Wild Hearts (33 page)

Though she lay like a frozen piece of ice, inside an ache began at her breasts, extended to her belly and then spread its fiery fingers to that spot between her thighs. She had never experienced sensations like this, had no inkling that such things existed before tonight. She lay passive and unresisting as he turned her toward him. His head dipped down, and a flaming tongue repeated the things his fingers had done to her breasts and nipples, and his soft beard brushed her flesh. Her senses reeled as his mouth wandered over her body wherever he desired; leaving rivulets of fire as it traced ever lower. She heard him laugh deep in his throat as her body began to quiver beneath his persistent mouth.

He lifted her on top of his body so that the soft, round breasts were crushed against his hard chest; her soft belly lay against his so hard and flat, and his hard shaft lay swollen between her legs. He did not try to gain entrance but placed his hands upon her buttocks and gently squeezed so that their secret parts lay against each other, quivering with desire.

Her mouth ached so much, she knew it would not stop until he kissed her. She felt shamed to the core to long for his mouth upon hers: What kind of wanton was she? she thought wildly as she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

He rolled with her until she lay facedown upon the bed, and he straddled her with his whipcord thighs. His lips began at her shoulders and moved a fiery trail down her spine, across the small of her back and on to her firm, swelling buttocks. She didn't know how long she could stand it without uttering the low moans that threatened to betray her, but when his tongue began to swirl over her flesh and he began to lick her she knew she would go mad. Again he turned her body so she lay faceup in the bed; and she anticipated his kisses that never came. Instead, he dipped his head between her legs and probed her deeply with his tongue. He had aroused her to the point of frenzy. She came up from the bed rapidly, clinging to him, and cried out, "Paris!"

He eased her back against the pillows and towered above her He opened her with his fingers and thrust hard inside her. She gasped with pain as he gained some depth but not enough. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it to distract her a little. This sucking set up a pulsing throb between her legs, then he quickly withdrew, moved a little higher to give him leverage and thrust again. This time he was in to the hilt, and she felt she would burst from the scalding fullness of him. Slowly, he began to make her his. Whenever he brought her to a peak, he stopped moving purposely to make it last ten times as long as it should, then slowly he began to thrust again until she was gasping and sobbing and begging. The tenth time she reached a peak, he did not stop but thrust hard and deep into her delicate softness until she cried his name over and over and he felt her contractions deep within her body. Then he felt his own seed start, and he knew he had never experienced anything so exquisite before.

He rolled away from her and lay contemplating the extraordinary events the day had brought. At last he had his heart's desire. It needed only one thing to make his life complete. He needed her to love him.

She turned away from him and curved her body into a protective ball. He had totally humiliated her No kisses or love words had accompanied his act of domination. He had proven to her that he could arouse her body until she begged him to use his body to give her release. Her submission and humiliation had been total and complete. The dawn turned the sky a fiery red before she closed her eyes in slumber.

Tabrizia awoke with a start as she felt her body being tossed about. She cried out and threw up a protective arm, but as she became fully awake, she saw that the place in the bed beside her was empty, and she was alone in the cabin. The black satin sheets were icy cold against her flesh. As she arose from the bed and stepped onto the floor, it heaved up beneath her feet and sent her rolling across the room. The cabin floor heaved and moved as if it were alive and her skin was frozen and covered with gooseflesh. She crawled on her hands and knees to her chest, but before she could get it open she had been indelicately sick upon the fine Oriental carpet. Miserably, she lifted the catches and sought out underclothes and a warm velvet gown. She struggled into them and crawled back to the bed to sit down while she pulled on her stockings. A low knock sounded.

The young man who had delivered her trunk came in. "Lady Cockburn, his lordship asked me to check on you to see if you are all right." He noted her pallor and saw that she had been sick. "I can see you are poorly, ma'am. There's a right storm blown up, but 'tis usual on the Atlantic at this time of year. Don't be frightened, ma'am, Lord Cockburn will bring us through. He's navigated worse storms than this." He smiled "I'll clean up the mess for you."

