His Californian Countess (10 page)

She laughed. “It isn’t just fashion you don’t understand,
my lord.
You don’t seem to comprehend the difference between being wealthy and poor. I made the dress.”

“All these tiny stitches,” he said, closely examining a seam. “What about these?” he asked, pointing to the darker sprigs.

“I embroidered the sprigs, as well.”

“I’m now convinced I’m quite brilliant. I’ve not only wed a woman who is good and kind and beautiful, but one of great accomplishments, as well. And perhaps you can teach Meara how to do fine stitching like this.”

He hugged her a little tighter. “And I do understand the difference. My mother was a commoner. My uncle obsesses over that blood flowing through my veins. According to him, it was the reason for my every child
hood infraction. For some reason he thought he could beat it out of me. I don’t know what his own son’s failing was because he treated him as badly.

“It was my mother who gave me what some think of as a child’s name, by the by. It was to be James after my father. I should be cross with her, but she only held me the once and called me Jamie as she did. She died later that day. My father thought to honor her by giving me the only name for me that had ever left her lips. Meara is named for her.”

“That is a sad yet lovely story at once. Your father must have loved her greatly.”

He tensed. “Unfortunately. Apparently he loved her more than he did me. He killed himself and left me at the mercy of his brother. A note he left said he couldn’t go on without her any longer.”

Amber was incensed for the boy he’d been. For the man who still bore emotional scars inflicted by uncaring adults. “What utter nonsense. You said you were seven years old? He’d borne it that long and should have been over much of his grief by then. We all have to learn to carry on after losing our loved ones.”

“I thought he had. Even looking back on it with an adult’s eyes, he’d seemed just fine. Busy with the estate and often preoccupied, but not in the doldrums. He was always able to tell me about her and smile. It was a great shock to everyone.”

Most particularly a child suddenly thrust into an unfriendly judgmental atmosphere. Beating the sweet sensitive child he must have been! Oh, but she wanted to meet this uncle of his and give him a piece of her mind, but was just as horrified at the idea of looking upon such evil.

Just then a particularly violent motion nearly
knocked them off the sofa. The truth of their situation once again surfaced in her mind. They could die. And all she would have experienced as his wife was small talk, card games and long, lonely nights in separate beds for both of them. Except, of course, making love one glorious time only to have him call out to Helena, his lost love.

Was that truly all it had been? He’d said she was punishing them both for his confusion and anger when they woke.
Was
she punishing them? She still didn’t know.

But she did know she wanted more than this. They were married. And, though there had been no baby as a consequence from their first and only night, there was the bond he’d spoken of all those days ago.

There was most definitely that bond.

B
efore Amber could say anything about her change of heart, the ship rolled sharply to starboard and Amber felt them nearly slip off the saloon’s long curved sofa again.

“This won’t do,” Jamie grumbled as he scooted them deep into the cushions again. “One more wave like that and we could wind up on the floor.”

Amber twisted in his hold so she could face him but still stay in his embrace. Their gazes locked. The look in his eyes, strained and aroused, showed her without a doubt what holding her actually cost him. And she’d never loved him more.

She laid her hand on his cheek and with a quick nod of his head he kissed her palm.

“You’re right. This won’t do at all,” she told him. “I won’t go to my grave—watery or otherwise—and not feel what I did in your arms at least one more time.”

His eyes blazed, but he shook his head and gave her a little grin. “We aren’t going to our grave tonight or any other night aboard this ship. There’s plenty of time for us.”

Amber had seen that grin before—just before the
storm broke and ended their poker game. He’d been bluffing at the time. Amber fought a smile. She’d warned him that if he bluffed, he might give himself away and never be able to fool her again.

“I’d never pegged you for a liar, Lord Adair. You’d like nothing more than to whisk me into the privacy of one of our staterooms so we could be together again.”

“We are together,” Jamie protested.

“Why won’t you just admit it?”

He sighed. “Caught out, am I?” Jamie slid an arm under her knees and lifted her on to his lap. “I’ve tried not to push. Tried to give you all the time you need.”

She traced his jaw with her fingertip. “I appreciate your restraint, but I’ve had all the time I need. I’m ready.”

“Because of the storm.” He took a deep breath and his chest expanded, pressing against her breasts. His gaze dropped to the point of contact. He sighed again, she hoped in defeat, and dropped his head to the high back of the sofa. Then, after a few moments, he picked his head up and looked her in the eyes again. “I hadn’t wanted you to have a reason other than wanting me as much as I want you. But I’m not strong enough to resist the invitation even if it means using a chance storm to get us what we both want and need.”

He stood with her in his arms. She hadn’t been carried this way since her father’s death, but this didn’t feel the least little bit childish. What she did feel was very much a woman in his arms.

“My bed or yours?” he asked, his voice deeper than normal.

“Yours is so much bigger,” she whispered against his ear.

