Lady Fugitive (16 page)

"Jesus, too damned good," he
grunted, making her gasp as he withdrew and thrust deep inside again. Rachel
moaned and clasped his buttocks in her fingers, delighting in the muscular feel
of his flesh and the power of his hard body claiming hers.

She had no memories of being naked like
this in Cletus' arms. She'd rarely taken off all her garments when they'd been
intimate, for Cletus seldom had patience to wait until she'd discarded them. He'd
merely pushed things aside and gone at her. She couldn't remember what it felt
like to move beneath him, but she was certain it had never been this maelstrom
of heated sensation and burgeoning desire.

She
wanted
this, she
acknowledged, with no shame and no fear. She lifted her hips to meet Morgan's
thrust. Again and again. But he stopped abruptly and withdrew. "Sorry
about that," he muttered as he gave her a chaste kiss. Too chaste,
considering what they'd just done.

"Sorry? But I thought making love
was what you wanted!"

He chuckled against her ear. "Not
sorry for making love, my daft little darling. Sorry I didn't do it longer and
better."

"We did what married people
do," she shrugged. Aware of a vague dismay, she tried to keep Morgan from
sensing it. "Now we can get some rest."

He gave an even deeper chuckle.
"Nice try, but you won't put me off with taunts tonight. I'll be ready
again soon." He began to stroke the flesh of her bottom with sensual
fingers. "The argument earlier, waiting so long, even the knowledge that
for the first time I was making love to a
wife
—all that affected me. But
I'll prove myself worthy several times before this night's through. Name your
favorite pleasure, my lady, and I'll begin anew with whatever that may
be."

Rachel pushed him away. "Several
times? You can have me every night for months! Why must I let you use me
several times tonight?"

"Let me use you?" he repeated
numbly. "I'll grant a certain inequity exists at the moment, but it's
hardly fair to claim I
used
you, Rachel. It took every ounce of self
control not to pummel you into the mattress, as long as I'd been desiring you.
This was our first time together. Surely Cletus lasted longer after your first
time."

Rachel gnawed at her lower lip. She'd
never compared one bout or night with Cletus to another. She genuinely
remembered very little about lying with him, beyond his crude grabs and the
fact she'd kept her eyes closed. And often prayed he'd finish, the sooner the
better. No, she definitely hadn't wanted it to last
longer
.

"It's not fitting to talk about
that," she announced firmly.

"Perhaps you're right. So hush now
and kiss me, Madam Tremayne. I'll stiffen in a trice and we'll give it another
go." He rolled her beneath him and slanted his mouth over hers. She pushed
against his shoulders until he tore his lips from hers.

She gasped for breath. "You aren't
serious? Again, right now?"

"You truly anticipated one quick
tussle would sate me? After waiting months to bed you? Hardly. We're going to
spend hours pleasuring one another, Rachel. Through the night into the morrow.
We don't have to leave this bunk at all, you know. I'm not sure I'll permit you
leave it for a week." His hands massaged her full breasts again.

This time she flinched. "I realize
you're my husband now, so I must submit to your desires, but—"

"Nay, madam." He was suddenly
furious, scrambling out of the bunk, hissing at her like a wet cat. "You
will not
submit
to me, Rachel Tremayne. You will not
endure
nights in bed with me. If you believe that's your place as a wife, then your
first husband was an idiot!"

"See, you're disappointed
already!" She curled into a tight ball and fought the angry tears forming
in her eyes. She was acutely embarrassed, but also intrigued by what he'd just
said. Cletus had been foolish about many aspects of life. Couldn't this be
another? She knew some women viewed sex as enjoyable, and had wondered if what
Cletus had shown her was all intimacy could be. It had seemed different just
now, with Morgan.

She blushed to recall how he'd used his
mouth on her, the bold ways he'd touched her everywhere. Cletus had merely
fondled her breasts once or twice, then jammed a knee between her thighs and
expected her to receive him. If she was lucky. In their later years, he rolled
on top of her and penetrated her, whether she'd been willing or not. He'd never
licked and suckled....

But she'd reveled in Morgan doing that,
and more. She was embarrassed, but curious, too. "Are you upset that I
didn't please you?"

"Rachel," he admonished
without rancor, "you please me. Never doubt that I find you all I could
want in a woman. It's nothing you did. I'm irritated by what you said. Your
attitude about the whole endeavor." She heard the slosh of liquid. 

"Now I made the occasion for you to
drink," she observed.

She heard a muttered expletive before
the bunk creaked and Morgan was beside her again. She laid a tentative hand on
his bare chest. "Can I tell you something?"

"I should hope so. You
are
my wife," he growled. "Damn, but I've a knack for being churlish
toward you at times. I don't mean to sound like a boor. Go on, talk to
me." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close against his side.
"I'll be patient and listen."

"I've always suspected there was
something more than...what just took place. I asked Cletus once, but he got
upset at the question. It was never wise to push him, so I let it go. But if
there's more, would you...show me?" When he didn't speak for a long
moment, she shook him lightly. "Morgan?"

"I—I honestly assumed you
knew," he said in a hoarse whisper. It was the first time she'd ever heard
him stammer, and she realized he must feel awkward too. "Ah, sweetness,
I'm sorry. I'll share all I know about pleasure. Do you want to begin
now?"

"I want...well, you said earlier I
didn't have to be shy after we were married. You know, about looking or—"

He seemed to sense her distress, and
laid her hand on his belly. "You never needed to be shy with me, Rachel.
Certainly not now. Explore as much and wherever you like, though it's likely to
stir a distinct impatience."

She let her hand slide lower. Morgan
tensed, but didn't move. "When you show me more, I mean, other things,
will it be painful?" she asked in a whisper, marveling at the feel of his
velvet strength beneath her fingers. "The whores said some things are
unpleasant."

