Captured (18 page)

She’d just started act two when she noticed the sun setting. Closing the book and setting it aside, she walked to the railing and looked out. She was so engrossed in the beauty of the reds and oranges that she didn’t notice Dominic standing in the doorway behind her, but she somehow sensed him and so turned and met his eyes. “Did you enjoy your cousin’s visit?”

“Very much. It’s been over a year since I saw him last.”

“So, he’s going to join the fight.”

“He is.”

“I wish him Godspeed.”

“As do I. My mother was from a large family and I have many cousins, but Gaspar and I are closest to Gabriel.” He stepped out to join her. “Are you angry with me?”

“For what?”

“For being so presumptuous as to speak for you.”

She gave him a soft smile. “No. I am not. I was a tad piqued when it happened, but not angry by any means.”

“
Bien
.” He sounded relieved. “I was concerned.”

“There’s no need.”

“My wanting to answer for you was purely selfish. I didn’t want you to accept Gabriel’s offer. We haven’t had nearly enough time together.”

“I know, but I will have to leave eventually.”

“I know.” He fit himself against her back and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. After placing a kiss on her brow, he stood with her, and together they watched the sun until it slipped below the horizon.

L

Dominic sat with his back against the trunk and Clare in his arms. There were other sweethearts taking advantage of the velvet night, but each couple sought privacy in secluded places a distance away.

“This is so peaceful,” she said to him.

“It is indeed.” It was a peace he wished he could gift her with forever. The idea that she might be caught up in the struggles of the war when she returned to Savannah and maybe come to harm as a result did not sit well. Again he wanted to ask her to let him go and get her children, but broaching the subject might lead to a disagreement, and he didn’t want to ruin their idyllic evening, so he stayed quiet on the matter, choosing to cherish her company instead.

“Did Gaspar and his new wife go somewhere special for their honeymoon?” she asked, eyeing the dark shadow of the
Marie
sitting at the dock.

“They’re at the abandoned lookout station up in the mountains. It’s the closest thing we have here to a wedding suite. I expect they will rejoin us sometime tomorrow or the day after.” And as soon as they returned he planned on taking Clare up there for a few secluded days alone.

Clare savored her contentment. For as long as she could remember, every day of her captive life had been spent working from sunup to sundown. Being with Dominic and his people on their island refreshed her, soothed her, and let her live life on her own terms. “It will be hard leaving all this behind.”

“Then don’t. Let me rescue your children.”

He felt her tense, but when she didn’t respond verbally, he continued softly. “Think how much they’d enjoy running up and down the beach looking for shells with the other children. Think how much fun they’d have learning to sail and swim. Think of them never having to be afraid again. Let me help you,
petite.”

His voice held such tenderness and urgency her heart ached with longing for the future he’d described, but should the rescue fail, the consequences would be too dear to even contemplate. “I can’t risk it, Dominic.” Turning to look up into his face, she whispered again, “I can’t.”

“You don’t believe I can do it?”

She placed her palm against his cheek. “Being here with you has me so muddled inside, I don’t know what I believe, but I do know that I will take my own life before letting my fantasies trigger their being sold deeper into slavery.”

“There are no guarantees in life, Clare.”

“Maybe in yours, but the auction block is a guarantee in my world and in theirs, too.”

“Touché.”

She sensed his distance and tried not to let it make her angry. “You are a strong, brave man, Dominic; you’ve proven that to me in many ways.”

“But.”

Her lips tightened. “But if I lose my children I will be paralyzed.” Emotion filled her and her voice with pain. “They are the only precious things this slave woman has in this whole ugly world, so please, can we not talk about this anymore?”

Dominic’s heart broke and he pulled her close and held her tight. “I’m sorry. I will honor your love for them and do as you ask. Please don’t cry.” He wanted to flay himself for causing her such distress. It came to him that he was in love with her; masts, sails, and anchor. He lifted her chin and placed solemn, regret-filled kisses on the tears he’d caused her to shed. “I’m arrogant and selfish. Arrogant enough to think I can save all those who need it, and selfish because I want to hold you against my heart until the end of time.”

