Starlight & Promises (11 page)

A sympathetic look spread over Delia’s plump face and deepened the creases of age in her neck and jowls. “I’m sorry, my dear. Perhaps you should agree to stay in Hobart with us. Then the professor will have no reason to be so beastly to you. He acts in this manner only to convince you to give up this dangerous quest.”

“Most certainly not,” Samantha said with a toss of her head. “I refuse to grant him what he attempts to force upon me. I shall not reinforce his despicable behavior. Surely he cannot continue in this fashion for the entire expedition. It must terribly strain his small mind to devise new punishments for me daily.”

Delia’s expression was soft and thoughtful. “You are quite correct. I do not expect he can.”

“I shall simply have to outlast him,” Samantha said. “He expects to coerce me into submission, into giving up. I am determined he’ll not succeed.”

“Of course not.”

Pettibone waited by the gangplank and waved at Delia. When she ignored him, he shook his head and started toward her.

“I regret leaving you alone while we troop off into town,” Delia said, “but I must find a floor that does not sway. I know you will persevere.” She patted Samantha’s cheek once more, took Pettibone’s arm, and accompanied him off the ship.

“I’m not alone,” Samantha murmured. “I have Narcissus to keep me company.”

Narcissus raised his head from his bed on a coil of rope beside her and yawned.

Garrett disembarked next with Chloe clinging to his arm. Chloe, dressed in her best gown, basked under the attention of the handsome young man. She had mooned over Garrett since the first day at sea, and he appeared to return her regard. Another unfair development. Samantha had met Garrett first. He was
her
angel, not Chloe’s. Gilly followed closely behind them with the ship’s purser, Alan Smith, whom she seemed to find at least as fascinating as the footman she left in Boston.

Christian was the last to leave the ship. He paused behind her before departing.

She refused to acknowledge him.

“I shan’t be gone long,” he said, his words coming from over her shoulder.

“You have no need to cut short your lark on my account,” she said, fighting to conceal the tears in her voice.

“Stay in your cabin and catch up on your sleep. The docks are dangerous for a woman, but you’ll remain safe on board.”

When he left, she softly said, “As if you cared.”

After a long, lonely afternoon and a dinner she could barely swallow, Samantha sat cross-legged on the deck under the evening sky and stared out at the city lights, softened into downy halos by the haze of a misty night.

What was she doing here alone? Why had she been so stubborn? From their first meeting, when Christian began to order her around, she should have strived harder to curb her explosive temper. Little good that did her now. She had carried their frequent clashes too far. She normally was not this easily driven to ire, but he had the oddest ability to burrow under her skin and prick her independent nature, causing her to lose her customary restraint. And when that restraint fell by the wayside, he scooped it up and employed it to club her over the head.

Samantha looked up to laughter and the murmur of conversation carried on the air from nearby houses and taverns and sighed. A light breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the pungent smell of raw shellfish from an open-air market and occasional hints of delicious cuisine from an outdoor café. Her mouth watered, and her eyes swam with tears.

She had met her fair share of arrogant males, who considered it their divine right to dominate a woman’s every thought and action, but she always managed to steal the reins of control before they realized what she was about. She’d never encountered a man quite like Christian. He seemed to read her thoughts even before they sprang fully formed in her mind.

Most of the time, Christian treated her like a schoolgirl who required his guidance and discipline. How would it feel if he were to treat her like a woman? Sometimes when she watched him on deck, his sun-tinted hair blowing in the wind, the strange sensations he stirred in her when they first met surfaced again. She still dreamt of his hairy chest and muscular body. How he felt and the heady smell of his bare skin.
No!
If she was incapable of managing him now, how would she handle his manly regard? She would have better luck swimming back to Boston and towing the ship behind her by a rope clenched between her teeth.

Was she expecting too much for Christian to treat her as an equal partner in the expedition, to feel free to contribute her own ideas and suggestions? He likened a woman with sound opinions to a child who required silencing. If she intruded, he shooed her back to the schoolroom and locked the door behind her. If she insisted, she found herself on the receiving end of one of his vile punishments.

