Page 74 of The Pirate Lord
The stream was so shallow that the water came only to his knees. He had his back to her as he scooped water up and sluiced it over his body. He looked magnificent . . . his dark hair drippingdown over his broad back etched with scars, firm buttocks that flexed with his every movement, and hairy legs slightly parted to help him keep his balance on the pebbly stream bed.
Heat spread up from her loins to her breasts to her face as she watched him. What would he do if she simply stepped out from behind the tree and into his arms? No, she couldn’t do that. She mustn’t.
Suddenly he turned around, though he didn’t see her. She quickly suppressed a gasp. Good heavens. He was fully aroused. He was mumbling something and scowling as he scrubbed his chest with a soapy rag.
Then, to her complete horror, he laid his hand on his member and began to stroke it. She told herself to leave, but her feet stayed rooted. She was utterly fascinated. Sothatwas how he managed to keep himself aloof from her when she practically panted to have him in her bed.
But if that were the case, why was he scowling? Why were his movements almost violent, as if he couldn’t stroke himself hard or fast enough? Perhaps it was the same for him as it was for her. Touching herself had been as futile as throwing water on those fiery huts had been. Not enough. Never enough.
Suddenly, he looked up and saw her. His eyes locked with hers, full of heat and need and hunger. For a moment, she stood there transfixed, her mouth open and her feet incapable of movement.
Then she panicked. With a cry of shame, she lifted her skirts and took off at a run, as hard and as far as her legs would carry her.
As she stumbled down the beach, she chastised herself furiously. She should never have gone to the stream. She should certainly never have watched him bathe or . . . or touch himself. The minute she’d seen what he was doing, she should have sneaked away. Now that he knew she’d been watching him, hewas sure to guess her dreadful secret—that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With a choked cry she raced up theSatyr’sgangplank and past the drowsy, curious gazes of the pirates who slept on the deck. Glancing behind her, she half-feared she would see him following her. But thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen.
Nonetheless, it was only when she reached her cabin and latched the door closed, that she felt safe. And even then, it was several minutes before she could still her thundering heart and stop listening for the sound of his boots treading the planks outside her door.
The rest of the day, she avoided him. She couldn’t face him after what she’d witnessed. It was unthinkable. She busied herself on the ship, helping the women drag the bedrolls up from the hold to the top deck for airing. But she couldn’t stop her thoughts . . . and the erotic images that plagued her.
What was wrong with her? How was it that the man hardly ever touched her, yet she thought of him every waking moment? It wasn’t fair.
By late afternoon, frustrated beyond endurance, she sought out Louisa, hoping the woman’s tart tongue would lash some sense into her. Louisa wasn’t fond of Gideon. She would remind Sara of all his faults, and that was just what Sara needed.
When she went in search of Louisa in the ship’s galley, however, she found Silas instead. As she walked in, he was lifting a huge mound of bread dough onto the floured surface of the table.
“Louisa—” he began, then broke off when he saw it was her. “Ah, Sara, you’ll do, I suppose,” he said in his usual gruff manner. “Come knead this bread. I have to make sure the meat don’t burn.”
“Where’s Louisa?”
He shrugged. “Who knows where that woman’s gone off to? She’ll be back soon, I wager, but this dough must be kneaded now. Trust Louisa to disappear when I need her.”
His grumbling didn’t fool Sara. The man was utterly in love with Louisa. Indeed, the two of them had become inseparable in the last two weeks. They’d already asked Gideon, as a ship’s captain, to perform their marriage ceremony and were as engrossed in each other as any newly married couple. It made her envious.
“Come now, girl, help me with this bread,” Silas repeated, waving her toward the table.
“I don’t know how to knead bread.” At home, the servants did such things. But on Atlantis, where there were no servants, she’d learned a great many skills she’d never had use for before.
Today, however, she wasn’t in the mood to learn anything . . . except how to get Gideon out of her thoughts.
“Kneadin’ bread is simple enough,” Silas said, ignoring her protest. He pushed down on the ball of dough until it flattened, then folded it over and repeated the motion. “You see?”
“But I’ll ruin it.”
“Balderdash.” Grabbing her by the arm with floury fingers, he drew her to the table. “You can’t ruin it. The more you punch it, the better ’tis. The harder you handle it, the higher it’ll rise. Take me word for it. It’ll take anythin’ you give it.”
She eyed the dough skeptically, but did as she’d seen him do, timidly at first, then with more confidence. The dough was so resilient and springy, it did seem as if she couldn’t hurt it. And hehadsaid it would take anything she could give it.
As she continued the kneading motion, her thoughts wandered back to Gideon. How could she get past this frustration she felt every time she was near him? This wasn’t supposed to happen to respectable ladies. Men lusted after women of course, but only fallen women lusted after men inreturn. Or so she’d been taught. She was beginning to think that everything she’d been taught was suspect.
Otherwise, how could she have found such enjoyment in the arms of a pirate? But she’d certainly done that. She couldn’t deny it.
Now what was she supposed to do about it? He’d said she would have to ask him to touch her. She couldn’t imagine doing so. Why, he might not even care about her any more. Maybe he’d decided a noblewoman wasn’t worth his time. The very thought of that made her go cold with fear.
She stabbed the dough furiously with her fists. It didn’t matter what he thought one way or the other. She’d be returning to London without him. It was inevitable.
Silas’s grumbling voice interrupted her thoughts. “Hold up, lass, I know I said you couldn’t hurt it by punchin’ it, but I didn’t say kill it.”
