And now she was rescuing him.
She writhed against his fingers, joining with him in search for her pleasure. Then, she found it—untapped and unable to be contained.
Fever broke in her breath, in her trembling limbs, in the sound of bliss that pillowed his ears.
He clasped her close, keeping his lips pressed to her temple as he rocked her back to this time.
He’d done it. He’d given his wife pleasure.
He hadn’t thought of his terrors, his injury, of anything else but Pen. He had remained anchored by her breath.
He blinked until the evening cold tingled in the dampness between his lashes.
He could have done anything in that moment, even leap from the cliffs and flown.
And the final, hidden memory slipped into place.
Limitless possibility—this was how Penelope had always made him feel.
~~~
Shameless.
She nearly chuckled.
She hadn’t a hint of shame.
She’d exposed herself to the captain, let the him shatter her into tiny pieces, let him hear her unfettered cries.Lethim? She’d practically begged him. And she hadn’t told him she knew.
She hadn’t needed to tell him.
Truth existed between their bodies, a recognition that went beyond words.
He’d known it. Felt it.
Hadn’t he?
She shivered with a dawning chill. She flicked her skirts down over her legs and then moved to adjust her bodice.
“Allow me.”
His voice returned some of her warmth.
She looked up into his face. He smiled.
Oh yes. He knew. Her Chev. He would tell her soon. He must. He would tell her, and they would oust those rotten men and start to rebuild. Together.
Just as they were working together to refasten her hooks.
“You must think—” she started.
“Hush,” he said against her temple. “I’m endeavoring not to think at all.”
She nodded and sighed. Silent recognition would be enough for tonight.
He’d suffered so such—had so many scars. She must trust that he would, in small measures, continue to reveal the truth.
Faith again.
