Authors: Paula Reed
She wanted to. She wanted to drown in the waves that washed over her, but she couldn’t find her voice. Geoff looked deep into her eyes and read the indecision there. With a groan he kissed her again, more deeply, more intensely. “Let go, Faith. Give in. Tell me you want this,” he repeated.
“I want—”
He didn’t release her when Giles pounded on the cabin door. “Cap’n, we’ll be needing you above. You’ve no time to tarry.”
“Damn,” Geoff swore softly under his breath. “In a moment,” he called to Giles. “Faith—” he began.
Relief and regret mingled as she pushed him from her and regained her senses. “You’re needed above.”
Geoff frowned darkly as he watched the passion abate from her expression. “We are not finished here, Faith. I’ll be back tonight, and if you’re asleep, I’ll wake you.”
With that he turned abruptly to attend to his duties on deck, and Faith wondered which storm would prove more violent, the one that threatened to toss the ship into a fevered pitch, or the one that raged inside of her.
She stayed several long hours in the cabin below. The ship heaved violently upward then slammed down again with bone-jarring force. Anything that was not securely anchored down fell to the wooden floor and skittered back and forth across it. The window offered no comfort, pounded by waves, wind, and rain. It was surely a miracle that it did not give beneath the onslaught. She had not been so terrified since she had huddled in the pitch-blackness of the ship’s hold, surrounded by rats. Even then she’d had not this horrible sense that the ship would fill with icy water at any moment. Sooner or later the wood would splinter and crack under the force that smacked relentlessly against it.
Unable to bear staying in the cabin alone, Faith braved the passage beyond. She knew that she wasn’t to be alone with the crewmen, but no one paid her any mind. There was noise and confusion enough to mask her presence. The lower decks were packed with men and animals brought in from above to weather the storm. Chickens raucously protested being tossed about in their cages and the goats were in a truly foul temper, biting and butting anyone unfortunate enough to be thrown in close proximity to them.
Faith stumbled to the hatch and clung fiercely to the ladder, hardly daring to breathe until she opened the trap door at the top of it and stumbled out upon the deck. Ice-cold rain drenched her instantly and the wool of her gown became impossibly heavy, so that when her feet slipped upon the wet deck, she could do naught but go down.
“Faith!” Giles called to her above the gale. “What are you doing up here? Go below before you’re hurt!”
“Nay!” she called back. “‘Tis worse down there!”
“‘Tis bad enough to ‘ave ‘er on board in a storm like this!” Killigrew complained. “Rotten luck, a woman on a ship. Send ‘er below!” Under his breath he grumbled, “Like it don’t already stick in our craws to think of the cap’n’s privilege without ‘aving the wench underfoot at a time like this.”
The ship careened and Faith slid, fear wrapping icy fingers around her heart as the rail rushed toward her. She ripped her nails digging them into planks of the deck, but to no avail. She didn’t have to look to know that it was Geoff’s hand, sure and strong, that pulled her to her feet and back to safety. When she found the courage to look up at him, his face was dark with anger.
“You can’t be up here!” he called. Water poured from his hair, cascading over the clothes plastered to his body, and it occurred to Faith that if the deck was not safe for her, neither was it safe for him.
“You are up here!” she shouted.
“I’ve no time for this,” he shouted back. He hauled her unceremoniously to the aft mast and wrapped a rope about her waist. “Stay here,” he instructed and strode across the slick deck as though it were dry. The crew quickly hulled the vessel, furling the sails so that the ship could drift with the wind, rather than allowing the wind to fill them and tug the vessel on her side.
Rain and waves washed over her and the deck in torrents, pouring from the roll of sail above her with enough force to drown her if she didn’t actively seek air. Geoff stood firmly at the helm, steering them through the storm as best he could, while Giles kept order within the chaos of men who had remained above to work.
