Captive Hearts Read online

  After speaking of the rape, making love would be the last thing she would be ready to do. But the desire to lay claim to her, to wipe out her memories of that night and

  fill her mind with only his touch, his kisses, his body, was so strong every muscle felt knotted with the effort to resist.

  He slumped down on the top step of the quarterdeck and studied the rigging above as he allowed the familiar feel of the ship beneath him to soothe his rampaging emotions. He could not face her until he had himself under control. If he went below now he’d likely carry her to his bunk, and take her, and damn the consequences.

  Katherine deserved better than that.

  ****

  The numerous humiliations her father had heaped upon her had taught her well. Facing Matthew after their earlier exchange was one of the most difficult things she had ever done. Katherine kept her composure intact for pride’s sake alone and forced herself to respond to his attempts at conversation as though nothing were wrong. By the end of the meal, her hold upon her emotions was tenuous. Anger and pain warred inside her, threatening an eruption of either tears or violence.

  Georgie returned for the dishes. Where he had lingered to talk to her before, a frown flitted across his face as though he sensed the tension between her and Matthew, and the boy hurried through the chore and left.

  The door had barely closed behind him when Matthew moved to the desk and said, “Please come here, Katherine.”

  She hesitated then, girding her composure, strode across the cabin to join him.

  He opened a drawer and removed a small bottle. “I have some liniment for your cheek.” He pulled the cork from the vessel and moistened a small scrap of linen.

  She flinched, as much from the strong smell of the medicine as the unexpected emotional pain his touch caused.

  Matthew murmured an apology and hurried to finish the task then set aside the medicine. His fingers grasped her jaw raising her face for his perusal. “I shouldn’t have shown such restraint with your uncle,” he commented. “Is it very painful?”

  Surprised by his concern, she studied his expression then shook her head.

  “Not all men hit.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you? You don’t look as though you truly believe it.” His black brows knitted together in a frown, his mouth set in a ridged line that bespoke of temper held in check. “The only thing I have for pain is a bottle of brandy. Would you like a dram?”

  “No.”

  He stepped behind her to unfasten the buttons of her gown. She had, had a difficult time getting in and out of the garment earlier in the day and, though she resented his help, it did make the task easier. She held the gown close against her as the buttons gave way. When he unlaced her stays as well, she turned to look over her shoulder at him.

  Matthew rested his hand upon her shoulders beneath the fabric and though the frown still lingered, his lips no longer looked compressed.

  “Thank you.” Though she sought to dismiss him, her voice came out just above a whisper. His calloused fingers ran lightly over her collarbones. Her breasts grew tight, the nipples puckering beneath the bodice. She wondered how he could inspire such feelings when only a few hours before she had thought he found her repulsive.

  He wasn’t behaving that way now. She wished she understood more about men. She couldn’t read anything that was going on behind his face.

  He removed his hands as though he just realized what he was doing. “I’ll leave you to prepare for bed.” She nodded. His long strides took him to the door.

  She bit her lip against the urge to speak his name. He had behaved the attentive husband before in public and some of that had bled over into their private moments together, but there had been something different in the way he had touched her, addressed her. If it was pity he was feeling, she wanted no part of it.

  She undressed, washed, and pulled the nightshift Matthew had packed for her out of the valise. Her stomach plummeted when she saw it. A wedding gift from his aunt, the garment was made of some fine soft material so diaphanous it was nearly nonexistent, held together at the shoulders and sides by thin strips of ribbon. The most

  substantial part of the gown was the lace that bordered the hem and neckline. For a moment, she allowed herself to think about what it would be like to wear such an item for Matthew, had their marriage been a normal one. The way he made her feel when he looked at her, nearly stole her breath. For the first time, Katherine was glad she couldn’t remember everything that had happened that night. It would have spoiled the way she felt about Matthew.

  When he sailed for America, she would at least have the memories of every touch, every kiss, every time he held her to ease the loneliness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Matthew returned to find Katherine before the fireplace, a quilt from the bunk forming a pool of color around her hips. The neckline of the shift scooped low as she leaned forward to draw her hair over one shoulder and run her brush through the heavy mass. When he thought of this small cabin in years to come, he would see her there before the fire just as she was now. Even the dark purple bruise that discolored one cheek couldn’t detract from the perfect contours of brow, cheek, chin, and jaw. The glossy sheen of her dark auburn hair looked rich against the pale smoothness of her shoulders.

  He unbuttoned his shirt as he moved to stand beside her. “Will you help me with my boots?” Slipping from beneath the quilt as though reluctant to give up its cover, she rose to do as he asked. The soft cotton shift, wrinkled and misshapen from being compressed beneath her stays, clung to her waist and hips. She bent to grasp the heel of his boot and for a moment, her unbound breasts were almost totally visible to him. Desire like a hot ferocious wind raced through him, stealing his breath. He grew hard with arousal. He wanted to drag her onto his lap, spread her legs and thrust up inside her. With those visions playing in his head, he gripped the edge of his chair and wrestled to maintain control. He had to avert his gaze before offering her his other boot, and nearly sighed in relief once the shoe was off and set aside.

