Blackwells: My Timeswept Heart Part 16

He cleared his throat. Her voice was like liquid smoke. "I cannot stay, Tess. Tis nearly morning,"

"Just for a little while?" She tugged.

Dane hesitated. G.o.d's teeth, she could demolish a man's sense of duty, he thought, his gaze sweeping over her satin-clad form, the sweet curve of her b.u.t.tocks teasing him from twisted sheets. Her reputation would be ruined if he were discovered here in the morning.

Tess opened one eye. He'd taken off his shirt and boots. She suggested he keep going. He groaned as if in pain. "I want to feel you'

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"Nay. I will not compromise you, Tess."

"I believe it was the other way around, Captain." She jerked hard on his arm, and he fell down beside her.

"Demanding little witch, aren't you?" he muttered, unable to resist the tantalizing offer.

"Yeah, and you love it," she yawned hugely, smiling when he punched a pillow. "Dane?" She twisted a look at him. "The pants."

"I beg you, Tess, not another word." Dane pressed a finger to her lips when she continued to protest. "Blast it, woman," he muttered tightly, battling the urge to pull her beneath him. "I'm not a d.a.m.ned saint!" Then he slung an arm over her waist and cupped a plump breast.

Tess sighed contentedly, wiggling into the curve of his body and instantly falling asleep, unaware of how tense Dane was tucked behind her.

Just for a moment, Dane decided. She needed him. And loath to admit it, even to himself, Dane Blackwell needed her.

A breakfast tray in his hand, Duncan knocked softly, and when he heard no sound from within, he slowly opened the cabin door. He froze, the sight that greeted him leaving the old salt stunned. And b.l.o.o.d.y furious. d.a.m.n you to h.e.l.l, Capt'n. Duncan backed up, shaking his head and closing the door with a sharp snap.

Dane's eyes opened abruptly, and he was suddenly aware of nothing but the womanly curves pressed intimately to his body. Tess. Sweet witch. The past hours flooded back with a heated rush, and Dane smiled softly, shifting to view the sleeping woman whose dark head was pillowed on his chest. Her beauty was flaw- 154.

less, the light browning of her skin somehow becoming. Her lips were slightly bruised from his kisses, and the thin strap of her chemise had slipped off her shoulder, availing him an enticing view of the lush bounty displayed. His hand rode up the soft curve of her hip to her waist, and in her dreams she flung an arm possessively across his chest. Her body was chiseled perfection, and Dane wondered how a woman could gain such a splendid physique. Aye, strong and graceful-his smiled widened-and extraordinarily pa.s.sionate. He was tempted to wake her and feel that glorious explosion again. Though he'd had his choice of females, Dane never knew a la.s.s to be so erotically brazen in her lovemaking, aye, nor to enjoy it quite so much. And he silently admitted he'd never felt more vulnerable in his entire life as when she'd held him snugly inside her body.

His manhood responded with amazing swiftness to the steamy images his mind conjured, and Dane knew that one taste of this woman would never be enough. His desire was a hunger that had begun when he'd first held her in his arms, and he was helpless to control it with the knowledge that she desired him so freely. Brushing back a raven lock, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her slender leg entwined itself tighter around his own. He bent his head to taste her ripe mouth when he heard footsteps outside the cabin door. His body instantly tensed, his gaze snapping to the window. d.a.m.n and blast! Daylight. Carefully he disentangled himself from her. She moaned yet didn't waken, simply snuggling around his pillow. Climbing from the bed, he withdrew his pocket watch, flipped the spring catch, and checked the time. It was early, just past dawn. Guilt suddenly weighed heavy in his chest. He hadn't 155.

meant to fall asleep. He'd planned to leave the cabin early in order for them not to be discovered like this. He couldn't bear it if she were openly compromised before his crew because he couldn't control his rutting nature. Dane was honest with himself. Tess had been severely distraught, ranting incoherently, and even though she'd been more than wanting, he knew he could have halted their lovemaking at any time. A little voice mocked him. Who was he trying to fool? He'd desired her so fiercely his body ached with it. He rubbed the back of his neck, absently curious as to what had wakened him in the first place.

