Chapter 19

Avaline snuggled in the tight swaddle of the cover, her body swaying with the ship. A quivering pulsed deep within her, and she grasped at the dissolving fringes of a dream that made her body warm and tingling in places she never knew existed.

She crossed her legs to soothe the tantalizing tickle within, but the pressure enhanced the titillating ache, and she bit her lower lip at the throbbing flutter deep inside.

A rustle behind her and a heavy weight around her waist jolted her out of her reverie. Her eyes sprang open and darted down her body—and her breath caught.

Hainsworth's arm draped around her waist, cradling her in an intimate hug as if he had all the right in the world to do so. The cover lay in a tangled heap at her feet, and the hem of the shirt had risen an improper length up her thighs.

A wave of heat rushed to her face, and she gulped, for a moment convinced her heart would stop beating.

Had it been a dream at all?

She shut her eyes as though to elude the upsetting but exhilarating remnants of the vision and let out a soft groan.

Heavenly Father!

Lying still, she strained for signs Hainsworth was awake, but his breath was deep and steady, gushing her neck in a warm waft that made her hair flutter like a nervous butterfly.

Thrills raced over her sensitized flesh, leaving a thin sheen of sweat behind. She followed the cracks running along the bulkhead, torn between whether to sneak away and risk waking him up or feign sleep.

When Hainsworth stirred behind her, she held her breath. His thumb caressed the rounding of her breast, making her skin tighten and the rosy center jut underneath the fabric as if yearning for his touch. He released a low moan that fluttered across her skin.

Was he awake? Or was it a reflex, an unconscious instinct when he had a woman in his bed?

For whatever reason, she felt a pang of unease at the thought of Hainsworth in another woman's arms.

His hand dragged lower, across her belly and then some. It came to a rest on her hip, close to where her shirt had ridden up at night. His arm flexed and pulled her closer, molding her to the sinewy chest and abdomen—and his manhood, hard and protruding against her backside.

The heat from his touch undulated through her and pooled hot and sticky low in her belly.

How could such a rogue, a lawless pirate captain, awaken such feelings in her? He was rude, arrogant, and savage and loathed her with every fiber of his being.

And yet…

This was what the girls used to talk about in the kitchen at Hawthorn Manor.

She had never entirely understood the fuss about lust and passion, but now the whispering voices, the flushed cheeks, and the giggling started to make sense.

Hainsworth's grip tightened, burning her with desire, and his breath turned ragged. He nestled into her curves and let out a guttural groan that laid bare her nerves.

Her heart hammered, and she ached to catch the drop of sweat that trickled between her breasts, but she dared not move.

A sharp whistle from the companionway penetrated the morning air, followed by running boots. Hainsworth stiffened behind her, then rolled away as if she were a flame scorching his skin.

"Hell," he whispered.

He leaped out of the berth, leaving a cold void in his wake, and grabbed his boots. A surge of relief swept through Avaline as the door closed behind him, and she let out a shaky sigh when Hainsworth's footsteps dwindled.

She had slept another night in the same bed as a pirate, yielded to his embrace and caress—and she had liked it.

Had Hainsworth sensed that she hadn't been asleep? She pushed the thought away and put her feet on the floor. She had weightier matters to attend to at present. More precisely, ensuring Elias's well-being.

She rose from the bed, wincing as every muscle protested, stiff and sore like rusty hinges. Glimpsing down the collar of the shirt, she saw a mosaic of bruises blemishing her torso, as Adrian had predicted.

Her chemise was beyond salvage, still damp, wrinkled, and dirty, with a ruddy blotch on the waist. Rummaging through Hainsworth's sea chest, she found a pair of breeches and pulled them on. To her satisfaction, they all but reached her ankles. She unhooked the drawstring from her dress and cinched it around her waist to keep the breeches on her hips.

She stepped into the companionway, dimmer than usual due to the overcast day, and headed for the galley. Halfway there, Morris emerged from a storeroom, cursing as he wrestled with the stubborn door.

Avaline froze and was about to retreat to the refuge of Adrian's cabin, but Morris's eyes had already caught her.

"Blimey, what a fine surprise this mornin'." He latched onto her wrist and leered at the gap of skin on her bosom that Adrian's oversized shirt left exposed. He pulled her off balance with a violent yank, and she stumbled into his chest.

