Sea Mistress (15 page)

Was it her fault that things in their relationship had gone awry? Perhaps he'd believed she would change her mind. Perhaps he'd believed she had doubts about marrying him and that was why he wouldn't marry her before he went.

Bess closed her eyes. Seth was stroking her hair, and it felt wonderful. The horror of her near-rape by Geoff Conrad faded as she became aware of only the captain and the magic of being in his arms.

She sighed with pleasure. Seth's heart tripped in its beat as he continued to play with her hair. He slipped his hand beneath the hair at her neck, caressing her nape. When Bess slipped her arms about him and rubbed her breasts against his chest, he groaned softly. “Elisabeth . . .”

She glanced up, a peaceful expression on her face.

“Where did he hurt you?” He didn't want to upset her, but he wanted to know the whole truth.

She flushed and looked down. Daringly, Seth placed gentle fingertips on her right breast. “Here?” he said huskily. “He hurt you here?”

Bess nodded, unable to say a word as a frisson of feeling shot out from her breast to titillate each of her nerve endings, making every inch of her hum to life.

You should take his hand away. You shouldn't let him touch you. You shouldn't want him; he rejected you . . .
But her inner voice was drowned out by the roaring of her pulse and the wild thunder of her heartbeat.

Seth hadn't released her breast. He couldn't resist fondling her soft flesh, rubbing her nipple, which hardened to a tiny nub. She had nothing on under her shirt, and the heat of her warmed his blood and started a fire in his loins. His desire was fueled by the knowledge that she had yet to stop him from touching her.

How many other men had caressed her like this during the past five years? She'd been a virgin when he'd first lain with her, but in all that time since had she found another lover, one who could make her cry out with pleasure, who could prompt those wonderful little whimpering sounds she made deep in throat when she was aroused?

The idea of another man in Bess's life upset him, and he didn't know why, because what they had once had was dead. Over. He had no claim to her. He shouldn't even be touching her like this, but he was unable to help himself.

Seth moved his hand to her other breast. “Did he hurt you here, too?”

She nodded, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Let me see.”

“No!” Her head shot upward, and she looked at him with panic.

He simply watched her, holding her with his gaze, hoping she would lose her fear and trust him again.
Once you trusted me enough to let me take you. Remember how it was by the pond, all those wonderful nights we lay together in the tall, sweetscented grass?

And he kept stroking her breast, willing her to feel pleasure, enjoying the feelings that touching her again created within him. What was it about her that made her different from all other women? Why, after all these years, did he still want her so badly?

Seth let go of her breast to caress her cheek. Her skin was silky soft and had acquired a light golden color from the few hours she'd spent daily topside, in the sea-magnified intensity of the sun. She closed her eyes, and her dark lashes were feathery wisps of sable against her smooth cheeks.

Bess knew she shouldn't let him caress her, but as long as it went no further she would allow it, for she enjoyed his hands on her cheek, her breasts.
My God, what kind of wanton am I that I let him do this to me after what he's done?

He continued to caress her—her neck . . . her shoulder . . . the underside of one breast. Bess felt herself transported to the past. She was lost in the memory of how wonderful it had been between them, how very much they had loved one another.

 

 

. . . They had been meeting secretly for three nights and she felt comfortable with Seth. Their lovemaking made her feel alive and womanly. She now knew how it felt to desire someone and to be desired in return . . . and loved. The experience at the time had been so exhilarating, so wonderful, that it was almost frightening to her.

That night, like now, Seth had caressed her breasts, but he'd murmured love words to her, and she'd been naked with the moon above shining down to bath her aroused form—and the evidence of Seth's desire—with a soft, white glow. It was the first time Bess had dared to touch the most private part of him without invitation, to study and fondle the heated length of his hardening manhood. Seth's low groan had emboldened her to rise up and press him back against the cool grass. She kissed him—his mouth, his throat . . . every inch of his sinewy body.

She had learned how it was to feel power while making love, how to please as well as be pleased, how giving pleasure escalated her own desire. Seth had been surprised, but not opposed when that night and in the coming nights of their two short but glorious weeks together, she had been the one to initiate some of their lovemaking. In fact, he'd been extremely pleased.

Seth's hand moved to her belly, jerking Bess from her mental visit to the past. “Let me touch you, Bess,” he said, his voice hoarse and low.

He was already touching her, she thought. But she knew what he meant . . . he wanted to touch her more intimately. He wanted for them to make love.

Her whole body cried out, “Yes!” But reason hovered in her consciousness. “We shouldn't.” She thought quickly for a good excuse. “The men . . .” Seth smiled. “They will not think a thing. Most of them are gone. The rest are too busy, for I've set them to task.”

She wanted to kiss him, to feel again his warm mouth devouring hers, but she knew she shouldn't—couldn't, not without the risk of being hurt again.

She wondered what had happened to her anger and thoughts of revenge. What magic did Seth possess that he could make her mind feel muddled, make her forget so easily?

He was so handsome. His dark hair was a little long, curling at his nape. He had sideburns which he neatly kept, and his jaw was angular but smooth-shaven. She stared at his mouth. His bottom lip was fuller than the top one, but only slightly, barely enough to notice. She noticed these things, because she'd known him so intimately once, because attracted to him as she was, she couldn't help but notice.

And as for his eyes . . . had she ever seen a man with a clearer, bluer gaze?

She was studying him, her thoughts busily cataloging each of his features when he suddenly bent his head and kissed her, not once but several times . . . small brief kisses that left her aching for more. His breath was scented and warm, and his tongue when he finally delved it past her lips was flavored with brandy . . . and a taste that she remembered as belonging to Seth.

