Chapter 22

"Captain?"

Adrian ignored Matheson's call from the beach, his gaze fixed on Avaline. Ever since learning about her existence, he had tried to convince himself that she was just like Ashcroft and deserved to be punished. Still, the devastation contorting her beautiful face as she digested his revelation crushed that lie once and for all.

Despite the dimness, her captivating eyes shone with a tender light, a flame in the windows of her soul.

He had watched her during the day, watched her breeches rolled up to a height above her ankles that defied the norms of her class. He had traced the curve of her legs to where the smooth skin disappeared beneath the coarse fabric, and he had cursed the openly admiring glances Scott had sent her as they fished in the bay.

He had no business being jealous. Ashcroft had made him an outlaw, a traitor without a home and a country, and with no hope other than plundering British ships until he met his noose.

Still, his heart pounded like the steady beat of a war drum. He could have sworn the air between them crackled with tension, and when her lush lips parted, a current coursed through his every nerve, pulling him in like a magnet.

"Captain Hainsworth?"

Matheson's voice drew nearer, and Adrian let go of her with a silent curse. "Stay in the circle of light," he rasped and headed for the beach.

He had almost kissed her again, despite his promise both to her and to himself. She was a distraction—a distraction he could neither afford nor wanted.

Better clear my mind with physical labor.

The moon had climbed high in the night sky when he returned to the fire after helping with the careening of the Ranger . The turquoise bay had turned into a dark cove specked with silver sparkles of moonlight on the water.

His muscles screamed in protest when he moved. Most of the crew off duty had retired to their hammocks or slept on the warm sand, but a dozen or so still huddled around the fire, among them Scott, a few of the men from his watch, and Avaline.

Avaline.

He had been right in his suspicions that she had a more exotic name. He had never heard it before, but he liked it.

Grabbing a cask of grog, he settled next to a couple of his gunmen. He listened to their jesting and stories, occasionally chipping in with his own tales, but his eyes stayed on Avaline.

The flitting flames illuminated her face, casting soft shadows on her delicate features. Her hair glowed like faded gold in the shine, and a handful of locks had escaped the confines of her ribbon, framing her face with innocence.

His thoughts drifted to a distant past, but the features of his former betrothed lost their sharpness in his mind. She had been lovely, he recalled, with a smile that could bewitch a rock, but he had never gazed at her for the sole purpose of admiring her beauty as he did with Avaline.

Would he have been happy now had he married his intended?

He sighed. It was futile to dwell on the past, but Avaline stirred a yearning in him, a yearning for something he had long foregone, something he was meant to have, had Ashcroft not robbed him of his future.

This same yearning created a new surge of hate in him toward Ashcroft, but he pushed the notion away. He had no place for a settled life and no interest in taking over his father's trading business and breeding offspring. His family expected nothing less of him, rather than roaming the high seas burning with vengeance, but he was unfit to be a husband, never mind a father. Elias was living proof of that, and as if to mock Adrian's shortcomings, Elias wouldn't have been alive anymore if it hadn't been for Avaline.

Besides, the path he had chosen would cut his earthly journey short when he inevitably sailed into the English noose.

Scott uttered something on the other side of the fire, and their party burst into gales of laughter. Adrian relished Avaline's smile, though he felt like throttling Scott with both hands for his flirty ways. She was innocent, by all appearances, and Scott was a reckless libertine who never looked twice at a woman, and certainly never looked back.

Just like Adrian.

Avaline might have been right in saying he had saved her life and thus cared for her, but he had acted on impulse and would have treated any woman in peril the same way. Yet, he could never erase from his memory the image of her tearing over the railing, never forget the paralyzing fear that had clutched his black heart at that moment.

The fear of losing someone.

The fear of losing her .

He looked at her, legs crossed, her bare feet buried in the sand, clad in his oversized breeches and shirt. She had naturally adapted to his world as if she was used to conforming to her surroundings.

She gestured with her arms, illustrating a point as she explained something to Scott, and he noticed that she had removed her ostentatious engagement ring.

A sizzling coursed through him. He had led her to that decision, ruining her hopes for a better future, a family, and her own home.

