Bound by Decency (14 page)

If only he could.

“Blast, but you are despicable company.” Cain dropped his head back to the planks and stared at the blue sky. “I’m leaving her in
Nassau
, as I told you. Tomorrow night, she will take up residence with Old Bess.”

Drake drank deeply from his mug and switched one crossed ankle for the other. “I wager you’ll be the randy bloke to break her in afore you sail out of port. What say you—fifty pounds?”

Bolting upright, Cain swiveled to face the devil intent on tormenting him. “You are the foulest excuse for a human being I have ever known.”

With a lift of his cup in mock salute, Drake smirked. “A fine compliment.”

His restraint pushed beyond his limits, Cain reached across and snatched the mug from Drake’s hands. He hurled it over the rail. The plunk of water announced its descent into the deep. Satisfaction poured through Cain. He silenced a triumphant grunt with pursed lips.

“Now damnation, what’d you go an’ do that for?” Drake eased to his feet and leaned over the rail to fruitlessly search for his mug.

“In hopes you’d bail over to fetch it.”

Dark eyebrows tugged together in consternation as Drake turned around. With a sad shake of his head, he strode to the ladder. “The devil himself could hardly desire better company than yours. Do us all a favor. If not
India
, find a wench in
Nassau
. You’re a bloody trial on my patience.”

A wench. Indeed, Cain had not thought of that before. With the distraction of
India
, he had quite forgotten his initial anticipation of seeing once again, the buxom blonde, Ella. She would most assuredly relieve him of this accursed lust. He could bury himself inside her welcoming depths and eradicate all thoughts
India
.

A low chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. By the saints,
Nassau
offered better promises each time he considered the brigand’s haven.

351

Bound By Decency

13

T
wilight found Cain’s spirits no better. Too many hours he’d watched
India
diligently tend to the mass of ropes. He’d witnessed too many men look too long on her ample breasts. Too many appreciative mutterings drifted to his ears. Jealousy slashed through him with each utterance, fueling his ire. Though he dared not show the uncalled for emotion, he couldn’t cease the slow burn that spread through his veins.

As the pungent aroma of onions blended with the hearty scent of meat, he left the quarterdeck to collect her for the promised evening meal. He told himself his intention to dine with her was yet another attempt to keep her safe from the leers of his crew. That the prospect of spending time alone with her had nothing to do with the increased rhythm of his heart. That the rapid cadence behind his ribs was a product of worry, nothing else.

He crossed the decks at a slow, deliberate pace, taking care to acknowledge the men he passed. As long as he didn’t rush to her, no one could find opportunity to falsely accuse him of attachment he didn’t feel. And she would have no cause to suspect he craved the warmth of her smile.

At her side, he stopped short. His gaze riveted on her bloodied hands. Anger tightened his chest. “Good, God!”

India
startled. She lifted her face, but the bright smile plastered to her lips faded as if she were truly relieved to drop her façade.

Scowling, Cain dropped to a knee and pried the rope from her shredded fingers. He picked up one hand, turned her palm up. Cracked and chafed, her delicate skin
was a ferocious crimson. The pad of her index finger
bled. A heavy sigh tumbled loose. “You should’ve ceased your chore several hours ago,” he lectured quietly.

She pulled her hand free and gingerly closed her fingers. “Reggie said he’d return. I didn’t know if I should quit.”

“Aye,” he murmured as he lifted his gaze to hers. “You should have.” He picked up her opposite hand and found it in no better condition.

As another ball of anger rolled through him, he ground his teeth together and slid his fingers to her elbow to aid her to her feet. Reggie should have realized
India
couldn’t begin to spend a full day laboring at braiding ropes. Not when her hands had likely done no more than mending. She was too delicate for this, her skin too fragile. Devil’s tongue, he’d take a strap to Reggie if he could get away with doing so.

India
touched the back of Cain’s hand, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Truly, Cain, there’s no need to be angry. I enjoyed myself immensely.”

He let out a derisive snort. “I sincerely doubt you liked rubbing away your skin. I recall the burn of bristly rope all too well.”

“Well, no. That part I could have gone without,”
India
confessed with a light laugh. “But I’ll survive. No true harm’s been done. Do you have some salve?”

“Aye. Come along, and I’ll tend your hands.” He steered her toward the door that led to his private hall.

