Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] (24 page)

There was a tap upon the door. She murmured uneasily, “Come in!” and Mr. Soames appeared with a breakfast tray. He was wonderfully impassive. He didn’t even gaze toward the broken door. “The captain says if you’ve a mind, Lady Kinsdale, you might wish to meet him down by the lagoon this afternoon. He has business this morning, but will come soon after. He wants you to know that it will be his deepest pleasure.”

“His deepest pleasure? Or his command?” she asked lightly.

“Milady, I am but a messenger—”

“Of course. Well, then, thank you, Mr. Soames, for the message.”

He nodded uncomfortably and set her tray down upon the card table.

She didn’t bother to ask about Tara and Bessie. They seemed to be making their own way upon the island, and making it well enough.

And besides, she reflected, with heart fluttering madly, she had every intention of riding out that afternoon.

She did. She waited until the sun rode high in the noon sky, then she went back to Señor Rivas. He saddled the same gray mare for her, and she rode slowly toward the lagoon.

When she arrived, he was not there. She looked anxiously about and saw his snow-white stallion grazing up the slope past the far bank. The water skipped and danced from the cliff, dazzling beneath the sun.

Skye dismounted and neared the water’s edge. She let the horse nibble upon the plants there and sat upon the sandy slope. She edged nearer, feeling the water. It was cool and fresh.

Then her eyes rose slowly, for she discovered the Hawk’s whereabouts.

He rose up out of the water. It sluiced from his body, the droplets catching the sun and burning like studded diamonds in the heat of the day. He was naked and bronzed from head to toe and he approached her with swift determination.

She came to her feet. She meant to speak, to say something. No words came to her.

She thought about the sun, high overhead. She thought about the breeze, and the gurgling waters of the brook. She could not shed her clothing here. She could not lie here, in the sand, in the soft grass.

He came closer to her. She could not speak, nor did he bother her with words. He slipped her riding coat from her shoulders, letting it fall to the grass. Then he spun her about, adroitly slipping each of the tiny hooks that lined her back. His fingers slid beneath fabric to touch her bare shoulders, and her gown fell low over her breasts and down to her waist. He lowered his head, and his lips and beard, wet and cool, touched her flesh. His tongue rimmed her shoulder and she started to shiver.

“I … I cannot!” she stuttered.

He spun her around. “You can,” he assured her, and found her lips. His fingers fell upon the ties to her corset as his lips ravished and seduced. Her breasts were suddenly bare, and the sun warmed them. She was sinking down into a pile of her own clothing, and his weight and warmth were covering her.

He did not take her then. He touched and teased her and watched her as he slipped away her shoes and hose. She felt the fresh air touch her and she shivered and he drew her to him. They rolled upon the soft grasses, and he smiled as he caught her above him. “This is my domain, Lady Kinsdale, and none may enter here to come between us.”

She smiled slowly to herself, enchanted by the beauty of the lagoon and by his whisper. There was some sweet madness there, and the excitement of it filled her. She could not be here, not so, not with him. She could not play in such a primitive Eden, laugh to the music of the bubbling water, dare to feel the breeze upon her flesh.

Her hair tumbled down upon him, covering his shoulders. His laughter faded and his eyes grew dark, and then he drew her head down to his, and his kiss entered and filled her, touching upon the newly lit flames of passion that stirred in her heart and body. His touch raked over her. He lifted her
atop himself and she cried out in startled surprise as they came together instantly as one.

Sun touched her, whispers touched her, the trees and leaves shuddered over her. She felt the earth beneath her and the ragged breath of the man and her own reckless and abandoned cries as a sweet rush of satiation burst upon her. She felt the sand at her back and the tickle of the grass and the hard brush of male hair against her belly and thighs.

She felt his arms.

“Perhaps I will not let you go,” he warned her. “Perhaps I shall do with you always what I will.”

“You cannot,” she told him firmly.

“ ’Tis my domain,” he reminded her. He lifted her high into his arms and she cried out in protest. “Wait! Where are you going! You cannot think to walk about like this!”

“I am not going far,” he said, striding out into the water.

“Put me down.”

“I will do as I choose with you, remember?”

She tossed her head back. “You will not do as you will with me, Captain Hawk. I will not allow it!”

“Oh?” He smiled with a sensual curl taking hold of the corner of his lip. His pirate’s silver gaze sizzled. He dropped her flat, and she pitched into the cool fresh water.

She burst up, sputtering and protesting, and laughing. She tried to drag him under but she hadn’t the strength. He caught her and brought them both beneath the cascade of the cliff, and then, as the cool water raged over them, he kissed her. A fervent flame beat against the cold. She felt his hands upon her breasts, between her legs, and she clung to him, stretching her fingers with sure fascination over his shoulders and back and hesitantly down to his buttocks.

It was madness.…

She cast her head back and his kiss consumed her throat until his mouth moved to close over her breast. He swept her beneath him and they came near shore, and as the cool water rushed over them, he made love to her there.

She felt the earth more keenly, never knew a touch so acutely, never imagined that a woman could know a man so completely. When she lay at rest, she had never known such a
peace. He held her still, and the sun beat down upon the two of them and the water rushed over their limbs.

The sun created dazzling currents in the lagoon, and Skye narrowed her eyes against them. She spun a daydream as he held her, idly stroking her arm. Her father would come to this place. The Hawk would cast aside his buccaneer’s ways and a pardon would be found. This madness could go on and on, forever. She could feel his strength and delight in his husky laughter and the fierce demand of his passion and desires.…

“What are you thinking?” he asked her.

