her
mouth, closing his eyes as he took her lips in a fierce kiss.
He loved her silently, his body hot. Honoria
was aching and tight around him, a heavenly pain she'd never
forget, had never forgotten.
Christopher dragged in a breath, his eyelids
flickering. He groaned her name, then he rode out his climax, his
breathing labored, his eyes closed.
After a very long time, Christopher slowed
and stilled. He raked Honoria's hair back from her face and kissed
her.
Their storm finished, quieted. Christopher
kissed Honoria's swollen lips, and she returned the kiss in gentle
tiredness.
For a long time they lay quietly, he kissing
her, she in limp tranquility. The ship rocked a little as the river
ran beneath them; a church tower on shore chimed midnight.
"Christopher . . ."
He raised his head. Strands of blond hair
stuck to his throat, and his eyes were heavy-lidded. "Shh. I order
you to kiss me, my wife."
"I have been."
Christopher seized her wrists and pinned them
together above her head. "This is another kind of order I expect
you to obey without question."
The candlelight made wild shadows of the
planes of his face. He looked frightening, ruthless, but Honoria
felt heavy and happy. She lifted her head and kissed his mouth.
His lips brushed across hers then he kissed
his way down her throat, skimming her breasts, dropping kisses to
her warm stomach. He licked her navel, then laid his head on her
breasts and went silent.
His warmth soothed her, and Honoria's limbs
loosened. She drifted to sleep listening to the faint whisper of
river, men speaking in low voices above them, a dog barking on
shore.
When Honoria opened her eyes again, bright
moonlight slanted through the cabin. Christopher's head rested on
her shoulder, his hair warm on her skin.
His whisper broke the silence. "God, I can't
do this."
"Hmm?" Honoria murmured.
Christopher stilled a moment, then traced her
sensitive skin with a blunt fingertip. "Go back to sleep, my
wife."
"You cannot do what?"
"I wasn't talking to you."
Honoria smoothed a pale lock from his face.
"I never thought of you as a churchgoing man. Or as one who talked
to God."
"Oh, I can pray, Honoria."
"What things does a pirate pray for?" She
felt playful, despite the serious note in his voice. "Ships heavy
with treasure, run by a crew that gives up without a fight?"
Christopher's voice was quiet. "When they
took me out of the prison that morning, I prayed. I prayed I'd die
in a hurry. Without lingering, without doing any of the horrible
things a man can do when he knows he's dying. You can be sure, my
wife, that I prayed."
*****
Chapter Ten
Honoria touched his face, her heart aching.
"I don't like to think about that. When I heard you were dead, I
couldn't come out of my room for three days." She traced his
cheekbone. "I am grateful God answered your prayer."
Christopher's eyes lost every bit of
mischievousness, every bit of warmth. "Yes, he spared me the noose
and sent me straight to hell."
"But you were saved. You were taken to the
ship."
Christopher raised his head. "Have you ever
been on an English merchantman?"
"No, I can't say that I have."
"Believe me, a pirate's life is better."
Honoria frowned. "How can that be?"
"The East India Company, my darling, is far
more worried about the cargo pirates carry off than the crew who
die trying to protect it. If pirates simply murdered everyone on
board and left the goods and the ships intact, there would be no
pirate hunters."
Honoria had heard more than once from James
how merchant captains would express gratitude to James for saving
their cargo from attacking pirates. These same captains reasoned
that losing half a dozen sailors and two officers a fair price for
keeping hold of their crates of crockery and sweet wine.
"My brother Paul was killed by pirates,"
Honoria said softly. "As were his wife and daughters."
"I heard. I was sorry about that."
"Tell me about your sister." Honoria had been
surprised to learn that
mouth, closing his eyes as he took her lips in a fierce kiss.
He loved her silently, his body hot. Honoria
was aching and tight around him, a heavenly pain she'd never
forget, had never forgotten.
Christopher dragged in a breath, his eyelids
flickering. He groaned her name, then he rode out his climax, his
breathing labored, his eyes closed.
After a very long time, Christopher slowed
and stilled. He raked Honoria's hair back from her face and kissed
her.
Their storm finished, quieted. Christopher
kissed Honoria's swollen lips, and she returned the kiss in gentle
tiredness.
For a long time they lay quietly, he kissing
her, she in limp tranquility. The ship rocked a little as the river
ran beneath them; a church tower on shore chimed midnight.
"Christopher . . ."
He raised his head. Strands of blond hair
stuck to his throat, and his eyes were heavy-lidded. "Shh. I order
you to kiss me, my wife."
"I have been."
Christopher seized her wrists and pinned them
together above her head. "This is another kind of order I expect
you to obey without question."
The candlelight made wild shadows of the
planes of his face. He looked frightening, ruthless, but Honoria
felt heavy and happy. She lifted her head and kissed his mouth.
His lips brushed across hers then he kissed
his way down her throat, skimming her breasts, dropping kisses to
her warm stomach. He licked her navel, then laid his head on her
breasts and went silent.
His warmth soothed her, and Honoria's limbs
loosened. She drifted to sleep listening to the faint whisper of
river, men speaking in low voices above them, a dog barking on
shore.
When Honoria opened her eyes again, bright
moonlight slanted through the cabin. Christopher's head rested on
her shoulder, his hair warm on her skin.
His whisper broke the silence. "God, I can't
do this."
"Hmm?" Honoria murmured.
Christopher stilled a moment, then traced her
sensitive skin with a blunt fingertip. "Go back to sleep, my
wife."
"You cannot do what?"
"I wasn't talking to you."
Honoria smoothed a pale lock from his face.
"I never thought of you as a churchgoing man. Or as one who talked
to God."
"Oh, I can pray, Honoria."
"What things does a pirate pray for?" She
felt playful, despite the serious note in his voice. "Ships heavy
with treasure, run by a crew that gives up without a fight?"
Christopher's voice was quiet. "When they
took me out of the prison that morning, I prayed. I prayed I'd die
in a hurry. Without lingering, without doing any of the horrible
things a man can do when he knows he's dying. You can be sure, my
wife, that I prayed."
*****
Chapter Ten
Honoria touched his face, her heart aching.
"I don't like to think about that. When I heard you were dead, I
couldn't come out of my room for three days." She traced his
cheekbone. "I am grateful God answered your prayer."
Christopher's eyes lost every bit of
mischievousness, every bit of warmth. "Yes, he spared me the noose
and sent me straight to hell."
"But you were saved. You were taken to the
ship."
Christopher raised his head. "Have you ever
been on an English merchantman?"
"No, I can't say that I have."
"Believe me, a pirate's life is better."
Honoria frowned. "How can that be?"
"The East India Company, my darling, is far
more worried about the cargo pirates carry off than the crew who
die trying to protect it. If pirates simply murdered everyone on
board and left the goods and the ships intact, there would be no
pirate hunters."
Honoria had heard more than once from James
how merchant captains would express gratitude to James for saving
their cargo from attacking pirates. These same captains reasoned
that losing half a dozen sailors and two officers a fair price for
keeping hold of their crates of crockery and sweet wine.
"My brother Paul was killed by pirates,"
Honoria said softly. "As were his wife and daughters."
"I heard. I was sorry about that."
"Tell me about your sister." Honoria had been
surprised to learn that
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