Promise Me Forever Page 8

  Drew sighed. “I assume Mr. Aldridge told you it was my order to make certain she was comfortable. Didn't you stop to think that might mean you'd have to go out of your way and check up on her every so often?"

  "My apologies, sir."

  "Get back to work,” Drew replied shortly, his temper flaring “Before I decide to put you off right here."

  Henry shuffled off, leaving Drew to stare at his skinny, receding back, and roll his eyes. He had to think about replacing Henry. He didn't know how much longer he could tolerate the lad's insolence, which had gotten steadily worse over the past year.

  He was still shaking his head when he reached his cabin. The door was closed, but unlocked, and when he rapped on it, he got no response. Opening the door, he stepped in to see Heather had fallen asleep, stretched out on the bed, and looking most peaceful. He paused, hand on the doorknob, and smiled at the sight. She looked so comfortable, her chestnut tresses spread over the stark white pillows. Her lashes were sooty crescents against her cheeks and her lips were slightly parted. At once, he had the strongest urge to cover those soft lips with his own.

  Though it was nearly summer, the breeze drifting through the open window, was cool. Drew unfolded the light quilt at the foot of the bed and drew it over her. She stretched, sighing and grasping the quilt to pull it tighter around her.

  It was hard to believe less than a week had passed since that fateful night. He felt as though he'd known her so much longer. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. It felt so much longer, indeed. She was unlike any other woman he'd ever met. One moment she displayed a will of iron. The other, she seemed to wilt before his eyes. He didn't understand it. It was almost as if she thought he expected complete obedience—as though she was his slave.

  His slave.

  He groaned softly, dropping his head to the desktop. It suddenly made sense. She knew he'd paid that outrageous sum to the madam. So, if the madam had owned her, and he paid that sum, Heather must feel that now he owned her instead. Another groan. Even he had remarked to her that he would buy her from the madam.

  "No wonder she is so hesitant to disagree with me, or is so quick to refer to me as ‘master',” he muttered, lifting his head to rub his eyes ruefully.

  He knew he would have to convince her, somehow, that this was not how he viewed their relationship. The trouble was, he didn't exactly know how he would describe their relationship. It certainly was not the typical relationship a man would have with his mistress. In fact, it wasn't typical of any sort, really. Then again, why should that surprise him? Things had a way of not turning out the way they were suppose turn out.

  Rebecca popped into his mind. She had the face of an angel, but the soul of the Devil himself. Somehow, he couldn't see Heather ever toying with him the way Rebecca had. Rebecca's deception had hurt him more than he cared to admit. That, combined with the number of married women he'd dallied with, gave Drew a somewhat jaded attitude where the fairer sex was concerned.

  Until he'd met Heather.

  He heard her stir and turned to see her stretching her arms over her head. She sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes as she said, “Oh, you're back."

  "I'm back. I apologize for the delay. It took a bit longer than I expected."

  "Have we left yet?"

  He nodded. “We slipped from port about half an hour ago. Would you care to go topside and take a last look around?"

  "Might I?"

  "Certainly.” He pushed himself up from his chair and walked over to the bed. He held out his hand to help her to her feet, drawing her up beside him. “How was your nap?"

  "Refreshing."

  He sensed she was still troubled, but it didn't seem that she was still angry with him. Still, it was probably best to get everything out in the open. That way, he could avoid any unpleasant surprises once the sun set. “I wanted to apologize for my callous remark earlier, Heather. I did not mean it the way it sounded to you."

  "Really?” Icicles hung from that one word.

  Then again, perhaps she was still angry with him. He sighed. “Really. Heather, you don't have to worry about how I see you. Trust me, you are every inch the lady.” He touched her cheek. Her skin was so soft, he almost couldn't help himself. It was like a reflex. “I don't give a damn where you were when we met. It doesn't matter."

  "Oh, but it does matter, Drew. Do you know what your glorified cabin boy said to me?"

  Cold fury welled up from the pit of his stomach as Heather repeated what Henry had said to her. Anger twisted into a tight fist in his gut. “That son of a bitch,” he growled.

