Love With an Improper Stranger (4 page)

For how long she knew not, but the kind physician had been encouraging her to take some horrendous rum-heavy concoction, the vile aroma of which she just could not tolerate.  A simple whiff of the noxious blend caused a wicked round of heaves, so she declined his advice.  Instead, she told herself the odious affliction would pass, as it always did.  She had only to persevere.

“Mercy, I beg you.”  As she sank into her pillow, the simple surroundings spun out of control, and again she retched into the large basin her sister held.  “I am sorry, doctor.  But I do not think I can take much more of your aid.”  She pushed him away.  “I want to sleep.”

“That is out of the question, as you may not wake.”  The physician urged her to contemplate the disagreeable beverage, but she rebuffed his efforts.  “Will you not take a biscuit?”

“You must try, Lenny.”  The fear in Lucy’s expression, coupled with her grip on Lenore’s fingers, only incited more anxiety.  “Or how about a piece of bread?  The cook baked some fresh loaves this morning, and Cap’n shares your partiality for blackberry jam, so there is plenty in store, and he is happy to share.  Does that not sound delicious?”

“No, it does not.”  At the mere suggestion, she blanched.  Dizzy, she could not fathom eating a single bite of anything, so she collapsed to the mattress of the small bunk, which Captain Elliot declared he had removed in order to provide a more comfortable and expansive accommodation.  “And this is nothing unusual, so will you not let me bear my customary ailment in peace?”

“But you are gravely ill, Miss Teversham.”  Frowning, Dr. Avery wiped her brow with a damp cloth.  “I fear you underestimate the situation, as you have struggled these four days at sea, and you cannot persist on your current course.”

“I do not get your inference.”  In vain, she tried to focus on the timbers overhead, but her vision blurred.  “This is not my first bout with queasiness aboard ship, and I suspect it will not be my last.  Daresay I will prevail, if you would but grant a brief respite, as I am so tired.”

“Miss Lucy, will you be so kind as to summon the Cap’n?”  The doctor pressed a cool compress to Lenore’s forehead, and she moaned in appreciation.  “Tell him it is urgent.”

“Of course, sir.”  After depositing the basin on the table, Lucilla hesitated, as she appeared reluctant to part from Lenore’s side.  “I will be right back.”

Ah, yes.  Blake.  Lenore knew not what to make of her exceedingly handsome host, as one minute he spun frightening tales of his unfortunate sister and her brutal existence, trapped in a forced marriage to a monster, which harked a comparison to Medieval England.  In the next instant he held her in his arms and whispered words of reassurance and succor, as he fed her.  And he did not complain when she vomited on his beautiful coat and embarrassed herself.

“Well, how is our patient this fine afternoon?”  Doffing his many-caped greatcoat, Blake peered at her, his grin faltered, and his animated countenance sobered.  “Avery—”

“I know, Cap’n.”  The physician removed his spectacles and rubbed his face.  “Given Miss Teversham refuses the hot grog, I cannot ensure she will live to see the morn.”

Now that got Lenore’s attention, and she fought against the pile of blankets but lost the battle.  No doubt the doctor exaggerated the circumstances to trick her into succumbing.  But when a tear streamed Lucy’s cheek, Lenore longed to buoy her sibling.

“I beg your pardon?  What do you mean she refuses the hot grog?”  With arms folded, Blake shifted his weight.  “Since when is it her choice?”

“But, sir, I would not harm her.”  The kind doctor resituated his glasses and stared at Lenore.  “What can I do, when she rebuffs my best attempts to treat her?”

“You
make
her drink it.”  The tone in Blake’s voice left her shuddering, as he untied his cravat, flung the yard-length of linen over the back of a chair, and shrugged from his coat.  “Miss Lucilla, go to my cabin.”

“Cap’n, please, do not hurt my sister.”  Wringing her hands, Lucy shuffled her feet.

“What is this?”  Blake chucked Lucilla’s chin.  “Is this the spirited scamp who carved her initials in the bowsprit, yesterday?  Are you not an honorary member of the crew?”

“I am, sir.”  Lucy bit her bottom lip.  “And on my oath, I am at your disposal.”

