“Why do you keep a snake aboard ship?”
William almost nicked his throat shaving when he looked at Madeline’s refection in the mirror, her supple arse so damn tempting in the morning light. He watched her as she slipped into the frock he’d fetched from her room, buttoning the front length, covering her beautiful breasts.
She then collected the dress he’d rent, inspecting it, perhaps wanting to repair it, and he stifled a groan at the memory of their heady night together, and how he’d lost control of his senses—something he had never done before.
“Why not keep a cat to look after the rats?” she wondered.
William put away the straight razor before he sliced his throat, unable to concentrate and maintain a steady grip with her in the same cabin. He dunked his hands in the bowl of hot water and washed his face before toweling his semi-sheared cheeks.
“The snake belongs to my eldest brother, James. He found her in Jamaica many years ago. But after he married. . .”
“Ah, his wife would have nothing to do with it. A sensible woman.”
Aye, sensible. His sister-in-law, Sophia, loathed the serpent, which was named after her, and had tried on several occasions to lop off its head. James had given William the yellow boa to protect its life. But William wouldn’t be able to look after the reptile much longer.
“I intend to release her in the Bahamas,” he said, thoughtful.
“Good.”
Madeline tamed her long brown hair, braiding and twisting the unruly curls, pinning the tresses in place, and he observed the simple ritual with intimate pleasure.
“I hate wending through the ship, fearing it’ll swallow me whole.”
A very unsubtle complaint.
“I have a terrarium.” He latched the shaving kit, putting it away. “I’ll place her inside the habitat until we reach the islands.”
Her arms stealthy slipped around his naked waist. He stiffened. She had sneaked up behind him. But how? He was always alert. Yet with Maddie . . .
And how strange, he thought, that a surprise embrace wasn’t so perturbing? At least, not from her.
She grazed one hand across his ribs and backside, tracing the line of his spine with her fingertip. He shuddered at the sensuous touch. Her warm lips pressed between his shoulder blades, and he shut his eyes at the arousing gesture, at the mounting desire in his blood . . . desire he wouldn’t be able to restrain much longer.
“Maddie, I have to go above deck.”
“I’m not asking, Captain.” Her hand dropped to his arse, scraping his buttocks. He gritted as her slender fingers raked his muscles, exploring . . . craving . . . torturing him even more. “I’m taking.”
He grunted in defeat, turned and latched onto her smoldering gaze. Her bold demand disarmed him. Aye, he’d given her permission to take as much as she wanted from him, but to feel and hear her yearning almost crippled him. She coveted life like no other woman he had ever met, and he was irrepressibly drawn to her unbound passion.
William cast off the shadow of death that always trailed after him and pushed her against the table.
“Be gentle, Captain. I don’t have many dresses left.”
Her sultry chastisement weakened him even more. Rucking her skirt over her hips, he hoisted her onto the table.
“Open for me,” he ordered. “Wide.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks, her full lips. She lifted her knees, her breathing swift and shallow. His own lungs expanded with desperate mouthfuls of air as he stepped between her splayed thighs, unfastened his trousers—and thrust into her.
Madeline released a sensual moan and dropped her head back in abandon.
“Is this deep enough for you?” he growled, buried in the tight folds of her wet quim.
She gasped. “Yes.”
He bumped her hips, quick and rough. “Is this hard enough for you?”
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes!”
“Do you want more, Maddie?”
“Yes,” she pleaded, gripping the table for balance as he pumped inside her with swift, piercing strokes. “Don’t stop, William.”
The wood joints of the table creaked and stomped as he pounded into her, and she arched her body, drawing him more fully into her womb. It was madness. Sweet madness. And when he sensed her muscles spasm in orgasm, and her shouts of pleasure carry throughout the cabin, he released his seed, burrowing into her one last blessed time.
She almost dropped on the table, so faint, but he captured her in his arms, trembling after such intense sex.
“Are you satisfied?” he murmured into her ear.
“For now,” she whispered with a sly smile.
In the serene silence that followed, he cradled her in his embrace, inhaled her divine scent, listened to her labored breathing, and he suddenly ached to never let her go. In that moment, he realized he was doomed, that she had a hold over him like a fabled siren—an unbreakable hold—and he cursed himself for letting her get so close to his heart. The shadow of death returned, but now it trailed after both of them—for soon he would leave her. Forever.
But not today, he thought in defiance. Not today. And he searched for a reason to remain with her in the perfect moment.
He rubbed her spine and bussed her salty throat. “You had a nightmare last night,” he said offhand. “Tell me about it?”
And though it was dangerous growing even closer to her, the temptation was just too much to resist.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him near, fingering his hair in wayward fashion.
“I dream about the past sometimes, about a boy. He was the youngest son of my father’s steward. And such a devil. At every turn, he yanked my hair, kicked dirt at my dress, tossed acorns at my head. I had him whipped on several occasions.”
William chuckled.
“He deserved it,” she defended herself. “He hadn’t a proper bone in his body.”
“Too love sick, I suppose.”
Her muscles stiffened. “Aye, too love sick. I learned his true feelings for me later in life. And at sixteen, I found myself feeling much the same toward him.”
He caressed her back, comforting her. “What happened?”
“He joined a regiment.”
“The soldier? Your ‘youthful indiscretion’?”
“Aye. At nineteen, he ascended to the position of an officer. When his orders took him to Belgium, he asked me to come with him, to elope.”
“You’re a widow?”
“No, we never married. I followed him to Belgium with every intention of becoming his wife, but when he was captured in battle and imprisoned at Verdun, in Eastern France, I—I changed my mind about staying with him. I was permitted to live with him at Verdun, like the wives of other officers, but the lodgings were poor, the company unsociable.” She ended weakly, “I wanted to go home.”
“I understand, Maddie.”
“I abandoned him.”
“At sixteen,” he consoled her. “A child.”
“A stupid child.”
He heard the tears in her voice and tightened his embrace, determined to soothe her.
“Charles was devastated,” she said in a shaky voice. “I was allowed to leave Verdun in a ransom exchange with a group of officers, but Charles remained imprisoned, his rank too low to be worth much money.
“Later, I learned he’d tried to escape. He was shot in the back. He died . . . calling my name. If I had stayed with him—”
“You might be dead, too.”
She hiccupped. “What?”
He thumbed her chin, lifting her watery eyes, and stroked her chafed skin. “If Charles had died in prison from injury or illness or hunger, you would’ve been alone, the guards’ whore, tortured. It’s all right, Maddie, that you returned home. And lived.”
She cupped the back of his hand, holding it against her moist and fevered flesh. “I wasn’t welcomed home, though. It all still seemed for nothing.”
“It wasn’t for nothing.” He bussed her briny tears, drinking in her sorrow. “If you hadn’t lived, I would never have found you.”
She offered him a half smile, then pulled him in for a long, hard kiss, and it took all his energy to separate from her before she blinded his good sense once more.
“Where are you going?” she wondered.
He pulled a shirt over his chest and fastened his trousers. “I have to check on the crew, the ship.” And he still had that letter to write to his sister. Shoving his feet into his boots, he then combed his fingers through his mussed hair.
Madeline hopped off the table, her skirt fluttering around her ankles. “And your headache?”
He headed for the door. “Gone.”
“You’re welcome.”
He hardened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I seem to be the cure for what ails you, Captain.”
A raging fire burned in his belly. “You are a dangerous woman, Maddie.”
“Thank you,” she returned in a hushed tone.
He opened the door, then glanced at her sidelong. “That wasn’t a compliment.”