By Love Alone Page 7

  The captain's walking stick tapped the deck impatiently as he cleared his throat. "Hmmpt. Mistress Storm? I must say, Lord Ashton, I am unaccustomed to being introduced to barefoot wenches on my own ship."

  Kate felt her face go crimson at the insult. A ready answer rose to her tongue, cut off by Pride's forbidding glare and tightened grip on her arm.

  "That she is barefoot is my own oversight. Mistress Storm is under my protection, Captain Reynolds. I would hate to see any unpleasantness spoil the good feelings between us. I'm certain my uncle, the Earl of Westbrook, would agree."

  "Hmmpt." A sharp nod of dismissal, and the walking stick rapped out disapproval as the caped figure continued on his rounds.

  Kate giggled.

  "You'd be wise to keep your amusement to yourself. Captain Reynolds is a dangerous man, more so on the deck of his own ship."

  "You were quick enough to remind him of your relationship to the Earl," she challenged. "Are you afraid of him?"

  "The Shawnee fear only ghosts, and I gave up believing in haunts when I was ten," he answered sardonically. "I think we'd better go below. The wind's rising."

  "I prefer to stay on deck."

  "I prefer you to return to the cabin, out of the captain's sight and mind. My uncle owns the Maid Marian, but the farther we get from England, the more his influence dissipates. It will be a long voyage. This is neither the time nor place for your mischief."

  Kate scoffed. "He reminds me of a toad! And I haven't been frightened of them since I was a babe. For a man of action, you seem somewhat timid, m'lord. I hardly think the captain would risk offending the nephew of his employer. Doubtless you're safe enough."

  "It wasn't me I was worrying about, you silly chit." He motioned toward the hatch. "Below. Now."

  "Yes, m'lord. Whatever you say, m'lord." Kate mocked.

  "There is a chamber pot beneath the bunk, and I presume fresh water in the pitcher. I'll allow you privacy to do whatever women do when they prepare for bed. There is a sleeping garment in the trunk."

  "If you think I'm taking off my clothes for you—"

  "Don't tell me you intend to wear that one dress until we reach Annapolis," he chided. "Please yourself. But if you begin to smell, I'll wash you in lye soap, dress and all."

  Kate's cheeks flamed and she bit back an oath, nearly missing her step as she reached the passageway at the bottom of the ladder. Pride caught her arm and she jerked away. "I've no need of your help, Lord Ashton."

  "As you wish," he replied patiently. He unlocked the door and handed her the iron key. "I have another. Keep the door locked whenever I'm not with you. Open to no one but the Bennet brothers. No one, do you understand?" The gleam from a swaying ship's lantern brushed across Pride's upper face, highlighting the Mongolian cheekbones and wide brow. An amused chuckle escaped the narrow lips. "Retract your claws, she-cat. I've no intention of ravishing your tender flesh on the other side of this door. When we make love, you'll do the asking."

  "You smug bastard! It'll be a cold day in hell when I do."

  Pride laughed. "For a lady, your vocabulary is strangely lacking. Bastard is incorrect. I am most definitely legitimate. My parents were married three times; once according to tribal rites, again in Philadelphia by a bishop, and finally in London. The King himself was witness to the ceremony. My mother was quite the toast of London that season, a genuine novelty. Would you care to know where I was baptized?"

  "No, I wouldn't!" Kate slammed the door in his face and jammed the key in the lock. His laughter crept under the door.

  "I'll be back in a few moments. The bottom bunk's mine."

  Kate threw the cape on the floor and kicked it into the corner. If he was telling the truth about leaving her alone sexually, it should make her feel better. It didn't. Pride Ashton was a swaggering, swelled-up, arrogant colonial! There were no words to express her contempt. She wished she'd spent more time in the kitchen at home. The cook had had a flaming temper and a tongue that would do honor to a wagoner!

  She dropped to her knees and pulled the trunk out from under the bunk. Hastily, she rifled through the contents, astonished at what she found. There were dresses and petticoats, fine linen undergarments, and a pair of kidskin slippers that looked as if they would fit. The gowns were plain but of good quality, fit for a prosperous tradesman's daughter. There seemed to be clothing for both summer and winter wear. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to fit out a complete wardrobe.

