Authors: Heart of the Storm
Rexanne Becnel (18 page)
“No!” she exclaimed, trying to back away from him, though the wall rather effectively prevented her from succeeding. “He has never—no one has ever—”
His smile grew warmer. Then he kissed her gently and yet with a hunger she could not mistake. “Good. I’m
glad to be the first. I plan to teach you everything there is of passion and desire. Every erotic secret a man and woman can share—”
glad to be the first. I plan to teach you everything there is of passion and desire. Every erotic secret a man and woman can share—”
“No. No, this is not right.” Yet even as Eliza made her feeble protest she knew how pitiful it sounded. Here she sat, her legs bared and wrapped around the lean hips and strong thighs of a man who’d just made her body feel the most incredible things. A man who held her captive on his ship—and captive with the unimaginable sensations he roused in her. Her whole world had come undone and she was unable to put things right. Once more tears threatened, but she fought them back.
“I … I think I would like to return to my cabin,” she whispered, pulling her arms from around his neck. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she buried them in her skirt—the skirt which was pushed high on her thighs and caught between their two pairs of legs.
She kept her eyes downcast and tried to control her ragged breaths. “Please, I … I need to be alone.”
Cyprian inhaled deeply, then slowly let it out. He didn’t want to let her leave, that was plain to her. But he did. He pushed back from her and turned away while she clamped her knees together and shoved her skirt down over her exposed limbs.
When she stood up, however, her legs were so shaky she was afraid to move toward the door. How could she ever escape him if she couldn’t even walk the width of his cabin? She stared fearfully at him, at his broad back and stiffly held posture. His head was bowed and he too seemed to struggle with his breathing.
“I … I have to go,” she muttered, mortified by the incredible intimacies she’d just shared with this man.
Cyprian nodded, then finally turned to face her. “What about dinner?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I could possibly eat right now.”
At that, one of his brows arched and he gave her a
wry grin. “I suspect that within the hour, Eliza, you will find yourself more ravenous than you’ve ever thought possible.”
wry grin. “I suspect that within the hour, Eliza, you will find yourself more ravenous than you’ve ever thought possible.”
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
“We’ll see,” he replied with a knowing look. “Meanwhile, I’ll save a plate of food for you, just in case. The door will be unlocked,” he added.
Eliza sidled along the wall. She knew very well what he meant, but despite the amazing things he’d done to her, she was fully determined not to come knocking at that door of his. Not for food, nor for anything else, either.
“Thank you for a most … most illuminating—” Most illuminating what? Lesson in the facts of life?
“No, Eliza. Thank
you
. You were exquisite,” he continued, all trace of humor gone as he stared intently at her. “Passionate beyond my wildest hopes.”
you
. You were exquisite,” he continued, all trace of humor gone as he stared intently at her. “Passionate beyond my wildest hopes.”
It was just too much. With a small cry of utter despair, Eliza fled him and the sensual aura that surrounded him and affected her so powerfully.
Passionate beyond his wildest hopes? She slammed the door to her cabin, climbed into her bed, and pulled the coverlet high, right over her head. Somehow she didn’t think she was supposed to be passionate at all, let alone with such a man as Cyprian Dare.
I
n the ensuing days Eliza lost weight. She simply could not eat. They held a northern course for six more days before making the turn to the east and into the English Channel. Six more days where she could not avoid Cyprian for more than a few hours at a time. He seemed always to be on deck when she went up for a breath of air. He met her coming and going in the companionway, or when she tended his cabin as was one of her duties. And even when she stayed in her cabin, sewing small repairs for the crew—deliberately avoiding Cyprian—she recognized the sound of his step and caught the timbre of his voice in the chill breeze.
n the ensuing days Eliza lost weight. She simply could not eat. They held a northern course for six more days before making the turn to the east and into the English Channel. Six more days where she could not avoid Cyprian for more than a few hours at a time. He seemed always to be on deck when she went up for a breath of air. He met her coming and going in the companionway, or when she tended his cabin as was one of her duties. And even when she stayed in her cabin, sewing small repairs for the crew—deliberately avoiding Cyprian—she recognized the sound of his step and caught the timbre of his voice in the chill breeze.
