‘That was a mistake, no one knew who you were. Melville just grabbed you when I threw you at him, and anyway, he got knocked unconscious when that cannon went off and I didn’t speak to him again until after I had seen you.’
It seemed that all she had to concern herself about was her own future. ‘It is all under control, then? All shipshape and navy fashion?’ He nodded, smiling, and got to his feet. ‘And what about me?’
‘I’ll talk to lawyers tomorrow, and then the Governor. We’ll get your inheritance back, Clemence, never fear. We’ll find you somewhere to stay safely until it is all over.’
She stood up. ‘And when it is?’
‘I meant it, Clemence. With the best will in the world, I don’t think your reputation is going to survive this scandal. We’ll go back to England and I will marry you.’
‘Out of the goodness of your heart?’ she enquired, trying to keep the bitter edge out of the question. No, it would not happen. He was going to put all this into the hands of lawyers, sail off and leave her, and she would never see him again. Because marrying a man who proposed to you out of decency and kindness was impossible, even if—especially if—you loved him.
‘Because I would like to.’ He frowned at her as though the sincerity in his own voice had taken him by surprise. ‘Clemence, you have come to matter to me. You know I desire you, that has never been in doubt. I’m too old for you, of course—’
‘Nonsense!’ The protest was jerked out of her before she realised how betraying it was. Nathan looked down into her face and took her hands.
‘Ten years and a great deal of experience older than you, sweetheart.’
‘I don’t consider that,’ she murmured, suddenly shy. ‘Isn’t there anyone else?’
‘No one, I swear. England will be difficult, I know, but you will come to like it, make friends. Won’t you take pity on me?’
‘Take pity on you? Your friends will say you are the one to be pitied for marrying a ruined woman who had been on a pirate ship.’
‘No, my friends will love you.’
And will you love me? she wondered, her hands curling into his. Would he learn to love her? She would make him a good wife and perhaps he would, in time. She had never been able to envisage the man she would marry; now, here was one she desired, one she liked and she loved. It seemed he shared the desire and the liking. Was that enough? It was more than many couples had, she knew.
‘If…Yes. Yes, I will marry you,’ she said, suddenly as dizzy as if she had thrown herself from the peak of the mainmast.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Clemence.’ It was a sigh, and on the breath Nathan kissed her, his mouth certain, his grasp that of a man claiming what was his. Passive, unsure of what he expected, she let him explore her mouth, his lips shifting over hers, his tongue fretting over the join of her lips until she parted shyly for him. And then that shaft of desire pierced her, just as it had when they had kissed in anger and passion on the ship and she opened for him, drew him in, tasted and savoured and arched herself against the maleness that was going to be hers.
His hands cupped her behind, lifting her to him on tip-toe so she was in no doubt of how aroused he was as he shifted against her, setting up a rhythm that made her moan against his mouth.
Her hands went to his head, her palms tingling with the friction of his unfamiliar, short hair, traced down the tendons of his neck, then up, skimmed lightly, tenderly, over the wound on his forehead, found the strong whorl of his ear and played for a moment with the lobe, wondering hazily at her own desire to take it between her teeth and nip. There was so much to learn and Nathan was going to teach her and the lick of fearful anticipation only added a delicious edge to that thought.
The half-awakened sensuality Nathan had stirred in her, her own imaginings, the heat and strength and sureness of him were coming together to transform her body that she thought she knew so well into an aching, urgent, desperate thing of liquid heat and tingling nerves. And this, this dizzying sensation, she knew was only the beginning.
Slowly, he lowered her so her feet were flat on the ground and freed her mouth. Clemence opened her eyes and found his, looking as dazed as she felt.
‘I think,’ Nathan managed, sounding like a man who had been running, ‘that we may find we are very compatible in bed.’
‘Isn’t it always like that?’ Her fingers had curled around his forearms, seemingly of their own volition, but he did not seem in any hurry to move away.
‘Not in my experience,’ he confessed. ‘Clemence, I must go.’
‘Must you?’ she murmured, unable to free either her hands or her eyes.
‘If I do not go now, I will not be able t
o.’
‘Then stay.’ The blue of his eyes darkened, whether with doubt or desire she was not sure. ‘Nathan, we are going to be married and I do not want to be alone tonight.’ She managed a smile, a quite successful one under the circumstances, she thought. ‘I am used to sleeping with you now.’
The way her lower lip quivered into a smile undid him. It was all there in that smile and in her green eyes, locked with his. Innocent passion, trust, the need for comfort. Who was he protecting by rejecting her, leaving her to face her memories alone while he walked off to his room in the smug certainty that he had done the right thing, the virtuous thing?
Nathan wrestled with the doubt that he was justifying doing what his own desires were clamouring for. He had got the strength to walk away, he decided. If he wanted to.