“I cannot help but notice you are making no effort to rise.”
Kenna’s hand slipped beneath the covers and tugged at Rhys’s nightshirt. She ran her fingers lightly over his inner thigh, then her touch grew bolder, fondling him. She giggled when she felt his immediate response. “No, but you are.”
Without conscious thought their bodies made the necessary adjustments, melding with a complete naturalness that took Kenna’s breath away. Her gown was pushed up around her waist and like the blossoms outside their bedroom window she unfolded to receive Rhys. She had not realized how ready she was for him until he thrust into her. It faintly embarrassed her that she could accept him so easily, so quickly, that her body had prepared for his entry as if it were inevitable.
And perhaps it was.
She felt the heat of his gaze upon her and she lifted her eyes to his, caught at once by the desire darkening his smoke gray eyes.
The swiftness of their passion had surprised Rhys also but he reveled in the hunger they shared. His mouth sought Kenna’s, tasting, teasing, exploring the full curve of her sensitive lower lip. He pressed kisses along her jaw, at the tip of her sometimes impossibly determined chin, traced the delicate sweep of her cheekbones and touched his lips to the corners of her eyes. He felt her need in the throaty way she murmured his name and in the arching of her body against him. Her breasts swelled in his palms, the nipples becoming erect under the insistent pressure of his thumbs. The tips of her tapered nails made small crescents in the flesh of his shoulders as she held him to her. Her legs wrapped around him, smooth and white against the darker texture of his skin. His hand slipped from her breast to her thigh, stroking the taut curve of her leg.
“I love touching you,” he said, his own voice husky and edged with desire.
Kenna’s hands caressed the length of Rhys’s broad back then cradled his buttocks, keeping him deep inside her. There was an infinitesimal pause in the rhythm of their love. “You cannot imagine…how good you feel.”
His response was a growl from deep in his chest as his loins gave an involuntary jerk and he felt himself lose control. Kenna met his quickened thrusts and knew her own pleasure was but moments away. Her neck arched, exposing the slender column of her throat and the little pulse there, beating wildly as she finally gave in to the mounting sensations. She opened her eyes because she wanted to see his face and found Rhys watching her expectantly as if he had commanded her attention. Her lips parted but her thoughts remained unspoken. Their mouths touched, then clung, as if sharing the same breath in the moment their bodies shuddered with the force of pleasure’s release.
“It’s a lovely day,” Kenna said some minutes later. She rubbed her cheek against the smooth linen fabric that covered his chest.
Rhys gave her backside an affectionate pinch. “You have yet to look out the window,” he observed.
“I don’t have to,” she answered tartly, “One knows these things.”
A dark eyebrow lifted. “Does one really?”
Kenna sat up and pulled her nightgown over her head, giving Rhys an uninhibited view of her breasts. She laughed when she saw her actions had the effect of raising his other brow. She leaned down and dropped a kiss on his forehead, bounding off the bed and neatly eluding Rhys’s play to grab her. “I thought you wanted to go on a picnic,” she said, glancing over her bare shoulder as she retreated into the dressing room.
Rhys rose somewhat reluctantly from the bed and followed her. The smooth routine of dressing was interrupted periodically as they found excuses to touch and tease one another. By the time Kenna smoothed Rhys’s jacket over his back her cheeks were warm and her eyes were suspiciously bright. As Rhys followed her downstairs, watching the graceful sway of her hips, he admitted to being warm all over.
In the days that followed Kenna clung to the memory of Rhys’s roguish glances as he threw himself into his work. Though she often accompanied him to the warehouse she returned hours before he did and was not nearly as tired when he finally joined her in bed. He slept restlessly as the day’s events would turn over in his mind and she held him, troubled by the shadows beneath his eyes and tension in his body. He spoke to her of the difficulty of righting his father’s wrongs against the Clouds but Kenna knew he did not share his innermost feelings. It was in the darkness of their chamber when he would reach out to her and love her with a desperation that made her ache, that she knew how troubled he was by the course he had set for himself.
There was increased resistance from the merchants he dealt with as they balked at the rates he had set. Monitoring the accounts as she did, Kenna could not fail to notice the sharp decline in the number of businesses that used the Canning Line. Even some of the merchants who had no personal dealings with the late Roland Canning shied away from dealing with Rhys, giving in to pressure exerted by Roland’s friends.
Kenna honored her invitation to Captain Johnson the evening before he set sail for the Indies. She almost regretted that she had asked him to dine with them when he insisted upon mentioning the state of affairs of Canning Shipping.
“You’ve made some powerful enemies,” Johnson said, pulling on his chin thoughtfully before he helped himself to a second portion of halibut steak. “I don’t pretend to know why it’s so, I simply know what I hear. A lot of people, important people, are upset with you, Mr. Canning. Can’t remember the last time I heard Boston Wharf so noisy with rumor.”
“More coffee, Captain?” asked Kenna politely, trying to divert the conversation. Johnson was insensitive to her mood, but Rhys was not.
“It’s quite all right, Kenna. I’m interested in what the captain has to say.”
Johnson held out his cup. “Have I gone and put my foot in it?”
“No,” denied Rhys. “My wife is simply concerned for me. There have been a number of threats recently.”
Now Johnson was alarmed. “Threats? I hadn’t heard any talk of threats. Pardon me, Mrs. Canning. I didn’t know it had gone so far. Of course you don’t want me talking about it now.”
“I think it’s a little late for that, Captain,” said Kenna.
“Please tell us what you’ve heard.”
With additional encouragement from Rhys, Johnson related what he had learned at the docks. There were complaints from men who had been employed with Canning that Rhys has fired them unfairly.
“They were being paid by my fathernotto work for Garnet,” Rhys pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter to them. They’re talking now like you owe them a wage. Employment is harder to come by these days. None of the other lines have a place for them. Then there’s this matter of your rate increase. Folks are saying you’re profiteering.”
Kenna laughed at that. “Hardly. They could glance at our books and know otherwise.”
