A Brother's Honor (11 page)

“As I would about any wounded beast. If you delay any longer, we shall not be on our way before the sun rises.”

When he frowned at her, she refused to be intimidated by his black brows beneath the dingy bandage across his forehead. “I will match you step for step,” he said.

“If you don't, you may find yourself sitting by the side of the road at daybreak.”

He nodded, surprising her, for she had thought he would argue further. Then she realized that he knew, as she did, that they must put a few miles between them and the village before dawn forced them again into hiding.

“Have you found your cat?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you bringing him with us?”

She shook her head. “He has found himself a home at a dairy near the village. He will be happy there.”

“He is wise. I wish you would be as wise. This would be much easier if you were more cooperative.”

“Me? I am cooperating.”

“As your father did. When he saw it was useless to fight any longer, he accepted surrender to
La Chanson.
” He laughed quietly. “In fact, he surrendered before I was certain we would win.”

She closed the dark lantern. “I think it would be for the best if you refrained from flaunting your victory over the
Republic
all the time.”

“I am not flaunting our victory as much as I am stating how curious I am that such a brave woman could have such a spineless father.”

Abigail did not answer. How could she? She still did not understand why Father had capitulated to the French, or why the
Republic
had been sailing in English waters, or, the thing that bothered her most, why Father had left her aboard to become Dominic's prisoner. No matter how many ways she tried to explain Father's actions to herself, she could not. There must be a good reason why he had done what he did, but she could not guess what it was. She hoped she would have a chance to ask him.

Taking Dominic's arm, she drew it around her shoulder. In the thin light from the stars, she saw how his lips were clamped closed as he took a step, putting some weight on his right ankle. Pain raced through her as his fingers dug into her shoulder.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “Damn, that hurts!”

“I can support you if you do not grind your fingers through my skin.”

His answer was lost in a groan as they took another step together. When they took a third, he said, “Thank you,
chérie
, for not dressing me down.”

“For what?” she asked as she led him toward the thicker trees.

“For not bearing this in silence.”

“I wouldn't.”

His chuckle brushed her ear, and she fought the quiver that raced through her. “But you are quite wrong,” he said.

“I am?”

“You endured all sorts of abuse from me and my crew in silence.”

“I complained.”

“When I touched you, yes, but you never spoke to me of Jourdan accosting you belowdecks.”

“You knew of that?”

Again he laughed, then moaned as they skirted a tree. “As captain, I needed to know everything that happened on my ship. I forgive a man one mistake. Two, no.” His side strained against her as they reached the path. “It can be quite galling when I can barely walk to recall how brave you are.”

His amusement disappeared as another pang cut through him. When he cursed, she eased him to the ground. He winced, and she adjusted his ankle quickly.

She knelt beside him. “It should be easier from this point forward.”

“If we use the road.”

“I fear we have no other choice. I cannot carry you through the woods all the way across England.”

He kneaded his ankle gently. “It is healing well. Within a day or two, I should be able to walk on it.”

“I hope so.” She touched the darkest bruise.

“
Ventre bleu!
” he spat. “Take care!”

“I am.” Her brow furrowed. “If you were wise, you would stay off it until the sprain heals.”

“But I am neither wise nor patient.”

She laughed. “Undoubtedly, you are the most impatient patient in the world.”

He stood when she did. Slipping his arm around her again, he cautioned as she put her arm around his waist, “Take care. The burns back there still hurt.”

“You should have let me check them before we left. If they fester, you could be in real trouble.”

“Then check them.” He took the lantern from her and opened it slightly. As the glow washed along them on the deserted path, he loosened the few buttons on his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Don't you want me to take this off?”

“Not here. Not now. Wait until daybreak when we stop. Then I will check your back.”

He redid the few buttons that would close on his shirt and smiled. “That gives me something to look forward to, a reward for the miles we put behind us tonight.”

“First, we have to make those miles disappear.”

Abigail had expected him to make a retort, for he enjoyed having the final word in any conversation, but Dominic remained silent as they went along the path. She noted how he scanned the road ahead of them as well as looking over his shoulder every few minutes. When her fingers brushed the haft of the knife at his waist, she knew he would not hesitate to use it. She began to believe they might just do the impossible and escape from England.

Never had Abigail been happier to see the night fade into the thick gray of the moments before dawn. Fog had come ashore to keep them from seeing more than a few feet ahead on the road. It was chilly and clammy, but she was grateful, because she knew that no one would want to be out on such a night.

Every muscle along her back and legs ached, threatening to give out if she took another step. She ignored the cramps. She had said they would continue until daybreak, and she would, even if the very next step was her last. Beside her, Dominic was silent. She did not need to look at his face to sense how he strained for each step. His fingers drove into her shoulder, and he panted on every breath. His lighthearted jesting had vanished.

“'Tis sunrise,” he murmured.

“It is still gray.”

She was amazed when he chuckled. “You are letting the fog baffle you.” He drew his arm off her shoulder and pointed to the east. “See? The light is much stronger in that direction. The sun has come up out of the sea.”

“Thank heavens,” she whispered.

“My thoughts exactly.” Instead of putting his arm around her again, he grasped her hand. He limped to the side of the road where a dark wall became a line of trees. “'Tis time to stop and rest.”

“After I find us some water.”

“No, rest first,
chérie
. You don't need to encounter one of our new neighbors by a stream.”

Abigail acquiesced to his good sense. After all, she was not thirsty. She had been swallowing gulps of the fog all night.

With more stability than she had expected, Dominic led the way into the trees. “The walking seems to have loosened my tight muscles,” he said, warning her that he had noted her surprise.

