“I’ve no desire to do that treacherous shit Corbett any favors,” he said to himself quietly.
A breeze stirred the stagnant air of the swamp, the sharp tang of salt reached Nick’s nostrils and the roar of the ocean crashing against the cliffs reached his ears. Sunlight broke through the trees, and he found himself on a small cliff overlooking the pink sands below.
Jem seemed to have vanished.
“Bloody hell.” Nick walked back and forth in the tall grass for nearly a half hour before his horse gave a cry as a lizard ran across the path.
The faint sound of another horse answered.
He walked to the edge of the grass and saw a pile of shells marking the start of another, incredibly narrow path, which stretched down the rocky side of the cliff to the sand below.
“The lass has no fear.” Nick tied his horse to graze and cautiously approached the path. The shell strewn trail declined sharply before opening on to a beautiful pink, sandy cove that held a small tidal pool. A fishing pole, its line bobbing gently in the pool, lay wedged into a crevice of rock. He looked across the brilliant expanse of sand, sparkling in the morning sun and saw no one.
Where was she?
A small unladylike snore sounded from behind a boulder.
Nick approached slowly, peering over the boulder into a shaded area. He didn't see her immediately, hidden as she was under a cropping of rock.
Jem lay on her back, her head pillowed by one arm, the other lying across her stomach. Her hat sat atop her face. A pair of boots sat discarded in the sand, and he was immediately drawn to the sight of her exposed calves and feet.
Jem made another soft snorting sound and curled back against the sand.
A strange fluttering started in Nick’s chest, crossing the region of his heart. Hunger for Jem spooled within him, despite his formerly honorable intentions.
Carefully, he knelt down into the sparkling sand next to her and gently pulled the hat from her face. He didn't wish her awake. Not yet. The fluttering in his chest grew in intensity as he looked down at her. Nick’s gaze ran from the beautiful lines of her jaw, admiring the honey color of her skin and the light spray of freckles across her nose.
Augustus Corbett would never appreciate those freckles.
Jem's chest rose softly as she dozed, drawing Nick’s attention to the small, rounded mounds of her breasts. He remembered the feel of her in his mouth that night on the Governor’s terrace. Unable to stop himself, he ran a finger against the tiny peak of her left breast, delighting when the nub hardened beneath his questing touch.
Jem stirred but did not wake. Her lips pursed and her brow wrinkled as if she were contemplating something, then she smiled.
“Are you dreaming of chocolate?” Nick whispered as he brushed his lips against hers. He tasted salt and sunshine, with just a bit of chocolate.
She kissed him back, her lips moving in time with his. Her eyes flickered open slowly, widening in wonder as she gazed up at him.
“Nick.” Jem stretched a bit like a kitten after taking a nap. One hand ran up his arm, then stopped. The sleepy look left her eyes. “Nick?”
The flutter in his chest became stronger as if a dozen butterflies were trapped above his heart. Joy, an emotion Nick never thought to feel, surged through him as he took in the loveliness of her features in the morning light.
Rubbing his thumb and the Devil’s ring against her plump lower lip, he marveled at the softness of her mouth.
“Hello, Jem.”
* * *
She'd been dreamingof Nick.
He was kissing her under a tall tree at the festival in King Square while his hand stole wickedly up her skirts. The other hand cupped her breast. She urged him on while all of Hamilton watched. He was about to lay her down in the winding grass, in truth, she was begging him to do so, when he stopped and merely brushed his lips against hers and smiled.
Her eyes opened to see Nick's face above her, the soft smile on his lips as real as in her dream. Unbidden, her hand slid to touch the eye-patch lying crookedly against his cheek. She sighed as she felt the rasp of his beard against her fingertips.
I find him so beautiful.
The dark, shaggy hair curled about his ears in the early morning heat. The fine lawn of his shirt, heavy with moisture, clung to the sculpted muscles of his shoulders and arms. The top button of his shirt opened, revealing a spill of dark hair. His thumb ran across her bottom lip again.
“You are forever assessing me,” he whispered. “If you look for flaws I have many and would be happy to list them for you. It would save time, time that should be spent on other, more delightful, pursuits. Don’t you agree?” A finger ran down her arm.
