The Pirate and the Puritan (26 page)

After she caught her breath, Drew
kissed her lightly in the center of her stomach before he stood.

She reached out to him, too limp
to do anything else at the moment. “Don’t go.”

He yanked his white cambric shirt
furiously over his head. A ripping sound didn’t stop his enthusiasm in removing
it. “At this moment, I couldn’t be dragged from your side, sweeting.”

The shirt stuck at Drew’s wrist,
where he seemed to have forgotten to undo the ties. A rippling of his muscles
and another tear of cloth freed him from the tangled mess. He discarded his
boots and breeches just as quickly.

He rose to his full height. His
long, lean body glistened with a sheen of perspiration.

“Wait. I want to look at you.”
She wanted to forever capture the image in her mind or else she might someday
believe their encounter only a vivid dream.

“I can’t wait.” He covered her
body with his own, drinking deeply from her mouth like a man dying of thirst.

The taste of herself on his lips
sent a forbidden rush of excitement coursing through Felicity. She touched him
everywhere she could, her hands roaming and anxious. His skin felt like silken
fire. She explored every cut and bulge of his sinewy back, arms and buttocks. A
feral noise escaped from his throat and he put a sudden stop to her exploration
by wrapping his arms around her and in one smooth movement, rolled over onto
his back.

Instinctively, she sat up with
her legs straddling his hips.
Oh
, but she liked this. She braced her
hands on his chest, tilting her hips against the rigid heat pressing into her
moist center.

“I’m at your mercy,” he said in a
strained voice. His eyes looked drugged. He stared at her a moment longer
before he gave in to the weight of his eyelids.

His reaction banished her
awkwardness at the strange position and made her bold. She raised herself on
her knees and guided the joining for which they both longed. Her wet opening,
slick from a combination of her own lust and his kisses, welcomed the invasion.
His moan in response told her that he experienced the first rush of pleasure
with the same intensity she did. The moment she settled fully against him, he
clutched her hips and led her to a pace she didn’t mind following. Their bodies
ground in a maddening rhythm until she felt the familiar tightening. The
sensation urged her faster and harder. He stilled his movements, letting her
wild abandon have its rein. In moments, she pulsed around him, gripping him
with her release.

Before the last spasm had wracked
her body, he was moving again. His fingers dug into her hips with painful
force, but she didn’t cry out. She stared in fascination at his undoing. When
she held him in her body, there was nothing he could hide from her. She braced
herself on his chest as he drove into her, watching him for the signs that he
had relinquished every last bit of control. He thrust deeply, then tensed, a
strangled moan on his lips as she felt his release deep inside.

After his rapid breathing grew
more normal, he opened his eyes and grinned at her. She caressed his face,
thinking he looked vulnerable and boyish. His heart appeared in his eyes, or
perhaps it was only her imagining what she wanted to see.

He pulled her into his arms and
snuggled her against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “You are
beautiful, love. Don’t ever doubt it again.”

Felicity closed her eyes, letting
herself believe his casual endearment genuine. In the morning she could awaken
to reality. Or, if she was lucky, she could make this moment last until
El
Diablo
was captured and her father freed. After that, Drew would fade into
a distant memory like all girlish fantasies. She buried her face against his
shoulder to hide the sudden wetness clinging to her eyelashes.

“ ‘For a whore is a deep ditch;
and a strange woman is a narrow pit,’ ” said Solomon, stumbling over all the
words with more than two letters.

“Excuse me?” Felicity shook off
her hazy daydream.

He stared hard at the
leather-bound book resting on the table and repeated the sentence cautiously.

With a sigh of relief, she leaned
over and read the passage herself. He’d recited from the King James Bible, not
made a personal observation. She let her high spirits distract her from
pondering the truth in the statement or the source from which it came.

“Wonderful! You weren’t honest
with me, Solomon. You couldn’t have possibly come this far by just picking
things up.”

