Captive of My Desires (22 page)

“I
F
M
ISS
C
ARLA TELLS ME ONE MORE TIME TO GET NAKED,
she’s going to find out just how cold that ocean is out there,” Margery said in a huff when she entered the captain’s cabin for dinner that night.

Margery was the last to arrive. Richard, Ohr, and Bixley just stared at her incredulously. Gabrielle drew in her breath so fast she choked on it, and she started coughing. Drew, sitting on the floor in his corner of the room, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, but there was a definite smirk on his lips.

Then Richard started laughing and Bixley said with a leering grin, “That ain’t a half-bad idea, wench.”

The Irishman probably wasn’t joking. He and Margery shared an easy relationship that included sexual innuendo, a private drink now and then, and, Gabrielle suspected, more intimacy than that on occasion.

But Margery wasn’t going to be distracted with ribald banter and demanded, “Where did Miss Carla pick that up, I’d like to know? She said it a half dozen times today when I was in and out of Gabby’s room.”

Margery was glaring at the three pirates, one of whom she’d suspected was the guilty party. But Gabrielle saw no reason not to put the blame where it belonged.

She pointed toward Drew across the room and said, “You don’t need to look any farther than over there for your culprit. He’s been trying to get me in his bed since he met me.” She grinned to let them know she found that amusing, even added, “It’s too bad he doesn’t have one now.”

Drew actually blushed. She found that interesting, but it was probably no more than that three unpredictable men were staring at him now, all humor gone. It was Margery he ought to be worried about, though, and she even went over and kicked the foot he had stretched out on the floor.

“You’ll be keeping such notions to yourself, Yank, if you know what’s good for you. Our Gabby isn’t for the likes of you.”

Drew pulled his bare foot back to rub it and replied, “Who is she for, then?”

Gabrielle went very still. She was about to interrupt, but Margery was too quick with her rejoinder. “For the husband she’ll be having soon, which won’t be you, now, will it?”

Margery returned to the table. Drew mumbled something, but no one caught it and he was ignored after that.

Bixley started reminiscing about how long he’d been with Nathan. “Ohr vouched for me, but from that very first meeting, Nathan treated me like an old friend. He’s like that. Sees the good in everyone. I love that man like a father.”

“You just love treasure hunting,” Ohr scoffed.

“Well, there’s that, too.” Bixley grinned and teased his friend. “Tell me you don’t. Go on, I dare you.”

“I just like sailing with Nathan,” Ohr said. “You aren’t the only one who loves him like a father.”

“That’s right, you never did finish searching for your real father, did you? When that’s what brought you to this part of the world.”

Ohr stared across the room. Gabrielle thought for a moment that he might be looking at Drew, but his gaze seemed focused on something far more distant. He said quietly, “I found him, or rather, found out he’s dead.”

“Oh, Ohr!” Gabrielle cried, and moved around the table to hug him. “I’m so sorry.”

He patted her back. “Don’t be. It’s not as if I ever knew the man. And he had another family. I may make myself known to them someday—or I might not. I have my own family now,” he ended, and gave Gabrielle a fond smile as she returned to her chair.

He meant her and Nathan, and Nathan’s crew. Richard confirmed that when he threw a napkin at Ohr and said, “I already claimed this family as mine.”

And Bixley pushed Richard out of his chair with the rejoinder, “Too bad, mate. We were with Nathan before you showed up.”

“Now, now,” Margery intervened. “Nathan’s got a heart big enough to include all of you.”

Gabrielle suddenly felt tears welling in her eyes. They’d spent so many nights bantering like this, with Nathan quick to join in the fun. But he wasn’t here now, he was in some dark, dank dungeon and…

“Don’t cry, Gabby,” Drew suddenly said. “Your father will be back with you before long.”

Everyone turned to Drew, surprised by his remark, which had sounded quite tender. The man immediately clammed up, probably annoyed with himself for speaking at all. And the rest of them repeated the sentiment until they had her laughing again.