He strode to the chiffonier and removed a fresh shirt and breeches, quickly changing. Searching the cabin for his boots, he spied them beside the bed. He was shoving a foot in when his gaze bounced off, then returned to the bowl of water from last evening. His eyes widened. Water tinged pink with blood. Sweet Jesus! He looked at Tess. How can this be? He'd felt no obstruction when he entered her. And she seemed, well, experienced. She was twenty-five, for mercy sake's! Then he recalled something else. She may have known how to stir a man to incredible heights, but Dane was certain she knew next to nothing about her own body's response, just now remembering the startled look on her face when she'd reached fulfillment. Was it possible she was a virgin in that sense?

A strange emotion warring within him, Dane yanked on the bootstrap, then straightened and went about discarding the water and collecting the strewn clothing. He stilled when he lifted the short robe from the floor, rubbing the fabric between his fingertips. It was crisper than silk or satin, yet thinner than the latter. He started 156.

to toss it on the foot of the bed when he noticed a label. He frowned as he read the scrolled writing. Misakatsu Kimonos. Made in j.a.pan. j.a.pan? He read the reverse side. Washing instructions. Machine wash, delicate cycle, cool. No bleach. Tumble dry.

Brows knitted tightly, Dane dropped the robe on a chair and moved toward the door. He hated not being able to understand the meaning of the words. Washing garments by a machine? Surely they would be shredded in the process? And tumble dry? In what, and how? He wasn't about to make himself look the imbecile by asking Tess.

He paused, his hand on the door latch, listening before he opened it. Cautiously he peered out, then stepped into the corridor and made his way topside. Dane answered to no one, was questioned by even fewer, yet for Tess, he realized, he would go to any lengths to see her spared any more ridicule.

He needn't have worried, for the crew of the Sea Witch adored her. Without realizing it, she'd won over their barnacled hearts, and there wasn't a soul aboard that would not lie down and die for her. She'd saved their lives, the captain's, and most important, she'd forgiven their malicious behavior.

Tess woke slowly, a dreamy smile curving her lips as her hand reached out to the pile of covers, searching. When she found the s.p.a.ce beside her cool and empty, she opened her eyes, propping herself up on one elbow. Despite her disappointment at being alone, Tess smiled, f smoothing the sheet. Last night was wild and exciting. Nothing like she'd ever imagined it could be. She 157.

flushed at her own aggressive behavior, flopping back on the pillows. That's what I get for being celibate for over five years, she thought. All that stored up s.e.xual anxiety. Reality crashed into her sensual memories with the force of a slap.

Captain Blackwell was no longer the eccentric, but truth. I'm living in 1789, she admitted again. The previous day skittered through her brain with amazing clarity. The winch, Mr. Potts, the battle, and the blood. A shiver pa.s.sed over her when she remembered how close Dane had come to death. What would I have done? What do I do now, she agonized, her emotions swelling, eyes burning. Tess sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and rubbing her face. Get a hold of yourself, Renfrew. Lamenting doesn't help, tears accomplish nothing. You're stuck here. Adjust your thinking. Jesus. Two hundred years, she thought, standing and reaching for her robe. She paused, her hand outstretched. Carefully placed across a chair was a crisp burgundy taffeta skirt, a black sash, and a beautifully embroidered burgundy silk blouse, delicately trimmed in matching lace. Corset, chemise, stockings, petticoats, the works-again. And all in a deep wine pink. Tess frowned. There certainly is an abundance of women's clothing on this vessel, she thought, annoyed. d.a.m.n pirate, plundering women's shops, no doubt.

Washed and dressed, Tess decided she'd rather go barefoot and nudged the slippers under the bed. She pulled up the bedcovers, tucked and fluffed, realizing she wasn't ready to go above. After plumping the same pillow a third time, she grabbed up a hair brush and went to the window bench, sinking onto the velvet.

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I'm here to stay, she thought, or at least until another wall shows up. Get real, Renfrew. The chances that it happened in the first place were one in a trillion. So what if another black wall did show up? she debated, dragging the brush through her hair. Who was to say she would pa.s.s back into her own time or into another? Would she go forward? And how far? The 60s? The 70s? The nineteenth or twentieth century? What if she did find the wall and was transported further back? Maybe to another location? Should she take the chance of finding herself in a worse situation?