“Actually, Miss Kendall, the
captain tried to teach me to read and write when we were much younger. I was
too proud to learn then. Perhaps I remember some of his instruction, though
Drew was never much of a scholar.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Felicity laughed. She knew she must be blushing. She did so every time Drew was
near or his name was mentioned. Glancing in the large gilded mirror would show
how much of her happiness reflected in her face, but she dared not look in its
direction. To recall the things they’d done in front of that mirror in the last
few days would make her cheeks match the shade of her rose-hued dress. Drew had
shown her ways of making love she hadn’t imagined existed.

“You are a good teacher and an
intelligent woman.” Solomon paused. “I only wonder why you make such foolish
choices.”

Felicity pretended to study the
book instead of acknowledging Solomon’s comment. She’d rather assume Solomon
referred to her entrapment in the armoire than any current mistakes he found
her making. The dire words of the Holy Bible wouldn’t ruin her mood, and
neither would Solomon’s ambiguous comment.

“Here. Let’s switch to the
Gospels. I’m tired of Proverbs.”

Without further discussion, he
did as she asked. His dry rendition of the gospel according to Saint Matthew
encouraged her to go back to her daydreaming.

She would never agree the days
and nights spent with Drew were a mistake. Even if Solomon had bluntly referred
to her intimacy with Drew, she would neither deny nor defend it. The rational
and moral reasons against their alliance were obvious. Yet she had never been
happier.

Her father’s imprisonment always
loomed in the background, but she had come to believe Drew would set things
right. And when Drew touched her, she forgot everything else in the world.
Linked in passion, they had no past...and no future. She tried to stop the
unpleasant thought before it came, but it was too powerful to call back.

Her existence would return to its
prior drabness when Drew sailed out of her life forever. His absence would
leave a gaping hole where her heart resided. In all his kindness to her, he’d
never mentioned any feelings beyond lust. Drew was not the kind of man to
settle down—nor was she the type of woman to live on the run. After the scandal
of her father’s incarceration, they’d be forced to return to Boston and live a
quiet life in seclusion. Drew, on the other hand, would always be one step
ahead of the law. He was as free as the wind that powered his ship, and just as
elusive.

Knowing what she was to lose
couldn’t make her regret her love for Drew. She could no longer deny the truth
from herself. Every moment with him strengthened the emotion.

Hugh bounded into the room,
interrupting Solomon’s dry reading and halting her slip into melancholy.

“My turn yet? I want to read out
of the book too,” demanded Hugh.

“We’re going to do something
better. I’m going to teach you a song today that will help you remember your
letters.”

“Songs are for women. I can read
out of the book. Let me try!” Hugh crossed his arms over his bare chest.
Despite Solomon’s efforts to dress the child like a little gentleman, he always
looked like a wild savage before noon.

“Hugh, do not question Miss
Kendall. She’s doing us both a great service.” Solomon’s deep-timbered voice
took on a sternness that reverberated against the walls without him even having
to raise it.

“I’m sorry.” Hugh hung his head
for a respectable half a second before perking back up. “Can you teach me how
to be a doctor instead? Then I can help Mr. Sneed. He’s sick.”

“You’re a physician?” Shock and
something else mingled on Solomon’s drawn brow.

She got to her feet and fluffed
her skirts. “No, I’m not a physician. I’ve had experience with—”

“You are so. You told Captain
Drew you helped sick people all the time and no one ever died. I heard you,”
insisted Hugh.

“Calm down, son.” Solomon fixed
Felicity with a serious stare. “Were you a nurse or a healer of some sort?”

“Well, I consider myself a
midwife and an able nurse, but I’m certainly not qualified to train Hugh as a
physician.” That she stumbled over her title as midwife, even to Solomon,
aggravated her.

The matrons of her church had
been outraged when she, an unmarried woman, showed an interest in the skill.
She’d become attached to the notion after she realized she would never have
children of her own. Despite their objections, Felicity assisted midwives who
were not of the Puritan faith and in situations where no one else would help.
She had even gone so far as to deliver a child by herself, sworn to secrecy by
the unwed mother. It galled her, admittedly much more after her own fall from
grace, that women always took the blame for men’s pleasures.

