Castaway Dreams (34 page)

She assured her surgeon she would never discuss outside of the cabin what he said or wrote about the sailors, or what diseases he treated.

"They would be uncomfortable knowing you knew which of them were suffering from various ailments, especially the diseases of Venus."

Daphne blushed at his words but also felt a secret spurt of satisfaction that he was conversing with her like an adult, and not like some fresh out of the schoolroom miss.

He looked over her work, and he appeared, not unhappy, but bemused.

"Daphne, there are hearts dotting the
i's.
"

"Oh!" Daphne's hand flew up over her mouth and she giggled. "That is my habit, Dr. Murray."

He turned his journal sideways.

"Is it also your habit to decorate your work with...is that a rainbow? And a puppy?"

"I think a little decoration helps make the reading more interesting, don't you?"

"The only thing I expect to see pictures of in my journals are dissected organs." He sighed. "I suppose I can live with it."

Daphne stretched her cramped fingers.

"Here, let me see," Alexander said, taking her hand in his. His hands were strong, and when he held her hand she felt a feeling unlike any other. She loved his kisses and thrilled to their lovemaking in the bunk, but an act as simple as her bare hand in his felt--it felt like something that could last a lifetime, not just a momentary flash of pleasure. He stood next to her, and she felt his warmth, and inhaled his scent--clean, and earthy, and real.

He caressed her fingers, opening them, flexing them, turning her hand over in his. He rubbed where a tiny callus was forming from holding the pen, then raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, not on the back as a greeting, but at the wrist, at the pulse that she felt speed up beneath his firm mouth.

A gasp escaped from her own lips and he raised his eyes, dark and full of those emotions that did not show in smiles or laughter, but were kept only for her. It made her catch her breath, and made her heart melt.

"Oh my," Daphne said, as the realization of these new feelings struck her. She would have to think about this, but right now she was too distracted by what his mouth was doing to her.

Unfortunately, he stopped doing it.

Alexander stood straight and took a step away from her, wiping his hand across his brow.

"I--I did not mean to take advantage of the situation as I did. We must be careful, and avoid further complications."

He could say that after the way he made her feel when she was in his arms? He wanted to stop, again? That was not going to happen, not if she had anything to say about it! Daphne took a step toward him.

"Alexander, if you feel this way every time you kiss me, it is going to be a long and uncomfortable voyage. There is no going back, not after last night! That sheep has already left the barn!"

"Horse. That horse has left the barn, Daphne."

She grabbed him by the lapels of his coat.

"This is no time to be discussing the habits of livestock! Kiss me!"

So he did.

His mouth felt as delightful on her lips as it had on her wrist and she gave a little sound of satisfaction, and maybe even triumph when he opened for her, and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to him. She went willingly, eagerly, into his embrace. Now that she knew what she wanted--Grumpy Doctor Mister Alexander Murray--she was prepared to use every weapon in her arsenal of flirtation and a lifetime of coquettishness to convince him to see her as someone he'd let draw rainbows in his journals for years and years to come.

She knew he wanted her. He demonstrated that over and over again most effectively last night. She would not let him run away from her, not when she was working so hard to keep him.

"We should return to our cabin," she murmured when he pulled his lips away from hers and began tickling kisses down her throat, across the expanse of skin exposed by the wide neckline of her sailor's shirt.

"This cabin door has a lock on it," he said, his deep voice rumbling over her senses, that slight burr tickling her nerves much as his tongue sent shivers over her skin. "And there's no animal here."

"But this is the sick bay, Dr. Murray."

He straightened up and looked around, and when he looked back at her there was heat in those hazel eyes.

"So it is. Which means it is an ideal place to give you a most thorough examination, Daphne. Now, remove all your clothing. No giggling, this is serious business."

He was being silly, but he was also being, again, highly rogerable, so she stepped away to follow his directions. Besides, she liked it when he was silly. She suspected it was a side of him no one else in the world was privileged to see, and that made her feel special indeed.

