Promise Me Forever Page 12

  "Is it safe up there?"

  "Nothing on board a ship is ever completely safe, my lady. But we're taking all precautions. Supper will be cold, though, as all fires have been extinguished."

  The very thought of eating made her groan. “I think I shall pass on supper, if you don't mind"

  He crouched down beside the bed. “No. That would probably be a poor idea, eating before this storm blows over."

  She nodded slowly. “I have to agree with that."

  Smoothing her hair away from her face, he advised, “Try to sleep. It'll help. Do not wait up for me."

  "Will you be all right?"

  He smiled. “I'll be fine, love. Sleep now. By morning, hopefully, this will have blown over."

  She wished she could be as certain. It seemed to her that they had been battling the elements forever, instead of a few mere hours. She wasn't so certain they would ever see daylight again. “What time is it?"

  "Late afternoon. Now, no more questions. Try to get some sleep."

  She snuggled down into the pillow. “Are you certain you will be all right?"

  Drew nodded, standing upright once more. “We will come through this, Heather. Trust me. It isn't the first storm I've ever faced. I will be fine."

  "If you say so."

  He caressed her cheek with tender fingers. “I do say so. Now, sleep.” He bent to brush her forehead with a light kiss. “I'll send Bobby down with that bucket."

  "Thank you."

  "Of course."

  She kept her eyes on him as he tossed the towel over the back of one of the chairs at the table and left the cabin once more. Then she sighed, tugging the blankets up to her chin. Drew hadn't even bothered with changing his clothes and she hoped he didn't catch his death from the rain. She couldn't help but worry about him, terrified that he'd be struck by the lightning flashing all around them, or he'd be washed overboard by one of the huge waves slapping up against the ship.

  Horrified, she watched as a finger of frothy white foam oozed around the window frame and trickled down the wall. A wave slammed into the side of the ship, spray following that single bubbling stream. The Aphrodite shuddered, tilting so sharply that she had to grab the far edge of the bed to keep from tumbling to the floor.

  She tried to sleep, but it refused to come. Every few minutes, a bolt of lightning would illuminate the entire cabin, and she knew the long, low growl of thunder would follow. The anticipation alone was enough to keep her awake. Finally, as the blackness began fading to gray, she managed to doze off.

  * * * *

  The storm raged on through the night, the rain driving down like nails, the wind roaring about them, and the lightning creating fireworks in the sky.

  Drew tossed his wet hair out of his eyes, sending showers of droplets in all direction. He was lashed firmly to the wheel, fighting to keep the Aphrodite on course and upright. Soaked to the skin, he shivered in the cold wind. Every muscle in his body ached. All he wanted to do was sleep. He thought about Heather, tucked safely in his cabin. To hell with sleep, he thought grimly, tossing his head again. I want to be curled up in bed, with her in my arms.

  Gripping the wheel tightly, he threw his weight into it to keep it from turning, but he wasn't entirely focused on his chore. Heather kept finding her way into his thoughts. It'd been happening more and more over the last week—ever since they'd made love that first night.

  He thought about the chair and what it led to and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Heather had no idea the thoughts she placed in his head—thoughts that were lustier than any he'd ever imagined before. He knew he could never get enough of her.

  He squinted through the rain, not seeing a drop of it. He just could not stop thinking about the delicate lady with the chestnut curls and dark moonbeam eyes. She haunted him night and day. When he was away from her, he counted the moments until he could return to his cabin. When he was with her, the time seemed to speed by like mercury.

  It surprised him that he should feel this way. After Rebecca's betrayal, he vowed that no woman would ever engulf him so completely that he lost sight of himself. He would never allow himself to be so vulnerable again. He would keep his heart tucked away safely; indulging in the occasional affair but anything remotely resembling something more serious was strictly off-limits.

  But he could feel his defenses wavering. Heather was there, chipping away at the wall he'd erected around his heart. She wasn't purposely trying; there was just something about her that made him want to claim her as his. She aroused every male instinct he possessed—protectiveness, lust, jealousy—they all roared to life in her presence.

