Between A Rake And A Hard Place [Pirates of London Book 2] (12 page)

His erection was hot and hard against her thigh and he lightly rubbed it against her. Even that small friction made his eyes close in pleasure.

“Yes.” Her sigh was warm against his lips.

His hand slid between them, under the curve of her hip and then between her legs. She was wet and warm and receptive as he slid a finger insider her. “Perhaps I should put it here?”

“What a very intriguing idea.” Cassandra arched into the caress.

They had come to know each other’s bodies quite well over the nights since he’d first bedded her and she had proved to be a most talented pupil in the art of love. Maybe it was the brevity of the relationship, maybe the circumstances under which she was freed from being a lady every waking hour, but she openly enjoyed their sexual communion.

So did he. Of course, Christopher reminded himself, he was a male with a normal healthy appetite and she was beyond a doubt the most entrancing female who had ever graced the plane
t.

Thoughts like those were the ones that gave him pause. He accepted he might be more involved than was wise.

Maybe a great deal more involved.

Hoarsely, he said, “I want to make love to you.”

Chapter 11

The word
love
held a certain connotation that she didn’t dare take in a literal sense.

But she wanted to.

Very much, and maybe, just for this last night, she would allow herself that indulgence. Cassandra ran her fingers through Christopher’s hair and then smoothed her hands over his muscular shoulders. “We are in accord then.”

The taut tips of her breasts brushed his chest as he shifted position, and the ripple of sensation was tantalizing. She opened her thighs and took in a swift breath as the length of his erection impaled her, the entry not forceful but insistent. By now she’d learned that he could be gentle and teasing in bed, or else hungry and on edge, and this night it seemed to be the latter.

The urgency suited her as well. She clung to him and accepted the penetration with the lift of her hips as she crossed her ankles at the small of his back.

His palms pressed hers and he interlocked their fingers, pushing her arms above her head. “I need for you to give me everything tonight.” His breath scorched her cheek, his long lashes lowered. “
Everything
.”

As he began to thrust and withdraw with long glides, measured but heated, Cassandra moved with him, the carnal rhythm now familiar. And the pleasure too. She’d learned that as well. He watched her, but she’d grown used to it, the mesmerizing pull of his gaze. Even that first night, when she had shut her eyes, he’d murmured, “Cassie, look at me. We are doing this together. How could we be any closer? Don’t think this is your experience alone.”

“I am fully aware you are here. Oh…”

I love you
.

How could she tell Marcus, but not reveal it to
him
?

The answer was part selfishness and part sacrifice.

If she told him, he’d have to respond and she didn’t want to force it on him, or hear if the answer if it wasn’t a reciprocation of her feelings.

So instead she lifted her head and lightly bit his shoulder, tasting the slight hint of salt, and shuddered in pleasure as he moved inside her. Christopher blew out a choked laugh. “You test me, Cassie.”

“I am sure you do the same to me.” She could hear the muted sound of the words as she spoke them, but the rapture was rising to that crucial peak. “Faster.”

“I adore your impatience.” He grinned then, and leaned in to kiss her. “Anything to pleasure my lady.”

If only she
was
his lady, but right now, as he pushed in deep, she gasped and began to shake; she deciding she would worry over it later.

“Christopher.”

Her climax was earth-shattering, oceans deep and vast deserts wide and she was only barely aware of him going very still and saying her name on a low groan as he spilled his seed.

Panting, disheveled, and intertwined, they lay in the aftermath, the only sound the lap of the sea on the hull.

Finally Christopher said with a humorous intonation, “I believe that alone made this entire journey worthwhile. At least I know my heart is sound for I am fairly sure it stopped beating a moment ago and yet was able to resume the pace.”

She so wanted to tell him how she felt. To be able to just say the words, but it wasn’t the time, even in the breathless aftermath.

Instead she whispered, “Your heart is quite important to me.”

* * * *

They docked mid-morning.

It was a dismal day, with banks of clouds rolling in around dawn, and a fine mist over the harbor.

