The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

Chapter 27

27

C ookie’s dwale was as potent as Isabella had feared. Gibb slept like the dead in an unrousable slumber. Though he most likely needed the sleep, he had told her that he rarely ever slept more than a few hours every night.

While he remained ill, she vowed to stay by his side, especially now that he didn’t have a bevy of men lined up to play healer. Cookie had been ready to sit up with the captain during the night, as had Mr. MacLean and Duncan. But on that she remained unmovable, insisting that he had been bitten when they were out searching for Marcus’ home, and thus she was responsible. Her excuse may have been a bit weak, but she couldn’t face those men and tell them she was madly in love with the captain and would be cast into utter melancholy if he were to perish…and the only person she trusted to see to his care was herself.

As the night progressed, his skin grew warm to the touch and Isabella maintained a ritual of applying cool cloths. Every so often she checked the captain’s wound. The redness and swelling had spread, making one calf nearly double the size of the other. She carefully removed the bandage and cleaned it with a vinegar and water solution, as directed by the Lady’s Journal of Home Remedies . She opted to apply the honey poultice without the gunpowder this time, and she didn’t have an egg even if she wanted to use one, which she did not.

Perhaps Cookie’s remedies were tried and true, but Isabella didn’t know that for certain, and when she pulled Duncan aside to ask the lad what he’d witnessed aboard ship, the lad confided that some things worked and other things didn’t seem to be effective.

She kept herself busy for the most part, but sometime after the clock struck three, her strength waned. She pulled a chair over and sat by the bed, running her fingers through Gibb’s hair. “I know you were right. You’ll be dancing a reel in no time. Perhaps not by morning, but I’ll wager a man like you will be up and about well before anyone else in your circumstances would have been.”

Of course, the captain didn’t respond. He lay on his back, his arms folded atop the bedclothes, looking peaceful.

“You know…” she ventured, since he most definitely could not hear her. “I’ve given it some thought and did not lie to you when I said that I have no regrets.

“Of course, I would prefer to have fallen in love with a man who wanted to marry me, but I’ll take what I can.” She grazed her teeth over her lip. Undoubtedly, it would be convenient if Gibb wished to marry her. But she couldn’t deny that before she’d met the captain—and before her father arranged her marriage—she had embraced spinsterhood.

Now that she had lain with Gibb, she was in grave danger of conceiving a child. Somehow the words “grave danger” didn’t frighten her in the slightest. Warmth spread across her skin.

“I suppose if I were to get with child by you, I might return to Georgia. The estate there is quite remote—a good place for a woman to hide her condition whilst in confinement.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Not to worry, I shall not burden you with any responsibility. Besides, I have waited a very long time to fall in love, and I am now wealthy enough to manage my affairs in any way I please.”

Her imagination ran the gamut as she pictured herself with a babe in arms. A week ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed such a thing. But, as she considered it, she realized that could become a mother on her own terms—as long as she kept the child a secret. And she was well aware there were dozens, if not hundreds, of secrets roaming about England.

Gibb couldn’t quite open his eyes for the mounds of wool that seemed to be packed inside his skull. He shifted his legs and grunted as hot, searing pain darted from his ankle all the way to his ballocks.

Bloody hellfire and brimstone, have I been shot?

He flexed his toes, only to be met with another blast of pain. And then he remembered the snakebite.

A cloth was removed from his forehead, bringing with it a cool waft of air and followed by a cooler cloth.

“Are you awake?” a woman whispered. A soft hand touched his cheek. “Your fever seems to have subsided.”

“Isabella?” he asked, partially opening his eyes and squinting against the pounding in his head.

“I am here. How do you feel?”

“As if I’ve been bludgeoned by one of Cookie’s remedies.”

“I believe the concoction he calls dwale ought to be outlawed. I had to feel for your pulse several times last eve.” She doused the cloth in the bowl and wrung it out. “I imagine the wound will ail you for some time. ’Tis very swollen.”

She was most likely right, but he would never admit to it.

“Are you thirsty?”

He nodded, his head clearing a wee bit. “Parched.” He watched her skirts flutter as she moved to the table and poured from a ewer. “What is the time?”

“’Tis nearly half past ten.”

Gibb pushed up onto his elbows, the motion bringing on a bout of relentless pounding. “Bloody hell, why did ye not wake me?”

“I’m afraid doing so would have been impossible. You were under the effects of Cookie’s dwale, remember?” She handed him the cup. “Drink.”

“What is it?”

“Water.”

“Not ale?”

“No, not yet.”

Gibb grumbled under his breath, but he guzzled the water as if he’d been stranded in the desert for days. “I was thirstier than I thought.” He returned the cup. “What do you recommend for an ache of the head?”

