Castaway Dreams (31 page)

He pulled in a deep breath, his lungs aching, and realized he had not been breathing while focused on the crisis above. He turned his head to see Daphne's eyes full of concern for him.

"It is all right, Doctor. He did not fall."

Alexander was about to say something to reassure her when he saw Captain St. Armand watching him intently.

"Mr. Murray? Do you need assistance?"

Captain St. Armand glided over and Alexander shook his head, but Daphne spoke up.

"Dr. Murray is afraid of heights, Captain--"

"Daphne, that's enough!"

His words came out harsher than he intended, and both of them looked at him, Daphne with hurt and St. Armand with satisfaction. The pirate looked up at his men, then back at the couple.

"All's well, Mr. Murray. Conroy did not fall and splatter himself like an overripe melon on the deck--are you sure you do not want to sit down, Murray? You look shaky."

"I am fine," Alexander said, as calmly as he could. He tugged at his coat, ill-fitting over the shirt the crew gave him. Captain St. Armand was also wearing a jacket now, this one a rich blue that perfectly matched his dark-rimmed eyes, the gold buttons gleaming in the light reflecting off the waves from the setting sun, the lines of it expertly tailored to his lean form.

They were both barefoot, at least they had that in common. Alexander had never had occasion to compare feet with another man, but for some reason it made him feel better that his foot appeared larger than the pirate's.

The captain favored Daphne with one of his overly bright smiles.

"Is everything in your cabin to your satisfaction, Miss Farnham?"

"Oh yes, Captain St. Armand," Daphne said, but then she glanced at Alexander sidelong. "You are supposed to address me as Mrs. Murray, Captain."

She was distracted from her thoughts by Pompom tugging at his leash.

"Thank you for sending Mr. Norton to me, Captain St. Armand. He has been most helpful with my darling Pompom."

St. Armand reached out a hand to Pompom, who bared his fangs, a low growl issuing from his tiny chest.

"Good boy," Alexander said to the dog. "He is quite protective of his mistress," he added for St. Armand's benefit.

"His mistress has nothing to fear from me," St. Armand said, but he was watching Alexander.

Alexander was tempted to bare his own fangs, but refrained. His goal was to make it to England in one piece, alongside Daphne. Then Daphne could resume her life and if she made bad choices about men again it would not be Alexander's concern.

Right now though, she was his concern and his responsibility.

"Come, Daphne, let us leave the men to their work."

Captain St. Armand favored them with a bow, but as they walked off Alexander could feel the pirate's eyes on his back.

The sailors were in a jovial mood, anxious to return to their homes. They raised anchor, the sails filled with a fresh wind, and Alexander found himself and his companion at the stern, silently watching their island paradise slip away from them.

"I want to return some day," Daphne said in a low voice.

"Do you? Perhaps you will become a famous authoress and travel the world for your books."

"What a wonderful idea," she said, looking up at him with an expression that did odd things to his respiration. "If I am a famous authoress I will need a husband who understands my particular talents and desires."

Alexander looked at her, and took her hand in his. When they returned to England he imagined she would begin a regimen of creams and lotions to smooth her skin out, but now her hands felt real to him, soft, but strong and capable.

"Do not ever forget that, Miss Farnham. You need a husband who understands you are your own person, unique and talented in your own right. Do not settle for less."

"I won't, Dr. Murray," Daphne said solemnly, looking deep into his eyes. He broke away from her gaze to look back at their island, disappearing into the dusk and the distance.

"If you were naming it, what would you call it, Doctor?"

Paradise. Heaven. Eden.

"I would give you the honor of naming this island, Miss Farnham."

"It seems so small, but while we were there it was just the right size, wasn't it?"

"You will make other homes for yourself, Miss Farnham. Your home is where you are content, and that can happen anywhere if you make it so. It can be in the middle of London, or on an island, or even on a ship at sea."

Daphne looked at him, her face serious in the evening air. The wind blew out strands of hair from her braid and he saw she still wore her colorful ribbon at the end, sadly faded now, the colors he'd woven for her running together. But she would not give it up, not even when Alexander offered to braid her a new one from the pink satin.

