The Price of Indiscretion (9 page)

If that had happened, instead of sitting on this ship with its damp smells and cramped quarters, instead of fearing for her future and praying she didn’t disappoint her sisters again, she would be before her own hearth, surrounded by her children. She would be happy, or so she told herself.

Was this the way life was? Wanting and wishing and never, ever finding what one desired?

From the moment Alex had stepped out of the forest into her path that day, there had been an inexplicable bond between them. It had been what it was—a simple, deep connection between two souls that knew no boundaries, no rules, no social order.

And tonight, in his arms, her body knew what her head refused to accept—she loved Alex.

The truth of it was a stabbing pain to her heart.
They
could never be. Those closest to her would not let them. And if, in the future, they saw each other again, she would be another man’s wife.

Suddenly the stale air of her cabin closed on her. Miranda couldn’t breathe, let alone think. She closed the lid to the chest with a slam and slid the chest into its hiding place under her bunk. She must have fresh air or she would suffocate.

Miranda threw her day dress over her nightgown, laced it quickly, and tossed a shawl over her shoulder. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she went out into the tight, narrow passage, and climbed the ladder to the deck.

The moon was hidden by clouds. Water gently lapped the sides of the ship, and from the direction of the prow, Miranda could hear the soft snoring of the watch Captain Lewis had set. All else was quiet.

Cool air filled her lungs, and she did not mind that it carried the scent of the docks. Her head cleared. Her fears subsided just a little. Before she realized what she was doing, she walked over to the railing to the point where she could see Alex’s ship.

All was darkness. There wasn’t even a lantern to mark its bow. She wondered if he had trouble sleeping. Did he think of her?

Her mind went blank when she realized it wasn’t just the darkness that hid his ship from her—the
Warrior
was gone.

She blinked, thinking her eyes deceived her. They didn’t. There was nothing but empty water where his ship had been.

He’d left.

The melancholy that she had been indulging in evaporated. He’d left her—
again
.

Lady Overstreet had been right. She’d said that a man could put a woman out of his mind in a snap, and, behold, Alex had done so. He’d sailed away. No note. No farewell. Not even a longing look.

Their paths had better not cross in the future, because she didn’t know what she’d do.

To think he had taken such advantage of her that evening, that she had let him kiss her the way he had, and touch her so intimately—

Miranda could have shrieked in rage. She was most furious with herself. She had allowed him indecent liberties.

She wished he were here. She wouldn’t even speak to him. She’d just double her fists and pop him so hard in his handsome face, she’d break his nose.
That
would give her satisfaction.

Miranda turned away, determined not to waste another moment thinking of Alex. He was gone from her mind.
Poof
. No more. She’d return to her bed and sleep like a baby. No more moping, regrets, or sniffles—

The sound of something hitting the ship’s railing interrupted her thoughts. All was shadows and moonlight. Miranda glanced at the watch. His snoring was uninterrupted.

She relaxed—until she noticed a dark shape rising over the railing. It held still a moment and then moved right for her.

She shook her head, uncertain if her imagination was playing tricks.

It wasn’t. In a heartbeat, it stood in front of her.

“Alex?”

Only this wasn’t Alex but a devil version of him, bare-chested and wearing nothing more than breeches and moccasins. His gray eyes glared out of a black face.

She opened her mouth to scream, and he stuffed a gag into it.

A
lex moved swiftly. It had helped to find Miranda on the deck of the ship. He threw a black cloth sack over her head and tied a piece of rope around her arms, not bothering to be too gentle with any of it. Speed was of the essence. Miranda was still so shocked, she hadn’t gotten her wits about her to struggle.

He settled her over his shoulder and grabbed the rope he’d used to scale the side of the ship. The guard snoozing at the bow didn’t even wake.

The exhilaration of whiskey and adventure rushed through Alex. She weighed little more than a sack of grain to him as he shinnied down the rope to where Flat Nose waited with the small boat.

The moment he laid her on the bottom of the boat, Miranda came to her senses. She started to struggle, kicking out with one foot. Flat Nose caught her ankles and tied a rope around them.

Her struggles ceased.

Alex started to climb back up to retrieve his rope. He didn’t want any sign of his presence left behind. He would easily scale down the side of the ship without Miranda over his shoulder. Let Jeffords and pesky Lady Overstreet wonder where she’d gone off.

Within minutes he returned to the boat. Flat Nose put his muscle to the oars, and they were gliding away. The
Warrior
waited for them right outside the harbor beyond the British warship. Alex had wanted his men safely out of the range of Jeffords’s guns should something go wrong.

Both men ducked low in the boat. If the watch caught sight of them, he might think they were nothing more than an empty boat that had gotten loose of its moorings.

They also had luck on their side. As they reached Jeffords’s ship, clouds covered the moon and they slid by without the alarm being sounded. The water grew rougher as they neared the open sea. Both he and Flat Nose manned the oars. The small boat cut through the water. They followed the shoreline for close to an hour to an inlet not far from the harbor where the
Warrior
waited.

Flat Nose lighted a lantern and held it high. An answering light appeared on the ship, letting them know where she was located. They put their backs to their oars and were soon pulling alongside.

