My Seaswept Heart (35 page)

Then with a growl he pulled one nipple into
his mouth, sucking, and biting, and sending fingers of sensation
burning through Anne.

“Oh, please.” Anne grasped his golden head,
pulling him closer. His hair was thick and curled around her
fingers as she held on to him. And inside her an ache grew until
she was trembling.

Didn’t he know what he did to her?

Anne’s fingers loosened their grip and she
let her palms slide sensually down over his shoulders and chest.
Lower and lower she went, twisting her hands around until his mouth
left her body with his quick intake of breath. His forehead pressed
between her breasts and his breath tingled the moist tips as he
sighed. “Be ye angel or devil, Annie?”

“Neither.” Anne’s fingers continued to
explore and measure the rock-hard ridge beneath his breeches. “A
mere woman, Jamie.” A woman who loves you, she wanted to say, but
didn’t. With shaking fingers she unfastened one, then another
button, spreading the fabric until his flesh thrust out into her
waiting hands.

“Oh, God, Annie, you’ll be the death of me
yet.” Jamie bit his bottom lip as she brushed her fingertips up and
across the top of his manhood. His breath was harsh and rasping as
he tried to absorb the pleasure without completely losing
control.

When she bent forward, touching him oh so
gently with her lips, he knew the battle was lost. He grabbed her
shoulders, jerking her up and against him, clenching his jaw and
trying to calm himself.

“Did I hurt you?” Anne’s words were muffled
into the warm skin of his chest.

“Nay.” Jamie sucked in humid, salty air.
“Nay, Annie. Ye could never do that. But ’tis been awhile since we
made love and I don’t think I can withstand such sweet torture as
that.” He tilted her chin up, kissing her lips hungrily. Then he
gently lowered her back onto the sand.

Jamie forced himself to undress her slowly,
pressing his mouth to her sun-kissed skin. She writhed beneath him
as he skimmed the dimple of her navel, crying out as his mouth
searched for and found the tiny bud of her womanhood. Anne was
swept up over the brink, chasing stars that exploded, swirling
around her in the colors of the rainbow. And then he was leaning
over her, blocking out the little light left in the sky with his
broad shoulders.

Between them his staff throbbed as he lowered
himself between Anne’s thighs. His first thrust was like coming
home. Like the pleasure of a feast after a long stretch of hunger.
The first drink of clear, cold water to a parched man.

Jamie sank into her body, fighting the strong
urge to move, and simply relished the feel of her, tight as a
sheath gloving his flesh. She was hot and slick and on a grunt of
pure male satisfaction he retreated only to drive deeper.

Her slender legs wrapped up and around his
hips, locking him to her as he rocked them back and forth with each
powerful thrust, Jamie’s hands plunged beneath her buttocks,
lifting her against him. And this time when she cried out, when her
body soared helplessly into ecstatic oblivion, he joined her,
pumping his seed deep into her womb.

They collapsed together onto the sand, Jamie
turning and pulling her into his arms. They lay still waiting for
their breathing to quiet, for their heartbeats to return to
normal.

Jamie pulled her close, resting Anne’s head
on his shoulder, twisting down to plant a soft kiss on her hair.
“Ye make me forget my wits, Annie.”

“Mmmm.”

Her agreement, a mere sigh of contentment,
made Jamie smile. He hugged her to him, tightening his hold...
wishing he never had to let her go.

“I should probably get ye back to your
cottage.”

“Must we go now?” Anne squirmed against his
side, draping her arm across his chest and tangling her fingers in
the thick mat of golden hair. “I’ve missed you.”

Craning his neck, Jamie tried to catch sight
of her face, but all he could see was a sweep of tangled,
sand-sugared hair. Jamie bent his free arm, pillowing his head, and
shut his eyes. “I’ve missed ye, too.”

“You have?” Anne twisted around, lying
partially on top of him, her chin cupped in her palm. “I know it’s
silly because we were stranded there, but sometimes I wish we could
go back to our island, just the two of us.”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

Anne smiled at that, then rested her check
against the warm, hair-roughened skin of his chest. “Everything
seemed so simple there. No worry beyond where our next meal would
come from.”