Clare had never been one to lose her composure but she couldn’t help it. All she wanted to do was cry for herself, for her children, and for what would never be. Her tears were also for this strong, wonderful man who cared enough to place flowers in her bath and treat her as if she were cherished. She loved him. Raising her eyes to his in the darkness, she held his intense gaze. “I’m glad you came into my life, Dominic LeVeq—more than I can ever say.”

“I feel the same, so let’s just enjoy this time and allow the fates to worry about tomorrow. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

And because he wanted to make her smile, Dominic asked, “Have I shown you the advantages of not wearing stays?”

She chuckled. “No, but I’m looking forward to a demonstration.”

Pleased by the brightening of her mood, he traced her lips with an adoring finger, then grazed his mouth against them fleetingly. “First, I can do this…” His hand and kisses began to meander in such a way that after only a few humid moments her nipples beneath her shift and blouse ripened in welcoming response. “And then this…” She was positioned sideways across his lap, her spine braced against his strong arm giving him unfettered access to the length and breadth of her small, perfect form, and he took full advantage. He undid the drawstring of her blouse, then spread it wide to expose the snug-fitting shift she wore beneath. His ardor was heightened by the feel of her breasts straining against the cotton and how hard the tips were against his circling palm. “Can you sit up for a moment?”

Her vision and sense of self were lost in the fog of passion but she complied, pulsing as he gently tugged the homespun blouse down her shoulders. Once her arms were freed, the garment was left to pool at her waist while he deftly undid the three small buttons on the placket fronting the shift; one at the neck, one at mid-breast, and the other near her waist. His warm hands moved the open halves aside baring her to the moon, the sounds of the surf, and his heated need.

He took her breast into his mouth and feasted silently. A hushed sigh slid from her lips in response to his sensual ministrations and to the bold moves beneath her rucked-up skirt. He skimmed over the velvety skin of her thighs, then eased his fingers up past the legs of her loose-fitting drawers to find her damp warmth.

The lush flesh was so wet and enticing he dallied, lingered, and moved a brazen finger in and out, treating her to a series of slow, tantalizing invitations that made her hips rise and his manhood harden like a length of African iron.

“I’m going to bring you to pleasure,
petite,
then take you home and finish this out on the verandah.”

His voice alone was enough to send her into the arms of the little death, but she held on. He made her greedy, wanton, and so uninhibited that she didn’t care how scandalously wide her legs were spread or that she was twisting and moaning. All that mattered were his hands, lips, and the little death that raced through her body with so much power she had to turn her face into his shoulder to muffle her elongated scream of joy.

Once again, Clare was disconnected from reality. She knew she was in the saddle on Louis’s back but had no idea where they were or how long they’d been riding. Every time clarity did rise, she was sent back into the fog by Dominic’s erotic magic. Next she knew, he was carrying her into his room and out onto the verandah.

They began again, a slow passionate duet that was as sweet as any song. On the
Marie
he’d promised to make love to her on a moonlit verandah, and he proved to be a man of his word. She offered no protests as he stripped her bare and began to worship her leisurely. His bold mouth savored the buds of her breasts like succulent bits of sugarcane. Backed up against the iron verandah, her fingers gripping the edge, she stood on trembling legs, as heat and sensation captured her once more.

His attention moved lower, wandering over the soft undercurve of her breast, tasting her, tempting her. Kneeling, he brushed a kiss against the nook of her navel, and his hand drifted between her legs, circling and teasing the little kernel of flesh until hoarse pleas rose from her throat and her stance widened. It was the only invitation he needed to fill his hands with her hips and pull her to him so he could gift her with something else she’d never experienced—the most carnal kiss of all. In response to the torrid licks and small sucks, orgasm shattered her almost immediately. Nothing had prepared her for such overpowering delight, and she rode the little death for what felt like a lifetime.

But before she could regain her sanity, he gently pushed the sponge inside, then slowly filled her with another form of delight that was hard and firm and stretched her so she could accommodate him comfortably. The pleasure made her gasp, and his opening strokes pushed her hips solidly against the railing. Not wanting her to be bruised he lifted her, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his trim waist. The stroking continued, dazzling her, branding her, and making her grip his arms tightly as she held on. Soon they were both lost in the lust and heat and he was possessively guiding her back and forth in tandem with the escalating pace. For Clare, it soon became too much. Her third orgasm crackled over her and she cried out.

