A Most Unconventional Courtship

Chapter Twenty

‘I did not trust you.’ Alessa made herself meet Chance’s eyes squarely. Strangely she felt worse inside now than she had at any time since she realised she had been tricked aboard the Plymouth Sound. Everything she felt for Chance seemed to be wrapped around her heart so that she could hardly breathe. ‘I insulted and abused you—can you forgive me?’

He sat beside her on the bed, awkward because of his bound hands. ‘You have been alone for a very long time and life has not been very kind. Why should you trust me? I certainly cannot blame you for what you believed.’He hesitated and his smile was rueful. ‘But it hurt.’

‘Hurt!’ She snatched up the word, taking it literally. ‘You are hurt and I am lying here, doing nothing! Turn around, put your hands close to my right one and I will untie you.’

But one-handed, twisted round against the restraint on her other wrist, she could do nothing with the viciously thin twine. She knew she must be hurting him, although he only betrayed it with a sharp intake of breath when her nail dug into his raw wrist.

‘Hopeless—try to see if you can free me.’

But Chance’s efforts were as futile. ‘Silk, I see,’ he commented wryly, as he struggled with the hard, tight knot. ‘Your pirate admirer treats you well. No, I give up; we need a knife.’ He sank down on the bed next to her again. ‘You say he has proposed marriage?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Alessa allowed her head to rest back against the wall for a moment, wishing she dare rest it on Chance’s shoulder. He seemed to have forgiven her. She clung to that hope, but dared not risk rejection.

The struggle to free them both had left her shoulders aching. At first the position had not seemed too uncomfortable; now she longed to be able to lower her arms and bring her hands together. And Chance must be in an even worse state. ‘I think he must be mad if he believes he can get away with kidnapping three English ladies. My uncle and Sir Thomas will have the entire fleet after him.’

‘The fleet will have a hard time catching him in the midst of the Albanian mountains. Alessa…’ Chance turned his head to look into her eyes. He was so close she could see the individual whiskers of the stubble on his unshaven face. ‘Has he touched you?’

‘Other than hit me on the chin? No, I understand what you mean. Nothing untoward has occurred; he appears to think he is irresistible and has only to wait for me to fall into his arms.’

Chance gave a snort of laughter. ‘I know, he informed me so himself when I promised him that if he tried to rape you I would kill him. However, Zagrede maintains that, such are his powers of seduction, you will succumb. He appeared to find my indignation amusing.’

‘Succumb? I will do no such thing,’ Alessa said indignantly. ‘Why, you would have more chance of seducing me with one hand tied behind your back than he has.’

There was silence. Chance’s pupils widened and Alessa heard his breathing hitch. ‘I have both hands tied behind my back.’

‘Chance, you can’t—’ She got no further before his mouth crushed down on hers by the simple expedient of him leaning forward and allowing his momentum to carry them both down on to the pillows. He shifted his weight, unable to balance by using his elbows. Instinct made Alessa part her legs so that he was cradled between her thighs. The unfamiliar, masculine weight created a tense tingling sensation at the base of her belly that she had never felt before, any more than she had felt the full length of male arousal pressed hot and hard against her secret softness.

She moaned a little, half in fear of her own response, half in anxiety that she might not please him

. Her wrists strained inwards against the bonds, but she could not touch his head or stroke his hair as she longed to. Then the heat of his mouth claimed all her attention. He was angling his lips over hers, seeking to find a position where he could control the kiss without being able to use his hands. Alessa felt the tip of his tongue teasing at the join between her lips and parted for him, shuddering in delight as Chance traced the sensitive flesh for a tantalising moment before plunging in, ravishing her mouth with the heat and the thrust of his tongue.

She might be inexperienced, but Alessa understood only too well what this invasion mimicked, and her body understood as well. Without conscious thought she arched up against him, pressing against the impossible, terrifying size of him.

‘Oh, God, sweetheart, I want you so much,’ she could hear the whisper, husky against her inflamed skin as he shifted, licking and nibbling his way down her throat to her shoulder, down to the swell of her breasts.

‘I want you too, Chance.’

He said nothing, only murmured something against her skin as his mouth swept lower and his lips and teeth began to tug and worry at the edge of her light lawn gown. Then he found the drawstring that gathered the neckline, nipped the end of the ribbon in his teeth and pulled. The bow came free and he teased at the fabric until it fell away, exposing the fine line of her camisole.

‘It…ties…the same way,’ she gasped, struggling against the overwhelming urge to rock her pelvis against him.

Chance was growling softly with either frustration at her clothing, or desire, she had no way of knowing. And then the chemise was free and he was suddenly still, gazing at the white curves of her naked breasts.

‘You are so beautiful. Before, in the sea, on the beach, there was so much sensation, I did not look closely enough at you. So lovely, so perfect.’ He dipped his head and began to shower tiny kisses on to the soft flesh. Alessa could feel her breasts become fuller, heavier. Everything seemed to throb and yearn, every part of her body wanted him to touch it.

The sudden shock as he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard until it peaked sent her bucking against him, her indrawn breath rasping her throat. The act seemed to send a dart of sensation deep into her belly, deep between her thighs as she twisted and strained against him.

She moaned, her head twisting on the pillow as Chance switched his attentions to the other breast, teasing that nipple into aching arousal in turn. Something was building inside her, tense, demanding, unfamiliar. Desperately she gasped, ‘Chance, please. I don’t understand…but I want something, I don’t…’

‘Hush, sweetheart, I know.’ His voice was soothing and she quietened, despite the anguish as his mouth left her breast and his weight slid off her. Too weighted down with sensation and strangeness to move, she lay limply, arms outstretched, passive to whatever he chose to do to her next. This was Chance, she trusted him, she loved him—nothing else mattered.

The sudden cool air on her legs brought her out of her trance. He was drawing the hems of skirt and petticoat up with his teeth. Bemused, Alessa craned her neck to try and see what he was doing, then fell back with a gasp as she felt his kiss on the inside of her thigh.

‘Chance, what are you doing?’ There was no answer as the trail of kisses moved higher. He pushed her gently, the feel of his hair on her skin unexpectedly soft. The message was unmistakable—quivering with mingled excitement and shyness, Alessa parted her thighs. What is he doing, surely he cannot mean to kiss me there?

But he did, and not just kiss. Alessa stifled a cry as the flick of his tongue parted her, sought out the core of those overwhelming sensual demands that were clamouring at her now. She could hear panting, and realised it was coming from her own throat; she knew she should stop him, stop this outrageous, immodest…‘Chance, no…oh, yes, yes!’