  He sighed, reaching up to draw his forearm over his forehead, pushing his hair up and out of his face again. What was this hold she had on him? He couldn't explain it, wasn't certain he even wanted an explanation. All he knew was that it would be a long time before he even thought about another woman.

  Fifteen

  It was well into the next morning when the storm finally abated. Drew freed himself from the wheel and turned to Bobby, who'd just emerged from below deck. “I'm going to get some sleep. Take over."

  The first mate nodded. “Aye, Captain."

  Drew pushed past Bobby, staggering towards the doorway to the stairs leading below deck. The sea was finally calm, but he still suffered the effects of his ship being thrown about, bumping up against the wall several times as he moved down the corridor.

  He shoved open the door to his cabin and stumbled inside, kicking it shut with one foot. Slumping into his chair, he sighed gratefully, sinking into the deep leather, leaning his head back.

  "Drew?"

  Heather's voice was soft, coming from behind him. He turned his head to the side. “Feeling better?"

  "Much.” She came around the side of the chair, stepping into his line of vision. “Thank you for the bucket, but fortunately, I didn't need it."

  He managed a tired smile. “You're most welcome."

  She gazed down at him. He looked absolutely worn out. His eyes were heavy as he peered at her through mere slits. She gathered her skirts, knelt down, and lifted his right foot.

  "What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with fatigue.

  "Removing your boots. They are soaked."

  He offered no resistance as she tugged off first his right boot and then his left, and set both in the corner. She returned to the chair, taking in his waterlogged trousers and shirt, which stuck to his chest in several places. She paused, pressing a finger to her lips as she pondered whether or not she ought to try undressing him. Her cheeks burned at the thought, and she chided herself for her embarrassment. “Well, it's not as though I've never seen him naked,” she muttered, still staring down at him.

  He opened his eyes a crack. “I can hear you, love,” he said with a sleepy smile.

  The unexpected statement made her jump, but she couldn't help but chuckle at her foolishness. Of course he could hear her. He wasn't deaf, merely sleepy. “Let's get you to bed, then, shall we?"

  He chuckled. “I thought you'd never ask."

  "Very funny."

  Drew yawned, as he sat forward and unlaced his shirt. He offered no resistance as she leaned over to help him tug it off, but he did wince at the soreness spreading from his shoulders down through his arms.

  She frowned down at the red marks streaking over his chest and shoulders. “What happened to you?"

  Another yawn, and he rubbed his eyes before saying, “It's nothing. Merely the result of spending the night lashed to the wheel."

  Without thinking, she leaned over and brushed a kiss over each streak. When she straightened up, it was to find him giving her a quizzical look. “They look painful,” she explained with a smile.

  He couldn't help but grin. “It's not so bad. I'm far too exhausted to even feel it."

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks, but she said nothing as she took his shirt, draping it over the rim of the brass tub in the corner. Then, she returned to the chair and stared
down, faced with the task of removing his pants. With tentative fingers, she reached for the fastenings. Drew grinned sleepily, bracing his hands against the arms of the chair to lift his hips and allow her to grapple with trying to remove the wet trousers and small clothes that were now like a second skin.

  She gripped them as tightly as she could and yanked. They finally gave, sending her skidding backwards across the floor. She landed on her backside with a chuckle, the wet garments plopping on the floor beside her.

  It was all she could do to not stare at his nakedness. Her cheeks grew warm, though, as she couldn't resist taking a peek. His body was so magnificent and he seemed so completely at ease with his natural state. There was no shyness to be found in the man sitting before her, that was for certain. Everywhere her eyes moved, she saw thick bands of corded muscle, sharply defined beneath bronzed skin and soft dark hair. Her embarrassment replaced by awe, Heather gave up the pretense of not studying him.