They stayed up on deck, enjoying the evening air. After the sailors took their meal they brought out an assortment of musical instruments to entertain themselves and their guests. One African whose face bore the ritual scarring of his homeland had a small drum, a sailor with a brogue coloring his speech had a tin whistle, and Conroy played the fiddle.

Daphne sat on a crate covered with a quilt to cushion it and she laughed when Pompom stood at her feet and began dancing to the music.

"I did not know your pup was so talented," Alexander said, watching the animal pirouette and stand on its hind legs.

"I see one of your guard dogs dances, Miss--Mrs. Murray. Would you care to dance as well?"

Light-footed Captain St. Armand was standing behind Daphne, smiling down at her, but before she could answer Alexander said, "Mrs. Murray was about to favor me with a dance, Captain St. Armand."

"I was?"

"Indeed you were," Alexander said, helping Daphne to her feet. She cocked her head to the side, listening to the music.

"That music is in waltz time, Dr. Murray. Do you know the waltz? It is my favorite!"

"Then it will be my favorite also."

Daphne looked up at him as he took her into his arms, a quizzical grin on her face.

"What a charming thing to say, Dr. Murray! I vow, you are becoming quite the gallant."

Alexander said nothing to this, concentrating on the music. Yes, he'd waltzed when ashore. On occasion he'd been invited to balls and assemblies, even a surgeon being a useful man to have when the navy was expected to provide gentlemen at entertainments. But he'd never felt the music, the dance had never mattered so much until this moment, aboard this pirate vessel.

He saw Captain St. Armand out of the corner of his eye as he swung Daphne into the dance, a cynical smile playing about the captain's lips. He was competing with Alexander, and Alex wasn't about to back down from that challenge, not when the prize was his to protect.

And for the moment, the prize was his to cherish. Daphne felt so right in his arms, her face turned up to his, her soft lips slightly parted and beckoning in the lantern light.

"You are smiling, Dr. Murray."

"I do not believe I am, Miss Farnham."

"Yes, you are," she said dreamily. "I see smiles in your eyes."

They moved on the deck, drifting in and out of the lantern light as the music swirled over the water. The moon rose over the horizon, shining a silver ribbon along the waves and Alexander felt as if all his life he'd been waiting for this moment, this dance, this woman.

He lowered his head, wanting to taste those lips again, but a voice broke through his dreams.

"Play a livelier tune, Conroy, one we can all enjoy."

The music stopped, and Alexander stopped, and Daphne stopped and frowned, not at him, but at the captain who'd interrupted their interlude.

"May I have this dance, Miss Farn--Mrs. Murray?" he said to her now with one of those toothy smiles.

"You must to excuse me, Captain St. Armand. I am fatigued after our long day and wish to retire now. Dr. Murray?"

Alexander offered Daphne his arm and they turned their backs on the pirate, but not before he saw the man's look of bemusement. He probably did not have many ladies rejecting his invitations as neatly as Daphne had.

* * * *

Daphne smoothed down her dress, the pink satin warm beneath her hands. Shadows filled the cabin in the low light of the lantern near the bunk. When Pompom came over to investigate she sent him back to the ragged quilt folded in a corner of the small space for his bed.

She bit her lip now, watching the door. She hated being in a situation where she did not know the correct behavior. She wore her special satin dress that she'd promised herself she'd wear, but now she was unsure. How did one go about seducing a surgeon? Nothing she'd experienced in her past prepared her for her dealings with Dr. Murray.

Dr. Murray. Alexander. She liked that better. Such a noble name! And it matched his commanding presence, his air of competence. He looked like he could conquer nations, or diseases, or small tropical islands. When he'd stepped into their cabin this afternoon, his face clean-shaven and free of the white whiskers that covered him ashore, he was everything rugged and manly. It had been all she could do not to walk over to him and run her hands over the strong bones of his face, down his corded neck, across that wide chest and even lower to the trousers that were too small for him.

