My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 16

Exiting the tavern and averting her eyes from the wanted poster, she caught Raphael’s bored gaze as he leaned against the tavern’s exterior wall.

“I thought I’d sent you back to the boat?” If she were honest, she was actually quite grateful that he disobeyed a direct order. Otherwise, she’d need to ride back, probably in close quarters, with Addison. And, the way her body had betrayed her recently, no. That wasn’t the grandest idea.

“Well, let’s find the carriage, shall we?” She gave Raphael a bright smile.

He pushed himself away from the building, and she followed him down the street and around the corner to where a lad sat guarding the rental. He tossed the boy a few coins. The lad ran away smiling and waving in Raphael’s direction.

Anne gave in to the urge to turn and look behind her, wondering if Addison had followed her from the tavern. The street was deserted except for a couple of sailors, no doubt heading to the taverns for their supper. Shaking her head, admonishing herself for worrying about it in the first place, she climbed in the carriage, her faithful guard holding the door open for her.

Sitting in the hot carriage on the ride to their longboat and a patiently waiting Artie did nothing to calm the wild pulse that still beat at her throat. The entire journey up river to Cranford Hall went thusly. Her skin fairly tingled from the friction of calloused fingers smoothing over her fevered flesh, her nipples tightening at the memory, straining against her gown.

Anne swiped her brow with the back of her hand, pulling her disheveled braid up high and away from the heat of her neck, and blew out a heavy breath. Between the warmth of the day, and the wild lovemaking with Addison, she just might faint.

Had making love been so exceedingly satisfying, shattering, and explosive with Jack, she may have enjoyed the act, and even insisted upon partaking in it more often. But, Jack was no comparison to Addison, and he’d certainly never given her so many keen sensations, or physical frustrations for that matter.

Those unique, green-rimmed irises and silver pools of color that were Addison’s eyes floated in her mind. So mesmerizing. Full lips possessing, and hot, and the feel of his touch . . . everywhere. She swallowed hard remembering how heated, solid, and full he’d felt inside her.

Blast and damn.

A fan. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a blasted fan?

Daydreaming made for a quick voyage back to the plantation. John appeared to help her from the boat, and she thanked him with a tight-lipped smile, frustrated at how disarmed she continued to be. Realizing she’d not need to project her feelings, she smiled fully as John nodded.

“John, from whom do I request the tub and hot water? I’m afraid I do not know everyone’s duties here.”

White teeth flashed. “I can have that done for you, ma’am.”

She touched his arm in appreciation. “Bless you, John. Can you have it brought to my room?”

His eyes widened slightly as if he were surprised she would touch him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And, please, call me Anne.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rolling her eyes was another bad habit she could add to her arsenal of bad habits. He grinned.

Sighing, she walked up the steps, into the entryway, and directly up the stairs to the nursery. Eliza had assured her the wet nurse Addison insisted be found to help ease Anne’s burden of caring for two at one time would feed the babes today. Even so, Anne had a need to feed them. She found both children to be hungry, however, and she enjoyed the hour she spent nursing, cuddling, and singing to them.

All the while she thought of Addison, and warred with herself over her future. Still believing she did not need a husband, none of her priorities had changed. And, if she weren’t careful, her heart would suffer.

No. She wanted—needed—to be a widow, to raise her children, and not with a husband to order her about.

Keeping her distance from the pleasures the sultry English lord had already shown her what was paramount to her sanity, and her heart. And, what good would it do her to fall in love with him?

Placing the sleeping babies in each of their cribs, she heard commotion in the hall as the steaming buckets of hot water were being lumbered up the stairs and into her room.

Thanking each man as they left her room, she shut her door with a large sigh. Running her fingers through her braid to disengage the rows, she grabbed a hairpin from her dresser, knotted her disheveled locks into a plump bun atop her head. Not being one for fashionable hair styles, the outcome of her ministrations were probably more disheveled than to begin with. Shrugging out of her gown and under garments then tossing them upon the bed, she strode toward the steaming copper tub.

