Cachet (15 page)

He used every ounce of control to keep his voice soft, knowing she needed gentle persuasion now. "I'll be patient as I can, but you well know it's not my strong suit." When she gave him a shy smile, he pressed his lips to the back of the hand he still held in both of his. "I shall try to be kind and understanding, try with all my heart to make you happy. Now Rachel, will you marry me?"

Cursing her own weakness, she gave the only answer she could. "Yes."

Chapter 12

Rachel stared at her left hand with something akin to awe. A dozen times since the ceremony that afternoon she'd glanced at her ring finger for confirmation she wasn't dreaming.

But she knew better. She'd actually gone through with the shipboard wedding and now heard drunken sailors cavorting on the decks outside the small cabin she shared with Morgan.

He saw her glance down at her ring. "The gift you wouldn't accept back in London was a necklace," he explained. "I returned it and commissioned the jeweler to copy my signet. The first time I held you in my arms and kissed you was the night we went back for my ring. Seemed appropriate that same ring should symbolize you sharing my life and name. But if you'd rather I buy you a traditional band or a gemstone—"

Rachel bestowed a soft kiss on his lips. "It's perfect. You couldn't have chosen anything better."

He smiled, but pressed a finger to his lips as he moved to the bunk. He lifted the mattress and pointed to a slim wooden case. His voice was a low whisper. "My dueling pistols. Always take them along when I travel. You'll sleep against the inner wall. I'll take the outside. If anyone should somehow manage to get inside this cabin, he'll have to get past me and the pistols to reach you."

"You're making me nervous again."

"You were already nervous, for an altogether different reason." Rachel met his knowing gaze and nodded, all at once uncertain what to do or say. The bunk was all she could think about, both with trepidation and a certain measure of excitement. But a woman didn't admit such things.

"Well, 'tis said a new bride must be given a few moments of privacy. Close the curtains 'round the bunk and prepare for bed. I'll check the stove and the bolt on the door."

A bundle of tissue paper lay on the one he'd designated as her pillow. She gingerly opened the package, discovering a nightgown of rose silk. Its simple design tied at the neck, then flowed from shoulder to ankles in one unbroken spill. She quickly undressed and put it on, emerging from the bunk moments later to stand quietly before her new mate. Masculine appreciation shone in his smoky eyes.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. "I...appreciate your thoughtfulness. I didn't know I'd need a trousseau when I packed for this crossing. I'm afraid you wouldn't have been—"

"Surely you know I'd adore you in anything or nothing. Especially nothing."

Her cheeks flooded with warmth. "I hadn't anything nearly this lovely."

He was seated at the table. He leaned forward. "See, there are some advantages to being swept into an unexpected union Bring me your hairbrush." She gave him a questioning look, but complied. He accepted the brush and positioned her in front of him, then began drawing the brush through her long tresses.

"A bride should know her spouse finds her beautiful and desirable." He paused and took a deep breath. "I think you're enchanting." His lips were close to her ear as he said, "I've longed to brush your hair like this." He stroked her hair until it shone in the lamplight. He closed his eyes against his mounting sexual arousal. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, his stiffening manhood in her warmth. Join with her in the most primal way.

"Morgan." Her voice was a soft whisper. He opened his eyes to find hers locked on his face. "You've been kind, even though I wasn't earlier today. I'm sorry I reacted so badly at first. It's time I stopped thinking of you as my employer and landlord." She gave a small shrug to signal helpless confusion. "It took months to become comfortable with Morgan instead of 'sir.' Now you're more than a friend or mentor, you're my husband."

The word proved his undoing. He rose and pulled her into his arms. "Rachel, I can't be patient any longer. I want you too much."

She didn't resist when he blew out the lamp and propelled her to the bunk. She climbed under the quilt and waited for him. He stripped away his garments. The bunked creaked and she felt him reach for her.

She went easily into his arms and pressed herself against him, running her hands over his bare chest. "Morgan, you were right. I've wanted you, too. Wanted this."

