Tempest(15)

Cathy stared. Her eyes were accustomed enough to the darkness to make out the sculpted masculine beauty of his chest and the lean, strong lines of his arms. Before she could manage further thought, Adam had stripped off his lower garments and she glimpsed his muscled flanks, narrow hips, and partially roused manhood before gasping aloud and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Adam! Oh my goodness!”

“Are you shocked?” With a soft laugh, he sat down beside her and gave her a mischievous smile. “Disappointed?”

Her face was on fire. “I— I think this is unseemly! We ought to get under the covers so that we can cling to a bit of modesty.”

“I’m feeling neither unseemly nor modest, but perhaps that’s because I’m a man. If you want to get into bed, you may.” He bit back an urge to sigh aloud. If there was one thing worse than being forced into marriage with a mousey heiress one barely knew, it was discovering that said heiress was horrified by the thought of revealing her plain little body to her husband.

Cathy scurried gratefully under the lace-edged sheets, still clad in her nightgown. “Are you angry? Bored?”

“Of course not.” The soul of patience, he climbed into bed beside her and managed a smile. “It’s your wedding night, my dear, and you’re entitled to be skittish.”

“We have the rest of our lives to practice at this. Why must we rush?”

“Indeed.” Raveneau’s earlier throb of arousal had died away and he lay on his back in the luxurious, swaying bed, listening to water lapping at the yacht’s hull and wishing he could just go to sleep. This business of deflowering the nervous virgin bride required more energy than he could muster.

Cathy reached over and nervously touched his chest. It was warm and hard, and she could feel his steady heartbeat. A surge of excitement gripped her very core. It felt like the champagne, only much, much better and more dangerous.

“Will you kiss me?” she whispered.

“Are you certain you’re ready for that?” His tone was underscored with irony.

“Yes. Quite certain.”

He slipped one hand around her waist, turning her toward him, and cupped her chin with the other hand. Cathy began to stiffen, but when his mouth found hers, she gasped at the sensation of pleasure. Slowly he kissed her, exploring the soft terrain of her lips, working them with his own mouth until they grew moister and more responsive. His tongue longed to explore further, but Cathy was untrained in the finer arts of kissing, and there was plenty of time to teach her. It was enough for now that she was relaxing and the cadence of her breathing was changing.

Carefully, while still kissing her, Adam let his hand move over her nightgown. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman who had been so reserved, and who had not been molding herself to him during these first kisses in bed. Cathy lay awkwardly in his embrace, covered in lace and silk from head to toe, and he felt a bit uncertain himself. Uncertain... yet increasingly aroused.

“Can I help you undress?” he murmured gently.

“What?” There was panic in her voice. “Why must I undress? No one told me about that. I had no idea!”

“Never mind,” he soothed, kissing her neck and soaking up the sensation of her curls against his face. “Just relax.”

She wanted to— desperately! Part of her was melting with desire each time Adam touched her. He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, his tongue teasing between her lips, and a warm ache grew inside her. When his hand caressed her cheek, neck, and throat, her breasts seemed to tighten and the mysterious region between her legs tingled, then throbbed. Was something wrong with her? She yearned to press against Adam. He smelled so good to her, and his hair curled crisply in her fingers when she touched it.

But what exactly did he mean to do to her? Images of mating horses came to her on waves of panic. He was so strong and so forceful... and the glimpse Cathy’d had of his male member had been enough to strike fear into her heart. What words had her mother used? Ugly, degrading, humiliating, repulsive!

Adam felt her go rigid in his arms. He’d been just about to touch her breasts over the nightgown. “For God’s sake, what’s wrong? What have I done?”

“Nothing,” she replied miserably. “I’m just afraid. I’ve heard so many terrifying stories...!” Closing her eyes, she saw her own dear, gentle father passionately kissing a strange woman in public. “I’m afraid.”