  He peeled the stockings from his legs then rose from the chair. “Was there something wrong with the nightshift?” he asked as he shed his shirt and draped it over the back of a chair.

  When Katherine didn’t answer, he turned to look at her and found her huddled upon the seat. He caught a glimpse of her tear-wet face before she buried it in the quilt. He approached her with a sense of relief, for the

  tears he had awaited all day had finally erupted. He bent and scooped her up, quilt and all, and carried her to the bunk to stretch out beside her and hold her. It took some wrestling to extract her from the blanket, but finally he had her pulled close, the cover over them both. He brushed the hair back from her face and welcomed the slender feel of her pressed tightly against him. As Matthew kissed her brow and murmured soft words of comfort, he acknowledged to himself how good it felt to actually behave like a husband. She was so alone, so self-contained. It was difficult to break through the barriers she erected between them. The more she needed, the higher the walls grew. He felt the tension in her body as she struggled to suppress the tears even as she shed them. The only time she showed no restraint was when they kissed. He found some hope in that.

  “I need my handkerchief,” Katherine said, her voice thick with tears. Embarrassed by her lose of control, she turned her face away when he rose to retrieve a large square of linen from his coat pocket and returned to the bunk.

  She knew her face looked flushed from crying, her eyes and nose red, and she hated him seeing her in such a condition. Katherine mopped her face. He barely gave her time enough to do that before molding her against him once again.

  “I think I’ve decided on a punishment for your refusal to tell me things,” he said as he continued to stroke her hair. She went still, shocked by the idea. “I am not a child.

  It is not your place to punish me for anything.” He smiled. “I think every time you decide to hold back from me, I’m goi
ng to kiss you, Katherine.” A sound, part sigh, part laugh, escaped her, and she relaxed. ”That is not a threat.” Matthew propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her. He smoothed the damp curls that lay against her forehead. He bent his head and lowered his mouth to hers. The pressure of his lips felt more comforting than anything else. She curled a hand around the back of his neck holding him close. The ache of despair slowly eased away and a bone melting heat replaced it. He turned her

  against him and stroked her back with a gentle, warm pressure that made her want to wiggle closer.

  She placed a hand against his chest as though to hold him at bay, but her fingertips curled against his skin as she fought against the urge to caress his broad chest and discover the texture of the hair covering it.

  His tongue brushed the seam between her lips and her mouth parted. He tasted of the wine he had drunk at dinner. He smelled of soap and his own musky scent that hinted of vanilla and spice. Her tongue mirrored the undulating movement of his as her hand moved restlessly over the thick pelt of hair on his chest.

  He cupped her buttocks molding her against him.

  She had slept with him for nearly a fortnight. She hadn’t seen him completely nude since that first morning, but she had felt, more than once, the change his body went through when early in the morning she would awaken to find him molded against her from behind. She had felt the empty ache between her thighs and had fought the urge to wiggle back against him. The desire to rub against the heated hardness beneath his breeches was nearly impossible to resist. She groaned beneath the pressure of his kiss as his tongue writhed and twisted around hers.

  Tentatively she stroked his back with restless caresses and bent her knee along his hip opening her thighs in an instinctive invitation.

  He groaned and ran his hand the length of her thigh and back up again. His callused palm felt rough against her skin as he worked his way beneath the hem of her shift to her hip. His mouth left hers to touch the thundering pulse in her neck. His tongue traced the shell-like contour of her ear, his breath warm, moist upon her skin. She shivered as a thousand delightful sensations raced through her.

  He eased the shift upward, but Katherine clung to it anxious about losing its cover. She wanted more. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body. She wanted to touch him all over as well. She wanted to spread her legs and bring him inside where the aching emptiness tormented her, but taking that last trusting step was difficult.

  His pale blue eyes looked luminous with heat as he

  drew back to look down at her. His fingers traced the scar on her side and suddenly conscious of its ugliness, she covered his hand with her own.

  “Don’t, Katherine. Don’t hide from me any more.” He ran his hand beneath the shift, his fingertips grazing her skin from her collarbone down the center of her body to her navel. “You’re beautiful, as beautiful as I knew you would be.”

  She felt beautiful beneath the weight of tenderness and desire she read in his face. He bent his head to kiss her once again. Beneath the shift, his hand cupped her breast, kneaded the taut flesh, and gently pinched the tightly budded nipple. When he pulled the garment upward again she wiggled free of it.

  She drew a shaky breath as he slid downward, and latched onto one distended peak, the suction he applied causing rivulets of sensation to travel from her breast downward. As he caressed the inside of her thighs, she wanted to roll her hips, to urge him on. The tentative brush of his fingertips against the sensitive wet heat between her legs had her whispering his name.

  Instinctively, she closed her legs around his hand even as her body moved beneath his touch. One long finger eased inside her. She groaned at the foreign rush of pleasure that spiraled deep within her. She grasped his hand unsure if she wanted to stop him or urge him on.

