Captain Of Her Heart Read online

  But she wrenched to the mortal plane, as panic danced a jig down her spine, when her knight reared up, hooked his arms behind her knees, and lifted her legs into the air. Exposed and vulnerable, she stared at her conqueror, and he winked. For a scarce second, she smiled, and then he thrust. Oh, what she felt, as she no longer knew where she ended and he began. She screamed his name, but it came to her in an echo, as if from afar.

  Just as Alex thought she could bear no more, everything inside her twisted and turned to accommodate her captain. Then the world tilted, and the now familiar delicious spasms provoked another shriek of exultation. And there it was—that mystical realm where she separated from her corporal self and drifted on an imaginary cloud of ecstasy.

  #

  In the faint light that signaled the dawn of a new day, in more ways than one, Jason slipped from Alex’s side, much to his regret. At the washstand, he splashed cold water on his face, shaved, and then cleaned his teeth. As he brushed his hair, he paused, leaned on the edge of the basin, gazed at his reflection in the mirror, and frowned. “Collingwood, what have you done?”

  With her hair in a tangled mess, the woman of his dreams slept the sleep of the sated. In a flash, he closed his eyes and revisited cherished memories of the stormy night and his questionable endeavors, which had resulted in the salacious education and utter debauchery of the highborn daughter of a duke.

  In the closet, he stepped into a pair of buckskin breeches, shrugged into a lawn shirt and a grey waistcoat, and then tugged on his Hessians. As he tied his cravat in a precise mathematical, a lilting tapestry of feminine sighs and achingly sweet cries echoed in his ears, along with a bold request he would treasure until he died: May we do it again, Jason?

  To his credit, he had given her what she wanted—thrice.

  With a chuckle, he shook his head. The brazen wench, with a body made for sin and a voluptuous appetite to rival his own, had kept pace and loved him well into the wee hours. Indeed, for a barely ex-virgin, his Alex manifested irresistible temptation that could make a grown man weep and drive him mad as a March hare for want of her.

  After retrieving his coat from a peg, he returned to admire the inimitable society miss. Heaven on earth rested beneath wrinkled sheets and a mountain of blankets, which presented a far cry from the woman who had woken him with a bawdy massage of his oh-so-reliable morning erection and then proceeded to feed his hunger with his most favored fare. With her cheek cupped in her palm, she evoked a familiar comparison to Botticelli’s angels. Given the events of last night, Aphrodite better suited Alex.

  The fire had guttered, and the room had grown cold, so he situated three logs in the rack and tended the hearth, until he had stoked a roaring blaze. Cradling his head in his hands, he groaned. “Enough of this insanity.”

  Invested with unswerving determination, by which she might have been intimidated were she compos mentis, he stalked his vulnerable, incognizant lady. At bedside, he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I have wronged you, Alex. And I pray that, some day, you will forgive me.”

  Despite mental warnings to the contrary, Jason claimed a kiss from his sleeping siren. If not for his duties to the Crown, he would forgo the shipyard and spend a sennight in her arms. Yet more pressing matters held his attention and calmed his Jolly Roger.

  In slumber, Alex gave vent to a sultry moan, cast a feminine smile, and shifted, baring a creamy shoulder. Had he thought her temptation personified? The woman was downright lethal.

  “Rest well, sweetheart. God knows you earned it.” Averting his gaze, he stood and drew the blanket to her chin. “I should not have taken you, as we cannot marry amid war, so I vow never to weigh anchor in your harbor again.”

  Given their nocturnal activities, she had not written the summons for her coach, and he would encourage her to compose that missive tonight, as he had to send her home. Donning his coat, he walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he stopped and glanced at his lady. Without doubt, he would break his newly sworn oath the second he returned to the cottage.

  #

  With a healthy yawn and a robust stretch, Alex flinched, as she ached in places she had not known she could ache. Cocooned in warm blankets, which were supplemented by a roaring blaze in the fireplace, she rubbed her eyes and sniffed. It took her a few minutes to discern where she had slept and, more importantly, with whom she had shared a bed. As recognition dawned, a virile melody of male grunts and groans serenaded her, salacious images from the glorious tryst with Jason danced in her brain, and she bolted upright, hugged herself, and squealed in delight. “Hallelujah.”

