The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (28 page)

“I told you most of the story a few days ago. My father died of a fever when I was sixteen, and Sebastian eighteen. My mother died soon after. She also contracted the fever, but I think she simply gave up, unwilling to go on without him.”

Was it possible to love someone so much you simply couldn’t live without them? Her mother had done the same, but the circumstances were different. Her mother refused to believe she’d been abandoned, and her father never thought twice about them. There was no love there. Obsession, maybe, on her mother’s part, but not love. What would it feel like to know you were loved so thoroughly, and what would it feel like to love that deeply?

Only half conscious of what she was doing, her hand sought out his hair, and she brushed it back again. She looked down at Nicholas’s closed eyes, at his sun-browned face that she knew so intimately and recalled so accurately when they were apart. Was this love?

No. She would go on without Nicholas. She had to go on without him, because what they had here wasn’t meant to last. But was it different, knowing Nicholas lived and breathed somewhere on this Earth? What if something happened to him tomorrow?

Her heart fell to her stomach, and her eyes filled with tears. It would tear her apart to know she would never see him again. Knowing there was no hope …

She stopped her thoughts. There was no hope for them at all, and to think otherwise would be foolish.

“Tell me about James Sutherland,” he said, shattering her thoughts. And she was glad of it. She didn’t want to think of never seeing Nicholas again. But neither did she particularly want to discuss James Sutherland. Damn Phin for telling Nicholas about him.

“He was like a father to me.”

He looked up at her, the slumber in his eyes replaced by curiosity. “And yet you married him.”

She looked away, her heart aching as it always did when she thought of James. “He insisted.”

His hand came up, fingers brushing her cheek. “Tell me about him. I want to know about the man who took you in.”

She blinked furiously. “He was a privateer who taught me everything I know about sailing. He was a good captain with a big heart.”

“Privateers are nothing more than pirates with letters of marque giving them authority to attack other ships.”

She stiffened and her hand dropped from his hair.

Nicholas touched her hand. “Relax, Emmaline. I’m not criticizing Sutherland, simply stating facts.”

“He was a good man,” she repeated forcefully, unwilling to hear anything bad about the man who saved her from a life of servitude in England.

“I’m sure he was.”

She searched his face, looking for any sign he was mocking her or James, but there was nothing there and slowly she relaxed.

“James didn’t know of my plans to ruin Blackwell. If he did, he would have tried to stop me.”

“I like him already.” Nicholas smiled, but she didn’t smile back. Why it bothered her that Nicholas didn’t approve of her choices, she didn’t know. And she certainly shouldn’t care, but damn her, she did.

“When it became apparent his health was failing and he didn’t have much time left, he asked me to marry him. I refused, of course.”

“Of course. Emmaline Sutherland doesn’t take charity from anyone.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Simply stating another fact, Emmaline.”

“He’d been married before, and loved his wife very much. So much that he never wanted to marry again. But he also didn’t want his estate to fall into the government’s hands, or worse,
to an unknown relative.”

“My guess is he also wanted to ensure you lived as much of an independent life as possible, and his estate was able to afford you that lifestyle.”

She shrugged, having already guessed the same thing. James Sutherland had been the kind of father she’d always wished for, and he’d treated her well. Her one regret was that he would have hated what she was doing now. He’d wanted her to be independently wealthy, but not alone the rest of her life. He’d talked to her many times during his last days about finding someone to settle down with. Someone who didn’t want her for her wealth, but for her brains. She’d scoffed and told him no such man existed. And she had believed that until she met Nicholas.

“He sounds like a wonderful man,” Nicholas said softly.

“He was.” She turned her head and surreptitiously wiped an errant tear. She missed James. He may not have approved of her plans for revenge, but he would have approved of Nicholas, and he would have urged her to pursue Nicholas. Not that she could, but things like that never stopped James, and he would tell her not to let it stop her either.

He’d been a foolish man, but a foolish man she’d dearly loved.