  He moved his finger in a flickering movement that sent a tremor through her entire body, and she bowed her back opening her thighs to push against his touch. His mouth transferred to the other nipple, and he drew upon it hard, his tongue lathing the underside. A hungry heat pulsed within her, and she tilted her hips upward, seeking more, trying to draw his finger deeper. In between strokes, once again, he flicked the digit. A breathless moan was wrenched from her as pleasure spiraled tighter and tighter against the ebb and flow of his touch building toward something wondrous. With one last flickering movement it came upon her in a rush that rolled over her so sweetly she gasped Matthew’s name and nearly wept from the joy of it.

  Slowly, gently Matthew removed his hand from between her thighs. He unbuttoned his breeches and

  shook free of them then slid upward between Katherine’s parted thighs, his bare skin brushing hers. His arousal rested boldly against her.

  He smoothed back the tousled locks from her cheek and looked down into deep violet eyes still slumberous with release. Her hands ran up his back then back down.

  “I have wanted very much to touch you, Matthew.” He gritted his teeth against the urge to thrust inside her right then. “I don’t need any encouragement right now, sweet.” He bent his head to kiss her. “I want you, Katherine. I’ve dreamed about being with you like this for weeks.”

  “I know.” Her open mouth moved to his shoulder and he shuddered. She was so naturally sensuous. All that quiet reserve on the outside hid the passion just simmering beneath the surface waiting to be tapped. God, how he wanted her.

  “Do you want me, Katherine?” He wasn’t even sure she understood what he was asking but he could go no farther without hearing her consent. He drew back to look down at her.

  “Yes.” Her violet eyes looked almost black, the pupil nearly swallowing the iris.

  He guided himself to the entrance to her body and eased inside her slowly. She was so hot and wet and tight, he thought he might go mad from the pleasure of it. His muscles shook with the effort it took not to plunge deep inside her. He felt the tension of her body, the resistance of his invasion, but finally he could bear it no longer and with one quick thrust seated himself to the hilt.

  Her momentary gasp of pain had him going completely still. His body ached for release so badly he couldn’t bring himself to withdraw.He looked down at her, shock ripping through him in a rush.

  She drew a deep breath as though girding herself.

  “Does it hurt every time?” she asked her fingers combing through the hair at his nape.

  No woman could act that ingeniously. She didn’t know! Matthew had a moment to think of what she might have seen and experienced that night. He had soothed her fears after more than one nightmare since they had been wed.

  He wanted to laugh at himself and at her. He wanted to shout with relief and joy. Whatever else had happened, they hadn’t molested her. They had to talk about this, but sheathed inside her body, he couldn’t bring himself to start such a conversation. Knowing she was untouched, that she was truly his alone, only intensified his need.

  “It doesn’t hurt at all if done right, Katherine. It’s been some time for me.” He rubbed his beard-roughened cheek against her soft one and turned his lips to hers. He kissed her lips, her nose, her brow, moved by tenderness and a desire to give her pleasure once again, if he could.

  With long, slow, kisses he soothed the tension from her body. When she looped her arms around his neck and clung to him, he began to move inside her. Her hips began to rise to meet him as she caught his rhythm.

  He lost himself in her, filled with a craving he could no longer contain. Their skin melded with the sweat the friction of their bodies created. He felt the frantic heat that suffused her skin and brought a ragged intensity to her breathing. Her hands cupped his buttocks urging him deeper. Her body clenched around him, squeezing, massaging. He lost all will, and buried himself as deep as he could inside her and groaned aloud as his seed spilled forth in a pulsing release that went on and on.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Katherine woke to the sound of rain against the window and the feel of a naked man spooned against her from behind. A blush
flared in her checks at the unfamiliar sensation. The moist heat of their skin melding together in spots, and the intimacy of their position sparked a melting weakness in her lower extremities. Matthew’s hand lay curved around her breast and though he remained asleep, she felt the tempting tingle his touch ignited.

  They had shared an intimacy that went deeper than she had ever expected. She still felt connected to him though their bodies were separate. She would never forget his gentleness, the tenderness she had read in his face as he had come inside her. He had given her such wonderful memories to cling to after he left England.

  The almost physical pain she felt when she thought about that had her closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay. When he left, he would take part of her with him.

  She wondered if he would feel the same about her.

  She was grateful for all he had given her. He had taught her how to trust again. He had taught her that to love didn’t have to be painful and that the sharing of her body didn’t have to be degrading as she had expected it to be. Her checks felt hot as she thought about her uncontrolled response to his touch, his kisses. Since living with her uncle and staying at Willingham’s she had met any number of men. She had never experienced the instant pull of longing she felt with Matthew. Somehow, she thought it might be a very rare occurrence. She felt that was as it should be. She couldn’t imagine feeling for anyone else as she did for him.

  She eased from beneath the covers to use the water closet. The call of nature answered, she slipped Matthew’s shirt on and buttoned it around her to ward off the early

  morning chill that permeated the room. The flounced cuffs hung over her hands and the hem struck her just above the knee. As she folded back the sleeves, she studied Matthew’s reclining form.

  He slept with one hand stretched over the pillow she had just vacated. She traced with her gaze the light dusting of hair on his arm, the strong graceful shape of his hand and looked around for her pack.