The Pirate Takes A Bride (30 page)

She leaned back and cupped her breasts, feeling their weight. His eyes on her made her nipples ache, and she flicked her fingers over them, making them swell. “Is this wanton?”

“It’s closer,” he said, his eyes so dark they looked the color of the deep ocean water rather than the sky on a clear day.

“What about this?” She placed her hands on the knot holding the wrapped skirt she wore together and slowly loosened it, allowing the material to drop over her hips. She revealed her belly, her pelvis, and then her sex. She shimmied out of the skirt, trying to ignore the pang of fear she felt at having his attention on her burnt leg. He reached for her, but she held up a hand. “I don’t want to disappoint you with my lack of wantonness.”

“You would never disappoint me,” he said, his gaze on her hands as they trailed over her hips and down to the juncture of her thighs. “You…” He cut off when her fingers delved into the folds of that vee and she threw her head back, enjoying the sensation of tiny ripples of pleasure from her fingers and the knowledge he watched her. She was wet for him, and she slid her finger easily inside her sheath. Nick groaned, and then she was swept up and being carried in his arms.

“Was that wanton enough?”

“So wanton you will be fortunate if I don’t ravish you.” He tossed her on the bed and came down on top of her. His weight was pleasant and familiar as was his mouth when it covered hers. His tongue dipped inside her mouth, and she met his thrusts with her own. His hands were on her breasts, kneading and fondling, and when he touched her, it felt unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She thrust into his palms, pushing her pelvis against that hardness she felt between her legs.

“Nick,” she whispered, when his mouth left hers to take first one nipple and then the other in his mouth. “I want you. Please.”

“I want you ready,” he murmured against her belly. “I want you enjoy this as much as I will.”

“I’m ready.” She took his hand and guided it between her legs. He looked up at her and smiled. “You are ready, aren’t you? But I want you on the edge of climax. I want you on the precipice, at the point where you can barely stand waiting another moment.” His mouth trailed lower, and she thought he would kiss her
there
. She would not have objected to that, but his lips went lower, and he kissed the top of her leg. Her injured leg.

“Nick.” She squirmed. She did not want him kissing that ugly, scarred skin. But he would not be deterred. He held her still and lowered his mouth to kiss her scars gently. “Don’t.”

“I love your body,” he murmured against her flesh. “I love all of it. You are beautiful to me. Every inch of you.” His tongue traced her burn scars all the way to below her knee and then back up again. She shivered, amazed she was actually enjoying the sensation. His hands preceded his tongue, and he pushed her legs open as he made his way back up. And when she was spread wide for him, he knelt between her legs and touched his tongue to her. She jumped and then moaned. Back arched, she clutched at the bedclothes, the scent of orchids and wild jasmine on the breeze as he pleasured her. She thought she would forever associate the scent of jasmine and spices with the feel of Nick’s mouth on her.

She came suddenly and violently, rearing up and crying out. Nick continued his assault through her climax until she could not take anymore. “Please,” she begged him. “No more.”

He rose on his elbows and then sat on the edge of the bed. He tugged his boots of then stood and reached for the fall of his breeches. “I can’t stop now,” he said as he freed his erection. “The best is yet to come.”

She believed him because even though she glowed from her recent climax, she felt her body tightening in expectation of having him inside her, filling her, giving her even more. He climbed on the bed again, straddling her and kissing her gently. She took him in her hand, caressing him until he inhaled sharply and grasped her wrist pulling her hand away and kissing her palm. He kissed her again, and she opened her mouth to him, opened her legs. She could feel his hardness and the weight of him at the juncture of her thighs, and she dug her hands into his back, urging him inside. He penetrated her a fraction of an inch then pulled out, his tongue mirroring his body.

“Nick,” she said on a gasp of pleasure. She wanted to feel him inside her, feel him filling her. But he teased her again, penetrating her enough to make her dizzy with pleasure he refused to give her. He withdrew again, repeating the action over and over until he filled her halfway. She wrapped her legs about his waist, tried to pull him inside her, but he merely laughed and murmured, “Not yet.”

But the next time he entered her, giving her just a taste of him, she sobbed at his withdrawal. “Nick…”

“What do you want, Ashley? Tell me.”

“You,” she said. “I want you, inside me.”

He entered he, again only a fraction of an inch.

“More,” she begged. “More” until he filled her completely. “Yes.” She moved with him as he thrust in and out filling her and pushing her to the brink of ecstasy. “Nick!” she cried, her gaze meeting his.

He was above her, his eyes on hers. Their gazes locked, and she could not look away. At that moment, her world was only Nick. Nick, who’d pretended to be a scoundrel to protect her from finding out the truth about him. Nick, who was a pirate who gave all of his prize money away. Nick, who had a little daughter he loved and protected. Nick, who had given up his ship, his revenge to protect her.

Nick, her husband. The man she loved. And now, at this moment, she loved him more than anything else in the world. “I love you,” she said as her climax crashed down on her. “I love you, Nicholas Martingale.” She felt him swell and he made a gruff, guttural sound. He’d found his own release, but in the midst of it, he had not told her he loved her.

His head rested on her shoulder, his pleasant weight on top of her. He supported himself on his arms, once again proving he was a gentleman. He did not want to crush her.

