“Jesus!” He tossed the nightgown away and jerked her into his arms. “Chauncey, love,” he said, his fingers frantically pulling the pins from her hair. Thick mahogany waves flowed over his fingers down her back. She doesn’t want sex, he told himself, willing himself to believe it. She’s frightened and needs reassurance. She needs to reaffirm that she’s alive.
He managed to hold to his reasoning until Chauncey suddenly thrust her belly against him and grasped his face between her hands to bring his mouth to hers. “Please,” she whispered wildly against his lips, her body moving frantically against his.
He knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, knew she was trying to wipe out what had happened. It was all shock, reaction. It was . . . Her tongue thrust into his mouth and he moaned.
“You’re my wife,” he gasped, the simple truth making him wild with need. “My wife.”
He felt her hands on the buttons of his shirt, tugging frantically. Without another word, he lifted her into his arms and laid her on top of the velvet spread. He stepped back, his eyes searching hers, and practically ripped off his clothes. He stood naked beside the bed for a moment, and watched her eyes rove down his body. They widened at the sight of his thrusting manhood.
“Please,” she whispered, and held out her arms to him.
He covered her body with his, kissing her wildly, and she responded mindlessly, her hands digging into his shoulders, stroking down his back to his buttocks. Over and over she whispered, “Please, please . . .”
His hand slipped downward to probe the softness between her thighs, and he quivered at the hot wetness of her woman’s flesh. She was nearly beyond herself when he thrust into her. The instant he filled her, her body burst with her release. Her climax was so powerful she nearly bucked him off her, harsh cries erupting from her throat. She screamed his name and held him to her when his body exploded with his own climax.
Delaney felt as though his soul had been ripped from his body. He couldn’t stop kissing her, caressing her, telling her how much he needed her. Slowly she relaxed beneath him, her thighs easing from their grip on his flanks. He stared down into her face and saw that her eyes no longer held the blind, dazed look.
He watched her pink tongue nervously wet her lower lip. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
He did, but for the moment, words were beyond him, words and rational thought. He kissed her again, deeply. To his besotted surprise, he felt her respond, felt her thighs tense.
He rolled onto his back and set her astride him. He watched her face as his member, hard and ready, thrust up, deep into her. Shock, bewilderment, and rampant desire. He grasped her narrow waist and moved her up and down on him, teaching her the rhythm. Her full breasts, their taut pink nipples thrust out as she arched her back, quivered when he caressed them. When his fingers glided downward to probe and find her, her dazed mind, emptied of all fear, released her yet again and she cried out harshly, her hands splayed on his chest, clutching at him as her body released her.
Her wild response triggered his own body, and he held her fiercely, plunging deep within her.
Slowly he eased her forward until she lay stretched flat on top of him, her luxurious hair flowing over them both like a silken blanket. She seemed senseless, beyond passion now, beyond her fear. He stroked her back gently, saying nothing, and soon her breathing evened into sleep. Good Lord, he thought as his dazed wits returned to normal. Never before had he made love with such involvement, such . . . commitment. It had not really occurred to him that Chauncey would be unresponsive to lovemaking, but this . . . this utterly wild abandon . . . He shook his head slightly, stilling when she moaned softly in her sleep. Don’t be a fool, Del, he told himself, smiling crookedly. It was her fear, her need to escape for however briefly from what had happened, that had erased all her inhabitions. Still, he felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure and male accomplishment. A woman’s pleasure, a precious, elusive thing, a challenge to any man. Not much of a challenge this time, he thought ruefully. It had been she who had taken him.
He wrapped an arm around her back and eased upward, grabbing a blanket to pull over them. She burrowed against him, and he laughed softly at his own predictable response. He did not sleep, for his mind quickly began to sift through all that had happened. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a soft rap on the stateroom door. He gently eased a sleeping Chauncey away from him and rose quickly, grabbing his dressing gown.
He opened the door and looked into Captain O’Mally’s worried face. “Well?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing, Del, nothing. Jesus, he might even be one of the crew for all we could discover. Could Mrs. Saxton tell you any more?”
“No, she’s sleeping now. I’ll speak to her again in the morning.”
Rufus shook his head. “I have to agree with Brent Hammond. It’s a damnable mystery. Look, Del, all of us have enemies. Do you think someone could have tried to hurt your wife out of revenge, to get back at you?”
“It’s possible,” Delaney said, but he didn’t believe it.
“What about Baron Jones? I know you had a run-in with him . . . what, last year? I heard about the duel. I saw him on the dock today. Perhaps he’s on board . . .”
Delaney flexed his shoulder unconsciously, his body remembering the pain of the bullet that had torn through his flesh. As for Baron Jones, he would limp for the rest of his miserable life. “No,” he said shortly, “he didn’t stay.” He smiled crookedly. “Anyway, I can’t imagine the baron running. He’s a fool and a bully, but not a coward. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Rufus. Thanks for checking.”
Captain O’Mally nodded and took his leave.
Delaney turned thoughtfully to see Chauncey, her hair tumbling about her pale face, struggling to a sitting position. “What is going on?” she asked, her voice vague with sleep.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said, forcing his eyes away from her bare breasts. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“All right,” she said, and sank back against the pillow.
17
&nb
sp; “Here, sweetheart, drink this.”
Chauncey eyed the cup and saucer held out to her and shimmied up to a sitting position.