Jamie took no time getting to his door. “Twist the knob, Pixie. I’m a little busy keeping us upright.” She twisted it, and the ship rocked toward that side at the same moment. The door flew open so hard it crashed against the wall. Jamie fell into the room as the two of them laughed like fools. He kicked it shut behind them as the boat righted itself, then he pivoted and bent so she could turn the key in the lock.

Then he half stumbled, half ran to the bed and stood her next to it. After sitting, Jamie reached out and pulled her into the V of his legs. Her heart pounded as she stared at his smiling lips, wanting to feel them on hers again. His mouth pulled into a broad, sexy grin and her stomach dropped, but the ship didn’t have a thing to do with it this time.

“Want something, Pixie?” he asked. His voice, low and throaty, danced along her spine. Her gaze flew to his. He knew she’d been fixated on his clever mouth.

Amber swallowed. “I guess a kiss would be nice,” she answered, unsure what he expected her to say. If he made her ask for specifics, she’d melt into a lump of embarrassed flesh.

He took her face in his broad, capable hands and angled her head before drawing her to him and sealing his lips to hers. How could just the pressing of their lips set off so many…well…they felt like small explosions going off inside her? She didn’t understand how his nearness, his touch, could affect her this way.

He nipped at her bottom lip, then his tongue traced the seam of hers. She conceded that he surely did affect her. She shivered and gasped, giving him the chance to deepen the kiss and twine his tongue with hers. She felt
that intimacy all the way to her toes, which seemed to curl in her slippers all on their own.

She was thankful he’d left the lantern lit so she could see his expression when he lifted his head. But of course, she had no idea if the look on his face was only about passion and lust or if there was caring and some small amount of love written there, as well. Oh, how she hoped and prayed that, if there weren’t, there soon would be. When poets wrote about unrequited love, they vastly overstated its appeal.

“I’ve dreamed constantly of a moment like this,” he whispered against her lips before pressing them to hers again. Then he trailed his fingertips over her cheeks.

Weeks ago he’d said,
“Our lovemaking formed a bond between us. We didn’t mean it to happen, but the bond is there.”

Did that mean there would be an even greater bond now that they’d made a conscious decision to make love again? More important, did he want there to be? Did she? Knowing she wasn’t brave enough to ask or answer that particular set of questions, Amber turned her head and kissed the hand he used to caress her cheek.

He looked at her with fire in his eyes, his gaze flicking over her face again and again. It was as if he was trying to memorize her features.

“I’m rather glad you got yourself all wet out on deck and had to change. This dress is intriguing with the buttons all down the front,” he said at last. Then he trailed fingers down her neck and began slowly, torturously unbuttoning the front closure of her dress while continuing his intent examination of her face. His rapt gaze made her feel more exposed than his inexorable
advance downward as one little button after another gave way to his nimble fingers.

Then he leaned forward and his lips covered hers again. His tongue once again begged entry and she eagerly opened for him. This time he lazily thrust his tongue forward and back in a distinct parody of the end they were rushing toward.

But Jamie seemed determined not to rush at all. His hands slid inside the open bodice of her dress and covered her breasts, kneading them through the thin material of her shift. His mouth stayed busy with hers. Then his hands moved and started on the tinier buttons of her shift.

She decided that even if imitation wasn’t the sincerest form of flattery, she wanted to follow his lead. Not to flatter, but to touch and be an equal partner in this adventure.

“Speaking of clothing, I’m rather glad I don’t have to divest you of a coat or waistcoat.” She wanted the feel of Jamie’s skin under her hands again. Fingers trembling, she worked at the remaining buttons of his shirt and tucked her hands inside, needing to touch the heat of him—skin to skin. Impatiently, she skimmed her hands upward across his chest and over his muscular shoulders.

But she lost all her ability to think sensibly when his clever fingers plucked at her nipples. She felt the tug deep and low in her belly and sucked in a sharp breath. Her knees went watery and she moaned.

Jamie’s husky chuckle told her of his satisfaction. As if he knew she was about to become a puddle at his feet, he guided her bottom on to his thigh.

His mouth left hers and she uttered a tiny cry of dis
appointment. The regret lasted only seconds because his hungry lips were on her again, kissing a trail downward over her neck to the valley between her breasts. His mouth replaced one set of fingers that had been strumming her nipple. Cupping her breast, he all but devoured her as the other hand continued to knead her other breast.

Amber feared for her sanity when he rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger while using his teeth and tongue on the other. She arched her back, calling his name and tunneling her hands through his thick hair, holding him to her even as he moved on to the other breast and repeated the luscious torture.

Then he kissed his way back to her lips and feasted on them again as his busy hands moved their sensual massage to her thighs. She felt as if he’d brought her to his room for a feast and she was the meal. He was her sustenance too and she’d take all he offered.

He sighed suddenly, disappointment keen in the sound.

Her brain scrambled in confusion. “Is something wrong?” she asked, shocked by the husky, breathless quality of her own voice.