“You will want to massage your ankle before we begin walking tonight. Your muscles may tighten up while we are resting.”

He sat near some briars. Taking care, she lowered herself to the ground. She sighed, wanting to fall instantly asleep. She was not sure where they had walked for the past hour, because she had been half asleep.

“Before you rest, Abigail …” Dominic put his hand on her arm as she was about to curl up on the damp ground. “You wanted to check my back.”

“Can't it wait?”

“For tonight?” His laugh was hushed. “Then you will be so anxious to be on your way that you will be furious at yourself for not doing this now.”

She sighed. She hated it when he was right. “All right,” she murmured, then swallowed harshly as he slid the sleeves along his arms. Although she had cared for him since they were washed ashore, the motion of the muscles between his bronzed skin mesmerized her.

She leaned forward to check the puckered skin where he had been burned by flying debris from the ship. She tried to ignore the expanse of bare skin before her eyes. It was futile, but she strove to concentrate on her task. Without his shirt, she could not overlook the sinews knotted along his arms and across his chest. He must have helped with all aspects of sailing his ship, for he appeared as strong as the crewmen who hauled in the sails and worked as stevedores in port.

Telling herself the pleasure simmering within her was from discovering his burns were getting better, she loosened the sweaty cloth around his head and smiled. His cuts were healing well, too.

“I don't think you will need to bandage your head any longer,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “I do believe you are going to survive.”

“You need not stop,
chérie.
” Taking her fingers, he drew her forward until her face was only an inch from his. He held her hand between his as he said, “I like your touch.” Pressing her fingers to his bare chest that was softened so slightly by dark, curling hair, he chuckled when she gasped. “Can I hope that your eyes are wide because you are pleased by this, too?”

She jerked her hand away. “I find no pleasure in being seduced by a married man.”

“Married? What are you babbling about now?”

She pointed to the ring on his left hand. “That.”

He laughed.

“What is so funny?” she asked.

He touched her cheek. “The only one I am wedded to is
La Chanson de la Mer
. I have no wife mourning my reported demise. This ring is a family heirloom which fits on that finger. Nothing more.” His eyes twinkled mischievously as he pulled her against him. “If you do not make it a practice to be seduced by married men, would you consider being seduced by an unmarried one?”

“Dominic, I do not intend to be seduced by you or anyone else today.”

“Why do you insist on using that precise tone when you are frightened of me?”

“I am not frightened of you!” She started to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her on the ground beside him.

When she gasped in astonishment, he laughed. He might be hobbling, but he had recovered the strength he had on the ship. She should have guessed when he matched her, as he had promised, step for step all night.

As his fingers moved along her shoulder to the curve of her neck, he tilted her face toward him. She knew she should tell him to stop, but she could not deny the delight oozing through her at his gentle caress.

“I think we should go to sleep,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked reasonably as his finger moved along the line of her pulse to the responsive skin behind her ear. “We have no reason to hurry anywhere,
chérie.
”

A thousand words burned on her tongue. Insults and retorts she wanted to shout at him. She was not going to cede herself to him now. Whether he was married or not did not change her mind. He was her enemy, and she was with him still only because she needed his help to flee England, not because she was fascinated with his touch. She intended to say that and more, but instead she swayed nearer to him as his tender touch brought back memories of the night of the storm when he had held her so sweetly.

His fingertip teased the curve of her ear, sending strange, wonderful sensations cascading through her. When her hand rested on his shoulder, he smiled. It was the only warning she received as he pressed her back onto the earth beneath him at the same moment his lips found hers.

She softened as he snatched her breath from her with the tempest-strong power of his kisses. Under her fingers, his strong muscles responded to her touch. He raised his head to gaze down at her, and she wondered why she had denied herself this pleasure for so long.

She did not speak as she stared up at his midnight-dark eyes. The glitter in their mysterious depths could mean anything, but she did not care. Slowly her fingers rose to touch the coarse texture of his fiercely sculptured face. She closed her eyes as his tongue traced her lips before seeking within for secret rapture.

Turning her head away, she whispered, “No, Dominic.” Anguish filled her voice. She could not forget the last time he had kissed her like this. Then he had been ready to force his way into her bed.

“Abigail?” When she refused to look at him, he cupped her chin and brought her face up toward his again. “Abigail, that was a mistake.”

“Today or that evening on the ship?”

He laughed lowly, but there was only regret in the sound. “How can you ask that?”

Pushing him away, but taking care not to hurt his injured leg, she sat and brushed the dirt off her shirt. He caught her hand again. She glanced at him quickly and away. That he refused to release her until she answered his question should not have been a surprise. Dominic St. Clair was a man accustomed to having his way.

“You have hurt me, Dominic,” she whispered, “any time I have lowered my defenses in the slightest.”

“Hurt you? I did not think holding you in my arms and kissing your luscious mouth would hurt you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“
Oui
, I do. But do you know what this means?” He tugged her back into his arms. Her protest against his lips was halfhearted. Cradled against him, she was aware of every inch of his skin. His mouth moved along her neck as his fingers had, and her arms arched up his back. While she stroked his skin, sparks burned into her with his eager kisses.

When he raised his head to look down into her eyes that were blurred with passion, his gaze moved along her. “You fit so perfectly in my arms,
chérie.
”

“Dominic …” She sighed eagerly as his tongue teased her ear.

“You are always a puzzle. I never know if I shall find a wildcat or a temptress in my arms.” He whispered against her ear, “Now do you know what my kisses mean?”