No, for now, she was here in 1789, the Caribbean. She'd make the best of it. A smile curved her lips when her gaze settled on the carpet. It seemed she'd already managed that.

Tess still hadn't gathered her courage to go topside when a knock sounded.

"Come in," she called, searching for something in her bag to pin up her hair.

Duncan peered his head around the door, and she smiled brightly.

"Good morning, Duncan."

His hands occupied with a tray, he shouldered his way inside. "Be near half past four bells, mlady, but good mornin' to ye just the same."

Tess spared a quick look at the sky as she twisted the braid into a bun. I must have slept over twelve hours, she thought, then looked back at the old man. "I guess it won't do me any good to insist that you call me less?"

He set a tray on the table with a firm clink. "It certainly would not."

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"Didn't think so," she muttered as he drew back the cloth. "You know, Duncan, you don't have to wait on me like this." She waved at the tray, a lace cuff fluttering. "I've been taking care of myself for a very long time."

'Then 'tis about time you're to be pampered," he said in a no-nonsense tone, snapping open the linen napkin and gesturing for her to sit.

She did, and when he went to place the napkin on her lap, she s.n.a.t.c.hed it. "I'm not a child," she reminded, then ordered him into a chair.

He grinned, dutifully taking the seat across from her, thinking what a lovely sight she was for his tired eyes. Fresh and energetic. It was no wonder the captain-he frowned, suddenly lost in thought. The young buck had taken advantage of her, Duncan concluded, knowing the captain's way with a pretty wench. And Duncan would make certain it would not happen again, duly appointing himself her guardian. At least till vows were spoken, he added silently. His brows crunched tighter. Duncan admitted that the la.s.s didnt seem to be upset by anything that had happened the day before. Not like he'd witnessed in females of the past. One ripple in their delicate world, and it was a b.l.o.o.d.y week's worth of vapors and swooning and whining- "Did you hear me, Duncan? h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?" She waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to McPete?"

He blinked, flushing. "Beggin' yer pardon, miss. I-"

She laid a hand over his. "You okay?" He looked puzzled. "Forget it," she waved, offering an apple slice. "I asked about the men, the wounded."

Duncan sighed, his features smoothing out as he allowed her to coax him into sharing her meal. " Tis fine 160.

they are, la.s.s. Don't you be fashin' yerself none. Most are mannin' their stations now."

"Not Mr. Sikes?" she questioned, amazed at the fort.i.tude of Dane's crew.

Duncan grinned. "Restin* in the sun, as ordered, miss." The burly sailor was likely telling the tale of her heroics for nigh on the tenth time this day. "Good. I want to see him later." Duncan was nibbling on a biscuit when Dane stepped onto the threshold, his gaze settling immediately on Tess. She stared. He offered her a lopsided grin, and her heart skipped a beat as she drank in the masculine sight of him, her imagination running amok with sizzling memories of fiery kisses, slick skin, and-pleasure.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and in that instant knew where her priorities lay. She had to convince him that she wasn't insane, that she really was from the future. In a heartbeat she could prove her story, with what was in her bag and the bag itself, but for reasons Tess didn't want to examine too deeply, she needed Dane to take her at her word. To believe in her.

And it wasn't going to be easy, she decided, recalling how angry he'd become at the mention of the subject before. Dane Blackwell would not accept the truth as gospel, and Tess knew she couldn't convince him in one sitting that she'd actually traveled from the future. h.e.l.l, she hardly believed it herself. What she had to do was put doubts in his mind, questions he would be forced to ask her. Only then could she tell him everything.

"Good day, m'lady," broke the extended silence, his voice deep and rough.

"h.e.l.lo, Captain." For one ridiculous moment Tess wondered if she'd forgotten her shirt with the way he 161.

was looking at her.

"Evening, Duncan," Dane added, stepping inside and moving toward his desk.

The chair sc.r.a.ped back as Duncan abruptly came to his feet. "Evenin', Captain Blackwell," he stressed, the sharp tone drawing Tess's attention.

Dane paused in flipping the pages of a ledger. A brow arched. The servant looked like an armed guard, eyes hard, jaw set.

"If yer finished, la.s.s, I'll escort you topside," Duncan said while glaring at his captain.

