Chapter 30 #3
“Now,” she repeated in a whisper. They went down in a tangle.
Arms grazed the wall; a foot knocked the portal, another dangled over the side of the bed.
Dani giggled and Luke gathered her beneath him, shaping their bodies to the compact rectangle of the bunk.
All the while, the boat rolled and tilted, rocking them.
He balanced above her, using his knees to hold them steady, trapping her shoulders with his arms.
“I love you, m’étoile,” he whispered, descending on her mouth.
“I love you,” she breathed, gasping when he moved from her neck to her breasts.
His body pumped against her and she rose up to meet him. “I meant to make this slow and sensual,” he moaned. “I meant to worship
your body.”
“Please,” she moaned. She moved her legs apart, trying to assuage the burn, to get closer to his hardness.
“Please make this slow and please be sensual?” he asked, pressing against her.
“Please don’t wait,” she corrected on a sob. “Now, Luke, now.”
He let out a guttural moan, rose up, and then pushed inside her.
Dani made a little cry. She was so new to this, he was so large, and the boat keeled at that exact moment, pressing him deeper.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he hissed in the same moment she whispered, “More.”
He said, “But I can—”
She lashed out, slapping a hand against his bottom, holding him in place. “More,” she said again.
“You will end me,” he said, but he thrust deeper.
Dani reveled in the fullness, the closeness, the rocking of the boat.
She loved the weight of him, the smell of him, the reality of him here, in her arms, alive and hers.
She didn’t care about the discomfort, she wanted to feel him. Acutely. Undeniably. Him.
Luke held perfectly still, and Dani frowned. This was only their second go at this, but she knew what came next, and it wasn’t
stillness. They had so much time to make up for. Sucking in air, she tried to press up against the fullness of him.
“Wait,” he gritted out slowly, “wait. Wait. Wait. Your eagerness excites me, Princess; believe me it does. And ‘eagerness’
doesn’t begin to describe what I feel, but let us simply . . .”
He didn’t finish. Instead he kissed her. Softly. Slowly. A gentle kiss with the tiniest little lick. He moved away, sliding
lower, and Dani raised her chin, following his mouth. He was at her breast, sucking. Languidly, eyelids heavy, he toyed with
first one, then the other.
“Oh,” Dani said, breathing in. “Oooh.” Luke captured her lips in another slow kiss, less gentle this time, longer. His tongue
dueled with hers. His hand found her breast. The boat creaked and rocked, tipping their bodies together. A moan escaped Dani’s
lips.
The awareness of his weight and his size began, slowly, to dissolve. The kiss consumed her; she was lost. He moved his hand
away from her breast, and she cried out in protest, bowing up to him. He groaned and his fingers returned.
Without realizing it, Dani began, ever so slightly, to move her hips beneath him. The delicious burn had returned, and now
she had something big and hard to satisfy it.
“Careful,” he teased against her mouth.
She moved again, pressing up with more force, and he gave the slightest little return push.
“Alright?” he asked.
Dani nodded against his lips. “Please. Enough.”
“Enough what?”
“Enough waiting,” she said, her voice a whine. She pressed up in earnest, loving the feel of him inside her, loving him—needing him.
His reply was a groan, and he began to move, pulling up and pressing down, riding her faster and faster, chasing a rhythm
as old as time.
Dani received every thrust, allowing the pounding pleasure to blend with her exhaustion and the hope of the last days. The
combination transcended consciousness. She floated, she sank, she was flooded with sensation and spun through the air.
When the friction and the heat and the harmony of their bodies culminated—when pleasure rained down in a shimmering mist—Dani
wept. She smiled, and wept, she kissed him. She tried to hold him with arms so weak.
“Do you want a family with me, Princess?” Luke rasped.
“What?” she asked, trying to force her brain to function amid all the shimmering light.
“Our life, Eastwell, the . . . sheep? Is that what you want? And babies, too? Because . . .” He let the sentence trail off,
hanging his head against her shoulder.
Realization dawned and Dani breathed, “Yes, yes, of course, Luke. That is what I want.”
He let out a guttural sort of moan. “You’re certain?”
“Yes,” she said, pressing her hips up.
He groaned again and pushed against her. And pushed. And pushed. Their lovemaking resumed in earnest, and he thrusted toward
his release. Dragging his face from her shoulder, he kissed her. Dani returned the kiss and continued weeping; there were
salty tears on their lips.
He was pounding into her now, and she hitched her legs up. He reached for a knee and bent it higher on his hip, holding her there. She felt loved, and needed, and claimed. She felt like his wife in earnest, the mother of his future children, the beginning of a family.
