The Pirate and the Puritan (14 page)

Avoiding his gaze, she intently
spooned stew into her mouth even though she had almost emptied her dish. “And
the child?”

Drew hesitated. Outright lying
had become a way of life, but the silly promise he’d given Felicity weighed on
him. He’d not really intended to be honest with her.

“A similar situation.”

She brightened, but his simple
explanation didn’t seem to satisfy her. “So the little boy wasn’t sold into
slavery?”

“No.” Drew played with the rice
left on his plate. He’d drawn out the meal to encourage her to eat. When he
wasn’t forced to play the role of cultured Lord Christian, he had the table
manners of a hound, devouring his food in a few bites, then completing his meal
by tipping a mug of rum bottoms up. Of course when he was on his ship, the only
time he was truly Drew Crawford, he usually dined alone.

“Well, what happened to the
child?”

He glanced up to find Felicity
alert with curiosity. His plan to sober her had met with rousing success,
leaving him with the difficult task of distracting her from a forbidden
subject.

“He’s with his father. Did you
notice the writing on the documents?”

“No. I was too stunned by their
contents.”

“You should have. You know the
person who forged them.”

She laid down her fork. “You
forged them, or maybe even Solomon. You’ve scared me off assuming anything. For
all I know, one of the wild men from your crew did the deed.”

He rested his chin on his clasped
hands and leered at her. “I’m disappointed. I expected a better guess from my
little spy.”

“I’ve named the limited number of
people we mutually know who would resort to forgery. Unless...” Her thoughtful
expression turned to a scowl. “Samantha Linley would surely stoop to any depths
for you.”

The jealousy in her voice
unexpectedly pleased him. “After the length of time you spent scouring the
ledgers of the New England Trading Company, I can’t believe you didn’t
recognize Richard Marley’s script.”

She dropped her spoon into her
empty bowl with a clatter. “Master Marley? What else did he help you with?” She
didn’t have to say the rest. The question of Marley’s death hung between them
just as effectively unspoken.

His good humor faltered at the
accuracy of her question. “You’re jumping to conclusions again. Marley and Ben
were like brothers. I know you don’t think much of me, but are you so eager to
think the worst of your father’s childhood friend? Christ, Felicity, I thought
you would understand why he did me the favor as much as anyone.” Anger
punctuated each of his words, though its source was his own past deeds rather
than her assumptions. He hated the reminder of his responsibility in Marley’s
death, but that was exactly what he needed. His fascination with Felicity had
distracted him from the purpose of this voyage.

The softened slant of her warm brown
eyes didn’t banish his temper. “I do understand, and I would do the same under
the circumstances.” She hesitated only for a moment. “But you do believe
Marley’s death had something to do with you and your…business dealings?”

He pushed away his plate. “Yes.”

The creasing of her brow made him
dread her next question. “Is my father in danger?”

Another reminder of his mission’s
importance loomed in the anxiety permeating her breathless question. “Nothing
will happen to Ben or you. I’ll make sure of that.”

She searched his features, her
eyes moist and vulnerable. “You’re going after
El Diablo
, aren’t you?
You weren’t just running away from Barbados.”

“It doesn’t concern you,
Felicity.” His voice was gravel. God, did he actually see admiration in her
expression? He knew he heard it in her question. “You made a promise not to
reveal my identity, and that includes any little secrets I spilled tonight due
to too much wine. I won’t have your meddling cause your father’s death or
Solomon’s return to slavery.”

She covered her hand with her
mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. Mumbling the most blistering curse he could
think of, he pushed himself from his chair. He had some French cognac stashed
away somewhere and he needed it. He was babbling like a lovesick adolescent.
Solomon would be furious if he knew Drew had revealed his status as a runaway
slave. Drew might not have said the actual words, but she would figure it out.
Her shocked expression at his outburst told him she already had.

“Drew.” She stood. “I won’t tell
anyone anything and I’ll swear it on whatever you like.”

