My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (16 page)

Her hand found his hair, her fingers sliding up into his scalp as he opened her mouth with his tongue. There were no sounds of the river around them, only a hot, searing fire while they kissed, his hand cupping her breast. The kiss, their tongues mingling, small gasps escaping her, seemed to go on forever, before his trousers confined his pleasure. She arched up into his hand as he rubbed along her breast.

Tearing his mouth away from her, he slid the top of her gown down to expose the breast he’d neglected, and laved it with his tongue. Her hand clutched in his hair, her eyes closed.

Working the hem of her dress up, he trailed his fingers along the inside of her thigh, inching higher and higher with each flick of his tongue on her nipple. As his fingertips found her moist, heated center, her fingers gripped, pulling him up.

A groan escaped him as her tongue traced his bottom lip, and then plunged into his mouth, as his fingers continued to slide in and out of her. Her kiss grew hurried, wild, and he met her all the way, his rod throbbing behind the laces of his breeches.

Needing to slow them down before he burst, he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of his chest, and her legs spread on either side of his hips. Groaning, as this was decidedly worse than remaining upright, they continued the fevered kiss, her hands still in his hair.

She moaned the moment she rested her exposed bottom on his breeches, her bottom sliding against the hard length of him.

He nearly shot up off the ground so intense the sultry, seductive slide of her on his already throbbing member.

Instead, he grabbed her hips, aiding her movement as she slowly rubbed herself up and down. His heart thundered, as if it were going to pound right out of his chest.

Blister it.

Their tongues remained entangled as he pushed her up and quickly undid his laces, releasing the part of him that craved her. Moving her skirts up higher, he gripped her by the upper thighs, allowing her to feel the skin-to-skin friction.

“How . . . delicious.” He breathed into her mouth, swallowing, trying not to come undone as she slid, moist and sleek, along the length of him.

“God.” She whispered back as if just discovering the sensation herself. She shuddered, increasing her pace.

Stopping her before it was too late, he grabbed her thighs tight, inched her up and guided himself into her molten center. She pulled away from his mouth, staring down into his eyes.

Her pupils were large, her hands on his shoulders firm, as she bit her lip.

The longer she stayed there, not moving, the deeper he went. It was the most blissful, erotic thing he’d ever done. The feel of her, wrapped tight around him, pulsing slightly.

Then, she moved her bottom. It was his turn to shiver.

“You’ll undo me.” With one hand, he pulled her down to his mouth. The other, he gripped her bottom, pushing her up and down. He hadn’t needed to assist her, for she undulated her hips and moved on her own, soft moans escaping her.

The pace increased, the wild, maelstrom of passion spiraling up until she cried out into his mouth, and convulsed around him. Catching her lips again, he drove into her, ever harder, until he reached his own precipice and a billion stars exploded in his brain.

Feeling her lips upon the side of his throat, panting, they lay there, both of them breathing heavily.

“I never knew stars could be so arousing.” Her voice vibrated with breathless wonder along his neck.

Resting his arms around her, he smiled up at the star-strewn sky. “Nor I.” Had he really just taken her out by the river? In the grass? Good God. A tavern. A river. He was fast becoming a lecherous horny toad.

Lifting her to a sitting position, he remembered what he threatened her with earlier in the day, “This certainly was not a proper place.”

A satisfied smile curved her lips, “Definitely not somewhere you would make love to a lady.”

She stood, straightened her skirts, adjusted her bosom, and looked around the grassy hill. “Just goes to prove my point.”

Sighing, he righted his breeches and bounded up to stand before her. “The point is . . . I cannot keep my hands off you.”

Their eyes met, and a shadow seemed to pass over her moonlit features. “It changes nothing, you know.”

Grabbing her hand, he led them back to the grass walkway. Why did she fight it?

“It changes many things, Anne. Many.”

Chapter 18

Once inside the house, Anne hurried up to the nursery, avoiding any other conversation with Addison. Her body still sang from their explosive joining. Gulping down air, she realized she could easily slip into his bed and spend the night engaging in the same, delicious activity.