And then it was finished. He let out another moan and then dropped against her. He released her thigh. The boat rocked and
swayed, and their bodies, still joined, fizzed and jangled with aftershocks of pleasure. He settled his face in her hair and
breathed. Dani turned her head and kissed his jaw.
“Are you well?” she whispered.
He made a grunting noise.
“Can you believe it?” she asked.
He snorted. “I cannot say exactly to what you’re referring, but regardless. I feel safe in claiming that no, on all accounts,
I cannot believe it.”
“That I came for you?” she told him.
“Complete disbelief,” he said. “And outrage. I suppose this will become the expectation? Passionate sex as means to express
my incredible outrage?”
She giggled. “Can you believe we managed to escape the castle? All of us?”
“No. Nor can I believe how many of ‘us’ mounted that escape. Thanks are in order, I suppose, for not coming alone. At the
very least. Also, please don’t try anything like that, ever again.”
“Can you believe the viscount attacked Surcouf?”
Luke pushed onto his elbows. “Actually that shocked the hell out of me. But I’m not sure why.
Fernsby is fussy and modest but never let it be said that he’s not a patriot.
Nor courageous. We believe he actually managed to kill the bastard.
Surcouf had so much blood on his hands, he deserved to die for his crimes.
The added benefit is he’ll not come looking for you.
Nor will his lust for your land persist.”
“Oh yes,” she said. A sigh. “My lands.” She began to toy with his hair.
“I’ve only just met your brother, obviously, but he seems unbothered by the fact that these Orleans lands are yours to do
with what you wish.”
“You mean yours to do with what you wish,” she corrected. “Did they not become yours when we married? My dowry?”
“I’ll not take your ancestorial lands, Princess. If you wish, I will help you find some purpose for them—to sell or cultivate,
whatever you want. But I wanted you for my revenge plot, not for your land. As you know.”
She laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I cannot say what I want. I’ve no interest in ever living in France. Perhaps we can
sell the land and invest it in Ivy Hill. Perhaps I’ll buy out Giles Stinchcomb’s sand pits and allow them to fill with rainwater
until we have a little lake. Your father may build his boat-making workshop there and float about.”
Now Luke was laughing. “For someone with no notion of what she wants, that is a very detailed plan.”
“It only just came to me,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Sleep now, Princess,” he whispered, nuzzling her.
“Well . . .” another yawn “. . . perhaps just an hour. I want to look in on Mr. Welty again.”
“Sleep . . .” he whispered gently, kissing her ear.
She was quiet for a moment, allowing her mind to float. Finally, she said, “Can you believe we’ve married? In earnest? That
we fancy each other. That we’ll build our life at Eastwell?”
“Fancy each other?” He frowned down at her. “Fancy?”
“That we . . .” It was so new, these words, she found herself pausing before she said them.
“I love you, Danielle,” he said—no hesitation. “Just to be perfectly clear. I think I loved you since that moment in Eastwell’s
library, when you’d read the account of the rescue but sympathized about my lost crew instead of the swimming or the sharks.
I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, but I began to love you after a day spent wandering that great tomb of a house at your
side. Watching you react, hearing your plans. And then to feel your compassion? From there, my love has only grown. Exponentially.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “That is why I came for you, I love you.”
He kissed her. It was a hard kiss, but the pace was slow. He worshipped her in that kiss.
When finally he came up for air, she said, “And can you believe you intend to give up smuggling? For farming?”
“Can I believe it?” he teased. “Perhaps a better question is, can you believe it? You worry I’ve been too hasty about Eastwell
Park, and life in Kent, and paying taxes rather than evading them as a smuggler. You fear I may return to life at sea.”
Dani swallowed. “Well, no, I—”
He kissed her again. “One thing I learned as a smuggler is to seize a good thing when I happen upon it. I’m fully committed
to you, m’étoile,” another kiss, “and to Eastwell,” another kiss, “and to life in Kent.” Another kiss. “If you find me on a boat, it will
only be for a pleasure cruise. Or travel. With my wife.”
Her chest swelled. “Perhaps a journey to Beckley Pond? That little beach? No boys to interrupt?”
“Like secluded beaches, do you?” he teased. “I can show you beaches, Princess. If there’s anything a smuggler knows, it’s secluded beaches.”
“And now I’m the one who cannot believe it,” she said, so happy, so hopeful. Tears filled her eyes again. “Learning that I’m
a princess is so far down the line of all the things I cannot believe.”
“If I can believe any of this incredible good fortune, m’étoile,” he whispered, kissing her, “you can believe it. And let us never forget that you’re not only a princess, you’re my princess.”