Breaking the Rake's Rules Read online

  ‘I’ll do it.’ Kitt caught up to her. ‘Just no climbing, agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’ She grinned.

  * * *

  It wasn’t enough to keep her off the ropes. He should have asked for more, Kitt realised at some point in the afternoon, after he’d had a few hours to let the reality sink in. Will’s borrowed clothes fit her far too well. She was curvier than Will and that made all the difference when it came to those culottes she was sporting. They showed off a nicely turned ankle, because of course she opted to go barefoot, and they pulled a mite tight across her derrière, reminding him acutely of the body beneath. Probably not just him either. He wasn’t the only man on board who would notice. He didn’t want that to become a problem.

  ‘Will!’ Kitt called his first mate to him at the wheel. ‘Do you see that?’ He jerked his head to where Bryn was swabbing the deck with admirable effort. To her credit, she had made herself useful.

  ‘Yes, Captain.’

  ‘What do you see, Passemore?’

  ‘I see Miss Rutherford washing the deck, sir.’

  ‘Who else do you see?’ Kitt prompted.

  ‘I see O’Reilly, sir.’ Passemore cleared his throat.

  ‘I see O’Reilly, too, and he seems a little, shall we say, distracted? I don’t want any of my men distracted. Do you understand?’ Over the past twenty minutes, O’Reilly had been giving Bryn’s deck-cleaning skills far more attention than the sails he was supposed to be mending. If O’Reilly put his eyes on her derrière one more time, he was going to flatten him.

  Passemore gave a curt nod. ‘I understand, Captain. I’ll make sure the crew is apprised of your attitude on the subject.’

  Kitt chuckled. ‘Apprised of my attitude, is it? And what exactly is that?’ Order on board was important and it was his job to ensure it occurred, but he could still poke some fun even at himself.

  Passemore’s mouth twitched. ‘As you are so fond of telling me, “you need to get laid”. Miss Rutherford has you surly as bear after winter, as prickly as a hedgehog in winter, as—’

  Kitt laughed and cut him off. ‘Despite your rather tired clichés, I get your meaning. I prefer a stag in rut, they’re more majestic creatures. A hedgehog, really? That seems like it would be awkward business.’

  He felt like a hedgehog, too, with all its quills extended, all prickly and aroused as he went through the motions of doing his job.

  * * *

  By late afternoon, Kitt had had enough. He needed to expend some energy and his crew did, too. ‘Passemore! Set a course for that island over there and see if we can sail the ship into the bay on the east side.’

  A general whoop went up from the crew as the news carried down the line. Everyone knew what that meant: Free time on a pristine beach. Within the half-hour, the ship was anchored, the dories loaded with his twenty-member crew and Bryn, rowing towards the island.

  Kitt had chosen the island well. There was plenty of beach and jungle for his men to explore and a pretty, sheltered cove past the headland for privacy. He gave Passemore instructions and took off with Bryn in tow for the cove.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Bryn said, catching up to his long stride. ‘Maybe the breeches weren’t such a good idea.’

  At least she wasn’t oblivious, he’d give her that. It wasn’t her fault she was built like a goddess with the kind of beauty that dared a man to claim it, possess it if he could. Goodness knew Kitt wanted to be that man.

  ‘Oh, but maybe it was worth making you angry just to see this place!’ Bryn stopped, taking in the white beach and the water. She tossed him a teasing smile. ‘This beach might be nicer than yours.’

  Kitt felt something in him begin to relent. He’d overreacted. She’d only been trying to keep busy, she was worried about her father, she was in an entirely new part of the world with no friends to speak of. Except him. He wondered if she realised that, too? She was rather dependent on him at the moment whether she wished it or not. Probably the latter. She was definitely an independent sort. So was he. He wasn’t used to people being dependent on him. Oh, there was his crew and there was Ren, but that was different. Or maybe this was different.

  It struck him that he could make this adventure good for her if he wanted and he did want to. There was so much he could show her. He wasn’t a heartless bastard, just a horny one.

