Moonwitch

“I want you to make love to me,” Selena repeated quite firmly.

She was in the grip of some powerful emotion, Kyle realized, for he could feel her trembling. Involuntarily, he dropped his gaze to her mouth. It was a tantalizing mouth made to be kissed, generous, with a lush bottom lip that begged for a man’s caress. It was what had made him behave like such a fool that afternoon, Kyle thought, remembering how soft and warm her lips had felt—and how amazed he had been at his enjoyment of them. That kiss had surprised him entirely; he never would have expected the fierce desire that had shot through him. She wasn’t at all in his usual style. He liked colorful, buxom women—ones with no inhibitions and no pretenses. Selena Markham was a definite contrast, with her tresses of spun silver and scent like cool violets. There was little trace of that demure elegance now, but even dripping wet and panting from exertion, she had a mysterious allure he found hard to ignore.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said uncomfortably. “You’re obviously upset, or I wouldn’t have had to fish you out of the sea.”

“I know very well what I’m asking, Captain. And it isn’t particularly flattering for me to have to plead with you. After the way you kissed me today, I wouldn’t have thought you reluctant to continue where we left off.”

Seeing the determination on Selena’s fragile features, Kyle frowned, feeling strangely disappointed. He had thought her a virtuous female, in spite of her response to his kiss earlier. But then, he had once made the same mistaken assumption about her stepmother. The last time he had visited the West Indies, Edith Markham had propositioned him before he had been on the island two days. He had refused, of course, a refusal that had angered the sharp-tongued widow. And now her very proper stepdaughter was offering herself, as well. Such hypocrisy irritated him. Earlier, Miss Markham had slapped him for daring to steal a kiss, but now that no one was observing, she was begging him to take to her as brazenly as any strumpet.

“What must I do to persuade you?” she asked as she reached up to wrap her slender arms around his neck. “Shall I kiss you again?”

Kyle had the definite impression he had lost control of the situation. And he didn’t like where it was leading, either. He didn’t want to become involved with a hot-blooded young hussy who was masquerading as a straitlaced lady of quality. On the other hand, he wasn’t a saint, and it had been quite a few weeks since he had left England and the the red-haired beauty who had warmed his bed. And he was undoubtedly tempted by the warm, slender body beneath him. Oh, was he tempted.

“I’ll give you twenty pounds.”

The offer startled him as much as had the one of her body. “You’re offering to pay me?”

“Do you want more? Fifty pounds, then. One hundred.”

Kyle stared down at her a long moment before he finally shrugged. If she wanted it badly enough to pay him a hundred pounds, she could easily find another man to accommodate her. He didn’t like to think of some drunken lout using her harshly. Come to think of it, he didn’t like the idea of any man using her. She would be wasted on someone who couldn’t appreciate her unusual beauty or give her pleasure in return.

“Two hundred pounds, Captain Ramsey.”

“Keep your money, Miss Markham. I’ll do it for free.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Definitely suicidal, Kyle decided. “You want me to take you here? On the beach?”

“I didn’t imagine you would be so particular.”

“I’m not, but you’re a lady, after all. I thought you might prefer a bed.”

“Here will be fine.”

Still he hesitated, while seawater dripped from his curling chestnut hair onto her pale cheeks, mingling with her tears. Yet there was a reason for his reluctance, he realized, studying her bedraggled appearance. There was something vaguely distasteful about making love to a woman who looked like

a refugee from a shipwreck. He would feel, however absurdly, as if he were taking advantage of her.

When she tightened her arms around his neck, Kyle caught her wrists and held them away. “Not so fast. I don’t like to rush things.”

“Very well, Captain. But I would prefer that it didn’t take all night.”

Whatever happened, Kyle wondered, to sighs and endearments and sweet murmurings, the rituals every woman craved? Feeling annoyed by her cool impatience, he rolled off her and got to his feet. “I’m quite capable,” he said curtly, pulling her up after him, “of entertaining a lady, Miss Markham. And I’m willing to lay bail you won’t have any cause for complaint when I’m done.”

With the ease of long practice, he divested Selena of her wrapper and tossed it onto higher ground, out of reach of the lapping waves, and held out his hand to her. When she seemed reluctant to take it, he wondered if she was going to change her mind.

Selena was indeed having second thoughts about her rash proposal. And she was very much afraid that if Captain Ramsey delayed any longer, she would lose her nerve. Revenge on Avery was hardly an admirable motive, after all. And Kyle Ramsey did look a good deal more intimidating when he was towering over her in all his masculine glory. He was half-naked again, wearing canvas breeches that were cut off at the knee, but nothing else.

“What do you intend to do?” she asked warily, eyeing his powerful, fluidly muscled shoulders and feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach.

“I mean to wash you off. I don’t want a mouthful of sand.”

Selena wondered why he should be concerned about getting sand in his mouth, but she didn’t allow herself to ask as he led her into the surf.

The water was warm and welcoming, the gentle swells sending her muslin nightdress swirling around her thighs. Kyle waded out hip-deep and turned to her. Feeling his intent gaze studying her face, Selena took a deep breath and waited.

His movements, surprisingly, were as gentle as the waves as he scooped up a large handful to let it spill over her hair and shoulders. The warm salt water ran between her breasts, soaking the thin gauze covering once again, outlining shapely peaks that were high and firm, fuller than her wraithlike slenderness indicated. When his gaze dropped to her breasts, Selena quelled the instinctive urge to cover them. She felt indecently exposed without a corset and could feel her nipples growing tight and puckered, whether due to the breeze blowing off the sea or to Kyle Ramsey’s warm regard, she wasn’t sure.