Nicholas sat up and she instantly missed the weight of him and the warmth of him. He stared at her for long moments, as if thinking hard about something.

“We should get back,” she said. “Phin is probably wondering where I am.”

“Don’t leave. Not yet.”

She wanted to close her eyes and weep. She wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it all. Instead she said, “We can’t pretend anymore, Nicholas. We are what we are. Picnics and waterfalls and late night visits aren’t going to change reality.”

He stood slowly, uncoiling himself from the rock and holding his hand out to her. She wasn’t wearing a voluminous gown, and propriety had fallen by the wayside between them a long time ago, but she put her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand. They were face-to-face, the masculine scent of him mingling with the heat and dampness of the waterfall. He
smelled so good.

He jumped off the rock and held his arms out to her and God help her, she put her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to lower her to the ground. Her body slid against his, not an accident, she was sure. Her nipples, under the tight restraint of her bindings, puckered and she drew in a shocked breath. Before she could push him away, or better yet, pull him closer, his hands were gone, as if their bodies brushing had absolutely no effect on him.

Or maybe it had. He pulled his shirt off, revealing the chiseled muscles she’d run her hands over the night before. “What are you doing?” Her voice came out as a squawk.

He deftly unbuttoned his breeches and stepped out of them. Thank the Lord he was wearing underclothes.

He turned that damned smile back on. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, my love.”

My love?
She shook her head. No time to think about that when he was getting
naked
in front of her.

“But you can’t—”

He turned, completely unabashed at his nakedness, and walked into the water.

Her hands flopped out to her sides, her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Magnificent. He was truly magnificent, with all those hard muscles rippling in the sunlight. She’d seen naked men before, but none had the impact this man did. He left her breathless, her legs weak, her pulse skittering. He left her with a need so great she was barely able to control it. Last night had merely been the prelude to what could easily be a wonderful interlude. But allowing it meant Nicholas would get another chance to worm his way into her heart, and that, she must protect at all costs. She couldn’t afford the devastation he would leave in his wake.

He was chest-deep in the water, droplets shimmering on his muscled chest and in his slicked-back hair. She licked her lips, suddenly thirsty.

“Join me,” he said.

“I …” She looked from him, to the water, then back. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Quite possibly, she’d never wanted anything more than to walk into the water with him. But
as she’d once heard,
this way be dragons
.

“Please, Emmaline.”

The
please
touched her, weakened her. “I can’t.”

His smile faded while his arms moved the water around him, making soft ripples that would be so cool on her heated skin. He walked toward her, the water fanning out behind him. He was like those legends she’d heard about, when she was in Ireland.
Selkies
. Men who lived beneath the sea and shed their skins to become human when they left the water for land.

All the stories she’d heard were romantic tragedies. Nicholas was her selkie.

The water receded from him, revealing his tightly muscled stomach, and the underclothes he might as well have not been wearing. They were plastered to his skin, and she could nearly see through them. Last night she’d only caught a glimpse of his strong legs. Today she saw the scar running down the outside of his right leg. An angry, painful-looking red welt.

He stopped in front of her, water dripping off him to pool at his feet, and held his hand out to her. “Come with me, Emmaline.”

Her shoulders drooped. This was madness. They shouldn’t be here at all, and yet she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.

“I can’t swim.” She lifted her chin, refusing to be embarrassed. Most sailors couldn’t swim, believe it or not, and she was one of them.

“It’s not deep. You can easily stand, and I will be there for you if you need me.”

A small sound escaped her. If she needed him? Oh, she needed him all right. Again she looked at the water, so cool and inviting, then at Nicholas, still dripping wet, more beautiful because of it. Yes, he was her selkie and they were doomed, just like in all those selkie stories she’d heard. Despite that, she stepped forward.

His hands went to her shirt and pulled on the string tied at her throat. She swallowed, but made no move to stop him. After all, this was what she wanted.
One more time. Just one more time with him, then you must walk away
.

