswept scent of him. The strength and wildness of him intrigued her. She had never met anyone quite like Harrison Fleming. He did not care what she wanted or what she thought. He ordered her about and carried her bodily where he wanted her. He did not treat her with deference and admiration as other men did. She was unable to resist the feel of him and the wild sensations he created within her. Juliette tugged on the front of his shirt pulling him closer to her.

“Harrison,” she whispered low. She kissed him, her lips covering his.

She had never kissed a man before. Men had always kissed her. It was odd, but she
wanted
to kiss Harrison Fleming. She wanted to taste him, to feel him. Her tongue slipped into his warm mouth moving with his tongue. She sucked in her breath, reveling in the feel of him.

Harrison growled low and wrapped his arms tight around her waist. He moved his lips along her jaw, down her throat. Juliette closed her eyes and arched her back, tilting her head back with her arms clutching his shoulders. Harrison’s heated kisses moved lower, kissing her neck, kissing her collarbone, kissing her chest along the edge of her cotton chemise. When his mouth sought her nipple through the fabric of her chemise, Juliette gasped.

Her eyes flew open and they shared a heated look before he lowered his head to her chest again. With her heart pounding erratically, she let Harrison kiss her breasts. The very sensation weakened her, melted her.

Gently he eased her back on the bed, until she lay flat. Grateful for the pillows beneath her head, Juliette looked to Harrison, wishing for him to continue. Laying there in her men’s trousers and her kiss-dampened chemise with her hardened nipples clearly visible she suddenly felt quite exposed and somewhat vulnerable. And undeniably excited.

Harrison loomed over the bed, staring down at her. A hard look suddenly crossed his face, and his golden brows drew together in a frown. “This is not going to happen between us.”

She blinked in mute surprise.

He repeated again, his voice hoarse, “This is not going to happen.”

Suddenly cold, she wished she could pull the blanket up to cover herself. But she would not do so in front of him. “Are you saying that to me or to yourself?” she finally murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

He gave her another hard look. “To both of us.”

Before she could respond, Harrison stalked from the room and left the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Stunned by his abrupt departure, but not sure if she was more relieved or disappointed by it, Juliette lay in Harrison’s bed mutely staring at the low-beamed ceiling. Her cheeks reddened in a burning mixture of mortification and shame. Covering her face with her hands, she groaned softly. The swaying of the ship seemed to increase, rocking her, as she clutched a pillow to her chest and curled up in ball on Harrison Fleming’s bed.

What had just happened between them?

She had allowed him to take ridiculous liberties with her.

Admittedly, she had enjoyed every second of those liberties, but still, she should not have allowed it in the first place nor should she have enjoyed it so much.

An odd thought occurred to her.

Had Harrison not enjoyed it? Had
he
not enjoyed being with
her?
He had seemed as though he were taking as much pleasure in their encounter as she was. The way he touched her, looked at her, kissed her all indicated that he was enjoying himself. Had she done something wrong? Why had he left her with such abruptness?
Again?
And why did she feel so terribly that he had left her feeling…so…unfulfilled?

She should be relieved. And thankful.

But she only felt an odd sense of hurt and the ache of unfulfilled desire.

Juliette knew what happened in a man’s bed. Well, not literally and certainly not from personal experience, but she had gathered enough information during her life to know what the technicalities entailed. Hadn’t she and Colette spent hours secretly reading that intimidating medical text in their father’s bookshop,
A Complete Study of the Human Anatomy and All Its Functions
? Didn’t they spend countless more hours trying to figure out what it actually meant? When finally Colette became experienced in that area, her older sister had eventually, after much coaxing and begging and pleading, enlightened Juliette with some of the nuances of the act. Colette had assured her that it was pleasurable and nothing to be fearful of as long as it were done with the proper person under the right circumstances.

All things considered, Juliette should be relieved that Harrison hadn’t pressed matters further with her. He had acted as a gentleman. Well, perhaps not
quite
a gentleman, if the truth were told. His actions were not what one would define as those of a proper gentleman. He
had
captured her as if he were a lusty pirate and she were a tavern wench for the taking, dragging her back to his cabin and dropping her on his bed, of all places. Then he had kissed her, without even asking permission. Quite passionately.
And
he had torn open her shirt and fondled and kissed her breasts as if he had every right to do so.

No, those were definitely not the acts of a gentleman.

But then again proper gentlemen had never really held her interest in the least.

She groaned anew as the image of Harrison’s mouth on her nipples flashed through her mind. An unexpected thrill coursed through her body at the thought. She had reveled in his every touch and had wanted even more from him.

