Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (18 page)

Miranda soared. And just when she thought herself earthward bound, she found the sensation anew. She trembled. She convulsed. Her body defied all reason and logic. And she held him tight as his ragged yell heralded his explosive climax.

They collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs in the sand. Jack could barely catch his breath, and a lazy lethargy engulfed him; but he managed to support his weight on the elbows bracketing Miranda’s head. Reality, the realization of what he just did, started seeping into the forefront of his passion-drugged mind

God’s blood, this was Miranda Chadwick beneath him, still joined with him in the most intimate way. Henry’s daughter for God’s sake. The woman whose virtue he swore to protect with his life! And Lord help him, spent as he was, Jack had an almost uncontrollable urge to take her again... and again.

He shook his head to help clear away such ridiculous thoughts, and the motion brushed his hair across her cheek. Slowly Miranda opened her eyes. They were a deep, smoky blue, and they stared at him guilelessly.

Her pink tongue slipped out and carefully wet her lips. Then she sighed and asked, “What happened?”

Jack’s eyes widened, and despite his guilt and self-derision he chuckled, then laughed. Leave it to Miranda Chadwick to end the most amazing lovemaking he’d ever had with a question.

What happened? Miranda’s question hammered away at his mind. Jack sobered as quickly as he’d been overtaken by mirth.

What had happened? One moment he was trying to explain this strange attraction they had for one another. And the next, all reason was swept away. He’d seen powder kegs blow less explosively. And all from the touch of her lips,

Jack looked at her kiss-swollen mouth now, and fought the urge to taste her again. “God’s blood!” He rolled away, and yanked up his breeches. Sitting, he scrubbed his hands down across his face.

Glancing around at her he could tell—God he could just tell by looking at her—that she was going to ask another question. To stave her off he began to explain, trying not to let guilt color his words. At least she didn’t want to know why it happened or how... all the questions he was asking himself.

“We made love,” he stated simply, knowing there was nothing simple about it at all.

“Yes, I know that.” Miranda leaned up on her elbows, and Jack reached over and pulled the thin cotton shift and her silk gown over her breasts. His hand shook. “I understand the act of reproduction, of forn—”

“Aye, so you said. Then what—”

“The other thing.” Miranda rose, twisting onto her knees until she faced him. “The flying. It’s quite impossible I know, but I actually felt as if there was no gravity holding me down.” She paused, her head cocked to one side. “You didn’t experience it?”

God’s blood, was she talking about what he thought she was talking about? Jack swallowed. He’d brought women to climax before, even been told in vivid detail by some how accomplished he was as a lover. But he’d never, never, been complimented so innocently... so honestly. “Aye.” He turned away to hide an uncontrollable grin of male satisfaction. “I felt it.”

She seemed relieved by his answer, but it didn’t stop her next question. “What was that? Do you suppose Isaac Newton knows of it?”

Jack could only stare.

“Isaac Newton,” Miranda explained. “He’s—”

“I know who Isaac Newton is.” Did she think he forgot all the crazy things she talked about?

 “Oh.”

“I just don’t know what in the hell he has to do with what just happened here.”

Miranda lowered her eyes. It was obvious the captain was becoming agitated. “Most likely nothing,” she admitted.

“You’re damn right nothing.” Jack pushed to his feet and paced across the path. He turned back so abruptly that Miranda winced. “Do you have any idea what we did?” What I did, he added to himself. Jack raked frustrated fingers back through his hair when she opened her mouth to speak. “And I’m not talking about some theory about gravity.”

“Yes, I know.” Miranda’s words were soft, and when she raised her eyes, the deep blue shimmered with unshed tears.

Jack shut his eyes against the sight. After a deep breath he dropped to his knees in front of her. He’d wanted her to accept the reality of what they’d done, not think of it in terms of some scientific experiment. But now that she had, he was sorry. Sorrier than he’d ever been. He reached out to touch her, but let his hand drop.

“ ‘Tis entirely my fault.” Her expression didn’t change, and Jack continued. “You can’t expect much better from a pirate, I fear.”

Miranda swallowed. “It wasn’t entirely your... I mean, I did nothing to stop you.”

“I doubt ‘twould have done any good.” Jack wished he could feel otherwise. Wished he knew that if she’d asked him to stop, he would have—could have.

“Still...” Miranda tried a wan smile. She felt tears threaten again and couldn’t fathom why. She understood the reproductive act. It could be explained quite rationally. Then, why was she so emotional? After clearing her throat, she admitted, “I did ask you to kiss me.”

“I would probably have done it anyway!’ He held her gaze for several heartbeats before glancing away. “I am a pirate after all,” he said, repeating the only excuse he could seem to manage.

Miranda thought it a very unsatisfactory explanation and was about to tell him so when voices sounded in the distance.

“Cap’n! Cap’n, ye find her?”

“God’s blood,” Jack hissed through his teeth. He jerked to his feet, tugging Miranda up beside him and giving the bodice of her sand-covered gown an upward pull. Warm, soft skin brushed his knuckles, but he forced himself not to notice. Instead, Jack twirled her around, ignoring her resistance, and swatted dirt from the back of her rumpled skirt. Pine needles sprinkled from her raven curls as he gave them a quick brush with his fingers.

Jack just managed to twist her back around when Phin and Scar came loping into sight.

“There ye are, Cap’n. See’s ye found her.”

