Care and Feeding of Pirates (21 page)

She gave him an apprehensive look. "I
see."

"All will be well. Carew will show you things
you can do, even a Southern lady bred to give tea parties."

Honoria dissolved into laughter. "Upper-class
ladies don't give tea parties. That's for the
parvenu
."

Christopher shook his head, mocking chagrin.
"Damn, I knew I shouldn't have run away from finishing school."

She laughed again, her lips red and
inviting.

"Tell me what my forfeit is," he said,
steeling himself. "Get it over with."

Honoria fell silent, and her cheeks blossomed
pink. Christopher waited for her to command him to climb to the
crow's nest and jump off into the sea.

Instead, Honoria raised on tiptoe and put her
lips to his ear. She whispered, he listened.

Christopher's eyes widened, and his already
hard cock jumped.

Oh, my sweet Honoria
.
No wonder I
love you.

*****

Chapter Sixteen

Honoria felt Christopher's body tighten as
she explained. He cupped her shoulders with strong hands, his eyes
going almost a colorless gray. "You didn't learn that at finishing
school, vixen."

If Christopher believed that, he had no idea
what a dozen fifteen-year-old young ladies could find to talk about
in the dark. But she hadn't, actually. "From Alexandra," she
said.

"Let me make sure I understand. My punishment
is that you want me to . . ." He whispered one very enticing, and
naughty, phrase into her ear.

Her face flamed. "I did not say
that
."

"You did, but you used different words. That
is what you want?"

His steely gaze told her he was not going to
let her say no. Honoria did not want to in any case. "I do."

Christopher laughed and kissed the bridge of
her nose. "You know, I should have dragged you away with me when I
first met you. My life would have been amazing."

"You were a pirate."

He shrugged. "And you were a lady. It's
worked before."

"You still are a pirate," she pointed
out.

"But no lady made
that
suggestion.
Brazen hussy."

"Passion between husband and wife is
perfectly acceptable," Honoria said reasonably.

"Did Alexandra teach you that too? I'm
beginning to truly like Finley's wife."

"She was quite informative."

"Someday, I'll make you tell me everything
you discussed. Right now, we can get to the business of unfastening
your clothes." He continued to slip her bodice's clasps through
their hooks.

"Are you certain the ship is not tossing too
much?"

Christopher pulled open her bodice. "Smooth
as glass on a fine summer night."

He skimmed the gown down her arms, dropping
it to pool at her feet, and untied the ribbons of the chemise. She
felt her body go slack, then Christopher lifted her closed fist and
kissed her fingers. "Does it still hurt?"

"What?"

"Your hands were cramped. Are they
better?"

She barely felt them. "Yes. No. I mean, I
think so."

He unfolded her fingers and kissed them one
by one, then her palms. His lips were warm and dry. "You're strong.
Did you know that?"

Honoria swallowed. "I'm not,
particularly."

"You'd never have survived me the first time
if you hadn't been. Let alone married me. Or taken the helm of my
ship when I told you to, without question, without crying."

"I told you, I rarely cry. Besides, if I'd
burst into tears, how could I have seen where to steer?"

He made a noise like a chuckle and bent to
kiss her neck. She closed her eyes, sinking into the dark feeling
of his mouth on her. He was bamboozling her again. And, as she'd
suspected would happen, she did not care.

"I love sailing," she said. "My brother Paul
and I used to climb all the way forward on James's ship and try to
stand on the bow with our arms outstretched. It was like
flying."

"What a damn fool idea. I'm surprised you
didn't break your neck."

"I know. We tore up James's rigging. He
nearly killed us for it. Oh."

Christopher leaned to lick the warm place
between her breasts. Her antics of long ago dissolved and floated
away.

He kissed his way down to her abdomen, his
mouth like fire, and finally sank to his knees. His breath stirred
the curls at the join of her legs. Honoria's feet, of their own
accord, moved a little bit apart.

He kissed her where she ached. Honoria looked
down at the top of Christopher's head, where candlelight burnished
his hair gold, though she saw a few white hairs mixed in.

