Page 16 of Pirate's Intent
She glanced from the bed to him, remembering well his scent on it, and managed a jerky nod, hoping she did not regret this. “But of course...you will sleep on the bed.”
“With you.”
“With me,” she managed, taking another swig of rum.
“Good then.” He offered a roguish grin, pulled off his wet shirt, and revealed far more muscles than she anticipated. “Let’s get you into bed then, sweetheart.”
ChapterFive
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THOUGH HE COULD HAVEremoved his shirt elsewhere, he just couldn’t help himself, enjoying her reaction. The man she once knew would have never done such a thing, but the man he was today would, so she best get used to it. At least for now.
Her heavy swallow and wide eyes told him she was indeed chaste. Something that appealed to him far more than he expected. He was relieved she had not been touched by another man when she should have always been his.
Might still be.
Would she give herself over to him? Spread her sweet thighs as he had long imagined? Cry out his name in the heat of passion?
He scowled and tied his hair back, trying to push aside the unwelcome thoughts. He did not want to care about her again. Should not. But from the moment he’d heard she was in trouble, his bloody heart had taken the reins. Now here he was counting down the seconds until she was in his bed, not because he intended to lie with her but simply because she would be close.
When he stood, she stood, wringing her hands nervously. Shockingly enough, she glanced from the bed to him and did the absolute last thing he saw coming. She turned and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Sleeping in this dress would be very uncomfortable. Would you untie me?”
How had she gone from thinking he would sleep on the floor to this?
While the man he once was would have asked her if she were sure, the man he was now was far less foolish. He did as she asked, taking his time unlacing her dress, and stays when he could have done it far faster. He wished she had not moved aside her hair. That he might have done it for her if only to touch it again and feel its silkiness. How often had he thought of touching it again over the years?
Too many times to count.
She tensed when he stood a little closer than necessary, but did not move away. He inhaled deeply, pulling in her flowery scent, amazed she still smelled so good considering the day she’d had. As always, everything about her drew him. From her slight figure to her soft skin. From the way she held her shoulders, one a mere smidge more forward than the other as though she were half in this world and half curled over a book lost in one of her stories again.
He guaranteed no one but him noticed either. But then no one knew how often her imagination truly got away with her. To the point on one occasion, that she lost all good sense.
Or, as he reflected years later, might have made more sense than he realized.
“We could do it,” she had argued, determination in her eyes that summer morning when they were fourteen. “There are plenty of opportunities in other colonies.” She nodded. “Plymouth is prospering. We could go there and start anew in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.” Her eyes met his, hopeful. “You and I, Hannah, and even Luke could do well there. We could start a new life.”
He knew her overly strict uncle thought nothing of bringing a switch to her and Hannah so understood her desire to flee. Regardless, she needed to understand how foolish her proposal was. “This is not a story in one of your books, Rose.” He shook his head. “Life in the north is not easy. Winters are hard, summers are fleeting.”
“But there is plenty of work,” she countered. “Commerce is flourishing. You could boat-build, or take to fishing or whaling. Or perhaps try your hand at timber and fur trading.” She fanned her face in the oppressive August heat. “And a fleeting summer would not be such a bad thing.” Fresh hope lit her eyes. “The four of us could marry, just pretend, of course, sail to Plymouth and start a new life.”
“Pretend to marry?” he had replied, amused. “Me and you then?”
“Yes.” She blushed and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Why not?”
“I do not know.” He shrugged. “It seems so...”
“So what?” She looked at him curiously. “Do you not want to marry me? For pretend...of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured, peering at her out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose.”
Her brows flew up. “You suppose?”
“I just mean,” he began feeling all turned around, mostly because he realized the idea very much appealed to him. Not a fake marriage, though, and certainly not so they could better establish themselves elsewhere.
“What I mean,” he continued, setting things straight, “is that you are letting your imagination get away with you, Rose.”
Now, standing here on this ship, looking back on the years, he wondered where they might have been had he allowed her imagination to flourish. Because he knew full well, their marriage would not have been a sham. Would they have made it safely to Plymouth and started a new life? But then what would have happened to her when he went off to fight? Because he would have, whether drafted or not.