  Kate puzzled over it as she drew on a soft nightdress that reached modestly from neck to toes. Why had Pride shown so much consideration? Surely he considered her no better than a light-skirt, no matter the fine words. Taking a leather case and clothing for the next day, she closed the lid and replaced the trunk, then retreated to the top bunk.

  Cross-legged, she opened the red leather case. Inside was a sterling silver brush and comb, a mirror, needle and thread, scissors and pins, and a variety of hair ornaments. A muffled cry of delight escaped before she clapped a hand over her mouth. How lovely they were. She fingered the beautiful brush. "Books and oranges and geegaws," she murmured. Admittedly, Ashton was a dangerous adversary, a man who knew her weaknesses.

  A tap alerted her to Pride's presence. "Coming in," he called. He filled the small cabin with his muscular frame.

  Unwilling to let him see her face, Kate turned her back and pulled the blanket up around her. Something about this man was overpowering; she knew in her deepest soul that she did fear him—not for what he might do to her body, but for something even more frightening she could not put into words. Her muscles tensed, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  "A pleasant night's sleep to you, too." Pride blew out the lamp. "If you snore, I'll kick the bottom of your bunk. I can't abide snoring females." He undressed quickly and folded his large frame into the bunk.

  The room smelled of woman, not a perfume but a clean, fresh woman smell. Pride lay on his back and closed his eyes, willing himself to think of something else... anything else. It had been too long since he'd shared the pleasures of a blanket with a woman. He chuckled. He was thinking in Shawnee again. He'd never cared for the services of a paid whore; usually the smell would be enough to make a man think of other things. The tightening in his loins reminded him that this soft armful was only a few inches above his head. The fact that she was totally in his power only made things worse. She'd accused him of having no honor. Pride let out his breath with a whoosh and turned over. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he didn't have any.

  Kate stuffed part of the blanket in her mouth and bit down. She'd not give him the satisfaction of knowing how annoying he was. She'd be silent if it killed her, and it probably would!

  "My pistols are under my pillow, but I warn you, I'm a light sleeper. If you lay hands on me while I'm sleeping, I'll accept it as an invitation to play." He chuckled. "Sweet dreams, Katy."

  For nearly an hour she lay tense, hardly daring to move a muscle. Pride's steady, even breathing infuriated her. Either he was trying to trick her, or he had fallen instantly asleep. Gradually, Kate relaxed, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ship. When she woke, it was morning.

  With a start, she sat up, clutching the blanket tightly against her throat. Pride was seated on the lower bunk pulling on his boots.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  The tenderness in his voice disarmed her. "Well enough," she stammered. "Thank you for the clothing... the brush and comb. I had nothing." A tightness filled her throat. I'm alone, really alone. Realization flooded through her brain. She was tired of pretending a toughness she didn't feel.

  Pride stood up, his face inches from hers, and a broad smile lit the dark eyes. "That's probably the most pleasant thing you've ever said to me." His pleasure was tempered with doubt. Why was she being pleasant? Kathryn Storm was not to be trusted, not for a minute, but yet... He deliberately made his voice light. "I consider my money well-spent. You are most welcome, Kate. I thought of sending for some of yo
ur own things, but I'm afraid they'd be of little use to a bondwoman."

  Kate slid her legs over the side of the bed. "You do well to remind me of my position." Her trembling voice betrayed the words.

  "Your position will be what you make it." God, but he wanted her! If he had any sense at all he'd get out of this cabin and up on deck. Instead, his hands closed about her waist, and he lifted her down from the bunk, pulling her against him and bringing his head down to kiss her tenderly.

  Kate stiffened, trying to deny the delicious sensations that spread through her body. His hands slid down over her hips to caress her bottom. Somehow, her arms went around his neck, and she found herself returning the kiss, surrendering to his touch.

  "Katy," he murmured hoarsely. "You've got to stop this if you want it stopped." His hand cupped her breast beneath the soft gown, and she gasped with delight as his fingertips stroked the hardening nipple. The tightening in his loins intensified, and he caught his breath sharply. He wasn't certain he could stop if she asked him to. "Katy?"