To make things worse, he’d taken to leaving small tokens for her in her cabin, gifts with no notes, but she knew they were from him. A length of Spanish lace. A silver buckle. Though she knew she should return them, she did not. She hid them beneath her pillow, more confused and miserable than ever.
Yet still she clung to her plan to keep her distance from temptation, for that’s what Cyprian Dare was, she’d come to understand. She’d suffered no temptation in the past. Despite her ill health, she’d lived a life of ease, with everything she could ever want provided to her. But this trip, conceived as it was in her unfair
avoidance of dear Michael, was the Lord’s way of setting her straight. She must rise to the challenge Cyprian Dare presented her, and thereby prove herself worthy of the good man who awaited her in England.
avoidance of dear Michael, was the Lord’s way of setting her straight. She must rise to the challenge Cyprian Dare presented her, and thereby prove herself worthy of the good man who awaited her in England.
But why did she dread her union with Michael as much as ever? More even?
Cyprian’s laugh drifted down from the poop deck and Eliza swallowed a lump of confusing emotions. Every portion of her body seemed to respond to him, no matter how minimal the provocation. He laughed and she shivered. His eyes locked with hers—though she was as careful as possible to avoid that happenstance—and she trembled. Thank God he’d not had occasion to touch her again, for there was no predicting how she’d react. Ever since that disastrous dinner—a dinner that was no dinner at all, but a seduction—she’d stayed strictly out of his reach. Not that he couldn’t grab her if he was of a mind to do so. But he hadn’t, and that, perversely enough, only added more to her confusion.
What
did
he want of her?
did
he want of her?
Or perhaps, she thought in uncomfortable honesty, she should question what it was she wanted of him. But she didn’t know.
“Eliza! You’re not paying attention,” Aubrey complained.
“You should never interrupt a person’s daydreams,” Xavier admonished the boy while giving Eliza a scrutinizing look.
“But I want to show her how far I can twist my foot around. And all because of Oliver,” he added in an exaggerated tone.
Eliza forced down thoughts of Cyprian and let her sewing fall to her lap as she focused on her young cousin. In the past week Aubrey had labored at any number of tasks: swabbing decks, reweaving frayed lines. He’d washed pots and fetched for the cook and for anyone else who needed him, and in the process
he’d grown stronger and stronger. He could walk quite unaided now, though he displayed a pronounced limp. Still, he was mobile again and with his regained mobility had come the return of his ebullient nature. He’d become a complete monkey on the lower riggings, and quite a favorite of the entire crew. Even Cyprian.
he’d grown stronger and stronger. He could walk quite unaided now, though he displayed a pronounced limp. Still, he was mobile again and with his regained mobility had come the return of his ebullient nature. He’d become a complete monkey on the lower riggings, and quite a favorite of the entire crew. Even Cyprian.
She grimaced at that. Maybe Aubrey had forgotten that they were prisoners, but she had not. Only she was captured as much now by her distressing emotions as by the fact of their physical confinement. There were her physical reactions to him, too—
She abruptly veered away from that subject and peered at Aubrey with sincere interest. “I’m sorry if I was distracted just now. Go ahead, Aubrey. I’m watching.”
He began his demonstration, flexing his foot in all directions, pedaling his legs in the air, and generally kicking and flailing about like a windmill caught in a whirlwind.
“That’s wonderful,” she exclaimed, overjoyed at his amazing progress.
“And I don’t get so tired anymore either. I hardly rested at all today.”
“And wore me out in the process,” Xavier chuckled.
“Well, if Oliver weren’t always confined to the crow’s nest or down in the hold or given some other boring task, you wouldn’t have to oversee what I’m doing. And anyway, aren’t I doing a good job?”
“A very good job,” Xavier conceded. “But as the first mate aboard the
Chameleon
, it’s my duty to make sure everyone does his job well.”
