Blake leaned over and covered her nipple with his warm mouth, licking until every bit of cream was gone. Sapphire moaned, writhing under him as he did the same to the other nipple. There was something incredibly erotic about the coolness of the cream and the heat of his mouth that sent her body and her mind spiraling.
But this time, he showed no mercy. No matter how much she begged, Blake took his time, touching, caressing, licking. Sapphire lost all control as again and again he brought her to the edge of the threshold of pleasure and then eased her back again. When at last they coupled, Sapphire found herself laughing and crying at the same time as she found fulfillment. Then, when both were satisfied, she curled up in the crook of Blake’s arm and allowed him to cover them with a blanket—and she slept.
It was nearly five in the morning when Sapphire woke and slipped out of Blake’s bed. She did not wake him because there was no need for confrontation. All the same, she couldn’t stay. Nothing had been resolved between them. She would not stay with a man who did not love her.
Refusing to allow herself even a single tear, she pulled on her trousers and shirt, slipped into her boots and grabbed her coat on the way out the door. As she eased into the dark hallway, she allowed herself only one glance back.
Blake lay asleep on his back, his arms flung to his sides, his hair dark against the white pillowcase, his sensual lips slightly parted as he inhaled and exhaled.
Smiling, fighting tears, she drew her fingers to her lips. “I love you,” she whispered, and then she was gone.
Sapphire walked the New York City streets until the hour was decent and then she entered a pawnshop where a narrow-faced man with bad teeth asked no questions when she offered her fine coat and trousers in return for a simple pair of boys’ tweeded knee pants, a burlap jacket, a dirty cap and a few dollars. He allowed her to change behind a curtain in his back room. Again on the street, she headed in the direction the shopkeeper had pointed her—the wharves. She was going home.
Tears filled her eyes as she stuffed her hands into her pockets, lowering her head against the wind whipping between the tall buildings. Without the money she had hidden in the tack room under a floorboard back at the farm, it was not going to be easy, but she was determined. Nearly penniless except for the money she had earned from the race and money from the pawnshop, she was going home to Lucia and Angelique if she had to swim to cross the ocean.
Down at the docks, Sapphire moved from ship to ship making inquiries as to anyone headed for England who might be in need of a cabin boy. When a man with a patch over his eye and fish breath told her the Sally Mae was looking for kitchen help because their boy had fallen overboard the night before and drowned, she thanked him. Tugging on her felt cap, she headed for the Sally Mae, a schooner out of Bristol.
Sapphire found the ship’s cook on the deck of the small transport vessel overseeing the loading of crates of chickens and geese. He took one look at her, inquired as to her health and then gave a nod. “A might skinny, but I guess you’ll do,” he grumbled. “‘Least you won’t eat much.” He pointed to the crates of chickens still on the dock. “Whattaya standin’ there for? Get the blessed chickens on board, boy.” He hooked his thumb behind him and spat a long stream of tobacco over the side of the rail. “We sail on the afternoon tide.”
Hours later, Sapphire was standing on the deck beside the cook, trying to stay out of the way of the lines as they were thrown from the dock onto the ship. She saw Blake an instant before he saw her, and she seriously considered diving off the ship and swimming toward England.
“Wait! Wait!” Blake shouted, running down the dock. “You! On the ship! Sally Mae, wait!”
One of the sailors just beginning to pull up the gangplank peered over the side to the dock. “Cap’n,” he called. “We got a gen’leman sayin’ to wait ‘ere.”
Sapphire glanced around her but there was nowhere to go, no place to run, and to dive into the water would have been pure stupidity. Anger flared in her as she knotted her hands into fists and turned away so as not to have to see the exchange about to take place between the captain of the ship she had nearly escaped on and Blake Thixton.
“Sir, are you the captain?” Blake called up, shading his eyes against the afternoon sun.
The captain nodded, pulling off his hat, recognizing in an instant that the fellow in the black frock coat and top hat was an important man. “Yes, sir, how might I help you, sir?”
Sapphire couldn’t resist turning her head, curious as to exactly how he would explain himself.
“Sir, my son. You have my son on board. A red-haired young fellow.” He touched his neck. “Hair to here. A slight boy.”
Had she not been so angry that he had found her, Sapphire might have laughed. Blake Thixton was a man who could think quickly on his feet, she would give him that.
The captain turned to face the cook still standing beside Sapphire. The cook raised his dirty hands. “The lad was lookin’ fer work, Cap’n. I didn’t know he was a rich boy run away.”
“Please. No harm has been done,” Blake hollered up, sounding every bit the concerned father. “Just send him down. If I don’t return him to his mother by sunset, I’ll not be able to return at all.”
The captain chuckled as he signaled for the deck hand to lower the gangplank again.
“Go ahead, lad,” the captain said good-naturedly.
Sapphire stood her ground for a moment, her jaw set. Surely there had to be some way to avoid this. She didn’t want to argue with Blake on a dock, she didn’t want to embarrass him by telling h
im she couldn’t be with him because he didn’t think she was an honest woman. Because he would never love her.
“Go on, do’s the cap’n says.” The cook gave her a push.
Sapphire walked slowly across the deck. When she reached the gangplank, Blake was standing on the dock, as handsome as she had ever seen him, looking tall and regal in his proper coat and top hat.
“Come along, Sam,” he called, offering a hand.
Sapphire slowly walked down the gangplank. At the bottom, Blake grabbed her arm and began to walk her away briskly. “Thank you,” he called. “Safe sailing!”
She walked beside him in silence until they were far enough away that those on the Sally Mae could no longer see them.