“I want you too.” She wiggled against him, her thigh brushing his erection. She was going to be the death of him. Gritting his teeth, he stroked his slick finger in and out, pushing it against the small nub he found. She gasped, and he did it again, this time swirling his finger round her.
“Nick...”
He did not mistake the wonder in her whispered word this time. He forgot, for a moment, his own need, and slid two fingers inside her, gently stroking her and then circling that sensitive nub again. Her body moved against him, seeming to know what to do, what it strained for. He kissed her as he stroked and swirled, stroked and swirled, and then he felt her tighten and he tapped his finger lightly against her until her hips arched, and he felt her entire body tense.
He caught her sound of pleasure with his mouth and moved to slide his cock inside her. He did not have to be gentle. She was no longer a virgin. He could take her hard and fast, and that was exactly how he wanted her. He pressed the tip of his erection against her as her climax waned.
“Cap’n?”
Nick stilled. He wanted to believe he’d imagined that voice, but the ship was too quiet and the speaker too near. Beneath him, Ashley stilled, and he knew she had heard it too.
“Go away,” he hissed.
“Cap’n, yer needed.”
It was Chante, his damn quartermaster. Chante, who had the watch. Chante, who had obviously seen something he thought necessary to draw to his captain’s attention. Nick clenched his jaw and swore softly. “I’ll come directly.”
Except he wouldn’t. He looked down at Ashley again, kissed her softly, and murmured. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to go.”
He rose and dressed hastily in the dark, quietly cursing Chante’s bad timing.
“Is something wrong?”
Something was very wrong when he had to leave his wife’s warm body and his own bed at such an inconvenient moment, but he didn’t want to worry her. “No.” He bent again and took her chin between two fingers. “This was perfect. You were perfect. It is killing me to leave you.”
“Perhaps you could return.”
He could have kissed her again. He’d keep that thought in the back of his mind. “There’s nothing I want more. Sleep now. I’ll wake you if anything is amiss.”
It was a testament to his loyalty to his ship and his crew that he walked away from her. He opened the door to the cabin and found Chante standing in the companionway with a shuttered lantern. Nick closed the door behind him and said, “Report, Mr. Chante.”
“We spotted another ship, Cap’n.”
“Damn it all to hell.” He followed Chante to the poop deck, where his first mate stood holding a spyglass. “Six points off the larboard side, Captain,” the man whispered.
Nick took the glass and looked out into the darkness. All was silent and still, and he was tempted, in his impatience, to curse the man because he didn’t see anything.
And then he saw it. A tiny pinprick of light danced through the darkness in the distance. He could not tell from this distance or in this dark whose ship it was, friend or foe. But he no longer had the luxury of waiting for the wind to pick up. He’d have to send the boats out, have the men row in search of wind. He turned to his quartermaster. “Mr. Chante, man the boats. We search for wind.”
ASHLEY ROSE, DONNED her shift, and then succumbed to the feeling of pleasant heaviness throughout her body. She climbed back on the berth and drowsed, her mind going over and over all of the delicious ways Nick had touched her. Her entire body still tingled from the feel of his hands and his mouth. And she could not stop herself from placing her hands over her heart because it fluttered so she thought it might easily flutter out of her chest.
She knew she was acting like a ridiculous child. She was not so new to the ways of the world as to assume because he’d made love to her he was in love with her. He’d made love to her before, and then she’d found him with another woman the next night. There was no other woman on board the Robin Hood. She did not think she would find him in another’s arms, but the lack of female companionship also meant that he had no one but her to turn to with his needs.
She knew something about men’s needs. When she’d heard rumors of her older brothers carousing with loose women, she’d brought the tales to her mother, who had told her she should turn a blind eye and a deaf ear because men had needs. Over the years Ashley had come to see this as the flimsy excuse it was for men to do whatever they liked and for women to sit home in loneliness and misery. It was one reason she’d decided never to marry.
So Nick had come to her because he had needs. And yet, he had seemed to really want her, not just any woman. She’d felt the evidence of his desire and heard the huskiness in his voice when he’d said, I want you too much.
Her tummy did flips even now when she remembered those words and the way he’d whispered them against her mouth. And, finally, she allowed her thoughts to turn to her leg. He had not seemed to remember it was scarred. He had not seemed to understand why she did not want him to touch it. Of course, if he had touched it, if he’d felt how ugly it was then he would not have wanted her. She’d been fortunate to stop him just in time, although perhaps she should have allowed him to touch her there. Perhaps she should have allowed him to remember why he’d rejected her all those months ago. Then he would have jumped off her in disgust and she would not now be entertaining foolish thoughts of love that made her heart beat quicker.
He was not in love with her. She’d been the only woman he could turn to on a ship full of men. And according to the law, she did belong to him. He could do what he would with her, and at the very least, he was expected to bed her. But he hadn’t bedded her, had he? He’d been interrupted at the worst possible moment. No doubt he was none too pleased with Mr. Chante at the moment.
And then Ashley shot up. Nick hadn’t needed to forgo his own pleasure, though. He could have taken her immediately. Instead, he’d thought of her first. He’d given her pleasure before taking his own. That must mean something. Would he think of her pleasure before his if he didn’t care for her?
No. She could not allow these thoughts to continue. If she allowed herself to think like this, she was going to start believing he cared for her.
The sound of men’s low voices and the creak of iron and wood roused her from her reverie, and she cocked her head to listen. The captain—Nick, her Nick—was lowering the boats. Perhaps he’d grown tired of waiting for wind. Perhaps he’d seen a threat.
She jumped up and squirmed into the stays she’d rigged so she could take them on and off without help. She could not tighten them very well by herself, but the stitching in her gown had come loose in any case, so she did not need to be cinched too tightly. She struggled into the garments and opened the cabin door.