  He sunk back in the chair, obviously unfazed by her perusal. In fact, he held her eyes the entire time, with only a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Just when she thought she'd go up in embarrassed flames, he gave into his smile and held out a hand. “Help me up, my lady. I fear in my exhausted state I will drop to my knees if I attempt to stand on my own."

  "Liar."

  His smile widened. “Do you wish to take that chance?"

  She wrapped her fingers about his wrist and tugged. He rose easily, but made a great showing of leaning heavily on her for support. She felt the warmth radiating off his skin, which was still damp to the touch, and was almost surprised that steam wasn't wafting up from him. But, those thoughts were shoved from her mind as he sagged against her and she quickly learned that with a man of his size, there came considerable weight as well.

  "You are ... even heavier ... than you ... look,” she grunted, walking him to the bed. “You are a ... bloody giant ... Captain Kennedy."

  "And you are far stronger than you look, my delicate lady. One would hardly believe a tiny slip such as yourself could hold up a—what did you call me?—bloody giant?” His voice was soft and teasing as his fingers brushed the curve of her neck. As she moved to lower him, he grabbed a handful of the lemon yellow silk gown she wore, toppling her against him as he fell to the bed.

  "Drew!” she exclaimed just before her face vanished into the pillow.

  He chuckled, plucking her easily out of the pillow to gather her in his arms. “Ah, my lady, you've no idea how wonderful this is. It was the only thing sustaining me last eve—the thought of lying here with you in my arms."

  She didn't know how to respond to that, as it was quite unexpected. Laying there silently for a long moment, she hugged his words close and then said, “Were you up all night?"

  "I was."

  "Sounds quite uncomfortable."

  "Believe me, it was most uncomfortable."

  She lifted her head. “Would you like me to have Nick heat you water for a bath?"

  Drew gave her another tired smile. “My lady, the last thing I wish to see right now is more water. Besides, if I got in that tub, I'd most likely fall asleep and drown."

  "Well now, we certainly don't want that to happen, do we?"

  "I'd appreciate it."

  "Try to sleep, Drew,” she replied softly, reaching up to brush a black tendril from his forehead. “I think you've earned it."

  "I am a mite sleepy,” he murmured thickly, eyes closing once more.

  She lay beside him until he began to snore softly. Satisfied that he was sleeping soundly, she slipped from the bed and bustled about the cabin. She gathered up his trousers and small clothes to drape them over the tub, pushed the chair back up to the desk, and tidied up the papers still fanned out on the floor.

  When she was finished, she turned back to the bed. Drew had relaxed in his sleep, one arm flung above his head, the other across his chest. She watched him for a moment, shaking her head as a smile played at her lips, and then drew the blanket up to his shoulders.

  That done, she curled up with a book—a collection of stories by the American author Washington Irving—and it wasn't long before she lost herself in the stories.

  * * * *

  It was late afternoon when Drew woke to find Heather curled up in the deep wing chair, sound asleep with her head nestled to the side, and a book open in her lap. Smiling as he rose from the bed, he dressed and walked over to her. He lifted her easily from the chair, taking great pains not to wake her. Still, her eyelids fluttered and he found himself gazing into those bottomless pools of gold-flecked darkest brown.

  "I'm sorry, my lady,” he whispered, his lips inches from hers. “I tried not to wake you."

  "Oh, please, don't apologize,” she replied softly, smiling at him. “I shouldn't even be sleeping. I'll never sleep tonight."

  He arched one black brow and her face grew hot as he said, “I don't think that would be a problem now, love. Do you?"

  "Drew!"

  It was impossible not to laugh. Even as she scowled up at him, he still chuckled, “You are so shockable, love. It's one of your finer qualities."

  "Well, you are horrid."

  "Oh, don't pout now, my lady. I was but teasing."

  "I'm not pouting."

  "Of course you are,” he replied easily, setting her back on her feet. “Perhaps not one of your finer qualities, but it's also growing on me just the same."

  "I am so grateful to hear that,” she retorted dryly.

  He didn't miss the crispness that crept into her voice. “You need to develop a thicker skin, my lady."