“That you are a pirate,” she said softly.

He stiffened. “A rogue—in a rogue’s domain, milady.”

“The seas will be cleared one day!” she said fervently.

He shifted, rising above her upon the sand. “That, milady, will take time. When your pious Lord Cameron comes for you, you must not travel the seas again. Do you understand me?”

Her eyes widened. “If I must do so—”

“There is no reason for you to do so.”

“I am my own mistress!” she reminded him passionately.

“Are you? You forget yourself, lady. If I chose, I could keep you here. No man could storm this fortress. No pirate would think to come against me, and it would take the combined forces of several royal navies to destroy here. If I commanded it, you would stay.”

She lay beneath him, trembling. If he chose, he could do so. She touched his cheek and whispered softly, “I am here because I knew no force from you. No man can force desire, sir. You said yourself that the lock upon the door did not matter, for locks lay within the heart. You could break the door, but you knocked gently upon my heart, and entered through there by the gentle care you gave me.”

“And tell me, lady, shall I remain there, when you have gone on to a husband.”

He mocked her. She bared her soul to him, and offered her heart. And he mocked her.

She pressed against him, maddened that he had the strength to hold her to his will. She tilted her chin proudly, but again,
could not forget the hard naked feel of him against her. “I am my own mistress, sir.”

“I shall miss you when you are gone, with all of my heart, Lady Skye. Tell me, will you miss me?”

“I think—quite highly of you,” she said primly.

He laughed, and nuzzled her earlobe with a fascinating tenderness. “For sea slime, that is.”

She met his eyes, silver with his laughter, touched by the charming rogue’s curl of his lip. His arms were so strong about her. I have fallen in love with you! she thought with the deepest dismay and despair.

“You don’t—you don’t need to be sea slime forever,” she told him.

“Alas,” he said huskily, “there you are wrong, my dear, dear Lady Skye. The die has been cast.”

Suddenly the natural quiet of the lagoon was split asunder. The sound of a single cannon rent the air.

The Hawk looked up. Some fiery light touched his eyes, and when he stared at her again, she thought that he did not know her at all.

She frowned. “What was that?”

He did not reply. He groaned deeply and shuddered and bent to take her lips. He kissed her deeply, and then more deeply. He held her fiercely, and still his lips assaulted hers with abandon. As if he drank from her to take his fill. As if he could not move away.

He moved sure and fleet, bringing his body against hers, and making love to her with a savage determination. She could not protest the driving force of it, for his hunger was so very deep, drawing upon the passion he had created within her. The day ceased to be, the fire of it was so swift, and so complete.

It was his world, his domain. He ruled here.

He had commanded her from the beginning, she realized. He had wanted her, and she had come to him, and in these blinding moments, it mattered not at all. He loved her with the force of a wild sweeping storm, he touched her as if his hands could hold the memory of her from everything. His palm closed upon her breast, and then his mouth, even as his
body moved with arrogance and demand, knowing that he would stoke the flames with her. He reached to her womb, to her soul, she thought. His whispers cried out to her, and it was as if he cast the very force and life of himself into her, welding them into eternity. She rode a gale at sea, she thought, dangerous and beautiful. Or a fire storm. So very explosive …

She clung to him, and rode out the tempest, for her body gave so thoroughly to the impetus of his thrust. The sun upon their bodies was as radiant as the heat within them, the very ground beneath her back reminded her that this sweet and volatile binding of a man and woman was as old as the earth, as necessary.…

She cried out with the force and beauty of the shattering climax that fell upon her. He cast back his head, muscles tensed and the whole of him glimmering bronze with a sheen of perspiration, and cried out hoarsely. He fell upon her, and the raging force of him swept deep, deep inside of her like a liquid portion of the sun. She shuddered and fell back into his arms, awed and amazed anew, and certain that he would hold her then in tenderness.

He did not. He fell back against the earth, and a fierce oath exploded from him as he stared bleakly up into the powder-blue sky. He rolled and bounded to his feet. He stared down at her for a long moment. Her eyes were teal-blue and puzzled, her hair a damp splay of sunset over the earth.

He reached for her, offering her his hand.

“Get up,” he said curtly.

She looked at him, hurt, her temper sizzling. “I do not obey commands, Captain Hawk.”

“Don’t you? We shall see.”

“Shall we?”

He smiled, pulling her to her feet. His jaw was taut, his features strained as he spoke.

“The cannon, milady, is a signal. The ship has come, Lady Kinsdale. Your betrothed has come for you, slightly tarnished as you may be. I shall be heartily interested in the details of your nuptials.”

She slapped him with such speed that he did not catch her until too late. Then he dragged her back against himself and
bruised her lips with the hot demand of one last kiss. She jerked away from him, horrified. She would never, she thought, forget the mocking fire that burned so silver and so fierce within his eyes.

He turned away. She stared after him, blinded by sudden tears. “Wait!” she cried to him, and he turned back to her, and she wasn’t even aware of what she did when she pitched herself into his arms.

He was stiff, cold. Then he held her more tightly and smoothed his fingers over her hair. A long, shuddering sigh escaped him and he kissed the top of her head. Then he freed himself from her hold and led her to the pile of her clothing. “Come, we must return before someone comes to look for us. No doubt, your fiancé is most eager to meet you.”

IX