  She took a step back. For the first time, she saw his eyes darken for a reason other than desire. She hadn't expected him to react quite so strongly. “Drew?"

  "Excuse me for a moment,” he replied gruffly, turning away to head for the door.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I'm going to give that boy a long overdue comeuppance."

  She went after him as he left the cabin, chasing him down the narrow corridor towards the stairs. “What are you going to do?"

  "Make certain he thinks long and hard before he opens his mouth again."

  Drew stormed topside, ignoring the crewmen as they stopped what they were doing and simply stared. His eyes fixated on Henry, who was lounging against the bulkhead, smoking a cigar while everyone around him toiled.

  The cigar went flying over the railing as Drew grabbed a fistful of Henry's shirt. Heather stopped dead as she saw Drew lift the man easily, Henry's feet dangling a good six inches from the deck. Her eyes widened, falling on Drew's arm, watching with great interest as the muscles strained his sleeve. For a moment, she was convinced the fabric would split under the pressure.

  "I ought to break you in half, boy,” he snarled, oblivious to the terror filling Henry's eyes. “You ever speak to Heather again, you so much as look at her, and I will crush you, do you understand? You have any little comments, you keep them to yourself, or else I will crush you.” He glanced around at his crew, all now staring at him with wide eyes and slack jaws. “I hear anything—anything at all—derogatory about Miss Spencer and there will be hell to pay! Am I clear?"

  Henry's tanned skin went ashen. “Y—yes, sir,” he squeaked.

  With that, Drew sent him airborne with little effort. The bony man slammed into the deck in a heap, letting out a pathetic groan.

  Moving to stand over the bosun's mate, Drew struggled to control his raging fury. He wanted to kill the smaller man, wanted to pick him and break him in two. It'd been ages since he'd last lost his temper but he was close to doing just that. Dangerously close.

  He managed to tamp it down, turning to Bobby to say, “I want this sack of—” he glanced at Heather, “that is—lock him in Mr. Allen's cabin. Tell Mr. Allen he is not to let him out of his sight. Put him in chains and keep him there until we reach New Jersey."

  "Aye, Captain.” Bobby motioned to one of the other men to help him as he bent over Henry and grabbed a skinny wrist.

  Heather couldn't believe what had just happened, that Drew just defended her honor so publicly. No one had ever done that for her before and it was more than a little comforting to see him doing it now. She couldn't help but smile. With his sleeves rolled up over his sculpted forearms, and his hair now in disarray, she thought she'd never seen him look so masculine, so sexy. She was still smiling as he turned away from the whimpering lump cowering on the deck and strode towards her.

  "I cannot believe you did that,” she breathed, stepping in front of him to halt his gait. “In front of everyone."

  "I did it in front of everyone so they know damn well to watch their mouths,” he growled, his eyes still dangerously dark. “The next one just might feel the sting of the lash."

  A chill rushed through her with those cold words. She didn't think he was joking. In fact, he looked dangerous enough at that moment to possibly murder the weasely bosun's mate. The moment passed though, as he took a deep breath and reached for her hand. “Now, I
do believe I promised you a last look at England, didn't I?"

  Without waiting for her to answer, he gave a gentle pull on her arm and led her to the quarterdeck at the stern of the ship. Heather braced against the railing, unexpected tears leaping to her eyes as they moved down the Thames. Gazing out at the lights of London, she couldn't help but feel a wave of homesickness. She never thought she would say goodbye to London. She never thought she would ache so strongly, seeing the city fade into the distance.

  But ache she did. The feeling of loss filled her as she sniffed quietly, trying to blink back the tears. London was home, and to say goodbye to the city was akin saying to goodbye to a part of herself. That portion of her life, of the person she had been, was over and done with now. A new beginning dawned upon her, leaving her with a mixture of hope and dread.

  A tear slid down her cheek. She made no motion to wipe it away, nor to stop her bottom lip from quivering the way it was. London was all she had ever known and, like everything else in her life, it was slipping away.