Eight bells echoed in the air, and the crew sprang to their feet and disappeared. The fire had died down to a bed of glowing embers, filling the evening air with a soft hiss. The stars were beginning to dot the dark canvas above, but he remained seated across from her by the fire, his elbows resting on his knees.

"How are you feelin'?"

She shrugged. "I have traversed every facet of shock, fear, anger, and sadness, but above all, I feel betrayed. I'm certain of one thing only: my engagement to Francis Ashcroft is over."

He should have been pleased at this turn of events, yet seeing the disappointment on her face, he couldn't bring himself to rejoice. "That seems like a pivotal decision. I never intended to drive you to that conclusion."

"I know. I've never met Francis or heard his version of the story, but there isn't much he can say to redeem his actions. I believe you, Adrian. I know that doesn't matter to you, but…"

"It does matter to me. I apologize for the trouble I have caused you, and I truly appreciate what you have done, especially for Elias. I meant what I said earlier. You're not my enemy, and I will arrange your voyage to Barbados at the earliest opportunity."

"Oh."

"Assuming that's still what you want."

"Um, yes. Yes, it is. I long to see Molly again."

They lapsed into a soothing silence, only broken by the hissing embers and the rhythmic hammering and sawing from the Ranger .

He pondered his question, whether he had the right to ask and whether he wanted to know the truth, but ultimately, his curiosity won. "Why Ashcroft?"

He spoke in a low murmur, and when she didn't answer for a lengthy while, he thought she might not have heard him.

Or perhaps she didn't want to answer him. After all, it wasn't any of his business.

"I'm not who you think I am," she said.

His brows rose. "Tell me more."

"I am Lord Hawthorn's daughter, but he never married my mother. She was baseborn. Born out of wedlock, I don't have a lot of options in life, even as the daughter of an earl."

"Were you marrying him of your own free will?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Papa would never force me into marriage. But you were right; I don't know Francis, and I had a very different impression of him when I left England than now."

She started to say something but hesitated, her brows knitting above her nose as if she thought better about prying into private concerns, but then she continued. "Was Francis the one who flogged you?"

"No, but he paid the guards handsomely to deal some additional justice."

"He instigated the cruel punishment and exacerbated its severity?"

He gave a slight shrug as if it wasn't important.

"I'm so sorry for what you have gone through, Adrian."

"Don't be. It's history."

He didn't look at her, just stared into the smoldering embers, but his mind was elsewhere, back in Newgate, reliving the horrors brought by the man she had set out to marry, the man who was supposed to be the father of her children.

He shook off his memories. They both knew that Adrian's suffering wasn't history, and he rose to his feet before she could prod further into the matter. "I have set up a tent for your privacy. The crew off duty are sleeping. Now would be a good time to swim if you want."

He led her to the end of the beach and across a craggy outcrop to a hidden cove of sand.

"You can swim in your chemise and pantaloons. There shouldn't be anyone around, but I'll be on the rocks stopping anybody wandering this way."

The moonlight cast a silvery glow on the calm water, and the white strip of sand created a vivid contrast with the dark water, fringed by the palm trees swaying in the breeze.

"Thank you."

Adrian seated himself on the rocks, facing his camp. He heard her climb down to the beach, shed her clothes, and glide into the water, but he kept his back to her as promised.

The splashing from the water tortured him. Knowing she was in there, with only a thin garment as protection, the water engulfing her, swirling around her heated skin, pumped his blood to his groin and left him strung tight as a sail during a gale.

Damn, this woman will be the end of me.

He had no intention of turning around, no intention of watching her or descending to the beach, but nevertheless he did.

The wet chemise clung to her body, molding to her perfect curves when she waded back to the shore. Like a silver mermaid, she emerged from the dark water, flooded in moonlight that made her skin sparkle.

His groin ached, his blood pounded in his ears, and his reason escaped beyond his reach.

Her steps slowed, a rosy warmth tinging her cheeks. His eyes roamed her, scanning her face, her body, and her soul. The long-buried gentleman in him stirred, struggling to surface and treat her with the respect she warranted, while his cock pounded in his breeches, screaming at him to do what he had wanted for days now.

Fucking hell. Who was he deceiving?

