“Decency has little to do with my objection.”
“Then what is the trouble?”
Cain shot Drake an incredulous look. “Are you daft? If her
father
knows she cares for me, he will deduce I seduced her. I’ll dangle from the gallows before I hang from a matrimonial noose.”
On a shrug of indifference, Drake nodded at Reggie’s empty bed. “Then I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”
Cain scoffed. “I’ll not be evicted from my bed.”
“So you say, Cain.” A smirk lifted the corner of Drake’s mouth. “So you say.”
351
Bound By Decency
9
A
t the first light of dawn, Cain let himself into his cabin to shave away the previous day’s whiskers. The moment he stepped inside,
India
drowned his senses. He felt her presence as keenly as if she’d touched him, and every fiber of his being rose to attention, bristling with awareness. He allowed his gaze to stray to the bed, expecting to find her tucked beneath the quilts.
Instead, she sat in his chair. The quilt from his bed cocooned her from neck to toes. She’d combed her long dark locks, and they tumbled about her shoulders. Sharp and accusing, her gaze locked with his. “How long have I been here?”
The complete lack of warmth in her voice alerted him to her dark mood. He couldn’t say why the brittle edge to her words disappointed him—he’d expected nothing less. Nevertheless, regret for something he couldn’t name tightened his insides to uncomfortable limits. In search of escape from that damning stare, he turned his back and moved to the basin for his razor.
“Three weeks and one full day.” He poured fresh water from the pitcher into the bowl and dunked the bar of lye.
“And last night—what was the meaning of all that?”
Cain nearly choked. He’d anticipated many things would tumble off her lips. Asking about his intentions, however, hadn’t crossed his mind. He schooled his expression into what he hoped was indifference and lathered his face.
To his relief,
India
didn’t allow him the chance to respond. “Did you forget at some point, that I am to marry Richard?”
Hardly. But her state of promised matrimony didn’t still his blade against his cheek. Rather, her concern about an engagement she’d insinuated she didn’t want gave him pause. Through the warped tin plate he used as a mirror, he watched her face. “My understanding was you felt no joy over your impending nuptials.”
“Joy?” Her voice rose at the question. “It has nothing to do with joy, Cain. Above all else, I’m loyal. I won’t dishonor my father’s promise.”
His brows drew together as he contemplated the remark while carving off the stubble along his jaw. In so many words, she admitted she cared little for Richard. Yet he’d become so accustomed to deceit that
India
’s determination to honor a promise she found disagreeable surprised him. He knew no one who wouldn’t contrive a way out of her circumstances if opportunity arose.
Cain couldn’t resist goading her. “You were not so loyal in my bed.”
India
sat forward in her chair, her eyes hard, her posture rigid. “You have no right to my kisses, Cain. No claim to the yearnings of my body. I can want you until the world comes to an end, and it matters not.”
He did choke then, jarring his hand against his cheek. That bluntness should not come from India Prescott, distant cousin to the King. Not in a hundred years. She should blush, find some polite way to gently rebuke his ungentlemanly remark. Instead, she spoke with the freedom of a common woman.
The sting of the blade restored his senses. He drew his hand away with a hiss. Dropping the sharp straight-edge into the basin, he grabbed for a square of linen and pressed it to his cheek. Want
him
? Devil’s tail, she’d announced loud and clear she desired him.
The realization sent a fresh rush of heat surging through his blood. Images of the kiss they’d shared pummeled through his memory. The sweetness of her mouth. The softness of her breast. The way she’d pressed her body close in search of the same fulfillment he craved. Beneath the loose confines of his trousers, his shaft stirred.
Slowly he turned to look at
India
, knowing he shouldn’t, unable to stop. It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to haul her out of the chair and indulge in hedonistic desire. It wouldn’t require much to bring her back to her willing surrender. And this time, he’d make damn sure the quilt couldn’t bar his way.
Yet the voice of reason rose. He dared not. Yielding to baseborn lust would only insure her hatred. When the act concluded, inevitably she’d despise him further.
As it was, she had every right to her anger. He never should have touched her. Beyond the increased torment her very presence created, she belonged to another. Enemy or friend, no decent man would trespass on a woman’s oath.
Then again, the gentleman Teddy might have minded. The pirate Cain, however, wasn’t supposed to give a damn.
Convince her, if you will, to have a care about your fate
.
Drake’s suggestion took on greater appeal. Though Cain had no care to seek
India
’s father’s pardon, he felt no compulsion to further a promise to the man he intended to kill.
India
desired him. If he doubted her words, her response last night indicated she was most assuredly willing. His current state of arousal was evidence enough of how she affected him.
A bit of deliberate seduction would make the remaining week in each other’s company far more bearable. Downright pleasurable.
He toweled off his face as a slow burn of anticipation seeped through his veins. “How would you like to walk upon the deck and breathe a bit of fresh air?”
****
A
fraction of
India
’s anger dissipated with Cain’s casual question. She’d anticipated his ire. Expected a fight. Not once in the many times she’d rehearsed the confrontation had he accepted her insistence and returned with an invitation to escape his cabin.
When he punctuated the query with a charming smile, the tension in her nerves soothed completely. Her breath caught at the flash of his neat white teeth. Her heart tripped at the sparkle behind his azure eyes.
No wonder she’d allowed this man to seduce her. How could she have hoped to resist?
Regret deflated the swell of her heart as she once more looked to her lap and the heavy quilt covering her. She wanted nothing more than fresh air and a chance to use her weakened legs. But in a thousand lifetimes she couldn’t walk amongst men with only a quilt to cover her.
She chewed on her lower lip, debating. If she had her sleeping gown to cloak her legs, she could use the heavy quilt as a shawl. The men would still glimpse her ankles, but she could live with that exposure. “Where is my gown?”
