Garden of the Moongate (14 page)

Two hours later, after dinner had been eaten and the dishes had been washed, the storm still hadn't abated and gave no indication that it would anytime soon.

"That tropical depression west of us must have suddenly veered this way," Ric explained after taking a cautious sip of steaming coffee. As he lounged back against the tweed-covered cushions of the forward single berth that doubled as a daytime sofa he watched her face over the rim of his mug. "It's nearly six o'clock, Allie. Even if the storm were to end right now, I don't think we'd make it back to St. George's Harbor before dark. And, when I can, I avoid sailing after night falls. So I've decided we should stay put tonight and head back tomorrow morning."

Allendre's fingers curled around the damp cloth with which she was wiping the table, and as her eyes darted up to meet his she froze. "You… I…" She squelched her instinctive protest. She had to trust him to know what he was doing. If it wasn't safe to return to the harbor tonight, then she had no desire to try. And since the wind was still whistling between the pinnacles of the reef wall that towered above them, she wasn't foolhardy enough to think they should risk taking to open sea again. Still, it was more than a little disturbing to imagine spending the entire night with him in this small space, and she swallowed with difficulty as the sudden unbidden image of that double bed in the private cabin popped into her head. Yet, knowing she really had no choice, she finally nodded. "Okay," she agreed, embarrassed by the squeakiness of her voice. "If you think that's best."

"I think it's the only really sensible choice we can make," he said flatly, something almost like impatience hardening his features as she sat down on the berth beside him, but as close to the opposite edge as she could get without falling off.

Though they made polite conversation for the next three hours, there was a nearly tangible tension between them that Allendre blamed herself for. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't relax, and he obviously sensed her nervousness and didn't appreciate it. Finally, around eight-thirty, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging free between them. "It's been a long day. I suggest we have showers and get some sleep. Then we can get an early start in the morning."

Allendre gestured uncertainly. Despite her tension, she didn't really want the evening to end so anticlimactically. But since she couldn't explain her ambiguous emotions even to herself, she rose to her feet. The bikini strap around her neck chafed her skin, as it had been doing increasingly all evening. Maybe a shower would make her feel more comfortable, at least physically.

"I guess I
am
tired," she agreed, then was dismayed when he only inclined his head slightly in answer. Not eager to see those blue eyes gray again, she averted her gaze, picked up her raspberry cover-up, and headed to the bathroom without risking another word.

As she stood before the oval mirror above the lavatory a moment later and removed Ric's robe and her bikini bra, she gasped with surprise when she saw why her strap had been chafing her skin. She had acquired a sunburn that neither she nor Ric had noticed in the dim cabin light. She had never suspected that that could be the cause of the irritation. Even now, she couldn't imagine how she had managed to get sunburned, since she had smoothed sunscreen all over after their swim. When she opened the medicine cabinet, however, she understood. What she had assumed was sunscreen was in reality only tanning lotion, and she had been too overwrought by the effects of Ric's lovemaking to even notice the bottle's label.

"Well, terrific," she told her reflection. "Now, he's annoyed at you, and you look like a boiled lobster, besides." Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, she conceded as she stepped out of her swimsuit and into the shower. She wasn't all that red, more a rosy pink, and at least the color was uniform all over her body— evidently she had turned over while she had been asleep. The cool shower soothed her skin as long as she stood under the fine mist, but when she stepped out to dry herself with a towel, she began to feel a bit raw. Knowing she couldn't bear to tie that bra strap around her neck again, she decided not to wear it, though she realized she would feel very vulnerable and half naked with only the terry cover-up on.

After combing her hair, she left the bathroom, fidgeting nervously as Ric examined the slender length of legs exposed by the side slits of her long skirt. She pressed herself close to a teak locker across from the bathroom when he joined her in the tiny space. Her eyes widened as his suddenly narrowed and a frown knitted his brow. "What the devil have you done to yourself?" he muttered roughly, tracing one fingertip over the paler lines of skin where her straps had been. "I thought you had sense enough to put on sunscreen before going to sleep on deck."

"I… I thought I had put some on," she said thickly, hurt by his harsh tone. "But I just found out I'd used tanning lotion instead."

"Your skin even feels hot," he said softly, pressing the backs of his fingers against her collarbone, then encircling her neck gently with his hand, tilting her chin up with his thumb. "It hurts, doesn't it? But I can help that. We have some aloe cream in the aft cabin. While I take my shower you go on in there and get undressed and under the sheet. When I come out, I'll rub some on your back."

"You must be kidding!" she gasped, knowing only too well where such insanity would lead. "I… I couldn't do that."

His jaw tightened. "Allie, stop acting so juvenile. You don't want to spend a sleepless night, do you? My intentions are honorable, I assure you. Now go in there and get undressed and into that bed, or I swear I'll rip that
thing
you're wearing off you myself. And if you force me to do that, don't hold me responsible for the possible consequences."

