Care and Feeding of Pirates (8 page)

Christopher's shirt smelled clean, of washing
soap, overlaid with his male scent. Not fair. Honoria loved him so
near, she'd always loved that. Perhaps that was why every time they
met, she flung herself into his arms.

"We were speaking of Charleston," she
said.

He kissed the line of her hair. "We can have
beds there too."

"We'd live there? You're a pirate. Besides,
everyone in Charleston thinks you were hanged."

"I'll change my name. People can be amazingly
obtuse, my wife. But we can live anywhere you like. I'll buy you a
house, two houses, three even, in case you get tired of the first
one."

She touched his cheek, enjoying the feel of
the sandpaper bristles there. "Where I'd live while you went out
pirating again? Until my brother caught you a second time?"

His face was close to hers, his body heavy
and warm. "I have more imagination than that. You can have anything
you want, your own tropical island if that's what you like. And I'd
be there with you. Every day. Finley retired from pirating, and so
can I."

"Because he became a viscount. And had a
daughter. And fell in love."

"I'll never inherit a title, I promise you
that. But I fell in love. As for a daughter, well, that's up to
you."

"Is that what you want? Children?"

"I want
you
. If children come, so much
the better." Christopher traced the pad of her lower lip. "And I
know you want me."

Honoria swallowed, her throat dry. "How can
you know that?"

Christopher moved his hand and the clasp
holding her gown came away. He'd distracted her by touching her
lips, and now he tossed away the clasp with a satisfied look.

He lowered the muslin to bare her shoulder
and one breast, which was already lifting and tightening to fit his
hand.

"I can feel you wanting me." He slid his
fingers under the loosened gown to her abdomen, his palm warm.
Without meaning to, she arched to his touch.

Giving a soft laugh, he moved his hand
obligingly over the heat between her legs. "As brazen as I
remember."

Her face heated, but she could not bring
herself to squirm from his touch. It felt so right. She loved
it.

"You'd stay with me, just because I want
you?" she asked.

He smiled a dark smile. "For now. But I get
to try, my wife."

She barely heard him as his fingers teased
the sensitive folds between her legs. Hot darkness wove through her
body.

Christopher went on, "I said, it's a long
voyage." He slid one finger firmly inside her, and Honoria
groaned.

"Every night," he went on, and his fingers
did too. "I will persuade you to fall in love with me. I will try
every method I know, and if that means I seduce you every night, so
be it. By the time we're across the sea, if you still do not want
to be my wife, then I will take you to Charleston and let you go.
But you will give me this voyage."

He pressed a second finger into her, his
touch strong. Something wild spun inside her. "All right," Honoria
whispered.

His gaze was intense, pupils swallowing the
cold gray irises. "Excellent. Shall we seal the bargain?"

"With a handshake?"

"No." He snaked his other hand to the nape of
her neck, pulled her up to him, and kissed her. A slow, hot kiss
filled with promise of a very exciting voyage indeed.

As Christopher he finished the kiss, he eased
his fingers out of her. The disappointment was unbearable. "No,
Christopher, please don't stop."

"You'll hurt your ankle."

"I feel much better. I think I only wrenched
it."

He brushed his palm over the join of her
thighs one last time. "I love your fire, my wife. You bury it
behind your proper lady's mask, but it's there."

"No one but you has ever seen it."

"Good." He touched his fingers to his lips,
tasted one with his tongue. "Mmm. Sweet as ever."

He gave her a warm smile, and Honoria's heart
turned over. Christopher stretched out on his side and draped his
arm over her.

"Tomorrow I'll take you to my ship," he said.
"You'll need to send for or buy what you need. I'll give you the
money for it. Shop to your heart's content."

"Tomorrow? No, that's too soon. I need--"

He stopped her lips with his. "It is not too
soon. We've waited for years."

Honoria's ankle hurt, the pain cutting
through the fierce longing he'd stirred. "You rush me into things
every time. I never have a chance to think about what I want, or
how I feel. We never talk about what we feel."

Christopher lifted a loose curl from her
cheek. "No, we act on what we feel."