  Clutching the covers to her chest, Alex scanned her immediate vicinity, wiggled her toes, and giggled. Had she known her chivalrous knight would find a nightmare so inspiring, she would have conjured all manner of nocturnal demons, a long time ago. At last, she had got her captain to pounce and, oh, had he pounced. Of course, he had licked, suckled, nibbled, and caressed every inch of her body, as well, and she had no complaints.

  Now if only he would propose.

  With that thought weighing heavy on her heart and mind, she flung back the blankets, leaped from the bed, and snatched from the floor the lawn shirt Jason had worn yesterday. When she donned the simple garment, her nautionnier knight’s signature sandalwood scent wreathed her.

  “Hello.” At the long mirror, she studied her reflection and smiled. “My name is Alexandra Collingwood, wife of Jason Collingwood, captain of the Intrepid.”

  A fanciful illusion sprung to life, the sidewalks of London magically appeared in the tiny cottage in Plymouth, and Alex enacted her own private promenade. With a curtsey, she nodded an acknowledgement to an imaginary visitor. “Good afternoon, I am Mrs. Collingwood. Do you know my husband? He is the bravest, handsomest sailor in the Royal Navy.”

  Whirling in circles, as a giddy young girl with a new dress, she laughed aloud—and then came to an abrupt halt at the footboard. A vivid crimson stain marred the pristine white sheet. Had Caroline not warned that most women bled upon the loss of their maidenhead? Alex had always presumed that a lie to encourage chastity, as the prospect had certainly frightened her.

  Grasping a fistful of linen, she hauled the covers from the mattress. Despite her budding friendship with Molly, Alex could not share the particulars of something so personal, with the charwoman. Yet she would kill to confide in one of her lifelong friends. And now she understood Cara’s reticence after the elder Douglas had seduced Lance.

  Had Alex thought she loved Jason? In the wake of their torrid night of passion, what she now harbored for her captain far exceeded the depth of affection she had coveted upon her arrival at the humble abode, so she would speak of it not as a whimsical crush or fancy.

  In mere minutes, she added a log to the fire in the bedchamber and then lit another blaze in the great room. After boiling sufficient water for the tub and the large washbasin, she soaked the soiled sheets as she bathed.

  Later, dressed in one of Molly’s modest frocks, and with her hair braided, Alex scrubbed the stain. She had just rinsed away the evidence of her affair when the cook-maid strolled through the door.

  “Alex, what are you doing?” The charwoman untied and removed her bonnet and then shrugged from her coat. “This is my light day, and you have already completed one of my primary tasks.”

  “I thought if I made an early start on our chores, you might consent to join me for brunch.” Alex stood upright, stretched her back, and wiped her brow. “And will you help me wring the linens?”

  “Of course.” Molly halted opposite Alex and smiled. “And I should love to have brunch with you, but you need not have gone to so much trouble, as the housework remains my duty.”

  “Nonsense. You are never a bother.” Alex twisted one way, and Molly rotated the fabric in the other direction. “I quite enjoy the work, as it keeps me honest.”

  #

  A sennight later, as Alex looked back on the days subsequent to the consummation of her rel
ationship with Jason, her delightful memories coupled with dreams for their future. And although her knight had yet to broach the question foremost on her mind, she anticipated a proposal with baited breath.

  On Wednesday, when he returned from the docks, she had hoped for a betrothal agreement. Instead, Jason had stormed through the door like a bull in a china shop, charged her without reservation, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her to their bed.

  Hours had passed before they dined.

  Thursday featured a devilish repeat performance. As she had nursed a pot of stew, she innocently inquired whether or not her captain had an appetite, to wit he replied, “I am starved.” With that, he had scooped her into his arms and conveyed her to their bed.

  Hours had passed before they dined.