Next to him, Marcus said dryly, “Welcome home to England. There is a reason why it is so lush and green and I just remembered it. All the infernal rain. We should have stayed in Gibraltar. You could have just kept her.”

Christopher would never have admitted it out loud, but that had occurred to him more than once. Given the order, Haldon would have changed the
Sappho
’s course for anywhere in the world. “I’m not that barbaric.”

“More’s the pity, my friend.”

“That would make me no better than the Sultan. I believe she deserves marriage and a comfortable home, not my nomadic existence, and she is very fond of her family. As tempting as it might be to simply take her, I find I actually have a conscience.”

Marcus hunched his shoulders under his cloak. “I assume you’ll be staying at least a month. South America can wait.”

“Who are you, my keeper?” He eyed his old friend with cynical amusement.

“Let us just say that I am fond of Lady Cassandra and do not want to see her stranded and disgraced while you sail off to lick your wounds. Let us make sure she isn’t with child before we leave again.”

“My wounds. How poetic you are suddenly.”

“Your bleeding heart.”

Your heart is quite important to me
. She’d whispered those words in the darkness while lying in his arms.

He brooded at the busy docks as they weighed anchor, the ship rocking gently. The drizzle was cold and his collar was dripping. Christopher said abruptly, “I know nothing about being a husband, much less a father.”

“I imagine you’d catch on. You always have been a quick study, Ives.”

“I don’t know if that is what
she
wants.”

“Ask her.”

Ask her
. There was no question he never should have touched her that first time, much less shared her bed the remainder of the voyage. But he had, and she had welcomed him, and the idea of letting her marry another was so unpalatable he was not sure he could swallow it.

Restively, he bit out, “Damn all, Marcus, you make it sound easy.”

“That I did not say. Women are never an easy proposition, and their romantic tendencies give them somewhat unrealistic expectations of the gallantry of our sex in general, but I think you will acknowledge that under the circumstances Lady Cassandra could expect a proposal.”

“The lady happens to already be engaged.”

“A small obstacle at best. I’ve seen you take down an African lion with nothing but a dagger. One slender lass, no matter how winsome, should be easy enough for you to vanquish and you could end her engagement by simply telling the truth.”

That was true enough, but a flawed plan. “She doesn’t want anyone hurt over her honor.”

“I suppose her fiancé might challenge you, but we both know you are a fine marksman with a Manton pistol. He would lose.”

“What about her father?”

“Aye, well, I see the problem there.”

“Yes.”

Marcus clapped his hand on his shoulder. “My lecture is over. I am off to find a hot meal and a willing wench. Not all of us were as fortunate as you were on our travels. Send word in the usual way if you need me.”

“I have no idea what I need,” Christopher muttered as he watched his friend’s tall form go down the gangplank. A great deal of luck, obviously, since no doubt Lord Oakham would be overjoyed to see his beautiful daughter again but would have questions, only some of which he wanted to answer. The small fortune he was due to collect really didn’t matter any longer: he was well off financially already, mostly due to how he was rarely home long enough to spend his earnings. But how to handle the interview with Cassandra’s father was indeed a quandary.

He wasn’t entirely sure that he didn’t wish to just commandeer the ship and sail away again. Perhaps tie her to the bed and keep her there.

Forever.

This business of being in love…it was blasted confusing and uncomfortable.

Hell
. In love?

In lust, yes, he’d known that the minute he’d seen her, gloriously naked and bound, with her fair hair streaming everywhere and her incomparable violet eyes gazing at him with imploring entreaty.

But when had he fallen in love with her? It was different than the sexual aspect of their relationship. It had much more to do with her courage, intelligence and good nature in the face of what anyone would consider to be daunting circumstances. In fact, everyone admired her, and not just for her looks. Marcus, obviously, considering the lecture he’d received, was protective of her. Haldon would whisk her away himself given a chance—which he would never have—and even the temperamental chef Gaston catered to her with an almost fawning good nature that no one on the crew could believe possible.