With her conviction bolstered,
she met Solomon’s direct gaze. “Actually, I’m an excellent midwife. I never
lost a mother or a child.”

Solomon stared through her, lost
in secret thought. She doubted he had heard her.

“I don’t need a midwife, but do
you think you could help a man with a musket wound in his midsection?”

“I’d have to see the patient to
give an opinion.”

“Seeing the patient is out of the
question. You can tell me what to do and I’ll render the treatment.” The way
Solomon stiffened warned her that any trust she’d gained from him during their
lesson was slipping.

“I could tell you the wrong thing
and make it worse. I can’t suggest a treatment without seeing the injury. Bring
him to me blindfolded.” Felicity wasn’t about to give up when she could finally
be of some use.

“He’s unconscious. I think moving
him would kill him.”

Hugh tugged on Solomon’s coat.
“Papa, you can’t let Mr. Sneed die. He’s teaching me to throw dice, and no one
else will play with me.”

Solomon ignored his son. A
struggle showed in every strained line of his face. He was seriously
considering letting her treat one of Drew’s crew. If she succeeded, Drew would
be grateful. He’d remember her for that if nothing else. She’d be more than
just one of the many women who passed through his life.

“You can’t let one of your men
die without at least giving me the chance to save him.”

Solomon picked up the Bible, the
only book they could find on the ship, and walked toward the door. “I’ll speak
to the captain. The final decision will have to be his.”

“No.” She blocked Solomon’s way.
“He’ll say no. If the man dies, he’ll blame himself.”

Solomon jammed his hands into the
pockets of the embroidered long coat he always wore, despite the heat, to his
lessons. He started to speak, then stopped.

Up until now, she’d never seen
Solomon unnerved.

He studied her as if trying to
make a decision. “If I take you, you must promise to obey my every instruction
without argument.”

She pressed her hand over her
heart. “You have my word.”

“We will see the patient. You
will evaluate his injuries; then you will tell me how to proceed from the
safety of your cabin. Understood?”

“Can I come too?” asked Hugh.

“Absolutely not.” Solomon spoke
more harshly than she’d ever seen him address his son. The strain of disobeying
Drew’s orders must have caused the outburst. “I have a more important job for
you, Hugh.” Solomon instantly softened his tone. “You’ll be the lookout. This
is a secret mission, and no one else can know.”

Hugh straightened and shoved out
his bony rib cage. “Aye, sir.”

Solomon turned to Felicity. “Wait
here. I’ll make sure the area is clear. And put one of Drew’s coats over your
dress or you’ll stand out like a lit candle.”

Solomon exited the room with
Hugh. She paced, fearing the quartermaster would change his mind before he
returned. If she could not give Drew her love, at least she could give him the
life of a crewman. She just hoped nothing went wrong.

***

The stench of rotting flesh
smacked Felicity full in the face when she entered the small cabin. A brass
lantern hung from the ceiling, casting a dull yellow glow. Shafts of sunlight
the size of pinheads punctured the crevices in the planks above. Solomon
followed on her heels. He crowded her into the room and shut the door behind
them.

Felicity approached the makeshift
bed. “He needs fresh air and sunlight. The wound is infected.” The bed was
nothing more than boards balanced by crates. Blankets padded the hard surface
and a clean sheet covered the patient.

“Hurry,” said Solomon. “If the
sea picks up, I’ll have to lash him back in his hammock and you won’t be able
to examine him at all.”

A quick glance at the injured
man’s face startled her with recognition. At closer inspection, she placed him
as her father’s driver from Barbados. The man was one of Drew’s crew, and a
trusted member at that if he knew of Drew’s double life. Her mission’s success
took on new importance, strumming her already taut nerves in a discordant
jangle.

She took a deep breath and lifted
the sheet of heavy canvas. Avery’s midsection was wrapped several times with a
clean bandage. She rolled up the sleeves of Drew’s borrowed jacket another turn
and began to remove the bandage. Without a word, Solomon lifted the patient
while she unwrapped the dressing. When she came to the last layer, she realized
why the bandage had been so snug. “Has he been bleeding like this since his
injury?”