Watching her shatter and ride him so wantonly, the furiously pumping Dominic threw back his head and growled. Moments later he shuddered and joined her in the earth-moving arms of
le petit morte.

Later, as they lay on his bed in the dark, he trailed a finger over the swell of her breast. “I wasn’t supposed to make love to you today. You were supposed to be recovering from last night.”

“I know.”

“Yet you said nothing.”

“Not a word.”

“Did I injure you?”

“No.”

He leaned over and kissed her softly. “Next on the list. Love in the courtyard under the midday sun.”

“I can’t wait.”

He smiled. After he fit himself against her and covered their bodies loosely with the thin sheet, his eyelids drifted closed. A heartbeat later, hers did as well.

The next morning, Dominic left her sleeping soundly while he went to take care of his needs. He had a long list of duties to attend to that on past voyages had been handled the morning after the feast. The distracting Clare Sullivan hadn’t been on those journeys, though, so as a result he was a day behind.

When Clare opened her eyes she saw that he was dressed. “Good morning, Dominic.”

He gave her his first smile of the day,
“Bonjour, petite.
How are you?”

“Sleepy.”

“I’ve business to tackle this morning, and since you don’t, there’s no reason for you to leave the bed until you’re ready. So go back to sleep. You had a very athletic evening if memory proves correct.”

It was her turn to smile. “Indeed.” She viewed his attire approvingly. The black waistcoat and breeches were of the finest quality, as were the snow white shirt and stockings. With his hair tied back and shining with cleanliness and oil, he looked like a well-turned-out gentleman. “One would think you were a colonial governor.”

“I suppose I do play that role here.” Taking one last look at himself in the standing mirror, he walked over and stood beside the bed that had once sheltered his parents. His eyes traveled over her hungrily, and his mind slid back to last night’s erotic encounter on the beach and the verandah. He could have made love to her until winter rains and still would have wanted more. His manhood pulsed, and he had to fight off his desire to undress and climb back beneath the sheets so he could savor her sleep-warmed skin. “You make me ravenous.”

“I’m finding you make me the same.”

He sat on the bed’s edge and traced a finger down her brown arm above the sheet. “No athletic contests for you today. We’re going to let you rest.”

“And if I prefer the contests?”

“Saucy woman.” Leaning over, he placed a tender kiss on her brow. “I’ll return later. Anna’s downstairs if you need anything.”

She nodded. Once he was gone, she snuggled back beneath the bedding and closed her eyes.

Dominic spent the morning riding across the island to consult with the farmers about their crops, the hunters who supplied the community with game, and Odessa, who headed up the women’s council. Each brought him up to speed on the state of their areas, and any issues or new ideas that had arisen while he was away. As always there were neighbor disputes, a few new residents, deaths, and births.

“Do you think Clare might like to assist me with the school?” Odessa asked as they talked outside the small tin-roofed cabin that served as the school, and where she functioned as the headmistress for the island’s large population of children.

“I will ask her, but she’ll be returning to the colonies in a fortnight or so.”

Confusion claimed her face. “She isn’t going to be one of us?”

“No.”

“But you care for her so very much.”

He couldn’t mask his surprise. “How do you know that?”

“It’s obvious. All the women are talking about it.”

“Really?”

“But in a good way. We’re glad you’ve finally found someone for your heart. My grandfather would be very pleased.”

Her grandfather, Martine Rousseau, the LeVeq family’s old butler, had died a few months after their arrival on the island.

“I do care for her and would prefer that she remain, but her children are in the colonies as well and she doesn’t want them left behind.”

“Then bring them, too. We have a school, and are bound to have children their ages.” Seeing the look on his face, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Because Dominic had known Odessa most of his life and knew she’d be discreet, he told her of Clare’s dilemma.

“I understand now why she has to return to the colonies but surely you’ll find a solution to her problem.”

“She doesn’t want me to. She’s afraid my efforts will fail and that her children will pay the price.”

“That is a concern, but you rescued over three hundred souls in Martinique, surely two small children will be simpler.”

He shrugged. “The colonies are at war. British forces are in the area and that complicates matters, but I’m confident a good solid plan will work.”