The two men labored tirelessly as the rest of the crew cycled in and out, up and down from the safety of below deck. Giles beseeched her to go below as well, but though she was frozen, tired, and frightened, she had to see for herself that the waves that crashed around them did not sweep Geoff into the vast and careless ocean. She was useless, and a distraction to the man who caused her such worry, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Geoff glanced over to the foolish woman who coughed and gasped under the canvas. Whatever discomfort she suffered was her own doing, but it riled him to realize that it didn’t stop him from wanting to go and wrap his arms around her. When he thought of her, sliding swiftly and inexorably toward the rail, he knew a coldness beyond the biting rain and wind. Over and over his mind replayed the scene, but he saw another ending, her small frame swept over the side to be swallowed by merciless waves. He shook his head to clear the image. This was no time to chase nightmares, not when there were dangers real enough to contend with.
In time, the storm finally spent the greater portion of its fury. It settled into a steady rain and churned the sea less brutally. Geoff turned the helm over to another and retrieved Faith from the mast. When they gained his cabin, he shut the door and immediately set to stripping the sodden dress from her shivering body. She tried to push him away, but her frozen limbs held no strength.
“Geoff, about what happened earlier,” she began through chattering teeth.
He glowered at her from beneath scowling brows. “At the moment this has nothing to do with what happened earlier. The damned thing is pouring water all over my floor.” He picked up the dripping mass, opened the door, and called out to a crewman beyond. “You there! Take this. Hang it out to dry when the storm clears.”
She stood in her linen shift, pulling the wet, clinging, sheer fabric from the front of her and trying to maintain some semblance of modesty.
“These, too!” he barked, causing Faith to turn curiously. She was too stunned to speak. Before he could pull the blanket from the bed and wrap it around him, she caught sight of his compact, naked backside, the skin oddly white from waist to knee. She forgot all about her own state of undress until he turned back to her. Whatever he had opened his mouth to say to her died, even as his eyes heated.
There were no preliminaries, no pretense of gaining permission. He crossed the cabin floor and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, fastening his mouth to hers hungrily. His skin was as cold as hers, his mouth searing in contrast. “Do you never think before you do a thing?” he demanded when he tore his lips from hers.
“Are you telling me to think, now?” she asked. She tried to think. She knew that she should stop this before it raged out of control. Watching from the mast above she had been torn between the firm belief that if God saw fit to spare them she must repent and sin no more and the overwhelming desire to hold Geoff in her arms and give him all that he could ever ask.
“Nay, not now. Of all times, not now,” he answered hoarsely. He tangled his hands in her wet hair and kissed her again, taking the breath from her and making her dizzy. His hot mouth left a scorching trail as his kisses drifted down her neck. Resistance was impossible. Her body and heart defied her conscience. She let her head fall back, offering him the length of her throat, and he did not stop, even when he reached the top of her shift. Instead, he tore it from neck to waist, the fabric rending effortlessly in his fingers.
“This is about what happened earlier,” he said firmly.
Vaguely the thought crossed her mind that she hadn’t exactly shifts to spare, but he pushed it away like so much flotsam on the tide. His mouth tasted lightly salty, and his hair smelled of rain. His kisses moved down over her neck and shoulders, sending seething heat through her limbs as he lifted her up and eased her onto the bed. As though to prevent any protest, his lips returned to hers and he pressed her to the mattress with his weight. The feel of him made her heart pound, and she knew that she was powerless against the current that swept her away. She had found a part of herself she hadn’t known was missing and could not let it go if she had wanted to.
The cold that had gripped Geoff throughout the storm dissipated quickly as he melded his flesh to hers. Her mouth was warm and sweet, intoxicating as rum, and her sighs ignited white-hot flames inside him. He hadn’t meant it to be like this. He had meant to take his time, torment her as she had tormented him, but the fear of nearly losing her drove him. He had never lain with a virgin, and he knew that he should be gentle. There was pain, and usually some fear, but the ardent wench beneath him seemed anything but frightened. Her hands pulled at him in wanton invitation. Still, there was a small technicality to dispense with.
“Say it, my sweet,” he urged.
“Aye, Geoff,” she moaned.
“Aye, what?”
“Aye! Aye, I want you. I want this. I have never known such wanting!”
He gave in to her then, fastening his mouth around her taut nipple. Her gasp of pleasure brought a tightening to his loins. The inside of her thigh felt like silk to his questing hand, though the wet softness at its highest point was more enticing still. Slowly he slipped his finger into the tight sheath hidden among the moist folds, and sweat broke out across his forehead as he held himself in check. His gaze drank in the sight of her alabaster form writhing amid the sheets as he rhythmically stroked until her back arched gracefully and she cried out his name.