“I’ve made you a tea—willow bark for your head and feverfew to help with the swelling in your leg.”

“Verra well,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, only to have to balance himself by pushing his palms into the mattress. He’d be fine. He just needed a moment to clear his head. “Bring the brew out to the deck, if you would please.”

Isabella turned with a mug in hand. “Exactly what do you think you are doing?”

“Taking command of my ship, of course.”

“Mr. MacLean has already done your rounds. He has also taken the men ashore to work on the excavation.” She set the mug on the table and prodded his shoulder with the tip of her finger. “You are to remain abed and recover from nearly succumbing to a snakebite.”

“Och, I nearly succumbed to Cookie’s dwale, is all.”

Truth be told, it was good to know that Archie had taken charge. After all, the quartermaster was second-in-command. And though Gibb would usually don his kilt and head for the helm no matter how poorly he felt, he let Isabella push him back to bed, but not without capturing that prodding finger and giving the back of her hand a kiss. “Verra well. With a healer as bonny as you in my bed, I reckon a holiday is permissible.”

Her smile faded as she tried to pull her hand away. “I am not in your bed, sir.”

He tugged her onto his lap. “Well, that’s a calamity that must be remedied.”

“Gibb!” she said, but he silenced her with a kiss, which she accepted with a lovely sigh. “What about your leg? It is awfully swollen.”

“Then we’d best stay abed, had we not?”

She thrust her finger into his chest. “ You are to stay in bed.”

He took the offending finger and kissed it. “I’ll not listen to another word until you agree to stay in this bed with me.”

She reached for the mug. “Will you promise to be a good patient if I agree?”

He took the tea and guzzled it. “I’m at your command.”

“And you’re truly feeling well enough to…” She glanced to the mattress. “You know.”

“There’s nothing in all of Christendom with more healing powers than making love.” He nuzzled into her neck. “See? I’m already ten times better than I was when I first opened my eyes.”

“Well then, I’ll bolt the door.”

After turning the lock, Isabella slowly sauntered toward the man who sat on the bed wearing only a shirt, his legs and feet bare. She wasn’t entirely certain that she ought to lie with Gibb, but if doing so would give him the rest he needed, then she could not argue against it. “You must promise that you will not overtax yourself.”

One corner of his mouth turned up, as if he’d never taxed himself in all his days, and he beckoned her to him. “You have my word.”

“And you’ll not try to walk if it pains you too much?”

He patted the mattress. “Clearly I’m no’ walking, lass.”

As she stepped between his knees, she smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “I believe there’s nothing in the Lady’s Journal of Home Remedies about the healing powers of affection.”

Gibb slid his hands around her waist and gripped her buttocks, tugging her against his erect member. “Then it must have been written by an old crone.”

With his hands, he rendered her powerless to turn away. “Perhaps.” Melting into his arms, she closed her eyes and savored him. And when he captured her mouth, she went boneless, scarcely able to support her weight.

He pressed one hand into the small of her back while untying the laces of her day dress and easing the gown from her shoulders. “I want to see you bare.”

Isabella shuddered as she tugged his shirt over his head. The insides of her thighs quivered while her remaining pieces of clothing dropped to the floor. When all that remained were her stockings and garters, he grinned, slowly lowering himself to his knees. “This is my favorite part.”

She threaded her fingers through his thick, tawny hair. “But you should be abed, sir.”

“In a moment, when you are there with me.” He brushed his thumb through the curls at her apex. “But first I must sample the most intoxicating scent in all the world.” He tugged one garter bow. “And I can breathe in your fragrance whilst I unmask the most perfect, shapeliest legs I’ve ever seen in all my days.”

Isabella tugged up on his shoulders, but he caught her fingers and kissed them. “One more garter, mo leannan .”

As he removed the second stocking, he drew in a deep breath, then took her hands, slowly stood, and raked his gaze along her naked body. “Do you have your journal?”

“Yes. It is on your writing table.”

“Read to me the passage you uncovered. The sensual one that you did not want me to read aloud.” Isabella bent to retrieve her shift, but he caught her by the arm. “I want to savor your beauty. Release your hairpins and fetch it, will you, please?”

Isabella let her hair down and then slowly crossed the floor. Never in all her days had she walked across a room completely nude, her tresses sweeping across her buttocks. It was so very erotic knowing his eyes were focused on her—to know that she possessed the power to ignite his passion.

She picked up the journal and turned to the passage.

“Bring it here, lass,” he said, sliding onto the bed. “I want you beside me.”

Though the shy person inside her yearned to dash across the floor, slip under the bedclothes, and pull them up to her chin, she did not. Holding her head high, she went to him, swaying her hips and pushing her hair behind her shoulders. And her brazenness didn’t go unnoticed. Desire flooded through her, as she was ever so aware of his watching her every move—his eyes dark, his lips parted, welcoming her as she slid next to him.

