Again that particular word came to mind, along with “possessiveness.” And his powerful feeling of possessiveness had been accentuated by a burgeoning well of tenderness, a sweet ache coming from deep inside him.
More profoundly, he had the sense that everything had changed. There was no longer any question in his mind. Kate would wed him now, regardless of her fanciful notions about love, Brandon vowed. He would make certain of it.
Tomorrow he would present his case to her uncle and aunt. He’d already had one private discussion with Lord Cornelius. In the morning he would have a second and persuade them to let Kate continue the journey alone with him, so he could pursue his courtship without restrictions.
He could count on their support, he suspected. They already knew he was fiercely protective of Kate, that he would never willingly let any harm come to her, and that he intended to win her hand in marriage.
The way to win her hand, however, was not through passion, he’d learned. Somehow, he would have to keep his hands off her—a supremely difficult task after tonight. He wanted Kate to hunger for him, to want him for far more than solace, but he was determined to woo her properly, without seduction.
More than merely wooing her, though, he had to prove a deeper bond was possible beyond mere carnal pleasure. He had to make her realize that no other husband would do for her. And most of all, he had to show her that he was committed to becoming her chosen mate, love or no love.
Kate woke to the gentle surge of the ship plowing through much calmer waters. Blinking at the bright sunlight shining through the porthole window, she glanced around her small cabin. There was no sign of Deverill. He had left her bed sometime during the night, to spare her reputation, no doubt. But as she lay there, his scent lingered on her skin—and in her mind.
She couldn’t regret her rashness last night in pleading that he take her. Her fierce yearning to be with him was initially driven by fear—she had craved the vital, life-affirming intimacy of his lovemaking. She had known their joining would be remarkable, but she’d vastly underestimated how wonderful, how intensely glorious it would be. After the first moments of physical discomfort, there was only overwhelming pleasure, and not just of the physical kind. Kate hugged herself as she thought back on those precious hours with Deverill. The incredible feeling of intimacy—the bond they had shared—had felt deeper than mere carnal relations.
Yes, she ought to have heeded the nagging voice warning to protect her heart. It would have been wiser to wait until she could be assured of winning his heart. But she’d been following blind instinct.
A rush of warmth washed through her now as she remembered his tenderness, his sensuality, his skillful, careful arousal of her uninitiated body. This morning not only were her breasts swollen and the hollow between her thighs keenly sensitive, she felt a sweetly aching awareness in all the places he had touched.
Briefly she closed her eyes as memories cascaded through her. His powerful body moving over her, pressing into her…bringing her alive, setting her on fire.
For years she had built implausible fantasies around Deverill, but he had lived up to every single one. He hadn’t just made love to her; he had joined with her on some deep unspoken level. And she couldn’t help but believe he, too, had wanted, even needed, that perfect closeness between them.
Bestirring herself, Kate rose to wash and dress. As she began pinning her hair into a chignon, she recalled how his hands had tangled lovingly in the abundant mass.
Lovingly. Wishful thinking, perhaps?
Yet this morning it was easier to rekindle her hope for the future that she’d once envisioned with Deverill. The hope that passion could someday spark the flame of love.
She tended to believe that only one person in life was your soul mate. Whether or not that was a fallacy, last night she had felt as if she was meant to be with Deverill. And she longed to fill the same need for him. Perhaps now that she’d been given a privileged insight into his life and the reasons for his determined detachment, she stood a genuine chance of making her dreams come true.
Kate smoothed her gown and took a steadying breath, preparing to face him with renewed resolve. First, however, she needed to check on her aunt Rachel.
Cornelius answered her soft rap on their cabin door. After greeting her in hushed tones, he said with concern, “Rachel did not fare well last night, but she is sleeping soundly now.”
Kate nodded regretfully. “Is there anything I can do for her?”
“Not at the moment. The sooner we reach land, the better.”
“I will let Deverill know.”
Feeling more urgency, Kate climbed the companionway ladder. When she stepped through the hatch, the sea air that greeted her was cool and crisp, washed clean by the storm. The crew was hard at work mending canvas and overhauling the rigging, but otherwise the schooner appeared back to normal: tall, raking masts swaying in rhythm against the June sky, sails billowing gracefully on the breeze. On her port side, the coast of France was much nearer than expected.
The only trouble was, her plan to remain composed splintered the instant she spied Deverill across the main deck. He was speaking to Captain Halsey, but he looked up and froze when he saw her.
Was she imagining it, or was his look more tender than ever before? More admiring? Was the faint smile that touched his lips a sign of welcome or self-directed irony? Was he feeling an inkling of the renewed warmth that flooded her and made her limbs weak?
At his intense look, she felt uncertain, awkward, shy…which was absurd. She had seldom experienced shyness in her entire life.
Suddenly vexed with herself, Kate shook off the uncommon sentiment and went to stand at the railing. Deverill shouldn’t have the power to make her feel skittish as a day-old filly. His scrutiny shouldn’t turn her breath ragged.
Yet she was very glad he was occupied with the captain, and that by the time he did join her, she had herself under control.
“You survived the night, I see,” he murmured.
Instantly Kate felt herself blushing. So much for being in control, she thought, remembering his naked body. “Yes, thank you.”
“It was my pleasure. Have you breakfasted yet?”