Once inside the nursery, she found Garrett and Frederica sound asleep, and Eliza nowhere to be found. Opening the door to her room, she discovered Holt lying in the middle of her bed, slumbering peacefully.

The picture of him there, his dark hair tousled, his body curled into a tiny ball, sent a tremor into her heart. This was all too good to be real.

Her father had rescued her from prison, and sent her to a beautiful, rice plantation as a widow. Her children had a home and a respectable man to encourage and raise them. Could she truly put her past behind her?

Surely, she didn’t
need
a man to feel content, or even happy.

But, this one . . .

Hand fluttering to where her heart pounded so hard she feared it would burst through her chest, she rebelled against the emotion creeping up on her. It just could not be.

Removing her wrinkled gown, she picked a wrapper from her wardrobe and shimmied into it, recalling the feel of Addison’s hands and lips.

“Good God.” The thought of possessing him sent more fire racing through her blood.

With thoughts like that, she would be restless all night and useless the next day.

Lifting her son into her arms, he slept peacefully as she pulled back the covers, then settled into the deep, billowy mattress. Rolling onto her side, she placed Holt on the bed, tugging him into the crook of her body. She lay there for a bit, pondering the possibility of just letting go and allowing herself the luxury of everything in her reach at the moment.

Her life before her rescue deemed her only worthy of callous, shallow attentions from men who loved her not.

Addison, respected and prosperous, handsome and charming, how had he bartered for such a wayward, stubborn bride? Entertaining the idea of becoming his wife stirred her mind in many ways. Her heart fluttered at the thought of acquiring his love. Could he come to love her?

Had she fallen in love with her arrogant, yet seductive, lord?

Anne awakened to the sounds of tiny feet plopping across the wooden floors. Stretching, she smiled as her son’s dark, curly head ran past her line of vision. Not long after she sat up, a knock sounded at the door.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal a slightly rankled Eliza.

“Mrs. Morgan, I do apologize, but I was worried when I didn’t see Holt in his bed.”

Anne smiled, “I’m sorry. He was asleep, here, when I returned last night, and I could not resist sleeping beside him.”

Upon spying her standing there, Holt ran to Eliza, hugging her legs. “Nanny.”

Smoothing his hair, her typical indulgent smile reappeared, “Good morning, lad.”

“Eliza, do you know . . .” her heart pounded just thinking of him, “. . . if Lord Blackhurst has awakened?”

“Oh, aye, he’s an early riser. I believe he’s in the dining hall.”

Shoving off the covers, she jumped from the bed, determined to see where her future might take her—that is, if she decided to go that route.

“Thank you.” Rifling through her wardrobe, she had an idea.

Eliza was just pulling Holt along through the door. “Eliza, would you make sure my son is dressed and ready for a visit to town?”

The older lady nodded, and the door closed behind them.

Anne followed the delectable smells of Delcie’s cooking down to the dining hall. Before losing all the courage she’d spent years accumulating as a pirate, she breezed in through the door. As she’d hoped, Addison sat enjoying his breakfast.

His spoon stopped mid-air upon her entrance, and the silver of his eyes made her pause at the end of the table. She felt like a hare caught in the hound’s sight, heart hammering, a tingle shooting down her spine.

“Good morning, Anne.” His voice was a slow, seductive drawl, almost as if he were caressing her.

“Morning.”
Courage, Anne
. Stepping forward, he watched her every movement as she took a seat to his left.

“Did you sleep well?” He resumed eating his meal as a serving girl heaped eggs and sausage onto her own plate.

Remembering her thoughts as she fell asleep with Holt beside her, happiness filled her heart. “Aye. Although, I did have a bedmate.”

Dark brows rose above his eyes.

“Holt was curled up on my bed after—when I returned.” Heat crept into her cheeks.

“I confess, I’m jealous.” White teeth flashed as a charming smile stretched his lips. Her stomach fluttered.

“Do not be. He kicks terribly in his sleep.”