  ‘What was that!’ Bryn pointed to something in the ocean. ‘There it is again.’

  Kitt shielded his eyes with his hand and followed her finger. He grinned. In terms of showing her things, he could start with that. ‘Dolphins. Do you swim?’ A swim was just what he needed to take his mind off things.

  She smiled at that. ‘Probably better than you do.’

  Kitt already had his shirt over his head before the import of what she’d implicitly agreed to sank in. She could not swim in her clothes, or rather Will’s clothes. She’d swum naked with Robin, but this was different. Robin had been her friend. Kitt was rather more. Sensuality rolled off of him as naturally as most people breathed.

  Kitt tossed a look over his shoulder. ‘Well, come on. What are you waiting for?’ he prompted. ‘We’ll be in the water. I’ll hardly see anything. Besides, it’s not every day you get to swim with dolphins. They’re usually not so far in. Unless, of course, you’re bluffing me about those swimming skills?’

  That did it. He was daring her and she’d be a fool not to go. He’d been far more intimate with her body last night and she had not hesitated. When would she ever have such a chance again? She’d already come this far. Bryn stripped out of her clothes, leaving on only her chemise. She folded the garments neatly and left them on a warm rock with their towels while Kitt laughed, gloriously flaunting his nakedness. His clothes had been thrown haphazardly on the beach.

  He was right, though, it hardly mattered in the water. As soon as she began swimming, Bryn quickly forgot about clothing or the lack of it. There were too many other things to focus on: the warmth of the water, the gentleness of the waves in this protected area away from the open ocean, the powerful feel of her body exerting herself.

  Beside her, Kitt was a sleek athlete, cutting through the water with strong, confident strokes. When they reached the dolphins, Kitt motioned that they should dive under the water and swim alongside them.

  She could not believe she was doing this! Unmitigated joy bubbled inside her as they dived. This was incredible, almost indescribable. Beneath the surface, they mimicked the dolphins’ undulating movements, rising every so often for a breath. After a while, the dolphins seemed to understand they were playing with them. The dolphins starting leaping, showing off their acrobatic skills, much to Bryn’s delight. She and Kitt trod water, content to watch the graceful creatures and be among them as welcomed guests.

  ‘We should probably swim back in,’ Kitt suggested. The dolphins had settled back down, their leaping done for the afternoon. ‘There’s more I want to show you.’

  Bryn couldn’t imagine what more there could be that would rival this, but there was. On the way back, Kitt showed her a small reef full of coral and colourful fish. They swam past the rocks where the sea turtles gathered to sun themselves, their large brown shells gleaming. By the time they regained the beach, Bryn was pleasantly exhausted.

  Kitt retrieved their blankets and spread them on the sand. ‘This is heaven, everything is so different here.’ Bryn stretched out on a blanket, not caring if her chemise was plastered to her skin, not caring what it revealed. She felt full of life at the moment—nothing so trivial as nudity mattered. She was starting to understand Kitt’s comfort with it.

  Kitt stretched alongside her as they lay face-to-face. He lifted a hand to push a wet strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Then you fit in perfectly. You’re different, too. I don’t know any women like you.’ His voice was husky, perhaps evidence that he was caught up in the moment, of the p
rofoundness of what they’d experienced; nature at its finest. Or perhaps, she thought, her heart giving a little leap, it was evidence of what the admission cost him, that the words were more than mere flattery. She knew he found her attractive, his body had told her that in many ways, but to hear the words and to hear them spoken by this sea god, this Poseidon on the beach, went beyond an appreciative look.

  He moved into her then, drawing her body along his, his mouth taking hers in a long, slow kiss that asked the question for him. No man, not even Robin, had made her feel this way. No man had ever asked for what he was asking. Her body answered without hesitation: ‘Yes, yes, I will be yours in this moment out of time.’ There was nothing beyond this. There was no tomorrow, no future, only the present, only this beach, only this man, only now.