"But what if it's the wrong thing to
feel?"

His eyes glinted. "You like to talk things to
death, my wife. We feel instinct. We can't keep our hands off each
other. Nothing more to be said."

He was already driving her mad.
Instinct
, he said. Instinct was killing her. "But, we really
should discuss--"

Christopher growled and kissed her,
effectively silencing her. He slid his hand beneath her costume
again, across her bare flesh.

"Rest, love. I want you well to get on my
ship."

Christopher pulled the blanket back over her
and started to rise, but Honoria caught his arm. Words welled up in
her throat, and none came out.

Christopher waited, his eyes watchful, though
his face was calm. She traced the muscle of his forearm. "Stay,"
she whispered.

Honoria thought he'd shake his head and leave
her cold and forlorn, but Christopher lay down beside her again.
The bed sagged with his weight, rolling her against him.

She could not explain that she needed time to
savor him, to become used to the idea that he was alive and whole.
"I'm not ready, yet," she whispered.

Christopher obviously did not understand, but
he didn't argue. He drew her back against him, his chest to her
back, and draped his arm over her side. Honoria snuggled into him,
feeling oddly contented.

Her sleepless night, the dancing, the
dreadful day, and the shock of seeing Christopher again dissolved
against his warmth. The hardness pressing into her hip was
unmistakable, and warming. Christopher wanted her, but he'd hold it
at bay. For now.

Honoria's limbs loosened, and she slept.

When she awoke again, the room was full of
people. Christopher lay behind her, his hand heavy on the curve of
her waist.

Honoria started up, clutching her sagging
costume, and met the gazes of a shocked Alexandra, a surprised
Diana, a grinning Grayson, and a furious Mr. Henderson.

*****

Chapter Seven

It was over. Honoria was alone again, sitting
on the bed in Alexandra's chamber. The cheval mirror at the foot of
the bed told her she'd stood before her friends and family
confessing her sins with one layer of her costume loose. The dark
areola of her right breast pressed the thin fabric beneath. No
wonder Christopher had looked amused.

The others had not. The news that Honoria was
married to Christopher had come as a great surprise to all except,
of course, Diana.

Mr. Templeton had behaved very well. He
accepted Honoria's apology with dignity, and promised that the
engagement would end quietly. He would not ask for compensation for
breach of contract--after all, he'd wanted to marry for
companionship, not Honoria's money. He'd been so reasonable that
Honoria had almost grown angry at him.

Now Christopher and Grayson were off talking
about other matters, as though relieved all the nonsense was over.
Men.

Diana entered the room, followed by
Alexandra. Diana's sweet perfume engulfed Honoria as she enfolded
her sister-in-law in her arms. "That was brave of you,
dearest."

"Indeed," Alexandra said. She sank onto the
bed and gave Honoria her kind smile. "It is most difficult to
explain to your friends that you've fallen in love with a roguish
pirate. Believe me."

Honoria leaned into the comfort of Diana's
embrace. She said to Alexandra, "At least yours is a viscount."

"In name," Alexandra said, her smile
widening. "Not in spirit."

"And mine is an out-and-out villain," Diana
said. "Wanted by the English Admiralty who long to hang him. Not an
easy thing to explain to your great aunt in Coombe St. Mary." She
smoothed Honoria's hair. "Would you like me to break the news to
James for you?"

"No, I will do it. I am not afraid of
James."

"He will have much to say," Diana warned.

"Then let him say it," Honoria said tiredly.
"I am no longer interested in my brother's opinions."

The other two exchanged a glance. Diana was
madly in love James, and Alexandra had always had a soft spot for
him. Why, Honoria could not fathom. James could make her grind her
teeth to nubs. He was so
arrogant
. But ladies had always
been attracted to James, heaven help them.

"I am happy you both are pleased for me,"
Honoria said, then she, who seldom cried, let herself find comfort
in tears.

*** *** ***

The home Christopher took her to was a
brigantine, a two-masted ship, moored in Greenwich. He'd christened
it the
Starcross
.