After dinner when she left the cabin, Richard followed her out. They stopped to lean against the railing. A bright moon was peeking out through a light bank of clouds. It washed the deck in soft light and reflected beautifully on the water. She usually loved nights like this at sea, when the moon kept the dark at bay. Such a peaceful setting, but hard to appreciate it with so much turmoil inside her.

Without looking at Richard, she addressed some of that turmoil. He was her closest friend, and he’d already guessed the attraction she felt for Drew, so she told him a bit more than she was going to tell the others.

“I was actually considering marriage to him. Can you believe it? And I even knew he was a confirmed bachelor, but I was fool enough to think I could change his mind and get him to propose. But all he was interested in was a brief sojourn in my bed.”

“I will assume, out of loyalty, that he got nowhere near your bed?”

She snorted by way of answer. “I don’t even think he was serious about it.”

“But do you think that’s why he wanted to ruin your chances for a good match?”

“Trying to come up with that answer just makes me see red. I have no idea why he did it.”

“Some men are like that,
chérie,
especially if they take it personally, their failure to seduce the woman.” Richard peered at her closely. “You wanted him to try harder?” Her blush wasn’t obvious in the moonlight, but Richard had just been teasing and continued to speculate. “He’s a very handsome fellow. He may be used to conquests without much effort.”

“I don’t doubt he is,” she agreed. “But that certainly wouldn’t justify—”

“No, you misunderstand,” he cut in. “Emotions don’t need to be justified when they take over. It can be as simple as he couldn’t have you, so he made sure no one else would either. But I know you, Gabby. You’re not just going to shrug this off, are you?”

“No. Believe me, before this voyage is over, he’ll regret what he did, I promise you. I’m going to make him want me so much, he’ll be devastated when I wave good-bye.”

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
G
ABRIELLE SAW EVIDENCE
that Richard had commiserated with her after their talk about Drew. She didn’t doubt that it was Richard who had caught Drew unawares with a fist to his cheek later that night. The bruise was only slight, though. And as it turned out, it didn’t last more than a week.

That week passed with annoying slowness. Gabrielle knew why the time was creeping by for her. She allowed herself only a little while alone with Drew each morning after breakfast with her friends, to work her wiles on him, then spent the rest of the day eager to see him again and counting the minutes until she could. But she forced herself to stay away, to stick to her plan.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working. While the expression in his eyes might become quite heated when he looked at her now, he seemed too preoccupied with his own agenda—escape by any means—to really notice her subtle seduction. The man still thought he could entice her with the sensual descriptions of what he’d like to do to her in order to get her to come near him. He was in effect doing what she was doing! It was just that his motive was different from hers.

He tried romantic words, he tried crude words, he tried combinations of both. If she hadn’t heard it all before in one form or another from pirates, she never would have withstood the sexual onslaught. But she did withstand it. Mostly. Although she usually left him in a hurry to find some cool air for her face.

Having others present didn’t help to keep her eyes off Drew either. That morning he was exercising when she came in, bending, stretching, walking around the narrow arc the chain allotted him. The single glance he gave her with those dark eyes as she passed him stirred the butterflies in her belly. And even after she sat down and Ohr began chatting with her, her eyes were continually drawn to the play of muscles on Drew’s long legs, the taut stretch across his back and buttocks. She had to force herself to stop looking at him.

She might have to get bolder. She might have to pretend that she was the one succumbing. But she was limited in what she could do for the simple reason that she couldn’t touch him. She didn’t dare get that close. But there was so much more she could have done to heat his desire to the desperation point if she had full access to him.

And then she realized there was one way to get around the restriction, at least temporarily, and she leapt on the idea the moment it occurred to her. She enlisted Richard’s help. He laughed when she told him her plan. He, in turn, brought in four other crewmen to help—it was going to take that many.

Drew couldn’t doubt something was up. The tub arrived and was filled with hot water. Towels, soap, more buckets for rinsing, everything needed for a bath. And then the men just stood there looking at him.

Gabrielle came in, and with hands on hips she said, “It’s time for a bath, Captain.”

“Go ahead,” he replied with a wicked grin. “I’ll enjoy the show.”

She chuckled. “Not me. You. You stink.”

