Bound by Decency Read online

  He went to the corner of his cabin and pulled a rag from the basin he used for shaving. A nearby jug held precious fresh water, and Cain filled the wide mouthed bowl. He took the cloth back to India, folded it in a neat square, dunked it in the bowl, then pressed it to her lips. In her tormented sleep, she jerked away.

  “Easy, Miss Prescott,” he murmured.

  Whether she heard him or not, he couldn’t say. But she relaxed against the pillows and offered no further protest as he squeezed a bit of water onto her mouth, then wiped her face and neck.

  “Your headstrong nature will get you killed,” he scolded more to keep his mind off thoughts of her nakedness than for any real attempt at a lecture. “If you’d merely told me what I wished to know, I would have offered you dry garments.”

  Diligently, he washed her exposed arms, then pushed the covers to her waist and glided the cloth across her breasts. Her skin glistened in the fading sunlight, like copper painted on the cresting waves. The faint sheen called to him, urging him to cast off the chains of decency and yield to who he really was, to surrender to the pirate he had tried to bury under the guise of gentleman.

  The fight was too much. Hungry for something he couldn’t make sense of, Cain eased the multi-colored quilt off her slender legs and washed her down to one ankle. There, he cupped her heel in the palm of his hand, slid his fingers up to the back of her calf. She murmured in her sleep and shifted position, twisting her leg free.

  Cain groaned inwardly. What he was doing was inconceivable. She would insure he dangled from the gallows if she ever returned to her father. He possessed better sense than this.

  He set her foot on the bed once more and covered her, then picked up the rag and tossed it to the floor. Hesitantly, he slipped a hand behind her back and eased her into an upright position. The blankets tumbled to her lap. Determined to ignore the tantalizing sight of her exposed breasts, Cain forced his gaze to remain on her face. “Miss Prescott.”

  She murmured something unintelligible but made no attempt to open her eyes.

  Cain gave her a slight shake. “India, I need you to drink this gingered tea. It will cure the rolling of your belly.” And he needed to relieve himself of her presence, before it became impossible to leave this room.

  Long lashes fluttered open to reveal dazed slivers of turquoise. “Teddy,” she whispered.

  He flinched. “No. Cain.” He lifted the mug to her lips and held it steady while she sipped. No need for her to hold onto illusions—Teddy had no place in this world any longer. Richard had neatly assured that.

  She choked on the sharp flavor and pushed at the mug. “No more.”

  Cain urged it toward her mouth. “You must.”

  Grimacing, she lifted a shaky hand to clutch the silver. He helped her tip it, supported the weight as she drank. To his surprise, she drained the mug in three great gulps. As she shoved it away once more, her features twisted in disgust. “That’s awful,” she rasped.

  “Aye. But you’ll soon be thankful.”

  Her energy spent, India sagged into his loose embrace. The warmth of her soft curves assaulted him, and Cain squeezed his eyes shut to block the enticing burn. For several moments he remained motionless, barely dragging in breath, all too aware of the swelling of his cock. When he felt he could move without succumbing to the temptation of her parted lips, he set the mug on the floor then lowered her back until her head touched the pillow. He tucked the covers beneath her chin. As he stepped away, another thought occurred, causing him to smile. Even ill, she showed spirit. Had they met under different circumstances, they would have taken to each other like fire set to parchment.

  His smile vanished.

  They hadn’t met under fairer skies. No matter how entertaining he found her willfulness, she belonged to Richard, and she crafted stories to protect him. He would do well to remember that the next time she opened those sea-green eyes. Further, she clung to the image of Teddy, and he refused to give that delusion strength. He was no longer that man, and India would never accept the reality of Cain.

  Turning, Cain surveyed his cabin. His gaze fell on the unrolled map atop his desk, and he crossed to it to mark off their change of course. But as he lowered into the chair, exhaustion pressed down upon him as if someone set a gunnysack of grain between his shoulder blades. He dropped his chin into his hand and heaved a sigh.

