A Lady's Wish by Katharine Ashe

angry.
    “She does well. You are still here,” stumbled off her tongue.
    The edge of his mouth lifted. “I am indeed.”
    “As am I, by the way,” Calanthia quipped. “But I suddenly find myself enormously sleepy, and now rather wish to take my dinner in my chamber with Aunt Elsbeth.” Her gaze darted between them. “If you will forgive my hasty departure, Captain? I hope we will see you in the morning before we depart.”
    He bowed again and before Patricia could argue, her sister was gone. Then they were alone and her knees went watery. She forced words.
    “Thank you for your assistance again, with my aunt this time. One does not wonder that you are an acclaimed hero in the estimation of society.”
    His eyes sparkled. “And in your estimation, Lady Morgan?”
    “A hero, most assuredly,” she repeated his earlier words.
    His look grew cautious. “Because I sink French vessels upon the ocean and rescue ladies stranded upon the road?”
    “Because you once showed me that life needn’t be lived according to what others expect, and although I was afraid to live it then, I have held onto that vision for nine years. And because you are here now when you might have left.”
    He drew a deep breath. Then another. He did not move, the space between them flickering with golden light.
    “I think I have lost my appetite for dinner,” he said.
    Oh, God, would he leave her now?
    “Have you?”
    “But perhaps I am mistaking it.” His voice was gorgeously husky. “The trouble is, I cannot seem to think at all with you standing there like an angel.”
    “Captain—” she whispered.
    “Nik.”
    “Do not tease me.”
    “After eight years at sea I have no true teasing left, sweet Isolde. Only, I need you.”
    The breath went out of her. “You—?”
    He crossed the chamber in three strides, tilting her face up with a strong hand, and spoke above her lips. “I need you and it is driving me mad. So unless you wish to be ravished presently upon the floor of this parlor, I recommend removing yourself to a chamber with a bed in it, with haste.”
    Wide-eyed, tongue tangled, she nodded and drew from his hold. He let her go. But as she reached the second story she heard his tread upon the stair and glanced back. Below in amber lamplight his eyes shone.
    “Do not imagine I am allowing you out of my sight again,” he whispered above the noise from the taproom. “Just see where that got me before.”
    She laughed aloud. He mounted the steps, grasped her hand, and dragged her through her bedchamber door then into his arms.
    It required remarkably little time for him to divest her of gown and petticoat, then shoes and—with deliriously capable hands—stockings. During this blissfully divine activity she apologized.
    “I have not done this in some years. You must forgive m—”
    He caught her mouth beneath his as his fingers worked at the lacing up her back. She clutched his shoulders, arching against him, and pushed at his coat to rid him of it, then his waistcoat.
    But she was not finished apologizing.
    “I am sorry I did not tell you the truth immediately.”
    Her corset fell away and his hands swept beneath her breasts, cupping her through her shift with perfect command. She gasped and a sound of masculine pleasure rumbled deep in his chest. He kissed her lips, her throat.
    “I-I am sorry I thought you were the sort of man who could be propositioned.”
    Their breaths came fast, only his thumb tracing a languid spiral around her nipple. She ached for him to touch it.
    “Is this what you wanted when you asked me for a single night?” Slowly, so slowly now, he passed the pad of his thumb across the sensitive peak. Sweet agony rippled through her.
    “Yes.”
    He picked her up and bore her to the bed, and dragged her hips beneath him. “This too?” He covered her breast with his palm and moved against her, parting her legs with his knees until she was flush against the ridge of his arousal. “Is this what you hoped