"I need help out of my clothing," she said.

He latched the door, then looked at her sternly, arms crossed over his chest.

"You are not wearing a dress that fastens in the back, Daphne, you are wearing men's clothing."

"Oh. Does that mean you won't undress me?"

He put his hand on his chin and rubbed it reflectively.

"I think you should demonstrate for me how you dress--and undress--yourself in these garments."

She almost giggled again, but as she
was
feeling overly warm, taking off her clothes sounded like an excellent idea. And he was watching her so intently.

She looked down at her bare toes that moments ago had been curling when she was being kissed so expertly. She'd been promised shoes by Mr. Sails, who said he could cobble something together before they were in colder waters, but for now her clothing was not complicated at all.

Nonetheless, she took her time, thinking about how to do this most effectively. She brushed her hand across the wide neck of her shirt, easing it away from her collarbones, then sweeping her hand down, slowly, across her breast, demonstrating just what a close fit the tight garment was. So close that when she moved her hand down she felt the point of her breasts, her nipples pulled tight and erect against the fabric. It felt good to touch herself that way, and the man watching her made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like he approved as well. She glanced at him from under her lashes. Oh yes, given the condition of his trousers he very much approved of what she was doing.

"This shirt is so tight," she said, her voice coming out soft and breathy. "I may have to wiggle my way out of it."

His eyes gleamed and, yes, that was definitely an upturned corner on that luscious mouth.

"You do whatever you need to, my dear. I am a patient man."

He said that, but he looked tense as he watched her take the bottom hem of the shirt and slowly lift it. There most definitely was wiggling involved to pull the tight shirt over her head, but she finally managed, and the look on his face said it was worth the effort.

"Now the trousers," she started, but he stepped closer, and put his hands on her hips.

"I can assist you with that," he said in a low voice.

"You don't need to."

"I think I do," he said, his hands brushing up across her ribs, down to where her waist curved in. They paused at the buttons, then moved up again to her breasts, enveloping her, cradling her.

"You were beautiful last night in the dark, but to see you now, in the light, to see my hands on you, it is better than anything I could imagine."

His thumbs rasped across her nipples and she arched into those hands. Daphne put her fingers behind her neck, lifting her hair, lifting her breasts higher into his grasp, and she held herself still, bound by his touch as surely as if she'd been bound with shackles.

She braced her legs wider to balance as the ship soared across the Atlantic waters, bringing her closer to home, closer to all those problems that would appear when she was back in England. For now she was here, in this cramped space with this wonderful man, and she intended to seize every moment of happiness she could. People thought her shallow and flighty, but she'd had her share of pain in her life. It left her knowing happiness was something you grabbed. People you loved could die, or could be disappointed in you, which caused its own little death inside your soul.

Alexander cared for her. She saw it when she saw the smile in his eyes, when she felt his hands on her body, so careful, so capable, and she released her hair and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his head down to kiss her.

Daphne could spend all day in Alexander's arms, enjoying the feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue sweeping inside and causing her to rise up on her toes and hold him tighter, even as his hands finished with her trouser buttons and her garment fell to her feet.

He pulled her against him and she felt how much he wanted her, how his own needs overcame his constant thinking with that large brain of his. She approved, and let him know with her mouth, and her hands, and her own whispered words that what he was doing now, with his mouth on her breast felt like heaven--

"Mr. Murray? Are you in there?"

They both froze at the voice outside the sick bay. Alexander raised his head, his hair mussed and falling across his forehead and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the door.

"It's locked, isn't it?" Daphne whispered.

He nodded, but he was focused on the door and the passageway beyond. Now there was a second voice.

"What is it, Turnbull?"

"The door to the sick bay is latched, Mr. Fuller. I saw Mr. Murray in there a while back and I was going to ask him about this rash on my arse."

Alexander put his finger up over Daphne's lips when she would have said something. The latch rattled on the door.