They shared a laugh, and Anne felt as natural and free as ever. They ate in silence for a few moments before she worked up the courage to speak. “Would you mind terribly if I walked the plantation, talked with the slaves? I’ve a mind to learn more about this rice business.”

The whites of his eyes showed briefly, surprised she supposed. “Of course, the plantation is at your disposal. I’d be glad to know you’re taking an interest.”

“I become bored easily, too, so this will help me occupy myself. You know, since I have no lady’s skills to do so.”

Lips pursed together, he frowned, which made her laugh. He leaned over, the pupils of his eyes becoming slightly larger, and came closer to her, cutting off her chuckle. “I could find ways to occupy you, madam.”

A pulse thumped in her ears, her knees suddenly weak and her mouth dry. She licked her lips, anticipating a kiss. But, he sat back in his chair and gave her a wry smile.

“I would like you to bring Holt to the warehouse this morning. I promised to show him my ships.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, “He would love to see your ship. I had planned to take him into town, anyway, to introduce him to Elizabeth Browning.”

He threw his napkin upon the table. “Wonderful.” He turned to her, leaned, and pulled her forward before she could react, his lips brushing hers. She melted into him instantly, but he pulled back just as quickly. “I will expect you soon, then.”

It was just as well. Had he continued on, who knew where in the room they’d end up? Perhaps on the table . . .

A flurry of heat flowed through her limbs, but she was able to answer. “Yes, I shall prepare our things, and request Raphael to accompany us.”

He stood and strode through the doorway without a backward glance or any indication he was in any way as affected as she. Relishing the day ahead, she ate her breakfast with a hunger not related to food.

An hour later, she, Raphael, Artie, and Holt made their way along the river. Holt fidgeted with enthusiasm upon the wooden bench beside her, giggling, both of his sinful dimples deep pits in his ivory cheeks. He pointed to one of the area’s many large, black birds sunning itself on a stump protruding from the opposite bank. Anne had the urge to join him, but refrained, merely laughing with encouragement. He positively wore her out, if that were possible, constantly moving, his mind roving from one stimulant to another.

Grinning to herself, Anne knew her restless, adventurous nature had found its way into her son’s tiny body.

They stood on Elizabeth’s front entry after the spirited trip a few hours later. Hobbs, the balding, high-browed butler informed them that the lady of the house was not at home, but would be alerted to their unplanned arrival when she returned. The tilt of his head and the manner with which he looked down his nose at her said he failed to appreciate Anne’s impromptu visits.

Nodding her thanks, Anne grabbed up her son, and packed him back into the carriage Addison had awaiting them on their arrival at the docks. She wondered if Addison were able to accommodate their visit this late in the morning. Surely his business was well under way. Shrugging, she instructed Raphael to turn in the direction of Addison’s warehouse on the more posh end of Bay Street.

The docks and bridges were busy with merchants and sailors, shippers, and working men hauling crates with wagons. Horses stamped, men whistled and spoke loudly over all the regular commotion of a busy port. It was a sound she had been familiar with over a year ago, noises that most ladies would scurry away from. A few sailor’s curses made Anne smile. She’d missed the commotion.

Pulling Holt up onto her hip and wrapping her arms about his waste, she moved in the direction of a two-story, brick structure with a sign hanging above the door. Gold letters outlined in black announced the business, Blackhurst Shipping & Co.

Anne made certain her braid remained in place over her right shoulder, and smoothed her cream-colored cotton day gown adorned with rosettes. It was shaping up to be a scorching day, so she’d picked the lightest colored, simple gown she could find in Lenore’s vast wardrobe.

“Pretty.” Holt ran his fingers over her cheek.

She gave him a quick kiss to his fingers as they entered the building. The bell chimed, and Anne entered the brightly lit office, the sun shining in the two windows facing the front of the building.

Addison sat, bent over a large, intimidating-looking ledger, his dark, auburn hair falling over his brow. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Please, have a seat.”

Smiling at the picture he presented—intense, yet devil-may-care—she would have remained quiet, but Holt ruined it.

