A Pirate's Possession (15 page)

“Not much here will keep us sheltered. All the roofs seem to have fallen,” he said as he scanned the area. “Let's go in there.” He gestured to the forest.

Not far into the trees they came upon a small area of ground that was mostly low-growing ferns and grass. He immediately set down his crates and opened the smaller one. He pulled out a blanket, tossed it to Claire after she set down her own box.

“Is that a sail?” she asked when he pulled exactly that from the other box.

He turned in time to see her set the blanket down. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“What?”

“I gave you that to use.”

“And I will,” she agreed with a smile that made Nate's teeth ache, “after we're finished what needs to be done.”

Ignoring his scowl, she began scavenging the immediate area for dry sticks.

“You didn't answer my question,” she asked as she worked. “Is that a sail?”

Nate sighed deeply. The woman was insufferable.

“It's an old one, but it'll work for what I have in mind.”

Claire dropped an armload of small sticks onto the ground.

“Which is?”

Nate dug into the box for the rope. “A lean-to. The canvas is large enough to act as roof, wall, and floor. It won't be very big, but it'll keep us dry.”

He set the canvas and rope aside and looked around for the best place to set up their shelter. Finding the perfect spot, Nate then focused on clearing out the area. He yanked his sword from the scabbard and began cutting off small branches that were in his way. It took a moment for him to notice the silence. He looked over his shoulder. She was watching him, her face a mask he couldn't read.

“Is something wrong?”

“What? Oh.” She shook her head, licked her lips. “No. Everything is fine.”

Nate wouldn't have gone that far. Sleeping in such close proximity wouldn't be fine, not when even a little pass of her tongue over her lips had his blood humming. He tossed another branch aside, wishing his lust could be discarded as easily.

Nate threw down his sword. He needed air. Lots of it. The colder the better.

“We've time yet before it rains. I'll go back for the last two boxes.”

 

 

Claire gathered hair from the palm trees, peeled bark off with her knife, and placed it all in a way she'd learned best guaranteed success. She worked the flint, blowing gently when the sparks caught on the hair. She fed the tender flame until wood began to pop. Then, with the area around the fire bare enough that she felt comfortable turning her back, Claire grabbed Nate's sword.

She'd learned after only a handful of nights living on her own how to make sleeping outside as comfortable as possible and she moved efficiently from fern to fern hacking off their tops.

By the time Nate came back with the first box, she'd cut off enough boughs to make an acceptable bed. Saying nothing, Nate looked from the fire to the ferns. A muscle flexed in his jaw when he looked to the sword she held in her hand.

“You've been busy.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Did you expect me to sit idle while there was something I could do to help?”

“Not really. I've come to realize you don't usually do what's expected.” He looked at the blanket that remained folded on the box. “I had hoped, however, that you were keeping warm.”

“I'm not as cold as I was—the work helped. I think my shirt's mostly dry now.”

His eyes slid from her face to her neck before he jerked them away.

“I'll, uh ...” He grabbed the canvas. “I'll get to that shelter now.”

She tried to take an end of the canvas, but he stopped her with an arm across her waist.

“I can make our shelter.”

“And I can help.”

“Claire—”

“Nate,” she sighed. “I'm here and I'm capable and it'll get done faster than standing here talking about it.”

She expected another argument and had more than enough rebuttals to keep at it all afternoon. Instead he surprised her by smiling. It was a dirty tactic as it sucked out most of her frustration.

“I suppose it was foolish of me to think you'd left your temper behind on my ship.”

She felt her own lips twitch. “I assure you, it's never far away.”

He chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Working together, they accomplished the rest of the chores quickly. Soon the canvas was spread over the boughs, up the trunks of two trees, and anchored across the top using two poles made of long, slender shoots. The fire blazed close enough to their shelter to cast warmth, but far enough to keep from catching the canvas. Extra wood had been placed in the shelter to keep dry from the coming rains.

Nate stepped back, gave a nod she deemed meant he was satisfied, then tossed her a length of rope.

“To dry your clothes.”

“Again,” she muttered. They'd still been a little damp when she'd stuffed them back in her bag that morning, and once the rain hit, they'd be wet again.

“I'll leave you to it. I'll go get the last of our things. I won't be long.”

It wasn't lost on Claire that he was still giving orders. But they'd worked together well, and if they were to continue doing so, she'd have to save her arguments for when they really mattered.

“All right.”

Seemingly satisfied, he turned to leave but stopped before he left their camp.

“And use the blanket, Claire. Or I'll wrap you in it myself.”

 

 

Nate didn't hurry back to camp. Instead he sat on the last box he'd come to get and stared out at the roiling surf. He didn't care that the wind whipped at his shirt and howled in his ears. He hardly noticed the first warning drops of rain that splattered on his back. All he could think about was him and Claire in that small shelter.

He closed his eyes, an immediate mistake when the first picture that came to mind was of him walking toward her in their small camp, and her wearing only the blanket he'd passed her. As he came closer, as the flames danced over her face, she lowered the blanket, revealing smooth and shiny skin. He swallowed hard, both in and out of the vision.

A wave crashed on shore, pulling Nate from the illusion in his mind. He opened his eyes, and while the picture of Claire faded, the effect of seeing her naked remained sharp and clear. Despite the cold wind, sweat dampened the back of his neck. His body was taut with need. He passed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. He wasn't sixteen any longer. He was older, wiser. He should be able to control his desires.

Yet he'd failed at that so far. When they were together. he felt himself as drawn to her as he'd always been. Her eyes, her mouth, they all beckoned him just as they had at the orphanage.

