Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (14 page)

Grace could hardly stand waiting for her turn.

But first the longboat had to finish ferrying supplies. Steele had decided in order to keep the ship from getting any hotter, the evening meal would be ashore. Pockets, Paddy, and Aidan had been assigned the task of bringing supplies to the beach. A few sailors, their clothes sagging with seawater, waded in to help unload.

Impatience gnawed at Grace like a tick on a dog. Hurry up, her mind shouted. But the men, blissfully happy to be away from the heat, which had settled onto the ship like a sulking child, took their time unloading. Hands stopped when a sailor told a story, or when another laughed at the tale. A sack was propped on a hip instead of set down; the longboat bobbed empty in its perch, half-dragged onto the beach.

Grace had come to like Aidan and thought of him as a friend. But when he tossed his head and laughed, chortling over something Paddy said rather than hurrying back with the boat, she couldn’t think of a single redeeming trait about him.

“Aidan!”

“Coming, Captain.” Aidan’s reply came from shore. At least it sounded like Aidan. Grace couldn’t say for certain as her attention was riveted on Steele.

He’d climbed onto the gunwale. His strong legs were braced wide. One hand held firm to the lines and the other braced against his narrow waist. His white shirt gaped open offering a view of hard muscle dusted with ink-black hair, a view she’d been captivated by earlier when he’d come into the cabin shirtless.

Never would she have believed a shirtless man, or any man, could stir her so. In fact, no man before had ever stirred her before. Yet stirred she’d been. Her mouth had all but fallen open at the sight of the dark hair coiling over muscles so defined they appeared sculpted. She’d felt the impact low in her belly and it had both excited and scared her. Visions of touching him, or running her hands over those muscles had left her breathless and out of sorts.

She was feeling much the same way again.

Steele shifted his weight to one side, accentuating the length of his legs, not to mention his taut buttock. Grace had never before given a man’s shape a second thought. On the farm they’d worked in Ireland, she was too young to really appreciate the sight and on the plantation where she’d been forced to work out her servitude, she’d been too miserable to notice. Having an overseer with a whip nearby if she lost focus and slowed her work was a great motivator. Besides, along with the white indentured servants, there’d been black slaves as well and unsure about them, Grave had kept her head down and her hands busy.

Roche’s ship had been about survival and nothing more. Everything about him was loathsome and vile and when he’d come at her, digging underneath her skirt, she’d had her eyes pressed tightly closed. She hadn’t seen more of him than he’d seen of her.

But looking at Steele’s sharp cheekbones and full lips, taking in the long legs encased in black, the white shirt clinging to strong shoulders, Grace admitted his form was worthy of notice. In fact, she found herself wondering what other physical attributes the man possessed.

Turning away, Grace pressed a hand to her trembling lips. After months of Roche’s abuse, when she had hated with a vengeance she hadn’t known herself capable of, she’d been sure she’d never want another soul to touch her again. That she’d see all men in Roche’s light.

She’d vowed, even before Roche, to never marry, to never let another man have such control over her again. But in the hours she’d had alone in Roche’s cabin, keening over what he’d done, she’d believed he’d taken the decision from her hands, that by forcing himself upon her he’d ensured she’d never want another. Yet she did. It did not mean she had to act on it, but, through a watery smile, she realized the decision remained hers. Roche had taken her innocence, but he hadn’t broken her spirit.

“Grace?”

She startled, drawing in a sharp breath. “’Tis our turn now, is it?” she asked.

His eyes examined her face. She fought not to twitch under the scrutiny, feared he’d read her attraction. But he merely said yes and gestured for her to precede him. Whooshing out a quiet breath, Grace led the way down the stairs and across the deck to the rope ladder which had been tossed over the side to aid in the disembarking.

Peering over, she saw Aidan bobbing in the longboat, legs as steady as if he were on land. He shaded his eyes when he raised them to her.

“Ready to come ashore?”

“More than I can say,” Grace answered. But before she could do more than grab a fistful of her skirt, Steele had his hand on her arm. Grace looked over her shoulder and nearly came nose to nose with him.

“I don’t want you falling. I’ll guide you over and Aidan will help you into the boat.”

“I can—”

His scowl told her there was no point in arguing. And, to be sure, she wasn’t about to waste time doing so. All she wanted was relief from the cloying heat and a chance to once again plant her feet on solid land.

Yet she knew had it been anyone else helping her, she wouldn’t have noticed the strong hands at her waist. She wouldn’t have felt the frisson of awareness when those hands moved to her arms as she slipped over the edge. She mourned the loss of his touch when her feet found the rungs and she told him he could let go. Then Aidan, much closer to her own age, reached out and lifted her from the bottom rung and set her into the boat. With his hand holding hers, he guided her to the small seat at the bow.

There was no flutter of attraction, no sizzle along her nerves. But when the ladder slapped against the hull and Grace looked up to see Steel leverage himself over the gunwale, the flutter returned full force.

Honed muscles shifted beneath the dark material of his pants. What was it about this man that made her notice things she’d never appreciated before? Like the enticing shape of a backside, the power of muscled thighs.

The longboat rocked as Steele came aboard and settled next to his first mate.

“Are you in need of me?” Aidan asked his captain.