Boots tapped on the gangplank, and Samantha wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. When she turned her head, Christian, still dressed in evening clothes, stood beside her.

“Have you been crying?” he asked.

“Absolutely not.” She averted her watery eyes. “Nothing you do or say could make me cry.”

He squatted on his heels. “Stalwart, aren’t you?” His warm breath feathered her hair.

“Indeed,” she whispered.

Christian straightened his legs to stand. “Go to your cabin and change your clothing. I’ll take you into town.”

She lifted her gaze to him. “Why? Because you pity me?” As soon as the words flew from her mouth, she wished she could take them back. No doubt she had angered him. He would depart and leave her here alone again.

A frown firmed his lips. “It was not pity that brought me back to the ship when I should be enjoying myself ashore—where I would be now had I half a brain in my skull. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. If you’re not ready by then, I’m leaving without you.”

When she jumped to her feet and dashed to her cabin, he called after her, “And wash your face.”

Christian stared at her retreating figure. Despite Samantha’s noble birth, she had an allure he was helpless to define. From the moment she had clattered onto his basketball court, he found himself intrigued, fascinated, challenged, and
damn it
, as hard and horny as a stallion stabled next to a mare in season. She had a mind as sharp as a blade, wit like the crack of a whip. He admired her spirit as much as he lusted after her body.

Her small, curvy figure, that butterscotch hair and those golden eyes, eyes like a wild cat’s, tormented him. He despaired of catching a whiff of her scent, a hint of lavender entangled with her own uniquely arousing odor. Her image filled his dreams. Samantha gloriously nude and moving in wild abandon beneath him.

Hard already, he cursed and shifted his erection. The night was shaping up to be longer than he would have wished. He should have remained in town.

Samantha bounced back on deck and stopped in front of Christian. She nearly stopped his heart. She wore a jade green satin gown that shimmered in the moonlight. It tightly hugged her small waist, pulled into graceful folds across her flat belly, and swept back into a bustle and train. The bodice dipped low, too low in his opinion. Creamy breasts swelled above the material. It wouldn’t take much for that bodice to slip and expose her bosoms.

Now that evoked an image he would recall in paradise! Short, puffed sleeves capped her slender shoulders and left her upper arms bare. White gloves stretched up to her elbows. Her long hair flowed back and up into a waterfall of curls tumbling down to her shoulders. Topaz earrings twinkled in her ears, and a gold chain with a topaz pendant encircled her neck. The pendant dropped dangerously close to her cleavage, calling his attention to it. Not that his attention wasn’t already fixed on that enticing valley. He resisted the temptation to adjust his trousers in front of her.

“Well?” she said, spinning slowly in front of him.

His cock swelled to monumental proportions, and Christian swallowed hard against the ache. “Will you not be cold in that?” he asked in a strangled voice.

She laughed, a gleeful, tinkling sound. “No, silly.” She flung out a hand clutching a gold cashmere shawl. “I have a wrap. See?” She pulled it around her shoulders and rested her gloved hand on his arm. “May we go now?”

His gut told him to say no and send her back to her cabin. Despite the intuitive message, the excitement sparkling in her eyes caught and bewitched him. He very much feared the night was going to be
exceedingly
long.

Christian drank more wine at dinner than he should have, but the liquor was not what intoxicated him. Samantha sparkled like champagne, and he reveled in her bubbly light. Amusing and full of joy, she proved to be a quick and witty conversationalist. He could scarcely drink her in fast enough. When they waltzed, he held her a little too closely, and the heat of her soft body in his arms threatened to unravel him. His brain wandered uncensored into dangerous waters. He cinched her slim, uncorseted waist, and his devious mind rejoiced that he wouldn’t be required to fight that bloody boned contraption to undress her. Of course he would not, but the thought bedeviled him nonetheless. At that moment he wanted her more than he ever wanted anything—more even than the Smilodon.

When his hands roamed and brushed her tempting breasts, clearly, he had reached the edge and was losing his footing. Withdrawing into himself, he tried to barricade his mind and body against her allure. When his attempt failed, he aborted their dance, grabbed her hand, and snatched up her shawl, dragging her out of the restaurant.

