Lord of Devil Isle (12 page)

He slid his hand between her legs to tease her little point of pleasure again. Heat pooled in her groin. If he turned her around and put his mouth on her again as he had in her chamber, she’d be lost this time.

“Stop,” she pleaded.

He removed his hand and stood behind her. “The hourglass isn’t spent yet.”

She glanced over at it. The bottom half of the glass was two-thirds full. She’d lost all sense of time passing as he kissed away her hurts and lavished tender care on her skin with his hands and mouth. If she could only last a bit longer, she’d be able to leave with her self-respect intact. She’d have proved that she was still in full possession of herself.

“Are you afraid of me, Eve?” He picked up her plait and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. He inhaled deeply, then used his teeth to tug at the ribbon that bound her hair. The knot slid free.

“No,” she said. “I’m not afraid of you.”

I’m afraid of me.
If he’d tried to take her like the louts in Newgate, grabbing and thrusting, she’d have fought him, tooth and claw. None dared try it more than once, especially once she sharpened her spoon into a deadly weapon and nearly emasculated one of them.

But against Nick’s unexpected and unrelenting gentleness, she had no defense.

“You’re trembling.” He began to massage her scalp, then he separated her plait and spread her hair over her shoulders. “I’m treating you like the lady you are, Eve. You’ve no cause for complaint, have you?”

“No.” Then bald curiosity made her ask, “If I weren’t a lady, what would you do?”

He made a noise, a sort of low groan and lowered his lips to her ear. “If you were no lady, I’d do something like this.”

Nicholas wrapped an arm around her waist and bent her suddenly over. Her slim fingers splayed on the pine floor to catch herself. He covered her sex with his whole hand, sliding a finger into her, stopping at the thin
shield of her purity. Her hair brushed the floor. Only his hand covering her kept him from ramming his big cock into her.

“This is what a lady misses out on,” he said raggedly. “A good hard swive.”

“You swore…only to touch me.”

“Aye, and I’m only touching you,” he snarled. “And my cock will touch the places my fingers cannot reach.”

“Please, no.”

“Don’t deceive yourself. You want this. You can’t lie to a man who’s holding your wet little puss in his hand. I’ve a quarter hour left. Plenty of time to rut you blind, wench.”

His grip around her waist tightened and she felt him tremble. Her body still screamed out its need in aching pulses.

“Not like this,” she whimpered.

He emitted a low growl and released her.

Eve’s knees buckled and she dropped to all fours. Then she plopped her bottom on the floor and twisted around to face him.

Nicholas was still standing there, nostrils flared, dragging in deep, ragged breaths. When he looked at her, it was with the wild-eyed gaze of a stallion, rutting-mad and ready to mount anything that came near.

Fear raked her spine.

“Nicholas?”

“Get out of here,” he said, his lips barely moving. “For Christ’s sake, if you don’t intend to stay, get out now.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed up her chemise and wrapper and ran to his door. Heedless of her nakedness, she threw it open and bolted down the hall to her own chamber.

She didn’t stop until her door was shut and locked behind her. She moved a chair over and propped it
under the knob for good measure. Then she collapsed onto the cool heart-of-pine floor and covered her face with her hands.

There was no way to lie to herself. She had not a shred of dignity left. She’d teased Nicholas Scott. Had pushed him to within an inch of his endurance and only escaped through his good graces, not her moral rectitude or ability to remain cool and aloof.

She might try to fool the world, but she was no lady.

And now they both knew it.

The moment Eve slammed his door behind her, Nicholas strode to his water closet. He was powerless to stop what was about to happen. His mind went blank and his body took over.

He stood over the chamber pot, his cock angry and aching. He took it in his hand and stroked himself hard. Once. Twice.

His release surged in hot pulses into the small china receptacle. His whole body trembled with the force of his climax. Nick leaned a hand against the wall to hold himself upright as the last of his spunk splatted into the pot.

Playing with a goddamn cock-tease after weeks of abstinence. What did you expect?

He drew a shuddering breath. It wasn’t nearly enough, but at least the madness faded to an empty ache. He poured water from the pitcher into the ewer and dashed a handful on his face. Blood surged hotly through his veins, pounding in his temples. He upended the pitcher over his head and let the water sluice over his form.

It wasn’t cold enough.

He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Eve Upshall. He wanted her tender. He wanted her hard. He wanted her begging and helpless with need. His mind tumbled with a dozen inventive ways to join his body to hers. She’d been right here. He’d held her in his hand.

And he’d let her go.

He was done with women who didn’t want to stay.

Nick had never felt so lonely in all his life. Not even when Hannah died.

Back then he’d simply gone numb. To lose a woman to death in the same breath he’d learned he’d already lost her to another man—it was too much to deal with in one heartbeat. Nick tucked it away into a quiet eddy in the back of his mind.

Sometimes he’d drag out the old hurt and worry it, like a dog unburies an old bone. But it was no use. He’d never know why Hannah had betrayed him.

Love was a wicked fickle beastie. Just when a man thought he might have it safe in his net, the damn thing slipped through a tear or leaped out over the top. Perhaps the whole idea of love was nothing but a bunch of smoke and oakum.