“Not for the moment. Lucky and Jack can handle lookout until I get back. But keep a sharp eye. Between the three of you I expect to get a signal if you suspect trouble. We shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. We’ll be back long before Paddy has the meal cooked.”

“Back? From where?” Grace asked.

Aidan winked at her, slapped his hand on his captain’s shoulder. “Have fun.” And then he stood, saluted, and dove neatly into the clear water.

Steele slid to the middle of the bench, grabbed the oars. “You’re as entitled as the rest to frolic in the water but it doesn’t mean I want you doing so in front of the crew.”

The oars sliced through the sea. Grace was momentarily distracted by the flex of muscles in his forearms and the stretch of cotton across his shoulders. More flitters and jolts danced in her stomach. She pressed a hand to still them.

She should have known Steele’s hawkish gaze would catch the movement. The oars stilled, water dribbled off the wooden tips as he held them suspended over the sea.

She dropped her hand to her lap, where it sat fisted next to her other. “I’m only excited.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you were thinking.”

His eyes latched onto hers. “You’ve no idea what I was thinking.”

*

Steele left the
small bay and his men and rowed around to a smaller, narrower beach. The island wasn’t large, though it thankfully had enough trees filling its middle and scattering along its edges to allow Grace privacy. Not that he expected her to disrobe to her skin.

The idea caused him to bobble the oars.

No, she wouldn’t do it, he thought with a determined focus on his rowing, but even wading in skirts raised would cause a stir on the main beach. His men were human and while he was sure Isaac’s example was enough to still any action, it wouldn’t be enough to keep their eyes to themselves.

And he should know. The more he was around her; the more difficult he found the task. Determinedly looking away and forcing his thoughts off Grace, Steele dug the oars in the water and pulled as hard as he could.

Far too soon for his peace of mind sand scraped against the hull.

“Sit,” he ordered when she moved to stand. He waited to ensure she did, though her raised brows told him loud and clear she didn’t appreciate being ordered about like a dog. He tugged off one of his boots then the other, positioned the oars inside the boat and stepped into the water.

Cool sand pushed between his toes. Steele sighed, pressed his feet in deeper. Even that little bit of relief was enough to take the edge off his irritation. He grabbed the rope and hauled the boat onto the beach. Confident it wouldn’t move with the current, he extended his hand to her.

He thought she might refuse when she hesitated, wouldn’t meet his eye. But she reached over and the warmth of her fingers slipped into his palm. A jolt of awareness pulsed up his arm straight to his heart. There was something intimate about holding hands. It implied trust, want. Need.

She felt it as well. He doubted anyone else would notice the slight rounding of her eyes, the subtle tremor in her hand and the pulsing at the hollow of her throat. By the anxiety lurking in those enticing emerald eyes, she had as little idea of what to do about it as he did.

Pretty or not, lush or not, he thought with a tightening of his loins, he wouldn’t dally with Grace. Steele had nothing to offer and she’d be a fool to think he did. He held firm as she stepped over the benches and onto the sand. They both reclaimed their hands as soon as her feet were on land.

“You first,” he said, pointing to the water and struggling not to picture her in it, wearing nothing but the sea. “I’ll be over there.”

It wasn’t a large copse of trees, but enough to provide shade for him and privacy for her. Privacy to take off some clothes, wade slowly into the water, toss her head back and sigh as the water crept up her legs like the hands of a lover.

Desire slammed through him. Curling his hands into fists, he spun and, as much as the sand allowed, stomped to the nearby trees. If the sand burned his feet it was nothing compared to the flames of lust clawing through his blood and pulsing in his thickening erection. Dropping to the ground, Steele leaned against the trunk of a towering palm, his back to the beach.

Legs spread out wide he looked down at the bulge of his arousal.

“Don’t even think it,” he whispered as the first sounds of Grace splashing carried to the trees.

His penis flexed in mocking response. Steele closed his eyes, braced himself for an uncomfortable afternoon.

*

At the first
blissful feel of the tepid water lapping around her ankles, Grace knew she wouldn’t be content to simply wade in as high as her lifted skirts allowed. Contemplating, she bit her lip. Steele wasn’t so far away. However, he’d been a gentleman to date so far as propriety went. He’d given her his shirt to keep her modest, had been nothing but concerned with regards to the babe. And hadn’t he taken her to this secluded beach so she could enjoy herself without worrying about men staring at her?

She tossed a look over her shoulder. He hadn’t gone far, as she’d known he wouldn’t. He was sitting against a tree at the edge of a thicket of a trees, his back to her. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed from where she stood, but he was still enough he could be trying to sleep. Grinning and holding her skirts high, Grace splashed her way to the sand. With her eyes on the man’s back, she disrobed to her shift, leaving the rest of her garments in a disregarded pile.

Awareness, of herself and her surroundings, flooded her senses. She was standing outside in nothing but the thinnest cotton, with a man she’d only known a scattering of days. That he wasn’t looking was of little consequence, it didn’t change what she felt.

The sun was suddenly hotter on her skin, especially where the neckline scooped low over her breasts. Looking down she wondered at her bosom. How had she missed her breasts enlarging with the babe? She fanned her fingers over the exposed flesh, drew in a sharp breath when her nipples hardened in response and an answering pulse leapt between her legs. Cheeks and ears burning, she looked guiltily toward the trees, but Steele hadn’t moved.