He tugged her skirt up until he found the hem, then his hand caressed her thigh, skimming his fingertips over her skin. “I want to get you out of your clothes. I refuse to rush this by making love with our clothes in the way. I want to feel you under me again, but with nothing between us this time.”

“Oh. I was afraid I’d spoiled it somehow.”

He took her face in his hands and touched his forehead to her. They were nose to nose when he said, “Nothing could spoil this night. You’re my dream
woman.” His face was strained as he steadied her and reached for her hem, skimming his hands up her legs to her hips, then her waist.

She shivered again, but not from fear even though the ship took a sharp dip. Nerves and anticipation warred in her. “Sinking could spoil it,” she teased, however unsteadily, having nearly forgotten the storm entirely. That fear all but gone, she was, however, unsure about being naked before him.

He laughed at her joke as he slid her to her feet and pulled both her dress and shift over her head, standing as he did. The look of appreciation and wonder in his eyes as he looked down at her chased away any shyness.

“The only place I’m sinking, my dearest countess,” he whispered as he pulled her against him, “is into you. And you will be sinking into my wonderful feather mattress right now.” He scooped her up, then laid her down, and she sank into the decadent luxury of his bed.

Then he tore his shirt and pants off. His manhood standing proud was a new sight for her even after bathing him for days on end. This was even different from seeing him well and gloriously naked that awful morning they’d fought.

Amber was suddenly very glad for the night he’d stolen on to her pallet, because otherwise she would be beyond nervous all the way to terrified at the thought of him trying to join with her. But it had worked out spectacularly the last time.

Jamie lay next to her on the bed. Arm bent, he propped his head on his hand and traced her jawline with the knuckles of the other.

Then he bent to kiss her and the glory and delicious torture began again. This time, though, he moved more
quickly from one kind of kiss to the other, from soft fondling to bold caresses. Soon she was writhing on the bed, pulling him closer, pulling him atop her, then into her.

She cried out in ecstasy at the fullness of him entering her and wrapped her legs around his lean waist, wanting him closer still.

He gasped, his entire body quaking. “I thought it couldn’t have been this good.”

“Why?”

“I’d thought we weren’t meant to find perfection on earth.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the hint of the Irish accent he seemed to work so hard at hiding. “Hmm. I think you were wrong,” she said, happily breathing deeply of him.

“So wrong. This is better. This is everything. Are you sure you aren’t magic, my pixie? Because you’ve surely brought me a piece of heaven on earth.”

Then he began to move in her and suddenly a storm rose. It raged within her. All around her. The waves created were waves of pleasure. They dragged her under, but she was unafraid. Her mind spun and her lungs burned as if they would burst, as if the pressure building in her would make her explode. Then she did, arching under him, shouting his name as pleasure sent her flying up to the surface and beyond—one of the million stars twinkling in the sky.

Jamie called out, too. Her name this time. She sucked in a deep, relieved and exhausted breath, floating home still in his arms. Knowing it was she who was in his mind.

He stared down at her, something new in his gaze, and then he kissed her and smiled gently.

And so did she. Yes, there was a great and wonderful bond between them. And it had just grown much, much stronger.

Jamie rolled away from the light streaming in through the porthole and spooned against Amber’s back.

Amber. In his bed. In his arms. And not just in his dreams.

He found her breast and the nipple tightened under his hand. She still seemed to be asleep until she purred and stretched in catlike pleasure. He smiled. “Good morning, Pixie,” he whispered in her ear.

She gasped and rolled a little away. He found he liked that she was unused to finding a man next to her when she awakened. Lying on her stomach, she pushed up on her elbows and turned her head toward him. “Um, good morning.”

Her big, brown eyes peeked at him through a riot of very mussed hair. He’d taken it down and unbraided it at one point. He saw now why she’d told him it was a mistake. Apparently, it tended to tangle.

He reached out and touched the golden tresses that she usually wore swept up or braided, then wrapped around her head. Thick, fine and reaching her waist, it truly was her crowning glory, though he was sure she’d think he was lying if he told her so just then.

Jamie leaned forward and kissed her nose where it peeked out from under the messy strands of hair. How he’d loved that curtain of hair falling over him when he’d shown her how to ride him. He grinned. She showed more than great promise as a rider.

He wondered how she managed that mass of hair on her own without a lady’s maid. Once they got to San
Francisco, he’d see she had that as well as a new wardrobe. She deserved that and more. He’d see she had everything a woman could want.

Now she looked around and frowned as if it took a great deal of concentration to get her bearings. “The storm must finally be over.”

Jamie laughed. “It’s long since moved on. I don’t think I’ll ever hear thunder or see lightning again without remembering last night.” They’d made love through most of the night and the storm had already quieted when they’d drifted off to sleep. It seemed he’d distracted her so well she hadn’t paid the storm much notice. He fought a grin. The rough passage around the horn showed great promise suddenly.