Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (15 page)

What if he had, she wondered as the wind whispered over the water, crept under her shift and teased the sensitive skin of her thighs. What would she do if he knew what she was feeling? And, she thought with a jolt of lust, what if he acted upon it?
Oh my
.

Boisterous shouts and laughter rang from around the island. Grace jumped. Steele turned his head, though not enough, she was certain, for him to see her. Still, it was enough to dispel the devilish thoughts. If Santo Domingo had a church, she’d need to see about confession.

She waded back into the water until it folded over her shoulders then lay back and floated on it. While the sea was warm, it nevertheless offered respite from the humidity and the heat and she sighed, remembering the countless days on the plantation where she’d died of heat, her face and hands burning with it. She’d hungered for the blue-green water she could see past the sugar canes, craved the soothing of the water, the cooling of her scorched skin. She’d ached to the depth of her bones for anything that would ease the sweat drenching her body.

Well, she wasn’t aching now. Scooping water with her hands, she hummed in appreciation as the liquid cooled her face. She licked the moisture from her lips.

“Sure and it looks pretty, but it tastes awful,” she muttered of the sea.

She’d never had a chance to swim in the sea in Ireland. The shack they’d lived in was too far from the ocean and it wasn’t safe to travel, her da had said. So, under the cover of darkness, they’d made do with a little stream. It had been like bathing in ice.

But there was no ice here, and she couldn’t help but be thankful for it. This warm water was much better as it allowed lingering. And for someone who’d had precious little time to linger in her life, Grace appreciated the luxury of the moment.

Overhead, the lacy clouds drifted in the sky and it wasn’t long until her thoughts wandered back to Steele. Visions of Steele and her body’s reaction to him continued to unsettle her. She spread her arms wide to propel herself forward but the motion pulled at her sutures. Returning her arms to her side she kicked instead, small thrusts of her knees and ankles that sent water lapping between her legs. Grace gasped at the sinful pleasure and dropped to her feet, where her toes skimmed the sandy bottom.

What was the matter with her? Why was she, after the whole of her life and now when she was due to become a mother, having such thoughts and feelings? Did it make her a harlot? Was it natural to have these kinds of urges? Surely it wasn’t only men who had desires, felt lust? Unsettled by her thoughts, Grace lay back in the water and began to swim.

Her sodden shift and healing wound slowed her movements but didn’t damper her determination. Grace kicked hard, moving steadily through the water. She didn’t go deep, instead choosing to swim lengthwise, always keeping the beach to her side. She swam until her breath labored and her legs felt heavy. Until her thoughts no longer centered on Steele.

She screamed to high heaven when an arm suddenly banded under her breasts and she was hauled up against a hard chest.

“Unless you want the whole crew here in minutes, seeing you almost naked, I suggest you stop screaming,” Steele ordered as he moved them into shallower water.

Grace gulped back her next scream, told her heart it was all right to keep beating.

“What are you doing?”

“You were supposed to cool off, not exert or further injure yourself.”

“You might have thought of that before you scared ten years off me life.”

He turned her in his arms.

There was hardly a breath of space between them. From breasts to hip, Grace felt all hard man.

The sun shone on his hair, drew her attention to the perspiration gleaming on his forehead and cheeks. His lips were pink and full and slightly parted as he breathed. What it would be like to kiss a man with a beard, she wondered? Tingles and achiness returned with the force of a pounding wave.

“Grace.”

The words came at the same time his hand shackled her wrist, which was mere breaths from his face. Lord in Heaven she hadn’t realized she’d moved to touch him. Humiliation threatened to choke her. She yanked her hand, only to find it locked in Steele’s grip.

The possessiveness of such a gesture should have infuriated her. It should have reminded her of all the times Roche had come at her, grabbed her as though she was of no importance, as though she wasn’t a person with her own mind and spirit. It should have reminded her of every other man who thought they could dictate her life—Cromwell, her father, the overseer at the plantation. It should have put some iron in her spine, and she damn well should have demanded he release her this instant.

She should have, but she didn’t. Instead, his touch, firm yet unthreatening, started a fire within her. Below the water she felt a different kind of wetness. Above its glossy surface, water lapped underneath her breasts, gently rocking them in watery hands. A wave came up, licked her nipples.

Looking down she saw what she hadn’t realized at first. Her sodden shift was mostly transparent. Her full breasts were perfectly defined against the thin fabric; her nipples—pink and thrusting—were impossible to miss. Her head jerked up. Steele’s attention was locked onto her chest. Another wave rode crested over her breasts and though she hadn’t thought it possible, her nipples hardened more. Then, immediately afterward a kick of breeze slipped between her and Steele and the warm moistness of it was as though Steele bent and blew his breath over them.

Grace bit her lip as desire almost blinded her, and she nearly moaned aloud. Steele’s rolled from his throat, dark and full of need.

He dropped his hand and they each immediately took a step back. He didn’t raise his gaze until she’d crossed her arms over her breasts. He ran a flustered hand over his face, finally looked her in the eye.

“You should—”

“I should—”

His grin looked as strained as hers felt.

“I’ll go ashore. You stay.” She managed despite the thickness of her tongue.

It wasn’t until she was on the beach and turned to find him still watching that she realized the back of her shift was likely as transparent as the front.

*

Caught staring, Steele
folded his legs, submerged himself under the water. The reprieve was minimal but at least the sea took some of the fire from his cheeks. If nowhere else.

Fool that he was, he’d watched Grace wade ashore. His mouth had dried degree by degree as the water slowly receded. First it revealed a waist so delicate his hands ached to span it, span it and hold her to him. Then the sea draped slowly lower, leaving behind the succulent curve of her hips. Hips made for a man’s enjoyment. But it was lower still which had mesmerized him, hardened him to a painful throb. He’d been helpless to look away.