“I kept us in fish.”

“That you did.” Anne drew lazy circles along
the ridge of muscle.

“Besides, I think you’re forgetting we also
feared d’Porteau. The shark. We had our problems there, too.”

“You’re right. I suppose it just seemed
easier because you were there.”

“I’m here now.” Jamie drew his hand down over
her silky curls, letting his fingers caress the smooth skin of her
cheek. He wished there was something else he could do... something
to ease her mind.

But he could offer her nothing but the heat
of his body and his protection against d’Porteau. And for all the
anguish the French pirate caused, Jamie didn’t think he was Anne’s
main concern as she lay in his arms.

She confirmed his belief moments later.

Her voice was soft and low. “Uncle Richard
appears to grow more...” Anne hesitated. “Disoriented.” She shifted
to search the shadows for his expression. “Have you noticed?”

He’d noticed. When Jamie first came to
Libertia, Richard’s confusion was, for the most part, harmless. He
forgot who you were, and misplaced time, but there wasn’t the
underlying anger Jamie sensed now. It was as if the constant
befuddlement was becoming more than he could handle.

“Mayhap when there is no more worry over the
Frenchman...”

“Yes... I suppose that will help.” But Anne
didn’t think so. She sighed, dropping her cheek back down to his
chest when he spoke again.

“My mother was mad.” The fingers that were
gently stroking his skin stilled. “She wasn’t like your uncle... at
least I don’t think she was.” Jamie took a deep breath, hoping it
would calm him. It didn’t. He’d never spoken to anyone about this,
not even his father. Especially not his father.

He wasn’t certain why he felt compelled to
share this private torment with Anne, but he knew he couldn’t stop
now. “She cried... nearly all the time. And she would scream and
throw things. Dishes... anything.”

“At you?” Anne braced her arm around his arm,
holding him.

“Nay, never at me. She was always very kind
and gentle to me. She called me her spot of sunshine.” Jamie’s
voice grew gruff and he cleared his throat. “At least that’s as I
recall it. I was very young. But I remember hearing the shattering
glass, the screaming. Then being called into the drawing room by my
father and shown the mess.” Jamie shut his eyes. “He wouldn’t allow
the servants to clear away the broken shards. He said it was best
to remind everyone of just how mad she was.”

Anne swallowed. “What happened to her?”

“He sent her away.”

“Away?”

“Aye, to a place where madwomen were kept....
That’s what he told me.” His voice caught. “I never saw her again.
He told me she died.”

Anne pushed herself up until she could see
the outline of his face. Her hand cupped around his cheek. Gently
she wiped at the moisture there. “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie turned his face away, embarrassed by
his show of emotion. “It happened a long time ago. And as my father
often said, perhaps it was for the best. She was of no use to
us.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“Nay.” Jamie took a shattered breath. “I
never believed him. Never. I loved her.”

Anne pulled his head around. The moon had
risen, gilding his strong features with a silvery light. Love for
him swelled her heart and made it difficult for her to speak. She
swallowed. “How old were you, Jamie?”

At first she didn’t think he would answer. He
seemed embarrassed by his tears. Sitting up, he backhanded the
wetness from his face, but he didn’t turn away. He picked up the
hand she’d used to caress his face and linked it with his own. “I
was six when she went away. As I told ye, ’twas long ago.”

“I won’t send Uncle Richard away.”

His smile was sad. “I never thought ye would.
But I worry about ye. He’s angry.”

“Not at me. I think ’tis more himself, his
inability to remember. That frightens him.”

Jamie shrugged. “Just be careful, Annie.” His
thumb tilted her face up toward his. “I wouldn’t want anything to
happen to ye.”

Then he pushed to his feet, pulling Anne
along with him. “’Tis a moonlight swim we need to get rid of the
sand, and then I’ll take ye back.”