Chameleon
, it’s my duty to make sure everyone does his job well.”
“Yes,” Aubrey persisted. “But if you’re the first mate, why not let Oliver on deck with me? Then you could watch everyone else while he watches over me.”
Xavier’s glance fell upon Eliza. “This is a working ship, Aubrey. We’re not on some holiday sail. Besides,
the order to keep Oliver busy comes down from our captain.”
the order to keep Oliver busy comes down from our captain.”
“But why?” Aubrey pushed to his feet and stomped around the deck in an angry and slightly erratic circle.
“Because Cyprian is captivated by your lovely cousin,” Xavier replied, ignoring completely the embarrassed rush of color his words brought to Eliza’s face. “He fears she might fall prey to Oliver’s, shall we say, blandishments?”
“Xavier!” Eliza exclaimed.
“Is that true?” Aubrey asked, frowning as he stared at her. “Could you fall prey to Oliver’s … his—”
“No!” Eliza cut him off. Then she glared at Xavier, who was grinning at her discomfiture. “Why are you putting such ideas in his head? I have absolutely no interest in Oliver Spencer. You know that. He’s just a friend who has been most helpful to my cousin.”
“’Tis not
I
who put ideas in anyone’s head. Cyprian is to blame for that. He is the one so taken with you that he cannot bear any man’s attention toward you but his own.”
I
who put ideas in anyone’s head. Cyprian is to blame for that. He is the one so taken with you that he cannot bear any man’s attention toward you but his own.”
“He doesn’t mind
you
,” she countered, trying to ignore the funny feelings beginning to knot in her stomach.
you
,” she countered, trying to ignore the funny feelings beginning to knot in her stomach.
“Ah, but he knows my affections are already engaged by my lovely Ana—whom you shall both meet shortly.”
“Does that mean we shall put into port soon?” Eliza asked, wanting to steer the conversation in another direction. But Aubrey was not so easily distracted.
“If he is so taken with you, why doesn’t he spend more time with you? No one is stopping him.”
Eliza fiddled with the embroidered edge of her sleeve. How was she to explain? And why must she, anyway? “I suppose
I
am stopping him.”
I
am stopping him.”
“Oh.” Aubrey’s brows furrowed in thought. “So you want him only as a friend, too. Like Oliver. Is it because of Michael?”
“Yes, Eliza. Is it because of this Michael?” Xavier echoed Aubrey’s query.
Eliza compressed her lips and stared past the deck rail and out to sea. How was she to answer that?
But Aubrey spoke again before she could. “Michael is probably too boring for Eliza, at least now that she’s been to sea. I mean, what does he do but go to fancy receptions and balls and things like that?” He stared at her seriously, his expression far too wise for his tender years. “I know I shall find England quite a bore when we return. I’d much rather be a sailor.”
“Well, I wouldn’t,” she vowed with much heat. “And anyway, Michael is hardly boring.”
“You do seem a little indecisive about him,” Xavier said. “In all honesty, I think you should give serious consideration to Cyprian’s suit. You’ll not find a better, truer man anywhere.”
“His suit!” Her eyes widened with incredulity, then rolled in disbelief. “I’d hardly describe his attentions as—”
She broke off when she realized Aubrey was taking in every single word. “His … his attentions are not … serious,” she finished lamely.
“I think you’re mistaken on that score,” Xavier replied, as calmly as if they were discussing the weather or what to have for dinner.
“Stay out of this, Xavier,” she snapped, unable to hide her agitation.
“But Eliza,” Aubrey demanded when Xavier only raised his brows in mild surprise. “Why should you marry someone as boring as Michael when you could marry a dashing sea captain—”
“He’s a pirate,” she retorted. “Or at the very least a smuggler.”
“He’s brave and daring. Like his name. And he has his own ship.”
“Your father owns ships too, Aubrey Haberton.”
“Yes, but he never sails anywhere on them.”
“Well, maybe he hates them. I know I do. I hate ships and I hate the sea!”
Aubrey shook his head and addressed Xavier. “My sisters act this way too, whenever they’ve had a tiff with their latest beau. I think she likes the captain.”