A generous bar of lilac-smelling soap rested on her washstand. She took a long sniff and plopped it and a washcloth into the water. Climbing over the rim, a soft moan forced her lips against her teeth as her muscles rebelled against this new hurdle. With care, she eased her limbs under the surface. Resting her head on the back of the tub, she allowed the heat to soak into her sore limbs. It had been quite some time since her body had been through such strenuous work. Spending months on end working on a ship, sword fighting, fist fighting, and hoisting herself up the rigging . . . those were the days her body had been in prime condition.

The workout she’d received in the storeroom today brought her thoughts back to the arrogant, yet exciting and irresistible, man who seemed to be intruding on too many of her thoughts.

Had he returned to the plantation?

And, would he attempt to make love to her now, in his ‘proper place’? Just the idea of it prompted her stomach to flip-flop, and that new, unfamiliar tingle in her lower nether region roared back to life.

“Bloody Englishman.”

She sat up, lathered the cloth, and began washing her neck and arms, reliving the feel of his caress everywhere the cloth trailed. A grumble escaped her as she raised a leg to scrub each one with vigor, turning her skin pink. The smell of lilacs filled her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, blowing out the breath slowly to calm her nerves.

It was then she realized she’d forgotten to grab a towel from the washstand.

“Great.” Turning, he dangled the blasted towel like a carrot she couldn’t reach.

“Forgot a vital element, I see.” A seductive breathiness accompanied his statement.

Startled, Anne sloshed water up and over the rim of the tub as she turned to the doorway. Leaning casually against the jamb, as if he’d been watching a game of whist, his gaze intent upon her ministrations.

“How long have you been standing there?” She refrained from crossing her arms over her nearly visible breasts. Her nipples were covered by a random fluff of bubbles, but the whole top of her was bared to his view.

His gaze remained riveted upon her as he pushed away from the door and sauntered further into the room. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from his tall, muscular frame. Swallowing hard, his deep, silver eyes darkened with . . . desire?

“Only a moment. I wanted to make sure you made it home safely, but you ran off so quickly.” He shrugged as he rounded the tub, the towel in his hand taunting her. He turned back to her.

Despite the urge to sink further into the tub, she raised her chin. “Raphael hadn’t left me and was able to bring me back.”

His eyes fell to the tops of her breasts. They tingled as if he’d physically caressed her, the nipples hardening and a jolt of awareness racing to her loins.

“Aye, he is the only reason I’ve decided not to lock you in your room.”

His sudden smile paralyzed her, enough so that she had no reply to such a high-handed statement.

“He’s a good deterrent for anyone wishing to do you harm.”

Unfolding the towel, he spread it wide, and stood before the tub, never taking his eyes from her.

All she could do was gaze up into those sterling pools, her stomach in knots.

“Aye. I imagine that’s why my uncle pays him.”

“Anne, are you going to get out?” He stared pointedly at her breasts.

Pursing her lips together, gripping the sides of the copper tub, it was all she could do not to throw the soap at his head. “Not with you standing there.”

“The longer you sit there, all wet and naked, the more I’ll feel like getting in there with you.”

They stared at one another for a long, tense moment. She had a mind to see if he’d really do such a thing, but knew she’d be lost should he disrobe and get into the water with her, naked.

Cursing him beneath her breath, and the most delicious thoughts he invoked, she hoisted herself into a standing position, a blush creeping up her cheeks. He did not look away for one second.

She gave him a raised brow. “Well?”

Lips stretched into a breathtaking grin, he wrapped the towel around her shoulders as she stepped down onto the floor. Her wet feet slapped upon the floor as she hurriedly moved away from the heat radiating from him, and possible capture. She wrapped the towel tightly around her upper body, tucking a corner of the towel into itself above her breast.

“I hope the bath was to your liking.”

She raised her chin. He was far enough away. “Yes, thank you.”