But after the swim they both had other ideas.
This time when they made love it was slow and bittersweet, for they
both knew there probably would never be another chance for them to
be together.

Afterward Jamie led Anne back into the water,
stopping when it pooled around her waist. With infinite care he
cupped his hands, drizzling water down over her, washing away the
sand caked to her body.

The sensation of warm water and warmer
fingers brushing against her skin made Anne close her eyes
dreamily. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, then froze, realizing
she said aloud the thought running through her head.

His hands stilled as well, though
diamond-like droplets of water skimmed over her skin. “Ye don’t
know what you’re saying, Annie. I’m a pirate.”

“But not as evil as you pretend.”

“Ah, so ye want to reform me, do ye?” His
smile was endearing.

“I really don’t think ye need reforming,
Jamie MacQuaid.”

“Well, the British Admiralty might have a
different opinion on that.” Jamie took a deep breath, wishing this
wasn’t so hard to do. Wishing he didn’t have to do it. “Annie,
lass, there’s a mighty attraction between us to be sure. But don’t
go getting that mixed up with feelings ye should be having for some
worthy gentleman.”

“But—”

Two fingers pressed to her lips silenced
Anne’s rebuttal.

“I’m a no-account, Annie. A rogue who can’t
even keep the one promise he made to himself.” He shook his head, a
wry smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “Two, actually. Don’t
get entangled in lost causes. And steer clear of beautiful
gentlewomen.”

“You said we could defeat d’Porteau.” Anne
lifted her brow. “If so, ’tisn’t a lost cause.”

“Mayhap not now, but it will be, Anne.
Libertia will fall prey to some other scoundrel, mark me words.
Lofty ideas always do.”

“So then you don’t want to stay and be part
of the grand experiment?”

“You’re not listening to me, Annie. I can’t.
Not for ye. Not for myself.”

“I see.” Slowly Anne turned and started
walking toward shore. The water swirled around her hips, then
thighs, then—

Jamie’s arm clamped around her upper arm and
he swirled her around to face him.

“Now why are ye acting like this? You’ve
known from the beginning what I am. What kind of life I’ve led.
Hell, my own father disowned me, left me for dead.”

“From what you told me earlier, your father
doesn’t sound like an exemplary man.”

“He wasn’t, or isn’t, if he’s still alive. He
was a heartless cur, and that’s the God’s truth. He treated my
stepbrother as vilely as he did my mother and me. But that doesn’t
change a thing.” His hands lifted to cup her shoulders. “If
anything it should make ye more leery of me.”

Anne opened her mouth to speak, but again
Jamie stopped her.

“Ye don’t want me, Annie.”

Oh, but she did. Anne saw no sense in arguing
the point now. She would wait, but she wasn’t giving up on him no
matter what he said.

They dressed slowly, then neither anxious to
leave sat, their backs to a palm tree. It was only when they woke,
ribbons of light teasing their eyes, that Jamie and Anne realized
they’d fallen asleep.

“Damn it to hell, I didn’t want to give rise
to any talk about ye.” Jamie helped Anne to her feet, then
proceeded to brush sand from her gown.

“It’s all right.” Anne twisted about to help.
“Uncle Richard won’t even know I was—”

Anne’s words stopped abruptly as her eyes
focused on the horizon. Lifting her hand she pointed to the ship
heading full sail for Libertia’s harbor.

She didn’t have to ask whose vessel it was.
One look at Jamie’s expression was proof enough.

He grabbed her hand as they raced toward the
settlement.

“Hold your fire.”

Jamie crouched among the men scattered behind
palm trunks, waiting, their sweating hands gripping the muskets. He
could smell their fear... or was it his own?

The sound of shelling still rang in his ears.
A sound he hadn’t expected. But leave it to d’Porteau to pound the
seemingly defenseless island with cannon before coming ashore. It
was all Jamie could do to keep the men he trained from racing for
the far side of the island when the first mortar exploded on the
beach. A well-aimed pistol and a harsh reminder of what the
Frenchman would do to their women and children kept them steady...
or at least at their posts.