Smuggler's Lair by Virginia Henley Page B

buttocks and desire flared up in her and raced through her blood like wildfire. When he pulled her back against him, he shuddered with need and pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.
    Falcon summoned his first mate to take over the wheel and he swept Tory into his arms and carried her below to his cabin. The next two hours were filled with delicious, potent lovemaking as they unleashed the fierce desire that had been building all day.
    He wrapped her in the warm wool cloak before they went back up on deck. He found her a seat facing west on a great coil of ship’s rope. “There should be a magnificent sunset. You’ll have a front-row seat. In the next two hours you’ll see the clouds turn fuchsia, edged with brilliant gold. Then the sky will be washed with magenta as the sun starts to slowly sink. When it touches the water, it will disappear rapidly as if the sea is swallowing it.”
    She turned to look at him and something caught her eye. “Is that land I see in the distance?”
    â€œMmm, I warrant it’s the coastline of France.” He changed the subject. “I’d better go and take my turn at the wheel.”
    In two hours, when the sea had swallowed the ball of fire, the sky was completely dark. The wind seemed to have lessened and Tory carefully made her way to the forecastle. “Ahoy there, mate!”
    â€œCome on up and watch the stars come out, sweetheart.”
    She climbed the stairs and Falcon slipped an arm around her. She raised her eyes to the heavens and gazed in awe. The sky had turned to black velvet with a million sparkling diamonds scattered across it. It was the sort of night that made her believe in the reality of intangible realms, when she knew that nothing was impossible. Tory sighed happily. “I’ll remember this always.”
    â€œDown anchor!” Falcon’s order shattered her reverie. “Since the wind has dropped we might as well ride out the night in this sheltered cove. We’ll join the crew in the galley for dinner.”
    Before they went belowdecks she saw a light on the shore. “Is that a French village?”
    â€œCap Griz Nez, not really a village, just a few farmhouses.”
    â€œYou’ve been here before.”
    â€œIt’s the closest point to England and a safe haven.”
    In the galley Falcon and Tory sat at a long table for a very informal meal. The crewmen were more than a little rough around the edges, but Tory never stopped laughing at the jibes they tossed at one another. She tasted rum for the first time and was quite tipsy by the time Falcon put her to bed.
    Just before midnight, when he was sure his companion was sound asleep, Hawkhurst slipped from the berth and silently quit the cabin. Within minutes the longboat was lowered and in just over an hour it was being rowed back to the Seacock with a cargo of a dozen crates wrapped in oilskins.
    Tory was roused from sleep by the movement of the ship. She opened her eyes, saw that it was morning, and knew they were under way. Falcon opened the cabin door and sat down on the berth.
    â€œThe rum had its way with you. How’s your head this morning?”
    â€œWas I very drunk?”
    â€œLegless!” He grinned.
    â€œI must have slept it off. Amazingly, I feel fine. What on earth is that divine smell? The air is thick with it. Oh, I know, it’s chocolate!”
    Falcon gave her a quizzical glance. “You’re familiar with it?”
    â€œIt’s one of my favorite things to drink.”
    His brows drew together in consternation, then he banished the frown. “So much for my surprise.”
    Tory put her head on one side to study him, then realization dawned. “Surprise, my arse! You think well on your feet, Lord Bloody Hawkhurst. You came for a contraband cargo of chocolate and intend to smuggle it past the customs officials.”
    He looked outraged at her suspicion. “I have no such intention.” Then he