Isabella cleared her throat and read aloud. “ My hand is my only solace, but as I stroke myself in the dark hours of night and release my seed, I am only left with a void in my heart. Nothing will ever replace you or the love I feel for you. I love you when you’re walking through the gardens. I love you when you are in the fields. I adore you when you are in my bed with your legs around my back as I thrust deep inside you. That’s where I want to be—inside you and only you forever. ”

As she closed the journal, she didn’t look Gibb in the eye, even though the heat from his smoldering gaze was enough to set her flesh afire.

“Inside you…that is where I wish to be,” he whispered, his voice deep and full of want, igniting a ravening fire deep inside her.

Unable to resist touching him, Isabella set the book aside and slipped her hand over the mat of blond curls on his chest, swirling her fingers down to the trail of hair running from his navel to the tight curls above his swollen manhood.

But she didn’t touch it—not yet. Leaning back, she placed a finger in the center of his chest as she drew in a hiss. “I want to ravish you.”

He growled—a low, feral moan that told her how much he liked her idea.

She shifted her finger to his navel, then kissed him there, swirling her tongue inside the tight button.

Again, he let loose a savage moan—a sound that thrummed through her body as if he’d touched her between the legs. “I’ll come undone if you keep teasing me like that.”

Drawing out the moment, she slowly moved her tongue lower and chuckled. “I do not believe Captain Gibb MacGalloway ever completely loses control,” she said breathlessly.

When she wrapped her fingers around his manhood, his eyes rolled back and his knees flexed. “My God.”

She could scarcely inhale as she smoothed her hand along the velvety shaft. “Can I kiss it as you did to me?”

Gibb’s thighs shuddered as he looked into her eyes. “Would you?”

Isabella grinned as she licked him and watched his euphoric reaction.

“Ye ken ye dunna need to take me into your mouth,” he whispered, rubbing a hand across her back.

“But I want to.” Isabella stroked him as she imagined Marcus did to himself. “It is so soft and beautiful.”

Take him into my mouth . Oh, yes, she must taste all of him. Tentatively, she slid her lips over him.

“Mm,” Gibb moaned, his hips swirling, his movement like a bellows to the flame in her belly while she took him deeper. “Aye, lass, that feels nearly as good as being inside you.”

Emboldened by his encouragement, Isabella swirled her tongue around and around, suckling him as he had done to her. His breathing grew labored, his moans more frequent, as he shuddered in concert with her licks, his every sound making the desire deep inside her ratchet upward.

Gibb urged her upward. “I can wait no longer. I must be inside you.”

“But you’ll overtax yourself.”

“Never.”

Isabella chewed the corner of her lip. “Is it possible for me to be on top?” she asked.

“Yes. You on top, you from behind, you beneath, you standing against the wall. I want you in any position you desire. I am yours to command.”

Isabella loved his idea. She had taken charge of her life, but here in bed she had never dreamed that she would be able to take charge of a man—and not just any man. The fearless captain of the Prosperity slid down the mattress and lay prostrate for her.

“Though the wall sounds delightfully scandalous, given your leg, I am quite certain that position is presently out of the question. In my opinion, you will be far less taxed if we make love with me on top.” She slid over him and, rocking her hips, rubbed her wetness along his length. “Show me,” she managed to say while he slid his thumb over her sex and then slid a finger inside.

“Och, lass, you are ripe for me.” Grasping her hips, Gibb shifted his member to her entrance. “Are ye certain ye want this?”

Frantic for him, she responded by grasping his shoulders and lowering herself over him until he filled her. Looking him in the eyes, she rocked her hips. “I am.”

Gibb thrust deeper, the ecstasy written on his face while together they rode the wave of passion. As her need mounted, Isabella dropped forward, rocking her hips while he commanded the tempo, gripping her buttocks.

Ripples of unfettered desire quaked through her body while, faster and faster, she thrust her hips in a frenzied motion.

“I’m coming,” he said, bucking into her, sinking so deep that she cried out with the most thrilling passion she’d ever felt in her life. It took but one more thrust of her hips, and her world shattered into ripples of euphoria.

Perspiring as if she had run a race, Isabella collapsed atop his chest.

Gibb softly swirled his hands around her bottom and up her back. “I kent ye were a wildcat the day I found you reading on the park bench.”

Isabella chuckled but said nothing as she nuzzled into his neck. Yes, she’d thought him a rake at the time. What did she think of him now? A bit of a rogue, for certain, but so much more. A kindhearted man who would make a good father if he gave marriage a chance.

She sighed and kissed him, still convinced that if she conceived, she would go to Lockhart and birth her babe. No, she wouldn’t shackle him with the responsibility of a child.