  If Drew saw that tear fall, he said nothing. However, he eased his arms about her, pressing her back against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and she simply let him engulf her. It was a small comfort, but a comfort just the same. She felt so tiny, so delicate wrapped in those massive arms. It just seemed so natural, that she should find comfort with him. The ship rocked gently beneath her slippered feet, rising and falling with the currents. Each time the Aphrodite fell, her hips bumped the railing and his hips bumped her, pressing into her back.

  He tightened his arms about her, pressing her even more into his chest. His fingers brushed over her arms as he leaned forward to press his lips against the side of her neck. With an airy sigh, she tilted her head to one side, enjoying the warm caress of his lips on her flesh. It didn't matter that they were in plain view of the others. She needed the comfort he offered, needed the feel of those arms around her. And it was a comfort indeed. He nuzzled her playfully, his teeth catching her earlobe gently, and sending a fresh curl of desire unwinding in her belly.

  His voice was barely audible as he murmured, “Shall we go below, love?"

  She sighed at his teasing whisper. She felt so relaxed, almost as if she could go to sleep right there in his arms. She slowly turned to face him, craning her neck to look up at him. “I don't know,” she admitted, feeling more than a bit shy.

  He smiled down at her and leaned in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. At once, the familiar heat filled her, flooded her, and her shyness ebbed away. She snaked her arms about his waist, her hands flat against the planes of his back, pulling him even closer. Feeling braver than ever, she plunged her tongue between his lips to explore the depth of his mouth, emboldened by the sudden tightening of his arms about her.

  He gave one last squeeze and broke the kiss. Chuckling softly, he tugged her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. “You don't mind if we stand here a moment longer, love, do you? I'd rather my crew not see me in a somewhat undignified light."

  A silvery peal of laughter bubbled to her lips. “No,” she told him, her eyes sparkling as they met his. “I don't mind one bit."

  Eleven

  After supper, Drew returned topside, but not before promising he wouldn't be long. “I'll have Nick send down a bottle of brandy and some pastries. I just need to make certain the watches are in place for the night and I'll be back."

  Heather nodded. “I'll wait up."

  He gave her a boyish smile. “I certainly hope so.” He paused in the doorway. “By the by, take a look in the trunk at the foot of the bed."

  And with that, he disappeared before she could question him, leaving her to laugh softly and shake her head. But, her curiosity was aroused, so she took herself to the trunk, kneeling before it to lift the lid. “He is going around the bend, that one is,” she laughed to herself. “Why should I—oh ... oh my..."

  She couldn't believe what she was seeing as her eyes fell upon a neatly folded square of ice-blue fabric. Her fingers skimmed over it to find it was as cool and fluid as water. Lifting it up, Heather was amazed to see it slip from its folds like liquid.

  It was a negligee of the finest silk money could buy and was the most beautiful garment she'd ever laid eyes upon. Standing, she held it up against herself. The sides were open, silk ties halfway up on either side. The lacy neckline plunged almost to her navel and the long sleeves were gathered at the shoulder and wrists, but opened along the length. “Did he purchase this for me?” she whispered in disbelief.

  Glancing about, she saw a mirror affixed to the wall alongside the wardrobe and hurried over to take a look at her reflection. Holding the negligee up once more, she couldn't help but smile as she thought about his parting words. Apparently, he wished her to find the negligee to wear that evening. She smiled at her reflection once more, whispering, “Oh, why not?” She caught a glimpse of the neatly made bed in the mirror. “Why not?"

  She waited until Nick arrived with the items Drew had requested. The ship's steward had a boyish face that was lit with a smile. He was pleasant, friendly, as he brought in the tray of pastries and a bottle of brandy. He didn't say much, just smiled and bobbed his head as he ducked back out the door. Then, she pulled the negligee out from beneath the pillow, where she'd stuffed it when Nick rapped on the door. Feeling delightfully sinful, she caressed her cheek with the delicate material, and hurried to don it before Drew returned.

  Heather couldn't help her sigh as she sunk back into the pile of soft pillows. She'd never felt so deliciously wicked before as she did in that negligee. Some of her fear left her as she ran a hand over the cool sheer silk. She'd never owned something so lovely, that made her feel so lovely as well.