  The crew expected his presence at the evening meal. Drake would bring an update on Reggie’s crisis. And Cain couldn’t remember ever craving rum as he did right now. Yet, though it was mid afternoon and he needed to attend to the logs, he hadn’t slept in nearly two full days.

  His gaze drifted to India. Fast asleep in his overlarge bed, she resembled a young girl, not the woman of twenty he knew her to be. Two of her could fit beneath the covers and still leave enough room for him. If he stretched out beside her rather than doze in his chair, she would never be the wiser, and he could avoid a stiff neck.

  Aye. He’d prepare himself to deal with Reggie’s upheaval with a few hours of much-needed sleep. Besides, India was his prisoner. He had no reason to concern himself with what she might think.

  Decided, Cain pushed out of his chair and returned to the bed. With care, he climbed in beside her overwarm body and closed his sand-filled eyes. The light fall of India’s breathing scraped his nerves until lying still became a torture greater than any cat-o-nine.

  With a foul oath, he threw himself onto his opposite side.

  351

  Bound By Decency

  5

  India huddled into the comforting weight at her back as she had a dozen times or more since Teddy began to plague her dreams. His arm came around her waist. His breath dusted over the nape of her neck accompanied by the light, teasing flick of his tongue. And the same heat that always stirred in her belly when the rugged sailor touched her began again.

  This was her retreat. The little house on the cliffs her father included in her dowry, the place they came together to indulge in the forbidden yearnings of their hearts. Richard didn’t exist here. Her father couldn’t control her here. Rules that she detested didn’t apply. In this secluded hideaway, she alone was master of her own destiny, free to indulge in the unorthodox yearnings she secreted away in the name of propriety.

  India let out a contented sigh and rolled over to snuggle into Teddy’s strong arms. But the eyes that smiled down at her were brown as dirt, not the clear azure that made her heart soar. She drew back to escape his harsh, encircling hands. Her spine rammed into the rough bark of the giant oak that stood in front of her father’s home. Richard’s blond hair caught the sunlight, glinted as he raked a hand through the short lengths.

  “Ah, India, why do you deny me? By summer’s end, we will be husband and wife.”

  Unable to tell her intended that when she looked upon his pocked face and thought of the children she must bear him her stomach churned, she ducked beneath his outstretched arm and strolled several paces away. Breathing deeply, she tried once more to convince herself of the security their marriage would bring. She’d been groomed for this life, and though her heart screamed against her fate, she wouldn’t embarrass her father. He chose the match. She would find a way to embrace it before she stood before the priest.

  Beneath her feet, lush grass gave way to long wooden planks waxed smooth. A cannon’s boom rocked the tiny shipboard room. On the table, glass trinkets clinked. From the desk, a high-pitched dinner bell dinged.

  As fear tripped into India’s blood and her throat closed tight, the pillowy softness of her bed embraced her yet again. She stretched languorously, opened her eyes to greet the first full day of fall. Outside her window, the old oak leaves glowed a burnished orange. Through the partly open pane, she breathed the scent of cooling air. Smoke from the hearth fire at the opposite end of her bedroom mingled with the taste of approaching winter. How she loved this time of year. August through October, her father journeyed to the east. Though he hired a man to oversee his company, the foreman
possessed no more sense than a cow. She managed the accounts, found purpose in the tiny details that ran the company.

  For an entire season she knew freedom.

  Freedom that allowed her to indulge in the forbidden dreams she harbored about a man she’d never met who did wicked things to her body in a cottage on the hill. Things that, when she awakened, left her aching in the deepest parts of her being. As she ached now.

  Seeking to relieve that intense throbbing in her womb, she let her hand drift down the light fabric of her sleeping gown and gathered the material above her waist.

  The door to her bedroom burst open. Her maid, Colette, rushed in. Beneath her white cap, wisps of unkempt hair fell around her face and neck. “Oh, Miss Prescott, you must hurry! Your father wishes to speak to you before his coach arrives.”

  India yanked the covers to her throat, mortified to be caught in such a scandalous act. She’d been dreaming, had no idea fantasy had transcended into reality. Sweet Mary her mother would roll over in her grave.

