she said and lay down on the bed, gazing up at him trustingly. ‘Show me how to be the woman you need.’
Justin hesitated, then sat down on the bed. He bent his head to kiss her, his mouth trailing kisses down her smooth navel. His tongue flicked at the inside of her thighs as he parted her legs, then moved to the moist heat of her femininity. He flicked at her delicately so that she whimpered and arched her back towards him, her body begging for more of the exquisite pleasure he gave her.
His hand caressed her throat and then her breasts. He lay beside her, pressing his flesh to hers so that their mutual heat flared as they kissed, tongues touching, flicking, tasting each other’s sweetness. Maribel was quivering, her back arching at each touch as she whimpered and moaned, crying his name as he moved to cover her with his body.
She felt the heat of his manhood pressing against her and instinctively opened wide to accommodate the thick, thrusting shaft that pushed up inside her with sudden urgency. The pain was sharp as he broke through her hymen, but her cry of pain was smothered by kisses so sweet that she almost swooned with love for him. When he withdrew she reached for him, wanting him back inside her, wanting to feel him thrust deeper and deeper into her moist centre. Her body moved with his, her nails unconsciously scoring the smooth flesh on his shoulders as she lost all control and screamed his name aloud over and over again.
She felt his fluids come inside her and then his face was buried against her neck. His body was slick with sweat, as was hers. She stroked the back of his neck, tears trickling down her cheeks as she held him. For a few moments he lay still, his face pressed against her, then he raised his head and looked at her.
‘Why are you crying?’
‘Because you made me feel so wonderful.’
‘I didn’t hurt you?’ He looked contrite. ‘Your bruises still pain you. I was too impatient.’
‘No, no, I wanted you as much as you wanted me.’
‘Yet I hurt you?’
‘A little just at first. I suspect it is always that way.’
‘I have never taken a virgin before,’ Justin said and touched her face. He looked regretful. ‘I did not think you virgin when I teased you so unmercifully, Maribel. Forgive me?’
‘There is nothing to forgive. You were as gentle with me as you could be. Besides, it was what I wanted.’
Justin rolled on to his back. ‘Your husband must have been very young.’
‘My own age, sixteen when we wed, barely seventeen when he died. Why do you ask that?’ She turned her head on the pillow to look at him.
‘I cannot imagine why a man of any age would not want to lie with you, Maribel. Even Tom was in love with you—the poor lad.’
‘Poor Tom.’ Maribel raised herself on one arm to gaze down at him. ‘I think Pablo was perhaps not as other men—not as you are, Justin. I loved him dearly but I see now that we were friends, or close like sister and brother perhaps.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Justin sat up and reached for his breeches, pulling them on and then his boots. His shirt was too torn to wear and he grinned as he tossed it to her. ‘Perhaps you would mend this for me?’
‘Of course…’ She sat up, her long hair falling forward over her breasts. ‘I am yours to command, Justin. Your woman, your—’
‘No! Not whore, never that,’ he said and frowned. ‘When we reach England I shall take you to your mother’s family, Maribel…Nay, do not look so. I mean not to abandon you, my love. I must discover how the land lies. I shall wed you, Maribel, but things have altered now.’
‘You will wed me? But you said…you wished only for a mistress.’
‘I said many foolish things in my pride. I can never let you go. You must be my wife, but I cannot expect you to live as we have lived these past months. You must have a home worthy of you.’
‘Surely you know that I would live anywhere with you?’
‘We can never return to the island, nor would I wish that kind of a life for you. You are a lady, gently born. You deserve the life you were born for. I shall strive to give you all that you should have by rights. It may take some time—I must clear my name if I can, though I fear it may not be possible.’ His expression was serious. ‘If I am not welcome at my home it may be that we shall have to live elsewhere. I have money despite the loss of two ships. There is money held by the goldsmiths in London that was left for me by my great-grandfather, who died just after I was born. We may have to live in France or Italy, but I promise I will make a home worthy of you, my darling.’
‘I shall be content to be with you wherever we live.’
‘Yet I know that I can never be worthy of you. I wish…’ He shook his head and smiled oddly. ‘The past is gone. We may both regret things that were, but we shall have no regrets. We shall look to the future and it will be good for us.’
‘Yes…it will be good for us.’
Something in his eyes caused a shiver to run down her spine. He was so urgent, so grim. What wasn’t he telling her?
Chapter Nine
Justin went straight to his cabin to find a fresh shirt. He did not wish what had just happened to be whispered of by the crew. They might suspect it, but there was no need to confirm their suspicions. His conscience had begun to bother him from the moment he learned of Maribel’s virginity. He could scarcely believe that she had been married for almost a year and remained a virgin. What kind of a man had her husband been? Perhaps the kind that preferred to lie with his own sex.
Justin knew that something had changed in him once he learned the truth. Until that moment he had fought the little voice in his head that told him she was special to him. He had tried to convince himself that she was just a beautiful woman and that all he felt for her was desire. Having had her in his arms, known her absolute surrender, he felt humbled and guilty for having destroyed her innocence. She was a lovely, loving woman and she deserved so much more than he could give her. He must and would find a better life for them both. When he became a pirate he had had no choice, but now he must take his fate into his own hands.
How could he ask her to share the kind of life that might well be his in the future? Justin knew that his life would be forfeit if Queen Mary still lived. She would not listen to anything he had to say excusing the mutiny—in the eyes of her council he was already guilty of treason.
Only if Elizabeth had succeeded her sister would Justin have a chance of returning to his home. He believed that his mother would forgive anything, but his father might not wish to receive him. His great-grand-father’s legacy was lodged with the goldsmiths in London. Justin could collect the gold and take Maribel to France or Italy; there they could mix with people of her own class, but would it be enough for her? Neither of them would have family about them. Would she come to resent him for taking her away from her family?
It might have been better if he had resisted her invitation, but the appeal in her eyes had broken his will, an overwhelming desire to make love to her sweeping all else from his mind. He knew that he would never have enough of her. Just the thought of her, of her scent and the softness of her body as she yielded to him was enough to make him hard again.
He