His eyes darkened as he reverently placed his hands beneath the hem. Cold fingers
touched heated skin and she jumped at the sensation. Slowly he raised his hands, taking the hem of the shirt with him. When he could push it up no more, she lifted her arms and he whisked it off her.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Binding. It’s easier to work when dressed this way.”

Sometimes she hated her breasts. They got in the way of her work, because men seemed to concentrate on them, and they were ponderous when she was careening or repairing. But right now, this moment, they ached for Nicholas’s touch.

“And how do we remove this binding?”

She reached behind her and untucked the end of the length of fabric she’d made to cover her breasts without a corset or stays. It worked quite well, and was more comfortable than any of the torture devices women were required to wear.

She held her arms out, and Nicholas unwound the fabric. When it fell away, he pulled in a breath and cupped her aching breasts in his hands. She wanted to moan at the contact, but swallowed the sound. His thumbs gently brushed her puckered nipples, and she jerked at the exquisite pleasure racing through her.

He took her hand and turned toward the water. She followed, pushing away her unease as she waded in behind him.
Trust me
. He’d asked her so many times, and still she’d held tightly to her trust. Walking into the pool was the ultimate trust she could give him.

The water surrounded her, causing her heart to beat frantically. She clutched Nicholas’s hand tightly, too afraid to act brave. He turned and faced her, his hands going to her waist.

“It’s c-cold.” Her teeth chattered, but the cold water felt good in the heat of the day.

He stepped back, pulling her along with him, until suddenly the ground beneath her gave way. She screeched, her legs flailing, her hands reaching for him.

He pulled her closer. “I have you, Emmaline.”

When she realized she wasn’t in imminent danger of drowning, she slowly relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of floating. She smiled and Nicholas laughed.

“Not bad, eh?”

She released one of his shoulders and moved her arm through the water, feeling the resistance.

Nicholas continued moving backward until they were at the waterfall. Then he was pulling her through it and the water pounded on her head, making her sputter. When they came out on the other side, they were in a dark, shallow cave, surrounded by rock on three sides, the cascading water at their backs. It was cooler in here, without the sun beating down on them. Her skin prickled with goose bumps.

Nicholas cupped his hand on the back of her head and urged her forward until he was kissing her. Unable to resist, not willing to resist, Emmaline wrapped her arms around him and let him hold her up while she kissed him back. The waterfall behind them drowned out all sound. A small part of her recognized the danger. Anyone could sneak up behind them, but she let the thought drift away like the petals of the India red water lilies dotting the water.

His erection brushed her leg, sending shivers through her. Slowly, he lowered her until her feet touched the sandy bottom of the pool, releasing his other hand to explore her breasts and her stomach, brushing against the curls between her legs, but going no farther.

She made a frustrated sound and widened her legs, but he didn’t accept her invitation.

He broke away from the kiss to touch his lips to the tender part of her neck, her shoulder, the delicate spot beneath her ear. Each brush of his lips brought surges of delicious sensations. She hungered for more, ached to have him inside her.

“Please, Nicholas,” she whispered, begged.

“Ah, Emmaline. You are so beautiful.” He turned her around until her back was to his hard chest. “Lean against me,” he commanded. And she obeyed. His body easily took her weight. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

His arm came around her torso, binding her to him. His other hand searched for and found the juncture of her thighs. His fingers delved inside and she cried out at the sweet invasion. His lips found the spot behind her ear that made her whimper.

Her breathing came in ragged gasps. Need coiled inside her, searching for exquisite release, and yet she held back, not yet ready for it.

“Come for me, Emmaline.” His whispered words pushed her closer. Lost in the world they’d created behind the waterfall, she could only press her head against him and her pelvis into his hand, rubbing rhythmically. All thought was incoherent and inconsequential. She was nothing but animal need and desire. She cried out with each thrust, uncaring if anyone heard, but knowing, in some part of her mind, that the sound of the waterfall drowned out her primitive cries of desire.