Gentle Pirate (17 page)

He was aware of her changed mood instantly.

"Kirsten? What's wrong, honey?" he muttered, concern masking some of the desire in the questioning eyes that met hers. "Don't be afraid of me, sweetheart," he whispered. "I'll take good care of you. You'll never have cause to fear me."

"Simon, please. I… I want to be sure…" Troubled gray eyes met his, pleading for understanding, and Simon's expression softened in response.

"I promise you won't have any doubts," he soothed, stroking a long fall of tousled hair back from her forehead. "Once you realize how much I need you and how you belong to me…"

"Simon? Why do you keep talking about belonging? I know we want each other, but what about the partnership we talked about on the airplane?" Kirsten frowned, twisting slightly in his arms to meet his considering regard. "I can't let myself be completely dominated again, Simon," she ended pleadingly.

For a long moment the rugged lines of the face above her hardened and then a smile replaced some of the fading desire in Simon's hazel eyes. "Only you, my dear, would interrupt a passionate love scene like this with talk of a partnership! All right, much as it goes against the grain. I'll take a few minutes out to demolish your worries with facts. Number one, you never have been a dominated woman, so don't give me that line as a reason for being afraid! Dominated women don't leave their husbands after only two months of marriage! What I want from you is something Talbot never got!" He moved his very large hand gently over her mouth as Kirsten opened it to protest.

"Number two, the word 'partnership' was yours. I'm not certain what your definition of it is, but I can tell you now that I don't intend for us to live separate lives that only merge at certain points where we happen to share mutual interests. Or mutual desire." His deep voice took on the no-nonsense tones she knew so well. "I want to be-no-I
have
to be the most important thing in your world."

Kirsten stared at him, not having the courage in that moment to ask if she would be the most important thing in Simon Kendrick's world. Until she had that answer, though, she couldn't share his bed. A very female instinct sensed that the action would completely disarm her; put her in his power in a way she had never been in Jim Talbot's. She would truly be Simon's after that and there would be no chance to establish the sort of marriage she had determined she wanted. He would have her totally on his terms and he knew it. The risks of such a surrender were so great…

"Simon… I need time," she begged hesitantly, knowing that if he didn't choose to grant it, there was nothing she could do.

"We're going to be married next weekend, Kirsten," he growled, tightening his hold. "I won't wait much longer for you." A brief, reckless, wolfish smile touched his hard mouth. "And you'd hate me if I did!"

Simon seemed content to let Kirsten try and come to terms with herself on the matter of the marriage. As long as she settled things in her own mind by Saturday! At that point, he made it clear, he would be taking matters into his own hands, anyway. Such patience! she thought mockingly as she dressed for dinner that evening. But she couldn't bring herself to totally rebel and call off the swiftly approaching wedding. While one part of her pressed for a mutually acknowledged set of ground rules between them, another, more treacherous part wanted Simon on any terms-even his own.

The man was so much in her mind as she bent over the marble sink in the luxurious bathroom that she jumped a goodly distance when his knock came on the door. Hotel rooms lacked a certain degree of privacy.

"Damn!" Kirsten swore softly, dropping to her knees to hunt for the contact lens that had been jarred from the tip of her finger.

"Aren't you ready yet, honey?" Simon called.

"I was almost ready. Now it could be another half hour!" she answered somewhat caustically, groping through the pile of the rug while trying not to wrinkle her skirt.

"What's wrong?"

"I dropped my contact!"

"Let me in and I'll help you look for it. We've got reservations for seven and I don't want to be late."

Getting to her feet, Kirsten flung open the door. "It's all your fault, you know," she pointed out conversationally, facing him in her bare feet. Without her shoes the difference in their height took on mammoth proportions in her eyes. "If you hadn't pounded on that door when you did…"

Simon grinned down at her. "You've got that funny owl look on your face," he noted, bending over to drop a kiss on her frowning forehead.

"Honestly," Kirsten grumbled, "it's hopeless trying to nag you. You never take it seriously!"