She followed at an easy pace, her steps free of the exhaustion he’d glimpsed behind her eyes. In the high lift of her shoulders and the smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, he read happiness that seemed wholly out of place. She ought to be fuming over Reggie’s trickery. Yet it would not surprise him if she began to hum.

“Is that dinner I smell?”

“It is. Most likely we’ll have pork stew. Cleaver favors the simpler dishes when port is within sight.”

“Pork stew,” she mused. “I can’t say I’ve had that before.”

He pushed open his cabin door and motioned for her to enter. “If you like onions, you’ll enjoy the meal.”

Halfway to the chair, she turned to him with knitted brows. “Perhaps you should prepare more of that tea. As much as I like onions, they do not reciprocate the affection.”

Cain chuckled. He gestured at the chair. When she settled herself into the brushed velvet cushion, he crossed to his footlocker to rummage for his satchel of healing concoctions. Over the years, he’d collected an array of different medicines and remedies. Obscure herbs from the east, salves from the
Indies
, and common treatments acquired from the
C
olonies. Aside from the golden box upon his shelf, the bag was his greatest treasure.

He found it at the bottom of the trunk and brought it to
India
’s feet. Then he gathered his basin, the pitcher of water, and two unused bandanas. He took them all to where she waited and knelt on one knee. “Give me your hand.”

Obediently she set the back of her hand into his palm. “I could do this if you’d tell me what to use.”

Cain dunked one cloth into the basin, squeezed out a liberal amount of water, and gently washed the dirt from her dainty fingers. She flinched at the light touch. Her arm tensed.

India
’s pain lanced through him like a sharp blade. He cringed inwardly, hating that she must suffer at the expense of Reggie’s humor. He’d wager the very ship they inhabited that Reggie had seen an easy target and purposefully sought to take advantage of
India
’s naivety. Just as Slater had.

India
squirmed and clamped her teeth into her lower lip. At her faint whimper, Cain silently cursed Reggie. He added Drake in for good measure. Beyond the fact Drake stood between Cain and the punishment he wished to extract on Reggie, it was Drake’s fault
India
had been injured at all. If he hadn’t refused to return her to the cabin, she wouldn’t suffer now.

Her palm clean, Cain laid it in her lap and picked up her other hand.

Wincing, she tugged on her arm. “Please…Is this necessary? They’ll heal fine, I’m sure.”

Cain closed his fingers around her hand to keep her from pulling loose. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know it’s uncomfortable.”

And the worst was yet to come. The salve, although potent in its healing qualities, would burn. He’d seen it make grown men’s eyes water. Men who hadn’t uttered a complaint when pistol balls cut holes in their sides and swords sliced off digits that got in the way. With a little luck, she wouldn’t scream. Or faint. He wouldn’t survive either.

India
’s lower lip quivered, but she bravely dipped her head in acquiescence. Her eyes held his, and though she said nothing, he read the meaning in her unblinking gaze.
I trust you.
His heart skipped several beats as the unspoken words scalded into him. Aside from Richard, of all the people he knew, she had the fewest reasons to trust him. He’d done nothing to earn it. And yet, though he knew her faith in him was misplaced, the fact she gave it so freely settled a heavy weight atop his chest that limited his ability to breathe. No one had ever treated him to such genuine faith.

He looked back to her hand, his throat tight. He swallowed to alleviate the constriction and hastened to finish the chore. Trust was a burden. With it came responsibility that exceeded the simple determination to keep her safe aboard his ship. Worse, trust meant inevitable failure, for when he did what he must do and took Richard’s life, he’d shatter every bit of that displaced faith.

When he’d wiped away the last of the dirt and fibers clinging to her skin, Cain dropped the rag into the basin and cleared his throat. He gave
India
a brief glance before pulling out the opaque jar of salve. “This will be unpleasant.”

At her hesitant nod and her wide eyes, he hastened to add, “The pain will pass quickly.”

“Very well,” she murmured as her back stiffened.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself against her reaction. A twist of the cap permeated the air with the strong aroma of camphor and mint. He scooped a liberal amount onto his index finger. The ointment cooled on his skin, a tingle that was altogether pleasant so long as he bore no wounds. He quickly spread it over both her palms and captured her wrists to prevent her from wiping the salve off.

One heartbeat of silence passed. In the next,
India
gasped and struggled against his hold.

