Page 14 of Catching Captain Nash
And however unjustified, loved.
She released a choked whimper and arched up in a silent plea for more.
* * *
Robert was lost to everything but the hot clasp of Morwenna’s body. This was even better than he remembered, and by God, he’d done a lot of remembering.
He pulled back, delighting in the succulent slide, then plunged forward. More welcome. She tightened around him and gave another of those damnable little sighs that had caused the problem in the first place.
The craving for release was a storm inside him. Every muscle tightened to agony. He shifted again. To his shame, he couldn’t hold on. It had been too long, and he wanted her too much.
Then just as the tide of fiery darkness overtook him, he felt her shudder with the ultimate response, and she cried out again.
Robert plunged into her and let an eon of bitterness and misery and loneliness flood out of him in a torrent of hot bliss. He filled her with every drop of his essence and collapsed upon her, exhausted, cleansed, finally understanding that he was home to stay.
When he buried his head in the curve of her shoulder, her skin was damp and fragrant against his face. Her arms twined around him, anchoring him at last in safe harbor. Her body quivered after what they’d just done.
He could stay like this forever, but he must be crushing her. Even scrawny from captivity, he was much heavier than she was.
He made himself pull free, inciting another sleepy murmur from Morwenna. Then, unable to let her go, he rolled onto his side and tucked her back against him. She was boneless and unresisting.
Weary satisfaction weighted his limbs. And the greatest satisfaction of all was that Robert now knew that during their long separation, his wife hadn’t played him false.
Chapter Five
Robert stirred from the purest sleep he’d experienced since he’d left England on that last disastrous mission. Deep. Dreamless. Untroubled. He woke with a cock standing ready for his wife.
Automatically he reached across the bed, but his hand met emptiness. He opened heavy eyes to a shadowy room and a slender, dark-haired woman sitting beside the fire and regarding him out of unreadable blue eyes.
To his regret, she was dressed. She wore a pretty buttercup yellow gown with a high neck, and she’d tied that glorious tumble of black hair up in an elaborate arrangement of plaits. She looked beautiful, but too self-contained for his liking. He couldn’t help recalling the wild, responsive creature in his arms last night.
“Good morning,” she said steadily. She rose to pour a cup of coffee from a tray on a table.
“Good morning.” He sat up and scratched his chest. “Is that for me?”
“Yes. You used to like it.”
He leaned against the heaped pillows and accepted the cup. She remembered how he took his coffee, he was pleased to notice.
Given his choice, he’d have started the day with a vigorous swiving. But there was something to be said for a pretty girl waiting on him. For too long, life had been devoid of any touches of courtesy or comfort.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve asked the servants to draw you a bath. I thought you might enjoy a good soak after coming off the ship.”
He wanted to ask her if she’d come and wash his back, but last night’s passion hadn’t banished the constraint between them. He took a mouthful of coffee and set the cup on the nightstand. Then after a jaw-cracking yawn, he flung back the covers and placed his bare feet on the carpet.
His attention snapped to his wife who had made a strange squeak, and now stared fixedly at the pink curtains.
“Morwenna?”
“You’re...you’re naked,” she said in a choked voice. Her head was turned away, but even in the dim light, he made out a blush on her cheek.
She should already know that, given what they’d done in the early morning hours. Dear God, had she imagined she was dreaming when he’d taken her? She’d been sleepy, but he could have sworn she’d been with him every glorious step of the way. Now he remembered her ill-concealed fear when he’d insisted on staying with her last night.
“I’m sorry. I only had the clothes I arrived in. Perhaps I should have tried to borrow a nightshirt from Silas.” Although his brother always slept naked, too. He couldn’t imagine that had changed. Robert was blushing himself. He’d felt like a beggar, turning up so shabby at his brother’s house. “Or waited to come home until after I’d arranged more suitable attire.”
She shook her head, although she still didn’t look at him. “No. I’m...I’m glad you came straight to us. Even...even given what was happening here.”
