“This is our last night together,” he said breathily, and kissed her lightly on the lips. Their bodies molded together so perfectly. If he could, he would never leave the bed, content to lie in the warmth of her arms forever.
“Let it not be our last night,” she murmured, bringing a knee up and caressing his hip with her calf, her toes trailing down his thigh.
“There is no other way,” he said, rubbing a hand over her silky, lithe leg.
“Aye, there is.” She brought up her other knee and lifted her hips, cradling his hard cock against her sex.
“How?” he asked, pressing his own hips forward until the tip of his arousal pushed into her opening.
“Oh,” she moaned and lifted her hips more, her body begging for him to move deeper.
“Tell me, Faryn, tell me. I want to know how I can keep ye forever.” He pressed his forehead to hers and drove all the way inside her.
“Aye, keep me forever,” she whispered, pressing hot kisses to his shoulder and neck. She rocked her hips up and down, her fingers scratching down his back. “If we could only stay like this.”
“Oh aye,” he moaned, pulling out and plunging deep.
Her moans increased, and talking ceased as she succumbed to his lovemaking. He drove in again and again, lifting her buttocks to sink in deeper still.
Soon the sounds of their moans and the creaking of the bed echoed in the cabin.
And then the final culmination, as her body shook and she arched her back, head falling back, and he too let go, releasing deep inside her.
When their breathing had returned to normal, Wraith lay down on his back and pulled Faryn to lie atop him so he could stroke her silky hair.
“Ye didna tell me,” he said.
“Tell ye what?” she asked, her voice warm like that of a sated woman.
“How can we make tonight last forever?”
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “Let us go to the Lord Chancellor first, and not my father. Then we can at least prolong our parting. That is, unless…” But she trailed off.
He stiffened. Would she reject him now? How he desperately needed her! His heart ached with the thought of not being near her. “Unless what?”
“Unless there is a way to never take me home again. I could stay with ye. Here. On the ship.”
The thought had not occurred to him to keep her forever. Once they’d made his statements to the Lord Chancellor and cleared his name—he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He’d never made plans that far in advance. Over the years, it had only been that he needed to seek revenge on those who’d destroyed him.
“Do ye not wish to return home?”
She looked up at him, confused. “Wraith, my family has sold me to the only man who would have me—a vicious and vile man. Who thankfully ye have dispatched.” She crossed herself. “I should never wish him dead but I canna help it, as he for sure would have seen me returned to the earth. They will only sell me again and this time to someone worse. I will not return.”
He didn’t want to promise her anything, because he wasn’t sure if even with his proof the Lord Chancellor would believe him, and that if he did believe Wraith, that he would return his lands. It could be that Viscount Loftford enjoyed taking the tariffs from his land, that they lined his coffers quite well and he would rather see Wraith convicted and guillotined than return what was rightfully his.
If such were the case, Wraith wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape…at least not with a pulse.
“We shall travel together and see what the Lord Chancellor declares upon seeing my proof of innocence. I canna promise ye anything until then, Faryn. But know this, I would have ye with me always, and I willna take ye to your father’s home if ’tis your wish.”
Chapter Eleven
The cabin was dark, except for a light orange-pink light that shafted through the porthole to dance on the opposite wall—dusk. Faryn sat on a cushion bench beneath the porthole, watching the tiny sparkles of dust that danced in the streak of light but dared not move.
They’d docked this morning before dawn in the caves by a beach and all day the men had been at work while she waited until evening for Wraith to call for her. Men had already begun making their way to level ground, where they’d secure horses and ride all the way to Dublin to see Viscount Loftford, the Lord Chancellor of Ireland.
A knock sounded swiftly, followed by one of the crewman ducking his head inside upon her call. “My lady, the cap’n awaits ye.”
Faryn nodded and followed the crewman from her cabin to the dinghy that was soon rowed to shore. She followed the wiry man through a break in the rock to a concealed pathway that led up the side of a cliff. The rock beneath her feet was slippery and she placed each foot very carefully, thankful for the new leather boots brought to her earlier in the day.
They reached the top of the cliff and she scanned the area, now completely covered in darkness. Even the moon seemed hidden.
“This way,” the sailor whispered and tugged on her arm. They didn’t walk long before coming upon Wraith and his small entourage, the clouds covering the moon moving in just enough time to gleam on her lover, almost as if revealing him there just for her.
He gave her a confident, knowing smile that sent shivers along her limbs and memories of the hours they’d spent alone swirling in her mind.
“We are in luck, leannan, for the Lord Chancellor is in Galway and not Dublin. Our trip will be less dangerous and only one night instead of four. And yet, still far enough away my ship and crew will be safe. Let us make haste.”
She mounted the horse he indicated and they took off at a quick pace. He’d warned her it would be a rough journey with their speed, and having not ridden in several months, she wasn’t exactly ready for the bone-jarring pace. Much more difficult was the fact that it was night and she could barely see in front of her, let alone the ground. They did not travel on the main road but through fields and forest. Consequently, she was in fear of being thrown the entire time.
Under the cover of darkness was the only way to travel, especially with a price on Wraith’s head. Although Faryn doubted anyone would recognize him. Years had passed since he’d openly set foot in Ireland, and under his current guise he looked not so lordly, and quite the pirate.
Tight black breeches clung to long, muscled legs, which in turn clutched the horse he’d absconded with from a local stable. He’d forgone a jacket and wore only the black linen shirt he was partial to. At his hip was his plaid belt outfitted with weapons and on his hands black leather gloves. A black captain’s hat sat atop his head, only slightly larger and more intimidating. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes scanned the area. Faryn had trouble not staring when her gaze kept drifting—without her control—over his body. She watched the muscles ripple beneath the fabric of both his breeches and his linen shirt, the moonlight making him all the more mysterious and enticing. His thick arms, bunched and taut, as he wielded the reins of the horse. Without thinking, she licked her lips, imagining running her arms over the ridges and contours.