  “That will not be necessary, Colette.” Her father’s voice drifted through the open doorway.

  Still rendered speechless by the nature of her wicked behavior, India squirmed deeper into the covers as her father strolled inside her room. His smile radiated love. “Good morning, Daughter.”

  “Father.” She prayed her face didn’t glow crimson as she eased herself upright. “Has something happened?”

  “A most wonderful thing has occurred.” He sat on the edge of her bed. As he took her hand in his, his green eyes twinkled. “Richard has asked for your hand, India.”

  “No.” Against her will, the word tumbled out.

  “Daughter, do not be foolish. You are nineteen, well past the age you should have married. It has been almost a year since a suitor has called upon you.”

  “No, Father.” Her throat seized. Though it was expected, she didn’t care to marry. She’d done all she could to discreetly avoid the matter. Now, when she at last began to settle into spinsterhood and began to embrace the freedoms it would allow her, her father pulled the rug from beneath her feet.

  Her father’s smile faded. Features that had glowed with excitement only moments before, dimmed into familiar hard lines that warned his mind was made. “I’m afraid you haven’t a choice. I’ve indulged you too much as it is, and I will not allow you to throw your life away with foolish notions of running my company. I have agreed. You have one year to convince your heart. I’m postponing my travels next year, to see you wed to Richard Grey in October.”

  “No!”

  ****

  An arm smacked Cain in the face. He bolted upright, pulled from the deepest sleep he could remember despite the state he had been in when he at last drifted off. Moonlight washed through the wide windows at his back, illuminating the cabin in pale silver. Damnation, he’d missed the evening meal—along with everything else he needed to attend to. Drake wouldn’t easily forget this either. And by now, Reggie probably had the gunners on the verge of mutiny.

  “No, no,” India murmured beside him. She tossed her head, writhed beneath the covers.

  At once, the fog of confusion cleared. She had woken him. She and whatever dreams tormented her sleep. Concerned, he pressed the flat of his hand to her forehead. Her skin burned beneath damp tendrils of dark hair.

  Cain gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he slipped from the bed. While she’d only suffered the cold wet for a few hours, exposure could wreck havoc on a person. With a little luck, and a lot of God’s blessings, she hadn’t caught pneumonia. If she had…

  He refused to even consider the possibility. He wouldn’t be responsible for India’s death. Not in any fashion. Sleep would help her mend, and he knew one sure-fire way to force her into restful slumber.

  He plucked the stopper out of a small decanter of arrack. The sweet aroma of fruit and honey blended with the bite of dark rum to tease his nose. His mouth watered for a taste of the sweet concoction he kept tucked away for only the rarest of treats and celebrations. Far better than any simple rum, ale, or mead, the potent drink would lull India into heavy slumber.

  After pouring three fingers’ worth into a glass, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She offered little complaint this time as he slid his hand behind her back and eased her upright. Those damnable blue eyes opened in wide wonder, but her surprise faded as she looked at him. For a moment, Cain’s throat refused to function. Fringed by lashes as dark as pitch, those fathomless portals captured and drew him down like the unrelenting pull of a tidal pool. A man could drown in her gaze. Plummet straight to Davy.

  He swallowed with effort. Cleared his throat. Even then, he felt the unsteady tremor in his voice. “Here. Drink this. It will help you rest.”

  She took the glass from his hands and drank deeply. Before she could swallow her zealous gulp, her eyebrows shot to her hairline. With a fierce cough, she spewed the arrack all over both their laps. “What in the seven hells is that?”

  Laughter burst within Cain. Grinning, he eased the glass from her hands and returned to his desk to refill it. “I presume you’re not a fan of rum.”

  “Rum? You fed me rum?” Her jaw dropped, and she gave him an incredulous stare.

  Cain nodded on another hearty chuckle. “Aye, little bird. It will keep your dreams away so you can sleep.”

  India blinked. “Dreams? I wasn’t dreaming.”

  “Indeed you were. You were like to smash my nose.”