"Oof!"

"Captain's wee Braveheart," he rasped, his breath reeking of rum. "Me wagers he rewarded ye handsomely last night."

"Let go of me!" She pushed at his chest, but he circled his other arm around her waist and held tight.

"Hold yer tongue, ye tart, or me will silence ye meself with me fists. And then we'll be havin' a jolly good time." He grappled with the store door he had just closed. "Dammit."

A commotion by the hatch halted his movements.

"Blasted," Morris mumbled and pushed her away.

"Morris! What are you doing here?" Mr. Scott asked and stepped down from the ladder. "Lieutenant Barley wants you at the fo'c'sle immediately."

Morris grunted. Running boots pounded the deck above, chased by a hail of commands from stern to bow.

"Miss Hawthorn." Mr. Scott glanced at her attire, and his eyes paused at her neckline for a tad before he lifted his gaze to hers. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Will." Avaline stifled a shudder as she watched Morris's boots disappear through the hatch. "What is going on?"

"We're facing a dire strait. Our steering went awry when the mast broke last night, so we need more men in the rigging. I'm on watch, but if the captain allows it, I will take you ondecks later today if you please."

"Thank you. I would appreciate that very much."

He scaled the ladder in Morris's wake and vanished into the throng ondecks. Avaline hastened to the galley, eager to forget the encounter with Morris and see how Elias was faring.

Adrian's deep baritone escaped into the companionway, mingling with Elias's thin voice, and she halted at the entrance. A small slit along the roofing let in enough light to make out Elias's white mop sticking up from the hammock.

Adrian stood next to him, his back to her. "You think you'll be ready to climb the rigging again soon?"

"O-of course, Capt'n."

"We won't do anything you don't feel ready to do," Adrian reassured him in a voice devoid of the usual harshness. "You don't have to prove anything."

The captain was hard and uncompromising but nursed more than hate and loathing. He had saved an orphan stranger, and though Elias should never have been on board the Ranger in the first place, he cared about the boy.

Avaline traced Adrian's outline with her eyes, from the broad shoulders and down his back to where his waist tapered into the narrow hips. His breeches hugged his firm behind, clinging to his muscular thighs.

Those thighs had nestled against hers this morning. His thighs, his chest, his…

She squirmed.

And the longing she had sensed as he had held her, the tremors in his sigh—what did they mean?

As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head to her. He glanced over her attire, but she couldn't discern his thoughts when he lifted his gaze to hers. A jolt chased through her body, making her heart skip a beat. His eyes scanned hers with intensity, searching for answers, a reaction, exposing her, peering into her soul. Her cheeks burned from pretending to be asleep, not stopping his exploring hand, from savoring his touch, and wanting more.

She met his eyes with a steadfast gaze, daring him to say something, to break the silence between them—the silence that spoke more than a thousand words.

His mouth set in a firm line, and his eyes darkened. "Elias, I need to exchange words with Miss Hawthorn."

Elias's head lifted, and the shivering smile of a boy still to become a man squeezed at her heart.

"Miss Hawthorn," he groaned and collapsed in the hammock, his vitality sapped. The shadows that ringed his eyes, his ashen complexion, and the faint tremors of his hands caught her attention.

"I'll be right with you, Elias." She sent him a reassuring smile. "He doesn't look very well," she pointed out once out of earshot in the dim companionway. "Does he have a fever?"

"He is quite all right." A faint grin tugged at Adrian's lips. "A bit too much grog, that's all."

"Oh. I see." Poor Elias. And the restless sea added to his woes. As if to confirm her thoughts, Elias groaned loudly, but she addressed Adrian again. "He is scared. Why are you pushing him?"

She ignored the slight tightening of his features. "The best cure for him is to face his fear as quickly as possible."

"He is just a child. He almost died last night. Can't you see that he isn't ready for this?"

She knew she was pushing him and braced for his reaction, but instead of lashing out at her, his gaze traced the movement of her lips. His mesmerizing eyes lifted to meet hers, and he drew nearer, subtly caging her by lounging his arm on the hull behind her head.

He held her gaze as he leaned in, and she drew a fierce breath.

"Adrian…"

He swallowed her murmur as he brushed his mouth across her lips, a feather-light caress that ignited a warmth spreading like fire through her veins.