The moment she seemed to return from the abyss, he covered her pliant body with his, insinuating his knees between hers and spreading her legs wide under him. He braced himself with one hand using the other to gently caress her, tracing her breasts and stomach as he sought her entrance with his hardness. The heat, the wetness were nearly more than he could bear, and he fought the urge to bury himself, press onward to his own climax.
Faith moved her hips against him. She had no idea it would be like this, that there would be this screaming, driving need to be filled with him, yet he drove her mad as he took his time. At last, fill her he did. She felt a resistance inside of her, and he fell upon her, his mouth claiming hers completely and swallowing her cry of pain when he thrust deeply and took her maidenhead.
He would have stopped, allowed her to accustom herself to him, but she would have none of it. The discomfort of his invasion was nothing to the agony of her need, and her hips moved of their own accord, pressing against his in urgent demand. He withdrew slowly, causing moans of tormented desire to rasp in both their throats. His next powerful thrust rung yet another cry from Faith, and though he feared he had hurt her, the rapture on her face said otherwise. He quickened the pace, and when he felt her tighten around him he found his own release, pouring himself, body and soul, into the sweet, all-consuming essence that was Faith.
At last, he regained some sense of himself and looked down into the blue-green ocean of her eyes. In the flickering lamplight, they were wide with wonder, gazing earnestly back at him. “What think you of the wages of sin?” he inquired softly.
“Sin? Oh, nay, Geoff. ‘Twas no sin. ‘Twas a gift. The most precious, most perfect gift! It was not the pleasure only. It was you, and the wholeness of it, and... Ah, there are no words!”
The change in him was so abrupt, Faith could not fathom what happened. When first he looked down upon her, she had seen it all in his eyes, too. The rapture that went beyond anything that could be spoken. Now he shut down with that emotionless look that chilled her so. Had she said something wrong?
He rolled away, and the warmth of their loving evaporated like mist upon the shore. “Geoff?” she called uncertainly.
When he turned back to her, the look was gone, replaced by a casual grin. “Do you see what your ‘thou shalt nots’ would rob you of? You’d never have known what you were missing.”
Unable to bear the hurt in her eyes, he rose from the bed and pulled dry breeches from his sea chest. He had to leave, go above into the bracing rain. He had to think of something other than the one truth that washed over him like a solid wall of icy seawater. Through all the years, through all the women, he hadn’t known what he’d been missing.
“There’s sure to be damage. I’ll go take care of my duties and be back soon. You get some rest, lo—” he stopped himself. It was just a word, a pet name, and he had promised not to use it.
It hadn’t escaped Faith. He hadn’t slipped and used the endearment at all before now. Was that because he felt something, or because it was what he called all the others? Perhaps what happened was nothing special. Perhaps it was always so. Still, she felt certain it would not be the same for her with any other. She had not merely wanted a man; she wanted Geoff.
Chapter 12
Diego’s patron saint had proven herself, so far. As she promised, no others fell to fever, and the last of those who had suffered were rapidly improving. Little Galeno recovered quickest of all, bouncing back in the way that only the very young can. Diego couldn’t decide whether his vision was blasphemous, holy, or merely a hallucination brought on by fever and weakness. It was probably the latter.
She had also said there would be more trouble, but all was well, and soon they would be in Spanish waters off the coast of Cuba. He hastily crossed himself. Was he a fool to tempt the hand of God? These were the most dangerous waters of all! This was the rout taken by galleons, floating low under the weight of gold that flowed from the Spanish Main. Because of this, it was a route plagued by pirates. His was a small ship, of little consequence compared to the treasure fleets, but her cargo and crew were not without value.
The men who surrounded him went about their duties with the same cautious optimism that Diego himself felt. He worked hard to keep the edgy sense of foreboding that plagued him deeply buried. He was their leader, and they looked to him to assuage their own fears. They had been through much and served him well, for all that he was not the captain to whom they had originally pledged their loyalties. He could not let them down.