Once the place was more habitable, she picked fruit, while Tristan gathered wood. He actually started a fire in the pit in the center of the floor, and at witnessing the feat, she was so amazed that she was speechless. By the time the sun dropped in the west, her condition—and her mood—were much improved.
Their situation was still dire, but it no longer seemed hopeless. Her hunger had been sated, she’d taken a bath in the stream to wash the salt from her skin. The light from the fire reduced her sense of isolation.
As Tristan stoked the flames, she yawned, her torso heavy with fatigue. She was sore in every muscle, down to the tiniest pore, and she wanted to rest for a week, but she was worried about their sleeping arrangements.
So far, they’d spent their nights snuggled together on the beach, but he’d been too weak to attempt any mischief. Obviously, after the energy he’d exhibited during their busy afternoon, he was rapidly recuperating.
Would they commence the sexual affair that had nearly begun in his cabin? Should they commence it?
She was beyond caring what occurred between them. She only knew that she wasn’t going to sleep by herself—no matter what!
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“I’m too exhausted for words.”
A sound echoed in the trees—probably a branch falling—and she jumped, then relaxed as total silence descended again.
“It’s disconcerting, isn’t it?” he said. “Being here like this? It doesn’t seem real. I keep expecting native savages or wolves to leap out and accost us.”
“So do I.”
“I’ll stay in here with you,” he promised, as if reading her mind. “Even if you demand I leave, I won’t go.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not. Not when you’re with me.”
“Simply remind yourself of how marvelously competent I am. I can be valiantly protective, too.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Other than being tossed overboard by a pirate, you mean?”
“Yes, other than that.”
The both chuckled.
He nodded toward a floor mat. “Lie down. I’ll watch over you.”
She was too weary to stand and walk to it, so she crawled over and lay on her side, her knees curled to her chest. As she was drifting off, he joined her, spooning himself to her back, an arm draped across her waist. He nuzzled her ear, her cheek.
“It’s been quite an adventure, hasn’t it?” he said. “I can’t believe I’m alive.”
“Neither can I. You must be made of steel.”
“I’m too tough to kill.”
After seeing him run through with a sword, she had to concur. She couldn’t figure out why he’d survived, but she credited his robust constitution, a lucky star, and divine intervention. Clearly, it wasn’t his time to go.
“What will become of us?” she asked.
“I don’t have any idea. I’m too drained to worry about it now.”
“Do you suppose we’ll ever be found? Tell me the truth.”
“We can only hope.”
She gazed at him over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy.”
“You haven’t been.” He paused, then grinned. “Well, maybe a little grumpy.”
“I’m not normally such a dour person.”
“Ha!”
“I was terrified. I thought you were about to die on me.”
“Die on you? I told you: I’ll never go anywhere without you, so stop being such a grouch.”
“I don’t mean to be. It’s just that these past weeks have been...a bit much.”
“That would be putting it mildly.”
“And I haven’t been angry with you. I’m angry at God. I don’t know why He has to make everything so difficult for me.”
“Are you feeling that He’s specifically singled you out?”
“Yes, and I don’t care for the attention. I wish He’d switch to someone else.”
He snorted with amusement, and he leaned nearer and kissed her on the lips. He held himself just there, lingering, consoling, and she eased into the embrace, accepting the comfort he needed to give and she needed to receive.
Down below, his hardening phallus was pressed to her thigh, evidence that his health was much improved, his prior vigor returning with a vengeance.
“You’re obviously feeling much better,” she pointed out.
“I certainly am.” He shifted his weight, coming over her.
“What are you doing?” she inquired, though she knew the answer.
“I’m finishing what we started on my ship.” He glowered at her. “And don’t even think about protesting.”
She stared at him, transfixed by the magnetic blue of his beautiful eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good, because I’m not about to argue with you.”
“Are you sure you’re...ah...fit enough for this? I wouldn’t want to cause a relapse.”
He scoffed and flexed against her, his phallus growing even larger. “Do I feel debilitated to you?”
“No.”
He began kissing her again, his movements slow and deliberate, but exhilarating all the same. Much of the force and power he’d displayed in their previous carnal forays was tamped down, but he was definitely hale and able.
He didn’t have the patience for any delay, and since she was clothed only in her chemise, it didn’t take long to have her naked. He stripped the garment over her head and dipped to her breasts, nibbling and sucking on the aroused tips.
In the back of her mind, she understood that she should stop him, that their coupling would bring even more calamity down the road. But for now, she felt so physically and spiritually linked to him that she couldn’t deny him the smallest request.
If he wanted to mate, she was more than willing.
He kept on and on, titillating her until her hips were pushing into his, until her woman’s sheath was wet and relaxed, then he tugged at his drawers so he could wedge his rod into her.
“Spread your legs,” he urged, “just a tad more.”
She realized that he was trembling, his strength not as fully restored as he liked to pretend, plus they’d had a very busy day. No doubt he was exhausted, but doing his best to hide it.
She widened her thighs, her knees falling away, a signal that she wanted to proceed as much as he. Perhaps more so. She was frantic to be connected to him in everyway.
“Take a deep breath,” he said, and she did. “Now, let it out.”
She did that too, and with very little effort, he slid into her.
To her surprise, it was very easy to give herself to him, and none of the horror stories she’d heard about the sexual act seemed accurate. There was some pressure, some minor discomfort, but it passed quickly, and they were united as she would likely never be with another man.
He thrust into her, weaker than he should have been, his vitality diminished but hardly gone. Shortly, his desire crested, his body stiffening, as he spilled himself. Then he collapsed onto her, his lovely face nestled at her bosom.
She held him for a long while, and when he finally drew away, he was smiling so tenderly that her heart raced. If she wasn’t cautious, she could get swept up in that smile, could read too much into it and want too much because of it.
“My darling, Harriet, what did you think of that?”
“It was different than I expected, but very, very grand.”
“It will get better the more we do it.”
“It was quite marvelous this time.”
He chuckled. “If I have to be stranded on a deserted island, I’m glad I’m stranded with you.”
“I have to agree. The present company is not all bad.”
“See? I told you I’d grow on you. It’s happening already.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Close your eyes and rest,” he murmured, and it was a simple command to follow.
She snuggled down, and in seconds, she was asleep, content and safe in the circle of his arms.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Helen ran into her bedchamber, slammed the door, and began to pace.
She felt as if her world was collapsing, as if she was drowning in a sea of bad decisions.
Without reservation or restraint, she had given herself to James Harcourt. She’d gleefully sought ruination, while asking for nothing in exchange but a bit of assistance in finding her sister—assistance that had failed to materialize.
He’d agreed to help her, but after what she’d witnessed down in the parlor with Miranda Wilson, she had to accept that he’d probably been lying. About Harriet. About everything.
Helen was no better than the lowest scullery maid who spread her legs for a few pennies, except that in Helen’s case, she hadn’t even tried to get what she’d bargained for up front.
Why was she so gullible? Why had her common sense flown out the window?
He was a man who allowed high-stakes gambling in his home, and she kept conveniently forgetting that the first time she met him, he’d believed she was a prostitute.
He had a relationship with Miranda that Helen didn’t understand, but obviously, it was much more involved than he would ever admit. And if he would seduce Helen, while carrying on with his ward, of what other perfidy might he be capable?
What had she done? What was she thinking?