Her tentative call halted his
search. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. Her feet and ankles were
bare. His imagination slid beneath the robe to continue the trek over her body.
The anger making his blood churn swiftly turned to lust with the force of a
swollen river threatening to overrun its banks. He let the strength of his
hunger simmer in his eyes. There was still the matter of the kiss. That would
forever banish the hero-worshiping look that had temporally caught his heart in
a vice.

“W-why are you looking at me like
that?” Her eyes grew wide and frantic, like a hare snared in a trap.

He stalked toward her. “Why do
you think?”

“Because you’re a cad and think
every woman was put on earth for your pleasure.” She squared her shoulders, but
all that did was bring the shape of her lush breasts’ to prominence against the
silk. Her hardened nipples stood out brazenly, begging to be caressed…or
sucked. How could a supposed Puritan have a body like that? In Drew’s
experience God had proven cruel, but not that cruel.

He stopped within a few inches of
closing in on his quarry. If she wanted to push him away, she could. A flare in
her eyes warned him that she had no intention of staving off his advance. The
idea that her fiery disposition spread to other aspects of her nature gripped
his cock with a firm hand.

“Not every woman. Just you.” He
cupped her jaw, and parted his lips in anticipation.

Want and anger flashed in swift
succession across her features, but Drew was too far gone to care what the
anger might mean.

She backed away, flinging off his
touch with a shake of her head. “Don’t. Don’t tease me. You are supposed to be
truthful tonight.”

“I don’t tease, Felicity. Do
you?” He caught her by slipping his arms loosely around her waist. When she
made no effort to push him away, just stared up at him and licked her lips in
promise, Drew realized he’d miscalculated. A coaxing kiss or a gentle nibble on
her shoulder would leave him with a much too eager woman. Drew’s body was
already confused about the game they were playing, and any more encouragement
would be followed by an all-out mutiny. If he truly wanted to scare her off, he
needed to take his pirate guise a step farther. He just wished he didn’t find
the idea so appealing.

Without warning, he jerked her
tightly against him and pressed his erection against the soft flesh of her
abdomen. “See how honest I’m being right now?” He took advantage of her sharp
inhalation to cover his mouth with hers. His kiss instantly demanded. He pushed
his tongue into her mouth without the slightest whispery coaxing of his lips to
soften the thrust. The unexpected brush of her tongue in return and the seeking
hand that glided up his back incinerated Drew’s plan, along with his last shred
of conscious thought.

Her welcoming response to his
raiding kiss softened his pressure on her lips. Instinctively, his body
interpreted the subtle signals of her desire and gave in kind. He slid his
hands lightly up her back. When he found his destination, his fingers tangled
in the thick strands of her hair. He brushed the soft skin at her nape with his
fingertips and swallowed a deep groan in anticipation of fulfilling a fantasy.

He grabbed fistfuls of the
golden-brown silk that had teased him from the moment he’d first gazed at her
by candlelight. Gently he tugged, forcing her to tilt her head back.

He slid his mouth from hers to
glide across her soft skin, stopping when he reached the hollow between her jaw
and earlobe. He tasted her vulnerability with his tongue. Licking down the
length of her neck, he hesitated at the base of her throat to inhale the
intoxicating mixture of rose and sandalwood radiating from her heated skin.
Lost in ravaging the spot with an openmouthed kiss, he heard her soft moan like
a cannon explosion in his ear.

“Who are you?” he whispered
between deep gulps of air. He felt as if he was drowning. His mind screamed:
This is Felicity Kendall. You're not supposed to be touching her like this. But
he couldn’t shake the sensation that the woman in his arms bore no relation to
the puritanical Miss Kendall. The women he held seduced like a siren whose moan
proved more damaging than any song. Jagged rocks lay ahead, and all he could
think of was steering straight for them.

He forced himself to loosen his
grip so he could look into Felicity’s face. Surely the reality of her image
would banish the nymph back to the sea. She gazed up at him, panting for
breath. Her heavy eyelids intensified the murky green shimmering behind the
liquid brown of her irises. She licked her lips, wet and red from his rough
kiss. He groaned and lowered his head at her invitation, knowing or otherwise.