Alexander sighed and leaned his forehead against Daphne's.

"If we are very quiet maybe they'll just leave?" Daphne whispered hopefully.

"Pull up your trousers, Daphne."

The voices from the passageway continued to drift in, more sailors milling about as Daphne yanked up her trousers. She was not happy about this, not at all! Didn't those sailors have a ship to steer, or sails to reef, or something else to do besides annoy her?

"Why do you think the door is latched?"

"I saw Mrs. Murray go in there with him earlier."

Daphne paused as the passageway went silent, the men out there no doubt mulling this latest development over in their little waterlogged minds. Alexander sighed again and ran his hand through his hair, giving her a vaguely apologetic look.

Daphne stamped her bare foot and glared at the door.

"I am receiving an examination from Dr. Murray! Go away!"

The silence was profound. Alexander gave her a look of disbelief, and in a moment she knew why.

"I think he's futtering her."

"Do you think she's a screamer? Or one of those who makes kinda squeaky noises?"

"Mr. Fuller, why aren't these men at their tasks?"

Now Captain St. Armand was standing there, too. Daphne gave up, and pulled her shirt on over her head. Her hair had come unbraided, and was flying about, the curls springing to life in the sea air. Alexander put his own clothing to rights.

"Mr. Murray is in there with Mrs. Murray. And the door is latched," Fuller said gravely. "We are concerned, Captain. She says she is receiving an examination from the surgeon, but they may need our assistance."

"Mr. Murray? There seems to be some disagreement out here as to what you two are doing in that cabin. Perhaps you could open the door and clarify it for us?"

It struck Daphne how ridiculous their situation was, and her giggles escaped.

"See? She's laughing. I think they're futtering."

"I don't like it when they laugh while we're futtering," one of the pirates said grumpily.

"You shouldn't take it to heart, Peanut."

"Mrs. Murray likes shanties, gentlemen. Why don't you sing something to help her pass the time during her examination?"

"Short-haul or capstan, Captain?"

There was much snickering at this, which made Alexander frown and say something under his breath.

The sailors took the captain's suggestion and started in, singing "Juliana" with enthusiasm, led by Norton, the shantyman.

"Ignore them, Daphne. Come, let me help you with your hair."

Alexander efficiently braided it back up and tied it with an equally efficient bow. He looked down at her breasts, again covered by her shirt, and sighed before he tilted her chin up with his fingers and gave her a brief kiss.

"Later, Daphne," he said before again running his hands through his hair and stepping over to unlatch the door.

Daphne peeked around his shoulder. The crowded passageway was full of sailors staring at them expectantly.

"It occurs to me, Captain St. Armand, that your men might benefit from a good dose of salts," Alexander said, which cleared the area of lingering crewmen.

Captain St. Armand just flashed Daphne a blinding smile.

"I trust all is well with you, Mrs. Murray?"

"I would be happier if your men had not interrupted us while Dr. Murray was giving me my examination, Captain. He is a serious surgeon and should not be distracted from important tasks!"

Daphne looked at that serious man out of the corner of her eye, but his gaze was on the deck above them, lips pursed.

Captain St. Armand smiled again. He did that a lot. Maybe too much.

"I understand, Mrs. Murray. A man of the surgeon's years might not be able to perform up to expectations if he is distracted."

She tugged down the hem of her shirt, which brought both men's eyes back to her until Captain St. Armand spoke again.

"Is everything in your sick bay satisfactory, Mr. Murray?"

"For the most part, Captain, though I am short of medications."

"I hope that will be the only difficulty you encounter, Mr. Murray."

"Are you anticipating the need for battle surgery?"

There was a drawn out silence as the two men looked at each other.

"These are dangerous waters, Mr. Murray. You know that from your service with the Royal Navy. Even with the war over, there are still brigands loose who would attack merchant ships. Merchant ships such as this one. I am always prepared."