He’d done it. He’d stolen Miranda. His honor had been avenged. But now, with victory in his grasp and the whiskey haze wearing off, Alex was struck with a new thought.

What was going to do with her?

He knew what he
wanted
to do.

With an effort, he forced the savage in his nature back.

A rope ladder was thrown over the side of the ship for them. Flat Nose braced his weight to keep the boat steady. He looked expectantly at Alex, waiting for him to climb up. Oliver and Jon peered over the railing above. They, too, waited.

Alex looked down at the tumble of skirts and sack that was Miranda. He was completely sober now…and there wasn’t much else he could do, but take her up that ladder. Later, when they were alone, he’d explain. If anyone understood his losing his temper and acting on impulse, Miranda would.

Then again, he had a right to be angry. For the second time in his life, he’d been attacked over her.

That thought gave him the spur he needed to move forward. Regardless of what happened next, he was glad he’d stolen her. Jeffords wouldn’t place a hand on her now…and he’d figure out a way later to make it up to her.

“One more trip to make, Miranda, and then I’ll set you free,” he told her. She didn’t say anything, but lay quiet.

He stood, rolling with the movement of the small boat, reached down, and lifted her up, not anticipating any trouble at this juncture. He was wrong.

Alex was about to settle her on his shoulder when she struck out, hitting him in the head with the force of her shoulders and upper body. The small boat rocked dangerously. He struggled to hold on to her, afraid she would fall into the boat and hurt herself. She arched away from him, bringing up both her knees to slam into his already bruised ribs.

The blow cost him his balance.

Both he and Miranda went tumbling into the ocean. Alex tried to keep hold of her but couldn’t. Tied up as she was, she wouldn’t have a chance of survival without his help. He could feel the swirl of water as she sank.

Not even resurfacing for a quick breath of air, Alex dived after her, his arms stretched out, his fingers searching for her in the black sea water. He reached farther and felt the sack and the top of her head.

His lungs felt ready to burst but he pushed himself deeper, just barely able to grab a handful of the sack. Praying that he had tied it tight enough around her, he turned toward surface and kicked, swimming for both their lives.

Her weight dragged them down with every stroke. He wouldn’t give up. His blood pounded in his ears. His lungs threatened to explode. Just when he thought he couldn’t go any farther, they broke the surface.

Flat Nose reached down and grabbed Miranda, pulling her out for Alex, who belly crawled into the boat while taking great, heaving breaths of precious air. Miranda didn’t move. Alex didn’t waste any more time. He tossed her on his shoulder and scrambled up the ladder to the firmness of the deck and the light of lanterns.

Oliver and Jon helped pull him on board. He laid Miranda on the ground. The ropes tied around her were wet, making them impossible to untie. Oliver cut her free with his knife, and Alex pulled the bag from her head and grabbed the wet gag.

She was soaked to the bone. Her eyes were closed, her face pale. She didn’t move. For a heart-wrenching second, Alex feared she was dead, and then she proved she wasn’t by bringing up one of those bony knees of hers and catching him hard just to the side of his groin.

Her eyes came open, ablaze with fury. Her hands now free, she used her nails as claws to attack him and would have drawn blood if he hadn’t leaned back in time.

The she-devil.
She’d almost drowned them both with her foolishness.

Alex’s own temper ignited. No one attacked him on his own ship. He hauled her up off the deck. She gave a shriek of protest. They could talk about this, but not in front of his crew. Carrying her in his arms, he started for his cabin.

“Set sail, Oliver,” he barked over his shoulder. Miranda arched up again, attempting to use her weight to free herself. He tightened his hold, which wasn’t difficult with their wet clothes.

“For where, Cap’n?”

“Where we were originally going,” Alex answered, letting his irritation show. “To London.” He kicked open the door to his cabin with one wet moccasin. “Better duck,” he warned Miranda.

As he had anticipated, she did the opposite. Her head would have bumped the bulkhead except for his reaching up and pushing it down.

In gratitude, she attempted to bite his fingers. Alex pulled them away in time, shoved the door shut with his other shoulder, and dumped her on the floor.

The room was dark. He left her where she was while he lit a lantern. He picked up the remnants of his shirt off the table to wipe the blacking and water from his face and chest and turned around. She was coming to her feet, her movements hampered by her damp clothes. She’d lost a shoe and appeared more like a drowned kitten than the reigning beauty of the evening.

But her pride was still intact. “Do you know what you’ve done?” she demanded in ringing tones.

“Saved your life?” he suggested.

“I would have been better off to have drowned,” she said, spitting out the last word. “I’m not staying here.”

She headed toward the door, but Alex threw aside the shirt and in two steps stopped her. He used his weight to hold the door closed, his arm around her.

“I was almost murdered tonight because of you,” he said. They stood close. Too close. “So if anyone will be giving orders, it will be me.”

She met his eye. “And what do you want to order me to do, Alex? I had no hand in anyone attempting to murder you, although I feel like doing exactly that this moment.”

Her flat statement surprised a smile out of him. “Yes, I’m certain you do,” he admitted. He relaxed, suddenly tired. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he confessed. “I decided to not let Jeffords have you.”