He meant every word. Sensing that, she flounced away, opening the door to the aft cabin, then closing it behind her with a resounding bang. Her hands trembled violently as she removed the shiftlike cover-up; then, clad only in the bikini briefs, she scurried into the bed, pulling the cool sheet and the velvet coverlet up tight around her neck. Every muscle in her tensed when he came into the cabin five minutes later, and she was certain she'd never take a deep breath again when she saw that he wore only the robe she had just discarded. It fit him too well, ending just above his knees and exposing an expanse of his muscular, hair-covered chest. Allendre was sure that she had not imagined a man could look so disturbingly virile.

Yet he hardly glanced at her as he went to take a jar of cream from a drawer built into the base of the bed. Even when he sat down beside her, his gaze was impersonal, as was his touch when he tugged the sheet and coverlet from her tightly closed hands and lowered them to drape demurely across her breasts. "Turn over," he commanded. After she obeyed, he pulled the covers down to her waist. Cooling cream administered by impersonal hands was absorbed into the skin of her back, then across her feverish shoulders, bringing immediate relief. "Turn back over."

She obeyed with less hesitation this time, eager for the cream to ease the burning skin of her upper chest, but seeing his hand lower to touch her renewed her awareness of the potential dangers she was risking. Perhaps he felt that awareness, too, because his touch was no longer so impersonal as his fingers smoothed cream over the tender pink skin stretched taut over her collarbone. When her half-closed eyes met his, his jaw clenched.

"Kiss me," she whispered, surprising even herself. "Please, Ric."

"Oh, you little idiot," he groaned, his fingers caressing her throat as he deposited the jar on the table beside the bed. "I'm doing my utmost to control myself, and you have to say something like that."

As her hands fluttered up to cup his face his self-control snapped. His mouth descended to cover hers violently, exerting a twisting pressure that brought her upward into hard arms that crushed her to him. As his lips devoured hers with hungry urgency his teeth occasionally nipped the tender, bow-shaped flesh, until the kisses they exchanged deepened to become languorous preludes to her total surrender. He lowered her back down onto the soft mattress and dragged the covers down to her waist.

"God, you're beautiful," he said hoarsely, gazing with darkening eyes at the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. His lips lingered on the smooth curve of her throat; then, as his hand gently cupped the ivory fullness, he whispered, "Allendre," and bent his head.

The moist roughness of his tongue tasting her skin aroused desires in her so intense she knew she didn't want to resist him. Her fingers tangled tightly in the dark hair on his nape, and she urged his mouth back up to hers, arching against him as he stretched out beside her on the bed. She pushed aside the lapels of his robe, raining evocative kisses over his chest, inhaling the fresh lime scent of his skin.

"Let me love you," he coaxed, his warm breath tantalizing in her ear. "This time let me really love you."

Love. Yes, that was what she wanted, because somehow she had begun to fall in love with him. That realization was both pleasure and pain, but both emotions were overridden by her desire to satisfy his needs. When his hands on her hips pressed her against him and she recognized the full power of his passion, she yielded against him. A tremulous sigh signaled her total submission, and though she trembled when his fingers trailed down toward her abdomen, she was prepared to give him whatever he asked. He wanted her, and she wanted him, too, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

Yet values she had lived with for twenty-two years weren't so easily suppressed. Even as she surrendered emotionally, tears filled her eyes, and before she could try to blink them away, they spilled out onto her cheeks.

Ric lifted his head, his dark gaze piercing hers, but, incredibly he smiled. "I'm hurting you. Forgive me, Allie. I didn't mean to hold you so tightly when every touch must be agony on that tender skin. I'm sorry."

His words made her feel so horribly guilty, as if she were cheating him somehow. The tears flowed more freely and a soft sob escaped her as he licked one salty drop from her cheek.

"Don't cry," he whispered comfortingly. "We have plenty of time. But I won't let myself hurt you, Allie, even though I want you almost more than I can bear right now." Brushing a kiss across her forehead, he tucked the sheet around her shoulders, then stood. "I imagine you'll still be sleeping when we get into St. George's Harbor tomorrow. I'll come wake you then."

Though she nodded, she doubted he would have to wake her. As the cabin door closed behind him she turned her face into the pillow, virtually sure she would never sleep again.

Until early the next afternoon, Allendre lounged around her room in her coolest, loosest nightgown, giving her sunburned skin time to become less tender before she put on anything more confining. She was tired but attributed her listlessness more to emotional weariness than to anything physical. After Ric had left her in the cabin last night, she had feared she wouldn't sleep, and she hadn't until nearly dawn, when the rain outside had subsided to a slow, steady patter on the water. Finally, exhausted and lulled by the gentle lapping of water against the hull, she had drifted off for a couple of hours. But she had awakened immediately when Ric started the engine to guide the boat out of the bay.