After stripping off his soggy oilskin and coat and boots, he sat beside her on the bunk, his back against the bulkhead, and gathered her close.
Weakly, Kate pressed her face into his shoulder, a docile response that had him worried.
“The worst is over,” he assured her.
“How…do you know?” she asked in a small, hoarse voice.
“Years of experience.”
The ship was steadier now. The howling wind had lessened, as had the lashing torrents from the night skies, although the rain kept up a steady, drumming beat.
Kate seemed oblivious to the improvement, however. “Please, stay with me. I can’t bear to be alone any longer.”
The tremor in her voice stabbed at his heart. “I will,” he said gently. Now was not the time for teasing. She was chilled through and through. Indeed, she was shaking.
Shifting their positions, he stretched out on the narrow bunk, then pulled her close and wrapped himself around her. For a while he held her. Just held her…pressing his body against hers to warm her flesh. Yet he was keenly aware of how powerfully she affected him, how hard and aching his loins were.
This wasn’t the moment to feel such stark lust, Brandon warned himself. He should merely want to take care of Kate, to comfort her.
When she stirred against him, he drew back to survey her. Her complexion still looked very pale, but the deep auburn of her hair shone like fire in the glow of the lantern. She was so damned beautiful with the curling tresses spilling around her shoulders.
She raised her face to his. “Deverill…kiss me…please.”
Brandon froze. He badly wanted to comply, but he’d vowed he wouldn’t succumb to his intense desire for her. Comfort, he repeated. You are only here to comfort and warm her.
Kate had other intentions, apparently. “Won’t you even kiss me?”
One kiss couldn’t hurt, could it?
Reluctantly he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, warming her cold lips, brushing the pliant surface. Kate responded with a fierceness that took him aback. Her kiss was urgent, almost desperate.
Breaking off, he rested his forehead against hers. “Sweetheart, we need to stop now or in another moment I won’t let you go.”
“I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to die a virgin.”
Her leap in logic surprised him. “You aren’t going to die at all.”
“I might. Fate is so uncertain.”
Pulling away, Kate stared back at him earnestly, her green eyes haunted. “Please…make love to me. Please.”
Brandon remained silent, yet he knew she could see the battle waging inside him. Outside the cabin, the rush of wind and rain continued, rolling the schooner like so much flotsam.
Kate clearly couldn’t conquer her trepidation. “I despise being afraid,” she said, her voice a plea. “Make me forget my fear, Deverill.”
Something in his chest tightened. “Kate…” he warned, although without as much conviction as he should have. “We should be married before I bed you.”
“I don’t care. I want you. I need you.”
He suspected that
offering herself to him—acting before thinking—was her way of taking control of her life, her fear.
He could certainly understand her need to seize the initiative. He lay there fighting himself, struggling with his conscience, trying to summon his better instincts, just as he had six years ago. That time, he had taken the honorable course and rejected Kate’s virginal advances. And yet, an insistent voice argued, honor wasn’t the issue this time since he planned on wedding her regardless.
When she raised one arm to encircle his neck and sought to kiss him again, he tried to hold her away but realized he had made a decision. He would stake his claim on her in the most irrevocable way possible, and after becoming her lover, there would be no going back.
“Easy, love…” he murmured, feeling the hungry press of her lips against his jaw. “We need to go slowly your first time.”