The silk gown was buttery soft and slippery. The erotic feel of it against her skin thrilled her as he wrapped his thighs around hers. "Not half so much as I've craved you in my arms, sweetheart." His mouth slanted over hers. Her tongue met his boldly, stroke for teasing stroke. Rachel knew she didn't have to hold back. Her body could tell him what her lips still couldn't say—how much she gloried in him.

He tugged at the ribbon at the gown's neck. The silk parted to her waist. His hands brushed the fabric over her shoulders and down around her upper arms. Rachel drew in a sharp breath as he pushed the bedclothes down. Cold air met her bare flesh, only to be replaced by his warm palms capturing her breasts.

She moaned, reveling in his strong hands laying claim to her. "The day we went riding," Rachel panted, "I thought about this. I wanted to retreat upstairs, lie back on the canopy bed, and let you do this. Do everything."

"I'm glad you didn't," he replied in a rough voice. "It's better this way. Now I can touch and kiss every inch of you. I love you, Rachel.
Wife
."

His hands moved over her stomach and lower belly. Her back arched and she lifted her hips. Her hands caught fistfuls of silk as she slid the gown beyond her pelvis. Morgan took over and pulled it down her legs, then thrust it aside at the foot of the bunk.

Fully nude now beneath him, Rachel wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him with abandonment. She caressed his long torso, drew him down into her softness. He was hard and angular; she all yielding, pliant flesh and tender sighs beneath his hands. Wherever his fingers brushed, there was heat.

"Christ, you don't know how hard it's been," Morgan mumbled. "Even in those damnable widow's weeds, I craved to have you like this, nude and willing. I've longed to taste your skin."

His mouth moved to a taut nipple. His tongue flicked and swirled over it. Rachel whimpered and ran her palms over his bare shoulders. "Easy, woman," he groaned. "Don't make those wanton sounds, or I'll forfeit the last shred of control."

But she couldn't seem to stop the low keening, deny the urge to arch her back and offer him more of her twin aching breasts. Morgan feasted with his hands and mouth, kneading her firm flesh. He sent a trail of moisture from the underside of one breast to her navel. His tongue dipped there and probed. The fingers of one hand slid down to coax her thighs apart.

"Please say you're ready, love," Morgan rasped, "I can't wait. If I don't get inside you now, I'll go out of my mind."

He rose to his knees, releasing a low feral sound of triumph as Rachel spread her thighs and reached to twine her arms around his neck in welcome. He entered her with a measured thrust. Face hovering inches above hers, he gritted his teeth. "I know you haven't been with a man for a long time. Am I hurting you?"

"No, it's…good," she breathed, wrapping her legs around his hips.

"Jesus, too damned good," he grunted, making her gasp as he withdrew and thrust deep inside again. Rachel moaned and clasped his buttocks in her fingers, delighting in the muscular feel of his flesh and the power of his hard body claiming hers.

She had no memories of being naked like this in Cletus' arms. She'd rarely taken off all her garments when they'd been intimate, for Cletus seldom had shown patience to wait until she'd discarded everything. She couldn't remember what it had felt like to move beneath him, but she was certain it had never been this maelstrom of heated sensation and burgeoning desire. She
wanted
this, she acknowledged, with no shame and no fear. She lifted her hips to meet Morgan's thrust. Again and again. But he stopped abruptly and withdrew. "Sorry about that," he muttered as he gave her a chaste kiss. Too chaste, considering what they'd just done.

"Sorry? But I thought making love was what you wanted!"

He chuckled against her ear. "Not sorry for making love, my daft little darling. Sorry I didn't do it longer and better."

"We did what married people do," she shrugged. Aware of a vague dismay, she tried to keep Morgan from sensing it. "Now we can get some rest."

He gave an even deeper chuckle. "Nice try, but you won't put me off with taunts tonight. I'll be ready again soon." He began to stroke the flesh of her bottom with sensual fingers. "The argument earlier, waiting so long, even the knowledge that for the first time I was making love to a
wife
—all that affected me. But I'll prove myself worthy several times before this night's through. Name your favorite pleasure, my lady, and I'll begin anew with whatever that may be."