“So do I,” Xavier replied, grinning. “And I know he likes her.”
If Eliza had been vitally aware of Cyprian’s whereabouts on the ship before her conversation with Aubrey and Xavier, afterwards she was excrutiatingly so. The day was cold and the wind blew in strong erratic gusts out of the north. But she wrapped up in the heavy knitted pullover Xavier had provided for her and stayed doggedly at her perch on deck. She had to understand what was going on between her and Cyprian, but given the fact that her own emotions were so wretchedly confused, how was she to make any sense of
his?
his?
But Cyprian must have sensed her new level of turmoil, for while Aubrey worked with one of the crewmen, learning how to tie several of the myriad knots used aboard a sailing vessel, Cyprian unexpectedly sought her company.
“We’ll make land soon,” he began, standing beside her on the protected starboard side of the charthouse.
Eliza chanced a quick glance at him. But though she swiftly averted her eyes, studying her slightly ragged nails, she’d seen enough to set all her senses off-kilter. He wore dark breeches, fitted well to his long lean thighs. His short leather jacket with the white shirt showing at his wrists and neck served somehow to emphasize the width of his chest and shoulders. He was completely covered by his clothing, and despite the handsome figure he cut, by rights he should not have aroused her in the least. But there was the expression on his tanned face to consider. And the glint in his dark eyes.
Eliza swallowed her nervousness as best she could. “And where shall we make land?” she asked in what she hoped passed for a calm and unaffected tone.
“Alderney. I have a house there.”
That brought her gaze back up to his. “A house? You’re taking us to your house?” Panic joined the myriad emotions that already held her in their grip.
“Did you think I spent all my time on my ship?”
Eliza frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Actually, I think you’ll find it an extremely comfortable abode. Somewhat like that villa you rented in Madeira.”
Like their villa in Madeira? Her brow furrowed. “When did you ever see our villa in Madeira?”
He turned so he faced her, leaning his hips against the wide wooden railing while his legs splayed apart for balance. “I made it my business to know every aspect of your life before taking you aboard.”
“Don’t you mean Aubrey’s life?” she asked, rather tartly.
He cocked his head in mild agreement. “That too. It appears now, however, that I am more interested in you.”
It was a miracle that the entire ship did not go up in flames right on the spot, she thought with the one rational bit of her brain that still functioned. With his blunt words and positively scorching gaze, a sizzling heat welled up from somewhere deep inside her. From the same place where he’d touched her that time, the place from where all those agonizingly erotic sensations had burst forth—and which festered anew with a fire even hotter.
She tore her eyes away from his and stared out at nothing. Though only sea and sky rose before her eyes, her mind perversely painted Cyprian’s image before her. “I don’t understand you,” she confessed softly, for she knew nothing else to say.
Beside her she was vitally aware of his presence. “There is little enough to understand, save that I have missed you this past week.”
Eliza’s heart roared like thunder in her ears. “I … I have been here the whole time,” she whispered.
He squatted down before her and took her hands in his. Their eyes met and held—and passed a hundred messages between them. “There’s no reason for us to stay apart any longer, not when we both want to be together.”
How could Eliza deny that? Yet still she cast about for a reason. “What of Aubrey—and your revenge on his father? My uncle,” she added.
“That’s unimportant.”
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. But that was impossible when he held her hands so warmly, and her gaze so forcefully. “But it is important.”
“All right, it’s important. But it has nothing to do with how we feel about one another.”
“What … what do you feel?” she whispered, afraid of his answer, yet needing desperately to know.
Cyprian paused only a moment before answering. The past week had been so long, so impossible to bear with her always nearby and yet beyond his grasp. He’d tried to court her the way she deserved, with little gifts and courtesies. He’d wanted to give her time, to make her want him more, to be ready to meet him fully and become the woman he knew she could be. But now he could see that it was he who’d been the more tortured of them both. Just holding her hands and staring into her expressive gray eyes was enough to send him right over the edge.
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