"How seriously would you take being nagged by a little thing you can lift with one hand?" he asked reasonably. "Now stand back and let me see what can be done about this contact. I think we'll get you fitted with glasses as soon as possible. I don't intend to spend half our married life hunting for stray lenses!"

There was nothing to do but to stand out of the way. Kirsten watched him lift the white throw rug and flip it expertly. There was a tiny click and she saw the lens bounce onto the tiles. Snatching it up before it was lost again, she moved back to the sink, using the excuse of inserting the lens to avoid responding to Simon's last remark. The truth was, it had left her speechless. All she could remember was how Jim Talbot had always insisted she wear contacts because he said she looked so much more sophisticated without glasses. Simon didn't seem to care in the least. The thought warmed her.

They reached the restaurant that was perched high atop a sleek new bank building, and Kirsten was very glad she'd had something long and gracious to wear. Her hair was coiled at the nape of her slender neck, marking to advantage the low cut of the gown in back. The dress wasn't nearly as vampish as her red one had been, but it made her feel quite elegant and Simon seemed to approve. For some unexpected reason, Kirsten found herself lowering her eyes shyly from the look in his as he seated himself next to her in the velvet booth.

"You don't look so much like a kitten or a little owl tonight as a bright yellow butterfly perched beside me. Something tells me I won't ever forget your favorite color!" Simon whispered after accepting the wine list from the captain.

"You noticed!" Kirsten chuckled, glancing down at the soft yellow skirt of her gown.

"That first night I walked into your apartment it reminded me of falling into a swimming pool full of daffodils! It suits you, though. We'll have to put in some yellow rosebushes and maybe a bunch of yellow buttercups around the house," he added reflectively.

Kirsten looked at him, wanting to ask about the old stone house but not quite daring to bring up the subject of their marriage again. Instead she commented on the spectacular view of the city, and the conversation flowed along easy lines throughout the leisurely dinner.

The view was beginning to take on a fairy-tale aspect by the time they adjourned to the adjacent lounge. Kirsten suspected she'd probably had more of the good wine Simon had chosen than was wise. At a small window-side table Simon ordered after-dinner drinks, declaring her taste in them appalling.

"How could you have developed such nice taste in wine and still prefer something that resembles cough syrup after dinner?" he demanded teasingly.

"Not everyone can swallow molten fire," she grumbled, accepting the deceptive innocent-looking liquid he had requested on her behalf.

"Take a very tiny sip and sample it the way you would a new wine," he instructed, watching to see that she did as she was told.

Kirsten sipped cautiously. She didn't gag, but knew it was going to be some time before she took another swallow.

"You aren't by any chance trying to get me drunk, Simon, are you?" she asked carefully, eyeing him suspiciously across the rim of her balloon-shaped glass.

"You're already halfway there, sweetheart. I'm merely providing a push in the direction you're already heading." he told her smugly. "Let's dance. Don't worry," he added as she frowned doubtfully. "I'll support you."

Once on the floor he was as good as his word and Kirsten nestled happily against him, letting him steer her around. Blissfully she let her mind wander back to the days when she had thought him much too large for comfort. Now he seemed absolutely right.

"What are you giggling about, honey?" he inquired softly in her ear, pulling her tighter against him.

"How comfortable you are," she replied honestly, thinking she really was going to have to watch what she drank around Simon. When she was a trifle more sober all this giggling was going to be embarrassing!

"Comfortable, am I? Then perhaps the time is right to head back to the hotel," he said a little thickly.

Kirsten didn't offer a protest as he bundled her into the rental car some minutes later and wove his way through late evening traffic. She leaned back and admired big city lights until they arrived at the hotel. Without a word she allowed herself to be swept into the elevator, trying to look as dignified as possible in front of their fellow travelers. She was not certain she succeeded, however, judging by the smiles on their faces as Simon held her close to his side. She was satisfied to enjoy the feel of his arm around her, however, and decided not to worry about looking like his pet owl. Or was it kitten? Butterfly? Simon was going to have his own personal zoo if he married her, she thought happily. If?

