Time for Love (13 page)

A trickle of water slid down his muscular bicep, and she followed its path with her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists in an effort to keep her hands off him. She should move away, but her body refused. She couldn’t think with him so near.

She stood immobile, waiting for him to touch her.

Her eyes drifted closed as he leaned toward her and snapped open again when he reached past her.

He grabbed a shirt off a peg behind her head and started to shrug into it as he watched her, a look on his face as if he wondered why she was still there. “That will be all.”

Her cheeks blazed as she let out her breath in a gasp. She mumbled an apology, then turned abruptly and practically ran from the room.

****

Nicholas laughed softly to himself as the door slammed shut behind Alex. He was quite pleased with her. She was doing her best to hide it, but she was obviously as attracted to him as he was to her. His scars didn’t seem to scare her as they did so many others. She had been devouring him with her eyes, not staring with the fascinated horror his scars provoked in others.

He’d known a moment’s hesitation in flaunting his scars to such a degree, but she’d passed his test with flying colors. For some reason it was important she know the full extent of his injuries. He kept his shirt on in even the most intimate of situations, yet that was not in his plans for Alex. He suspected he could truly be himself with her, and so far he had not been disappointed.

Alex had noticed the scars, he was sure, but hadn’t been put off by them. None of his mistresses had ever managed to hide their revulsion successfully. It had become a fact of his life. A fact he hated, but had no power to change.

He grinned to himself. He was looking forward to this seduction. She was different from any woman he had ever met and was driving him wild with the need to possess her completely. But he was a man who enjoyed the thrill of the hunt as much as the satisfaction of success. He wanted to prolong the game for a time, see where it would lead, before drawing it to its inevitable conclusion.

He had no doubts about that conclusion. She would be his. It might take some time, more time than he’d ever taken to acquire a mistress in the past. But he would not buy her affection as he had essentially purchased his mistresses.

Alex could not be bought. He was sure of it. However, once she accepted their mutual attraction, he felt confident she would give herself to him freely. She was not one to stand upon the proprieties.

The only uncertainties were how long he would be able to keep himself from her and what would happen when they arrived in London.

Perhaps he would set her up in London as his mistress. Once he had her in his bed, he would not want to let her out of it for some time. Too little time remained before they reached London, and he would never tire of her so quickly.

He sat back at his desk and picked up a paperweight. A gift from his mother. She, no doubt, would be displeased at the notion of him setting up a mistress so soon upon his arrival in London. She likely had his future mapped out for him by now. He’d be forced to face introduction upon introduction of marriageable young ladies when he returned.

He would indulge her to a degree, but he was not yet ready for marriage and would see she knew it. While he cared little for the views of strangers, he had no wish to cause his mother or sister any undue anxiety or scandal. He would, therefore, be discreet with his plans for Alex.

Alex’s distant family connection could pose a problem. If they proved to be a respectable family of the
ton
, they might object to his taking her as his mistress.

He brushed the notion aside. They would have no say in the matter. He would help Alex find her sister because it was important to her, but he would not allow anyone to come between them.

****

Alex rushed back on deck. The wind felt good on her flushed skin and lifting her face into the wind, she breathed deeply. Her racing pulse gradually quieted, and she mentally reviewed her meeting with Nicholas and her reaction to seeing him half-naked.

Immediately the image of him rose up in her mind to tease her with a dozen minor details she hadn’t even realized she noticed but now seemed burned into her mind’s eye.

The varying colors of his skin. The red, puckered skin of his scars. The deep golden bronze of his face, neck, and forearms that faded to the lighter copper glow of his chest and stomach. The glimpse of pure white where his trousers hung lower than normal and barely covered that area never exposed to the rays of the sun.

The way the light reflected off water droplets on his skin, causing him to sparkle and dazzle her eyes with his slightest movement.

