Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams(115)

“Hey,” I called, his head came up and his green-brown eyes came to me.

Then his face got lazy, that lazy communicated itself to a variety of places in my body, and he said not a word but straightened in his chair and shifted it slightly to the side.

He didn’t have to say a word, I knew what that meant.

I untangled myself from the covers, grabbed my long, soft wool robe that was lying across the bottom of the divan and my cashmere-socked feet hit wood floor. I pulled the robe on over my satin nightgown as I wandered across the cabin to him, tying the belt tight just as I made it to his chair. His arm hooked me around the waist and he gently guided me into his lap.

When I settled, both his arms wrapped around me, his head bent toward mine and he murmured, “I’ll take my morning kiss now, wee Finnie.”

I grinned up at him, placed my hands on the hard wall of his chest and leaned in, tipping my head back, offering him my mouth.

Then he took his morning kiss. This wasn’t the first time he got it with me in his lap in his chair behind his desk in the cabin. Other times he got it when he woke me in his bed when he was still in it. There were a few times he got it when he woke me after coming back from doing something. But there were no other times. He came to me or was with me every morning.

Every single one.

I was clutching his sweater and a bit more than mildly heated by his embrace when he lifted his head and muttered, “Will I ever tire of the taste of you?”

God, I hoped not.

Of course, I didn’t say that. Instead I grinned at him and stated, “No way. I’m yummy.”

He grinned back and his arms pulled me closer as he asked, “Yummy?”

“I’m delicious,” I explained.

His grin turned into a smile before he agreed, “That you are, my wee one.”

I leaned in deeper, lifted my hand to stroke his rough jaw and my eyes dropped to his mouth before I whispered, “You’re yummy too.”

I watched his mouth mutter, “Gods,” before it was on mine and he took another morning kiss, this one longer, deeper, wetter and lots better.

Mm. Definitely yummy.

I was clinging to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand in his thick hair when he tore his mouth from mine and slid his lips down my cheek to my ear where he spoke quietly.

“Sadly, I have no time to play this morning, wife. I’m to meet Thad and Kell in five minutes. We make land the day after tomorrow and from there we must make haste. This morning, we finalize plans,” his head lifted and his eyes caught mine, “but after that, I’m free. I’ll hand the wheel to Thad, meet you here and we will lock the door.”

I knew what locking the door meant. So did his men.

Awesome. Something to look forward to.

“But now, I must be away,” Frey went on. “Would you like me to tell Skylar to bring you breakfast?”

At the mention of Skylar, my good morning mood experienced a hiccup.

In the time I was on the ship, Skylar had not gotten used to me. Frey had explained this was because Skylar was the son of one of his men, a man who had unfortunately died during a mission (this, Frey assured me, probably because I sucked in every molecule of oxygen in the cabin and actually felt my face go pale, was a very rare happenstance) which meant Skylar was being raised solely by that man’s wife.

She was not a good woman, a kind one, a fair one, a patient one or, from some of the stories he relayed to me (stories that made my heart hurt), a sane one. Frey had learned that things were going badly for the boy and he’d taken him (yes, taken him, giving his mother no choice and honestly, I was glad of it) and now Skylar served Frey and would do so until he was old enough to make his own decisions.

Therefore, Skylar was gun shy with women and it was no surprise. Also, this meant Frey usually did my talking with Skylar. This was at my request, mainly because Skylar wasn’t getting used to me no matter how kind or soft-spoken I was with him and I could tell I caused him discomfort so I decided to avoid doing that by avoiding him and Frey had agreed to my request.

I wasn’t sure an abused boy should be serving on a ship with a bunch of macho men I had noted treated him like, well, a bunch of macho men and further without the kindness of a woman. What I was sure of was that, if even half the stories were true, he was better off on Frey’s ship with a bunch of brusque men than he was with his mother.

I was also sure I liked Frey even more because he went out of his way to take care of the boy. His care might not be nurturing but it couldn’t be denied it was care.

“Yes,” I nodded, answering his question, “and water to wash.”

“All right,” Frey murmured, leaned in to touch his lips to my forehead then stood, taking me with him and setting me on my feet. Then he looked down at me. “Your plans for the day?”