He wasn't rough, but gentle. Yet, his kiss was demanding all the same. Geoff Conrad had managed to kiss her once, and the experience had been terrifying. Seth's tenderness now helped make the memory of Conrad's kiss fade. Desire curled in Bess's belly and heated her blood.

She kissed him back. She wove her fingers into his jet-black hair, holding him captive while she participated in the love dance of nipping teeth and dipping tongues . . .

Seth raised his head to come up for air. His breath was labored. Bess could hear it as well as her own ragged breathing, and she knew she should stop things before they went any further— before they went too far and she found herself beneath Seth, naked, on his bunk.

But, suddenly, Bess realized that that was exactly where she wanted to be. It had been so long since she'd experienced anything this wonderful, and she wanted to know what it was to make love again—to feel her mind and body shatter into exploding bits of wild ecstasy.

“Bess,” he murmured. “I missed this. I missed you.”

She stiffened, for, to her, his words rang false.

“What's wrong?” he asked. He must have sensed her dismay.

“I hardly think you could have missed me these past five years.”

His smile was twisted. “Has it really been five years? It doesn't seem that long ago.” He traced her forehead with his fingertip, and she pulled away, unwilling to allow his touch.

Seth's smile became a brief frown. “Actually,” he said, touching his lips to the area he'd just caressed, “it seems like I've been wanting you forever.”

She blinked, shocked by his words yet mesmerized by his voice. “You have?”

Apparently encouraged by her response, he touched her again, and brushed back a golden strand of hair from her face. He nodded. “I have. I've fought it, but it was there since the day I first saw you on board the
Sea Mistress.
I was hopelessly ensnared once again.”

“You seemed angry with me—like you hated me.”

He sighed. “I was angry with you. And why shouldn't I have been? You were a complication on board that I hadn't counted on.” Then, he gave her a tender smile. “But that didn't mean I didn't feel desire for you. My God, I hadn't seen you for five years, yet nothing in my imagination could have prepared me for your beauty. You've aged well, Bess.”

She arched her eyebrows. with amusement. “Thank you—I think.” She studied him a moment. “You have, too.”

A flame lit up his blue eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Seth released her abruptly and stood up. Bess was puzzled by his sudden change of manner, and she felt chilled outside of his embrace.

“There will have to be a change on board ship if we're to avoid another confrontation such as the one you suffered with Conrad. I've thought long and hard on this, and have come to only one conclusion. It's not one you'll like, but I believe it's the only choice.”

“Yes?” She eyed him warily, because his behavior suggested that he was uncomfortable with his decision.

Seth prowled about the room, clearly in a state of agitation. “While I was on shore, I met a missionary—a Mr. Charles Dunnon.” He stopped before her. “We must get him to marry us. As my wife, no man on this ship would dare bother you or touch you. As my wife, you'll be safe.”

Bess rose and stared at him, aghast. “Are you out of your mind? After all that has happened between us and after all these years? You can't seriously expect me to agree to be your wife!” The word alone gave her gooseflesh.

“Damn it, Bess! How else do you expect me to protect you?” His eyes sparkled with anger. “I told you I've thought long and hard on this. Do you think I'd suggest this if there was another way? Only as my wife will I know you're safe.” He caught her by the shoulder. “Think of it. You'll be free to roam the deck. You can even visit the galley if you want to.”

Dear God,
she thought,
he has no idea what he's asking of me!

“It will be a marriage of convenience only,” he said, revealing that perhaps he did have some idea. “We can have the marriage annulled once we reach San Francisco.”

“On what grounds?” she challenged. She wondered if it was really so easy to get a marriage annulled.

She saw Seth's mouth tighten. “On what grounds do you think!”

Bess took a large breath. That the marriage was never consummated? It was the only reason she could think of. But was it possible? What proof would they need? They certainly couldn't use the fact that she was still a virgin, for he had taken that from her years ago.

“It would never work. We'd never be able to get an annulment.”

“It would work,” he insisted. “Who is going to argue when we tell the circumstances of the marriage?”

She moved to put distance between herself and Seth. The topic of conversation between them was upsetting enough without being in the disturbing near-vicinity of Seth Garret. She couldn't think, couldn't reason when she was close to him. Her body still pulsed from his caresses. Her lips still tingled from his kisses.

Bess eyed him from the other side of the cabin. What game was this man playing?
First he tells me he desires me and then he asks me to marry him— a marriage of convenience in order to protect me.
Were his soft words and fiery caresses a means to an end? An act to get her to agree?

And if so, why? So that he could seduce her again, make her his mistress while at sea?

The painful past returned at that moment to haunt her, and she realized that Seth was manipulating her so she would agree.

“No,” she said. “I won't marry you.”

Seth tensed. “And why not? I thought I'd explained it all quite well. It seems the best solution, given the circumstances. I've thought a lot about it, and I've come to the conclusion that it's the best solution.”

“Best solution for whom? You? So that you can legally order me about?” Bess shook her head. “We've made it this far, and we'll make it the rest of the way. I'll take my chances without such protection, thank you. I'll not be your wife.”

He stared at her with a look of impatience. “Why are you being so disagreeable?”

She laughed harshly, bitterly. “You've just kissed me and professed great desire for me. You tell me how much you missed me, and suddenly I'm supposed to agree to be your wife?” She appeared distressed. “There's too much past between us. I don't trust you. I don't trust your motives.”

Had he somehow learned that it was she and not George Metcalfe who was the owner of the company? Or was it just a suspicion? Had he realized that through marriage she could lose all she held dear? A woman had very few rights when it came to her husband. He'd said the marriage would be temporary, but how could she be sure of this? How could she trust this man who had let her down once before?

“No,” she said, digging in her heels. She wouldn't allow him to do this, to trap her this way.