When he’d moved toward her, his heady male scent had made her want to step closer and breathe in the intoxicating mix. The ever-present salty brine of the sea and an herbal scent from whatever soap he used for bathing. She had noticed before that he bathed much more frequently than was common among the men of his crew, and she envied that luxury. Her scent was quite strong, having had little chance for the privacy needed to get completely clean.

A fantasy of sharing a bath with Nicholas came to her mind. She pulled her thoughts abruptly back as she realized she was rubbing her thumb back and forth over her lips as she imagined the warmth of his mouth pressed to hers, their soap-slicked bodies rubbing against one another. The way these thoughts kept coming unbidden to her mind confused her. She should know better than to think such things were possible outside of the movies.

But that was what he was after, wasn’t it. A real life porno. The girl comes in, takes one look at the man, and suddenly they’re on top of each other. So why was he pretending not to know about her?

Was it a game to him, a challenge to while away the hours at sea and relieve the boredom? The thought got her pulse racing again, this time with anger rather than lust. She’d teach him a lesson.

She paced, the need to do something physical while she thought made it impossible to stand still. Her steps became increasingly difficult as the boat rocked up and down on waves that rose higher and higher as she fought for balance. Her stomach lurched, and she grabbed hold of the rail as a particularly forceful wave broke against the hull.

She gasped at the dark clouds rolling in on the starboard side. She hadn’t even noticed them until now. Her experience was limited, but even she could recognize a major storm approaching.

She hurried to the galley and heard the storm break overhead just as she entered the room. Cook looked green in the dim light. As he struggled around his normally cheerful domain, he clutched his stomach and gave intermittent moans as the ship rocked around them. She rushed to help as he hastily secured everything not already bolted down.

The pitch of the boat got stronger and stronger until she could barely stand. To steady herself, she wedged one foot against the bottom of the cabinet and another against the sturdy chopping table bolted to the floor in the center of the room. She sighed in relief as they stowed the last of the gear safely away.

Her relief was short-lived. The force of the next wave threw them both off their feet. She landed with an “oomph” and then struggled to her knees.

Above the howling of the wind and the lash of the rain on the deck above, she heard a terrified scream and a call that froze the blood in her veins.

“Man overboard!”

Chapter Eleven

April 21 (38 Days Remaining)

Alex and Cook stared at each other in horror before they both struggled back onto their feet. She chewed at her lower lip, thinking. She was supposed to stay below deck, out of the way during a storm. She wasn’t skilled enough to be of much use and would probably be more of a hazard than a help if she were to go above.

The dim light filtering into the galley was fast disappearing. Lanterns couldn’t be lit; fire was an even bigger hazard on a wooden ship than the storm. The thought of waiting it out in the dark, with no notion of what was going on above was too terrible to bear.

“I’m going to see what I can do.” She may not be able to help run the ship, but maybe she could help with any rescue efforts. She needed to keep busy.

She made her way topside, ignoring Cook’s repeated calls, “Come back, ya fool. Don’t be an idiot.”

She was almost too late. She reached the ladder just as they struggled to batten down the hatch after a sailor who had gone below to fetch more rope.

“Hurry!” the sailor yelled. “We need to seal this hatch.”

Walking under a waterfall would have been gentler on her body. The rain hit her head with enough force to knock her back down the ladder a few rungs. It took a huge effort just to pull herself up and help re-cover the hatch.

Visibility wasn’t much better above, but Alex caught the sound of men struggling with something toward the stern. She made her way back, clinging desperately to the lifelines rigged along the way.

At last, she found several of the crew, all pulling a rope the far end of which was lost to sight over the side. A large section of rail was missing, obviously washed away along with whoever had gone overboard.

She made out Mr. Grayson at the front of the rope, coordinating their efforts, shouting, “heave” and straining with all his might along with the others. She wouldn’t be a great help, but she got to the end of the line, grabbed a section of rope, and lent her own meager strength to their efforts. The man before her glanced her way briefly before returning his full attention ahead with only a weak grunt of acknowledgment of her presence.

