Chapter 26
It had been a very long day. In fact, it was already the next day, Gordon suspected. Even with as stalwart a partner as Josh Adams, battling through storm waves in the harbor had been exhausting. Gordon was weary to the bone, which made Callie’s invitation to her pallet very welcome. Fatigue should make it possible to behave like a gentleman, though it would be a challenge. She inspired dangerously intense feelings of tenderness and lust.
The alcove between the barrels was cozy, with a faint scent of tobacco and a view out the windows, not that there was much to see in a heavy rain over a blacked out city.
Callie flipped back the top blanket and crawled onto the pallet, which was wide enough for two. He stretched out beside her, asking, “Is the floor less hard than previous nights, or am I just so tired I’m not noticing?”
“The pallet is somewhat thicker. Earlier today Molly and I found empty burlap sacks in the warehouse so we brought up enough to provide better padding,” she explained as she stretched out on the right side of the pallet. “It’s not a real bed, but better than the floor.”
True. But even the unpadded floor would have been fine with Callie beside him.
She rolled onto her side to face him and circled an arm over his waist as she exhaled softly against his neck. “Thank you for joining me.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, meaning it. “It’s been an appalling day. Yet we’re all here and alive and Trey isn’t badly hurt. There is much to be grateful for.” He stroked down her back and confirmed what he’d suspected when he held her in his lap. She wasn’t wearing anything under her worn, often-washed linen shift. This felt almost as good as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“Molly is mad for Peter and apparently he is for her,” Callie murmured. “Do you think anything will come of it?”
“I trust you mean marriage, not a by-blow.”
“Of course!” she said indignantly. “I want her to find a kind, devoted husband who will care for her and any family they might have. Like Sarah and Josh.”
“Peter seems like a thoroughly good fellow. Assuming he survives the British attack, yes, I think they might have a future. I suppose her inheritance will be decent?”
“With the slaves all freed it won’t be a great fortune, but should be enough to let her live independently or take a good dowry into a marriage.”
“Money always makes a potential mate more attractive,” Gordon said. “But they’re young. The attraction might be fleeting.”
“I told Molly that, and she wanted to know if at her age I’d been so entranced by a young man that I wanted him above everything.” She chuckled. “I had to admit that never happened to me.”
“No?”
“I thought about it and decided that being friends with you absorbed all my energy where boys were concerned.”
He considered. “The same was true for me. Maybe that made us slower to think about mating than others our age.”
“I’d rather think I was just slow than that there was something wrong with me,” she said wryly.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said reassuringly. “You just lacked opportunity since you went directly from being my best friend into marriage with a man old enough to be your father. I assume that when you reached Jamaica, you were too honorable to take up with a man nearer your own age?”
“I never met anyone who tempted me enough for adultery,” she replied. “What about you? Once you got out into the world, did you find yourself to have the normal amount of interest in the opposite sex?”
Trust Callie to ask such a direct question. He smiled into the night. “Oh, yes. Quite unremarkably normal.” But though he’d met women he enjoyed in and out of bed, he’d never met one who held his mind and heart, or drove him to youthful madness.
“Ever since we met in Washington, I keep thinking how different our lives would have been if we hadn’t been caught by our fathers when we eloped,” she mused. “If we’d married in Scotland, would our lives have been better or worse? Would we have bored each other as we matured and developed roving eyes? Would friendship have been a strong enough foundation for a marriage even if we weren’t mad for each other?”
“I’ve thought about that, too,” he admitted. “I offered to marry you as a friend to save you from an unwanted marriage. But when you gave me a thank-you kiss—well, I realized you were a girl, and that elopement wasn’t such a bad idea.”
She laughed. “Really? I remember being enormously relieved and grateful and excited by the adventure, but not romantic about you. I guess I’m just not very passionate.”
“I beg to differ.” Remembering the way she’d responded to his good-bye kiss earlier in the day—or rather, yesterday—he rolled face to face and kissed her again. Slowly, thoroughly, and feeling quite passionate enough for both of them.
He caressed the subtle arc of her elegant back, sliding over the worn linen till he reached the sweet curve of her backside. His palm stilled there as he drew her tight against his groin.
She made a soft sound deep in her throat and pressed closer yet, her mouth hungry and responsive. She didn’t shift her lower body away but instead slid her leg between his, bringing them into searing contact even through layers of fabric.
