April 1819

Atlantic Ocean West of England

 

“Look, Nic.” Katrina leaned over the schooner’s rail and pointed to a water spout off the starboard side. “Is that a whale?”

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Nic spoke into her hair. “It is. Watch closely. Those are humpbacks, and they swim in pods. They’re migrating right now.”

Before he finished speaking, two more whales surfaced.

“They’re magnificent,” she said, leaning into his strong embrace.

“Indeed.” He kissed the crown of her head and splayed his fingers over her stomach.

“What do you think Aunt Bertie and your sisters are doing right now?” The three had taken to each other like bees to honey, and Chamberdall Court resounded with their laughter. Quite frequently, Aunt Bertie instigated some antic, most recently, teaching Daphne and Delilah to make jam tarts. For days afterward, Cook scolded about the mess they’d made in her kitchen.

Nic chuckled, his breath warming Katrina’s head. “Probably into some sort of mischief, if I know my aunt. I still cannot fathom she’d been hoping for years to bring us together.”

Katrina giggled. “That certainly explains why she regaled me with titillating tales of your adventures each time I visited, was thrilled when I agreed to help you find a bride, and why she didn’t fuss when you moved her to our house.”

“Crafty old bird.” Affection laced his voice, and she sighed in pure contentment.

The sun dangled low on the western horizon, the sky a myriad of yellow, peach, and burnished hues. Soon, they’d make their way to the captain’s cabin for dinner. Anticipation sluiced her as an altogether different kind of hunger welled.

Trailing her fingers across his sturdy hands clasped at her middle, Katrina arched her neck to peek at him, and he promptly slid his hands beneath her cloak and cupped her breasts. She bit her lip against a moan when he tweaked her turgid nipples. “Perhaps we might watch the sunset from your ... our cabin?”

Gads, she sounded wanton.

They would reach England in a few days, and Nic would step into his ducal role full-time. This journey, a belated wedding trip to the tropics, was his farewell voyage. She’d protested that he couldn’t forsake sailing, but he’d been adamant, especially when she’d revealed her delicate condition.

“Aye, and perhaps we’ll work up an appetite for our supper beforehand.” Nic turned her until she faced him and, amidst his crew’s hoots and catcalls, kissed her soundly. Nic grinned as he looped her hand through his crooked elbow. “Cease your disrespect, or I’ll toss your sorry arses in the hold for the night.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” echoed round the deck, followed by a chorus of laughter.

“They adore you, Nic. Are you sure you want to give this up? Won’t you regret it?”

“No. This was my life before I gave you my heart.” He opened the cabin door and waited for her to enter before closing the strip and shoving the bolt home. “Now, Kitty, love, I want to make a new life with you.” He bent and kissed her flat stomach. “And this little one, and the others to follow.”

Dear God, she loved this rugged, unpolished man. Unfastening the frogs at her throat, she meandered to the impressive bed dominating the cabin. After tossing her cloak on a nearby chair, she turned her back, smiling coyly over her shoulder. “And what do privateers do to the women whose hearts they capture?”

In four long strides, Nic crossed to Katrina. He scooped her into his arms and, after laying her on the coverlet, slid her skirts up her thighs to her waist. “They love them, until the breath leaves their body, and afterward, ever into eternity.”