“Ad!” His bones seemed to melt as he squirmed out of her arms and scuttled to the floor.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, long enough to get her heart thumping, before he only had eyes for her son.

“I didn’t want to disturb you so early.” Serene, even to her own ears, she sounded indulgent. As if she actually
cared
about disturbing him.

He grinned down as Holt stopped by his side, giving her son a quick manly handshake. “It’s perfectly acceptable. I have been preparing for your arrival. Just finishing up a few line items.” Ruffling Holt’s hair before he stood, he asked him in an altogether too-excited voice, “Well, son, how about we go for a walk and take a look at one of my ships?”

“Yes! Yes! Let’s go.” He reached up and slipped his small hand into Addison’s much larger one, baby-white skin disappearing in a manly, tanned hand.

“Excellent.” Silver eyes captured hers and she shivered, remembering the feel of those hands on her skin. He stopped beside her, extending his elbow to her.

Terrified of fueling any further fire within her already passion-weakened, betrayer of a body, she shook her head, giving him a half-smile. “No, you lead the way. I’m right behind you.”

He shrugged, “As you wish. Let’s go, lad. Your mother asks us to lead.”

“Tally-ho.” Holt squeaked. Addison chuckled, his shoulders shaking with the force.

Following his tall, broad-shouldered frame out into the sunlit street, Anne’s heart thudded with something akin to completeness. Addison’s head hung down close to the top of her son’s dark head, his own dark hair haphazard and obscuring his eyes from her view.

He spoke in a deep, excited manner, giving Holt his undivided attention. Even with the crowd surrounding them on their stroll into the street, she could hear the deep timbre of his voice. It was if she were attuned to the very presence of his energy.

Addison stopped, allowing Anne to catch up to them where they stood near one of the docks in Charles Town Harbor. She assumed one of the two large merchantmen anchored there was his ship.

Bowing slightly, and with a flourish of his hand to the ship on their right, Addison ushered her to walk ahead of them, and onto a vessel named
The Emerald Lady
.

“After you, my lady.”

He had the audacity to grin when she made no bones of hiding her sharp intake of breath.

“I told you—,”

“And, after you, my lord.” He cut her off, addressing her son, who brightened upon hearing the title bestowed upon him.

Cursing beneath her breath, she grabbed up the pleats of her skirt with one hand, and her son’s hand in the other. They climbed the gangplank, all the while she glanced with a nervous eye to make sure her son didn’t have an urge to jump into the dark blue water beneath.

The deck of the ship sparkled with a clean shine, and sailors worked vigorously preparing to set sail. Anne appreciated with a practiced eye the neatness and craftsmanship of the vessel.

Holt took that moment to run at full speed around the deck, dodging sailors as needed. He squealed and laughed with each pass.

A shiver racing up her spine alerted her to Addison’s presence behind her.

“
The Emerald Lady
? Fascinating name for a ship.”

He stopped beside her, a smile in his voice as her son and various sailors skittered out of his way. “Aye, named for my grandmother, the very wild and very Scottish, Fiona Douglas. You and she would have gotten along famously, you know. She had sparkling emerald eyes and fiery red hair, as well.”

“I should say she sounds quite lovely, really.”

“Very lovely.”

She glanced sideways at the seductive tone of his voice and found those piercing silver orbs intent on her, then turned away, her gaze catching Holt trying to climb the rigging. Attention to her son erected an invisible barrier in which to deflect the sensual current radiating from Addison like molten lava. She cleared her throat. “Um . . . does she still live?”

“No, she passed on during my university years.” He reached sideways and grasped her wrist, deftly flipping it over and bringing it to his heated lips. “I do believe you remind me of her. Perhaps I’ll have you pose for a figurehead for her, my Emerald Lady.”

Her stomach flip-flopped and a flutter beat against her ribcage. Allowing the sensation and warmth to spread throughout her body was an unusual response for her, but that’s exactly what she did. Allowed it, reveled in it.

“Mum! Ad!
Lookeeeee
.” Holt’s voice sailed on the wind to them as he hung three feet in the air, tangled in the rigging.