  Her grin caught him off guard. Yet there was no mistaking the sudden humor behind her eyes or the way her dainty mouth quirked. “I did? Oh dear, I’m so sorry.”

  To Cain’s consternation, another chuckle threatened. He pursed his lips, forbidding it to break free.

  India arched a dark eyebrow, and her grin broadened. “Wrong thing to say to Cain?”

  Devil’s tail, where did she get this spunk? He knew no woman who would dare to tease given her circumstances. For India, the impishness was doubly confounding. All he knew of her painted her as the prim and proper miss. A decent young woman who would make an appropriate wife. It seemed there was no limit to the surprises she kept tucked beneath her sleeves.

  Or rather his blanket. His gaze flicked over the drooping cover at her breasts as he returned to her side, the glass extended. “This time, drink it. I have no desire to see my favorite arrack wasted.”

  She eyed the glass warily. “I really don’t think this is wise. It wouldn’t be proper for me to lose my senses under these…circumstances.”

  Cain laughed again. With a shake of his head, he pressed the glass into her hand. “My dear, there’s nothing proper at all about your circumstances.”

  Color crept into her cheeks, wiping her smile away. She glanced down at her body as if she just realized her state of nakedness and hastily clutched the blanket with her free hand. Her spirit temporarily reigned in, her features pinched tight. Dutifully, she lifted the glass. When she had drained it completely, a shudder rolled through her shoulders. She wrinkled her nose and passed the glass back to him.

  “I’ll fetch you another.”

  “No. Please. One’s enough. My insides are on fire.”

  At his desk once more, Cain looked over his shoulder. “When your toes burn, you will have had enough.” Glass clinked as he poured again. At the tolling of the half-hour bell, she would be in a dead slumber. Then he could attend to his logs undisturbed.

  She downed the second serving with no more than a flinch. The third went down with a mere blink. By the time he passed her the fourth, her eyes held the glassy sparkle he’d hoped to achieve. He took the empty glass back to his desk and sat down in his simple wooden chair. Feet propped on the scarred wood, he nodded at the pillows behind her. “You should rest.”

  Her giggle rang through the close quarters. “The good doctor is finished with his patient?”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. Cain gave it freedom, along with a soft laugh.

  “I admit to a bit of disappointment, Cain.”
<
br />   India’s eyes danced with mischief, and something else, something darker he couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Somehow, he instinctively knew, conversation had taken a dangerous path. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “And why is that, little bird?”

  “Well here I am.” In an exaggerated movement, she swept her hand around the room. “Locked away on a pirate ship, captive to a crafty man. Surely, your doctoring skills are not so…benign.”

  Cain nearly choked on his own saliva. The light in her eyes shifted, assuming a darker, more suggestive glimmer. Were he not mistaken, he would swear she flirted with him.

  She is well into her drink. Do not be fooled by lies.

  His tongue refused to obey. He held her gaze in challenge. “I assure you, Miss Prescott, my skills are quite effective. It is the patient who must be willing to follow through.”

  “So you say.” She smiled, before a husky laugh trilled in her throat. “And what is it you would have me follow through on to assure a speedy recovery from this insufferable heat that has overcome my body?” A thoughtful frown puckered her brow before her grin became mischievous. “I do believe you have made it worse.”

  Cain groaned inwardly. She could not possibly mean what she implied. She was in her cups, unaware of the looseness of her tongue. Damnation—where had she learned to speak like such? Surely her father hadn’t taught her those lessons.

  He slowly shook his head, refraining from comment. Truth be known, he could enjoy this banter for several more hours. However, her body needed sleep, and his would benefit a great deal from the silence. He would no longer suffer the way his nerves stood on end, all too aware of the woman in his bed, once she stilled her spriteful tongue.

  Her smile lingered on him a heartbeat too long. He shifted in his chair. Dropped his gaze to study the scar across the back of his hand. If she didn’t cease those infernal smiles that held just enough innocence to drive him mad, he’d be sorely tempted to forget the reason he hauled her out to sea. He might actually come to believe he could be Teddy once more, the man who could have offered her something more than scandal.