  Friday, ah, Friday, now that was a truly memorable evening. After donning his silk robe, she had met her lusty knight at the door and made a bold declaration. “Tonight, I wish to ride you, and you must teach me.” And with his prurient pedagogy, her rogue sailor more than fulfilled her challenge.

  Hours had passed before they dined.

  Saturday and Sunday, they scarcely moved beyond their chamber, except when Alex prepared their meals. But what she had not expected was Jason’s sneak attack after lunch. Just as she had dried and put away the dishes, he spread her across the little table and made love to her until she screamed. She would never look at the kitchen the same, again.

  And that brought her to Monday evening. As Molly had departed, Alex awaited her rakish sea captain’s return, wearing nothing but a smile and one of his lawn shirts, which she left open, to invigorate her man. How she loved rousing her knight.

  A familiar clip clop snared her attention, and she doused the fire in the oven, so the braised beef would not burn. After a quick check of the cottage, she stood beside the hearth, hoping the bright blaze would provide a flattering and fortuitous backdrop.

  Jason trod into the great room, cast a glance in her direction, and came to an abrupt halt. “My lady, you are a vision.”

  “Good evening, Captain of my heart.” She toyed with her single braid. “I missed you today.”

  “I never would have guessed as much.” As was his fashion, he lowered his chin and made straight for her. “And I thought of you every second, of every minute we were apart.”

  Contrary to his previous enthusiastic onslaughts, he framed her face with his hands and bestowed upon her an inexpressibly tender kiss, and in that moment Alex fell in love with him, all over again. Then Jason bent, swept her off her feet, and conveyed her to their shared quarters, and she took advantage of her position to untie his cravat.

  “You wear too many clothes.” After flinging the yard-length of linen to the floor, she unhooked his collar and shrieked when he flung her to the mattress.

  “Take off the shirt, sweetheart.” In a flash, he stripped to the waist. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, dropped his boots, stood, and unfastened and shed his breeches. Naked and aroused, he dragged the long mirror to the footboard and situated it, so she could gaze at her reflection.

  “Why do we need that?” Perched at the end of the mattress, Alex gulped.

  “The shirt, love. Else I will rip it from your beautiful body and add to the mending pile.” Jason positioned behind her. “And I want to admire your face, as I take you.”

  “Oh, all right.” Struck with sudden and unwelcome shyness, she shrugged from his garment, and he tossed it to the floor.

  “Now, on your knees, Lady Seymour.” With a firm grip on her hips, he knelt between her legs. “Lean forward and clutch the footboard for support.”

  In an instant, the diminutive chamber grew unseasonably hot, and she compressed her lips and abided his request. “Like this?”

  “Perfect.” And then he bent his head and licked and nibbled her derriere. But when he spread her backside and trailed his tongue along the cleft, in a concupiscent maneuver of which she never would have conceived, her gut clenched.

  “Jason.” In the mirror, she met his heated stare, as he pressed on her an illicit massage. “What are you doing?”

  “Shh.” With a devilish smile, her captain inched close, curled about her body, and penetrated her bottom hole. “Do not fear, sweetheart. Trust me, I will not hurt you.”

  “But—is this allowed?” As he pushed deeper still, unfamiliar but pleasurable tension coiled in the pit of her belly, as he stretched and filled her, and she moaned. “Never have I heard of or seen—oh—anything of the sort.”

  “I would have been surprised if you had, because I learned this particular orientation on a trip to India, and I have longed to share it with you.” When Jason seated himself inside her, he groaned, and she marveled at the power she unwittingly wielded over him. “Relax, and open your mind, Alex. There is nothing wrong with what we do, as we are consenting parties, but if you wish me to stop, you need only say so, and I shall obey.”

  Emboldened by his expression of pure ecstasy, she found pleasure in the pleasure she gave him. “You may continue, Captain of my heart.”

  With a primal grunt, he slumped and nipped the back of her neck, as he played havoc in the aperture at her core, with his fingers. At first, he thrust slowly, but when he sank his teeth into her shoulder, he quickened his pace. The lascivious bump and grind, unlike anything she had ever known, scorched Alex to the marrow, and coupled with his naughty fondling, she soon teetered on the precipice of sweet completion. Just as she reached for that oh-so-sumptuous pinnacle of their erotic waltz, Jason withdrew from her bottom, rolled her onto her back, and rejoined with her in a single fluid flex of his spine.