“Aye.” Jack reached his arm around her waist, thought better of it, and grabbed her hand instead. “She was taking a stroll, collecting... what did you call them?” She looked at him a moment with those large, deep blue eyes of hers, and Jack felt color darken his face. He wished he knew what she was thinking. Hell, he wished he knew what she was going to say. He should never,
never
have given her a chance to say anything.

One word from her and Phin and Scar would— God’s blood, what would they do? Of course it would be nothing to what Henry Chadwick, damn his fatherly hide, would do. Just one word.

But she didn’t say it. Instead she smiled sweetly at Phin and Scar. “Specimens. I was collecting specimens to study under the microscope.”

Phin’s eyes dropped to Miranda’s hands— one still clutched by Jack, the other knotted into a tight fist. “Well, where might they be?”

“I... um.” Miranda glanced to the side of the sandy path, and heat flooded her face. All the leaves and flowers she had collected where scattered there. Most were hopelessly crushed. It didn’t take much imagination to realize she had been lying on them when she and the pirate captain—

“She dropped them. I came up behind her. Frightened her I’m afraid, though it seems a small price to pay for running off like she did. Anyway.” Jack stopped and cleared his throat. “She dropped them.” God, he was acting like a green youth caught with his hand up the maid’s skirts.

”Guess me an’ Scar can help ye gather ‘em back up.” Phin started to kneel, but Jack’s hand on his arm stayed him.

“That won’t be necessary. We need to get back to the
Sea Hawk
.”

Miranda came close to arguing; but the captain must have sensed it, for he shot her a look that made her clamp her mouth shut. And surprisingly it stayed that way as they walked back along the path, Phin and Scar leading the way, then Miranda followed by the captain. She could feel his eyes on her at every step, but she didn’t turn around. She didn’t even meet his gaze when he handed her into the long boat, though his touch made her breath catch.

Once aboard the pirate ship, she sought refuge in the captain’s cabin, glad for the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts, uncharacteristically scrambled as they were.

Jack took a deep breath, then rapped on the door. Damn, he shouldn’t feel so nervous about entering his own cabin. But when he heard her softly spoken “you may enter,” he had to force himself not to turn away.

She looked up when he walked into the room, and Jack saw her face flush a soft rose shade that he found most becoming. Dismissing that thought, he shut the door behind him.

“I thought we should talk. But if you’re busy with your microscope, it can wait.” She was sitting at his desk with an array of papers scattered on the oak surface.

“No, I... please.” Miranda stumbled over her words. She rose, then flopped back in the chair when he started toward her. She’d gathered and sorted her thoughts, had decided her earlier actions were totally illogical, until she saw the pirate captain again. Now Miranda felt that same odd sensation in the pit of her stomach that he always seemed to illicit.

She could understand her reaction if he were wearing nothing but his breeches. But his broad chest was covered by a snowy white shirt and waistcoat of finest blue silk. There was no familiar gleam of gold under his ear. He looked more a courtier than pirate. Until she caught a glimpse of his eyes.

“You needn’t look so frightened. I have no intention of hurting you.” God, he almost said, “Again.”

“I didn’t suppose you did.” Miranda notched her chin higher. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t.

Jack paced to the transom windows, and stared out over the verdant shore. It would be high tide soon, and then the
Sea Hawk
would sail for Charles Town. He didn’t care that they’d arrive back in the harbor in less than the fortnight he’d promised Henry he’d stay away. If Miranda planned to go to the king’s revenuer— which she most assuredly did— there was nothing he could, or would, do to stop her. Of course he had no intentions of waiting around to stretch a noose.

“We’re sailing with the evening tide.” Jack slanted Miranda a look, discomforted to see she was watching him.

“For Charles Town?”

“Aye.”

Her expression was disbelieving, and Jack decided she had reason enough to doubt his word. He had promised no harm would come to her. But it still provoked his ire. “We’re going straightaway. Should reach there in two days, three at the most.”

“Why did it take us near a sennight to come here from Charles Town and only two days to return?”

Jack clenched his teeth. He had meant to reassure her and received a damn question for his trouble. “It just did. I was in no particular hurry to reach the creek.” Though he should have been. If he’d known what Nafkebee was going to tell him, he would have made haste and cleaned the damn hull of barnacles, too.

“But you are in a hurry to return to Charles Town?”

“Aye.”

“To be rid of me?” Miranda didn’t know why she blurted that out. It made no difference why he took her back... simply that he did. And certainly the sooner the better.

“Nay,” Jack answered, then for the sake of honesty added, “Not entirely.” He’d have taken her back now even if he hadn’t received the message from his uncle, the message brought to him by Nafkebee. Jack’s hands tightened into fists, and his eyes narrowed as he recalled Nafkebee’s words about de Segovia.

“You’re forgoing the ransom, then?”

“Ransom?” Jack tilted his head, brought back to the present by her words. For a moment he didn’t understand what she was asking, his mind still hearing the long ago screams of his parents, his sister... his own. “Aye, the ransom.” He shook his head to clear it. One problem at a time. And for now his problem was Miranda Chadwick.

“Nay, not sacrifice the coin. Your father will pay.” That’s the way Henry wanted it. Though why Jack should care what Henry wanted after all this, he didn’t know.

“But you said earlier that—”

“Enough.” Jack turned his green gaze on her, and apparently it and the tone of his voice were sufficient to silence her... for the moment. Besides, he couldn’t remember exactly what he had told her. Something about meeting a messenger who didn’t arrive, he thought.