Christopher's tongue flickered. Honoria
curled her still-aching hands, impossible heat flowing through
her.

"I want you to love me," he whispered, his
breath warming her cleft. "I'll do this until you do."

"I fell madly in love with you, Christopher."
She dragged in a sharp breath as his tongue did its magic again.
"Madly. Then you were gone." And it had hurt. The pain had nearly
killed her.

Christopher eased to his feet, to her great
disappointment, but he leaned to her. "I'm here now. I came back
for you, and I'm not leaving again."

Tears stung her eyes, despite her assertion
that she never cried. Correction--she'd finished with crying until
Christopher had sprung into her life again. "You came back for your
stupid treasure map."

"Damn the treasure map. I don't need it. I
remembered the numbers."

Honoria wiped her eyes. "Why write them on
the license, then?"

"Because I needed some way to tell Manda
where I'd left the gold, and I didn't have anything else to hand. I
didn't dare record anything in my log, not with your brother
breathing down my neck. Ardmore stole the logs anyway. And I
couldn't very well write Manda a note that read,
By the way, the
gold is hidden at latitude X, longitude Y.
So I jotted it on
the license. No one noticed me do that."

"What was your purpose?" Her body cried out
for her to let him get on with what he'd been doing, but her
thoughts whirled and wanted explanation. "Did you marry me so you
could have a piece of paper on which to write a note?"

"No, you troublesome woman. I married you
because I wanted to. The license just came in handy."

"Because you knew you were going to be
hanged."

"Yes, and I knew that when Manda heard of my
death and the marriage she'd seek you out. She'd insist on you
showing her the license, because she'd never believe I'd married
you otherwise. She'd see the numbers and know what they meant. I
didn't realize you were going to keep our marriage a deep, dark
secret from everyone, even your own brother."

Honoria tried to push him away. She felt
silly standing there naked, glaring at him, but her indignation
wouldn't let her stay silent. "You could have told me what you were
doing."

"The sister of James Ardmore? I couldn't risk
you running straight to him and announcing you knew where I'd put
the Mexican gold. It belongs to Manda, Colby, St. Cyr, and the rest
of my crew."

"It doesn't," she said. "You're thieves."

He backed her against the door, the wood
paneling cold on her bare skin. "We are
pirates
, Honoria. We
take treasure. It's what we do. We aren't the romantic stories in
your pamphlets."

She relaxed, her tears unshed. "I'm more than
aware of that."

He pressed his knee between hers, his rough
breeches catching on her thighs. "You should write a pamphlet of
your own."

"One that tells ladies to beware falling in
love with pirates?"

"One telling ladies how to give their pirates
what they want."

"A guide to being a pirate wife?" She
pretended to think. "Let me see. First, a woman must possess
extraordinary patience and fortitude."

Christopher smiled, his eyes warming. "And
resilience. Don't forget resilience."

"Yes, for the many times you throw your woman
to the floor and ravish her."

"I think the bunk will do tonight."

He ended the conversation by scooping her
into his arms and tossing her there. Honoria landed in the pile of
quilts and bedding--the real featherbed Diana had given her before
they'd left port.

Honoria wanted to stay angry at him for using
their license to pass information on the treasure, turning their
marriage ceremony to his own purpose. A part of her told her that
what he'd done had probably been reasonable under the
circumstances, but her emotions wanted to rage.

Then Christopher began to strip. As he slid
off his shirt and breeches, Honoria's blood warmed, and her anger
began to slide away, no matter how desperately she tried to hold on
to it.

His body was incredible, even with his ruined
side. Strong thighs, ridged stomach, muscled arms. The Chinese
dragon on his collarbone, with its curled tail, looked a bit smug,
and the lion on his hip beckoned her touch.

Honoria twisted a lock of hair through her
fingers and wondered why sailing men liked to decorate their bodies
with pictures. Traveling ladies usually made do with a vase or cup
painted with the name of the town.

Blast the man, he'd done it again.
Christopher had distracted her from her very reasonable, furious
anger.