She assumed the man they were trying to save must have grabbed hold of the rope before a wave swept him over. She couldn’t imagine it would have been possible to get a rope to him after the fact in these swelling seas. He was lucky he had been able to hold on.

Time passed slowly as they all held desperately to the rope. Long periods passed where they simply strove not to lose any ground, followed by brief but furious hauling to take up the slack as a wave brought their quarry closer.

When at last a cheer went up, starting at the front of the line closest to the rail, Alex barely had the strength left to see whom they had saved.

When she finally looked up, two men lay sprawled on the deck, chests heaving and coughing up great spouts of seawater. Her heart leapt into her throat when she recognized Nicholas. A rope pulled tight under his arms, and in between coughs and ragged breaths, he worked furiously to loosen its hold.

Mr. Grayson came to his aid, pulling his knife free of his boot and slicing the rope. Nicholas gasped, and Alex felt air rush into her lungs as she too began to breathe once more. She watched him expand his massive chest with great gulps of precious air.

The men cheered and patted Nicholas on the back before returning to the duties they’d ignored in their efforts to save their friends. Two helped the other half-drowned man below, while Mr. Grayson stayed next to Nicholas.

Alex sat, gathering her strength to return below. Nicholas glanced her way, and their gazes locked. He abruptly cut off his conversation, and Mr. Grayson half-dragged, half-carried him across the deck to drop him at her feet.

Nicholas glared at her. “You shouldn’t be up here,” he shouted.

“Help him below,” Mr. Grayson yelled before turning and stalking off, leaving her alone with Nicholas.

It took her a moment to get to her feet and find some sense of balance on the slippery and heaving deck, but she managed. She could feel the weight of Nicholas’s stare though she was too busy watching her footing to check. She sensed him shifting and realized he had positioned himself so she was more or less pinned against the bulkhead. There was no way around him.
Did he think she’d leave him there?

She wasn’t sure how she was going to get him to his cabin if he wasn’t able to stand and walk at least partially under his own steam. He offered no suggestions while she looked down at him, just continued to watch her in silence. She knelt next to him and grabbing his arm wrapped it over her shoulder. She stumbled slightly, and he steadied her with a grip that was much stronger than expected.

She braced herself. “On three. One. Two. Three.” A bit awkwardly but easier than anticipated, they got to their feet and stumbled their way to the hatch where another crewmember waited to let them go below deck.

Nicholas’s gaze remained locked on her, and embarrassed, she looked away, aware of the way his body pressed along the length of hers. “Can you make it down the ladder? I don’t think I can help.”

He nodded and climbed down on his own, moving slowly and coughing slightly as he went. At the bottom, he leaned against the wall as if too exhausted to move any further, and she self-consciously realized he was watching her.

He flung his arm back over her shoulder as someone sealed the hatch. They staggered down the pitch-black corridor, Alex aware of every brush of Nicholas’s well-muscled leg against hers. She kept her right hand pressed to the wall. His cabin would be the first opening on that side.

She got him through the open door with little difficulty, but just as they made their way into his cabin, the ship rolled violently and flung them across the room. Right onto his bed.

Alex struggled wildly to release herself from the fluffy mass of comforter, pillows, and the contrasting hardness of Nicholas’s body pressed tightly against hers. He suddenly seemed a dead weight trapping her beneath him where moments before he’d barely needed her help to walk.

Finally managing to sit at the edge of the bed, Alex took a moment to get her bearings before looking to see whether Nicholas needed her. She sucked in her breath and had to remind herself to let it out again. With her eyes adjusted to the darkness, enough light filtered through the wall of windows to allow her to see him quite clearly. And to notice she wasn’t the only one affected by those moments spent rubbing up against each other.

He lay on his back with his arm over his eyes. His wet shirt clung to his chest, one side pulled up around his ribcage, leaving a taught expanse of stomach visible and leaving the rather large bulge in his pants exposed to her view.