Maybe keeping a mistress was the best a man could hope for. At least there was no confusion. He’d get what his body needed and the wench would get hers. All neat and tidy and businesslike.

But he hadn’t reckoned on the aching tenderness he felt when he pressed his lips to Eve’s ruined back. Or the red-eyed haze when he sensed her pulling away from him. Or the pure lust that made him double her over and come nearer to ravishing an unwilling woman than he’d ever been in his life. He had no name for what he felt. He simply knew he had these feelings for her.

All of her.

He didn’t know what he wanted from the woman, but whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t force it from her.

His cock resurrected itself merrily at the slightest thought of Eve. His chin sank to his chest as he turned back to the chamber pot.

Looks like I’ll be there awhile.

The sun refused to show its face the next morning. The whole island was shrouded in low-hanging clouds, which spit rain and threatened to birth a squall on the eastern horizon.

Nick noticed that Eve likewise didn’t emerge from her chamber for breakfast.

But the Misses Munroe and Smythe were at his table, fresh as daisies and as damnably cheerful.

“I declare, I do believe I danced with every available bachelor on this entire island,” Miss Munroe said. “Leastwise, my feet still seem to think so. I daresay, my slippers were too small to begin with, but I simply couldn’t resist the cunning little things. Thank you again, Captain.”

He grunted noncommittally into his parritch.

“Did you fancy any one of the men in particular?” Miss Smythe asked. She stirred her bowl several times without lifting the spoon to her lips once.

“How can I choose one star in the sky? One pebble on the shore?” Miss Munroe gestured as she spoke, then leaned forward. “But there are quite a number I wouldn’t mind dancing with again, I’ll tell you that.”

Higgs pushed back from the table. Peregrine hadn’t managed to wangle a dance with Miss Munroe even once, Nick knew.

“W-we are scheduled to sail for the Turks,” Higgs said. “Are we going ahead, s-sir?”

“Let us see what the day brings. I don’t much like the look of the horizon, but see to the
Susan Bell
’s provisions, in any case,” Nick said. He was loath to leave without setting matters to rights with Eve. And how to accomplish that he had no clue, as yet. Still, he was due to make a run. “That salt won’t take itself to the Colonies, will it?”

“Th-then if you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll see to my duties.”

“Carry on, Mr. Higgs.”

Nick turned a weather-eye toward the eastern window. Clouds boiled on the horizon. The glass was falling precipitously last time he checked his barometer.

The women chattered on about the events of the ball for several more minutes while Nick scraped out his bowl. Finally he laid aside his spoon and said, “Has either of you spoken with Miss Upshall this morning?”

“I did,” Miss Smythe said. “Eve asked for a tray to be brought to her chamber. She’s still feeling poorly. It must be the change in the weather.”

“And yet you said she’s not the sickly type.” Nick gulped down a mouthful of tea, even though it was hot enough to scald his tongue. Sipping was for fops. “I gather you’ve known each other long. Do you all hail from the same region?”

“Yes,” Miss Munroe said.

“No,” Miss Smythe said.

At the same time.

“Which is it?”

The pair exchanged a guilty glance.

“Oh, I thought you said
religion
,” Miss Munroe amended quickly. “Of course, we’re all Christians. We’re English ladies, aren’t we? But we’re not from the same region, no. I’m from Surry and Penelope was reared in Suffolk.”

“And Miss Upshall?”

“London,” Miss Smythe said. “I think.”

“But you aren’t sure. Where did the three of you meet?”

“At…Mrs. Torrington’s School for Young Ladies…
of Good Family,” Miss Munroe said, casting her gaze up and to the right.

“Sally, you know that’s not true.”

“Penny!”

“I ask your pardon, dear, but I can’t lie to the captain any longer,” Miss Smythe said. “Not after he’s been so kind.” She turned to face him, then lowered her eyes. “Though I would not blame him if he decides to change his disposition toward us.”

“There’s not much danger of that,” the captain said.

“Hear me out before you commit yourself,” Miss Smythe said. “You see, we’re not ladies in the strictest sense of the word.”

“Don’t tell me I’m harboring three well-spoken strumpets?” he said with a laugh.

Miss Smythe’s eyes went round and he almost regretted teasing her. She was his best hope of learning the truth about Eve.

“Of course not,” Miss Munroe chimed in. “We weren’t convicted of anything like that.”

“But you were convicted of something?” He’d always suspected there was something odd in Eve’s story about why the three of them were headed for the Carolinas. People generally stayed put unless something drove them from a safe haven. “All of you?”

“Truth to tell, yes.” Miss Smythe nodded sorrowfully. “And rightfully so, but please don’t think we are women of loose character. I only stole a loaf of bread because my little brother was hungry and my parents sick.”

“Ain’t you a saint?” Miss Munroe rolled her eyes at Miss Smythe, then looked at Nick squarely. “And I stole a bit of ribbon because
I
wanted it, but hadn’t the coin to pay for it. The frippery weren’t worth more than a few pence hardly, but it was enough to land me on a ship bound for Australia, all the same.”