He was annoyed by that, she knew, but she found it delightful and mentally hugged to herself the image of him, the snug garment revealing his form in a manner that had her imagining all sorts of naughty behavior.

And he danced! Who would have thought grumpy old Dr. Murray waltzed? She hummed to herself the melody the sailors played, remembering it, cherishing it.

The door to the cabin swung open and Daphne stopped humming. She stood next to the bunk, staring at Dr. Murray, who silently watched her. He closed the door behind him, and it was quiet but for the night sounds of a ship under sail.

Daphne swallowed as an entire flock of butterflies took flight in her stomach. She'd made up her mind. She was not some weak miss to be tossed about like a rag doll, never taking charge of her own life. She was strong, and capable, and she knew how to boil an egg. She could do this.

Alexander still wore his shirt, his coat under his arm. The sailors had brought a hammock earlier and it was rolled and leaning against the wall, waiting for him to string it up, but that was not going to happen, not if she had her way.

He said nothing, still, as she crossed the tiny cabin that felt suddenly as wide as the entire Atlantic, a journey of few steps filling her with trepidation, and excitement.

When she stood in front of him, so close she saw the gold and amber and emerald colors of his eyes, she reached for his hand and placed it on her breast, over the lush satin, where her heart beat so loudly she knew he would not need to put his ear to her chest to hear it. His hand was warm, and strong, and she put her own hand over his, holding him there.

"Miss Farnham, what is this?"

Her heart and all those butterflies fluttered down to her feet.

"Don't you know? Dr. Murray, I thought you surgeons had to know all about parts of people!"

His eyes crinkled and his hand tightened slightly, which felt incredible.

"No, that's not what I meant--Daphne, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

He watched her a moment longer, but he did not remove his hand, not until he brought his arm around her waist, pulling her to him, and then he moved his hand to the back of her head, cradling it against his shoulder. She wrapped her own arms around him and inhaled, feeling delightfully warm and safe, his powerful arms around her, his heart beating in a steady rhythm.

And she could tell from where he pressed up against her that, yes, it was working. It was working wonderfully.

They stood there in the silent cabin, the noises outside of their little world reminding them that they weren't alone here as they were on their island paradise.

"You are not doing anything, Dr. Murray. Except holding me. Which is very nice, but not as nice as when you kiss me."

"I am thinking, Daphne."

He stroked her hair as he said this, the hair she'd unbound and left loose around her shoulders and down her back. It felt so good, but she wanted more. Much more.

"Stop thinking and kiss me, Dr. Murray."

He did. It was everything she wanted a kiss from Alexander to be. His mouth moved on hers, coaxing her lips open, enticing her into allowing him into her heart just as he was enticing her to open for his tongue, his hands moving on her satin-clad back, easing down to her hips, a move that made her shiver with delight.

He raised his head, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, the planes of his face harsh with the tension she felt in his body. She looped her hands behind his neck and looked up at him, and she felt a smile pulling the corners of her lips, but then he shook his head.

"I want you, Daphne Farnham, more than I want my next breath of air, more than I want life itself, but this would only complicate our situation and make it harder to say goodbye later."

Daphne moved her hands up through his thick hair, the silver and russet curling over her fingers, and he closed his eyes and a sigh seeped out from between those lips locked now in a grim line.

"Daphne..."

"Open your eyes and look at me."

He did, and he looked miserable, but he was still holding her, caressing her back above the satin fabric of the dress, a move that made her want to purr and rub herself against him.

"You are always insisting that anything could happen and our lives are short. I do not know what will happen tomorrow, and neither do you, Dr. Murray. But I know what I want to happen tonight. You promised me a night of passion on the island. I want my night."

Daphne licked her dry lips and his eyes followed that movement, and she heard him suck in his breath, and felt his chest move. What a marvelous thing the body was! Daphne was glad to be alive, glad not to have a brain fever, glad not to be drowned in the ocean, glad this stern man was with her, sharing her adventure.

She tightened her grasp and pulled his head closer to hers, but he hesitated, a breath away from her lips.