Adam wished he could promise her that he wouldn’t hurt her, but even with long, lingering foreplay, there were no guarantees. “Look— it’s been a long day for both of us. I want your wedding night to be an experience of pleasure and happiness, not fear. Why don’t we get a good night’s sleep and perhaps we can try again tomorrow?” It was so much easier to just have a mistress! “Take all the time you need. You can let me know when you’re ready, all right?”

“You’re very kind.”

“Good night, Cathy.” Adam patted her shoulder as if she were his sister and rolled away to his own pillow. What a fiasco! He felt like a prisoner on Parrish’s steam yacht, floating along on an interminable, sexless honeymoon from which there was no escape.

Behind him in the gathering shadows, Cathy rose up on an elbow and tried to catch a clear glimpse of her husband’s profile. He was staring toward the darkened porthole, brooding: eyes open, jaw set, and brow furrowed.

Curling into a little fearful ball, she knew that she had made a terrible mistake by postponing their physical marriage. Cathy had put up a barrier between them that was far higher and thicker than she’d ever guessed, and it seemed to grow more formidable with each passing moment...





Chapter 10




A chilly gray mist enveloped the Free Spirit during the second day of the Raveneaus’ marriage. As they sailed down the eastern coastline of America, their view was shrouded in fog.

“You don’t suppose it’s a sign?” Adam remarked to the first mate while he was walking Alice at midday. His tone was only half-amused.

Woodrow, a gangly young man with a pronounced Southern accent, looked shocked. “Oh no, suh— that is, I ought to say, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “It’s November. The weather ought to improve the farther south we go. Ah’m looking forward to the islands myself!” A dreamy smile lit his face, then he remembered himself and stood at attention. “What can I do for y’all, my lord?”

Adam considered this offer. “I suppose you might have some chilled champagne sent to the main cabin below. Perhaps a bit of caviar, sour cream, and toast points to go with it?”

“Yes, my lord. Can I bring something for Alice?”

“She’d like that.”

“My lord, will you give my regards to her ladyship? I hope marriage agrees with her.” A blush spread over the young man’s cheeks.

“Thank you, Woodrow, and yes, I believe my wife is well today.” Adam couldn’t meet the younger man’s eager gaze. He suddenly felt more than a little guilty for his own failure the night before to transport Cathy to a state of wedded bliss. His guilt was compounded by the fact that he knew he wasn’t the loving bridegroom she deserved.

With that, Adam mustered the remaining shreds of his good nature and returned belowdecks to his bride. When last he’d seen her, at ten o’clock, she had still been asleep.

During his morning of freedom, he’d perused the books lining the drawing room shelves, read in the glass-enclosed upper saloon, walked Alice several times around the yacht, eaten a light breakfast, and struck up conversations with passing crew members. It was hard enough being on a honeymoon with a wife one barely knew, but harder still being trapped onboard a vessel belonging to her wealthy father. Adam began to ponder the meaning of the word “gigolo.” If he didn’t fit the exact definition, he was at least bought and paid for... and beginning to understand why such arrangements were seldom as simple as they seemed.

“There you are!” Cathy exclaimed as Adam and Alice entered the spacious cabin. She tied the sash on her dressing gown as she spoke.

Adam glanced toward a polished copper bathtub, still filled with steamy bubbles that scented the air. “You’ve had a bath, I see.”

“Yes. It did feel lovely.”

“Perhaps I’ll order one myself. Suddenly it seems a very long time since the soak I had before church yesterday.”

Brushing her long hair, Cathy tried to look calm, as if they frequently shared such casually intimate scenes; as if they had consummated their new marriage last night after all. When Alice came over and sat down on her toes and gazed up at her, she couldn’t help smiling.

Adam did order his bath, and was surprised when Cathy didn’t flee the moment he disrobed. Instead, she sat in the main cabin and pretended to read The Age of Innocence. When a steward arrived with champagne, caviar, and all the trimmings, she didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t order this,” she managed at last. “I don’t think it’s even noon yet, Tilburn!”

“His lordship did the ordering,” explained the older man. “And yes, my lady, it’s past twelve o’clock.”

“I suppose I’ll have to allow it then.” There was a twinkle in her eye.