“He attacked you?”

Alex nodded.

A shiver went through Miranda. She crossed her arms, stepping back from the door, and Alex let her go. “I told him I would never marry him,” she said. “He was wrong to think you were the reason.”

Alex wasn’t?

He didn’t like that idea. “What, are you going to deny anything between us again?” He was soaking wet, dead tired after enduring the scare of his life, and the wound in shoulder and the cut on his cheek did not like salt water.

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped. “Let me go, Alex. There is still time to get me back to the
Venture
before I’m discovered missing.”

So she could marry another man
, he could have added for her.

Alex curled his hand against the door into a fist. “How many times will you deny me?”

She took a wary step back. “Deny you what? I acknowledged you very well this evening, Alex, and it almost ruined me. Take me back. I can’t stay here.”

He shrugged. “Why not? I’ll take you to London. We were already going in that direction.”

“And then what? Marry me?” She shook her head, her body shivering. “Right now, I’m so angry at you, I’d never marry you. You shouldn’t have done what you did, Alex. You shouldn’t have taken me.”

He shouldn’t have. Except he’d never admit it to her.

“Get undressed,” he ordered. “I’ll be back with hot water and dry clothes.” He started to open the door but instead of listening to common sense, Miranda made a rush to push past him.

What was she planning to do, create a scene in front of his men? Jump over the side of the ship?

He caught her arm before she could take a step outside the cabin and whirled her back inside. He shut the door. But as he turned to her to give her a tongue-lashing for being so foolish, she came at him, his brass sextant that had been on the table in her hand, and attempted to clobber him with it.

Alex deflected the blow with his arm. With a vivid oath that would have made Oliver proud, he caught her wrist before she could escape and backed her across the room away from the door. The backs of her legs hit his bunk; she lost her balance and fell. He came down on top of her.

Miranda squirmed beneath him, trying to club him again with the sextant. Alex pressed her down into the cotton mattress with his weight, one hand shackling her wrist while he attempted to keep her from hitting him with his other. He caught hold of the sextant and yanked it from her, dropping it on the floor. She doubled her fist and struck him on the shoulder.

Alex easily captured her hand. Their faces were inches from each other. “What game do you play, Miranda?” he demanded. “Do you like seeing men fight over you? To have them bleed for you? And what do you offer in return? Promises and lies.”

She lifted her hips as if to throw him off, but he easily held her in place. “I never lied to you.” The chill in their bones was being replaced by the heat of their bodies and their tempers.

“No, only to yourself,” he shot back. “You would rather we’d never met. Or that I was like the lads back in the Ohio Valley. The ones who thought they could have you because your father was a drunkard.”

“They couldn’t,” she vowed, her body rigid beneath his.

“You wanted me to be white,” he taunted. “All white. I was never good enough for you.”

“
That’s not true
.”

“There never was anything
more
true,” he answered, “and the bitch of it is you want me—”

“No, I
don’t
.”

“You hate the fact I’m not white.”

Her eyes blazed with outrage. “I’ve never said that. Not ever, Alex—”

“You don’t have to—”

She lifted her head and shut him up with a kiss. Or maybe he kissed her. He wasn’t certain. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, save for the fact that once again, he had Miranda in his arms.

Willing, willing Miranda.

Their kiss picked up where they had left off out on the terrace. She was completely open to him.

He began undressing her, peeling off sea-wet clothing and tossing it onto the floor. She offered no protest. Instead, she was as lost in their kisses as he was. Her fingers curled in his hair, holding him close. Their tongues stroked and explored.

His hands found her breasts. They filled his palm, the nipples dark red and hard. A chill danced across her skin. He lowered his head and heated them with his kiss.

Miranda gave a soft gasp of alarm that turned to a sigh of surprised pleasure. The lantern light bathed her skin in gold. She was naked to him. Naked and pliant.

Alex reached down and began unbuttoning his breeches. Miranda moved against him. He understood. She didn’t. Her movements were natural and innocent.

Soon innocence would be a thing of her past. He wanted her. The savage took hold. He was so hard now that he had to have release.

His wet breeches were a barrier. The buttons couldn’t be undone with one hand in the wet material.

Frustrated beyond patience, Alex pushed up from her body and used both hands to make quick work of the buttons. He kicked off his moccasins and slid his breeches down over his hips.

Miranda’s eyes opened with the hazy indulgence of desire—and then widened when she saw him, naked and fully aroused. She started to rise.

Alex stopped her. He put his knee between her legs and gently laid her back on the bed. “It’s all right. It’s the way it should be,” he whispered, kissing her lips, her chin, her neck, her ear. “You are lovely, Miranda. Perfectly lovely.” He stroked the curves of her waist, her hips, her buttocks. He fit their bodies together.

“Alex, I—”

He cut her off by covering her nipple with his mouth, sucking gently at first and then harder. The tension left her.

She liked this.

He liked the taste of her, even with the salt from the sea on her skin.

Alex knew he’d like being in her even more.

His sex nestled against hers. Her heat beckoned. She was moist and hot, and he couldn’t have held back if he’d wanted. This was what had been meant to be between them. They had been fated for each other.