down his nose at her. “Awkward?” His head dropped heavily back down, and drew several more ragged breaths. “For a moment there, I thought I shan’t ever breathe again.”
“Suffering Jesus!” he gasped, with a lop-sided grin. “You are something!”
###
Cate had never experienced it, but she had heard of men who, once their needs were fulfilled, rolled away and slept. It would not have been a surprise if Nathan had fallen into that category. Once again, he proved to be unique unto himself: he gathered her close, nestling her head into the curve of his shoulder. One leg wedged between his, she toyed with one of his braids, and listened to the rush of his breathing under her cheek. The deep thud of his heart gradually steadied to an easy rhythm. His fingers languidly tracing her outline from temple to hip and back, he periodically brushed a wisp of hair from his face or pressed his lips to the side of her head.
She closed her eyes and reveled in the joy of him near. She had never thought to have a man again. Perhaps she had been too dubious and impatient of Providence. Perhaps, given sufficient time, it would smile. She brushed all the mystery and questions of the last weeks aside, and sighed in contentment.
He wanted her.
It felt so good to finally know…
So good to be with him…
So good to be…
She buried her face into his shoulder and began to silently quake.
“Here now, what’s this? ’Tis not flattering to say I’ve driven a woman to tears.”
“Nothing…It’s…” Shaking her head, she rooted deeper.
“Did I…? Dammit!” His alarmed concern grew as he tried to see her face. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean…I mean, I thought you would have—”
“No, no,” she moaned, now too embarrassed to be seen.
He burrowed his hand between them, until her chin was found. He brought her face up to his and she cut her eyes first one way, then another to avoid him. His persistence won out and she reluctantly settled on the coffee-colored orbs directly before her. Just inches away, she could see the thick row of double lashes, the candle, now so very near to guttering out, catching the cinnamon and gold flecks.
“It’s nothing…” she sniffed, looking away.
“Well, aye, ’tis most definitely not nothing. I’ll wager it’s very likely something,” he said dryly.
“It’s just…It’s just…It feels so good to be held…” The rest was lost in a thin squeak as her throat constricted.
Cate sobbed, the frustration of spoiling such a joyous moment only adding to her despair. Years of never being touched in anything other than the most perfunctory of ways: accosted, yanked, barricaded, or mauled, she had been touched, but never held. She clutched him until her arms shook, while Nathan held her with the fervency of one hanging on to his life.
Nathan lifted her face once more and dabbed her eyes with the corner of the quilt. “I know, luv. I know,” he said, gravely. “More times than I care to think, I have paid a fair bit o’ coin just for this.”
Nathan found her hand between them and squeezed it.
“To know you live.” His voice shook with sincerity. “To know you’re something more than some heap of flesh stalking about.”
Sniffing, Cate hung her head and nodded.
He kissed her on the forehead, and then thumbed from her cheek a fugitive tear that squeezed out. “You’re alive. Know that.”
Chin wobbling dangerously, she nodded again, swiping at the tears glistening on the hair of his chest.
Nathan resettled her against him and nestled her head under his chin. “And I’ll skewer the next bloody damned scrub what says different.”
She gave a half-choked laugh. Once more Nathan had worked his charms.
A sputtering pop! And a hiss marked the death of the candle. Now cloaked in darkness, Nathan continued to hold her. Rocking her ever so gently, he stroked her neck and arms, while a thumb brushed her ear.
“Hist, now. Shh, shh…Shh, shh, shh…” he whispered so lowly at times to be almost the rush of the water against the ship’s hull.
###
Sharing the single pillow, they slept entangled and entwined. Sometime in the darkness, he came to her again, tender but wanting. Cradling her in his arms, as he proved to be the gentle and skilled lover she had suspected. At the end, they clung to each other and shook. In the foggy margins of sleep, they rolled together, fitting like spoons, his arm around her waist, his upturned palm cupping her breast—her surrender, his possession.
Sometime in