“Then you will obey my order, and spend the night in my quarters, as I must tend Lenore.”  To her surprise, Blake rested a palm to Lucy’s shoulder and gave her a gentle nudge toward the door.  “Go, as I promise to do everything in my power to save her.”  In a move that inspired additional anxiety, Lucy suddenly reached for and clung to the captain.  And in a moment of indulgence for which Lenore would be forever grateful, he hugged Lucy and set her on her heels.  “There, there.  It will be all right, girl.  Now do as I ask, and, if you are very good, you may sit at my desk and peruse the ledgers.”

Without further comment, Lucy half-curtseyed and exited the stateroom.  At that point, Blake gazed at Lenore and rolled up his shirtsleeves, and she cowered beneath his scrutiny.

“Stay away from me.”  Yes, hers was a pathetic rebuke, but she did not require his interference.  “I will be fine, Captain Elliott.  You need expend no effort on my behalf.”

“No, you most certainly will not be fine, if I ignore the obvious and do nothing.”  In a flash, he snatched a stool from the wash area, grabbed her, and drew her into his lap.  “Obstinate, foolish woman.  If you care not for yourself, then what of Lucy?  With you gone, you condemn her to confront the world alone.  Is that the future you planned for her?”

“Captain, I protest, as you inflate the threat to my health.”  Kicking and squirming in his grasp, she discovered that, in her pitiful state, she presented no match for his brute strength.  “I insist you release me, at once.”

“Avery, I have her.”  With a nod, Blake signaled the doctor.  “Hold her nose and pour the concoction down her throat.”

“
No
.”  Panic invested her, when the doctor did as Blake bade, and she choked on the foul-tasting mixture.

Jerking her head left and then right, Lenore resisted until her lungs screamed for air, but when she opened her mouth, the physician she had considered a friend almost drowned her in the warm liquid.  Some of the bitter brew she swallowed, until she gagged, and her stomach rebelled in typical fashion.

Vicious spasms wracked her gut, and she erupted, but Blake never wavered, as he cradled her while Dr. Avery bore the basin.  Then her tormentors assailed her repeatedly in a macabre dance, of sorts, and she wailed in agony.  In silence, she vowed never to forget or forgive the captain.

“This would go much easier if you would cooperate.”  Blake brushed a stray lock from her eyes and scowled.  Inhaling deep breaths, she tensed when the captain said, “Again.”

And so began her slow descent into hell, as the brown-haired devil never relented, despite her pleas for compassion.  When it became clear he would not yield, she screamed and shouted.  Imprisoned in Blake’s vise-like clutch, she could do nothing, as the doctor deluged her with his abhorrent homemade remedy, and somewhere between the violent bouts of retching, Lenore ceded the fight.

Resting slack in the captain’s embrace, she wept and whimpered, as she gazed into his baby blues and heaped on him an assortment of colorful insults, yet he anchored her.  Resolute, he gave her no quarter, which spurred her anew, and she wrestled until she could endure no more.  After a final tussle, she capitulated, much to her chagrin and humiliation.

To her amazement, when she surrendered, Blake smiled, dismissed the doctor, and fed her the peculiar tonic with tenderness of which she never would have guessed him capable.  From her former adversary she drew strength, and she consumed more and more of the bizarre cure.

“Lovely Lenore, you will not die on my watch.  Do you hear me?  I will not allow it, so you must improve.  Now, be a dear, and take more grog.”  Chuckling, Blake caressed her cheek as she gulped an impressive portion.  “It seems you have developed a fondness for rum, much to my gratitude.  And I rather fancy your sedate nature, although I admire your spirit, too.”

To her credit, in her mind she composed a polite and dignified response, along with a sincere apology for the appalling invective she unleashed earlier, which she hoped to deliver with characteristic grace.

Instead, she hiccuped.

“Well, well, that is an excellent sign.”  And then her enticing host grinned, which proved quite irresistible, and she tittered.  When she shivered, he draped another blanket over her, and she thought he kissed the tip of her nose.  But she had to be mistaken.  “Miss Teversham, I believe your fever broke, which is no small accomplishment, but we will not celebrate your recovery just yet.”

Soon the tide turned, a strange sensation, an enticing and soothing warmth pervaded her muscles, suffusing her in a cocoon of tranquility, and she sighed and gladly sipped the now not-so-nasty-medicine.  The savage nausea that plagued her had all but vanished, and in its place remained an odd calm.  For some reason Lenore could neither comprehend nor explain, she could not stop giggling.