Dane scowled at the pilot rudder. "I wish to speak to Lady Renfrew, Duncan. You may leave," he said, then turned a page.

Duncan didn't budge an inch.

What the h.e.l.l is going on? Tess wondered, rising slowly, her gaze shifting from one man to the other.

"You are dismissed, Duncan," Dane repeated, seating himself at the desk and dipping a quill into the inkstand. He began making entries in his log.

Tess could see it was an effort for Duncan to comply and not to speak whatever was on his mind. He picked up the tray, his knuckles turning white with their fierce grip.

Tess laid a hand on his sleeve. "Pve never seen you like this, Duncan. Can you talk to me?"

He sighed, his features softening." Tis fond of you I am, la.s.s. An' I'd never forgive meself if I be doin' poorly by you."

Tess frowned, even more confused as he reached out and touched her cheek, then quietly left them alone.

She looked at Dane. "Any idea what all that was about?"

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He set the quill in its holder, sprinkled his writing with sand, then relaxed back into the leather chair. His gaze made a lazy parade over her body as he spoke. "Aye. Duncan appears to be upset with me. For reasons I've yet to fathom,"

Her heart skidded at the sultry look. "But you don't even care, do you?"

"He has a tendency to mother," he explained, leaving his chair and coming around the side of the desk.

I can't let him touch me, she thought, yet couldn't move a muscle as he neared. Before she could draw back, he grasped her arm, pulling her sharply into his embrace and kissing her hungrily. He plundered her mouth, pushing his tongue past the ivory barrier and sampling her sweet energy. He licked, nipped, then swallowed her low moans. G.o.d, I'm drowning, he thought, wild for the feel of her.

Tess sagged against him, looping her arms around his neck and answering the demand of his lips. Why fight it now? She was melting, turning all b.u.t.ter soft inside as his hands molded over her curves, mashing her to his hard length. She was breathless and dizzy when he drew back.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "G.o.d's teeth, I've been aching to do that since I left you this morn."

"Gee. Could have fooled me," she panted.

"I apologize if I've caused you any undue discomfort."

"Not really, but you certainly say a lot with those dimp-hey, what's the matter?" He was looking at her so strangely.

He brushed a fingertip across her lips, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did I hurt you, la.s.s?"

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She frowned, leaning back, totally confused. "What do you mean?"

Briefly he closed his eyes and sighed. The questions that had destroyed his concentration today must be answered, "Last night-there was a bit of blood, yet I felt no maidenhead when-"

"Whoa, wait a minute, Blackwell." She pushed at his chest, not hard, but enough so he got the message and let her go.

Tess turned away, gathering her composure, discovering it was difficult to locate when he was near. Why did he have to open this subject? Why? d.a.m.n it, her past was her secret to keep buried.

"Christ, youVe got your nerve, buster," she said in a tight voice, her back to him as she stared out the window.

Dane felt her anger even from across the room, yet couldn't seem to stop the words, "Tess, I do not mean to pry-"

"But you will," she cut in. "And I d.a.m.n well resent it!"

A muscle worked in his jaw. "I have the right to know the whole of it, woman."

"Oho, no you don't, Blackwell." The words dared him to push her. "That's just your male ego talking." She paused. "I suppose you were expecting a virgin?"

"Nay, and it did not matter."

She scoffed. "At the time - "

"And even now, Tess. I swear it!"

"Then why are you doing this to me?" She rubbed her forehead. "Listen, Blackwell, you've had other women in your bed and I don't question you, so don't force the issue, okay?"

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Dane reached for her, pulling at her arm until she turned toward him. She kept her head turned in the opposite direction, refusing to look him in the eye. Tenderly he cupped the curve of her jaw and forced her to meet his gaze. It was then that he saw the glistening of tears in her pewter eyes, the utter humiliation written on her face. *

"Ah, Tess," he murmured softly, pulling her into his arms. "What in G.o.d's name did he do to you?"

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

"He used me," she whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear. "Used me like I had no feelings to hurt." She buried her face in the crook of his neck and cried, a quiet sound of shame and regret. His hands, warm and soothing, rubbed up and down her spine. His touch was hesitant, but gentle. So gentle.