The Pirate Takes A Bride (29 page)

“What’s going on?” Ashley asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Nick resisted the urge to look at her, resisted the urge to take her into his arms. He kept his focus on Chante, whose gaze went from Ashley to Nick.

“Stand down,” Chante bellowed. “Set a course for Gibraltar.”

Ashley gasped, and Nick couldn’t resist a smile. “I owe you, Chante. I still know a few men in the navy offices, I’ll call in some favors.”

Chante shook his head. “You owe me nothing, my friend. But after this, I don’t ever want to see you or that one”—he nodded to Ashley—”ever again.”

“Done.” Nick moved away, taking Ashley’s arm and steering her out of the way of the men, now working to turn the ship. There’d been no protest, but Nick had heard the rumbles of discontent. He saw the way the men’s eyes cut at him. They were angry to lose the riches they had already begun to think of as theirs. “Stay close to me and out of their way,” he said, keeping her pinned to his side. “These men are no longer our allies.”

D
espite Nick’s dire warnings, the men left them Ashley and Rissa alone. He obviously didn’t realize how loyal his men were or how much they respected him. Most of them would have walked through fire for him. God knew she had.

There were a few who muttered under their breaths or cracked their knuckles and looked her way menacingly. In her opinion, they should have thanked Nick. He’d saved them to live another day, which—she was sure—they would waste going after another ship and thus dying anyway.

She still could not believe Nick had given his ship to Chante. She could not believe he had asked the new captain to let Yussef go. And then she looked at Rissa and she knew. He loved the child, was unwilling to risk her. It seemed even a pirate like Nick could come to his senses.

Miraculously, both she and Rissa were virtually unharmed after facing down the fire. Her garments had holes burned through them, her eyebrows and lashes had been seared off, and a few strands of her hair were black and crackling at the ends. But she only had minor burns on her feet and hands, and Rissa had none. The poor girl was still coughing from all the smoke, but Ashley thought she would recover completely given a few days more. The cough had not stopped her from running and playing on the deck of the
Robin Hood
.

Nick watched his daughter, his gaze like that of a hawk’s, but his men left her alone. They didn’t blame the child. Most of them had known her since she’d been a baby and would never have done her harm. And anyone could see these pirates had a special bond. They were more than friends. They had become a family of sorts.

After three days, they reached Gibraltar, and the
Robin Hood
deposited them in a wharf teeming with life. The scents of spices and honeysuckle wafted through the air along with unfamiliar languages that alternately tickled and crashed against her ears. The harbor was filled with every sort of ship she could imagine—English man-of-wars, American brigantines, sleek French frigates, and exotic-looking Eastern vessels. But she could hardly take any of it in because Nick whisked her and Rissa away and into the house of a friend where she was told to stay behind the tall walls and out of sight.

Then he promptly disappeared for two days. Typical, she thought.

But she did not complain. She did not know the owner of the house. She was told the master was away on business. Whoever he was, Nick must have known him well because the master’s servants took very good care of both she and Rissa. In a matter of hours, she and Rissa were bathed, fed, and put to bed on soft beds with mattresses filled with feathers and topped with dozens of pillows.

When she’d wakened, she’d found clean clothes waiting for her. They too were exotic and eastern in style. The materials were silk, light and flimsy. She was given a long skirt that wrapped around her waist, a rather tight-fitting bodice, and a pretty shawl to cover her arms. She particularly liked the thin, gauzy veil that draped her hair and whose coins tinkled when she moved her head. She and Rissa spent an entire day in the walled gardens of the house, admiring the fragrant wild jasmine and climbing the lemon trees. Even Ashley climbed a tree after Rissa begged her—anything to keep the girl from asking questions about Nick Ashley could not answer. She’d found the height allowed her to see over the wall, while the leaves protected her from view.

What she saw made her nervous. Everything surrounding them was alleys and walls of houses. Men walked the streets, but she saw no women. The servants had made it clear she would not be safe if she left the residence. Ashley began to wonder if she’d left the prison of the island for a new prison. Would she ever return home to England?

And then she awoke to the flickering light of a candle in the dark bedchamber she shared with Rissa. She almost screamed, but bit the sound back when she saw it was Nick. He put a finger to her lips and then removed it and held out his hand, guiding their way with the candle he held. She took his hand, so warm and large it covered her own, and followed him out of the room. He led her to another room nearby. It was similar to the one she and Rissa had occupied, but the windows opened to the city rather than the garden.

Ashley went immediately to the windows and peered out. Though it was dark in the city, she could see the harbor in the distance and the lights of the ships twinkling off the water. Above the water, millions of stars burned in the sky. “I am still in awe at the amazing number of stars,” she said, sighing.

He set the candle down on a table beside the bed. “You can’t see them in London.”

She turned to look at him. He’d also washed and shaved, and he wore clean breeches, Hessian boots, and a white shirt and dark coat. She wondered where he had found such English garb in a place like this. She still wore her Eastern garb, though she’d taken the veil off to sleep. She wished she had it now so she could hide her face from him, hide her emotions. She looked at him, and she was overwhelmed by the breadth of his shoulders, the confident way he stood, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead and contrasted with eyes the color of clear skies. He was so beautiful, and he was hers—or he had been.

“Are we returning to London?”

“That is what I’ve spent the last two days attending to. I’ve bribed and cajoled everyone I know and managed to book us passage on a ship tomorrow. If the weather holds, we’ll be home before the end of the month.”