He stepped to the bunk where she waited,
ducking under the beam, and rested one knee on the quilts. "Open
your legs," he said.

Honoria did so without hesitation. Her thighs
were already damp.

Christopher leaned down and brushed a kiss to
her lips, then he kissed his way down her body, pausing to swipe
his tongue across her navel. He moved down her abdomen to the join
of her thighs and farther, to Honoria's aching opening.

His breath ruffled her dark curls as he
gently blew on them. He kissed the swelling point there, then slid
his tongue inside her.

Honoria could not stop the sharp cry that
escaped her mouth. She grabbed the quilts, hands twisting them as
Christopher began to explore--kissing, licking, nipping.

Her husband knew how to do incredible things
with his tongue. Honoria had asked him to drink her, but she'd
never dreamed it would feel like
this
. Christopher had
skill, his mouth bringing her to life until her entire body
throbbed and tingled, and her pride and self-control vanished on a
tide of sensation.

Honoria cried his name over and over in a
hysteria of longing. She told him that she wanted him and begged
him to do things that would make her blush later.

Just as she thought her voice would break
from her cries, Christopher softly kissed her tightened bud and
eased back from her. Honoria fell to earth with a crash and lay
stunned, but thoroughly pleasured and oh-so wicked.

Christopher's smile was hot. "I came back for
you, my wife. I want it all back--my treasure, my crew,
you
.
I won't stop until I have everything. Never forget that."

"You have me," she said, her whisper
cracked.

"Damn right I do."

Without preliminary, Christopher slid on top
of her, opened her thighs, and pushed himself into her aching,
needing body.

He held her down with unbreakable strength,
thrusting into her until his seed came. As Christopher groaned his
release, he took himself out of her and fell beside her, breathing
rapidly, eyes closing, as though he'd swum many miles and finally
made it to shore. Honoria brushed a wisp of hair from his face,
wheat-gold on bronze, drifting on warmth and comfort.

"Is my forfeit over?" he murmured after a
time.

"What? Oh, the wager. Yes, yes, I think
so."

He sent her a lazy smile. "Pity." He kissed
her throat. "But that means I can now do what
I
want."

Honoria shivered, wondering what that meant.
"I suppose it does."

He sent her another smile and proceeded to
show her.

What Christopher did would have been
downright sinful if she'd not been married to him. Perhaps it still
was.

All Honoria knew was that he began again the
exact sequence of steps that had just driven her mad, this time
with more creativity and still more enthusiasm.

He was alternately gentle and tender, rough
and playful. He hurt her and yet excited her. Stately Honoria, the
alabaster statue, was crumbling like weak stone at his touch.

When he finished, Honoria was ready to curl
up with him in oblivious slumber, but Christopher rose from the
bed. The bunk was hot and tumbled with lovemaking, and
Christopher's naked skin glistened with sweat.

He dragged on his clothes and kissed her
gently. "Go to sleep," he said, and strolled out of the cabin.

Honoria lay back in the tangled bedding, too
tired now for the anger that he'd so effectively diverted. He'd
known she would be, blast the man. She tried to dredge up her fury
again, but her body was limp and happy, and she slid into an
exhausted sleep.

*** *** ***

Christopher found Manda in the stern watching
the horizon and the stars. Her teeth flashed in the lantern light
as he approached.

"Evening, Chris. Can you still walk?"

Christopher leaned against the gunwale,
easing his cramped muscles. "Barely." The sensation of Honoria
lingered on him, as did the bruises on his neck and scratches on
his back.

Manda's grin widened. "You really like her,
don't you?"

Christopher shrugged, unembarrassed. They
stood relatively alone, and he felt free to talk, but he kept his
voice low. "I saw you kissing Henderson, Manda."

Manda's smile vanished. She pretended to
concentrate on the pattern of Orion high above them. "I've kissed
men before."

"Kiss him all you want. Just don't talk to
him."

She glared at him almost as scathingly as
Honoria could. "I wouldn't betray you, Chris. I wouldn't betray
us
for a few kisses with an English dandy who thinks he's
better than anyone else."