He sat abruptly forward. “The devil I do. I’ve been using those measly buckets of cold water I’ve been given.”

“Not diligently enough, obviously. But come now, you can’t deny you’d like a nice hot bath.”

He didn’t deny it, and eyed the tub across the room. “This shackle isn’t going to reach that far,” he pointed out.

“As rusty as it already is, we don’t dare get it wet.”

“You’re removing it?” he asked with interest.

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s only temporary, and you know damn well you can’t be trusted without some restraint. So let these fellows assist you and it will be over with before you know it.”

She left the room again. She knew that would give him the wrong impression. He’d think one of the men was going to wash him when he realized he couldn’t do it himself with his hands tied behind his back.

She didn’t return until she heard him shouting. He’d been left alone, sitting in the tub, hands and feet tied. She raised a brow at him when she entered.

“How the hell am I supposed to get clean like this?” he demanded.

She tsked to make it sound as if this wasn’t the plan. “Did the men get squeamish? Couldn’t bring themselves to touch you so intimately to get you clean?”

“How should I know?” he grumbled. “I didn’t ask.”

She kept her eyes off his bare chest as she approached the tub. This wasn’t going to work if she ended up getting mesmerized by his magnificent body.

“All right, this will only take a few minutes, so no maidenly airs, if you please.”

“You’re going to wash me?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t see anyone else here,” she said, and then stepped behind him. But first she removed her shirt so it wouldn’t get wet—and made sure he saw her.

She heard a choking sound. “Gabby, don’t—”

“What? Now
you’re
going to get squeamish?”

She was enjoying the ploy immensely. She should have thought of this sooner. Able to touch him now as much as she wanted with the pretense of helping him, she was going to drive him mad with desire.

She lathered her hands. She wanted no cloth between her skin and his. And then slowly, sensually, she began to rub his body, over his shoulders, down the corded muscles on his arms, which were very taut, pulled behind his back. She devoted a long while to his back, slipping her fingers under his arms, near his buttocks. He did try to grab her with his fingers, but she was slippery now and merely smiled to herself.

Carefully she sloshed some water on his head, then built up a lather in his hair. He groaned with pleasure. She couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction as she rubbed her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, his temples. She didn’t want to stop, but there was a time limit. She’d told Richard to return precisely twenty minutes later. Whether she finished washing Drew by then or not, that would be the end of it. And she’d already lost track of the time, she was so engrossed in what she was doing.

She rinsed his hair. And now, before she lost her nerve, she proceeded to wash his chest. She didn’t come around to the front of the tub to do it. She wasn’t going to let him accuse her later of deliberately enticing him by standing in front of him without her shirt on. But she had to lean against his back in order to reach his chest. He groaned as her breasts pressed against his back and, her hand slid over his chest. He turned his head toward her, trying to reach her lips with his. He couldn’t do it, not without her help.

“Kiss me, Gabby. You know you want to.”

She drew in her breath. She did. Oh, God, she did. She looked down at his lips as she ran her hand over his muscular chest and then moved it lower. She heard him inhale sharply and was even leaning closer to him when the three raps sounded at the door, warning her she had about thirty seconds to get her composure back.

She toweled herself quickly, slipped her shirt back on, and practically ran out of there. And that would be the last time she attempted anything so foolish. While it had accomplished what she’d hoped, to wildly inflame him, she just couldn’t get that close to him, touch him like that, without having that same spark burn her.

She dreamed about him often, nearly every night. She wasn’t even surprised that she did, since he filled so many of her thoughts during the day. But none of those dreams were as arousing as the one she was having tonight.

They were lying in bed, in the narrow bed in her cabin. He uttered the phrase, “Time to get naked, wench,” and she felt like laughing because it was just a dream and she could do anything she liked in a dream. But it was a potent dream. He was lying on top of her and kissing her. He pulled her nightgown off. She thought he might be naked as well because she felt such heat and such pleasurable new sensations between her thighs with him lying on top of her, but she wasn’t going to open her eyes to check. She was afraid she might wake up if she did.

She didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Before she did, she wanted to learn as much about his lovemaking as he’d teach her, which was silly, because she couldn’t dream about something she didn’t already know. So it must be her wishing that made him so tender when he caressed her, running his hands up and down her body. And she did have full knowledge of his kiss. It was the same in her dream as she remembered it, the heady taste of him, his tongue thrusting boldly into her mouth in a most passionate manner.

She must have forgotten some of the things he’d promised to do to her, because not all of his actions now matched his taunts. She was naked already; he hadn’t slowly removed her clothes as he’d said he would do. He’d said she would kiss him back, though, and she was. He’d said she wouldn’t be able to help herself and she didn’t even want to try. He’d said she would hold him tight, even cling to him, tight enough to feel his desire pressing against her, and oh my, yes, that part had been incorporated into her dream.

But there was so much more than what she remembered from his taunts, because her dream was letting him kiss and touch her everywhere, along her neck, over her shoulders—her breasts. His mouth devoted a great deal of time to that responsive area of her chest, finding out everything he’d said he wanted to know about her breasts. She never could have imagined how scorching his lips would feel, though, or the thrilling excitement that raced through her entire body. He’d said he was going to drive her mad with desire and it was quite possible that he was. No, that was supposed to be while he removed her clothes—oh, the order didn’t matter! She was enjoying herself too much to mind that she wasn’t getting it right, everything he’d said he would do to her.

He licked at her nipples. They’d tingled before just from his words and they did again. He licked at her belly button. He licked between her legs. Oh my God, so much pleasure. He really was going to drive her mad—no, wait, where the deuce did that come from? Her knowledge of lovemaking was broad, but it didn’t include that!

She started to wake up, to struggle out of the dream, but then he was kissing her mouth again, soothing her confusion. And she remembered, it was just a dream, just a dream. He was chained in another room, he couldn’t possibly be here in her bed with her.

That thought went straightaway when the pain arrived. So did all semblance of sleep and nice dreams. She was staring up at Drew Anderson in the soft glow of lantern light and realizing that he’d done it again.

He’d ruined her, literally this time. She couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to escape, but he was definitely in her bed, lying on top of her, both of them buck naked, and he’d just stolen her virginity.

“My God, what have you done?” she said as she pushed against him. “How did you—”

“Shh, I just want to pleasure you.”

His words were a catalyst. She felt them stir her even in the midst of her panic. “You’ve won!” she cried. “You’ve won everything, your ship back and me in bed with you!”

“No, sweetheart, I promise you’ll win, too. Remember how you aroused me during the bath this morning? Now it’s my turn to do the same thing to you, but I will finish what I start, and you won’t be disappointed. Let me show you. Just let me love you.”

But there was no humor in his expression, no gloating because he’d won. In fact, she couldn’t read it at all, so she had no warning that he was about to kiss her again.

He’d been treating her carefully, not wanting her to wake too soon, but now that she was awake, he released all the passion that she’d stoked to life during the week. She thought she’d failed to arouse him. Apparently not.

That kiss got past the shock of what was happening, and coupled with his words, it stoked her own fires back to life with amazing swiftness. Such scorching heat, his mouth locked on hers, his tongue ravishing inside it, one hand behind her head holding her there, not letting her escape any part of that kiss. And now she didn’t want to escape.

Her arms went around his neck. He’d slipped his other hand between them to tightly squeeze her breast, knead it. And she could still feel him below, between her legs, thickly filling her, but unmoving, cautiously waiting. Yet the knowledge of what was there, what felt so good inside her, sent out a wave of pleasure, that uncontrollable flood of sensation deep in her belly that he so often stirred.

She pressed up against him, pulling him in deeper. That felt so nice she did it again, and again. And oh, God, it was suddenly too much sensation coalescing inside her all at once. The explosion of pleasure was beyond anything she could have imagined and it continued blissfully as he did some thrusting of his own, then, incredulously, built and exploded around her again just as he reached his own climax.

He was still after that. Gabrielle didn’t think she could have moved a single muscle herself. She was so drained, so replete, so wonderfully content. She’d wonder why later. But now the only thing she was capable of was sleep.