  “I want your honey harbor, love.” Hooking an arm behind her knee, he lifted high one leg and recommenced the decadent dance. “There is no one like you, Alex. You fascinate me as has no other woman.”

  How she wished she could form a response, but his declaration, although lacking the much-hoped-for proposal and the four-letter word she ached to hear, rendered her speechless, all the same. So she surrendered to the tantalizing tide, which ebbed and flowed, as Jason navigated her to the very edge of hedonistic oblivion, where she clawed at the blissful crest, before he tempered his movements in maddening undulations.

  Wavering on the brink of insanity, she dug her nails into his forearms. At last, he gave her his weight, claimed her mouth, and drove her relentlessly, pumping hard and fast, to the decadent finish, where she slipped the bonds of reality and yielded to fiery passion with a vast deal more than healthy scream.

  When next Alex resurfaced, she discovered her knight gone, sat upright, and frowned. “Jason?”

  “Coming, darling.” With a steaming bucket in each hand, and wearing only his silk robe, he entered the chamber. “I thought, perhaps, you would fancy a bath.”

  “How very kind of you.” The tub hugged the side wall, and he dumped the hot water, as she stood. “Will you scrub my back?”

  “My lady, after that remarkable performance, I will wash whatever you wish.” He waggled his brows and sketched a bow. “Now, your humble servant awaits to fulfill your bidding.”

  “Jason, are you not the charmer?” She giggled and sank into the bath. Soon she would assume her new social status as Mrs. Collingwood, and they would enjoy countless such revered occasions. “Oh, I am quite sore in a rather unusual spot.”

  “Sorry, love.” With a wink and a boyish grin, he retrieved the soap, worked a rich lather, and tended her as though she were a most invaluable treasure. “But you make it impossible to restrain myself, when you are so accommodating.”

  And then some unknown interloper pounded on the front door and interrupted their interlude.

  “Who in bloody hell could that be at this hour?” Swearing a string of invective that left the sear of a blush in her cheeks, he dried his hands. “Remain where you are, as I shall return, posthaste.”

  The lull of muffled voices almost rocked her to sleep, and when Alex dipped her chin beneath the surface of the water, she jerked alert.
The fire in the hearth dwindled, and the room had grown cool, so she swiped the towel from the washstand, dried herself, slipped into her robe, and threw two logs on the blaze.

  Myriad approaches swirled in her brain, as she considered how best to introduce the topic of marriage. Given their less than appropriate activities, of late, she had to steer her sailor for the altar. But she doubted his steadfastness not for a minute.

  “Well this is deuced lousy timing.” With a heavy sigh, Jason reappeared, holding a curious missive. “I just received orders from the Lord High Admiral.”

  “When do you depart?” A twinge of concern shivered over her flesh. “And how long will you be gone?”

  “Given the completed refitting of the Intrepid, I am to rendezvous with the Brethren at the North Forelands in three days.” Jason speared his fingers through his hair and scowled. “And I am to patrol the North Atlantic for up to six months.”

  “Six months?” Since she was a little girl, Alex had always dreamed of a church wedding, with London society in attendance. But her future husband’s occupation necessitated altered plans. “Then we should speak to the local parson, as soon as possible. And I should send a missive to Damian, that he might procure a special license. In the interest of expedience, I shall use a local vendor for my dress, and I would dearly love to have Molly stand with me, if you do not object.”

  “I cannot marry you, sweetheart.”

  “Of course, you can, as it is just a matter of securing the requisite papers.” In haste, she ticked off items from a mental list, as was her habit. “We might hold a small reception at the inn in Plymouth. Oh, we will be the talk of the Season and the most marvelous couple in London.”

  “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The poor man looked to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. “If proper etiquette concerns you, I promise, I do not expect you to kneel. But I can see us, now. We shall attend all the balls and dance every dance. And we will make the most beautiful babes and spend summers in the country.”