Free Bound by Decency by Claire Ashgrove Page B

his opposite hand into the cotton and sucking in a sharp breath. It would be so easy to…
    With a muttered oath, he banished the thought before he could complete it. For good measure, he pulled the thick quilt up to her chin, then seated himself on the mattress’ edge. The idea of touching her further stood his nerves on end. And yet, if he didn’t, she couldn’t drink the tea. All his efforts would become meaningless, and she’d revert to the nauseated state of helplessness he had found her in last night.
    Steeling himself against the satiny feel of India ’s shoulders, Cain gritted his teeth and slipped his arm beneath her. Murmured protests tumbled from her lips as he eased her upright. Her lashes fluttered, but when she tried to lift them fully, she let out a low moan.
    “ India , I’ve brought you tea. Drink a bit.”
    Full lips parted. The tip of her tongue flicked out to moisten them, and she consented with a faint nod. As she reclined against his shoulder, her hair brushed against his chin. The faintest scent of flowers clung to the long dark locks, tempting him to tuck his nose closer. He resisted the pull, forced his attention on the task at hand.
    She finished off the drink, and Cain gently lowered her into the bed, all too glad to be free of the intolerable closeness. Confounding him further, as he made to leave her side, her fingers caught his.
    “Don’t go yet. We still have time together. Please touch me again.”
    Her quiet murmur was like a tidal wave on Cain’s control. Though he knew the request to be another product of feverish dreams, those were whore’s words. Not one lady he knew would dare to utter such a scandalous phrase, not even in her sleep. A forbidden thrill raced through him.
    By the saints, he had no business chasing merchant ships. That would only further her time aboard his ship, and the longer she remained, the more he began to doubt her safety with him. As it was, he was so desperate to sooth the ache in his loins, he gave serious thought to yanking away those covers and taking advantage of her arrack-induced haze.
    Instead, he locked the door, turned the lantern down as far as it would go, and sank into the chair behind his desk.
    Please touch me again.
    Where the devil had she learned such? From Richard? Saints blood, he did not care. That she, a proper English lady, understood the pleasures that could be found between man and woman, that she enjoyed them even in mere sleep, sent white-hot fire blistering through Cain’s veins. A shudder rolled through him, bringing with it unrelenting longing.
     
     

 
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    C ain stood at his desk, India ’s soiled nightgown in hand. He watched the natural heavy rise and fall of her chest, took in her alluring features. For three weeks, he’d tended to her. Kept her under the heavy influence of arrack and nursed her stomach back to health. When her fever gave way to coughs, he’d thought for certain she’d succumb to the pneumonia that rattled in her lungs. He’d cursed God, the saints, and even the devil for his fate. In a desperate attempt to keep her from death’s clutches, he’d thrown his soul into nursing her. He fed her broth, held her tea, and listened to the addled ramblings of her fevered mind. Surprising even himself, he took to cleaning her hair and braiding the long thick lengths when perspiration glued it to her skin.
    He had also endured night after night of unending torture.
    He’d washed every tantalizing inch of her body time and again, an act that found him wide awake through the wee hours of night on more than one occasion. Her ongoing dreams gave him glimpses of passion he could not wrap his mind around, they were so out of character for what he understood her to be. The one occasion he had awakened to her calling his given name left him nearly bailing overboard to escape the oppressive confines of his cabin. He had stayed away for two nights, only