The
Starcross
lay small under a
graying sky, her bare masts black, her rich wood sides low in the
river. The ship had been stripped and her hull refinished, the
quarterdeck removed to render the top deck one long surface.

The captain's quarters had been rebuilt below
the deck and fitted with many-paned windows called lights. The
beams, walls, and ceiling had been painted white, giving the cabin
an airy look, but the quarters were cramped.

Christopher's main cabin held a desk,
cabinets, and the log book. A small room opening to the port side
contained more cabinets and a bed large enough for two.

Honoria studied the bed in some irritation.
Ship's carpenters built the bunk to fit the man, so the sleeper had
a better chance of staying abed in high seas. She glared at the
obvious double bed and then at Christopher.

"You assumed I would come away with you."

Christopher leaned against the doorframe.
He'd said little between Mayfair and Greenwich, sitting in the
shadows of the hired carriage, not offering conversation.

"The carpenter finished it this morning,
before I came to fetch you."

The bed was a mere box, bare of mattress and
coverlets. Honoria had brought a few quilts with her, courtesy of
Diana, but she saw that she'd have few comforts here.

Christopher entered the tiny cabin. He slid
his arms around her waist from behind, resting his cheek on her
hair. "It's a fine ship. Good bones. Do you like it?"

Honoria leaned back into him without meaning
to, liking the feeling of his arms around her. She knew enough of
ships to know this one was sleek, solid, and well built. "It's a
bit small," she said.

"Small and fast. Built for speed."
Christopher reached above him and fondly touched a beam. "She'll
take us where we need to go."

Honoria also knew that men could go on at
great length about their ships if not stopped. "Where are we going?
Charleston?"

Christopher gave her an unreadable look. He
hadn't answered her about Charleston last night, and it seemed he
had no intention of doing so now.

"We'll leave soon," he said, his breath
stirring the fine hairs at her hairline. "Take the time to get
settled. I have unfinished business in London."

She looked at him in surprise. "If we are not
leaving immediately, you might have let me stay with Diana a little
longer."

Christopher stepped away from her, and she
felt suddenly cold. "We must be ready to leave on an instant. You
won't have time for tearful farewells."

He'd abandoned the gentleman's suit from the
night before and returned to his black broadcloth breeches, boots,
and a shirt. The shirt was open enough to reveal the end strokes of
the tattoo on his collarbone, a Chinese dragon with overlapping
scales.

He had another tattoo on his hip, that of a
lion, a Chinese creature with claws held ready to attack. The last
time Honoria had seen it, she'd traced it with her tongue.

Christopher caught her gaze on him and shot
her a sinful smile.

She flushed and said swiftly, "I meant that I
was in such a hurry to leave Diana's I didn't have time to pack
enough. I will need bedding."

His smile widened. "I know. I plan to bed you
every night."

"You know what I mean. A featherbed and
pillows. And a chair."

"I can bed you in a chair as well."

"Christopher!"

His eyes were sparkling, teasing, but behind
the teasing lay a watchfulness, anger at bay but still present.

"I meant that I cannot live in a bedroom
without a chair," Honoria said. "I need a place to sit."

"Sit on that." Christopher pointed to a small
bench-like seat in the corner with a lid and a clasp.

Honoria knew what
that
was. When the
lid was raised, a round hole opened to the water below. She'd be
able to relieve herself here, in private, instead of making her way
to the bows and the head, where she'd be visible to the entire
crew.

She gave him her best proper-lady look. "I
meant somewhere more elegant."

Christopher's continued grin told her he knew
good and well what she'd meant.

He led her into the main cabin, opened one of
the cupboards, and pulled out a pouch that jingled. "Take this, go
into Greenwich, and go shopping. Buy what you like. Curtains,
carpets, whatever fripperies you need to make yourself
comfortable."

He was being much too capitulating. "Anything
I want?" Honoria asked, studying the pouch. "What if you don't like
what I buy?"

Christopher took her hand and closed her
fingers around the pouch. "I'll throw it overboard. Enjoy
yourself."