Cain gathered the folded clothes from the desk and placed them in her lap. “Your gown was ruined. Cleaver tried to boil it clean, but it couldn’t be saved.”
Aghast
,
India
stared at the trousers and the obscene shirt. Words rose to the tip of her tongue. Fled. Came again, only to fail her once more. At a complete loss, she spluttered nonsensically and lifted wide eyes to Cain’s sincere expression. “You jest.”
“No, little bird, I don’t.” His smile softened as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her face. “I disposed of it yesterday morn. Reggie donated these for your use. I do apologize.” He captured her chin in his large palm and brushed her cheek with a calloused thumb.
The intimate gesture held so much tenderness that
India
’s mind ceased to function. Her protests vanished. Spellbound, she sat beneath the intensity of Cain’s affectionate gaze and stared.
When he reluctantly dropped his hand, her skin tingled. Longing pulled through her, and she swallowed with effort. Heavens above, she needed to control this illogical want of him. He wasn’t hers to have, no more than she was his. She must forget what had happened between them. If she didn’t, if she allowed him to guide her back into the pleasures of the flesh, she’d lose herself once more.
Never again would she give another control.
Never.
“I won’t wear these.” Though she tried for a firm, authoritative declaration, she managed only a shaky whisper.
“Do. You’ll find them pleasant once you become accustomed.”
Doubtful, she ran her fingers inside the light cloth. But oh how she wanted to look on something other than these walls. She lifted hesitant eyes to his. “Would you have a darker shirt?”
Cain blinked. “Darker? You’ll be glad for white when the sun beats on your shoulders.”
“Yes, but you can see
through
this.”
Understanding filled his expression. His gaze flashed dark and hot an instant before it dipped hungrily to her breasts. To her shame, her nipples pebbled beneath his stare.
With an amused upturn to the corner of his mouth, Cain went to a footlocker beside his desk. It bore no lock and opened easily. He pulled from within a faded blue, which he tossed into her lap. “You will drown in it.”
She didn’t care, so long as it cloaked her bosom. Right now, if it kept Cain from noticing the obvious way he affected her, she would wear a gunny sack.
Cain watched her expectantly. After a few moments of confusion,
India
realized he waited for her to change. She lifted her eyebrows pointedly. Smirking, Cain replied in kind and folded thick arms across his broad chest. Very well then—he had witnessed her naked before. She would disrobe before him with the same casualness he displayed. She was merely undressing, not allowing him to touch her. Even if she
did
crave the scrape of his calloused hands.
Before she could consider the matter further and succumb to ingrained modesty, she rose to her feet and dropped the quilt to her ankles. Cain’s grin faded in an instant. Cobalt blue eyes raked greedily down the length of her body, one slow sweep that left her insides on fire.
Oh, how she wanted him to touch her. To take her into his arms, claim her mouth in abandon, and drag her back into that bed.
What is to stop you? Your ruination is already complete.
She bit down hard on her lower lip to stop the wicked thoughts. Beyond the control she would surrender, she was still pledged to Richard. Until he cast her aside, she could not yield to desire. She had been ill before
—th
ere was a difference between then and now.
India
wasn’t entirely certain what difference, but indeed there was one.
Cain’s searing stare lifted to hers once again. Her cheeks heated beneath the dark intensity that burned in those mesmerizing blue eyes. He opened his mouth, took a hesitant step forward. Then, as if he reconsidered the matter, he cleared his throat and gave her a stiff nod. “While you dress, I will fetch you some tea to keep your belly calm.”
He stalked out of the room in four determined strides.
India
stared at the door, shaking much like a leaf on a blustery day. What had just transpired between them turned her fleeting memories into clear reality. She had given herself to a pirate. Not just any pirate—
Cain
. Richard’s former best friend.
Scene after scandalous scene of the things they had indulged in flashed behind her eyes—his body dominating her, his mouth possessing hers, the slide of their bare skin in the pale moonlight. God in heaven, she had never imagined she would act out the wicked deeds Margaret confided in hushed whispers as she tended the stoves.
Letting out a groan,
India
sank her head into her hands. They hadn’t just been lovers shielded by the cover of nightfall. No, Cain knew every intimate detail about her body. Some, she doubted, even she fully understood. If she could die of shame, she would. Were they on land, she’d certainly run away and hide, never again to show her face.
Yet she wasn’t. She had no choice but to look at him each day and confront the humiliation. No escape from her helplessness. Was there no end to this nightmare?
Breathing deeply, she tempered a sudden rush of tears. There was no use in feeling sorry for herself. What was done, was done. She had longed for the freedom to make her own decisions, and make them she did. She would not regret the choice even if she had been soaked full of rum and acting against her better sense.
Through watery eyes, she looked once more at the trousers and shirt. Odd, someone had split the shirt down the middle and fit it with buttons like a coat. She fingered the tiny wooden nubs. How curious.
She swiped her unbidden tears away. Cain had offered her a respite from the confines of this stagnant room. If these were the only clothes available, she would wear them, if for no other reason than to escape the wicked memories.
She shoved her arms into Cain’s shirt. It fell to her knees and dangled a good five inches beyond her fingers. While she could roll the sleeves, shoving that much cloth into the trousers would only tent her up like an elephant. Worse, if she bent over, the wide collar would allow any man within five feet an unimpeded view of her unbound breasts.
India
let out a cry of frustration and banged an open palm against the back of the chair. With no choice but to don the shirt Cain had first presented, she pulled the blue over her head and slid into the white. Much smaller in size, it drooped only an inch or two from her shoulders, and the sleeves required only two twists of the cuff. A boy’s shirt, she realized, as she tugged on the tail that reached only to the middle of her hips. It too sported the strange buttons.