Chapter 25 #2
Xavier heard himself moan as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth.
His hands slid greedily up and down her back, and then inside of her pants, cupping her buttocks.
She cried out, pressing against his loins.
Xavier managed to tear his mouth from hers, panting harshly, shaking uncontrollably.
Vera, Alexandra. Vera … It was hard to distinguish which woman he held in his arms.
He took her mouth again. This time lifting her up high and hard against his body. From behind, he explored the hot, wet juncture between her legs. And then he could not stand it.
Together they dropped to their knees. Xavier was tearing down her trousers. He palmed her as he tossed the pants aside; she arched wildly against him. She was sobbing.
He spread her thighs, embracing her hips, burying his face against the folds of her sex. He had to know her this way, had to taste what he had dreamed about so often. He parted her with his thumbs. His tongue swept over her, raking her, exploring her, again and again.
She pumped against his face, clawing his head, crying his name. Her knees buckled uselessly.
As she subsided he ripped off his own pants and moved on top of her. As his arms closed around her, he had the most distressing thought—that nothing had ever felt this right. He entered her.
Slowly, using incredible restraint.
She gasped.
Their eyes collided. Connected. Held. “Oh, God,” he breathed as he filled her, pressing against her, inside of her.
“Xavier,” she said, her eyes suspiciously wet. Her palms cupped his face.
The moment he began to move, his control snapped. Xavier closed his eyes and gave himself over to the rawest side of man’s nature. He pounded into her. Hot and hard.
Aware of her moving beneath him, with him, smoothly, perfectly—as if they had been lovers before.
And Xavier knifed into her, crying out her name.
She also cried out, one heartbeat later.
He could not believe what had just happened. He was in shock.
As he pulled on his thin trousers, he kept his back to her. She was very dangerous. Not because she was a spy. But because he lost all control with her. All control, all common sense, all reason.
In fact, he still mistrusted himself intensely—as far as she was concerned.
“That was wonderful,” she said hoarsely. But with a question mark.
He did not want to look at her. He was afraid to see her expression; mostly, he was afraid to look into her eyes—afraid of what he might discover there.
Too late, he regretted what they had done. Too late, he knew he would never forget what it was like making love to her.
He did not need this distraction now.
“Xavier?”
He turned. She had put on her pants and, topless, was now tying together the strips of linen over her breasts. He could not help staring at her. Her beauty left him stricken.
Their gazes met. She looked away first. “We have to talk,” she said very softly.
He tore his gaze away from her breasts, her hair, her mouth, finally meeting her eyes. They were filled with uncertainty. Vera’s eyes.
He did not want to discuss what she wanted to discuss. He was careful to be polite. “I hope I did not hurt you?”
Her smile faltered. “It was wonderful.”
He quickly moved to the door, to peer out of the cane slats. His back was to her now.
Silence fell between them, across the cell. A loud, heavy silence. Xavier edged the cane matting farther aside, continuing to peer out into the courtyard. He heard her standing and he glanced involuntarily over his shoulder. She was fully dressed except for the kaffiyeh.
“Do not forget the headdress,” he said stiffly—awkwardly.
“Now what happens?”
He understood that she was referring to them. He said, “Obviously there will not be any escape.”
Her brows knitted over unhappy eyes. “Xavier, you know I am talking about us.”
“There is no us.”
She stared, dismayed.
“What happened was a mistake.” He felt as if he were wielding a knife, but had no choice. “I blame only myself. There will not be another time.”
“I see,” she choked.
How could he be hurting her? He had to look at her even though he did not want to. She wasn’t crying, but she was close to tears. “I do not understand you. Not at all.”
“I am not a spy. I am merely a woman—a smart, determined woman, the kind of woman you have never known before.”
That was certainly true. “If you are not a spy, then explain all of your lies to me, and how you knew so much about our navy.”
She hesitated. “I cannot.”
“I did not think so.” He was amazed at the extent of his own disappointment.
Her shoulders sagged. “Edward Preble is replacing Commodore Morris.” Then her eyes flashed. “That is common knowledge; everyone at the palace knows!”
Xavier stood straighter. “But you knew the last time we met, did you not?”
Her mouth set mulishly, down-turned. She did not answer.
He took a breath, fighting how he felt—which was strangely heartbroken.
“I guess I had better go,” she said.
“I think so.” He folded his arms and stepped aside as she moved forward.
Suddenly she paused beside him. Their bodies did not touch. She hugged herself. “Do not escape without me. Please.”
He looked into her shimmering eyes. “If and when there is an escape, I shall give you the opportunity to leave with us.”
She nodded. Then, “Xavier, we must escape, soon. The sooner the better.”
“Do you know something that you’re not telling me?”
She did not answer.
It was answer enough. He held open the cane door. “Goodbye …” he hesitated. He had been about to call her Vera.
She brushed by him, hurrying across the terrace. Murad appearing beside her. Again Xavier watched her as she crossed the compound, but this time, just before she entered the vaulted tunnel, she paused and turned.
Across the bagnio, their gazes locked. And then she was gone.
He rejoined Tubbs on the terrace. His first mate was asleep. Xavier squatted beside him, grasping his shoulder, gently waking him up. Tubbs groaned, his eyes opening. When he saw Xavier, he was immediately awake. “What is it, Captain? Is something amiss?”
Xavier nodded. “Morris has been relieved of his command. Our escape must be postponed. The good news is that Preble succeeds Morris. In time, I have every hope that he will aid us in a successful escape.”
Tubbs sat up. “Two more slaves died today in the god-awful quarries. How much time do we have. Captain, before our own crew begins to drop like flies?”
Xavier was grim. “I don’t know.”
They were silent, staring at one another, thinking about death.
Xavier’s jaw tightened. “The guards have already been bribed to allow us out the night of the fifteenth. We have acquired two pistols and five daggers. That is enough to proceed and do what still has to be done.”
Tubbs’s eyes were wide. “But surely you do not think to escape anyway!” he exclaimed.
“No. I am not talking about escape.”
Tubbs sat tensely on his heels. “If you are not talking about another escape, then what are you talking about. Captain?”
Xavier slowly stood. At six foot four inches, he towered over Tubbs, who also rose. “I am talking about the destruction of the Pearl,” he said.
Tubbs stared.
“But not the night of the fifteenth.” His gaze darkened. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we shall destroy her.”