Fatigue vanished and he gasped, “If you don’t want this to continue, the time to stop is now!”
Her reply was to slide her hands under his loose shirt, erotically cool against his heated skin. “Let us forget this day, together,” she breathed.
Burying any last gentlemanly scruples, he moved his hand to her breast, feeling the warm fullness through the fabric of her shift. She sucked in her breath and arched into his hand when he thumbed her nipple. She captured his mouth again and her tongue danced against his, teasing and inviting.
He slipped one hand under the hem of her loose shift, skimming his palm up her smooth, shapely leg. Higher, higher, over her hip. Then, delicately, between her thighs until he reached silken, intimate heat. She whimpered and moved her legs apart, the small sound drowned by the rain.
As he explored the sensitive folds, she began to writhe against his deft fingers, her hips rocking into his touch. He realized dizzily that he could take her now and she would welcome him, and his yearning for that mesmerizing fulfillment almost destroyed the last vestiges of his control.
But he had just enough sense left to realize that full intimacy would cross a line that would change everything between them, and perhaps destroy any chance for a future. So tonight there would be no ultimate joining, but he would, by God, prove that she had her share of a woman’s passion!
He reclaimed her irresistible mouth while his fingers delved ever deeper into her most secret places. Heat and moisture and sensual scents, more intoxicating than the best of brandies.
When she shattered under his touch, his mouth captured her cry. She softened against him as her tension slowly dissolved.
He moved his lips to her throat and the delicate hollow of her shoulder, feeling the hot beat of her blood against his tongue. She was so desirable, so sweetly edible.
As her breathing slowed, she flowed bonelessly against him, molding herself so closely that it was hard to tell where she ended and he began. His blood pounded frantically through his veins, demanding satisfaction, but the intensity of her pleasure was almost enough to compensate.
He was halfway back to sane when he realized that her hand was shyly sliding under the waist of his drawers. He’d barely registered that when she clasped him and his whole body went rigid.
She wasn’t expert in her ministrations, but she didn’t need to be. Callie’s hand stroking him, Callie’s body pressed against his, Callie’s essence were enough to melt his brain into blazing oblivion. He crushed her close, groaning, “Callie . . . dear God, Callie!”
“My Richard,” she whispered, her breath a caress against his throat. “My Lionheart.”
Her hand tightened with experimental pressure and triggered a violent culmination that seemed to go on forever, yet was too swiftly done. Blissful oblivion.
He held her close as his mind and body slowly aligned again. When had he known such fierce satisfaction?
Never.
Such contentment?
Never.
“Sorry, Catkin,” he murmured unsteadily. “I didn’t mean this to happen.”
“Nor did I. But it certainly was a fine distraction from a difficult day,” she said with a hint of laughter.
“I’m glad you think so.” He smiled ruefully. “I lied. I’m not the least bit sorry about this even if it was unplanned.”
He gently kneaded her back and neck, not wanting to let her go, ever. Acting on that yearning, he said, “Callie, will you marry me? We’re both rather damaged by life and have our share of limitations, but I think we’re better together than apart.”
She didn’t reply for long, long moments. But she didn’t try to pull away, either. Finally she said, “It’s hard to see beyond the next few days. But if we’re alive and intact after this battle, the subject is worth discussing.”
He laughed exuberantly. “I’m finally beginning to wear you down!”
“I believe you are,” she said with a smile in her voice. “But also, everything has changed since you swept back into my life three weeks ago.”
“My world is different, too.” He’d moved from constant restless seeking to peace. He’d literally traveled around the world to find his way home. Now he just needed to persuade his wary warrior woman to share her life with his.
He kissed the top of her head, then pulled the blankets over them. The rain was slowing, but the temperature had dropped so that the night air was cool. “I’d like to hold you like this forever.”
“I’ll settle for tonight since we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” She wriggled delightfully as she found the most comfortable position against him. She fit so well into his embrace. “May dawn be slow in coming!”
His bone deep fatigue had dissolved, leaving relaxed contentment. When had he ever been happier? Never.
He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.
* * *
The night shattered when the British began to bombard Fort McHenry at dawn. The most powerful navy in the world was knocking on Baltimore’s door.