  Kitt peeled the wet chemise over her head and tossed it aside. He drew his hand down her breastbone, his touch possessive as his eyes drank in her nakedness like a fine wine; something to be savoured and lingered over, then he bent his head to her breast and sucked, his tongue licking small circles around her peak, slowly, venerating until her back arched, thrusting upward to meet his mouth, clamouring to be part of this reverent experience. This was not a heated, carnal claiming driven by lust. This was worship. Instinctively, her hands went to his head, tangling in the wetness of his hair, wanting to touch him, wanting to be part of this intimate communion.

  He moved lower, kissing her navel, his hands framing her hips as he held her, taking a more intimate kiss between her legs. Her body pulsed for him, for what she knew could come. But he did not take her with his mouth as he had the night before. Instead, he levered himself up and positioned his whole body between her legs, letting the length of him lay against her mound, announcing, previewing what he intended next.

  ‘Oh, God, yes, Kitt,’ she moaned, as if he needed further urging, further confirmation that she wanted this. She was far beyond wanting—at some point it had become a need she would not be complete without. He moved into her then, a slow thrust that filled her, her lips moving in a thousand silent hallelujahs as Kitt claimed her, over and over, invoking the primal rhythm of the ocean in the push and ebb of his thrusts, his phallus stroking a place deep inside her with each pass until the intense friction of his efforts had her moaning incoherent words, her body bucking, her legs wrapped about his hips in an attempt to draw him even closer.

  She was not alone in this. Kitt’s eyes were riveted on her, his blue gaze nearly the shade of midnight with desire. The muscles of his arms bulged with the effort of lovemaking, his body taut as climax loomed. They met it together; a final thrust, a final cry, and they were falling, blue sky above them, white sand below them and a universe of pleasure in between. She’d been wrong earlier. This was heaven and this man beside her, within her, was angel, saint and sinner all in one.

  She floated back to earth slowly, confronted by the realisation that Kitt Sherard was more than the proverbial sum of his parts, manly or otherwise. He’d shown himself to be both a man who could have sex—that had been last night, a physical game between two willing players—but here on the beach, he’d shown himself to be a man who could make love and that man knew the difference.

  ‘I can see why you love the Caribbean so much,’ Bryn murmured sleepily, her finger tracing idle designs on his chest. ‘Do you ever think of going back to England?’ She was already regretting the time when she and her father would return to cold, dreary England, their mission accomplished.

  ‘No, I don’t think of England as home, not any more,’ Kitt answered. She was almost sorry she’d asked. His tone had lost some of its usual ease. His body and his gaze moved away from her. He tucked one arm behind his head and looked up into the sky. ‘My life is here, with my ship, my men, my business.’

  ‘And your villa?’ Bryn interjected.

  ‘Yes, my villa.’ Kitt chuckled. ‘I’m starting to think you covet my villa. It seems to come up in your thoughts on a regular basis.’

  ‘It is rather magnificent,’ she teased, knowing he would hear the innuendo. She wanted to return to their earlier intimacy, wanted him to trust her with part of himself no matter how small. She wanted to know him.

  ‘Now I’m starting to think we’re not necessarily talking about my “villa”.’ They were back to the sexy banter that was second nature to him, the casual nonchalance he wore so easily. Conversation with Kitt carried an edge. It was always a battle of wits. Was it armour, too? She wondered what depths lay beneath all that cleverness. What did he work so hard to hide?

  Bryn was loath to let the profundity of their recent moments go. She shot an upward glance at his face, watching him study the clouds, his eyes thoughtful. Those moments were worth fighting for. She would risk it. ‘Kitt, tell me something about yourself. What was your life like back in England?’

  ‘You assume I had a life in England,’ he challenged, but the question had made him vulnerable. It was there in the way he sat up—a sudden movement that dislodged her from his shoulder and sent her scrambling to sit up as well. They faced one another, eyes duelling.

  ‘You want to know something about your lover, is that it?’

  Kitt’s tone was dangerously silky. She should take his tone as a warning, but Bryn would not retreat. She met his gaze with the tenacity she’d met his other challenges. He’d not succeeded in scaring her off yet. ‘Yes.’ She smiled, a tigress to match this lion of a man.