To her horror, he moved toward her, slow and deliberate. She put a hand to the towel to hold it in place, fearing he might rip it from her. There was a part of her hoping he would, but she didn’t want to entertain that thought. She needed her wits about her.

“I find it difficult keeping my hands off you.”

Lifting her eyes to his as he stopped before her, he pushed a damp curl back behind her ear.

“Dinner should be ready.” She had to escape somehow, or she would be lost.

“Aye, you are correct.” His lips lightly brushed hers. She could not help but lean into it, and respond.

Leaning back, a lopsided grin pulling one side of his full lips up, he held her shoulders.

“Delcie will wonder where we are.”

She nodded, eyes widening as he turned away from her and pulled his shirt from the top of his breeches.

“You’ll not mind if I make use of the tub while the water is still warm?”

He pulled his shirt up and over his dark head, exposing rippling back muscles, and full, wide shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. Biting her lip, she realized he pulled off his boots and would be taking off his breeches soon.

Not waiting around to be tempted by him again, Anne grabbed her gown from the bed and ripped clean under garments from the top drawer of her wardrobe.

“I’ll make Delcie aware you shall appear after your bath.” She darted into the adjoining dressing room, slamming the door on her way out, just as he was unlacing the ties on his breeches.

“Good lord!” she breathed, leaning back against the dressing room door. The man’s physique would be the death of her. She’d seen many a man without his shirt, but
bloody hell,
he was a right fine specimen.

Dressing quickly, Anne braided her hair, pulled on a pair of Lenore’s satin heels, and rushed out through the opposite door into the hallway. Heart pounding and senses tingling, she found her way down to the family dining area and eased into a chair opposite the head of household’s proper place.

No sooner had Delcie entered with the first course, than Addison sauntered into the room, his auburn hair slicked back from his head, looking refreshed and devilishly handsome.

“You bathe with speed, my
lord
.”

“I didn’t want to miss your company, my
lady
.”

A snort would have been unladylike, and so that’s exactly what she did. He sat across from her, Delcie grumbling at him for not getting his napkin on his lap quick enough.

The cook placed bowls of soup before them, and the smell of the fresh biscuits permeated the room as they were laid on napkins beside the bowls.

“Biscuits! These are better than The Hound’s by far.”

The tavern’s storeroom immediately came to mind with his casual statement, which was what he was going for, she guessed.

“I’m sure. There’s nothing like Delcie’s biscuits.”

They ate in silence for a few awkward moments, but the absence of conversation wore on her worse than his pointed stare. “Eliza tells me you allowed Holt a ride this afternoon. Thank you.”

A smile played about his lips.

“Aye. He is a natural rider, and sits a horse quite effortlessly. He quite enjoys the ride.”

“You are building another stable. Will you have more steeds or will you add more farm animals?”

“I’ll need to buy a few more work horses, but the plan is to allot for more swine and cattle. I’ve many slaves here to feed, so increasing our provisions is imperative.”

“You treat them kindly. I’ve not seen any plantation so interested in teaching the West Africans the English language.”

“While I do not agree with owning a human being, it is the way of the world until we can move to change it. However, there is nothing to say I cannot make sure they want for nothing, have the means to communicate with anyone, and are clean and well-cared for.”

He’d taken such an interest in his slaves. Her father owned slaves as well, but he hadn’t taken the time to teach them anything. While they were fed and had roofs over their head, they weren’t the happiest lot.

Curiosity got the better of her, and since they were in something of a truce at the moment, she pressed the issue.

“For someone who thumbs their nose at slavery, you’re managing better than most. What brought you to the Carolinas, anyway?”

Their eyes locked for a moment, her stomach flip-flopping about like a land-locked fish.

“Third sons of Earls have two options in England, take up the good book, or go into the Royal Navy.” He threw his napkin onto the table and leaned back, a wry smile lifting his lips as if he kept a secret. “I wanted to be a pirate.”