Even as a young man he'd wanted her. After some time of being at the orphanage, when he'd summoned the nerve to talk to her, they'd begun spending moments together. Talking as they tended to their chores, walking in their free moments. It had come slowly, Nate hadn't wanted to push, but they'd grown closer, formed a strong bond of friendship before he'd shifted that friendship into something more.

It had surprised him how natural the shift had felt. She was his friend and he'd loved her. Holding her, having her lips touch his, seemed a branch of that love. When he'd imagined them finally coming together as one, that, too, would be another branch.

As their kisses had turned from soft and sweet to wet and hungry, his need for her had known no bounds. When he'd left, he'd done it anticipating the moment when he'd race back and sweep her off her feet. When they'd have a wedding and he could finally claim her as his own.

He'd planned a very short engagement.

Instead she'd married someone else. Why wasn't that knowledge killing this endless desire for her?

“Because I'm a fool,” Nate muttered. But if he didn't hurry, he'd be a wet fool.

He grabbed the last box and settled it against his hip. The sand tugged at his boots but no more than his own reluctance to get back. Had it been sunny and warm, they could have begun searching for the treasure immediately, but with rain beginning to spill from the dark gray clouds, Nate knew that wasn't a possibility.

Until the weather improved, they'd be confined to camp together. He'd have given everything for that not so long ago, but now the thought was tortuous. Regardless of where her husband was, Nate wouldn't muddy those waters by stepping in where he had no business being. Marriage to him was sacred. He may not have seen it in his own future any longer, but his belief in the union hadn't changed.

He made as much noise as he could coming back through the trees, allowing Claire time to get herself covered if she hadn't dressed yet. Though he wouldn't touch her if he came upon her naked—he was fairly certain—it was best not to tempt fate.

He needn't have worried. Her clothes hung from the line and she was sound asleep within the shelter he'd made. Nate set the box down next to the rest of their supplies, all stowed beneath the protection of the canvas.

The fire was well stoked for now, though the rain would likely douse it shortly. Nate gathered more wood before the rain soaked it too much. He kept himself busy as long as he could. But after another hour, when the rain was drumming against the canvas, he'd run out of things to do.

Sighing, Nate dug through a box and dragged out another blanket. He was damn glad he'd thought of that ahead of time, that sharing a bed and a cover with Claire would be testing his resistance past its boundaries. He tugged off his boots, slid in behind Claire, letting her have the heat from the fire. He threw his blanket over his legs and settled into the boughs.

Claire sighed next to him, dug herself deeper into their bed, which resulted in her behind inching its way closer to him.

Hell.

It didn't look like he was going to sleep after all.

Eleven

How about there?” Claire asked, pointing to a handful of large rocks that protruded from the water almost two hundred feet away.

Nate cupped his hand over his eyes and squinted against the bright glare of the sea. Unlike yesterday, the water was now calm and rippled gently as it folded its way to the beach.

“Seems as likely a spot as the last few we've checked,” he agreed.

Claire dropped her bag onto the sand, and blew out a labored breath. The rain had ended by early morning, but it had left behind a humidity so heavy it made everything difficult. Breathing took effort as it felt like a sack of sand weighed her chest and restricted her lungs. Her hair was a mass of riotous curls, some of which stuck annoyingly to the back of her neck. Her clothes, consisting of a thin cotton shirt over her undershirt and pants rolled to the knees, clung to her damp skin and itched with each step she took.

Had she been alone, she would have stripped to the skin and plunged into the sea. Unfortunately, she wasn't and the water wasn't much relief either as it was nearly as warm as the stagnant air. After being confined to camp yesterday because of the storm, she should have been happy to get started on their search. Instead she felt like a flower wilting in the heat.

“I'd give almost anything for some of that wind we had yesterday,” Claire said.

“You should put your hat back on,” Nate said. “It would keep the sun off your face.”

By the time they'd stopped for their midday meal, her hair had been soaking wet under her hat and the extra fabric had felt as though it were adding degrees of heat to an already sweltering day. That had been hours ago, and she knew come tomorrow morning her face would be burned red and she'd regret having taken off her hat. Yet she couldn't summon the energy to care.

“I'll manage. We've survived the worst of it.” She looked to the horizon and the descending sun. Another hour or so and they'd have to stop for the day. While the idea of working a whole day without turning up anything was disheartening, Claire was too exhausted to dwell upon it.

“Then let's get to it,” he answered a moment before she heard his boots drop onto the sand and the splash of water as he waded into the sea.

Claire waited and watched. Seeing Nate in the water was a beautiful thing to behold. He was graceful and strong, sure of his movements. Of course, the fact that he'd taken his shirt off and his long back was bare for her eyes to linger on wasn't a hardship either.

When the water hit the middle of his thighs, he sprung out, arms pointed and back arched as he made a clean dive into the sea. He remained under until her lungs burned for him to return to the surface and draw breath. When he came up, he shook his head and sprayed water every which way. He looked around, then turned to the beach.

“I thought you were helping me with this,” he yelled to her.

Claire grinned, then kicked off her own boots. She wasn't nearly as graceful about it as he was. When she swam, she kept her head above water, having never been taught to swim like a dolphin the way Nate could. However, she was able to keep her arms and legs pulling her forward until she made her way to his side.

“That's as pitiful a display now as it used to be,” he said with a shake of his head.

“We used to swim together often and you never complained,” Claire reminded him as she circled her arms and legs to keep afloat. Of course, for her it was an effort, while Nate seemed to be keeping his chin above the water effortlessly.

Nate grinned. “A boy who fancies a pretty girl isn't about to insult her.”

Claire flushed at the compliment but didn't acknowledge it. Times had changed, and with the current state of her hair and the clothes she wore, nobody would ever make the mistake of thinking she was pretty.