She released her pent-up breath in a quivering sigh that blended with his. He slid his hand lower and curled an arm around her waist, finding the indentation on the low of her back. Flexing his arm, he refused her feeble attempt to push him away and nibbled at her bottom lip, tasting her with his tongue, prying open her mouth.

She let out a faint moan, and his tongue met hers, a tantalizing collision that sparked spears of fire through her belly. His grip around her waist tightened, pressing her close, trapping her between his taut body and the rocking hull.

Those soft lips…

"Reef ahead!"

…the trembles in his breath and his touch…

Sweat broke on her brow, and her hand clutched his shirt. His stubble rasped across her sensitized skin, followed by his lips, marking her, branding her.

"Larboard side, approaching fast!"

Matheson's alarmed cry cut through the haze, and Adrian tore away. Avaline's lips throbbed, her body shivering with desire, and her pulse raced, mixing with his ragged breath.

"Hard astarboard!"

"Hell!" He took the ladder to the main deck two steps at a time, stumbling on the last step and thumping his shin into the wooden edge. "Dammit."

Avaline pressed her trembling fingertips against her lips. He had kissed her. And she had let him. Enjoyed it even.

Encouraged him.

Though well-intentioned, her faint efforts to shove him off had been futile against his sizzling demands.

She savored his taste, and the skin on her cheeks prickled from his stubble grazing her. She clasped her legs together and leaned on the hull to strangle the flutters in the pit of her belly—the same tingles he had stirred this morning, only now they were more like an ache that begged for some relief.

"Release the main sails!"

Adrian's voice boomed across the main deck and reverberated into the hold, but his words drowned in the frenzy of her swirling thoughts.

What if somebody had seen them? Elias?

A glance about told her nobody was in the vicinity, and they had been out of sight from the galley entrance.

"Brace for impact!"

This time, Adrian's warning jolted her out of her mulling.

"Elias, hold on!" she shouted and grabbed the ladder just as the ominous sound of wood splintering exploded through the air. The impact reverberated through the Ranger and up Avaline's legs, the quake flinging her against the ladder. The wound on her waist stretched, and she winced.

The vessel groaned and lifted, like a bear that had been struck a fatal blow but resisted succumbing. Catching on the coral, the Ranger screeched to an earsplitting halt and settled, her rig juddering with distress.

Avaline hurried into the galley, finding Elias clinging to the hammock.

"How is your shoulder?"

"It is fine, miss. I hardly noticed the impact in the hammock. What the hell happened?"

Avaline clutched his hand between hers, feeling a chill run through her veins. He was ice cold. She moved her palm to his brow, which was just as cold. "We hit a reef. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I feel sick."

"I know, and you will for a while." Avaline reached for the almost empty water bucket and held the ladle to Elias's lips. "Have some water and lie back. The best cure is sleep. I'll try to find out what happens now. I'll come to check on you later, all right?"

She placed an empty bucket under his hammock in case he felt the urge to vomit and climbed the ladder to the main deck. Though overcast and foggy, the daylight pierced her eyes after emerging from the dim hold, and she squinted at the sting. The waves thundered against the surrounding reef, both soothing and alarming, as if the ocean was trying to warn them about something.

A swath of green dotted across the horizon, a slender ribbon of white sand a stunning contrast between the dense foliage and the sapphire blue water.

The sails strained overhead, the masts creaking and groaning, as did the yardarms in their wicked positions, pulling at the ship.

"Furl the sails!" Adrian commanded.

He was standing on the railing with his lieutenant, holding on to the shrouds as he leaned out to inspect the damage. Above him, the men in the rigging fought to roll up the heavy canvases.

"Matheson, keep her steady. Scott, check the larboard cargo holds."

Avaline leaned over the edge. A sharp bouquet of dusty rose-colored corals had snagged the hull below the surface.

The Ranger calmed and settled in the tilted position once released from the drag of the sails.

"Dammit," Adrian gritted and let his squinting eyes glide along the horizon behind them. "We're displayed like a traitor's head on the pole."

"That is one huge bastard." The lieutenant studied the shoal. "It sits high in the water. We might be able to push her off. I reckon it is a mere yard or so deep."

"We need to redistribute the weight. Have the larboard gun team remove the guns to the starboard side and keep the crew in the rigging. I want men in every masthead on the lookout."