  ‘Very well.’ Kitt gave a grin. She wondered if it was meant to distract her. He did that sometimes. Doing it now was a sign of how deeply disturbed he was over her question. ‘If I tell you something, you have to answer my question, whatever it is.’ He laughed at her hesitation. ‘Ah, it’s a little different when the shoe’s on the other foot, isn’t it?’

  Her chin went up a fraction and she squared her naked shoulders. ‘Fine. One answer of mine for one tale of yours. I have nothing to hide.’ Kitt, on the other hand, could make no such claim and they both knew it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kudos to Bryn. She had him cornered. Her request should not have surprised him. A man could not make love to a woman and not expect her to ask questions. It was a woman’s nature to seek that attachment. Yet, he’d bolted upright and tried to dare his way out of it. Perhaps not his best reaction. It would only confirm for Bryn what she already suspected—he had a past he would not willingly trot out for just anyone.

  He should have known by now Bryn didn’t scare. A dare only caused her to entrench further and now here they were, ready to exchange battle stories as it were. It was some consolation to note that while she’d taken the dare it hadn’t been without hesitation.

  ‘My life in England was...predictable,’ Kitt said. He settled back on his blanket and pulled her to him. Her warm skin felt reassuring against his as he picked his words, trying to weave a suitable truth from the fabric of his tragedy without giving away too much. Perhaps, too, he could use this intimacy for other purposes that would demand more of her attention than this exchange of stories.

  ‘I doubt it.’ Bryn’s head had found its way again to the notch between his shoulder and his chest where it fit perfectly.

  ‘Well, you can believe what you like. It was predictable.’ Inside that predictability he’d had all the security of being raised the son of a peer and all the luxury, too. He had not fully appreciated what that meant until he’d been without the privileges it had provided. He understood now in retrospect it was what had driven him to purchase the villa—a chance to recreate some of that security. He had proven he could recreate the material security, but not the other, the security of knowing people loved you.

  ‘Predictability has its benefits, but I could see the whole of my life laid out before me, the next thirty or forty years unless I died of ennui before that.’ That was almost true. He could see his whole life laid out; what his parents wanted for him; what life had to offer a se
cond son who was loved or not by his family. The options were minimal. The prospect had not especially bored him, but it had frightened him. Even then he could see the potential for his life to amount to nothing but one entertainment after another. As much as his family cared for him, he wanted more. It had been equally frightening to not know what more might be.

  ‘An opportunity arose to leave and I took it.’ He’d been restless in the months leading up to that ‘opportunity’. He often wondered if his ‘sacrifice’ had been selfishly motivated after all. If he hadn’t been restless, would he have been so eager to take his brother’s place? But that was part of the story he couldn’t tell Bryn.

  ‘And you left, just like that?’ Bryn snapped her fingers. Kitt thought he heard admiration in her tone. She’d taken the story to the intended conclusion—he’d left because he sought a new challenge. He was doing fairly well with his story. He’d managed to leave out places and people, or any reference that tied him to the aristocracy.

  He could answer this latest question without any artifice. ‘Yes, I did. Once I decided to leave I went. I took two trunks and whatever money I could lay my hands on.’ He didn’t want Bryn making him out to be any sort of hero. What had followed had been anything but the stuff of legends. He’d left within the hour of making the decision. It might have been the quickest exit in history. He could still see that last scene with his father, the two of them in the front parlour, his father’s drawn face as he gripped his hand and pressed a thick wad of pound notes into it. ‘Be gone, don’t come back. You can never come back, promise me?’ Words whispered in love, not hatred, a father’s desire to protect his son. Kitt knew all about promises. To break that promise meant to die, to be killed, to resurrect a scandal his mother’s social expertise would have taxed itself to put to bed. Kitt had given his word and he’d become the prodigal son who could never return.

  Bryn snuggled into him. ‘I don’t believe you. There has to be more to it. What compels a man to give up all he knows and sail into the unknown?’