Part 19 (1/2)
”You love me.” Julian's voice was flat, void of any emotion, and his eyes took on a decidedly guarded look. ”Why?”
”Why?”
”Yes, Emma. You keep telling me you love me; I want to know why.”
”Because you are warm, and caring, and funny, and handsome as sin. What isn't there to love about you?”
To her relief, that made him smile as he drew the trousers up and fastened them. ”That is definitely a question I wouldn't mind hearing answered. What's not to love about Julian McCallister?”
The tension in the air thinned and she chuckled. ”We could be here a while.”
He leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck. ”Can we not talk about this right now?” He nuzzled her, sliding an arm about her to ease her back against him. ”I'd rather do this instead.”
Her eyelids drooped at the brush of his lips along her neck. He swept his kiss up toward her ear and then caught her earlobe between gentle teeth. She sucked in a sharp breath, pressing her lips together as tingles rippled in his lips' wake. It would be so easy to simply sink into him as his lips found their way to hers, to wrap her arms about his neck and lose herself in him.
At the same time, she didn't want to surrender. It was too easy for him to avoid uncomfortable topics by wooing her into bed and kissing away her questions. She was about to pull away, to attempt to make him see that he wasn't his father, but then, as he cradled her to his chest, decided it would wait a while. What was the harm in enjoying his attention now? Her questions would be there when they were finished.
But then Julian pulled away and, to her surprise, he was scowling. ”What's the matter?” she asked as he rose once more.
He yanked on his s.h.i.+rt. ”I need-I can't-I'll be back,” he muttered, throwing open the door.
It closed behind him with a resounding bang, leaving her to stare at it in disbelief. What happened to make him turn from warm and loving to cold and angry? Her first impulse was to dress and go after him, but after she managed the first, she wavered on the second. Maybe the best thing she could do was leave him be. At least for now.
With a sigh, she plunked herself into the chair at his desk and picked up the novel she'd packed in her sea chest. While she waited, she would immerse herself in the story. Julian would return eventually. And maybe then he'd be willing to tell her exactly what it was that made him so angry.
Chapter Twenty.
JULIAN GLOWERED AT THE BOTTLE on the table before him as he sat in the forecastle. He ignored the men around him, and although each one greeted him respectfully, they then kept their distance. It didn't matter. He was there for the distraction of listening to them laugh and exchange bawdy jokes as they played cards, and the bottle of rum before him helped ease the feelings swirling through him like snowflakes in a blizzard.
Amber rum glinted in the light as he tilted the bottle to refill his gla.s.s. His head buzzed from what he'd already swallowed, and it still wasn't enough. There were no answers to be found in the gla.s.s he held. But that didn't stop him from looking again. And again.
The rum went down smoothly and his thoughts wandered to his wife, tucked away in their cabin. What was he afraid of? He almost laughed now, thinking about her expression when he told her exactly what he feared most.
It was the first time he'd ever admitted it aloud. And now he wished he had kept quiet.
”d.a.m.n you,” he muttered, still glowering at the rum bottle. ”Old man, you left me in quite the spot. Afraid to touch my own wife because I can't keep it to just a kiss, and if I let myself forget, even for a moment-”
Night after night, he and Emma rolled about in their bed, driving each other wild with pleasure, falling asleep spent and sated with her curved up against him, her head nestled on his chest. And night after night, as he collapsed against her, he prayed she never noticed that when he went over the edge, he maintained enough control to not spill himself inside her. His teeth clenched, his muscles tensed, and it took every bit of control he possessed to pull free from her and finish in the sheet instead.
And each time, that control slipped a little further away. Each time, he hated that he had to do it a little more. And he hated above all else, that he wanted to come inside her when he climaxed. He wanted to fall asleep still buried in her warmth, their two bodies becoming one and staying one until dawn broke over the horizon.
And what was more frightening, he felt the first plucking, the first whispered yearning of a family. A child, several children. h.e.l.l, if he was totally honest with himself, several dozen children would be welcomed. But those children would only come from his seed, and he had yet to share it with her.
Julian, you are not your father.
”She's right,” he muttered, lifting the gla.s.s to his lips. ”I'm not him, d.a.m.n it.”
He set the gla.s.s down hard enough that it banged against the table, earning him curious stares from the card players at the far end.
”Did you say something, Mr. McCallister?”
Julian squinted at the man. His face was familiar, but the name escaped him. ”Nothing you need concern yourself with, Mr.-”
”Charles. Emerson Charles, sir. Boatswain.”
Julian nodded. ”No, Mr. Charles. I was just talking to myself.”
Mr. Charles nodded and gestured to the deck of cards. ”Care to join us?”
”No.” He roughly shoved back from the table. He stumbled, but quickly righted himself. ”Why on earth I'm sitting here, when I could be tucked away in my cabin...”
”Begging your pardon, of course-” Mr. Charles reached for the gla.s.s before him ”-but I was wondering why you were here instead of there. Lord knows I certainly wouldn't be.”
”You're right. I shouldn't be.” Julian staggered back then grabbed hold of a support beam to steady himself as the s.h.i.+p lurched. ”I should be there-” he jabbed a finger in the general direction of his cabin ”-and so there I will be.”
And with that, he took himself off, weaving his way along the corridor until he found himself face-to-face with the closed door of his cabin. His wife was just on the other side of that d.a.m.ned door. His beautiful, sensuous, temptress wife. The one woman he ached for, the only one he ever truly ached for.
His gut churned. No matter how often he felt Emma wrapped all around him, no matter how many nights he collapsed into her, that ache never went away. And as he leaned to press his forehead into the cool wood, his blood began that same slow boil it did whenever he was near her.
Julian, you are not your father.
He wanted to claim her completely, and there was only one way.
The door banged loudly against the wall when he threw it open, and Emma bolted up from her chair, the book she held flying from her grip to hit the stove.
”Julian?” Her eyes widened as he threw the door shut with the same amount of force. ”Are you all right?”
”I'm fine, sweetheart.” He smiled as he crossed to her. The room tilted slightly, but he maintained a straight line to close the s.p.a.ce between them. ”I wanted to apologize for how I left.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes tender. ”I shouldn't have pushed, and for that, I apologize.”
He caught her face between his hands. Her skin was soft, too inviting to resist touching, and her lips were equally soft as he tilted her head back and bent to cover them with his.
She melted against him, her arms sliding around his waist to pull him even closer. Her lips parted, her mouth warm and welcoming as he plunged his tongue deep to explore her depths. He groaned into her when her fingers curled about the bottom of his s.h.i.+rt to tug it free from his trousers. Her hands skimmed up along his bare back, and when they skimmed back down, her fingernails on his skin sent a torrent of pleasure spinning through him.
He slid his hand down from her cheek, down along her neck, until his fingers brushed the swell of her right breast. He curved his hand about the pert mound, sweeping his thumb over the tip until he felt her nipple bead and she gasped into his mouth.
Her fingernails sc.r.a.ped him harder, as she moved down his back and beneath the waist of his trousers to graze his backside. The caress filled him with fire, and his body responded swiftly. His erection strained against her, his hips moving on instinct to seek her out.
”Emma...” He groaned, his hands moving around to loosen her bodice. He had to feel her skin bare against hers, had to take one of those rose-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his mouth and tease her into mindless oblivion.
Her bodice loosened, the fabric slipping over her shoulders and pooling about her waist. His fingers were more nimble than they'd ever been as he worked the laces of her corset free.