“Where are we going?” she asked, breathless and running to keep up with his longer strides.

He remained silent.

She dug in her heels, pulling him to a halt. He faced her straight on, the muscles of his jaw tight and stiff.

Her face fell. “What is wrong? What have I done now?”

He consciously relaxed the tension in his face. “Nothing. It’s simply time I took you back to the ship.”

“May we stroll along the boardwalk first?” She peered up into his eyes, her emotions plainly visible in their depths. “I have always dreamt of visiting Charleston and strolling on the boardwalk in the moonlight.”

I’ll bet you have!
He doubted she’d even heard of Charleston before this trip.

“Please, Chris?”

She looked so pitiful and … hopeful. He would be a cad to spoil her evening. “Very well, but don that wrap.”

They sauntered along the boardwalk, passing couples who ambled by or embraced in enclaves shadowed by overhanging buildings. The boardwalk was known for assignations, and Christian felt like a voyeur witnessing the intimacies of others.

Samantha stopped by the railing and gazed out on the ocean. Moonlight silvered whitecaps on the lapping waves and turned the beach into a sea of sparkling diamonds. She lifted her face to the salty air coming in off the ocean, breathed deeply, and closed her eyes, her curls lifting in the wind. Her shawl slipped down around her waist. Every time she inhaled, her breasts swelled and strained against the satin dress.

Christian reached the end of his tether. Lust ran through him like a runaway locomotive. Steam would rise from his ears at any moment. He was so hard, his cock was likely to shatter into pieces if he accidentally bumped against the rails of the track. Hot blood beat thickly in his ears until he no longer heard the sound of the waves hitting the beach.

Turning Samantha into him, he twisted one hand through her curls and tilted back her head; his other arm encircled her waist. Brushing his lips over hers, he slanted his mouth to find the perfect fit. She tasted like wine, strawberries, lavender, and innocence.

He pulled her closer, pressing her against his body while he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips. They parted, and he swept inside, delving for her essence. Deepening the kiss, harder and more demanding, commanding her response, her surrender. His tongue flickered and stroked, seeking and finding her tongue and dueling with it.

His free hand slid in a slow caress down her back, cupped her buttocks, and lifted her off her feet, molding her groin to his aching erection. He rocked her against him, wanting more, and groaned low in his throat.

Her arms swept around his neck. The moan that came from her brought Christian to his senses. What was he doing out here in plain view, bare minutes from laying Samantha down on the boards and taking her like some dockside whore? She was a virgin, an innocent under his protection, and he was taking advantage of her inexperience.

He slid her down his body, until her feet found the boardwalk, and released her, stepping away and retaining only her hand. “I do believe it’s past time for you to be getting back,” he said in a husky voice, “before something happens we’ll both regret.”

She nodded, lowered her eyes, and tugged her shawl around her shoulders. Ruddy color spread across her face and neck.

They walked back to the ship without speaking.

After leaving her at the top of the gangplank, her small, whispery “Thank you” followed him into the darkness. He stopped at the first tavern to cross his path. Faced with liquor or the attentions of a talented, well-endowed strumpet to dampen his passion, Christian chose a head-banging drunk.

S
amantha awoke at dawn to light sifting through the porthole. While she snuggled farther under the blankets and waited for Christian to rouse her in his usual manner, she retreated to their evening together. Christian had looked so devilishly handsome in his black evening clothes. Instead of the brash American she knew—and despised—he showed her a different side of his personality: gentlemanly and cultured, witty and charming. Her senses reeled under his smoldering eyes.

He had kissed her. Ever since she noted the softness of his lips in contrast to the hardness of his face, she longed to touch them, run her fingers across their surface. But she dared not be so bold. Besides, Christian afforded her no opportunity.

When his lips touched hers, she became drunk with pleasure. They
were
soft and firm at the same time, like silk over steel. They roused feelings she never experienced in the fumbling, dry kisses of her past suitors. A flame kindled in her belly, and when his tongue plunged into her mouth, the flame flared into life, its fire licking her with heat, soaring higher as he stroked deeper. Her legs turned to butter, and an ache plagued her woman’s place between her legs, wanting
something
, anything to ease its distress.