  The negligee was so much more enticing than the awful red one she'd donned at Delilah's. This garment was designed to tease the senses by covering more than it displayed, all the while offering hints as to what lay below. It felt so smooth, so cool against her skin, sending shivers of delight through her.

  The ripples coursing through her were unlike any she'd ever felt and she couldn't help her girlish giggle, shifting her position by drawing one leg up so her foot was flat against the mattress. The negligee spilled over her flesh, exposing her leg from foot to thigh.

  She was still wriggling about, trying to find the perfect position, when the door opened and Drew filled the entranceway. Heather froze as she heard his throaty whisper of, “Dear God."

  His entry was so sudden, so unexpected, and she felt incredibly foolish—being caught trying to find the most enticing position. Knowing her face had to be a steaming scarlet, she forced herself to meet his eyes, whispering, “You're back."

  "I'm back.” He closed the door and leaned back against it. His eyes moved slowly over her, starting at her feet and creeping upwards. At first, she wanted to fidget beneath his heavy-lidded stare, feeling very much as though he were devouring her with his eyes. Bit by bit, though, that discomfort faded, replaced by a heady rush unlike any she'd ever felt. She was the reason why his eyes darkened the way they did, the reason why he looked very much like a man under the spell of a siren. Quite a powerful feeling, to say the least.

  Reaching up, she brushed back a stray curl. Having brushed her hair until it shone, she arranged it to spill over her shoulders, to puddle beneath her, hoping she achieved the look of a practiced seductress. Judging by the darkness of Drew's eyes, she guessed she'd succeeded.

  Feeling bolder still, she shifted a tad, allowing the silk to pour from her and expose a scandalous eyeful of her slender thigh. But then her boldness wavered as he swallowed hard to shatter her cool demeanor. Perhaps she was being too bold. She moved to tug the silk back over her leg, pausing as he said, “Don't. Don't cover up, Heather. You look beautiful. Absolutely stunning."

  She blushed again, feeling the crimson heat sweep up her neck, into her face. Drew's gaze held her fast as he stepped closer to the bed, unwinding his cravat. She found it difficult to swallow, her mouth going as dry as dus
t as he shrugged out of his waistcoat, draping it over the foot of the bed. He didn't halt his stride, but moved upwards, towards the head. Almost lazily, he released his cravat, letting it flutter down atop his coat, and smiled down at her as he unbuttoned his shirt to ease it off. “Do you have any idea what you are doing to me at this very moment, Miss Heather?"

  Judging by how much darker his eyes were growing and by the husky growl of his voice, she had a very good idea, indeed. Still, she remained silent, gazing up at him. He let his shirt flutter to the floor and bent over her, his mouth slashing down over hers.

  Her arms wound about his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. His mouth searched hers, his arms easing about her waist, twisting the silk about her. She couldn't resist the urge to pull him down, so she did just that, her fingers pressing into his nape as she gently tugged. He obliged, stretching out beside her, turning her in his arms so they were face to face, his length pressing into her.

  His breath was hot against her already overheated skin, his hands roaming down over the curve of her backside, slipping up beneath the silk to pull her into him. She shivered as he caressed her sensitive skin, rained kisses down her neck, and teased outward, over the skin above her breasts. His fingers skittered over the back of one thigh, down to her knee. When she breathed an airy sigh, he gently lifted her leg, letting it drape over his. His hand skimmed up, closing over her hip to pull her into direct contact with him.

  Her eyes closed as he pressed into her hips with his own. She could feel his evident need and desire for her. His lips moved over her breastbone, raining soft kisses over the expanse of bared flesh, savoring her as if she were a rare delicacy.

  He crept lower, caressing the sensitive flesh of her right breast. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he moved further down, over her belly, and then he came back up. As he inched up, he brought the silk with him, bunching it about her waist.

  Abruptly, he pulled away, but smiled as he gazed down at her. “Vixen,” he murmured, smoothing her hair away from her cheek with one hand. “Beautiful vixen."