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that," she protested weakly.

"I'm used to it, ma'am. I'll fetch some water. If you will take my advice, Lady Cockburn, you will have a little wine and I'll bring you some dry biscuit. Does wonders for seasickness."

He was back in a trice and soon had the carpet cleaned up. She closed her eyes in misery at the glass of wine and the dry biscuits, but she began to nibble and sip under his urging and soon found that the nausea abated. The young man apologized for leaving her, but all hands were needed on deck.

The cabin was so cold, her hands were numb, and she realized the braziers must have gone out. She wrapped her fur cloak around her and huddled miserably upon the bed. In about an hour, the cabin door was flung wide and Paris came in. He was soaking wet, and she stared, for she had never seen him so disheveled. As their eyes met, she turned a vivld hue, remembering their intimacy, and thought she would die of shame. The mocking eyes raked her body with a knowing leer, and if she hadn't felt so ill, she would have slapped the insolent smile from his face.

He checked the cold braziers and immediately left the cabin. He returned with a shovelful of glowing coals and filled the copper braziers. Then he swung the brass kettle over one of them to brew a hot drink. Without a further glance at Tabrizia, he began to strip off his wet clothes. He rubbed his body vigorously with a towel, then donned dry garments. By this time the kettle was steaming, so he poured a hefty measure of brandy into a cup and filled it with boiling water. As he rolled the cup between his palms to warm his brown hands, he let his eyes wander over her again. The silence was too much for her, so she ventured, "How long will the storm last, Milord?"

He shrugged. "I've seen them last three days."

"Is the ship safe?" she asked, afraid.

The taunting smile was back. "The
Sea Witch
, like any other woman, responds well to a firm hand."

"Bastard!" she spat with all the venom she could muster. She heard the laugh, deep in his throat, as hequit the cabin. She spent the day alone, and still the storm raged on. The air outside was so icy that the braziers weren't adequate to keep the chill from the cabin.

Tabrizia got up from the bed and spread Paris's clothes to dry. She paced around to keep warm, making the bed and picking up her torn garments from the night before. The ship pitched and tossed, and she began to notice something that really frightened her. 'The timbers had begun to creak and groan, and every once in a while there was such a rending crack, she feared they would go down any minute. She knew real terror as she imagined herself thrown into the icy seas. Night had fallen hours ago, and still he did not come. Being alone terrified her so much, she was even willing to put up with his company if only he would come. She heard his step and whipped her anger up to cover her fear. She would not let him find her cowering and trembling like a child.

When he opened the door, she screamed at him, "This cabin is freezing!" She could have bitten off her tongue when she saw his condition. He was soaked to the skin and had ice on his beard. Dark smudges of fatigue and exhaustion showed plainly in his face.

He looked at her with eyes that could not believe the words she had uttered. "You are the only individual on this ship who is dry, madam. How dare you whine to me of your petty discomforts?" He slammed out of the cabin, and she felt like the most selfish creature alive. He brought another shovelful of coals and refilled the two braziers. He stood warming his hands, and she noticed that he swayed on his feet.

He dragged a low bench toward the source of heat and sat down to remove his wet clothes. She brought him dry towels, and he rubbed his bare feet vigorously, then stretched his legs out toward the warmth. She poured him brandy and brought it to him. She saw that his eyes were closing, but he roused himself and shook his head. After a couple of large swallows, he got up and put on dry clothes. He brought a sheepskin-lined leather jack from the back of the wardrobe and pulled on dry boots. As he finished the brandy, some of his mockery returned. "You'd better go to bed. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you won't have my body to warm you tonight." He had the ability to make her seethe with a look or a word, but she held her tongue against his goading. He added, more kindly, "The storm should abate by morning, then the lads will be able to get some warm food for us."

