Page 40 of Mardon

“Oh!” she exclaimed, excited by his length, not able to stop herself from reaching out to touch him.

He responded with a sharp intake of breath as she closed her fingers around his shaft and gently gave him a playful squeeze.

“God’s breath, you are testing me,” he said, pulling her to him until her chest smashed into his. His hands kneaded her shoulders as he kissed her so passionately she thought she would explode. Then one hand slid around to fondle her breast, making her nipples go taut with desire. Dipping down to take her into his mouth, his other hand caressed her bare bottom end. When he touched the welt where Jean Philippe had whipped her, she jerked, remembering the pain.

“What’s the matter?” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nay.” She closed her eyes, trying to push from her mind the memory of the sting and sound of the whip splitting the air. Any excitement to make love now was replaced by memories of the Frenchman plowing into her and hurting her, and not giving a damn.

“Emmaline. Please, tell me.” He raised her chin with his hand and her eyes slowly opened. “What is it? What did I do wrong?”

“It’s not you,” she told him, feeling hesitant to tell him but deciding he needed to know. If not, he would think she didn’t want this union, and things between them would be ruined. “My late husband . . . he . . . whipped me.” There, she said it. The secret was out.

“What the hell? Turn around. Let me see.”

“Nay,” she said, shaking her head, feeling self-conscious that the welts on her bottom would make her seem ugly to him.

“It’s all right,” he told her gently, and she let him turn her around. “Good God, what kind of man could do such a thing to such a beautiful soul as you?” He used his fingertip to gently trace the length of the welt the whip had made. Her body trembled. Mayhap this wasn’t a good idea after all. Mayhap she’d better stop him.

“Mardon, I –”

“Shhh. Don’t speak,” he told her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her over to the pallet on the floor. He gently laid her down, leaning over her, looking deep into her eyes, directly into her soul. “You don’t deserve something like that,” he told her. “You deserve to be treated like the true angel you really are.”

“I’m not an angel,” she told him. “You don’t have to say those things to me.”

“I only say what I mean,” he reminded her. “And right now I mean to show you that you don’t need to be frightened. I can see your pain. You’ve been hurt badly. You’ve been scarred, not just your body but also your heart.”

“Yes,” she said, crying, nodding, feeling sad but overjoyed at the same time. He was the first one to ever understand her. Who would think a pirate would be able to look into her heart?

“I plan on proving to you that making love with a man is a good thing. It’s supposed to make you feel alive, empower you . . . make you cry, but with joy instead of regret. Let me make you happy, Emmaline. I want to be the one to bring you through your pain and heal your heart. I want to bring you back to life and make you feel loved – whether it be the first time or the last. Please, let me do that for you.”

“I would like that,” she admitted, feeling as if he had taken the weight of the world off her shoulders.

“Tonight, I want you to think of nothing but the present. Only focus on you and me and what happens here between us. Can you do that?”

“I can try.”

“Nay, not good enough, love. I want a yes or a no.”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly feeling filled with confidence, knowing he was right. She needed to push past her pain and leave her troubled life behind. She was here with Mardon now, and he made her feel good about herself. He made her happy. The man didn’t care about anything she might have done to ruin her reputation. Like he said, his reputation as a pirate would always be worse than hers.

“That’s better,” he said, his body positioned over her as he held himself up, positioned between her thighs. “Now just relax and enjoy this. Let yourself go. Let out all that love you have to share.”

With his body pressed up against hers, he entered her, filling her with his essence, bringing back joy to her life again. They melded together in each other’s arms. When they both shared the euphoric moment of reaching their peaks, she threw back her head and let out a satisfied scream of unbridled passion. His low roar of release filled the air as well.

The door to the cabin banged open and Ramble ran in. “Cap’n, what is it? Are ye all right?”

Mardon’s body dropped down to cover Emmaline’s. “Ramble, just turn around and leave and forget you saw anything at all.

“Oh!” said the boy. “Y-ye’re makin’ love with a . . . a nun?”

“I said leave! And keep anyone else from entering.”

“What is it, Ramble?” Aaron came to the door next and looked inside. “Bloody hell.”

“Can ye believe it?” asked Ramble, talking about him coupling with a nun, not knowing Emmaline was really a lady.

“Damn it,” said Aaron, knowing the truth. “Nay, I can’t believe that, once again, I’m going to be sleeping up in the lookout.” He pulled Ramble out of the room and closed the door behind them.