She waited as his breathing slowed and hers followed suit. He slid out of her and slowly rolled over. Still she waited. Surely he would say something—acknowledge what she had said, give her some words of affection, or—wonder of wonders—tell her he loved her back!

Finally, after what seemed hours, she looked over at him. The scoundrel was sleeping. She lifted a pillow and smacked him across the face.

“Ow!” he yelled, sitting up. “What the devil is wrong with you?”

“The question, Nicholas, is what is wrong with you?”

He gave her an incomprehensible look, and she wanted to scream. “Why don’t you love me?” she demanded. “No, that’s not right because I know you do love me. Why can’t you say it?”

“Ashley—”

She looked at his face, but his expression was guarded. He was forming some sort of response to placate her. She did not want to hear it. “Oh, stubble it,” she said, pushing to her feet and grasping the bedclothes. She wrapped them about her body and stomped to the door. “Do not speak to me again, Lord Nicholas, and forget what I said. I spoke in the throes of pleasure and was mistaken. I do not love you. I hate you!”

N
ick closed his eyes and threw a hand over them. He was an idiot. He should have told her what she wanted to hear. He could have simply said the words, made her happy.

I love you too
.

Four words, all words he could pronounce. All words he had used before, though not in that order. Had he ever confessed love to any man or woman? He’d loved his father, and he’d died. He’d loved Ralph, who’d been the best friend he’d ever had. Ralph had died, and it was all Nick’s fault. He loved his ship, and where was it now? Sailing without him, under the command of a new captain. Chante would treat her well, but it didn’t change the fact Nick had lost her. But more than any of those he’d loved his mother. As a child, she’d been everything to him, his entire world.

And he’d lost her. She’d been there one moment and brutally ripped away the next. He could not survive if he lost anyone he loved that much again. He would not survive. He already had one weakness—Rissa.

He loved his little girl, more than life itself. She’d almost died. If he’d found her lifeless body rotting on Isla de las Riquezas Nick did not think he could have gone on. Didn’t Ashley understand that he couldn’t love her? He was already too vulnerable. He had already taken a chance by loving Rissa. If he loved Ashley too and lost her….

He did not want to think of it. Of course she didn’t understand. She had so much love—for her mother, her father, her brothers. She had a family. She had cousins and friends she loved. She wasn’t like him. She smiled and laughed because she was carefree and happy. He smiled and laughed to cover the pain.

He couldn’t love Ashley. He couldn’t risk his heart like that. She was his wife, and couples married all the time for duty or financial security. Marriage had nothing to do with love. When they returned to London, she’d come to see that. Her family and friends would tell her to stop all the foolish talk of love.

And then she’d be his again.

O
f course, the path to London was long—three weeks on a sailing vessel, and Ashley said barely a dozen words to him. By the end of the voyage, Nick was convinced she did hate him. He’d slept in a hammock with the crew, giving Ashley and Rissa the cabin reserved for passengers. Nick might have thought Ashley had lost her voice except that he heard her speak to Rissa. She was kind to his daughter, and for that he was thankful. She wasn’t spiteful enough to take her anger at him out on the child.

But Rissa knew something was wrong. When she asked him, he pretended all was well and assumed Ashley did the same. But the child was not fooled, and he caught her studying both of them when the three of them were together.

Finally, they arrived at Dover, and Nick hired a private coach to take them over land until he they reached the Thames. There he hired a packet ship to transport them along the Thames and into London. He sent word ahead, ensuring his servants would clean his flat and prepare it for his new wife and child. He’d instructed them to keep his arrival a secret. The last thing he needed was half of London descending on him. Of course, he’d have to rent a town house now. He couldn’t expect Ashley and Rissa to live in bachelor quarters on St. James’s Street. Perhaps the three of them could move in with Jack for a few weeks.

Finally, they sailed into London, and Rissa’s jaw dropped as she studied the busy harbor, which resembled nothing so much as a forest of masts. The city still stank, the skies were hazy with smoke from burning coal, and the weather was damp and cold, but it was home. He found himself smiling, unaccountably glad to be home. Not for a few weeks. For good.

“You live here?” Rissa asked, her voice filled with awe.

“And now so do you,” he told her. “I’ll take you to my home, but we’ll have to find a bigger one soon, a proper town house.”

Ashley had been standing on the deck near them, her hands clenched on the ship’s rails as she took in London. Now she turned and leveled a look at him. “Do not look for a town house on my account. I’ll be returning to my parents’ home.”

“No, you won’t,” Nick said, but she’d turned back to the rail. He looked down at Rissa, who did not seem surprised.

“She said she would come and visit me and take me for walks in the park.”

Ashley looked back at them. “And I will. All of the time. I’ll even help Lord Nicholas find you a wonderful nanny, but I won’t be living with you.”

“We’ll see,” Nick said.

Ashley merely raised a brow and gave him her back. He understood the implied message. She did not have to live under his roof if she did not so desire. Now they were back in London, he could not force her. But he’d be damned if he would give her up that easily.

True to her word, Ashley left Rissa and Nick at the busy wharf. He put her in a hackney and watched her being driven away. His brother Jack would have smacked him on the head and told him to fight for her, but how was Nick supposed to fight when he didn’t have the ammunition she wanted? Not to mention, he had a small child to see to first.