“Felicity,” he mumbled against
her lips. This was the real Felicity, the sexual creature who tempted and
challenged him at every turn.

Her return kiss buckled his
knees. Ever-increasing urgency made him light-headed. All his blood raged to
one part of his body. He’d begun to ache with his need to be inside her. He
thrust his tongue into her mouth, overpowering her teasing grazes.

He released her hair and raced
his free hands down her back, drawing her closer with demanding pressure. He
slid his palms over her bottom, then cupped her, tilting her hips so he could
melt into her. The sensation demanded immediate action. If not for the barrier
of their clothing, their encounter would have come to an abrupt and premature
end.

A choked sound escaped her
throat, muffled by their entwined mouths. He struggled for a grain of rational
thought to tell him whether the sound was protest or encouragement. Her grip on
his biceps and the fact that she didn’t try to push him away persuaded him she
meant the latter.

All he had to do was turn her a
few inches, set her on the edge of the table, pull the tie of her robe and he
could be inside her in the time it took to unlace his breeches. They wouldn’t
even have to unlock the maddening kiss fueling the urgency between them. He
released her to contemplate the situation before lust and instinct ruled
irrevocably. His fingers disagreed and roamed up her rib cage of their own
volition. The moment he captured the weight of her full breasts, she arched
into his touch.

Rational thinking appeared beyond
either of them. He returned one hand to her lush bottom while his other
continued its desperate groping. Her nipple burned through the red silk and
teased his palm with an unspoken promise. With another woman, her obvious
arousal would be consent enough. With Felicity, he needed to hear her say she
wanted him as he wanted her.

“Open your eyes and look at me.
Is this what you want?” He guided her hand to the straining beast in his
breeches. If that didn’t scare her off, nothing would. With held breath, he
stared into the hazy wonder in her eyes as she measured his length with the
flat of her palm. Drew leaned his head back and let his eyes drift shut,
reveling in her touch. He took that as a resounding
yes
.

Solomon’s abrupt opening of the
door forced Drew from drifting ecstasy with a violent shake. Drew turned his
head to stare, stunned and blinking.

“You were supposed to keep the
door locked,” accused Solomon.

At the pressure of her hands
pushing against his shoulders, Drew relinquished his bone-crushing hold. She
continued to struggle in his arms, but he didn’t let her go.

“Men who give a damn about their
lives should learn to knock.”

With one arm wrapped tightly
around Felicity’s waist, he forced her against him, shielding her from
Solomon’s gaze, even if she didn’t want his protection. Solomon was one of the
few men in the world he trusted, but still, Drew didn’t want another man to see
Felicity in her flimsy robe.

When her thrashing grew more
desperate, he let her go only to shove her directly behind him. He faced
Solomon, blocking the man’s view. He let his impatient stare speak to the fact
that he wanted Solomon to leave immediately.

“What?” he demanded, breaking the
prolonged silence.

Solomon stared back, immovable as
a brick wall. “We are ready to set sail. I thought you would want to be on
deck, Captain.”

Drew gave up his battle stance
and ran his fingers through his hair. The black satin ribbon holding it in
place had come loose. He glanced over his shoulder at Felicity.

She stood a few steps away with
her back to the door and her head bowed. Bloody hell. What had he done, or
better yet, almost done?

He returned his attention to
Solomon. “I’ll be there shortly. Just give me a minute.”

With a curt nod, Solomon
retreated from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Drew moved behind Felicity. He
reached out to lay his hands gently on her shoulders, but stopped. Instead, he
balled them into fists and dropped them to his sides.

“Felicity,” he said softly.

She turned to face him, then took
a step back. The flush in her cheeks a few moments earlier had faded. Her lips,
still swollen and wet, were an inviting contrast to her pale skin.
Unfortunately, the coldness in her gaze told him the invitation existed only in
his imagination.

He searched his fogged memory,
hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted any of her other messages. “Are you all right?”

Her breathing sounded ragged. She
responded with a silent nod and clutched the opening of her robe together with
both hands. The way her fingers clenched the red silk disturbed its smooth
beauty. She stared down at the floor as if she were ashamed.