She had wanted him to show her everything she did not know.

No, Harrison was not a gentleman, for a true gentleman would have never allowed such an opportunity for passion to arise between them in the first place. He had simply regained his self-restraint before their situation had gotten too far out of hand.

Why did she not feel the least bit relieved? Why did she feel like she wanted to hit something? Why could she not ignore the hurt that flooded her as well?

How dare he kiss her that way and storm out as if it were her fault! And he had done so twice now! Juliette sat up. She reached for her shirt, which she found on the floor at the foot of the bed. All of the buttons were missing and the bottom half was split down the center. How dare he tear her clothes! Especially when she had a limited wardrobe as it was. Who did he think he was? She shoved her arms into the sleeves and pulled the front tight across her chest. Standing on shaking legs she made her way from the bedroom through the open doorway to the office of the cabin. She would find Captain Fleming and give him a piece of her mind.

She angrily wrenched the brass door handle and was quite surprised when it did not move. She yanked it again, harder. The door was locked from the other side. Which could only mean that Harrison had locked her in his cabin when he left!

With a shrill scream, Juliette kicked at the door. She pounded on it with her fists. After a series of outraged shouts and angry yells, to which no one on the other side responded, she came to the bitter realization that even if anyone could hear her calls, apparently they were not going to let her out. She kicked at the door once more in utter frustration.

Good heavens, he had locked her in!

He had locked her in his cabin, punishing her as if she were a small child. Could he still be upset with her climbing the mizzenmast? She knew it had been a risky stunt, but still, his reaction seemed a bit extreme.

Her little tirade at the door left her somewhat deflated, but still irate. She leaned against it with a heavy sigh, pondering her next move. When she saw Harrison, she would have no qualms about slapping his handsome face yet again.

In the meantime, practicality won out. He had to release her at some point. He couldn’t very well let her starve in there.

A triumphant grin spread across her face. She obviously could not go back to scrubbing the deck. So much for his grand idea to treat her like a stowaway! If Harrison thought he was punishing her by holding her captive in his cabin, he certainly didn’t know her very well. Juliette could lie in bed and do nothing for the entire voyage to New York without a single qualm.

New York!

Once she arrived in America, she could do as she pleased. She would answer to no one. The restlessness that had plagued her for as long as she could remember would finally be assuaged. While her sisters loved the family bookshop and London, Juliette had been suffocated by it. She felt trapped her whole life. Entering society last year under her uncle’s supervision had only intensified her deep sensation of confinement. She had always chaffed under the strict rules and codes of behavior for women. Juliette craved independence, adventure, and excitement and knew intrinsically that prim and proper London could never provide those necessary elements in her life. The youth, vibrancy and freedom of a new city, a new country, a new life in the United States, filled her with a fervent hope and optimism she never thought possible.

Now her dream was almost within her grasp. She simply had to endure this ocean crossing with a very vexing gentleman. Then she would be free. If she had made it this far, she could manage the rest. In the meantime, she had to admit that she
was
having an adventure. Something she had always wanted to have. If sailing the Atlantic Ocean on a beautiful ship with a handsome American captain kissing her passionately didn’t qualify as an adventurous experience, she didn’t know what did.

Still clutching her shirt closed, she slowly made her way back to the bedchamber. She noticed a few of her buttons on the floor. Some had landed on the carpet near the bed, some on the polished wood planks. Gathering them up, she searched until she had found most of them. Holding them in the palm of her hand, she glanced around the two adjoining staterooms. She really had not given either space much notice before.

Harrison’s rooms were quite luxurious. Far more spacious than what she would have expected on a ship, the captain’s quarters were almost as well appointed as any room at Devon House. The walls of his office were paneled with dark wood, a thick navy-blue carpet covered most of the floor, and brass sconces and gilt-framed pictures of seascapes adorned the walls. One tall shelf was filled with books. Forest green leather upholstered chairs surrounded the large, round table in the center of the cabin. Tasteful and decidedly masculine mahogany furniture enhanced the decor. She found it surprising that Harrison indulged himself in such comfort and style, for he seemed quite a no-nonsense type of man.

The adjoining bedchamber held the enormous bed, upon which she slept last night. The walls held brass sconces also, as well as a wall of closets. Several small windows framed with curtains allowed light to stream in.

Under the pretense of looking for a sewing kit to refasten the buttons of her shirt, which
he
had so carelessly torn, Juliette poked around Harrison’s cabin without compunction. Even after she found the sewing kit.