"Whores?" Now he pushed her
hand aside. "Whom in God's name have you been talking to? Surely no one in
Crowshaven."

"My cousin owns a brothel outside
Washington, near the seat of our national government. I visited the house as a
girl."

"Your cousin's a madam? The
proverbial black sheep?"

Rachel reflected momentarily on her
cousin and the other relatives on her mother's side of the family. Most were
called unconventional, even eccentric. But she knew every one of them to be
harmless, if a bit unusual in their political and social views. "Not in my
mind. I think she's terrific. A wonderful person. You'd think so too, if you
knew her."

"If you say so," he
capitulated easily. Then his words became thoughtful as he absently stroked her
shoulder with gentle fingers. "Your notion of a man using a woman's body
begins to make sense. But strumpets lie beneath men for coin. It's purely
business being transacted, with no caring between the parties."

"So, it wouldn't be—"

"It will never be like that between
us. Was it unpleasant just now? You seemed to enjoy it well enough."

She felt her cheeks flush scarlet.
"More than I expected, actually."

"Didn't your cousin and the
trollops describe intimate matters in detail enough that you'd know what to
expect when you married? Naught about a woman's pleasure?"

"Sheila taught me how to kiss and
said to open my legs to admit a husband between them. She said he'd show me
everything else I needed to know, that I'd know when the magical thing happens.
But something must be wrong with me. There's never been anything I'd describe as
'magical'."

Morgan's arms slid around her in a
loving embrace. His deep baritone was soothing, lulling her back from nervous
distress to the secure feeling she craved in his arms. "A woman needs male
guidance for the magic she spoke of to happen. That's what I apologized for
earlier. I knew I hadn't created it for you. But I will."

"You're sure? It's not me?"

Morgan's low chuckle reassured her more
than his words. "I'm positive, little Colonial. Before we reach New York
harbor, I shall prove it." She yawned against the warm flesh of his
throat. "You're tired," he observed.

She nodded and snuggled against his
shoulder. His warmth all around her was a strong sedative. "Morgan, if you
can prove that, show me what I don't understand about this business of being
man and wife, I'm not sorry that I married you."

"Good," he whispered, "If
that's what you meant about 'disappointing' me, you've no cause to fret. 'Twas I
disappointed
you
, Colonial. You're just too sweetly confused to know
it."

Morgan stirred shortly after dawn.
Rachel was awake and watching him. "Good morning, Madam Tremayne." He
gave her a lazy smile, letting his hand run from her bare shoulder to her
buttocks. It rested there lightly in a possessive gesture that both charmed and
slightly bothered her. She didn't need to be reminded first thing of how he'd
won the battle to make her his wife. "Might have warned me you awaken with
the chickens. Habit you developed in the Colonies on that farm, I expect."

Oh, but he looked smug, a conqueror
gloating over the vanquished. She never should have let him see her
vulnerability the night before. "My country has been an independent nation
for nearly a century. It's populated with much heartier souls than yours, yet
you persist in referring to it as some minor extension of the Realm."

"Heartier souls? You'd be an expert
judge, naturally, having
endured
this lovely bundle of flesh being
dragged over the dust in a...what is that charming term?
Prairie schooner
?"
The wolfish grin widened as he laughed.

She shot past him and out of the bunk.
She squirmed into a plain black frock. Morgan rolled onto his back, ignoring
his blatant nudity and the fact the bedclothes had been knocked down around his
knees. Rachel fought the urge to shift her gaze. He calmly laced his fingers
behind his head. "Living on the Western frontier is supposed to prove
you're hearty and independent?"

"I think it does."

"Ah," he nodded. "You
wanted to walk home alone in the village after dark, and would have undertaken
this voyage alone. Not one night out, and the men were already trailing in your
wake like hungry sharks. You, my dear little bride, are foolhardy, not
independent. There's a difference."

"Foolhardy?" Rachel glowered
at him, chagrin at his undress forgotten. "Foolhardy was believing you'd
actually help me! Trusting
you
was foolhardy! I should have known
better, with someone who regards other men as opponents to be outmaneuvered for
coin, and women as outlets for his excessive lust."

"That's unworthy. I was kind and
compassionate last evening. Another man might have
used
your body—as you
so impolitely described it—until you were unable to get up and walk this
morning."

"Well I still can, and I'm going to
get something to eat." She opened the cabin door, letting in the acrid
tang of chilly salt air.

She'd taken only a few steps across the
open deck when her elbow was caught in powerful fingers. "I specifically
warned you against this, Rachel," Morgan snarled. "You'll not come
out here unescorted."

Her face was instantly on fire when she
discovered a group of tars watching the exchange. They were plainly amused by
the sight of her arguing with her naked bridegroom. "You're not dressed,
sir!" she hissed.

"I know, and I'm freezing my cock
off, thanks to you!" He jerked her back inside the cabin and pushed her
into the chair. "Sit there until I put something on. We'll go to the mess
together."

"I'll never survive with you
hanging over me every minute for a month or more! Those men don't look as
though they mean any harm. You just like bullying me. You've exaggerated the
danger to frighten me."

He flung open the cabin door.
"Goatish abuser of the fairer sex. Bully, liar...Your endearments serve
their intended purpose, madam wife. Have full run of the ship." He gave
her backside a rude push. "We'll see how long it takes before you're
looking to be rescued from the clutches of yon seamen. Mayhap you'll appreciate
the bully you married after you've had a taste of their treatment." He
thrust her outside and bolted the door behind her.

Determined not to let the crew read her
shock and dismay, she took a seat at an empty table in the ship's dining room.
She kept an eye on the hatch as she buttered her bread, watching for Morgan's
arrival, but he didn't come. She decided to take him at his word and ignore his
presence completely.