The Captain's Caress (10 page)

“You’ve washed the same spot at least three times now,” Summer told him with some umbrage. The sound of her voice broke the spell, and he gave her back the sponge. He felt as weak as a baby when he sat down again.

Brent closed his eyes. Slowly his sense of detachment began to fade and he felt a part of the world again. He got up, deliberately walked to the cupboard, and took out a towel. “I’ll dry you,” he said, and waited silently for Summer to step out of the tub.

She had no wish to leave the safety of the bath. Its warmth eased and comforted her, but she was weary of crossing wills with Brent, tired of the humiliation of being forced to obey his commands. He had almost destroyed the last remnants of her pride. She clenched her teeth and, eyes tightly closed, extended her hand for help out of the bath. She stepped onto the soft rug and felt the enveloping folds of the towel surround her. Then to her considerable surprise, he began to pat her dry.

Her protests were in vain. Nothing seemed capable of stopping those hands, those horrible patting hands that went everywhere with bold and insistent strength. She burned with humiliation, felt cheap and tawdry; but those hands wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t heed her outcry of rage when they strayed.

Then, as suddenly as the patting had begun, it stopped. But Summer’s relief evaporated when Brent let the towel fall to the floor. Now no barrier protected her from the burning intensity of his eyes. She could track his ravenous gaze by the trails of fire it left on her body. She wanted to scream, to yell heathenish curses, to scratch out his devouring eyes, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even cover her shame.

“Come,” he said simply; he led her to the bed and placed her upon it with infinite gentleness. She watched with wondering eyes as he loosened the tie that held his robe closed. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t; her eyes remained wide and staring, drinking in the glories of the male body that stood before her. Any lingering shred of control she had was dealt a telling blow by his overpowering presence. His sensual grace seemed to permeate the whole atmosphere. She stared openly, greedily, committing every detail of his being to memory—powerful calves and thighs, muscular chest and shoulders.

Her eyes found his and locked, held by the intensity of azure pools filled with a wealth of desire. The heat and intensity of his need scorched her; she felt drained by it. She unconsciously moved over so he might lie beside her.

Brent gathered her into his arms, pressing her close to him, breathing in the warm fragrance of her freshly bathed body, enjoying the feel of her skin on his. His lips found hers in a gentle kiss. They almost pleaded with her to join him in the celebration of their union. Against her will, she responded, relaxing into his embrace and returning his kiss. Her response was warm and peaceful, but capable of becoming turbulent in the flash of an eye.

Brent continued to kiss her with gentle insistence—her face, mouth, and eyes. His legs intertwined with hers, and she could feel the heat of him on her abdomen, pulsating and insistent. Instincts buried deep within her body began to stir under the stimulus of his passion, to warm and respond to his nearness. His hands caressed her, and a low moan, primeval in origin, escaped her lips. It sent a shiver of excitement through Brent. His kisses intensified and his hands moved with ever-increasing urgency. Every part of her was alive as she twisted with rising anticipation, drawn to him, pressed against him, pleading for the union that would make them one.

Summer felt Brent’s knee move between her thighs, and fear and anticipation battled for supremacy. Her mind and body pulled her in opposite directions until she lost all control. Her agitated confusion excited Brent, and he could no longer contain his growing passion. He moved above her, entered her, easily at first, then more roughly. Her fear of pain receded as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her, ridding her of all doubt and confusion. Her whole consciousness was concentrated on the oncoming swells that threatened to bear her helplessly away. All desire to resist or to stoically endure his advances evaporated. She clung to him as though he were her only means of crossing the swollen river of passion that threatened to overflow its banks and to drown them both in its swirling eddies and crashing falls. As Brent increased the tempo of his lovemaking, an abrupt thrust drove her to new heights at which she could share equally in their pleasure. She clung more tightly to him, her nails digging into his back as her mouth sought his, eagerly meeting his lips and trying frantically to say what their bodies were already saying for them. With each thrust, Summer felt herself being lifted a little higher until she felt she had lost contact with all solid objects except the pulsating body driving her own into a fiery spiral.

Brent’s movements became uneven and labored, his body was almost rigid with intense pleasure. In one final agonizing effort he drove deep within Summer, then a deep shuddering sensation swept through him draining him of tension and leaving him weak and gasping for breath.

As Summer received the molten evidence of his heat, she felt that her insides were branded forever. She arched under him, thrusting herself against him, drawing every drop of pleasure from him, forcing him to drain himself dry in an effort to satisfy her. Then one final, explosive blast of pleasure surged through her, and with a moan torn from the very depths of her soul, she threw herself against him, to be locked in an embrace that would only be broken when the raging fires within them had cooled to glowing embers.

Chapter 8

“May I come in, milady?” It was one of Brent’s young officers. Summer scrambled out of bed and reached for her clothes.

“You’ll have to wait,” she called out. “I’m not dressed.” She pulled her shift over her head and looked for something to cover herself. Her glance falling upon Brent’s red dressing gown, she threw it on without hesitation. “What do you want?” she asked, opening the door a couple of inches.

“Good morning, milady,” the young man said politely. “Captain Douglas wants to know if you’re ready to join him for the midday meal?”

“I’d prefer to eat in my cabin.”

“I’ll have to ask the captain,” he said a trifle uncertainly.

Summer dressed quickly. She was very hungry and hoped her food would soon appear. But a few minutes later she was dismayed to hear heavy footsteps coming down the passage and a booming voice. The next moment the door was thrown open and the captain’s huge form burst into the small cabin, his vital presence filling it to overflowing.

“What is this I hear about having lunch in my cabin?” he asked, looking like a man who has been dragged away from important business due to an inconsequential interruption.