"Get ready for bed, honey," he told her as they entered the room. To emphasize his words she received a gentle push in the direction of the bath. It was easier to keep going in that direction than it was to turn aside, Kirsten discovered, so she went ahead and did as she was ordered. The bed routine went by in a fog but a short while later she was in her nightgown, the pretty one with the ribbons and lace bordering the long skirt. After that it was almost easy to find her bedroom. She felt quite proud of herself. Rather vaguely she remembered Simon announcing that he would use the bed in what constituted the living room of the suite. Kirsten had just turned back the covers in a methodical fashion and climbed into bed when her door opened and Simon entered.

The first thing that struck her was that he wasn't wearing the silver hook. The white shirt he had worn to dinner was hanging, unbuttoned, around him and the left sleeve was empty. Poor Simon! Had he put his shirt back on after removing the prosthesis harness because he wasn't certain how she'd handle the sight of the stump? Kirsten decided to show him how little that mattered and opened her arms to receive him.

He came forward willingly enough, sinking heavily onto her bed and reaching down to scoop her against him.

"Kirsten, my little love." She heard his deep whisper and snuggled closer, the greater than normal intake of alcohol earlier in the evening taking its toll by making her sleepy. Simon's broad chest seemed an ideal location against which to pillow her head. The long soft hair, loosened from its confinement at the nape of her neck, floated gently around her shoulders and she was dimly aware of Simon running his fingers through it.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you?" he breathed against her hair before he stopped speaking and kissed her. It began as a slow, languorous caress that further relaxed Kirsten until she felt herself slipping backward to lie flat on the bed. Simon never let go, following her gentle descent with the full weight of his powerful body. Kirsten was distantly aware of the way her legs seemed suddenly trapped under his but couldn't manage to become in the least alarmed about it. Instead, as his tongue invaded her mouth, she worked one hand inside the loose white shirt and toyed happily with the curling hairs on his muscular chest, an act that seemed to arouse him even more.

Gentle kisses touched her everywhere-her mouth, her dream-filled eyes-and then began to travel down her throat to the point where the curve of her breast disappeared into the nightgown. A strong right hand took over at that point to push the material aside with a slow, steady movement that exposed her softness to his mouth in a tantalizing, inevitable manner. When Simon's tongue curled tightly around one nipple Kirsten gave a cry of delight and locked her arms fiercely around him, urging him closer. His weight covered her completely, imprisoning her slender form beneath him until he shifted slightly to enable his right hand to continue its work.

Kirsten shivered in expectation as the nightgown was lowered to her waist.

"That's right, little kitten," he breathed in a deeply aroused murmur. "Come and curl yourself around me. I'll take care of you. You'll be safe and warm here in my arms."

The words acted as another caress, making Kirsten want to do exactly as he said.

"Simon, Simon," she moaned, reaching out to twine her fingers in his hair.

"What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what you want tonight!" he ordered against the soft skin of her stomach. The fingers of his right hand began to make seductive little forays beneath the lowered nightgown until Kirsten started to arch her hips with an unconscious, pleading need. She wanted him to touch her there…

"Simon," she gasped. "I don't think I want you to leave me tonight," she got out in a tone of wonder.

"This evening when I held you close to me on the dance floor, I decided that I couldn't deny myself the pleasure of your bed any longer. But now I find I am a very greedy man, Kirsten," he whispered roughly. "I want so much more than your small, soft body, my love. I want all of you! Without any reservations on your part. Can you give me that or must I take it?"

She lifted longing eyes to the hazel depths above her, willing an explanation from him.

"Simon? Don't you want to stay with me?"

"With all my heart," he said with such passion, she knew he spoke the truth.

"Then why… ?"

His eyes glittered between narrowed lids in a look she recognized even through the sensuous fog in her brain. Suddenly she understood.

"You still want surrender, don't you?" Kirsten asked in a small voice of dawning comprehension. She had thought Simon wanted her physical surrender and she had known that would be dangerous enough. But now it was unmistakably plain he wanted more. So much more.