He had abandoned the gentleman in him years ago and would never reclaim him.

"Come here." His soft demand drifted in the balmy air, making her nipples jut against the flimsy fabric of her wet chemise. The surge of blood in his veins peaked like the storm that had harassed them out at sea—ferocious, charged, and dangerous.

She was so close he could hear her breath erupt into a nervous flutter. He caught her hand and pulled her close until he could feel the heat radiating from her body. His fingers traced a path along her jaw, caressed her cheek, and threaded through her wet hair. She leaned forward—or he drew her nearer, he couldn't tell—her nose brushing his chin, and a spark jolted through him at the soft touch.

She inhaled as if waiting for his lips, and he released his breath with a slight tremor. "I promised you," he whispered.

"I want you to," she breathed.

Adrian dragged in a hissing breath and tightened the fist in her silky hair, tilting her head. He leaned in, inhaling her subtle scent, sun-kissed skin blending with her floral tones, an intoxicating freshness inviting him into a sensual realm.

He took her mouth with a breathless moan, tasting her with a hunger he hadn't felt in years. She parted her lips and welcomed his tongue, curling her arms around his neck and toying with his hair. Jolts of pleasure chased down his neck and spine as her nails raked across his scalp.

He coiled his other hand around her waist and pulled her closer. The tiny shiver in her breath settled in his core. His body trembled, and his cock pounded, screaming for her slick wetness. His blood rushed through his veins, drowning out the rhythmic lullaby of the late-night ripples and the wind whispering in the palm trees.

He tugged at her lower lip and explored her with his tongue, tasting her sweetness, teasing and tempting, until she leaned heavily toward him as if her knees threatened to give in beneath her. He nibbled at the pulse point on her neck, her throbbing reverberating to his lips and pooling in his groin.

He flinched as her hands glided over his shoulders and chest, exploring the rugged ridges, touching, feeling, caressing. A low groan pushed in his throat. He slid his hand from her back and skimmed up her side until his thumb grazed the curve of her breast. She dragged in a sharp breath and clenched her thighs, but he pushed them apart with his knees, entwining her legs in his. His cock pressed against her belly, thick, warm, and throbbing, aching to bury itself in her warmth.

His fingers inched higher, brushing her nipple. She clutched onto his shirt, pulling him closer and pushing him away at the same time.

"Adrian…"

Adrian sincerely strove to do the right thing and not compromise Avaline in the vilest manner. He had already tarnished her reputation beyond redemption.

Yes, he tried, and he failed royally.

He swept her into his arms and carried her into the dark foliage, laying her on the soft sand. His hand traveled over her belly, and his lips replaced the thumb that had grazed her nipple, sucking off the salt from the sea. His mouth closed over her delicate jut, and he sucked through the chemise, rubbing the wet garment across her sensitive spot. Her back arched from the sand to meet his lips.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pantaloons, ignoring the voice telling him he had no right to do this.

"Huh…" She latched onto his hand, and he stopped his wandering but made no move to withdraw.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice was gruff from lust, his breath quivering with pent-up release.

"Yes," she gasped. "No. I don't know. I want something ."

"I know what you want," he said in a raspy voice. "Let me give it to you."

She let go of his hand, slowly, and he slid a finger through her moist folds, grazing a nub so sensitized a whimper slipped over her lips, then another one, and another one as he circled her with lazy strokes. Her soft kitten moans thrilled along his spine. Her heat enveloped him and consumed him as tension filled her body, straining every muscle like a spring on the verge of snapping.

He swallowed her moans, her breath mixing with his, and then he drove inside her warmth.

"Jesus! Ah–"

The tension in her exploded. Her muscles stiffened, her core lifted toward his hand, and then a series of fierce shivers reverberated to his finger until her body slumped in his arms.

"Damn, you're beautiful," he whispered, his voice quivering, and took her lips in a deep, lingering kiss, his hand remaining on the joint of her legs. "So perfect."

"Nobody has ever told me that before."

"That is a shame, sweetness, because you are gorgeous."

She rested her head on his arm, and he held her tight as she came down from her ecstasy, stroking a hand along her back until she got her ragged breath under control.

"Adrian?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you make me a woman?"