When she awoke, it seemed to her that the ship was not rolling as heavily as it had been when she fell asleep. She had slept in her clothes to keep out the bitter chill, but once again the cabin was unbearably cold. She took out a heavy velvet cloak with a fur-lined hood and cautiously opened the cabin door. She clung to the ropes that had been slung along the passageways belowdecks and made her way forward to the galley.

She hardly recognized the young man in there who had come to the cabin. He had a three-day growth of beard and looked haggard. She smiled at him with compassion. "What is your name?"

"David, ma'am, but you-shouldn't have left the safety of your cabin. His lordship will have my hide. I was just bringing you some porridge, that is, if you can stomach the stuff."

"I'd be very grateful for anything warm, David. Could you spare some coals for the brazier, perhaps?"

"Aye, ma'am. You take this food and I'll bring the coals."

She hesitated. "Has my husband had anything to eat, David?"

"Yes, ma'am. He had breakfast hours past. The storm has greatly abated, so I am cooking up a hot meal. It should be ready in a couple of hours, and I'll fetch some for you and Lord Cockburn the minute it's done."

She actually enjoyed the porridge. It seemed to coat her stomach and soothe the hunger pains. God alone knew what condition Paris would be in when he felt it safe enough to turn the helm over to someone else. She found a blanket in one of the lacquered cabinets and set it to warm before the brazier. She poured a hefty measure of brandy and put the brass kettle to steam, then she laid out dry clothes for him. The room was warmer, so she was able to manage without the heavy cloak. She washed her hands and brushed the tangles from her long hair, and suddenly he was staggering into the cabin, all his strength spent.

She helped him to the bench and knelt to pull off the heavy, wet boots. His eyes were so hollow, she feared for him. She helped him to remove his damp clothes, fighting a battle with her modesty as her hands came into contact with his bare flesh and the hair that matted him from chin to groin. She pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and mixed the boiling water into the brandy. He reached for it gratefully, one corner of his mouth lifting with the ghost of a scornful smile. "My ministering angel," he whispered hoarsely, his voice almost gone from shouting orders above the wind. She firmly ignored the taunt and busied herself spreading his clothes to dry.

A knock upon the cabin door sent her scurrying to open it. David brought in a tray holding two bowls of steaming stew, thickened with barley, and some coarse chunks of wheat bread.

"Oh, that smells like heaven, David. Thank you." She looked at the young man's haggard face with concern. "Can't you get some rest now?"

"I'm fine, ma'am." He blushed vividly. "The captain made me sleep last night. It's his turn now."

Paris moved across the room, wrapping the blanket around his nakedness. "I'll eat in bed," he decided, and as the boy left the cabin, Paris looked at her with glittering eyes and demanded, "Is there no end to your conquests, madam?"

She whirled to the bed furiously, stung, and retorted, "Are you accusing me of flirting with the boy?" But she saw that he was fast asleep, the brandy glass drained, the stew forgotten upon the tray. She put his bowl beside the brazier to keep-it warm, then sat and devoured hers greedily. Never had she tasted anything to equal it. She eyed the second bowl hungrily, telling herself he would likely sleep around the clock, but her conscience would not let her eat his portion. At whatever hour he woke, it would be ready for him. She knew she and every other soul aboard owed their lives to this man.

Soon it was night, but Paris never stirred from his heavy sleep. She removed her gown but kept on her underclothes and stockings. Gently, so she would not disturb him, she crawled beneath the covers and lay still. Gradually, the warmth from his body radiated over her, and she was thankful for his presence in the bed.

In the morning, when David brought them breakfast, Paris still slept. She took the tray from him and noticed his wet clothes. "Has the storm begun again?" she asked fearfully.

"Nay, it's just raining heavily. We catch the rainwater in barrels, ma'am. Would you like some?"

"Oh, yes, Lord Cockburn and I both need a bath."

David blushed vividly at her words, and her own cheeks flamed as she realized that David thought she meant they would bathe together. When she closed the door and turned toward the bed; Paris sat propped on his pillows, the light back in his emerald eyes.