Avaline shivered. She would be rescued if the English found them in this awkward situation, but Adrian wasn't a man who surrendered without a fight.

And his ruthlessness would put Elias in danger.

Adrian jumped down from the railing and came over, his blue eyes grazing over her through the hair lashing his face. "Are you all right?"

Nothing in his eyes revealed what they had done mere minutes ago. "I'm fine."

The tension in Adrian's shoulders eased somewhat. He issued a hail of orders before turning back to her. "We need to talk."

"Captain! Over here."

Adrian looked toward the quarterdeck and acknowledged Matheson with a slight jerk of his chin. "Things are a bit chaotic right now. Stay where I can see you or with Scott or Freddie."

She nodded and watched him return midships to inspect the damage in the hull with a grim expression.

"Lieutenant. Lower away the jollyboat. We need to warp her. I want the first dogwatch in the water and the second dogwatch to ready the lever crowbars."

"Kinsley, Matheson, stand by on the helm," the lieutenant commanded. "Ainsley, summon the first watch and drop anchor on the starboard side. Prepare for warping."

As the jolly boat was lowered, a score of sailors shed their shirts and jumped into the water wearing only breeches and boots. Adrian detached the weapons hanging from his sash. He seized the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, exposing his torso in all its bare splendor. Following the rest of the men, he dove into the translucent water.

Avaline let her eyes roam over Adrian's body. His broad shoulders flexed as he worked, solid muscles rippling beneath the taut skin. In the light of day, she noticed a few scars extending to his shoulders, winding across from his back and stretching toward his collarbone.

A fierce tremor wracked her. The agony must have been unbearable.

The stretch of his belly looked like it was carved from marble; symmetrical pairs of distinct mounds, flattening into a taut V-shape dipping beneath the water surface. She watched the shape of his strong legs through the crystal-clear water, standing on the coral, wide apart.

He looked like the Greek Adonis figures adorning her stepmother's cherished winter garden at Hawthorn Manor.

The anchor splashed into the water from the jolly boat. Ainsley raised his arm to indicate their readiness, and the lieutenant acknowledged him with a wave.

"Capstan ready! Crowbars ready!" When satisfied with the confirmations he received, he gave the order to execute. "Now!"

As the capstan rotated, the anchor chain tightened and pulled the Ranger in the opposite direction of the shoal, enough for Adrian and his men to edge the crowbars beneath the ship and exert pressure on her from the other end.

The ocean hugged his slim waist, caressing his tanned skin as he worked. How would it feel to let her fingers caress him like the waves?

The sparks ignited by his kiss thrilled through her. She lifted her gaze from his sinewy frame and choked as she saw his smoldering eyes linger on her.

Something shifted in his usual unyielding countenance, a different air about him, an air of something dark and wicked burning in his eyes, something… dangerous.

Something more dangerous than a pirate captain craving retribution.

Avaline was sure he could see how she swallowed, but then he turned back to his men.

"Again!"

The men in the shrouds pulled at the lines to harness the wind as the jiggling motion tugged at the ship. Again and again, they heaved and pulled, and the ship groaned as she tilted and rocked more and more until the reef let her go from the sharp grip, and she slid heavily back into deeper water.

Cheers erupted across the deck, and Avaline couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. At least Elias would be safe. She refused to explore the whispers in the back of her mind hinting at another reason for her relief.

Adrian climbed back on board, tossing his head and spraying water in all directions. Just then, a thin slit opened in the clouds, and a ray of sunlight broke through, igniting the droplets catching in the thin mat of hairs like a swarm of fireflies.

Avaline wrested her eyes away from the glittering spectacle, but it was too late—he had seen her gaze linger. She forced herself to focus on his face, but his chest looming before her taunted her resolve.

"Take her out and prepare to set sails," he commanded and came over, leaving a wet trail behind him like a snail.

Suddenly, he was way too close. The smell of salt water, leather, and man wafted around him, teasing her nostrils.

"I apologize for what happened earlier," he said so only she could hear him. "I shouldn't have touched you. And this morning, too. I promised you. It won't happen again."

She nodded, but instead of relief, a hint of rejection crawled over her cheeks.

Compose yourself, Avaline. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you.

He shoved his soggy strands off his face with a rough movement. "I'll–"

"Captain." Mr. Scott emerged from the hatch. "She's taking on water."