Care and Feeding of Pirates

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Authors: Jennifer Ashley
Tags: Historical Romance, Sea stories, Regency Romance, buried treasure, pirate romance
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on the bed, his
hip resting near her shoulder, giving her a nice view of his
taut-muscled thigh. He lifted her hand, peeled off her glove, and
traced a circle on the inside of her wrist.
    "You and I are married, Honoria," he said.
"We have the marriage license. There will be surprise, but it's
done. Fait accompli."
    "Why didn't you tell me?" She recalled her
years of loneliness, the emptiness that stretched before her each
day. "Why didn't you send word? I would have waited for you."
    Christopher looked surprised. "I didn't have
the chance, love. By the time I was in a place I could send word,
it would have reached you the same time I did."
    That was probably true, she had to concede.
"I thought you out of my life forever."
    "Yes? Then why didn't you marry again?"
    "I did. I mean, I will. To Mr.
Templeton."
    Christopher kissed her palm, then her wrist,
the heat of his lips erasing pain, and with it, coherent thought.
"I meant that you waited a long time."
    "I was content being unmarried. There are
many advantages to being single. Such as a man not driving me
mad."
    Christopher kissed her wrist again. "What
changed?"
    She let out a little sigh. "James brought
Diana home. They have a family now, and I don't belong in it."
Honoria couldn't keep the wistfulness out of her voice.
    "Diana is fond of you."
    "She is dear to me. But she wants to be with
James." Honoria looked at him limply. "So I took Mr. Templeton's
offer."
    She knew she couldn't explain what it felt
like to have Diana always making certain Honoria was included in
everything, when Diana and James were so obviously wrapped up in
each other. Diana, by rights, was now mistress of the Charleston
house. Honoria had run it for years, and Diana tried to make
Honoria feel she still did run it, but Honoria knew that everything
had changed.
    Christopher traced a line along the inside of
her elbow, drawing heat. "If you need a husband, love, you have
one."
    "A pirate husband. On a pirate
ship."
    His face registered no sympathy, but he
continued the light, maddening patterns on her arm. "I need to
leave England as soon as I can. I don't have time to wait until you
sort out your feelings or talk things over. As soon as I put my
hands on my second-in-command, I am setting sail, and I want you on
that ship. You will have to break the news to Mr. Templeton, say
your good-byes, write your brother a note."
    Honoria started to sit up, but pain shot
through her ankle, and she sank back to the pillows. "It is much
more complicated than that."
    Christopher drew a lazy circle in her palm
with his thumb. "Why?"
    "It just is."
    He laid her hand at her side. "Do you still
want me?"
    Honoria's tongue felt thick, and she said
nothing.
    Christopher drew his blunt fingertip along
her cheekbone and to her lips. "I want you," he said in a low
voice. "I'm about insane with it."
    Honoria struggled to breathe. "You seem very
calm."
    "I have to be. And I tell myself that I'll
have time. It's a long voyage across the Atlantic."
    "Are we going to Charleston?"
    He smiled a little, and she realized she'd
said we. "Is that where you want to go?" Christopher
asked.
    "I belong there."
    "You belong with your husband."
    Honoria half raised up on her elbows. Her
ankle throbbed again, but less so. "Do not begin again about wifely
obedience. We married in haste, and now we are repenting."
    Christopher lowered her back to the pillows
with his hands on her shoulders, and bent over her so that she
could not rise without fighting him. "I don't feel repentant. In
fact, I feel more alive than I have in years."
    Her heart beat still faster. "Perhaps that's
because you have been able to take regular meals, and now have
baths and a bed to sleep in."
    He leaned closer. "Perhaps it's because I
found you again after so long. Speaking of beds, I'm happy to
finally have you in one."
    Christopher's shirt smelled clean, of washing
soap, overlaid with his male scent. Not fair. Honoria loved him so
near, she'd always loved that.

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