Chapter One

 

 

 

The ocean liner bucked, creaked and shuddered as it rode the mid-Atlantic’s roiling waves. In Molly O’Dowd’s opinion, the tail end of winter was not the time to make the crossing from Europe to the colonies, as the English referred to her homeland. The water possessed the same bad-tempered gray hue as the sky. A distant rumble presaged an approaching storm, warning them that the ride was going to get rougher.

Molly vowed, if she survived this voyage, never to step foot on a ship again.

It was almost enough to make her give up adventuring and instead marry the man who had offered his name then produce a bunch of children she’d been told was all a woman of her social standing could hope for. She let out a dismissive snort. Marriage? Not just yet. Maybe never. She had a yearning for something more and she would get it or her name wasn’t Molly O’Dowd.

The vessel lurched, and she gripped the ice-rimed rail as though her life depended on it—and it did. If she didn’t hold fast, she might get washed overboard, but she couldn’t bear to go below. She inhaled and coughed, the frigid air chilling her lungs. It was better than the alternative. The belly-curdling stench of seasickness permeated the entire ship from grand staterooms to steerage.

A gust as cold as the proverbial witch’s tit whipped up her skirts her and nipped at her nether regions. Molly was so chilled she lamented that her pussy would never thaw.

She issued a startled yelp when she was hauled back against a long, leanly muscled body and enveloped in the folds of a great coat. Cocooned in the heat emanated by her rescuer, a grateful moan slipped from her lips.

Logan, her lover and would-be suitor, braced his legs apart and wrapped his arms around her. She was glad he’d decided to make the crossing with them. He was handy in an emergency, he was quick with his fists and he’d used the blade he had tucked in his boot to stave off a cutpurse’s attack while they waited in Le Havre to board the Cunard packet. His actions made her realize how little she really knew about him. They hadn’t spoken much since they’d boarded the ship. Since she’d been attacked in her mistress’ bedchamber, he’d assumed a subdued menace she’d never noticed before. Yet, he treated her and the young countess with a gentle courtliness that belied his potential for violence.

“It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”

The vessel tilted to one side, and Logan grabbed her hips to steady her.

“You’re taking liberties,” she reprimanded pertly but didn’t move.

His body emanated heat like a furnace, and she wiggled to warm her frozen rear. A bulge grew in his groin area, pressing boldly against her plump bum.

“They wouldn’t be if you’d marry me, and I could do so much more.” Logan’s voice thickened, his accent growing more pronounced.

Molly turned within the circle of his arms and grinned up at him. His skin had lost its greenish tinge.

“And here, I had begun to think you’d turned shy on me. You’ve been avoiding me.”

He laughed, the sound tinged with sadness and regret. “Ah, Molly me love, you missed me as I’d hoped. You’re a tempting morsel, but heaves and dips had me worshiping the chamber pot. I prayed for a quick death.” He frowned and touched her cheek with icy fingertips. “Look at my hands, Molly. They’re steady now. Ready to woo you as is proper so say you’ll be my wife.”

Oh, she’d looked all right—at his hands, his feet, and the snug drape of his pants over his thighs. His crotch. She’d worried and waited for him to recover. The dratted man had refused her attempts to nurse him. He’d shoved her out of his cabin and slammed the door in her face. She hadn’t seen him for four days.

God knows she’d have welcomed his presence at night when she huddled, shivering, in her bunk.

To avoid getting a crick in her neck she eased back a little. “And you think you’re up to giving me a tumble, are you? You still look a bit peaky to me.”

“Have mercy, Moll.”

His eyes heated, which always quickened the lust in her.

“I refused the…let’s say more bountiful charms of a farmer’s daughter to save myself for you.”

He was a tease but she was on to him.

“As opposed to my meager ones?” she retorted.

His lips twitched then her wily Irishman flashed her an unrepentant grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. She had me by the collar intent on having her wicked way with me, but I escaped. I should be rewarded with a kiss.”

She lay her forehead on his chest and bit the lining of her cheek to stop herself from giggling. He was a scamp, but he kept her laughing.

“Well now, the least I can do is make your sacrifice worth your while.” Molly pressed her body to his from breast to groin and took a certain satisfaction in his involuntary grunt. Pity their clothing was so thick. She’d have enjoyed rubbing her mound over his cock. She wouldn’t have to do much to get a rise out of him. He’d already hardened to an interesting bulk.

Logan let out a groan. “Look at you—your head doesn’t even come up to my heart. And you have me twisting in the wind like those flags above our heads. Marry me, Moll. Let me take care of you.” He curled his hands over her shoulders, holding her against him. Logan shuddered as if he’d taken a bite of something sweetly forbidden.

“I’ll have you know, my lad, I can take care of myself. I am tough as a pair of old boots.” A female servant had to be cagy to preserve her reputation and virtue, or at the very least appear that way. “I say let’s take advantage of the freedoms the ship affords us.”

Under his cloak, she cupped his cock and smirked at how quickly he reacted to her caress. She pressed and handled him through his breeches. Yes, a good handful. More than enough to fill the nook between her thighs quite nicely.

Cold as it was, sweat beaded his forehead. “Good God, I ache for you badly. I think it best if we abstain until you make up your mind about us.”

Molly goggled at him. Logan celibate? It was a laudable and absurd sentiment, but she wasn’t having it. She wanted the dear man, and he desired her—very much if his erection was anything to judge by. She was in the mood for a lusty, sheet-rumpling romp.

“Well, there is only one thing I can do.” She lowered her voice to a sultry purr.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her with the wariness of an animal about to be lured into a trap. “And what would that be?”

She smiled at his perplexed expression. “If you won’t have your way with me then I will simply have to seduce you.”

Molly pushed up on her toes. She cradled his face between her mitten-clad hands, pulled his head down and pressed her mouth to his.

With kittenish licks, she lapped at his lips until he parted them after a short-lived hesitation. She slid her tongue in only to have it captured with the hunger she’d deliberately ignited in him.

“Oh Jaysus, Molly.”

Logan hauled her up against his chest until her feet dangled above the deck. He suckled, laved and nibbled as a starved man offered a crumb. He ran his palms over her back and bum, pressing, caressing with feverish need. The passion in his touch thrilled and shocked her.

Just as abruptly, he dropped her onto her feet, pushing her back into the icy wind. He stood before her, panting. She glared at him and took a step forward, wanting to bask again in his warmth, but he scrambled back like a scalded cat.

She groused to herself. Dolt.

“Don’t tempt me again. I may not be able to control myself.”

Her lips swollen, she snapped in a surly mumble, “Who wants you to?”

Without a word, Logan shook his head, grabbed her by the arm and bundled her indoors.

If he thought she was giving up, he’d better think again. All she needed to do was to pick the place, to avoid any interruptions and to ensure that they’d have enough time to indulge. And she knew just the person to help her make her desires come to fruition.