Home. Her parents. Her brothers. Her friends—and the entire
ton
gossiping about where she’d been and with whom. “And what then?” she asked. “Do we go our separate ways?” She’d given some thought to their situation over the past few days. She’d had the time, and a nagging ache inside told her to prepare to lose him. She might love him, but he’d never claimed to reciprocate her feelings. Ashley had never wanted to be in love. She’d always thought it made women and men behave foolishly. Her mother was a perfect example. The woman had borne six children and had lost her beauty and her strength caring for all of them, while her husband was free to come and go as he pleased. She’d been fortunate Gareth Brittany was a good man.

But then her father loved her mother. Ashley had known that even as a young child. Her mother never had to worry she’d be stuck with a passel of brats—her brothers—and not a shilling to her name. Did Ashley have the same security? Life as Nick’s wife meant she was Lady Nicholas, but how many ladies did she know who had noting but their titles to live on?

Nick moved toward her, moving with all the confidence and ease he had on his ship. There was so much strength in him, so much caged power. It made her weak to think of being in his arms, all of that strength and power surrounding her, focused on her.

“No separation,” he said in a tone that brooked no discussion.

“We could have the marriage annulled. Surely a ceremony performed by a drunken priest in Gretna Green isn’t strictly legal.”

His eyes darkened, and she wondered if her words had angered him. Why? Did he want to stay married to her? If he loved her just a little, she would be content to stay with him, come what may. It was pathetic but true.

How long would he be happy with her? How long until the lure of the sea called to him again? He’d given his ship to Chante, but he could find another. Once a pirate, always a pirate.

“And if Lady Madeleine and my brother have accepted the marriage, what then? We invalidate their vows if we disavow our own.”

She hadn’t thought of that. Was Maddie really married to Lord Blackthorne? Were they trying to make a go of it?

And then he reached out and stroked her cheek, and though she tried to hold onto her doubts and questions, they slid away with each brush of his hand. Everything but Nick melted into the shadows. She looked up at him and saw the hunger in her eyes, and her own matched it. Her skin warmed, coming alive under his touch. Where his fingers stroked the skin of her cheek felt extraordinarily sensitive, and the heat of his flesh seemed to shoot a direct path to her breasts, making them tighten in anticipation of his hands and his mouth on her flesh.

Her lower abdomen was heavy, aching with need, but it was her heart that concerned her. Her heart ached for him too, and she feared his touch would not be enough to appease it.

“You are my wife,” Nick murmured, lowering his mouth to whisper in her ear. She shivered as his lips caressed her skin and his breath feathered over her earlobe and the delicate flesh beneath. “I want no talk of annulments or separations. You are mine.” His lips closed on her earlobe, kissing it gently. His tongue flicked out, and she shivered from the delicious pleasure coursing through her. I will not”—he shifted and put his mouth on the other side of her neck—“lose you.” The deeper meaning of his words was not lost on her. His lips caressed her neck, and she shifted to give him better access.

He trailed heat down her skin until he reached her collarbone and then he kissed her there, wrapping his arms about her and pulling her close. “I missed you,” she said, inhaling his scent. He still smelled of sea and sand, and she buried her face in his shoulder, trying to imprint the scent on her mind for always.

“I didn’t intend to be away so long. As I mentioned, buying passage took some effort and blunt I didn’t have readily available.” He pulled back and looked down at her. “You are so beautiful.”

Men had given her those words so many times she could not begin to count them, but they had not meant anything to her until now. She wanted nothing but to be beautiful for Nick.

“I didn’t imagine you’d be dressed like this. It’s unexpected and incredibly erotic.” One hand trailed down her shoulder, tracing the flimsy material. And then his hands were on the fastenings of the silk bodice she wore, and he’d freed her easily. She did not want to know how it was he completed such a task so easily. At this moment he was hers, all hers, just as she was his and always had been.

“You look quite handsome yourself,” she said, as he pulled her bodice down. Behind her the breeze wafted through the open window, the warm air caressing her bare skin. The small coins on the silk wrap tinkled as he dropped the garment to the floor.

“Beautiful,” he said, stepping back to look at her. “You are so perfect.”

“I’m not.” She shook her head. “You know I am not.”

“To me, you are.”

He reached for her skirt, and she stepped back. “I want to see you as well. Take off your coat, your shirt.”

With a grin, he stripped them off, struggling a bit with the tight coat, which only made his muscles bunch and flex under the linen shirt, which was stretched tight from his efforts. How could he say she was beautiful? He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. When he finally pulled the tail from his breeches and pulled the shirt over his head, her throat went dry. He put his hands on his hips. “A man, like any other.”

She reached for him, stroking a hand over his bare chest. She saw his skin rise in small bumps where she’d touched him. “You know you are not like other men.”

“No, because I have you.” He caught her hand when she stroked across his hard, flat abdomen, stopping it from angling downward toward the bulge in his breeches. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his arms. She inhaled sharply at the feel of their skin pressed together. She loved the feel of his skin against hers. Her nipples puckered as her breasts were crushed against him. She felt wanton, and she could see no reason not to behave as she would like—she rarely did see a reason not to behave as she wanted. Ashley stood on tiptoe, brushing her distended nipples against the top of his chest and then lowering herself so she felt the breadth of him. Her hands clenched at his powerful thighs, and she moved upward until she covered his erection, feeling the hot power in her hand.

“Have I shocked you?” she asked, stroking him. “Am I too wanton?”

“Too wanton?” he said, voice breathless. “This isn’t wanton at all.”

She smiled because she knew his game, and she rather liked it. They’d had too little time to play games like this, so little privacy, coming together on a small, crowded ship or a beach where they might be interrupted at any moment.