Rachel pushed him away and jerked upright. "Several times? You can have me every night for months! Why must I let you use me several times tonight?"

"Let me use you?" he repeated numbly. "I'll grant a certain inequity exists at the moment, but it's hardly fair to claim I
used
you, Rachel. It took every ounce of self control not to pummel you into the mattress, as long as I'd been desiring you. This was our first time together. Surely Cletus lasted longer after your first time."

Rachel gnawed at her lower lip. She'd never compared from one night to another. She genuinely remembered very little about lying with Cletus, beyond his crude grabs and the fact she'd kept her eyes closed. And often prayed he'd finish, the sooner the better. No, she hadn't wanted it
longer
.

"It's not fitting to talk about that," she announced firmly.

Morgan agreed. "Perhaps you're right. So hush now and kiss me, Madam Tremayne. I'll stiffen in a trice and we'll give it another go." He rolled her beneath him and slanted his mouth over hers. She pushed against his shoulders until he tore his lips from hers.

She gasped for breath, incredulous. "You aren't serious? Again, right now?"

"You imagined one quick tussle would sate me? After waiting months to bed you? We're going to spend hours pleasuring one another, Rachel. Through the night into the morrow. We don't have to leave this bunk at all, you know. I'm not sure I'll permit you leave it for at least a week." His hands massaged her full breasts again.

This time she flinched. "I realize you're my husband now, so I must submit to your desires, but—"

"Nay, madam." He was suddenly furious, scrambling out of the bunk. "You will not
submit
to me, Rachel Tremayne. You will not
endure
nights in bed with me. If you believe that's your place as a wife, then your first husband was an idiot!"

"See, you're disappointed already!" She curled into a tight ball and fought the angry tears forming in her eyes. She was acutely embarrassed, but also intrigued by what he'd just said. Cletus had been foolish about many things in life. Couldn't this be another? She knew some women viewed sex as enjoyable, and had wondered if what Cletus had shown her was all intimacy could be. All of it had seemed different just now, with Morgan.

She blushed to recall how he'd used his mouth on her, the bold ways he'd touched her everywhere. Cletus had merely fondled her breasts once or twice, then jammed a knee between her thighs and expected her to receive him. If she was lucky. In their later years, he rolled on top of her and penetrated her, whether she'd been willing or not. He'd never licked and suckled....

But she'd reveled in Morgan doing that, and more. She was embarrassed, but curious, too. "Are you upset that I didn't please you?" she ventured.

"Rachel," he admonished without rancor, "you please me. Never doubt that I find you all I could want in a woman. It's nothing you did. I'm irritated by what you said. Your attitude about the whole endeavor." She heard the slosh of liquid.

"Now I made the occasion for you to drink," she observed.

She heard a muttered expletive before the bunk creaked and Morgan was beside her again. She laid a tentative hand on his bare chest. "Can I tell you something?"

"I should hope so. You
are
my wife," he growled. "Damn, but I've a knack for being churlish toward you at times. I don't mean to sound like a boor. Talk to me." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close against his side. "I'll be patient and listen."

"I've always suspected there was something more than...what just took place. I asked Cletus once, but he got upset at the question. It was never wise to push him, so I let it go. But if there's more, would you...show me?" When he didn't speak for a long moment, she shook him lightly. "Morgan?"

"I—I honestly assumed you knew," he said in a hoarse whisper. It was the first time she'd ever heard him stammer, and she realized he must feel awkward too. "Ah, sweetness, I'm sorry. I'll share all I know about pleasure. Do you want to begin now?"

"I want...well, you said earlier I didn't have to be shy after we were married. You know, about looking or—"

He seemed to sense her distress, and laid her hand on his belly. "You never needed to be shy with me, Rachel. Certainly not now. Explore as much and wherever you like, though it's likely to stir a distinct impatience."