#

It was late when Blake stirred, lulled from sleep and inappropriate but altogether tantalizing dreams of Lenore, by a flirty little hum.  Rubbing his neck, he stretched his legs and yawned.  Several seconds passed before he realized he remained in Miss Teversham’s stateroom, with the decidedly delectable Lenore firmly planted in his lap.

“
Heeeellllooo
.”  Hugging the mug of rum-laced grog, she snorted as her head bobbed.  “Did I wake you, my oh-so-dashing host?”

“Bloody hell.”  He burst into laughter at the absurdity of his predicament, and he wondered how the prim and proper lady would react, if she could see herself loaded to the gunwales.  “You are three sheets to the wind.”

“I beg your pardon?”  With an adorable pout, she hiccuped.  “I most certainly am not—what does ‘three sheets to the wind’ mean?”

“It means you have had more than enough rum, Miss Teversham.”  What a compelling combination, the demure and decorous gel had tapped into an innate enchantress, and he realized, in that second, he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman.  After snatching the sailor’s tonic from her slender fingers, to her groan in protest, he located a cup of water.  “Here.  You need fluids, lovely Lenore.”

“Ugh.”  She grimaced and choked.  “That tastes awful.  I want my medicine.”

“Oh, I have no doubt, but you no longer need it.”  Even foxed, Blake found her unutterably appealing, especially in the sheer muslin nightgown she wore.  But he tried not to consider that.  “Now be a good girl and drink for me.”

“Say my name again.”  She collapsed to his chest and sighed.  “I love the way you say my name.”

“Do you?”  How she worked on him, and how she touched him.  As the finest brandy, she warmed him from the inside, and he fought to maintain control of his desires, which ran rampant, much to his chagrin.  Not since his days as a randy midshipman had he grappled with his baser instincts, as he had long ago mastered his lustful appetites.  No woman commandeered his helm unless he permitted it, but not so with the elder Miss Teversham.  Indeed, the bewitching Lenore had found the chink in his armor and scored a direct hit.  “Why?”

“I cannot be sure, but something in the tone of your voice gives me shivers, yet you do not frighten me.  Well, on occasion you frighten me.”  When she nuzzled him, which he never would have predicted, he lost the battle with his body, a wicked erection ached to wage war in her creamy flesh, and he gritted his teeth.  “And your eyes, so blue, twinkle with naughty thoughts.  Will you share them with me?”

Oh, would he…

“On my honor as a gentleman and as a Nautionnier knight, you will experience my fantasies, in detail, where you are concerned, but not tonight.”  It would be so easy to take her, to unhook his breeches, spread her thighs, and claim her.  In her present condition, she would not fight him.  Actually, she would welcome him.  But that was not how he wanted her.  “When the time is right, I shall bare all that I am and teach you all that I know—what
are
you looking at?”

“Your mouth.”  With a finger, she traced the line of his jaw, which he clenched.  As a practiced seraph, she squirmed, and the blanket dropped to her waist.  Rose-tipped peaks just visible beneath the thin fabric tempted him beyond reason, and he shifted his hips in discomfit.  In his mind, he marked the torment, as he would exact equitable recompense.  “Your lips are a marvel, and I wonder how they would feel pressed to mine.”

Yes, her admissions just kept getting better.  “My dear Miss Teversham—”

“—Lenore.”

“All right, Lenore.”  When she squealed, he chuckled.  Then it occurred to him that she would not remember a thing about the exchange, given her heightened intoxication, as evidenced by her slightly slurred speech, so he could take liberties he would not otherwise dare.  In a flash, Blake bent his head and whispered in her ear, “
Lovely Lenore
, this I swear on my heir, which you shall birth, soon I shall kiss every inch of your captivating curves, I shall devour the succulent treasure between your thighs, and you will croon your siren song just for me.”  Then he braced for a jolt, a sharp reproach, or a slap.

“But I have never been kissed.”  Now that revelation well nigh slayed him, and he would correct that shameful offense against the laws of nature.  Unaware of the danger he presented, she teased him with an enchanting wiggle of her bottom and further provoked the beast.  “Will you be my first?”