  She spun about at that, eyes no longer tranquil pools but now blazing with her rarely-shown temper. “You think you are always so bloody charming, don't you? Well, sometimes, you might wish to think before you come out with one of those charming remarks!"

  He hadn't been expecting an outburst, hadn't expected her to take offense at his teasing. That she erupted in such a fashion left him at a momentary loss for words. Then, he caught himself, clearing his throat and saying, “I apologize, my lady. I meant no offense."

  A heavy sigh bubbled to her lips and she rolled her eyes upwards as if disgusted with herself. “No, I apologize,” she said. “I am going mad in this cabin, Drew. I must get out of here, even for just a short while."

  "Well, you are free to leave, Heather. You are not a prisoner here, you realize."

  "I cannot wander about alone."

  "True. It wouldn't be a wise idea, I suppose. But, had you said something to me sooner, I think I might have been able to spring you out of here earlier."

  "Please, I need to get out of here. Even for a moment."

  "Losing your enchantment with the sea, my lady?"

  "I only get to see the sea out the window."

  He smiled. “Well, come along then. I'll re-introduce you."

  Heather gave him a dazzling smile in return. “Thank you."

  "There is no need to thank me. All you had to do was say something."

  "I didn't think I ought to."

  He sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair. “Heather, listen to me, please.” He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer. “You have to stop this entire submissive nonsense. Do you hear me? I don't want you agreeing with me at every turn, or thinking you can't ever approach me with anything, or ask me for something."

  "But—"

  "No.” He shook his head emphatically. “No, I don't want to hear any ‘buts'. You have a brain in your head, damn it, and the only thing I want is for you to use it."

  Heather bit her bottom lip. “But, I can't."

  "Why? Oh!” He threw his hands into the air, whipping around to walk away, towards the door. He was at a loss as to how to convince her that she could do just that. It was frustrating, to say the least, and he was beyond exasperated as he faced her again. “Listen very carefully, Heather. I am not your master. Is that clear? I did not buy you nor do I own you. If you think so, you are terribly mistaken."

&nb
sp; "You did buy me, Drew. You bought me from Madam Allison."

  "No, I did not!” he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls around them. “Damn it! Listen to me, will you? I did not pay that outrageous sum to own you, I did it to get you the hell out of that place! You did not belong there! Did I not tell you that the first time I met you? Did I not say those very words to you that first night?” He threw a fist into the wall to release his pent-up aggravation. “You are not a whore, Heather Spencer. That woman would have destroyed you."

  Her eyes shone with tears. “That's why you did it?” she asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

  "Yes!” he exclaimed, exasperation seeping into his words. “Is this what you've been thinking? That I wanted some kind of slave to serve me in bed?"

  Her crimson-stained cheeks gave him the answer he'd expected. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But when you said you would b—buy me ... I thought ... I thought that—"

  He approached her again, cupping her face in his hands. “You were wrong, Heather.” His voice was soft now, his irritation dissolving as his eyes held hers, searching them. “You were terribly wrong. I won't say I didn't want you the moment I saw you, but that is not why I paid that debt. I could not walk out of that place and leave you there. Don't ask me why, but I simply could not do it."

  Tears shone silver against the darkness of her eyes, spilling over her lower lashes. “Drew, I'm sorry ... I just thought—"

  He cut her off with a tender kiss. Then, he pulled away, brushing his thumbs over the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Don't be sorry, love. I can understand it, why you might see it that way. I am sorry I didn't explain it sooner. What will it take for me to convince you that you are not a whore?” A boyish smile lifted the corners of his lips. “How many of them are virgins after two weeks in a brothel?"

  Her lips curved up in a trembling smile. “Not many, I'd wager."

  "None, as far as I know. You are unique, love. Very unique.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And now, I want to see that fire I sense simmering beneath this proper surface. Speak your mind. Get angry with me. Give me a good fight from time to time. Didn't I tell you that making up is the best part of a fight?"