“And what of Eve?” he asked, forgetting he should call her Miss Upshall.

“You’d have to ask her,” Miss Smythe said. “I promised not to tell. But of the three of us, she’s the only one who truly was wellborn. That much is certain.”

“You’ve told everything else, haven’t you? And now you’ve ruined everything. May as well kiss any more new gowns good-bye.” Miss Munroe’s face had turned the shade of poached salmon. “For your information, Captain Scott, Eve was convicted of public lewdness. So there.”

Lewdness!
But the wench was a virgin. He’d proved it with his own hand. Feeling that thin membrane against his fingertip last night was the only thing that had made him stop long enough for her to choose to leave him.

Miss Munroe stuck her tongue out at her friend, then stood and flounced from the room. Nick rose when she did and settled back into his chair once she was gone.

Miss Smythe burst into tears.

“Lord, deliver me from weeping women.” Nick fished out his hanky and handed it to her. “I’ll forget the whole tale if you’ll only do me two wee favors.”

“What?” she blubbered into his handkerchief.

“Number one—Stop crying.”

Miss Smythe blinked several times, blew her nose loudly and sniffed. “And number two?”

“Tell me how the three of you wound up on the
Molly Harper
with that scoundrel Rathbun.” When she offered his kerchief back, he waved it away. “Keep it.”

“Lieutenant Rathbun’s no scoundrel,” Miss Smythe insisted. “He saved us.”

“How?”

“Before the ship bound for New South Wales pulled away from the dock, Lieutenant Rathbun made a deal
with the captain of the vessel. He’s a progressive thinker, you see. He doesn’t believe in punishment. He favors reformation.”

“Hmph!” It sounded like snake oil to Nicholas, but he motioned for her to continue.

“At any rate, the captain agreed that any women who met Lieutenant Rathbun’s requirements should be transferred to his safekeeping.”

Nick figured that along with those high-sounding sentiments some coin had also changed hands. “And what were those requirements?”

She blushed as bright as the fuchsia azaleas by his front door.

“Lieutenant Rathbun required a certain level of comeliness and…purity. He brought a midwife with him to…make certain.”

“On the theory that only comely virgins may benefit from reformation?” Nicholas asked with a grim smile.

“He said it was virtue’s reward.” Her puzzled frown told him she hadn’t considered the matter from that angle before. “In any case, the three of us were the only ones he redeemed from the prison ship.”

“Redeemed?” Nick repeated. “You make him sound like some sort of savior.”

“If you’d seen that hold we were pulled from, you’d agree with me.” She folded her hands on her lap to still them. “But after that, Lieutenant Rathbun continued to show his worth. He said we were to be brides of fine gentlemen in the Colonies. We were taken for fittings for two gowns a piece and boarded in a snug little private cabin on the
Molly Harper.
”

“And you didn’t question his motives?”

“The man saved us from a horrible fate. And I don’t think Eve would have survived the journey on that other ship what with her—”

Miss Smythe clamped her lips together. She’d already said more than Nick had heard from her in all the weeks she’d lived under his roof. Apparently, she could still keep some secrets.

“Her wounds?” Nick prompted. When Miss Smythe stared at him in wonderment, he nodded. “Aye, I know about the flogging. Never mind how. Tell you about it, did she?”

“No, Eve is a very private person,” Miss Smythe said. “But you must remember, we three shared a very snug cabin. And those sorts of wounds take a long time to heal.”

To say nothing of the wound to her spirit, Nick thought darkly. He’d still relish the chance to kill the piece of dung who’d marked Eve’s back with his whip.

“At any rate, Lieutenant Rathbun schooled us in all the refinements a lady should display. He’s helped us ever so much, almost as much as yourself, Captain.” Miss Smythe worried her bottom lip. “I know you must think poorly of us for lying to you all this time, but we didn’t know what else to do. The world is a difficult place for a woman without a man’s protection.” She sighed. “I suppose you’ll want us to go on to the Carolinas with Lieutenant Rathbun now.”

“Not as long as there’s breath in my body.” Wherever Rathbun was intent on taking them, Nick would bet the
Susan Bell
it wasn’t to a trio of deserving bridegrooms. He took one of Penelope Smythe’s hands and kissed her knuckles as reverently as if she were a duchess. “In the gorgeous East, when a man saves another’s life, he is responsible for that life from then on. You and your friends are under my protection for as long as you require it. And your secret is now mine, your lie on my head. Let it trouble yours no more.”

Her little face crumpled and tears welled along her lower lids.

“But no tears. I forbid it,” he said with mock sternness.

Miss Smythe gave him a shy smile.

“Captain! Captain Scott!” Miss Munroe came running back into the dining room, her cunning little slippers slapping against the wide-planked floor. Her lovely face was drawn with concern.

Nicholas rose to his feet. “What is it?”

“It’s Eve.”

“Is she truly ill?” Nick pushed past her toward the wing where the bedchambers were clustered.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Miss Munroe said as she dogged him down the hall. “She’s gone.”