  His lips traveled down her cheek to the base of her throat, igniting sparks of throbbing sweetness. She lifted his face to look into the ebony eyes. There was no taunting there, no arrogance, only tenderness. She pressed her lips to his, and when his tongue sought the warmth of her mouth it seemed natural to welcome it eagerly. Natural to seek comfort in his strong arms.

  Pride dropped to the lower bunk, pulling her into his lap. "Do you understand?" he pleaded. His breathing was ragged and uneven. "I'm promising nothing, Kate."

  "I don't care." She clung to him, meeting kiss with kiss, sliding deeper and deeper into a dream world as he continued his ever-deepening kisses. His hands on her breasts were maddening, and tiny moans of joy escaped her lips. He pushed her trembling back against the wool blanket and knelt beside the bunk.

  "I'm scared," she whispered. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  "Shhh, shhh," he murmured. "It's all right, darling. I won't hurt you." Gently, he kissed away the tears and began to undo the buttons at her throat.

  "I... I've never done anything like this before," she sobbed. "I..."

  "Shhh." His lips silenced her with a kiss as his fingers traced a pattern on her neck and exposed shoulder. His tongue brushed the hollow of her throat.

  Kate's eyes widened with surprise as he slipped a warm hand inside her gown to caress her breast. The gown parted and he took her nipple in his mouth, sending spasms of exquisite sensations through her body. Time seemed to lose all meaning. There was nothing but the two of them, nothing but the wonder of these feelings as he touched her body in all the secret places, nothing but the kisses Kate wished would never end.

  Then suddenly she was aware of his weight pressing her back against the mattress. He caught her hand in his and laid it against the throbbing length of his passion. "I want you, Kate," he said hoarsely. "I want you... but you must want it too. Tell me, Kate."

  Shaken, she buried her face in his hard shoulder, unable to think, unable to speak.

  "Kate," he insisted. "Kate?"

  "Yes," she whimpered. "Oh, God help me... yes."

  He kissed her gently and she felt the solid thrust of his flesh between her legs. There was a sharp pain as he drove deep inside. Kate caught her lip in her teeth as he moved rhythmically and the pain receded to a raw aching. The intensity of his thrusts increased, and she found herself caught up in a current of something... something she couldn't describe. She rose to meet his demand, as her blood heated, seeking, searching for some unknown goal.

  Suddenly, Pride gave a cry and relaxed against her, his breathing harsh and ragged. He whispered her name and rolled off, cuddling her against him.

  She buried her face in his shoulder, unable to deal with her own emotion. She lay almost without breathing, letting the current slow and finally go slack, regretfully releasing the excitement that had possessed her in the last few moments of his lovemaking.

  "I'm sorry if I hurt you." She'd been a virgin. Damn. If he'd known that... "It will be better next time, Katy, I promise." He felt like the worst kind of blackguard. He'd been certain she was lying about her innocence as she'd lied about her presence at the robbery. He kissed the crown of her hair. All he could do now was to try and undo what damage he'd done.

  Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks; she felt strangely empty. Her sobs changed to hiccups and he began to chuckle. He kissed her and rocked her gently.

  "Hush, now, ki-te-hi," he murmured. "Did I hurt you so bad?"

  "No. Oh, damn it, I can't do anything right. I told you I wasn't that kind of woman." She raised her head to look into his eyes. Would he shame her now?

  "What kind of a woman? You were a virgin. No one expects you to know how to make love. It's a thing to be learned, like riding a horse. It's a gift, Katy, to give to a man. Your first time." A wave of protectiveness swept over him, and his arm tightened about her. He forced a chuckle. "You've a natural flair for it, I can tell." He bent his head to kiss her lips. "Now," he whispered. "Tell me, did you like it?"

  "The first," she admitted. "The kissing and... what you did... But... the rest. I just..." How could she put into words what she didn't understand? "I hurt, and I feel like a fool."