Maybe Marcus was right. Maybe he should just ask her what she wanted. What the hell was he so afraid of anyway? The worst that could happen was that she could say she wanted a staid life with a respectable titled husband, social standing in the inner circles of the
haut ton
, and a bevy of servants at her beck and call.

But he rarely allowed the worst to happen.

Standing there, Christopher contemplated his options.

It wasn’t in his nature to back away from a challenge, but neither was he reckless. There was a solution. He just needed to see it clearly.

“Are we going to disembark or do you enjoy standing in the rain?”

He turned at the soft, amused question. Cassandra wore her low-cut gown—what choice did she have—but his cloak was gathered properly over her shoulders, dwarfing her slender body. Droplets of moisture caught in her hair like shining gems. Her smile was apologetic. “I know you said you’d come for me but I became impatient.”

“Of course.” He took in a breath. She was right, and the last thing he wanted was for her to take a chill because he was a bloody idiot. He took her elbow and guided her toward the ramp. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

About you
. He didn’t say it out loud.

“You seemed to be.” She lifted her face. “Oh, Christopher, I am so happy to be home. I am not sure how I can ever thank you.”

Her elation touched him. “No thank you is necessary.”

She whirled then, her eyes almost accusing. “You risked your life.”

“And so?” He caught her waist and lifted her onto the solid planks of the wharf.

“What will you say to my father?”

“What do you want me to say?” His voice was remarkably calm. “I will support whatever story you tell him. I assume there are parts of what happened you would rather not discuss, such as being readied for the sultan, and quite frankly, as a father he would probably rather not know.”

“You and I have…” she stopped and bit her lower lip. “I mean, we’ve most certainly—”

“Formed a rather close bond?” He smiled but there was no mirth in it. “I wonder how he would react to that news. I am little better than a mercenary in some ways. A pirate for hire with a fast ship. You know him better than I do, Lady Cassandra. If you choose to tell him we were lovers, so be it.”

“Were?” she echoed quietly and her eyes held a hint of confusion and hurt.

It was just as well she saw their situation clearly. Who knew if once she was settled back into the elegant mansion in Mayfair, and assumed her familiar life once again, if she wouldn’t consider him just an adventurous mistake.

“This is London. I can hardly clamber through your bedroom window every night. Come now, there’s a hack waiting for us, no doubt thanks to Marcus. Let me take you home, my lady.”

Chapter 12

Mission successful
.
I need a word
.

Beau folded the note, his gaze thoughtfully focused just above the mantle. A very expensive piece by Bernini hung there but he didn’t see the painting; instead his abstracted attention was focused inward.

So Ives succeeded. Beau really wasn’t sure in this case he would triumph—sometimes white slave traders could sell their victims to a discreet market that was very hard to trace—but he’d returned with Lady Cassandra in tow and absolutely fulfilled his assignment.

The details were, of course, yet to be had, and for the sake of the lovely Cassandra and her family, Beau hoped Ives had retrieved her before she suffered at the hands of her captors, but at least she was back in England. What happened now was going to be tricky, of course. Everyone knew she’d been inexplicably gone, but Oakham had considerable influence and eventually the whispers would die down. With her dazzling beauty, she could probably still even marry well.

This satisfactory turn of events would make Hannah happy. He would not take credit for connecting her father with Ives so swiftly after the abduction, nor for letting them use his ship to go after her sister; he made it a point to never take credit for anything. Credit created expectations and discretion was a much better strategy. The less people expected the more effective a man could be, and just knowing he’d had a part in giving her joy was more than enough.

“Is that an actual smile on your face? I am not sure I’ve ever seen that before in all our years of acquaintance.”

He glanced toward the door of his study, unsurprised by the unannounced visitor. Once the note arrived, he’d expected a visit. In fact, he’d poured two glasses of brandy already. “You do realize,” he said in an unruffled tone, “that you deeply distress my butler when you manage to arrive and depart in such a fashion that he has no idea how you actually entered the house. He is determined to catch you one day.”