Summer was determined that she was not to be intimidated by his size and bullying attitude, but she almost changed her mind when she saw the mood he was in.

“I would like to eat in private,” she muttered.

“Why? What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” she replied, finding it hard to face his forbidding glare. “I just don’t feel quite up to talking with people.”

“Nonsense,” he said briskly. “It’s not good for you to be cooped up all day. Besides, this ship’s too small for you to start trying to hide.”

“I’m not trying to hide. I just want to be alone.”

“Well, you can’t. This is not a luxury yacht, and Jacques doesn’t have time to be making up trays. The crew has a full load of work; I can’t have you adding to it.”

“It’s a pity you didn’t think of that before you took me off the
Sea Otter,”
she snapped.

“I’m not sorry about that.” Brent grinned and cast a leering glance at her body.

“Well, I am. At least you could have let Bridgit stay with me.”

“I’ll see that you’re cared for, but you can’t expect to have your meals brought to you.” Summer looked so small and vulnerable that some of the harshness left Brent’s voice. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll forget you,” he reassured her softly. “Now let’s go before Jacques comes after us with a bowlful of French curses.” He held the door for her, but Summer turned back.

“Hurry up,” he called, not quite so softly.

“I’m looking for my shawl,” she said. “I can’t go to the table looking like this.”

“What’s wrong with the way you look?” he asked, gazing purposefully at the bodice of a low-cut gown that exposed half of her creamy bosom. “I think you look charming.”

“Thank you,” she said in a clipped tone, “but I’m not the strumpet you take me for. It’s not my habit to advertise wares I don’t intend to sell.” She picked up her shawl.

“Where did you learn to talk like that?”

“My father had some pretty unsavory friends,” Summer mumbled, blushing and turning away. “I suppose I shouldn’t have spoken so boldly, but I can’t forget all the things you said to me yesterday.”

“I won’t say them again.”

Summer regarded him with skeptical eyes. It would be nice to have someone take care of her, but she didn’t think this passionate man would be able to maintain a disinterested attitude for very long.

“In the meantime, we’d better hurry,” Brent continued. “One of my rules is that anyone who’s late to a meal doesn’t get anything to eat.”

“You can’t mean that,” Summer objected, moving quickly to the door. “I’m terribly hungry.”

“One of the privileges of a captain is being able to change the rules,” Brent said as he followed her from the cabin. Summer’s laugh rang down the passageway, and there was a sudden jauntiness to Brent’s step.

“But you can’t do it very often,” he added. “It would weaken morale.”

“Maybe it would help if I smiled at everyone,” she said with a saucy look.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Brent commanded, not amused. “Captives are only allowed to smile at the captain. It’s a law of the sea.”

“You haven’t given me much reason to smile at you.”

“I thought I had,” Brent responded, a hot gleam in his eyes. “It looks like I’ll have to try again.”

“That would be nice,” she said, trying to recapture a light note. “But make sure you tell me when you mean to start. I might not be able to tell otherwise.”

“Vixen.” Brent chuckled as he held open the door. “Say much more and I’ll reverse my opinion of you.”

“That would have to be an improvement on what you think of me now,” Summer responded as she passed him.

A wave of relief swept over the men who were muttering anxiously among themselves about the captain’s lateness when the pair walked in smiling and apparently in good spirits. After last night, they weren’t looking forward to dining with Summer, for that might mean the captain would be in a dangerous mood for the rest of the day.

“I beg your pardon for my lateness,” Summer apologized as they rose in unison, “but I’m not yet familiar with your schedule, and it takes me longer to dress without my maid.” She gave Brent a pointed look. “I promise not to be late again.”

Unprepared for such an apology, the men were uncertain of how to respond to it, but what struck them most was the manner in which she delivered it. Even though they couldn’t point to any specific difference in her behavior, they sensed a slight change in her relationship with Brent. They glanced questioningly at their captain, but he gave no indication that he noticed.

When the meal began, Summer became silent, and the normal pattern of conversation soon sprang up. But the men weren’t able to put Summer out of their minds as completely as they had on the first night.

“I should have thought of bringing a female on board long ago,” Brent said, taking note of the men’s unusually careful grooming. “These young scamps have been spending extra time in front of the mirror, though not with complete success. Kent has finally managed to shave all of his face, but young Jones has wrapped his neck in a tie too ambitious for his skills.” The two gentlemen named flushed self-consciously. “And our entire store of soap must be gone. I’ve never eaten with a sweeter-smelling bunch of men. Makes me think I’m in a harem.”

“I’m flattered to think that so much importance is attached to my presence,” Summer countered, taking pity on the embarrassment of her companions. “You are a handsome group of men, a sight to please the eye—and the nose,” she added with a demure smile.

Brent’s burst of laughter startled one poor lad into choking on his wine. “I’ll have to remember not to give you an opening like that again, or you’ll have them so bedeviled they won’t be fit to do their work.”

“I’m sure they have too much presence of mind to become rattled by a few compliments,” Summer declared.

“Compliments from lips such as yours are potent,” said Brent wryly. “A woman with a smooth tongue can always be dangerous.”

“Not to a man of character,” Summer insisted.

“You haven’t studied your history, or you wouldn’t say anything so stupid,” Brent stated bluntly.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Summer replied, hurt by his ill-mannered response.

Smith watched her silently, certain that Brent had underestimated the character and force of this girl. He couldn’t say why just yet, but he feared Brent had gotten himself entangled and that his involvement would have disastrous consequences. If Smith had his way, he’d put the young woman in a boat with some food and water, and leave her for the next ship to find. Her fate wouldn’t weigh on his conscience for long; he believed nothing should take precedence over the welfare of the ship or the success of their enterprise. And in Smith’s eyes, Brent was endangering both by keeping Summer on board.