“Easy, little wren,” Cain murmured. To ease her discomfort, he stroked the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“Let go, that burns,” she choked out. Her eyes welled with tears.

Saints’ teeth, her pain chewed him into pieces. He grimaced, feeling her agony as his own. Hating himself. Hating Reggie all over again. When her tears spilled, sending one crystalline drop down each sun-colored cheek, his heart twisted. He searched for words. Yet what to say eluded him. At a loss, he gathered her wrists in one of his hands and used the other to wipe away the salty drops.

When two more trickled in their place, Cain let out a ragged sigh. He tucked a lock of her hair out of her face. Gentle pressure on her shoulder urged her forward enough he
could slip
his arm behind her back. Leaning in to her, he drew her cheek to his shoulder and stroked her hair. “Shh. It will pass.”

She shuddered, but the sob that threatened stayed within her throat.

He didn’t know how long he held her. But as seconds turned into minutes, Cain became lost in the heady fragrance of her hair, the warmth of her wet cheek against his skin. He held a woman, not the courageous spirit that had set foot upon his
deck
three weeks ago
. A woman who possessed vulnerabilities she’d rather die than let him see.

A woman who captivated him beyond all reason.

Driven by the deep, unexplainable need to bring her even closer, he turned her hands loose and wrapped his other arm around her narrow waist. Gently, he dragged her out of the chair until she knelt in front of him. She lifted a watery gaze to his. On a blink, another pair of tears trickled down her cheeks. Something moved inside him then. Something so deep and unsettling, he couldn’t name it. And while it stirred warmth through his veins, it also terrified him.

Desperate to escape the uncomfortable stirring in his body, Cain did the only thing he could think of to chase the sensation away. He framed her face between his hands, dipped his head, and caught her in a kiss.

Beneath his, her mouth was warm and pliant and flavored with the taste of salt. He traced the fullness of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. When she didn’t pull away and her lips moved against his, he surrendered to the yearning that plagued him. Sliding one hand into her thick dark hair, he nudged her lips apart to deepen the kiss.

****

T
he stinging in
India
’s palms faded to dull pricks as Cain engulfed her senses. Slowly, languidly, his tongue moved against hers. Through the thin cloth of her shirt, the heat of his bare chest soaked into her. Her nipples pebbled in anticipation, and deep in her womb, longing took root. She lifted higher on her knees, awakening to the heady scent of sage and all the promise Cain’s kiss offered.

Against her scalp, his fingers tightened. The hand he held to her cheek wound around her waist and crushed her into his powerful frame. Earlier thoughts of resistance crumbled. This was Cain, her lover, the man she had given herself to, and though he was forbidden, she no longer cared. What he stirred inside her was too great to combat. She looped her wrists about his neck and yielded to a quiet moan.

Cain returned the sound of pleasure, and his mouth took on more demand. He untangled his fingers from her hair. With both hands, he cupped her bottom and dragged her hips against his. The hard press of his arousal against her feminine flesh sent a thrill racing down her spine. Though her trousers barred his kneading fingers, she felt the warmth of his palms. The strength behind his gentle squeeze. She arched her back in search of more contact, squirmed when she could not touch enough to ease the pleasant discomfort between her legs.

His body tensed. As he sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, his lips clung to hers. Against her breast, his heart drummed fierce. But in the next heavy beat of hers, the sensual kiss gave way to feral hunger. Cain’s hands turned restless, roaming along the length of her back, skating over her ribs. With each caress, he stirred the same restlessness inside her soul. She couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t trap that elusive satisfaction that would still the gnawing ache of desire.

As if he sensed her struggle, he captured her bottom once again and brought her against his swollen shaft. His hips undulated against hers, and that hard length stroked her feminine center. Indescribable pleasure shot through her body. She gasped against the force of sensation. Braced her palms against his chest to thwart the sudden feeling she might topple over.

Her touch was enough to snap her into sense. Although pain didn’t sizzle up her arms, the discomfort of her hands was enough to draw her out of the spell Cain wove. She eased away.

For a moment, she feared Cain wouldn’t let her go. He clutched at the waistband to her pants, steady pressure urging her back into his embrace. But as his eyes slowly opened, his fingers relaxed. His gaze burned into her.

“We can’t, Cain,” she whispered. Swallowing, she moistened her dry throat.