  Pride sat up and pulled her into his lap. "For a woman there is pain the first time, but that won't happen again. You're a passionate woman, Kate, and it's nothing to be ashamed of, ever. Now, dry your eyes." He kissed the tip of her nose. "What happens between a man and a woman is a natural thing, a thing to take joy in." He traced her eyebrow with the tip of his finger. "I'm the one who should feel the fool. I took my pleasure and didn't give you the same. It won't happen again, I promise." His voice thickened. "I'll leave you to bathe in private. Don't be frightened if there's a little blood."

  "What did you say to me? Before?" she asked shyly. "You said a word. Kiy..."

  "Ki-te-hi. It's Shawnee for heart." With a final hug, he got up and began to dress. "I warn you," he teased, "in times of passion, I revert to my savage upbringing." He sighed reluctantly. "That will be lesson enough for this morning. I'm breakfasting with the captain, and I'm sure they're waiting for me. Jonas will bring your breakfast. If you want to go topside today, just ask him. He and his brother will watch over you. You're safe enough with them as long as you don't draw attention to yourself. I'll have a special supper brought down tonight so we can dine together." He grinned boyishly. "Have a good day."

  Kate curled into a tight ball and pulled the cover up over her. "Ki-te-hi... heart." She smiled and burrowed sleepily into the mattress. Next time, he'd promised. Next time it would be different. Her heart thrilled. There would be a next time. She didn't regret what had happened. She'd needed someone desperately, and Pride Ashton had been that someone. Beneath that exasperating exterior was a sensitive, gentle human being. No matter what happened when they reached America, she would not regret giving herself to him. It had gone a long way toward filling the emptiness. She might be ignorant about the act of making love, but this much she knew. A woman could be initiated by someone far worse. She smiled sleepily. Far worse.

  Chapter 6

  The days and nights that followed were to be forever engraved upon Kate's heart. The tiny cabin was her world; she and Pride were the only humans that existed in it. As Pride had promised, the pain was gone from their love making. And he was a man well-versed in the arts of love, a man who knew well how to stoke the fires of her passions until they flamed out of control, until they reached heights she had never dreamed of.

  In all her life, this was a part of her being she had never conceived of. She had seen herself as a modern woman, independent and strong, needing no man to feel whole... complete. But now... Now she counted the seconds he was gone from her side, thrilled to the sound of his footsteps in the passageway. She was hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with this mysterious half gentleman, half rogue of a colonial.

  Kate dared not question if she trusted him. How could you trust someone so totally alien? He was unlike a
ny man she had ever known before. After the robbery, when he had chased her on horseback, she had seen a fearless rider, a tough, angry adversary. And yet he had saved her from hanging, treated her with respect and tenderness. He had shied from trouble with the captain of the Maid Marian like any milksop court dandy, but claimed intimate knowledge of the savage wilderness. Who and what was he really? Her eyes traveled over the sleeping form sprawled on the bottom bunk.

  One arm was flung across his rough-hewn face, younger-looking in sleep. His naked chest was almost hairless, marked here and there by old scars and glistening now with a faint sheen of moisture, evidence of their fervent union. His breathing was light and steady; she wondered if his pillow concealed a loaded pistol.

  Kate moved slowly to a half-sitting position. A circle of lantern light spilled over Pride's narrow waist and taut, hard belly. The blanket only half-covered the dark nest of hair at his groin. Kate felt the flush of blood flame her cheeks as she remembered the pleasure his engorged manhood had given her only minutes before. Lust, she knew, was a grave sin. It was one she must plead guilty to. She stifled a chuckle. If only all sins were so sweet.

  A deep twisted scar ran down his exposed thigh, a scar put there, Pride had said, when he tangled with a female black bear. Kate doubted the tale, but admitted its color. Surely any man who had battled such a beast with only a knife would have come away with more than one such token, if he lived to tell the story at all. Gentlemen, she knew from experience, were inclined to embellish their narratives and to take credit for heroics performed by others. Why should Pride Ashton be any different?

  His legs were long and tanned and corded with muscle, his bare feet well-formed and clean as usual. Cleanliness was another of his habits, unusual to the point of eccentricity. The man bathed all over daily, requiring buckets of sea water to be heated and carried to the cabin every afternoon. It was a performance that drew amusement from the crew and passengers alike. Too much bathing was detrimental to a man's health; anyone knew that.