When the water had fallen to her thighs, he’d nearly come out of the water after her. Her sodden shift gloved the perfect roundness of her backside, dipped enticingly into the cleft between them. Bloody hell, but he wanted to have that backside in his hands, splayed wide as he moved in and out of her wetness.

He inhaled at the thought and immediately choked on seawater.

Pushing off the sand, he thrust to the surface, gulped air between bouts of coughing. Water sluiced off his face, dripped into his eyes and burned.

“Are you all right?” Grace called from the beach.

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t. He was holding onto his lust by a thin enough rope; he didn’t need further temptation.

“I’m fine.” He rasped between coughs.

Once he hacked out the water he’d inhaled, he dove under again. He’d always loved swimming. To him, it was a different world, one filled with silence and peace. At the moment, he could use all the peace he could find. He stayed under until his lungs demanded air then he kicked hard toward the surface.

He breathed deep, circling his arms and legs as he filled his lungs. He noted the silence and cast a look to the beach. Grace lay on her back, arms and legs spread wide like… He gave his head a hard shake. Like a starfish. A starfish, not a woman begging for a man’s touch.

No noise came from the other side of the island either, leaving Steele to assume his crew had had enough frolicking for the moment and were scattered on the sand napping. He sighed and floated contentedly.

He’d become accustomed to being alone since he’d lost Catherine. At first, it had been misery, not hearing hers or Caden’s voices. Not hearing her breathe as she slept curled into his side. Each beat of silence had been a bleeding reminder of what he’d foolishly taken for granted. But over time, and more once he’d become Steele, he’d learned to accept the silence, the time alone.

Since taking Grace onto the
Revenge
, privacy had been in limited supply. But now, he thought with a satisfied breath, he had it. No demands. No need to keep his guard up. He allowed himself the luxury of total relaxation and could have wept as he felt each muscle loosen.

Steele closed his eyes, enjoyed the feel of the cooler water beneath him and the heat of the sun on his face and shirt-clad chest. He’d have preferred to go shirtless, but wouldn’t with Grace around. He’d made that mistake once already. Though if his shirt were as transparent as her shift had been, it wouldn’t provide much of a barrier.

Content, Steele drifted on the water. He could stay in this lazy state for hours. Maybe the crew would sleep longer allowing him—

A sharp cannon blast ripped through the silence. Steele jerked and the bottom fell from his stomach. Bloody hell, not now. Yet even as he thought it, he lunged into action. Before the second blast resounded, he was swimming hard for shore. While the water splashed in his ears, he heard nothing but the echo of cannon fire and what it meant. He swam until the water was too shallow and then slogged his way in. He didn’t have to call for Grace, she was already at the longboat, hastily donning her gown.

“’Twas Aidan’s signal, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t want to alarm her, but she needed to be warned. “Yes.”

She handed him his boots then clasped her hands tightly over her stomach. His fingers turned to ice. What kind of trouble awaited him? His hands wanted to shake but he wouldn’t let them. He would be no good to Grace and her child if he faltered now. But as he yanked on his boots he wondered how he was going to keep her safe. He couldn’t leave her on this beach but if trouble were imminent, depending how far away it was, coming around in a longboat would make them an easy target.

“Steele?”

His eyes met her worried ones. “It’ll be all right, Grace. But we need to get back to the ship.” Aidan was keeping watch. If he saw an incoming ship he’d have signaled in time to get his captain back.

Yet as he helped Grace into the longboat and pushed it out, he could only pray he was right.

S
teele braced for
the worst. With each slice of the oars, his mind filled with horrific images; his crew decimated because its captain had abandoned them, no matter his reasons. Grace bleeding or being taken by the other ship while he was helpless, yet again, to save a woman from harm. Each time a vision clouded his mind, squeezed his heart, he shoved it aside. He couldn’t afford the distraction. Though it didn’t stop the fear from wrapping around his throat.

With each surge of his arms and legs, which drove the boat closer to the crook in the island where he’d make his turn for the
Revenge
and its crew, fresh horrors streamed into his mind and iced his blood. Hell, this wasn’t his first battle; why was he panicking now?

The answer sat still and pale in the bow of the longboat.

She looked especially innocent sitting there, hair sodden and tangled from her swim, his shirt once again hanging over her dress. She had no business being here. And he’d been a fool to dally today. Let them swim, he thought, clamping his jaw as he worked the oars. What would his foolishness cost him this time?

His breath lodged in his throat when he made the curve. It flowed out like a burst dam when he took in the scene. There wasn’t an immediate threat. Yes, he saw the dark spot on the horizon, knew what it was headed their way, but there was time. Aidan had done his duty and warned his captain early.

No, he’d done more than that, Steele realized. Nobody lingered on the beach. Supplies lay scattered and forgotten and a steady stream of drenched sailors climbed the ladder of the ship. His little sloop had gotten them out of many dire situations and he blessed it again now as he cut a direct path for his ship. Because he could anchor in shallower waters than the bigger galleons or frigates, his men hadn’t had a far swim to get back on board since Steele had possession of the longboat.

It meant they’d be ready when the time came and not caught unaware and unprepared. It meant, he thought casting a glance at a stony Grace, he stood a damn site better chance of protecting her and her child.

When the longboat tapped the
Revenge
, Aidan was leaning over the gunwale, black bandana tied around his head, ready to help Grace aboard. There were no salacious thoughts in Steele’s head when he took her hand and guided her to the ladder or any as he followed behind. His attention was only for what lay ahead.